^^ . q,. *.',,•' ^0" '^^ 'vO'i .0* ^'JL'*, 'bj ,4* ..','.•♦ *A ,0 « .V'*^!!^-- -^ot-* :SM^^^'. 'fU.^'i «" j9 "^d. ' o^ ♦'TVi* A IN THE LOVE OF NATURE. In the Love of cNjiture fitr^iai " To him "ipho in the Idbe of nature holds Copimunion ''fcith her 'bisible forms, she speaks A 'various language," "By Will J, merediih SEATTLE Metropolitan Printing and Binding Co. 1900 1 96731 Library of Congress Tv^o Copies Received DEC 29 1900 Copyright entry ORDER DIVISION iAN 5 1901 OF 2n4Copj Deiiverftd t« emered according to the act OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1900, BY WILL J. MEREDITH, IN THE OFFICE THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS AT WASHINGTON. CONTENTS Late Afternoon in May ..... page 1 Afternoon in Autumn ...... 3 The Setting Sun ...... 5 The Nature Call ....... 6 The Bonfire on The Beach .... 8 A January Night ...... 10 Dawn at Fall City ...... 11 The Coming of the Snow ..... 12 The Silver Lining .....: 13 Sunrise on Lake Union ..... 14 Green Lake ....... 15 The Settler ........ 16 To AN Indian Canoe ...... 19 In the MiiiERs' Cemetery ..... 22 Lines with an Etching ..... 24 When Stella Plays ...... 27 A Winter Morning ...... 29 Port of the Angels ...... 30 After Klopstock's Messjas .... 33 Who is a Poet? 35 The Poet's Crov/n ...... 36 To AN Old Lady's Lips ...... 37 To the Meadow Lark .... . 38 Sunset ......... 41 To Seattle ........ 43 Why Should I Pause to Ansv/er ? .... 47 To Paul Kruger .,..,. 48 Per Lacrimas ....... 49 To Clinton Scollard ..... 50 To Whittier ........ 51 To Joaquin Miller ...... 52 To John B. Tabs, the Poet Priest ... 53 To Her I Love ....... 54 FOREWORD. I suppose everyone who has ever written anything he thought worth preserving has hoped some time to gather his work into a permanent volume, pleasing to his friends and not unv/orthy of being handed down to those who have a natural interest in his good name. In fulfilment of such a hope I have been enabled to col- lect in this little book some verses, most of which have enjoyed a vagrant existence in magazines and other journals here and there over the country. In their present form I commend them to the continued good will of friends and the indulgence of all honest critics. W. J. MEREDITH. Seattle, Nov. 19, 1900. LJiTE JiFTERNOON IN MJiY. THE dark, cool shadows of the gulch Are lighted here and there by dogwood stars, Between the feathery cedar boughs The western sunlight thrusts its shining bars. The hazel thickets smell of spring, Its balmy breath the ceanothus sends Abroad through all the dusky woods. The graceful fern above the trillium bends. The elder's tender blossoms seem Too fragile e'en the soft winds to endure. Which, wandering through fir needles, sing A slumberous song, their fragrance forth to lure. The salmon-berry's tinted flower, The salal's glossy leaf and dainty bell, The pink, wild currant 'gainst the green. The vernal spirit's wakening power tell. The love-lorn dusky grouse o'erhead At intervals to anguished sobs gives way, Because his fickle lady love No prayer will grant, nor fond comnnand obey. Beside his spouse the jaunty quail, A woodland courtier, walks with mincing gait; The hoodlum blue-jay's raucous jeer Abashes not the gallant nor his mate. The cool approach of evening Subdues all sounds: the shadows grow apace: The rhododendron in the dusk A deeper blush takes on her lovely face. The sleepy twittering of the birds That seek a sheltered perch in some dark nook Alone the gathering silence breaks, Save faint and low the tinkle of the brook. ^FTERJ'iOON IN JiUTUMM. THERE is no motion in the air, And far away the hazy hills Withdraw into the purple depths Of distance: drowsily the rills Creep muffled by the fallen leaves; The withered fern v/ith russet stains The tender green of meadow grass Washed pale by early Autumn rains. The sunshine's benediction lies Abroad, too soon among the leaves To be a rare and wished-for guest, When drizzling skies and dripping eaves And moisture-laden boughs oppress The soul out-doors and we retire To hearthsides where the treasured sun Of past years is released by fire. The last hoar dandelion droops, The far-flung cobwebs splendid shine, Against the gray-green willow glows The crimson of the blackberry vine. A long stemmed clover blossom nods A farewell to the parting bee Home bound from nectar laden blooms, The prey of his sweet piracy. The maples' gold and scarlet flush Shows mellow through the softening haze: The myriad midges' silver wings A moment glisten in the rays Of yon slow sinking sun whose light Beyond the mountains in the west Must soon be quenched, then silently The kindly night will come, and rest. THE SETTING SUM. TT E gazed with soul drowned in remorse J. J. For by-gone deeds he dared not tell; It glowed a bloody tragedy Mid lurid flames of Hell. She gazed while tender memories Suffused with tears her happy eyes; It gleamed a golden glory o'er The gates of Paradise. THE MATURE CJiLL. THE longing stirs within me strong To dig and delve in Spring; The thought of breast-high waving corn Or smell of fresh green grass, The odor of rain-sprinkled soil Or sodden Autumn leaves, Has power to move me so that I Am like a creature caged. Then comes a restless discontent That, though I love my books, Still drives me forth o'er fields afar Or through the solemn woods, Till steeped in nature I return My homeward way and seek My couch in happy, calm fatigue, — That is not like the faint And heart-sick weariness that holds The city man from sleep, But tranquil mind and tired limbs That sink to rest as sweet As when the satiated babe Lets go its mother's breast And in her sheltering arms content It shuts its eyes in sleep. TKE BONFIRE ON THE BEMCH. CHEERILY blazed the driftwood fire In the hollow of the drifted sand; Around it sat, chance-gathered there From widely sundered homes a band Of jovial spirits met to pass An hour in social merriment; The encroaching darkness 'round them closed It's curtains like an ebon tent. The kindly jest, the joyous laugh, The ballad and the chorus strong. Each other followed merrily, And then again the tale and song. The pungent odor of the smoke. The chilly night wind as it blew, But gave to all a keener zest And closer still the circle drew. The simple cheer, the homely food, Rudely prepared and eaten then Seemed epicurian luxuries Beyond the usual fare of men — A banquet board and hearthstone bright To those who strangers heretofore In broken bread and open heart Found friendship on that wreck-strewn shore. And old time friends grew dearer still As passed the happy hour away Beside the roaring seas that stretch To far Cipango and Cathay. Ji JJiNVJiRY NIGHT. THERE came a clear and starry time. With southern breezes blowing, When through the warm, night-scented air Stole sounds of \vater flowing. The new year seemed, methought, all things With sweet new life pervading; To saner joys and nobler faiths Humanity persuading. The night was m.usic to my soul, Sweet calm my spirit bringing, As to the heavy heart of Saul Came peace with David's singing. Then suddenly a minstrel tuned His harp and fell to chanting A song my long-lost boyhood knew, It seemed the one thing wanting To take me back to youth again, — How swift the years fly o'er us! — When far away, 'neath spring time stars I heard the frogs' glad chorus. 10 DECEMBER DJiWM JiT FJiLL CITY. RED roan the thin clouds float o'erhead, The keen air stirs the blood like wine, Frost-bound the earth on which I tread, The morning stars still brightly shine. The east is kindling with the dawn The tender skies translucent glow, Blue-black are mountain shadows drawn Where last night gleamed the moonlit snow, The dark woods stretch on every hand. The road side grass is white with frost. The alders in the thickets stand Like spectral trees, betrayed and lost. Ancf all the while a distant roar That all the narrow valley fills Seems ever growing more and more — Snoqualmie's thunders shake the hills. Who could describe the scene and hour? "Oh wad some power the giftie gie!" Not to increase my vision's power. But to express the things I see! 11 THE COMING OF THE SNOW. THE sombre earth in silence lies, A subtle chill pervades the air, The burden of the leaden skies Is settling doubtful here and there. The morning sunshine and the sheen On v/hite Olympic peaks at noon, The gorgeous sunset yestere'en, Are all forgotten now, and soon The green of sward and forest pine Will fade beneath the fall of snow That while we watch is line by line Effacing everything we know. Effacing ! — Nay, transfiguring ! Each scar and blemish of the years, Each trace of old Earth's suffering Grows faint and dim and disappears. 12 THE SILVER LIN IMG. TT) UT yesterday the waters lay -*--' So still it seemed the lake v/as sleeping; Today, as if beneath the sway Of demons, crested waves are leaping. An hour ago the winds that blow Were hushed and not a sound or quiver Betrayed the stealthy creeping shade That saddens field and wood and river. The rustling v/eeds and swaying reeds That with the winds and waters wrangled. All torn and bent and over borne, Are drifting hopelessly entangled. The sunny nooks beside the brooks Where yesterday the flowers were bloomin; Sad fate, are now all desolate With sullen shadows o'er them glooming. Heart, do not fear, sunshine is near, Not long will linger shade or sadness. Good cheer will conquer, sigh and tear Must soon give way to song and gladness. 13 SUNRISE OM LJ^KE. VMIOM. THE sweet scents of the silent dawn Pervade the dewy atmosphere; Faint, bluish-white, a pyramid Of glacial ice, looms far Rainier. Thin shreds of fog, wreckage of clouds, Cling to the borders of the lake, Still, oily-smooth its waters lie. Not e'en the fish a ripple make. A cock crows and the thickets wake With twitter of the morning bird. The lake's calm bosom still asleep By the waking breeze is gently stirred. The eastern windows of the town Ail dark before begin to blaze, The mountain top with creamy light Suffused, proclaims the king of days. So is our childish ignorance. Our credulous, unthinking youth, Awakened all and glorified By some great sunburst of the Truth. 14 GREEJ^ L^IQE. NO more the forest giants fling their shade Athwart the placid mirror of thy breast, No more the timid wild deer comes to drink And lie down on thy quiet shores to rest. The sunlight and the starlight fall on thee Uninterrupted by the leafy screen Which anciently kind Nature interposed To shield thy limpid waters cool and green. The cedar and the fir have passed away, Save here and there a sorry trace of those Whose lordly forms once towered above thy shores Where now the upstart sapling alder grows. But where dark thickets grew in days agone And brooding ov/ls at noonday dolorous moaned, Bloom gardens and the bee-sought clover fields And sweet *Sturnella's song is there intoned. The tender mists of morning veil thy reeds, The sinking sun thy lilies turns to gold, Above thy pebbles roll the little waves And over thee the blue bends as of old. * Sturnella inagna— the meadow-lark. 15 THE SETTLER. I PASSED the little cedar cot his hand Had reared unaided in the forest dim; I saw him swing his shining ax aloft And heard the neighboring hillside answer him; The measured echo of his falling blade A pleasant native woodland music made. Yes, native as the querulous squirrel's call Or bluejay's challenge from the thicket dense, Or cheery fluting of the meadow lark Above his nest hid near the garden fence; And, sweet as any feathered songster's cry, I heard the housewife's tender lullaby. From many a log heap near the little cot The purple smoke rose straight into the air; 'Twas incense from an altar built to faith And tended morn and night with jealous care,— An altar where the forest sacrifice Consumed itself before the settler's eyes. 16 And where is there subhmer faith than his Who toils and suffers that approaching age May find him sheltered from the pinching frost Of want dependent, bitter patronage, — Who sweats and strives and slowly, slowly frees The soil that he and his may live at ease? He lifts sometimes his toil-grimed face to view The splendor of the sunset or the dawn, The white sublimity of skyward peaks. Or veil mysterious o'er the mountain drawn, And feels, it may be, longings now and then To mingle in the wider world of men. But when he views his slowly widening fields. His children's home, no more his bosom burns, He gratefully gives thanks his arm is strong. And with content to toil again returns: E'en when he hears the twilight supper horn Reluctantly he leaves his work till morn. 17 0, will Injustice have her tribute still When this bent toiler feeble grows and grey? Must he still slave to give her silken sons And lily-handed daughters holiday? Or shall he see the;Day we've prayed for long "^Vhen Brotherhood shall banish v/ant and v/rong? 18 TO JiM IMBI^N CJ*NGE. THOU slender ark beside the brink Of waiting waters idly lying, Where languid lilies the sunshine drink And loitering waves are softly dying, What canst thou teach me, say, what word of strength Or wisdom lies in thy three fathoms' length? No clumsy builded skiff art thou, No short-lived shell of birchbark fragile. But staunch and strong from stern to prow Life-long thou'lt bear thy master agile Safe o'er the boiling rapids, tumbling seas, Or placid lake unruffled by the breeze. No Arab steed on desert sand. With all his master's fond devotion. Is more responsive to the hand Than thou art to the slightest motion As thy bold master dips his glistening oar On either side along the reedy shore. 19 As lightly as the waterfowl The gently heaving wave thou ridest, As noiselessly as flight of owl, Or otter, from the bank thoii glidest, Thou and thy master one, thy ripply wake Scarcely discerned a furlong on the lake. How many moons stoodst thou a king, A noble cedar tree, uprearing Thy plumed head o'er everything Around thee, naught of evil fearing, Until that doleful night when tempests flung Thee crashing down the humbler folk among? How long the prostrate monarch lay, A log, bereft of pride and glory, Until thy sculptor passed that way, There's none to tell the piteous story; But from that prison what joy his must have been To free thy graceful form immured therein! 20 Ambition reared thy head on high, Then swiftly came thy dread disaster; Thou scarce couldst brook the o'ershadowing sky. Yet now thou servest as thy master Him thou hadst scorned but that his hand set free Thy nobler self, — and thus thou teachest me. 21 IM THE MINERS' CEMETERY. ONCE on a lowering afternoon When sullen winds blew dismally Through autumn-stricken woods, and fast The dead leaves fell from every tree, I passed a lonely burial ground, Rudely enclosed and desolate As those fond hearts whose buried dead Such grewsome places consecrate. In reverently curious mood. Seeking to know whose ashes lay In that deserted spot, I cleared The rubbish from a stone away. It was a simple headstone hid In bramble-grown obscurity, And bore for epitaph one line: "A native son of Italy." 22 There on that dreary mountain side. Forgotten, under leaden skies, Far from his sunlit childhood home, At last the .■.eary v/anderer lies. No doubt his latest thought in life Was of that land he loved so well, And kindred hearts above his dust That stone had reared his thought to tell. So, when I die, and under ground My battered, earth-worn body lies, May some kind friends remember me: "A native of Beyond the Skies." 23 LINES WITH MM ETCHING. AS only He who made the rose - Could paint that flower's hue, And only He who made the sky Could give its wondrous blue, So all that man has thought and done. And all that he can do, Fails of the splendor of the sun, The blossom's beauty too. The etching then weak man designed The landscape's charm to express, And image to his brother's mind Its varied loveliness, — Devoid of color, to be sure, With only light and shade All form and color to secure, — The charm so swift to fade. 24 Yet still it seems more reverent Than all the gaudy paint With which barbaric man attempts To imitate the faint And evanescent charms that cling — The subtle tint and shade — To e'en the simplest little thing The Father's hand has made. Dear friends, this simple homelike scene, This cottage by the sea, Has golden sunlight, herbage green, Blue sky and breezes free; And though the reverent artist's hand Has not assayed to show The color-glories of the land And sea, they're there we know. 25 So may your lives, without pretence Or vain and idle show, Give to congenial friends a sense Of inward golden glow, — Of beauties that no mortal eyes May ever hope to see — To help us all to realize What Heaven is to be. 26 IV HEM STELLA PL^YS. HER fingers touch the instrument, But ere a sound you hear A hundred sprightly minstrel elves In quaintest garb appear. Rich, silken robes and nodding plumes Each minstrel brave adorn; Each bears a pipe, a silver drum, Or mellow throated horn. To right and left they file and pause Awaiting her behest, And eagerly they strive each one To please and serve her best. Two sturdy drum.mers from the left Step blithely forth and stand, While from the right three pipers gay Advance at her command. 27 Each sounds a single note and then Awaits impatiently While others take his place and join The elfin nnelody. Now faster beat the kettle drums And high the pipes and shrill, Then slowly, softly breathe the horns And all the rest are still. Now sweet and clear the pipes again And soft the drummers play, Then one by one and silently The minstrels file away. 28 Ji IVIMTER MORNIMG. THE thin film of ice on the marshland Shows the drowned green things below, And the reeds and grasses above it Are bending with frost as with snow. The shag-coated horses are browsing Half-hearted there under the hill, And the cattle among the bare willows Stand shrunken, dejected and still. All silent and dark flows the river, Flows swiftly with never a wave. As from caverns of fog it emerges To be lost in a vapory cave. The fog-laden air of the morning Is chill as a sepulchre's breath, And seems to close narrowing 'round us Like the walls of the chamber of death. But lo! through the murk that engulfs us Faint glimmerings of yellow light strain, And soon all the glory of sunshine Will flood earth and heaven again. 29 PORT OF THE ^MGELS. 1592. FROM out the vast Pacific, where The endless billows roll, The storm-chased Spanish carvel fled As from a fiend's control, With broken mast and tattered sail And terror in each soul. The holy saints to every prayer Were deaf, the stranger sea Where never ship had sailed before All lifeless seemed to be, And all around the ghostly mists Kept shifting eerily. Rain-drenched, wave-washed, the life boats stove. The bulwarks crushed and gone, The hull aleak, 'neath hidden skies They floundered on and on Till hope was dead and dull dispair O'erspread each visage wan. 30 Past frowning capes and foam-veiled rocks Toward certain wreck they swept; Fear-maddened by the awful dread The seamen cursed and wept; And ever at each elbow, Death His changeless station kept. Then straight ahead a snowy line Of breakers barred the way, And straight ahead the vessel drove To where Destruction lay In wait to seize each shrinking soul How e'er he shriek and pray. But ere the staggering bark could strike She felt a current strong That seized her keel resistlessly And hurried her along Into a port, safe as a lake, That hides the hills among. 31 "A miracle!" the astonished crew In grateful wonder cry; "The holy angels to our aid!" And turned is every eye Where sunshine gilds the snowy peaks- A stairway from the sky. Note. — In the Strait of Juan de Fuca. said to have been discovered in 1592, two leagues of sandspit shelter the magnificent harbor of Pt. Angeles, overlooked by Mt. Angeles, a snow-covered summit often bathed in sunshine when all around is wrapped in obscuring mist. 32 ^FTER KLOPSTOCK'>^ MESSI^S. METHOUGHT two mighty hosts innumerable Upon the wasted marches of a realm War-scourged and ruined fought, and as the din And clamor died away there rose a cloud Of parting spirits from the corse-strewn field. High in the heavens the Awful One reviewed The ghostly throng and meted judgment out. A peal of thunder, and the captains' souls To endless punishment were hurled, and when The hollow rumbling ceased, from Hell arose Wild shrieks and cursings and the whistling sound Of scourges as the soldier-spirits fell Upon their former lords in chastisement, — Wailings and hopeless groans and utter night. 33 And then, methought, seraphic sound of harps And melody of birdsongs from the earth Stole on mine ear, and through the sunlight flew A joyous troup of infant spirits freed From flesh and tyranny of low desires. The Holy One with face benignant smiled And judged them not but blessed the radiant band As past His throne they swept to shine and sing For ever more among the morning stars. 34 IV HO IS Ji POET? HAVE you an ear So delicate and fine That you can hear The breezeless v/hisper of the pine? Is there for you In song of nneadow-lark one note, Heard by the Few, Rich, sweet and reedy when his throat In morning hymn Swells with seraphic bliss? Do sky And forest dim And moss-grown rocks enthrall your eye? And does the sight Of bursting buds and clinging clouds On mountain height — Do crag-born tempests shrieking loud, Or Springtime's breath, Or white-capped waves a pleasure bring As keen as death So you could weep for joy or sing? Do wrongs and scorn Of other hearts oppress your own? Bard were you born And from your brov/ the poet's crov/n Can ne'er be torn. 35 THE POET'S CROWM. THE poet's crown is laurel, aye, and thorn; The laurel is for fame, the artist's meed, The tribute paid by happy men who read And listen for the joy of it, whom scorn And cruel wrong and want and hope deferred Have never left their branded scars upon; Beneath the coronet of laurel won From willing hands and hearts by pleasure stirred, There is a hidden, thorny wreath that he Who has the gift of song, the seeing eye, Has fashioned for himself and till he die Still must he wear it; he can never free His lacerated temples from that crown Till every wronged and suffering son of man, Till every victim of the oppressor's ban. Has been avenged, has thrown his burden down. 36 TO JiM OLn LJiDY'S LIPS. OH wrinkled lips grown cold and colorless, I wonder much If you recall in years agone The tender touch Of parent fond or dear departing friend, — If memory Bring back the long, sweet kiss of early love. The ecstacy Of bliss consummate when the brimming tide Of Youth's deep sea Rose to it's full and overflowed you quite. The honey bee Ne'er robbed a sweeter blossom in the field Than ye were then; No lure, I wist, more strongly moved than ye The sons of men. So withered, pale and pitiful today. It cannot be That ye remember aught of those old days Of witchery When Life's rich flood of crimson flowed amain From breast to brow. Ah me! ye only move in holy prayers And blessings now. 37 TO THE MEJiDOW LJiRK- SWEET voice of pleasant meadow lands, Of clover fields and sunny days, To thee, campestral laureate, rd sing a song of praise. I think no lay of nightengale In moonlit bowers of'roses hidden, No springtime call of cuckoo-bird. Could match thy song unbidden. I have not heard the rhapsody Of southern mockingbird, ncr yet * The pgean of the bobolink, The linnet's canzonet, 38 But I have heard the hedgerow thrush Above his nest in spring, elate, And blackbirds in the reedy marsh Their bird-joys celebrate. And many another; but not one I've listened to could e'er express For me so well as thou hast dons A heart-filled happiness. No pining for forbidden joys, No envious carping, jealousy. Or vain regret makes harsh thy song. Thy joyous melody. 39 "Sweet, sweet, oh life is sweet, is sweet!" You carol morn and night and noon. " The day is long with happiness, The dark night passes soon; " The world is full of purest bliss, The meadow grass is fresh with dew, Oh life is sweet, is sweet, is sweet, The sky above is blue; " No clouds, nor rain, nor March winds chill. No autumn frost nor summer heat Can long endure; the sun shines bright. And life is sweet, is sweet!" 40 SUM SET. SWEETHEART, tonight I saw the sun Through amethystine vapors set; The full tide lapped the yellow sand Insistent as a vain regret. Above the stranded driftwood rose The fir-embattled hillsides green: A filmy magic curtain seemed The neighboring island shores to screen. The steady landbreeze, fragrance fraught, From out the forest sought the sea, And seemed on silent wings to bear All care and sorrow far from me, Against the flaming sunset sky The Olympics' serried summits lay, A jagged purple sword edge huge, Broken and notched in desperate fray. 41 The little yellow beach flowers closed, All things grew dusk and passed from sight As paled the roseate clouds o'erhead Before the miracle of night. The beauty of that perfect hour O'erflov/ed my soul; I thought of thee: Nothing I lacked, sweetheart, but thy Hand touch of silent sympathy. 42 TO SEATTLE. AS Tyre and Sidon long ago their navies sent afar - To conquer and to colonize and hold in peace and war The margin of the Mid-World Sea; as Carthage ruled the wave; As Athens sent her Wooden Walls from Persia's power to save Her people and their liberties; as Rome in later time, And Venice, sent their merchantmen to trade in every clime, So thou, Queen City of the West, that sittest by the sea. Send out thy fleets and bind the world in tribute unto thee. As Thebes, Memphis, Nineveh, the ancient nations taught; As Athens, Rome, Byzantium, the kindling spirit caught; As Egypt's Alexandria the rendezvous became Of students and of learned men, of all who bore the name Of seekers after truth, so thou thy University, Thy schools and colleges upbuild, city by the sea, Till of the western continent the center thou shalt be, — Thy fame reach all Truth's followers and draw them unto thee. 43 Oh Naples, for her lovely bay, no lovelier than thine, Geneva, for her mountain view, and is not yours as fine? Her lake, and thou hast also lakes, are famous: Erin's isle Is noted for its verdant hills; thy hills with verdure smile. And when the sun in springtime shines, the blue Italian skies, Are not more softly blue than those that greet thy children's eyes. So, with thy commerce, golden mines, thy schools, thy scenery, Grow rich, grow wise, grow great, until all earth shall honor thee. 44 SONNETS WHY SHOULD I PJtUSE TO JiNSlVEH? WHY should I pause to answer, if a fev/ Small men in envy or in malice try To minimize, obstruct or nullify The most unselfish work I try to do, — Misunderstand and still refuse to view With favor anything with v/hich my name Has been connected, though not any blame Have I deserved, nor even sought my due? What I have done was not for praise of men. Then let me not be moved by taunt or jeer Or censure, if my actions now and then. My words or thoughts, expressed by tongue or pen, Someone offend. O, let me never fear If only right and just I in God's eyes appear I 47 TO PJ^UL K^UGER. Oct. 31, 1899. STERN Patriot, in whose hand the destiny Of thy brave people's hard-won freedom lies, Stand firm; the free with sympathizing eyes The whole world over now are watching thee. Be not dismayed; strike home for liberty; Drive back the fell invaders who but seek To spoil the succorless, oppress the weak. With cant of progress, prate of equity! The adventurer upon whose head the blame Shall rest for Transvaal's woes, whose base design Has dimmed his country's glory and to shame Betrayed her mighty power, his hated name In future years shall be accursed, but thine, E'en though thou fall, among the stars shall shine. 48 PER LJiCRlM^S. GREAT Architect and Ruler of this world, Aye, of the heavens and all their shining spheres, Thy glorious works we dimly see through tears. Presumptuous angels down from heaven hurled Confessed thy power as doomward still they whirled, So we before thy might resign our pride — Lay all our impious, rebel thoughts aside; Our crowns and armor doffed, our banners furled, We war no more for self but meekly bow And worship silently; the Heavens o'erhead. The wondrously created earth, the Now, The Past, the Future, living things and dead, Display thy wisdom, thy stupendous might Subdues our souls and tears bedim our sight. 49 TO CLIMTON SCOLLARD. BLITHE wanderer 'mongst the pleasant Hills of Song, Brave troubadour of sun and summer day, Nor haste nor sorrow overcasts thy lay; Thy lot hath been most pleasant, naught of wrong Or want or grief or hope deferred too long Hath wrung thy heart: no bird upon the bough A note more wholly care-free sings than thou, As far thou strayest from the madding throng. What if thy tuneful verses lack the deep Heart-moving sympathy of him who sings Of nature's sterner moods and human woe? I would not have thee otherwise; keep Thy sunlit face unclouded and thy wings . As free as Psyche's ov/n when springtime blossoms blow! 50 TO IVHITTIER. OF all the saintly calendar of men Revered and worshiped through the ages, none A holier life has lived or labor done Than thou: thine early consecrated pen Wrought mightily for freedom; later, when The cause thou strovest for so long was won, Thine old-time love of nature, sea and sun, And all that comes within the wondrous ken Of boyhood, reassumed its wonted reign; The fellow-feeling for the toiler's lot, The life of him who eats the bread he earns; The love of fireside friends that live again In poesy; nor was there lost one jot Of tolerance to link thy fame with Burns. 51 TO JOJiQUIN MILLER. GREY master, eagle spirit of the heights, We younger, humbler craftsmen offer thee Appreciation, praise and sympathy. Afar thou art above the petty spites, The feuds, the jealousies, the wanton slights. The myriad pigmy pin-thrusts that infest The lives of lesser singers: thou art blest At last with freedom large and all delights Of fame secure and imm.ortality Unquestioned; as an ancient Druid bard Thou sittest on thy mountain throne above The throng, and harp in hand of minstrelsy Discoursest, — not of heroes battle-scarred, But nature's beauties, simple faith and love. 52 TO JOHM B. TMBB, THE POET PRIEST. O GENTLE spirit wed to holiness And vowed eternally to brotherhood, How art thou moved by beauty and the good! How much of highest human happiness Has been thy portion ! Surely none the less Because in youth thy footsteps turned aside Into the calmer walks and shades that hide The quiet-loving soul from our world's storm and stress. Thy life of cloistered peace and piety, Thy sympathetic heart and poet's eye, Thine ear attuned to all the harmonies Of wood and field and sky, of land and sea, Much more avail to cheer and sanctify The common lot than all our pageantries. 53 M TO HER I LOVE. Y one sure anchor, holding safe to land This storm-tossed craft I call my soul, Though self-distrust in billows o'er me roll, — In every joy, in every grief, you stand Close by my side, my comrade, hand in hand. My best support when most support 1 need, My friend of friends, your love a bond indeed, Secure when other ties seem ropes of sand. I am not strong except as you are strong; Without your aid I falter in the strife; Without your counsel all my plans go wrong; The day without delight, the night time lone and long; Devoid of meaning, flat and stale my life Without your love and presence, dear, my wife! 54 Xl 08 - \ \^y y^&:> X./"^ -'SK'' **-• ♦ 4 o « • « ^^ <3lV WERT BOOKBINCMNC Grdfitville. Pd Sept— Oa 1985