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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets and Songs, by Helen Hay Whitney
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Sonnets and Songs
+
+Author: Helen Hay Whitney
+
+Release Date: January 28, 2011 [EBook #35098]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS AND SONGS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+produced from images generously made available by The
+Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ SONNETS
+ AND SONGS
+
+ BY
+ HELEN HAY WHITNEY
+
+ NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+ HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
+
+ MCMV
+
+
+
+
+ Copyright, 1905, by HARPER & BROTHERS.
+ _All rights reserved._
+ Published August, 1905.
+
+
+
+
+ TO
+ P. W.
+
+
+
+
+ _Contents_
+
+ SONNETS
+
+
+                                        PAGE
+
+ Ave atque Vale                           3
+ "Chaque baiser vaut un roman"            4
+ As a Pale Child                          5
+ Flower of the Clove                      6
+ Too Late                                 7
+ The Supreme Sacrifice                    8
+ Malua                                    9
+ Love's Legacy                           10
+ How we would Live!                      11
+ In Extremis                             12
+ The Forgiveness                         13
+ With Music                              14
+ Alpha and Omega                         15
+ Flowers of Ice                          16
+ Love and Death                          17
+ The Message                             18
+ Tempest and Calm                        19
+ After Rain                              20
+ Not through this Door                   21
+ Pot-Pourri                              22
+ Eadem Semper                            23
+ To a Woman                              24
+ Aspiration--I                           25
+ Aspiration--II                          26
+ The Gypsy Blood                         27
+ Not Dead but Sleeping                   28
+ The Last Gift                           29
+ Amor Mysticus                           30
+ The Pattern of the Earth                31
+ Disguised                               32
+
+
+ SONGS
+
+ On the White Road                       35
+ The Wanderer                            36
+ False                                   37
+ A Song of the Oregon Trail              38
+ The Apple-Tree                          39
+ Silver and Rose                         40
+ To-Morrow                               41
+ The Greater Joy                         42
+ The Rose-Colored Camelia-Tree           43
+ Good-Bye Sorrow                         44
+ In Harbor                               45
+ Rosa Mundi                              46
+ The Ribbon                              47
+ The Aster                               48
+ Heart and Hand                          49
+ The Golden Fruit                        50
+ To a Moth                               52
+ Winter Song                             53
+ Youth                                   54
+ Persephone                              55
+ Étoiles d'Enfer                         57
+ Enough of Singing                       58
+ Truth                                   59
+ The Philosopher                         60
+ Prayers                                 61
+ A South-Sea Lover Scorned               62
+ In May                                  64
+ For Your Sake                           65
+ Lyric Love                              67
+ Be Still                                68
+ Butterfly Words                         69
+ Music                                   70
+ The Ghost                               72
+ Fight!                                  74
+ In Tonga                                75
+ This was the Song                       76
+ To E. D.                                78
+ The Dance                               79
+ Vanquished                              80
+ Tranquillity                            81
+
+
+
+
+ SONNETS
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+_Ave atque Vale_
+
+
+ As a blown leaf across the face of Time
+   Your name falls emptily upon my heart.
+   In this new symmetry you have no part,
+ No lot in my fair life. The stars still chime
+ Autumn and Spring in ceaseless pantomime.
+   I play with Beauty, which is kin to Art,
+   Forgetting Nature.  Nor do pulses start
+ To hear your soul remembered in a rhyme.
+
+ You may not vex me any more. The stark
+   Terror of life has passed, and all the stress.
+   Winds had their will of me, and now caress,
+     Blown from bland groves I know. Time dreams, and I,
+     As on a mirror, see the days go by
+ In nonchalant procession to the dark.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+"_Chaque baiser vaut un roman._"
+
+
+ I, living love and laughter, have forgot
+   The way the heart has uttered melody.
+   As sobbing, plaintive cadence of the sea
+ A poet's soul should rest, remembering not
+ The inland paths of green, the flowers, the spot
+   Where fairies ring. In hermit ecstasy
+   Music is born, and gay or wofully
+ Lovers of Poesy share her lonely lot.
+
+ For you and me, Beloved, crowned with Spring,
+   Catching Love's flowers from off the lap of Time,
+ What are the songs my voice has scorned to sing?
+ Ghostly they hover round my heart-wise lips;
+   Into a kiss I fold my rose of Rhyme,
+ Laid like a martyr on your finger-tips.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+_As a Pale Child_
+
+
+ As a pale child, hemmed in by windy rain,
+   Patiently turns to touch his well-known toys,
+   Playing as children play who make no noise,
+ Yet happy in a way; then sighs again,
+ To watch the world across the storm-dim pane,
+   And sees with wistful eyes glad girls and boys
+   Who romp beneath the rain's unlicensed joys,
+ And feels wild longings sweep his gentle brain.
+
+ So I, contented with my flowers for stars,
+   Stroll in my fair, walled garden happily,
+   Knowing no gladder game till, shrill and sweet,
+   I hear life's cry ring down the silent street,
+ And press my face against the sunlit bars
+   To watch the joyous spirits who are free.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+_Flower of the Clove_
+
+
+ Ah, Love, have pity!--I am but a child;
+   I ask but light and laughter, and the tears
+   Darken the sunlight of my fairest years.
+ By love made desolate, by love beguiled,
+ I waste the Spring. Love's harvest wains are piled
+   With poppies and gold grain--I glean but fears
+   Of empty hands, grim hunger, and the jeers
+ Of happy wives whose loves are reconciled.
+
+ But mine! Ah, mine is like a tattered leaf
+   Upon a turbid stream. I have no pride,
+ No life, but love, which is a bitter grief.
+   As a lost star I wander down your sky.
+   Give me your heart. Open it wide--so wide!
+   I must have love and laughter, or I die.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+_Too Late_
+
+
+ Upon your stone the wine of my desire
+   Is spilled. Your poppy lips have grown too pale
+   From fasting. Your white hands will not avail
+ The cold eyes of your heart to light the fire.
+ I did not think my prayers could ever tire.
+   Now, like doomed ships, they flutter without sail.
+   Lost in a calm which held no rock, no gale--
+ Now, when your chilly smile bids me aspire!
+
+ So, without history, my soul is slain--
+   Woman of barren love; the wine was red--
+ Beautiful for your spending. Not again
+   Will the bud blossom where the frost has sped.
+ Timid, you dared not hark when angels sang.
+ All, all is lost, without one saving pang.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+_The Supreme Sacrifice_
+
+
+ Better than life, better than sea and morn,
+   And all the sun-stained fragments of the day--
+   Ah! more than breeze, than purple clouds that stray
+ Across dim twilights--I, the tempest-torn,
+ Fighting the stars for glory, who must scorn
+   Heart-drops bespread along love's cruel way
+   Like scattered petals on the breast of May--
+ Better than life I love you, I forlorn.
+
+ Better than death--the sleeping and the peace
+   When warm within the breast of brooding Earth
+ My weary heart should give its woes release,
+     The pitiful dark remembering not my loss,
+   The calm, wise years restoring joy for dearth--
+     Better than death, my love, my burning cross.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+_Malua_
+
+
+ Out of the purple treasuries of night
+   Came the dark wind of evening silver-starred--
+   Stirred on his cheek. The forest keeping ward
+ Breathed with a tremulous silence, and the bright,
+ Bare moon crowned his adoring brow with light.
+   The exquisite dream of beauty held him hard
+   In a great love, a forest love, unmarred--
+ Still unprofaned--by human nature's sight.
+
+ Guarding the temple gates of peace he stood,
+   Statue of bronze with pagan heart of stone.
+ Sudden, a dazzling glory lit the wood--
+     Moon in his soul that dimmed the moon above.
+   Life was revealed, a Spring-sweet maid, alone--
+     Beauty was woman, and the woman--Love.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+_Love's Legacy_
+
+
+ As one who looks too long upon the sun
+   When he must turn to earth from flame-shot skies
+   Sees all else dark through his bereaved eyes,
+ And yet may watch the rainbow ribbons run
+ Athwart the gravity of gray and dun,
+   He holds the darkness dearer for the prize
+   Wherein his only pledge of radiance lies
+ When he the vast magnificence must shun.
+
+ So we who play with rainbows, having seen
+   The sun's own face. We may not hold the west,
+     Which burns against the bosom of the night,
+ But in the after-glow, with eyes serene,
+   We still may find, dear heart, the sun's bequest,
+     An echoed glory of our passionate light.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+_How we would Live!_
+
+
+ How we would live! We'd drink the years like wine,
+   With all to-morrows hid behind the veil,
+   Which is your hair; between two lilies pale--
+ Your slender hands--my heart should lie and shine,
+ A crimson rose. We'd catch the wind and twine
+   The evening stars--a chaplet musical--
+   To crown our folly, lure the nightingale
+ To sing the bliss your lips should teach to mine.
+
+ And if the sage, declaring life is vain,
+   Should frown upon the flower of all our days
+ And chide the sun that knows no tears of rain,
+     He should not tease our heart with cynic eye--
+   The soul's vast altar stands beyond his gaze
+     When two have lived--then shall they fear to die?
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+_In Extremis_
+
+
+ Nay, touch me not, nor even with your eyes
+   Hold mine, for I would speak you, thus afar,
+   Aloof and chill and lonely as a star.
+ The hands that urge, the hungry heart that cries,
+ Have wrapped my love with love's elusive lies;
+   The lips that burn have laid a ruddy scar
+   Against the truth that stands without the bar,
+ And blinded faith with passion's mysteries.
+
+ Night holds a single moon, day one desire--
+   Her golden sun; and life a love supreme,
+ Wherein one moment poises, crowned with fire,
+     White with the naked truth. Beyond control,
+   'Tis here, my Sun, in love's last hour extreme,
+     I hold aloft my bare, adoring soul.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+_The Forgiveness_
+
+
+ If I might see you dead, Beloved--dead--
+   Your false eyes closed forever to the light,
+   Your false smile stilled upon my aching sight;
+ If I might know that nevermore your head,
+ Cruelly fair, could lie upon the bed
+   Of my torn heart; if I beheld the night
+   Free from your living thought--ah! if I might,
+ Then could my desolate soul be comforted.
+
+ For this is worst of all the woes you gave--
+   My heart may not forgive. The tired years go
+ And leave the great love weeping for a grave,
+     Scorned and unburied, 'neath the open sky.
+   I could not love you less, to see you so.
+     Loving you more, I might forgive--and die.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+_With Music_
+
+
+ Dear, did we meet in some dim yesterday?
+   I half remember how the birds were mute
+   Among green leaves and tulip-tinted fruit,
+ And on the grass, beside a stream, we lay
+ In early twilight; faintly, far away,
+   Came lovely sounds adrift from silver lute,
+   With answered echoes of an airy flute,
+ While Twilight waited tiptoe, fain to stay.
+
+ Her violet eyes were sweet with mystery.
+   You looked in mine, the music rose and fell
+ Like little, lisping laughter of the sea;
+     Our souls were barks, wind-wafted from the shore--
+   Gold cup, a rose, a ruby, who can tell?
+     Soft--music ceases--I recall no more.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+_Alpha and Omega_
+
+
+ I died to-day, and yet upon my eyes
+   A glamour of the gorgeous summer green
+   Still wavers, and my brain has kept a keen,
+ Sweet bird-song. Glad with light, the summer skies
+ Are sapphire, and a purple shadow lies
+   Across the hills--no change is on the scene
+   Since happy yesterday. Ah! can it mean
+ The body lives when stricken spirit dies?
+
+ The blow has fallen, yet I can recall
+   The first of days when this dead heart drew breath--
+ A wondrous moon-flower waking of a heart.
+ Strange--then as now the moment seemed to part
+   Body from soul, so like are birth and death;
+ So did I gain, and so I lost my all.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+_Flowers of Ice_
+
+
+ The lights within the ice-floes are our flowers,
+   Lily and daffodil and violet.
+   Beneath these monstrous suns that never set
+ Tremble soft rainbows, young as Earth's first hours,
+ Ancient as Time. No balm of gentle showers
+   Make for their growth; for them, gigantic, met
+   The immemorial ice and sun, to get
+ Such blossoms--pledge of Beauty's bravest powers.
+
+ Violet and pale grass-green, the Spring-time dies
+   In the soft South. To us, in this grim world,
+ Daring with frozen heart and tearless eyes
+     The North's white sanctity, Fate idly throws
+   These alms--a deathless Spring of ice enfurled,
+     And over all, far flung, the sunset rose.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+_Love and Death_
+
+
+ I can believe that my Beloved dies,
+   That all her virtue, all her youth shall fail,
+   And life, her rosy life, grow cold and pale,
+ To bloom again in braver Paradise.
+ I must believe that death shall close her eyes,
+   And hold her heart beyond a heavy veil,
+   Where silences surround her spirit frail
+ And waste the form where all my loving lies.
+
+ Ah, God! but no. And is my love so weak?
+   Her heart may pause, may falter and grow still,
+ But not her laugh, the color in her cheek--
+     That may not fade; the catch that lifts her breath,
+   Sobbing against my heart. Essay your will--
+     These are too dear to fill _your_ grave, O Death!
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+_The Message_
+
+
+ When one has heard the message of the Rose,
+   For what faint other calling shall he care?
+   Dark broodings turn to find their lonely lair;
+ The vain world keeps her posturing and pose.
+ He, with his crimson secret, which bestows
+   Heaven on his heart, to Heaven lifts his prayer,
+   And knows all glory trembling through the air
+ As on triumphal journeying he goes.
+
+ So through green woodlands in the twilight dim,
+   Led by the faint, pale argent of a star,
+     What though to others it is weary night,
+ Nature holds out her wide, sweet heart to him;
+   And, leaning o'er the world's mysterious bar,
+     His soul is great with everlasting light.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+_Tempest and Calm_
+
+
+ First came the tempest, and the world was torn
+   Upon its mighty passion--all the deep
+   Trembled before it. From the haggard steep
+ To the sweet valley with its brooding corn,
+ Its foaming lips in expletives of scorn
+   Lashed into life the world's eternal sleep;
+   Then, caught with madness, in gigantic leap
+ Expired upon the heights where it was born.
+
+ And then a hush--the dripping, tender rain
+   Falls in warm tears. The thunder could not wake
+     The grief that silence in her soul has furled.
+ Soft sighs the wind, the sea is gray with pain--
+   The fulness of a heart too tense to break--
+     And deep, unuttered sadness in the world.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+_After Rain_
+
+
+ The country road at lonely close of day
+   Rests for a while from the long stress of rain;
+   Dripping and bowed, the green walls of the lane
+ Reflect no glistening light, no colors gay
+ Has dying Summer left. The sky is gray,
+   As though the weeping had not eased the pain.
+   The Autumn is not yet, and all in vain
+ Seems Summer's life--a blossom cast away.
+
+ The air is hushed, save in the emerald shade
+   The rain still drips and stirs each fretting leaf
+   To soft insistence of its little grief.
+     The hopeless calm all thought of life denies--
+ But hark! out through the silence, unafraid,
+     A robin ripples to the chilly skies.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+_Not through this Door_
+
+
+ Not through this door of elemental calm,
+   Patient, wet woodland, resting after rain,
+   Brooding brown fields that wait the sleeping grain--
+ Not through this door may the wrecked spirit's balm--
+ Come in and take possession. There's a psalm
+   Nature has crooned to weariness and pain,
+   Easing the tumult of the world-worn brain,
+ Sweet, wholesome mother of the open palm.
+
+ But the disastrous heart cries out for men,
+   Strife where the fight is reddest. Verily
+ Peace comes with fighting with the strength of ten,
+   Here where the world is young, with naught to see.
+     But day blow out across the long, low sky--
+     Peace means an emptiness, which rests to die.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+_Pot-Pourri_
+
+
+ All my dead roses! Now I lay them here,
+   Shrined in a beryl cup. The mysteries
+   Of their sweet hauntings and their witcheries
+ Are not more subtle than this jewel clear,
+ Are not more cold and dead. The winter's spear
+   Has fallen on their heart, a heart so wise
+   With lore of love. Dead roses. Beauty lies
+ Hid in a perfume still supremely dear.
+
+ Roses of love, time killed you one by one,
+   Laughed at my pains as sad I gathered up
+ All the fair petals banished from the sun.
+     Witness my triumph--how the dead loves bless
+   Life--from my heart, which is their beryl cup,
+     Crowning the winter of my loneliness.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+_Eadem Semper_
+
+
+ How shall I hold you? By a scimitar
+   Of flashing wit suspended o'er your head,
+   Oh, my Beloved? Or with lips rose-red
+ Lure you to Lethe? Shall I stand afar,
+ Pale and remote and distant as a star,
+   Challenging love? Or by a scarlet thread
+   Jealousy's wiles, beguile by scorn and dread?
+ Wounding the heart I love with hateful scar.
+
+ Nay, I can take no action, play no play;
+   All my wit falters when I hear you speak,
+     All my wise guile with which your wooing strove
+ Vanishes as the sun of yesterday.
+   I can but lay my cheek against your cheek--
+     Love me or leave me, I can only love.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+_To a Woman_
+
+
+ Take all of me, pour out my life as wine,
+   To dye your soul's sweet shallows. Violent sin
+   Blazed me a path, and I have walked therein,
+ Strong, unashamed. Your timorous hands need mine,
+ As the white stars their sky, your lips' pale line
+   Shall blush to roses where my lips have been.
+   I ask no more. I do not hope to win--
+ Only to add myself to your design.
+
+ Take all of me. I know your little lies,
+ Your light dishonor, gentle treacheries.
+   I know, I lie in torment at your feet,
+ Shadow to all your sun. Take me and go,
+   Use my adoring to your honor, sweet,
+ Strength for your weakness--it is better so.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+_Aspiration_
+
+I
+
+
+ The pale and misty particles of Time
+   Hover about us; scarce our eyes can see
+   Youth's far-off dream of what we were to be.
+ Life's truth, which once we would redeem with rhyme,
+ Has proved instead a world-worn pantomime.
+   The running river of expediency
+   Has drowned the hopes that Fortune held in fee--
+ Why fall upon the track so many climb?
+
+ Why strive to speak what all the earth has heard?
+   Why labor at a work the ages plan?--
+     Life has been lived so oft--an outworn thing!
+ Then hark! the time-sweet carol of a bird,
+   New as a flower; and see--ah, shame to man!
+     The endless aspiration of the Spring.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+_Aspiration_
+
+II
+
+
+ The full throat of the world is charged with song,
+   Morning and twilight melt with ecstasy
+   In the high heat of noon. Simply to be,
+ Palpitant where the green spring forces throng,
+ Eager for life, life unashamed and strong--
+   This is desire fulfilled. Exalted, free,
+   The spirit gains her ether, scornfully
+ Denies existence that is dark or wrong.
+
+ This is enough, to see the song begun
+   Which shall be finished in some field afar.
+   Laugh that the night may still contain a star,
+   Nor idly moan your impotence of grace.
+   Life is a song, lift up your care-free face
+ Gladly and gratefully toward the sun.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+_The Gypsy Blood_
+
+
+ He gives me happiness, as flowers depend
+   On loyal sun and shower. I look to love
+   To give me life. Why is it not enough?
+ Divine contentment, stretching without end
+ O'er happy meadows. He's my love, my friend,
+   And peace is in the word. You--heart's despair--
+   Sweep like a tempest through my sunsweet air,
+ Wail like a lost soul through my blossomed grove.
+
+ Tempest and calm, with him my heart might rest,
+ Lulled by eternal spring. The dream is blest,
+   Yet the wild grapes you crush make life divine.
+ Out in the pathless dark, all yours, I go,
+   Brave with the purple promise of the wine.
+ You, you I love, because you bring me woe.
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+_Not Dead but Sleeping_
+
+
+ And if I came, ah, if I came again,
+   And laid my hand on your forgetful heart,
+   Where once it lay so warm, could the pulse start,
+ Remembering Spring? Now, at the sound of rain,
+ I do but turn a little in disdain
+   To see the flowers renew their lovely part,
+   Blooming afresh. For memory holds no smart,
+ Love aches no more to know how it was slain.
+
+ Yet if I came to you who heed no more
+   My name upon the wind? Love's ghost, lean near,
+   I have a word that only you may hear.
+     If you should come to me with dear desire,
+ My soul's dry staff should tremble to its core
+     And flame against your touch in buds of fire.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+_The Last Gift_
+
+
+ What shall I give to her who will not care
+   If I give soul or roses, will not know
+   How that, for sweets she'll spend, light smiles she'll sow,
+ I will reap bitter tears? If she could wear
+ Those tears as stars to sparkle in her hair!
+   What shall I give? I have not fall'n so low
+   I may not lay one gift before I go
+ Upon the altar of my heart's despair.
+
+ She will not know; yet, in my love a king,
+   I must be worthy of my crown and throne,
+ And so can sacrifice no little thing.
+     My life, my soul are worthless since her scorn.
+   Slay we then love on love's red altar-stone--
+     Beggared of all, I face the world forlorn.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+_Amor Mysticus_
+
+
+ Not you, nor all the gauds that Fate bestows,
+   Can make me swerve so little from my dream.
+   Across my veil of mystery you seem
+ Perhaps a little dearer than the rose,
+ Perhaps more fair than the long light that flows
+   Between the lids of twilight. But the gleam
+   Of iris on the breast of wisdom's stream
+ Is of a radiance that no rival knows.
+
+ My heart is not my heart, or it might chance
+   To sorrow for the sorrow in your tears;
+ My soul is locked against all circumstance
+     Of life or love or death or heaven or hell;
+   I have no place for laughter in my years,
+     No room where little, little love might dwell.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+_The Pattern of the Earth_
+
+
+ The pattern of the earth, so wonderful,
+   Is, more than myrtle, very dear to me.
+   Across the avenue of limes I see
+ A little mist by ghosts made magical,
+ Tossing across the hills, more beautiful
+   Than the deep eyes of amber women, free
+   Of shame and of disdain, on some far sea
+ Swept by trade-winds the sun makes lyrical.
+
+ There is no air the mind may not recall,
+ Blown from the violet-beds of Greece; and all
+   The moons who drop their shattered petals here
+ Live from the days which hid Semiramis.
+   Breezes upon my lips are subtly dear,
+ Because they bear the burden of her kiss.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+_Disguised_
+
+
+ The beggar thoughts pass down the lanes of day,
+   And on the thorns that are the hours I find
+   Their tatters and their rags. Infirm and blind,
+ They faded in the void, and all the way
+ Mouthed senseless jeers at me. I dared not pray
+   For wisdom from these fools who throng the mind
+   And leave no gifts but bitterness behind.
+ Chin upon hand, I watched, nor bade them stay.
+
+ Then wearily and indolently glanced
+   Where the thorns fluttered with their flags, and, lo,
+ Fragments of cloth of silver gleamed and danced
+   In the late sun, and linen white as snow
+ Among the beggar thoughts, with lowered eyes,
+ Princes and kings had wandered in disguise.
+
+
+
+
+SONGS
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+_On the White Road_
+
+
+ There's a white, white road lies under the swinging moon,
+   Stretched from the black of the deep to the black of the deep,
+ And midway the graveyard lies, with its leaves a-croon,
+   The only sound of the world, like a dream in sleep.
+
+ There's a white, white grave lies under the graveyard trees,
+   Hung on the road as a single pearl on a thread,
+ And silence waits, beast crouched, on the rim of the breeze,
+   That moans where the only man in the world lies dead.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+_The Wanderer_
+
+
+ Have I finished my life, am I done?
+   Is my heart-blood thin and cold,
+ That I gnaw the bones of the town?
+   Am I empty and old?
+
+ My flags are the chimneys' grime,
+   Tossed on a languid breeze.
+ Have I dreamed of the roaring rhyme,
+   A storm through the trees?
+
+ The snow in the streets is black,
+   Profaned with the city's sin;
+ I know of a star-lit track
+   Where God's hand has been.
+
+ Have I finished with snow and sun,
+   With the wind on the open plain,
+ That I starve in the barren town--
+   Is my life in vain?
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+_False_
+
+
+ The black sky stretches to the pallid sea,
+   As a false love and a dismantled heart.
+   Empty of faith and eager to depart.
+ He takes her yet once more, submissively,
+   Against his lips, then, laughing, drifts away
+   Swiftly within the dawning of the day.
+
+ Blindly she tosses up her foam-white hands,
+   Crying for mercy, and the wind--her hair--
+   Lashes the wide-sailed ships and leaves them bare.
+ Blindly she hurls her rage against the sands.
+   There, in the cold sky where her love had lain
+   Scornful, aloof, the sun reviews her pain.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+_A Song of the Oregon Trail_
+
+
+ How long the trail! How far the goal!
+   Last year the moons might come and go
+   Like dancing shadows on the snow.
+   My heart was light, my heart was strong;
+   I cared not though the way be long;
+ But now--the end is you--my soul!--
+
+ I fear the dark, I fear the dread
+   White frost that hovers round my heart,
+   The cold, high sun, and, wide apart,
+   The frozen, pitiless stars above.
+   So far, so far from my true love,
+ And, oh! I fear, I fear the dead!
+
+ I fear their fingers, grasping and pale.
+   I did not fear the dead last year--
+   But now, the kisses of my dear!
+   The breast of her, so kind and warm,
+   Ah, heart! I must not come to harm--
+ How far the goal! How long the trail!
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+_The Apple-Tree_
+
+
+ The apple-tree is white with snow,
+   My heart is empty as the day;
+ The white hours indolently go
+   Graveward, because my love's away.
+
+ Months lag, then spring and love's return--
+   Yet once again I seem to see,
+ Flushed with delight, as kisses burn,
+   White snow upon the apple-tree.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+_Silver and Rose_
+
+
+ Pale as a petulant star,
+   She held up her face to his love;
+ Her spirit from his dwelt afar
+   As the sky from the sea is above.
+
+ Yet he gazed till her whiteness was rose,
+   Dawn bright with the morning above--
+ As the sea from the sky wakes and glows,
+   So his image was mirrored in love.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+_To-Morrow_
+
+
+ To-morrow and to-morrow--shall there be
+ Perchance a morrow when I may not see
+ Your face beside me any more?  Ah, no!
+ My love, my love, I cannot let you go.
+ Like sun in Egypt, ever kind and fair,
+ My heart must wake at dawn and know you there--
+ No dread of day which holds a weeping rain,
+ No dread of chilly love and bitter pain,
+ But ever present, ever wise and true,
+ To-morrow and to-morrow holding you.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+_The Greater Joy_
+
+
+ Not that young Joy who looked with laughing eyes,
+   That jocund sprite with open, idle fingers
+   Stretched to the dawn, the dawn whose gold light lingers
+ Across the far blue hills of Paradise.
+
+ Not that young Joy, but one courageous, calm,
+   Who--passed beyond the quiet morning meadows
+   Beyond the dawn of life's delicious shadows--
+ Holds the great sun and moon in either palm.
+
+ In her wise heart she takes that little Joy,
+   Kisses to sleep tired eyes with laughter over,
+   Pointing to greater joys in heights above her--
+ This shall be ours whom fate would fain destroy.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+_The Rose-Colored Camelia-Tree_
+
+
+ Stained by the ardent silver of the stars,
+   Glitter the leaves, a challenge to the day--
+ The bright, fierce flame of naked scimitars
+   Holds still the argent night, folded away.
+
+ Challenging day, yet, lovelier than light,
+   Blushing with dawn the flick'ring leaves between,
+ Burn the rose blossoms, traitors to the night--
+   Color of joy upon the tranquil green.
+
+ Brave to the amorous sun, who, fearing, grieves,
+   At last the tree's whole heart with love is crowned--
+ The rose-red flowers warm against the leaves,
+   The rose-red petals sweet against the ground.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+_Good-Bye Sorrow_
+
+
+ Day that began with a tear,
+   Will you end with a sigh?
+ Stay! See the blossoming year,
+   Laugh up to the sky.
+ Nay, here's a hope for your fear,
+   Sweet sorrow--good-bye!
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+_In Harbor_
+
+
+ My little boat is in a bay,
+   It swings with gentle motion,
+ And there I lie and watch all day
+   The far-off, noisy ocean.
+
+ The ships go up, the ships go down,
+   And never see me spying.
+ They are the pride and fear of town--
+   Sails wide and colors flying.
+
+ They are so strong, they are so tall,
+   They fear no storm, no sorrow;
+ With brave eyes to the sun, they all
+   Set sail for some to-morrow.
+
+ Sometimes I long to range and roam,
+   My harbor life bewailing,
+ But little boats must bide at home,
+   To gayly speed the sailing.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+_Rosa Mundi_
+
+
+ O life that flowered at the very top of the tree,
+   Redder than all the roses out of the South,
+ This was the blossom colored and wrought for me,
+   Sweeter than scarlet bloom of a maiden's mouth.
+
+ Fain would I climb, and fain would I reach the flower.
+   Ah, but the tree was tall as the flower was fair!
+ Weary I grew and slept through the noonday hour;
+   Winds caught my fate and strewed it over the air.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+_The Ribbon_
+
+
+ Ah, dearest, dearest, not alone
+ I face the day's white monotone.
+ The fair, bright ribbon of the hours--
+ A mountain brook bestead through flowers--
+ Runs, a dear line, from you to you.
+ There is no smallest deed I do
+ Through which the ribbon does not run,
+ A silver string to pearls of sun.
+ So glad I watch the moments fly
+ Across the high-hung summer sky,
+ Till in a radiant flame they burn,
+ To mark the hour of your return.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+_The Aster_
+
+
+ The little vagrant gypsy flower
+   Has blossomed forth again--
+ Your face against the autumn sky,
+   Your face against the rain.
+
+ The fevered youth of summer days
+   Has passed away in tears.
+ The aged winter totters down
+   The pathway of the years.
+
+ Yet, nodding, luring, laughing o'er
+   The tired world's pain and scars,
+ Joyous I find between my hands
+   Your face--in aster stars.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+_Heart and Hand_
+
+
+ Singing, he smote his heart--
+   The woman smiled,
+ And Love leaped, flaming,
+   Into being--wild.
+
+ Singing, he smote his hands--
+   The woman sighed,
+ And Love grew weary,
+   Turned his face, and died.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+_The Golden Fruit_
+
+
+ I lacked not Love, I lacked not lovely Love,
+ But, ah, the apples of Hesperides!
+ The golden apples and the emerald trees,
+ The flower-sweet maidens, dancing in the breeze--
+ Holds Love a blossom with such fruits as these?
+
+ I gave up Love, I gave up lovely Love,
+ And sought the island of enchanted skies,
+ With little rainbow rifts of seraphs' eyes,
+ Round which the flaming sword forever plies
+ Against the darkened world of rue and sighs.
+
+ Alas for Love! alas for lovely Love!
+ In dreams I heard the beating of his wing;
+ His soft voice, beautiful as sea in spring,
+ Mourned through the empty songs the seraphs sing;
+ Life seemed in sleep more dear than everything.
+
+ Take me back, Love; take me back, lovely Love.
+ Dark winds may drive me o'er thy tyrannous seas--
+ Life is a world that breaks the thing it frees.
+ I would be bound in all thy masteries--
+ Yet, ah, the apples of Hesperides!
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+_To a Moth_
+
+
+ Spirit of evil, heavily flying, turning,
+   Dropping to earth,
+ Caught to the light, with brown wings torn and burning,
+   Whence was your birth?
+
+ Was there a cause that, ceaselessly turning, flying,
+   Drew you from night?
+ All that we know is this--the aimless dying,
+   Killed by the light.
+
+ Evil the star that led you, spirit of evil,
+   Out of your dark,
+ Breeding desire that conquers us, man and devil--
+   Passion's red spark.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+_Winter Song_
+
+
+ Oh, it's winter, winter, when you're here,
+   And summer when you're gone.
+ What need of birds when hearts sing clear,
+   From dusk of day to dawn?
+
+ The noble wind, the silver snow,
+   High stars, and, best of all,
+ The red-rose hearth--a golden glow
+   When twilight curtains fall.
+
+ Who'd cry the heat of summer skies,
+   The bare, despairing sun,
+ The languid flowers, with closing eyes,
+   The earth's fair wooing done?
+
+ The possibilities of spring,
+   The reticence of bliss,
+ Love with the winter's argent wing,
+   We'll scorn the sun for this.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+_Youth_
+
+
+ Youth and its pensive agonies! How soon
+ The restless heart forgets to crave the moon!
+ Age is too weary for the butterflies--
+ Spring's rainbow radiance fluttering through sweet skies,
+ Hope merrily deferred. We see the morn,
+ We who are old, in shattered fragments. Scorn
+ For laughter and for singing clouds our breast.
+ Youth, take your fill of pleasure, for the rest
+ Of Age is endless. Sing, nor grudge the song--
+ Youth is so short, and Age, quiet Age, so long!
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+_Persephone_
+
+
+ Persephone, Persephone--her sweet face wanders up to me,
+   Through this bewildering maze of spring.
+     At length she daunts the tyrannous year,
+     Her little laugh usurps the tear,
+   Her little song she dares to fling
+ Against the black stars, merrily.
+
+ Persephone, Persephone--her hands lean through the spring to me.
+   Sweet, could I show you in what wise
+     Your song has blossomed--how the air
+     Is mad with gold because your hair,
+   Tossed golden 'neath your sea-blue eyes,
+ And earth goes laughing with your glee?
+
+ Persephone, Persephone, this hour sends out your heart to me.
+   Child of the Dark, with soul sun-bright,
+     Ah, give me largesse, give me May,
+     So shall I charm the saddest day,
+   And life--one amber dawn's delight--
+ Shall bear your song eternally.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+_Étoiles d'Enfer_
+
+
+ The four wide winds of evening have their stars,
+   Fashioned in fire, in purity of snow,
+ Tossed to their height by endless avatars--
+   These all the righteous know.
+
+ What of the stars of Hades? On the gloom
+   The outcast see them shine like angels' eyes,
+ And in the living night that is their tomb
+   They dream of Paradise.
+
+ They know the stars of Hades. They are deeds,
+   Wickedly born, which came to good at last--
+ Fair blossoms spring from villany of weeds,
+   Rest--and redeem the past.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+_Enough of Singing_
+
+
+ Enough of singing; since your heart is tired,
+ We'll leave the lute, so long, so long desired,
+ And in the silence speak one quiet word,
+ Simple as earth, forgetting song and bird.
+
+ No more of singing; mating-time has sped,
+ In the broad fields the poppy-lips are red.
+ Crush them, Beloved, drink the lethe deep;
+ Song being dead, what else is left but sleep?
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+_Truth_
+
+
+ Up from the soul, as a blade of grass from the sod,
+ Springs the intent of the prayer as a cry to God.
+ Blossoms may veil it or visions with ways uncouth,
+ He sees the ultimate grass-blade, the heart of Truth.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+_The Philosopher_
+
+
+ The grim immensities are mine,
+   The sunlight on the brook is theirs;
+ I drink the lees of bitter wine,
+   Fate grants a gift to all their prayers.
+
+ I stammer, all afire to tell
+   The thoughts that urge for life like pain;
+ For them words brim the shallow well
+   Like easy drops of summer rain.
+
+ And which, ah, Heaven, which is best--
+   The little lute for every mood,
+ Or, shrinking coldly from life's test,
+   The heights and depths of solitude?
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+_Prayers_
+
+
+ Prayers that were birds winging wide,
+   Daring the flame of the sun,
+ How have you faltered and died,
+   Now the day's done!
+
+ Prayers must be brave for the dark,
+   Strong for the chill of the star,
+ Fearing no fate to embark
+   Over the bar.
+
+ Prayers of the sun and the moon,
+   Prayers for the sky and the nest,
+ All must reach haven so soon--
+   Which shall reach rest?
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+_A South-Sea Lover Scorned_
+
+
+ When the red coral of your lip is pale
+   As the bleached sea-sand, ah, wearily, wearily,
+ Will you behold your face, your fingers frail,
+   Gnarled like a wind-blown tree; your star-bright eyes
+ Blind as a cloudy midnight without moon.
+   No more fair necklaces nor scarlet dyes
+ Can make you cruel to men, for soon, so soon,
+   Your heart will bear the years--ah, wearily, wearily.
+
+ Then I, your scorn, shall still be man and chief;
+   Turning to free your hands so carelessly, carelessly,
+ You will be dead to love past all belief.
+   Still round the slender columns of the palm
+ The moon shall lie in shivering, silver pools,
+   Still shall the trades lash through the summer calm
+ While twilight with her smile the island cools
+   And Time forgets your presence, carelessly, carelessly.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+_In May_
+
+
+ Blithe Nature leaned to kiss her favorite child,
+   Her sunshine hair about her bosom swirled;
+ Gay Baby Spring held out his hands, he smiled,
+   And Apple-Blossoms dimpled on the world.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+_For Your Sake_
+
+
+ Bid me for your sake,
+   Not for self or right--
+ You alone can wake
+   Power to gain the fight.
+
+ In your name I'd dare
+   Aught in earth's great bounds;
+ Forth my sins should fare,
+   Leashed like cringing hounds.
+
+ When you touch my hand,
+   Through your holy eyes
+ I can see the land
+   Where is Paradise.
+
+ Yet I may not go,
+   Leaving cold and night,
+ Till your soul of snow
+   Sees that mine is white.
+
+ Let my heart not break
+   Till I kill my sin;
+ Bid me for your sake
+   Fight the world--and win!
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+_Lyric Love_
+
+
+ The world deserves its wisdom. You and I,
+   Serene within the shadow, crowned with hours,
+ Cinctured with solitude, the bended sky
+   Folds us in hues of tulip twilight flowers.
+
+ Knowledge is chill; your hair is warm with gold,
+   A lock lies heavily across your cheek.
+ I somewhere heard of darkness, pain, and cold--
+   Keep your own, world. Ah, Love, stir not nor speak.
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+_Be Still_
+
+
+ Be still, be still, vex not the night with sound,
+   The moon has laid her finger on the lake,
+ And in the shadows of the wood profound
+   There lies a peace we would profane to break.
+
+ Upon the lonely avenue of trees,
+   As pearls upon an airy silver string,
+ Are caught the threaded echoes of the breeze
+   That sets the ruffled leaves a-murmuring.
+
+ Be still, dear heart, as though 'twere death to speak.
+   Love waits you, lily-like, with leaves unfurled,
+ While on the breast of day night lays her cheek,
+   The silence speaks the secret of the world.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+_Butterfly Words_
+
+
+ Butterfly words from the sun in my brain,
+ Flitting and darting and flitting again,
+   Gleaming of golden and violet and rose,
+ What is the rainbow you spring from, and where?
+   Butterflies daintily poise and disclose,
+ Whence is this secret of color you bear?
+
+ Sun that is ruddy and fragrant with flowers,
+ Garnered and hid from these desolate hours,
+   Misty with beauty, the silver of spring--
+ Ah, for the ways that are lost to my feet!
+   Only the dip of the butterfly wing,
+ Poised for a moment, revives me the sweet.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+_Music_
+
+
+ Music has opened her hands,
+ Through fingers her jewels are falling,
+ Fingers so delicate slender,
+ Pale as the ghost of a flower.
+
+ Jewels of crimson, the life
+ Ebbing from hearts that are broken,
+ Roses and wine and red sunsets,
+ Flames of undying desire.
+
+ Jewels of azure, the sea
+ Dreaming of stars, and the morning
+ Dancing with life, then the silence
+ Blue of mysterious caves.
+
+ Jewels of green, and the grass
+ Lifts up its hands to the summer,
+ Hiding insidious serpents,
+ Fair as the sweets that are sin.
+
+ Jewels more bright than the sun
+ Music lets fall from her fingers.
+ We who have stood in the shadow--
+ How may we die for her sake?
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+_The Ghost_
+
+
+ You came and you went, and I swept you aside, not a trace
+ Does my wisdom endure of your words and your beautiful face
+   And the curls of your hair;
+ Yet your presence, a song, murmurs ever in hopeless refrain,
+ And I wake in the night with my empty hands yearning in vain
+   For the touch of your hair.
+
+ You went, and I triumphed--I crushed out my heart with a kiss
+ On the lips that are ashen, forgetting spring's wonderful bliss
+   And your tremulous lips;
+ Yet the kisses were ghostly with jasmine, dear jasmine of May--
+ The new has the soul of the old, is aflame with the way
+   And the touch of your lips.
+
+ You came and you went, and the world wearies on with its game.
+ My heart never falters or fears at the sound of your name
+   Or the sight of your face;
+ Yet the ghost of our passion stands white in the midst of my heart,
+ With your hands and your hair, and I know it will never depart
+   Passion's ghost with your face!
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+_Fight!_
+
+
+ Fight, though the bulwarks of your faith may fall,
+   Life become gray and full of weariness,
+   Love prove a lie and wisdom bitterness--
+ Fight, for the strife alone avails for all.
+
+ Fight and fight on, exulting in the light,
+   Standing alert and upright gleefully,
+   Seizing life's joys and woes courageously,
+ Man to the end, and master--laugh and fight.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+_In Tonga_
+
+
+ The windy rain beats, beats about my door--
+   Alas for love when love goes wandering!
+ The dawn mist rises on the forest floor--
+   Alas for life when love goes wandering!
+ With wet, green leaves the palm-trees lash the night,
+ The pitiless trades drive wild gods in their flight.
+   And, ah, my lover! Moons have come and gone,
+   The fighting ended, still he lingers on.
+ Sleepless I hear the demon wind above--
+   Alas for love when love goes wandering!
+ And I must wed with one I do not love--
+   Alas for life when love goes wandering!
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+_This was the Song_
+
+
+ We have forgotten. This the rowers knew,
+   Straining within the galleys' reeling night.
+ Life bent to breaking, while their great souls grew
+ Strong in the ancient purposes of Time.
+   This was the song whereby they made their fight,
+ Laughed as they swung. Gods! how the cord bit through!
+
+ This was the song the pagan lovers heard,
+   Wakened by flowers in a rose-red dawn.
+ Through the bright dew they fled, like ocean stirred
+ With morning. Bare and beautiful they ran,
+   Holding each other's hand. Through leaves they're gone,
+ Cleaving the silver pool with flash of bird.
+
+ Carven in stone, Abydos holds it fast--
+   The little Eastern dancer with her lute,
+ Wild Erin's faeries crying for the past.
+ They keep the deathless secret of the word
+   Hid behind Nature's lips, who, grave, remote,
+ Guard this from profanation till the last.
+
+ Not unto us who bide the ebb and flow,
+   The senseless order of the tide of law.
+ We have forgotten to be free; we know
+ Only the iteration of the day.
+   The priceless moon, white pearl without a flaw,
+ Drowns in the muddy stream of worldly woe.
+
+ We take the petty part and leave the whole.
+   Lost to our ken the song of Nature's youth--
+ The great barbaric winds that sweep the soul
+   And leave it emptied of all else but truth.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+_To E. D._
+
+
+ She wrought her songs in secret ways,
+   Yet cared not where they fell;
+ Her soul distilled itself like dews
+   In rue and asphodel.
+
+ They fell in countless happy hearts,
+   Made wise by sun and showers,
+ Like pollen blown about the earth,
+   Conceiving royal flowers.
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+_The Dance_
+
+
+ Like little, eager children
+   The tiptoe tulips stand,
+ Row upon row of dancing heads
+   In joyous saraband.
+
+ With lithe, long emerald petticoats,
+   And happy hands tossed up,
+ The sunshine is the laughter
+   That brims their golden cup.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+_Vanquished_
+
+
+ Heart, here are roses burning with the South--
+ ("Fairer was her false mouth")--
+   Close your tired eyes, the twilight gives you rest--
+   ("Cool was her snowy breast").
+
+ Take of the sunshine, nor remember rain--
+ ("Love is a cruel pain")--
+   Hush! you shall sleep forgetting love's alarms--
+   ("Sleep died in her false arms").
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+_Tranquillity_
+
+
+ Do you respect the heavy-lidded flowers
+   That nod so drowsily upon their bed?
+ Can you endure the slow-stepped, dreamy hours
+   That fall, indifferent, to gold and red?
+
+ Have you the key that opens to green arches
+   Where trees repeat their prayers in monotone?
+ Then take my hand down life's mysterious marches,
+   And let us walk in silence and alone.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
+
+No changes have been made from the original book; this e-text is a
+faithful transcription of the author's words and intent.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets and Songs, by Helen Hay Whitney
+
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