7i'*/vUi:> OTHeR POeMS: 











Class _ESM±£ 

.COPYRIGHT DEPOSED 



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®ATYS® 

AND OTHSR POGMS 

Blanche Shoemaker V/a^^aff^ 



[I 



By the Same Author 

Wo%ien in Dreams 
The Song of Youth 



ATYS 

A CRGCIAN IDYL 

AND 
OTHGR POGMS 

By 
Blanche Sko^makerWd^^aff 



imi 



fl 




NeV/ YORK 

MITCHeLL KGNNeRLeY 

MCMIX 



Copyright, 1909, by Mitchell Kennerley. 






iaA'-iol'i«>4 



X 

■J 

i 



TO MY HUSBAND 

Thought- flow' rs I bring thee, woven of my heart,- 
And, dear, I lay them wholly at thy feet, 
Hoping that thou wilt find their fragrance sweet 
Since all these songs are of our Love a part! 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

ATYS: A GRECIAN IDYL I 
SONGS OF DISTANT LANDS 

THE BAY OF ALGIERS 15 

RAIN AT SAKKARA l6 

SUNSET ON THE IONIAN SEA 17 

A CAMEL BOY IN THE SAHARA l8 

PASTELLE AT SEA 19 

IN THE DESERT 20 

FROM THE ACROPOLIS 21 

SHELLEy'S HOUSE AT PISA 22 
DREAM-FLOWERS 

INFINITY 25 

LET LOVE SPEAK FORTH 26 

memory's GARDEN 27 

DIVINE PRESENCE 28 

SPIRIT HANDS 29 

may's FAIRYLAND 3° 

HEART-FLOWER 3^ 

SOUL-SWEETNESS 32 

LOVE WAS A FLOWER 33 

PRAYER 34 

SONG 35 

LOVE SUPREME 3^ 

AUGUST 37 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

December's flower ■ 38 

song of the spring 39 

falling leaves 40 

when tulips raise their scarlet heads 4i 

long are the nights 42 

six months old 43 

revelation 44 

RONDEAU 45 
TRANSLATIONS 

CHANSON 49 

RONDEAU 50 

RONDEAU 51 

ALONE 52 

IN AN ALBUM 53 

THE WATER-LILY 54 

IN THE TEMPEST 55 

THE ALBATROSS 56 

SONG OF A BIRD 57 



ATYS 



Atys: a Grecian Idyl 




[Atys was a youth beloved of Aurora, who was 
slain by Sol, her father, and subsequently turned into 
a pine tree] 

Scene: Olympia 

PON a bank of dewy purple flow'rs 
That sloped down to an amber rivulet, 
iVurora leaned, clad in a shimmering 
robe 

Of roseate hue, with swelling bosom bared 
To the wind's soft caress; her flowerlike feet, 
Unsandalled, dipped like rosebuds in the waves. 
About her sloping shoulders fell a stream 
Of tawny tresses that enfolded her 
In flaming strands of gold stol'n from the sun. 
From under thoughtful brows her piteous eyes 
Gazed darkly o'er the blossoming meadowlands; 
Pale skies shot thro' with scarlet showed the dawn 
Of a languorous Summer day, when sun flow'rs rear 
Their yellow heads in the midsummer noons. 
Afar the splendor of Olympia's fanes 
Rose towering gray within the ashen clouds. 



JTYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

Tall Doric columns tinged with reddened hue 
Like fiery brands of Zeus's fashioning, 
While sombre Kronos, high-seat of the Gods, 
Stood grimly 'gainst the sky, its woodlands dense 
A smothering Maytime green. 

And while the waves 
Eddied in ambient flowers at her feet 
Aurora sat and mused, watching the shafts 
Of sunlight radiate the fields about. 
Youth, like a gorgeous robe, enfolded her, 
She was enwound within its magic mesh; 
And in her heart there sang sweet melodies, 
And in her blood burned Youth's unbridled fire. 
She panted for sheer joy of life; her cheeks 
Shone roses and her lips were as ripe fruit 
Beseeching taste ere it drops to decay. 
Her white neck was as the soft calyx-stem 
Of a just-opened lily, made for kiss, — 
Mysteriously shadowed in her hair, 
The two half-hidden flow'rs of her breast 
Showed pink, like blossoms underneath the snow. 
Dreaming she leaned against the purple bank, 
Her body nestling 'mongst the Irises, 
For it was Spring and her soul longed for love. 

Rolling like billows on a troubled sea 
One sullen cloud crossed o'er the horizon, 

2 



ATYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

Wafting the scent of sea-downs and the sedge 
To where Aurora musing lay; and once 
Above her fair, recumbent form it paused. 
Bright fire shot from the amber skies, and then 
Beside the purple bank all trembling stood 
A youth with windblown curls and raiment tossed, 
All flushed with flame and sprinkled with the dew. 
Upon his pallid brow the night-black locks 
Strayed wildly and his deep, refulgent eyes 
Gleamed with a winter wildness. He was as 
A hunted, untamed creature of the woods 
Driv'n in the cloud-fall to the maiden's side. 

Standing amid the swaying grasses, he 
Turned full his gaze upon Aurora's face 
Lain like a blossom on the sloping bank, 
And in that glance he seemed to call her soul 
In silent summoning deep into his own! 

Aurora turned her famished eyes upon 
His graceful form, and fed her soul thereby; 
Such bodily beauty was as poetry, — 
His grace and charm were sweet as music is, 
For like a moving melody he came 
And paused beside the stream. Then their eyes met 
In speechless understanding, . . . There was no 
need 

3 



JTYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

For empty words — their natures met as one. 
The Youth inclined his head; in the maid's glance 
He read permission to his silent wish; 
So without speaking he knelt down beside 
The same soft bank Aurora leaned upon. 
Below, the cadence of the little stream 
Kept tuneful rhythm to their throbbing hearts. 
Then like Auster's sweet sighing did the maid 
In gentle accents speak: "O Boy, wherefore 
Cam'st thou out of the sullen dawn? Art thou 
A mere pale phantom of my musings, or 
Beauteous reality come from above 
To solace my poor, loveless youth with joy?" 
With yearning eyes the Boy leaned nearer her 
And answered thus: " O, goddess of the morn, 
I came from far Arcadia o'er yon hill, 
Where all my years were spent in ceaseless toil. 
They call me Atys and I humble am, 
A creature wise only in Nature's ways. 
In the moon's phases and the season's change; 
The sharp sting of the shower mothered me. 
The woodland moss at night-time was my couch. 
Alas — of late my ways were stricken sad. 
For since my eyes beheld thee one bright morn 
Within the chase, thy dewy tresses tossed 
And throat bared to the sun's caress, — my soul 
Has had no peace within its usaged ways, — 

4 



JTYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

For I have wandered toilless, thro' the woods 
Companioned by thine image . . Yesterday 
In sheer despair, a shepherd told me that 
Were I to seek thee by the Claudius' stream 
At dawn thou wouldst be bathing every day 
And I would find thee wrapt in solitude." 
His voice died on the wind and wandered on 
Thro' the far recess of Aurora's soul, 
As a cherished echo in a charnel dim. 

The resplendent sun shone on the hast'ning stream 
And turned the purple bank to violet 
Where Atys closer leaned toward the fair maid 
Who listening looked upon his face with love; 
"Aurora, goddess of the morn, I speak 
Not to thee thus but to thy mortal self, 
The self that breathes and palpitates with youth. 
The self I first saw in the woodland chase; 
Thou art the sweet star of my friendless soul. 
The fleeting fairy of my dreamy hours, — 
The essence of the rose, — the savour of 
The infinite sea; balm to the comfortless, 
The flowerful semblance of the joyous Spring, 
The sweet embodiment of Paradise; 
The melody in the winds, the raiment of 
The colorful rainbow that bedecks the sky; 
Thou art the starshine of man's darkened nights, 

5 



JTYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

The piloting spirit of his wayward paths, 

Queen of Apollo's Arcadia, by far 

More lovely and enthroned than Hera Is, 

Thy sunflamed tresses hide enchantment such 

As Lethean streams have not; athwart thy breast 

Of hyacinthlne whiteness, shadows pass 

Just as my lips would fain have will; the flow'rs 

Could give no honey sweeter than what I 

Would find upon thy lips In pasturing ! 

Thy delicate throat bends like a lily's stalk. 

The amber crowned head surmounting It 

Is as a splendid marigold whose scent 

Drives August bees stark mad with drowsiness . 

The loveliness of thy wide golden brows 

Turns me to madness, and th' engirdled waist 

Is as the chain of Cester's that awoke 

In all beholders irresistible love. 

Thy sandalled feet like petalled flow'rs hid In 

The straying grass, delight my famished eyes. 

O maiden — but to see thee once was Heav'n, 

And now to bend beside thy loveliness 

Is such sublime delight I fear to die ! " 

Aurora's fair flushed face some paler grew, 
And In a faltering voice she said: " O Boy, 
Inspired spirit of the woodlands dim, 
Within thy ardent eyes I read thy tale; 

6 



ATYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

Within the gentle pressure of thy hand 

I feel Felicity's precipitous dawn. 

Within thy fervent words I find a love 

Such as all women crave but few receive. 

The youth throbs in my veins; I ne'er have loved 

But languished without solace of my dreams; 

'Tis but sufficient that I look on thee 

To know that Heav'n has stooped for me at last! 

O midnight clustered curls, I long to kiss 

Thy sweet scents deep into my inmost soul ! " 

Then with a swaying motion, as a bough 
Bends with the Autumn wind, Aurora leaned 
O'er Atys and envelop'd him in embrace. 
The mantle of her heavy tresses fell, 
Enfolding and bewildering him as wine . . . 
A stealthy dusk throbbed o'er the sky and in 
The far-off west, diffused the daylight paused 
Ere seeking slumber pillowed on the hills. 
The flowerful fields were fading in the pale 
Lavender light the sunset wings still shed. 
The tremulous winds were drowsy with dark night; 
The river waves that stole along the shore 
Were songless with infusive sleepiness. 
And Darkness with a grim persistency 
Lurked in the wild nooks and the sheltered spots. 
Fearful to show its face before the wood 

7 



ATYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

Where shadowed 'neath bent boughs the lovers sat 

Talking of Love and the Eternal joy . 

Dawning within their love, felicity 

Had filled their hearts and all thro'out the day 

In close communion they had whiled the hours 

In happiness, unthinking of Time's flight. 

For in great love. Time is effaced; one knows 

Not of its passage — for one seems to lose 

The vital hold upon the visible world 

And soar within infinitude of joy. 

Atys' white brow grew clouded as the dark 

Obscured his vision of the loveliness 

Of her who lay enfolded in his arms. 

The close-leaved boughs above made their sweet nook 

E'en more sequestered seem, and shadows dark 

Stole o'er their brows upturned in happy love. 

" Ah, Sweet," said Atys bending to her kiss, 
" Cruel shadows sever sight from me, and I 
Can only feel thee resting on my breast — - 
And smell thy tresses' aroma — just as 
An unseen flow'r's loveliness that lies 
Hid 'neath the chaliced snows, a relic of 
The fragrant Maytime freshness vanished o'er. 
And now I weep to think that night is come — 
Night that should be our own, but yet Is not." 

8 



JTYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

Aurora stirred upon the grass and spoke : 

" O love of mine! This Is our hour of hours, 

We shall Imbue a mortal passion with 

The fumes of immortality, and spend 

Our youth In sweet communion, for too soon 

Comes Death with its atoning misery . . . 

Love me this hour I beg of thee, and well, 

Ere hurrying dawn will fell our scheme of joy." 

And as she spoke she threw herself into 

Her lover's arms in sweet abandonment . . . 

But of a sudden thunder loud arose, 

A din of basso notes that shook the air, 

Reverberant echoing In the woodland dells; 

The pine-trees swayed In terror and their tall 

Towering limbs shed leaves affrightedly ; 

Great gusts of wind swept fiercely, scattering 

Blossoms, within the mutinous air surcharged 

With the storm's fury, — and the lovers lay 

Blinded and mute with fear, their hands entwined 

Despairingly, and their eyes closely shut 

As if excluding vision of the scene. 

So terrible upon their eve of love. 



It was the warning of omnipotent Sol 
Who had Invoked the aid of Jupiter, 
With Vulcan's workmen, the cruel Cyclopes, 

9 



ATYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

For being powerless with his shafts of sun, 

At night, he strove to thus condemn Love's joy. 

Then wild winds shook the forest, and the stream 
Sobbed loudly on the shore, while lightning gleamed 
Within the darkened skies and thunder roared 
As monsters rant in ravenous famishment. 
The wooded glens were shaken with the storm, 
While a deep voice arose from out the clouds: 
" Mortal and goddess wed not on this night, 
Else Sol's stern anger is incurred thereby." 

Within the rampant winds there rose the sound 
Of frantic kisses flung defiantly . . . 
But still the scarlet flames from Heaven flared 
And smote with thunderbolts the woodland spot 
Where love had reigned supreme a while before. 

Then Atys with blanched face arose in fright. 
His trembling lips turned dumb, — and thus he fell 
Heavily to the mossy earth, smote by 
Unerring aims of Toriteaulis' bolt. 
His quivering body lay beneath the trees 
White like a rain-drenched flower, with his long 
Black clustered curls in piteous disarray. 
While o'er him bent the weeping form of her 
Who loved and lost and bathed him in her tears. 

lO 



ATYS: A GRECIAN IDYL 

Epilogue 

Upon the summit of green Kronos, where 
The Sun forms diamonds for Juno's crown 
And leafy bows shed shadows numberless — 
A pine-tree stands in mute tranquillity, 
Its handsome boughs held high in princely pride. 
And every morn with dawn Aurora comes 
Aflush with joy to worship in its shade, 
And to renew the raptures of her love. 



II 



SONGS OF DISTANT LANDS 




THE BAY OF ALGIERS 

VIOLET dusk hangs softly o'er the Bay, 
And golden evening, amorous of the 

day. 
Watches the purple waves that sing afar 
Where glows the radiance of an early star 
That bashful-eyed, gleams fitfully in the sky. 
A Springtime blossom-scent Is in the breeze, 
While towering, sentinel-like, the cypress trees 
Loom loftily on the hills. One sunset wing 
Floats far above, and amber shadows fling 
Their rich tints on the sea's edge, glistening white. 
Dusk gathers fast, — and with the blue day's flight 
There falls the speechless wonder of the night. 



15 




RAIN AT SAKKARA 

IKE gloomy ghosts of sweeter sunshine 
past, 
The leaden clouds steal o'er the color- 
less sky. 

As far as eye can reach the white sands lie 
Untrod and billowed as the waves at sea. 
Aurora's smothered rays invisibly 
Hide in the heav'ns; the desert still and vast 

Is swept by torrent winds that hurl the sand 
Mountainously high in one great blinding cloud, — 

A scented rainfall fills the silent land — 
The voice of singing show'rs laughs aloud. 



i6 




SUNSET ON THE IONIAN SEA 

EHIND the ameythystine isles, the sun 
Sinks down in measured silence, while 

upon 
The sky dim heights of towering Heli- 
con 
The crimson wings of daylight flutter still, 
Strewing the snowy slopes with roseate streams 
That fade into the valley's moonless dreams 
In paler hues, beneath each sheltering hill. 
The evening violet of the watchful sea 
Is purpled with the sun's inveteracy. 
Till o'er the wave-wide space, an outcast bird 
Flies suddenly in affright, for it has heard 
Night's footsteps deep within the woodlands stirred. 



17 




A CAMEL BOY IN THE SAHARA 

gROWN-LIMBED and lithe, he lies beside 

the fire 
Watching the flames with eyes that 

never tire, 

Eyes dark with dreams. His slender-featured face 
Round which the dusky evening shadows trace 
A frame, is like a cameo cut In stone, 
Of a rich bronze hue of the desert's own. 
About his amber, languid limbs Is wound 
A tattered burnous, and his brow Is bound 
By heavy ropes such as all Berbers wear. 
The music of the tom-tom fills the air 
As Kabyle songsters sound a joyful tune. 
Above shines the great splendor of full moon 
Shedding a snowy argence on the sand, 
Night in the desert, — night In Nomadland . . . 



i8 



PASTELLE AT SEA 

ME lilac line of shore, a shimmering 
frame 
For the waves' ardent blue Sea ; meadow- 
lands 
Flecked with foam-flow'rs, white buds that know 

no name. 
Faintly dusk-shadows tremble in the sky 
Where Darkness, wanton-eyed, aloofly stands, 
Lulled by the music of the sea-gull's cry. 




19 



IN THE DESERT 

LOWLY the white moon climbs into the 
sky, 
Spreading a shimmering carpet on the 
sands, 

Glistening, the silver stars come out on high . . . 
But all the wonder of the night-time lies 
Within the eloquent touch of lover's hands, 
The glory of the night in meeting eyes . . . 




20 




FROM THE ACROPOLIS 

ROM far Corinthian climes the golden 
sun 
Streams softly o'er the bay of Phaleron; 
While wandering clouds caress the pur- 
ple seas, 
Melodiously moved within the rhythmic breeze 
That floats in dulcet and diluted strains 
Across the misty, springtime-scented plains, 
To where upon the height o'er Athens stands 
The delicate splendor of celestial lands 
The Parthenon in all its majesty. 
Gazing upon the world immutably. 
The Erectheum with no grandeur gone, 
Has seen long centuries pass in Pagan dawn. 
Here Phidias' magic hands have left the trace 
That neither Death nor Kingdoms could erase; 
Here stood Athena in her chasteness fair; 
Here shone the noble deeds of heroes rare; 
Here glory, power, zeal, and courage met 
Under Athenian skies of violet. 

Ah strange, the hand of Time dispels such charms. 

Lays Glory low, wipes out the race, disarms 

A world-wide pow'r. To-day there but remains 

The ghost-like semblance of the past domains. 

Tho' still the same ^gean winds blow free . . . 

Kymodoke yet lingers by the sea 

In Nereus' shade; and tho' the years go by 

The Grecian splendors dim but do not die. 

21 




SHELLEY'S HOUSE AT PISA 

PON the turbid Arno whose swift stream 
Of kicent waters green with the sun's 

gleam 
Lures many souls to death, a gaunt 
house stands 
Gray in the pallid shade of Winter's hands; 
Its staring windows, shutterless and blind, 
Shudder with the violent onslaughts of the wind, 
While the barred, impenetrable door 
Admits of visitation now no more. 
Within, the empty chambers dark and dim 
Preserve the sacred memory of him 

Who once long years ago, when Pisa's pow'r 
Was at its height, here left his lifetime's dower 
Of lovely lays; here sang his sweetest songs 
As an inspired bird, whose soul belongs 
Not to this earth, but to a celestial spot. 
His strains of music shall live unforgot, 
Thro'out the numberless years that are to be : 
Death cannot blight his fame's infinity — 
His memory is as deathless as a star 
That shines within a heavenly height afar! 



22 



DREAM-FLOWERS 




INFINITY 

ET me not live when thou art no more 
here! 
For when thine eyes are closed in final 
rest 

My weary head shall lie upon thy breast 
Pillowed in perfect peace. I shall not fear 
The hour when Death claims thee, for I shall go 

With thee thro'out the gates of Paradise, 
And in the Promised Land twain souls shall know 
The happy heaven of each other's eyes ! 



25 




LET LOVE SPEAK FORTH 

ET love speak forth In deeds, just as the 
Spring 
Is heralded within the woods In May, 
When tulips rear their heads and blithe 
birds sing 
Upon the leafy boughs. No lips could say 
What treasured store lies In a tender heart. 

Let love be mute ! Silence could ne'er conceal 
The blossom of the soul, nor speech Impart 
The Inward perfectness love's deeds reveal ! 



26 




MEMORY'S GARDEN 

ITHIN a perfumed garden of the Past 
Fair flowers spread their petals in the 

sun: 
Some crimsoned with the dawn-glow, 
and some pale 
With wannest lily beauty, white as nights 
Filled full of argent moonlight. Withered buds 
There are some of, their yellow leaves grown dry: 
These are the sorrows that my heart has known 
In years gone by . . . Each Rose recalls a joy, 
Each Lily a fair moment in my youth; 
Sweet garden of the Past, my memory! 



27 




DIVINE PRESENCE 

KNOW that you are near me, tho' I can 
Not see you; — tho' the vivid hours bar 
My soul from sight of you — I still can 
scan 

The invisible region where I feel you are 
Hid from me somewheres like a silver star, 
Clothed in a filmy cloud and veiled from earth. 
Each night that to a blushing day gives birth 
I feel your presence near me as a flow'r — 
Whose perfume sheds upon my life a show'r — 
And yet I meet you not. The long days pass 
As shadows steal across the windblown grass. 

When in a churchly edifice one can feel 
The presence of Divinity o'ersteal 
One's soul in its sweet charm, so sacredly 
The Spirit of your love companions me. 



28 




SPIRIT HANDS 

ANDS that I loved long years ago — 
Dear hands. 
Caressive as the desert breezes blow, 
They call to me across the sands, 
Across the waste, wild prairie lands; 
For once they were my own 
To kiss and fondle and entwine 
With mine. 

My fragrant flow'rs the summer suns had sown, 
Pink-petalled finger-tips 
(Heaven to my lips!) 
Sweet violet veins that trace 
And keep the pressure of a lost embrace. 
They were such white hands, 
Pale as the new-lain snow on winter lands; 
Dear hands of my delight, 
They call to me thro'out the moonless night — 
Hands that caressed me long ago — 
I love you so ! 



29 



MAY'S FAIRYLAND 




T is the season now to go 
Into May's fairyland — 
Where happy, hand in hand, 
We two can watch the green buds grow, 
And breathe the Hlac breezes blow 
Within the woods' wild loveliness. 
Oh, come, my love, with me. 
And lie 'neath yonder tree. 
Whose shadows are a fond caress. 

It is the season now for those 

Who scent love's Spring. 

The birds are caroling 
Of youth that never has a close. 
Our May shall be like to the rose 
That never dies: Winter is o'er, 

And happy, hand in hand, 

In May's sweet fairyland 
We two shall wander evermore ! 



30 




HEART-FLOJFER 

WEETER to me than Life seems sweet 
at Death, 
When the last gradual decrease of 
breath 

Shows that the end is near — Ah, sweeter far 
Than the shimmering silv'ry radiance of a star 
Is to the chaste white waves so long unwed; 
More dear than Heav'n is to the lonely dead. 
More sweet than sunshine to the famished flow'r. 
Fairer than a rainbow after a sharp shower, 
Lovelier to me than Amphion's melodies, 
Than rare, fine wine that soothes the soul to ease — 
Sweeter than all else in the world thou art, 
A sacred flow'r hidden in my heart. 



31 




SOUL-SU'EETNESS 

HAT do I love him for? His lustrous 
eyes 
Of mirrored sea-change, deep as yonder 
wave: 
Or yet the wonder of his spirits rise 

When laughter woos him from reflection grave. 
Or is it for the tender suppliant way 
He has in seeking me at close of day 
To put his head upon my breast and say 

A thousand times he loves me? Is it for 
His ardent lips or gentle hand's caress, 

Or yet his midnight locks that I adore? 
Not for these charms I love him, — nor not less 
Were he to lack them : nay, I worship more 
The Inner-Being in its loveliness ! 



32 




LOVE JVAS A FLOJVER 

OVE was a flow'r that craved the ten- 
derest care, 
Sweet, fragile Love that tended grows 
more fair, 

A petalled fragrance dreamy like dim skies 
Illumining life more than the bright sunrise. 
A shimmering blossom full of golden dower, 
Love was a flower. 

Cold sea-winds blew along the amber shore 
Where white flow'rs glisten'd on the bank no 

more . . . 
For withered buds bent on a barren bough, 
Our poor, untended Love has perished now. 
'Twas born eternal, but it lived an hour. 
Love was a flower. 



33 




PRAYER 

ET the Sun always shine as now, O 
Lord! 
And the bright grass shimmer on the 
sloping sward, 
And the gold bees laugh with all their honey 

stored ... 
Let the Sun always shine as now, O Lord ! 

Life is a transient sunbeam on the wing: 
Joy is fleeter than are the hours of Spring, 
Vanishing swift as skylarks when they sing; 
Life is a transient sunbeam on the wing! 

Let the light never darken on my way. 
Lord, be the watcher of my life each day. 
And let me die ere Winter chases May — 
Let the light never darken on my way ! 



34 




SONG 

HAT is the world compared to you, — 
To having you, holding you, finding you 

true? 
Is there a heart-gain half as sweet 

As when you kneel at my feet 

Loving me, telling me you are mine? 

Is there a victory more divine 

Than that I am loved, — and loved too well? 

Dearest, the aims of those who dwell 

In the empty world are so mean compared 

With our Hope of loving, — of having shared 

This long life together, and then to be 

One In a timeless Eternity . . . 



35 




LOVE SUPREME 

ET the world with its futile aims pass 
away, 
For I care not whether darkness tinge 
the day, 

Nor whether the stars within the heavens stay — 
(Let the world with its futile aims pass away!) 

Life is so ruthless: the efforts of man are vain. 
Let me have peace and the world forsworn again. 

The terrible strife of mankind! to what does it tend? 
Only the grave and oblivion's desperate end. 

Let the world with its futile aims pass away: 
Let me have peace in a perfect passion's sway; 
So long as we Love, what matters the darkest day? 
(Let the world with its futile aims pass away!) 



36 




AUGUST 

UGUST is here; within the ivy leaves 
The bees make mournful music, and the 

sea 
Is pale with presaged Autumn and wild 
songs 
Wanton upon the waves . . . Strange spirits 

speak 
Within the dusk-winds; phantom-hands implore 
Sweet Summer back again. The sunshine stands 
Reluctantly upon the mountain-top 
Smiling farewell to the awaiting waves. 
Already evening brings a scent of frost, 
And late the white dew lies upon the lawn. 
The harvest moon grows pallid in the sky, 
And far the stars seem on their sapphire thrones. 

August is here, and soon September's chill 
Win fade the flowers in their glowing beds; 
Love, only Love, survives the Season's change. 



37 




DECEMBER'S FLOWER 

PON a drear, white Winter's day, 
When snow upon the meadows lay. 
And all the memories of May 
Were with the roses laid away, 
There burst upon the wintry gloom 
A fairy flower, all a-bloom, 
Whose sweet, soul-scent made glad the hour; 

December's sullen heavens smiled. 
For there was born of love, a Flower — 
The Lily-Spirit of a Child! 



38 




SONG OF THE SPRING 

SING of the woods where the languid 
mosses dwell, 
Of the shimmering forests of May 
which the sun loves well, 
Of the gleaming gold of the jonquil buds that 

sway 
In the soft caress of the evening breeze at plav. 

I sing of the silver stars that shine in the sky, 
Of the argent glow of the moonbeams fluttering by, 
Of the rainbow surf that breaks on the pallid sand. 
Of the purple sea embracing the blossom-land. 

I sing of the meadows a-bright with flowery dew, 
Of the scarlet starling that soars from the desert 
blue, — 
With the birds I sing of Love, Youth and all 

things gay, 
For I am Delight, the Woodland Spirit of May! 



39 




FALLING LEAVES 

HAVE watched the falling leaves 
Day by day, 
Doffing their gold garments for drear 
gray,— 
I have watched their wistful flight 

Through the dark, 
In the night-time paused to hark 
To their musical refrain. 
Falling, falling from the trees 
In soft melodies; 
Drifting, drifting Into space, 
With the breezes play, 
Musical wanderers, windblown far away. 



40 



WHEN TULIPS RAISE THEIR SCARLET 
HEADS 

E Avill not come this year when tulips 
raise 
Their scarlet heads within Aurora's 
gaze; 

Spring will be blighted with a bitter lack, 
Nothing on earth can ever bring him back 
To my lorn heart that he has vanished from — 
He will not come. 




Blithe May will bring a pageant for the fields, 
Lighting the world, which now Niobe shields, — 
But he is buried with a last year's rose 
'Neath a hyacinthine sepulchre of snows. 
Spring will arrive with all its glad voice dumb. 
He will not come . . . 



41 




LONG ARE THE NIGHTS 

ONG are the nights without the stars, 
The glimmering, radiant, silvery stars — 
That shine like dewdrops in the sky, 
A dreary dearth of light on high 
In desert places of the sky — 
(Long are the nights without the stars!) 

Lone is the life without its love, 

Without its blessing of a love. 
To scent the weary winter hours 
With perfume of the fairest flowers; 
O unillumined, loveless hours ! 

(Lone is the life without its love!) 



42 



SIX MONTHS OLD 



NLY a glimpse of Seraph-land, 
A glimmer from above 

That dwelt a little while; 
The rosebud softness of a hand, 
Two eyes upturned in love ; 

The heaven of a Baby's Smile ! 




43 



REVELATION 




HAT words can show my hidden soul to 
yours? 
What speech reveal my being as It 
calls 

Across the breach of self's surmountless walls? 
Futile are words, — a lover's voice assures, 
And yet the utterance of his heart Is still . . . 
For it is only in the silent spell 
Of rapt caress that breathing kisses tell 
What we have strlv'n to speak. 'TIs in the thrill 
Of answering sense to sense that I but know 
Your Inner being's message unto me; 
Bared In the bliss of meeting lips, I see 
Your soul stand naked In the sunlight's glow ! 



44 




RONDEAU 

HE days gone by — they were so very 
sweet : 
I wonder if my spirit-self shall meet 
Them resurrected in the world to be, 
That vast, beneficent eternity 
Whence all things lovely pass to when they die — 
Dear days gone by. 

Tears never touched their loveliness, — they were 
Like fragrant flowers the cruel winds could not stir — 
No time can dim their fairness, for they seem 
Still golden to me in my memory dream — 
O petal-shed hours, your stalks are lean and dry — 
Dear days gone by. 

They were so perfect that the gods deemed wise 
To take them from me — but their ghosts arise 
And moan like plaintive children to be nursed 
Into my arms again; and so immersed 
In memory can I help but hear their cry — 
Dear days gone by? 



45 



TRANSLATIONS 




CHANSON 

[ALFRED DE MUSSET] 

HEN fate is cruel and takes away 
The hope of day 
x'\nd spirits gay; 
The remedy for misery 
Is melody 
And Beauty! 

'Tis good to find a lovely face 

That will efface 

In one embrace 
All sadness; and to hear above 

Sweet airs sung of 

An old-time love ! 



49 



RONDEAU 




[ALFRED DE MUSSET] 

N only ten years from to-day 

Thou wilt, perchance, less unkind be. 
In truth 'tis somewhat far away. 
But love will come to thee to stay, 
And make winged youth but faster flee. 
Thy loveliness bewitches me. 
Ah guard it carefully, therefore, 
I shall have gladder word of thee 
In ten years more. 

When the time comes. Oh, I implore 

To be thy sweetheart, if I may; 
I shall be perfect, faithful, for 

I do not like inconstancy, — 

And thou far lovelier then will be 
In ten years morel 



50 




RONDEAU 

[ALFRED DE MUSSET] 

AS it ever my heart's joy to see 

Manon sleeping in my arms? Below 
Her pretty face, a perfumed nest of 
snow, 

Her wakeful heart-beats gently turning slow. 
Is it a dream that stirs me blissfully? 

Just like an eglantine in which the bee 

Is in its chalice folded, — long ago 
Did I fold her in tenderness to me? 
Ah, was it ever so? 

But daylight comes : Aurora's scarlet glow 
Scatters within the winds its Springtime glee. 

Her comb in hand, pearls in her ears, I know 
That at her mirror Manon forgets me! 

Love without morrow always brings heart woe, — 
Ah, was it ever so? 



51 




ALONE 

[HENRIK IBSEN] 

HAVE accompanied the last guest as far 
as the gate, 
As far as the gate of the villa. 



Farewell has died in the wind of the night. 

The garden and the house until now have resounded 
With the harmonious sounds of her voice. 

The silence is terrifying. 

Before she had gone I was full of the joy of life; 
And now I am alone, all alone . . . 



52 



IN AN ALBUM 

[HENRIK IBSEN] 

CALLED thee my fairy, 
I named thee my star — 
Good God, thou art all these in truth. 
Alas, a fugitive fairy, 
A star, a fleeing star 
That is dimming in the distance! 




53 




THE WATER-LILY 

[HENRIK IBSEN] 

EE, my well beloved, I bring thee 
This flow'r, whose petals float 
Upon the silent waters, while the waves 
Rock it into Springtime dreams . . . 



Dost wish to take it with thee? 
To adorn thy breast, my beloved? 
Under the leaves it shall be hidden 
In a profoundly silent sea . . . 

Child, be careful not to dream 
Too near the dangerous waves. 
The little riplets are feigning sleep 
Beneath the entangled lilies . . . 

Your breast is the light wave, 
'Tis dangerous to draw near it ! 
The intermingled lilies on the surface 
And the little riplets feigning sleep . 



54 




IN THE TEMPEST 

[HENRIK IBSEN] 

HE sky threatens, the clouds burst 

And suddenly the tempest rolls the 

waves 
Like a very river . . . 



The storm becomes intensified; 

The sea springs up, roaring, howling. 

Then the tempest calms . . . The waves flee, 
And the torrent becomes only a little stream . . . 

Some drops of shining water sweetly sing, 
And glide away like pearls among the leaves. 

The sand beds become dry again and parched 
As they were in the torrid days . . . 

But still one hears the sound of dripping water 
Upon the dry woods and among the leaves. 

Forever shall I cherish that sweet night: 

The distant sounds seem yet the murmuring sea . 



55 




THE ALBATROSS 

[HENRIK IBSEN] 

HE Albatross lives only on the borders 
of the earth. 

It bathes its massive wings in the foam 
of the sea; 
And it glides upon the waves without sinking. 

It descends and mounts as the sea. 
During lovely weather it is silent, but it cries during 
the tempest. 

Like a dream suspended between sky and abyss 
This bird neither flies nor swims. 

Heavier than air, and lighter than the wave, 
Bird-poet, bird-poet, this is thy lot! — 



56 




SONG OF A BIRD 

[ALFRED DE MUSSET] 

N a beautiful day of Spring, 

Attracted by the strange charm of mys- 
tery, 
I followed a lonely alley-way. 



The west breeze was sweet; 

Blue was the sky. 

While in the branches of a lime tree 

Chirped a bird-mother feeding her little ones. 

And there I discerned a thousand charms 
In the poetic scene; 

While two large brown eyes in amazement 
Laughed down at me. 

Above my head the chirping of the birdhngs 
Mingled with the song of the birds; 
And ere I knew it, I passed on 
Ne'er to return . . . 

And now alone, in fancy 
I stray again within the alley-way; 
While the cries and the songs of the birds 
Follow me always. 

57 



SONG OF A BIRD 

The warble I had heard, 
The Immortal voice, 
Made for me a poem. 

This poem all birds sing. 

Because of their green shelter 

All the little songsters 

Chant of the loveliest Springtime days 



58 



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