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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Along the Shore, by Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
+
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+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Along the Shore
+
+Author: Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
+
+Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7056]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 3, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONG THE SHORE ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred,
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+ALONG THE SHORE
+
+BY ROSE HAWTHORNE LATHROP
+
+
+
+
+To
+G. P. L.
+
+
+We see the sky,--we love it day by day;
+  We feel the wind of Spring, from blossoms winging;
+We meet with souls tender as tints in May:
+For these large ecstasies what are we bringing?
+
+There is no price, best friend, for greatest meed.
+   Laid on the altar of our true affection,
+Wild flowers of love for me must intercede:
+   And lo! I win your unexcelled protection.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Inlet And Shore
+Impersonality
+A Protean Glimpse
+Power Against Power
+Life's Priestess
+Love Now
+One And One
+The Violin
+Gertrude
+Unity In Space
+The Shell And The Word
+The Clock-Tower Bell
+Ours To Endure
+Broken Waves
+Why Sad To-Day?
+The Ghosts Of Revellers
+Life's Burying-Ground
+Beyond Utterance
+The Suicide
+For Others
+Zest
+The Unperfected
+God-Made
+A Song Before Grief
+Pride: Fate
+Francie
+Lost Reality
+Closing Chords
+Grace
+Endless Resource
+The Baby
+A Waltz
+First Bloom Of Love
+A Wooing Song
+Dorothy
+Morning Song
+Looking Backward
+Unloved
+The Clock's Song
+Broken-Hearted
+The Cynic's Fealty
+The Girls We Might Have Wed
+"Neither!"
+Used Up
+A Youth's Suicide
+Twenty Bold Mariners
+In The Artillery
+The Lost Battle
+The Outgoing Race
+Hidden History
+A Ballad Of The Mist
+The Dreaming Wheel
+The Roads That Meet
+A PASSING VOICE
+
+
+
+
+ALONG THE SHORE.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+INLET AND SHORE.
+
+
+Here is a world of changing glow,
+  Where moods roll swiftly far and wide;
+  Waves sadder than a funeral's pride,
+Or bluer than the harebell's blow!
+
+The sunlight makes the black hulls cast
+  A firefly radiance down the deep;
+  The inlet gleams, the long clouds sweep,
+The sails flit up, the sails drop past.
+
+The far sea-line is hushed and still;
+  The nearer sea has life and voice;
+  Each soul may take his fondest choice,--
+The silence, or the restless thrill.
+
+O little children of the deep,--
+  The single sails, the bright, full sails,
+  Gold in the sun, dark when it fails,
+Now you are smiling, then you weep!
+
+O blue of heaven, and bluer sea,
+  And green of wave, and gold of sky,
+  And white of sand that stretches by,
+Toward east and west, away from me!
+
+O shell-strewn shore, that silent hears
+  The legend of the mighty main,
+  And tells to none the lore again,--
+We catch one utterance only: "Years!"
+
+
+
+
+IMPERSONALITY
+
+
+I dreamed within a dream the sun was gold;
+  And as I walked beneath this golden sun,
+The world was like a mighty play-room old,
+  Made for our pleasure since it was begun.
+
+But when I waked I found the sun was air,
+  The world was air, and all things only seemed,
+Except the thoughts we grow by; for in prayer
+  We change to spirits such as God has dreamed.
+
+
+
+
+A PROTEAN GLIMPSE.
+
+
+Time and I pass to and fro,
+Hardly greeting as we go,--
+Go askant, like crossing wings
+Of sea-gulls where the brave sea sings.
+
+Time, the messenger of Fate!
+Cunning master of debate,
+Cunning soother of all sorrow,
+Ruthless robber of to-morrow;
+Tyrant to our dallying feet,
+Though patron of a life complete;
+Like Puck upon a rosy cloud,
+He rides to distance while we woo him,--
+Like pale Remorse wrapped in a shroud,
+He brings the world in sackcloth to him!
+O dimly seen, and often met
+As shadowings of a wild regret!
+O king of us, yet feebly served;
+Dispenser of the dooms reserved;
+So silent at the folly done,
+So deadly when our respite's gone!--
+As sea-gulls, slanting, cross at sea,
+So cross our rapid flights with thee.
+
+
+
+
+POWER AGAINST POWER.
+[Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1864.]
+
+
+Where spells were wrought he sat alone,
+The wizard touching minds of men
+Through far-swung avenues of power,
+And proudly held the magic pen.
+
+By the dark wall a white Shape gleams,
+By morning's light a Shadow falls!
+Is it a servant of his brain,
+Or Power that to his power calls?
+
+By morning's light the Shadow looms,
+And watches with relentless eyes;
+In night-gloom holds the glimmering lamp,
+While the pen ever slower flies.
+
+By the dark wall it beckons still,
+By evening light it darkly stays;
+The wizard looks, and his great life
+Thrills with the sense of finished days.
+
+A Shape so ghost-like by the sun,
+With smiles that chill as dusks descend!
+The glancing wizard, stern and pale,
+Admits the presence of the End.
+
+Health has forsaken, death is near,
+The hand moves slower, eyes grow dim;
+The End approaches, and the man
+Dreams of no spell for quelling Him.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE'S PRIESTESS.
+
+
+All to herself a woman never sings
+A happy song. Oh no! but it is so
+As when the thrush has closed down his wings
+Within the wood, and hears his hidden woe
+From his own bill fill aisles of leaves, and go
+About the wood and come to him again.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE NOW.
+
+
+The sanctity that is about the dead
+  To make us love them more than late, when here,
+  Is not it well to find the living dear
+With sanctity like this, ere they have fled?
+
+The tender thoughts we nurture for a loss
+  Of mother, friend, or child, oh! it were wise
+  To spend this glory on the earnest eyes,
+The longing heart, that feel life's present cross.
+
+Give also mercy to the living here
+  Whose keen-strung souls will quiver at your touch;
+  The utmost reverence is not too much
+For eyes that weep, although the lips may sneer.
+
+
+
+
+ONE AND ONE.
+
+
+The thanking heart can only silence keep;
+  The breaking heart can only die alone:
+Our happy love above abysses deep
+  Of unguessed power hovers, and is gone!
+
+Come, take my hand, O friend I take for life!
+  You cannot reach my soul through touch or gaze;
+Be our full lips with infinite meanings rife:
+  The longed-for words, which of us ever says?
+
+
+
+
+THE VIOLIN.
+
+
+Touch gently, friend, and slow, the violin, So sweet and low,
+That my dreaming senses may be beckoned so
+Into a rest as deep as the long past "years ago!"
+So softly, then, begin;
+
+And ever gently touch the violin,
+Until an impulse grows of a sudden, like wind
+On the brow of the earth,
+And the voice of your violin shows its wide-swung girth
+With a crash of the strings and a medley of rage and mirth;
+And my rested senses spring
+Like juice from a broken rind,
+And the joys that your melodies bring
+I know worth a life-time to win,
+As you waken to love and this hour your violin!
+
+
+
+
+GERTRUDE.
+[In Memory: 1877.]
+
+
+What shall I say, my friend, my own heart healing,
+When for my love you cannot answer me?
+This earth would quake, alas! might I but see
+You smile, death's rigorous law repealing!
+Pale lips, your mystery so well concealing,
+May not the eloquent, varied minstrelsy
+Of my inspired ardor potent be
+To touch your chords to music's uttered feeling?
+Friend, here you cherished flowers: send me now
+One ghostly bloom to prove that you are blessed.
+No? If denial such as brands my brow
+Be in your heavenly regions, too, confessed,
+Oh may it prove the truth that your still eyes
+Foresee the end of all futurities!
+
+
+
+
+UNITY IN SPACE.
+
+
+Take me away into a storm of snow
+  So white and soft, I feel no deathly chill,
+But listen to the murmuring overflow
+  Of clouds that fall in many a frosty rill!
+
+Take me away into the sunset's glow,
+  That holds a summer in a glorious bloom;
+Or take me to the shadowed woods that grow
+  On the sky's mountains, in the evening gloom!
+
+Give me an entrance to the limpid lake
+  When moonbeams shine across its purity!
+A life there is, within the life we take
+  So commonly, for which 't were well to die.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHELL AND THE WORLD.
+
+
+The world was like a shell to me,--
+Its voice with distant song was low;
+But now its mysteries I know:
+I hear the turmoil of the sea.
+
+The whirling, soft, and tender sound
+That meant I knew not what of lore,--
+I dream its mystery now no more:
+Its reckless meaning I have found.
+
+O shell! I held thee to my ears
+When I was young, and smiled with pride
+To stand aglow at marvel's side!
+O world, thy voice is wild with tears!
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOCK-TOWER BELL.
+
+
+Say not, sad bell, another hour hath come,
+  Bare for the record of a world of crime;
+  Toll, rather, friend, the end of hideous Time,
+Wherein we bloom, live, die, yet have no home!
+
+Bell, laurels would we o'er thy pulsing twine,
+  And sing thee songs of triumph with glad tears,
+  If to the warring of our haggard years
+Thy clang should herald peace along the line!
+
+
+
+
+OURS TO ENDURE.
+
+
+We speak of the world that passes away,--
+  The world of men who lived years ago,
+  And could not feel that their hearts' quick glow
+Would fade to such ashen lore to-day.
+
+We hear of death that is not our woe,
+  And see the shadow of funerals creeping
+  Over the sweet fresh roads by the reaping;
+But do we weep till our loved ones go?
+
+When one is lost who is greater than we,
+  And loved us so well that death should reprieve
+  Of all hearts this one to us; when we must leave
+His grave,--the past will break like the sea!
+
+
+
+
+BROKEN WAVES.
+
+
+The sun is lying on the garden-wall,
+  The full red rose is sweetening all the air,
+  The day is happier than a dream most fair;
+The evening weaves afar a wide-spread pall,
+  And lo! sun, day, and rose, no longer there!
+
+I have a lover now my life is young,
+  I have a love to keep this many a day;
+  My heart will hold it when my life is gray,
+My love will last although my heart be wrung.
+  My life, my heart, my love shall fade away!
+
+O lover loved, the day has only gone!
+  In death or life, our love can only go;
+  Never forgotten is the joy we know,
+We follow memory when life is done:
+  No wave is lost in all the tides that flow.
+
+
+
+
+WHY SAD TO-DAY?
+
+
+Why is the nameless sorrowing look
+  So often thought a whim?
+God-willed, the willow shades the brook,
+  The gray owl sings a hymn;
+
+Sadly the winds change, and the rain
+  Comes where the sunlight fell:
+Sad is our story, told again,
+  Which past years told so well!
+
+Why not love sorrow and the glance
+  That ends in silent tears?
+If we count up the world's mischance,
+  Grieving is in arrears.
+
+Why should I know why I could weep?
+  The old urns cannot read
+The names they wear of kings they keep
+  In ashes; both are dead.
+
+And like an urn the heart must hold
+  Aims of an age gone by:
+What the aims were we are not told;
+  We hold them, who knows why?
+
+
+
+
+THE GHOSTS OF REVELLERS.
+
+
+At purple eyes beside the grain,
+  Our loves on altars we had burned,
+And mixed our tribute with the dew,
+  Our tears, when rosy dawn returned.
+
+Our voices we had joined with song
+  Of bird ecstatic, light, and free;
+Our laughter rollicked with the brook
+  Running through darkness merrily.
+
+At purple eyes beside the rim
+  Of frozen lakes our loves we burned,
+And slid away when stillness reigned:
+  Deep the vast woods our bodies urned.
+
+In starlit night along the shade
+  Of our dusk tombs our spirits glide;
+We hear the echoing of the wind,
+  We breathe the sighs we living sighed.
+
+
+
+
+LIFE'S BURYING-GROUND.
+
+
+My graveyard holds no once-loved human forms,
+  Grown hideous and forgotten, left alone,
+  But every agony my heart has known,--
+The new-born trusts that died, the drift of storms.
+
+I visit every day the shadowy grove;
+  I bury there my outraged tender thought;
+  I bring the insult for the love I sought,
+And my contempt, where I had tried to love.
+
+
+
+
+BEYOND UTTERANCE.
+
+
+There in the midst of gloom the church-spire rose,
+And not a star lit any side of heaven;
+In glades not far the damp reeds coldly touched
+Their sides, like soldiers dead before they fall;
+There in the belfry clung the sleeping bat,--
+Most abject creature, hanging like a leaf
+Down from the bell-tongue, silent as the speech
+The dead have lost ere they are laid in graves.
+
+A melancholy prelude I would sing
+To song more drear, while thought soars into gloom.
+Find me the harbor of the roaming storm,
+Or end of souls whose doom is life itself!
+So vague, yet surely sad, the song I dream
+And utter not. So sends the tide its roll,--
+Unending chord of horror for a woe
+We but half know, even when we die of it.
+
+
+
+
+THE SUICIDE.
+
+
+A shadowed form before the light,
+A gleaming face against the night,
+Clutched hands across a halo bright
+Of blowing hair,--her fixed sight
+Stares down where moving black, below,
+The river's deathly waves in murmurous silence flow.
+
+The moon falls fainting on the sky,
+The dark woods bow their heads in sorrow,
+The earth sends up a misty sigh:
+A soul defies the morrow!
+
+
+
+
+FOR OTHERS.
+
+
+Weeping for another's woe,
+Tears flow then that would not flow
+When our sorrow was our own,
+And the deadly, stiffening blow
+Was upon our own heart given
+In the moments that have flown!
+
+Cringing at another's cry
+In the hollow world of grief
+Stills the anguish of our pain
+For the fate that made us die
+To our hopes as sweet as vain;
+And our tears can flow again!
+
+One storm blows the night this way,
+But another brings the day.
+
+
+
+
+ZEST.
+
+
+Labor not in the murky dell,
+But till your harvest hill at morn;
+Stoop to no words that, rank and fell,
+Grow faster than the rustling corn.
+
+With gladdening eyes go greet the sun,
+Who lifts his brow in varied light;
+Bring light where'er your feet may run:
+So bring a day to sorrow's night.
+
+
+
+
+THE UNPERFECTED.
+
+
+A broken mirror in a trembling hand;
+  Sad, trembling lips that utter broken thought:
+One of a wide and wandering, aimless band;
+  One in the world who for the world hath naught.
+
+A heart that loves beyond the shallow word;
+  A heart well loved beyond its flowerless worth:
+One who asks God to answer the prayer heard;
+  One from the dust returning to the earth.
+
+Can miracle ne'er make the mirror whole
+  For one who, seeing, could be nobly bold?
+Who could well die, to magnify the soul,--
+  Whose strength of love will shake the graveyard's mould?
+
+
+
+
+GOD-MADE.
+
+
+Somewhere, somewhere in this heart
+  There lies a jewel from the sea,
+Or from a rock, or from the sand,
+  Or dropped from heaven wondrously.
+
+Oh, burn, my jewel, in my glance!
+  Oh, shimmer on my lips in prayer!
+Light my love's eyes to read my soul,
+  Which, wrapt in ashes, yet is fair!
+
+When dead I lie, forgotten, deep
+  Within the earth and sunken past,
+Still shall my jewel light my dust,--
+  The worth God gives us, first and last!
+
+
+
+
+A SONG BEFORE GRIEF.
+
+
+Sorrow, my friend,
+When shall you come again?
+The wind is slow, and the bent willows send
+Their silvery motions wearily down the plain.
+The bird is dead
+That sang this morning through the summer rain!
+
+Sorrow, my friend,
+I owe my soul to you.
+And if my life with any glory end
+Of tenderness for others, and the words are true,
+Said, honoring, when I'm dead,--
+Sorrow, to you, the mellow praise, the funeral
+wreath, are due.
+
+And yet, my friend,
+When love and joy are strong,
+Your terrible visage from my sight I rend
+With glances to blue heaven. Hovering along,
+By mine your shadow led,
+"Away!" I shriek, "nor dare to work my new-sprung mercies wrong!"
+
+Still, you are near:
+Who can your care withstand?
+When deep eternity shall look most clear,
+Sending bright waves to kiss the trembling land,
+My joy shall disappear,--
+A flaming torch thrown to the golden sea by your pale hand.
+
+
+
+
+PRIDE: FATE.
+
+
+Lullaby on the wing
+  Of my song, O my own!
+Soft airs of evening
+  Join my song's murmuring tone.
+
+Lullaby, O my love!
+  Close your eyes, lake-like clear;
+Lullaby, while above
+  Wake the stars, with heaven near.
+
+Lullaby, sweet, so still
+  In arms of death; I alone
+Sing lullaby, like a rill,
+  To your form, cold as a stone.
+
+Lullaby, O my heart!
+  Sleep in peace, all alone;
+Night has come, and your part
+  For loving is wholly done!
+
+
+
+
+FRANCIE.
+
+
+I loved a child as we should love
+  Each other everywhere;
+I cared more for his happiness
+  Than I dreaded my own despair.
+
+An angel asked me to give him
+  My whole life's dearest cost;
+And in adding mine to his treasures
+  I knew they could never be lost.
+
+To his heart I gave the gold,
+  Though little my own had known;
+To his eyes what tenderness
+  From youth in mine had grown!
+
+I gave him all my buoyant
+  Hope for my future years;
+I gave him whatever melody
+  My voice had steeped in tears.
+
+Upon the shore of darkness
+  His drifted body lies.
+He is dead, and I stand beside him,
+  With his beauty in my eyes.
+
+I am like those withered petals
+  We see on a winter day,
+That gladly gave their color
+  In the happy summer away.
+
+I am glad I lavished my worthiest
+  To fashion his greater worth;
+Since he will live in heaven,
+  I shall lie content in the earth.
+
+
+
+
+LOST REALITY.
+
+
+O soul of life, 't is thee we long to hear,
+  Thine eyes we seek for, and thy touch we dream;
+Lost from our days, thou art a spirit near,--
+  Life needs thine eloquence, and ways supreme.
+More real than we who but a semblance wear,
+  We see thee not, because thou wilt not seem!
+
+
+
+
+CLOSING CHORDS.
+
+
+I.
+
+_Death's Eloquence._
+
+
+When I shall go
+Into the narrow home that leaves
+No room for wringing of the hands and hair,
+And feel the pressing of the walls which bear
+The heavy sod upon my heart that grieves,
+(As the weird earth rolls on),
+Then I shall know
+What is the power of destiny. But still,
+Still while my life, however sad, be mine,
+I war with memory, striving to divine
+Phantom to-morrows, to outrun the past;
+For yet the tears of final, absolute ill
+And ruinous knowledge of my fate I shun.
+Even as the frail, instinctive weed
+Tries, through unending shade, to reach at last
+A shining, mellowing, rapture-giving sun;
+So in the deed of breathing joy's warm breath,
+Fain to succeed,
+I, too, in colorless longings, hope till death.
+
+
+II.
+
+_Peace._
+
+
+An angel spoke with me, and lo, he hoarded
+My falling tears to cheer a flower's face!
+For, so it seems, in all the heavenly space
+A wasted grief was never yet recorded.
+Victorious calm those holy tones afforded
+Unto my soul, whose outcry, in disgrace,
+Changed to low music, leading to the place
+Where, though well armed, with futile end awarded,
+My past lay dead. "Wars are of earth!" he cried;
+"Endurance only breathes immortal air.
+Courage eternal, by a world defied,
+Still wears the front of patience, smooth and fair."
+Are wars so futile, and is courage peace?
+Take, then, my soul, thus gently thy release!
+
+
+
+
+GRACE.
+
+
+Ill-wrought life we look at as we die!
+  Mistaken, selfish, meagre, and unmeet;
+So graven on the hearts that cruelly
+  We have deprived of many an hour sweet:
+O ill-wrought life we look at as we die!
+
+O day of God we look at as we die!
+  Grace, like a river flowing toward our feet;
+Wide pardon blowing with the breezes by;
+  Love telling us bright tales of the Complete;--
+While listening, hoping, thanking, lo, we die!
+
+
+
+
+ENDLESS RESOURCE.
+
+
+New days are dear, and cannot be unloved,
+  Though in deep grief we mourn, and cling to death;
+  Who has not known, in living on, a breath
+Of infinite joy that has life's rapture proved?
+
+If I have thought that in this rainbow world
+   The best we see was but a preface given
+   Of infinite greater tints in heaven,
+And life or no, heaven yet would be unfurl'd,--
+
+I did belie the soul-wide joys of earth,
+   And feelings deep as lights that dwell in seas.
+   Can heaven itself outlove such depths as these?
+Live on! Life holds more than we dream of worth!
+
+
+
+
+THE BABY.
+
+
+Pray, have you heard the news?
+Sturdy in lungs and thews,
+  There's a fine baby!
+Ring bells of crystal lip,
+Wave boughs with blossoming tip;
+  Think what he may be!
+
+Love cannot love enough,
+Winter is never rough
+  All round such sweetness;
+One of a million more
+Sent to the glad heart's door
+  In their completeness!
+
+Such news is never old,
+Though in each ear't is told,
+  As a first birthday.
+Welcome, thou ray of light!
+In golden prayers bedight,
+  Sail down thy mirth-way!
+
+
+
+
+A Waltz.
+
+
+Delicate gayety,
+Strains of a violin;
+Graceful steps begin--
+Roses at her waist!
+Clouds of sparkling light,
+Whispers of lovers alone
+As the couples drift one by one
+In the golden sheen of the ball.
+Alone in the happy crowd
+Each pair glides past each pair;
+Delicate strains of an air;
+Rainbow gayety:
+Pride of the moment throbs,
+Smiles, on the youthful cheek,
+Fearing no ill-wind's freak,
+Warm in the heart of the waltz;--
+Moving like melody,
+Flowing in light and glee,
+Young as the May is she,
+Strong as the June I am.
+
+
+
+
+FIRST BLOOM OF LOVE.
+
+
+O girl of spring! O brown-eyed girl!
+  Gathering violets near the woods,
+Whose coy young petals half unfurl
+  The mystery of their dulcet moods.
+
+O blushing girl! O girl of spring!
+  I hear no answer move the air;
+Yet eyelids hovering on the wing
+  Reveal deep meanings curtained there.
+
+O girl of spring! O spring of love!
+  Let silent violets be the speech
+From you to me, and let them prove
+  What maiden silence will not teach!
+
+
+
+
+A WOOING SONG.
+
+
+O love, I come; thy last glance guideth me!
+  Drawn, too, by webs of shadow, like thine hair;
+For, Sweet, the mystery
+  Of thy dark hair the deepening dusk hath caught.
+In early moonlight gleamings, lo, I see
+  Thy white hands beckon to the garden, where
+Dim day and silvery darkness are inwrought
+  As our two lives, where, joining soul with soul,
+The tints shall mingle in a fairer whole.
+  Oh! dost thou hear? I call, beloved, I call,
+My stout heart trembling till thy words return;
+  Hope-lifted, I float faster with the fall
+Of fear toward joy such fear alone can earn!
+
+
+
+
+DOROTHY.
+
+Dear little Dorothy, she is no more!
+I have wandered world-wide, from shore to shore,
+I have seen as great beauties as ever were wed;
+But none can console me for Dorothy dead.
+
+Dear little Dorothy! How strange it seems
+That her face is less real than the faces of dreams;
+That the love which kept true, and the lips which so spoke,
+Are more lost than my heart, which died not when it broke!
+
+
+
+
+MORNING SONG.
+
+
+Turn thy face to me, my love,
+I come from out the morning;
+Give thy hand to me, my love,
+I'm dewy from the dawning.
+
+Touch my lips with thine, my love,
+I've tasted air at daybreak;
+Gaze into my eyes, my love,
+At the sky's waking they wake.
+
+
+
+
+LOOKING BACKWARD.
+
+
+Gray towers make me think of thee,
+Thou girl of olden minstrelsy,
+Young as the sunlight of to-day,
+Silent as tasselled boughs in May!
+
+A wind-flower in a world of harm,
+A harebell on a turret's arm,
+A pearl upon the hilt of fame
+Thou wert, fair child of some high name.
+
+The velvet page, the deep-eyed knight,
+The heartless falcon, poised for flight,
+The dainty steed and graceful hound,
+In thee their keenest rapture found.
+
+But for old ballads, and the rhyme
+And writ of genius o'er the time
+When keeps had newly reared their towers,
+The winning scene had not been ours.
+
+O Chivalry! thy age was fair,
+When even knaves set out to dare
+Their heads for any barbarous crime,
+And hate was brave, and love sublime.
+
+The bugle-note I send so far
+Across Time's moors to thee, sweet star,
+Where stands thy castle in its mist,
+Hear, if the wandering breezes list!
+
+
+
+
+UNLOVED.
+
+
+Paler than the water's white
+  Stood the maiden in the shade,
+And more silent than the night
+  Were her lips together laid;
+
+Eyes she hid so long and still
+  By lids wet with unshed tears,
+Hands she loosely clasped at will,
+  Though her heart was full of fears.
+
+Never, never, never more
+  May her soul with joy be moved;
+Silent, silent, silent,--for
+  He was silent whom she loved.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOCK'S SONG.
+
+
+Eileen of four,
+Eileen of smiles;
+Eileen of five,
+Eileen of tears;
+Eileen of ten, of fifteen years,
+Eileen of youth
+And woman's wiles;
+Eileen of twenty,
+In love's land,
+Eileen all tender
+In her bliss,
+Untouched by sorrow's treacherous kiss,
+And the sly weapon in life's hand,--
+Eileen aroused to share all fate,
+Eileen a wife,
+Pale, beautiful,
+Eileen most grave
+And dutiful,
+Mourning her dreams in queenly state.
+Eileen! Eileen!....
+
+
+
+
+BROKEN-HEARTED.
+
+
+"Cross my hands upon my breast,"
+Read her last behest.
+"Turn my cheek upon the pillow,
+As resting from life's stormy billow
+  With sleep's fine zest!"
+
+"Cross my hands upon my breast,"
+Read her last behest,
+"That the patient bones may lie
+In form of thanks eternally,
+  Grimly expressed!"
+
+We clasped her hands upon her breast:
+Oh mockery at misery's hest!
+We hid in flowers her body's grief,--
+Counting by many a rose and leaf
+  Her days unblessed!
+
+
+
+
+THE CYNIC'S FEALTY.
+
+
+We all have hearts that shake alike
+  Beneath the arias of Fate's hand;
+  Although the cynics sneering stand,
+These too the deathless powers strike.
+
+A trembling lover's infinite trust,
+  To the last drop of doating blood,
+  Feels not alone the ocean flood
+Of desperate grief, when dreams are dust.
+
+The scornfullest souls, with mourning eyes,
+  Pant o'er again their ghostly ways;--
+  Dread night-paths, where were gleaming days
+When life was lovelier than the skies!
+
+
+
+
+THE GIRLS WE MIGHT HAVE WED.
+
+
+Come, brothers, let us sing a dirge,--
+A dirge for myriad chances dead;
+In grief your mournful accents merge:
+Sing, sing the girls we might have wed!
+
+Sweet lips were those we never pressed
+In love that never lost the dew
+In sunlight of a love confessed,--
+Kind were the girls we never knew!
+
+Sing low, sing low, while in the glow
+Of fancy's hour those forms we trace,
+Hovering around the years that go;
+Those years our lives can ne'er replace!
+
+Sweet lips are those that never turn
+A cruel word; dear eyes that lead
+The heart on in a blithe concern;
+White hand of her we did not wed;
+
+Fair hair or dark, that falls along
+A form that never shrinks with time;
+Bright image of a realm of song,
+Standing beside our years of prime;--
+
+When you shall go, then may we know
+The heart is dead, the man is old.
+Life can no other charm bestow
+When girls we might have loved turn cold!
+
+
+
+
+"NEITHER!"
+
+
+So ancient to myself I seem,
+I might have crossed grave Styx's stream
+      A year ago;--
+      My word, 'tis so;--
+   And now be wandering with my sires
+In that rare world we wonder o'er,
+Half disbelieve, and prize the more!
+
+Yet spruce I am, and still can mix
+My wits with all the sparkling tricks,
+      A youth and girl
+      At twenty's whirl
+   Play round each other's bosom fires,
+On this brisk earth I once enjoyed:--
+But now I'm otherwise employed!
+
+Am I a thing without a name;
+A sort of dummy in the game?
+      "Not young, not old:"
+      A world is told
+   Of misery in that lengthened phrase;
+Yet, gad, although my coat be smooth,
+My forehead's wrinkled,--that's the truth!
+
+I hardly know which road to go.
+With youth? Perhaps. With age? Oh no!
+      Well, then, with those
+      Who share my woes,
+   Doomed to mere fashionable ways,--
+Fair matrons, cigarettes, and tea,
+Sighs, mirrors, and society?
+
+Is it a folly still to twirl,
+And smirk and promenade and querl
+      About the town?
+      I'll put this down:
+   A man becomes downright _blast_
+Before he knows that he is either
+That, or what I am--call it, "Neither."
+
+Oh, for a hint what we shall do,
+We bucks whose comedy is through!
+      Who'd be sedate?
+      And yet I hate
+   To pose persistently to-day
+As one just trying flights, you know,
+When I _did_ try them long ago!
+
+Suppose I hurry up the tide
+Of age, and bravely drift beside
+      Those hoary dogs
+      Who lie like logs
+   Around the clubs where life is hushed?
+My blood runs cold! What? Say farewell
+To this year's new bewildering belle!
+
+Hold, man, the secret broad and huge,
+With every well-known subterfuge!
+      If bald and gray
+      And thin, still say
+   You're only thirty: don't be crushed;
+But when your voice shakes o'er a pun,
+Be off to China:--your day's done!
+
+
+
+
+USED UP.
+
+
+Hand me my light gloves, James;
+  I'm off for the waltzing world,
+The kingdom of Strauss and that--
+Where is my old crush-hat?
+  _Is_ my hair properly curled?
+Call in the daytime, James.
+
+Think of me, won't you, James,
+  When I am rosily twirling
+The "Rose of a garden of girls,"
+The Pearl among circling pearls,
+  In a mesh of melodious whirling?
+Envy me, won't you, James?
+
+For a heart lost along with her fan,
+  For a nice sense of honor flown,
+For the care of an invalid soul,
+And tastes far beyond my control,--
+  I have for my precious own
+The fame of a "waltzing man."
+
+If I don't come, come for me, James.
+  Ah, the waltz is my mastering passion!
+The trip-tripping airs are as sweet
+As love to my turning feet,
+  While I clasp the fair doll of fashion,
+My _fiancée_. But come for me, James.
+
+The heart which I lost--it is strange--
+  I've been told it will yet be my death;
+And I think it quite likely I might
+Waltz once too often to-night,
+  In spite of the music and Beth.
+Death's a difficult move to arrange.
+
+Pray smoke by the fire, old boy,
+  And find yourself whiskey and books.
+If I should not turn up, then, at two
+Or three, you will know I need you.
+  If I'm dead, you must pardon my looks
+As I lie in the ball-room, old boy.
+
+
+
+
+A YOUTH'S SUICIDE.
+
+
+He handed his life a poisoned draught,
+With a scornful smile and a cold, cold glance,
+And the merry bystanders loudly laughed
+(For the rollicking world was gay!).
+
+He thought she knew not the juice, perchance;
+But her tears fell down to her sobbing lips
+While the merry-makers turned to the dance
+(The world was mocking fate that day!).
+
+To his life he kissed his finger-tips:
+"Drink deep the beaker, and so farewell!"
+Then slowly the poisoned draught she sips
+(How they laugh at her meek dismay!).
+
+He sprang to her arm, which loosely fell,
+Crying: "No! not yet that dire eclipse!"
+Now loud laughed the dancers, and whirled pell-mell
+(While the echoes hurried away!).
+
+The mad world clustered, it seemed, around.
+"Farewell!" she sighed, sinking; then from afar
+Flowed the pealing laughter and wassail's sound
+(For the dead the world will not stay!).
+
+
+
+
+TWENTY BOLD MARINERS.
+
+
+Twenty bold mariners went to the wave,
+  Twenty sweet breezes blew over the main;
+All were so hearty, so free, and so brave,--
+  But they never came back again!
+
+Half the wild ocean rose up to the clouds,
+  Half the broad sky scowled in thunder and rain;
+Twenty white crests rose around them like shrouds,
+  And they stayed in the dancing main!
+
+This is easy to sing, and often to mourn,
+  And the breaking of dawn is no newer to-day;
+But those who die young, or are left forlorn,
+  Think grief is no older than they!
+
+
+
+
+IN THE ARTILLERY.
+
+
+We are moving on in silence,
+Save for rattling iron and steel,
+And a skirmish echoing round us,
+Showering faintly, peal on peal.
+
+Like a lion roars the North wind
+As a-horse we sternly clank,
+While beside the guns our men drop,
+Slyly shot from either flank.
+
+You are musing, love, and smiling
+By the hearth-fire of the Mill,
+While the tangled oaks are cracking
+Boughs upon the windy hill.
+
+I can see the moonlight shining
+Over fields of frozen calm;
+I can hear the chapel organ,
+And the singing of the psalm.
+
+Fare you well, then, English village,
+Which of all I loved the most,
+Where my ghost alone can wander
+Once again, when life is lost.
+
+Fare you well, then, Sally Dorset;
+You will never utter wail
+For the soldier dead who loved you
+With these tears of no avail!
+
+I can see your drowsy lashes
+Lifting as you hear them read
+Prayers in mercy for our souls' shrift
+When we come to our last need.
+
+I forgive you, matchless beauty,
+Proudly conscious of your fame,
+Loved by many a luckless youngster
+Who will ne'er forget your name!
+
+Merry, though so cold of answer,
+With a laughing glance of steel,
+How your face swept like a banner,
+Blushing down the village reel!
+
+As you dance before my vision
+On this deadly foreign morn,
+Death is charmed into the soothing
+Of the love you chose to scorn.
+
+We shall die--our hours are numbered--
+As the sunlight dawns serene
+Over yonder mountain ridges,
+Rimming round this battle scene.
+
+I shall die--few will return, dear;
+I shall be of those who stay:
+England sent us, but a handful,
+Among hordes of heathen clay.
+
+We will show the world how England
+Has no dross to spend in war;
+When she throws away her soldiers,
+They are soldiers to the core.
+
+You will wake to hear the twitter
+Of the early sparrow's note:
+I shall lie beneath the heavens,
+With the death-grip at my throat!
+
+
+
+
+THE LOST BATTLE
+
+
+To his heart it struck such terror
+  That he laughed a laugh of scorn,--
+The man in the soldier's doublet,
+  With the sword so bravely worn.
+
+It struck his heart like the frost-wind
+  To find his comrades fled,
+While the battle-field was guarded
+  By the heroes who lay dead.
+
+He drew his sword in the sunlight,
+  And called with a long halloo:
+"Dead men, there is one living
+  Shall stay it out with you!"
+
+He raised a ragged standard,
+  This lonely soul in war,
+And called the foe to onset,
+  With shouts they heard afar.
+
+They galloped swiftly toward him.
+  The banner floated wide;
+It sank; he sank beside it
+  Upon his sword, and died.
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTGOING RACE.
+
+
+The mothers wish for no more daughters;
+There is no future before them.
+They bow their heads and their pride
+At the end of the many tribes' journey.
+
+The mothers weep over their children,
+Loved and unwelcome together,
+Who should have been dreamed, not born,
+Since there is no road for the Indian.
+
+The mothers see into the future,
+Beyond the end of that Chieftain
+Who shall be the last of the race
+Which allowed only death to a coward.
+
+The square, cold cheeks, lips firm-set,
+The hot, straight glance, and the throat-line,
+Held like a stag's on the cliff,
+Shall be swept by the night-winds, and vanish!
+
+
+
+
+HIDDEN HISTORY.
+
+
+I.
+
+
+There was a maiden in a land
+  Was buried with all honor fine,
+For they said she had dared her pulsing life
+  To save a silent, holy shrine.
+
+The cannon rode by the church's door,
+  The men's wild faces flashed in the sun;
+The woman had guarded with rifle poised,
+  While the cassocked priests had run.
+
+Ah, no! To save her pulsing life
+  The woman like a reindeer turned,
+While hostile armies rolled by her in clouds,
+  And miles of sun and metal burned.
+
+But who should know? For she was dead
+  Before the leathern curtain's wall,
+When came her wide-eyed comrades, and found
+  Her body and her weapon, all.
+
+
+II.
+
+
+There was a woman left to die
+  Who never told her sacrifice,
+But trusted for her crown to God,
+  As to its value and device.
+
+No land was prouder for her heart,
+  No word has echoed long her deed,
+And where she has lain, the angel flower
+  Looks like a common weed.
+
+
+
+
+A BALLAD OF THE MIST.
+
+
+"I love the Lady of Merle," he said.
+"She is not for thee!" her suitor cried.
+And in the valley the lovers fought
+  By the salt river's tide.
+
+The braver fell on the dewy sward:
+The unloved lover returned once more;
+In yellow satin the lady came
+  And met him at the door.
+
+"Hast thou heard, dark Edith," laughed he grim,
+"Poor Hugh hath craved thee many a day?
+Soon would it have been too late for him
+  His low-born will to say.
+
+"I struck a blade where lay his heart's love,
+And voice for thee have I left him none,
+To brag he still seeks thee over the hills
+  When thou and I are one!"
+
+Fearless across the wide country
+Rode the dark Lady Edith of Merle;
+She looked at the headlands soft with haze,
+  And the moor's mists of pearl.
+
+The moon it struggled to see her pass
+Through its half-lit veils of driving gray;
+But moonbeams were slower than the steed
+  That Edith rode away.
+
+Oh, what was her guerdon and her haste,
+While cried the far screech-owl in the tree,
+And to her heart crept its note so lone,
+  Beating tremulously?
+
+About her a black scarf floated thin,
+And over her cheek the mist fell cold,
+And shuddered the moon between its rifts
+  Of dark cloud's silvery fold.
+
+Oh, white fire of the nightly sky
+When burns the moon's wonder wide and far,
+And every cloud illumed with flame
+  Engulfs a shaken star!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bright as comes morning from the hill,
+There comes a face to her lover's eyes;
+Her love she tells; and he, dying, smiles,--
+  And smiles yet in the skies.
+
+He is dead, and closer breathe the mists;
+He is dead, the owlet moans remote;
+He is buried, and the moon draws near,
+  To gaze and hide and float.
+
+Fearless within the churchyard's spell
+The white-browed lady doth stand and sigh;
+She loves the mist, and the grave, and the moon,
+  And the owl's quivering cry.
+
+
+
+
+THE DREAMING WHEEL.
+
+
+Down slant the moonbeams to the floor
+  Through the garret's scented air,
+And show a thin-spoked spinning-wheel,
+Standing ten years and more
+Far from the hearth-stone's woe and weal,--
+  The ghost of a lost day's care!
+
+And over the dreaming spinning-wheel,
+  That has not stirred so long,
+The weaving spiders spin a veil,
+A silvery shroud for its human zeal
+And usefulness, with their fingers pale,
+  The shadowy lights among.
+
+See! in the moonlight cold and gray
+  A thoughtful maiden stands;
+And though she blames not overmuch
+With her sweet lips the great world's way,
+Yet sad and slow she stoops to touch
+  The still wheel with her hands.
+
+"Forsaken wheel! when you first came
+  To clothe young hearts and old,
+Our ancestors were glad to wear
+Your woof, nor knew the shame
+Which later days have bred, to share
+  The homespun's simple fold!
+
+"My lover's gone to win for me,
+  With tender pride and care,
+Riches to garnish all our days;
+But love thrives in simplicity
+As well as in the prouder ways,
+  If noble thought is there!
+
+"When our strong grandsires vowed to wed,
+  Stout knots of wool, and corn,
+Were gathered in, and hardly more
+Of what will count not when we're dead!
+Life brought them to a happy shore,
+  Who set their sails at dawn.
+
+"O silent wheel! we weave a sad,
+  Weak fabric of our days;
+The faith that moved thee long is gone;
+Forgot, the couple, lass and lad,
+Who loved with courage deeply drawn,
+  Heeding but God's delays!
+
+"On thy long loneliness the sun
+  Blazes in dread, the moon
+Shines with a pitiless, threatening hue!
+And while the golden sand-grains run,
+Old age comes nearer; and like you
+  I may be standing silent--soon!
+
+"Then turn, my lover, turn your eyes
+  Back to the humble door;
+Waste not the youthful years in hand.
+See where the truest comfort lies,
+And join the freer old-time band,
+  Nor crave a worldly store!
+
+"In Freedom's land let no one know
+  Even the chain of ease,
+Nor bow to royal Luxury's glance.
+From peasant-hands fair art can grow;
+From the rough brow thought springs with lance
+  And helmet: God loves these!"
+
+She wept; then raised her head, and swung
+  The aged wheel with whispering whir;
+And as it turned, it softly sung
+  (In fancy) this response to her:--
+
+"I had not spun the sower's shirt,
+  I had not kept the children warm,
+  If I had found a wearing harm
+In my monotonous toil alert.
+
+"To those who wait with eager eyes
+  And ready hands and tender hearts,--
+  They find the giant year, that parts,
+Hath forged strong links with paradise!
+
+"Sigh not that Time doth turn the glass
+  To let the golden sand-grains run,
+  While longer shadows of the sun
+Fall o'er the spring-time, bonny lass!
+
+"The circumstances of a life
+  Are little things compared to it;
+  The way love's shown is ever fit;
+Thank God, who gives us love, not strife!
+
+"And if I do not stand beside
+  The hearth, as fifty years ago,
+  No current of the years that flow
+Can rob the radiance from a bride!
+
+"I know not why the world should change,
+  I know not why my day is done;
+  And yet this limit of my zone
+Hints of the limit to all range.
+
+"Man's progress always alters tint,
+  As mountains move from rose to gray;
+  Yet like their shapes, love still doth stay
+The same, complete,--'tis God's imprint.
+
+"And yet I dream Time yet may turn
+  Its wheel to weave the humbler thought,
+  As in old days. When joy is sought,
+Men find it where the hearth-fires burn."
+
+
+
+
+THE ROADS THAT MEET.
+
+
+ART.
+
+
+One is so fair, I turn to go,
+  As others go, its beckoning length;
+Such paths can never lead to woe,
+  I say in eager, early strength.
+    What is the goal?
+      Visions of heaven, wake;
+    But the wind's whispers round me roll:
+      "For you, mistake!"
+
+
+LOVE.
+
+
+One leads beneath high oaks, and birds
+  Choose there their joyous revelry;
+The sunbeams glint in golden herds,
+  The river mirrors silently.
+    Under these trees
+      My heart would bound or break;
+    Tell me what goal, resonant breeze?
+      "For you, mistake!"
+
+
+CHARITY.
+
+
+What is there left? The arid way,
+  The chilling height, whence all the world
+Looks little, and each radiant day,
+  Like the soul's banner, flies unfurled.
+    May I stand here;
+      In this rare ether slake
+    My reverential lips, and fear
+      No last mistake?
+
+Some spirits wander till they die,
+  With shattered thoughts and trembling hands;
+What jarred their natures hopelessly
+  No living wight yet understands.
+    There is no goal,
+      Whatever end they make;
+    Though prayers each trusting step control,
+      They win mistake.
+
+This is so true, we dare not learn
+  Its force until our hopes are old,
+And, skyward, God's star-beacons burn
+  The brighter as our hearts grow cold.
+    If all we miss,
+      In the great plans that shake
+    The world, still God has need of this,--
+      Even our mistake.
+
+
+
+
+A PASSING VOICE.
+
+"Turn me a rhyme," said Fate,
+  "Turn me a rhyme:
+A swift and deadly hate
+  Blows headlong towards thee in the teeth of Time.
+Write! or thy words will fall too late."
+
+"Write me a fold," said Fate,
+  "Write me a fold,
+Life to conciliate,
+  Of words red with thine heart's blood, hotly told.
+Then, kings may envy thine estate!"
+
+  "Make thee a fame," said Fate,
+    "Make thee a fame
+  To storm the heaven-hung gate,
+    Unbarred alone to the victorious name
+  Which has Art's conquerors to mate."
+
+  "Die in thy shame," said Fate,
+    "Die in thy shame!
+  Naught here can compensate
+    But the proud radiance of that glorious flame,
+  Genius: fade, thou, unconsecrate!"
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Along the Shore, by Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONG THE SHORE ***
+
+This file should be named atshr10.txt or atshr10.zip
+Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, atshr11.txt
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+
+This eBook was produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred,
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