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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5bdff3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53623 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53623) diff --git a/old/53623-0.txt b/old/53623-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 59cf17b..0000000 --- a/old/53623-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4341 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snowflake and Other Poems, by Arthur Weir - -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/license - - -Title: The Snowflake and Other Poems - -Author: Arthur Weir - -Release Date: November 28, 2016 [EBook #53623] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOWFLAKE AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - - FLEURS DE LYS, AND OTHER POEMS - 1887, E. M. RENOUF, MONTREAL - - THE ROMANCE OF SIR RICHARD, SONNETS, AND OTHER POEMS - 1890, W. DRYSDALE & CO., MONTREAL - - - - - THE SNOWFLAKE - - AND - - OTHER POEMS - - BY - - ARTHUR WEIR - - MONTREAL: - JOHN LOVELL & SON - 1897 - - Copyrighted, 1896, by Arthur Weir, Montreal. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - -THE SNOWFLAKE 1 - -THE MASQUE OF THE YEAR 11 - -THE MUSE AND THE PEN 21 - -THE BEAVER MEADOW 27 - -VOYAGEUR SONG 31 - -DEDICATORY ODE 34 - -ENTERING PORT 36 - -WILD FLOWERS 38 - -DEDICATORY BALLAD 41 - -TIMOR MORTIS CONTURBAT ME 44 - -ON NEW YEAR’S EVE 46 - -IN THE CLOSING HOURS 50 - -WHERE HEAVEN IS 51 - -NEW YEAR’S EVE 53 - -PEGASUS 55 - -IT WOULD BE EASY TO BE GOOD 57 - -THE LITTLE TROOPER 59 - -CUPID’S DISGUISES 61 - -MUSIC 63 - -BABY’S STOCKING 65 - -MY DIVINITY 66 - -THE SLEEPING SOUL 69 - -THE MOTHER 71 - -PLUCK FLOWERS IN YOUTH 73 - -O FOOLISH HEART 74 - -MY HEART’S A MERRY ROVER 75 - -THE CIGARETTE SMOKER 77 - -TAKE ME AS YOU FIND ME 78 - -AT THE TRYST 79 - -SONNETS IN CALIFORNIA 80 - -THE POOL OF SANT’ OLINE 83 - -WINTER IN THE SOUTH 85 - -THE KINDERGARTEN 87 - -THE POET 89 - -GOLD TRESSES 91 - -EN ROUTE 93 - -AT DAWN 95 - -MY STAR 97 - -TO A PICTURE 99 - -THE POET AND HIS RHYMES 101 - -TO AN INFANT 103 - -TO SCOTLAND 105 - -ROSINA VOKES 106 - -A LITTLE MAID 107 - -SAMSON AND DELILAH 109 - -MY LADY’S BONNET 110 - -FLOWERS AND FEARS 111 - -THE ROSEBUD 112 - -NIL DESPERANDUM 113 - -FLESH AND SPIRIT 114 - -IN CHURCH 115 - -SUCCOR THE CHILDREN 116 - -THE SUNSET LESSON 117 - -AS FROM THE NECTAR-LADEN LILY 118 - -MUMMY THOUGHTS 119 - -TO CERTAIN NATURE POETS 120 - -THE PATRIARCH’S DEATH 121 - -OH, WERE IT NOT 122 - -FAREWELL 123 - -THE TIDE 124 - -MY COMRADE 125 - -MY GIFT 127 - -HAMLIN’S MILL 128 - -A BALLADE OF JOY 130 - -REMEMBRANCE 132 - -THE GLOVE 133 - -THE MAGIC BOW 135 - -AT THE SEASIDE 137 - -THE ORPHANS 138 - -ALADDIN’S LAMP 139 - -SONG 142 - -QUATRAINS 143 - - -TO - -HUGH GRAHAM, ESQ., - -TO WHOSE - -ENCOURAGEMENT, TASTE AND ENTERPRISE - -THE AUTHOR - -IS LARGELY INDEBTED - -FOR - -WHATEVER OF PUBLIC FAVOR HE ENJOYS, - -THIS VOLUME - -IS - -Gratefully Dedicated. - - -ERRATA (corrected in this etext) - -Page 23, Second verse, first line, for “And” read “As.” - -Page 24, Second verse, last line, for “Thinkest” read “think’st.” - -Page 27, Third verse, third line, last word, read “athirst.” - -Page 86, Second verse, second line, for “a many” read “many a.” - -Page 44, for Conterbat, read “Conturbat” throughout. - - - - -THE SNOWFLAKE - -AND OTHER POEMS. - - - - -THE SNOWFLAKE. - - - Fierce Neptune’s daughter, beneath the water, - In grottoes cool dwelt I, - And, laughing, hid in the seashell’s lid, - As fishes arrowed by. - My feet were free to the undersea; - I played amidst its gloom, - And in the deep where the mermaids weep - Above the hero’s tomb, - Where the sea snake strips dainty maiden lips - Of kisses once so warm, - And the lifeless child, by the eddies wild, - Is torn from the mother’s arm. - The foam-browed billow my head would pillow - Upon its bosom fair, - While the restless sweep of the moon-led deep - Would drift us here and there. - I oft would float in the dainty boat - The Nautilus oared for me, - Out, far, far out, where a noisy rout - Of breakers leapt in glee; - Or further urge to the world’s dim verge, - Where heaven meets the wave, - And the seagull’s wing was the only thing - To follow us was brave. - Then called by the blast, as it glided past, - I would turn and clap my hands, - As the waves were tossed on the tropic coast, - And furrowed the silver sands. - - Where, with weedy locks, the bare limbed rocks - Bend over the foaming sea, - I oft resorted, and, as I sported, - The sunbeams played with me. - We would dance all day in the prismed spray, - Or in the blossoms hide, - That, trembling, clung to the crags and hung - Above the boiling tide. - Oftimes the cool, green depths of a pool - Would lure me down to rest, - Till the sunbeams came in a path of flame - And found me in my nest. - With colors gaily they decked me daily, - And tempted me to fly - Afar from the foam of my ocean home - Aloft in the cloudless sky. - But I said them nay, for the leaping spray, - And cool, green depths of sea, - Than the flight of birds and the sunbeams’ words - Were dearer far to me. - “I had seen,” I said, “to the sky o’erhead - My sisters, laughing, soar - For a merry flight through the azure bright, - And never saw them more. - I love my home in the ocean foam, - I love the moonlit sands, - And I would sigh in the depths of sky - And die in distant lands.” - - But who can prove to the plea of love, - Unyielding and unkind? - At love’s low call we hasten all, - Like leaves at the voice of wind. - And ere the moon at the night’s high noon - Had twelve times orbed grown, - My heart was stirred at a whispered word, - My soul was not mine own. - My lover was fair as the balmy air - That follows after storm, - When the careless sea, with a song of glee, - Trips over the shallows warm. - He was the first through the gloom that burst - To bring the dawn to me, - And he was the last from my sight that passed - When darkness walked the sea. - One shimmering day, as asleep I lay - Upon the tide-worn sand, - He stole apart, with an eager heart, - From all the sunny band. - He came to me, as I lay thought free, - And bent my couch above, - And while I slumbered, with words unnumbered, - He pleaded for my love; - Then as I woke at the words he spoke, - And rising turned to flee, - I was closely pressed to his ardent breast, - And kisses were rained on me. - - “My heart’s own dearest,” he cried, “why fearest - Thou to take flight with me? - Is there aught more fair than the realms of air - In yonder sullen sea? - Is the sea-gull’s scream or the under gleam - Of billows rushing by - More sweet to thee than the melody - Of larks in the azure sky? - Oh, be thou my bride, and side by side - We’ll float upon the breeze - O’er river and town, o’er forest and down, - Wherever we twain shall please. - We’ll swim in the wine of the luscious vine - Which brims the crystal high, - And when of her lover the fond words move her, - We’ll dance in the maiden’s eye. - We’ll scale vast mountains and o’er gay fountains - Hover in noon’s warm glare, - And when night lowers, shall sleep in flowers - That sway in the dewy air. - And shouldst thou tire, nor more desire - The airy plains to roam, - But pine again for the leaping main - And the drench of flying foam, - We need but glide on the leaf-sown tide - Of some swift coursing stream - To our home at last, and the happy past - Shall be but a varied dream.” - - I could but yield as he thus appealed, - And clasping hand in hand, - With a parting glance at the sea’s expanse, - Dun rocks and silver strand, - We mounted high in the glowing sky, - And, leaving home behind, - Fared swiftly forth to the distant north - Upon the balmy wind. - O’er tangled brakes where the twilight makes - For evermore its home, - And the tiger sleeps and the cobra creeps, - And prowling jackals roam, - We floated fast, till the hills, at last, - To bar our path appeared, - And many a peak its forehead bleak - And tawny flanks upreared. - O’er many a cleft in the rocks bereft - Of life and the sunlight’s sheen, - Wild torrents were hurled to the under world, - And wheeled the eagles keen. - In faltering lines, the famished pines - Pressed up the mountain sides, - And sang to the blast, as it hurried past, - The song of the ocean tides, - Till I yearned once more for the tropic shore - Beside the emerald waves, - And my sisters gay and the dashing spray - And ocean’s weedy caves. - - On, on we went, till the distance lent - The hills an azure hue, - And the earth beneath was a naked heath - Where winds in anger blew. - We saw the smoke like a wave that broke - Above the homes of men, - And in the bowers of the meadow flowers - Took rest for flight again. - A myriad sights were a thousand delights - As on through space we sped, - But the happy day soon faded away - And the sun in the west lay dead. - Then the shadows of death with their icy breath - Drew ever more surely nigh, - And in frightened crowds the murky clouds - Swept under the ebon sky. - Afar in the north a fire flamed forth - And flickered with ghastly light, - Like a lamp that burns when a soul returns - To God in the dead of night. - Gloom blotted the hills and the tinkling rills - Were bound in frosty chains, - And the flowers once gay all lifeless lay - Upon the dreary plains. - There was no sound in the air around, - No voice upon earth below, - Save the angry beat of the wild winds’ feet, - That wandered to and fro. - - In a frenzy of fear, with many a tear, - I clung to my darling’s breast, - For the wintry night with its baleful light - My timorous soul distressed. - “Beloved,” he cried, “sweet sea-nurtured bride, - My love brings sorrow to thee, - For I feel at my heart the pitiless dart - That Death has made keen for me.” - I cried, “There are caves in the amethyst waves - Wherein love may make life sweet, - Oh! haste and return, ere the elements stern - Have beaten us under their feet.” - There was no reply to my passionate cry, - No answering kiss to mine, - And I felt in the storm from my trembling form - My lover’s arms untwine. - All heavy he grew, like a wounded sea mew - That dies in the midmost air, - And fell without sound to the frosty ground, - And lay like a dead bird there. - The tresses of gold on his forehead cold - I parted, and kissed his brow, - But his lips nor smiled at my fondling wild, - His eyes nor knew me now. - And the icy blast, as it thundered past - The hollow wherein he lay, - Tore him apart from my anguished heart, - And carried him away. - - I heard the trees moan in an undertone - As the storm king struck them low, - And the river flood grew still as he stood - And bade it cease to flow. - There was no flower in that sad hour - Had strength to lift its head, - And I was alone in a land unknown - And mourned my love for dead. - Then in countless hosts, like white-robed ghosts, - My sisters lost drew near, - And hemmed me round, but they made no sound - My breaking heart to cheer. - Each wore a star that glittered afar, - Amid her flowing hair, - And they went and came like the lightless flame - That pierced the northern air. - They floated high to the pitiless sky - And gathered on the heath, - Till their myriad feet did mingle and meet, - And hide the earth beneath. - And was it a dream that I should seem - A snowy robe to don, - And tread without pleasure their swift, weird measure, - As the wintry wind piped on. - Methought we flowed through that drear abode - In sheets of spray and foam, - As erst with hope and mirth on the slope - Of waves in our ocean home. - - Then many a day in a trance I lay - Upon the dreary plain, - Till, at last, I heard the pipe of a bird, - And my heart grew warm again. - At the bird’s sweet call through night’s thick pall - The faint sun peered and shone, - As of yore at home through the flying foam - He looked from the gates of dawn. - He looked and smiled, and the air, beguiled, - Grew warm and bright again, - And my sisters all each to each did call, - As erst in the joyous main. - Like the leaping rills from the sunny hills - That tinkle to the sea, - They sang as they glanced in the sun and danced - On the rivers rushing free. - The flowers awoke from their sleep, and broke - With many an emerald spear - And banner bright to the warm sunlight - Through the leaves of the bygone year. - And one with a crown of gold bent down - And took me to its heart, - “Poor waif of the storm,” it said, “grow warm - And share of my joy a part. - In the sky above there are many will love - A heart as pure as thine; - Leave grief with the past, like the shadow we cast - As we hasten where sunbeams shine.” - - I dwelt in the bower of the generous flower - For many a quiet day, - Till, on soft winds blown, the seeds were sown; - And then I wandered away. - For sake of my love, the sun above - Upraised me to the sky, - And east and west I went on my quest, - But my dear one found not I. - Oft I heard from brooks in shadowy nooks - My sisters call to me - To join their throng as they drifted along, - Seeking the distant sea. - And hearing their lays in the woodland ways - Through autumn’s golden air, - A yearning came that I could not name, - Stronger than my despair. - “If I must live on when my love is gone,” - I murmured to my soul, - “Oh, let it be by the throbbing sea - My sisters make their goal. - There let me rest like a child on the breast, - Close to its great warm heart, - Till my sorrows cease and I am at peace, - O lover, where thou art.” - So I sought the brook, and the sky forsook, - And reached the sea at last, - In whose briny waves and weedy caves - I brood upon the past. - - - - -THE MASQUE OF THE YEAR. - -(_Time is discovered seated in the midst of a bevy of maidens, each of -whom represents a month._) - - -TIME. - - Behold me, Time, inexorable Time, - Twin brother of Death. Like him all hearts I tame. - As babes with baubles play, so I with fame. - I weigh all deeds, judge every poet’s rhyme, - Sift heroes, smile at life’s quaint pantomime, - Put down the present great, and oft reclaim - From sad oblivion some forgotten name, - Uplifting it to heights that are sublime. - I sit, amid the months, upon my throne, - Waiting to greet the New Year drawing nigh, - And though it brings a destiny unknown, - Naught need ye fear, since God is in the sky. - Fate is God’s choice; be therefore of good cheer. - Let mirth and song welcome each new crowned year. - - -JANUARY. - - Far have I come, out of darkness, from chaos, - The land of the future, dread realm unknown, - Out of silence, alone. - I have trodden the ice-fields of drear Baccalaos, - Heard the grinding of bergs in the seas of the north - As the gale urged them forth, - And at midday have looked on the sun’s feeble glory - With a smile of disdain, for the warmth that he felt - Ne’er my bosom could melt. - Death and stillness are mine, and, save wolves on a foray, - All is still, all is shrouded, all Nature’s asleep, - Under snow hidden deep. - I am the ruler of uncreate chaos, - Queen of absolute void, which life comes not anear-- - First month of the year. - - -FEBRUARY. - - I am the month of beginnings. I bear - In my bosom the seed of all changes to come. - As yet I am dumb, - But Hope has been born in the breast of Despair. - The pine boughs stir under their burden of snow, - As though promise they know, - Yet the sun shines no stronger, there’s naught that foretells - The coming of summer. No song of a bird - In the woodland is heard, - Not a sound, save the stroke of the axe, as it fells - Some wood king, whose form sinks beneath the keen blade, - With a crash, through the glade; - Yet the spirit of Nature’s awake, and the air - Thrills with love. I soothe grief with my wonderful balm, - Second month that I am. - - -MARCH. - - I am the month of unrest and of yearning, - Of wild and untamable hatred and love. - I glide through the grove, - Calling on Summer, so slow in returning. - I seek for the fruit, bud, leaf, blossom and all. - When they heed not my call, - The winds I unleash, which, like hounds on the scent, - Give voice round the farmsteads, and course o’er the moors, - With a hundred detours, - Till they leap on the forests, whose branches are rent. - I heap up the snowdrifts, bind firmer the streams, - And defy the sun’s beams. - My heart throbs with hate, and all tenderness spurning, - With winter again I span heaven’s blue arch. - I am passionate March. - - -APRIL. - - I am the month of transition. My breast - Heaves with sweet, delicate hope, that beguiles - Dreamy Earth into smiles. - Through woodlands deserted I go on my quest, - And summon the blood-root and shad-bush to flower - Though they fade in an hour. - I drop gentle rain on the faded, brown grasses, - And loosen the soil for all tender, green shoots, - To push up from their roots. - I summon the birds, and where’er my foot passes, - Sleeping Nature arouses itself at my call. - I am helpful to all. - While no ecstacy’s mine, I am never distressed, - But tranquilly wander, to fate reconciled. - I am April, the mild. - - -MAY. - - I am the month of gay Summer’s beginning, - When earth with its verdure smiles up at the sky, - And the mayflowers shy, - And sun-loving blossoms, their way to light winning - Through strewn leaves of autumn, mute emblems of death, - Perfume with their breath, - The zephyrs released from their fetters of frost. - The streams murmur cheerily under their banks - Their melodious thanks - For sweet freedom regained, as they flow and are lost - In the broad, sunny river, that rushes along - To the sea, with a song. - Chill Winter’s forgot, with its woe and its sinning. - Youth leaps in my veins--I am young, I am gay-- - I am love-kindling May. - - -JUNE. - - I am the month of sweet, virginal joy, - When Earth, as the sun its first passion discloses, - Blushes with roses, - When all things are new, and nothing can cloy. - The birds, in a cloudland of leafage concealed, - By their songs are revealed. - All is young, all is love. In the shadowy vales, - In woodland and meadow, all Nature’s awake. - At the wind’s kiss, the lake - Breaks forth into smiles; but as yet passion fails - To weary itself. Soul is searching for soul, - And has not reached its goal. - Life leaping to life doth each moment employ, - And love doth all Nature’s grand chorus attune. - I am virginal June. - - -JULY. - - I am the month of warm, passionate love, - When Earth silent lies, with shy longings opprest, - While soft sighs stir her breast. - All unclasped is her zone, and the Sun’s warm lips prove - Her lips ruby treasures, and make her soul his - With many a kiss. - I wander abroad in the murmurous hours, - While the silvery moonbeams sift down on the scene, - Rustling leafage between. - I whisper of joy to the slumbering flowers, - As, with petals close folded, like child hands in prayer, - They rest on the air, - And I drop cooling dews from the clear sky above - On the moist brow of Earth, as still she doth sigh. - I am July. - - -AUGUST. - - I am the month of sweet langour and dreaming. - In the shadowy depths of the woods I recline, - While afar stand the kine, - Thoughtful, knee-deep, where cool waters are streaming - Over the sands, and at hand, loud and clear, - The cicada I hear. - Afar, by the plunging green waves of the sea, - I wander at times, when the shimmer of heat - Disturbs my retreat; - Or amid rugged crags, where the wind wanders free, - I sit in the shelter of hills, by the brook - That leaps forth from its nook - Adown the swart cliff, with its silver spray gleaming, - And I muse on the past with a rapturous sigh. - Dreamy August am I. - - -SEPTEMBER. - - I am the month that brings peace to the weary, - The flush to the apple, the gold to the leaf, - And the grain to the sheaf. - I am the month that prepares for the dreary, - Long days of midwinter, when Earth lies asleep - Under snow hidden deep. - After the yearning of Spring and the passion - Of hot days of Summer, I cool the warm brow, - And the seeds that the plough - Gave to earth I give back, shaped in daintier fashion. - At the touch of my hand every toiler forgets - All life’s weeds and its frets, - And the heart that was grieving becomes again cheery. - When I rule, men no longer their sorrows remember. - I am September. - - -OCTOBER. - - I am the hush ere the coming of storm. - I am the eventide, lulling to rest, - Upon Earth’s kindly breast, - Her offspring, the flowers, till they nestle up warm, - Folding their leaves and their blossomy eyes - Closing, child-wise. - I warn the still woodland, that doffs its gay dress - And upsprings, like a warrior armed for the fray, - To meet the dread day - When the Tempest’s huge shoulders against it shall press. - I breathe to the streams the fell tidings, until - Every bickering rill, - With a tremor of fear, seaward hurls its lithe form - In mad flight, ere with fetters the Ice King draws nigh. - October am I. - - -NOVEMBER. - - I am the priestess of frost, and I bring - The winds in my train. I am vestured in snow, - And wherever I go - The ice maidens deck me with jewels, and fling - Crystal arches o’er streams that flow sombrely by - Beneath the grey sky. - Earth under my feet a soft carpeting spreads, - And from valley and hill, as I pass on my rounds, - There re-echo no sounds. - The lean, famished forests bow down their high heads - As among them I wander. The stars hold their breath - As, dread omen of death, - Flits the mystic aurora with rustling wing - High above, and some meteor falls like an ember. - I am November. - - -DECEMBER. - - I am the month when worn Earth lies at rest - Under the eiderdown snow, that clings close - To her form in repose, - As her gossamer drape to the virgin, whose breast - Rises and falls as she dreams of her love. - Through the keen air above - The stars glow like watch-fires of summer. Anon - Come the jingle of sleigh-bells, a laugh and a shout, - As gay youth, in mad rout, - Sweeps merrily down the white road, and is gone. - Then silence returns, till the winds howl in glee, - Or some frost-riven tree - Shrieks aloud in its pain. Yet Earth sleeps, undistressed. - All ended her task, she has naught now to fear, - December is here. - -(_The clock strikes_) - -January “One.” -February “Two.” -March “Three.” -April “Four.” -May “Five.” -June “Six.” -July “Seven.” -August “Eight.” -September “Nine.” -October “Ten.” -November “Eleven.” -December “Twelve.” - -(_The New Year Enters._) - - -THE NEW YEAR. - - I am here, I have come from the home of the morning; - I am flushed with hope’s wine; I have treasures for all. - The old year is sped, let it serve as a warning - That the moments I bring shall bear fruit ere they fall. - The past none can alter; its grief and its sinning - Are writ for all time in the volume of life, - But behold me, the New Year, new records beginning; - Let love be their burden, not envy and strife. - - -CHORUS OF MONTHS. - - Welcome, welcome, with chime of merry bell, - Welcome to thy kingdom, O monarch pure and true! - In gladness we will serve thee. Ah! rule this great earth well; - Efface the sorrows of the past, and all past joys renew. - We, the children of the sun, - Who watch the precious moments run, - Will wreathe thy brow with stars of snow and flowers sweet and fair. - But while we sow the fruits of earth, - That man shall garner in with mirth, - To Time alone belongs the power - Of harvesting each ripened hour. - Welcome, welcome, with chime of merry bell! - Another year is given to man to sow and reap his life. - When next the mystic book is sealed, what story will it tell? - Will it speak of love triumphant, will it tell of sin and strife? - O mortal man, remember - Every year has its December, - And when the year has ended naught can change the record there. - - - - -THE MUSE AND THE PEN. - - - The Muse, renowned in ancient story, - But seldom seen these humdrum times, - Came down to earth, in all her glory, - To put new life in modern rhymes. - “Forsooth,” she said, “I’m tired of hearing - Mechanic singers, every one, - With forced conceits and thin veneering, - Serving the lamp, and not the sun.” - - The Muse was but a simple maiden, - Who loved the woodlands, meads and streams, - With odorous buds her gown was laden, - Her hair was bright with rippling gleams; - And murmuring an Arcadian ditty, - She wandered, with uncertain feet, - In wonder, through the crowded city, - Bewildered by each clattering street. - - She gazed upon the hurrying mortals, - Each busy with his own affairs. - She spumed some lauded poets’ portals,-- - “Let monthlies print such stuff as theirs.” - A milkman nodded her a cheery - “Bon jour, ma’mselle,” in ready French, - And as she passed a cabman beery, - He hiccoughed, “there’s a likely wench.” - - She met a red-faced, buxom Chloe, - A dapper Strephon, full of airs; - The one in vesture cheap and showy, - The other versed in brutal stares; - And shocked and weary, hot and muddy, - Into the nearest house she turned, - And found herself within the study - Of one whose pen his living earned. - - She looked quite curiously about her - (Being of a curious turn of mind), - To learn if he did also flout her - And still in life some pleasure find. - Shortly she marked his desk, half hidden - Beneath a mass of copious notes, - And turned to it and read, unchidden, - Of chartered banks and chartered boats. - - She read that crops were thriving better, - But that the country needed rain; - And then another item met her - On “Watered stocks, the country’s bane.” - She read of “interest rates as under, - With money still in poor demand,” - And let the item fall, to wonder - Were poets wealthy in the land. - - She read that “none who float on paper - Long raise the wind, for all their craft,” - “Bulls up a tree, a market caper,” - “A house in trouble with a draft.” - She read of butter growing stronger - And cheese more lively every day, - That baker’s flour will rise no longer, - And of “a serious cut in hay.” - - As still she turned the litter over, - Reading an item now and then, - She did beneath the pile discover - And pounce upon the writer’s pen; - And by the charm the Muse possesses - She made it speak like flesh and blood,-- - Oh! happy Pen, to have her tresses - Fall round thee in that solitude! - - “Dear Pen,” she cried, “in what strange service - Is this I find thy skill employed? - Thy master’s style seems bright and nervous, - Yet is of sense a little void.” - The Pen replied: “O gracious lady, - Trade questions are considered here, - And thou wilt find transactions shady - By master’s hand made easily clear.” - - The pouting Muse her pretty shoulder - Shrugged as she listened to the Pen. - “Thy master must than ice be colder - If thus content to write for men. - Go, bid him frame a graceful sonnet, - A simple poem from his heart, - And I will gently breathe upon it - And to its body life impart.” - - Again the Pen: “O goddess puissant, - My master lacks nor heart nor skill - To turn a stanza, but of recent - Days he hath hungry mouths to fill. - He loves thee, but he may not show it, - And Pegasus must drag the plough, - For men would starve him as a poet - Who earns at least a pittance now.” - - The Muse waxed wroth: “Would not my beauty - All else thy master make forget?” - The Pen replied: “The path of duty - My master hath not swerved from yet. - Thy beauty haunts his every vision, - Sweet on his ear thine accents fall; - Yet could he tread the fields Elysian, - Think’st thou, while suffering loved ones call?” - - “But I can make his name immortal.” - “Immortal shame!” replied the Pen. - “When he should pass Death’s sombre portal - And stand before his God, what then? - He hath a God-like, awful function, - To shield his own from want and wrong; - Wouldst have him, then, without compunction, - Barter his birthright for a song? - - “I am his trusted friend. Unflagging, - I help him win his daily bread. - Though heart may ache, or thought be lagging, - Still must the ink be ever shed. - Yet oft he lays me down, and, sighing, - Looks through the casement at the stars; - And then I know his soul is trying - Vainly to pass beyond its bars. - - “A soldier in the war of labor, - He battles on, from day to day, - Swinging the gold-compelling sabre, - Nor finding time to pluck a spray. - Nay, more! he must, through glorious bowers, - Press harshly on, with heavy tread, - Crushing to earth the beauteous flowers - With which he fain had wreathed thy head.” - - The Muse grew pensive. Softly sighing, - She said: “Now pity him I can. - Strong, purposeful and self-denying, - Here I have what I seek, a Man. - Would that this noble self-surrender, - These high resolves, this purpose stern, - Might yet the grander verse engender, - And brighter make his genius burn! - - “How grief must gnaw his heart asunder - As still Fate balks him, day by day!” - “Nay!” cried the Pen, “thou may’st wonder, - But know, my master’s heart is gay. - Perchance at times, a pang concealing, - His face grows sad; but not for long, - For sweet, loved arms, around him stealing, - Fill all his soul with unvoiced song.” - - The Muse above the table bending, - Laid her warm lips upon the Pen, - A thrill throughout its fibres sending: - “This for thy master.” Slowly then, - She passed away; and after, never - The writer labored, but a throng - Of fancies cheered him, singing ever: - “The Muse hath crowned each unvoiced song.” - - - - -THE BEAVER MEADOW. - - - ’Tis a meadow green as an emerald’s heart - In the heart of an emerald wood, - And a crystal stream doth loiter and dart - Through the sun-smitten solitude. - The orioles glance like flashes of fire - From foliaged limb to limb, - And the harsh frogs pipe in a ceaseless choir - From the marsh, when day grows dim. - - When the grey, cold Dawn in her robes of mist, - O’er meadow and wood and stream, - Looks forth from her tower of amethyst, - She sees the wild duck gleam - In the slender reeds that have waded out, - Far out, in the sinuous brook, - And she hears the loon, like a wary scout, - Shrill keen from his secret nook. - - Long years ago when our fathers first, - Fearless and full of hope, - With love of venture and wealth athirst, - O’er river and mountain slope, - To this woodland came, a lakelet lay - As bright as a burnished shield, - Where now the rivulet waters play, - And the loud frogs pipe, concealed. - - And a wonderful town with its sunward domes, - And wondrous people stood, - Where the deep mouthed frogs have now their homes, - And the wild ducks lurk and brood. - Grand were the fronts and the pictured walls - Of the Inca’s ancient sway, - But the town that stood where the streamlet calls, - More wondrous was than they. - - Not a listless brain nor an idle hand - Was there in all that town, - But strong defences the people planned, - And hewed the great trees down. - The rippling stream, with consummate art, - In barriers huge they pent, - And made their home in the new lake’s heart, - And dwelt therein content. - - But woe to the town and its people all! - Earth giveth no deathless joy, - And where man’s merciless glances fall - The simple they fain destroy. - The brutal and covetous Spanish horde - That raided the Aztec land, - Put its people and chieftains to the sword, - Its cities to the brand. - - And here in this northern wilderness, - This wonderful beaver town, - That baffled the elemental stress - Before our sires went down. - Its stately domes and its barriers vast, - Its sinuous streets, its lake, - The hunter destroyed and overcast, - For a little riches’ sake. - - He slaughtered the noble beaver kings, - And loosened the fettered stream. - And now the reeds, like a thousand strings, - With music as of a dream, - In the night wind mourn the departed lake - And the stately beaver town, - While the rippling waves in the rushes break, - As the stream goes eddying down. - - And musing here on the grassy site - Of the beaver colony, - My soul is carried in fancy’s flight - To the site of Ville Marie, - Where the Hochelagans, or beaver race - Of Indians, dwelt of old, - Their name renowned from their mountain’s base - To where the ocean rolled. - - Hochelaga the Beaver Meadow meant, - And where the beaver dwelt - Long since, the white man pitched his tent, - And before heaven knelt. - He felled the trees and he stayed the tide - Of tribesmen rushing down, - And, like the beaver, he builded wide - And strong a mighty town. - - The curious skill and the council sage, - And the beaver’s love of toil, - Became as well his heritage - As the broad and fruitful soil. - Then honor be to the beaver’s name, - And praise to the beaver’s skill, - And in the labor that makes for fame - May we all prove beavers still. - - - - -VOYAGEUR SONG. - - - Our mother is the good green earth, - Our rest her bosom broad; - And sure, in plenty and in dearth, - Of our six feet of sod, - We welcome Fate with careless mirth - And dangerous paths have trod, - Holding our lives of little worth - And fearing none but God. - - Where, ankle deep, bright streamlets slide - Above the fretted sand, - Our frail canoes, like shadows, glide - Swift through the silent land; - Nor should, broad-shouldered, in some tide - Rocks rise on every hand, - Our path will we confess denied, - Nor cowardly seek the strand. - - The foam may leap like frightened cloud - That hears the tempest scream, - The waves may fold their whitened shroud - Where ghastly ledges gleam; - With muscles strained and backs well bowed - And poles that breaking seem, - We shoot the sault, whose torrent proud - Itself our lord did deem. - - The broad traverse is cold and deep, - And treacherous smiles it hath, - And with its sickle of death doth reap, - With woe for aftermath; - But though the wind-vext waves may leap, - Like cougars, in our path, - Still forward on our way we keep, - Nor heed their futile wrath. - - Where glitter trackless wastes of snow - Beneath the northern light, - On netted shoes we noiseless go, - Nor heed though keen winds bite. - The shaggy bears our prowess know, - The white fox fears our might, - And wolves, when warm our camp fires glow, - With angry snarls take flight. - - Where forest fastnesses extend, - Ne’er trod by man before, - Where cries of loon and wild duck blend - With some dark torrent’s roar, - And timid deer, unawed, descend - Along the lake’s still shore, - We blaze the trees and onward wend - To ravish nature’s store. - - Leve, leve and couche, at morn and eve - These calls the echoes wake. - We rise and forward fare, nor grieve - Though long portage we make, - Until the sky the sun gleams leave - And shadows cowl the lake; - And then we rest and fancies weave - For wife or sweetheart’s sake. - - - - -DEDICATORY ODE. - - (_Read at the unveiling of the Monument erected in the Parliament - Grounds at Ottawa to the Memory of the Rt. Hon. Sir John A. - Macdonald._) - - - Here, in the solemn shadow of these walls, - Wherein his voice long held the land in sway; - Here, where the cadence of the distant falls - Seems a lament for grandeur passed away, - We, who have reaped where he had sown, now bring - To him this thanksgiving, - This tribute to the unforgotten great, - That, for all time, men may revere his name, - And children learn the secret of true fame, - True greatness emulate. - - We paid long since the tribute of our tears, - When, at his post, the veteran statesman died; - But now that grief has been assuaged by years, - We mourn not, but rejoice, with sober pride, - That one of earth’s immortals, wise and strong, - Dwelt in our midst so long, - Teaching large thoughts and love of liberty, - And, Atlas-like, upon his shoulders bore - Our world of care, until, life’s turmoil o’er, - He passed from us away. - - He found the seven sisters of the North, - The Sea-Queen’s daughters, in primeval woods, - By lonely streams, lamenting, and them forth - He led from desert lands and solitudes. - The Pleiades of nations, they have shone - Upon Britannia’s throne; - With every passing year, their golden light - Waxing in lustre, until every land - In wonder looks upon the glorious band - That breaks the Northern night. - - He walked through life triumphant. Fortune’s son, - What were to others barriers, were to him - But gates, through which his high success was won. - He held strange spirit commune with the dim - Shapes of the future. His far-reaching mind - Some harmony did find - In elements discordant; and man’s strength - And weakness served with him the noble end - To build a nation and all factions blend - In brotherhood, at length. - - And shall we, in whose midst so long he dwelt, - Who had commune so long with his great mind, - Forsake his teachings, and, like Israel, melt - Our gold to rear false gods! Shall we grow blind - To those large thoughts, that tolerance which long - Made this Dominion strong? - Nay, never so! He left an heritage - Worthy himself and us; be ours the pride - To bind this new Dominion, rich and wide - Closer from age to age. - - - - -ENTERING PORT. - - (_In Memoriam The Rt. Hon. Sir John S. D. Thompson._) - - - Hark to the solemn gun and tolling bell! - What ship is this, that, dark as night or death, - Is entering port upon the sullen swell, - While an expectant nation holds its breath? - - From many a threatening port her cannon gape, - Above her deck the flag of Britain flies; - Like some sad dream she comes, her sombre shape - Crushing the waves that in her pathway rise. - - One of the Sea Queen’s ocean walls is she, - Grim guardian of her honor, yet that prow - Ne’er upon nobler errand cleft the sea, - Nor guarded Britain’s honor more than now. - - Day after day uprose the golden sun, - Night after night it sank beneath the wave, - Pointing the vessel on that carried one - The Empire honored to his western grave. - - As Truth led that strong soul where’er it would - Onward through strife to honor without stain, - So is he brought through ocean’s solitude, - With but the billows for his funeral train. - - No warrior he the blood of men that shed, - His was the higher task to make them one, - And Canada, awaiting now her dead, - With tears attests the task was nobly done. - - Yet, not within this sea-borne funeral car - The patriot lies. He is no longer here, - But onward, upward still, he journeys far - Beyond our ken to some still nobler sphere. - - The harbor of his earthly wishes won, - Fresh from new honors from his Sovereign’s hand, - To him the summons came. Earth’s voyage done, - He set his bark towards the eternal strand. - - He has gone forth, and leaves us but his name - And this cold clay that waits the silent tomb; - Yet passing years shall never dim his fame, - Nor love forget him in their gathering gloom. - - With tolling bell and beat of muffled drum, - With mournful boom of cannon, lay him down - Within the sepulchre, to which shall come - Faintly the murmur of his native town. - - In death he knit the Empire closer yet, - Causing unnumbered hearts to throb as one. - Here by his tomb may Canada forget - The bigotry that he had fain undone. - - With his Queen’s wreath upon his pulseless breast, - Lulled by the murmur of the restless wave, - Life’s voyage done, he takes his well-earned rest, - In port, at last, with God beyond the grave. - - - - -WILD FLOWERS. - - - In Arcady, the happy swain, - Who wandered through the woods and meadows, - Oft turned his head and oft was fain - To start or smile at shifting shadows. - Sometimes, within a verdant brake, - He saw a wood-nymph’s graceful form - Gleam white, and felt her beauty make - His heart beat fast, his cheek grow warm. - - Sometimes while loitering by a brook, - Whose ripples dreamy music made, - He spied in some sequestered nook - A naiad, on the marge who played, - Or when the breeze the leafage stirred - On drowsy summer afternoons, - Sometimes afar he thought he heard - The satyrs pipe their merry tunes. - - But Jupiter no longer wooes - Antiope, nor Venus’ lips - Tremble as she Adonis sues, - And he from her embracement slips. - No longer nymph nor naiad now, - Nor faun nor satyr haunts the wood, - Gone is Diana with her bow,-- - The woodland is a solitude. - - Are nymph and naiad gone indeed, - And is there now no Arcady? - A fairy choir in wood and mead - In gentle accents answer, “Nay.” - And those who leave the world awhile - With nature’s spirit to commune, - May still see nymphs in woodland aisle - And naiads bathe at sunny noon. - - Beside the murmurous streams that wind - Beneath the tangled foliage-meshes - Some sleeping naiad we may find, - With charms the inmost soul deems precious. - And deep within the tawny shade - Of pathless forests we may meet - Some true wood-nymph, who, unafraid, - Receives us in her cool retreat. - - At every step through sunny wood, - Beneath our feet the wild flowers spring, - Nymphs of that sylvan solitude - That us to love their beauty bring; - And still we follow, as of old - The swain pursued the fleeting shape, - For once their graces we behold - None can their mystic lure escape. - - At every step beside the stream, - Some nodding blossom beckons still. - We see its slender figure gleam - Chastely beside the crystal rill. - Perchance it droops its dainty head, - Or looks us fearless in the face,-- - Ah, no, the naiads are not fled, - The stream is still their dwelling-place. - - Earths turmoil has but dulled our ears, - Its dust has but obscured our sight. - The pipes of Pan whoever hears - Will see as well the woodland sprite. - The revels of the leaves and wind, - The sudden glimpse of blossoming flowers, - These are his prize who leaves behind - The world, and strays through Nature’s bowers. - - Oh, had I in Arcadia dwelt - I would have watched for every gleam - Of shoulder, as some naiad svelt - Clove the clear crystal of the stream; - I would have followed in pursuit - Of artful nymph through tangled brakes, - And heard with joy the satyr’s flute, - Whose melody soft echo wakes. - - And so, from earliest days of spring, - When the first wild flower lifts its head, - Till autumn, when the breezes fling - Broadcast the dying leaves and dead, - Through sensuous summer’s golden hours - I roam the vast, Canadian woods, - Seeking the wild Canadian flowers, - True nymphs of sylvan solitudes. - - - - -DEDICATORY BALLAD. - - (_Written for the unveiling of the Monument erected by the Citizens - of Montreal to Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve._) - - - The leaf in the forest had budded, of verdure a billowy sea - Over the woodland was flowing, o’erwhelming valley and lea. - The great river, bright in the sunshine, set the isle in a circlet - of gold - As it swept to its tryst with the ocean, through realms of riches untold. - - The slow-moving oar cleft the water, the balmy May breeze filled - the sails, - As the wanderers drew near their haven, afar from the sea and its gales; - From the land of their fathers afar, and anear the keen Iroquois knives. - But the pilgrims, to fear ever strangers, to the Cross had entrusted - their lives. - - Not sordid were they. Not the treasures of earth they had come to pursue, - Not for honor nor glory. Far nobler the object our sires had in view. - To carry the cross to the savage, braving danger and hardship they came. - They came for the love of the Virgin, a city to found in her name. - - Their hearts were o’erflowing with gladness. They sang as they drew near - the strand. - Their barks gently touched on the shingle, and Maisonneuve, leaping - to land, - Bent his knee, and the others knelt with him, uplifting their voices - in prayer - To the Ruler of all, while, prophetic, the priest in his vestments stood - there. - - The shadows of twilight were falling, the frog loudly piped in the marsh, - The wild duck lurked in the shallows, and anear screamed the kingfisher - harsh, - High above swept the night-hawk in circles, in the meadow the fireflies - gleamed bright - And were caught, to adorn the rude altar with garlands of pulsating - light. - - The wanderers calmly sought slumber. The sentinel stood at his ease, - The rivulet gurgled and eddied, and answered the murmuring trees, - The mountain loomed dark in the distance, and the wolf looking down from - the height, - In wonder and awe, saw the camp fire that burned on a city’s birth night. - - If you ask how that mustard seed flourished, and spread its great - branches abroad, - If you ask at what sacrifice nourished or watered with what noble blood? - Lo! the pages of history answer. There ’tis written in letters of gold - How each was a Christian and soldier, who founded Ville Marie of old. - - They lived on the confines of chaos. Whenever the savage horde broke - On the ill-fated colony, they were the first whose arm parried the - stroke. - They were Dollards in heart, and went even to torture and death - with a smile, - While the women, like angels of mercy, stanched their wounds and - their woes did beguile. - - None braver, and no one more gentle, none wiser in council than he, - Maisonneuve, this, the new world’s defender, who for God held his - whole life in fee. - He led them in worship, consoled them when thickly their troubles - did fall, - Maisonneuve the undaunted, the founder, Æneas of old Montreal. - - And here where he battled lone-handed with savages thirsting for blood, - Where now beats the pulse of a city, the heart of a new nationhood, - Long years may his monument stand that our children may ask and be told - Of the leader who founded Ville Marie, and honor the heroes of old. - - - - -TIMOR MORTIS CONTURBAT ME. - - (_The Fear of Death Affrights Me._) - - - Shall I too sing, as he sang of old, - The tuneful singer beyond the sea, - When life’s flame sank and his blood waxed cold, - _Timor mortis conturbat me_. - - Earth is so fair to look upon, - And life so sweet, though there sorrows be, - Why welcome the summons to be gone? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Wife that I love as the sea the moon, - Babes that prattle about my knee; - Has heaven itself a dearer boon? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Is there heaven at all or only the grave - With the lisp of rain in the willow tree, - Will the after death give all I crave? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Will there be ideals still to follow, - And truths, like nymphs my pursuit to flee, - Or will the ancient faith prove hollow? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Are there golden suns in a golden noon, - Are there grey, still dawns on a dewy lea, - Are there twilights there, with a crescent moon? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Are there aims to spur me and goals to reach, - Are there wondrous lands for the eye to see, - Is melody there and dulcet speech? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Does friend meet friend and love meet love, - Greet and converse with sober glee, - Or is all new in the courts above? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Is heaven like earth on a nobler plan, - As in dreams we image it, hopefully, - Or does the Spirit forget the Man? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - Shall I be I when the death-throe’s past, - Soul from the flesh set only free, - Or in new mould shall I be recast? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - If heaven be not akin to earth, - I shall not be I, if I happy be. - If I be not I, what is heaven worth? - _Timor mortis conturbat me._ - - - - -ON NEW YEAR’S EVE. - - - The wintry moon was streaming - Through the window, silvery-clear, - And I sat in my study, dreaming - Sweet dreams of the coming year. - - There was no sound save the laughter - Of flames on the gusty hearth, - As hour followed fleet hour after - To welcome the Year with mirth. - - Then, sharp through the solemn quiet, - I heard in the gloomy hall - The scamper of mice run riot, - And I heard them in the wall. - - I leaned on my hand and listened - To hear the cravens go, - While paler the moonbeams glistened - And the fire on the hearth burned low. - - And was I awake, or sleeping, - That, close by the door, I heard - The voice of a woman weeping - The sigh of a farewell word? - - And was it the night wind mocking - That tapped and opened the door, - Or was it a woman knocking - And a light step on the floor? - - I saw at my side a maiden - With tears in her gentle eyes, - And her shapely arms were laden - With gems from time’s argosies. - - On her brow was a white star shining, - On her breast was a lily fair; - But of rue was a sad wreath twining - Among her golden hair. - - From my chair to her dear side springing, - I greeted her with a kiss, - For I thought her the New Year, bringing - New uncut jewels of bliss. - - She blushed at my warm embraces - And joy in her sweet face shone, - As sunlight a shadow chases - While a summer cloud floats on. - - I said: “I have long been yearning, - New Year, to behold thy face.” - Pale grew the maid, and, turning, - She shrank from my close embrace, - - And wept: “Oh! thou fickle hearted - The depth of my love to prove, - Yet ere from my bosom parted - To sigh for an untried love. - - “I brought thee the rarest treasures - Time’s treasury could bestow; - I sated thy days with pleasures, - And guarded thy heart from woe. - - “Thy wish I refused thee never. - I granted thee love and peace; - Yet thou scornest me now, or ever - My labor for thee doth cease. - - “See, here are the gifts I showered - Thy life’s pathway upon, - And now that thou hast been dowered - With all, canst thou wish me gone? - - “O thankless heart, wilt thou never - Be satisfied with thy lot, - Or must thou be pining ever - For joys that as yet are not? - - “And turn from my fond embraces - An utter unknown to greet, - As a child a butterfly chases - Treading flowers beneath his feet?” - - Then, like the great sun springing - Through night to a tropic dawn, - My heart, to the Old Year clinging, - Yearned for the joys nigh gone. - - And oh, what a wave of sorrow - Passed over my grieving soul, - As I thought of the new to-morrow - That led to some unknown goal! - - “Oh, stay,” I cried, soul-shaken, - “Heed not the flight of time, - Oh stay,”--But I was forsaken, - And heard the New Year chime. - - - - -IN THE CLOSING HOURS. - - - In the closing hours of night, - When the latest guest has gone, - By the hearth fire’s flickering light - Sweet it is to dream alone. - - Sweet the social joy, and sweet - Strife that ends in victory; - Sweeter still the peace complete - Following on the eager day. - - Then how sweet the lassitude, - Revelling in romantic rest, - Buoyed on dreams, whose mystic flood - Draws the soul on happy quest. - - In the closing hours of life, - When the friends of youth are gone, - Ended lust of gain and strife, - Peace approaches with the dawn. - - Sweet the rest and solitude - When the hair is turning white, - While the past, with broadening flood, - Murmurs through the closing night. - - - - -WHERE HEAVEN IS. - - - When the babe is swung in its pearly cot, the warm sun shining, the - song-birds gay, - Cool shades among, in its lacework grot, the child reclining doth - dreamful sway. - Hope’s hand, entwining life’s harp new strung with joyous garlands, - its sound doth stay, - And he thinks earth heaven, to him God-given, nor cares though the - passing hours delay. - - From the threshold of life on the bright pathway that stretches - afar to the infinite, - Youth yearns for the strife, as a child for play, and his dreamings - are of a well-won height. - As at dawn of day when the Morning Star unbinds the zone of the - virgin Light, - We watch, all breathless, for beauty deathless, so heaven’s beyond - us, yet seems in sight. - - And then, ah, then, as the years go by, and hope grows weary with - waiting long, - When trust in men we must fain deny, the _miserere_ replaces song. - Like slaves that ply in the galley’s den the laboring oar, through - sin and wrong, - The soul plods on, and heaven is gone; we can but suffer and yet be - strong. - - When the snows of age fall thick and fast, and passion has faded - like flowers that grow, - The memory sage dreams dreams of the past and all that has made it - have joys below. - When the friends long laid in the grave, at last, stand beckoning - us in the twilight glow, - And wrongs endured prove that which cured, the heaven behind us too - late we know. - - The heaven of man is never here; it always is where his treasures are. - To-day’s brief span arches little dear; the stream of bliss seems - wider afar. - From this to this the path is drear; there’s always something each - joy to mar, - Till the past that is real becomes ideal under the gold of life’s - twilight star. - - - - -NEW YEAR’S EVE. - -_Air--Belle Mahone._ - - - Hark! the tolling of the bells. - How it sinks and how it swells! - O’er the sleeping town it knells, - “_Fare thee well, Old Year_.” - Far across the snowy plain - Rolls the many-tongued refrain, - And the echoes cry again, - “_Fare thee well, Old Year_.” - - Thou hast been a kindly year, - Thou hast spared us many a tear, - Thou hast vanquished many a fear, - _Fare thee well, Old Year_. - Lightly touched by summer showers, - Budding hopes have grown to flowers, - Happy days have flown like hours, - _Fare thee well, Old Year_. - - Many a lesson thou hast taught, - Precious favors thou hast brought, - Pleasant changes thou hast wrought, - _Fare thee well, Old Year_. - - Now thy rule is near an end, - Thy last records have been penned, - We must part at last, true friend. - _Fare thee well, Old Year._ - - Close and seal the book of fate, - With whate’er it may relate, - Sin and goodness, love and hate, - _Fare thee well, Old Year_. - One more volume is complete, - Take it to the Mercy Seat, - Lay it at the Master’s feet, - _Fare thee well, Old Year_. - -REFRAIN. - - _Fare thee well, Old Year, - Fare thee well, Old Year, - Thou hast been a faithful friend, - Fare thee well, Old Year._ - - - - -PEGASUS. - - - If you find Pegasus a steed - Scornful of your control, - Who canters well enough, indeed, - But will not caracole, - So much the better, poet mine, - ’Tis bottom wins the race. - Let poetasters prance, in fine; - Keep you the steady pace. - - Let poetasters hunt for sound, - Chase metres, out of breath; - Great thoughts are not thus run to ground, - Nor fame in at the death. - So, let your Pegasus be free - To hunt some thought sublime, - While you sit still, with clinging knee, - And gallop simple rhyme. - - Ah, friend, of all the joys of earth, - There’s nothing like the hunt, - The good horse straining at the girth, - The clear-tongued hounds in front. - - And if your Pegasus can bear - You well before the rout, - Don’t curb and make him beat the air; - Loose rein, and let him out. - - Oft when a poet’s rhymes I read, - With ornate language wrought, - Its cadences, though sweet indeed, - But hide the lack of thought. - Be yours the poem that can stand - From trappings wholly free, - Each thought a Phryne, to be scanned - In fearless nudity. - - - - -IT WOULD BE EASY TO BE GOOD. - - - Who walks the paths of righteousness - Or follows ways of evil, - Who knows the joys that angels bless - Or sin’s insensate revel, - At last, too well has understood - Sin is not worth a feather.-- - It would be easy to be good, - If all were good together. - - Waiving the conscience we offend, - And weighing but the pleasure, - Though we all sinful joys might blend, - They make a sorry treasure. - The loftiest joys must be subdued, - The soul we fain must tether.-- - It would be easy to be good - If all were good together. - - Oh, would that man might give free scope - To every gentle feeling! - The soul would realize its hope - Its noblest side revealing. - - Would man might trust man’s brotherhood - In calm and stormy weather.-- - It would be easy to be good - If all were good together. - - If no one schemed to do a wrong, - No need for wrong were given; - If each his neighbor helped along, - This earth would be a heaven; - If men once met in rectitude, - Farewell, the regions nether.-- - It would be easy to be good, - If all were good together. - - - - -THE LITTLE TROOPER. - - - Swift troopers twain ride side by side - Throughout life’s long campaign. - They make a jest of all man’s pride, - And oh, the havoc! As they ride, - They cannot count their slain. - - The one is young and debonair, - And laughing swings his blade. - The zephyrs toss his golden hair, - His eyes are blue; he is so fair - He seems a masking maid. - - The other is a warrior grim, - Dark as a midnight storm. - There is no man can cope with him. - We shrink and tremble in each limb - Before his awful form. - - Yet though men fear the sombre foe - More than the gold-tressed youth, - The boy with every careless blow - More than the trooper grim lays low, - And causes earth more ruth. - - Keener his mocking sword doth prove - Than flame or winter’s breath. - Men bear his wounds to the realm above, - For the little trooper’s name is Love, - His comrade’s only Death. - - - - -CUPID’S DISGUISES. - - - Dan Cupid wears disguises. - We never see his form, - Till suddenly he surprises - And takes the heart by storm. - - He hides at times in the blushes - That tinge a cheek so fair, - Or oft in the moonlit hushes - In a sweet voice on the air. - - Sometimes he’s in the dancing - Of mirth in azure eyes, - Sometimes in the curve entrancing - Of lips that part in sighs. - - And sometimes in the glimmer - Of arm, rich lace beneath; - Sometimes in the tresses’ shimmer, - Sometimes in the peep of teeth. - - Oh, he’s a little bandit, - And bold as bold can be. - He leads us, single-handed, - Into captivity. - - For none is a match for Cupid. - He swifter is than thought. - The keenest mind is but stupid - When he begins to plot. - - - - -MUSIC. - - - Life hath such longings, bitter sweet, - And yet so few it satisfies - That man fain dreams life is complete - Only beyond the skies. - - And like the mystic cloud of fire - That guided Israel’s way by night, - Every unsatisfied desire - Leads man towards the right. - - Around him, mingling with the dust, - Youth’s pure ideals, shattered, lie; - Hope, virtue, charity and trust - Amid life’s deserts die. - - Fade aspirations, fades each dream - Of goodness, honor and renown. - Man floats on a polluted stream, - Which fain would drag him down. - - But music, like the nightingale - That sweetly sings in woodland brakes, - When hope and trust and virtue fail, - Man’s nobler nature wakes. - - Only in music doth man find - An echo of the dreams of youth, - When he saw gods among mankind, - In woman only truth. - - - - -BABY’S STOCKING. - - - Baby’s dainty little stocking - Hangs beside his wicker cot, - Darling mother’s wishes mocking - And the treasures she has brought. - - For it is so small that never - Gift can find a place inside. - Was there doting mother ever - So distressed at Christmas tide? - - Baby’s eyes are closed and dreaming - Of the gentle mother face; - Baby’s hands are clasped and seeming - Interlocked in fond embrace. - - Baby’s lips are softly smiling, - And the Rubicon of youth - He has passed, for lo! beguiling - Mother’s kisses, peeps a tooth. - - Naught for gifts is baby caring. - Santa Claus has many a gem, - But, God’s love and mother’s sharing, - Baby has no need of them. - - - - -MY DIVINITY. - - - I am a god; yes, I,-- - (Smile, if you will, at the claim) - Mote though I am in the ambient sky, - Housed, I confess, in putrescible frame, - Still, a divinity. - - My sceptre I claim, and, perchance, - My altars as well,--who knows? - You would prick my pride with your wit’s keen lance, - You know my radius. Well, suppose - You pipe, I dance. - - Am I the Primary Cause? - That’s my affair, not my creatures’. - Did I create nature’s adamant laws, - Or am I but one of her manifold features? - Fellow gods can pick flaws! - - But the little corpuscles of blood - I create by millions each hour, - Do you fancy the witless ephemeral brood, - As each lives its life, can my limits and power - Declare understood? - - Alone in the grey of my brain - I sit and my universe rule. - What can they know of their god, though they fain - Question, perhaps, each contemptible fool, - What joy is, why pain? - - Do they brag of their universe, boast, - Worsting some hostile bacillus, - Fight over their God, sect term other sect lost, - Read my ways or complain, “Why torment us and kill us?” - What fate has each ghost? - - Perfecting some large thought that may - Move the earth that I dwell on, - A million my creatures, remorseless, I slay. - Am I annoyed if they call me a felon! - It is I, or they. - - My work, for their sake, shall I cease, - My very nature disjoint? - Is there aught but destruction for all in such peace? - Must I miracle work for a microscope point,-- - Corpuscles to please? - - We are not one, we are twain, - Yet are we one and not two. - They are the universe, I am the brain, - In and about them, knit through and through,-- - Chords in one strain. - - In common we have, at least, this, - Creator and creature, that we - Must rise to the height of our powers, or miss - Life’s best for ourselves, and each other decree - Frustrate of bliss. - - * * * * * - - Is, now, this godhead of mine, - My limits, this difference vast - Between creature and maker, a symbol? In fine - Is mankind but a host of blood corpuscles, massed - Through the Divine? - - - - -THE SLEEPING SOUL. - - - Will ever thy soul awake, - Awake and come smiling to greet my own? - Will ever the love-light break - From thine eyes upon me, like the sun - On the billows that shoreward run, - Into foam by the winds of the ocean blown? - - To me seems thy pure soul sleeping. - Thou hast in thy heart a bird, - But its head is under its wing. - I watch it and think with weeping - How sweet a song it might sing; - Yet by love it is never stirred. - - Oft in the hush of a drowsy night - I dream that I hear that low bird voice - Lilting so merrily, - Singing so cheerily, - Bidding my heart to its depths rejoice; - But alas, takes flight - My dream before the dawn’s lance of light. - - Alas, it is not for me - To kiss thy soul, as the prince in story - Kissed the Sleeping Beauty’s lips, - And to a life-love waken thee. - Round thee there is a maiden glory - Fairer than circles the sun that dips - Into the sea while chill night comes creeping - Slowly, silently through the sky; - But as well might I - Reach out my hand to the sun and try - To make his glory my very own - As think to touch with my finger tips - Thy glorious beauty that shrinks from me. - - - - -THE MOTHER. - - - Down the bright pathway of life, where joy, like the throstle, was - singing, - She passed, like a sungleam at dawn, through mistlands of sorrows - and fears, - Seeking the soul of the babe at her bosom now nursing and clinging, - And stood in the valley of death, gloomed with the shadow of tears. - - Ghost glided past after ghost, and shook ghastly arms at the mortal - Who dared to the valley of pain go down for the winning of life. - Hour after hour trembled by, as we crouched in our woe at the portal, - Made strangers to her whom we loved by strangers who looked on her - strife. - - Angels spake hope to her there, as she stood in the vale of the shadow, - Demons snarled at her heels, she was haunted by visions abhorred; - But Love was a lamp to her feet as she passed through the woe-blossomed - meadow, - Seeking the soul of her child. She was brave, for her trust was - the Lord. - - Death turned his sword as she came, and she passed through the gateways - of heaven, - Treading the pavements of pearl and haloed with shimmering gleams, - On, till the veil hung between immortal and mortal was riven, - And she brought from the garden of God the blue-eyed flower of - her dreams. - - - - -PLUCK FLOWERS IN YOUTH. - - - Pluck flowers in youth, nor heed how old tongues prate; - Pluck flowers in youth, in age it is too late; - Pluck flowers when it is morn with flowers and you. - So soon they wither, do not hesitate, - Lest you should gather roses not, but rue. - Pluck flowers ere life grows cold and desolate, - And love turns hate. - - Pluck flowers in youth; age is the time for wheat; - To age not even the rose itself is sweet, - Pluck flowers, pluck flowers in youth, while faith is great, - Ere life and joy grow cankered with deceit. - Pluck flowers in youth; no sadder thought brings Fate - Than memory of scorned joys crushed by our feet - In flight too fleet. - - - - -O FOOLISH HEART. - - - O foolish heart, to flutter so - With hope and fear; - O treacherous blush, to come and go - When he is near; - Why do ye to the world reveal - The passion I would fain conceal? - - O ears, that love to hear him speak; - O downcast eyes, - Whose lashes droop upon each cheek, - Nor dare to rise; - Do ye not know she sees and hears - Fond looks and words that cost me tears? - - Be brave, mine heart, if he despise, - Give scorn for scorn; - Be deaf, mine ears, be blind, mine eyes,-- - Yet soul, why mourn? - Though she may claim him for her own, - My love, my love is mine alone. - - - - -MY HEART’S A MERRY ROVER. - - - My heart’s a merry rover, - Though innocent of wrong; - Forever beauty’s lover, - Yet never constant long. - - When coral lips are pouting, - Their smiling to disguise, - He kneels and loves, not doubting - They are his richest prize. - - Yet when, amid his dreaming, - He spies a bosom fair, - At once the rogue is scheming - To gain admittance there; - - Though should he see the tresses - That frame a pretty head, - His love and his caresses - He spends on them instead. - - Then, if bright eyes confuse him - With many a saucy stare, - The lips, the curls, the bosom - Must mourn their worshipper. - - And yet this merry rover - Is nothing if not true, - He’s but one maiden’s lover, - And, dearest, she is you. - - - - -THE CIGARETTE SMOKER. - - - Mark her as she stands, - Blue eyes bright, match alight, - Shielding with her hands - The growing flame, - Holding to her lips, where the bee, love, sips, - The fragrant pleasure of man’s leisure, - Cigarette by name. - - There! it makes her cough. - If she smoke, must she choke - When blue whirls come off? - Now she denies - The cigarette the bliss of her lips’ sweet kiss, - Holds it burning, to ash turning, - Till at last it dies. - - Thus she lit my heart, - By the fell magic spell - Of love’s witching art, - And just as I - Burned with passion’s fire, shrank from my desire, - Let my yearning and heart-burning - Into ashes die. - - - - -TAKE ME AS YOU FIND ME. - - - Take me as you find me, - Take me so, - Else from love unbind me, - Let me go. - - Two twin gifts God gave me, - Body and soul; - These shall lose or save me, - As years roll. - - I can never alter; - I must wend - Onward, thus, nor falter - To the end. - - If you love, then, love me, - Sweetheart, so - You’ll not look above me, - Nor below. - - - - -AT THE TRYST. - - - The evening stars are shining - Amid the gloom of air, - Like gold and jewels twining - Among thy golden hair. - - They guard the dawn’s shut portal - And count the moments fleet,-- - O maiden, we are mortal, - Why hasten not thy feet? - - The moonlight and the shadows - Are wooing by the stream, - And far across the meadows - Thy windows brightly gleam. - - My eager heart is beating - Beneath the trysting tree, - The evening hours are fleeting, - Why com’st thou not to me? - - - - -SONNETS IN CALIFORNIA. - -ON A FLASK OF WATER. - -_Taken from the Pacific at Santa Monica, Cal._ - - - From seas Alaskan, where, through sunless days, - The grinding ice floes cast a spectral glare, - I come to shores where, through the golden air, - Palms wave and bees dip in the orange sprays. - From shores Siberian, where the keen knout preys - On women, wan with torture and despair, - I come, a voiceless, palpitating prayer, - Where Freedom dwells, yet succor still delays. - - From far Cathay, the oldest land of lands, - A giant sunk in poppied, dreamful rest, - I come where earth’s great last-born nation stands, - Flower of the centuries, the titanic West. - I come where East and West stand face to face, - The childhood and the manhood of the race. - - -SPRING IN THE SOUTH. - - - Through the quaint southern winter without snow, - Without an icy blast or chilling air, - When the broad mesas arid lie and bare, - The Ishmael cactus and the sage brush grow. - - The golden orange bends the lithe branch low, - The sunflowers throng the by-ways everywhere, - Palms wave, birds sing. The earth lies free of care, - Basking in skies one golden, cloudless glow. - - Then come the rains, and in their cortege bring - Streams to the canyons, and to ranch and glen - Wild flowers and orange blossoms, wherein rides - The bee on golden zephyrs. Swiftly then, - Like wind-blown fire, up the Sierra sides - A blaze of poppies runs, and it is Spring. - - -A WINTER DAY. - -_In the Sierras._ - - - O’er the Sierras scarce the moon yestre’en - Was risen to flood each sombre peak with light, - Ere came a cloud host through the gusty night, - Storming the crags. Sheer canyon walls between - They swept, and hid bare ledge and living green. - Hoarse thunder pealed from unseen height to height, - As though the vast hills boasted of their might, - Though Chaos’ self upon them seemed to lean. - - Dawn drew aside night’s veil of mist, and came - Across the hills. The clouds retired, and lo! - On every wind-swept crag, as Day looked forth, - Bright in the southern sunshine gleamed the snow, - A vision of the unforgotten North - ’Twixt golden skies and poppy fields aflame. - - -_In the Valley._ - - - Snow on the hills, but in the valley, flowers, - Poppies aflame and orange blooms, whose scent - With the faint odor of the snow is blent. - Snow on the peaks, but in the canyons, showers, - And torrents drinking strength from stormy hours. - The geese wheel seaward through the clouds half spent, - Fleeing the snow and screaming discontent, - But in the vale birds trill in blossomy bowers. - - Summer is in the vale, though in the heights - The bandit Winter lurks to seize his prey. - Still springs the grain, vines grow and fruit delights - Sun and soft winds through many a golden day - In many an Eden valley, nestling warm - Below the stern Sierras, wrapped in storm. - - - - -THE POOL OF SANT’ OLINE. - -_Sierra Madre, Cal._ - - - Ere yet the Spanish cavalier - For this new world set sail, - Ere yet the padres came anear - San Gabriel’s sunny vale, - Ere yet the thirst for gold drew men - Across the western hills, - I rippled down this rocky glen, - The happiest of rills. - - The shadows of the spreading oak - Oft lay upon my breast; - Oft through the brown madronas broke - The bear upon his quest. - Past starry yuccas, to my brink, - At many a crimson dawn, - The mountain lion came to drink, - And oft a timid fawn. - - The golden moments came and went - Of many a sunny year, - And still I rippled on, content - And solitary here. - At times a weary miner came - And quaffed my cooling stream, - At times I saw the camp-fire flame - Of hardy hunters gleam. - - Though oft I paused to hear some bird - Trill in the leaves above, - A maid I never saw nor heard, - Nor knew the name of love. - Oh, there was never rivulet - So merry in a glen; - But now I never can forget, - Nor merry be again. - - She came, in thoughtless, girlish mood, - The dizzy trail along. - Upon my ferny marge she stood - And listened to my song. - I saw her, and I leapt for glee - In many a lucent wave, - And when she stooped to drink from me, - My very heart I gave. - - She passed, and now no more I sing - Among the granite hills; - Instead, my ceaseless murmuring - The sombre canyon fills. - Oh! ye to whom that maid divine - Hath also heartless been, - Come join your mournful plaint with mine, - The pool of Sant’ Oline. - - - - -WINTER IN THE SOUTH. - - - At home the blossoms are asleep - Beside the frost-bound rills; - At home the snow is drifting deep - Upon the windy hills; - At home the ice king mocks the sun, - The woods are drear and bare, - And of the birds there is not one - Left singing anywhere. - - But here the fields are green with grain, - The mesas bright with flowers. - The birds repeat each dulcet strain - They learned in Eden’s bowers. - ’Midst ripening fruit, the orange trees - Have mingled odorous blooms, - And here and there the eager bees - Hum through the golden glooms. - - The swart Sierras, crowned with snow, - Stand knee deep in the green, - Like patriarchs smiling as they go - Blithe groups of youth between. - Behind them is the burning sand - Of the Mojave[A] waste; - Before, the warm Pacific strand, - By golden seas embraced. - - When in the palm tree’s shade I rest - Through a many a perfect day, - My heart would fain forget life’s quest, - And live in dreams alway; - But when upon the snow-clad hills - Mine eyes again look forth, - I wake. Thy spell my bosom thrills, - Stern homeland in the north! - - Give me the seasons of the year, - The bursting of the leaf, - The northern summer brief but dear, - And autumn’s golden sheaf. - Give me the wintry moon’s pale gleam, - With snow and storm at strife. - The south is a bewitching dream, - But in the north is life. - - - - -THE KINDERGARTEN. - - - O blossoming lives that to the fruits - Now ripened for the gathering in, - Speak of old days, ere life’s pursuits - Touched the new soul with taint of sin, - - We who now watch you at your game, - We, weary of the toil and strife, - Must envy you your scorn of fame, - Your eager, loving trust in life. - - Perchance, the babe that, thoughtless, piles - His blocks unsteadily in air, - May yet a minster build, whose aisles - Shall echo to a nation’s prayer. - - Perchance, the child that scarce can tell - The letters on his cubes of wood, - May yet with a poetic spell - Charm and uplift the multitude. - - They question not, they only live - To pluck the blossoms of each hour. - Ambition frets them not, they give - No thought to pomp or place or power. - - We too have toys, and we pursue - Our trivial aims; we rage and sigh - Because our blocks are built askew, - And our best hopes in ruins lie. - - Yet over us, as over these, - A teacher watches, true and kind, - Striving to guide our fantasies, - And patient with the groping mind. - - From flower of wisdom unto flower - He leads us, as these babes are led, - Till chimes, at last, the closing hour, - The prizes won, the lessons said. - - And happy he who in this school - Of life, that fits the soul for death, - Has learned to serve as well as rule, - And speak for truth with every breath. - - - - -THE POET. - - - The budding flower that wakes at dewy morn - Attains perfection through the sun-swept day, - And poets, to life’s highest mission born, - By slow unfolding reach the perfect lay. - - And like the harp, attuned to every breeze, - That in the open casement sighs or sings, - The poet soul is void of melodies - Till unseen spirit fingers sweep the strings. - - Life, the magician, with his subtle powers, - Death, the dark helmsman over seas unknown, - Nature, all-mother, and the teaching hours - Through him their grand, mysterious chants intone. - - And oft his numbers falter, and his song - In discord breaks, ere he can hymn again - The anthems of the wondrous spirit throng, - And voice strange thoughts beyond our mortal ken. - - And oft the world and the world’s sins immesh - His soul, which still the pitying spirits calm; - And in the warfare between soul and flesh - His heart oft rises to the noblest psalm. - - But should he cease to wage the upward strife, - Or thrall himself a slave to evil’s power, - Too proud the Muse to bless a craven life, - Too pure, a sinful heart with song to dower. - - For the true poet, throwing down his gage - To fate, fights upwards far beyond life’s mist, - And with the broadened vision of the sage - Beholds all earth by hope’s warm sungleams kissed. - - He learns that all who would be truly great - Mix with the battling world, nor shirk their part, - But take such trials as are given by Fate - And set them to sweet music by their art. - - He only is a poet who can find - In sorrow, happiness, in darkness, light, - Love everywhere, and lead his fellow kind - By flowery paths towards life’s sunny height. - - - - -GOLD TRESSES. - - - My love is now a woman grown. - About her shoulders fall no more - Her locks, in beauty all their own. - Their days of liberty are o’er. - - No longer may, with soft caress, - The zephyr’s unseen hand uplift - Each net-like, golden-threaded tress - To catch the sunlight’s moted drift. - - I know each tress, and have a name - Whereby my memory holds it dear, - From that which is her forehead’s frame - To that which hides her shelly ear. - - And one there is I loved to touch, - On which my heart first suffered wreck, - That sometimes fell aside too much - And showed the ivory of her neck. - - And though ’tis bound upon her head - And all its beauty hid from me, - Still other charms I see instead, - And still am in captivity. - - I see the grace of neck and ear - Unveiled, that erst beneath the tress - But peeped, as pearly sea shells peer - Through ocean’s weedy wilderness. - - Ye captive tresses that disdained - My love, and wantoned in the wind, - I know your grief, for I was chained - Her slave ere ye were thus confined. - - She hath but gloried in our love, - And laughs to find us strain our gyves. - Come, let us slaves unite and prove - That power to break her bond survives. - - Aid me with love her heart to chain, - And soon, when she and I are wed, - My hands shall set ye free again - To wanton sweetly round her head. - - - - -EN ROUTE. - - - By town and hamlet, field and wood, - Past glimpses of empurpled hills, - O’er many a broad, sun-smitten flood - And many a myriad tinkling rills, - The train swings on and brings us twain - Each minute nearer by a mile, - While I to chafe at time am fain, - Which holds me sundered from thy smile. - - I see among the emerald trees - Embowered, the village church spires gleam; - I see white homestead front the breeze, - And of our own sweet home I dream; - While still the fleet train brings us twain - Each minute nearer by a mile, - And fewer moments yet remain - To hold me sundered from thy smile. - - The wheat fields shimmer in the sun, - Sleek cattle in the meadows browse, - Nor lift their heads, as past we run, - The lithe-limbed steeds and patient cows. - And still the fleet train brings us twain - Each minute nearer by a mile, - Till scarce a moment doth remain - To hold me sundered from thy smile. - - Onward we sweep, yet all our speed - Leaves not pursuing night behind; - Stars sparkle in the sky’s broad mead, - And homeward plods the weary hind; - And still the fleet train brings us twain - Each minute nearer by a mile, - Until my heart is home again - And I am basking in thy smile. - - - - -AT DAWN. - - - At dawn of day a shaft of light - Pierces the sable breast of night, - Which, dropping many a sable plume, - Flits far into the nether gloom, - All silently. - - At dawn of day the sun’s first beam - Dispels the mist that hides the stream, - And scatters from the hill and wood - The clouds that there did sit and brood, - Formless and grey. - - And when the night from earth is driven, - And clouds and mist have fled from heaven, - The waking birds take eager flight - Up through the golden rain of light, - With happy song. - - Into my life, that knew no day, - A maiden winged a kindly ray, - And, flying wearily and slow, - Far fled the sombre bird of woe - I harbored long. - - My heart no longer pined in night, - The mists that hid hope’s stream took flight, - Life’s hills a sunnier aspect took, - And I found many a pleasant nook - Within life’s grove. - - And now my thoughts, like birds, arise, - Singing, towards the golden skies, - Afar from earthly doubt and strife, - Through the pure radiance of her life, - On wings of love. - - - - -MY STAR. - - - There is a star in the pure ether high, - My other home it is, - Whereto, when sorrow threatens me, I fly, - And in my flight towards the vaulted sky - The hated sorrows roll - Down from my fleet-winged soul, - As from the sea gull’s circling form the spray - Drops to the storm-vext bay - Its pinions erst did kiss. - - Well said the Seer, that overstudy brought - A weariness of the flesh; - And oft my brain, worn with its overthought, - Watches the night steal past, while sleep comes not. - Then doth my star arise - Slowly before my eyes, - Steady, serene and cold, yet heavenly bright, - And, while my grief takes flight, - Binds all my thoughts in leash. - - No longer fear and discontent combine - To make my future drear, - For I arise and from that star of mine - Look down and see our small earth dimly shine; - And all life’s joy and pain - Their proper worth obtain, - And I to smile at all past fears begin, - For earth’s discordant din - Is stilled, and God I hear. - - - - -TO A PICTURE. - - - O stately head, O rippling grace - Of tresses flowing free, - O dark-eyed, queenly, thoughtful face, - Awake and comfort me. - - Since love can thrill with noble zeal - The meanest of us all, - It may thy glorious form reveal, - Thy tender soul recall. - - Then come thou from thy gilded cage - And nestle by my side, - And I will be thy faithful page, - If thou wilt be my bride. - - Come, trustful eyes, and trust in me, - O sweet one, heed my cry; - Speak sad, sweet mouth, I wait for thee - To bid me live or die. - - Tell me no artist’s god-like mind - To thy fair face gave birth, - But that his vision I may find - Alive upon this earth. - - And I will seek her far and wide, - In palace and in cot, - And love shall once more conquer pride, - And she shall share my lot. - - - - -THE POET AND HIS RHYMES. - - - Whoever reads a poet’s rhyme - To find the poet there, - Might equally essay to climb - To castles in the air. - - He lives not in reality, - Or rather, lives too much. - He makes a forest of a tree, - A palace of a hutch. - - To-day a transient pang appears - His life’s eternal sorrow, - But he is laughing through his tears - And full of joy to-morrow. - - For if there’s oft a germ of truth, - The flower is fancy’s own. - ’Tis the world’s heart he shows, in sooth, - And his is still unknown. - - And sometimes in his happiest days, - Without excuse or cause, - He pens the mournfullest of lays, - To win the world’s applause. - - And from the saddest heart, at times, - The merriest stanzas flow. - Friend, think not by the poet’s rhymes - The poet’s heart to know. - - - - -TO AN INFANT. - - - O little one, new born, - I would I were like thee; - Then were this whole world’s scorn - And praise alike to me. - - Then would I look on life - As do thine azure eyes, - And know how vain its strife, - How paltry what we prize. - - Tradition cannot claim - Dominion over thee, - Nor fear the pinions maim - Of thy young soul and free. - - All things to thee are new. - Thy mind runs in no groove. - Thou dost both false and true - Question alike, and prove. - - Thou art no shadowy soul, - But the incarnate “I”, - And thou wilt reach thy goal, - Or failing, thou wouldst die. - - Indomitable will - That makes us all obey,-- - If I were childlike still, - I were more man to-day. - - - - -TO SCOTLAND. - - - Miles upon miles of ocean - ’Twixt Scotland roll and me. - Its hills and dales I have not seen, - And scarce expect to see. - The homestead of my fathers - The keen ploughshare has torn, - And where the hearth once welcomed all - Waves now the golden corn. - - Oh, Canada, my country, - My love for thee is deep, - Yet I fain would see the old church-yard - Where my forefathers sleep. - And fondly, ever fondly, - My heart in secret yearns, - That its songs may find a welcome - In the bonnie land of Burns. - - Upon the Scottish heather - I opened not my eyes, - I cannot speak the sweet Scotch tongue, - Remote my pathway lies; - Yet Scotland, mother Scotland, - Though fate us twain may part, - I claim my heritage of thee, - For I have the Scottish heart. - - - - -ROSINA VOKES. - - - The years may come, the years may go, - And many a song be sung - Across the footlight’s golden glow - By many a silvery tongue, - But though new divas charm the ear, - Still memory shall recall - One song we nevermore shall hear: - “His ’art was true to Poll.” - - For who that hath the singer’s heart - Will care to sing that song - To those whom She, with witching art, - Had held in thrall so long? - Let other songs our pulses stir, - Delight us with them all, - But leave unsung for sake of her - “His ’art was true to Poll.” - - Time was when every heart beat high, - Each lip was wreathed in smiles - To hear her sing that melody - With all her witching wiles; - But now, ’twould be no song of mirth, - ’Twould bid the sad tears fall, - For though She dwells no more on earth, - Our ’arts are true to Poll. - - - - -A LITTLE MAID. - - - I know a maid beyond compare - For virtue sweet and beauty rare. - Her eyes are turquoise and her hair - Is sunlight netted. - - She has her lovers, great and small, - The quiet student, wise and tall, - The child that hugs its battered doll,-- - By them she’s petted. - - Her heart seems ever warm and gay, - In smiles and kindly words, each day, - She scatters round her on life’s way - Love beyond measure. - - The wild flowers, as she passes by, - Bloom sweeter for her being nigh; - The bird that mounts into the sky - Sings for her pleasure. - - Her sorrows she is wont to hide, - Her joys she shares on every side; - She is her doting mother’s pride, - Her father’s jewel. - - If we, who style this world so bad, - But strove, like her, to make it glad, - Life then would seem by far less sad, - Nor half so cruel. - - - - -SAMSON AND DELILAH. - - - Thou art o’erbold, Delilah, thus to try - Thy traitorous arts upon a soul like mine, - And lure me to eternal slavery - With glances warm like wine. - - One clasp of my strong hands at will could break - Thy tender body, like a fragile flower. - How darest thou prey of my heart to make, - And plot against my power? - - Hast thou no fear the brute in me will rise, - Wrathful, and tear thy shapely limbs apart, - And dull the jewelled lustre of thine eyes, - And still thy faithless heart? - - Why dost thou let me look upon thy face, - And see myself embowered in thine eyes, - And every curve of thy lithe figure trace - Beneath thy robe’s disguise. - - What harm have I wrought thee that thou shouldst stand - And menace all my life with one great woe? - Thou hast me in the hollow of thy hand-- - Take me or let me go! - - - - -MY LADY’S BONNET. - - - My lady has a stylish bonnet, - Bedecked with ribands, gay and bright, - And with a song bird perched upon it, - With tiny wings outspread for flight. - - Its little beak is opened wide, - As though in its most joyous trill - The harmless thing had suddenly died. - One waits to hear it carol still. - - My lady has a tender heart, - She feeds the poor, instructs the young, - At tale of woe her tears will start, - And words of kindness throng her tongue. - - My lady’s eyes are full of glee, - But cloud and with just anger flash - If in her walk she chance to see - Some poor beast cringe beneath the lash. - - My lady has a stylish bonnet, - Bedecked with ribands gay and bright, - But with a slaughtered bird upon it.-- - My gentle lady, is this right? - - - - -FLOWERS AND FEARS. - - - She had been in the fields at play - Through golden summer hours, - And brought with her, at close of day, - A cluster of wild flowers. - - And when she slept, we went to see - The little one at rest, - Our own sweet flower, and there, ah, me! - The flowers lay on her breast. - - Her little brow was smooth and white, - Her merry eyes were closed, - She smiled, as though some heavenly sprite - Whispered as she reposed. - - She looked so pure, so white, so fair - Below the ominous flowers, - She seemed a blossom plucked from care - To bloom in heavenly bowers. - - And oh, the whelming flood of pain, - The sudden sense of dearth! - We kissed her o’er and o’er again, - And brought her back to earth. - - - - -THE ROSEBUD. - - - In my garden a rosebud is growing, is growing, - So fast, ’twill be blossoming soon. - Around it the zephyrs are balmily blowing, - The sweet scented zephyrs of June, - Of June, - The odorous zephyrs of June. - - My love shall watch o’er, and protect, and protect it, - While shyly its petals unfold. - The bees shall not rob nor the canker affect it, - Nor night make it tremble with cold, - With cold, - Nor night make it shudder with cold. - - And when it is blown, I’ll bear it, I’ll bear it - To her whom I worship alone. - On her beauteous bosom she’ll lay it and wear it - And rival its charms by her own, - Her own, - And shame all its grace by her own. - - - - -NIL DESPERANDUM. - - - Life with life is woven in. - Neither sorrow nor delight, - Neither nobleness nor sin, - Known to one - But falls upon - All men with its grace or blight. - - He who sinks into despair, - He who from his task recoils, - Makes his fellow-laborers bear - On life’s road - A heavier load. - Some one for each sluggard toils. - - What though failure crown our task! - ’Tis the portal to success. - Often Fortune wears a mask. - Face the strife - And live your life; - Be no coward in distress! - - - - -FLESH AND SPIRIT. - - - Say what you will, - If love would have its fill, - Though it may feed long on the one dear face, - It never is content, save in embrace. - - Say what you will, - Though passion have its fill, - It never is content, nor has delight, - If love come not to sanctify the rite. - - Harmonious flesh and spirit, - These only shall inherit - The joys of earth, and in the dread To Be - Not death itself shall break that unity. - - Woe to the narrow heart - Would strive these twain to part; - Look down the ages, through the world’s mad din, - This is the one unpardonable sin. - - - - -IN CHURCH. - - - I never feel so near to God and heaven - As when I kneel in worship at thy side, - And hear thy humble prayer to be forgiven - For sake of Him who for our saving died. - - And though I do not mingle with thy prayer - Plea of my own, but, silent, bow my head, - So close our souls are knit, I seem to share - The bounteous blessings God on thee doth shed. - - I hear the choir their joyous praises singing, - But not their voices soften my flint heart; - Thine only in my inmost soul is ringing, - Bidding peace enter, grief and sin depart. - - And as the music through my pulse is stealing, - The rampart of my pride a ruin falls, - Even as of old the Jewish trumpets’ pealing - Shook down of haughty Jericho the walls. - - - - -SUCCOR THE CHILDREN. - - - Wan hands that never grasped a flower, - Ears stranger to the wild bird’s song, - To rule, where shall they find the power? - How wage life’s battle, right the wrong? - - When the great hour of duty comes, - How shall they meet the mighty toil, - Whose blood is tainted by the slums, - Whose ears know but the street’s turmoil? - - Succor the children of the street, - And teach them in the fields to play, - Nor let them in the stifling heat - Of crowded cities fade away; - - That, when we drop the thread of life - And, dreamless, sleep beneath the sod, - They may be ready for the strife - That brings this planet nearer God. - - - - -THE SUNSET LESSON. - - - I watched the sun one summer eve - Sink slowly in the west, - And the quiet sea and fleecy clouds - In rosy robes were dressed. - - I saw the evening glide away, - Yet still the sea and sky, - As faint the star-zoned twilight grew, - Were full of majesty. - - And as, upon the breezy hill, - I turned to sky and sea, - Methought that nature spake and bade - My spirit guileless be, - - That, as the deepening shades of age - Close round me, like the night, - The memory of my past might still - Life’s evening gild with light. - - - - -AS FROM THE NECTAR-LADEN LILY. - - - As from the nectar-laden - Lily the wild bee sips, - A British queen, sweet maiden, - Drained with her loving lips - The poison that was filling - Her husband’s veins with death, - Her love with new life thrilling - His heart with each drawn breath. - - Not less thy love, sweet maiden, - Nor less thy bravery, - For when I came, o’erladen - With poisoned hopes, to thee, - With smiles and shy caresses - The venom thou didst drain, - And, healing my distresses, - Didst give new life again. - - - - -MUMMY THOUGHTS. - - - Once those who sought for relics of the past - Stumbled by chance on an Etrurian tomb, - And saw a monarch sitting in the gloom, - Sceptred and crowned. Their eager hearts beat fast, - And on the masonry themselves they cast, - To seize the wonder. As, throughout the room, - The axe stroke rang, it knelled the monarch’s doom. - He fell to dust, and left them all aghast. - - So, oft while searching through the realms of mind, - I have discovered many a kingly thought, - In solitary grandeur throned and crowned, - And striven to bear it forth, only to find - That, when the first stroke of my pen did sound, - It fell to dust, and lo! I had it not. - - - - -TO CERTAIN NATURE POETS. - - - Friends,--such I call ye, for it is not meet - To hail ye brethren in the tuneful art, - Since I but falter, though of earnest heart,-- - Friends, I have thought, reading your measures sweet, - Your verses, though with many a charm replete, - Were bettered did they some high thought impart, - Or in man’s conscience plant a sudden dart. - Why proffer roses when the world craves wheat? - - Who paints a picture hath ill done his task, - If he show not the soul in that he paints. - Why give to mere description all your lays - While what the eye beholds is but a mask - To some grand truth the poet’s hand should raise, - Revealing that for which man’s spirit faints. - - - - -THE PATRIARCH’S DEATH. - - - The birds that twitter in the budding trees - And build their nests in some umbrageous grove, - Through early summer guard the young they love, - And fill the air with tuneful melodies. - Then, as the fledgelings wake from dreamful ease, - Eager throughout the unknown world to rove, - The parents teach them their new strength to prove, - And beat with fearless wings the summer breeze. - - And then the nest sways empty on the bough. - The parents, weary, although sweet the task, - Take flight to other haunts, to rest from care. - The fledgelings in the glowing sunbeams bask, - Living their life. So is it everywhere,-- - The patriarch dies; he is but resting now. - - - - -OH, WERE IT NOT. - - - Oh, were it not for one fair face, - One angel voice, one loving smile, - The world would be a dreary place, - And life to me not worth the while. - - Methinks the sun shines but to show - How wondrous fair the maiden is; - Methinks the warm winds only blow - That they may kiss her draperies. - - I know the roses bloom that they - May live an hour upon her breast; - I know that I would willingly - Share their brief life to share their nest. - - - - -FAREWELL. - - - When the heart speaks, the lips are still, - And if I cannot say farewell, - ’Tis that a thousand yearnings thrill - My heart, and hold my lips in spell. - - Let thine own heart the thoughts express - My lips would speak. Yet why repine? - I knew thee, and, at least, can bless - Thy life, though sundered far from mine. - - - - -THE TIDE. - - - Twice in the day a mighty tide there rolls - Throughout our city streets, - A limitless, deep sea of human souls, - Each wave, a heart that beats. - - Ah, me! what various ships are drifting there, - Upon that living sea; - What guile and innocence, what joy, what care, - What utter misery! - - At morn it ebbs far from home’s golden shore - Into the sea of life, - Where its dark billows meet and foam and roar - In never-ending strife. - - At night it flows, far from the mart’s turmoil, - Backward upon its way, - Where wives and children bring sweet rest from toil, - Till dawns another day. - - From year to year ’tis thus these waters move, - Life’s duties to fulfill; - Obedient to the silvery moon of love, - That rules them at its will. - - - - -MY COMRADE. - - - Could I have had you made a boy, - And both be young through life, - Methinks I might forgo the joy - Of calling you my wife. - - For sweet as is the kiss of love - And all our converse staid, - Still dearer to our hearts doth prove - Some wayward escapade. - - When from behind your glistening foil - You dare me to the fray, - From sober spousehood I recoil; - It is “en garde” straightway. - - And when we urge our light canoe - Upon some sparkling tide, - More prone am I to think of you - As comrade than as bride. - - Ah, were you but a youth, like me, - Who could, unawed, recline - By huge camp fire, beneath some tree, - Upon a couch of pine; - - And could you press through marsh and brake - And thrive on hunter’s food, - What sweet excursions we might make - To nature’s solitude! - - Yet if you were a youth, some maid - Might lure you from my side, - So I shall wish you still, comrade, - My dainty, fair-haired bride. - - - - -MY GIFT. - - - I bring a gift that all may bring, - So common ’tis to human kind; - And yet it is so rare, a king - His crown for it had well resigned. - - It is a gift gold cannot buy, - And one which never can be sold; - A gift no mortal can deny, - And one that fades not, nor grows old. - - And while I would not have it spurned, - Such is my heart’s perversity, - Unless I know my gift returned, - Life hath no joy in store for me. - - - - -HAMLIN’S MILL. - - - Brightly the sun that summer day - Upon the charming scene was shining, - And warm the thrifty village lay, - Amid its silent fields reclining. - The river, like a silver thread, - Wound round the hazy, shimmering hill, - Till, plunging o’er the dam, it fled - In eddies down to Hamlin’s Mill. - - Along the pathway, through the grove, - Beneath the shady trees, we hurried. - The birds were twittering above, - While in and out the squirrels scurried. - We took the narrow road which wound - Through clearings that were smoking still; - And soon our merry chat was drowned - Amidst the noise at Hamlin’s Mill. - - We stood within the sunlit room - And watched the busy bobbins turning; - Then gathered round a jangling loom, - The flying shuttle’s secret learning. - Across the mossy flume we crept, - Whose leaky sides their burden spill, - And stood beside the pond, where slept - The giant power of Hamlin’s Mill. - - Beside the ceaseless loom of fate - We stand and watch what it is weaving. - The warp is spun of love and hate, - The woof of merriment and grieving. - But far beyond earth’s noise and dust, - There rules the one stupendous Will, - The power in which His creatures trust, - As in the mill-pond Hamlin’s Mill. - - - - -A BALLADE OF JOY. - - - Dear one, who wast chosen, ere time was made, - The heart of my heart and my wife to be; - Who cam’st, with the gifts of the gods arrayed, - To lighten the labors of life for me; - Ere yet I had looked on the face of thee, - My soul dreamed dreams and awoke and said: - “None other is worthier love than she, - And earth shall be heaven when we are wed.” - - But woe as a burden on man is laid, - And the soul finds its vision not readily. - Between us came many a mocking shade, - That smiled with the smile of my fantasy, - And I thought, can it be I have met with thee? - Then the arrows of truth through the false were sped, - And I heard thy soul murmuring cheeringly, - “The earth shall be heaven when we are wed.” - - Like streams in the hollows of hills that played, - Though sundered by league upon league they be, - That, slipping through tangles of sun and shade, - Meet, mingle and flow to the shoreless sea, - At last my soul met with the soul of thee, - And woes fell from me as leaves fall dead - When winds have wakened the sleeping tree, - And earth became heaven when we were wed. - - -ENVOI. - - And now, though years like the birds may flee, - And death draw nigh us with noiseless tread, - I reek not how soon may the summons be, - For earth became heaven when we were wed. - - - - -REMEMBRANCE. - -(_From the German of Fredrich Matthison._) - - - I think of thee - When through the brake - The nightingales sweet music make. - When dost thou think of me? - - I think of thee - By the shady well, - Under the twilight’s glimmering spell. - Where dost thou think of me? - - I think of thee - With pleasant pain, - With yearning, while the hot tears rain. - How dost thou think of me? - - Oh, think of me - Till in some star - We meet again. However far, - I think of none but thee. - - - - -THE GLOVE. - - - A narrow glen with winding sides, - Bestrewn with rocks and gloomed with trees, - Grey, rolling clouds, chased by the breeze, - A stream, which through the valley glides. - - Among the trees that climb the hill - The eager squirrels scold the crows, - And sharply sound the sudden blows - Of some woodpecker’s greedy bill. - - The blood root, crouching in the grass, - From its protecting broad leaf peers; - The horse tails shake aloft their spears, - Like foemen, at us as we pass. - - Here wandering with a friend I love, - Our speech with sparrow-chatter drowned, - He in the little valley found - An early violet, I a glove. - - The flower grew beside a stone, - And shyly peered above the sod, - While, distant from it not a rod, - The dainty glove lay all alone. - - Some child had drawn it from her hand - To dabble in the sunny spring, - And then, the thoughtless little thing, - Had left it lying on the rand. - - And as I saw the symbols there - Of budding life and blossoming spring, - Arose and from my heart took wing - To heaven a brief and heartfelt prayer: - - O little child, whoe’er thou art, - And in whatever station set, - Be modest, like the violet, - And act in life an earnest part, - - That, as the streamlet by the sun - Is gently lifted to the skies, - Thy soul may unto heaven arise - Whene’er its earthly course is run. - - - - -THE MAGIC BOW. - -(_From the French of Charles Cros._) - - - Rippling low to her dainty feet, - Tress with tress did mingle and meet, - Yellow as ripening August wheat. - - Her voice had an eerie melody, - Like that of an angel or a fay. - Beneath dusk lashes her eyes shone gray. - - He by no rival swain set store, - As valleys through, or mountains o’er, - The maid upon his steed he bore. - - For all the land had held not one - That she in her pride would look upon - To the day she met him, and was undone. - - Love did her fond heart so enchain - That when her lover smiled disdain, - She to sicken and die was fain. - - As she lay dying on his arm, - She said, “Bind thy bow with my locks, to charm - The maid to whom thy heart grows warm.” - - One long, wild kiss, and the maid was dead. - The shimmering aureole round her head - He bound to his bow, as she had said. - - Then as a blind man mournfully - Sweeps his Cremona, so did he, - And went forth, seeking charity. - - And all were thrilled with ecstasy, - For the dead lived within the lay, - And with her songs all hearts did sway. - - The king showered honors on his head; - The dark-eyed queen, to honor dead, - With him by moonlight swiftly fled. - - But when, to please her, he essayed - To play, no more the bow obeyed, - But mournfully did him upbraid. - - And at its plaint the sinful twain - In mid-flight by remorse were slain, - And the dead had her pledge again. - - Her locks that to her dainty feet - Rippling low, did mingle and meet, - Yellow as ripening August wheat. - - - - -AT THE SEASIDE. - - - O sun, with thy ardent glance, - Thou hast made my darling flush! - But the swarthier tints enhance - The charms of her modest blush. - Thou hast lent thy warmth and light - To the gleam of her melting eyes, - Till a glance in their depths so bright - Seems a peep into Paradise. - - O sea, with thy great white arms, - Thou hast stolen my love from me! - Thou hast clasped to thy breast her charms; - She has rested her head on thee. - Thou hast tangled her silken hair, - And kissed her face and her lips-- - Ah! Love, he is false! Beware - Of that spoiler of men and ships! - - - - -THE ORPHANS. - - - Shall walls have pity and man’s heart have none? - Shall walls protect and man refuse to aid? - At Christmas, when our children are arrayed - In furs, shall orphans crouch behind a stone - To hide them from the storm? Is there not one - Will see the outstretched hand of that frail maid, - To whom the baby brother clings, afraid? - Will no ear heed when hunger makes its moan? - - No father’s arm about their forms is thrown - To shield them from distress, no mother’s love - Draws them within the shelter of her breast. - Those tender souls must front the world alone; - But, if Christ came not vainly from above, - Some noble heart will aid them, thus distressed. - - - - -ALADDIN’S LAMP. - - - Aladdin’s lamp of Eastern tale, - Which claimed my simple faith in youth, - Its loss no longer I bewail, - But hold it mine in very truth. - - The geni waits but my command - To raise me, and, as swift as thought, - Bear me abroad, from land to land, - Wherever I would fain be brought. - - Amid the silent northern snows, - Or where Egyptian deserts burn, - Wherever man has been, he goes, - And tells me all I wish to learn. - - He tells me how the stars had birth, - And how their wondrous cycles run, - Or places me beyond the earth, - Unharmed, upon the giant sun. - - Through him I learn what Science knows, - How this vast universe began; - How life, from mean beginnings, rose - High as God’s noblest creature, man. - - On me dawns many a truth profound - About the swinging earth I tread, - That it is one vast burying ground, - The living living through the dead, - - That where once flowed the ocean’s tide, - Now stand the homes of countless souls; - That where once mountains rose in pride, - Billow on foaming billow rolls. - - The geni stems the flood of time, - And bears me almost to its source; - Then as we float, bids scenes sublime - And sad and happy shore our course. - - I see the tower of Babel rise, - With busy builders everywhere, - Up, ever up, towards the skies, - Spearing the azure depths of air. - - I hear a voice from out a cloud, - And see the workmen making signs,-- - How humble God can make the proud! - How easily mar man’s best designs! - - I see the wild Light Tresses fall - In cruel waves on fated Rome, - And in an emperor’s audience hall - I see the jackals make their home. - - Sleek monks I see within their cells, - And knights in burnished armor housed. - I hear the chime of marriage bells - For maids whom death hath long espoused. - - I hear the poet’s stirring strain, - That wins him immortality, - And weep with such as found with pain - Their idol but ignoble clay. - - Writ by the fearless Luther pen, - The words that stirred the world I see; - I hear the tramp of arméd men, - And know that thought, at last, is free. - - The joys and hopes, the griefs and fears, - Defeats and conquests of the race, - Through all the swift, eventful years, - The geni at my wish will trace. - - And though he builds no palace vast - For me, nor gives me queen for bride, - While I am free to all the past, - I ask from him no boon beside. - - - - -SONG. - - - When a maiden’s heart is tender, - And her soul as pure as snow; - When her eyes, with sunny splendor, - Set her countenance aglow; - When her every move discovers - Newer graces without end, - She can win a hundred lovers,-- - Yet may hunger for a friend. - - Pearly teeth and curly tresses, - Ruby lips, in smiles that part, - These will lure a man’s caresses, - Easily enslave his heart; - Yet, when all is said and over, - Even though souls in passion blend, - She has only one more lover, - And may hunger for a friend. - - Blind I am not, no, nor callous; - Beauty hath its charm for me. - Yet would I, beyond life’s shallows, - Push towards the depthless sea. - Friendship’s true, and Love’s a rover, - Love is selfish in the end. - Choose thee, Sweet, whatever lover, - Let me still remain thy friend. - - - - -QUATRAINS. - - -I. - - The oyster turns into a gem - The sand that chafes it long; - My woes, can I not banish them, - I round into a song. - - -II. - - Fear less the villain than the fool. - The villain may be read, - But heaven itself can set no rule - To judge an addled head. - - -III. - - Nurse thou no sorrow, only learn - All that it has to teach, - And lo, a glorious gem shall burn - Upon the brow of each. - - -IV. - - The bard alone immortal is; - In death he liveth still, - And, godlike, with a word of his - Makes deathless whom he will. - - -V. - - Would they but speak who proved but weak - To those who think self strong, - How they would cry, continually, - “Beware the first small wrong!” - - -VI. - -_To Felix Morris._ - - Twin arts are ours, to act and write, - And yours, perhaps, the greater is; - You bring the world before men’s sight, - I can but proffer fantasies. - - -VII. - - Flowers are earth’s resurrection, yet the rocks, - Ere raised in blossoms, first shall fall to dust. - Take comfort, then, O brother, when life mocks - Thine aspirations, as perforce life must. - - -VIII. - - Man loves the ideal and not the maid; - Her he but garlands with hopes and dreams, - And worships, not her in those wreaths arrayed, - But the vision of fancy that then she seems. - - -FOOTNOTE: - - [A] Pronounced Mohavy. - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Snowflake and Other Poems, by Arthur Weir - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOWFLAKE AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 53623-0.txt or 53623-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/2/53623/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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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/license - - -Title: The Snowflake and Other Poems - -Author: Arthur Weir - -Release Date: November 28, 2016 [EBook #53623] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOWFLAKE AND OTHER POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="337" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i"></a>{i}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii"></a>{ii}</span> </p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="cb"><i><span class="sans">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</span></i></p> - -<p class="c">————<br /> -<span class="smcap">FLEURS DE LYS, and OTHER POEMS</span><br /> -1887, <span class="smcap">E. M. Renouf, Montreal</span><br /> -————<br /> -<span class="smcap">THE ROMANCE OF SIR RICHARD, SONNETS, and OTHER POEMS</span><br /> -1890, <span class="smcap">W. Drysdale & Co., Montreal</span><br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii"></a>{iii}</span></p> - -<h1> -<small>THE SNOWFLAKE</small><br /> -<br /> -<small><small>AND</small></small><br /> -<br /> -O T H E R P O E M S</h1> - -<p class="cb">BY<br /> -<br /> -ARTHUR WEIR<br /> -<br /><br /><br /> -MONTREAL:<br /> -JOHN LOVELL & SON<br /> -1897 -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv"></a>{iv}</span></p> - -<p class="c">Copyrighted, 1896, by Arthur Weir, Montreal.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a>{v}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="font-size:80%;"> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SNOWFLAKE">THE SNOWFLAKE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MASQUE_OF_THE_YEAR">THE MASQUE OF THE YEAR</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_11">11</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MUSE_AND_THE_PEN">THE MUSE AND THE PEN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_21">21</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BEAVER_MEADOW">THE BEAVER MEADOW</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_27">27</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#VOYAGEUR_SONG">VOYAGEUR SONG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DEDICATORY_ODE">DEDICATORY ODE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ENTERING_PORT">ENTERING PORT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WILD_FLOWERS">WILD FLOWERS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DEDICATORY_BALLAD">DEDICATORY BALLAD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TIMOR_MORTIS_CONTURBAT_ME">TIMOR MORTIS CONTURBAT ME</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ON_NEW_YEARS_EVE">ON NEW YEAR’S EVE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_46">46</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_THE_CLOSING_HOURS">IN THE CLOSING HOURS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WHERE_HEAVEN_IS">WHERE HEAVEN IS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_51">51</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NEW_YEARS_EVE">NEW YEAR’S EVE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PEGASUS">PEGASUS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IT_WOULD_BE_EASY_TO_BE_GOOD">IT WOULD BE EASY TO BE GOOD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LITTLE_TROOPER">THE LITTLE TROOPER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CUPIDS_DISGUISES">CUPID’S DISGUISES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MUSIC">MUSIC</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BABYS_STOCKING">BABY’S STOCKING</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_65">65</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_DIVINITY">MY DIVINITY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SLEEPING_SOUL">THE SLEEPING SOUL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_69">69</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MOTHER">THE MOTHER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_71">71</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PLUCK_FLOWERS_IN_YOUTH">PLUCK FLOWERS IN YOUTH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_73">73</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#O_FOOLISH_HEART">O FOOLISH HEART</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_74">74</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_HEARTS_A_MERRY_ROVER">MY HEART’S A MERRY ROVER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_75">75</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_CIGARETTE_SMOKER">THE CIGARETTE SMOKER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TAKE_ME_AS_YOU_FIND_ME">TAKE ME AS YOU FIND ME</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_78">78</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_THE_TRYST">AT THE TRYST</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_79">79</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SONNETS_IN_CALIFORNIA">SONNETS IN CALIFORNIA</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_80">80</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_POOL_OF_SANT_OLINE">THE POOL OF SANT’ OLINE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_83">83</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WINTER_IN_THE_SOUTH">WINTER IN THE SOUTH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_85">85</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_KINDERGARTEN">THE KINDERGARTEN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_POET">THE POET</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi"></a>{vi}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_89">89</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GOLD_TRESSES">GOLD TRESSES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_91">91</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#EN_ROUTE">EN ROUTE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_93">93</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_DAWN">AT DAWN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_95">95</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_STAR">MY STAR</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_97">97</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_PICTURE">TO A PICTURE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_99">99</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_POET_AND_HIS_RHYMES">THE POET AND HIS RHYMES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_101">101</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_AN_INFANT">TO AN INFANT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_103">103</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_SCOTLAND">TO SCOTLAND</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ROSINA_VOKES">ROSINA VOKES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_LITTLE_MAID">A LITTLE MAID</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_107">107</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SAMSON_AND_DELILAH">SAMSON AND DELILAH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_109">109</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_LADYS_BONNET">MY LADY’S BONNET</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_110">110</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FLOWERS_AND_FEARS">FLOWERS AND FEARS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ROSEBUD">THE ROSEBUD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_112">112</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NIL_DESPERANDUM">NIL DESPERANDUM</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FLESH_AND_SPIRIT">FLESH AND SPIRIT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_CHURCH">IN CHURCH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SUCCOR_THE_CHILDREN">SUCCOR THE CHILDREN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SUNSET_LESSON">THE SUNSET LESSON</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AS_FROM_THE_NECTAR-LADEN_LILY">AS FROM THE NECTAR-LADEN LILY</a> </td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MUMMY_THOUGHTS">MUMMY THOUGHTS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_119">119</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_CERTAIN_NATURE_POETS">TO CERTAIN NATURE POETS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PATRIARCHS_DEATH">THE PATRIARCH’S DEATH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OH_WERE_IT_NOT">OH, WERE IT NOT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FAREWELL">FAREWELL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TIDE">THE TIDE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_COMRADE">MY COMRADE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_125">125</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_GIFT">MY GIFT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_127">127</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HAMLINS_MILL">HAMLIN’S MILL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_BALLADE_OF_JOY">A BALLADE OF JOY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#REMEMBRANCE">REMEMBRANCE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_132">132</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GLOVE">THE GLOVE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_133">133</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MAGIC_BOW">THE MAGIC BOW</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_135">135</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_THE_SEASIDE">AT THE SEASIDE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_137">137</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ORPHANS">THE ORPHANS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_138">138</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ALADDINS_LAMP">ALADDIN’S LAMP</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SONG">SONG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#QUATRAINS">QUATRAINS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_143">143</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vii" id="page_vii"></a>{vii}</span></p> - -<p class="cb"> -TO<br /> -<br /> -HUGH GRAHAM, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span>,<br /> -<br /> -TO WHOSE<br /> -<br /> -ENCOURAGEMENT, TASTE AND ENTERPRISE<br /> -<br /> -THE AUTHOR<br /> -<br /> -IS LARGELY INDEBTED<br /> -<br /> -FOR<br /> -<br /> -WHATEVER OF PUBLIC FAVOR HE ENJOYS,<br /> -<br /> -THIS VOLUME<br /> -<br /> -IS<br /> -<br /> -<span class="eng"><big>Gratefully Dedicated.</big></span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii"></a>{viii}</span></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="c">ERRATA (corrected in this etext)</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Page 23, Second verse, first line, for “And” read “As.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Page 24, Second verse, last line, for “Thinkest” read “think’st.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Page 27, Third verse, third line, last word, read “athirst.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Page 86, Second verse, second line, for “a many” read “many a.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">Page 44, for Conterbat, read “Conturbat” throughout.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1"></a>{1}</span></td></tr> -</table> - -<h1>T H E S N O W F L A K E<br /><br /> -<small>AND OTHER POEMS.</small></h1> - -<h2><a name="THE_SNOWFLAKE" id="THE_SNOWFLAKE"></a>THE SNOWFLAKE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fierce Neptune’s daughter, beneath the water,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In grottoes cool dwelt I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, laughing, hid in the seashell’s lid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As fishes arrowed by.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My feet were free to the undersea;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I played amidst its gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the deep where the mermaids weep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the hero’s tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the sea snake strips dainty maiden lips<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of kisses once so warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lifeless child, by the eddies wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is torn from the mother’s arm.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The foam-browed billow my head would pillow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon its bosom fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the restless sweep of the moon-led deep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Would drift us here and there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I oft would float in the dainty boat<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Nautilus oared for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out, far, far out, where a noisy rout<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of breakers leapt in glee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or further urge to the world’s dim verge,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where heaven meets the wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the seagull’s wing was the only thing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To follow us was brave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2"></a>{2}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then called by the blast, as it glided past,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I would turn and clap my hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the waves were tossed on the tropic coast,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And furrowed the silver sands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, with weedy locks, the bare limbed rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bend over the foaming sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I oft resorted, and, as I sported,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The sunbeams played with me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We would dance all day in the prismed spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or in the blossoms hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, trembling, clung to the crags and hung<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the boiling tide.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oftimes the cool, green depths of a pool<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Would lure me down to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the sunbeams came in a path of flame<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And found me in my nest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With colors gaily they decked me daily,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And tempted me to fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Afar from the foam of my ocean home<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Aloft in the cloudless sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I said them nay, for the leaping spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And cool, green depths of sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the flight of birds and the sunbeams’ words<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Were dearer far to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I had seen,” I said, “to the sky o’erhead<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My sisters, laughing, soar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a merry flight through the azure bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And never saw them more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love my home in the ocean foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love the moonlit sands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3"></a>{3}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I would sigh in the depths of sky<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And die in distant lands.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But who can prove to the plea of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unyielding and unkind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At love’s low call we hasten all,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like leaves at the voice of wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ere the moon at the night’s high noon<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Had twelve times orbed grown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart was stirred at a whispered word,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My soul was not mine own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lover was fair as the balmy air<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That follows after storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the careless sea, with a song of glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Trips over the shallows warm.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was the first through the gloom that burst<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To bring the dawn to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he was the last from my sight that passed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When darkness walked the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One shimmering day, as asleep I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon the tide-worn sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He stole apart, with an eager heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From all the sunny band.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He came to me, as I lay thought free,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And bent my couch above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while I slumbered, with words unnumbered,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He pleaded for my love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then as I woke at the words he spoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And rising turned to flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I was closely pressed to his ardent breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And kisses were rained on me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“My heart’s own dearest,” he cried, “why fearest<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou to take flight with me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there aught more fair than the realms of air<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In yonder sullen sea?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the sea-gull’s scream or the under gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of billows rushing by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More sweet to thee than the melody<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of larks in the azure sky?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, be thou my bride, and side by side<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We’ll float upon the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er river and town, o’er forest and down,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wherever we twain shall please.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll swim in the wine of the luscious vine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which brims the crystal high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when of her lover the fond words move her,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We’ll dance in the maiden’s eye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll scale vast mountains and o’er gay fountains<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hover in noon’s warm glare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when night lowers, shall sleep in flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That sway in the dewy air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shouldst thou tire, nor more desire<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The airy plains to roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But pine again for the leaping main<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the drench of flying foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We need but glide on the leaf-sown tide<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of some swift coursing stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To our home at last, and the happy past<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shall be but a varied dream.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I could but yield as he thus appealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And clasping hand in hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5"></a>{5}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a parting glance at the sea’s expanse,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dun rocks and silver strand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We mounted high in the glowing sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, leaving home behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fared swiftly forth to the distant north<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon the balmy wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er tangled brakes where the twilight makes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For evermore its home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the tiger sleeps and the cobra creeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And prowling jackals roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We floated fast, till the hills, at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To bar our path appeared,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a peak its forehead bleak<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And tawny flanks upreared.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er many a cleft in the rocks bereft<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of life and the sunlight’s sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild torrents were hurled to the under world,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wheeled the eagles keen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In faltering lines, the famished pines<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Pressed up the mountain sides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sang to the blast, as it hurried past,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The song of the ocean tides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I yearned once more for the tropic shore<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beside the emerald waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my sisters gay and the dashing spray<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And ocean’s weedy caves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On, on we went, till the distance lent<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The hills an azure hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the earth beneath was a naked heath<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where winds in anger blew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6"></a>{6}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">We saw the smoke like a wave that broke<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the homes of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the bowers of the meadow flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Took rest for flight again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A myriad sights were a thousand delights<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As on through space we sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the happy day soon faded away<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the sun in the west lay dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the shadows of death with their icy breath<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Drew ever more surely nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in frightened crowds the murky clouds<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Swept under the ebon sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Afar in the north a fire flamed forth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And flickered with ghastly light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a lamp that burns when a soul returns<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To God in the dead of night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gloom blotted the hills and the tinkling rills<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Were bound in frosty chains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the flowers once gay all lifeless lay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon the dreary plains.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no sound in the air around,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No voice upon earth below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save the angry beat of the wild winds’ feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That wandered to and fro.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a frenzy of fear, with many a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I clung to my darling’s breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the wintry night with its baleful light<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My timorous soul distressed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Beloved,” he cried, “sweet sea-nurtured bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My love brings sorrow to thee,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7"></a>{7}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I feel at my heart the pitiless dart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That Death has made keen for me.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cried, “There are caves in the amethyst waves<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wherein love may make life sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! haste and return, ere the elements stern<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Have beaten us under their feet.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no reply to my passionate cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No answering kiss to mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I felt in the storm from my trembling form<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My lover’s arms untwine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All heavy he grew, like a wounded sea mew<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That dies in the midmost air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fell without sound to the frosty ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And lay like a dead bird there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tresses of gold on his forehead cold<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I parted, and kissed his brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But his lips nor smiled at my fondling wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His eyes nor knew me now.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the icy blast, as it thundered past<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The hollow wherein he lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tore him apart from my anguished heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And carried him away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I heard the trees moan in an undertone<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the storm king struck them low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the river flood grew still as he stood<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And bade it cease to flow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no flower in that sad hour<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Had strength to lift its head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I was alone in a land unknown<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And mourned my love for dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in countless hosts, like white-robed ghosts,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My sisters lost drew near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hemmed me round, but they made no sound<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My breaking heart to cheer.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each wore a star that glittered afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Amid her flowing hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they went and came like the lightless flame<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That pierced the northern air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They floated high to the pitiless sky<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And gathered on the heath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till their myriad feet did mingle and meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And hide the earth beneath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And was it a dream that I should seem<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A snowy robe to don,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tread without pleasure their swift, weird measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the wintry wind piped on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Methought we flowed through that drear abode<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In sheets of spray and foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As erst with hope and mirth on the slope<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of waves in our ocean home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then many a day in a trance I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon the dreary plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, at last, I heard the pipe of a bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And my heart grew warm again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the bird’s sweet call through night’s thick pall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The faint sun peered and shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As of yore at home through the flying foam<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He looked from the gates of dawn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He looked and smiled, and the air, beguiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Grew warm and bright again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9"></a>{9}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my sisters all each to each did call,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As erst in the joyous main.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the leaping rills from the sunny hills<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That tinkle to the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They sang as they glanced in the sun and danced<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On the rivers rushing free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowers awoke from their sleep, and broke<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With many an emerald spear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And banner bright to the warm sunlight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through the leaves of the bygone year.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one with a crown of gold bent down<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And took me to its heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Poor waif of the storm,” it said, “grow warm<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And share of my joy a part.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the sky above there are many will love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A heart as pure as thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave grief with the past, like the shadow we cast<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As we hasten where sunbeams shine.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I dwelt in the bower of the generous flower<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For many a quiet day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, on soft winds blown, the seeds were sown;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And then I wandered away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sake of my love, the sun above<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upraised me to the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And east and west I went on my quest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But my dear one found not I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft I heard from brooks in shadowy nooks<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My sisters call to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To join their throng as they drifted along,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Seeking the distant sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10"></a>{10}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hearing their lays in the woodland ways<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through autumn’s golden air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A yearning came that I could not name,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Stronger than my despair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“If I must live on when my love is gone,”<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I murmured to my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Oh, let it be by the throbbing sea<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My sisters make their goal.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There let me rest like a child on the breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Close to its great warm heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till my sorrows cease and I am at peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O lover, where thou art.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I sought the brook, and the sky forsook,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And reached the sea at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In whose briny waves and weedy caves<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I brood upon the past.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11"></a>{11}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MASQUE_OF_THE_YEAR" id="THE_MASQUE_OF_THE_YEAR"></a>THE MASQUE OF THE YEAR.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>Time is discovered seated in the midst of a bevy of maidens, each of whom represents a month.</i>)</small></h2> - -<h3>TIME.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behold me, Time, inexorable Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Twin brother of Death. Like him all hearts I tame.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As babes with baubles play, so I with fame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I weigh all deeds, judge every poet’s rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sift heroes, smile at life’s quaint pantomime,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Put down the present great, and oft reclaim<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From sad oblivion some forgotten name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uplifting it to heights that are sublime.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sit, amid the months, upon my throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Waiting to greet the New Year drawing nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though it brings a destiny unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Naught need ye fear, since God is in the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fate is God’s choice; be therefore of good cheer.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let mirth and song welcome each new crowned year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>JANUARY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far have I come, out of darkness, from chaos,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The land of the future, dread realm unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Out of silence, alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have trodden the ice-fields of drear Baccalaos,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heard the grinding of bergs in the seas of the north<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As the gale urged them forth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12"></a>{12}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at midday have looked on the sun’s feeble glory<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a smile of disdain, for the warmth that he felt<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ne’er my bosom could melt.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death and stillness are mine, and, save wolves on a foray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All is still, all is shrouded, all Nature’s asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Under snow hidden deep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am the ruler of uncreate chaos,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Queen of absolute void, which life comes not anear—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">First month of the year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>FEBRUARY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of beginnings. I bear<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In my bosom the seed of all changes to come.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As yet I am dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Hope has been born in the breast of Despair.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The pine boughs stir under their burden of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As though promise they know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet the sun shines no stronger, there’s naught that foretells<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The coming of summer. No song of a bird<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the woodland is heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a sound, save the stroke of the axe, as it fells<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some wood king, whose form sinks beneath the keen blade,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a crash, through the glade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet the spirit of Nature’s awake, and the air<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thrills with love. I soothe grief with my wonderful balm,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Second month that I am.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<h3>MARCH.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of unrest and of yearning,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of wild and untamable hatred and love.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I glide through the grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calling on Summer, so slow in returning.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I seek for the fruit, bud, leaf, blossom and all.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When they heed not my call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winds I unleash, which, like hounds on the scent,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Give voice round the farmsteads, and course o’er the moors,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a hundred detours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they leap on the forests, whose branches are rent.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I heap up the snowdrifts, bind firmer the streams,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And defy the sun’s beams.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart throbs with hate, and all tenderness spurning,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With winter again I span heaven’s blue arch.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am passionate March.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>APRIL.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of transition. My breast<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heaves with sweet, delicate hope, that beguiles<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dreamy Earth into smiles.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through woodlands deserted I go on my quest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And summon the blood-root and shad-bush to flower<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though they fade in an hour.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I drop gentle rain on the faded, brown grasses,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And loosen the soil for all tender, green shoots,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To push up from their roots.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14"></a>{14}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I summon the birds, and where’er my foot passes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleeping Nature arouses itself at my call.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am helpful to all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While no ecstacy’s mine, I am never distressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But tranquilly wander, to fate reconciled.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am April, the mild.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>MAY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of gay Summer’s beginning,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When earth with its verdure smiles up at the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the mayflowers shy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sun-loving blossoms, their way to light winning<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through strewn leaves of autumn, mute emblems of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Perfume with their breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The zephyrs released from their fetters of frost.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The streams murmur cheerily under their banks<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their melodious thanks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sweet freedom regained, as they flow and are lost<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the broad, sunny river, that rushes along<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the sea, with a song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chill Winter’s forgot, with its woe and its sinning.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Youth leaps in my veins—I am young, I am gay—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am love-kindling May.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>JUNE.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of sweet, virginal joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When Earth, as the sun its first passion discloses,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blushes with roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all things are new, and nothing can cloy.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The birds, in a cloudland of leafage concealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By their songs are revealed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15"></a>{15}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">All is young, all is love. In the shadowy vales,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In woodland and meadow, all Nature’s awake.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At the wind’s kiss, the lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaks forth into smiles; but as yet passion fails<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To weary itself. Soul is searching for soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And has not reached its goal.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life leaping to life doth each moment employ,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And love doth all Nature’s grand chorus attune.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am virginal June.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>JULY.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of warm, passionate love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When Earth silent lies, with shy longings opprest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While soft sighs stir her breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All unclasped is her zone, and the Sun’s warm lips prove<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her lips ruby treasures, and make her soul his<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With many a kiss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wander abroad in the murmurous hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While the silvery moonbeams sift down on the scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rustling leafage between.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I whisper of joy to the slumbering flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As, with petals close folded, like child hands in prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They rest on the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I drop cooling dews from the clear sky above<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On the moist brow of Earth, as still she doth sigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am July.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16"></a>{16}</span></p> - -<h3>AUGUST.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month of sweet langour and dreaming.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the shadowy depths of the woods I recline,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While afar stand the kine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughtful, knee-deep, where cool waters are streaming<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Over the sands, and at hand, loud and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cicada I hear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Afar, by the plunging green waves of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I wander at times, when the shimmer of heat<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Disturbs my retreat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or amid rugged crags, where the wind wanders free,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I sit in the shelter of hills, by the brook<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That leaps forth from its nook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adown the swart cliff, with its silver spray gleaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I muse on the past with a rapturous sigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dreamy August am I.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>SEPTEMBER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month that brings peace to the weary,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The flush to the apple, the gold to the leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the grain to the sheaf.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am the month that prepares for the dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Long days of midwinter, when Earth lies asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Under snow hidden deep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After the yearning of Spring and the passion<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of hot days of Summer, I cool the warm brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the seeds that the plough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave to earth I give back, shaped in daintier fashion.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At the touch of my hand every toiler forgets<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All life’s weeds and its frets,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the heart that was grieving becomes again cheery.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When I rule, men no longer their sorrows remember.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am September.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>OCTOBER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the hush ere the coming of storm.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am the eventide, lulling to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon Earth’s kindly breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her offspring, the flowers, till they nestle up warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Folding their leaves and their blossomy eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Closing, child-wise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I warn the still woodland, that doffs its gay dress<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And upsprings, like a warrior armed for the fray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To meet the dread day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the Tempest’s huge shoulders against it shall press.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I breathe to the streams the fell tidings, until<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Every bickering rill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a tremor of fear, seaward hurls its lithe form<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In mad flight, ere with fetters the Ice King draws nigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">October am I.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>NOVEMBER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the priestess of frost, and I bring<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The winds in my train. I am vestured in snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wherever I go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ice maidens deck me with jewels, and fling<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Crystal arches o’er streams that flow sombrely by<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beneath the grey sky.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth under my feet a soft carpeting spreads,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And from valley and hill, as I pass on my rounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There re-echo no sounds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lean, famished forests bow down their high heads<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As among them I wander. The stars hold their breath<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As, dread omen of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flits the mystic aurora with rustling wing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">High above, and some meteor falls like an ember.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am November.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>DECEMBER.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am the month when worn Earth lies at rest<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Under the eiderdown snow, that clings close<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To her form in repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As her gossamer drape to the virgin, whose breast<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rises and falls as she dreams of her love.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through the keen air above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars glow like watch-fires of summer. Anon<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come the jingle of sleigh-bells, a laugh and a shout,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As gay youth, in mad rout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeps merrily down the white road, and is gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then silence returns, till the winds howl in glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or some frost-riven tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrieks aloud in its pain. Yet Earth sleeps, undistressed.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All ended her task, she has naught now to fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">December is here.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="c" colspan="4">(<i>The clock strikes</i>)</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">January</td><td align="left">“One.”</td><td align="left">July</td><td align="left">“Seven.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">February </td><td align="left">“Two.”</td><td align="left">August</td><td align="left">“Eight.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">March</td><td align="left">“Three.”</td><td align="left">September </td><td align="left">“Nine.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">April</td><td align="left">“Four.”</td><td align="left">October</td><td align="left">“Ten.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">May</td><td align="left">“Five.”</td><td align="left">November</td><td align="left">“Eleven.”</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">June</td><td align="left">“Six.”</td><td align="left">December</td><td align="left">“Twelve.”</td></tr> -<tr><td class="c" colspan="4">(<i>The New Year Enters.</i>)</td></tr> -</table> - -<h3>THE NEW YEAR.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am here, I have come from the home of the morning;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am flushed with hope’s wine; I have treasures for all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old year is sped, let it serve as a warning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the moments I bring shall bear fruit ere they fall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The past none can alter; its grief and its sinning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are writ for all time in the volume of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But behold me, the New Year, new records beginning;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let love be their burden, not envy and strife.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>CHORUS OF MONTHS.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Welcome, welcome, with chime of merry bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Welcome to thy kingdom, O monarch pure and true!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gladness we will serve thee. Ah! rule this great earth well;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Efface the sorrows of the past, and all past joys renew.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">We, the children of the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Who watch the precious moments run,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will wreathe thy brow with stars of snow and flowers sweet and fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But while we sow the fruits of earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That man shall garner in with mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To Time alone belongs the power<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of harvesting each ripened hour.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Welcome, welcome, with chime of merry bell!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Another year is given to man to sow and reap his life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When next the mystic book is sealed, what story will it tell?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will it speak of love triumphant, will it tell of sin and strife?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O mortal man, remember<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Every year has its December,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the year has ended naught can change the record there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MUSE_AND_THE_PEN" id="THE_MUSE_AND_THE_PEN"></a>THE MUSE AND THE PEN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Muse, renowned in ancient story,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But seldom seen these humdrum times,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came down to earth, in all her glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To put new life in modern rhymes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Forsooth,” she said, “I’m tired of hearing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mechanic singers, every one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With forced conceits and thin veneering,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Serving the lamp, and not the sun.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Muse was but a simple maiden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who loved the woodlands, meads and streams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With odorous buds her gown was laden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her hair was bright with rippling gleams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And murmuring an Arcadian ditty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She wandered, with uncertain feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wonder, through the crowded city,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bewildered by each clattering street.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She gazed upon the hurrying mortals,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each busy with his own affairs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She spumed some lauded poets’ portals,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Let monthlies print such stuff as theirs.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A milkman nodded her a cheery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Bon jour, ma’mselle,” in ready French,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as she passed a cabman beery,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He hiccoughed, “there’s a likely wench.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22"></a>{22}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She met a red-faced, buxom Chloe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dapper Strephon, full of airs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The one in vesture cheap and showy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The other versed in brutal stares;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shocked and weary, hot and muddy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the nearest house she turned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And found herself within the study<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of one whose pen his living earned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She looked quite curiously about her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Being of a curious turn of mind),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To learn if he did also flout her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still in life some pleasure find.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shortly she marked his desk, half hidden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath a mass of copious notes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turned to it and read, unchidden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of chartered banks and chartered boats.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She read that crops were thriving better,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that the country needed rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then another item met her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On “Watered stocks, the country’s bane.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She read of “interest rates as under,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With money still in poor demand,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the item fall, to wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were poets wealthy in the land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She read that “none who float on paper<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long raise the wind, for all their craft,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Bulls up a tree, a market caper,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“A house in trouble with a draft.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She read of butter growing stronger<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cheese more lively every day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That baker’s flour will rise no longer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of “a serious cut in hay.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As still she turned the litter over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reading an item now and then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She did beneath the pile discover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pounce upon the writer’s pen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the charm the Muse possesses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She made it speak like flesh and blood,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! happy Pen, to have her tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fall round thee in that solitude!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Dear Pen,” she cried, “in what strange service<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is this I find thy skill employed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy master’s style seems bright and nervous,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet is of sense a little void.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Pen replied: “O gracious lady,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trade questions are considered here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou wilt find transactions shady<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By master’s hand made easily clear.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pouting Muse her pretty shoulder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shrugged as she listened to the Pen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Thy master must than ice be colder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If thus content to write for men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go, bid him frame a graceful sonnet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A simple poem from his heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will gently breathe upon it<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to its body life impart.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24"></a>{24}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again the Pen: “O goddess puissant,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My master lacks nor heart nor skill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To turn a stanza, but of recent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Days he hath hungry mouths to fill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He loves thee, but he may not show it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Pegasus must drag the plough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men would starve him as a poet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who earns at least a pittance now.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Muse waxed wroth: “Would not my beauty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All else thy master make forget?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Pen replied: “The path of duty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My master hath not swerved from yet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy beauty haunts his every vision,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet on his ear thine accents fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet could he tread the fields Elysian,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think’st thou, while suffering loved ones call?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“But I can make his name immortal.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Immortal shame!” replied the Pen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“When he should pass Death’s sombre portal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stand before his God, what then?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hath a God-like, awful function,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To shield his own from want and wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wouldst have him, then, without compunction,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Barter his birthright for a song?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I am his trusted friend. Unflagging,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I help him win his daily bread.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though heart may ache, or thought be lagging,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still must the ink be ever shed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet oft he lays me down, and, sighing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looks through the casement at the stars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then I know his soul is trying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vainly to pass beyond its bars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A soldier in the war of labor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He battles on, from day to day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swinging the gold-compelling sabre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor finding time to pluck a spray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, more! he must, through glorious bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Press harshly on, with heavy tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crushing to earth the beauteous flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With which he fain had wreathed thy head.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Muse grew pensive. Softly sighing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She said: “Now pity him I can.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong, purposeful and self-denying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here I have what I seek, a Man.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would that this noble self-surrender,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These high resolves, this purpose stern,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might yet the grander verse engender,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brighter make his genius burn!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“How grief must gnaw his heart asunder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As still Fate balks him, day by day!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Nay!” cried the Pen, “thou may’st wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But know, my master’s heart is gay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance at times, a pang concealing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His face grows sad; but not for long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sweet, loved arms, around him stealing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fill all his soul with unvoiced song.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Muse above the table bending,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laid her warm lips upon the Pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thrill throughout its fibres sending:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“This for thy master.” Slowly then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She passed away; and after, never<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The writer labored, but a throng<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fancies cheered him, singing ever:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“The Muse hath crowned each unvoiced song.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27"></a>{27}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_BEAVER_MEADOW" id="THE_BEAVER_MEADOW"></a>THE BEAVER MEADOW.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis a meadow green as an emerald’s heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the heart of an emerald wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a crystal stream doth loiter and dart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the sun-smitten solitude.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orioles glance like flashes of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From foliaged limb to limb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the harsh frogs pipe in a ceaseless choir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the marsh, when day grows dim.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the grey, cold Dawn in her robes of mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er meadow and wood and stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looks forth from her tower of amethyst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She sees the wild duck gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the slender reeds that have waded out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far out, in the sinuous brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she hears the loon, like a wary scout,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shrill keen from his secret nook.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long years ago when our fathers first,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fearless and full of hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love of venture and wealth athirst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er river and mountain slope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To this woodland came, a lakelet lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As bright as a burnished shield,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now the rivulet waters play,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the loud frogs pipe, concealed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28"></a>{28}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And a wonderful town with its sunward domes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wondrous people stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the deep mouthed frogs have now their homes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wild ducks lurk and brood.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grand were the fronts and the pictured walls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the Inca’s ancient sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the town that stood where the streamlet calls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More wondrous was than they.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a listless brain nor an idle hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was there in all that town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But strong defences the people planned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hewed the great trees down.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rippling stream, with consummate art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In barriers huge they pent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made their home in the new lake’s heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dwelt therein content.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But woe to the town and its people all!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earth giveth no deathless joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where man’s merciless glances fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The simple they fain destroy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brutal and covetous Spanish horde<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That raided the Aztec land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Put its people and chieftains to the sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its cities to the brand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here in this northern wilderness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This wonderful beaver town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That baffled the elemental stress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before our sires went down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29"></a>{29}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its stately domes and its barriers vast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its sinuous streets, its lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hunter destroyed and overcast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For a little riches’ sake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He slaughtered the noble beaver kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And loosened the fettered stream.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the reeds, like a thousand strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With music as of a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the night wind mourn the departed lake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the stately beaver town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the rippling waves in the rushes break,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the stream goes eddying down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And musing here on the grassy site<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the beaver colony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul is carried in fancy’s flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the site of Ville Marie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the Hochelagans, or beaver race<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Indians, dwelt of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their name renowned from their mountain’s base<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To where the ocean rolled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hochelaga the Beaver Meadow meant,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And where the beaver dwelt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long since, the white man pitched his tent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And before heaven knelt.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He felled the trees and he stayed the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tribesmen rushing down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like the beaver, he builded wide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And strong a mighty town.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30"></a>{30}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The curious skill and the council sage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the beaver’s love of toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Became as well his heritage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the broad and fruitful soil.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then honor be to the beaver’s name,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And praise to the beaver’s skill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the labor that makes for fame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May we all prove beavers still.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31"></a>{31}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="VOYAGEUR_SONG" id="VOYAGEUR_SONG"></a>VOYAGEUR SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our mother is the good green earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our rest her bosom broad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sure, in plenty and in dearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of our six feet of sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We welcome Fate with careless mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And dangerous paths have trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding our lives of little worth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And fearing none but God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, ankle deep, bright streamlets slide<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the fretted sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our frail canoes, like shadows, glide<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Swift through the silent land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor should, broad-shouldered, in some tide<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rocks rise on every hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our path will we confess denied,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor cowardly seek the strand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The foam may leap like frightened cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That hears the tempest scream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waves may fold their whitened shroud<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where ghastly ledges gleam;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32"></a>{32}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With muscles strained and backs well bowed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And poles that breaking seem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shoot the sault, whose torrent proud<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Itself our lord did deem.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The broad traverse is cold and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And treacherous smiles it hath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with its sickle of death doth reap,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With woe for aftermath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But though the wind-vext waves may leap,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like cougars, in our path,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still forward on our way we keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor heed their futile wrath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where glitter trackless wastes of snow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beneath the northern light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On netted shoes we noiseless go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor heed though keen winds bite.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shaggy bears our prowess know,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The white fox fears our might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wolves, when warm our camp fires glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With angry snarls take flight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where forest fastnesses extend,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ne’er trod by man before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where cries of loon and wild duck blend<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With some dark torrent’s roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And timid deer, unawed, descend<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Along the lake’s still shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We blaze the trees and onward wend<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To ravish nature’s store.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33"></a>{33}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Leve, leve and couche, at morn and eve<br /></span> -<span class="i4">These calls the echoes wake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We rise and forward fare, nor grieve<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though long portage we make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the sky the sun gleams leave<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And shadows cowl the lake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then we rest and fancies weave<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For wife or sweetheart’s sake.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34"></a>{34}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="DEDICATORY_ODE" id="DEDICATORY_ODE"></a>DEDICATORY ODE.</h2> - -<p class="csml">(<i>Read at the unveiling of the Monument erected in the Parliament -Grounds at Ottawa to the Memory of the Rt. Hon. Sir John A. -Macdonald.</i>) </p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here, in the solemn shadow of these walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein his voice long held the land in sway;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, where the cadence of the distant falls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seems a lament for grandeur passed away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We, who have reaped where he had sown, now bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To him this thanksgiving,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This tribute to the unforgotten great,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, for all time, men may revere his name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And children learn the secret of true fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">True greatness emulate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We paid long since the tribute of our tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, at his post, the veteran statesman died;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now that grief has been assuaged by years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We mourn not, but rejoice, with sober pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That one of earth’s immortals, wise and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwelt in our midst so long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Teaching large thoughts and love of liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, Atlas-like, upon his shoulders bore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our world of care, until, life’s turmoil o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He passed from us away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He found the seven sisters of the North,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Sea-Queen’s daughters, in primeval woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By lonely streams, lamenting, and them forth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He led from desert lands and solitudes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Pleiades of nations, they have shone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon Britannia’s throne;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With every passing year, their golden light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waxing in lustre, until every land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wonder looks upon the glorious band<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That breaks the Northern night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He walked through life triumphant. Fortune’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What were to others barriers, were to him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But gates, through which his high success was won.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He held strange spirit commune with the dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shapes of the future. His far-reaching mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some harmony did find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In elements discordant; and man’s strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weakness served with him the noble end<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To build a nation and all factions blend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In brotherhood, at length.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And shall we, in whose midst so long he dwelt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who had commune so long with his great mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forsake his teachings, and, like Israel, melt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our gold to rear false gods! Shall we grow blind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To those large thoughts, that tolerance which long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made this Dominion strong?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, never so! He left an heritage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worthy himself and us; be ours the pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bind this new Dominion, rich and wide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Closer from age to age.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36"></a>{36}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ENTERING_PORT" id="ENTERING_PORT"></a>ENTERING PORT.</h2> - -<p class="csml">(<i>In Memoriam The Rt. Hon. Sir John S. D. Thompson.</i>) </p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark to the solemn gun and tolling bell!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What ship is this, that, dark as night or death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is entering port upon the sullen swell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While an expectant nation holds its breath?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From many a threatening port her cannon gape,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above her deck the flag of Britain flies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some sad dream she comes, her sombre shape<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crushing the waves that in her pathway rise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One of the Sea Queen’s ocean walls is she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grim guardian of her honor, yet that prow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er upon nobler errand cleft the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor guarded Britain’s honor more than now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Day after day uprose the golden sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night after night it sank beneath the wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pointing the vessel on that carried one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Empire honored to his western grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As Truth led that strong soul where’er it would<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Onward through strife to honor without stain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So is he brought through ocean’s solitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With but the billows for his funeral train.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No warrior he the blood of men that shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His was the higher task to make them one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Canada, awaiting now her dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With tears attests the task was nobly done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, not within this sea-borne funeral car<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The patriot lies. He is no longer here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But onward, upward still, he journeys far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond our ken to some still nobler sphere.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The harbor of his earthly wishes won,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh from new honors from his Sovereign’s hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him the summons came. Earth’s voyage done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He set his bark towards the eternal strand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has gone forth, and leaves us but his name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And this cold clay that waits the silent tomb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet passing years shall never dim his fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor love forget him in their gathering gloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With tolling bell and beat of muffled drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With mournful boom of cannon, lay him down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the sepulchre, to which shall come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faintly the murmur of his native town.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In death he knit the Empire closer yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Causing unnumbered hearts to throb as one.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here by his tomb may Canada forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bigotry that he had fain undone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With his Queen’s wreath upon his pulseless breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lulled by the murmur of the restless wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s voyage done, he takes his well-earned rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In port, at last, with God beyond the grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38"></a>{38}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WILD_FLOWERS" id="WILD_FLOWERS"></a>WILD FLOWERS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Arcady, the happy swain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who wandered through the woods and meadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft turned his head and oft was fain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To start or smile at shifting shadows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes, within a verdant brake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He saw a wood-nymph’s graceful form<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam white, and felt her beauty make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His heart beat fast, his cheek grow warm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes while loitering by a brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose ripples dreamy music made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He spied in some sequestered nook<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A naiad, on the marge who played,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when the breeze the leafage stirred<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On drowsy summer afternoons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes afar he thought he heard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The satyrs pipe their merry tunes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Jupiter no longer wooes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Antiope, nor Venus’ lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tremble as she Adonis sues,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he from her embracement slips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No longer nymph nor naiad now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor faun nor satyr haunts the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone is Diana with her bow,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The woodland is a solitude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39"></a>{39}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are nymph and naiad gone indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And is there now no Arcady?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fairy choir in wood and mead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In gentle accents answer, “Nay.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those who leave the world awhile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With nature’s spirit to commune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May still see nymphs in woodland aisle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And naiads bathe at sunny noon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beside the murmurous streams that wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the tangled foliage-meshes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some sleeping naiad we may find,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With charms the inmost soul deems precious.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deep within the tawny shade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pathless forests we may meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some true wood-nymph, who, unafraid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Receives us in her cool retreat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At every step through sunny wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath our feet the wild flowers spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nymphs of that sylvan solitude<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That us to love their beauty bring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still we follow, as of old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The swain pursued the fleeting shape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For once their graces we behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">None can their mystic lure escape.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At every step beside the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some nodding blossom beckons still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We see its slender figure gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Chastely beside the crystal rill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance it droops its dainty head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or looks us fearless in the face,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, no, the naiads are not fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stream is still their dwelling-place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earths turmoil has but dulled our ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its dust has but obscured our sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pipes of Pan whoever hears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will see as well the woodland sprite.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The revels of the leaves and wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sudden glimpse of blossoming flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are his prize who leaves behind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The world, and strays through Nature’s bowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, had I in Arcadia dwelt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would have watched for every gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of shoulder, as some naiad svelt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clove the clear crystal of the stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would have followed in pursuit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of artful nymph through tangled brakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard with joy the satyr’s flute,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose melody soft echo wakes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so, from earliest days of spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the first wild flower lifts its head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till autumn, when the breezes fling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broadcast the dying leaves and dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through sensuous summer’s golden hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I roam the vast, Canadian woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking the wild Canadian flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">True nymphs of sylvan solitudes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="DEDICATORY_BALLAD" id="DEDICATORY_BALLAD"></a>DEDICATORY BALLAD.</h2> - -<p class="csml">(<i>Written for the unveiling of the Monument erected by the Citizens -of Montreal to Paul Chomedy de Maisonneuve.</i>) </p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The leaf in the forest had budded, of verdure a billowy sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the woodland was flowing, o’erwhelming valley and lea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The great river, bright in the sunshine, set the isle in a circlet of gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it swept to its tryst with the ocean, through realms of riches untold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The slow-moving oar cleft the water, the balmy May breeze filled the sails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the wanderers drew near their haven, afar from the sea and its gales;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the land of their fathers afar, and anear the keen Iroquois knives.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the pilgrims, to fear ever strangers, to the Cross had entrusted their lives.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not sordid were they. Not the treasures of earth they had come to pursue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not for honor nor glory. Far nobler the object our sires had in view.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To carry the cross to the savage, braving danger and hardship they came.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They came for the love of the Virgin, a city to found in her name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42"></a>{42}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their hearts were o’erflowing with gladness. They sang as they drew near the strand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their barks gently touched on the shingle, and Maisonneuve, leaping to land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bent his knee, and the others knelt with him, uplifting their voices in prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the Ruler of all, while, prophetic, the priest in his vestments stood there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadows of twilight were falling, the frog loudly piped in the marsh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild duck lurked in the shallows, and anear screamed the kingfisher harsh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High above swept the night-hawk in circles, in the meadow the fireflies gleamed bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And were caught, to adorn the rude altar with garlands of pulsating light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wanderers calmly sought slumber. The sentinel stood at his ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rivulet gurgled and eddied, and answered the murmuring trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountain loomed dark in the distance, and the wolf looking down from the height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wonder and awe, saw the camp fire that burned on a city’s birth night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If you ask how that mustard seed flourished, and spread its great branches abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If you ask at what sacrifice nourished or watered with what noble blood?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! the pages of history answer. There ’tis written in letters of gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How each was a Christian and soldier, who founded Ville Marie of old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They lived on the confines of chaos. Whenever the savage horde broke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the ill-fated colony, they were the first whose arm parried the stroke.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They were Dollards in heart, and went even to torture and death with a smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the women, like angels of mercy, stanched their wounds and their woes did beguile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">None braver, and no one more gentle, none wiser in council than he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maisonneuve, this, the new world’s defender, who for God held his whole life in fee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He led them in worship, consoled them when thickly their troubles did fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maisonneuve the undaunted, the founder, Æneas of old Montreal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here where he battled lone-handed with savages thirsting for blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now beats the pulse of a city, the heart of a new nationhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long years may his monument stand that our children may ask and be told<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the leader who founded Ville Marie, and honor the heroes of old.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44"></a>{44}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TIMOR_MORTIS_CONTURBAT_ME" id="TIMOR_MORTIS_CONTURBAT_ME"></a>TIMOR MORTIS CONTURBAT ME.</h2> - -<p class="csml">(<i>The Fear of Death Affrights Me.</i>) </p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I too sing, as he sang of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tuneful singer beyond the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When life’s flame sank and his blood waxed cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth is so fair to look upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And life so sweet, though there sorrows be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why welcome the summons to be gone?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wife that I love as the sea the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Babes that prattle about my knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has heaven itself a dearer boon?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is there heaven at all or only the grave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the lisp of rain in the willow tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will the after death give all I crave?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will there be ideals still to follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And truths, like nymphs my pursuit to flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or will the ancient faith prove hollow?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45"></a>{45}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are there golden suns in a golden noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are there grey, still dawns on a dewy lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are there twilights there, with a crescent moon?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are there aims to spur me and goals to reach,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are there wondrous lands for the eye to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is melody there and dulcet speech?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Does friend meet friend and love meet love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Greet and converse with sober glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is all new in the courts above?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is heaven like earth on a nobler plan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As in dreams we image it, hopefully,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or does the Spirit forget the Man?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I be I when the death-throe’s past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soul from the flesh set only free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in new mould shall I be recast?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If heaven be not akin to earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall not be I, if I happy be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I be not I, what is heaven worth?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Timor mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46"></a>{46}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ON_NEW_YEARS_EVE" id="ON_NEW_YEARS_EVE"></a>ON NEW YEAR’S EVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wintry moon was streaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the window, silvery-clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I sat in my study, dreaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet dreams of the coming year.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was no sound save the laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of flames on the gusty hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As hour followed fleet hour after<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To welcome the Year with mirth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, sharp through the solemn quiet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I heard in the gloomy hall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scamper of mice run riot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I heard them in the wall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I leaned on my hand and listened<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hear the cravens go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While paler the moonbeams glistened<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fire on the hearth burned low.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And was I awake, or sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, close by the door, I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voice of a woman weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sigh of a farewell word?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47"></a>{47}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And was it the night wind mocking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That tapped and opened the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or was it a woman knocking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a light step on the floor?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw at my side a maiden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With tears in her gentle eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her shapely arms were laden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gems from time’s argosies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On her brow was a white star shining,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On her breast was a lily fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But of rue was a sad wreath twining<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among her golden hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From my chair to her dear side springing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I greeted her with a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I thought her the New Year, bringing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">New uncut jewels of bliss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She blushed at my warm embraces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And joy in her sweet face shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As sunlight a shadow chases<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While a summer cloud floats on.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I said: “I have long been yearning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">New Year, to behold thy face.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale grew the maid, and, turning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She shrank from my close embrace,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And wept: “Oh! thou fickle hearted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The depth of my love to prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet ere from my bosom parted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sigh for an untried love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I brought thee the rarest treasures<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time’s treasury could bestow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sated thy days with pleasures,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And guarded thy heart from woe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Thy wish I refused thee never.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I granted thee love and peace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet thou scornest me now, or ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My labor for thee doth cease.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“See, here are the gifts I showered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy life’s pathway upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now that thou hast been dowered<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With all, canst thou wish me gone?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O thankless heart, wilt thou never<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be satisfied with thy lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or must thou be pining ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For joys that as yet are not?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And turn from my fond embraces<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An utter unknown to greet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a child a butterfly chases<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Treading flowers beneath his feet?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49"></a>{49}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, like the great sun springing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through night to a tropic dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart, to the Old Year clinging,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yearned for the joys nigh gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And oh, what a wave of sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Passed over my grieving soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I thought of the new to-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That led to some unknown goal!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, stay,” I cried, soul-shaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Heed not the flight of time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh stay,”—But I was forsaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And heard the New Year chime.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50"></a>{50}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_THE_CLOSING_HOURS" id="IN_THE_CLOSING_HOURS"></a>IN THE CLOSING HOURS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the closing hours of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the latest guest has gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the hearth fire’s flickering light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet it is to dream alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet the social joy, and sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strife that ends in victory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter still the peace complete<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Following on the eager day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then how sweet the lassitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Revelling in romantic rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buoyed on dreams, whose mystic flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Draws the soul on happy quest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the closing hours of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the friends of youth are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ended lust of gain and strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Peace approaches with the dawn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet the rest and solitude<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the hair is turning white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the past, with broadening flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Murmurs through the closing night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51"></a>{51}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WHERE_HEAVEN_IS" id="WHERE_HEAVEN_IS"></a>WHERE HEAVEN IS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the babe is swung in its pearly cot, the warm sun shining, the song-birds gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cool shades among, in its lacework grot, the child reclining doth dreamful sway.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope’s hand, entwining life’s harp new strung with joyous garlands, its sound doth stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he thinks earth heaven, to him God-given, nor cares though the passing hours delay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the threshold of life on the bright pathway that stretches afar to the infinite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth yearns for the strife, as a child for play, and his dreamings are of a well-won height.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As at dawn of day when the Morning Star unbinds the zone of the virgin Light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We watch, all breathless, for beauty deathless, so heaven’s beyond us, yet seems in sight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then, ah, then, as the years go by, and hope grows weary with waiting long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When trust in men we must fain deny, the <i>miserere</i> replaces song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52"></a>{52}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like slaves that ply in the galley’s den the laboring oar, through sin and wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul plods on, and heaven is gone; we can but suffer and yet be strong.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the snows of age fall thick and fast, and passion has faded like flowers that grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory sage dreams dreams of the past and all that has made it have joys below.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the friends long laid in the grave, at last, stand beckoning us in the twilight glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wrongs endured prove that which cured, the heaven behind us too late we know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heaven of man is never here; it always is where his treasures are.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day’s brief span arches little dear; the stream of bliss seems wider afar.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From this to this the path is drear; there’s always something each joy to mar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the past that is real becomes ideal under the gold of life’s twilight star.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="NEW_YEARS_EVE" id="NEW_YEARS_EVE"></a>NEW YEAR’S EVE.<br /><br /> -<small><i>Air—Belle Mahone.</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! the tolling of the bells.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How it sinks and how it swells!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the sleeping town it knells,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“<i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far across the snowy plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rolls the many-tongued refrain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the echoes cry again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“<i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast been a kindly year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast spared us many a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast vanquished many a fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightly touched by summer showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Budding hopes have grown to flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy days have flown like hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Many a lesson thou hast taught,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Precious favors thou hast brought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleasant changes thou hast wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54"></a>{54}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now thy rule is near an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy last records have been penned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We must part at last, true friend.<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Close and seal the book of fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With whate’er it may relate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sin and goodness, love and hate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One more volume is complete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take it to the Mercy Seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay it at the Master’s feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>REFRAIN.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Thou hast been a faithful friend,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fare thee well, Old Year.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55"></a>{55}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PEGASUS" id="PEGASUS"></a>PEGASUS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If you find Pegasus a steed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scornful of your control,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who canters well enough, indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But will not caracole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So much the better, poet mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis bottom wins the race.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let poetasters prance, in fine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Keep you the steady pace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let poetasters hunt for sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Chase metres, out of breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great thoughts are not thus run to ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor fame in at the death.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, let your Pegasus be free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hunt some thought sublime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While you sit still, with clinging knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gallop simple rhyme.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, friend, of all the joys of earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s nothing like the hunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The good horse straining at the girth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The clear-tongued hounds in front.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56"></a>{56}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if your Pegasus can bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You well before the rout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Don’t curb and make him beat the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loose rein, and let him out.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft when a poet’s rhymes I read,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With ornate language wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its cadences, though sweet indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But hide the lack of thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be yours the poem that can stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From trappings wholly free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each thought a Phryne, to be scanned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In fearless nudity.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57"></a>{57}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IT_WOULD_BE_EASY_TO_BE_GOOD" id="IT_WOULD_BE_EASY_TO_BE_GOOD"></a>IT WOULD BE EASY TO BE GOOD.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who walks the paths of righteousness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or follows ways of evil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who knows the joys that angels bless<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or sin’s insensate revel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last, too well has understood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin is not worth a feather.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It would be easy to be good,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If all were good together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waiving the conscience we offend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And weighing but the pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though we all sinful joys might blend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They make a sorry treasure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The loftiest joys must be subdued,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The soul we fain must tether.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It would be easy to be good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If all were good together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, would that man might give free scope<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To every gentle feeling!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul would realize its hope<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its noblest side revealing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58"></a>{58}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would man might trust man’s brotherhood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In calm and stormy weather.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It would be easy to be good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If all were good together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If no one schemed to do a wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No need for wrong were given;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If each his neighbor helped along,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This earth would be a heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If men once met in rectitude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Farewell, the regions nether.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It would be easy to be good,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If all were good together.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59"></a>{59}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_LITTLE_TROOPER" id="THE_LITTLE_TROOPER"></a>THE LITTLE TROOPER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Swift troopers twain ride side by side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Throughout life’s long campaign.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They make a jest of all man’s pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oh, the havoc! As they ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They cannot count their slain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The one is young and debonair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laughing swings his blade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The zephyrs toss his golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eyes are blue; he is so fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He seems a masking maid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The other is a warrior grim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark as a midnight storm.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no man can cope with him.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shrink and tremble in each limb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before his awful form.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet though men fear the sombre foe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More than the gold-tressed youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boy with every careless blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than the trooper grim lays low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And causes earth more ruth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60"></a>{60}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Keener his mocking sword doth prove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than flame or winter’s breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men bear his wounds to the realm above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the little trooper’s name is Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His comrade’s only Death.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CUPIDS_DISGUISES" id="CUPIDS_DISGUISES"></a>CUPID’S DISGUISES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dan Cupid wears disguises.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We never see his form,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till suddenly he surprises<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And takes the heart by storm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He hides at times in the blushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That tinge a cheek so fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or oft in the moonlit hushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a sweet voice on the air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes he’s in the dancing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mirth in azure eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes in the curve entrancing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of lips that part in sighs.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sometimes in the glimmer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of arm, rich lace beneath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes in the tresses’ shimmer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes in the peep of teeth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, he’s a little bandit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bold as bold can be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He leads us, single-handed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into captivity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62"></a>{62}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For none is a match for Cupid.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He swifter is than thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The keenest mind is but stupid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When he begins to plot.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63"></a>{63}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MUSIC" id="MUSIC"></a>MUSIC.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life hath such longings, bitter sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet so few it satisfies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That man fain dreams life is complete<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only beyond the skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And like the mystic cloud of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That guided Israel’s way by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every unsatisfied desire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leads man towards the right.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Around him, mingling with the dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Youth’s pure ideals, shattered, lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope, virtue, charity and trust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid life’s deserts die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fade aspirations, fades each dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of goodness, honor and renown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man floats on a polluted stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which fain would drag him down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But music, like the nightingale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sweetly sings in woodland brakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When hope and trust and virtue fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Man’s nobler nature wakes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64"></a>{64}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only in music doth man find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An echo of the dreams of youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he saw gods among mankind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In woman only truth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65"></a>{65}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="BABYS_STOCKING" id="BABYS_STOCKING"></a>BABY’S STOCKING.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Baby’s dainty little stocking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hangs beside his wicker cot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darling mother’s wishes mocking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the treasures she has brought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For it is so small that never<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gift can find a place inside.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was there doting mother ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So distressed at Christmas tide?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Baby’s eyes are closed and dreaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the gentle mother face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Baby’s hands are clasped and seeming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Interlocked in fond embrace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Baby’s lips are softly smiling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the Rubicon of youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He has passed, for lo! beguiling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mother’s kisses, peeps a tooth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Naught for gifts is baby caring.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Santa Claus has many a gem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, God’s love and mother’s sharing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Baby has no need of them.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MY_DIVINITY" id="MY_DIVINITY"></a>MY DIVINITY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am a god; yes, I,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Smile, if you will, at the claim)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mote though I am in the ambient sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Housed, I confess, in putrescible frame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still, a divinity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My sceptre I claim, and, perchance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My altars as well,—who knows?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You would prick my pride with your wit’s keen lance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You know my radius. Well, suppose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You pipe, I dance.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Am I the Primary Cause?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That’s my affair, not my creatures’.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did I create nature’s adamant laws,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or am I but one of her manifold features?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fellow gods can pick flaws!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the little corpuscles of blood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I create by millions each hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do you fancy the witless ephemeral brood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As each lives its life, can my limits and power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Declare understood?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67"></a>{67}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone in the grey of my brain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sit and my universe rule.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What can they know of their god, though they fain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Question, perhaps, each contemptible fool,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What joy is, why pain?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do they brag of their universe, boast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worsting some hostile bacillus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fight over their God, sect term other sect lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Read my ways or complain, “Why torment us and kill us?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fate has each ghost?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perfecting some large thought that may<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Move the earth that I dwell on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A million my creatures, remorseless, I slay.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Am I annoyed if they call me a felon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is I, or they.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My work, for their sake, shall I cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My very nature disjoint?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there aught but destruction for all in such peace?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must I miracle work for a microscope point,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Corpuscles to please?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We are not one, we are twain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet are we one and not two.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are the universe, I am the brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In and about them, knit through and through,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chords in one strain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In common we have, at least, this,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Creator and creature, that we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must rise to the height of our powers, or miss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s best for ourselves, and each other decree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Frustrate of bliss.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Is, now, this godhead of mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My limits, this difference vast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between creature and maker, a symbol? In fine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is mankind but a host of blood corpuscles, massed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the Divine?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69"></a>{69}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SLEEPING_SOUL" id="THE_SLEEPING_SOUL"></a>THE SLEEPING SOUL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will ever thy soul awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awake and come smiling to greet my own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will ever the love-light break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thine eyes upon me, like the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the billows that shoreward run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into foam by the winds of the ocean blown?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To me seems thy pure soul sleeping.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast in thy heart a bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But its head is under its wing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch it and think with weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweet a song it might sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet by love it is never stirred.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft in the hush of a drowsy night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dream that I hear that low bird voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilting so merrily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing so cheerily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bidding my heart to its depths rejoice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But alas, takes flight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dream before the dawn’s lance of light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70"></a>{70}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas, it is not for me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To kiss thy soul, as the prince in story<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissed the Sleeping Beauty’s lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to a life-love waken thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round thee there is a maiden glory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than circles the sun that dips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the sea while chill night comes creeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slowly, silently through the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as well might I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reach out my hand to the sun and try<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make his glory my very own<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As think to touch with my finger tips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy glorious beauty that shrinks from me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71"></a>{71}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MOTHER" id="THE_MOTHER"></a>THE MOTHER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down the bright pathway of life, where joy, like the throstle, was singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She passed, like a sungleam at dawn, through mistlands of sorrows and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking the soul of the babe at her bosom now nursing and clinging,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stood in the valley of death, gloomed with the shadow of tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ghost glided past after ghost, and shook ghastly arms at the mortal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who dared to the valley of pain go down for the winning of life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hour after hour trembled by, as we crouched in our woe at the portal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made strangers to her whom we loved by strangers who looked on her strife.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Angels spake hope to her there, as she stood in the vale of the shadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Demons snarled at her heels, she was haunted by visions abhorred;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72"></a>{72}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Love was a lamp to her feet as she passed through the woe-blossomed meadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seeking the soul of her child. She was brave, for her trust was the Lord.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Death turned his sword as she came, and she passed through the gateways of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Treading the pavements of pearl and haloed with shimmering gleams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On, till the veil hung between immortal and mortal was riven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she brought from the garden of God the blue-eyed flower of her dreams.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73"></a>{73}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="PLUCK_FLOWERS_IN_YOUTH" id="PLUCK_FLOWERS_IN_YOUTH"></a>PLUCK FLOWERS IN YOUTH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pluck flowers in youth, nor heed how old tongues prate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pluck flowers in youth, in age it is too late;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pluck flowers when it is morn with flowers and you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soon they wither, do not hesitate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest you should gather roses not, but rue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pluck flowers ere life grows cold and desolate,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And love turns hate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pluck flowers in youth; age is the time for wheat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To age not even the rose itself is sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pluck flowers, pluck flowers in youth, while faith is great,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere life and joy grow cankered with deceit.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pluck flowers in youth; no sadder thought brings Fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than memory of scorned joys crushed by our feet<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In flight too fleet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74"></a>{74}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="O_FOOLISH_HEART" id="O_FOOLISH_HEART"></a>O FOOLISH HEART.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O foolish heart, to flutter so<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With hope and fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O treacherous blush, to come and go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When he is near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do ye to the world reveal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The passion I would fain conceal?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O ears, that love to hear him speak;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O downcast eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lashes droop upon each cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor dare to rise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do ye not know she sees and hears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond looks and words that cost me tears?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Be brave, mine heart, if he despise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give scorn for scorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be deaf, mine ears, be blind, mine eyes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet soul, why mourn?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though she may claim him for her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love, my love is mine alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75"></a>{75}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MY_HEARTS_A_MERRY_ROVER" id="MY_HEARTS_A_MERRY_ROVER"></a>MY HEART’S A MERRY ROVER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My heart’s a merry rover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though innocent of wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forever beauty’s lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet never constant long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When coral lips are pouting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their smiling to disguise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He kneels and loves, not doubting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They are his richest prize.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet when, amid his dreaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He spies a bosom fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At once the rogue is scheming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To gain admittance there;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though should he see the tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That frame a pretty head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His love and his caresses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He spends on them instead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, if bright eyes confuse him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With many a saucy stare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lips, the curls, the bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must mourn their worshipper.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76"></a>{76}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet this merry rover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is nothing if not true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’s but one maiden’s lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, dearest, she is you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77"></a>{77}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_CIGARETTE_SMOKER" id="THE_CIGARETTE_SMOKER"></a>THE CIGARETTE SMOKER.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mark her as she stands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue eyes bright, match alight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shielding with her hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The growing flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding to her lips, where the bee, love, sips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fragrant pleasure of man’s leisure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cigarette by name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There! it makes her cough.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she smoke, must she choke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When blue whirls come off?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now she denies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cigarette the bliss of her lips’ sweet kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds it burning, to ash turning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till at last it dies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus she lit my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the fell magic spell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love’s witching art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And just as I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burned with passion’s fire, shrank from my desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let my yearning and heart-burning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into ashes die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TAKE_ME_AS_YOU_FIND_ME" id="TAKE_ME_AS_YOU_FIND_ME"></a>TAKE ME AS YOU FIND ME.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take me as you find me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take me so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Else from love unbind me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let me go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two twin gifts God gave me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Body and soul;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These shall lose or save me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As years roll.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can never alter;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I must wend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Onward, thus, nor falter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the end.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If you love, then, love me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweetheart, so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’ll not look above me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor below.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79"></a>{79}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AT_THE_TRYST" id="AT_THE_TRYST"></a>AT THE TRYST.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The evening stars are shining<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid the gloom of air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like gold and jewels twining<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among thy golden hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They guard the dawn’s shut portal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And count the moments fleet,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O maiden, we are mortal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why hasten not thy feet?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moonlight and the shadows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are wooing by the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And far across the meadows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy windows brightly gleam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My eager heart is beating<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the trysting tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The evening hours are fleeting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why com’st thou not to me?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80"></a>{80}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SONNETS_IN_CALIFORNIA" id="SONNETS_IN_CALIFORNIA"></a>SONNETS IN CALIFORNIA.</h2> - -<h3>ON A FLASK OF WATER.</h3> - -<p class="csml"><i>Taken from the Pacific at Santa Monica, Cal.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From seas Alaskan, where, through sunless days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grinding ice floes cast a spectral glare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I come to shores where, through the golden air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Palms wave and bees dip in the orange sprays.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From shores Siberian, where the keen knout preys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On women, wan with torture and despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I come, a voiceless, palpitating prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Freedom dwells, yet succor still delays.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From far Cathay, the oldest land of lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A giant sunk in poppied, dreamful rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I come where earth’s great last-born nation stands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flower of the centuries, the titanic West.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I come where East and West stand face to face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The childhood and the manhood of the race.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>SPRING IN THE SOUTH.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the quaint southern winter without snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without an icy blast or chilling air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the broad mesas arid lie and bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Ishmael cactus and the sage brush grow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81"></a>{81}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The golden orange bends the lithe branch low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunflowers throng the by-ways everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Palms wave, birds sing. The earth lies free of care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Basking in skies one golden, cloudless glow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then come the rains, and in their cortege bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Streams to the canyons, and to ranch and glen<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wild flowers and orange blossoms, wherein rides<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bee on golden zephyrs. Swiftly then,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like wind-blown fire, up the Sierra sides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blaze of poppies runs, and it is Spring.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>A WINTER DAY.</h3> - -<p class="csml"><i>In the Sierras.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er the Sierras scarce the moon yestre’en<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was risen to flood each sombre peak with light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere came a cloud host through the gusty night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Storming the crags. Sheer canyon walls between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They swept, and hid bare ledge and living green.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hoarse thunder pealed from unseen height to height,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As though the vast hills boasted of their might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though Chaos’ self upon them seemed to lean.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dawn drew aside night’s veil of mist, and came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the hills. The clouds retired, and lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On every wind-swept crag, as Day looked forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bright in the southern sunshine gleamed the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A vision of the unforgotten North<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt golden skies and poppy fields aflame.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<h3><i>In the Valley.</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Snow on the hills, but in the valley, flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poppies aflame and orange blooms, whose scent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the faint odor of the snow is blent.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snow on the peaks, but in the canyons, showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And torrents drinking strength from stormy hours.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The geese wheel seaward through the clouds half spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fleeing the snow and screaming discontent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the vale birds trill in blossomy bowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer is in the vale, though in the heights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bandit Winter lurks to seize his prey.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still springs the grain, vines grow and fruit delights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sun and soft winds through many a golden day<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In many an Eden valley, nestling warm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the stern Sierras, wrapped in storm.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83"></a>{83}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_POOL_OF_SANT_OLINE" id="THE_POOL_OF_SANT_OLINE"></a>THE POOL OF SANT’ OLINE.<br /><br /> -<small><i>Sierra Madre, Cal.</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere yet the Spanish cavalier<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For this new world set sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet the padres came anear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">San Gabriel’s sunny vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet the thirst for gold drew men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the western hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rippled down this rocky glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The happiest of rills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadows of the spreading oak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oft lay upon my breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft through the brown madronas broke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bear upon his quest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past starry yuccas, to my brink,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At many a crimson dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mountain lion came to drink,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And oft a timid fawn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The golden moments came and went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of many a sunny year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still I rippled on, content<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And solitary here.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84"></a>{84}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">At times a weary miner came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quaffed my cooling stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At times I saw the camp-fire flame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of hardy hunters gleam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though oft I paused to hear some bird<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trill in the leaves above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A maid I never saw nor heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor knew the name of love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, there was never rivulet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So merry in a glen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I never can forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor merry be again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She came, in thoughtless, girlish mood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dizzy trail along.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon my ferny marge she stood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And listened to my song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw her, and I leapt for glee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In many a lucent wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when she stooped to drink from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My very heart I gave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She passed, and now no more I sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the granite hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Instead, my ceaseless murmuring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sombre canyon fills.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh! ye to whom that maid divine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath also heartless been,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come join your mournful plaint with mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pool of Sant’ Oline.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85"></a>{85}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WINTER_IN_THE_SOUTH" id="WINTER_IN_THE_SOUTH"></a>WINTER IN THE SOUTH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At home the blossoms are asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside the frost-bound rills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At home the snow is drifting deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the windy hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At home the ice king mocks the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The woods are drear and bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of the birds there is not one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Left singing anywhere.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But here the fields are green with grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mesas bright with flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds repeat each dulcet strain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They learned in Eden’s bowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Midst ripening fruit, the orange trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have mingled odorous blooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here and there the eager bees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hum through the golden glooms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The swart Sierras, crowned with snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stand knee deep in the green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like patriarchs smiling as they go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blithe groups of youth between.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86"></a>{86}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behind them is the burning sand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the Mojave<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> waste;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before, the warm Pacific strand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By golden seas embraced.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When in the palm tree’s shade I rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through a many a perfect day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart would fain forget life’s quest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And live in dreams alway;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when upon the snow-clad hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine eyes again look forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wake. Thy spell my bosom thrills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stern homeland in the north!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Give me the seasons of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bursting of the leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The northern summer brief but dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And autumn’s golden sheaf.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me the wintry moon’s pale gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With snow and storm at strife.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The south is a bewitching dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But in the north is life.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_KINDERGARTEN" id="THE_KINDERGARTEN"></a>THE KINDERGARTEN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O blossoming lives that to the fruits<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now ripened for the gathering in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak of old days, ere life’s pursuits<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Touched the new soul with taint of sin,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We who now watch you at your game,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We, weary of the toil and strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must envy you your scorn of fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your eager, loving trust in life.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perchance, the babe that, thoughtless, piles<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His blocks unsteadily in air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May yet a minster build, whose aisles<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall echo to a nation’s prayer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perchance, the child that scarce can tell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The letters on his cubes of wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May yet with a poetic spell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Charm and uplift the multitude.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They question not, they only live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To pluck the blossoms of each hour.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ambition frets them not, they give<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No thought to pomp or place or power.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88"></a>{88}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We too have toys, and we pursue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our trivial aims; we rage and sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because our blocks are built askew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And our best hopes in ruins lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet over us, as over these,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A teacher watches, true and kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Striving to guide our fantasies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And patient with the groping mind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From flower of wisdom unto flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He leads us, as these babes are led,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till chimes, at last, the closing hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The prizes won, the lessons said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And happy he who in this school<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of life, that fits the soul for death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has learned to serve as well as rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And speak for truth with every breath.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89"></a>{89}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_POET" id="THE_POET"></a>THE POET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The budding flower that wakes at dewy morn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Attains perfection through the sun-swept day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And poets, to life’s highest mission born,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By slow unfolding reach the perfect lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And like the harp, attuned to every breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That in the open casement sighs or sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poet soul is void of melodies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till unseen spirit fingers sweep the strings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life, the magician, with his subtle powers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death, the dark helmsman over seas unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature, all-mother, and the teaching hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through him their grand, mysterious chants intone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And oft his numbers falter, and his song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In discord breaks, ere he can hymn again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The anthems of the wondrous spirit throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And voice strange thoughts beyond our mortal ken.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And oft the world and the world’s sins immesh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His soul, which still the pitying spirits calm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the warfare between soul and flesh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His heart oft rises to the noblest psalm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90"></a>{90}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But should he cease to wage the upward strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or thrall himself a slave to evil’s power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too proud the Muse to bless a craven life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too pure, a sinful heart with song to dower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the true poet, throwing down his gage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To fate, fights upwards far beyond life’s mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with the broadened vision of the sage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beholds all earth by hope’s warm sungleams kissed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He learns that all who would be truly great<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mix with the battling world, nor shirk their part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But take such trials as are given by Fate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set them to sweet music by their art.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He only is a poet who can find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sorrow, happiness, in darkness, light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love everywhere, and lead his fellow kind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By flowery paths towards life’s sunny height.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="GOLD_TRESSES" id="GOLD_TRESSES"></a>GOLD TRESSES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love is now a woman grown.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her shoulders fall no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her locks, in beauty all their own.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their days of liberty are o’er.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No longer may, with soft caress,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The zephyr’s unseen hand uplift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each net-like, golden-threaded tress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To catch the sunlight’s moted drift.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know each tress, and have a name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereby my memory holds it dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that which is her forehead’s frame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To that which hides her shelly ear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And one there is I loved to touch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On which my heart first suffered wreck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sometimes fell aside too much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And showed the ivory of her neck.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though ’tis bound upon her head<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all its beauty hid from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still other charms I see instead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still am in captivity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92"></a>{92}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see the grace of neck and ear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unveiled, that erst beneath the tress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But peeped, as pearly sea shells peer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through ocean’s weedy wilderness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye captive tresses that disdained<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love, and wantoned in the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know your grief, for I was chained<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her slave ere ye were thus confined.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hath but gloried in our love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laughs to find us strain our gyves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, let us slaves unite and prove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That power to break her bond survives.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aid me with love her heart to chain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And soon, when she and I are wed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hands shall set ye free again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wanton sweetly round her head.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93"></a>{93}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="EN_ROUTE" id="EN_ROUTE"></a>EN ROUTE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By town and hamlet, field and wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Past glimpses of empurpled hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er many a broad, sun-smitten flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And many a myriad tinkling rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The train swings on and brings us twain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each minute nearer by a mile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I to chafe at time am fain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which holds me sundered from thy smile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see among the emerald trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Embowered, the village church spires gleam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see white homestead front the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of our own sweet home I dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While still the fleet train brings us twain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each minute nearer by a mile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fewer moments yet remain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hold me sundered from thy smile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wheat fields shimmer in the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleek cattle in the meadows browse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor lift their heads, as past we run,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lithe-limbed steeds and patient cows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94"></a>{94}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still the fleet train brings us twain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each minute nearer by a mile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till scarce a moment doth remain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hold me sundered from thy smile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Onward we sweep, yet all our speed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaves not pursuing night behind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stars sparkle in the sky’s broad mead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And homeward plods the weary hind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still the fleet train brings us twain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each minute nearer by a mile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until my heart is home again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I am basking in thy smile.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95"></a>{95}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AT_DAWN" id="AT_DAWN"></a>AT DAWN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dawn of day a shaft of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierces the sable breast of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which, dropping many a sable plume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flits far into the nether gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">All silently.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dawn of day the sun’s first beam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dispels the mist that hides the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scatters from the hill and wood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The clouds that there did sit and brood,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Formless and grey.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when the night from earth is driven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clouds and mist have fled from heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The waking birds take eager flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up through the golden rain of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">With happy song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into my life, that knew no day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A maiden winged a kindly ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, flying wearily and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far fled the sombre bird of woe<br /></span> -<span class="i5">I harbored long.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96"></a>{96}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My heart no longer pined in night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mists that hid hope’s stream took flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s hills a sunnier aspect took,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I found many a pleasant nook<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Within life’s grove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now my thoughts, like birds, arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing, towards the golden skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Afar from earthly doubt and strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the pure radiance of her life,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">On wings of love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MY_STAR" id="MY_STAR"></a>MY STAR.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a star in the pure ether high,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My other home it is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereto, when sorrow threatens me, I fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in my flight towards the vaulted sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hated sorrows roll<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down from my fleet-winged soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from the sea gull’s circling form the spray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drops to the storm-vext bay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Its pinions erst did kiss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well said the Seer, that overstudy brought<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A weariness of the flesh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oft my brain, worn with its overthought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watches the night steal past, while sleep comes not.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then doth my star arise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slowly before my eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steady, serene and cold, yet heavenly bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, while my grief takes flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Binds all my thoughts in leash.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No longer fear and discontent combine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To make my future drear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I arise and from that star of mine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look down and see our small earth dimly shine;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98"></a>{98}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all life’s joy and pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their proper worth obtain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I to smile at all past fears begin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For earth’s discordant din<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is stilled, and God I hear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99"></a>{99}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_PICTURE" id="TO_A_PICTURE"></a>TO A PICTURE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O stately head, O rippling grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tresses flowing free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O dark-eyed, queenly, thoughtful face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awake and comfort me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since love can thrill with noble zeal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The meanest of us all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It may thy glorious form reveal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy tender soul recall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then come thou from thy gilded cage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And nestle by my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will be thy faithful page,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If thou wilt be my bride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, trustful eyes, and trust in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O sweet one, heed my cry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak sad, sweet mouth, I wait for thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bid me live or die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell me no artist’s god-like mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To thy fair face gave birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that his vision I may find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alive upon this earth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I will seek her far and wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In palace and in cot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love shall once more conquer pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she shall share my lot.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_POET_AND_HIS_RHYMES" id="THE_POET_AND_HIS_RHYMES"></a>THE POET AND HIS RHYMES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whoever reads a poet’s rhyme<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To find the poet there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might equally essay to climb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To castles in the air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He lives not in reality,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or rather, lives too much.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He makes a forest of a tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A palace of a hutch.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day a transient pang appears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His life’s eternal sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he is laughing through his tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And full of joy to-morrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For if there’s oft a germ of truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flower is fancy’s own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis the world’s heart he shows, in sooth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his is still unknown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sometimes in his happiest days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without excuse or cause,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He pens the mournfullest of lays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To win the world’s applause.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And from the saddest heart, at times,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The merriest stanzas flow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friend, think not by the poet’s rhymes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The poet’s heart to know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_AN_INFANT" id="TO_AN_INFANT"></a>TO AN INFANT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O little one, new born,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would I were like thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then were this whole world’s scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And praise alike to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then would I look on life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As do thine azure eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know how vain its strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How paltry what we prize.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tradition cannot claim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dominion over thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor fear the pinions maim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of thy young soul and free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All things to thee are new.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy mind runs in no groove.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost both false and true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Question alike, and prove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art no shadowy soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the incarnate “I”,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou wilt reach thy goal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or failing, thou wouldst die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Indomitable will<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That makes us all obey,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I were childlike still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I were more man to-day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_SCOTLAND" id="TO_SCOTLAND"></a>TO SCOTLAND.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Miles upon miles of ocean<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twixt Scotland roll and me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its hills and dales I have not seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scarce expect to see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The homestead of my fathers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The keen ploughshare has torn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the hearth once welcomed all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waves now the golden corn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, Canada, my country,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love for thee is deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I fain would see the old church-yard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where my forefathers sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fondly, ever fondly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart in secret yearns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That its songs may find a welcome<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the bonnie land of Burns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the Scottish heather<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I opened not my eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot speak the sweet Scotch tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remote my pathway lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet Scotland, mother Scotland,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though fate us twain may part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I claim my heritage of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I have the Scottish heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ROSINA_VOKES" id="ROSINA_VOKES"></a>ROSINA VOKES.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The years may come, the years may go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And many a song be sung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the footlight’s golden glow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By many a silvery tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But though new divas charm the ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still memory shall recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One song we nevermore shall hear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“His ’art was true to Poll.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For who that hath the singer’s heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will care to sing that song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To those whom She, with witching art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had held in thrall so long?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let other songs our pulses stir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Delight us with them all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But leave unsung for sake of her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“His ’art was true to Poll.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Time was when every heart beat high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each lip was wreathed in smiles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear her sing that melody<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With all her witching wiles;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, ’twould be no song of mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twould bid the sad tears fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For though She dwells no more on earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our ’arts are true to Poll.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_LITTLE_MAID" id="A_LITTLE_MAID"></a>A LITTLE MAID.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know a maid beyond compare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For virtue sweet and beauty rare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes are turquoise and her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is sunlight netted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She has her lovers, great and small,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The quiet student, wise and tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The child that hugs its battered doll,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By them she’s petted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her heart seems ever warm and gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In smiles and kindly words, each day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She scatters round her on life’s way<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love beyond measure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wild flowers, as she passes by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bloom sweeter for her being nigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bird that mounts into the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sings for her pleasure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her sorrows she is wont to hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her joys she shares on every side;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is her doting mother’s pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her father’s jewel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If we, who style this world so bad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But strove, like her, to make it glad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life then would seem by far less sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor half so cruel.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SAMSON_AND_DELILAH" id="SAMSON_AND_DELILAH"></a>SAMSON AND DELILAH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art o’erbold, Delilah, thus to try<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy traitorous arts upon a soul like mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lure me to eternal slavery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With glances warm like wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One clasp of my strong hands at will could break<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy tender body, like a fragile flower.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How darest thou prey of my heart to make,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And plot against my power?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hast thou no fear the brute in me will rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrathful, and tear thy shapely limbs apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dull the jewelled lustre of thine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still thy faithless heart?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why dost thou let me look upon thy face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see myself embowered in thine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every curve of thy lithe figure trace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath thy robe’s disguise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What harm have I wrought thee that thou shouldst stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And menace all my life with one great woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast me in the hollow of thy hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take me or let me go!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MY_LADYS_BONNET" id="MY_LADYS_BONNET"></a>MY LADY’S BONNET.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lady has a stylish bonnet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bedecked with ribands, gay and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with a song bird perched upon it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With tiny wings outspread for flight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Its little beak is opened wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As though in its most joyous trill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The harmless thing had suddenly died.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One waits to hear it carol still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lady has a tender heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She feeds the poor, instructs the young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At tale of woe her tears will start,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And words of kindness throng her tongue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lady’s eyes are full of glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But cloud and with just anger flash<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If in her walk she chance to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some poor beast cringe beneath the lash.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lady has a stylish bonnet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bedecked with ribands gay and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with a slaughtered bird upon it.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My gentle lady, is this right?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FLOWERS_AND_FEARS" id="FLOWERS_AND_FEARS"></a>FLOWERS AND FEARS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She had been in the fields at play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through golden summer hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brought with her, at close of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cluster of wild flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when she slept, we went to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The little one at rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our own sweet flower, and there, ah, me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flowers lay on her breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her little brow was smooth and white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her merry eyes were closed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She smiled, as though some heavenly sprite<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whispered as she reposed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She looked so pure, so white, so fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Below the ominous flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She seemed a blossom plucked from care<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bloom in heavenly bowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And oh, the whelming flood of pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sudden sense of dearth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We kissed her o’er and o’er again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brought her back to earth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_ROSEBUD" id="THE_ROSEBUD"></a>THE ROSEBUD.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In my garden a rosebud is growing, is growing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So fast, ’twill be blossoming soon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around it the zephyrs are balmily blowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sweet scented zephyrs of June,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of June,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The odorous zephyrs of June.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love shall watch o’er, and protect, and protect it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While shyly its petals unfold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bees shall not rob nor the canker affect it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor night make it tremble with cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor night make it shudder with cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when it is blown, I’ll bear it, I’ll bear it<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To her whom I worship alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On her beauteous bosom she’ll lay it and wear it<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rival its charms by her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shame all its grace by her own.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="NIL_DESPERANDUM" id="NIL_DESPERANDUM"></a>NIL DESPERANDUM.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life with life is woven in.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Neither sorrow nor delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neither nobleness nor sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Known to one<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But falls upon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All men with its grace or blight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He who sinks into despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He who from his task recoils,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes his fellow-laborers bear<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On life’s road<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A heavier load.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some one for each sluggard toils.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What though failure crown our task!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis the portal to success.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often Fortune wears a mask.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Face the strife<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And live your life;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be no coward in distress!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FLESH_AND_SPIRIT" id="FLESH_AND_SPIRIT"></a>FLESH AND SPIRIT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say what you will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If love would have its fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though it may feed long on the one dear face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It never is content, save in embrace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say what you will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though passion have its fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It never is content, nor has delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If love come not to sanctify the rite.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Harmonious flesh and spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These only shall inherit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The joys of earth, and in the dread To Be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not death itself shall break that unity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woe to the narrow heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would strive these twain to part;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Look down the ages, through the world’s mad din,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This is the one unpardonable sin.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="IN_CHURCH" id="IN_CHURCH"></a>IN CHURCH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I never feel so near to God and heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As when I kneel in worship at thy side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hear thy humble prayer to be forgiven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For sake of Him who for our saving died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though I do not mingle with thy prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plea of my own, but, silent, bow my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So close our souls are knit, I seem to share<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bounteous blessings God on thee doth shed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear the choir their joyous praises singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But not their voices soften my flint heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine only in my inmost soul is ringing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bidding peace enter, grief and sin depart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as the music through my pulse is stealing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rampart of my pride a ruin falls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even as of old the Jewish trumpets’ pealing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shook down of haughty Jericho the walls.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SUCCOR_THE_CHILDREN" id="SUCCOR_THE_CHILDREN"></a>SUCCOR THE CHILDREN.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wan hands that never grasped a flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ears stranger to the wild bird’s song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rule, where shall they find the power?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How wage life’s battle, right the wrong?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the great hour of duty comes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How shall they meet the mighty toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose blood is tainted by the slums,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose ears know but the street’s turmoil?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Succor the children of the street,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And teach them in the fields to play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor let them in the stifling heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of crowded cities fade away;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That, when we drop the thread of life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, dreamless, sleep beneath the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They may be ready for the strife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That brings this planet nearer God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SUNSET_LESSON" id="THE_SUNSET_LESSON"></a>THE SUNSET LESSON.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I watched the sun one summer eve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sink slowly in the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the quiet sea and fleecy clouds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In rosy robes were dressed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw the evening glide away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet still the sea and sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As faint the star-zoned twilight grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were full of majesty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as, upon the breezy hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I turned to sky and sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Methought that nature spake and bade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My spirit guileless be,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That, as the deepening shades of age<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Close round me, like the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of my past might still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s evening gild with light.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AS_FROM_THE_NECTAR-LADEN_LILY" id="AS_FROM_THE_NECTAR-LADEN_LILY"></a>AS FROM THE NECTAR-LADEN LILY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As from the nectar-laden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lily the wild bee sips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A British queen, sweet maiden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drained with her loving lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poison that was filling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her husband’s veins with death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her love with new life thrilling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His heart with each drawn breath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not less thy love, sweet maiden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor less thy bravery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For when I came, o’erladen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With poisoned hopes, to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With smiles and shy caresses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The venom thou didst drain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, healing my distresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Didst give new life again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MUMMY_THOUGHTS" id="MUMMY_THOUGHTS"></a>MUMMY THOUGHTS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once those who sought for relics of the past<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stumbled by chance on an Etrurian tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And saw a monarch sitting in the gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sceptred and crowned. Their eager hearts beat fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the masonry themselves they cast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To seize the wonder. As, throughout the room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The axe stroke rang, it knelled the monarch’s doom.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He fell to dust, and left them all aghast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, oft while searching through the realms of mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have discovered many a kingly thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In solitary grandeur throned and crowned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And striven to bear it forth, only to find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, when the first stroke of my pen did sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It fell to dust, and lo! I had it not.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_CERTAIN_NATURE_POETS" id="TO_CERTAIN_NATURE_POETS"></a>TO CERTAIN NATURE POETS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Friends,—such I call ye, for it is not meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hail ye brethren in the tuneful art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since I but falter, though of earnest heart,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friends, I have thought, reading your measures sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your verses, though with many a charm replete,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were bettered did they some high thought impart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or in man’s conscience plant a sudden dart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why proffer roses when the world craves wheat?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who paints a picture hath ill done his task,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If he show not the soul in that he paints.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why give to mere description all your lays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While what the eye beholds is but a mask<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To some grand truth the poet’s hand should raise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Revealing that for which man’s spirit faints.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_PATRIARCHS_DEATH" id="THE_PATRIARCHS_DEATH"></a>THE PATRIARCH’S DEATH.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The birds that twitter in the budding trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And build their nests in some umbrageous grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through early summer guard the young they love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fill the air with tuneful melodies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, as the fledgelings wake from dreamful ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Eager throughout the unknown world to rove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The parents teach them their new strength to prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beat with fearless wings the summer breeze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then the nest sways empty on the bough.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The parents, weary, although sweet the task,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Take flight to other haunts, to rest from care.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fledgelings in the glowing sunbeams bask,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Living their life. So is it everywhere,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The patriarch dies; he is but resting now.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="OH_WERE_IT_NOT" id="OH_WERE_IT_NOT"></a>OH, WERE IT NOT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, were it not for one fair face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One angel voice, one loving smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world would be a dreary place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And life to me not worth the while.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Methinks the sun shines but to show<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How wondrous fair the maiden is;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Methinks the warm winds only blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That they may kiss her draperies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know the roses bloom that they<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May live an hour upon her breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know that I would willingly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Share their brief life to share their nest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FAREWELL" id="FAREWELL"></a>FAREWELL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the heart speaks, the lips are still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if I cannot say farewell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis that a thousand yearnings thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart, and hold my lips in spell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let thine own heart the thoughts express<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lips would speak. Yet why repine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew thee, and, at least, can bless<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy life, though sundered far from mine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_TIDE" id="THE_TIDE"></a>THE TIDE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Twice in the day a mighty tide there rolls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Throughout our city streets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A limitless, deep sea of human souls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each wave, a heart that beats.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, me! what various ships are drifting there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon that living sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What guile and innocence, what joy, what care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What utter misery!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At morn it ebbs far from home’s golden shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the sea of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where its dark billows meet and foam and roar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In never-ending strife.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At night it flows, far from the mart’s turmoil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Backward upon its way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where wives and children bring sweet rest from toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till dawns another day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From year to year ’tis thus these waters move,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s duties to fulfill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Obedient to the silvery moon of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That rules them at its will.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MY_COMRADE" id="MY_COMRADE"></a>MY COMRADE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Could I have had you made a boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And both be young through life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Methinks I might forgo the joy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of calling you my wife.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For sweet as is the kiss of love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all our converse staid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still dearer to our hearts doth prove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some wayward escapade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When from behind your glistening foil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You dare me to the fray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From sober spousehood I recoil;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is “en garde” straightway.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when we urge our light canoe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon some sparkling tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More prone am I to think of you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As comrade than as bride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, were you but a youth, like me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who could, unawed, recline<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By huge camp fire, beneath some tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon a couch of pine;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And could you press through marsh and brake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thrive on hunter’s food,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What sweet excursions we might make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To nature’s solitude!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet if you were a youth, some maid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might lure you from my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I shall wish you still, comrade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dainty, fair-haired bride.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="MY_GIFT" id="MY_GIFT"></a>MY GIFT.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I bring a gift that all may bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So common ’tis to human kind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet it is so rare, a king<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His crown for it had well resigned.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is a gift gold cannot buy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And one which never can be sold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gift no mortal can deny,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And one that fades not, nor grows old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And while I would not have it spurned,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such is my heart’s perversity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless I know my gift returned,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Life hath no joy in store for me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="HAMLINS_MILL" id="HAMLINS_MILL"></a>HAMLIN’S MILL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Brightly the sun that summer day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the charming scene was shining,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And warm the thrifty village lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid its silent fields reclining.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The river, like a silver thread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wound round the hazy, shimmering hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, plunging o’er the dam, it fled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In eddies down to Hamlin’s Mill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Along the pathway, through the grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the shady trees, we hurried.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds were twittering above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While in and out the squirrels scurried.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We took the narrow road which wound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through clearings that were smoking still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soon our merry chat was drowned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amidst the noise at Hamlin’s Mill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We stood within the sunlit room<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watched the busy bobbins turning;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then gathered round a jangling loom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flying shuttle’s secret learning.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the mossy flume we crept,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose leaky sides their burden spill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stood beside the pond, where slept<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The giant power of Hamlin’s Mill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beside the ceaseless loom of fate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We stand and watch what it is weaving.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The warp is spun of love and hate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The woof of merriment and grieving.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But far beyond earth’s noise and dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There rules the one stupendous Will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The power in which His creatures trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As in the mill-pond Hamlin’s Mill.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_BALLADE_OF_JOY" id="A_BALLADE_OF_JOY"></a>A BALLADE OF JOY.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear one, who wast chosen, ere time was made,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart of my heart and my wife to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who cam’st, with the gifts of the gods arrayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lighten the labors of life for me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere yet I had looked on the face of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul dreamed dreams and awoke and said:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“None other is worthier love than she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earth shall be heaven when we are wed.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But woe as a burden on man is laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the soul finds its vision not readily.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between us came many a mocking shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That smiled with the smile of my fantasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I thought, can it be I have met with thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the arrows of truth through the false were sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I heard thy soul murmuring cheeringly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The earth shall be heaven when we are wed.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like streams in the hollows of hills that played,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though sundered by league upon league they be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, slipping through tangles of sun and shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meet, mingle and flow to the shoreless sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At last my soul met with the soul of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And woes fell from me as leaves fall dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When winds have wakened the sleeping tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earth became heaven when we were wed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span></p> - -<h3>ENVOI.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now, though years like the birds may flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And death draw nigh us with noiseless tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I reek not how soon may the summons be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For earth became heaven when we were wed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="REMEMBRANCE" id="REMEMBRANCE"></a>REMEMBRANCE.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From the German of Fredrich Matthison.</i>)</small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I think of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When through the brake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nightingales sweet music make.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When dost thou think of me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I think of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the shady well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the twilight’s glimmering spell.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where dost thou think of me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I think of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With pleasant pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With yearning, while the hot tears rain.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How dost thou think of me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Oh, think of me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till in some star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We meet again. However far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I think of none but thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_GLOVE" id="THE_GLOVE"></a>THE GLOVE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A narrow glen with winding sides,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bestrewn with rocks and gloomed with trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grey, rolling clouds, chased by the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A stream, which through the valley glides.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Among the trees that climb the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The eager squirrels scold the crows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sharply sound the sudden blows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some woodpecker’s greedy bill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blood root, crouching in the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From its protecting broad leaf peers;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The horse tails shake aloft their spears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like foemen, at us as we pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here wandering with a friend I love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our speech with sparrow-chatter drowned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He in the little valley found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An early violet, I a glove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flower grew beside a stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shyly peered above the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While, distant from it not a rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dainty glove lay all alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some child had drawn it from her hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To dabble in the sunny spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then, the thoughtless little thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had left it lying on the rand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as I saw the symbols there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of budding life and blossoming spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arose and from my heart took wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To heaven a brief and heartfelt prayer:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O little child, whoe’er thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in whatever station set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be modest, like the violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And act in life an earnest part,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That, as the streamlet by the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is gently lifted to the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy soul may unto heaven arise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whene’er its earthly course is run.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MAGIC_BOW" id="THE_MAGIC_BOW"></a>THE MAGIC BOW.<br /><br /> -<small>(<i>From the French of Charles Cros.</i>)</small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rippling low to her dainty feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tress with tress did mingle and meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yellow as ripening August wheat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her voice had an eerie melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like that of an angel or a fay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath dusk lashes her eyes shone gray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He by no rival swain set store,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As valleys through, or mountains o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maid upon his steed he bore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For all the land had held not one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she in her pride would look upon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the day she met him, and was undone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love did her fond heart so enchain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That when her lover smiled disdain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She to sicken and die was fain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As she lay dying on his arm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She said, “Bind thy bow with my locks, to charm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maid to whom thy heart grows warm.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One long, wild kiss, and the maid was dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shimmering aureole round her head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He bound to his bow, as she had said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then as a blind man mournfully<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeps his Cremona, so did he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And went forth, seeking charity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all were thrilled with ecstasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the dead lived within the lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with her songs all hearts did sway.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The king showered honors on his head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dark-eyed queen, to honor dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With him by moonlight swiftly fled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when, to please her, he essayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To play, no more the bow obeyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But mournfully did him upbraid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And at its plaint the sinful twain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In mid-flight by remorse were slain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dead had her pledge again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her locks that to her dainty feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rippling low, did mingle and meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yellow as ripening August wheat.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AT_THE_SEASIDE" id="AT_THE_SEASIDE"></a>AT THE SEASIDE.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sun, with thy ardent glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast made my darling flush!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the swarthier tints enhance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The charms of her modest blush.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast lent thy warmth and light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the gleam of her melting eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till a glance in their depths so bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seems a peep into Paradise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sea, with thy great white arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast stolen my love from me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast clasped to thy breast her charms;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She has rested her head on thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast tangled her silken hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And kissed her face and her lips—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! Love, he is false! Beware<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that spoiler of men and ships!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_ORPHANS" id="THE_ORPHANS"></a>THE ORPHANS.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall walls have pity and man’s heart have none?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shall walls protect and man refuse to aid?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At Christmas, when our children are arrayed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In furs, shall orphans crouch behind a stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hide them from the storm? Is there not one<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will see the outstretched hand of that frail maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To whom the baby brother clings, afraid?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will no ear heed when hunger makes its moan?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No father’s arm about their forms is thrown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To shield them from distress, no mother’s love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Draws them within the shelter of her breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those tender souls must front the world alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, if Christ came not vainly from above,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some noble heart will aid them, thus distressed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ALADDINS_LAMP" id="ALADDINS_LAMP"></a>ALADDIN’S LAMP.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aladdin’s lamp of Eastern tale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which claimed my simple faith in youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its loss no longer I bewail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But hold it mine in very truth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The geni waits but my command<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To raise me, and, as swift as thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear me abroad, from land to land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherever I would fain be brought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Amid the silent northern snows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or where Egyptian deserts burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherever man has been, he goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tells me all I wish to learn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He tells me how the stars had birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And how their wondrous cycles run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or places me beyond the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unharmed, upon the giant sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through him I learn what Science knows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How this vast universe began;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How life, from mean beginnings, rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High as God’s noblest creature, man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On me dawns many a truth profound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About the swinging earth I tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it is one vast burying ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The living living through the dead,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That where once flowed the ocean’s tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now stand the homes of countless souls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That where once mountains rose in pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Billow on foaming billow rolls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The geni stems the flood of time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bears me almost to its source;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then as we float, bids scenes sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sad and happy shore our course.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see the tower of Babel rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With busy builders everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up, ever up, towards the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spearing the azure depths of air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear a voice from out a cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see the workmen making signs,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How humble God can make the proud!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How easily mar man’s best designs!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see the wild Light Tresses fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In cruel waves on fated Rome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in an emperor’s audience hall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see the jackals make their home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleek monks I see within their cells,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And knights in burnished armor housed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the chime of marriage bells<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For maids whom death hath long espoused.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear the poet’s stirring strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wins him immortality,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weep with such as found with pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their idol but ignoble clay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Writ by the fearless Luther pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The words that stirred the world I see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the tramp of arméd men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And know that thought, at last, is free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The joys and hopes, the griefs and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Defeats and conquests of the race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all the swift, eventful years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The geni at my wish will trace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though he builds no palace vast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For me, nor gives me queen for bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I am free to all the past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I ask from him no boon beside.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SONG" id="SONG"></a>SONG.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When a maiden’s heart is tender,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her soul as pure as snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her eyes, with sunny splendor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set her countenance aglow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her every move discovers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Newer graces without end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She can win a hundred lovers,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet may hunger for a friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pearly teeth and curly tresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ruby lips, in smiles that part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These will lure a man’s caresses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Easily enslave his heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, when all is said and over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even though souls in passion blend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She has only one more lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And may hunger for a friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blind I am not, no, nor callous;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beauty hath its charm for me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet would I, beyond life’s shallows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Push towards the depthless sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friendship’s true, and Love’s a rover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is selfish in the end.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Choose thee, Sweet, whatever lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let me still remain thy friend.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="QUATRAINS" id="QUATRAINS"></a>QUATRAINS.</h2> - -<h3>I.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The oyster turns into a gem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sand that chafes it long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My woes, can I not banish them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I round into a song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fear less the villain than the fool.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The villain may be read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But heaven itself can set no rule<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To judge an addled head.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>III.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nurse thou no sorrow, only learn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that it has to teach,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lo, a glorious gem shall burn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the brow of each.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bard alone immortal is;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In death he liveth still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, godlike, with a word of his<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes deathless whom he will.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h3>V.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would they but speak who proved but weak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To those who think self strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How they would cry, continually,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Beware the first small wrong!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VI.</h3> - -<p class="csml"><i>To Felix Morris.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Twin arts are ours, to act and write,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yours, perhaps, the greater is;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You bring the world before men’s sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I can but proffer fantasies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VII.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flowers are earth’s resurrection, yet the rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere raised in blossoms, first shall fall to dust.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take comfort, then, O brother, when life mocks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine aspirations, as perforce life must.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Man loves the ideal and not the maid;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her he but garlands with hopes and dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And worships, not her in those wreaths arrayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the vision of fancy that then she seems.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="cb">FOOTNOTE:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Pronounced Mohavy.</p></div> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" width="350" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Snowflake and Other Poems, by Arthur Weir - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOWFLAKE AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 53623-h.htm or 53623-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/2/53623/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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