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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..91d9ded --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63790 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63790) diff --git a/old/63790-0.txt b/old/63790-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 618966e..0000000 --- a/old/63790-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1609 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rosemary and Pansies, by Effie Smith - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Rosemary and Pansies -Author: Effie Smith - -Release Date: November 17, 2020 [EBook #63790] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSEMARY AND PANSIES *** - - - - - Rosemary and Pansies - - EFFIE SMITH - - [Illustration: colophon] - - BOSTON - RICHARD G. BADGER - THE GORHAM PRESS - 1909 - - - Copyright, 1909, by Effie Smith - - All Rights Reserved - - THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U. S. A. - - - - - DEDICATION - - - TO THE MEMORY OF MY - BROTHER MARVIN - - - - -CONTENTS - - -At the Grave of One Forgotten 9 - -The Shepherds’ Vision 11 - -Heredity 12 - -The Wood Fire 13 - -A New Year’s Hope 14 - -To a Silver Dollar 15 - -Preparation 16 - -Ghosts 18 - -The Rainbow 19 - -Heroes 20 - -The Recompense 21 - -The Test 22 - -To a Dead Baby 23 - -Thanksgiving 24 - -Under Roofs 25 - -Forever 26 - -If Christ Should Come 27 - -Gifts 29 - -Benefaction 30 - -Historic Ground 31 - -A Mountain Graveyard 32 - -After the Last Lesson 34 - -The Road to Church 35 - -The Patchwork Quilt 38 - -My Brother 41 - -In Fuller Measure 42 - -October 43 - -Benignant Death 44 - -The Unreturning 45 - -When a Hundred Years Have Passed 46 - -Fallen Leaves 48 - -December Snow 49 - -Trust 50 - -Toward Sunrise 51 - -Good Night 52 - - - - - ROSEMARY AND PANSIES - - - - - AT THE GRAVE OF ONE FORGOTTEN - - - In a churchyard old and still, - Where the breeze-touched branches thrill - To and fro, - Giant oak trees blend their shade - O’er a sunken grave-mound, made - Long ago. - - No stone, crumbling at its head, - Bears the mossed name of the dead - Graven deep; - But a myriad blossoms’ grace - Clothes with trembling light the place - Of his sleep. - - Was a young man in his strength - Laid beneath this low mound’s length, - Heeding naught? - Did a maiden’s parents wail - As they saw her, pulseless, pale, - Hither brought? - - Was it else one full of days, - Who had traveled darksome ways, - And was tired, - Who looked forth unto the end, - And saw Death come as a friend - Long desired? - - Who it was that rests below - Not earth’s wisest now may know, - Or can tell; - But these blossoms witness bear - They who laid the sleeper there - Loved him well. - - In the dust that closed him o’er - Planted they the garden store - Deemed most sweet, - Till the fragrant gleam, outspread, - Swept in beauty from his head - To his feet. - - Still, in early springtime’s glow, - Guelder-roses cast their snow - O’er his rest; - Still sweet-williams breathe perfume - Where the peonies’ crimson bloom - Drapes his breast. - - Passing stranger, pity not - Him who lies here, all forgot, - ’Neath this earth; - Some one loved him--more can fall - To no mortal. Love is all - Life is worth. - - - - - THE SHEPHERDS’ VISION - - - Upon the dim Judean hills, - The shepherds watched their flock by night, - When on their unexpectant gaze - Outshone that vision of delight, - The fairest that did ever rise - To awe and gladden earthly eyes. - - From no far realm those shepherds came, - Treading the pilgrim’s weary road; - Not theirs the vigil and the fast - Within the hermit’s mean abode; - ’Twas at their usual task they stood, - When dawned that light of matchless good. - - Not only to the sage and seer - Life’s revelation comes in grace; - Most often on the toiler true, - Who, working steadfast in his place, - Looks for the coming of God’s will, - The glorious vision shineth still. - - - - - HEREDITY - - - Our dead forefathers, mighty though they be, - For all their power still leave our spirits free; - Though on our paths their shadows far are thrown, - The life that each man liveth is his own. - - Time stands like some schoolmaster old and stern, - And calls each human being in his turn - To write his task upon life’s blackboard space; - Death’s fingers then the finished work erase, - And the next pupil’s letters take its place. - - That he who wrote before thee labored well - Concerns thee not: thy work for thee must tell; - ’Tis naught to thee if others’ tasks were ill: - Thou hast thy chance and canst improve it still. - From all thy fathers’ glory and their guilt - The board for thee is clean: write what thou wilt! - - - - - THE WOOD FIRE - - - O giant oak, majestic, dark, and old, - A hundred summers in the woodland vast, - From the rich suns that lit thy glories past, - In thy huge trunk thou storedst warmth untold; - Now, when the drifted snows the hills enfold, - And the wild woods are shaken in the blast, - O’er this bright hearth thou sendest out at last - The long-pent sunshine that thine heart did hold. - - Like thee, O noble oak-tree, I would store - From days of joy all beauty and delight, - All radiant warmth that makes life’s summer bright, - So that I may, when sunniest hours are o’er, - Still from my heart their treasured gleam outpour, - To cheer some spirit in its winter night. - - - - - A NEW YEAR’S HOPE - - - I dare not hope that in this dawning year - I shall accomplish all my dreams hold dear; - That I, when this year closes, shall have wrought - All the high tasks that my ambitions sought, - And that I shall be then the spirit free, - Strong, and unselfish, that I long to be. - - But truly do I hope, resolve, and pray - That, as the new year passes, day by day - My footsteps, howsoever short and slow, - Shall still press forward in the path they go, - And that my eyes, uplifted evermore, - Shall look forth dauntless to the things before; - And when this new year with the old has gone, - I still may courage have to struggle on. - - - - - TO A SILVER DOLLAR - - - Pale coin, what various hands have you passed through - Ere you to-day within my hand were laid? - Perchance a laborer’s well-earned hire you made; - Some miser may have gloated long on you; - Perhaps some pitying hand to Want outthrew; - And, lost and won through devious tricks of trade, - You may have been, alas! the full price paid - For some poor soul that loved you past your due. - - No doubt ’tis well, O imaged Liberty, - You see not where your placid face is thrust, - Nor know how far man is from being free, - Bound as he is by money’s fateful lust, - While to his anxious soul like mockery - Seem those fair, graven words: “In God we trust.” - - - - - PREPARATION - - - “I have no time for those things now,” we say; - “But in the future just a little way, - No longer by this ceaseless toil oppressed, - I shall have leisure then for thought and rest. - When I the debts upon my land have paid, - Or on foundations firm my business laid, - I shall take time for discourse long and sweet - With those beloved who round my hearthstone meet; - I shall take time on mornings still and cool - To seek the freshness dim of wood and pool, - Where, calmed and hallowed by great Nature’s peace, - My life from its hot cares shall find release; - I shall take time to think on destiny, - Of what I was and am and yet shall be, - Till in the hush my soul may nearer prove - To that great Soul in whom we live and move. - All this I shall do sometime but not now-- - The press of business cares will not allow.” - And thus our life glides on year after year; - The promised leisure never comes more near. - Perhaps the aim on which we placed our mind - Is high, and its attainment slow to find; - Or if we reach the mark that we have set, - We still would seek another, farther yet. - Thus all our youth, our strength, our time go past - Till death upon the threshold stands at last, - And back unto our Maker we must give - The life we spent preparing well to live. - - - - - GHOSTS - - - Upon the eve of Bosworth, it is said, - While Richard waited through the drear night’s gloom - Until wan morn the death-field should illume, - Those he had murdered came with soundless tread - To daunt his soul with prophecies of dread, - And bid him know that, gliding from the tomb, - They would fight ’gainst him in his hour of doom - Until with theirs should lie his discrowned head. - - To every man, in life’s decisive hour, - Ghosts of the past do through the conflict glide, - And for him or against him wield their power; - Lost hopes and wasted days and aims that died - Rise spectral where the fateful war-clouds lower, - And their pale hands the battle shall decide. - - - - - THE RAINBOW - - - Love is a rainbow that appears - When heaven’s sunshine lights earth’s tears. - - All varied colors of the light - Within its beauteous arch unite: - - There Passion’s glowing crimson hue - Burns near Truth’s rich and deathless blue; - - And Jealousy’s green lights unfold - ’Mid Pleasure’s tints of flame and gold. - - O dark life’s stormy sky would seem, - If love’s clear rainbow did not gleam! - - - - - HEROES - - - Men, for the sake of those they loved, - Have met death unafraid, - Deeming by safety of their friends - Their life’s loss well repaid. - - Men have attained, by dauntless toil, - To purpose pure and high, - The darkness of their rugged ways - Lit by a loved one’s eye. - - Heroes were they, yet God to them - Gave not the task most hard, - For sweet it is to live or die - When love is our reward. - - The bravest soul that ever lived - Is he, unloved, unknown, - Who has chosen to walk life’s highest path, - Though he must walk alone; - - Who has toiled with sure and steadfast hands - Through all his lonely days, - Unhelped by Love’s sweet services, - Uncheered by Love’s sweet praise; - - Who, by no earthly honors crowned, - Kinglike has lived and died, - Giving his best to life, though life - To him her best denied. - - - - - THE RECOMPENSE - - - O ancient ocean, with what courage stern - Thy tides, since time began, have sought to gain - The luring moon, toward which they rise in vain, - Yet daily to their futile aim return. - Like thee do glorious human spirits yearn - And strive and fail and strive and fail again - Some starlike aspiration to attain, - Some light that ever shall above them burn. - - Yet truly shall their recompense abide - To all who strive, although unreached their goal: - The ceaseless surgings of the ocean tide - Do cleanse the mighty waters which they roll, - And the high dreams in which it vainly sighed - Make pure the deeps of the aspiring soul. - - - - - THE TEST - - - “He fears not death, and therefore he is brave”-- - How common yet how childish is the thought, - As if death were the hardest battle fought, - And earth held naught more dreadful than the grave! - - In life, not death, doth lie the brave soul’s test, - For life demandeth purpose long and sure, - The strength to strive, the patience to endure; - Death calls for one brief struggle, then gives rest. - - Through our fleet years then let us do our part - With willing arm, clear brain, and steady nerve; - In death’s dark hour no spirit true will swerve, - If he have lived his life with dauntless heart. - - - - - TO A DEAD BABY - - - Pale little feet, grown quiet ere they could run - One step in life’s strange journey; sweet lips chilled - To silence ere they prattled; small hands stilled - Before one stroke of life’s long toil was done; - Uncreased white brows that laurels might have won, - Yet leave their spacious promise unfulfilled-- - O baby dead, I cannot think God willed - Your life should end when it had scarce begun! - - If no man died till his long life should leave - All hopes and aims fulfilled, until his feet - Had trod all paths where men rejoice or grieve, - I might have doubt of future life more sweet; - But as I look on you, I must believe - There is a heaven that makes this earth complete. - - - - - THANKSGIVING - - - Our Father, whose unchanging love - Gives soil and sun and rain, - We thank Thee that the seeds we sowed - Were planted not in vain, - But that Thy hand the year hath crowned - With wealth of fruits and grain. - - But more we thank Thee for the hope - Which hath our solace been, - That when the harvests of our lives - Have all been gathered in, - Our weary hearts and toil-worn hands - Thy welcoming smile shall win. - - We thank Thee for the cheerful board - At which fond faces meet, - And for the human loves that make - Our transient years so sweet; - We thank Thee most for hopes of heaven - Where love shall be complete. - - Though on some dear, remembered face - No more the hearth lights shine, - We thank Thee that the friends we loved - Are kept by love divine, - And though they pass beyond our gaze, - They do not pass from Thine. - - If at the harvest feast no more - Our words and smiles shall blend, - We thank Thee that, though sundered far, - Our steps still homeward tend, - And that our Father’s open door - Awaits us at the end. - - - - - UNDER ROOFS - - - Between us and the starred vasts overhead - Broad-builded roofs we spread, - Thus shutting from our view the wonders high - Of the clear midnight sky; - Yet all our roofs make not more faint or far - One ray of one dim star. - - Our souls build o’er them roofs of dread and doubt, - And think they shut God out; - Yet all the while, remembering though forgot, - That vast Love, changing not, - Abides, and, spite of all our faithless fear, - Shines nevermore less near. - - - - - FOREVER - - - We sigh for human love, from which - A whim or chance shall sever, - And leave unsought the love of God, - Though God’s love lasts forever. - - We seek earth’s peace in things that pass - Like foam upon the river, - While, steadfast as the stars on high, - God’s peace abides forever. - - Man’s help, for which we yearn, gives way, - As trees in storm-winds quiver, - But, mightier than all human need, - God’s help remains forever. - - Turn unto Thee our wavering hearts, - O Thou who failest never; - Give us Thy love and Thy great peace, - And be our Help forever! - - - - - IF CHRIST SHOULD COME - - - If Christ should come to my store to-day, - What would he think, what would he say? - If his eyes on my opened ledgers were laid, - Would they meet a record of unfair trade, - And see that, lured by the love of pelf, - For a trivial price I had sold myself? - Or would he the stainless record behold - Of perfect integrity, richer than gold? - - If Christ should come to my school-room to-day, - What would he think, what would he say? - Would he find me giving the self-same care - To stupid and poor as to rich and fair, - And striving, unmindful of praise or blame, - Through tedious tasks to a lofty aim, - Guiding small feet as they forward plod - In paths of duty that lead to God? - - If Christ should come to my workshop to-day, - What would he think, what would he say? - Would his eye, as it glanced my work along, - See that all its parts were stanch and strong, - Closely fitted, firm-welded, and good, - Of flawless steel and of unwarped wood, - As sound as I trust my soul shall be - When tried by the test of eternity? - - If Christ should come to my kitchen to-day, - What would he think, what would he say? - Would he find me with blithesome and grateful heart - And hands well-skilled in the housewife’s art, - Bearing sordid cares with a spirit sweet, - And making the lowliest tasks complete? - - Cometh he not, who of old did say, - “Lo, I am with you, my friends, alway”? - O thought that our weary hearts must thrill, - In our toilsome ways he is present still! - At counter and forge, in office and field, - He stands, to no mortal eye revealed. - - Ah, if we only could realize - That ever those gentle yet searching eyes - Gaze on our work with approval or blame, - Our slipshod lives would not be the same! - For, thrilled by the gaze of the unseen Guest, - In our daily toil we would do our best. - - - - - GIFTS - - - Myrrh and frankincense and gold-- - Thus the ancient story told-- - When the seers found Him they sought, - To the wondrous babe they brought. - Let us--ours the selfsame quest-- - Bear unto the Christ our best. - - If to him, as to our King, - We the gift of gold would bring, - Be it royal offering! - Gold unstained by stealth or greed, - Gold outflung to all earth’s need, - That hath softened human woe-- - Helped the helpless, raised the low. - - Frankincense for him is meet, - Yet no Orient odors sweet - Are to him as fragrant gift - As white thoughts to God uplift, - And a life that soars sublime, - Sweet above ill scents of time. - - Last, from out the Magians’ store, - Myrrh, as for one dead, they bore; - While, perchance, their lifted eyes - Viewed afar the Sacrifice. - - Let us to the sepulcher - Bring a richer gift than myrrh: - Love that will not yield to dread - When all human hopes have fled; - Faith that falters not nor quails - When the waning earth-light fails, - Saying, “Shall I be afraid - Of the dark where Thou wast laid?” - - - - - BENEFACTION - - - If thou the lives of men wouldst bless, - Live thine own life in faithfulness; - Thine own hard task, if made complete, - Shall render others’ toil more sweet; - - Thy grief, if bravely thou endure, - Shall give men’s sorrow solace sure; - Thy peril, if met undismayed, - Shall make the fearful less afraid. - - Each step in right paths firmly trod - Shall break some thorn or crush some clod, - Making the way more smooth and free - For him who treads it after thee. - - - - - HISTORIC GROUND - - - No song lends these calm vales a deathless name; - No hero, to a nation’s honors grown, - Claims as his birthplace these rude hills unknown; - No pomp of hostile armies ever came, - Marring these fields with storied blood and flame; - And yet the darkest tragedies of time, - Of love and death the mysteries sublime - Have thrilled this tranquil spot, unmarked of fame. - - Here the long conflict between good and ill - Has been fought out to shame or victory, - Darkly and madly as in scenes renowned. - Ah, though unnamed in human records, still - Within the annals of eternity - This place obscure is true historic ground! - - - - - A MOUNTAIN GRAVEYARD - - - What a sleeping-place is here! - O vast mountain, grim and drear, - Though, throughout their life’s hard round, - To thy sons, in long toil bound, - Thou from stony hill and field - Didst a scanty sustenance yield, - Surely thou art kinder now! - Here, beneath the gray cliff’s brow, - Sleep they in the hemlocks’ gloom, - And no king has prouder tomb. - - Far above the clustered mounds, - Through the trees the faint wind sounds, - Waking in each dusky leaf - Sobs of immemorial grief; - And while silent years pass by, - Dark boughs lifted toward the sky - Like wild arms appealing toss, - As if they were mad with loss, - And with human hearts did share - Grief’s long protest and despair. - - No tall marbles, gleaming white, - Here reflect the softened light; - Yet beside the hillocks green - Rude, uncarven stones are seen, - Brought there from the mountain side - By the mourners’ love and pride. - - There, too, scattered o’er the grass - Of the graves, are bits of glass - That with white shells mingled lie. - Smile not, ye who pass them by, - For the love that placed them there - Deemed that they were things most fair. - - Now, when from their souls at last - Life’s long paltriness has passed, - The unending strife for bread - That has stunted heart and head, - These tired toilers may forget - All earth’s trivial care and fret. - Haply death may give them more - Than they ever dreamed before, - And may recompense them quite - For all lack of life’s delight; - Death may to their gaze unbar - Summits vaster, loftier far - Than the blue peaks that surround - This still-shadowed burial ground. - - - - - AFTER THE LAST LESSON - - - How wonderful he seems to me, - Now that the lessons are all read, - And, smiling through the stillness dim, - The child I taught lies dead! - - I was his teacher yesterday-- - Now, could his silent lips unclose, - What lessons might he teach to me - Of the vast truth he knows! - - Last week he bent his anxious brows - O’er maps with puzzling Poles and Zone; - Now he, perchance, knows more than all - The scientists have known. - - “Death humbleth all”--ah, say not so! - The man we scorn, the child we teach - Death in a moment places far - Past all earth’s lore can reach. - - Death bringeth men unto their own! - He tears aside Life’s thin disguise, - And man’s true greatness, all unknown, - Stands clear before our eyes. - - - - - THE ROAD TO CHURCH - - - Rutted by wheels and scarred by hoofs - And by rude footsteps trod, - The old road winds through glimmering woods - Unto the house of God. - - How many feet, assembling here - From each diverse abode, - Led by how many different aims, - Have walked this shadowy road! - - How many sounds of woe and mirth - Have thrilled these green woods dim-- - The funeral’s slow and solemn tramp, - The wedding’s joyous hymn. - - Full oft, amid the gloom and glow - Through which the highway bends, - I watch the meeting streams of life, - Whose mingled current tends - - Toward where, beyond the rock-strewn hill, - Against the dusky pines - That rise above the churchyard graves, - The white spire soars and shines. - - Here pass bowed men, with blanching locks, - World-weary, faint, and old, - Mourning the ways of reckless youths - Far-wandering from the fold. - - There totter women, frail and meek, - Of dim but gentle eyes, - Whom heaven’s love has made most kind, - Earth’s hardships made most wise. - - Apart, two lovers walk together, - With words and glances fond, - So happy now they scarce can feel - The need of bliss beyond. - - Gaunt-limbed, his shoulders stooped with toil, - His forehead seamed with care, - Adown the road the farm hand stalks - With awed and awkward air. - - The sermon glimmers in his mind, - Its truths half understood, - And yet from prayer and hymn he gains - A shadowy dream of good - - That sanctifies the offering - His bare life daily makes-- - His tender love for wife and child, - And toil borne for their sakes. - - Thus through the bleakness and the bloom, - O’er snows and freshening grass, - Devout, profane, grief-worn or gay, - The thronged church-goers pass, - - Till, one by one, they each and all, - Their earthly journeyings o’er, - Move silent down that well-known road - Which they shall walk no more. - - - - - THE PATCHWORK QUILT - - - In an ancient window seat, - Where the breeze of morning beat - ’Gainst her face, demure and sweet, - Sat a girl of long ago, - With her sunny head bent low - Where her fingers flitted white - Through a maze of patchwork bright. - - Wondrous hues the rare quilt bears! - All the clothes the household wears - By their fragments may be traced - In that bright mosaic placed; - Pieces given by friend and neighbor, - Blended by her curious labor - With the grandame’s gown of gray, - And the silken bonnet gay - That the baby’s head hath crowned, - In the quaint design are found. - - Did she aught suspect or dream, - As she sewed each dainty seam, - That a haunted thing she wrought? - That each linsey scrap was fraught - With some tender memory, - Which, in distant years to be, - Would lost hopes and loves recall, - When her eyes should on it fall? - - Years have passed, and with their grace - Gentler made her gentle face; - Brilliant still the fabrics shine - Of the quilt’s antique design, - As she folds it, soft and warm, - Round a fair child’s sleeping form. - Lustrous is her lifted gaze - As with half-voiced words she prays - That the bright head on that quilt - May not bow in shame or guilt, - And the little feet below - Darksome paths may never know. - - Yet again the morning shines - On the patch-work’s squares and lines; - Dull and dim its colors show, - But more dim the eyes that glow, - Wandering with a dreamy glance - O’er the ancient quilt’s expanse; - Worn its textures are and frayed, - But the hands upon them laid, - Creased with toils of many a year, - Still more worn and old appear. - - But what hands, long-loved and dead, - Do those faded fingers, spread - O’er those faded fabrics, meet - In reunion fond and sweet! - - What past scenes of tenderness - And of joy that none may guess, - Called back by the patchwork old, - Do those darkening eyes behold! - Lo, the deathless past comes near! - From the silence whisper clear - Long-hushed tones, and, changing not, - Forms and faces unforgot - In their old-time grace and bloom - Shine from out the deepening gloom. - - - - - MY BROTHER - - (1882-1903) - - - Dead! and he has died so young. - Silent lips, with song unsung, - Still hands, with the field untilled, - Lofty purpose unfulfilled. - - Was that life so incomplete? - Strong heart, that no more shall beat, - Ardent brain and glorious eye, - That seemed meant for tasks so high, - But now moulder back to earth, - Were you all then nothing worth? - - Could the death-dew and the dark - Quench that soul’s unflickering spark? - Are its aims, so high and just, - All entombed here in the dust? - - O, we trust God shall unfold - More than earthly eyes behold, - And that they whose years were fleet - Find life’s promises complete, - Where, in lands no gaze hath met, - Those we grieve for love us yet! - - - - - IN FULLER MEASURE - - - “Dying so young, how much he missed!” they said, - While his unbreathing sleep they wept around; - “If he had lived, Fame surely would have crowned - With wreath of fadeless green his kingly head; - The clear glance of his burning eyes had read - Wisdom’s dim secrets, hoary and profound; - While his life’s path would have been holy ground, - Made thus by all men’s love upon it shed.” - - Doubtless could he have spoken for whom that rain - Of teardrops fell, “How strange your sad words are!” - He would have said; “In fuller measure far - All that life gave to me I still retain; - Love have I now which no dark longings mar, - Fame void of strife, and wisdom free from pain.” - - - - - OCTOBER - - - O sweetest month, that pourest from full hands - The golden bounty of rich harvest lands! - O saddest month, that bearest with thy breath - The crimson leaves to drifts of glowing death! - - In fields and lives, the fall of withered leaves - Darkens the glorious season of ripe sheaves, - For Life’s fruition comes with loss and pain, - And Death alone can bring the richest gain. - - - - - BENIGNANT DEATH - - - Thanking God for life and light, - Strength and joyous breath, - Should we not, with reverent lips, - Thank Him, too, for death? - - When would man’s injustice cease, - Did not stern Death bring - Those who cheated and oppressed - To their reckoning? - - Would not life’s long sordidness - On our spirits pall, - If our years should last forever, - And the earth were all? - - On us, withered with life’s heat, - Falls death’s cooling dew, - And our parched souls’ dusty leaves - Their lost green renew. - - Ah, though deep the grave-dust hide - Love and courage high, - Life a paltrier thing would be - If we could not die! - - - - - THE UNRETURNING - - - If our dead could come back to us, - Who so desire it, - And be as they were before, - Would we require it? - - Would we bid them share again - Our weakness, foregoing - All their higher blessedness - Of being and knowing? - - For them the triumph is won, - The fight completed; - Do we wish that the doubtful strife - Should be repeated? - - Would we call them from the calm - Of all assurance - To the perils that might prove - Past their endurance? - - God is kind, since He will not heed - Our bitter yearning, - And the gates of heaven are shut - ’Gainst all returning. - - - - - WHEN A HUNDRED YEARS HAVE PASSED - - - When a hundred years have passed, - What shall then be left at last - Of us and the deeds we wrought? - Shall there be remaining aught - Save green graves in churchyards old, - Names o’ergrown with moss and mold, - From the worn stones half effaced, - And from human hearts erased? - - When a hundred years have fled, - Will it matter how we sped - In the conflicts of to-day, - Which side took we in the fray, - If we dared or if we quailed, - If we nobly won or failed? - It will matter! If, too weak - For the right to strike or speak, - We in virtue’s cause are dumb, - Some soul in far years to come - Shall have darker strife with vice, - Weakened by our cowardice. - Every struggle that we make, - Every valiant stand we take - In a righteous cause forlorn, - Shall give strength to hearts unborn. - - When a hundred years have gone, - Darkness and oblivion - Shall our ended lives obscure, - But their influence shall endure. - Other eyes shall be upraised - To the hills on which we gazed, - And the paths o’er which we plod - Shall by other feet be trod, - While our names shall be forgot; - Yet, although they know it not, - Those who live then, none the less, - We shall sadden or shall bless. - They shall bear our boon or curse, - They shall better be or worse, - As we who shall then lie still, - Have lived nobly or lived ill. - - - - - FALLEN LEAVES - - - Beneath the frost-stripped forest boughs, the drifted leaves are spread, - Vanished all summer’s green delight, all autumn’s glory fled. - - Yet, gathering strength from that dead host, the tree in some far spring - Shall toward the skies a denser growth, a darker foliage fling. - - Ah, if some power from us, long dead, should strengthen life to be, - We need not grieve to lie forgot, like sere leaves ’neath the tree! - - - - - DECEMBER SNOW - - - The falling snow a stainless veil doth cast - Upon the relics of the dying year-- - Dead leaves and withered flowers and stubble sere-- - As if it would erase the faded past; - So on our lives does death descend at last, - Hiding youth’s hopes and manhood’s purpose clear, - And memories faint, to dreaming age most dear, - Beneath its silence, blank and white and vast. - - The sun shines out, and lo! the meadows lone - Flash into sudden splendor, strangely bright, - More fair than summer landscape ever shone; - Thus, gleaming through the storm clouds, faith’s clear light - Transforms death’s endless waste of silence white - To beauty passing all that life has known. - - - - - TRUST - - - I came, I go, at His behest, - So, fearing not and not distressed, - I pass unto that life unguessed. - - Little the babe, at its first cry, - Knows of the scenes that near it lie; - Less still of that dim life know I. - - But Love receives the babe to earth, - Soft hands give welcome at its birth; - And so I think, when I go forth, - - There too shall wait, to cheer and bless, - Love, warm as mother’s first caress, - Strong as a father’s tenderness. - - - - - TOWARD SUNRISE - - - When, in old days, our fathers came - To bury low their dead, - Unto the far-off eastern sky - They turned the narrow bed. - - They laid the sleeper on his couch - With firm and simple faith - That cloudless morn would surely come - To end the night of death; - - And thus they sought to place him where, - When life’s clear sun should rise, - Its earliest rays might wakening fall - Across his close-sealed eyes. - - Like a faint fragrance lingering on - Throughout unnumbered years, - Still in our country burial-grounds - The custom sweet appears; - - Still, when the light of life from eyes - Beloved is withdrawn, - The sleepers’ dreamless beds are made - Facing the looked-for dawn. - - There, as the seasons pass, they seem - Serenely to await - The certain radiance of that Morn - That cometh soon or late. - - - - - GOOD NIGHT - - - Dear earth, I am going away to-night - From your long-loved hills and your meadows bright; - I know I should miss you when I am dead - If a better world came not in your stead. - - For the sweet, long days in your woodlands spent, - And your starry dusks, I shall not lament; - For greater than all the wonders you show, - O earth, is the secret I soon shall know. - - Good night! And now as I fall asleep - I give you the garment I wore to keep; - You will hold it safely till morning dawn - And I rise from my slumber to put it on. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSEMARY AND PANSIES *** - -***** This file should be named 63790-0.txt or 63790-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/9/63790/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Rosemary and Pansies -Author: Effie Smith - -Release Date: November 17, 2020 [EBook #63790] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSEMARY AND PANSIES *** -</pre><hr class="full" /> - -<div class="c"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="550" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span> </p> - -<h1>Rosemary and Pansies</h1> - -<p class="cb">EFFIE SMITH<br /><br /><br /> -<img src="images/colophon.png" -width="120" -alt="" -/> -<br /><br /><br /> -BOSTON<br /> -RICHARD G. BADGER<br /> -THE GORHAM PRESS<br /> -1909<br /><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span><br /> -<small>Copyright, 1909, by Effie Smith<br /> -All Rights Reserved<br /> -<span class="smcap">The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.</span></small></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="DEDICATION" id="DEDICATION"></a>DEDICATION -<br /><br /> -TO THE MEMORY OF MY<br /> -BROTHER MARVIN<br /> -</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_THE_GRAVE_OF_ONE_FORGOTTEN">At the Grave of One Forgotten</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SHEPHERDS_VISION">The Shepherds’ Vision</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_11">11</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HEREDITY">Heredity</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_WOOD_FIRE">The Wood Fire</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_13">13</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_NEW_YEARS_HOPE">A New Year’s Hope</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_14">14</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_SILVER_DOLLAR">To a Silver Dollar</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_15">15</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PREPARATION">Preparation</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_16">16</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GHOSTS">Ghosts</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_RAINBOW">The Rainbow</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HEROES">Heroes</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_20">20</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_RECOMPENSE">The Recompense</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_21">21</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TEST">The Test</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_22">22</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_DEAD_BABY">To a Dead Baby</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_23">23</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THANKSGIVING">Thanksgiving</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_24">24</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#UNDER_ROOFS">Under Roofs</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_25">25</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FOREVER">Forever</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_26">26</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IF_CHRIST_SHOULD_COME">If Christ Should Come</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_27">27</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GIFTS">Gifts</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_29">29</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BENEFACTION">Benefaction</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#HISTORIC_GROUND">Historic Ground</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_MOUNTAIN_GRAVEYARD">A Mountain Graveyard</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AFTER_THE_LAST_LESSON">After the Last Lesson</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ROAD_TO_CHURCH">The Road to Church</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_35">35</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_PATCHWORK_QUILT">The Patchwork Quilt</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MY_BROTHER">My Brother</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_FULLER_MEASURE">In Fuller Measure</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_42">42</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OCTOBER">October</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_43">43</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BENIGNANT_DEATH">Benignant Death</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_UNRETURNING">The Unreturning</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_45">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WHEN_A_HUNDRED_YEARS_HAVE_PASSED">When a Hundred Years Have Passed</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_46">46</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FALLEN_LEAVES">Fallen Leaves</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DECEMBER_SNOW">December Snow</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TRUST">Trust</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TOWARD_SUNRISE">Toward Sunrise</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_51">51</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GOOD_NIGHT">Good Night</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="cb">ROSEMARY AND PANSIES</p> - -<h2><a name="AT_THE_GRAVE_OF_ONE_FORGOTTEN" id="AT_THE_GRAVE_OF_ONE_FORGOTTEN"></a>AT THE GRAVE OF ONE FORGOTTEN</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a churchyard old and still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the breeze-touched branches thrill<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Giant oak trees blend their shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er a sunken grave-mound, made<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No stone, crumbling at its head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bears the mossed name of the dead<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Graven deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a myriad blossoms’ grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clothes with trembling light the place<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of his sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was a young man in his strength<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laid beneath this low mound’s length,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heeding naught?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did a maiden’s parents wail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they saw her, pulseless, pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Hither brought?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it else one full of days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who had traveled darksome ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And was tired,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who looked forth unto the end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw Death come as a friend<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Long desired?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who it was that rests below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not earth’s wisest now may know,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or can tell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But these blossoms witness bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They who laid the sleeper there<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Loved him well.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the dust that closed him o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Planted they the garden store<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Deemed most sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the fragrant gleam, outspread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swept in beauty from his head<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To his feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still, in early springtime’s glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guelder-roses cast their snow<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O’er his rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still sweet-williams breathe perfume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the peonies’ crimson bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Drapes his breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Passing stranger, pity not<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him who lies here, all forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">’Neath this earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some one loved him—more can fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To no mortal. Love is all<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Life is worth.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_SHEPHERDS_VISION" id="THE_SHEPHERDS_VISION"></a>THE SHEPHERDS’ VISION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the dim Judean hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shepherds watched their flock by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When on their unexpectant gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Outshone that vision of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fairest that did ever rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To awe and gladden earthly eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From no far realm those shepherds came,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Treading the pilgrim’s weary road;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not theirs the vigil and the fast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the hermit’s mean abode;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas at their usual task they stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When dawned that light of matchless good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not only to the sage and seer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s revelation comes in grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most often on the toiler true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who, working steadfast in his place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looks for the coming of God’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glorious vision shineth still.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HEREDITY" id="HEREDITY"></a>HEREDITY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our dead forefathers, mighty though they be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all their power still leave our spirits free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though on our paths their shadows far are thrown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The life that each man liveth is his own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Time stands like some schoolmaster old and stern,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And calls each human being in his turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To write his task upon life’s blackboard space;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death’s fingers then the finished work erase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the next pupil’s letters take its place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That he who wrote before thee labored well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Concerns thee not: thy work for thee must tell;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis naught to thee if others’ tasks were ill:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast thy chance and canst improve it still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From all thy fathers’ glory and their guilt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The board for thee is clean: write what thou wilt!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_WOOD_FIRE" id="THE_WOOD_FIRE"></a>THE WOOD FIRE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O giant oak, majestic, dark, and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A hundred summers in the woodland vast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the rich suns that lit thy glories past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thy huge trunk thou storedst warmth untold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, when the drifted snows the hills enfold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wild woods are shaken in the blast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er this bright hearth thou sendest out at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The long-pent sunshine that thine heart did hold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like thee, O noble oak-tree, I would store<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From days of joy all beauty and delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All radiant warmth that makes life’s summer bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that I may, when sunniest hours are o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still from my heart their treasured gleam outpour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cheer some spirit in its winter night.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_NEW_YEARS_HOPE" id="A_NEW_YEARS_HOPE"></a>A NEW YEAR’S HOPE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I dare not hope that in this dawning year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall accomplish all my dreams hold dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I, when this year closes, shall have wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the high tasks that my ambitions sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that I shall be then the spirit free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong, and unselfish, that I long to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But truly do I hope, resolve, and pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, as the new year passes, day by day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My footsteps, howsoever short and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall still press forward in the path they go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that my eyes, uplifted evermore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall look forth dauntless to the things before;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when this new year with the old has gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still may courage have to struggle on.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_SILVER_DOLLAR" id="TO_A_SILVER_DOLLAR"></a>TO A SILVER DOLLAR</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pale coin, what various hands have you passed through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere you to-day within my hand were laid?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perchance a laborer’s well-earned hire you made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some miser may have gloated long on you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps some pitying hand to Want outthrew;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, lost and won through devious tricks of trade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You may have been, alas! the full price paid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For some poor soul that loved you past your due.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No doubt ’tis well, O imaged Liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You see not where your placid face is thrust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor know how far man is from being free,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bound as he is by money’s fateful lust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While to his anxious soul like mockery<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seem those fair, graven words: “In God we trust.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PREPARATION" id="PREPARATION"></a>PREPARATION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I have no time for those things now,” we say;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“But in the future just a little way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No longer by this ceaseless toil oppressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall have leisure then for thought and rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I the debts upon my land have paid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or on foundations firm my business laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall take time for discourse long and sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With those beloved who round my hearthstone meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall take time on mornings still and cool<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seek the freshness dim of wood and pool,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, calmed and hallowed by great Nature’s peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life from its hot cares shall find release;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall take time to think on destiny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what I was and am and yet shall be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till in the hush my soul may nearer prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that great Soul in whom we live and move.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All this I shall do sometime but not now—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The press of business cares will not allow.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus our life glides on year after year;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The promised leisure never comes more near.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps the aim on which we placed our mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is high, and its attainment slow to find;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if we reach the mark that we have set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We still would seek another, farther yet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus all our youth, our strength, our time go past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till death upon the threshold stands at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And back unto our Maker we must give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The life we spent preparing well to live.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GHOSTS" id="GHOSTS"></a>GHOSTS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the eve of Bosworth, it is said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While Richard waited through the drear night’s gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until wan morn the death-field should illume,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those he had murdered came with soundless tread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To daunt his soul with prophecies of dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bid him know that, gliding from the tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They would fight ’gainst him in his hour of doom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until with theirs should lie his discrowned head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To every man, in life’s decisive hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ghosts of the past do through the conflict glide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for him or against him wield their power;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lost hopes and wasted days and aims that died<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rise spectral where the fateful war-clouds lower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And their pale hands the battle shall decide.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_RAINBOW" id="THE_RAINBOW"></a>THE RAINBOW</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love is a rainbow that appears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When heaven’s sunshine lights earth’s tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All varied colors of the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within its beauteous arch unite:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There Passion’s glowing crimson hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burns near Truth’s rich and deathless blue;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Jealousy’s green lights unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid Pleasure’s tints of flame and gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O dark life’s stormy sky would seem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If love’s clear rainbow did not gleam!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HEROES" id="HEROES"></a>HEROES</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Men, for the sake of those they loved,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have met death unafraid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeming by safety of their friends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their life’s loss well repaid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Men have attained, by dauntless toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To purpose pure and high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The darkness of their rugged ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lit by a loved one’s eye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heroes were they, yet God to them<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gave not the task most hard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sweet it is to live or die<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When love is our reward.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bravest soul that ever lived<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is he, unloved, unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who has chosen to walk life’s highest path,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though he must walk alone;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who has toiled with sure and steadfast hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through all his lonely days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unhelped by Love’s sweet services,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Uncheered by Love’s sweet praise;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who, by no earthly honors crowned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kinglike has lived and died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Giving his best to life, though life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To him her best denied.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_RECOMPENSE" id="THE_RECOMPENSE"></a>THE RECOMPENSE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O ancient ocean, with what courage stern<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy tides, since time began, have sought to gain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The luring moon, toward which they rise in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet daily to their futile aim return.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like thee do glorious human spirits yearn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And strive and fail and strive and fail again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some starlike aspiration to attain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some light that ever shall above them burn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet truly shall their recompense abide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To all who strive, although unreached their goal:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ceaseless surgings of the ocean tide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do cleanse the mighty waters which they roll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the high dreams in which it vainly sighed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Make pure the deeps of the aspiring soul.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TEST" id="THE_TEST"></a>THE TEST</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“He fears not death, and therefore he is brave”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How common yet how childish is the thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if death were the hardest battle fought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earth held naught more dreadful than the grave!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In life, not death, doth lie the brave soul’s test,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For life demandeth purpose long and sure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The strength to strive, the patience to endure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death calls for one brief struggle, then gives rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through our fleet years then let us do our part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With willing arm, clear brain, and steady nerve;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In death’s dark hour no spirit true will swerve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If he have lived his life with dauntless heart.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_DEAD_BABY" id="TO_A_DEAD_BABY"></a>TO A DEAD BABY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pale little feet, grown quiet ere they could run<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One step in life’s strange journey; sweet lips chilled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To silence ere they prattled; small hands stilled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before one stroke of life’s long toil was done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uncreased white brows that laurels might have won,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet leave their spacious promise unfulfilled—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O baby dead, I cannot think God willed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your life should end when it had scarce begun!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If no man died till his long life should leave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All hopes and aims fulfilled, until his feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had trod all paths where men rejoice or grieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I might have doubt of future life more sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as I look on you, I must believe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is a heaven that makes this earth complete.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THANKSGIVING" id="THANKSGIVING"></a>THANKSGIVING</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our Father, whose unchanging love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gives soil and sun and rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We thank Thee that the seeds we sowed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were planted not in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that Thy hand the year hath crowned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With wealth of fruits and grain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But more we thank Thee for the hope<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which hath our solace been,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That when the harvests of our lives<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have all been gathered in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our weary hearts and toil-worn hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy welcoming smile shall win.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We thank Thee for the cheerful board<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At which fond faces meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for the human loves that make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our transient years so sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We thank Thee most for hopes of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where love shall be complete.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though on some dear, remembered face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more the hearth lights shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We thank Thee that the friends we loved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are kept by love divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though they pass beyond our gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They do not pass from Thine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If at the harvest feast no more<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our words and smiles shall blend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We thank Thee that, though sundered far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our steps still homeward tend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that our Father’s open door<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awaits us at the end.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="UNDER_ROOFS" id="UNDER_ROOFS"></a>UNDER ROOFS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between us and the starred vasts overhead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broad-builded roofs we spread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus shutting from our view the wonders high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the clear midnight sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet all our roofs make not more faint or far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One ray of one dim star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our souls build o’er them roofs of dread and doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And think they shut God out;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet all the while, remembering though forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That vast Love, changing not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abides, and, spite of all our faithless fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shines nevermore less near.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FOREVER" id="FOREVER"></a>FOREVER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We sigh for human love, from which<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A whim or chance shall sever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave unsought the love of God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though God’s love lasts forever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We seek earth’s peace in things that pass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like foam upon the river,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While, steadfast as the stars on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s peace abides forever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Man’s help, for which we yearn, gives way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As trees in storm-winds quiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, mightier than all human need,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s help remains forever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Turn unto Thee our wavering hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Thou who failest never;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give us Thy love and Thy great peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And be our Help forever!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IF_CHRIST_SHOULD_COME" id="IF_CHRIST_SHOULD_COME"></a>IF CHRIST SHOULD COME</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If Christ should come to my store to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What would he think, what would he say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If his eyes on my opened ledgers were laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would they meet a record of unfair trade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see that, lured by the love of pelf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a trivial price I had sold myself?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or would he the stainless record behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of perfect integrity, richer than gold?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If Christ should come to my school-room to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What would he think, what would he say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would he find me giving the self-same care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To stupid and poor as to rich and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And striving, unmindful of praise or blame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through tedious tasks to a lofty aim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guiding small feet as they forward plod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In paths of duty that lead to God?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If Christ should come to my workshop to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What would he think, what would he say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would his eye, as it glanced my work along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See that all its parts were stanch and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Closely fitted, firm-welded, and good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of flawless steel and of unwarped wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As sound as I trust my soul shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When tried by the test of eternity?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If Christ should come to my kitchen to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What would he think, what would he say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would he find me with blithesome and grateful heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hands well-skilled in the housewife’s art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing sordid cares with a spirit sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And making the lowliest tasks complete?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cometh he not, who of old did say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Lo, I am with you, my friends, alway”?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thought that our weary hearts must thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our toilsome ways he is present still!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At counter and forge, in office and field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He stands, to no mortal eye revealed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, if we only could realize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ever those gentle yet searching eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gaze on our work with approval or blame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our slipshod lives would not be the same!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, thrilled by the gaze of the unseen Guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our daily toil we would do our best.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GIFTS" id="GIFTS"></a>GIFTS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Myrrh and frankincense and gold—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus the ancient story told—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the seers found Him they sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the wondrous babe they brought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us—ours the selfsame quest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear unto the Christ our best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If to him, as to our King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We the gift of gold would bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be it royal offering!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold unstained by stealth or greed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold outflung to all earth’s need,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hath softened human woe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Helped the helpless, raised the low.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Frankincense for him is meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet no Orient odors sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are to him as fragrant gift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As white thoughts to God uplift,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a life that soars sublime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet above ill scents of time.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last, from out the Magians’ store,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Myrrh, as for one dead, they bore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While, perchance, their lifted eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Viewed afar the Sacrifice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let us to the sepulcher<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring a richer gift than myrrh:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love that will not yield to dread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all human hopes have fled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faith that falters not nor quails<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the waning earth-light fails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saying, “Shall I be afraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the dark where Thou wast laid?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BENEFACTION" id="BENEFACTION"></a>BENEFACTION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou the lives of men wouldst bless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live thine own life in faithfulness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine own hard task, if made complete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall render others’ toil more sweet;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy grief, if bravely thou endure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall give men’s sorrow solace sure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy peril, if met undismayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall make the fearful less afraid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each step in right paths firmly trod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall break some thorn or crush some clod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making the way more smooth and free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him who treads it after thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HISTORIC_GROUND" id="HISTORIC_GROUND"></a>HISTORIC GROUND</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No song lends these calm vales a deathless name;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No hero, to a nation’s honors grown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Claims as his birthplace these rude hills unknown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No pomp of hostile armies ever came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marring these fields with storied blood and flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet the darkest tragedies of time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love and death the mysteries sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have thrilled this tranquil spot, unmarked of fame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here the long conflict between good and ill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has been fought out to shame or victory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Darkly and madly as in scenes renowned.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, though unnamed in human records, still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the annals of eternity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This place obscure is true historic ground!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_MOUNTAIN_GRAVEYARD" id="A_MOUNTAIN_GRAVEYARD"></a>A MOUNTAIN GRAVEYARD</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What a sleeping-place is here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O vast mountain, grim and drear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though, throughout their life’s hard round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thy sons, in long toil bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou from stony hill and field<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Didst a scanty sustenance yield,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely thou art kinder now!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, beneath the gray cliff’s brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep they in the hemlocks’ gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no king has prouder tomb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far above the clustered mounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the trees the faint wind sounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waking in each dusky leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sobs of immemorial grief;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while silent years pass by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark boughs lifted toward the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like wild arms appealing toss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if they were mad with loss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with human hearts did share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grief’s long protest and despair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No tall marbles, gleaming white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here reflect the softened light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet beside the hillocks green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rude, uncarven stones are seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brought there from the mountain side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the mourners’ love and pride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, too, scattered o’er the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the graves, are bits of glass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That with white shells mingled lie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smile not, ye who pass them by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the love that placed them there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deemed that they were things most fair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, when from their souls at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s long paltriness has passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unending strife for bread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That has stunted heart and head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These tired toilers may forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All earth’s trivial care and fret.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply death may give them more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than they ever dreamed before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may recompense them quite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all lack of life’s delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death may to their gaze unbar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summits vaster, loftier far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the blue peaks that surround<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This still-shadowed burial ground.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AFTER_THE_LAST_LESSON" id="AFTER_THE_LAST_LESSON"></a>AFTER THE LAST LESSON</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How wonderful he seems to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now that the lessons are all read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, smiling through the stillness dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The child I taught lies dead!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was his teacher yesterday—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now, could his silent lips unclose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What lessons might he teach to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the vast truth he knows!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Last week he bent his anxious brows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er maps with puzzling Poles and Zone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now he, perchance, knows more than all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The scientists have known.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Death humbleth all”—ah, say not so!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The man we scorn, the child we teach<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death in a moment places far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Past all earth’s lore can reach.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Death bringeth men unto their own!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He tears aside Life’s thin disguise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And man’s true greatness, all unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stands clear before our eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ROAD_TO_CHURCH" id="THE_ROAD_TO_CHURCH"></a>THE ROAD TO CHURCH</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rutted by wheels and scarred by hoofs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And by rude footsteps trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old road winds through glimmering woods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto the house of God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How many feet, assembling here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From each diverse abode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Led by how many different aims,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have walked this shadowy road!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How many sounds of woe and mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have thrilled these green woods dim—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The funeral’s slow and solemn tramp,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wedding’s joyous hymn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full oft, amid the gloom and glow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through which the highway bends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch the meeting streams of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose mingled current tends<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Toward where, beyond the rock-strewn hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the dusky pines<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rise above the churchyard graves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The white spire soars and shines.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here pass bowed men, with blanching locks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">World-weary, faint, and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mourning the ways of reckless youths<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far-wandering from the fold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There totter women, frail and meek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of dim but gentle eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom heaven’s love has made most kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earth’s hardships made most wise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Apart, two lovers walk together,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With words and glances fond,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So happy now they scarce can feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The need of bliss beyond.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gaunt-limbed, his shoulders stooped with toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His forehead seamed with care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adown the road the farm hand stalks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With awed and awkward air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sermon glimmers in his mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its truths half understood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet from prayer and hymn he gains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A shadowy dream of good<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That sanctifies the offering<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His bare life daily makes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His tender love for wife and child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And toil borne for their sakes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus through the bleakness and the bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er snows and freshening grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Devout, profane, grief-worn or gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thronged church-goers pass,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till, one by one, they each and all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their earthly journeyings o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Move silent down that well-known road<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which they shall walk no more.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_PATCHWORK_QUILT" id="THE_PATCHWORK_QUILT"></a>THE PATCHWORK QUILT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In an ancient window seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the breeze of morning beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Gainst her face, demure and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat a girl of long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her sunny head bent low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where her fingers flitted white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through a maze of patchwork bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wondrous hues the rare quilt bears!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the clothes the household wears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By their fragments may be traced<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that bright mosaic placed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pieces given by friend and neighbor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blended by her curious labor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the grandame’s gown of gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the silken bonnet gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the baby’s head hath crowned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the quaint design are found.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did she aught suspect or dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she sewed each dainty seam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That a haunted thing she wrought?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That each linsey scrap was fraught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With some tender memory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, in distant years to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would lost hopes and loves recall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her eyes should on it fall?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Years have passed, and with their grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gentler made her gentle face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brilliant still the fabrics shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the quilt’s antique design,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she folds it, soft and warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round a fair child’s sleeping form.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lustrous is her lifted gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with half-voiced words she prays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the bright head on that quilt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May not bow in shame or guilt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the little feet below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darksome paths may never know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet again the morning shines<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the patch-work’s squares and lines;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dull and dim its colors show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But more dim the eyes that glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering with a dreamy glance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the ancient quilt’s expanse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worn its textures are and frayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the hands upon them laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Creased with toils of many a year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still more worn and old appear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But what hands, long-loved and dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do those faded fingers, spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er those faded fabrics, meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In reunion fond and sweet!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What past scenes of tenderness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of joy that none may guess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Called back by the patchwork old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do those darkening eyes behold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, the deathless past comes near!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the silence whisper clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long-hushed tones, and, changing not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forms and faces unforgot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In their old-time grace and bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine from out the deepening gloom.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MY_BROTHER" id="MY_BROTHER"></a>MY BROTHER<br /><br /> -(1882-1903)</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dead! and he has died so young.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent lips, with song unsung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still hands, with the field untilled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lofty purpose unfulfilled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was that life so incomplete?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong heart, that no more shall beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ardent brain and glorious eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That seemed meant for tasks so high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now moulder back to earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were you all then nothing worth?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Could the death-dew and the dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quench that soul’s unflickering spark?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are its aims, so high and just,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All entombed here in the dust?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, we trust God shall unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than earthly eyes behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that they whose years were fleet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Find life’s promises complete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, in lands no gaze hath met,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those we grieve for love us yet!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_FULLER_MEASURE" id="IN_FULLER_MEASURE"></a>IN FULLER MEASURE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Dying so young, how much he missed!” they said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While his unbreathing sleep they wept around;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“If he had lived, Fame surely would have crowned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wreath of fadeless green his kingly head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clear glance of his burning eyes had read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wisdom’s dim secrets, hoary and profound;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While his life’s path would have been holy ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made thus by all men’s love upon it shed.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Doubtless could he have spoken for whom that rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of teardrops fell, “How strange your sad words are!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He would have said; “In fuller measure far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that life gave to me I still retain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love have I now which no dark longings mar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fame void of strife, and wisdom free from pain.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OCTOBER" id="OCTOBER"></a>OCTOBER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweetest month, that pourest from full hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden bounty of rich harvest lands!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O saddest month, that bearest with thy breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crimson leaves to drifts of glowing death!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In fields and lives, the fall of withered leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkens the glorious season of ripe sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Life’s fruition comes with loss and pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Death alone can bring the richest gain.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BENIGNANT_DEATH" id="BENIGNANT_DEATH"></a>BENIGNANT DEATH</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thanking God for life and light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strength and joyous breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should we not, with reverent lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank Him, too, for death?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When would man’s injustice cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did not stern Death bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those who cheated and oppressed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To their reckoning?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would not life’s long sordidness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On our spirits pall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If our years should last forever,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the earth were all?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On us, withered with life’s heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Falls death’s cooling dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our parched souls’ dusty leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their lost green renew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, though deep the grave-dust hide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love and courage high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life a paltrier thing would be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If we could not die!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_UNRETURNING" id="THE_UNRETURNING"></a>THE UNRETURNING</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If our dead could come back to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who so desire it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And be as they were before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would we require it?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would we bid them share again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our weakness, foregoing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All their higher blessedness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of being and knowing?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For them the triumph is won,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fight completed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do we wish that the doubtful strife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should be repeated?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would we call them from the calm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all assurance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the perils that might prove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Past their endurance?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God is kind, since He will not heed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our bitter yearning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the gates of heaven are shut<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Gainst all returning.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WHEN_A_HUNDRED_YEARS_HAVE_PASSED" id="WHEN_A_HUNDRED_YEARS_HAVE_PASSED"></a>WHEN A HUNDRED YEARS HAVE PASSED</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When a hundred years have passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What shall then be left at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of us and the deeds we wrought?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall there be remaining aught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save green graves in churchyards old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Names o’ergrown with moss and mold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the worn stones half effaced,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from human hearts erased?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When a hundred years have fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will it matter how we sped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the conflicts of to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which side took we in the fray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If we dared or if we quailed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If we nobly won or failed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It will matter! If, too weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the right to strike or speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We in virtue’s cause are dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some soul in far years to come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall have darker strife with vice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weakened by our cowardice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every struggle that we make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every valiant stand we take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a righteous cause forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall give strength to hearts unborn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When a hundred years have gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness and oblivion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall our ended lives obscure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But their influence shall endure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other eyes shall be upraised<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the hills on which we gazed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the paths o’er which we plod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall by other feet be trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While our names shall be forgot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, although they know it not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those who live then, none the less,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shall sadden or shall bless.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shall bear our boon or curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shall better be or worse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As we who shall then lie still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have lived nobly or lived ill.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FALLEN_LEAVES" id="FALLEN_LEAVES"></a>FALLEN LEAVES</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath the frost-stripped forest boughs, the drifted leaves are spread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vanished all summer’s green delight, all autumn’s glory fled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, gathering strength from that dead host, the tree in some far spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall toward the skies a denser growth, a darker foliage fling.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, if some power from us, long dead, should strengthen life to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We need not grieve to lie forgot, like sere leaves ’neath the tree!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DECEMBER_SNOW" id="DECEMBER_SNOW"></a>DECEMBER SNOW</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The falling snow a stainless veil doth cast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the relics of the dying year—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dead leaves and withered flowers and stubble sere—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if it would erase the faded past;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So on our lives does death descend at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hiding youth’s hopes and manhood’s purpose clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And memories faint, to dreaming age most dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath its silence, blank and white and vast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun shines out, and lo! the meadows lone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flash into sudden splendor, strangely bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More fair than summer landscape ever shone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus, gleaming through the storm clouds, faith’s clear light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Transforms death’s endless waste of silence white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To beauty passing all that life has known.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TRUST" id="TRUST"></a>TRUST</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I came, I go, at His behest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, fearing not and not distressed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pass unto that life unguessed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little the babe, at its first cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knows of the scenes that near it lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less still of that dim life know I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Love receives the babe to earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft hands give welcome at its birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so I think, when I go forth,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There too shall wait, to cheer and bless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, warm as mother’s first caress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong as a father’s tenderness.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TOWARD_SUNRISE" id="TOWARD_SUNRISE"></a>TOWARD SUNRISE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">When, in old days, our fathers came<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To bury low their dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto the far-off eastern sky<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They turned the narrow bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">They laid the sleeper on his couch<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With firm and simple faith<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That cloudless morn would surely come<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To end the night of death;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thus they sought to place him where,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When life’s clear sun should rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its earliest rays might wakening fall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Across his close-sealed eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Like a faint fragrance lingering on<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Throughout unnumbered years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still in our country burial-grounds<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The custom sweet appears;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Still, when the light of life from eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beloved is withdrawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sleepers’ dreamless beds are made<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Facing the looked-for dawn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">There, as the seasons pass, they seem<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Serenely to await<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The certain radiance of that Morn<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That cometh soon or late.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GOOD_NIGHT" id="GOOD_NIGHT"></a>GOOD NIGHT</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear earth, I am going away to-night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From your long-loved hills and your meadows bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know I should miss you when I am dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If a better world came not in your stead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the sweet, long days in your woodlands spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your starry dusks, I shall not lament;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For greater than all the wonders you show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O earth, is the secret I soon shall know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good night! And now as I fall asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I give you the garment I wore to keep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You will hold it safely till morning dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I rise from my slumber to put it on.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> -<pre style='margin-top:6em'> -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSEMARY AND PANSIES *** - -This file should be named 63790-h.htm or 63790-h.zip - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/9/63790/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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