Class _ T^S ^-dtS . b Book M 1S_ Yj GoppghtN?, 17 CDfimiGHT DEPOSm VERSES of THIRTY YEARS AGO BY Rev. Michael V. Mcdonough AUTHOR OF "ONE YEAR WITH GOD" ANGEL GUARDIAN PRESS, Jamaica Plain BOSTON, MASS. 1917 PERMISSU ORDINARII FEB 12 1917 Copyright BY THE Franciscan Monastery of St. Clare Boston 1917 CONTENTS. I . My Rosary 11 II. Resignation 12 III. Spirit Rest! 13 IV. The Year OF Time .... 14 V. Fanny Parnell 15 VI . Nature's Music 17 VII. Profession: — 1. Question . . . . ■ 19 2. Answer . . . .21 3. BitteFur Mich! ... 23 VIII. Faith Looks Through Death 24 IX. Alone 26 X. Sonnet 27 XI. Greeting 28 XII. Loneliness 30 Note to "Loneliness" ... 31 XIII . Four Hymns to St. Anne: — e 1. Morning STAR . . . . 32 2. The Holy Name, Saint Anne 33 3 . Recourse To Saint Anne 34 4. Hymn to Saint Anne . 35 XIV. St. Bernard's Mother ... 36 XV. The Pagan Philosopher's Question 38 XVI . The Pagan Philosopher's Answer 40 CONTENTS XVII. Old St. Mary's 44 XVIII. Farewell 47 XIX. At Corpus Christi .... 50 XX. Life AND Death 52 XXI. Fidelity 54 XXII. Beauty IN All Things ... 56 XXIII. Day-Dream . . . . , . .58 XXIV. Fourth OF July in Tyrol . . 61 XXV. The Light-House .... 63 XXVI. New Year's Eve .... 65, XXVII. Memorial Day 66 XXVIII. Nationhood 69 XXIX. At Seventy-Four .... 72 XXX. Garfield 73 XXXI . The Rose of Friendship ... 75 XXXII. To A College Friend's Mother 76 XXXIII. OnaFly-Leaf 77 XXXIV. In THE Dormitory .... 78 XXXV. The Tramp 80 XXXVI. To My Canary 81 XXXVII. To Walter 83 XXXVIII. Base-Ball Song 85 XXXIX. The Melodies OF Ireland . . 88 DEDICATORY VERSES. Brothers of Charity, yours are the verses here, Take them or leave them, admire or disdain ! Little of moment the rhymester rehearses here ; Would it were much ! For his spirit would fain Prove you its gratitude, pay what it owes to you. Sons of the Belgian Vincent de Paul* Rich in the kindness and grace that e'er flows to you Down from the Maker and Master of all ! Workers in silence for Christ and His dearest ones. Love is your portion here, glory above. Many profess; but the true and sincerest ones Sacrifice, suffer and live for their love. Thus speed your lives away: faith, regularity, - Self all forgotten, — like drops in the sea,— God be your guerdon, ye Brothers of Charity, Christ your rewarder and heaven your fee ! *See Note to Dedicatory Verses, next page. NOTE TO DEDICATORY VERSES The Very Rev. Pierre Joeph Triest (1760-1836), Titular Canon of St. Bavon of Ghent, Knight of the Order of Leopold and of the Order of the Belgian Lion, Founder of the Brothers of Charity. In history, and even during his life-time ,he has often been called "the St. Vincent dePaul of Belgium." PREFACE. The title-page describes this volume very well; not "poems," please, but "verses.'* For "poetry" and "poem" have always been, to the author at least, words of a character almost sacred. He would grant the title "poetry" only to the very best passages of the great classics, ancient and modern, though there is much unworded poetry in the earth-life-experience of every human being. Nearly all of these "verses of thirty years ago" were published in newspapers and magazines of about that period under various nom-de-plumes. The author collects them now for the first time in a volume. He con- siders them "too good to throw away" and hopes that many readers will find pleasure in them. Jan. 18th., 1917. St. Kilian's Church, New Bedford, Mass. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO 11 MY ROSARY. O Mother, list my heartfelt prayer, The prayer I offer Thine and thee! hear and answer by thy loving care My rosary, my rosary! 1 hail thee oft, and to thee send The homage of my heart and tongue. I tell each bead, "each bead unto the end; And there a cross is hung." O help me, tho' life's shadows frown. In joy and woe, in gain and loss. To thank thy Son Divine for every crown; To kiss each cross, Mother, to kiss each cross! Hail Mary! Full of grace art thou. O bend thy smile of love on me. That e'er thro' life I tell to thee, as now, My rosary, my rosary! Thy joys and sorrows sweetly blend In that great glory thou hast won. The Lord is with thee. Mother; be my friend With thy Almighty Son; That so life's beads of sorrow form With every joyful mystery My glorious decades, when I'm past the storm, — In heaven with thee, Mother, in heaven with thee! 12 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. II. RESIGNATION. He was my friend, as fair to see As human kind are wont to be; And Thou didst take him, Lord, from me: Thy Will be done, I had none other. He alone Remained awhile. Now he hath flown, My life is sad. My heart doth moan: "Thy Will be done." Perchance 'tis best life's cloudy day Should quickly from him pass away. I trust he's happy, while I pray: "Thy Will be done." Forgive, O Lord, the wilful tear That comes from nature, not from fear. I trust and pray. And Thou v/ilt hear. Thy Will be done. I bow my soul beneath Thy rod. Though tears may fall upon the sod Above his body. Oh! my God, Thy Will be done. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 13 III. SPIRIT, REST! Rest thee, spirit, from our vision By death's fingers torn away! In the glow of light elysian Mayst thou find a brighter day ! Not in outward semblance only Is our prayer to God addressed, But from hearts grown sad and lonely. Spirit, rest! Rest thee, spirit! Strife is ended. Battle over, labour done. All earth's crosses grandly blended In the crown which thou hast won. Where no sorrow can confound thee Thou has flown at God's behest. Saints and angels are around thee, Spirit, rest ! 14 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. IV. THE YEAR OF TIME. Three seasons are there in the Year of Time And only three. They spread their Kingdom vast From end to end thro' all ; and each is famed For manifold attractions. They are named The Present and the Future and the Past. Not by the changing charms of cold and heat, Not by the flowers and hoar-frost are they known. The Present's joys and sorrows e'er retreat. The Future, while we grasp it, shall be flown. And memories, which with us ever last, Are living blossoms of the buried Past. The Year of Time, O, 'tis a wondrous year! Creation's dawning was the New- Year's Day, And age on age have seen it onward wend Its calm, continued course unto the end Where earth and skies at last shall pass away. Before and after it eternity. Whence God's unerring Voice its judgment speaks. Within it all that was and is to be ; Ages itfe days; millenia its wee^ks; And, be they in the green leaf or the sear, The lives of men but minutes of that Year. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 15 V. FANNY PARNELL. When dies the patriot, a nation weeps In tender gratitude above his grave. She consecrates the spot wherein he sleeps; She guards forever all the love he gave; Forgetfulness shall ne'er o'erwhelm the name So close inwoven in its country's fame. No; high enthroned o'er pets of time or place. Admired by all men, worshipped by his race, In envied glory he shall ever shine. O Woman, lovely thro' thy selfless love For native land, ascend thy throne above; Depart in peace. The patriot's crown is thine. When cruel death doth steal the poet's soul And still fore'er his passion-breathing lyre, His melodies along the ages roll To light in other hearts his own bright fire Tho' green grass groweth and sad ivy creepeth Above the charnel where his body sleepeth. O Woman, burning with the poet's flame, Thy Land's delight shall vivify thy name, Thy Land shall e'er thy memory enshrine. Earth's days are done for thee; thy bird-songs cease. Fair Bard of Erin, take thy flight in peace. The singer's immortality is thine. 16 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. O loving daughter of a grateful land, O daughter true, as e'er thy land hath borne, O woman by thy noble labours grand. Thy web is spun; thy woof of life is torn; Thy clarion battle-voice no longer charms; The present yields thee to the future's arms. Yet sons and daughters of another age Shall read thy name on history's shining page In characters that time can ne'er efface, And in her patriot-children's gallant line, O Patriot-Poet, thou shalt brightly shine When 'mid the nations Erin takes her place. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 17 VI. NATURE'S MUSIC. The thirsty flowers are drinking The gentle rain of spring And vsweetly on their petals It soundeth, pattering; — Glad music of the springtime, Swell out, and fill with cheer The heart that welcomes gladly The boyhood of the year' The sun is brightly shining While summer breezes blow And softly from the meadows The drowsy cattle low. — Sweet melodies of summer. Breathe low your slumbrous strain. The days when rest is over, Too soon will dawn again. The faded leaves are rustling Upon the withered grass While, fleeing from the Winter, The days of Autumn pass. The zephyrs, gently sighing, Proclaim with bated breath The hour of winter's advent, The hour of nature's death. 18 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Upon earth's wrinkled bosom The frozen snow-drifts lie And icy stars are twinkling From out the cold, blue sky. — Howl loud, ye winds of winter, A requiem shrill and clear; Ye publish to the nations The death-bed of the year. All these are nature's music. O it is far more sweet Than e'er from earth's composers Our wond'ring ears shall greet. The symphonies of nature Have come to us from God! — • Less glorious the pathway Brahms' and Beethoven's trod. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 19 VII. PROFESSION. (The first part, "Question," by Sister St. Andrew of the Montreal Grey Nuns; only the other two parts, "Answer" and "Bitte Fur Mich," by the author). 1. QUESTION. "Sister of Charity. Robed in grey, Did thy heart grow sad When thou spokst today? ■^'Did dreams of earth's pleasure Come between, Thy soul from the cross Of thy Spouse to wean? ^'Did far-off joys seem as Burnished gold? Thy ring and thy cross As a weight untold? ^'O, no! For thy heart roamed Far away From this glittering world And its pageants gay. 20 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. "O, no! O, no! For all Earthly dross Thou countest naught In the light of the cross. "Thou'st freely chosen the Better part; Thy Master and Spouse Claims thy willing heart. "Ah! Angels lowered their Light-crowned brows To listen today To thy holy vows. "And Mary smiled from her Throne above. And the Heart of thy Master thrilled with love I "Sister of Charity, Robed in grey, 'Mid the sick and the poor Is thy lowly way. "Thou'st taken the path That leads to God; Thou'rt tracing the steps Which thy Saviour trod. "May the field of thy soul be Bright in bloom, When His loving Voice Bids thee hasten home!" VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 21 2. ANSWER. Sister of Charity, Robed in grey, My soul was light When I spoke today. No dream of earth and its Fleeting dross Held back my heart From my Saviour's cross. No worldly vision Came between My soul and the joys Eye hath not seen. For the perfect peace What tongue may say Of the Sister of Charity, Robed in grey? The worldling strives for Fickle gold; And the joys of his heart Tongues oft have told. He searcheth for pleasure O'er sea and land; He graspeth each world-joy With eager hand ; 22 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. All the days of his life After baubles flee; And the treasures he findeth Each eye may see. But eye cannot see, be it Sharp as steel, Nor ear e'er hear. Nor spirit feel. Nor mind conceive, Nor tongue e'er say The Heaven-On-Earth of the Nun in grey! When my path was over Earth's stony soil. It was Mary's Son Who eased my toil. I sought the home Where frail earth-joys cease. I entered in And I found but peace. When my weary feet to the Altar had paced, 'Twas the King of Heaven That I embraced. With a prayer for strength I knelt me down; I clasped the cross, and it Seemed a crown! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 23 My soul was faint And my heart was wan ; 'Twas the Lord of life That I leaned upon! Sister of Charity, Robed in grey, My heart was light When I spoke today. 3. BITTE FUR MICH. O Oft thro' this life's Short, stormy day, 'Mid the sick and the poor Of your peaceful way, For a feeble Brother in pity pray. Kind Sister of Charity, Robed in grey! 24 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. VIII. FAITH LOOKS THROUGH DEATH. In the faithlthat looks through death " — (Wordsworth.) {The Rev, Daniel F. Holland died in 1884, and only a jew\months after having taken his vow as a suhdeacon.) Thus stilled fore'er the busy brain By cruel death's resistless dart ; Thus chilled the throbbing, love-warm heart, So gentle to a brother's pain; Thus calmed as in a magic spell The veins whose pulsing life is o'er; Thus from our presence gone before, Our brother, whom we loved so well ! Faith looks through death and peers beyond The sable portals of the tomb, And lo! bright light from out the gloom And far-off voices that respond To her full questionings, unsealed Before her gaze the mystery; The spirit's immortality In all its brightness clear revealed. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 25 Ah! Loved One, what a change is thine! That earth, with pain and pleasure rife, Should fade from thee^ that love and life Within thine eyes should cease to shine, That vanished is the manful will. That every function doth forget To play its wonted part. And yet Faith looks through death, and sees thee still. Faith looks through death. And tho' thine eyes Have closed unto our earthly light, We know thou hast a keener sight Where dwells thy soul in Paradise ; And tho' on earth's maternal breast Full lowly lies thy placid brow, 'Tis well. The sacramental vow Shall crown thee in thy spirit's rest. O short-lived melody that thrilled Our spirits for one fleeting hour ! Sweet, fragrant, early-blighted flower Of earthly promise unfulfilled. Beyond the grave, hope whispereth, In heaven, shall thy blooming be; — But on the cold, dark earth stand we. And evermore faith looks through death. 26 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. IX. ALONE. I sit herci, where so oft I've sat with thee^ I watch the settling sun Sink grandly down beyond the purpled sea ;. The wavelets still roll on, And birds still twitter in the apple-tree ; But thou art gone. O fairer than this golden summer day And bright as yonder sphere, Thy young soul took its flight from earth away ! No more shalt thou appear To soothe my grief. What homage may I pay. Save prayer and tear? VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 27 X. SONNET. (Mother Angela — nee Ewing — died on a Friday at W a. m., March 4th, 1887.) On Friday, one brief hour before the noon, The lowly Nazarene, with thorn-crowned Head, Wan, weak, blood-bruised by cruel blows, was led From Pilate's halls to Calvary: eftsoon The Lord was crucified. For that rich Boon, The Life He gave us, countless saints have shed Warm, grateful tears, and countless lives have sped In sacrifice: — such, not inopportune, The life thou gavest to Christ's sacred cause. Sweet Mother Angela, whose saintly tread. Obedient as the sea-tides to the moon, Sought God thro' life, nor swerved from Heaven's laws. — Angels were near when thy bright spirit fled On Friday, one brief hour before the noon. 28 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XI. GREETING. To Fr. Brady, S. J., Provincial. (Holy Cross, 1881.) We gather here within the college hall With happy hearts and faces free from sorrow. Without, the thick'ning shades of evening fall Like lonely sprites that vainly seek to borrow From earth its cheerfulness. We feel no loss. A beaming presence maketh glad our meeting. We hail tonight a friend of Holy Cross And welcome him. Provincial, hear our greeting ! We've waited long thy coming. Happy hours Have lightly sped nor left a shade behind them Till autumn's faded leaves and summer's flowers Lie buried 'neath the icy chains that bind them. We've waited long and, like a golden dream, Fair Expectation, gilding all things bright, Hath cast thro' months of toil her sunny beam Upon the proud rejoicement of tonight. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 29 For once a year fair Spring adorns the land, (A sweeter guest ne'er passed the young year's portals) ; And once a year from Winter's frosty hand Leaps Christmas, making glad the hearts of mortals; And once a year the Summer's placid gloss Is rippled by the insects' drowsy humming; And once a year the heart of Holy Cross Beats high with pride and pleasure at thy coming. We greet thee lovingly, for all things show The kindly feelings to us that thou bearest. We greet thee joyfully, for well we know That in our happiness thou ever sharest. We greet thee for the honour of this fete (For months of classic toil a meet consoler) And for the dignity that clothes thy state, O Leader of the Children of Loyola! 30 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XII. LONELINESS.* I have been happy for a score of years; I have been filled with joy and freed from woe. Now to my eyes springs up a fount of tears, Now in my heart full sadly re-appears The dreaded loneliness of long ago, The same old loneliness that made tears flow Long, long ago. When birds cease singing and the sun has set And soft winds sway the branches to and fro And earth embraces with a vague regret Day's parting charms, that linger even yet, And twilight's shadows settle o'er us low, It comes, the loneliness that made tears flow Long, long ago. ** Better have loved and lost," the poet, sings, "Than ne'er have loved at all." 'Tis even so; For from true love a nobler manhood springs And, tho' the soul beloved hath taken wings And left us, sorely stricken 'neath the blow, We ne'er forget that form we used to know Long, long ago. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 31 That well-loved form, whose every deed and word Were beautiful with virtue's lovely glow; Whose simple trusting judgment never erred; Whose firmly planted footsteps never stirred From duty's steep, straight-forward path. What tho' It left us sad and lonely here below Long years ago? Its memory lingers yet. And it is sweet To think of those we love. 'Tis sweet to grow Content with loss, and feel our sorrows fleet In silence from us, and to bravely greet Death's steps, approaching steadily, tho' slow. — How sweet a friend is Death ! He seemed a foe Some years ago. Sweet is the sundown of our hopes and fears, The twilight of our mingled joy and woe. Sweet is the autumn of our faded years. And sadly sweet the hour when re-appears The loneliness we felt so long ago. The same old loneliness that made tears flow Long, long ago. ♦"Loneliness' ' (see preceding page) with five other pieces of mine was printed by mistake in the "Poems and Prose Works" of the late lamented Rev. Richard J. McHugh (issued for subscribers in 1896 after Father McHugh's death by the John B. Clarke Co., of Man- chester, N. H.) The pieces of mine included by mis- take and thus credietd to my old friend Father Mc- Hugh, besides "Loneliness," are "The Ti*amp," "To My Canary," "Nationhood," "Day-Dream" and "The Light-House." (See "Poems of Prose-works of Rev. Richard J. McHugh, B. A., M. A.," pages 93 to 103), 32 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XIII. FOUR HYMNS TO SAINT ANNE. {From the French). 1. MORNING STAR. (Etoile du Matin). (Refrain) — Kind Saint Anne, protect thou mef Guide my bark upon life's river f Save me from the wreck forever t Kind Saint Anne, I hope in thee! When the storm-waves swelling high Come to threaten my salvation, Calm the tempest's fluctuation; Change to blue the gloomy sky. Shoals are hidden while the night Throws its pitchy darkness o'er me; Touch them, lay them bare before me, O thou ever-shining light! Yet if ever, — God forefend! — Sin's foul shipwreck should undo me, Cast the plank of Grace unto me ; Lead me onward to the end. When from wind and cloud there start Sudden dangers round me swarming, Grant that fierce temptation's storming May but purify my heart. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 33 And when from this lower air Death's resistless beck hath won me, Morning-Star, still shine upon me! Sweet Saint Anne, still list my prayer! 2. THE HOLY NAME, SAINT ANNE. {Le Nom de Sainte Anne). Saint Anne! — How that name revealeth All our bright mem'ries of joy! How soft on the ear it stealeth In melody without alloy! In our sadness and our sorrow That holy name soothes care and strife. From its tender grace we borrow Peace for this stormy life. Saint Anne! — Name whose potent sounding Back to his home in the fire Hurleth, all his trust confounding, Foul Lucifer in hopeless ire: — While life's shadows black impending Oppress my soul with woe or shame, May my tongue unto life's ending Call upon thee. Sweet Name! Saint Anne! — ^What a charm maternal In that pure name doth abide, Replete with God's grace supernal Tho' dangers press on every side. — When my soul, death's pangs defying, Sweet Name, shall struggle to be free, May my fond lips still in dying Close while they murmur thee! 34 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 3. RECOURSE TO SAINT ANNE. {Recours a Sainte Anne). O gentle Mother Before thee while we pray, Thine and none other The love we claim today. Earth's dangers lie before us; Vile Satan fain would lower^us. Watch ever o'er us Till life hath passed away. Mother most tender, In all our griefs and fears Be our defender And guide us thro' our years. The weight of their distresses Thy children dear oppresses. Grant thy caresses 'To wipe away our tears. God watches o'er us, We're His in ev'ry part, Pray to Him for us And offer Him our heart. To warm our tepid spirit O let us but inherit Thy priceless merit Till hellish foes depart. E'er humbly bowing Upon thy strength we lean. List to us vowing, O Mother of our Queen, VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 35 With warm prayers to entreat thee, With praises e'er to greet thee, Till we shall meet thee In heaven's realms serene. 4. HYMN TO SAINT ANNE. (Cantique a Sainte Anne). (Refrain) — Kind Saint Anne, before thee kneeling^ While life's shadows round us fall, To thy mother-heart appealing, In our needs on thee we call. Hail! Thou Mother of the Maiden Who did bear our Saviour Lord! Hymns with thy bright praises laden We will sing in sweet accord. Legends tell that Jesus rested In His Childhood on thy knee While the Virgin manifested All her daughter-love for thee. When death's angel came to woo thee, Jesus stroked thy silvered hair, Opened Limbo up unto thee And prepared thy dwelling there^ Now to him who seeks thy favour, Heaven's grace e'er fioweth free; For the power that Jesus gave her,. Mary giveth unto thee! 36 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XIV. ST. BERNARD'S MOTHER. Ever faintly, faintly breathing, Fading to her death, Lieth holy Bernard's mother, Sweet Elizabeth. Round her couch with woeful faces Each devoted son: Guy and Gerard, Andrew, Nivard And the favored one. "Spouse ! " — The knight, her noble husband, Gentle draweth nigh. — *'Thou hast fought earth's battles. Hence- forth Fight for Him on high! — Guy, my eldest, yield to heaven All that hath enticed. — Bernard, First-Born of my Spirit! Lead them unto Christ!" So she fainteth, Bernard's mother. Sweet Elizabeth, Gasping with calm, whitened features, Fainteth into death. And they gaze upon her body Motionless and still. But unto her soul each answers: "Pleasing God, I will!" VERSE5 OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 37 In the cloistered "beauteous valley," In remote Clairvaux, Six tall monks 'mid prayer and fasting Hie them to and fro Under Prior Bernard, serving God with every breath. — Rest her soul, their gentle mother, Sweet Elizabeth! 38 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XV. THE PAGAN PHILOSOPHER'S QUESTION. O Past, forever gone! How fair the fringe of thy departing dress Receding, fading, growing less and less! How sadly kind thy voice's dying notes As down the years' dark avenue soft floats Their lingering echo! How supremely sweet The perfume left behind, as in retreat Thou movest on and on. O Love, forever fled. Sweet fire of human hearts, that lights and warms And moulds them all-defiant to life's storms! Whence comes thy spark divine and whither goes Its beaming radiance when no longer glows Its light on earth? O does thy presence thrill The dear departed? Art thou burning still Amongst the silent dead? O Life, that passest by. What is thy spell, thy golden mystery? Whence blows the wondrous air, the breath of thee, Which makes us living clay ? What potent force Of nature thro' our burning veins doth course? What undiscovered, mute electric flood Doth vivify the channels of our blood Until we gasp and die? VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 39 O Death ! Thou comest fast ! Dark crowner of the combats that we wage, Unmoved rewarder of our pilgrimage! Thou comest fast, and dimly we behold Thy form approaching with broad ample fold Of blackest drapery. And thou dost hear Each question that we a^k; and full and clear Wilt answer them at last. 40 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XVI. THE PAGAN PHILOSOPHER'S ANSWER "'Cause of causes, pity me!', 'Causa, causarum^ miserere mei! ', was a favorite ejaculation of the pagan philosopher, Cicero" (old anecdote book). 'Twas night; for darkness filled the air And life was stilled. He lay at rest And thro' his spacious lattice-square The sea-air poured upon his breast, The fragant night-breath of the sea That laps the shores of Italy. 'Twas night; for Christ had not been born And earth was wrapped in that dense gloom Which came before the radiant morn Of faith. He lay within his room, One of the few, whose mind, unblurred, Had compassed all, nor longer erred; One of the few, whose vision, healed From error's blindness, clear did see In brightest light, tho' unrevealed. The oneness of the Deity. He mused and fervent reasoning broke Night's stillness and he softly spoke: "It must be so. I can but see The chain of Thy causality. O Cause of causes, pity me ! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 41 "I grope in darkness, sad and slow; I see Thy works where'er I go. I worship Thee, but do not know. "Yet why complain? Weak mortals we. Who see, and know not why they see; And shall we think to fathom Thee? **In yonder blue each silv'ry star Beams soft and sends his light afar. What sage will tell me whence they are? "Without my walls, beyond my land The waves make music on the strand: But why, I cannot understand. "Then shall I hope to fathom Thee, Thou Ruler of infinity? — O Cause of causes, pity me! "This earth, whose smallest charms entrance My soul until my every glance Speaks praise, could never spring from chance. "A matchless skill hath formed it fair; A boundless power made sea and air And left its footprints everywhere. "The ocean-tides that ebb and flow, The seasons, as they come and go. The day and night and all things show- 42 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. **A wondrous method, fair, refined, To every weakest creature kind; And method ever springs from mind. **Who made it? He who wears the crown Among weak gods, whose head bows down Abashed before proud luno's frown? '''The henpecked husband of the skies, Whose marriage-woes make laughter rise And sparkle from celestial eyes? ""No; since existence first began It was a law in nature's plan; Who has a wife, is but a man; "'And Jupiter is but the vain Weak offspring of a poet's brain. With human joys and human pain. ^'Our gods but act what we rehearse. And Saturn's spouse could never nurse The builder of a universe. **Our feeble gods are unto Thee As dreams unto reality. O Cause of causes, pity me ! *'0 art Thou kind, as well as great. And may I hope this cheerless state Will yield to some more happy fate? VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 43 **And that, when Hfe hath passed away, My soul, outliving night, may play Within the sunlight of Thy day? "Whate'er my future hath in store^ My present loves Thee more and more. Thee only doth my soul adore. "My will doth bow; my mind doth see; My very being tend to Thee. O Cause of causes, pity me!" 44 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XVII. OLD ST. MARY'S. (St. Mary's, Fall River, Mass., now St. Mary's Ca- thedral, was just fifty years old when it was consecrated on Sept. 7th, 1901. House of mercy, house of prayer, House of worship and salvation! Incense smoke and organ blare, Floating in the holy air, Symbolize thy Consecration. Bloom of flowers, gleam of lights Decorate the solemn rites; Mitred pontiff, stoled priest Gather at the joyous feast; While thy children's fond emotion And thy people's glad devotion Flood thee with a human ocean. House of refuge, house of rest, Shelter to the soul o'erweary, Haven of the pierced breast. Sorrow-wounded, care-oppressed, When life's day is dark and dreary! Hearts bowed down with misery, Drag their weight of woe to thee; Spirits smitten 'neath the rod, Fly to thee, oh! House of God! And while earth's wild tumult varies,- Time's caprices, life's vagaries, — Calm thou standest, old St. Mary's. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 45 Fifty years, in peace and war, Hast thou stood, "a thing of beauty," Thro' the wrongs our souls abhor And the rights they battle for Pointing us the way of duty. Fifty years within thy fane Infant souls from Adam's stain Have been cleansed; and fifty years Penitential sighs and tears, True confession, warm contrition Have obtained in glad fruition Absolution and remission. Here the child-soul had its growth, Confirmation, First Communion. Here did lovers, nothing loath. Join their hands and plight their troth, One in sacramental union. Here the sad procession marched Thro' the long aisles Gothic-arched When the death-cold corpse was borne To the tomb, and they who mourn. Prayed that to their dear one, shriven From his sins, might soon be given God's repose, the light of heaven. Fifty years, thro' misery And thro' joy, would high and lowly Bow them down in worship free 'Neath thy shrine, where dwelleth He Who is Holy, Holy, Holy; Fifty years their grateful love 46 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Hath been wafted far above While the Sacrifice Divine Of the mystic bread and wine By God's priest was celebrated Solemnly and angels, sated With their bHss, attendant waited. Now, — as when a postulant After months of earnest trial Or a novice, ministrant 'Neath God's laws, 'mid solemn chant Speaks her vows of self-denial, — Now, thou honoured Gothic pile, — Pointed arch and pillared aisle, — In all dignity and state (Finished thy novitiate), With they people's jubilation Now advance to higher station ! Now receive thy Consecration! Tabernacle, where doth reign Heaven's King in Real Presence! Altar, where the Lord doth deign. As He died for us in pain. So in love to take His pleasaunce! Gothic vault of light subdued! Storied windows glory-hued! Depth of nave and breadth of choir! Length of sky-line! Height of spire! Old St. Mary's! — ^To approve thee How doth God smile down above thee! — And thy children, — how they love thee! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 47 XVIII. FAREWELL. To Very Rev. Father Hogan, S. S., First President St. John's Seminary, Boston, 1888. Dear Father Hogan, while night's shadows fall Upon our Alma Mater's honoured walls, While birds good-night to one another call In yonder pines, and list each other's calls. While nature's gentle breast is overflowing With peace, the daylight gone, the twilight going, One last time in this dear, familiar place Where evening's shadows have so often found you, One last time (for a transient summer's space) You sit, with us your children all around you. We meet to part; for when another day Has risen from the fruitful eastern skies, Its sad-winged hours shall bear you far away. Yet Memory still, when lost unto our eyes. Will hold you in unfaltering devotion. And Fancy shall be with you on the ocean ; Shall follow where the waves toss wild and free; Shall mark your heart leap forward to its sireland When Neptune lowers his crest to let you see The rising shores, far-off, of holy Ireland. 48 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. "** Farewell — a word that must be and hath been A sound which makes us linger — yet fare- well!" Thus spake the soul of Byron, and within Our hearts tonight his language seems to dwell Most fittingly, as in its proper dwelling. What means Farewell? It means the bosom swelling With hope and trust, with wish and earnest prayer That God, Who guards His Own thro' joy and grieving. Would deign to grant His all - benignant care And love unto the dear one we are leaving. And such our farewell. May the course you steer Be tranquil, with serenest skies above! May Ireland ope her arms to give you cheer In all the fervour of her peerless love! May sunny France, her pulse in rapture beating Send forth to you her fondest, warmest greeting! May God protect you! Till, when nature dons New hues and puts her autumn robes upon her, You stand once more within revered St. John's For further years of usefulness and honour! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 49 For further years, and labours which befit Your lofty place, till length of days has crowned you With virtues promised guerdon, and you sit In heaven with your children all around you ! Dear Father Hogan, thus our thoughts tonight Arise commingled in us, sad and bright, At your departure, while from deep within Our very hearts the parting doth outswell: ** Farewell — a word that must be and hath been A sound which makes us linger — ^yet farewell!" 50 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XIX. AT CORPUS CHRISTI. The sunlit, storied windows fling Their splendour on the Gothic nave. The organ peals, the censers swing The lights burn high, the banners wave. And frankincense and prayer arise While Thou, oh! Lord of Paradise, Art borne before our raptured eyes; — Art borne about us, kneeling here In worship on this gladsome feast, Raised high in reverent love and fear Before him by Thy white-haired priest With children strewing flowers the whiles The long procession grandly files Adown and up the pillared aisles. E'en thus of old from Galgal plain Thy Ark with seemly pomp and show Was borne by Josue's priestly train About the walls of Jericho: — Seven times in military rout With trumpet blare and warlike shout They compassed all the walls about. Within was terror and dismay And rampant sin and shame and blight* Without was courage for the fray And trust in Thy resistless might. — VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 51. Seven times about the guilty town Thy Ark was borne; and at Thy frown The walls of Jericho crashed down. Oh ! Lord, hurl down the walls of sin, The battlements of misery And selfishness, that fence me in And bar my guilty soul from Thee! Fight in me, till Thy foes depart. Ope wide the gates, whose King Thou art,. And triumph in my conquered heart! 52 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XX. LIFE AND DEATH. What, old Comrade, art thou sighing? Wherefore sigh? We're quite old enough for dying, Thou and I. While we sit each other eyeing Younger hearts are madly vieing For our place. And Time is flying. Let him fiy! Each his turn. The days, retreating, Pass to night. And the changeful seasons, fleeting, Take their flight. And the winter clouds are sleeting Out their lives. And flowers are meeting Gloomy death with solemn greeting In the light. All the world is gone or going To the tomb, Death's full bins are overflowing With its doom. Death shall reap what life is sowing: Age, its wisdom deep bestowing, Happy youth, and beauty glowing In its bloom. Life is brief as infant's breathing; Death is long. Life is weak as sea-foam's seething; Death is strong. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 53 Life is dreary prose, unsheathing All the ills of birth's bequeathing; Death is verse, its flowerlets wreathing, Death is song. 'Tis a garden with sweet, vernal Blossoms rife, Free from all earth's cares diurnal, Free from strife. 'Tis a seed that hides the kernel Of fair peace and joys supernal ; And it burgeoneth eternal Into life. Ah ! We blunder, sadly sighing, Thou and I, That old Time forsooth is flying. Let him fly! To the soul on Christ relying Life is sweet, but sweeter dying; Faith his solace, when descrying Death is nigh. 54 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXI. FIDELITY. Wlien early twilight o'er us falls In radiance calm and sweet, Two grey hoods and two old shawls Move down the village street; With lengthy steps on left and right In stately grace they stalk; And I pause to greet them every night As I take my evening walk. Then from under the hoods of grey Faces wrinkled and worn Beam with smiles of a by-gone day, And to my ears are borne Accents in a piping tone That once was soft and sweet; And the aged forms move slowly on Along the village street. Once when the crescent moon shone bright Queen of the evening sky, I met them 'neath its silv'ry light Where calmly sleeping lie The dead. And standing on the sward Within that lonely vale. With unpremeditated word They told their simple tale. "The selfsame hour beheld our birth And we were bred together And hand in hand thro' grief and mirth, Thro' fair and cloudy weather, VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 55 Thro' all the shadows of our way, Thro' all its joy and sorrow We've walked, nor feared the present day Nor worried for the morrow. "Why come we here? Twin sisters we And Oh! we love each other I But dear to her and dear to me The memory of our mother! At twilight's hour one autumn day, — 'Twas thirty years ago, — Her spirit fled its house of clay. Her bones rest here below. "'And at her grave on bended knee Our prayers we send on high That light perpetual may be Her lot beyond the sky. And e'er for thirty weary years When twilight dims the day We freshen with our heart-sprung tears The grass above her clay. "For when the sun makes all things bright, Hope shineth pure and fair; And 'neath the gloomy wings of night Are gathered dark despair And all the foul, unshapely sins; — But memory hath full power When toil has ceased and rest begins At twilight's holy hour." 56 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXII. BEAUTY IN ALL THINGS. (Nocturne). From the ruined castle's walls Downward slopes the grassy hill. At its base the river flows Sweetly singing as it goes Till into the sea it falls. Here nor life nor human breath ; All the air is hushed and still. Truly Nature's self might seem In a sleep without a dream, In the very sleep of death. But at mignight (thrice a year) Whilst the hill is clothed in storm, From the deepest gloom of night Boometh thunder, flasheth light; And the light endureth clear. *Tis a wondrous, lasting beam And it moulds itself to form Superhuman, ravishing, Fairer than the fairest thing Poet's soul did ever dream! O the spot were hard to seek But if erring mortal ken Might avail to compass there, You would see the vision fair; You would hear the vision speak: VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 57 "I am Beauty" (sayeth he) "And before the birth of men I was born, and when the last Of the race of men has passed, Still in Vision I will be. "I was on the grassy hill E'er the castle crowned its height, When the pines each other wooed Lovers in the solitude And the dryads had their will. I was present when outpoured Gentle dame and lordly knight From the castle's portals fair To the chase, or thro' the air On its prey the falcon soared. "I am present even yet In the ruins crumbling walls While the rushing storms downpour And the booming thunders roar And the winds its arches fret. I am Beauty, and I play 0\^er bridal-wreaths and palls. Thou shalt see me in the bloom Of the flowers, and in the tomb Of thy race, and in decay!" 58 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXIII. DAY-DREAM. (by an exile of ERIN.) (See Note to "Loneliness.") Stony the road was and cheerless the weather ; Bleak clouds hung o'er us and winter winds wailed ; Two of us, trudging the mountain together, Safe in our friendship, tho' other things failed. ^'Courage!", Franz cried; "tho' so high we ne'er come, it Proves we love duty, fear duty, and from it Would not depart, tho' we ne'er reach the summit; Would not depart tho' we sleep in the snow!" Courage I took, and we tramped on together. Smiled at the windstorm and sneered at the weather, Called it a ghost with less weight than a feather Striving to fright us and keep us below. Ah ! I loved Franz for his spirit did cheer me, Held me from weakness and faint-hearted ills. Sweet was the valley that nestled so near me Over the hills! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 59 Years have sped on, and my spirit is fainter; Grief-clouds have met me and drenched me with woe; Memory still, like a merciless painter, Pictures my sorrows wherever I go; Sorrows that mar the content of the present, Lead me to envy the lot of the peasant, Bid me to every sad query say yes, and Murmur fore'er at my pitiful fate. So human life were a steep, rugged mountain Here and there softened by streamlet or fountain. Every slow step towards a grand total counting Where one's best efforts might be but too late. O for the rest that is promised unto us ! O for eternity's gladness, that fills! O for the glories of heavens, which woo us Over the hills! Yet we must stay. We must dwell on this planet Till we are called to our birthright above. Beautiful Earth ! We must love it, and can it Pay us with coldness instead of with love? No ! We're a nation ; we're millions of brothers Neighbors, and sisters, and fathers and mothers. Friends of our country, and just men, and others. Striving to make her a land of the free! "Erin" her name and a martyr's her features. 60 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Stranger, if ever their beauty should meet yours, Sweeter by far than fair earth's other creatures Would they shine to you as they shine to me! Upward e'er striving, — her story will teach it — Hers for long ages th' endeavour that thrills. Sweet will her freedom be when she shall reach it Over the hills! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 61 XXIV. FOURTH OF JULY IN TYROL. (1884, Innsbruck University). A summer day, a day of golden weather And azure skies and zephyrs soft and bland ; Some twenty students gathered here together Who hail Columbia as their motherland. Young ardour vapours like the spray of fountains While thro' the meadows merry voices call And from yon haughty old Tyrolean moun- tains Come, echoed back, the war-cries of base- ball! And then the banquet when the game is ended, — 'Tis Independence Day, — in fair Tyrol, — The toasts, the speeches, the young voices blended In patriotic chorus o'er the bowl. And where the Hapsburg eagles haunt their eyrie. The Stars and Stripes are floating in the sun! And where Andreas Hofer kept him wary, How grandly rings the name of Washington ! 62 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Ah ! Love of Country ! Thou art shining brightest When blood outpours from hearts that burn with thee. In weariness and hardships, thou del igh test The exile forced from tyrant's wrath to flee. At home, abroad, alike in prince and peasant Thou flourishest, thou growest more and more. And truly too and warmly art thou present With willing exiles from their native shore. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 63 XXV. THE LIGHT-HOUSE. (See Note to "Loneliness.") Where scraggy rocks lie hidden deep Beneath the salt-sea spray, Where mermen joyous revels keep When wind and wave are hushed to sleep Like children tired from play, Where strong- winded birds float wild and free Above the shoaly strands. One-half in air, one-half in sea The light-house stands. And when erect he meets my sight Above the white-capped wave And when I see his rugged might Forever battling for the right, Fore'er intent to save The luckless sailor wandering The trackless waste alone, I cannot deem him but a thing Of brick and stone. So when the sun illumes the sky And gilds the heaving main. In massive grandeur towering high He seems unto my fancy's eye A knight of Neptune's train 64 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Who seeks the realms of light and air, An exile from below, For countless years condemned to bear His weight of woe. But when night broods upon the sea And sombrous vapours creep Athwart the stars, and winds are free To fret the waves, he seems to me The watchman of the deep; And cheerly thro' the gloom he glows, A Cyclops in his might. Whose bulky forehead proudly shows One eye of light. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 65 XXVI. NEW-YEAR'S EVE. ''For the old year lies adying" (Tennyson). New- Year's Eve! and from the welkin Brightly shine the lamps of night. Chaste and cold the moon is beaming, Dazzling white the snow is gleaming With her sheeny, pallid light. And the mighty winds are sighing, Chanting low a monarch's knell, For "the Old Year lies adying." — Old Year, Old Year, f are-thee-well f New- Year's Eve! and in the moonhght Spectres flitter to and fro! For his dissolution longing Ghosts of by-gone Years are thronging Round their brother, lying low. Old Year, where no evils seek it May thy spirit happy dwell! Softly, tenderly we speak it: Old Year, Old Year, fare-thee-well! New- Year's Eve ! The bells are pealing And they chime not moan nor groan- Happy faces, merry voices Tell the skies that earth rejoices. For a new king mounts his throne. Let them hail him e'er so gladly; Let the bells their anthems swell; I at least will murmur sadly: Old Year, Old Year, fare-thee-well! 66 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXVII. MEMORIAL DAY. (Philomathic Club, Holy Cross College, 1880.) When each hill and grove is ringing with the songster's magic lay. When the perfume-laden breezes speak the presence of bright May, When the streamlets, gently rippling, ever ever onward run. From his bed in eastern ocean upward leaps the mighty sun. And his rays are brightly gilding all the city's glittering towers, Flashing o'er her sparkling waters, playing 'mid her scented flowers. Why is hushed the din of labour? Whither traffic's turmoil fled? Look ! A Nation fondly weeping o'er a Nation's soldier-dead. When the flowers of spring were blooming in the ne'er-forgotten past. On a land that calmly rested fiercely rang the trumpet's blast. And their faces paled, who heard it, and their pulses throbbed in awe, For the reign of peace was broken by the iron hand of war. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 67 Yet they gathered bravely, truly; deemed him base who dared to lag When the clouds of dark Disunion lowered upon his country's flag; Bade farewell to friend and kindred; blessed the spots where hearth-fires burned; Marched to meet their country's foes. And some, alas! have ne'er returned. In the grassy, silent churchyard, where the willows meet the sky, Calmly resting from their labours side by side the warriors lie. And the breezes moan above them and the clouds of heaven weep And the grave-stones, pointing upward, stand like sentries o'er their sleep. With the Nation's colors streaming, while the echoing cannon boom, Ye, who love the soldier's glory, decorate the soldier's tomb. Chant the solemn Miserere. With the prayer the spirit craves, With the tear that mourns their parting, strew the flowers upon their graves ; They shall wither in the sunlight e'er another day has sped; But the glory of the sleepers shall not mingle with the dead. 68 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Philomathic, Philomathic, in the battlefield of life May thy sons be ever numbered 'mid the heroes of the strife! Calm and fearless e'er advancing thro' the dangers of their way, May their noble deeds be worthy of a bright Memorial Day! Philomathic, Philomathic, may thy joys be pure and bright As that sunset! And upon thee may mis- fortunes fall as light As the shades of night are falling o'er the sunshine of the day While yon rooks are softly calling from their dwellings far away! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 69 XXVIII. NATIONHOOD. (by an exile of erin). (See Note to Loneliness.) In timeworn canvas on my study wall A lovely maiden's painted form is standing. About her neck soft auburn ringlets fall To shade her features, gentle yet com- manding, And on her queenly head, with jewels bright A silvery crown is flashing cheerful light, E'en as the moon when thro' the summer night She calmly beams, the fleecy clouds dis- banding. No scroll reveals the ancient painter's name Nor has he named his work. But to my seeming His hand must be not all unknown to fame, So fine the form upon that canvas gleaming, The sweetly tender face so kind and good! I named her "Erin in her nationhood" While in the light of long ago I stood Before the splendour of her beauty dreaming. 70 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO, And "Erin in her nationhood" still rings Thro' all my soul whene'er with face uplifted I gaze upon the canvas, and it brings Unto my mind her glories that have drifted Into the past: her saints of other days; Her scholars, whose bright radiance pierced the haze Of Europe's ignorance; her bards, whose lays Still haunt this world-stage whence their scenes are shifted. How more than sweet a word is "nationhood" And 'neath its sound how full a meaning lieth! For its fair sake the wise, the brave, the good Have dying won the fame that never dieth And passed to glorious rest. For it men die E'en now, and ever shall till from on high The angel's trumpet soundeth thro' the sky And from its myriad graves mankind replieth. While in a country nationhood remains To shed its hallowed radiance upon her, — Tho' writhing 'neath the weight of foreign chains And fainter waning day by day and wanner, — She stands, a captive maiden, sore oppressed By countless ills, yet in her virtue blessed And guarding still within her spotless breast The priceless treasure of her virgin honour. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 71 And such art thou, my country, whom I see With fancy's eye in yonder timeworn painting! Oppression's blight hath long o'ershadowed thee With bonds and stripes thy free-born beauty tainting. Thy lifelong agony no respite knows, Thy very lifeblood slowly from thee flows Till, crushed and bruised beneath its bitter woes, Thy tender, loving heart is nigh to fainting. Yet still thou livest; still thro' every vein Bright nationhood its balmy flood is pour- ing; And soon will Freedom wipe away the stain Of slavery, thy long-lost peace restoring; For Freedom's self will hear a nation's cries And come to thee and dry thy streaming eyes And on proud wings thy genius shall arise Above the very stars, towards heaven soaring. 72 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXIX. AT SEVENTY-FOUR. Birth-Day Greeting to a Lady of That Age. I am wondering tonight, while my thoughts wander free O'er this life's stormy ocean from shore to shore, Just what sort of a personage I shall be If I ever reach seventy-four! And my mind halts uneasy 'twixt fear and hope, As the twilight hangs doubting 'twixt night and day. "'Twere a long road to travel, nor easy to cope With the dangers that lie in the way. Yet the pathway had blossomed with pleasures refined Tho' the labours of centuries moistened my brow, Were I happy and healthy in body and mind At the close of my journey, as thou! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 73 XXX. GARFIELD. (Elberon, 1881.) I'd love to name him ''great" and "grand": But tho' 'twere done in sooth By every rhymer in the land, I 'needs must speak the truth; So here I sing but what I know Of him who now is lying low. In peace his life was kind and fair, Untarnished by a crime ; And tho' his path was full of care Amid the sands of time, He lived among his fellow-men An honest, guileless citizen. Then in the flash of swords and guns He shone out clear and bright, Not least among the mighty ones That battled for the right; Yet few the laurels given by fame To deck the glory of his name. His nation called. He could but hear Her mandate and obey. Then thousands hastened to revere The magic of his sway. Yet, tho' he wisely ruled and well, For name and fame too soon he fell. 74 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Then wherefore call him "great" and "grand' Now he has reached the goal? No deed of might has left his hand; No genius fired his soul; No conquered world, no nation freed, Can claim for him the hero's meed. No; rather, since his course is run, This simple legend tell Upon his tomb: "Here lieth one Who did his duty well." And bear his corse in grandeur dressed Unto its place; and let him rest. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 75 XXXI. THE ROSE OF FRIENDSHIP. While the soil is fresh and fertile, E'er the spring of life depart, Let me pl^nt the rose of friendship In the garden of your heart. May it flourish thro' the springtime, Thro' the summer and the fall! And when hoar-frost chills the flowerlets And bleak winter withers all, (While good angels stand beside you Driving evil ones apart,) May fair friendship's flower still flourish In the garden of your heart! 76 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXXII. TO A COLLEGE FRIEND'S MOTHER. {By Request.) Thy form was ne'er' beheld by me, And yet, whate'er befall, I know I'll ever think of thee As one whom I may call A friend. I paint thee in my mind, — As in my mind I may,— A woman, like all women, kind And, like all young ones, gay; Nor have I fear that thou 'It resent This bit of rhyme in kindness to thee meant. Thy features fair I may but guess. Perchance 'twill e'er be so. Perchance my hand may never press Thy friendly hand below. Yet tho' on earth we never meet, Our minds, from where they dwell, May still partake communion sweet And wish each other well. So in thy kindness often send A thought from out life's battle to— Thy Friend. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 7T XXXIII. ON A FLY-LEAF. Like a marble block, uncarved and bare, Or a drift of snow in the wint'ry air It lay before me pure and fair. This virgin page in its stainless white. And I thought: "Were it sager to leave it so Unmarred and unstained in its spotless glow^ Or to take up my pen, and write?" I am writing now; the ink-strokes crawl Across the page, and the long lines fall From side to side and over all, As soldiers move when a field is fought. Yet while the ranks and files march by, I question: "Which more charms the eye: A stainless page, or a useless thought?" 78 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXXIV. IN THE DORMITORY. Holy Cross, 1882.) The dormitory's weak, unsteady light Fought faintly with the gloomy shades of night. Without, the stars were hidden, all save one That near the east horizon brightly shone. Within my bed at softest ease I lay And thought of every action of the day And thanked my stars I had no cause to weep And courted for my comfort gentle Sleep. And soon he came. I saw my comrades, beds Around me, with their spotless, snowy spreads, Like gravestones in the gas-jets' feeble light. I saw the noiseless black-robed prefect stalk From end to end upon his lonely walk A veritable spirit of the night. I heard some weary dreamer's gentle snore And then I sank to sleep and heard no more., No; but I dreamed. Methought that years had flown And that, an old man, in the world alone, From home returned once more, I craved to see The Alma Mater so beloved by me. All things were strange, and new I gazed upon. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 79 That dear old Class of 'Eighty -Three was gone. New faces met my eye in each dear spot. New students sore bemoaned the ''Lines" they got. New prefects told again the same old story And cast their victims into "purgatory " I mounted to the place where erst we slept, And in my happiness I almost wept As ancient memories of boyhood's glee Thronged slow, yet sweet and surely, back to me. I found at length my well-remembered bed And threw myself upon it. And I said: "Is it the same old bed I loved so well?" Then Mr. C-s-y, as he rang the bell. Replied: "It surely is. But let that pass. Just tumble quickly out, and dress for Mass! " 80 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXXV. THE TRAMP. (See Note to "Loneliness.") He sits on yonder painted bench that over- looks the smiling sea. His clothes are tattered, and his shoes are well worn-out. But what cares he? While grass is green and skies are blue, while winds are sweet, and birds explore The unseen depths of atmosphere, he's happy. Kings can be no more. On velvet cushions ill at ease, with wrinkled brow and haggard eye, Admired by half his foolish town, the stolid millionaire ride-s by; And while he ponders o'er the wealth whose cares his wearied features stamp He murmurs: "O that I might own the liberty of yonder tramp!" VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 81 XXXVI. TO MY CANARY. (See Note to "Loneliness.") Canary, ever singing Songs of thy home within the southern sea, Thy voice is e'er outringing Sweet notes of hope and comfort unto me. What tho' thou ne'er wast free? What tho' thy Httle will did ne'er rejoice In godlike liberty, Our thrice-ennobling attribute of choice? Thine is thy care-free life, and thine thy silv'ry voice. Hast thou no winged ambition To sing for more discerning ears than mine? Or deemst thou it elysian Within so mean a theatre to shine? No voice to vie with thine Save the hoarse alto of my violin; No laurels to entwine Thy brow. But only bright days that have been And sunshine fair without, and sweet content within. No doubt in days more sunny Thy race was happier: in the years gone by When neither love nor money Would steal thy liberty or make thee sigh Within yon cage; when I 82 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Was formless, uncreated, yet to rise From nothingness; and thy Forefathers, basking 'neath cerulean skies. Sang sweetest songs for mine in peerless Paradise. It may be thou dost borrow Delights from woe, imprisoned in this place. It may be even sorrow That yields thy artless melody its grace, Poor Tasso of thy race. Whose sunny blood no frosts can e'er congeal t Condemned fore'er to trace Gay scenes thou canst not gaze on, and reveal Sweet sounds thou dost not hear, bright joys thou canst not feel! Yet cheer thee, for there lingers This consolation in thy gloomy state: That there are other singers Who share with thee thy melancholy fate And, prisoned here, await The gladsome day whose dawn shall set them free. And yearn to satiate Their longings, and with all humility Pray for that sweet content heaven graifteth unto thee. VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 8S XXXVII. TO WALTER. (On His First Birthday.) Merry Christmas, little stranger Just arrived from fairyland! Priceless gift from Santa Claus, Governed by his fairy-laws. From a land of ceaseless joy Where nor woe nor cares annoy Angels brought thee, hand in hand, To these realms of doubt and danger. Bright complexion; features rounded; Height twelve inches; weight two stone; Minus hair; with eyes of light Brilliant as the stars of night; Voice soft alto, prattling yet Fairy -words you'll soon forget: — That is your description, done Just as in a dream I found it. Little eyes, wide-oped in wonder At this funny, funny earth, May you ne'er be dimmed with tears Thro' a life of happy years! Little hands, too fair to soil, May you ne'er be rough with toil From the moment of your birth Till you reach that heaven yonder. 84 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Little feet, that must be learning Soon to tread earth's weary ways, Thro' life's journey may you pass Gently as o'er meadow grass, Never swerving with your load From fair duty's upward road! So will you deserve all praise, Right embracing, wrong things spurning. Baby, may you never falter In the path our laws allow Till you reach the happy goal Where all joy awaits the soul That has done what it should do! This is what I wish to you, Even as I wish you now Merry Christmas, little Walter! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 85 XXXVIII. BASE-BALL SONG. (Holy Cross, 1882.) When the earth is fresh and fair With the promise of the spring, W^hen upon the balmy air i\ll the flowers their perfume fling, When the grass is growing green x^nd the skies are blue and soft, When the "buttercup and bean" Drop their clay and spring aloft, Then our life is never flat; Strive we then to win renown While we swing the willow-bat Up and down, up and down. Oh ! within this life so fleeting Whatsoever grief befall, Hearts are ever joyous beating Where exists a bat and ball. Tho' you're noted for your skill In the tossing of the ball, Yet your limbs must practice still Lest their soaring pride downfall. Inert virtue, laid away, Groweth stagnant in the air; Virtue practised day by day Ever shineth pure and fair. And the blood will pitter-pat Whether features smile or frown S6 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. When you swing the willow bat Up and down, up and down. And within your life so fleeting Whatsoever grief befall Hearts will e'er be joyous beating When you take the bat and ball. One more holiday has fled With its sunny mirth and glee, Golden moments lightly sped ^ To the sea, Eternity. Floating on life's changing stream, Chequered hours of toil and play Soon will bring the amber gleam Of another holiday. Let your soul rejoice thereat, Tho' your sun-burned skin turn brown While you swing the willow bat Up and down, up and down. For within your life so fleeting Whatsoever grief befall. Hearts will e'er be joyous beating When you take the bat and ball. Pull together, loyal hearts! Soon will come the time for rest. Happy fortune ne'er departs From the men that do their best. Spring will nurse the tender shoots . Till they're strong; and some day we Yet may don those purple suits With the letters, H. C. C! VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 87 Carpe diem! — Verhum sat.! Play the game from toe to crown While you swing the willow bat Up and down, up and down. Oh! Within this life so fleeting Whatsoever grief befall, Hearts are ever joyous beating Where exists a bat and ball! 88 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. XXXIX. THE MELODIES OF IRELAND. (Being the plaint of an aged exile.) The swash of billows breaking on the shore, The wind's w^eird sighing, and the songs of birds. The raindrop's pattering, and the rushing roar Of mountain torrents, — poems without words,^ All these in turn contribute to the grand, Bright, peerless music of my native land. Soft as the gushing murmur of the sea, Warm as the summer raindrop's pattering, Sweet as the birds that beautify the spring With nature's symphonies celestial, free As autumn's breezes playing in the trees, Are Ireland's soul-delighting melodies. And in heroic times they had their birth When naught save sordid dross was bought and sold. When Music reigned, a goddess, on the earth And Merit held a higher rank than Gold. The bard, enthroned in the banquet hall, Was next the person of the king, and all Did honour to him. When he struck the strings, A breathless stillness fell upon the crowd VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 89 Till, breaking thro' the silence, sweet and loud His voice soared upwards, as his soul took wings. The monarch's smile, the plaudits of the throng. Paid homage to the singer and the song. Thus honoured in our isle, the goddess dwelt Long with us, and the magic of her sway Made bright life's gloomy shadows, till men felt Their joys increase, their sorrows fleet away ; While she, content to reach so bright a goal. Gave to fair Eire the fullness of her soul. And when the stranger came to Erin's shore And marred her beauties with oppression's blight And changed her sunbright day to gloomy night. Sweet Music only loved her more and more, Too grateful for the kindness of the past To leave her when her skies were overcast. The glories of our land have passed away; Our heroes all have died the caitiff's death ; Our saints have ever prayed, as still they For liberty; our children draw their breath From foreign atmospheres; our very tongue, The grand old Gaelic, fadeth from among The speeches of the living; we are wrecked 90 VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. Upon the shores of Time, and other hands Have snatched our hoarded treasures from the sands And with our laurels other brows are decked. But Time's remorseless gulf shall never seize The glory of our Irish melodies. The melodies of Ireland, how they roll Spontaneous, yet unexcelled in art, To bind in flowery chains the raptured soul And move to fire or tears the stormy heart, Enslaving in their thraldom sweet and pure The ear of Byron and the pen of Moore! E'en as in olden days when Lucan scanned The flag of France above his head unfurled And cried: "We'll fight the battles of the world. Give us the music of our own dear land!" Such still the spell, the magic power to please That lurks in Ireland's witching melodies. I've heard them in the trebly crowded hall When Ireland's sons have met for Ireland's cause And marked th' enchantment stealing over all. Our souls too full to yield the due applause, Till tears of joy and hope have dimmed the eye And from the breast escaped the ready sigh. I've heard them ringing in the crowded street Where thousands marched thro' thousands, and the dead VERSES OF THIRTY YEARS AGO. 91 Were almost wakened by the martial tread Above them of a myriad hastening feet; And all my soul has kindled into light And maddened with fierce yearning for the fight. The melodies of Ireland! Once again, O grant it, heaven, 'ere my race is run And I have left the busy haunts of men And rest where never shines the golden sun. May my ears hear them! Not where tearful bands Of exiles seek new homes in foreign lands. Nor in that Ireland which oppressions stain; But in the strong, free Ireland, yet unborn, Whose light shall break upon us like the morn Or like her own bright Sunburst after rain, And teach unto the nations from her sod The power and mercy of the nations' God! THE END.