diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/7rose10.txt | 2879 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/7rose10.zip | bin | 0 -> 39933 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8rose10.txt | 2879 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8rose10.zip | bin | 0 -> 39957 bytes |
4 files changed, 5758 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/7rose10.txt b/old/7rose10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cfeed36 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7rose10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2879 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose and Roof-Tree, by George Parsons Lathrop + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Rose and Roof-Tree + Poems + +Author: George Parsons Lathrop + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7110] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 11, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE AND ROOF-TREE *** + + + + +Produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +ROSE AND ROOF-TREE: + +POEMS + + + +by + +GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP + + + + +[Illustration: JESSAMINE] + + + + +Upon the enchanted ladder of his rhymes, + Round after round and patiently + The poet ever upward climbs. + + + + +_DEDICATION_. + +_I need give my verse no hint as to whom it sings for. The rose, +knowing her own right, makes servitors of the light-rays to carry her +color. So every line here shall in some sense breathe of thee, and in +its very face bear record of her whom, however unworthily, it seeks to +serve and honor._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +WINDFALLS. + +ROSE AND ROOF-TREE +MUSIC OF GROWTH +A SONG LONG AGO +MELANCHOLY +CONTENTMENT + + +PART FIRST. + +AN APRIL ARIA +THE BOBOLINK +THE SUN-SHOWER +JUNE LONGINGS +A RUNE OF THE RAIN +THE SONG-SPARROW +FAIRHAVEN BAY +CHANT FOR AUTUMN +BEFORE THE SNOW +THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH +THE LILY-POND + + +PART SECOND. + +FIRST GLANCE +"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES" +"WHEN, LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE" +WITHIN A YEAR +THE SINGING WIRE +MOODS OF LOVE: + I. In Absence + II. Heart's Fountain + III. South-Wind Song + IV. The Lover's Year + V. New Worlds + VI. Wedding-Night +LOVE'S DEFEAT +MAY AND MARRIAGE +THE FISHER OF THE CAPE +SAILOR'S SONG +JESSAMINE +GRIEF'S HERO +A FACE IN THE STREET +THE BATHER +HELEN AT THE LOOM +"O WHOLESOME DEATH" +BURIAL-SONG FOR SUMNER +ARISE, AMERICAN! +THE SILENT TIDE + + + + +WINDFALLS. + + +ROSE AND ROOF-TREE. + + O wayward rose, why dost thou wreathe so high, + Wasting thyself in sweet-breath'd ecstasy? + +"The pulses of the wind my life uplift, + And through my sprays I feel the sunlight sift; + +"And all my fibres, in a quick consent + Entwined, aspire to fill their heavenward bent. + +"I feel the shaking of the far-off sea, + And all things growing blend their life with me: + +"When men and women on me look, there glows + Within my veins a life not of the rose. + +"Then let me grow, until I touch the sky, + And let me grow and grow until I die!" + + So, every year, the sweet rose shooteth higher, + And scales the roof upon its wings of fire, + + And pricks the air, in lovely discontent, + With thorns that question still of its intent. + + But when it reached the roof-tree, there it clung, + Nor ever farther up its blossoms flung. + + O wayward rose, why hast thou ceased to climb? + Hast thou forgot the ardor of thy prime? + +"O hearken!"--thus the rose-spray, listening,-- +"With what weird music sweet these full hearts ring! + +"What mazy ripples of deep, eddying sound, + Rise, touch the roof-tree old, and drift around, + +"Bearing aloft the burden musical + Of joys and griefs from human hearts that fall! + +"Green stem and fair, flush'd circle I will lay + Along the roof, and listen here alway; + +"For rose and tree, and every leafy growth + That toward the sky unfolds with spiry blowth, + +"No purpose hath save this, to breathe a grace + O'er men, and in men's hearts to seek a place. + +"Therefore, O poet, thou who gav'st to me + The homage of thy humble sympathy, + +"No longer vest thy verse in rose-leaves frail:-- + Let the heart's voice loud through thy paan wail!" + + * * * * * + + Lo, at my feet the wind of autumn throws + A hundred turbulent blossoms of the rose, + + Full of the voices of the sea and grove + And air, and full of hidden, murmured love, + + And warm with passion through the roof-tree sent; + Dew-drenched with tears;--all in one wild gush spent! + + + +MUSIC OF GROWTH. + +Music is in all growing things; +And underneath the silky wings + Of smallest insects there is stirred + A pulse of air that must be heard. +Earth's silence lives, and throbs, and sings. + +If poet from the vibrant strings +Of his poor heart a measure flings, + Laugh not, that he no trumpet blows: + It may be that Heaven hears and knows +His language of low listenings. + + + +A SONG LONG AGO. + +Through the pauses of thy fervid singing + Fell crystal sound +That thy fingers from the keys were flinging + Lightly around: +I felt the vine-like harmonies close clinging + About my soul; +And to my eyes, as fruit of their sweet bringing, + The full tear stole! + + + +MELANCHOLY. + + +Daughter of my nobler hope + That dying gave thee birth, + Sweet Melancholy! + For memory of the dead, + In her dear stead, + 'Bide thou with me, + Sweet Melancholy! +As purple shadows to the tree, +When the last sun-rays sadly slope +Athwart the bare and darkening earth, + Art thou to me, + Sweet Melancholy! + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + Glad hours have been when I have seen + Life's scope and each dry day's intent + United; so that I could stand + In silence, covering with my hand + The circle of the universe, + Balance the blessing and the curse, + And trust in deeds without chagrin, +Free from to-morrow and yesterday--content. + + + + +PART FIRST. + + +AN APRIL ARIA. + +When the mornings dankly fall + With a dim forethought of rain, +And the robins richly call +To their mates mercurial, + And the tree-boughs creak and strain + In the wind; +When the river's rough with foam, + And the new-made clearings smoke, +And the clouds that go and come +Shine and darken frolicsome, + And the frogs at evening croak + Undefined +Mysteries of monotone, + And by melting beds of snow +Wind-flowers blossom all alone; + Then I know +That the bitter winter's dead. + Over his head +The damp sod breaks so mellow,-- +Its mosses tipped with points of yellow,-- + I cannot but be glad; +Yet this sweet mood will borrow +Something of a sweeter sorrow, + To touch and turn me sad. + + + +THE BOBOLINK. + +How sweetly sang the bobolink, + When thou, my Love, wast nigh! +His liquid music from the brink +Of some cloud-fountain seemed to sink, + Built in the blue-domed sky. + +How sadly sings the bobolink! + No more my Love is nigh: +Yet rise, my spirit, rise, and drink +Once more from that cloud-fountain's brink,-- + Once more before I die! + + + +THE SUN-SHOWER. + +A penciled shade the sky doth sweep, +And transient glooms creep in to sleep + Amid the orchard; +Fantastic breezes pull the trees +Hither and yon, to vagaries + Of aspect tortured. + +Then, like the downcast dreamy fringe +Of eyelids, when dim gates unhinge + That locked their tears, +Falls on the hills a mist of rain,-- +So faint, it seems to fade again; + Yet swiftly nears. + +Now sparkles the air, all steely-bright, +With drops swept down in arrow-flight, + Keen, quivering lines. +Ceased in a breath the showery sound; +And teasingly, now, as I look around, + Sweet sunlight shines! + + + +JUNE LONGINGS. + +Lo, all about the lofty blue are blown +Light vapors white, like thistle-down, +That from their softened silver heaps opaque +Scatter delicate flake by flake, +Upon the wide loom of the heavens weaving +Forms of fancies past believing, +And, with fantastic show of mute despair, +As for some sweet hope hurt beyond repair, +Melt in the silent voids of sunny air. + +All day the cooing brooklet runs in tune: +Half sunk i' th' blue, the powdery moon +Shows whitely. Hark, the bobolink's note! I hear it, +Far and faint as a fairy spirit! +Yet all these pass, and as some blithe bird, winging, +Leaves a heart-ache for his singing, +A frustrate passion haunts me evermore +For that which closest dwells to beauty's core. +O Love, canst thou this heart of hope restore? + + + +A RUNE OF THE RAIN. + +I. + +O many-toned rain! +O myriad sweet voices of the rain! +How welcome is its delicate overture +At evening, when the glowing-moistur'd west +Seals all things with cool promise of night's rest! + +At first it would allure +The earth to kinder mood, +With dainty flattering +Of soft, sweet pattering: +Faintly now you hear the tramp +Of the fine drops falling damp +On the dry, sun-seasoned ground +And the thirsty leaves around. +But anon, imbued +With a sudden, bounding access +Of passion, it relaxes +All timider persuasion, +And, with nor pretext nor occasion, +Its wooing redoubles; +And pounds the ground, and bubbles +In sputtering spray, +Flinging itself in a fury +Of flashing white away; +Till the dusty road +Flings a perfume dank abroad, +And the grass, and the wide-hung trees, +The vines, the flowers in their beds, +The vivid corn that to the breeze +Rustles along the garden-rows, +Visibly lift their heads,-- +And, as the shower wilder grows, +Upleap with answering kisses to the rain. + +Then, the slow and pleasant murmur +Of its subsiding, +As the pulse of the storm beats firmer, +And the steady rain +Drops into a cadenced chiding. +Deep-breathing rain, +The sad and ghostly noise +Wherewith thou dost complain,-- +Thy plaintive, spiritual voice, +Heard thus at close of day +Through vaults of twilight-gray,-- +Doth vex me with sweet pain! +And still my soul is fain +To know the secret of that yearning +Which in thine utterance I hear returning. + +Hush, oh hush! +Break not the dreamy rush +Of the rain: +Touch not the marring doubt +Words bring, to the certainty +Of its soft refrain, +But let the flying fringes flout +Their gouts against the pane, +And the gurgling throat of the water-spout +Groan in the eaves amain. + +The earth is wedded to the shower. +Darkness and awe, gird round the bridal-hour! + + +II. + +O many-toned rain! +It hath caught the strain +Of a wilder tune, +Ere the same night's noon, +When dreams and sleep forsake me, +And sudden dread doth wake me, +To hear the booming drums of heaven beat +The long roll to battle; when the knotted cloud, +With an echoing loud, +Bursts asunder +At the sudden resurrection of the thunder; +And the fountains of the air, +Unsealed again sweep, ruining, everywhere, +To wrap the world in a watery winding-sheet. + + +III. + +O myriad sweet voices of the rain! +When the airy war doth wane, +And the storm to the east hath flown, +Cloaked close in the whirling wind, +There's a voice still left behind +In each heavy-hearted tree, +Charged with tearful memory +Of the vanished rain: +From their leafy lashes wet +Drip the dews of fresh regret +For the lover that's gone! +All else is still. +But the stars are listening; +And low o'er the wooded hill +Hangs, upon listless wing +Outspread, a shape of damp, blue cloud, +Watching, like a bird of evil +That knows no mercy nor reprieval, +The slow and silent death of the pallid moon. + + +IV. + +But soon, returning duly, +Dawn whitens the wet hill-tops bluely. +To her vision pure and cold +The night's wild tale is told +On the glistening leaf, in the mid-road pool, +The garden mold turned dark and cool, +And the meadow's trampled acres. +But hark, how fresh the song of the winged music-makers! +For now the moanings bitter, +Left by the rain, make harmony +With the swallow's matin-twitter, +And the robin's note, like the wind's in a tree: +The infant morning breathes sweet breath, +And with it is blent +The wistful, wild, moist scent +Of the grass in the marsh which the sea nourisheth: +And behold! +The last reluctant drop of the storm, +Wrung from the roof, is smitten warm +And turned to gold; +For in its veins doth run +The very blood of the bold, unsullied sun! + + + +THE SONG-SPARROW. + +Glimmers gray the leafless thicket + Close beside my garden gate, +Where, so light, from post to picket + Hops the sparrow, blithe, sedate; + Who, with meekly folded wing, + Comes to sun himself and sing. + +It was there, perhaps, last year, + That his little house he built; +For he seems to perk and peer, + And to twitter, too, and tilt + The bare branches in between, + With a fond, familiar mien. + +Once, I know, there was a nest, + Held there by the sideward thrust +Of those twigs that touch his breast; + Though 'tis gone now. Some rude gust + Caught it, over-full of snow,-- + Bent the bush,--and robbed it so + +Thus our highest holds are lost, + By the ruthless winter's wind, +When, with swift-dismantling frost, + The green woods we dwelt in, thinn'd + Of their leafage, grow too cold + For frail hopes of summer's mold. + +But if we, with spring-days mellow, + Wake to woeful wrecks of change, +And the sparrow's ritornello + Scaling still its old sweet range; + Can we do a better thing + Than, with him, still build and sing? + +Oh, my sparrow, thou dost breed + Thought in me beyond all telling; +Shootest through me sunlight, seed, + And fruitful blessing, with that welling + Ripple of ecstatic rest, + Gurgling ever from thy breast! + +And thy breezy carol spurs + Vital motion in my blood, +Such as in the sapwood stirs, + Swells and shapes the pointed bud + Of the lilac; and besets + The hollows thick with violets. + +Yet I know not any charm + That can make the fleeting time +Of thy sylvan, faint alarm + Suit itself to human rhyme: + And my yearning rhythmic word, + Does thee grievous wrong, dear bird. + +So, however thou hast wrought + This wild joy on heart and brain, +It is better left untaught. + Take thou up the song again: + There is nothing sad afloat + On the tide that swells thy throat! + + +FAIRHAVEN BAY. + +I push on through the shaggy wood, +I round the hill: 't is here it stood; +And there, beyond the crumbled walls, +The shining Concord slowly crawls, + +Yet seems to make a passing stay, +And gently spreads its lilied bay, +Curbed by this green and reedy shore, +Up toward the ancient homestead's door. + +But dumbly sits the shattered house, +And makes no answer: man and mouse +Long since forsook it, and decay +Chokes its deep heart with ashes gray. + +On what was once a garden-ground +Dull red-bloomed sorrels now abound; +And boldly whistles the shy quail +Within the vacant pasture's pale. + +Ah, strange and savage, where he shines, +The sun seems staring through those pines +That once the vanished home could bless +With intimate, sweet loneliness. + +The ignorant, elastic sod +The feet of them that daily trod +Its roods hath utterly forgot: +The very fire-place knows them not. + +For, in the weedy cellar, thick +The ruined chimney's mass of brick +Lies strown. Wide heaven, with such an ease +Dost thou, too, lose the thought of these? + +Yet I, although I know not who +Lived here, in years that voiceless grew +Ere I was born,--and never can,-- +Am moved, because I am a man. + +Oh glorious gift of brotherhood! +Oh sweet elixir in the blood, +That makes us live with those long dead, +Or hope for those that shall be bred + +Hereafter! No regret can rob +My heart of this delicious throb; +No thought of fortunes haply wrecked, +Nor pang for nature's wild neglect. + +And, though the hearth be cracked and cold, +Though ruin all the place enfold, +These ashes that have lost their name +Shall warm my life with lasting flame! + + +CHANT FOR AUTUMN. + + Veiled in visionary haze, + Behold, the ethereal autumn days + Draw near again! + In broad array, + With a low, laborious hum + These ministers of plenty come, +That seem to linger, while they steal away. + + O strange, sweet charm + Of peaceful pain, +When yonder mountain's bended arm +Seems wafting o'er the harvest-plain +A message to the heart that grieves, +And round us, here, a sad-hued rain +Of leaves that loosen without number +Showering falls in yellow, umber, +Red, or russet, 'thwart the stream! +Now pale Sorrow shall encumber +All too soon these lands, I deem; + Yet who at heart believes + The autumn, a false friend, + Can bring us fatal harm? +Ah, mist-hung avenues in dream +Not more uncertainly extend + Than the season that receives + A summer's latest gleam! + +But the days of death advance: + They tarry not, nor turn! +I will gather the ashes of summer + In my heart, as an urn. + + Oh draw thou nearer, + Thou +Spirit of the distant height, +Whither now that slender flight +Of swallows, winging, guides my sight! + The hill cloth seem to me + A fading memory + Of long delight, + And in its distant blue + Half hideth from my view +This shrinking season that must now retire; +And so shall hold it, hopeful, a desire +And knowledge old as night and always new. + Draw nigher! And, with bended brow, + I will be thy reverer + Through the long winter's term! + +So, when the snows hold firm, + And the brook is dumb; + When sharp winds come + To flay the hill-tops bleak, + And whistle down the creek; + While the unhappy worm +Crawls deeper down into the ground, +To 'scape Frost's jailer on his round; + Thy form to me shall speak + From the wide valley's bound, +Recall the waving of the last bird's wing, + And help me hope for spring. + + + +BEFORE THE SNOW. + +Autumn is gone: through the blue woodlands bare + Shatters the windy rain. A thousand leaves, +Like birds that fly the mournful Northern air, + Flutter away from the old forest's eaves. + +Autumn is gone: as yonder silent rill, + Slow eddying o'er thick leaf-heaps lately shed, +My spirit, as I walk, moves awed and still, + By thronging fancies wild and wistful led. + +Autumn is gone: alas, how long ago + The grapes were plucked, and garnered was the grain! +How soon death settles on us, and the snow + Wraps with its white alike our graves, our gain! + +Yea, autumn's gone! Yet it robs not my mood + Of that which makes moods dear,--some shoot of spring +Still sweet within me; or thoughts of yonder wood + We walked in,--memory's rare environing. + +And, though they die, the seasons only take + A ruined substance. All that's best remains +In the essential vision that can make + One light for life, love, death, their joys, their pains. + + + +THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH. + +Last night it snowed; and Nature fell asleep. + Forest and field lie tranced in gracious dreams + Of growth, for ghosts of leaves long dead, me-seems, +Hover about the boughs; and wild winds sweep +O'er whitened fields full many a hoary heap + From the storm-harvest mown by ice-bound streams! + With beauty of crushed clouds the cold earth teems, +And winter a tranquil-seeming truce would keep. + +But such ethereal slumber may not bide + The ascending sun's bright scorn--not long, I fear; +And all its visions on the golden tide + Of mid-noon gliding off, must disappear. +Fair dreams, farewell! So in life's stir and pride + You fade, and leave the treasure of a tear! + + + +THE LILY-POND. + +Some fairy spirit with his wand, + I think, has hovered o'er the dell, +And spread this film upon the pond, + And touched it with this drowsy spell. + +For here the musing soul is merged + In moods no other scene can bring, +And sweeter seems the air when scourged + With wandering wild-bees' murmuring. + +One ripple streaks the little lake, + Sharp purple-blue; the birches, thin +And silvery, crowd the edge, yet break + To let a straying sunbeam in. + +How came we through the yielding wood, + That day, to this sweet-rustling shore? +Oh, there together while we stood, + A butterfly was wafted o'er, + +In sleepy light; and even now + His glimmering beauty doth return +Upon me, when the soft winds blow, + And lilies toward the sunlight yearn. + +The yielding wood? And yet 't was both + To yield unto our happy march; +Doubtful it seemed, at times, if both + Could pass its green, elastic arch. + +Yet there, at last, upon the marge + We found ourselves, and there, behold, +In hosts the lilies, white and large, + Lay close, with hearts of downy gold! + +Deep in the weedy waters spread + The rootlets of the placid bloom: +So sprung my love's flower, that was bred + In deep, still waters of heart's-gloom. + +So sprung; and so that morn was nursed + To live in light, and on the pool +Wherein its roots were deep immersed + Burst into beauty broad and cool. + +Few words were said; a moment passed; + I know not how it came--that awe +And ardor of a glance that cast + Our love in universal law! + +But all at once a bird sang loud, + From dead twigs of the gleamy beech; +His notes dropped dewy, as out of a cloud, + A blessing on our married speech. + +Ah, Love! how fresh and rare, even now, + That moment and that mood return +Upon me, when the soft winds blow, + And lilies toward the sunlight yearn! + + + + +PART SECOND. + + +FIRST GLANCE. + +A budding mouth and warm blue eyes; +A laughing face;--and laughing hair, + So ruddy does it rise + From off that forehead fair; + +Frank fervor in whate'er she said, +And a shy grace when she was still; + A bright, elastic tread; + Enthusiastic will; + +These wrought the magic of a maid +As sweet and sad as the sun in spring, + Joyous, yet half-afraid + Her joyousness to sing. + +What weighs the unworthiness of earth +When beauty such as this finds birth? + Rare maid, to look on thee + Gives all things harmony! + + + +"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES." + +The sunshine of thine eyes, + (Oh still, celestial beam!) +Whatever it touches it fills + With the life of its lambent gleam. + +The sunshine of thine eyes, + Oh let it fall on me! +Though I be but a mote of the air, + I could turn to gold for thee! + + + +"WHEN, LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE." + +When, looking deeply in thy face, +I catch the undergleam of grace +That grows beneath the outward glance, +Long looking, lost as in a trance +Of long desires that fleet and meet +Around me like the fresh and sweet +White showers of rain which, vanishing, +'Neath heaven's blue arches whirl, in spring; +Suddenly then I seem to know +Of some new fountain's overflow +In grassy basins, with a sound +That leads my fancy, past all bound, +Into a region of retreat +From this my life's bewildered heat. +Oh if my soul might always draw +From those deep fountains full of awe, +The current of my days should rise +Unto the level of thine eyes! + + + +WITHIN A YEAR + +I. + + Lips that are met in love's + Devotion sweet, +While parting lovers passionately greet, +And earth through heaven's arc more swiftly moves-- + Oh, will they be less dear + Within a year? + + +II. + + Eyes in whose shadow-spell + Far off I read +That which to lovers taking loving heed +Dear women's eyes full soon and plainly tell-- + Oh, will you give such cheer + This time a year? + + +III. + + Behold! the dark year goes, + Nor will reveal +Aught of its purpose, if for woe or weal, +Swift as a stream that o'er the mill-weir flows: + Mayhap the end draws near + Within the year! + + +IV. + + Yet, darling, once more touch + Those lips to mine. +Set on my life that talisman divine; +Absence, new friends, I fear not overmuch---- + Even Death, should he appear + Within the year! + + + +THE SINGING WIRE. + +Hark to that faint, ethereal twang + That from the bosom of the breeze +Has caught its rise and fall: there rang + Aolian harmonies! + +I looked; again the mournful, chords, + In random rhythm lightly flung +From off the wire, came shaped in words; + And thus, meseemed, they sung. + +"I, messenger of many fates, + Strung to the tones of woe or weal, +Fine nerve that thrills and palpitates + With all men know or feel,-- + +"Oh, is it strange that I should wail? + Leave me my tearless, sad refrain, +When in the pine-top wakes the gale + That breathes of coming rain. + +"There is a spirit in the post; + It, too, was once a murmuring tree; +Its sapless, sad, and withered ghost + Echoes my melody. + +"Come close, and lay your listening ear + Against the bare and branchless wood. +Say, croons it not, so low and clear, + As if it understood?" + +I listened to the branchless pole + That held aloft the singing wire; +I heard its muffled music roll, + And stirred with sweet desire: + +"O wire more soft than seasoned lute, + Hast thou no sunlit word for me? +Though long to me so coyly mute, + Sure she may speak through thee!" + +I listened; but it was in vain. + At first, the wind's old, wayward will +Drew forth the tearless, sad refrain: + That ceased, and all was still. + +But suddenly some kindling shock + Struck flashing through the wire: a bird, +Poised on it, screamed and flew; the flock + Rose with him, wheeled, and whirred. + +Then to my soul there came this sense: + "Her heart has answered unto thine; +She comes, to-night. Go, hie thee hence! + Meet her: no more repine!" + +Mayhap the fancy was far-fetched; + And yet, mayhap, it hinted true. +Ere moonrise, Love, a hand was stretched + In mine, that gave me--you! + +And so more dear to me has grown, + Than rarest tones swept from the lyre, +The minor-movement of that moan + In yonder singing wire. + +Nor care I for the will of states. + Or aught besides, that smites that string, +Since then so close it knit our fates, + What time the bird took wing! + + + +MOODS OF LOVE. + + +I. + +IN ABSENCE. + +My love for thee is like a winged seed + Blown from the heart of thy rare beauty's flower, + And deftly guided by some breezy power +To fall and rest, where I should never heed, +In deepest caves of memory. There, indeed, + With virtue rife of many a sunny hoar,-- + Ev'n making cold neglect and darkness dower +Its roots with life,--swiftly it 'gan to breed, +Till now wide-branching tendrils it outspreads + Like circling arms, to prison its own prison, +Fretting the walls with blooms by myriads, + And blazoning in my brain full summer-season: +Thy face, whose dearness presence had not taught. +In absence multiplies, and fills all thought. + + +II. + +HEART'S FOUNTAIN. + +Her moods are like the fountain's, changing ever, + That spouts aloft a sudden, watery dome, + Only to fall again in shattering foam, +Just where the wedded jets themselves dissever, +And palpitating downward, downward quiver, + Unfolded like a swift ethereal flower, + That sheds white petals in a blinding shower, +And straightway soars anew with blithe endeavor. + +The sun may kindle it with healthful fire; + Upon it falls the cloud-gray's leaden load; +At night the stars shall haunt the whirling spire: + Yet these have but a transient garb bestowed. +So her glad life, whate'er the hours impart, +Plays still 'twixt heaven's cope and her own clear heart. + + +III. + +SOUTH-WIND SONG. + +Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease + (Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!) + Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed +'Mong rosebuds, wooing to the cheeks of these +Loth blushes faint and maidenly--rich Breeze, + Still doth thy honeyed blowing bring a shade + Of sad foreboding. In thy hand is laid +The power to build or blight rich fruit of trees, +The deep, cool grass, and field of thick-combed grain. + +Even so my Love may bring me joy or woe, + Both measureless, but either counted gain +Since given by her. For pain and pleasure flow + Like tides upon us of the self-same sea. + Tears are the gems of joy and misery! + + +IV. + +THE LOVER'S YEAR + +Thou art my morning, twilight, noon, and eve, + My Summer and my Winter, Spring and Fall; + For Nature left on thee a touch of all +The moods that come to gladden or to grieve +The heart of Time, with purpose to relieve + From lagging sameness. So do these forestall + In thee such o'erheaped sweetnesses as pall +Too swiftly, and the taster tasteless leave. + +Scenes that I love to me always remain + Beautiful, whether under summer's sun +Beheld, or, storm-dark, stricken across with rain. + So, through all humors, thou 'rt the same sweet one: +Doubt not I love thee well in each, who see +Thy constant change is changeful constancy. + + +V. + +NEW WORLDS. + +With my beloved I lingered late one night. + At last the hour when I must leave her came: + But, as I turned, a fear I could not name +Possessed me that the long sweet evening might +Prelude some sudden storm, whereby delight + Should perish. What if Death, ere dawn, should claim + One of us? What, though living, not the same +Each should appear to each in morning-light? + +Changed did I find her, truly, the next day: + Ne'er could I see her as of old again. +That strange mood seemed to draw a cloud away, + And let her beauty pour through every vein +Sunlight and life, part of me. Thus the lover +With each new morn a new world may discover. + + +VI. + +WEDDING-NIGHT. + +At night, with shaded eyes, the summer moon + In tender meditation downward glances + At the dark earth, far-set in dim expanses, +And, welcomer than blazoned gold of noon, +Down through the air her steady lights are strewn. + The breezy forests sigh in moonlit trances, + And the full-hearted poet, waking, fancies +The smiling hills will break in laughter soon. + +Oh thus, thou gentle Nature, dost thou shine + On me to-night. My very limbs would melt, +Like rugged earth beneath yon ray divine, + Into faint semblance of what they have felt: +Thine eye doth color me, O wife, O mine, +With peace that in thy spirit long hath dwelt! + + + +LOVE'S DEFEAT. + +A thousand times I would have hoped, + A thousand times protested; +But still, as through the night I groped, + My torch from me was wrested, + and wrested. + +How often with a succoring cup + Unto the hurt I hasted! +The wounded died ere I came up; + My cup was still untasted,-- + Untasted. + +Of darkness, wounds, and harsh disdain + Endured, I ne'er repented. +'T is not of these I would complain: + With these I were contented,-- + Contented. + +Here lies the misery, to feel + No work of love completed; +In prayerless passion still to kneel, + And mourn, and cry: "Defeated + Defeated!" + + + + +MAY AND MARRIAGE. + + +THE LOVER WHO THINKS. + +Dost thou remember, Love, those hours +Shot o'er with random rainy showers, +When the bold sun would woo coy May? +She smiled, then wept--and looked another way. + +We, learning from the sun and season, +Together plotted joyous treason +'Gainst maiden majesty, to give +Each other troth, and henceforth wedded live. + +But love, ah, love we know is blind! +Not always what they seek they find +When, groping through dim-lighted natures, +Fond lovers look for old, ideal statures. + +What then? Is all our purpose lost? +The balance broken, since Fate tossed +Uneven weights? Oh well beware +That thought, my sweet: 't were neither fit nor fair! + +Seek not for any grafted fruits +From souls so wedded at the roots; +But whatsoe'er our fibres hold, +Let that grow forth in mutual, ample mold! + +No sap can circle without flaw +Into the perfect sphere we saw +Hanging before our happy eyes +Amid the shade of marriage-mysteries; + +But all that in the heart doth lurk +Must toward the mystic shaping work: +Sweet fruit and bitter both must fall +When the boughs bend, at each year's autumn-call. + +Ah, dear defect! that aye shall lift +Us higher, not through craven shift +Of fault on common frailty;--nay, +But twofold hope to help with generous stay! + +I shall be nearer, understood: +More prized art thou than perfect good. +And since thou lov'st me, I shall grow +Thy other self--thy Life, thy Joy, thy Woe! + + + +THE FISHER OF THE CAPE. + +At morn his bark like a bird +Slips lightly oceanward-- +Sail feathering smooth o'er the bay +And beak that drinks the wild spray. +In his eyes beams cheerily +A light like the sun's on the sea, +As he watches the waning strand, +Where the foam, like a waving hand +Of one who mutely would tell +Her love, flutters faintly, "Farewell." + +But at night, when the winds arise +And pipe to driving skies, +And the moon peers, half afraid, +Through the storm-cloud's ragged shade, +He hears her voice in the blast +That sighs about the mast, +He sees her face in the clouds +As he climbs the whistling shrouds; +And a power nerves his hand, +Shall bring the bark to land. + + + +SAILOR'S SONG. + +The sea goes up; the sky comes down. +Oh, can you spy the ancient town,-- +The granite hills so hard and gray, +That rib the land behind the bay? + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Three years? Is it so long that we +Have lived upon the lonely sea? +Oh, often I thought we'd see the town, +When the sea went up, and the sky came down. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Even the winter winds would rouse +A memory of my father's house; +For round his windows and his door +They made the same deep, mouthless roar. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +And when the summer's breezes beat, +Methought I saw the sunny street +Where stood my Kate. Beneath her hand +She gazed far out, far out from land. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Farthest away, I oftenest dreamed +That I was with her. Then, it seemed +A single stride the ocean wide +Had bridged, and brought me to her side. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home. + O ye ho! + +But though so near we're drawing, now, +'T is farther off----I know not how. +We sail and sail: we see no home. +Would we into the port were come! + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +At night, the same stars o'er the mast: +The mast sways round--however fast +We fly--still sways and swings around +One scanty circle's starry bound. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Ah, many a month those stars have shone, +And many a golden morn has flown, +Since that so solemn, happy morn, +When, I away, my babe was born. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +And, though so near we're drawing, now, +'T is farther off--I know not how-- +I would not aught amiss had come +To babe or mother there, at home! + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +'T is but a seeming: swiftly rush +The seas, beneath. I hear the crush +Of foamy ridges 'gainst the prow. +Longing outspeeds the breeze, I know. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Patience, my mates! Though not this eve +We cast our anchor, yet believe, +If but the wind holds, short the run: +We 'll sail in with to-morrow's sun. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + + + +JESSAMINE. + +Here stands the great tree still, with broad, bent head, +And wide arms grown aweary, yet outspread +With their old blessing. But wan memory weaves +Strange garlands now amongst the darkening leaves. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Beneath these glimmering arches Jessamine +Walked with her lover long ago, and in +This moon-made shade he questioned; and she spoke: +Then on them both love's rarer radiance broke. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Sweet Jessamine we called her; for she shone +Like blossoms that in sun and shade have grown, +Gathering from each alike a perfect white, +Whose rich bloom breaks opaque through darkest night. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +And for this sweetness Walt, her lover, sought +To win her; wooed her here, his heart full-fraught +With fragrance of her being, and gained his plea. +So "We will wed," they said, "beneath this tree." + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Was it unfaith, or faith more full to her, +Made him, for fame and fortune longing, spur +Into the world? Far from his home he sailed: +And life paused; while she watched joy vanish, vailed. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Oh, better at the elm tree's sun-browned feet +If he had been content to let life fleet +Its wonted way!--there rearing his small house; +Mowing and milking, lord of corn and cows! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +For as against a snarling sea one steers, +Ever he battled with the beetling years; +And ever Jessamine must watch and pine, +Her vision bounded by the bleak sea-line. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +At last she heard no more. The neighbors said +That Walt had married, faithless, or was dead. +Yet naught her trust could move; the tryst she kept +Each night still, 'neath this tree, before she slept. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +So, circling years went by; and in her face +Slow melancholy wrought a tempered grace +Of early joy with sorrow's rich alloy-- +Refined, rare, no doom should e'er destroy. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Sometimes at twilight, when sweet Jessamine, +Slow-footed, weary-eyed, passed by to win +The elm, we smiled for pity of her, and mused +On love that so could live with love refused. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Nor none could hope for her. But she had grown +Too high in love for hope, and bloomed alone, +Aloft in pure sincerity secure; +For fortune's failures, in her faith too sure. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Oh, well for Walt, if he had known her soul! +Discouraged on disaster's changeful shoal +Wrecking, he rested; starved on selfish pride +Long years; nor would obey love's homeward tide. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +But, bitterly repenting of his sin, +Oh, bitterly he learned to look within +Sweet Jessamine's clear depth--when the past, dead, +Mocked him, and wild, waste years forever fled! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Late, late, oh, late beneath the tree stood two! +In awe and anguish wondering: "Is it true?" +Two that were each most like to some wan wraith: +Yet each on each looked with a living faith. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Even to the tree-top sang the wedding-bell; +Even to the tree-top tolled the passing knell. +Beneath it Walt and Jessamine were wed; +Beneath it many a year she lieth dead! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Here stands the great tree still. But age has crept +Through every coil, while Walt each night has kept +The tryst alone. Hark! with what windy might +The boughs chant o'er her grave their burial-rite! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm. _ + + + +GRIEF'S HERO. + +A youth unto herself Grief took, +Whom everything of joy forsook, +And men passed with denying head, +Saying: "'T were better he were dead." + +Grief took him, and with master-touch +Molded his being. I marveled much +To see her magic with the clay, +So much she gave--and took away. +Daily she wrought, and her design +Grew daily clearer and more fine, +To make the beauty of his shape +Serve for the spirit's free escape. +With liquid fire she filled his eyes. +She graced his lips with swift surmise +Of sympathy for others' woe, +And made his every fibre flow +In fairer curves. On brow and chin +And tinted cheek, drawn clean and thin, +She sculptured records rich, great Grief! +She made him loving, made him lief. + +I marveled; for, where others saw +A failing frame with many a flaw, +Meseemed a figure I beheld +Fairer than anything of eld +Fashioned from sunny marble. Here +Nature was artist with no peer. +No chisel's purpose could have caught +These lines, nor brush their secret wrought. +Not so the world weighed, busily +Pursuing drossy industry; +But, saturated with success, +Well-guarded by a soft excess +Of bodily ease, gave little heed +To him that held not by their creed, +Save o'er the beauteous youth to moan: +"A pity that he is not grown +To our good stature and heavier weight, +To bear his share of our full freight." +Meanwhile, thus to himself he spoke: +"Oh, noble is the knotted oak, +And sweet the gush of sylvan streams, +And good the great sun's gladding beams, +The blush of life upon the field, +The silent might that mountains wield. +Still more I love to mix with men, +Meeting the kindly human ken; +To feel the force of faithful friends-- +The thirst for smiles that never ends. + +"Yet precious more than all of these +I hold great Sorrow's mysteries, +Whereby Gehenna's sultry gale +Is made to lift the golden veil +'Twixt heaven's starry-sphered light +Of truth and our dim, sun-blent sight. +Joy comes to ripen; but 'tis Grief +That garners in the grainy sheaf. +Time was I feared to know or feel +The spur of aught but gilded weal; +To bear aloft the victor, Fame, +Would ev'n have champed a stately shame +Of bit and bridle. But my fears +Fell off in the pure bath of tears. +And now with sinews fresh and strong +I stride, to summon with a song +The deep, invigorating truth +That makes me younger than my youth. +"O Sorrow, deathless thy delight! +Deathless it were but for our slight +Endurance! Truth like thine, too rare, +We dare but take in scantiest share." + +He died: the creatures of his kind +Fared on. Not one had known his mind. + +But the unnamed yearnings of the air, +The eternal sky's wide-searching stare, +The undertone of brawling floods, +And the old moaning of the woods +Grew full of memory. + + The sun +Many a brave heart has shone upon +Since then, of men who walked abroad +For joy and gladness praising God. +But widowed Grief lives on alone: +She hath not chosen, of them, one. + + + +A FACE IN THE STREET. + +Poor, withered face, that yet was once so fair, + Grown ashen-old in the wild fires of lust-- + Thy star-like beauty, dimm'd with earthly dust, + Yet breathing of a purer native air;-- +They who whilom, cursed vultures, sought a share + Of thy dead womanhood, their greed unjust + Have satisfied, have stripped and left thee bare. + Still, like a leaf warped by the autumn gust, +And driving to the end, thou wrapp'st in flame + And perfume all thy hollow-eyed decay, +Feigning on those gray cheeks the blush that Shame + Took with her when she fled long since away. + Ah God! rain fire upon this foul-souled city + That gives such death, and spares its men,--for pity! + + + +THE BATHER. + +Standing here alone, +Let me pause awhile, +Drinking in the light +Ere, with plunge of white limbs prone, +I raise the sparkling flight +Of foam-flakes volatile. + +Now, in natural guise, +I woo the deathless breeze, +Through me rushing fleet +The joy of life, in swift surprise: +I grow with growing wheat, +And burgeon with the trees. + +Lo! I fetter Time, +So he cannot run; +And in Eden again-- +Flash of memory sublime!-- +Dwell naked, without stain, +Beneath the dazed sun. + +All yields brotherhood; +Each least thing that lives, +Wrought of primal spores, +Deepens this wild sense of good +That, on these shaggy shores, +Return to nature gives. + +Oh, that some solitude +Were ours, in woodlands deep, +Where, with lucent eyes, +Living lithe and limber-thewed, +Our life's shape might arise +Like mountains fresh from sleep! + +To sounds of water falling, +Hosts of delicate dreams +Should lull us and allure +With a dim, enchanted calling, +Blameless to live and pure +Like these sweet springs and streams. + +But in a wilderness +Alone may such life be? +Why of all things framed, +In my human form confessed +Should I be ashamed, +And blush for honesty? + +Rounded, strengthy limbs +That knit me to my kind-- +Your glory turns to grief! +Shall I for my soul sing hymns, +Yet for my body find +No clear, divine belief? + +Let me rather die, +Than by faith uphold +Dogmas weak that dare +The form that once Christ wore deny +Afraid with him to share +A purity twofold; + +Yet, while sin remains +On this saddened earth, +Humbly walk my ways! +For my garments are as chains; +And I fear to praise +My frame with careless mirth. + +Joy and penance go +Hand in hand, I see! +Would I could live so well, +Soul of me should never know +When my coverings fell, +Nor feel this nudity! + + + +HELEN AT THE LOOM. + +Helen, in her silent room, +Weaves upon the upright loom, +Weaves a mantle rich and dark, +Purpled over-deep. But mark +How she scatters o'er the wool +Woven shapes, till it is full +Of men that struggle close, complex; +Short-clipp'd steeds with wrinkled necks +Arching high; spear, shield, and all +The panoply that doth recall +Mighty war, such war as e'en +For Helen's sake is waged, I ween. +Purple is the groundwork: good! +All the field is stained with blood. +Blood poured out for Helen's sake; +(Thread, run on; and, shuttle, shake!) +But the shapes of men that pass +Are as ghosts within a glass, +Woven with whiteness of the swan, +Pale, sad memories, gleaming wan +From the garment's purple fold +Where Troy's tale is twined and told. +Well may Helen, as with tender +Touch of rosy fingers slender +She doth knit the story in +Of Troy's sorrow and her sin, +Feel sharp filaments of pain +Reeled off with the well-spun skein, +And faint blood-stains on her hands +From the shifting sanguine strands. +Gently, sweetly she doth sorrow: +What has been must be to-morrow; +Meekly to her fate she bows. +Heavenly beauties still will rouse +Strife and savagery in men: +Shall the lucid heavens, then, +Lose their high serenity, +Sorrowing over what must be? +If she taketh to her shame, +Lo, they give her not the blame,-- +Priam's wisest counselors, +Aged men, not loving wars: +When she goes forth, clad in white, +Day-cloud touched by first moonlight, +With her fair hair, amber-hued +As vapor by the moon imbued +With burning brown, that round her clings, +See, she sudden silence brings +On the gloomy whisperers +Who would make the wrong all hers. + +So, Helen, in thy silent room, +Labor at the storied loom; +(Thread, run on; and, shuttle, shake!) +Let thy aching sorrow make +Something strangely beautiful +Of this fabric, since the wool +Comes so tinted from the Fates, +Dyed with loves, hopes, fears, and hates. +Thou shalt work with subtle force +All thy deep shade of remorse +In the texture of the weft, +That no stain on thee be left;-- +Ay, false queen, shalt fashion grief, +Grief and wrong, to soft relief. +Speed the garment! It may chance. +Long hereafter, meet the glance +Of Onone; when her lord, +Now thy Paris, shall go t'ward +Ida, at his last sad end, +Seeking her, his early friend, +Who alone can cure his ill +Of all who love him, if she will. +It were fitting she should see +In that hour thine artistry, +And her husband's speechless corse +In the garment of remorse! +But take heed that in thy work +Naught unbeautiful may lurk. +Ah, how little signifies +Unto thee what fortunes rise, +What others fall! Thou still shalt rule, +Still shalt work the colored crewl. +Though thy yearning woman's eyes +Burn with glorious agonies, +Pitying the waste and woe, +And the heroes falling low +In the war around thee, here, +Yet that exquisitest tear +'Twixt thy lids shall dearer be +Than life, to friend or enemy. + +There are people on the earth +Doomed with doom of too great worth. +Look on Helen not with hate, +Therefore, but compassionate. +If she suffer not too much, +Seldom does she feel the touch +Of that fresh, auroral joy +Lighter spirits may decoy +To their pure and sunny lives. +Heavy honey 't is, she hives. +To her sweet but burdened soul +All that here she doth control-- +What of bitter memories, +What of coming fate's surmise, +Paris' passion, distant din +Of the war now drifting in +To her quiet--idle seems; +Idle as the lazy gleams +Of some stilly water's reach, +Seen from where broad vine-leaves pleach +A heavy arch, and, looking through, +Far away the doubtful blue +Glimmers, on a drowsy day, +Crowded with the sun's rich gray, +As she stands within her room, +Weaving, weaving at the loom. + + + +"O WHOLESOME DEATH." + +O Wholesome Death, thy sombre funeral-car + Looms ever dimly on the lengthening way + Of life; while, lengthening still, in sad array, +My deeds in long procession go, that are +As mourners of the man they helped to mar. + I see it all in dreams, such as waylay + The wandering fancy when the solid day +Has fallen in smoldering ruins, and night's star, +Aloft there, with its steady point of light + Mastering the eye, has wrapped the brain in sleep. +Ah, when I die, and planets take their flight + Above my grave, still let my spirit keep +Sometimes its vigil of divine remorse, +'Midst pity, praise, or blame heaped o'er my corse! + + + +BURIAL-SONG FOR SUMNER. + + Now the last wreath of snow + That melts, in mist exhales +White aspiration, and our deep-voiced gales +In chorus chant the measured march of spring, + Whom griefs of life and death + Are burdening! + Slow, slow-- + With half-held breath-- +Tread slow, O mourners, that all men may know + What hero here lies low! + + O music, sweep + From some deep cave, and bear +To us that gasp in this so meagre air + Sweet ministerings +And consolations of contorted sound, + With agonies profound +Of nobly warring and enduring chords + That lie, close-bound, +Unstirred as yet 'neath thy wide, wakening wings; +So that our hearts break not in broken words. + O music, that hast power + This darkness to devour +In vivid light; that from the dusk of grief +Canst cause to grow divergent flower and leaf, + And from death's darkest roots + Bring forth the fairest fruits;-- + Come thou, to quicken this hour + Of loss, and keep +Thy spell on all, that none may dare to weep! + + For he whom now we mourn, + As if from giants born, +Was strong in limb and strong in brain, +And nobly with a giant scorn + Withstood the direst pain + That healing science knows, + When, by the dastard blows + Of his brute enemy +Laid low, he sought to rise again + Through help of knife and fire,-- + The awful enginery + Wherewith men dare aspire +To wrest from Death his victims. Yea, +Though he who healed him shrank and throbbed + With horror of the wound, + Brave Sumner gave no sound, + Nor flinched, nor sobbed, + But as though within the man + Instant premonition ran + Of his high fate, +Imperishable, sculptured state + Enthroned in death to hold, + He stood, a statued form + Of veiled and voiceless storm, + Inwardly quivering + Like the swift-smitten string + Of unheard music, yet + As massively and firmly set +As if he had been marble or wrought gold! + + Built in so brave a shape, + How could he hope escape + The blundering people's wrath? + Who, seeing him strong, +Supposed it right to cast on him their wrong, + Since he could bear it all! + Lo, now, the sombre pall + Sweeps their dull errors from the path, + And leaves it free +For him, whose hushed heart no reproaches hath, + Unto his grave to fare, + In shrouded majesty! + His triumph fills the air: +Behold, the streets are bordered with vain breath +Of those who reverent watch the train of death; + But he has done with breathing! + + Wise Death, still choosing near and far, + Thou couldst not strike a higher star + From out our heaven, and yet its light + In falling glorifies the night! + + Leader in life, his lips, though dumb, +Still rule us by their restfulness, their smile +Of far-off meanings; and the people come +In tributary hosts for many a mile, + Drawn by an eloquence + More solemn and intense + Than that wherewith he shook + The Senate, while his look +Of sober lightning cleft the knotty growth +Of error, that within the riven root +Uplifted, lit with peace, truth's buds might shoot, +And blow sweet breath o'er all, however loth! + +Unspeaking, though his eyes forget + The light that late forsook + Their chambers, there doth rise + Mysteriously yet + A radiance thence that glows +On brows of them, the great and wise, +Poets and men of prophecies, +Who, with looks of strange repose, +Calm, exalted, here have met +Him to follow to his grave. +Well they know he's crossed their bound, +Yet, with baffled longing brave, +Seek with him the depths to sound +That gulf our lonely life around. +Oh, on these mortal faces frail + What immortality + Falls from the death-light pale! + +Ev'n thus the path unto thy tomb, +Sumner, all our brave and good +Still shall pace through time to come, +For in distant Auburn wood +Seeing the glimmer of thy stone, +They a shaft shall deem it, thrown +From a dawn beyond the deep, + And so haste with thee to keep + Angelic brotherhood! + O herald, gone before, + For these throw wide the door, + Make room, make room! + + Now, music, cease, +And bitter brazen trumpets hold your peace! + Now, while the dumb, white air + Draws from our still despair + A purer prayer. + Then must the sod + Fulfill its humble share, + Meek-folded o'er his breast, +Here where he lies amongst the waiting trees: +They shall break bud when warm winds from the west +And southern breezes come to touch the place + Made precious by this grace + Of memory dear to God. + +We leave him where the granite Lion lies +And gazes toward the East, with woman's eyes +That read the riddle of the undying sun, +Bearing within her breast the stony germ +Of continents, but--lasting no less firm-- + The memory of those marvels done, + The battles fought, the words that wrought + To free a race, and chasten one. +We leave him where the river slowly winds, + A broken chain; +The river that so late its hero finds, + Without a stain, +Whose name so long expectantly it bore; + And, echoing now a people's thought, +The Charles shall murmur by this reedy shore + His fame forevermore. + + + +ARISE, AMERICAN! + +The soul of a nation awaking,-- + High visions of daybreak I saw, +And the stir of a state, the forsaking + Of sin, and the worship of law. + +O pine-tree, shout! And hoarser + Rush, river, unto the sea, +Foam-fettered and sun-flushed, a courser + That feels the prairie, free! + +Our birth-star beckons to trial + All faith of the far-fled years, +Ere scorn was our share, and denial, + Or laughter for patriot's tears. + +And lo, Faith comes forth the finer + From trampled thickets of fire, +And the orient opens diviner + Before her; the heaven lifts higher. + +O deep, sweet eyes, and severer + Than steel! he knoweth who comes, +Thy hero: bend thine eyes nearer! + Now wilder than battle-drums + +Thy glance in his blood is stirring! + His heart is alive like the main +When the roweled winds are spurring, + And the broad tides shoreward strain. + +O hero, art thou among us? + O helper, hidest thou still? +Why hath he no anthem sung us, + Why waiteth, nor worketh our will? + +For still a smirk or a favor + Can hide the face of the false; +And the old-time Faith seeks braver + Upholders, and sacreder walls. + +Yea, cunning is Christian evil, + And subtle the conscience' snare; +But virtue's volcanic upheaval + Shall cast fine device to the air! + +Too long has the land's soul slumbered, + And triumph bred dangerous ease,-- +Our victories all unnumbered, + Our feet on the down-bowed seas. + +Come, then, simple and stalwart + Life of the earlier days! +Come! Far better than all were it-- + Our precepts, our prayers, and our lays-- + +That the heart of the people should tremble + Accord to some mighty one's voice, +The helpless atoms assemble + In music, their valor to poise. + +Come to us, mountain-dweller, + Leader, wherever thou art, +Skilled from thy cradle, a queller + Of serpents, and sound to the heart! + +Modest, and mighty, and tender, + Man of an iron mold, +Learned or unlearned, our defender, + American-souled! + + + +THE SILENT TIDE + +A tangled orchard round the farm-house spreads, +Wherein it stands home-like, but desolate, +'Midst crowded and uneven-statured sheds, +Alike by rain and sunshine sadly stained. +A quiet country-road before the door +Runs, gathering close its ruts to scale the hill-- +A sudden bluff on the New Hampshire coast, +That rises rough against the sea, and hangs +Crested above the bowlder-sprinkled beach. +And on the road white houses small are strung +Like threaded beads, with intervals. The church +Tops the rough hill; then comes the wheelwright's shop. + +From orchard, church, and shop you hear the sea, +And from the farm-house windows see it strike +Sharp gleams through slender arching apple-boughs. + +Sea-like, too, echoing round me here there rolls +A surging sorrow; and even so there breaks +A smitten light of woe upon me, now, +Seeing this place, and telling o'er again +The tale of those who dwelt here once. Long since +It was, and they were two--two brothers, bound +By early orphanage and solitude +The closer, cleaving strongly each to each, +Till love, that held them many years in gage, +Itself swept them asunder. I have heard +The story from old Deacon Snow, their friend, +He who was boy and man with them. A boy! +What, he? How strange it seems! who now is stiff +And warped with life's fierce heat and cold: his brows +Are hoary white, and on his head the hairs +Stand sparse as wheat-stalks on the bare field's edge! + +Reuben and Jerry they were named; but two +Of common blood and nurture scarce were found +More sharply different. For the first was bold, +Breeze-like and bold to come or go; not rash, +But shrewdly generous, popular, and boon: +And Jerry, dark and sad-faced. Whether least +He loved himself or neighbor none could tell, +So cold he seemed in wonted sympathy. +Yet he would ponder an hour at a time +Upon a bird found dead; and much he loved +To brood i' th' shade of yon wind-wavered pines. +Often at night, too, he would wander forth, +Lured by the hollow rumbling of the sea +In moonlight breaking, there to learn wild things, +Such as these dreamers pluck out of the dusk +While other men lie sleeping. But a star, +Rose on his sight, at last, with power to rule +Majestically mild that deep-domed sky, +High as youth's hopes, that stood above his soul; +And, ruling, led him dayward. That was Grace, +I mean Grace Brierly, daughter of the squire, +Rivaling the wheelwright Hungerford's shy Ruth +For beauty. Therefore, in the sunny field, +Mowing the clover-purpled grass, or, waked +In keen December dawns,--while creeping light +And winter-tides beneath the pallid stars +Stole o'er the marsh together,--a thought of her +Would turn him cool or warm, like the south breeze, +And make him blithe or bitter. Alas for him! +Eagerly storing golden thoughts of her, +He locked a phantom treasure in his breast. + +He sought to chain the breezes, and to lift +A perfume as a pearl before his eyes-- +Intangible delight! A time drew on +When from these twilight musings on his hopes +He woke, and found the morning of his love +Blasted, and all its rays shorn suddenly. +For Reuben, too, had turned his eye on Grace, +And she with favoring face the suit had met, +Known in the village; this dream-fettered youth +Perceiving not what passed, until too late. + +One holiday the young folks all had gone +Strawberrying, with the village Sabbath-school; +Reuben and Grace and Jerry, Ruth, Rob Snow, +And all their friends, youth-mates that buoyantly +Bore out 'gainst Time's armadas, like a fleet +Of fair ships, sunlit, braced by buffeting winds, +Indomitably brave; but, soon or late, +Battle and hurricane or whirl them deep +Below to death, or send them homeward, seared +By shot and storm: so went they forth, that day. + +Two wagons full of rosy children rolled +Along the rutty track, 'twixt swamp and slope, +Through deep, green-glimmering woods, and out at last +On grassy table-land, warm with the sun +And yielding tributary odors wild +Of strawberry, late June-rose, juniper, +Where sea and land breeze mingled. There a brook +Through a bare hollow flashing, spurted, purled, +And shot away, yet stayed--a light and grace +Unconscious and unceasing. And thick pines, +Hard by, drew darkly far away their dim +And sheltering, cool arcades. So all dismount, +And fields and forest gladden with their shout; +Ball, swing, and see-saw sending the light hearts +Of the children high o'er earth and everything. +While some staid, kindly women draw and spread +In pine-shade the long whiteness of a cloth, +The rest, a busy legion, o'er the grass +Kneeling, must rifle the meadow of its fruit. + +O laughing Fate! O treachery of truth +To royal hopes youth bows before! That day, +Ev'n there where life in such glad measure beat +Its round, with winds and waters, tunefully, +And birds made music in the matted wood, +The shaft of death reached Jerry's heart: he saw +The sweet conspiracy of those two lives, +In looks and gestures read his doom, and heard +Their laughter ring to the grave all mirth of his. + +So Reuben's life in full leaf stood, its fruit +Hidden in a green expectancy; but all +His days were rounded with ripe consciousness: +While Jerry felt the winter's whitening blight, +As when that frosty fern-work and those palms +Of visionary leaf, and trailing vines, +Quaint-chased by night-winds on the pane, melt off, +And naked earth, stone-stiff, with bristling trees, +Stares in the winter sunlight coldly through. +But yet he rose, and clothed himself amain +With misery, and once more put on life +As a stained garment. Highly he resolved +To make his deedless days henceforward strike +Pure harmony--a psalm of silences. + +But on the Sunday, coming from the church, +He saw those happy, plighted lovers walk +Before proud Grace's father, and of friends +Heard comment and congratulation given. +Then with Rob Snow he hurried to the beach, +To a rough heap of stones they two had reared +In boyhood. There the two held sad debate +Of life's swift losses, Bob inspiriting still, +Jerry rejecting hope, ev'n though his friend, +Self-wounding (for he loved Ruth Hungerford), +Told how the wheelwright's daughter longed for him, +And yet might make him glad, though Grace was lost. + +The season deepened, and in Jerry's heart +Ripened a thought charged with grave consequence. +His grief he would have stifled at its birth, +Sad child of frustrate longing! But anon-- +Knowledge of Ruth's affection being revealed, +Which, if he stayed to let it feed on him, +Vine-like might wreathe and wind about his life, +Lifting all shade and sweetness out of reach +Of Robert, so long his friend--honor, and hopes +He would not name, kindled a torch for war +Of various impulse in him. Reuben wedded; +Yet Jerry lingered. Then, swift whisperings +Along reverberant walls of gossips' ears +Hummed loud and louder a love for Ruth. Grace, too, +Involved him in a web of soft surmise +With Ruth; and Reuben questioned him thereof. +But a white, sudden anger struck like a bolt +O'er Jerry's face, that blackened under it: +He strode away, and left his brother dazed, +With red rush of offended self-conceit +Staining his forehead to the hair. This flash +Of anger--first since boyhood's wholesome strifes-- +On Jerry's path gleamed lurid; by its light +He shaped a life's course out. + + There came a storm +One night. He bade farewell to Ruth; and when +Above the seas the bare-browed dawn arose, +While the last laggard drops ran off the eaves, +He dressed, but took some customary garb +On his arm; stole swiftly to the sands; and there +Cast clown his garments by the ancient heap +Of stones. At first brief pause he made, and thought: +"And thus I play, to win perchance a tear +From her whom, first, to save the smallest care, +I thought I could have died!" But then at once +Within the sweep of swirling water-planes +That from the great waves circled up and slid +Instantly back, passing far down the shore, +Southward he made his way. Next day he shipped +Upon a whaler outward bound. She spread +Her mighty wings, and bore him far away-- +So far, Death seemed across her wake to stalk, +Withering her swift shape from the empty air, +Until her memory grew a faded dream. + +Ah, what a desolate brightness that young day +Flung o'er the impassive strand and dull green marsh +And green-arched orchard, ere it struck the farm! +Storm-strengthened, clear, and cool the morning rose +To gaze down on that frighted home, where dawned +Pale Ruth's discovery of her loss, who late, +Guessing some ill in Jerry's last-night words +Of vague farewell, woke now to certainty +Of strange disaster. So, when Reuben and Rob, +Hither and thither searching, with locked lips +And eyes grown suddenly cold in eager dread, +On those still sands beside the untamed sea, +Came to the garments Jerry had thrown there, dumb +They stood, and knew he'd perished. If by chance +Borne out with undertow and rolled beneath +The gaping surge, or rushing on his death +Free-willed, they would not guess; but straight they set +Themselves to watch the changes of the sea-- +The watchful sea that would not be betrayed, +The surly flood that echoed their suspense +With hollow-sounding horror. Thus three tides +Hurled on the beach their empty spray, and brought +Nor doubt-dispelling death, nor new-born hope. +But with the fourth slow turn at length there came +A naked, drifting body impelled to shore, +An unknown sailor by the late storm swept +Out of the rigging of some laboring ship. +And him, disfigured by the water's wear, +The watching friends supposed their dead; and so, +Mourning, took up this outcast of the deep, +And buried him, with church-rite and with pall +Trailing, and train of sad-eyed mourners, there +In the old orchard-lot by Reuben's door. + +Observed among the mourners walked slight Ruth. +Her grief had dropped a veil of finer light +Around her, hedging her with sanctity +Peculiar; all stood shy about her save +Rob Snow, he venturing from time to time +Some small, uncertain act of kindliness. +Long seemed she vowed from joy, but when the birds +Began to mate, and quiet violets blow +Along the brook-side, lo! she smiled again; +Again the wind-flower color in her cheeks +Blanch'd in a breath, and bloomed once more; then stayed; +Till, like the breeze that rumors ripening buds, +A delicate sense crept through the air that soon +These two would scale the church-crowned hill, and wed. + +The seasons faced the world, and fled, and came. +In summer nights, the soft roll of the sea +Was shattered, resonant, beneath a moon +That, silent, seemed to hearken. And every hour +In autumn, night or day, large apples fell +Without rebound to earth, upon the sod +There mounded greenly by the large slate slab +In the old orchard-lot near Reuben's door. +But there were changes: after some long years +Reuben and Grace beheld a brave young boy +Bearing their double life abroad in one-- +Beginning new the world, and bringing hopes +That in their path fell flower-like. Not at ease +They dwelt, though; for a slow discordancy +Of temper--weak-willed waste of life in bursts +Of petulance--had marred their happiness. +And so the boy, young Reuben, as he grew, +Was chafed and vexed by this ill-fitting mode +Of life forced on him, and rebelled. Too oft +Brooding alone, he shaped loose schemes of flight +Into the joyous outer world, to break +From the unwholesome wranglings of his home. +Then once, when at some slight demur he made, +Dispute ensued between the man and wife, +He burst forth, goaded, "Some day I will leave-- +Leave you forever!" And his father stared, +Lifted and clenched his hand, but let it unloose, +Nerveless. The blow, unstruck, yet quivered through +The boy's whole body. + + Waiting for the night, +Reuben made ready, lifted latch, went forth; +Then, with his little bundle in his hand, +Took the bleak road that led him to the world. +When Jerry eighteen years had sailed, had bared +His hurt soul to the pitiless sun and drunk +The rainy brew of storms on all seas, tired +Of wreck and fever and renewed mischance +That would not end in death, a longing stirred +Within him to revisit that gray coast +Where he was born. He landed at the port +Whence first he sailed; and, as in fervid youth, +Set forth upon the highway, to walk home. +Some hoarding he had made, wherewith to enrich +His brother's brood for spendthrift purposes; +And as he walked he wondered how they looked, +How tall they were, how many there might be. +At noon he set himself beside the way, +Under a clump of willows sprouting dense +O'er the weed-woven margin of a brook; +While in the fine green branches overhead +Song-sparrows lightly perched, for whom he threw +From his scant bread some crumbs, remembering well +Old days when he had played with birds like these-- +The same, perhaps, or grandfathers of theirs, +Or earlier still progenitors: whereat +They chirped and chattered louder than before. +But, as he sat, a boy came down the road, +Stirring the noontide dust with laggard feet. +Young Reuben 't was, who seaward made his way. +And Jerry hailed him, carelessly, his mood +Moving to salutation, and the boy, +From under his torn hat-brim looking, answered. +Then, seeing that he eyed his scrap of bread, +The sailor bade him come and share it. So +They fell to talk; and Jerry, with a rough, +Quick-touching kindness, the boy's heart so moved +That unto him he all his wrong confessed. +Gravely the sailor looked at him, and told +His own tale of mad flight and wandering; how, +Wasted he had come back, his life a husk +Of withered seeds, a raveled purse, though once +With golden years well stocked, all squandered now. +At ending, he prevailed, and Reub was won +To turn and follow. Jerry, though he knew +Not yet the father's name, said he that way +Was going, too, and he would intercede +Between the truant and his father. Back +Together then they went. But on the way, +As now they passed from pines to farming-land, +The boy asked more. "'T is queer you should have come +From these same parts, and run away like me! +You did not tell me how it happened." + + +JERRY. + + Foolish, +All of it! But I thought it weightier +Than the world's history, once. I could not stay +And see my brother married to the girl +I loved; and so I went. + + +THE BOY. + + I had an uncle +That was in love. But he--he drowned himself. +Why do men do so? + + +JERRY. + + Drowned himself? And when? + + +THE BOY. + +I don't know. Long ago; it's like a dream +To me. I was not born then. Deacon Snow +Has told me something of it. Mother cries +Even now, beside his grave. Poor uncle! + + +JERRY. + + His grave! +(_That_ could not be, then.) Yet if it should be, +How can I think Grace cried-- + + +THE BOY. + + How did you know +My mother's name was Grace? + + +JERRY. + + I am confused +By what you say. But is your mother's name +Grace? How! Grace, too? + + A strange uneasiness +In Jerry's breast had waked. They walked awhile +In silence. This he could not well believe, +That Grace and Reuben unhappy were, nor that +One son alone was theirs. Therefore aside +He thrust that hidden, sharp foreboding: still +He trusted, still sustained a calm suspense, +And ranged among his memories. "Tell me, son," +He said, "about this Deacon Snow--Rob Snow +It must be, I suppose." + + +THE BOY. + + Oh, do you know him? + + +JERRY. + +A deacon now! Ay, once I knew Rob Snow-- +A jolly blade, if ever any was, +And merry as the full moon. + + +THE BOY. + + He has failed +A good deal now, though, since his wife died. + + +JERRY. + + What! +(Of course; of course; all's changed.) He married! + + +THE BOY. + + Why, +How long you must have been away! For since +I can remember he has had a wife +And children. She was Gran'ther Hungerford's-- + + +JERRY. + +Her name was Ruth? + + +THE BOY. + + Yes, Ruth! 'T is after her +The deacon's nicest daughter's named; _she's_ Ruth. + +Then sadly Jerry pondered, and no more +Found speech. They tramped on sternly. To the brow +Of a long hill they came, whence they could see +The village and blue ocean; then they sank +Into a region of low-lying fields +Half-naked from the scythe, and others veined +With vines that 'midst dismantled, fallen corn +Dragged all athwart a weight of tawny gourds, +Sun-mellowed, sound. And now the level way +Stretched forward eagerly, for hard ahead +It made the turn that rounded Reuben's house. +Between the still road and the tossing sea +Lay the wide swamp, with all its hundred pools +Reflecting leaden light; anon they passed +A farm-yard where the noisy chanticleer +Strutted and ruled, as one long since had done; +And then the wayside trough with jutting spout +Of ancient, mossy wood, that still poured forth +Its liquid largess to all comers. Soon +A slow cart met them, filled with gathered kelp: +The salt scent seemed a breath of younger days. +They reached the road-bend, and the evening shone +Upon them, calmly. Jerry paused, o'erwhelmed. +Reuben, surprised, glanced at him, and then said, +"Yonder's the house." Old Jerry gazed on him, +And trembled; for before him slowly grew +Through the boy's face the mingled features there +Of father and of mother--Grace's mouth, +Ripe, pouting lips, and Reuben's square-framed eyes. +But, mastering well his voice, he bade the boy +Wait by the wall, till he a little while +Went forward, and prepared. So Reuben stayed; +And Jerry with uncertain step advanced, +As dreaming of his youth and this his home. +Slowly he passed between the gateless posts +Before the unused front door, slowly too +Beyond the side porch with its woodbine thick +Draping autumnal splendor. Thus he came +Before the kitchen window, where he saw +A gray-haired woman bent o'er needle-work +In gathering twilight. And without a voice, +Rooted, he stood. He stirred not, but his glance +Burned through the pane; uneasily she turned, +And seeing that shaggy stranger standing there +Expectant, shook her head, as though to warn +Some chance, wayfaring beggar. He, though, stood +And looked at her immovably. Then, quick +The sash upthrowing, she made as if to speak +Harshly; but still he held his quiet eyes +Upon her. Now she paused; her throat throbbed full; +Her lips paled suddenly, her wan face flamed, +A fertile stir of memory strove to work +Renewal in those features wintry cold. +And so she hung, while Jerry by a step +Drawn nearer, coming just beneath her, said, +"Grace!" And she murmured, "Jerry!" Then she bent +Over him, clasping his great matted head +With those worn arms, all joyless; and the tears +Fell hot upon his forehead from her eyes. +For now in this dim gloaming their two souls +Unfruited, by an instant insight wild, +Delicious, found the full, mysterious clew +Of individual being, each in each. +But, tremulously, soon they drew themselves +Away from that so sweet, so sad embrace, +The first, the last that could be theirs. Then he, +Summing his story in a word, a glance, +Added, "But though you see me broken down +And poor enough, not empty-handed quite +I come. For God set in my way a gift, +The best I could have sought. I bring it you +In memory of the love I bore. Not now +Must that again be thought of! Waste and black +My life's fields lie behind me, and a frost +Has stilled the music of my hopes, but here +If I may dwell, nor trouble you, such a joy +Were mine, I dare not ask it. Oh forgive +The weakness! Come and see my gift!" + + Ah, tears +Flowed fast, that night, from springs of love unsealed +Once more within the ancient house--rare tears +Of reconciliation, grief, and joy! +A miracle, it seemed, had here been wrought, +The dead brought back to life. And with him came +The prodigal, repenting. + + So, thenceforth, +A spirit of peace within the household dwelt. +In Jerry a swift-sent age these years had brought, +To soften him, wrought with all the woe at home +Such open, gracious dignity, that all +For cheer and guidance learned to look to him. +But chiefly th' younger Reuben sought his aid, +And he with homely wisdom shaped the lad +To a life's loving duty. Yet not long, +Alas! the kind sea-farer with them stayed. +After some years his storm-racked body drooped. +The season came when crickets cease to sing +And flame-curled leaves fly fast; and Jerry sank +Softly toward death. Then, on a boisterous morn +That beat the wrecked woods with incessant gusts +To wrest some last leaf from them, he arose +And passed away. But those who loved him watched +His fading, half in doubt, and half afraid, +As if he must return again; for now +Entering the past he seemed, and not a life +Beyond; and some who thought of that old grave +In the orchard, dreamed a breath's space that the man +Long buried had come back, and could not die. +But so he died, and, ceasing, made request +Beside that outcast of the deep to lie. +None other mark desired he but the stone +Set there long since, though at a stranger's grave, +In heavy memory of him thought dead. + +They marked the earth with one more mound beside +The other, near a gap in the low wall +That looked out seaward. There you ever hear +The deep, remorseful requiem of the sea; +And there, in autumn, windfalls, showering thick +Upon the grave, score the slow, voiceless hours +With unrebounding stroke. All round about +Green milkweed rankly thrives, and golden-rod +Sprouts from his prostrate heart in fine-poised grace +Of haughty curve, with every crest in flower. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Rose and Roof-Tree, by George Parsons Lathrop + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE AND ROOF-TREE *** + +This file should be named 7rose10.txt or 7rose10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7rose11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7rose10a.txt + +Produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/7rose10.zip b/old/7rose10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4c7854 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7rose10.zip diff --git a/old/8rose10.txt b/old/8rose10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..12185d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8rose10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2879 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose and Roof-Tree, by George Parsons Lathrop + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Rose and Roof-Tree + Poems + +Author: George Parsons Lathrop + +Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7110] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 11, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE AND ROOF-TREE *** + + + + +Produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +ROSE AND ROOF-TREE: + +POEMS + + + +by + +GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP + + + + +[Illustration: JESSAMINE] + + + + +Upon the enchanted ladder of his rhymes, + Round after round and patiently + The poet ever upward climbs. + + + + +_DEDICATION_. + +_I need give my verse no hint as to whom it sings for. The rose, +knowing her own right, makes servitors of the light-rays to carry her +color. So every line here shall in some sense breathe of thee, and in +its very face bear record of her whom, however unworthily, it seeks to +serve and honor._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +WINDFALLS. + +ROSE AND ROOF-TREE +MUSIC OF GROWTH +A SONG LONG AGO +MELANCHOLY +CONTENTMENT + + +PART FIRST. + +AN APRIL ARIA +THE BOBOLINK +THE SUN-SHOWER +JUNE LONGINGS +A RUNE OF THE RAIN +THE SONG-SPARROW +FAIRHAVEN BAY +CHANT FOR AUTUMN +BEFORE THE SNOW +THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH +THE LILY-POND + + +PART SECOND. + +FIRST GLANCE +"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES" +"WHEN, LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE" +WITHIN A YEAR +THE SINGING WIRE +MOODS OF LOVE: + I. In Absence + II. Heart's Fountain + III. South-Wind Song + IV. The Lover's Year + V. New Worlds + VI. Wedding-Night +LOVE'S DEFEAT +MAY AND MARRIAGE +THE FISHER OF THE CAPE +SAILOR'S SONG +JESSAMINE +GRIEF'S HERO +A FACE IN THE STREET +THE BATHER +HELEN AT THE LOOM +"O WHOLESOME DEATH" +BURIAL-SONG FOR SUMNER +ARISE, AMERICAN! +THE SILENT TIDE + + + + +WINDFALLS. + + +ROSE AND ROOF-TREE. + + O wayward rose, why dost thou wreathe so high, + Wasting thyself in sweet-breath'd ecstasy? + +"The pulses of the wind my life uplift, + And through my sprays I feel the sunlight sift; + +"And all my fibres, in a quick consent + Entwined, aspire to fill their heavenward bent. + +"I feel the shaking of the far-off sea, + And all things growing blend their life with me: + +"When men and women on me look, there glows + Within my veins a life not of the rose. + +"Then let me grow, until I touch the sky, + And let me grow and grow until I die!" + + So, every year, the sweet rose shooteth higher, + And scales the roof upon its wings of fire, + + And pricks the air, in lovely discontent, + With thorns that question still of its intent. + + But when it reached the roof-tree, there it clung, + Nor ever farther up its blossoms flung. + + O wayward rose, why hast thou ceased to climb? + Hast thou forgot the ardor of thy prime? + +"O hearken!"--thus the rose-spray, listening,-- +"With what weird music sweet these full hearts ring! + +"What mazy ripples of deep, eddying sound, + Rise, touch the roof-tree old, and drift around, + +"Bearing aloft the burden musical + Of joys and griefs from human hearts that fall! + +"Green stem and fair, flush'd circle I will lay + Along the roof, and listen here alway; + +"For rose and tree, and every leafy growth + That toward the sky unfolds with spiry blowth, + +"No purpose hath save this, to breathe a grace + O'er men, and in men's hearts to seek a place. + +"Therefore, O poet, thou who gav'st to me + The homage of thy humble sympathy, + +"No longer vest thy verse in rose-leaves frail:-- + Let the heart's voice loud through thy pæan wail!" + + * * * * * + + Lo, at my feet the wind of autumn throws + A hundred turbulent blossoms of the rose, + + Full of the voices of the sea and grove + And air, and full of hidden, murmured love, + + And warm with passion through the roof-tree sent; + Dew-drenched with tears;--all in one wild gush spent! + + + +MUSIC OF GROWTH. + +Music is in all growing things; +And underneath the silky wings + Of smallest insects there is stirred + A pulse of air that must be heard. +Earth's silence lives, and throbs, and sings. + +If poet from the vibrant strings +Of his poor heart a measure flings, + Laugh not, that he no trumpet blows: + It may be that Heaven hears and knows +His language of low listenings. + + + +A SONG LONG AGO. + +Through the pauses of thy fervid singing + Fell crystal sound +That thy fingers from the keys were flinging + Lightly around: +I felt the vine-like harmonies close clinging + About my soul; +And to my eyes, as fruit of their sweet bringing, + The full tear stole! + + + +MELANCHOLY. + + +Daughter of my nobler hope + That dying gave thee birth, + Sweet Melancholy! + For memory of the dead, + In her dear stead, + 'Bide thou with me, + Sweet Melancholy! +As purple shadows to the tree, +When the last sun-rays sadly slope +Athwart the bare and darkening earth, + Art thou to me, + Sweet Melancholy! + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + Glad hours have been when I have seen + Life's scope and each dry day's intent + United; so that I could stand + In silence, covering with my hand + The circle of the universe, + Balance the blessing and the curse, + And trust in deeds without chagrin, +Free from to-morrow and yesterday--content. + + + + +PART FIRST. + + +AN APRIL ARIA. + +When the mornings dankly fall + With a dim forethought of rain, +And the robins richly call +To their mates mercurial, + And the tree-boughs creak and strain + In the wind; +When the river's rough with foam, + And the new-made clearings smoke, +And the clouds that go and come +Shine and darken frolicsome, + And the frogs at evening croak + Undefined +Mysteries of monotone, + And by melting beds of snow +Wind-flowers blossom all alone; + Then I know +That the bitter winter's dead. + Over his head +The damp sod breaks so mellow,-- +Its mosses tipped with points of yellow,-- + I cannot but be glad; +Yet this sweet mood will borrow +Something of a sweeter sorrow, + To touch and turn me sad. + + + +THE BOBOLINK. + +How sweetly sang the bobolink, + When thou, my Love, wast nigh! +His liquid music from the brink +Of some cloud-fountain seemed to sink, + Built in the blue-domed sky. + +How sadly sings the bobolink! + No more my Love is nigh: +Yet rise, my spirit, rise, and drink +Once more from that cloud-fountain's brink,-- + Once more before I die! + + + +THE SUN-SHOWER. + +A penciled shade the sky doth sweep, +And transient glooms creep in to sleep + Amid the orchard; +Fantastic breezes pull the trees +Hither and yon, to vagaries + Of aspect tortured. + +Then, like the downcast dreamy fringe +Of eyelids, when dim gates unhinge + That locked their tears, +Falls on the hills a mist of rain,-- +So faint, it seems to fade again; + Yet swiftly nears. + +Now sparkles the air, all steely-bright, +With drops swept down in arrow-flight, + Keen, quivering lines. +Ceased in a breath the showery sound; +And teasingly, now, as I look around, + Sweet sunlight shines! + + + +JUNE LONGINGS. + +Lo, all about the lofty blue are blown +Light vapors white, like thistle-down, +That from their softened silver heaps opaque +Scatter delicate flake by flake, +Upon the wide loom of the heavens weaving +Forms of fancies past believing, +And, with fantastic show of mute despair, +As for some sweet hope hurt beyond repair, +Melt in the silent voids of sunny air. + +All day the cooing brooklet runs in tune: +Half sunk i' th' blue, the powdery moon +Shows whitely. Hark, the bobolink's note! I hear it, +Far and faint as a fairy spirit! +Yet all these pass, and as some blithe bird, winging, +Leaves a heart-ache for his singing, +A frustrate passion haunts me evermore +For that which closest dwells to beauty's core. +O Love, canst thou this heart of hope restore? + + + +A RUNE OF THE RAIN. + +I. + +O many-toned rain! +O myriad sweet voices of the rain! +How welcome is its delicate overture +At evening, when the glowing-moistur'd west +Seals all things with cool promise of night's rest! + +At first it would allure +The earth to kinder mood, +With dainty flattering +Of soft, sweet pattering: +Faintly now you hear the tramp +Of the fine drops falling damp +On the dry, sun-seasoned ground +And the thirsty leaves around. +But anon, imbued +With a sudden, bounding access +Of passion, it relaxes +All timider persuasion, +And, with nor pretext nor occasion, +Its wooing redoubles; +And pounds the ground, and bubbles +In sputtering spray, +Flinging itself in a fury +Of flashing white away; +Till the dusty road +Flings a perfume dank abroad, +And the grass, and the wide-hung trees, +The vines, the flowers in their beds, +The vivid corn that to the breeze +Rustles along the garden-rows, +Visibly lift their heads,-- +And, as the shower wilder grows, +Upleap with answering kisses to the rain. + +Then, the slow and pleasant murmur +Of its subsiding, +As the pulse of the storm beats firmer, +And the steady rain +Drops into a cadenced chiding. +Deep-breathing rain, +The sad and ghostly noise +Wherewith thou dost complain,-- +Thy plaintive, spiritual voice, +Heard thus at close of day +Through vaults of twilight-gray,-- +Doth vex me with sweet pain! +And still my soul is fain +To know the secret of that yearning +Which in thine utterance I hear returning. + +Hush, oh hush! +Break not the dreamy rush +Of the rain: +Touch not the marring doubt +Words bring, to the certainty +Of its soft refrain, +But let the flying fringes flout +Their gouts against the pane, +And the gurgling throat of the water-spout +Groan in the eaves amain. + +The earth is wedded to the shower. +Darkness and awe, gird round the bridal-hour! + + +II. + +O many-tonèd rain! +It hath caught the strain +Of a wilder tune, +Ere the same night's noon, +When dreams and sleep forsake me, +And sudden dread doth wake me, +To hear the booming drums of heaven beat +The long roll to battle; when the knotted cloud, +With an echoing loud, +Bursts asunder +At the sudden resurrection of the thunder; +And the fountains of the air, +Unsealed again sweep, ruining, everywhere, +To wrap the world in a watery winding-sheet. + + +III. + +O myriad sweet voices of the rain! +When the airy war doth wane, +And the storm to the east hath flown, +Cloaked close in the whirling wind, +There's a voice still left behind +In each heavy-hearted tree, +Charged with tearful memory +Of the vanished rain: +From their leafy lashes wet +Drip the dews of fresh regret +For the lover that's gone! +All else is still. +But the stars are listening; +And low o'er the wooded hill +Hangs, upon listless wing +Outspread, a shape of damp, blue cloud, +Watching, like a bird of evil +That knows no mercy nor reprieval, +The slow and silent death of the pallid moon. + + +IV. + +But soon, returning duly, +Dawn whitens the wet hill-tops bluely. +To her vision pure and cold +The night's wild tale is told +On the glistening leaf, in the mid-road pool, +The garden mold turned dark and cool, +And the meadow's trampled acres. +But hark, how fresh the song of the winged music-makers! +For now the moanings bitter, +Left by the rain, make harmony +With the swallow's matin-twitter, +And the robin's note, like the wind's in a tree: +The infant morning breathes sweet breath, +And with it is blent +The wistful, wild, moist scent +Of the grass in the marsh which the sea nourisheth: +And behold! +The last reluctant drop of the storm, +Wrung from the roof, is smitten warm +And turned to gold; +For in its veins doth run +The very blood of the bold, unsullied sun! + + + +THE SONG-SPARROW. + +Glimmers gray the leafless thicket + Close beside my garden gate, +Where, so light, from post to picket + Hops the sparrow, blithe, sedate; + Who, with meekly folded wing, + Comes to sun himself and sing. + +It was there, perhaps, last year, + That his little house he built; +For he seems to perk and peer, + And to twitter, too, and tilt + The bare branches in between, + With a fond, familiar mien. + +Once, I know, there was a nest, + Held there by the sideward thrust +Of those twigs that touch his breast; + Though 'tis gone now. Some rude gust + Caught it, over-full of snow,-- + Bent the bush,--and robbed it so + +Thus our highest holds are lost, + By the ruthless winter's wind, +When, with swift-dismantling frost, + The green woods we dwelt in, thinn'd + Of their leafage, grow too cold + For frail hopes of summer's mold. + +But if we, with spring-days mellow, + Wake to woeful wrecks of change, +And the sparrow's ritornello + Scaling still its old sweet range; + Can we do a better thing + Than, with him, still build and sing? + +Oh, my sparrow, thou dost breed + Thought in me beyond all telling; +Shootest through me sunlight, seed, + And fruitful blessing, with that welling + Ripple of ecstatic rest, + Gurgling ever from thy breast! + +And thy breezy carol spurs + Vital motion in my blood, +Such as in the sapwood stirs, + Swells and shapes the pointed bud + Of the lilac; and besets + The hollows thick with violets. + +Yet I know not any charm + That can make the fleeting time +Of thy sylvan, faint alarm + Suit itself to human rhyme: + And my yearning rhythmic word, + Does thee grievous wrong, dear bird. + +So, however thou hast wrought + This wild joy on heart and brain, +It is better left untaught. + Take thou up the song again: + There is nothing sad afloat + On the tide that swells thy throat! + + +FAIRHAVEN BAY. + +I push on through the shaggy wood, +I round the hill: 't is here it stood; +And there, beyond the crumbled walls, +The shining Concord slowly crawls, + +Yet seems to make a passing stay, +And gently spreads its lilied bay, +Curbed by this green and reedy shore, +Up toward the ancient homestead's door. + +But dumbly sits the shattered house, +And makes no answer: man and mouse +Long since forsook it, and decay +Chokes its deep heart with ashes gray. + +On what was once a garden-ground +Dull red-bloomed sorrels now abound; +And boldly whistles the shy quail +Within the vacant pasture's pale. + +Ah, strange and savage, where he shines, +The sun seems staring through those pines +That once the vanished home could bless +With intimate, sweet loneliness. + +The ignorant, elastic sod +The feet of them that daily trod +Its roods hath utterly forgot: +The very fire-place knows them not. + +For, in the weedy cellar, thick +The ruined chimney's mass of brick +Lies strown. Wide heaven, with such an ease +Dost thou, too, lose the thought of these? + +Yet I, although I know not who +Lived here, in years that voiceless grew +Ere I was born,--and never can,-- +Am moved, because I am a man. + +Oh glorious gift of brotherhood! +Oh sweet elixir in the blood, +That makes us live with those long dead, +Or hope for those that shall be bred + +Hereafter! No regret can rob +My heart of this delicious throb; +No thought of fortunes haply wrecked, +Nor pang for nature's wild neglect. + +And, though the hearth be cracked and cold, +Though ruin all the place enfold, +These ashes that have lost their name +Shall warm my life with lasting flame! + + +CHANT FOR AUTUMN. + + Veiled in visionary haze, + Behold, the ethereal autumn days + Draw near again! + In broad array, + With a low, laborious hum + These ministers of plenty come, +That seem to linger, while they steal away. + + O strange, sweet charm + Of peaceful pain, +When yonder mountain's bended arm +Seems wafting o'er the harvest-plain +A message to the heart that grieves, +And round us, here, a sad-hued rain +Of leaves that loosen without number +Showering falls in yellow, umber, +Red, or russet, 'thwart the stream! +Now pale Sorrow shall encumber +All too soon these lands, I deem; + Yet who at heart believes + The autumn, a false friend, + Can bring us fatal harm? +Ah, mist-hung avenues in dream +Not more uncertainly extend + Than the season that receives + A summer's latest gleam! + +But the days of death advance: + They tarry not, nor turn! +I will gather the ashes of summer + In my heart, as an urn. + + Oh draw thou nearer, + Thou +Spirit of the distant height, +Whither now that slender flight +Of swallows, winging, guides my sight! + The hill cloth seem to me + A fading memory + Of long delight, + And in its distant blue + Half hideth from my view +This shrinking season that must now retire; +And so shall hold it, hopeful, a desire +And knowledge old as night and always new. + Draw nigher! And, with bended brow, + I will be thy reverer + Through the long winter's term! + +So, when the snows hold firm, + And the brook is dumb; + When sharp winds come + To flay the hill-tops bleak, + And whistle down the creek; + While the unhappy worm +Crawls deeper down into the ground, +To 'scape Frost's jailer on his round; + Thy form to me shall speak + From the wide valley's bound, +Recall the waving of the last bird's wing, + And help me hope for spring. + + + +BEFORE THE SNOW. + +Autumn is gone: through the blue woodlands bare + Shatters the windy rain. A thousand leaves, +Like birds that fly the mournful Northern air, + Flutter away from the old forest's eaves. + +Autumn is gone: as yonder silent rill, + Slow eddying o'er thick leaf-heaps lately shed, +My spirit, as I walk, moves awed and still, + By thronging fancies wild and wistful led. + +Autumn is gone: alas, how long ago + The grapes were plucked, and garnered was the grain! +How soon death settles on us, and the snow + Wraps with its white alike our graves, our gain! + +Yea, autumn's gone! Yet it robs not my mood + Of that which makes moods dear,--some shoot of spring +Still sweet within me; or thoughts of yonder wood + We walked in,--memory's rare environing. + +And, though they die, the seasons only take + A ruined substance. All that's best remains +In the essential vision that can make + One light for life, love, death, their joys, their pains. + + + +THE GHOSTS OF GROWTH. + +Last night it snowed; and Nature fell asleep. + Forest and field lie tranced in gracious dreams + Of growth, for ghosts of leaves long dead, me-seems, +Hover about the boughs; and wild winds sweep +O'er whitened fields full many a hoary heap + From the storm-harvest mown by ice-bound streams! + With beauty of crushed clouds the cold earth teems, +And winter a tranquil-seeming truce would keep. + +But such ethereal slumber may not bide + The ascending sun's bright scorn--not long, I fear; +And all its visions on the golden tide + Of mid-noon gliding off, must disappear. +Fair dreams, farewell! So in life's stir and pride + You fade, and leave the treasure of a tear! + + + +THE LILY-POND. + +Some fairy spirit with his wand, + I think, has hovered o'er the dell, +And spread this film upon the pond, + And touched it with this drowsy spell. + +For here the musing soul is merged + In moods no other scene can bring, +And sweeter seems the air when scourged + With wandering wild-bees' murmuring. + +One ripple streaks the little lake, + Sharp purple-blue; the birches, thin +And silvery, crowd the edge, yet break + To let a straying sunbeam in. + +How came we through the yielding wood, + That day, to this sweet-rustling shore? +Oh, there together while we stood, + A butterfly was wafted o'er, + +In sleepy light; and even now + His glimmering beauty doth return +Upon me, when the soft winds blow, + And lilies toward the sunlight yearn. + +The yielding wood? And yet 't was both + To yield unto our happy march; +Doubtful it seemed, at times, if both + Could pass its green, elastic arch. + +Yet there, at last, upon the marge + We found ourselves, and there, behold, +In hosts the lilies, white and large, + Lay close, with hearts of downy gold! + +Deep in the weedy waters spread + The rootlets of the placid bloom: +So sprung my love's flower, that was bred + In deep, still waters of heart's-gloom. + +So sprung; and so that morn was nursed + To live in light, and on the pool +Wherein its roots were deep immersed + Burst into beauty broad and cool. + +Few words were said; a moment passed; + I know not how it came--that awe +And ardor of a glance that cast + Our love in universal law! + +But all at once a bird sang loud, + From dead twigs of the gleamy beech; +His notes dropped dewy, as out of a cloud, + A blessing on our married speech. + +Ah, Love! how fresh and rare, even now, + That moment and that mood return +Upon me, when the soft winds blow, + And lilies toward the sunlight yearn! + + + + +PART SECOND. + + +FIRST GLANCE. + +A budding mouth and warm blue eyes; +A laughing face;--and laughing hair, + So ruddy does it rise + From off that forehead fair; + +Frank fervor in whate'er she said, +And a shy grace when she was still; + A bright, elastic tread; + Enthusiastic will; + +These wrought the magic of a maid +As sweet and sad as the sun in spring, + Joyous, yet half-afraid + Her joyousness to sing. + +What weighs the unworthiness of earth +When beauty such as this finds birth? + Rare maid, to look on thee + Gives all things harmony! + + + +"THE SUNSHINE OF THINE EYES." + +The sunshine of thine eyes, + (Oh still, celestial beam!) +Whatever it touches it fills + With the life of its lambent gleam. + +The sunshine of thine eyes, + Oh let it fall on me! +Though I be but a mote of the air, + I could turn to gold for thee! + + + +"WHEN, LOOKING DEEPLY IN THY FACE." + +When, looking deeply in thy face, +I catch the undergleam of grace +That grows beneath the outward glance, +Long looking, lost as in a trance +Of long desires that fleet and meet +Around me like the fresh and sweet +White showers of rain which, vanishing, +'Neath heaven's blue arches whirl, in spring; +Suddenly then I seem to know +Of some new fountain's overflow +In grassy basins, with a sound +That leads my fancy, past all bound, +Into a region of retreat +From this my life's bewildered heat. +Oh if my soul might always draw +From those deep fountains full of awe, +The current of my days should rise +Unto the level of thine eyes! + + + +WITHIN A YEAR + +I. + + Lips that are met in love's + Devotion sweet, +While parting lovers passionately greet, +And earth through heaven's arc more swiftly moves-- + Oh, will they be less dear + Within a year? + + +II. + + Eyes in whose shadow-spell + Far off I read +That which to lovers taking loving heed +Dear women's eyes full soon and plainly tell-- + Oh, will you give such cheer + This time a year? + + +III. + + Behold! the dark year goes, + Nor will reveal +Aught of its purpose, if for woe or weal, +Swift as a stream that o'er the mill-weir flows: + Mayhap the end draws near + Within the year! + + +IV. + + Yet, darling, once more touch + Those lips to mine. +Set on my life that talisman divine; +Absence, new friends, I fear not overmuch---- + Even Death, should he appear + Within the year! + + + +THE SINGING WIRE. + +Hark to that faint, ethereal twang + That from the bosom of the breeze +Has caught its rise and fall: there rang + Æolian harmonies! + +I looked; again the mournful, chords, + In random rhythm lightly flung +From off the wire, came shaped in words; + And thus, meseemed, they sung. + +"I, messenger of many fates, + Strung to the tones of woe or weal, +Fine nerve that thrills and palpitates + With all men know or feel,-- + +"Oh, is it strange that I should wail? + Leave me my tearless, sad refrain, +When in the pine-top wakes the gale + That breathes of coming rain. + +"There is a spirit in the post; + It, too, was once a murmuring tree; +Its sapless, sad, and withered ghost + Echoes my melody. + +"Come close, and lay your listening ear + Against the bare and branchless wood. +Say, croons it not, so low and clear, + As if it understood?" + +I listened to the branchless pole + That held aloft the singing wire; +I heard its muffled music roll, + And stirred with sweet desire: + +"O wire more soft than seasoned lute, + Hast thou no sunlit word for me? +Though long to me so coyly mute, + Sure she may speak through thee!" + +I listened; but it was in vain. + At first, the wind's old, wayward will +Drew forth the tearless, sad refrain: + That ceased, and all was still. + +But suddenly some kindling shock + Struck flashing through the wire: a bird, +Poised on it, screamed and flew; the flock + Rose with him, wheeled, and whirred. + +Then to my soul there came this sense: + "Her heart has answered unto thine; +She comes, to-night. Go, hie thee hence! + Meet her: no more repine!" + +Mayhap the fancy was far-fetched; + And yet, mayhap, it hinted true. +Ere moonrise, Love, a hand was stretched + In mine, that gave me--you! + +And so more dear to me has grown, + Than rarest tones swept from the lyre, +The minor-movement of that moan + In yonder singing wire. + +Nor care I for the will of states. + Or aught besides, that smites that string, +Since then so close it knit our fates, + What time the bird took wing! + + + +MOODS OF LOVE. + + +I. + +IN ABSENCE. + +My love for thee is like a winged seed + Blown from the heart of thy rare beauty's flower, + And deftly guided by some breezy power +To fall and rest, where I should never heed, +In deepest caves of memory. There, indeed, + With virtue rife of many a sunny hoar,-- + Ev'n making cold neglect and darkness dower +Its roots with life,--swiftly it 'gan to breed, +Till now wide-branching tendrils it outspreads + Like circling arms, to prison its own prison, +Fretting the walls with blooms by myriads, + And blazoning in my brain full summer-season: +Thy face, whose dearness presence had not taught. +In absence multiplies, and fills all thought. + + +II. + +HEART'S FOUNTAIN. + +Her moods are like the fountain's, changing ever, + That spouts aloft a sudden, watery dome, + Only to fall again in shattering foam, +Just where the wedded jets themselves dissever, +And palpitating downward, downward quiver, + Unfolded like a swift ethereal flower, + That sheds white petals in a blinding shower, +And straightway soars anew with blithe endeavor. + +The sun may kindle it with healthful fire; + Upon it falls the cloud-gray's leaden load; +At night the stars shall haunt the whirling spire: + Yet these have but a transient garb bestowed. +So her glad life, whate'er the hours impart, +Plays still 'twixt heaven's cope and her own clear heart. + + +III. + +SOUTH-WIND SONG. + +Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease + (Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!) + Through lips moist-warm, as thou hadst lately stayed +'Mong rosebuds, wooing to the cheeks of these +Loth blushes faint and maidenly--rich Breeze, + Still doth thy honeyed blowing bring a shade + Of sad foreboding. In thy hand is laid +The power to build or blight rich fruit of trees, +The deep, cool grass, and field of thick-combed grain. + +Even so my Love may bring me joy or woe, + Both measureless, but either counted gain +Since given by her. For pain and pleasure flow + Like tides upon us of the self-same sea. + Tears are the gems of joy and misery! + + +IV. + +THE LOVER'S YEAR + +Thou art my morning, twilight, noon, and eve, + My Summer and my Winter, Spring and Fall; + For Nature left on thee a touch of all +The moods that come to gladden or to grieve +The heart of Time, with purpose to relieve + From lagging sameness. So do these forestall + In thee such o'erheaped sweetnesses as pall +Too swiftly, and the taster tasteless leave. + +Scenes that I love to me always remain + Beautiful, whether under summer's sun +Beheld, or, storm-dark, stricken across with rain. + So, through all humors, thou 'rt the same sweet one: +Doubt not I love thee well in each, who see +Thy constant change is changeful constancy. + + +V. + +NEW WORLDS. + +With my beloved I lingered late one night. + At last the hour when I must leave her came: + But, as I turned, a fear I could not name +Possessed me that the long sweet evening might +Prelude some sudden storm, whereby delight + Should perish. What if Death, ere dawn, should claim + One of us? What, though living, not the same +Each should appear to each in morning-light? + +Changed did I find her, truly, the next day: + Ne'er could I see her as of old again. +That strange mood seemed to draw a cloud away, + And let her beauty pour through every vein +Sunlight and life, part of me. Thus the lover +With each new morn a new world may discover. + + +VI. + +WEDDING-NIGHT. + +At night, with shaded eyes, the summer moon + In tender meditation downward glances + At the dark earth, far-set in dim expanses, +And, welcomer than blazoned gold of noon, +Down through the air her steady lights are strewn. + The breezy forests sigh in moonlit trances, + And the full-hearted poet, waking, fancies +The smiling hills will break in laughter soon. + +Oh thus, thou gentle Nature, dost thou shine + On me to-night. My very limbs would melt, +Like rugged earth beneath yon ray divine, + Into faint semblance of what they have felt: +Thine eye doth color me, O wife, O mine, +With peace that in thy spirit long hath dwelt! + + + +LOVE'S DEFEAT. + +A thousand times I would have hoped, + A thousand times protested; +But still, as through the night I groped, + My torch from me was wrested, + and wrested. + +How often with a succoring cup + Unto the hurt I hasted! +The wounded died ere I came up; + My cup was still untasted,-- + Untasted. + +Of darkness, wounds, and harsh disdain + Endured, I ne'er repented. +'T is not of these I would complain: + With these I were contented,-- + Contented. + +Here lies the misery, to feel + No work of love completed; +In prayerless passion still to kneel, + And mourn, and cry: "Defeated + Defeated!" + + + + +MAY AND MARRIAGE. + + +THE LOVER WHO THINKS. + +Dost thou remember, Love, those hours +Shot o'er with random rainy showers, +When the bold sun would woo coy May? +She smiled, then wept--and looked another way. + +We, learning from the sun and season, +Together plotted joyous treason +'Gainst maiden majesty, to give +Each other troth, and henceforth wedded live. + +But love, ah, love we know is blind! +Not always what they seek they find +When, groping through dim-lighted natures, +Fond lovers look for old, ideal statures. + +What then? Is all our purpose lost? +The balance broken, since Fate tossed +Uneven weights? Oh well beware +That thought, my sweet: 't were neither fit nor fair! + +Seek not for any grafted fruits +From souls so wedded at the roots; +But whatsoe'er our fibres hold, +Let that grow forth in mutual, ample mold! + +No sap can circle without flaw +Into the perfect sphere we saw +Hanging before our happy eyes +Amid the shade of marriage-mysteries; + +But all that in the heart doth lurk +Must toward the mystic shaping work: +Sweet fruit and bitter both must fall +When the boughs bend, at each year's autumn-call. + +Ah, dear defect! that aye shall lift +Us higher, not through craven shift +Of fault on common frailty;--nay, +But twofold hope to help with generous stay! + +I shall be nearer, understood: +More prized art thou than perfect good. +And since thou lov'st me, I shall grow +Thy other self--thy Life, thy Joy, thy Woe! + + + +THE FISHER OF THE CAPE. + +At morn his bark like a bird +Slips lightly oceanward-- +Sail feathering smooth o'er the bay +And beak that drinks the wild spray. +In his eyes beams cheerily +A light like the sun's on the sea, +As he watches the waning strand, +Where the foam, like a waving hand +Of one who mutely would tell +Her love, flutters faintly, "Farewell." + +But at night, when the winds arise +And pipe to driving skies, +And the moon peers, half afraid, +Through the storm-cloud's ragged shade, +He hears her voice in the blast +That sighs about the mast, +He sees her face in the clouds +As he climbs the whistling shrouds; +And a power nerves his hand, +Shall bring the bark to land. + + + +SAILOR'S SONG. + +The sea goes up; the sky comes down. +Oh, can you spy the ancient town,-- +The granite hills so hard and gray, +That rib the land behind the bay? + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Three years? Is it so long that we +Have lived upon the lonely sea? +Oh, often I thought we'd see the town, +When the sea went up, and the sky came down. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Even the winter winds would rouse +A memory of my father's house; +For round his windows and his door +They made the same deep, mouthless roar. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +And when the summer's breezes beat, +Methought I saw the sunny street +Where stood my Kate. Beneath her hand +She gazed far out, far out from land. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Farthest away, I oftenest dreamed +That I was with her. Then, it seemed +A single stride the ocean wide +Had bridged, and brought me to her side. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home. + O ye ho! + +But though so near we're drawing, now, +'T is farther off----I know not how. +We sail and sail: we see no home. +Would we into the port were come! + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +At night, the same stars o'er the mast: +The mast sways round--however fast +We fly--still sways and swings around +One scanty circle's starry bound. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Ah, many a month those stars have shone, +And many a golden morn has flown, +Since that so solemn, happy morn, +When, I away, my babe was born. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +And, though so near we're drawing, now, +'T is farther off--I know not how-- +I would not aught amiss had come +To babe or mother there, at home! + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +'T is but a seeming: swiftly rush +The seas, beneath. I hear the crush +Of foamy ridges 'gainst the prow. +Longing outspeeds the breeze, I know. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + +Patience, my mates! Though not this eve +We cast our anchor, yet believe, +If but the wind holds, short the run: +We 'll sail in with to-morrow's sun. + O ye ho, boys! Spread her wings! + Fair winds, boys: send her home! + O ye ho! + + + +JESSAMINE. + +Here stands the great tree still, with broad, bent head, +And wide arms grown aweary, yet outspread +With their old blessing. But wan memory weaves +Strange garlands now amongst the darkening leaves. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Beneath these glimmering arches Jessamine +Walked with her lover long ago, and in +This moon-made shade he questioned; and she spoke: +Then on them both love's rarer radiance broke. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Sweet Jessamine we called her; for she shone +Like blossoms that in sun and shade have grown, +Gathering from each alike a perfect white, +Whose rich bloom breaks opaque through darkest night. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +And for this sweetness Walt, her lover, sought +To win her; wooed her here, his heart full-fraught +With fragrance of her being, and gained his plea. +So "We will wed," they said, "beneath this tree." + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Was it unfaith, or faith more full to her, +Made him, for fame and fortune longing, spur +Into the world? Far from his home he sailed: +And life paused; while she watched joy vanish, vailed. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +Oh, better at the elm tree's sun-browned feet +If he had been content to let life fleet +Its wonted way!--there rearing his small house; +Mowing and milking, lord of corn and cows! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +For as against a snarling sea one steers, +Ever he battled with the beetling years; +And ever Jessamine must watch and pine, +Her vision bounded by the bleak sea-line. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm_. + +At last she heard no more. The neighbors said +That Walt had married, faithless, or was dead. +Yet naught her trust could move; the tryst she kept +Each night still, 'neath this tree, before she slept. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +So, circling years went by; and in her face +Slow melancholy wrought a tempered grace +Of early joy with sorrow's rich alloy-- +Refinèd, rare, no doom should e'er destroy. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Sometimes at twilight, when sweet Jessamine, +Slow-footed, weary-eyed, passed by to win +The elm, we smiled for pity of her, and mused +On love that so could live with love refused. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Nor none could hope for her. But she had grown +Too high in love for hope, and bloomed alone, +Aloft in pure sincerity secure; +For fortune's failures, in her faith too sure. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Oh, well for Walt, if he had known her soul! +Discouraged on disaster's changeful shoal +Wrecking, he rested; starved on selfish pride +Long years; nor would obey love's homeward tide. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +But, bitterly repenting of his sin, +Oh, bitterly he learned to look within +Sweet Jessamine's clear depth--when the past, dead, +Mocked him, and wild, waste years forever fled! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Late, late, oh, late beneath the tree stood two! +In awe and anguish wondering: "Is it true?" +Two that were each most like to some wan wraith: +Yet each on each looked with a living faith. + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Even to the tree-top sang the wedding-bell; +Even to the tree-top tolled the passing knell. +Beneath it Walt and Jessamine were wed; +Beneath it many a year she lieth dead! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm._ + +Here stands the great tree still. But age has crept +Through every coil, while Walt each night has kept +The tryst alone. Hark! with what windy might +The boughs chant o'er her grave their burial-rite! + _And the moon hangs low in the elm. _ + + + +GRIEF'S HERO. + +A youth unto herself Grief took, +Whom everything of joy forsook, +And men passed with denying head, +Saying: "'T were better he were dead." + +Grief took him, and with master-touch +Molded his being. I marveled much +To see her magic with the clay, +So much she gave--and took away. +Daily she wrought, and her design +Grew daily clearer and more fine, +To make the beauty of his shape +Serve for the spirit's free escape. +With liquid fire she filled his eyes. +She graced his lips with swift surmise +Of sympathy for others' woe, +And made his every fibre flow +In fairer curves. On brow and chin +And tinted cheek, drawn clean and thin, +She sculptured records rich, great Grief! +She made him loving, made him lief. + +I marveled; for, where others saw +A failing frame with many a flaw, +Meseemed a figure I beheld +Fairer than anything of eld +Fashioned from sunny marble. Here +Nature was artist with no peer. +No chisel's purpose could have caught +These lines, nor brush their secret wrought. +Not so the world weighed, busily +Pursuing drossy industry; +But, saturated with success, +Well-guarded by a soft excess +Of bodily ease, gave little heed +To him that held not by their creed, +Save o'er the beauteous youth to moan: +"A pity that he is not grown +To our good stature and heavier weight, +To bear his share of our full freight." +Meanwhile, thus to himself he spoke: +"Oh, noble is the knotted oak, +And sweet the gush of sylvan streams, +And good the great sun's gladding beams, +The blush of life upon the field, +The silent might that mountains wield. +Still more I love to mix with men, +Meeting the kindly human ken; +To feel the force of faithful friends-- +The thirst for smiles that never ends. + +"Yet precious more than all of these +I hold great Sorrow's mysteries, +Whereby Gehenna's sultry gale +Is made to lift the golden veil +'Twixt heaven's starry-spherèd light +Of truth and our dim, sun-blent sight. +Joy comes to ripen; but 'tis Grief +That garners in the grainy sheaf. +Time was I feared to know or feel +The spur of aught but gilded weal; +To bear aloft the victor, Fame, +Would ev'n have champed a stately shame +Of bit and bridle. But my fears +Fell off in the pure bath of tears. +And now with sinews fresh and strong +I stride, to summon with a song +The deep, invigorating truth +That makes me younger than my youth. +"O Sorrow, deathless thy delight! +Deathless it were but for our slight +Endurance! Truth like thine, too rare, +We dare but take in scantiest share." + +He died: the creatures of his kind +Fared on. Not one had known his mind. + +But the unnamed yearnings of the air, +The eternal sky's wide-searching stare, +The undertone of brawling floods, +And the old moaning of the woods +Grew full of memory. + + The sun +Many a brave heart has shone upon +Since then, of men who walked abroad +For joy and gladness praising God. +But widowed Grief lives on alone: +She hath not chosen, of them, one. + + + +A FACE IN THE STREET. + +Poor, withered face, that yet was once so fair, + Grown ashen-old in the wild fires of lust-- + Thy star-like beauty, dimm'd with earthly dust, + Yet breathing of a purer native air;-- +They who whilom, cursed vultures, sought a share + Of thy dead womanhood, their greed unjust + Have satisfied, have stripped and left thee bare. + Still, like a leaf warped by the autumn gust, +And driving to the end, thou wrapp'st in flame + And perfume all thy hollow-eyed decay, +Feigning on those gray cheeks the blush that Shame + Took with her when she fled long since away. + Ah God! rain fire upon this foul-souled city + That gives such death, and spares its men,--for pity! + + + +THE BATHER. + +Standing here alone, +Let me pause awhile, +Drinking in the light +Ere, with plunge of white limbs prone, +I raise the sparkling flight +Of foam-flakes volatile. + +Now, in natural guise, +I woo the deathless breeze, +Through me rushing fleet +The joy of life, in swift surprise: +I grow with growing wheat, +And burgeon with the trees. + +Lo! I fetter Time, +So he cannot run; +And in Eden again-- +Flash of memory sublime!-- +Dwell naked, without stain, +Beneath the dazed sun. + +All yields brotherhood; +Each least thing that lives, +Wrought of primal spores, +Deepens this wild sense of good +That, on these shaggy shores, +Return to nature gives. + +Oh, that some solitude +Were ours, in woodlands deep, +Where, with lucent eyes, +Living lithe and limber-thewed, +Our life's shape might arise +Like mountains fresh from sleep! + +To sounds of water falling, +Hosts of delicate dreams +Should lull us and allure +With a dim, enchanted calling, +Blameless to live and pure +Like these sweet springs and streams. + +But in a wilderness +Alone may such life be? +Why of all things framed, +In my human form confessed +Should I be ashamed, +And blush for honesty? + +Rounded, strengthy limbs +That knit me to my kind-- +Your glory turns to grief! +Shall I for my soul sing hymns, +Yet for my body find +No clear, divine belief? + +Let me rather die, +Than by faith uphold +Dogmas weak that dare +The form that once Christ wore deny +Afraid with him to share +A purity twofold; + +Yet, while sin remains +On this saddened earth, +Humbly walk my ways! +For my garments are as chains; +And I fear to praise +My frame with careless mirth. + +Joy and penance go +Hand in hand, I see! +Would I could live so well, +Soul of me should never know +When my coverings fell, +Nor feel this nudity! + + + +HELEN AT THE LOOM. + +Helen, in her silent room, +Weaves upon the upright loom, +Weaves a mantle rich and dark, +Purpled over-deep. But mark +How she scatters o'er the wool +Woven shapes, till it is full +Of men that struggle close, complex; +Short-clipp'd steeds with wrinkled necks +Arching high; spear, shield, and all +The panoply that doth recall +Mighty war, such war as e'en +For Helen's sake is waged, I ween. +Purple is the groundwork: good! +All the field is stained with blood. +Blood poured out for Helen's sake; +(Thread, run on; and, shuttle, shake!) +But the shapes of men that pass +Are as ghosts within a glass, +Woven with whiteness of the swan, +Pale, sad memories, gleaming wan +From the garment's purple fold +Where Troy's tale is twined and told. +Well may Helen, as with tender +Touch of rosy fingers slender +She doth knit the story in +Of Troy's sorrow and her sin, +Feel sharp filaments of pain +Reeled off with the well-spun skein, +And faint blood-stains on her hands +From the shifting sanguine strands. +Gently, sweetly she doth sorrow: +What has been must be to-morrow; +Meekly to her fate she bows. +Heavenly beauties still will rouse +Strife and savagery in men: +Shall the lucid heavens, then, +Lose their high serenity, +Sorrowing over what must be? +If she taketh to her shame, +Lo, they give her not the blame,-- +Priam's wisest counselors, +Aged men, not loving wars: +When she goes forth, clad in white, +Day-cloud touched by first moonlight, +With her fair hair, amber-hued +As vapor by the moon imbued +With burning brown, that round her clings, +See, she sudden silence brings +On the gloomy whisperers +Who would make the wrong all hers. + +So, Helen, in thy silent room, +Labor at the storied loom; +(Thread, run on; and, shuttle, shake!) +Let thy aching sorrow make +Something strangely beautiful +Of this fabric, since the wool +Comes so tinted from the Fates, +Dyed with loves, hopes, fears, and hates. +Thou shalt work with subtle force +All thy deep shade of remorse +In the texture of the weft, +That no stain on thee be left;-- +Ay, false queen, shalt fashion grief, +Grief and wrong, to soft relief. +Speed the garment! It may chance. +Long hereafter, meet the glance +Of Œnone; when her lord, +Now thy Paris, shall go t'ward +Ida, at his last sad end, +Seeking her, his early friend, +Who alone can cure his ill +Of all who love him, if she will. +It were fitting she should see +In that hour thine artistry, +And her husband's speechless corse +In the garment of remorse! +But take heed that in thy work +Naught unbeautiful may lurk. +Ah, how little signifies +Unto thee what fortunes rise, +What others fall! Thou still shalt rule, +Still shalt work the colored crewl. +Though thy yearning woman's eyes +Burn with glorious agonies, +Pitying the waste and woe, +And the heroes falling low +In the war around thee, here, +Yet that exquisitest tear +'Twixt thy lids shall dearer be +Than life, to friend or enemy. + +There are people on the earth +Doomed with doom of too great worth. +Look on Helen not with hate, +Therefore, but compassionate. +If she suffer not too much, +Seldom does she feel the touch +Of that fresh, auroral joy +Lighter spirits may decoy +To their pure and sunny lives. +Heavy honey 't is, she hives. +To her sweet but burdened soul +All that here she doth control-- +What of bitter memories, +What of coming fate's surmise, +Paris' passion, distant din +Of the war now drifting in +To her quiet--idle seems; +Idle as the lazy gleams +Of some stilly water's reach, +Seen from where broad vine-leaves pleach +A heavy arch, and, looking through, +Far away the doubtful blue +Glimmers, on a drowsy day, +Crowded with the sun's rich gray, +As she stands within her room, +Weaving, weaving at the loom. + + + +"O WHOLESOME DEATH." + +O Wholesome Death, thy sombre funeral-car + Looms ever dimly on the lengthening way + Of life; while, lengthening still, in sad array, +My deeds in long procession go, that are +As mourners of the man they helped to mar. + I see it all in dreams, such as waylay + The wandering fancy when the solid day +Has fallen in smoldering ruins, and night's star, +Aloft there, with its steady point of light + Mastering the eye, has wrapped the brain in sleep. +Ah, when I die, and planets take their flight + Above my grave, still let my spirit keep +Sometimes its vigil of divine remorse, +'Midst pity, praise, or blame heaped o'er my corse! + + + +BURIAL-SONG FOR SUMNER. + + Now the last wreath of snow + That melts, in mist exhales +White aspiration, and our deep-voiced gales +In chorus chant the measured march of spring, + Whom griefs of life and death + Are burdening! + Slow, slow-- + With half-held breath-- +Tread slow, O mourners, that all men may know + What hero here lies low! + + O music, sweep + From some deep cave, and bear +To us that gasp in this so meagre air + Sweet ministerings +And consolations of contorted sound, + With agonies profound +Of nobly warring and enduring chords + That lie, close-bound, +Unstirred as yet 'neath thy wide, wakening wings; +So that our hearts break not in broken words. + O music, that hast power + This darkness to devour +In vivid light; that from the dusk of grief +Canst cause to grow divergent flower and leaf, + And from death's darkest roots + Bring forth the fairest fruits;-- + Come thou, to quicken this hour + Of loss, and keep +Thy spell on all, that none may dare to weep! + + For he whom now we mourn, + As if from giants born, +Was strong in limb and strong in brain, +And nobly with a giant scorn + Withstood the direst pain + That healing science knows, + When, by the dastard blows + Of his brute enemy +Laid low, he sought to rise again + Through help of knife and fire,-- + The awful enginery + Wherewith men dare aspire +To wrest from Death his victims. Yea, +Though he who healed him shrank and throbbed + With horror of the wound, + Brave Sumner gave no sound, + Nor flinched, nor sobbed, + But as though within the man + Instant premonition ran + Of his high fate, +Imperishable, sculptured state + Enthroned in death to hold, + He stood, a statued form + Of veiled and voiceless storm, + Inwardly quivering + Like the swift-smitten string + Of unheard music, yet + As massively and firmly set +As if he had been marble or wrought gold! + + Built in so brave a shape, + How could he hope escape + The blundering people's wrath? + Who, seeing him strong, +Supposed it right to cast on him their wrong, + Since he could bear it all! + Lo, now, the sombre pall + Sweeps their dull errors from the path, + And leaves it free +For him, whose hushed heart no reproaches hath, + Unto his grave to fare, + In shrouded majesty! + His triumph fills the air: +Behold, the streets are bordered with vain breath +Of those who reverent watch the train of death; + But he has done with breathing! + + Wise Death, still choosing near and far, + Thou couldst not strike a higher star + From out our heaven, and yet its light + In falling glorifies the night! + + Leader in life, his lips, though dumb, +Still rule us by their restfulness, their smile +Of far-off meanings; and the people come +In tributary hosts for many a mile, + Drawn by an eloquence + More solemn and intense + Than that wherewith he shook + The Senate, while his look +Of sober lightning cleft the knotty growth +Of error, that within the riven root +Uplifted, lit with peace, truth's buds might shoot, +And blow sweet breath o'er all, however loth! + +Unspeaking, though his eyes forget + The light that late forsook + Their chambers, there doth rise + Mysteriously yet + A radiance thence that glows +On brows of them, the great and wise, +Poets and men of prophecies, +Who, with looks of strange repose, +Calm, exalted, here have met +Him to follow to his grave. +Well they know he's crossed their bound, +Yet, with baffled longing brave, +Seek with him the depths to sound +That gulf our lonely life around. +Oh, on these mortal faces frail + What immortality + Falls from the death-light pale! + +Ev'n thus the path unto thy tomb, +Sumner, all our brave and good +Still shall pace through time to come, +For in distant Auburn wood +Seeing the glimmer of thy stone, +They a shaft shall deem it, thrown +From a dawn beyond the deep, + And so haste with thee to keep + Angelic brotherhood! + O herald, gone before, + For these throw wide the door, + Make room, make room! + + Now, music, cease, +And bitter brazen trumpets hold your peace! + Now, while the dumb, white air + Draws from our still despair + A purer prayer. + Then must the sod + Fulfill its humble share, + Meek-folded o'er his breast, +Here where he lies amongst the waiting trees: +They shall break bud when warm winds from the west +And southern breezes come to touch the place + Made precious by this grace + Of memory dear to God. + +We leave him where the granite Lion lies +And gazes toward the East, with woman's eyes +That read the riddle of the undying sun, +Bearing within her breast the stony germ +Of continents, but--lasting no less firm-- + The memory of those marvels done, + The battles fought, the words that wrought + To free a race, and chasten one. +We leave him where the river slowly winds, + A broken chain; +The river that so late its hero finds, + Without a stain, +Whose name so long expectantly it bore; + And, echoing now a people's thought, +The Charles shall murmur by this reedy shore + His fame forevermore. + + + +ARISE, AMERICAN! + +The soul of a nation awaking,-- + High visions of daybreak I saw, +And the stir of a state, the forsaking + Of sin, and the worship of law. + +O pine-tree, shout! And hoarser + Rush, river, unto the sea, +Foam-fettered and sun-flushed, a courser + That feels the prairie, free! + +Our birth-star beckons to trial + All faith of the far-fled years, +Ere scorn was our share, and denial, + Or laughter for patriot's tears. + +And lo, Faith comes forth the finer + From trampled thickets of fire, +And the orient opens diviner + Before her; the heaven lifts higher. + +O deep, sweet eyes, and severer + Than steel! he knoweth who comes, +Thy hero: bend thine eyes nearer! + Now wilder than battle-drums + +Thy glance in his blood is stirring! + His heart is alive like the main +When the roweled winds are spurring, + And the broad tides shoreward strain. + +O hero, art thou among us? + O helper, hidest thou still? +Why hath he no anthem sung us, + Why waiteth, nor worketh our will? + +For still a smirk or a favor + Can hide the face of the false; +And the old-time Faith seeks braver + Upholders, and sacreder walls. + +Yea, cunning is Christian evil, + And subtle the conscience' snare; +But virtue's volcanic upheaval + Shall cast fine device to the air! + +Too long has the land's soul slumbered, + And triumph bred dangerous ease,-- +Our victories all unnumbered, + Our feet on the down-bowed seas. + +Come, then, simple and stalwart + Life of the earlier days! +Come! Far better than all were it-- + Our precepts, our prayers, and our lays-- + +That the heart of the people should tremble + Accord to some mighty one's voice, +The helpless atoms assemble + In music, their valor to poise. + +Come to us, mountain-dweller, + Leader, wherever thou art, +Skilled from thy cradle, a queller + Of serpents, and sound to the heart! + +Modest, and mighty, and tender, + Man of an iron mold, +Learned or unlearned, our defender, + American-souled! + + + +THE SILENT TIDE + +A tangled orchard round the farm-house spreads, +Wherein it stands home-like, but desolate, +'Midst crowded and uneven-statured sheds, +Alike by rain and sunshine sadly stained. +A quiet country-road before the door +Runs, gathering close its ruts to scale the hill-- +A sudden bluff on the New Hampshire coast, +That rises rough against the sea, and hangs +Crested above the bowlder-sprinkled beach. +And on the road white houses small are strung +Like threaded beads, with intervals. The church +Tops the rough hill; then comes the wheelwright's shop. + +From orchard, church, and shop you hear the sea, +And from the farm-house windows see it strike +Sharp gleams through slender arching apple-boughs. + +Sea-like, too, echoing round me here there rolls +A surging sorrow; and even so there breaks +A smitten light of woe upon me, now, +Seeing this place, and telling o'er again +The tale of those who dwelt here once. Long since +It was, and they were two--two brothers, bound +By early orphanage and solitude +The closer, cleaving strongly each to each, +Till love, that held them many years in gage, +Itself swept them asunder. I have heard +The story from old Deacon Snow, their friend, +He who was boy and man with them. A boy! +What, he? How strange it seems! who now is stiff +And warped with life's fierce heat and cold: his brows +Are hoary white, and on his head the hairs +Stand sparse as wheat-stalks on the bare field's edge! + +Reuben and Jerry they were named; but two +Of common blood and nurture scarce were found +More sharply different. For the first was bold, +Breeze-like and bold to come or go; not rash, +But shrewdly generous, popular, and boon: +And Jerry, dark and sad-faced. Whether least +He loved himself or neighbor none could tell, +So cold he seemed in wonted sympathy. +Yet he would ponder an hour at a time +Upon a bird found dead; and much he loved +To brood i' th' shade of yon wind-wavered pines. +Often at night, too, he would wander forth, +Lured by the hollow rumbling of the sea +In moonlight breaking, there to learn wild things, +Such as these dreamers pluck out of the dusk +While other men lie sleeping. But a star, +Rose on his sight, at last, with power to rule +Majestically mild that deep-domed sky, +High as youth's hopes, that stood above his soul; +And, ruling, led him dayward. That was Grace, +I mean Grace Brierly, daughter of the squire, +Rivaling the wheelwright Hungerford's shy Ruth +For beauty. Therefore, in the sunny field, +Mowing the clover-purpled grass, or, waked +In keen December dawns,--while creeping light +And winter-tides beneath the pallid stars +Stole o'er the marsh together,--a thought of her +Would turn him cool or warm, like the south breeze, +And make him blithe or bitter. Alas for him! +Eagerly storing golden thoughts of her, +He locked a phantom treasure in his breast. + +He sought to chain the breezes, and to lift +A perfume as a pearl before his eyes-- +Intangible delight! A time drew on +When from these twilight musings on his hopes +He woke, and found the morning of his love +Blasted, and all its rays shorn suddenly. +For Reuben, too, had turned his eye on Grace, +And she with favoring face the suit had met, +Known in the village; this dream-fettered youth +Perceiving not what passed, until too late. + +One holiday the young folks all had gone +Strawberrying, with the village Sabbath-school; +Reuben and Grace and Jerry, Ruth, Rob Snow, +And all their friends, youth-mates that buoyantly +Bore out 'gainst Time's armadas, like a fleet +Of fair ships, sunlit, braced by buffeting winds, +Indomitably brave; but, soon or late, +Battle and hurricane or whirl them deep +Below to death, or send them homeward, seared +By shot and storm: so went they forth, that day. + +Two wagons full of rosy children rolled +Along the rutty track, 'twixt swamp and slope, +Through deep, green-glimmering woods, and out at last +On grassy table-land, warm with the sun +And yielding tributary odors wild +Of strawberry, late June-rose, juniper, +Where sea and land breeze mingled. There a brook +Through a bare hollow flashing, spurted, purled, +And shot away, yet stayed--a light and grace +Unconscious and unceasing. And thick pines, +Hard by, drew darkly far away their dim +And sheltering, cool arcades. So all dismount, +And fields and forest gladden with their shout; +Ball, swing, and see-saw sending the light hearts +Of the children high o'er earth and everything. +While some staid, kindly women draw and spread +In pine-shade the long whiteness of a cloth, +The rest, a busy legion, o'er the grass +Kneeling, must rifle the meadow of its fruit. + +O laughing Fate! O treachery of truth +To royal hopes youth bows before! That day, +Ev'n there where life in such glad measure beat +Its round, with winds and waters, tunefully, +And birds made music in the matted wood, +The shaft of death reached Jerry's heart: he saw +The sweet conspiracy of those two lives, +In looks and gestures read his doom, and heard +Their laughter ring to the grave all mirth of his. + +So Reuben's life in full leaf stood, its fruit +Hidden in a green expectancy; but all +His days were rounded with ripe consciousness: +While Jerry felt the winter's whitening blight, +As when that frosty fern-work and those palms +Of visionary leaf, and trailing vines, +Quaint-chased by night-winds on the pane, melt off, +And naked earth, stone-stiff, with bristling trees, +Stares in the winter sunlight coldly through. +But yet he rose, and clothed himself amain +With misery, and once more put on life +As a stained garment. Highly he resolved +To make his deedless days henceforward strike +Pure harmony--a psalm of silences. + +But on the Sunday, coming from the church, +He saw those happy, plighted lovers walk +Before proud Grace's father, and of friends +Heard comment and congratulation given. +Then with Rob Snow he hurried to the beach, +To a rough heap of stones they two had reared +In boyhood. There the two held sad debate +Of life's swift losses, Bob inspiriting still, +Jerry rejecting hope, ev'n though his friend, +Self-wounding (for he loved Ruth Hungerford), +Told how the wheelwright's daughter longed for him, +And yet might make him glad, though Grace was lost. + +The season deepened, and in Jerry's heart +Ripened a thought charged with grave consequence. +His grief he would have stifled at its birth, +Sad child of frustrate longing! But anon-- +Knowledge of Ruth's affection being revealed, +Which, if he stayed to let it feed on him, +Vine-like might wreathe and wind about his life, +Lifting all shade and sweetness out of reach +Of Robert, so long his friend--honor, and hopes +He would not name, kindled a torch for war +Of various impulse in him. Reuben wedded; +Yet Jerry lingered. Then, swift whisperings +Along reverberant walls of gossips' ears +Hummed loud and louder a love for Ruth. Grace, too, +Involved him in a web of soft surmise +With Ruth; and Reuben questioned him thereof. +But a white, sudden anger struck like a bolt +O'er Jerry's face, that blackened under it: +He strode away, and left his brother dazed, +With red rush of offended self-conceit +Staining his forehead to the hair. This flash +Of anger--first since boyhood's wholesome strifes-- +On Jerry's path gleamed lurid; by its light +He shaped a life's course out. + + There came a storm +One night. He bade farewell to Ruth; and when +Above the seas the bare-browed dawn arose, +While the last laggard drops ran off the eaves, +He dressed, but took some customary garb +On his arm; stole swiftly to the sands; and there +Cast clown his garments by the ancient heap +Of stones. At first brief pause he made, and thought: +"And thus I play, to win perchance a tear +From her whom, first, to save the smallest care, +I thought I could have died!" But then at once +Within the sweep of swirling water-planes +That from the great waves circled up and slid +Instantly back, passing far down the shore, +Southward he made his way. Next day he shipped +Upon a whaler outward bound. She spread +Her mighty wings, and bore him far away-- +So far, Death seemed across her wake to stalk, +Withering her swift shape from the empty air, +Until her memory grew a faded dream. + +Ah, what a desolate brightness that young day +Flung o'er the impassive strand and dull green marsh +And green-arched orchard, ere it struck the farm! +Storm-strengthened, clear, and cool the morning rose +To gaze down on that frighted home, where dawned +Pale Ruth's discovery of her loss, who late, +Guessing some ill in Jerry's last-night words +Of vague farewell, woke now to certainty +Of strange disaster. So, when Reuben and Rob, +Hither and thither searching, with locked lips +And eyes grown suddenly cold in eager dread, +On those still sands beside the untamed sea, +Came to the garments Jerry had thrown there, dumb +They stood, and knew he'd perished. If by chance +Borne out with undertow and rolled beneath +The gaping surge, or rushing on his death +Free-willed, they would not guess; but straight they set +Themselves to watch the changes of the sea-- +The watchful sea that would not be betrayed, +The surly flood that echoed their suspense +With hollow-sounding horror. Thus three tides +Hurled on the beach their empty spray, and brought +Nor doubt-dispelling death, nor new-born hope. +But with the fourth slow turn at length there came +A naked, drifting body impelled to shore, +An unknown sailor by the late storm swept +Out of the rigging of some laboring ship. +And him, disfigured by the water's wear, +The watching friends supposed their dead; and so, +Mourning, took up this outcast of the deep, +And buried him, with church-rite and with pall +Trailing, and train of sad-eyed mourners, there +In the old orchard-lot by Reuben's door. + +Observed among the mourners walked slight Ruth. +Her grief had dropped a veil of finer light +Around her, hedging her with sanctity +Peculiar; all stood shy about her save +Rob Snow, he venturing from time to time +Some small, uncertain act of kindliness. +Long seemed she vowed from joy, but when the birds +Began to mate, and quiet violets blow +Along the brook-side, lo! she smiled again; +Again the wind-flower color in her cheeks +Blanch'd in a breath, and bloomed once more; then stayed; +Till, like the breeze that rumors ripening buds, +A delicate sense crept through the air that soon +These two would scale the church-crowned hill, and wed. + +The seasons faced the world, and fled, and came. +In summer nights, the soft roll of the sea +Was shattered, resonant, beneath a moon +That, silent, seemed to hearken. And every hour +In autumn, night or day, large apples fell +Without rebound to earth, upon the sod +There mounded greenly by the large slate slab +In the old orchard-lot near Reuben's door. +But there were changes: after some long years +Reuben and Grace beheld a brave young boy +Bearing their double life abroad in one-- +Beginning new the world, and bringing hopes +That in their path fell flower-like. Not at ease +They dwelt, though; for a slow discordancy +Of temper--weak-willed waste of life in bursts +Of petulance--had marred their happiness. +And so the boy, young Reuben, as he grew, +Was chafed and vexed by this ill-fitting mode +Of life forced on him, and rebelled. Too oft +Brooding alone, he shaped loose schemes of flight +Into the joyous outer world, to break +From the unwholesome wranglings of his home. +Then once, when at some slight demur he made, +Dispute ensued between the man and wife, +He burst forth, goaded, "Some day I will leave-- +Leave you forever!" And his father stared, +Lifted and clenched his hand, but let it unloose, +Nerveless. The blow, unstruck, yet quivered through +The boy's whole body. + + Waiting for the night, +Reuben made ready, lifted latch, went forth; +Then, with his little bundle in his hand, +Took the bleak road that led him to the world. +When Jerry eighteen years had sailed, had bared +His hurt soul to the pitiless sun and drunk +The rainy brew of storms on all seas, tired +Of wreck and fever and renewed mischance +That would not end in death, a longing stirred +Within him to revisit that gray coast +Where he was born. He landed at the port +Whence first he sailed; and, as in fervid youth, +Set forth upon the highway, to walk home. +Some hoarding he had made, wherewith to enrich +His brother's brood for spendthrift purposes; +And as he walked he wondered how they looked, +How tall they were, how many there might be. +At noon he set himself beside the way, +Under a clump of willows sprouting dense +O'er the weed-woven margin of a brook; +While in the fine green branches overhead +Song-sparrows lightly perched, for whom he threw +From his scant bread some crumbs, remembering well +Old days when he had played with birds like these-- +The same, perhaps, or grandfathers of theirs, +Or earlier still progenitors: whereat +They chirped and chattered louder than before. +But, as he sat, a boy came down the road, +Stirring the noontide dust with laggard feet. +Young Reuben 't was, who seaward made his way. +And Jerry hailed him, carelessly, his mood +Moving to salutation, and the boy, +From under his torn hat-brim looking, answered. +Then, seeing that he eyed his scrap of bread, +The sailor bade him come and share it. So +They fell to talk; and Jerry, with a rough, +Quick-touching kindness, the boy's heart so moved +That unto him he all his wrong confessed. +Gravely the sailor looked at him, and told +His own tale of mad flight and wandering; how, +Wasted he had come back, his life a husk +Of withered seeds, a raveled purse, though once +With golden years well stocked, all squandered now. +At ending, he prevailed, and Reub was won +To turn and follow. Jerry, though he knew +Not yet the father's name, said he that way +Was going, too, and he would intercede +Between the truant and his father. Back +Together then they went. But on the way, +As now they passed from pines to farming-land, +The boy asked more. "'T is queer you should have come +From these same parts, and run away like me! +You did not tell me how it happened." + + +JERRY. + + Foolish, +All of it! But I thought it weightier +Than the world's history, once. I could not stay +And see my brother married to the girl +I loved; and so I went. + + +THE BOY. + + I had an uncle +That was in love. But he--he drowned himself. +Why do men do so? + + +JERRY. + + Drowned himself? And when? + + +THE BOY. + +I don't know. Long ago; it's like a dream +To me. I was not born then. Deacon Snow +Has told me something of it. Mother cries +Even now, beside his grave. Poor uncle! + + +JERRY. + + His grave! +(_That_ could not be, then.) Yet if it should be, +How can I think Grace cried-- + + +THE BOY. + + How did you know +My mother's name was Grace? + + +JERRY. + + I am confused +By what you say. But is your mother's name +Grace? How! Grace, too? + + A strange uneasiness +In Jerry's breast had waked. They walked awhile +In silence. This he could not well believe, +That Grace and Reuben unhappy were, nor that +One son alone was theirs. Therefore aside +He thrust that hidden, sharp foreboding: still +He trusted, still sustained a calm suspense, +And ranged among his memories. "Tell me, son," +He said, "about this Deacon Snow--Rob Snow +It must be, I suppose." + + +THE BOY. + + Oh, do you know him? + + +JERRY. + +A deacon now! Ay, once I knew Rob Snow-- +A jolly blade, if ever any was, +And merry as the full moon. + + +THE BOY. + + He has failed +A good deal now, though, since his wife died. + + +JERRY. + + What! +(Of course; of course; all's changed.) He married! + + +THE BOY. + + Why, +How long you must have been away! For since +I can remember he has had a wife +And children. She was Gran'ther Hungerford's-- + + +JERRY. + +Her name was Ruth? + + +THE BOY. + + Yes, Ruth! 'T is after her +The deacon's nicest daughter's named; _she's_ Ruth. + +Then sadly Jerry pondered, and no more +Found speech. They tramped on sternly. To the brow +Of a long hill they came, whence they could see +The village and blue ocean; then they sank +Into a region of low-lying fields +Half-naked from the scythe, and others veined +With vines that 'midst dismantled, fallen corn +Dragged all athwart a weight of tawny gourds, +Sun-mellowed, sound. And now the level way +Stretched forward eagerly, for hard ahead +It made the turn that rounded Reuben's house. +Between the still road and the tossing sea +Lay the wide swamp, with all its hundred pools +Reflecting leaden light; anon they passed +A farm-yard where the noisy chanticleer +Strutted and ruled, as one long since had done; +And then the wayside trough with jutting spout +Of ancient, mossy wood, that still poured forth +Its liquid largess to all comers. Soon +A slow cart met them, filled with gathered kelp: +The salt scent seemed a breath of younger days. +They reached the road-bend, and the evening shone +Upon them, calmly. Jerry paused, o'erwhelmed. +Reuben, surprised, glanced at him, and then said, +"Yonder's the house." Old Jerry gazed on him, +And trembled; for before him slowly grew +Through the boy's face the mingled features there +Of father and of mother--Grace's mouth, +Ripe, pouting lips, and Reuben's square-framed eyes. +But, mastering well his voice, he bade the boy +Wait by the wall, till he a little while +Went forward, and prepared. So Reuben stayed; +And Jerry with uncertain step advanced, +As dreaming of his youth and this his home. +Slowly he passed between the gateless posts +Before the unused front door, slowly too +Beyond the side porch with its woodbine thick +Draping autumnal splendor. Thus he came +Before the kitchen window, where he saw +A gray-haired woman bent o'er needle-work +In gathering twilight. And without a voice, +Rooted, he stood. He stirred not, but his glance +Burned through the pane; uneasily she turned, +And seeing that shaggy stranger standing there +Expectant, shook her head, as though to warn +Some chance, wayfaring beggar. He, though, stood +And looked at her immovably. Then, quick +The sash upthrowing, she made as if to speak +Harshly; but still he held his quiet eyes +Upon her. Now she paused; her throat throbbed full; +Her lips paled suddenly, her wan face flamed, +A fertile stir of memory strove to work +Renewal in those features wintry cold. +And so she hung, while Jerry by a step +Drawn nearer, coming just beneath her, said, +"Grace!" And she murmured, "Jerry!" Then she bent +Over him, clasping his great matted head +With those worn arms, all joyless; and the tears +Fell hot upon his forehead from her eyes. +For now in this dim gloaming their two souls +Unfruited, by an instant insight wild, +Delicious, found the full, mysterious clew +Of individual being, each in each. +But, tremulously, soon they drew themselves +Away from that so sweet, so sad embrace, +The first, the last that could be theirs. Then he, +Summing his story in a word, a glance, +Added, "But though you see me broken down +And poor enough, not empty-handed quite +I come. For God set in my way a gift, +The best I could have sought. I bring it you +In memory of the love I bore. Not now +Must that again be thought of! Waste and black +My life's fields lie behind me, and a frost +Has stilled the music of my hopes, but here +If I may dwell, nor trouble you, such a joy +Were mine, I dare not ask it. Oh forgive +The weakness! Come and see my gift!" + + Ah, tears +Flowed fast, that night, from springs of love unsealed +Once more within the ancient house--rare tears +Of reconciliation, grief, and joy! +A miracle, it seemed, had here been wrought, +The dead brought back to life. And with him came +The prodigal, repenting. + + So, thenceforth, +A spirit of peace within the household dwelt. +In Jerry a swift-sent age these years had brought, +To soften him, wrought with all the woe at home +Such open, gracious dignity, that all +For cheer and guidance learned to look to him. +But chiefly th' younger Reuben sought his aid, +And he with homely wisdom shaped the lad +To a life's loving duty. Yet not long, +Alas! the kind sea-farer with them stayed. +After some years his storm-racked body drooped. +The season came when crickets cease to sing +And flame-curled leaves fly fast; and Jerry sank +Softly toward death. Then, on a boisterous morn +That beat the wrecked woods with incessant gusts +To wrest some last leaf from them, he arose +And passed away. But those who loved him watched +His fading, half in doubt, and half afraid, +As if he must return again; for now +Entering the past he seemed, and not a life +Beyond; and some who thought of that old grave +In the orchard, dreamed a breath's space that the man +Long buried had come back, and could not die. +But so he died, and, ceasing, made request +Beside that outcast of the deep to lie. +None other mark desired he but the stone +Set there long since, though at a stranger's grave, +In heavy memory of him thought dead. + +They marked the earth with one more mound beside +The other, near a gap in the low wall +That looked out seaward. There you ever hear +The deep, remorseful requiem of the sea; +And there, in autumn, windfalls, showering thick +Upon the grave, score the slow, voiceless hours +With unrebounding stroke. All round about +Green milkweed rankly thrives, and golden-rod +Sprouts from his prostrate heart in fine-poised grace +Of haughty curve, with every crest in flower. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Rose and Roof-Tree, by George Parsons Lathrop + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE AND ROOF-TREE *** + +This file should be named 8rose10.txt or 8rose10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8rose11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8rose10a.txt + +Produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/8rose10.zip b/old/8rose10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9002dfb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8rose10.zip |