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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79045 ***
+
+
+
+
+                             WINGS OF YOUTH
+
+                                  _By_
+
+                             NANCY BUCKLEY
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                           THE CLOISTER PRESS
+                             SAN FRANCISCO
+                                  1922
+
+
+
+
+                             COPYRIGHT 1922
+                                   BY
+                             NANCY BUCKLEY
+                             SAN FRANCISCO
+
+
+
+
+  “_Youth took wings and flitted among the clouds for the very joy of
+  being freed from the fetters of earth._”
+
+
+
+
+FOREWORD
+
+
+In this little book, “_Wings of Youth_,” her second collection of
+published verses, Nancy Buckley has sounded the tender and wistful and
+also the joyous note of the young heart. The fact that her first book,
+“Laughter and Longing,” published in 1921, is now in its third edition,
+is sufficient testimony to the quality of her verse and to the cultured
+discernment of Californians.
+
+A mellower tone than we found in her first collection distinguishes
+most of the verses in this volume. It shows the growth she has made in
+an earnest pursuit of her high purpose, and the wider and deeper range
+of powers she has discovered and is bringing forth.
+
+We need such a strong and wholesome spirit as hers. It will inspire
+hope and cheer and sane striving against the devastating forces that
+now, more than ever, tend to drag us from our view of a glorious sun
+always shining in the sky.
+
+                                                           W. C. Morrow.
+
+San Francisco, November, 1922.
+
+
+
+
+_Acknowledgement_
+
+
+_Acknowledgement is hereby made of the courtesy of American Poetry
+Magazine, The Nomad, Munsey’s Magazine, Argosy, All-Story Weekly,
+The Signet, The Queen’s Work, Social Progress, The Magnificat, New
+England Homestead, Education, The Californian, Newman Hall Review,
+Girlhood Days and Extension for permission to use in this volume poems
+originally contributed to these magazines._
+
+
+
+
+_TO MARY ELIZABETH_
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ _Wings_                              15
+
+ _The Singer_                         16
+
+ _Dreamers_                           17
+
+ _The Little Gypsy_                   18
+
+ _To My Friend_                       19
+
+ _The Net_                            20
+
+ _Love’s Witchery_                    21
+
+ _My Little Window_                   22
+
+ _Homesick_                           23
+
+ _Gifts_                              24
+
+ _The Interpreter_                    25
+
+ _The Easter Bell_                    26
+
+ _The Little Old House_               27
+
+ _My Sweetest Song_                   28
+
+ _Heart O’ Mine_                      29
+
+ _Silver Ships_                       30
+
+ _A Gypsy’s Longing_                  31
+
+ _Candles_                            32
+
+ _A Song Without Words_               33
+
+ _Rendezvous_                         34
+
+ _For Mary Elizabeth’s Birthday_      35
+
+ _Our Lady of the Flowers_            36
+
+ _The Best Kind of a Game_            37
+
+ _Life’s Snare_                       38
+
+ _Little Roads_                       39
+
+ _The Secret Room_                    40
+
+ _Cynthia in Her Garden_              41
+
+ _Gray Eyes_                          42
+
+ _A Little Girl’s Garden_             43
+
+ _The Martyr_                      44-45
+
+ _Tryst_                              46
+
+ _Enshrined_                          47
+
+ _Macushla_                           48
+
+ _Three Lovely Things_                49
+
+ _Immolation_                         50
+
+ _Dusk in a Garden_                   51
+
+ _Regret_                             52
+
+ _The House O’ Dreams_                53
+
+ _A Song of Youth_                    54
+
+ _Idyl in a Garden_                   55
+
+ _Nostalgia_                          56
+
+ _The Vampire_                        57
+
+ _The Enchanted Land_                 58
+
+ _Paradox_                            59
+
+ _At Night_                           60
+
+ _Haven_                              61
+
+ _By an Open Window in June_          62
+
+ _Maid O’ Mine_                       63
+
+ _My Songs_                           64
+
+ _Life’s Garden_                      65
+
+ _The Vendor of Dreams_               66
+
+ _The Piper_                          67
+
+ _Fulfillment_                        68
+
+
+
+
+_WINGS_
+
+
+    Love has wings that folded lie
+    Upon my heart with soft caress,
+    And nevermore they care to fly
+    From my heart’s tenderness.
+
+    Love has wings, they’ve flown away
+    With never a tear-drop nor a sigh;
+    How could I hope for them to stay,
+    When they so missed the sky?
+
+
+
+
+_THE SINGER_
+
+
+    I am but a singer,
+    Yet I ever dare
+    Songs to send like arrows
+    Quivering through the air.
+
+    Straight and swift and certain
+    Flies each little dart,
+    Home and harbor finding
+    Within your dear heart.
+
+
+
+
+_DREAMERS_
+
+
+    Dreamers are poor as poor can be,
+      Without a cent put by;
+    Theirs is the wealth of sun and sea,
+      And rich-robed earth and sky.
+
+    And all their own the silvery moon,
+      The rainbow’s treasure chest;
+    Red roses in the heart of June,
+      And love and faith and rest.
+
+
+
+
+_THE LITTLE GYPSY_
+
+
+    Oh! Nina can dance with a gay Spanish dash,
+    In her bright scarlet dress with broad yellow sash,
+    And black curls a-flying and eyes dark as sloes,
+    And music’s soft rhythm in her little toes.
+
+    Oh! Nina can sing as she strums her guitar,
+    And sweet songs of Seville float in from afar,
+    The melody falls from her soft southern tongue,
+    And birdlings are silent till her song is sung.
+
+    Oh! Nina can play on her wee castanets,
+    The gay tarantella my heart ne’er forgets,
+    As forth on the highway I laughingly fare,
+    With sweet Nina and youth and love everywhere.
+
+
+
+
+_TO MY FRIEND_
+
+
+    You are my friend. Give me no more
+    Of costly gems and golden store,
+    For these are not the things I prize--
+    For me let lovelight fill your eyes,
+    And give to me your tenderness,
+    Your little broken words that bless
+    And bear away the bitter pain
+    And make my heart look up again.
+    Oh, come into my little room
+    Whene’er descends the hour of gloom,
+    And let your love a candle be
+    To bring the light of hope to me!
+
+
+
+
+_THE NET_
+
+
+    I’m weaving a silken net for you,
+    A silken net so fair;
+    Forever I’ll keep you all my own
+    Safe in its lovely lair.
+
+    I’ll snare your body so small and sweet
+    From all life’s pain and harm,
+    And o’er your golden head I’ll throw
+    The magic of its charm.
+
+    And fast my net shall wrap you round,
+    I’ve wrought it strong and well;
+    Your little hands alone may break
+    Its strong and shining spell.
+
+
+
+
+_LOVE’S WITCHERY_
+
+
+    Each day’s a golden hour to me,
+    Since I can walk again with thee.
+    The sea sings sweetly as of old,
+    And all the laughing days unfold
+    Their loveliness. The little streams
+    Go drifting by like fairy dreams;
+    And o’er the perfumed face of Night
+    Fall misty veils of silver light.
+    Glad promise gleams in morning skies,
+    And dawns, for me, in your dear eyes;
+    Each day’s a golden hour to me
+    Since I can walk again with thee.
+
+
+
+
+_MY LITTLE WINDOW_
+
+
+    From out my little window near the sky,
+    I watch the clouds like doves go wandering by.
+    I hear the song the thrush so sweetly sings,
+    As golden arrows flash his shining wings.
+    I see the roses full in scarlet bloom,
+    Their scented incense fills my tiny room,
+    And all the world is free from fretful care,
+    And love and joy and youth are everywhere!
+    I feel the spell the twilight softly weaves,
+    And watch the moonlight silver all the leaves,
+    Then tender dreams of life so sweet a part,
+    Pass through my little window to my heart.
+
+
+
+
+_HOMESICK_
+
+
+    These city streets are cold and gray,
+      And very dim and dark;
+    You never hear throughout the day
+      The song of meadow lark.
+
+    And hyacinths you never find,
+      Blossoming white and blue;
+    Not in the city streets unkind
+      Does Springtime come to you.
+
+    These city streets are filled with strife,
+      Of fight for wealth and fame.
+    Today I’d give just half my life
+      To hear you call my name.
+
+
+
+
+_GIFTS_
+
+
+    I fain would give you golden gifts,
+    But you have gold more rare,
+    Since your Good Fairy gave to you
+    A crown of golden hair.
+
+    A silver trinket then, perhaps,
+    Would make your heart rejoice,
+    But what is silver to a maid
+    With such a silvery voice?
+
+    Or would a gem your fancy please?
+    You’ve plenty, I surmise,
+    Your lips are rubies, rosy-hued,
+    And diamonds bright, your eyes.
+
+    Within this scented garden fair,
+    A precious gift I’ll seek,
+    To match the lily of your throat,
+    The roses in your cheek.
+
+
+
+
+_THE INTERPRETER_
+
+
+    For him Life lifts her veil and lets him see
+    The beauty hid beneath the mystery
+    Of sunset glory flaming in the sky.
+    And every gentle breeze that passes by
+    Leaves soft caress upon his dreaming face,
+    And violets from the depths of mossy place
+    Raise trusting eyes. And in the nights of June
+    Resplendent shines for him a friendly moon.
+
+
+
+
+_THE EASTER BELL_
+
+
+    Over the earth there gladly fell
+    The song of many a golden bell;
+    Far and near came the joyous chime
+    That heralded the Easter time.
+    So loud, so clear, its music rang
+    As sweet as if an Angel sang:
+    “Lo! Death and Darkness both have fled
+    Since Christ is risen from the dead.”
+    O! little bell, tell wind and wave
+    That Love has triumphed o’er the grave.
+    Fill all the earth with joyous strain;
+    Ring out, sweet bell, again--again!
+
+
+
+
+_THE LITTLE OLD HOUSE_
+
+
+    Around the door red roses grow,
+    And as the soft June breezes blow,
+    Shy little dreams from petals creep
+    And mystic tryst with memory keep.
+
+    They let their tiny fingers rest
+    Upon the old wall’s broken crest,
+    They lift their little faces high
+    As if to touch the clear blue sky.
+
+    They try to ease the bitter smart,
+    That lives within the broken heart
+    Of the sad house, so brown and old,
+    That ’neath the flaming sun is cold.
+
+    Shy little dreams--your labor’s vain;
+    The little house won’t smile again.
+
+
+
+
+_MY SWEETEST SONG_
+
+
+    My sweetest song was stilled
+    Alas! by your own hand,
+    The day you sailed away
+    To a far distant land.
+
+    My sweetest song was filled
+    With notes of keenest pain;
+    My thoughts were of primroses
+    Along an Irish lane.
+
+    My sweetest song is filled
+    With joy-notes strong and clear;
+    My thoughts are all of roses,
+    For you at last are here!
+
+
+
+
+_HEART O’ MINE_
+
+
+    Why are you sad, oh! heart o’ mine?
+    Is the load heavy, or day too long?
+    Now that the sun has ceased to shine,
+    Have you forgot your song?
+
+    You must be glad, oh! heart o’ mine,
+    And bright and gay through pain and wrong,
+    And when your spirits begin to pine,
+    Must sing your sweetest song.
+
+
+
+
+_SILVER SHIPS_
+
+
+    I sit beside a sapphire sea,
+    And watch my ships come home to me,
+    And all the world is bright with flame,
+    Answering my joyous heart’s acclaim.
+
+    Their sails are made of pale white mist,
+    By beams of morning softly kissed;
+    Their freight is dreams, a precious store,
+    Gathered upon some shining shore.
+
+    Come, little ships of silver hue,
+    Bring me fond hopes and visions new,
+    Bring me the dreams I lost one day,
+    When my Beloved went far away.
+
+
+
+
+_A GYPSY’S LONGING_
+
+
+    I’m hearing the words that you whisper so slow,
+    The soft words of love that are tender and low,
+    But oh! my wild heart is a-roaming the dale--
+    My wild gypsy heart, that cares not for love’s tale.
+
+    I’m seeing your eyes and the promise they hold
+    Of the wealth of the world and the glitter of gold,
+    But oh! my wet eyes that are straining to see
+    The hills of the gypsies, the hills of the free!
+
+    I’m touching your lips all aflame with desire,
+    And my heart is a-pulsing so close to the fire--
+    But oh! ’tis the hills that I’m wanting, my dear,
+    The hills where I wandered that spring of the year.
+
+
+
+
+_CANDLES_
+
+
+    There is a shrine within my heart,
+      Where two small candles burn,
+    And when the day’s last beams depart,
+      To their bright light I turn.
+
+    One candle is your love for me,
+      And one my love for you;
+    Your love is strong as the mighty sea,
+      And mine is deep and true.
+
+    The little candles ever glow,
+      At dusk or morn the same,
+    And up their bright flames quickly go,
+      When each speaks the other’s name.
+
+
+
+
+_A SONG WITHOUT WORDS_
+
+
+    There is a song within my heart,
+    A song I long to sing,
+    But all the labor on my part
+    No fitting words can bring.
+
+    Yet all the calm and quiet trees,
+    Sing it throughout the day,
+    And all its tender harmonies
+    On breezes float away.
+
+    And from the throat of every bird,
+    Asway above his nest,
+    The music of my song is heard,
+    The song within my breast.
+
+
+
+
+_RENDEZVOUS_
+
+
+    I’ll surely come some happy day
+    To our loved rendezvous,
+    Nor time nor space can keep away
+    My longing heart from you.
+
+    It may be in the crowded street,
+    Where Life goes on apace,
+    But I shall know you when we meet
+    And smile into your face.
+
+    It may be in the hush of night,
+    I’ll see your loveliness;
+    My heart will run like wingèd light,
+    To meet your sweet caress.
+
+    Nor life nor death can keep away
+    My longing heart from you;
+    Sometime--I’ll come--perhaps today
+    To our loved rendezvous.
+
+
+
+
+_FOR MARY ELIZABETH’S BIRTHDAY_
+
+
+    If I but knew just how to say
+    The thoughts that fill my heart today,
+    I’d write a sonnet fine and grand,
+    And put it in your little hand.
+
+    If I but knew just how to sing
+    Of Youth on happy shining wing,
+    I’d sing a song for you to hear
+    And trill it to your little ear.
+
+    If I but knew just how to show
+    My love for you through weal and woe,
+    I’d take my soul--the better part,
+    And place it in your little heart.
+
+
+
+
+_OUR LADY OF THE FLOWERS_
+
+
+    The glory of the Spring is falling o’er
+    The year. The silver-throated songsters pour
+    Their bursting hearts in sweetest melody
+    That thrills the raptured air to ecstacy.
+    And at our Lady’s shrine, the lily fair
+    Lifts her pure face, a gentle nun at prayer;
+    And near her is the rose in glad array
+    Of splendid scarlet satin, bright and gay.
+    Wee violets, the blue of summer skies,
+    Their loving hearts a-tremble in their eyes,
+    Look up at Mary and with smiles so sweet,
+    They lay their lives as offerings at her feet.
+
+
+
+
+_THE BEST KIND OF A GAME_
+
+
+    Let’s play that the whole world is shining,
+    And filled with gay laughter so bright;
+    With never a word of repining
+    From morning to star-covered night.
+
+    Let’s play that the rose’s red beauty,
+    Is filling the land with perfume,
+    Let’s find that there’s pleasure in duty,
+    And nothing but heartache in gloom.
+
+    Let’s play that the blithe birds are flinging
+    Their happiness all through the air,
+    Let’s play that our life’s full of singing
+    With hope and soft love everywhere.
+
+
+
+
+_LIFE’S SNARE_
+
+
+    Life offered treasure rich to me,
+    Soft gleaming pearls from the Orient sea,
+    And worldly fame--and beauty’s dower,
+    With golden wealth and place and power.
+
+    With eager hands I took the store
+    Of Life’s fair gifts and begged for more;
+    Then found too late with bitter dole
+    They forged gold fetters for my soul.
+
+
+
+
+_LITTLE ROADS_
+
+
+    Sometimes I walk on a little white road
+    That leads through the fair heart of June,
+    And Joy holds my hand as I saunter along,
+    And eventide comes all too soon.
+
+    Sometimes I walk on a little gray road,
+    That leads to a dull sullen sea,
+    And my heart is a bitter and burdensome thing,
+    For Grief makes the journey with me.
+
+
+
+
+_THE SECRET ROOM_
+
+
+    I have a room within my heart
+    Where all my memories are,
+    Small honored guests, these little dreams
+    That come from near and far.
+
+    When I am sad I enter in
+    And meet your loving smile
+    That made my joy and happiness,
+    For such a little while.
+
+    And in the little room I light
+    The lamp of deathless love,
+    And all my sorrow quickly goes,
+    Like flight of swiftest dove.
+
+
+
+
+_CYNTHIA IN HER GARDEN_
+
+
+    She touches with white hands the flowers fair,
+    And they look up and smile to see her there,
+    And softly breathe a shy yet warm caress,
+    Upon the airy brightness of her dress.
+
+    Then tender dreams that in old gardens bide
+    Come eagerly swift-thronging to her side,
+    She mothers them--her precious treasure-trove,
+    Till, creeping in her heart, they kindle love.
+
+
+
+
+_GRAY EYES_
+
+
+    I do not care for eyes of blue,
+    Though warm they are, and pure, and true;
+    Nor eyes of brown, so soft and deep,
+    Where tender dreams and fancies sleep.
+
+    I care not for black eyes that flash,
+    And all one’s dear hopes rudely dash;
+    That laugh and dance and mock and tease,
+    Invoking mischief as they please.
+
+    But, oh, I yearn for eyes of gray!
+    So calm and sweet and softly gay,
+    Such dear gray eyes as, long ago,
+    For me made heaven here below.
+
+
+
+
+_A LITTLE GIRL’S GARDEN_
+
+
+    I have a little garden fair,
+    With soft dreams floating everywhere,
+    Filled with tall lilies, gold and white,
+    Shy violets and roses bright.
+
+    I listen to the drowsy rhyme
+    The river makes in summer-time;
+    I lie upon the grass so cool
+    Beside a quiet little pool.
+
+    I dream I am a princess grand,
+    The greatest lady in the land,
+    Bright jewels on my fingers shine,
+    And golden wealth untold is mine.
+
+    I dream I am a fairy small,
+    Who never wants to grow at all,
+    Who plays all through the happy hours
+    With dancing leaves and laughing flowers.
+
+
+
+
+_THE MARTYR_
+
+
+    The sun hangs high in Heaven, darting down
+    The glory of a springtime on the town,
+    The splendid beauty of the opening rose,
+    The promised wealth of music in some close
+    Full throated warblers pour unto the sky
+    A very incense-cloud of harmony.
+    The games will be anon and eager feet
+    Hasten from every way and every street
+    Pours down its tide with never ceasing flow--
+    Where stands the Coliseum vast below.
+    Lo! Lo! today, even today, glad hands
+    Will loose the fretful tiger from his bands,
+    And fling unto the lions with a cry,
+    The few who worship Christ, and hence must die.
+    A voice is heard: “To us Pancratius yield!”
+    Then the gates fall, and on the sandy field
+    Stands forth the very flower of Youth, as fair
+    As when at night unto the raptured air
+    Some lily breathes its ardent soul and dies,
+    At joy of death wrapt in high ecstacies.
+    “Ah! Emperor, master, Christ is mine and I
+    Am Christ’s. Your sovereign mandate bids me die
+    Your gods are Rome’s, Christ mine, and therefor falls
+    Thy wrath upon me. Lo! ’tis joy. All palls
+    When matched with it, and seems but tears,
+    But tears and a legion of broad, phantom fears.”
+    “The panther”--wakes a voice--“he comes, he springs!”
+    Then with the mounting shriek that fiercely rings
+    They watch the panther move across the space,
+    They watch the smile upon the boyish face--
+    Then in a brilliant glare of light they see
+    Him, and his Christ triumph eternally.
+
+
+
+
+_TRYST_
+
+
+    When evening fires are burning low,
+    Into my room I softly go;
+    In this sweet hour I love the most,
+    To tender dreams I am the host.
+
+    Close to my chair each loved one stands;
+    I feel the clasp of friendly hands;
+    I hear the breathing of their sighs,
+    And see the smile within their eyes.
+
+    The night without is gray and old,
+    And all my heart is bitter cold;
+    ’Tis then, fair dreams, I miss you so,
+    You and the hour when fires are low.
+
+    The world is full of foolish things;
+    Its siren voice forever sings.
+    Dear dreams of love, be with me yet,
+    Lest I your sweetness all forget.
+
+
+
+
+_ENSHRINED_
+
+
+    Just now the firelight painted
+    A picture on my wall;
+    A picture of my sweetheart,
+    So dazzling fair, and tall.
+
+    And then the shadows entered,
+    And bade my dream depart;
+    I straightway put the picture
+    Within my eager heart.
+
+
+
+
+_MACUSHLA_
+
+
+    Your lips are fair beguilin’
+    As they sing a happy tune,
+    Your eyes are always smilin’
+    Like the sunny skies in June.
+
+    Your hair all bright and shinin’
+    Is made of fairy gold,
+    It sets my heart a-pinin’
+    To own its wealth untold.
+
+    But oh! your love, Macushla,
+    Your love so fond and true,
+    ’Twas God above, Macushla,
+    Made the Irish heart of you!
+
+
+
+
+_THREE LOVELY THINGS_
+
+
+    I saw three lovely things today,
+    At morn, a little child at play,
+    Her hair a net that caught the sun
+    And held its gold till day was done.
+
+    At noon, I saw a boy aflame
+    With glowing dreams of love and fame;
+    His eager heart bridged o’er the years,
+    And felt their joy--but not their tears.
+
+    I saw a toil-worn man at night,
+    Come to a little home, alight
+    With sweet content; upon the stair
+    Wife and child were waiting there.
+
+    There came three lovely things my way,
+    At morn, at noon, at close of day,
+    And each one brought a gift to me
+    To store within my memory.
+
+
+
+
+_IMMOLATION_
+
+
+    Not for the martyr’s crown
+    I pray, dear Lord,
+    Not for the quick fierce death
+    By heathen sword.
+    Not for the battle’s cease,
+    The victory won,
+    Not for the long cool rest
+    At set of sun.
+    But still the lonely life
+    From all apart,
+    But still the gnawing pain
+    Of bruiséd heart.
+    But still upon the cross
+    For love of Thee,
+    Until at last, at last,
+    Thy Face I see.
+
+
+
+
+_DUSK IN A GARDEN_
+
+
+    I feel the breath of summer air,
+    I hear a whispered message there
+    And raise my eyes, in awe, to see
+    The soul of Night unveiled for me.
+
+
+
+
+_REGRET_
+
+
+    I banished you with jesting
+    That heeded not your fears,
+    I turned to love and laughter
+    And found no place for tears.
+
+    Now that you’re gone, I’m wiser,
+    I seek you everywhere,
+    My eyes are wet with weeping
+    And life’s no longer fair.
+
+
+
+
+_THE HOUSE O’ DREAMS_
+
+
+    Over the river upon the hill
+    Is a little brown house, fast-shut and still;
+    Around it circle sighing trees
+    That whisper a plaint to the passing breeze,
+    And over it trailing shadows go
+    In endless search for flowers a-blow.
+
+    Over the river upon the hill,
+    When starry night is cool and still,
+    Then comes a dream of days of old--
+    A dream of love too long untold.
+    My heart runs vainly to the door
+    Of the little house on the misty shore.
+
+
+
+
+_A SONG OF YOUTH_
+
+
+    Life calls me out on the sunlit road,
+    Out where the winds blow free,
+    There’s never a sorrow in my light load
+    Nor a care in the heart of me.
+
+    And I’ll drink my fill of red romance--
+    Of love and laughter gay--
+    And along with me will the lassies dance
+    To the lilt of a rondelay.
+
+    And when the moon o’er the shining trail
+    Casts a veil of silver light,
+    We’ll charter a ship of dreams and sail
+    Away on the sea of night.
+
+
+
+
+_IDYL IN A GARDEN_
+
+
+    We walked in a little garden
+    All drenched with silver dew,
+    I said: “How blue those violets!”
+    “Your eyes are yet more blue.”
+
+    I touched a slender lily,
+    So tall and gold and fair;
+    “A priceless thing,” I whispered,
+    “More priceless gold, your hair.”
+
+    I plucked a rose so lovely,
+    “The sweetest flower,” I said,
+    “But oh, your lips are sweeter!”
+    Said he, as he bent his head.
+
+
+
+
+_NOSTALGIA_
+
+
+    A silver mist above a summer sea,
+    The daffodils a-blow upon the lea,
+    The march of stars across the moonlit dome
+    Bring poignant longing for the hills of home!
+
+
+
+
+_THE VAMPIRE_
+
+
+    Her hair that gleams as morning light,
+    Filled with the sunbeams hidden gold,
+    Her slender arms that warm and white
+    Can happiness and bliss enfold,
+    Her eyes, that like dark fires shine,
+    And like dark fires soon destroy,
+    Her lips that glow like scarlet wine
+    And bid men drink of their sweet joy,
+    All, all, her body’s beauty rare,
+    Long slipped the leash of firm control--
+    Is used as bait to catch and snare
+    And kill a man’s immortal soul.
+
+
+
+
+_THE ENCHANTED LAND_
+
+
+    Can’t you hear the fairies? Their singing fills the glen;
+    Can’t you see them dancing? The gayest little men,
+    Dressed in green and yellow, with tiny silver shoon
+    That catch their glint and sparkle from June-time’s golden moon.
+
+    Can’t you hear them whispering, whispering soft and low,
+    All the wondrous secrets that you so long to know?
+    But you must ne’er be telling a thing you chance to hear;
+    The fairies would be sorry they let you come so near.
+
+    Don’t you want to travel, these many leagues away,
+    To where the fairies revel through the night and day?
+    The train will soon be leaving, on a track of golden dust,
+    ’Tis this you’ll need for luggage: a heart of simple trust.
+
+
+
+
+_PARADOX_
+
+
+    Sometimes I laugh and sing
+    To hide my fears--
+    My heart a haunted thing
+    Abrim with tears.
+
+    Sometimes I softly weep,
+    For joy is mine,
+    And Love keeps vigil sweet--
+    My heart his shrine.
+
+
+
+
+_AT NIGHT_
+
+
+    Sleep’s gentle fingers draw me to her feet
+    And soon she gives me dreams so bright and sweet,
+    To hold within my hands and taste their joy,
+    And find their gold is all without alloy.
+
+    And then she hides me ’neath her purple dress,
+    Then come her lips, my own to gently bless,
+    And in my ears soft rings the elfin call
+    That bids the heavy wings of rest to fall.
+
+
+
+
+_HAVEN_
+
+
+    Oh! for the peace of a tiny farm,
+    And a path that climbs a hill;
+    And your dear voice, potent charm,
+    Singing the love songs still.
+
+    Oh! for a home, sweetheart o’mine,
+    By meadow and winding lane,
+    And sweet wet violets that shine
+    With glint of April rain.
+
+    Today I glimpse through door of dreams,
+    This haven of the heart;
+    E’en fancied joy has power, it seems,
+    To heal the bitter smart.
+
+
+
+
+_BY AN OPEN WINDOW IN JUNE_
+
+
+    How sweet is the fragrance that perfumes the air,
+    The wealth of red roses abloom everywhere;
+    The skies of bright sapphire are all bending low
+    Above the sweet earth where the soft breezes blow.
+
+    And there, past the hills, is the smile of the sea,
+    And the little worn path that led you to me.
+    The heart in my breast is calling your name
+    As it called it so softly the first day you came.
+
+    The roses are lonely--they’re drooping today--
+    For June isn’t June, because you’re away;
+    Come back! Ah, Macushla, you answer no word,
+    Out there in the din my heart isn’t heard!
+
+
+
+
+_MAID O’ MINE_
+
+
+    Dear little maid with eyes of blue,
+    You bring such lovely gifts with you:
+    Your golden dreams undimmed by care--
+    Your love--your faith so sweet and rare.
+
+    Dancing along through merry hours,
+    Heeding not the passing showers,
+    You sing in voice of gentle tone
+    The softest winds have made their own.
+
+    You bring me dreams of tender things,
+    Of butterflies and flashing wings,
+    Of days that hold the kiss of June,
+    Of nights lit by a baby moon
+
+    Of little saints with folded hands,
+    Of gardens where the lily stands,
+    Of meadows silvered o’er with dew--
+    These are the dreams you bring with you.
+
+
+
+
+_MY SONGS_
+
+
+    I spin my songs from sun to sun,
+    And fleetly weave my dreams
+    And yet my work is never done,
+    But just begun, it seems.
+
+    For every morn, the golden rays
+    Of sun come through the trees,
+    And evernew the moonlight strays
+    Upon the sapphire seas.
+
+    All through the day I see your eyes,
+    So sweet and soft and clear,
+    And in the night, in swift surprise,
+    I hear your voice so dear.
+
+    So ever I spin my little song,
+    And weave my dream so true,
+    For every hour that speeds along
+    Brings new sweet thoughts of you.
+
+
+
+
+_LIFE’S GARDEN_
+
+
+    I walked in a lovely garden,
+    All filled with flowers rare,
+    And I wanted just one blossom,
+    A red rose growing there.
+
+    But so tall it grew and stately,
+    So high above my head
+    That I could never reach it,
+    My rose so sweet and red.
+
+    Ah! what is a lovely garden
+    If my heart has no repose?
+    And what are all splendid flowers,
+    If I cannot reach my rose?
+
+
+
+
+_THE VENDOR OF DREAMS_
+
+
+    I’ve dreams to sell--fair dreams and bright--
+    Wrapped up in silver lace,
+    And they will fill your heart with light
+    And smile into your face.
+
+    I’ve dreams of Spring--of happy Spring--
+    When hearts beat brave and high,
+    I’ve dreams all caught in a golden ring
+    And hid in a roguish eye.
+
+    Would you like a dream of wee sweet lips,
+    Or a dream of a night in June?
+    Perchance a dream of treasure ships
+    A-sail ’neath a silver moon?
+
+    Come buy, come buy.... I’m on my way,
+    I care not for your gold,
+    I sell my dreams for a smile so gay,
+    Or a heart that ne’er grows old.
+
+
+
+
+_THE PIPER_
+
+
+    Oh! Life was piping on flute of gold,
+    And I followed him fast along,
+    And my heart was pulsing brave and bold,
+    As it sang a gay gypsy song.
+
+    Oh! Love was calling, for it was Spring,
+    And I heard his eager cry,
+    And forth I fared me, adventuring
+    Under the tender blue sky.
+
+    Oh! we three went dancing along the way,
+    As Life piped his maddest tune,
+    And then, at the close of the golden day,
+    We dreamt ’neath the smiling moon.
+
+
+
+
+_FULFILLMENT_
+
+
+    The ardent sun with laughter gay
+    Kissed the modest dawn.
+    And ere had come the blush of day
+        A rose was born!
+
+    Joy dwelt within the poet’s heart,
+    Like a captive bird,
+    When Sorrow tore the bars apart,
+        A song was heard!
+
+    Youth gave the cup of Life to me,
+    I saw its jewels shine,
+    I drained it, oh, so eagerly,
+        And Love was mine!
+
+
+
+
+                          TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+ Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
+
+ Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79045 ***