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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35098-8.txt b/35098-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d1f80a --- /dev/null +++ b/35098-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2159 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS AND SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 35098-8.txt or 35098-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/0/9/35098/ + +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) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="centerbox bbox"> +<h1>SONNETS</h1> +<h2>AND SONGS</h2> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>HELEN HAY WHITNEY</h3> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 124px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="124" height="150" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="gap"> </p> + +<h4>NEW YORK AND LONDON</h4> + +<h3>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</h3> + +<h4>MCMV</h4></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<div class="centerbox2 bbox2"><p class="center"> +Copyright, 1905, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> + +<hr class="tiny" /> + +<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> +Published August, 1905.</p></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h3>TO</h3> +<h2>P. W.</h2> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h2><i>Contents</i></h2> +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="CONTENTS"> + +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">SONNETS</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" colspan="2"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Ave atque Vale</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">“Chaque baiser vaut un roman”</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">As a Pale Child</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Flower of the Clove</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Too Late</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Supreme Sacrifice</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Malua</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Love’s Legacy</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">How we would Live!</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">In Extremis</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Forgiveness</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">With Music</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Alpha and Omega</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Flowers of Ice</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Love and Death</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Message</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Tempest and Calm</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">After Rain</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Not through this Door</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Pot-Pourri</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Eadem Semper</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">To a Woman</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Aspiration—I</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Aspiration—II</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Gypsy Blood</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Not Dead but Sleeping</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Last Gift</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Amor Mysticus</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Pattern of the Earth</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Disguised</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="center" colspan="2">SONGS</td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">On the White Road</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Wanderer</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">False</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">A Song of the Oregon Trail</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Apple-Tree</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Silver and Rose</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">To-Morrow</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Greater Joy</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Rose-Colored Camelia-Tree</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Good-Bye Sorrow</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">In Harbor</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Rosa Mundi</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Ribbon</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Aster</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Heart and Hand</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Golden Fruit</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">To a Moth</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Winter Song</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Youth</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Persephone</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Étoiles d’Enfer</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Enough of Singing</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Truth</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Philosopher</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Prayers</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">A South-Sea Lover Scorned</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">In May</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">For Your Sake</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Lyric Love</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Be Still</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Butterfly Words</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Music</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Ghost</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Fight!</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">In Tonga</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">This was the Song</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">To E. D.</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">The Dance</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Vanquished</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="left">Tranquillity</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<h2>SONNETS</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h3> + +<h3><i>Ave atque Vale</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As a blown leaf across the face of Time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your name falls emptily upon my heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In this new symmetry you have no part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lot in my fair life. The stars still chime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Autumn and Spring in ceaseless pantomime.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I play with Beauty, which is kin to Art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgetting Nature. Nor do pulses start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear your soul remembered in a rhyme.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may not vex me any more. The stark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Terror of life has passed, and all the stress.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winds had their will of me, and now caress,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Blown from bland groves I know. Time dreams, and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As on a mirror, see the days go by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In nonchalant procession to the dark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h3> + +<h3>“<i>Chaque baiser vaut un roman.</i>”</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I, living love and laughter, have forgot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The way the heart has uttered melody.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sobbing, plaintive cadence of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poet’s soul should rest, remembering not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The inland paths of green, the flowers, the spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where fairies ring. In hermit ecstasy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Music is born, and gay or wofully<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovers of Poesy share her lonely lot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For you and me, Beloved, crowned with Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Catching Love’s flowers from off the lap of Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are the songs my voice has scorned to sing?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ghostly they hover round my heart-wise lips;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into a kiss I fold my rose of Rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid like a martyr on your finger-tips.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h3> + +<h3><i>As a Pale Child</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As a pale child, hemmed in by windy rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Patiently turns to touch his well-known toys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Playing as children play who make no noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet happy in a way; then sighs again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To watch the world across the storm-dim pane,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sees with wistful eyes glad girls and boys<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who romp beneath the rain’s unlicensed joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feels wild longings sweep his gentle brain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So I, contented with my flowers for stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stroll in my fair, walled garden happily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knowing no gladder game till, shrill and sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I hear life’s cry ring down the silent street,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And press my face against the sunlit bars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To watch the joyous spirits who are free.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h3> + +<h3><i>Flower of the Clove</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, Love, have pity!—I am but a child;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ask but light and laughter, and the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Darken the sunlight of my fairest years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By love made desolate, by love beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I waste the Spring. Love’s harvest wains are piled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With poppies and gold grain—I glean but fears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of empty hands, grim hunger, and the jeers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of happy wives whose loves are reconciled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But mine! Ah, mine is like a tattered leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon a turbid stream. I have no pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No life, but love, which is a bitter grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a lost star I wander down your sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Give me your heart. Open it wide—so wide!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I must have love and laughter, or I die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h3> + +<h3><i>Too Late</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon your stone the wine of my desire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is spilled. Your poppy lips have grown too pale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From fasting. Your white hands will not avail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold eyes of your heart to light the fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not think my prayers could ever tire.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now, like doomed ships, they flutter without sail.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lost in a calm which held no rock, no gale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, when your chilly smile bids me aspire!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, without history, my soul is slain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Woman of barren love; the wine was red—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beautiful for your spending. Not again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will the bud blossom where the frost has sped.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Timid, you dared not hark when angels sang.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all is lost, without one saving pang.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h3> + +<h3><i>The Supreme Sacrifice</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Better than life, better than sea and morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the sun-stained fragments of the day—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! more than breeze, than purple clouds that stray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across dim twilights—I, the tempest-torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fighting the stars for glory, who must scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heart-drops bespread along love’s cruel way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like scattered petals on the breast of May—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Better than life I love you, I forlorn.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Better than death—the sleeping and the peace<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When warm within the breast of brooding Earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weary heart should give its woes release,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The pitiful dark remembering not my loss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The calm, wise years restoring joy for dearth—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Better than death, my love, my burning cross.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h3> + +<h3><i>Malua</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the purple treasuries of night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came the dark wind of evening silver-starred—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stirred on his cheek. The forest keeping ward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathed with a tremulous silence, and the bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bare moon crowned his adoring brow with light.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The exquisite dream of beauty held him hard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a great love, a forest love, unmarred—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still unprofaned—by human nature’s sight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Guarding the temple gates of peace he stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Statue of bronze with pagan heart of stone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden, a dazzling glory lit the wood—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Moon in his soul that dimmed the moon above.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life was revealed, a Spring-sweet maid, alone—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Beauty was woman, and the woman—Love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h3> + +<h3><i>Love’s Legacy</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As one who looks too long upon the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When he must turn to earth from flame-shot skies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sees all else dark through his bereaved eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet may watch the rainbow ribbons run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the gravity of gray and dun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He holds the darkness dearer for the prize<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein his only pledge of radiance lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he the vast magnificence must shun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So we who play with rainbows, having seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sun’s own face. We may not hold the west,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Which burns against the bosom of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the after-glow, with eyes serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We still may find, dear heart, the sun’s bequest,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">An echoed glory of our passionate light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h3> + +<h3><i>How we would Live!</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How we would live! We’d drink the years like wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all to-morrows hid behind the veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is your hair; between two lilies pale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your slender hands—my heart should lie and shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crimson rose. We’d catch the wind and twine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The evening stars—a chaplet musical—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To crown our folly, lure the nightingale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sing the bliss your lips should teach to mine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if the sage, declaring life is vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should frown upon the flower of all our days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chide the sun that knows no tears of rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">He should not tease our heart with cynic eye—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul’s vast altar stands beyond his gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When two have lived—then shall they fear to die?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h3> + +<h3><i>In Extremis</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, touch me not, nor even with your eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hold mine, for I would speak you, thus afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aloof and chill and lonely as a star.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hands that urge, the hungry heart that cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have wrapped my love with love’s elusive lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lips that burn have laid a ruddy scar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against the truth that stands without the bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blinded faith with passion’s mysteries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night holds a single moon, day one desire—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her golden sun; and life a love supreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein one moment poises, crowned with fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">White with the naked truth. Beyond control,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">’Tis here, my Sun, in love’s last hour extreme,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I hold aloft my bare, adoring soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h3> + +<h3><i>The Forgiveness</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I might see you dead, Beloved—dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your false eyes closed forever to the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your false smile stilled upon my aching sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I might know that nevermore your head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cruelly fair, could lie upon the bed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of my torn heart; if I beheld the night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Free from your living thought—ah! if I might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then could my desolate soul be comforted.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For this is worst of all the woes you gave—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart may not forgive. The tired years go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And leave the great love weeping for a grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Scorned and unburied, ’neath the open sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I could not love you less, to see you so.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Loving you more, I might forgive—and die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h3> + +<h3><i>With Music</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear, did we meet in some dim yesterday?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I half remember how the birds were mute<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among green leaves and tulip-tinted fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the grass, beside a stream, we lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In early twilight; faintly, far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came lovely sounds adrift from silver lute,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With answered echoes of an airy flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Twilight waited tiptoe, fain to stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her violet eyes were sweet with mystery.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You looked in mine, the music rose and fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like little, lisping laughter of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Our souls were barks, wind-wafted from the shore—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gold cup, a rose, a ruby, who can tell?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soft—music ceases—I recall no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h3> + +<h3><i>Alpha and Omega</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I died to-day, and yet upon my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glamour of the gorgeous summer green<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still wavers, and my brain has kept a keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet bird-song. Glad with light, the summer skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are sapphire, and a purple shadow lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the hills—no change is on the scene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since happy yesterday. Ah! can it mean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The body lives when stricken spirit dies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blow has fallen, yet I can recall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The first of days when this dead heart drew breath—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wondrous moon-flower waking of a heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strange—then as now the moment seemed to part<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Body from soul, so like are birth and death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So did I gain, and so I lost my all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h3> + +<h3><i>Flowers of Ice</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lights within the ice-floes are our flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lily and daffodil and violet.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath these monstrous suns that never set<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tremble soft rainbows, young as Earth’s first hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ancient as Time. No balm of gentle showers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make for their growth; for them, gigantic, met<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The immemorial ice and sun, to get<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such blossoms—pledge of Beauty’s bravest powers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Violet and pale grass-green, the Spring-time dies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the soft South. To us, in this grim world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daring with frozen heart and tearless eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The North’s white sanctity, Fate idly throws<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These alms—a deathless Spring of ice enfurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And over all, far flung, the sunset rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h3> + +<h3><i>Love and Death</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can believe that my Beloved dies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That all her virtue, all her youth shall fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And life, her rosy life, grow cold and pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bloom again in braver Paradise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must believe that death shall close her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hold her heart beyond a heavy veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where silences surround her spirit frail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waste the form where all my loving lies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, God! but no. And is my love so weak?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her heart may pause, may falter and grow still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not her laugh, the color in her cheek—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That may not fade; the catch that lifts her breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sobbing against my heart. Essay your will—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">These are too dear to fill <i>your</i> grave, O Death!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h3> + +<h3><i>The Message</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When one has heard the message of the Rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For what faint other calling shall he care?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark broodings turn to find their lonely lair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vain world keeps her posturing and pose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He, with his crimson secret, which bestows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven on his heart, to Heaven lifts his prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And knows all glory trembling through the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As on triumphal journeying he goes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So through green woodlands in the twilight dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Led by the faint, pale argent of a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What though to others it is weary night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature holds out her wide, sweet heart to him;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, leaning o’er the world’s mysterious bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">His soul is great with everlasting light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h3> + +<h3><i>Tempest and Calm</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First came the tempest, and the world was torn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon its mighty passion—all the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trembled before it. From the haggard steep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sweet valley with its brooding corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its foaming lips in expletives of scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lashed into life the world’s eternal sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, caught with madness, in gigantic leap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expired upon the heights where it was born.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then a hush—the dripping, tender rain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Falls in warm tears. The thunder could not wake<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The grief that silence in her soul has furled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft sighs the wind, the sea is gray with pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fulness of a heart too tense to break—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And deep, unuttered sadness in the world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h3> + +<h3><i>After Rain</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The country road at lonely close of day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rests for a while from the long stress of rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dripping and bowed, the green walls of the lane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reflect no glistening light, no colors gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has dying Summer left. The sky is gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As though the weeping had not eased the pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Autumn is not yet, and all in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems Summer’s life—a blossom cast away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The air is hushed, save in the emerald shade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rain still drips and stirs each fretting leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To soft insistence of its little grief.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The hopeless calm all thought of life denies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hark! out through the silence, unafraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A robin ripples to the chilly skies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h3> + +<h3><i>Not through this Door</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not through this door of elemental calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Patient, wet woodland, resting after rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brooding brown fields that wait the sleeping grain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not through this door may the wrecked spirit’s balm—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come in and take possession. There’s a psalm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nature has crooned to weariness and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Easing the tumult of the world-worn brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet, wholesome mother of the open palm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the disastrous heart cries out for men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strife where the fight is reddest. Verily<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace comes with fighting with the strength of ten,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here where the world is young, with naught to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But day blow out across the long, low sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Peace means an emptiness, which rests to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h3> + +<h3><i>Pot-Pourri</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All my dead roses! Now I lay them here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shrined in a beryl cup. The mysteries<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of their sweet hauntings and their witcheries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not more subtle than this jewel clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are not more cold and dead. The winter’s spear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has fallen on their heart, a heart so wise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With lore of love. Dead roses. Beauty lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hid in a perfume still supremely dear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Roses of love, time killed you one by one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laughed at my pains as sad I gathered up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the fair petals banished from the sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Witness my triumph—how the dead loves bless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life—from my heart, which is their beryl cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Crowning the winter of my loneliness.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h3> + +<h3><i>Eadem Semper</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How shall I hold you? By a scimitar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of flashing wit suspended o’er your head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, my Beloved? Or with lips rose-red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lure you to Lethe? Shall I stand afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale and remote and distant as a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Challenging love? Or by a scarlet thread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Jealousy’s wiles, beguile by scorn and dread?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wounding the heart I love with hateful scar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, I can take no action, play no play;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All my wit falters when I hear you speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All my wise guile with which your wooing strove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vanishes as the sun of yesterday.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I can but lay my cheek against your cheek—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Love me or leave me, I can only love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h3> + +<h3><i>To a Woman</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take all of me, pour out my life as wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To dye your soul’s sweet shallows. Violent sin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blazed me a path, and I have walked therein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong, unashamed. Your timorous hands need mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the white stars their sky, your lips’ pale line<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall blush to roses where my lips have been.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ask no more. I do not hope to win—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only to add myself to your design.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take all of me. I know your little lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your light dishonor, gentle treacheries.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know, I lie in torment at your feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shadow to all your sun. Take me and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Use my adoring to your honor, sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strength for your weakness—it is better so.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h3> + +<h3><i>Aspiration</i></h3> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pale and misty particles of Time<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hover about us; scarce our eyes can see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth’s far-off dream of what we were to be.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life’s truth, which once we would redeem with rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has proved instead a world-worn pantomime.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The running river of expediency<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has drowned the hopes that Fortune held in fee—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why fall upon the track so many climb?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why strive to speak what all the earth has heard?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why labor at a work the ages plan?—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Life has been lived so oft—an outworn thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then hark! the time-sweet carol of a bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New as a flower; and see—ah, shame to man!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The endless aspiration of the Spring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h3> + +<h3><i>Aspiration</i></h3> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The full throat of the world is charged with song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morning and twilight melt with ecstasy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the high heat of noon. Simply to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palpitant where the green spring forces throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eager for life, life unashamed and strong—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This is desire fulfilled. Exalted, free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spirit gains her ether, scornfully<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Denies existence that is dark or wrong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is enough, to see the song begun<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shall be finished in some field afar.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laugh that the night may still contain a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor idly moan your impotence of grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life is a song, lift up your care-free face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gladly and gratefully toward the sun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h3> + +<h3><i>The Gypsy Blood</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He gives me happiness, as flowers depend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On loyal sun and shower. I look to love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To give me life. Why is it not enough?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divine contentment, stretching without end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O’er happy meadows. He’s my love, my friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And peace is in the word. You—heart’s despair—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweep like a tempest through my sunsweet air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wail like a lost soul through my blossomed grove.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tempest and calm, with him my heart might rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lulled by eternal spring. The dream is blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet the wild grapes you crush make life divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out in the pathless dark, all yours, I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brave with the purple promise of the wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, you I love, because you bring me woe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h3> + +<h3><i>Not Dead but Sleeping</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if I came, ah, if I came again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laid my hand on your forgetful heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where once it lay so warm, could the pulse start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering Spring? Now, at the sound of rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do but turn a little in disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To see the flowers renew their lovely part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blooming afresh. For memory holds no smart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love aches no more to know how it was slain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet if I came to you who heed no more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My name upon the wind? Love’s ghost, lean near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have a word that only you may hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If you should come to me with dear desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul’s dry staff should tremble to its core<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And flame against your touch in buds of fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h3> + +<h3><i>The Last Gift</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What shall I give to her who will not care<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I give soul or roses, will not know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How that, for sweets she’ll spend, light smiles she’ll sow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will reap bitter tears? If she could wear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those tears as stars to sparkle in her hair!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What shall I give? I have not fall’n so low<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I may not lay one gift before I go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the altar of my heart’s despair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She will not know; yet, in my love a king,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I must be worthy of my crown and throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so can sacrifice no little thing.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My life, my soul are worthless since her scorn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slay we then love on love’s red altar-stone—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Beggared of all, I face the world forlorn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h3> + +<h3><i>Amor Mysticus</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not you, nor all the gauds that Fate bestows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can make me swerve so little from my dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across my veil of mystery you seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps a little dearer than the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps more fair than the long light that flows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Between the lids of twilight. But the gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of iris on the breast of wisdom’s stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is of a radiance that no rival knows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart is not my heart, or it might chance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sorrow for the sorrow in your tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul is locked against all circumstance<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of life or love or death or heaven or hell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have no place for laughter in my years,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No room where little, little love might dwell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h3> + +<h3><i>The Pattern of the Earth</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pattern of the earth, so wonderful,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is, more than myrtle, very dear to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across the avenue of limes I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little mist by ghosts made magical,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossing across the hills, more beautiful<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the deep eyes of amber women, free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of shame and of disdain, on some far sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swept by trade-winds the sun makes lyrical.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no air the mind may not recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown from the violet-beds of Greece; and all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moons who drop their shattered petals here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live from the days which hid Semiramis.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breezes upon my lips are subtly dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because they bear the burden of her kiss.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h3> + +<h3><i>Disguised</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The beggar thoughts pass down the lanes of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on the thorns that are the hours I find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their tatters and their rags. Infirm and blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They faded in the void, and all the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mouthed senseless jeers at me. I dared not pray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For wisdom from these fools who throng the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave no gifts but bitterness behind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chin upon hand, I watched, nor bade them stay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then wearily and indolently glanced<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the thorns fluttered with their flags, and, lo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fragments of cloth of silver gleamed and danced<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the late sun, and linen white as snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the beggar thoughts, with lowered eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Princes and kings had wandered in disguise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33-34]</a></span></p><h2>SONGS</h2> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h3>I</h3> + +<h3><i>On the White Road</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There’s a white, white road lies under the swinging moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stretched from the black of the deep to the black of the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And midway the graveyard lies, with its leaves a-croon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The only sound of the world, like a dream in sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There’s a white, white grave lies under the graveyard trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hung on the road as a single pearl on a thread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence waits, beast crouched, on the rim of the breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That moans where the only man in the world lies dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> +<h3>II</h3> + +<h3><i>The Wanderer</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have I finished my life, am I done?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my heart-blood thin and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I gnaw the bones of the town?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Am I empty and old?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My flags are the chimneys’ grime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tossed on a languid breeze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I dreamed of the roaring rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A storm through the trees?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snow in the streets is black,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Profaned with the city’s sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know of a star-lit track<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where God’s hand has been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have I finished with snow and sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the wind on the open plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I starve in the barren town—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is my life in vain?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> +<h3>III</h3> + +<h3><i>False</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The black sky stretches to the pallid sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a false love and a dismantled heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Empty of faith and eager to depart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He takes her yet once more, submissively,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against his lips, then, laughing, drifts away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swiftly within the dawning of the day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blindly she tosses up her foam-white hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crying for mercy, and the wind—her hair—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lashes the wide-sailed ships and leaves them bare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blindly she hurls her rage against the sands.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There, in the cold sky where her love had lain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scornful, aloof, the sun reviews her pain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +<h3>IV</h3> + +<h3><i>A Song of the Oregon Trail</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How long the trail! How far the goal!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Last year the moons might come and go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like dancing shadows on the snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart was light, my heart was strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I cared not though the way be long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now—the end is you—my soul!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear the dark, I fear the dread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White frost that hovers round my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cold, high sun, and, wide apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The frozen, pitiless stars above.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So far, so far from my true love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! I fear, I fear the dead!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I fear their fingers, grasping and pale.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I did not fear the dead last year—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now, the kisses of my dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The breast of her, so kind and warm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, heart! I must not come to harm—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How far the goal! How long the trail!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +<h3>V</h3> + +<h3><i>The Apple-Tree</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The apple-tree is white with snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart is empty as the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white hours indolently go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Graveward, because my love’s away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Months lag, then spring and love’s return—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet once again I seem to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flushed with delight, as kisses burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">White snow upon the apple-tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<h3>VI</h3> + +<h3><i>Silver and Rose</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pale as a petulant star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She held up her face to his love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spirit from his dwelt afar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the sky from the sea is above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet he gazed till her whiteness was rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dawn bright with the morning above—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sea from the sky wakes and glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So his image was mirrored in love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h3>VII</h3> + +<h3><i>To-Morrow</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To-morrow and to-morrow—shall there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perchance a morrow when I may not see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your face beside me any more? Ah, no!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love, my love, I cannot let you go.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sun in Egypt, ever kind and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart must wake at dawn and know you there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dread of day which holds a weeping rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dread of chilly love and bitter pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ever present, ever wise and true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow and to-morrow holding you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<h3><i>The Greater Joy</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not that young Joy who looked with laughing eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That jocund sprite with open, idle fingers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stretched to the dawn, the dawn whose gold light lingers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the far blue hills of Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not that young Joy, but one courageous, calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who—passed beyond the quiet morning meadows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond the dawn of life’s delicious shadows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds the great sun and moon in either palm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In her wise heart she takes that little Joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kisses to sleep tired eyes with laughter over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pointing to greater joys in heights above her—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This shall be ours whom fate would fain destroy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<h3>IX</h3> + +<h3><i>The Rose-Colored Camelia-Tree</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stained by the ardent silver of the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glitter the leaves, a challenge to the day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bright, fierce flame of naked scimitars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Holds still the argent night, folded away.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Challenging day, yet, lovelier than light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blushing with dawn the flick’ring leaves between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burn the rose blossoms, traitors to the night—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Color of joy upon the tranquil green.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brave to the amorous sun, who, fearing, grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At last the tree’s whole heart with love is crowned—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose-red flowers warm against the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rose-red petals sweet against the ground.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<h3>X</h3> + +<h3><i>Good-Bye Sorrow</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Day that began with a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will you end with a sigh?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay! See the blossoming year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laugh up to the sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, here’s a hope for your fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet sorrow—good-bye!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<h3>XI</h3> + +<h3><i>In Harbor</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My little boat is in a bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It swings with gentle motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there I lie and watch all day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The far-off, noisy ocean.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ships go up, the ships go down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never see me spying.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are the pride and fear of town—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sails wide and colors flying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They are so strong, they are so tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They fear no storm, no sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With brave eyes to the sun, they all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Set sail for some to-morrow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sometimes I long to range and roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My harbor life bewailing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But little boats must bide at home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gayly speed the sailing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<h3>XII</h3> + +<h3><i>Rosa Mundi</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O life that flowered at the very top of the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Redder than all the roses out of the South,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was the blossom colored and wrought for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweeter than scarlet bloom of a maiden’s mouth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fain would I climb, and fain would I reach the flower.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, but the tree was tall as the flower was fair!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weary I grew and slept through the noonday hour;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Winds caught my fate and strewed it over the air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> +<h3>XIII</h3> + +<h3><i>The Ribbon</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, dearest, dearest, not alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I face the day’s white monotone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fair, bright ribbon of the hours—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mountain brook bestead through flowers—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Runs, a dear line, from you to you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no smallest deed I do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through which the ribbon does not run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silver string to pearls of sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So glad I watch the moments fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the high-hung summer sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in a radiant flame they burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mark the hour of your return.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> +<h3>XIV</h3> + +<h3><i>The Aster</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The little vagrant gypsy flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has blossomed forth again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your face against the autumn sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your face against the rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fevered youth of summer days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has passed away in tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aged winter totters down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pathway of the years.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, nodding, luring, laughing o’er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tired world’s pain and scars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyous I find between my hands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your face—in aster stars.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +<h3>XV</h3> + +<h3><i>Heart and Hand</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Singing, he smote his heart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The woman smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love leaped, flaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into being—wild.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Singing, he smote his hands—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The woman sighed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love grew weary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turned his face, and died.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<h3>XVI</h3> + +<h3><i>The Golden Fruit</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lacked not Love, I lacked not lovely Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, ah, the apples of Hesperides!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden apples and the emerald trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower-sweet maidens, dancing in the breeze—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds Love a blossom with such fruits as these?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I gave up Love, I gave up lovely Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought the island of enchanted skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With little rainbow rifts of seraphs’ eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round which the flaming sword forever plies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the darkened world of rue and sighs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas for Love! alas for lovely Love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dreams I heard the beating of his wing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soft voice, beautiful as sea in spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mourned through the empty songs the seraphs sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life seemed in sleep more dear than everything.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><span class="i0">Take me back, Love; take me back, lovely Love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark winds may drive me o’er thy tyrannous seas—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life is a world that breaks the thing it frees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would be bound in all thy masteries—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, ah, the apples of Hesperides!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h3>XVII</h3> + +<h3><i>To a Moth</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit of evil, heavily flying, turning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dropping to earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Caught to the light, with brown wings torn and burning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence was your birth?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was there a cause that, ceaselessly turning, flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drew you from night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that we know is this—the aimless dying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Killed by the light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Evil the star that led you, spirit of evil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Out of your dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breeding desire that conquers us, man and devil—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Passion’s red spark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h3>XVIII</h3> + +<h3><i>Winter Song</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, it’s winter, winter, when you’re here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And summer when you’re gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What need of birds when hearts sing clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From dusk of day to dawn?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The noble wind, the silver snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High stars, and, best of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red-rose hearth—a golden glow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When twilight curtains fall.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who’d cry the heat of summer skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bare, despairing sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The languid flowers, with closing eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The earth’s fair wooing done?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The possibilities of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The reticence of bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love with the winter’s argent wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We’ll scorn the sun for this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<h3>XIX</h3> + +<h3><i>Youth</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Youth and its pensive agonies! How soon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The restless heart forgets to crave the moon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age is too weary for the butterflies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring’s rainbow radiance fluttering through sweet skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope merrily deferred. We see the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We who are old, in shattered fragments. Scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For laughter and for singing clouds our breast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth, take your fill of pleasure, for the rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Age is endless. Sing, nor grudge the song—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth is so short, and Age, quiet Age, so long!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h3>XX</h3> + +<h3><i>Persephone</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Persephone, Persephone—her sweet face wanders up to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through this bewildering maze of spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">At length she daunts the tyrannous year,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Her little laugh usurps the tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her little song she dares to fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the black stars, merrily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Persephone, Persephone—her hands lean through the spring to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet, could I show you in what wise<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Your song has blossomed—how the air<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Is mad with gold because your hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tossed golden ’neath your sea-blue eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earth goes laughing with your glee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Persephone, Persephone, this hour sends out your heart to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Child of the Dark, with soul sun-bright,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span><span class="i4">Ah, give me largesse, give me May,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">So shall I charm the saddest day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And life—one amber dawn’s delight—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall bear your song eternally.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXI</h3> + +<h3><i>Étoiles d’Enfer</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The four wide winds of evening have their stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fashioned in fire, in purity of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossed to their height by endless avatars—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These all the righteous know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What of the stars of Hades? On the gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The outcast see them shine like angels’ eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the living night that is their tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They dream of Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They know the stars of Hades. They are deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wickedly born, which came to good at last—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair blossoms spring from villany of weeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rest—and redeem the past.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXII</h3> + +<h3><i>Enough of Singing</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enough of singing; since your heart is tired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We’ll leave the lute, so long, so long desired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the silence speak one quiet word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Simple as earth, forgetting song and bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more of singing; mating-time has sped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the broad fields the poppy-lips are red.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crush them, Beloved, drink the lethe deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song being dead, what else is left but sleep?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXIII</h3> + +<h3><i>Truth</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up from the soul, as a blade of grass from the sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Springs the intent of the prayer as a cry to God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blossoms may veil it or visions with ways uncouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sees the ultimate grass-blade, the heart of Truth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXIV</h3> + +<h3><i>The Philosopher</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grim immensities are mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunlight on the brook is theirs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I drink the lees of bitter wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fate grants a gift to all their prayers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stammer, all afire to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thoughts that urge for life like pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For them words brim the shallow well<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like easy drops of summer rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And which, ah, Heaven, which is best—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little lute for every mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, shrinking coldly from life’s test,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heights and depths of solitude?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXV</h3> + +<h3><i>Prayers</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prayers that were birds winging wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Daring the flame of the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How have you faltered and died,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now the day’s done!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prayers must be brave for the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strong for the chill of the star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fearing no fate to embark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the bar.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Prayers of the sun and the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prayers for the sky and the nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All must reach haven so soon—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shall reach rest?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXVI</h3> + +<h3><i>A South-Sea Lover Scorned</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the red coral of your lip is pale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the bleached sea-sand, ah, wearily, wearily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will you behold your face, your fingers frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gnarled like a wind-blown tree; your star-bright eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind as a cloudy midnight without moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more fair necklaces nor scarlet dyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can make you cruel to men, for soon, so soon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your heart will bear the years—ah, wearily, wearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then I, your scorn, shall still be man and chief;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Turning to free your hands so carelessly, carelessly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You will be dead to love past all belief.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still round the slender columns of the palm<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span><span class="i0">The moon shall lie in shivering, silver pools,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still shall the trades lash through the summer calm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While twilight with her smile the island cools<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Time forgets your presence, carelessly, carelessly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXVII</h3> + +<h3><i>In May</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blithe Nature leaned to kiss her favorite child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her sunshine hair about her bosom swirled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gay Baby Spring held out his hands, he smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Apple-Blossoms dimpled on the world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXVIII</h3> + +<h3><i>For Your Sake</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bid me for your sake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not for self or right—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You alone can wake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Power to gain the fight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In your name I’d dare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught in earth’s great bounds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forth my sins should fare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leashed like cringing hounds.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When you touch my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through your holy eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can see the land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where is Paradise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet I may not go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaving cold and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till your soul of snow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sees that mine is white.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><span class="i0">Let my heart not break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till I kill my sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid me for your sake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fight the world—and win!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXIX</h3> + +<h3><i>Lyric Love</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world deserves its wisdom. You and I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Serene within the shadow, crowned with hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cinctured with solitude, the bended sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Folds us in hues of tulip twilight flowers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Knowledge is chill; your hair is warm with gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lock lies heavily across your cheek.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I somewhere heard of darkness, pain, and cold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keep your own, world. Ah, Love, stir not nor speak.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXX</h3> + +<h3><i>Be Still</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be still, be still, vex not the night with sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The moon has laid her finger on the lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the shadows of the wood profound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There lies a peace we would profane to break.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the lonely avenue of trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As pearls upon an airy silver string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are caught the threaded echoes of the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sets the ruffled leaves a-murmuring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be still, dear heart, as though ’twere death to speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love waits you, lily-like, with leaves unfurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on the breast of day night lays her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The silence speaks the secret of the world.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXI</h3> + +<h3><i>Butterfly Words</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Butterfly words from the sun in my brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flitting and darting and flitting again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gleaming of golden and violet and rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is the rainbow you spring from, and where?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Butterflies daintily poise and disclose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence is this secret of color you bear?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sun that is ruddy and fragrant with flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Garnered and hid from these desolate hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Misty with beauty, the silver of spring—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, for the ways that are lost to my feet!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only the dip of the butterfly wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poised for a moment, revives me the sweet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXII</h3> + +<h3><i>Music</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Music has opened her hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through fingers her jewels are falling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fingers so delicate slender,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as the ghost of a flower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jewels of crimson, the life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ebbing from hearts that are broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roses and wine and red sunsets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flames of undying desire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jewels of azure, the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming of stars, and the morning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dancing with life, then the silence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue of mysterious caves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Jewels of green, and the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifts up its hands to the summer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hiding insidious serpents,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as the sweets that are sin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span><span class="i0">Jewels more bright than the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music lets fall from her fingers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We who have stood in the shadow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How may we die for her sake?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXIII</h3> + +<h3><i>The Ghost</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You came and you went, and I swept you aside, not a trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does my wisdom endure of your words and your beautiful face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the curls of your hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet your presence, a song, murmurs ever in hopeless refrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I wake in the night with my empty hands yearning in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the touch of your hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You went, and I triumphed—I crushed out my heart with a kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the lips that are ashen, forgetting spring’s wonderful bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And your tremulous lips;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span><span class="i0">Yet the kisses were ghostly with jasmine, dear jasmine of May—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The new has the soul of the old, is aflame with the way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the touch of your lips.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You came and you went, and the world wearies on with its game.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart never falters or fears at the sound of your name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the sight of your face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the ghost of our passion stands white in the midst of my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With your hands and your hair, and I know it will never depart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Passion’s ghost with your face!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXIV</h3> + +<h3><i>Fight!</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fight, though the bulwarks of your faith may fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life become gray and full of weariness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love prove a lie and wisdom bitterness—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fight, for the strife alone avails for all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fight and fight on, exulting in the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Standing alert and upright gleefully,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seizing life’s joys and woes courageously,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man to the end, and master—laugh and fight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXV</h3> + +<h3><i>In Tonga</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The windy rain beats, beats about my door—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas for love when love goes wandering!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dawn mist rises on the forest floor—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas for life when love goes wandering!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wet, green leaves the palm-trees lash the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pitiless trades drive wild gods in their flight.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, ah, my lover! Moons have come and gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fighting ended, still he lingers on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleepless I hear the demon wind above—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas for love when love goes wandering!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must wed with one I do not love—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas for life when love goes wandering!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXVI</h3> + +<h3><i>This was the Song</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have forgotten. This the rowers knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Straining within the galleys’ reeling night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life bent to breaking, while their great souls grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong in the ancient purposes of Time.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This was the song whereby they made their fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughed as they swung. Gods! how the cord bit through!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was the song the pagan lovers heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wakened by flowers in a rose-red dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the bright dew they fled, like ocean stirred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With morning. Bare and beautiful they ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Holding each other’s hand. Through leaves they’re gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleaving the silver pool with flash of bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span><span class="i0">Carven in stone, Abydos holds it fast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little Eastern dancer with her lute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild Erin’s faeries crying for the past.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They keep the deathless secret of the word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hid behind Nature’s lips, who, grave, remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guard this from profanation till the last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not unto us who bide the ebb and flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The senseless order of the tide of law.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have forgotten to be free; we know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the iteration of the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The priceless moon, white pearl without a flaw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drowns in the muddy stream of worldly woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We take the petty part and leave the whole.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lost to our ken the song of Nature’s youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great barbaric winds that sweep the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave it emptied of all else but truth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXVII</h3> + +<h3><i>To E. D.</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She wrought her songs in secret ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet cared not where they fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soul distilled itself like dews<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In rue and asphodel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They fell in countless happy hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made wise by sun and showers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like pollen blown about the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conceiving royal flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXVIII</h3> + +<h3><i>The Dance</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like little, eager children<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tiptoe tulips stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Row upon row of dancing heads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In joyous saraband.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With lithe, long emerald petticoats,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And happy hands tossed up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunshine is the laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That brims their golden cup.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<h3>XXXIX</h3> + +<h3><i>Vanquished</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heart, here are roses burning with the South—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(“Fairer was her false mouth”)—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Close your tired eyes, the twilight gives you rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(“Cool was her snowy breast”).<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Take of the sunshine, nor remember rain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(“Love is a cruel pain”)—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hush! you shall sleep forgetting love’s alarms—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(“Sleep died in her false arms”).<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="large" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +<h3>XL</h3> + +<h3><i>Tranquillity</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you respect the heavy-lidded flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That nod so drowsily upon their bed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can you endure the slow-stepped, dreamy hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fall, indifferent, to gold and red?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have you the key that opens to green arches<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where trees repeat their prayers in monotone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then take my hand down life’s mysterious marches,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let us walk in silence and alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 44px;"> +<img src="images/i088.jpg" width="44" height="35" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="large" /> +<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber’s Note:</span></h3> + +<p>No changes have been made from the original book; this e-text is a +faithful transcription of the author’s words and intent.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets and Songs, by Helen Hay Whitney + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS AND SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 35098-h.htm or 35098-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/0/9/35098/ + +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) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: ASCII + +*** 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 + Etoiles 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 + +_Etoiles 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS AND SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 35098.txt or 35098.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/0/9/35098/ + +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) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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