./ Class __J^S:l^ji_ Book .12^^ rhe SPIRIT OF LOVE AND OTHER POEMS bv CHARLES GIBSON BOSTON PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR 1906 COPYRIGHTED 1906 BY CHARLES GIBSON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED LIBRARY Of congress! Twe Copies Received DEC 5 1906 ^ Cepyrifirht Entry CUSS /\ XXc, No. COPY B. OF THIS EDITION 35O COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED OF WHICH THIS IS NO../.V^^.Z. 0^^^^^ CONTENTS Dedication . . . . . . .2 The Spirit of Love . . ' . . . 3 Orpheus and Eurydice . . . . .21 Hero and Leander . . . . . 28 The Loss of Laeone ..... 34 The Coming of Genius . . . . 41 Sonnets : First Love ...... 45 Lost Love . . . . . . 47 On reaching the age of Twenty-four . . 48 On reaching the age of Twenty-five . 49 Poems on English Subjects : Coronation Anthem. To King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra . . . '53 The Britons ..... 55 The Spectre Lord . . . . . 60 Odes after the Style of Anacreon : Ode I. To Zeus .... 77 Ode II. To Apollo .... 78 Ode III. To Cupid . ... 79 Ode IV. To Cupid .... 80 Ode V. To Venus .... 81 VI CONTENTS Ode VI. To Bacchus . . 83 Ode VII. To Hermes 84 Ode VIII. To Minerva . . 86 Ode IX. To Ceres .... 88 Ode X. To Pan . . 90 Ode XI. To Mirth .... 92 Ode XII. To Love • 93 ^atrains : First Series ...... 97 Second Series ..... . 106 Miscellaneous Poems written in 1897-1898 : Epithalamium ..... . 115 To a Fountain ..... 120 The Faun ..... . 124 The Cloud 128 Snow-flakes ..... . 130 On Board the Venture .... 131 Return of the Constitution • 133 Stanzas written in Westminster Abbey . 135 A Dirge . 138 To Fame ...... 140 To Spring ..... . 141 To the Spirit ..... 142 To Music • 144 Poems written to Persons and Places : Hockwold Hall .... . 147 Holland House 150 CONTENTS vii On a Picture of Charles I at Bridgewater House Shottesbrooke Park. Sonnet . Castello di Brazza . Villa Maria .... Green Hill . Music at Mrs. S . Song of the West Wind . Death's Messenger Epithalamium. Sonnet To Adelaide. Sonnet . The Green Book of Early Poems : Dedication The Green Book New Year's Eve How Fast Time flies . The Aurora Sonnet .... Lines. Written on a Sabbath Morning Sonnet .... Love's Knowledge . Departure .... On a Little Child . The Chatelaine of St. Aignan The Fairy Princess . To My Lady Love The Question • 154 • 157 . 159 161 . 163 165 . 167 169 . 171 172 • 174 175 . 175 176 . 176 178 rning • 179 181 . 182 184 . 185 186 . 189 192 • 193 Vlll CONTENTS A Bridal Song 193 Summer Hours ..... 195 The Enchantress . 196 Memory ...... 198 The Stream 201 Futurity ...... 202 Anniversary . 204 To our Mother 206 To Lady Mary on her Birthday 208 Dreams ...... 209 Lines written at Sunset . 209 L'Envoi 210 Unfinished Poems and Fragments : Lines written in Normandy . 213 Lines written in Dejection 215 " To be without " . 216 Life 216 Lines written after waking from a Dream • 217 Envy and Discontent .... 218 Happiness ..... . 218 The Death of Summer 219 Autumn ...... . 220 Lines on Nature ..... 220 " To breathe sweet odors " . 222 Lines written by the Wayside 222 Life and Death .... . 224 " To love yet ne'er be loved " 224 CONTENTS ix Fragment ...... 225 " Leave me but a child " . 225 " So young and yet so old " . 226 Overture 226 Lines to Conte Carlo Emo . 227 Touraine 227 Lines written at Versailles 228 Lines written at Hamilton 229 Stoneover ...... 230 A Welcome 230 Epitaph ...... 231 The Inn ...... 231 Thanks to an Old Woman . 232 Unrequited Love 232 Bridal Fanfare 233 Couplets : Otis. Sorrow Joy . . . . . 234 Wealth. Art and Poverty 235 Love. Work. Success . . . . 235 Poetry. Painting. Sculpture. Music 236 Letters in Verse : A Letter. To Mrs. P and Mrs. B - 239 A Letter. To a Lady . . . . 241 A Letter. Sent with an Ode to Anacreon 242 A Letter. To the Poet Butterworth . 244 A Letter. To an Unconscionable Flirt . 245 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE ^^^^^ DEDICATION To those who love, yet ne'er have knovm Whence their true love hath strangely grown; To those whose hearts do hear withal Celestial voices sweetly call, From far on high, new thoughts of love. That lift their very souls above; To all who love, or sad, or gay, To these I dedicate my lay. 1896. rhe SPIRIT OF LOVE I O Truth! there must be some such thing as Love. The poets breathe its Hfe; the minstrels sing. But I have knovm it not, alas, for me! And those for whom I felt some passing strain, Some blind intoxication twine the heart; Ah ! They have fled or vanished through the air. Each hour when I had thought their Love was near! But yet there must be some such state on earth. Some power to elevate and to adore One other being; thus to lift above The fact of life and the familiar way. That some one hath strange power within this world. To make earth Heaven and Heaven sublime, I know; • But yet where is she; yea, when may she come \ 4 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE II Through the world I wander, I find not what I seek; Yet I seek and wander. Those I would most love Would not of me, that speak; Yet I long for Love. I long, for now my soul still languisheth. Some unknown spirits of the air are they. Those beings who may give me happiness ? I know not; yet I sigh for their sweet ways. I love them; but alas! too true the thought; Whene'er I tear these mists from off mine eyes. They vanish; they are gone; and I remain. For so it is with those who live below; That they shall weep with life's unending load. And yet I cry at times; I weep and mourn. Lest I shall ever wander on my way. Without this Love that I would soon discover. Thou to whom the hearts of men are known, Thou who dost guide their steps to sacred halls, 1 pray Thee tell me where my love doth spring! Thou knowest those on whom it e'er may fall. THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 5 Who feel the breath of Love, within their souls, * Panting in rapture for its place on high. Thou Dear One, the font of human joy, 1 pray Thee send one soul to make me glad! Thou sendest! At the thought of such a state I am transported by those sounds that sing Of some new happiness and music. Ill There are strange things that bring this sweet desire, To draw some other being near the soul. We cast aside the sorrows of our lives. And leap out into the unknown, new-born; For there our dreams of youth assume their place. The soft, sweet season brings its own caress. Thus to transport us through the heavenly air. We live in Love's untutored bliss, confined In some unending hour 'twixt Light and Shade. Time is divided in an unknown space, That knoweth not of haste nor toil nor woe. O Peace! Now hast thou come within my soul! No longer am I bound by the cold chains That tear my empty heart. Peace, thou hast come 6 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE Within some garden fair, some soft retreat! Oh, well may I rejoice that it be here. In the sweet dreiam of an intoxicating love! Oh, well may I sip honey like the bees That fly within the mid-day sun full warm. And there rejoice that Time shall hold them not! Come, let us away and likewise; To dance upon the moonlight stream, Where waters sparkle; To sink beneath them, And to rise again, Man made with God, An unintelligible thing withal. To those that are not made for lives of Love! IV To sing upon the bank, And laugh with thee, Were enough sweetest of all things, to thank Simplicity, thy gift to me. To run a race within the rushes. Finding my loved one in the bushes Of some soft arbor — skip and play! 'T is a bright and sunny day! THE SPIRIT OF LOVE Come, let us find a fountain clear, Where we may sit and listen, dear, To the "drip, drop," of waters still Endeavoring to fill A basin, with its marble row Of caryatides below. Come, light Spirit, skip and play, 'T is a merry day ! Shades of eventide draw near: Rest thy sweet head upon mine ear; That nodding, I may hear the sounds. If in thy sleep a shadow frowns. To take thee back to streets and towns, Then will I away, away, And bring thee back again to day. Is it not, then, more than joy Once again to play the boy. Once again with Life to toy ? Ah, happiness without alloy! Come, let us tell to one another Half the secrets of a lover; Half to-day and half to-morrow; Aught of joy and naught of sorrow; Whisper in each other's ear All we feel, and wish, and fear. THE SPIRIT OF LOVE ('T is a kiss upon thy brow; 'T is what lovers all allow.) Oh, Thou art indeed a fay, With affection thus to play! But were I the God of Love, Would I not hover far above. And lighting on thee like the dove, Would show thee his sweet way. Yet again rny kisses shower On thy lips in this sweet bower, Where the nightingale doth sing; Tiny birds upon the wing Songs of summer to us bring. So, light Spirit, skip and play! For 't is a merry day! Let us run the lover's race. Bees or butterflies to chase. Hither, thither, through the air. Seeking honey everywhere. Ah, sweet one, there is a breath Of Heaven in thy joy that saith : "Come to live with me for aye. One half the mortal, half the fay." Thus do we laugh, and sing and love. Am I alive, or shrined above ? THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 9 V Tell us those fairy hours, when in our youth We lost the frequent train of common thought, That carries all men toward convention's fate; And found ourselves alone with Love's ideal. In some unknown and sunny way, that leads Far, far from the enticing haunts of men. A soft, dim light shed radiance over all, And slowly we emerged in Godlike form. But suddenly there came some note of scorn; And in a moment all was fact again. Our sweet imagination still returns Into the cold and stilted forms of life. There are strange moments in our onward march. When these dull things of earth shall come to pass. And must we ever wander thus alone; Or shall we find our mystic happiness ? Shall we return to darkness and despair; Or may we pierce in time the heavy gloom. And thus emerge into the silvery light ? Strange are these thoughts, to hold us as we dream Our way, o'er the world's wide expanse of life! The imagery of bliss conceals her face, 10 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE Until one day she bursts upon our gaze, And we arise to Heaven in mortal frame. For weary cycles of evolving years, Thus may we wait till we shall live; and yet, As we approach those portals of our joy. All care, all misery, and all woe the while. Fade from our gaze, and we behold our love! VI Whispering, is heard a voice. Bidding our souls at last rejoice: "Hours dark in lonely places. Filled with stern and angry faces, Spent in agony or woe, Fade away as on we go. Hard, unfeeling, unrelenting Natures now are near repenting. Half in play, yet half in fun, Our life and love have just begun! Tripping o'er the silent grass, (Where bushy thieves do swiftly pass). We may find some gentle spring, Where birds above us oft would sing. Oh, let me thus entwine mine arm Aboiit thee, to protect from harm THE SPIRIT OF LOVE ii Thy tresses falling in the wind That through the forest oft we find. Oh, let me here imprint the sign Of lovers — more to me than wine, Or fair ambrosia from the sky — Upon thy lip, and let us fly As old Time plays his merry tune Upon the fast departing moon. Suddenly to pause and ponder O'er some tiny stream, Wherever fancy points the finger; Thus mayhap to dream: There are no higher powers o'er us. Who shall say thee nay; There are no pleasures oft before us. More than Nature's way. Come, honeyed flower. My loved one, come! Rest us within this peaceful bower. And let us sleep like some Who know but innocence, and seem Softly to drink and dream. VII O night, thou comest over our remorse: Thou sendest us to join dark shades beneath. 12 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE Thou windest shrouds of love about our path, And we become in time half dumb, half blind. We know our fate, and weep in misery That it should hang within the future's scale, While we repine, imprisoned in our youth. Our fettered life still lingers in its cell, Ere we may wander forth and find our own. Time passes on; our jailers may not go. Years cover our heads, and we remain Upon this threshold of our destiny. Oh, turn, ye hours of pain, from deep despair. Covering our souls with canopies of hope ! Pass o'er the silent current of our life. And bring to us new harbingers of light! Some soft pale votaries of day appear. To steal into a dawn that breaks beyond. Dark shadows sink; and we arise in truth. Lo! Night is at an end! Our life is here! Sweet one, sweet one, I hear a sound: A buttercup shines o'er the ground, A golden goddess from her mound. She steals into our drooping eyes, And lashes suddenly unties. A ray of sunshine peeps between THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 13 Some leaves of purple-tinted green. Lo, Phoebus to Aurora springs! The night has taken to her wings. A lark has risen with the sun. The owFs allotted time is done. Some songs are ringing in the ear. Come, love! Another day is here. SONG I "Away with our dark repining; Night is to the day resigning; Off with weeping and despair; For Life and Love fly through the air!" SONG II "To rise upon a bed of moss, And sleep from our eyelids toss; To gaze into beloved eyes. And know simplicity is wise; To sink beneath the sparkling pool, Where life is watery and cool; To sport upon the bank is well. And Heaven our simple joy shall tell." 14 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE VIII Stay! shall we linger o'er the grass; Or fly toward sunny shores, and pass New days in our untutored bliss, Where breezes soft the brow shall kiss ? Shall we remain to drone or fly ? Shall we, dear one, live thus, or die ? Oft 't is our fate through life to choose Between Love's vict'ry, or to lose Half happiness, half joy of all We feel; and to obey the call Of our ovm dark, degrading pool, Casting aside some higher goal. And yet sweet voices call the heart. Each hour that we would fain depart. Each hour that we draw forth the sword. There comes from each some lingering word. Some note that sings: "Remain, remain!" While we were best in warrior's train. O moths that flutter 'neath the hght. Why beat those wings that ne'er should fight .? Why, in his hours of bliss should fay Become poor man, to toil by day ? Stay but one hour! We '11 laugh, my love! And join those realms of joy above. THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 15 Where none do spend their days in woe: Nor burn vain fire, nor slay vain foe! Here may we rest us side by side, And view the Sun's departing, Hng ring bride. Within these bowers of emerald hue We twain shall sip the evening dew. Where flowers and leaves delight to dwell. Where ferns do line some shady dell. And there our love shall find the way From heart to soul, that winds each day New garlands round the hours of May. Come thus, my love; come, sip the dew Beneath these bowers of emerald hue. IX For as we pass those vales of bhss, At each new branch our eyehds kiss. As moss-grown stones their charms attend, With many a joy our day shall wend. With many an half-grown fear we flow Through forests, where the wind doth blow, And where our hearts lock with each hour, This sacred stream of heavenly Power. Oh! long may we remain in Love, i6 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE Here through the waning hours to rove, Where'er dim Fancy leads her swains Of passing nioods and wak'ning strains! Where'er these flowers of loveHest green, Where'er their hght or shade shall screen Our evening blush, our morning bride, Long shall thy blessings there abide! For were not Venus well repaid To weep for fair Adonis' shade; To once have known eternal joy ? Anemones her pains employ. With wind-swept consolation torn, 'T is best to love though we shall mourn ! Oh, change our fate, thou guardian Time, From liquid plain to sparkling wine. From dark'ning years to days of light; From griefs and fears to features bright! I 'd rather know one hour of Love Than years of riches, thrones above ! And say'st thou not so, Sweetheart, That death our pleasures ne'er shall part ? Nor peace nor war the silvery train Of our enraptured being pain ? Come hold these boughs above the head, Where Gods with Goddesses do tread. THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 17 To give to all who lay their heart, Entwined with Joy's erotic art, High o'er sweet Cupid's flowering fane, Where Hymen lays the heavenly train! With feasts Olympus shares our life. While Jove descending joins his wife. With strains of music hold these boughs, That we may swear eternal vows! Hark ! Where these groves their lights impart To Gods or fairies, as they start To cast all care from off^ their brows. Their magic kisses Jove allows. Hark! For the chorus sounds aloud. Immortal winged creatures, bowed With joyous hymns or praises cry; Their lutes, their pipes beside them lie. They feast, they gambol, as they sing. Striking the earth upon th' extended wing. Here Juno turns the peacock's wreath. While Iris' colors rain beneath. And Vulcan with the sunbeam's ray. These fairy showers would fain portray. With songs, with symphonies around. Celestial revels here abound. Come, Janus! *Ope' thy portals wide, i8 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE That we may enter with the tide! These feasts of Eros make me glad, And wake my Amatoriad! X Pipe up, old Pan, thy tuneful lay. And cheer the earth's departing day; For our delight shall scarce begin Till these faint beams of light grow thin. "These beams of light grow thin!" we cry. But when through light did Cupid die ? By moon, by sun, by light, by shades, My love shall live through radiant glades! My heart would join celestial airs. That sleep within ethereal lairs! For all that men may say or do. Nor once would I be found untrue; Nor once should hours pass by in vain. If thou didst cry to aid thy pain. Come, dream, Erato, o'er our grove; Do thou recall sweet lines of love. These boughs shall wave above our heads. While Venus fair Hyperion leads. Wave off the dawn, ere we shall fly From this fair mount where none may die! THE SPIRIT OF LOVE 19 O creature who art born to-day, To die to-morrow, go thy way. If thou hast known one thought of Love, Thy soul shall float through fields above! For our first hours of joy are aught, And pain or tears indeed are naught When we have tasted fire divine. That sparkleth more than foaming wine; Yea, more than wine or perfumes fed By leaves from oflF the violet's bed! Now fades the world, its evil ways. With toils and torments of our days; Now vanish years of longed-for rest. When we have felt our spirit's test! By man came man; by God came Love, That we might all partake thereof. And ye who err; our hearts may dwell With gentler pity o'er the cell. If they have once but known thy fire, All men shall tune this sacred lyre. Whose strains do reach the human breast. Whose dirge these weeping eyes attest. If e'en from Adam all may fall. From Eve, O prude, likewise recall That thou who sendest men to Hell, 20 THE SPIRIT OF LOVE Oft in thy polished conscience fell! For if this sacred fire doth burn, How may we well its victims spurn ? Hark! All do sin through many a way; If ne'er before, then first to-day! And, human kindness pouring forth, Light all our lives upon this earth! The Gods make less of lover's crimes Than one where virtue but begrimes! Behold! Life's curtain falls. And we Stand forth disclosed, where all may see; And thou, cold virgin, who wouldst cry 'For shame,' from off thy tribune fly! Nor judge, nor shall ye e'er condemn. Till death these tides of human life shall stem. 1896-1898. < 3^^^ ^^.^..^^^^'.^^'^^^r^': ^ ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE ^ O OFFSPRING of Apollo and the Muse; Tuned in sweet melody, thy lyre Lies o'er the ground; the airs diffuse Fancies of rnagic fire. Mortals around thee gather oft, Charmed by thy love-awak'ning strains; And beasts that once were wild are soft, Held in harmonious reins. With thine enchanted song the trees Bend in new grace, thy music to employ; They fan the heavy-laden breeze. The rocks relax, in an untutored joy. Ah ! Thou hast found new notes of life. New sounds of vernal love, That wake, thus to receive thy wife Within the shrines above. But hark! These nuptials to attend. The Gods in chorus bring ^ The story of Orpheus and Eurydice has been treated by both Virgil and Ovid, and may be found in their translations. 22 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE Their songs of praise, their charrns to lend, Their ornens, with the ring: And hymns arise through perfumed airs, That join with pure celestial prayers. Yet, with each blessing, Hymen throws Some note to chill the vein. Speaking of cares, of future woes. Of joys whose Hght shall wane. His very torch doth smoke the skies. Bringing deep tears into the eyes. Alas, these omens fraught with fear Bring fair Eurydice to die. E'en in those days where Love should cheer Its objects 'neath tl\e 'nubial sky. When wandering with the nymphs, her own. She meets with Aristaeus, seen Through branches of the forest grown With ivy and with shadowy green. Alas! O fair ill-fated maid. Wooed thus within the mournful glade. Do thou make haste to turn beyond These shepherd glances, far too fond! Do thou regain thy lord's sweet breast. And there in arms of Orpheus rest! ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 23 Make haste, Eurydice, to flee, Ere nymph and God thy ruin see! Oh, thou wert better turned to stone. Than through dishonored passion won! Turn thou, in fear, from these thick groves. And seek the soul that thee most truly loves. But wert thou swifter than the air That blows sweet Orpheus' strain, I know not how thine ovvn despair Could stay the fatal train. Wounded upon the foot, poor nymph, Thy flight is turned to swoon. To death, to death! alas, no lymph Shall bear to thee its boon! Ah! Curs'd be the day that saw thee fade. Far from the eye to join th' eternal shade ! "Alas, beloved one!" she cries, "Hast thou no knowledge of my fate.^'' And thus she dies. Orpheus in frenzied grief divine. Pours his sad music to the shades sublime. And through the airs his magic-wak'ning strain In new melodious harmony winds out its train. 24 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE The Gods take pity on the mournful soul, And Orpheus sues to seek grave Pluto's goal. A cave near Taenarus, the w^orld's high helm, Leads to the entrance of the Stygian realm. Oh, fearful sight! that there shall greet the eye. Thus to proceed, the v^eeping Orpheus nigh! Through crowded phantoms (earth's departed souls). Through depths of Tartarus, whose secret holes Lie deep within its subterranean knolls; And by that dog whose snake-like hair descends, A wriggling cluster o'er three heads — it lends Some poisoned semblance to Medusa's face — Up to the throne that Pluto's Queen would grace! There did Proserpine recline beside Her Lord, and Orpheus' fairest strain deride. Yet sang he songs of true and mightier love. Than e'er incited man who lives above To deep descend into the realms of death. "A serpent hath Eurydice of breath. Divine and true, of life so sweet deprived. Whence hath my breast this greater grief de- rived. ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 25 Oh, hear me then, Gods of the under-world, Around whose throne the Agonies He curled! For Love, for Love's own fair, unsullied shrine, Perrnit these arrns my wife once more t' en- twine!" At these soft sounds, half with his Lyre at- tuned. The Gods through Orpheus' strain in joy com- muned. The ghosts shed tears adown their white-robed forms. The thirsty Tantalus no longer storms. And e'en Ixion's wheel rests firm and still. The daughters of Danaus cease to fill Their sieve with water. Sisyphus lies tamed By music's veil! Eurydice is claimed! Forth, from the shades new-found, she wanders forth. Oh, triumph of fair Orpheus' truest worth! Limping she comes, her wounded foot the while. Shielding as best she may with woman's wile. And Orpheus falls upon her neck in tears 26 ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE Of joy most rapturous, mingled yet with fears Lest his sweet wife to earth shall still refrain From passing, and in Pluto's realm remain. "Ah! Mine own flesh! should we not pass be- yond The boatman Charon, glancing, e'er too fond Of thee, thy pardon now I crave before The fatal path we take, and close the door. Now shall we leave these dimly trodden halls. Seeking a sunny world, through ghostly walls. Yet while we travel o'er these sombre ways. The moments shall extend to hours or days Until the price of freedom shall be paid. When I may look once more upon my maid. Follow, sweet wife, then follow near my form, That thy true love may cheer, and keep me warm." His lyre upon his arm, his wife behind. The radiant Orpheus leads, the Gods to mind. And on through many, a passage dark and worn. His footsteps now are heard — and now are gone. At last the outlet to the upper world ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE 27 Is seen beyond. Afar his fears are hurled! In youthful triumph at such joy regained, His reason told not that some space remained. In thoughtless love, he turned to reassure His heart that love was ever near and pure. Oh, fatal moment of dehght thus torn From Fate inexorable! All is gone! All lost, all faded from the sight away! Eurydice has vanished ere the birth of day! With arms extended for one last embrace. Her form is wafted from the tragic place. Again returned to chasms of the dead ! Again the portals close above her head! Alas! Poor Orpheus! Sing thy dirge anew. The Loves shall hear thee; but the Loves are few. Where Pluto reigns the shades do dwell beside A sombre throne, that greets no living bride. One disobedience to its laws imposed Shall turn to warfare souls that were reposed. One error o'er man's passage to the light Shall cast in Heaven its vision from his sight. 1899. HERO AND LEANDERi In Abydos there dwelt a youth divine, Fair as the Gods, — a form with noble line. In stature tall, his bearing rnoulded grace With rnanly attributes and radiant face. High o'er his head there rose the star of Fate, Bearing immortal fame, yet fame too late; Casting its magic rays about his youth. To wreath in pain the lines upon his mouth. O fair Leander, fanned by Hero's smile, Happy art thou while free from Neptune's wile! Not yet the God of seas and oceans hath Meted to thee the measure of his wrath. Not yet th' advancing years their watery train Of journeys brought, for Pluto's final gain! Thy loved one lives beyond Europa's shore. Hero the priestess Venus would adore. And in her God-Hke beauty, bathe in songs The shrine of Sestos, that to her belongs. ^ Compare The Loves of Hero and Leander, translated from the Greek of Musaeus, by Fawkes. (Chalmers' English Poets, vol. ii.) HERO AND LEANDER 29 Thus Hero's beauty Asia's son endears, And Love, in conquering, conquers all his fears. He seeks to pass the swiftly rnoving strait, That would divide hirn from his chosen mate, And in youth's energy his limbs extend. To breast the waves his arms would nightly bend. Trembling with love, he plunges to the deep. His form submerged, the billows round him leap. The distant shore a gentle light extends. As thus to Love encouragement it lends. O fair Leander, plow these treacherous waves! Leap through the ocean to the shore it laves! There, wandering near the beach, her duties o'er. Steps Hero loved; now lingering no more. Her eyes with dewy spray lie half encased, Her heart no mortal suitor has defaced; While from the tower is reared a burning torch. That guides Leander to the temple's porch. Awake, O Eros, and defend this youth Who braves the sea, to seek thy fane, forsooth ! A cry fair Hero gives. She holds the brand All burning yet within her quivering hand. 30 HERO AND LEANDER She leaves the tower, and toward the sloping beach Twines her swift way, Leander soon to reach. While he, full dripping with sea foam and weeds, Arrived on Sestos' shore, no beacon needs. In arms of love, half moist as yet with spray, He folds his mistress, and remains till day. Then must the priestess Venus* altar burn; Her lover e'en to Abydos return! Again, when even-shades are pierced with light. And golden rays fall from the torch so bright, Th' heroic youth his watery passage makes; Again new pleasures from dear Hero takes. Nightly, the joys of Love first brought to man, Reward in sacred airs Leander's plan. The Hellespontean flood he nobly plows; And Hero's long embrace fair Fate allows. Oh, with what joy those moments pass in air It seems; so shall the Gods declare That Eros new delights may give to man. And cheer with Love's own warmth this treach- erous span! HERO AND LEANDER 31 Sad then the thought, that Heaven to earth should come; But to depart and leave an empty home! Oh, gravest hour that darkens life! Fd cry In pain unstayed, when love from love must fly! When Death, th' insatiate reaper, lifts his scythe; In grief unutterable man shall writhe! Tears shall gush down the maiden's rosy cheek. Such' anguish e'en the strongest heart would break, That pierces to the soul's bright azured realm. And in its course the very skies would taint and overwhelm! One night a tempest rose; the sea grew rough. While yet Leander sank within its trough. And lab 'ring fiercely there, he strained each nerve. Yet to no purpose would his effort serve. While Neptune angered strove against his strength. Like to be a feathered victim in its length. Each wave that bore him high soon cast him down 32 HERO AND LEANDER Full many a fathom deep, left there to drown! Ah, Venus ! Stretch thine arm from Sestos' shore, And, in sweet pity, unto life restore This ardent lover, battling thus with death. Sown in dishonor, now raised in perfect faith! Hast thou no power to stay the fatal storm, That carries mis'ry in its lowering arm, Nor love for Eros* votaries, yet to cast This trident from the tempest's maddening blast ? Alas! The priestess! She has left the shrine. To seek Leander 'neath the conquering brine; There to deplore the Fates' unwonted woe. That would deprive her of the joys they know. Despair and agony and grief are marked upon Those heavenly features that Leander won. Take then thy prey, O watery realms! Alone, The maiden shall remain o'er sand and stone! Those tears of grief, that flow in dewy length The beach along, bear witness to thy strength. Now Love shall in its noontide parted be! Dead in his youth, Leander rides the sea! HERO AND LEANDER Z?^ A lifeless form, his beauty marred by pain, The waves have washed him to Europa's main. And Hero from her tower, alas, beholds The ocean's shroud that her beloved-one folds. In passion's deep disconsolate embrace. No more the world feels she that she can face, And seeking only her Leander's fate. She leaps into the waves ere these abate. High from the tower's top — a quivering mass — She falls beside her lover's form; to pass Beside his shade to realms unseen, untold. Where never souls are sad, nor hearts grow cold! There shall the crowns of Eros wreathe their brows. While from their goblets only nectar flows; And shrines to Venus stand; the Goddess lives, High o'er th' Olympian mount, her blessing gives. 1899. THE LOSS OF LiEONE ARGUMENT The Goddess of Fortune came to earth, in the form of a beautiful maiden named Laeone. A shepherd, who stands for man in the poem, fell in love with the goddess; but just as he thought to possess himself of her love in return, she disappeared. The poem opens at the shepherd's grief for her loss. He turns to the Wizard of Rocks for counsel, and is directed to take with him his Staff of the East with its silver crown, to assist him in his search. He seeks over the world for his beloved, accompanied by Nobaea, the companion of sorrow; but unable to find her, he returns to his native land, and there in his home, beneath the shadow of a tree, is his long sought, his Laeone. It is the intention of this allegory to show that Fortune, which all men love, is in their own hands if they look for it among the facilities which God has given unto them, rather than seek it abroad, where are often unhappiness and vain striving. THE LOSS OF L^ONE^ Ah, me, for the loss of Laeone ! My lovely Laeone ; Weep, weep for the loss of Laeone! Her form has departed the northland; Ah, when to return! Hast thou gone to the west or the southland. New secrets to learn ? Hast thou flown to the Mid-Winter's palace. His mistress to be ? Ah, thine eyes would I see. My beloved, my beautiful maid! Lo, the Wizard of Rocks, he hath said : " Take thy staff with the silver upon it. Thy staff of the east, and away To the mountains, and there shall thy chalice Of golden relief rise to thee." ^ The Loss of Laone was suggested to the author after reading a transla- tion from the Greek of Bion's Lament on the Death of Adonis. The beauties of this masterpiece of Greek poetry are too well known to students of the classics to require comment here. 36 fHE LOSS OF L^ONE "O staff of the east, then I take thee," I cried, and away wound my song, My song for the lovely Laeone, My wail for the wrong. O staff with the silver upon it, O staff, with the magic that won it. Guide me unto the highland up-passes. To fields where the trees shall chant masses Above, for this heart that is torn! Come, Nobaea; all pleasures are gone. Come, Nobaea, my comrade of sorrow: O Shepherd forlorn! Seek with me, 'neath the hills of to-morrow. For lovely Laeone, Laeone the wonderous maid. Then Nobaea did gird on his blade. And did follow my steps to the north. To the lands of all glory and worth. O'er the hills, the green valleys. Where Heleon dallies. To laugh where the river-god plays. Ah, these hearts are turned red in the ending Of Summer; the glorious days Of her sunshine are wending THE LOSS OF LJEONE ^7 Their funeral ways. Then through fields of green laurel and sumach/ My heart would I trail O'er the ground, through the deep verdant vale, Through the trees, Where the whispering breeze Sighs so softly, so wistful, so softly: "Oh, where is Laeone ?" "Laeone — Laeone," reechoes the vale. Then these hearts here around me, so mournful. Are bleeding with love — oh, so scornful The world that returns Death for life! Their soul burns With desire to find thee; To love, to possess thee. To dwell with the beautiful maid. Ah! How sweet is this valley^ beneath me. Where Heleon plays With the water now sparkling with rays Of the sunshine. Alas! No Laeone I see. ^ The Loss of Lceone was written during a week's visit at Warren, Mass. The hills of Warren are covered with the "green laurel and sumach" al- luded to in Laeone, ^ The valley "with the water now sparkling with rays" is a pretty bit of 38 THE LOSS OF L^ONE Yea, then far to the southland we'll wander, O comrade of sorrow, to yonder Far distant deserted display Of fair robes, of gay colors, Of warmth with sweet odors, To lands of perpetual day. Oh! oh, for Laeone! Why then art thou gone ? My beautiful one. Whom I sought 'neath the orange and lime, 'Neath the juniper tree ? Thy sweet spirit I see. Haunting the shades, haunting the air; Oh, so noble and fair When once thou art found. And so high o'er the ground When lost! Sadly, my sister I see When, tired, I lay me to rest O'er the desert, and seek there the nest Of the ostrich whose friend I would be. Oh! oh, for Laeone!^ My heart shall repine thee rustic scenery overlooked by the windows of the room in which the first MS. was written. ^ The poem itself is purely imaginary. THE LOSS OF L^ONE 39 Fore'er, till thy form I may see. Lo! Nobaea, away toward the east Have we wandered, and found not the least Sign of her whom we sought; Only sorrows have brought. Far then back to our country we'll go. To my birthland I'd cling, Fairer songs there to sing, And find her whom we know! Ah! Look ye my soul o'er the hill. O'er green laurel and sumach the rill Runs so blithely; thy pleasures shall be Its young life, new to thee, Here to see. And look ye my soul, as we wander Again to the vale; yea to yonder Dark trees, even fonder Than e'er was before; Seest thou, O my soul, there in store Nobler treasures than man shall possess, Nobler joys than are wreathed by success; Seest thou not Laeone, Thy long lost Laeone, Laeone, the wonderous maid ? Ah, my comrade, come hither, Nobaea; 40 THE LOSS OF L.EONE O comrade of sorrows, to see her, My loved one, once more. Now are swieets still in store For this poor bleeding heart. Here embrace me, my comrade. I fall O'er thy neck as we part. Feeding now on my love that is all! Laeone, Laeone, loved one, Laeone, Gladly do I greet thee; gladly do I sing. Laeone, Laeone, ever dear Laeone; Newer treasures thy return shall bring! 1899. THE COMING OF GENIUS^ The sands of all time have held out to our fathers A future of golden-hued honor and fame. * A crown of green laurels the tribunal gathers In early youth's image of greatness to name. But ah! as we wind o'er the hills and the val- leys, Our threads of deep destiny, each in their train. How the thoughts of our childhood fade far from the eyesight. And many a year passes by us in vain! The sun in its brilliancy sinks to the twilight. The angels of hope on their wings through the air, Have swept circles so wide and so high, we re- sisted To gaze on their passage, and turned to despair. ^ It is a curious incident, that The Coming of Genius was written one morning in July, 1899, out of doors in the country near Boston, the whole MS. being written in about thirty-five minutes and hardly a word having to be changed in revising, thus showing the effect of natural surroundings upon the mind. 42 THE COMING OF GENIUS "Then cast to the airs with wild columbine scented, The child of thy bosom, thou soft son of Mars: 'T is a boy with wild eyes, like the steed of Apollo, A truant to earth, yea, a friend of the stars!" My refrain would I sing, as in sadness I wan- der Through vales half deserted, half peopled with woe. And my heart would I give in its fullness to yonder Poor soul whom bewildering Genius would know. See him first in the glories of early sensation, Breathe in the sweet odors of Heaven, he feels To be near and around him. He heeds not temptation; Nor sees that before the dark Traitor he kneels. "Ah! thy steps are so light and thine eyes so unhindered By Care or Despondency yet to be found. That thy dreams are all azured; thy fields lie uncindered THE COMING OF GENIUS 43 By Passion's fierce flame, or by stones 'neath the ground! Still I care not to tell thee thy danger is waiting, Half clothed in those joyous delights of the mind; Its own anguish thy future rewards so belating, At times e'en thine honor would linger behind. There before thee, I see the dark years in their sorrow: A train of hard labors, like Hercules' own, Are in enmity oft with the gods of the morrow. In vain would it seem that thine earnest is sown. " Still take heart, O my friend, — for my friend I would call thee, — Thy years are not ended, thy passage not o'er! All the glories of life in their grandeur await thee. Behind cast no thought, for the goal lies oefore! " Now when all is but darkness, and man has no caring For pain nor for sorrow, thy God is thy stay. From the clouds, like the rainbow in Heaven appearing, The sunlight leaps forth to enlighten thy way! 44 THE COMING OF GENIUS " Then thine arms shall encircle the love that awaits thee. Thine eyes shall behold thine own country once more; And the seas shall roll by, at thy feet in the triumph Of Truth, that is sown on the cold ragged shore!" Ah, my heart! hast thou found in the world that has spurned thee, Some souls like thine own, that are passing the main ? Take them close to thy bosom and treasure the meeting. For God leads yet others behind in their train. Thus would Genius appear to a world that is fleeting. And pass to another, where nobler relays Of her children are waiting, with powers to honor These toilers below through their lingering days. 1899. SONNETS FIRST LOVE Oh, thou art sent from Heaven, thou form di- vine, Enclosing 'neath thy breast a human soul. Beating in tune v^ith dreams, that mellowed vs^ine Would raise v^ithin mankind for some high goal! Do thou then come to me in this short hour. When years of longed-for bliss have sorrowed To droop thine eye, with i4:s strange half-grown power. To whisper nothings faint yet sweetly shy ? Ah! Thou are there indeed! My heart would beat. To ask the question first, then to display In each light wave of feeling — to repeat Those words that framed their joy at peep of day. 46 FIRST LOVE Come, Love, entwine with kisses my warm brow, And in Love's halo consummate thy vow! 1898. LOST LOVE When the gray clouds with blood-red fire are stained, In Autumn's evening; when the cold air blows Across the heart, and life seems filled with foes; Then doth this love-lorn soul, with anguish pained, Seek its dark cave, and find the hours have waned. Yet would the floods of memory-laden woes Fade in resplendent beams of warm repose. When Love though lost, returning, is regained ! Oh, thy sweet lips that once I pressed; divine In rapturous harmony, in heavenly bliss! The eyes full soft with sweetness I would kiss. And hold once miore thine image — to repine Sadly beyond, when joys their place resign To cold despair. Surely some dream is this! 1899. SONNET WRITTEN ON REACHING THE AGE OF TWENTY-FOUR Hours and years, have ye thus passed by, In seeming innocence my soul to find, In some new rhapsody my heart to bind. As hfe doth loose its four and twentieth tie ? Not thus the vernal joy of youth had I Pictured upon the wings of dawn, that wind Mysterious circles far above mankind. And rise to Heaven as from the earth they fly. Not thus the hard, the parsimonious world Had I first thought a foe to peace or love! Not then had those pure dreams of truth been torn. In ruthless care, asunder — vainly hurled From their high throne, in kingless state to rove: And thus my dying youth I fain would mourn! 1899. SONNET WRITTEN ON REACHING THE AGE OF TWENTY-FIVE Ah ! Have I come to earth, from heaven above, To breathe its air for threescore years and ten, And mingle with this crowd of conquering men, Who turn toward an exchange of gold for love ? Where is that purer sphere, where once I strove, To linger only in its glade and fen; Nor knew that it possessed the darksome glen, That we have called this world in which we move ? My heart, another year has joined the rest That thou hast known for joy or sorrow, yet To be prolonged three-fold, e'er thou may'st go On high once more, and feed the thirsting breast On love immortal that shall not forget; That shall not die; that sorrow ne'er shall know. 1900. POEMS ON ENGLISH SUBJECTS CORONATION- ANTHEM TO THEIR MAJESTIES KING EDWARD VII AND QUEEN ALEXANDRA I Lo! The sun shines o'er the land. Praise and peace go hand in hand. Take Columbia's joyous greeting, Given as Her heart is beating. Crown the King, Great Edward, King. Crown Him. To an Emperor sing. II Wave on high the sword of peace, Now proclaimed; let warfare cease, Through this Empire's wide dominion, Causing Love its wings to pinion. Crown Thee King, Great Britain's King. Crown Him. To an Emperor sing. 54 CORONATION ANTHEM III Hail! His Royal consort rides, Fairer than a thousand brides, With Him through the world's procession, Still an Empire's proud possession. Crown the Queen. No lovelier Queen Alexandra's land hath seen. IV Then let loyal songs arise, Floating to the azured skies. Take this Coronation blessing. Sovereigns, unto God addressing: Crown the King, Great Edward, King. Crown Him. To an Emperor sing. 1902. THE BRITONS A REPLY TO MR. RUDYARD KIPLING S POEM, "the islanders" ^ At a time when the poet's finger, Traces over the sands of time An indictment to rest and Hnger, As it were on his nation's crime; There is food for our recollection Of the things that might have been. There is chance that his deep reflection Might have killed what he counts as sin. In our hearts we all seek — and justly — The iron our country needs. Is there not in each bosom, firstly. The growth of those early seeds, * This poem, which was written during the afternoon on which The Islanders appeared in the London Timesy was first published in the Ati' glo-American in London on January i8, 1902, appearing subsequently in Paris and Berlin. The criticisms of Kipling on the English sports of cricket and rowing were the occasion of a considerable outcry on the part of the votaries of athletic training as a means of forming the national char- acter in England. 56 THE BRITONS That were sown in life's childhood hour; That were grown in the later years; That were born for a nation's power, And brought forth at her prayers and tears ? Lies there not then, beneath all nations. The instinct of kith and kin, The thought that — whatever their stations — Forbids that their country sin ? Are there not, at their plows in the furrow. Full many an arm to bend ? Are there not, from the palace in sorrow. Lords or princes who gladly send Sons or brothers, a mother her firstborn, A wife her true husband again, A maiden her love — parched and thirstwom — Awaiting some tiding of pain ? Are there not through all lands of the Briton, Waiting yet their new strength to display. Countless hundreds to follow, like Triton, The mistress of seas and the spray ? Though a stranger, from far o'er the ocean, I tell you 't is well to applaud England's imperial potion; And though justly to blame yet to laud. THE BRITONS 57 There are those who in critical measure Would cry 'gainst the things that are done; There are those, again, who would treasure The battles fought and won. And "the flanneled fools at the wicket," "The muddied oafs at the goals;" Better the life of the thicket, The freedom of their souls. Better the sports and the pastimes. That make men for the nation's field; Better mayhap than those last rhymes We wrote or the pen we wield. There are those whom we choose to govern, And those who are born to lead; There are men in the simple tavern Who know nothing but their need. And not one but shall seek protection From God who is over all; For in man there is no perfection. He arises but to fall. And the threescore years of his power, Or his threescore years of defeat, Lead alike from his gilded tower To the grave that is at his feet. 58 THE BRITONS And when England stands at the judgment, Before the throne on high, Where pounds mean less than parchment. And where the lowly lie; Who shall say that her rulers trembled At promises of war ? Who shall say that their words dissembled The battles or the gore ? Who shall say that the Briton carried His misery to the Boer; Or chased from home, or tarried Behind the open door ? Who shall say that she fought unfeeling, Unhonored and alone Of nations, or unheeding The sorrow or the groan ? Who shall say her sacred mission Remained half unfulfilled; That conquest was her passion, Or that blood was idly spilled ? Let us pause in one grand emotion At the work that she has done; For the Britons o'er the ocean Have more, than proudly won. THE BRITONS 59 They have carried truth and dayUght, From south to east or west; They have tempered many a twilight, And God their work has blest. 1902. THE SPECTRE LORD A SONG OF AN ENGLISH HOUSE I The Lord sat in his castle hall. A hound was at his knee. The antlers rose above his head, For a noble lord was he. II Long since, the hidden guests had left The scenes of revelry; And never a sound came back again, Through vault or gallery. Ill The Lord sat on; his head was bent, His brow was overcast. For his son and heir had come of age And his secret knew at last. THE SPECTRE LORD 6i IV Long years had passed; his Lady dead; And the Lord a son had bred. His face was fair, this son and heir. His brow was high, And blue his eye; For he knew no curse was lurking by, Nor agony to dread. O Christ, have mercy on this son Of a house and gallant race, When the Spectre Lord returns again, And shows his ghastly face ! VI O Christ, have mercy on thy son, For he is young and fair; Nor time nor travail bend his frame. Nor turn his auburn hair! VII Then through the long, long gallery. Unto his father's hall. The youthful Lord, with joyous tread His father's name did call. 62 THE SPECTRE LORD VIII Once, twice, then thrice he shouted loud; Some evil there must be! (For never a word came back again, Through vault of gallery.) IX At last unto his father's chair, He came, the son and heir. O God, the sight! His face is white! Upon his breast His head doth rest. Two stains of blood lie there! X The Lord, the father, he is dead, And his son before him stands. But what is this that lays its head Against the stiffened hands ? XI Ah! What was once a cherished hound. More faithful than a friend. Has licked his master's poisoned wound. And joined his fatal end. THE SPECTRE LORD 63 XII Mercy have then upon this son, Who sees before him here So terrible a sight as this, And stands in speechless fear! XIII Mercy, O God, to those in youth Who know nor care nor sin; Who live in blessed innocence Of evil that has been. XIV The young lord knelt before the dead, And many a bitter tear he shed. His heart was rent, his sorrow spent. His father's love In vain he strove To call from whence it fled. XV Oh, but to know a father's love. And feel his kindly glance! Not I, not all the world would have More that in life enhance 64 THE SPECTRE LORD XVI The joyous hours of youth, their Hght With manly thoughts to fill, Nor many a passing fitful flight. Its kindly warmth to kill. XVII O God, then on this youth look down! A Marquis now is he. Sadly his eye looks on the scene That once was revelry. XVIII Yet while he kneels in speechless awe Before his father's frame. An ice-cold hand lies on his head; And Something calls his name. XIX He turns: "Who dares to break my grief.? And what hast thou to say .? Be brief." In vain he tries to turn his eyes. O God, the vale! His face is pale. There stands the Spectre Lord! THE SPECTRE LORD 65 XX "Come forth with me, thou paltry being. Come and behold thy fate." Thus spake the ghastly Phantom Lord, And op'd the castle gate. XXI And there he stood, his steel gray eye. His knotted beard undone. And long damp locks that fell around A face that mortals shun. XXII Yet from his person there escaped What every man must dread (An hundred years lay at his feet. An hundred on his head) : XXIII The smell of opened graves laid bare And suddenly revealed, The sense of something in the air. That lay for long concealed. 66 THE SPECTRE LORD XXIV Ah! But a flash was in his eye. And from his hollow voice a cry There came like death; and with his breath, A flame of fire Bespoke his ire. Such was the Spectre Lord! XXV He led the noble youth beyond The towers of his home, And pointed with his withered hand To pinnacle and dome. XXVI "Then seest thou those ancient walls, Their guarded battlements, That held the prowess of thy name Through Time's entanglements. XXVII "Behold them crumble into dust. When I but wave my sword! For I that once their master was. Am now their Spectre Lord. THE SPECTRE LORD 67 XXVIII "Yet see them flourish, once again; For I may rule them still. The crime that stole them from my hand Shall each possessor kill. XXIX "Then, lest they fall to rise no more, Come forth; come forth, to see the store Of sorrow's hell, within this dell. Give me thy soul. And hear this toll Of dirges and of war." XXX The Marquis to the dell repaired. No choice had he but follow (The Spectre held him in his grasp) Unto the haunted hollow. XXXI There to his half bewildered gaze, A sight unearthly shown Unto each eldest son appeared. When once to manhood grown. 68 THE SPECTRE LORD XXXII A sight, unearthly in its scene, Uncanny to the living. Given by Death unto a soul Ungrateful for the giving. XXXIII And as they stood, the Spectre Lord Turned to the moonlit ground. And opened with his naked sword A deep and dismal wound. XXXIV Ah! That this wound might close again! And end the long and fatal chain Of tragedy, that turns the key, That pierces deep. And holds the keep ] Of many a castle main! XXXV Then from the ground came forth the dead. Their corpses half revealed. And to the clemency of God In agony appealed. THE SPECTRE LORD 69 XXXVI Their cries now rent the cold night air, Now chilled the living soul; Now sank into the worm-worn earth, As back again they stole. XXXVII And as this purgatorial horde Increased, or disappeared. They gathered near their Spectral Lord, Whose coming they revered. XXXVIII And many a noble scion was there. Who ruled in days of yore The towers that rose above the air. And fell beneath his gore. XXXIX And many a noble chief was seen Upon the ground, where he had been Murdered before his castle door. Ah! What a sight! Again they fight. Again besmear the green! 70 THE SPECTRE LORD XL Then, while the hungry vultures tore The corpse's flesh in twain, The young Lord saw a century's crime. The murderer live again. XLI A host of sin-stained spirits passed, In terrible array, Gathered from every passion's blast. And destined there to stay. XLII "Horrible, horrible," sighed the Lord. "Must I behold this scene .?" (The Spectre held him in his grasp) "And what my race has been!" XLIII And then there came a shocking sight, A murdered maiden fair, Slain in her desecrated youth. All strewn with golden hair. THE SPECTRE LORD 71 XLIV Stretched on the floor in pools of blood, Basely defiled, so pure and good! His veins ran cold; the young Lord bold Saw in her form His own love warm. Repeated where he stood! XLV Then, maddened with inflamed desire To save his youthful love, He cast the Spectre's arm aside. And held his sword above; XLVI And called the maiden by her name. And wept upon her breast. And sought to claim her from the past — A prayer to God address't. XLVII Yet, as he dragged her from the place Where murdered she had lain A century in the tomb, revealed. The Spectre Lord was slain I 72 THE SPECTRE LORD XLVIII And with one long unearthly cry, That rent the very ground, He raised on high his ghastly face, And showed a hideous wound; XLIX While from his breast poured forth a stream Of living flame, as in a dream. His blood was fire. He did expire. E'en as the Son His Love had won. Within the moon's faint beam. Thus by th' impetuous love of youth. The Marquis had atoned A crime that gave his noble race The curse that they bemoaned. LI And by his daring to uplift The maiden from her tomb. The Law that gave the Spectre life Engulfed him in its womb. THE SPECTRE LORD 73 LII He sank, all flowing forth with fire, Sank through the earth below, Sank in his own revengeful ire. Where evil spirits go. LIII And with his parting curse a cry Of vanquished agony He gave, that touched the young Lord's breast, And sank in irony: LIV "Why hast thou, in a single hour, Untied the girdle of my power ? Ah! But thy race usurped my place! And took my name. And killed my fame. And stole my castle tower!" LV But still the young Lord clasped the maid. And watched the Spectre die. Held in his long embrace of love. She gave no sound nor cry. 74 THE SPECTRE LORD LVI Then from the shades around the dell Rose angels on the air, Spirits that blessed their happy fate, And held them in their care. LVII Soft in the moonlight shone their wings, Lit up with heavenly fire. Aglow with something that on high Their union did inspire. LVIII And as they moved, the heavenly beings Wound in a peaceful train The heights that held the castle tower, And filled its hall again. LIX And thus true love overcame the power. That for a century its dower Had left in blood, upon the flood Of life that passed. And shadows cast. Let now its blessings shower! 1902. ODES AFTER THE STYLE OF ANACREON These little odes, copied from the style employed by Anacreon, the Greek poet, are not in any sense translations or adaptations; but a series of short poems. They were written on twelve successive evenings, in the spring of 1900, at The Wayside Inn. The original MSS., which were each completed within a certain prescribed time, have not been altered in any respect. {j^^ ODE I TO ZEUS Zeus, O God and King of all, Olympic songs shall mark thy fall. Ambrosial nourishment thy soul Shall have, and nectar from the bowl! When Eros strikes thee with his dart, Then, then th' Olympic host shall start In wondering terror at the wound. And gather near thee on the ground. "For mighty Zeus has from his state On high descended to the fate Of all mankind, that mortal be. And ne'er immortal joy shall see," They sing, and singing hail the God Begotten from thy very blood. Apollo springs to life from love. And joins the court of Gods above; Henceforth to know what love may be. For well-nigh God of Love were he! 1900. ODE II TO APOLLO Apollo, comest thou to earth ? The heavens surely have no dearth Of beauty in their golden courts, Where Cupid in his youth disports ? Ah, comest thou to meet the muse. And in her virgin breast infuse New fire, that some day shall procure The Orphic strain in love secure? My heart, my heart, hast thou a chord, That shall v^ithstand the mighty sv^ord Of Mars, when, half at war with love. He sinks — as docile as the dove — To earth and worships at the shrine. That flows with magic blood or wine. Come, God of archery, thy son Like thee the soul of man hath won. Since music thou didst give to man, Bless'd be the folly of thy ban! 1900. ODE III TO CUPID Cupid, thou the winged boy, Who with human hearts would toy. Give me, give me back my soul That thou didst send to Pluto's goal! Once in Venus' garden fair, Fanned by flowery, perfumed air. Once a lovely rose I found. Lying softly on the ground. I picked it up, and toward my lip I raised it high, its joy to sip. But as I raised the flower, a thorn Turned sudden joy to grief forlorn. Ah, Cupid, Cupid, save my heart. And extricate this fatal dart! My day is turned to sadder night Than e'er did maiden put to flight. Thy sweetest hours fade in air. And leave behind them naught but cold despair! 1900. ODE IV TO CUPID Thy sweetest hours fade, I say, And leave behind no Hght of day. They fade, or (happy, happy fate!) They yet remain, and fade too late. With musk-rose sweet or eglantine. They mingle there, with bubbhng wine. They bring us greater joy than e'er I fain had thought existed here On earth, or e'en in heaven above. Where Gods do live in heav'nly love. O Cupid, then thy joys I bless! Thy winged form I 'd fain caress. And worship thee in every lay That muses bring, or magic fay. For surely thou to earth didst come To chase all evil from its home. And wind a blushing garland 'round Each maiden's form, from off the ground! 1900. ODE V TO VENUS Take, Venus, homage pure from me, It comes from sweetest Arcady, And rises to Olympus' bower. Where love shall newer pleasure shower, Its essence, born of love divine. Is free from fumes of flowing wine. Its loveliness to man bestowed, Is sweeter than the branches bowed With honey-scented flowers of spring. That to this bosom gently cling. O inspiration from on high. Thou goddess, for thy love I sigh, And pant with rapture at the view, That I would here obtain anew. O Lily, sweeter than the air. So pure that thou dost seem to share The ether of that heavenly sphere. Around thy shrine we gather near. Within the vales or glades abound 82 ODES Thy temples, echoing the sound Of love, to beauty wedded there. These sounds to nectar turn the air. Oh, thou art sweeter than the dream Of higher pleasure, that would seem To consummate the souFs desire. And fill man's heart with mystic fire! Thy son, born from diviner thought. To earth a bow and arrow brought. To pierce the softest spot that lies Beneath the roughest form, that tries To brave the crest of passion's wave. And yet his soul from passi'on save. But leading by the hand the boy. Whom mischiefs in his art employ. Thou freest him within the soul. And man is drowned within this bowl Of liquid love and beauty pure; That passion from his heart is sure. To there conceive, — and find 't is sweet — While pain he tramples 'neath his happy feet. 1900. ODE VI TO BACCHUS Bacchus, prince of mirth and wine, Grapes around thine head entwine. Here feast and dance upon the green. That from those dreary mortals screen Thy joyous follies evermore, For thy true votaries in stone. Away with mournful, sombre ways! To revelry I M sing my lays. Prancing with satyrs on the heath. And viewing nymphs that sport beneath The groves, that run with crimson streams, Flowing from goblets' golden brims. Oh! Toss to nothing duty's call! 'Tis pleasure that is all in all! No money-changing Plutus drear, Our revelries shall change to fear. O Bacchanalians! Hold thy God, Lest he do fall upon the sod, And end this merry scene too soon — The rights of Bacchus — and their boon! 1900. ODE VII TO HERMES Son of Jove, thy winged feet The airs of heav'n soft would beat, And carry from thy father's hall The serpent-twined rod withal. Say, Hermes, where didst thou acquire Thy caduceus for the lyre; To hold aloft thy winged cap. And point to heaven, from the lap Of mother earth thy finger-tip ? Couldst scarce restrain the maiden's lip. That loving thee, would thee embrace (Her arms with thine to interlace) ? When yet a babe — four hours old — A tortoise-shell thine hand did hold. Beside the rushing water's brink. Where birds with Gods together drink. Nine holes around its edges made (To suit the Muses it is said); Nine cords of finest linen then ODES 85 Were drawn. Complete, the lyre again From heav'n to earth did thereby come, And find with man a welcome home. But Hermes to Apollo gave Th' enchanted instrument, to wave Above his wings the serpent's rod. Henceforth to serve the fleeter God. In summer's soft and dulcet airs. Enthroned in flowery, grottoed lairs. The lyre touched by hands divine, Soft strains of music there enshrine; While Hermes, wrestling with those wiles Of all mankind, his time beguiles; Oft thieving, with a God's own skill. He manages the truth to kill. Yet beauty ever on his brow Would cause his votaries to bow. And oflFer potions to his shrine Of honeyed fruit and golden wine. Fly, God on high! Return again. And swiftly reach in air the souls of men! 1900. ODE VIII TO MINERVA Thou art a Goddess cold and true. Wisdom — known but to the few — Cometh from thy fane alway, And causeth night to turn to day. Pallas was thy name in Greece, While Jason sought the golden fleece. Athene likewise art thou called; But now Minerva hath forestalled Those other names, that men would give To thee while Wisdom yet shall live. Cold and loveless, thou art yet On high, like some bright jewel set, To light the world, to lead mankind Unto the goal that he would find. Sprung from the very head of Zeus, No mind hast thou to bear abuse; But seest all things as they are, And happiness, e'en from afar. The owl upon thy temple placed All folly from thy shrine hath chased. ODES 87 And brought those peaceful, passive ways That follow youth's distracting days. Wild folly's vain and ceaseless strife Shall find no place within thy life. Impet'ous longing, mad desire Must other deities inspire. Anger hath no place with thee: Peaceful love shall ever be Companion to thy learned ways, And him, that to thy mercy prays. Mark then, Minerva, well thy sons. Whom Wisdom seeks and Folly shuns, Whom honest longing for the truth Shall bring to higher courts, forsooth! No goblets, filled with foaming wine. Pour they upon thy sacred shrine. No banquets, near thy temples held. Disturb the visions there beheld. No mimic laughter of the fool. No turning of another's tool. No false attainment bear thy swains. No scoflUng jest the heart entrains! But thus pursued, their end they reach. Joyous that they their fellow men may teach 1900. ODE IX TO CERES Verdant field, or pasture green, Ever to thy care has been Like some temple to the God, Who holds on high the twined rod And seeks Ambrosia for his food. I place a seed within the earth, In springtime; thou dost give it birth, To bear in air some golden flower. And add to life its tiny power. The soiFs abundance thou dost guide. To be the Autumn's mellow bride. And fill with plenty all our days. Behold! I sing my joyful lays. Propitious Goddess, that the crows May scatter from these youthful rows Of corn and growing crops, that yield Their welcome harvest from the field. 'T is thou dost crown the year with wealth. ODES 89 And give to Autumn half his health. Then hold my tired limbs, and bear This cup of life that I would share ! 1900. ODE X TO PAN I STRODE one day to where the flocks Of snow-white sheep, among the rocks And flow'ry pastures wander. Yet while there I fain did ponder, 'Mid a host of shepherds rude. Playing upon pipes of wood. Pan I spied, the mighty Pan. Toward the joyous crowd I ran, Breathing in the lighter air Of rural life and Nature fair! There in lovely Arcady, Sorrows from the heart would fly. Dancing o'er the purple turf. Of love at least we have enough; Of joy we drink the sweetest draught That ever God or Goddess quaff' d. Thus would I sweet Pan have been. Had I not some flower seen. That seemed so beautiful to have. ODES ( I sought it on this earth; but love, Now that on earth my soul is placed, Seems from its life to have been chased. Ah! Take me then again to thee, Thou God of joyous Arcady! There, envious passion ne'er shall dwell, Nor love the lover's sorrow tell; Nor e'en a nymph that bathes therein Know half the wickedness of sin. Then in the air of love divine (Oh, better far than cooling wine!) My soul would dwell in happy peace. The gladness of its own release! Far better, far than worldly joys, Are those that Nature thus employs. Then rise, my being, from the earth. Leave there its miserable hearth. Arcadian simplicity; Enough, it is enough for me! 1900. ODE XI TO MIRTH Strains of laughter greet the ear. What is there indeed to fear Of sadness, or of lone despair, While Mirth and Gladness fill the air ? Dancing to a pleasing grove, Lovely maidens sing of love. Pleasantries and gay delight Fill the flov^ery night. Yonder faun his frolic plays, While I sing these happy lays, Happy, happy, happy lays! I 'd sing them all my days. When in a darkened mood desponding. We would seek the shade of death. Find we ever mirth responding To the living breath. Then pray cast away thy sighs. O'er the wave of youth to rise. O'er the summit of the skies I 'd find thee, welcome Mirth ! 1900. ODE XII TO LOVE In some mossy glen reclining, Soft with dewy columbine, I would woo thee, Love, divining Whether thou wouldst there be mine. See the youth, in glowing ardor. Fondle thus the maiden's hand. Pressing near this weeping arbor. Rapture, waiting thus, would stand. Happy transport of the soul; Happier than the flowing bowl! Love within an instant fleeting. Pours its blessing from the heart; Thus its pleasant ^^ beating, heating,*' Never shall from life depart. Oh! come take these treasures all. Gladly from mine hand they fall! Give me in return thine eyes. Fairer far than sunny skies. And in sweetest frenzy sip This honeyed nectar from thy lip. 1900. QUATRAINS FIRST SERIES The goldenrod has bloomed, has died and gone. Its second bloom has seen the summer's morn. "Thy stem is bent; but thou shalt rise again. Thy soul to Heav'n incarnate shall be born." II A light I see that shineth o'er the cloud. (The mountain-top is veiled within its shroud.) Show thus thy soul, my Friend, or pass away. And leave this light. For I would cry aloud. Ill One breath of passion o'er the orchard flung, Would turn this gentle song my heart hath sung. To something deeper than the lake below. And drown those tears, that from the heart are wrung. 98 QUATRAINS IV And I have turned to lighted hall, and seen But darkness, where a fairer light had been If love had step't into the candle's flame, And turned its fire into a nobler sheen. My youth and I have played at fast and loose. I killed the duckling and the fatted goose, To feast upon them with delighted eyes; But ere the feast the meat had lost its juice. VI A noisy song, by wine or laughter fed: An idle thought of some unloving bed: Why come these flames upon the field of youth. Their tainted light o'er truer Friendship shed ? VII For what have wine or vapors, to allure; Or what would Pleasure to its own assure ^ Oh, were not Heav'n concealed within the Cup, Thy soul this yoke of earth could not endure. QUATRAINS 99 VIII The falling fruit of senses in their prime, An evil omen o'er my bowl of wine : Give me my youth, O Dream, or pass away, Leaving the Night to live but to the Day. IX Come linger in the bath, and thou shalt see My friends and I no longer of the Earth. But by the water and the air to be. Though not of Heav'n all that a Friend were worth. X My fellows, ye who live to fill your purse, Gaze here upon this chain of gold, and curse The hour ye squandered, in your greed for more Than life could bring — oh. Better then were Worse ! XI Leave then thine arid love of self to die. Where'er the drought shall cast upon the soil 100 QUATRAINS Its hardened aspect: I had rather He O'er beds of truer pleasure, free from toil! XII 'T were better, then, to give myself to life. To lose my treasures, and to find my soul, Than that this Flesh should dwell — an idle strife — In seeking for deep waters near the shoal; XIII And by the giving of myself to find A door close there, upon my life behind. And pass at last beyond the prison gate. Where chains of grief my heart no longer bind. XIV When I first knew Thee, Thou wert old and gray. Though Thou wert young, and I have heard Thee say: They laughed upon Thee, Magic One, and why ? For now they bow before Thee on the way. QUATRAINS loi XV A gentle hand upon my shoulder brought A tear into the heart — a sudden thought That Life was worth the living, worth the end, Where I believed no gentleness was wrought. XVI For why these faintings of the seeking heart; Or why should I but give to Thee the part ? If not the whole, then nought of Thee for me. Thine end shall be no better than the start! XVII These lips are Thine, to feed the Hmpid eye. These eyes are mine, the anguish of my soul To tell in silence: though the heart shall sigh; That very sigh may lead me to my goal. XVIII To change my coat, to wear a pleasant smile, And in the haunts of Fashion to beguile A Day that turneth Dusk into the night. Were Night indeed without one spirit's wile. 102 QUATRAINS XIX Some faces lighted round this magic lamp, With gentler fire, bear the truer stamp That wakes the flow of wine to something more, And warms the spirit if the night be damp. XX Then love me well, my neighbor from the hill. So that I love thee, heart and soul, until The leaf of autumn falls, to die away; Then love thine house, and love thy servant still. XXI A passing face, an idle glance or two, A chance regret beside the fallen yew, A thought of something that has never been : Ah, leave the many for the chosen few! XXII A pleasing dream: they say it is not well, E'en for Reality, to Fancy sell. For as I dream my days in airy thought. My friend, near by, hears not this curfew bell. QUATRAINS 103 XXIII In moral isolation from mankind, A hermit Soul nor Body, there, would find To be the Truth of life; nor there could live In holy, healthy happiness of mind. XXIV Yet Body to the Soul v^ould often say: "Thine eye from off my form may turn av^ay; Yet leave to me the beauty of the w^hole. That maketh Love the Laws of Life obey. '' XXV Some things, for half our lifetime laid away. When we have seen another child at play. Do often fall, before the Soul revealed. And turn its darkness into sudden day. XXVI I sat and spake once, in the honeyed air Of blushing roses, with some lady fair. Who asked if God began, or if the end Of Life, or of the Universe were there. 104 QUATRAINS XXVII Then turned I to the trees upon the lawn, And pointed to the pregnant ears of corn : " For if these grew, or as they grow to-day, So to thy soul shall God reveal its morn." XXVIII Oh, be thou then thyself, and to thy Soul, See that thou art as seeker to his goal; Nor turn away the tiny leaves of life; For from these leaves great secrets shall unroll. XXIX Am I alone, my soul and I in one. Or are these signs of Heaven the setting sun. With beams of life, that fade, to fall in air. Leaving the thirsted heart, we know not where ? XXX A shaded tree, a locust in the field, A rosy bed, the air that flowers yield, A quiet hour with the soul, and then — Ah ! Then the world — give me my sword and shield! I QUATRAINS 105 XXXI A waving flower by the willow tree, A garden, planted on some pleasant lea: Ah ! what are these if I am not, with Thee, One half on Earth, one half in Heav'n to be ? XXXII A sultry day, that with its heated breath, Would fan the storm to gather, lightly saith: "I kill the aster, as the flower shall bloom." Oh, stay thine anger in the face of Death! XXXIII For what is Life, if I but chance to be; If Thou art not to me, and I to Thee, As rain from Heaven upon the Earth, and each The flowering essence of our spirits see ? 1898. SECOND SERIES I Life, thou 'rt a problem solved but by a few. Success to me were not success to you, Nor that which makes it oft would seem to be More than the hours we serve. Oh, serve them too! II Ten years, ah, ten hard years of nothing won, Of toil unseen, and tenanted by none Of those who feed success with Life's own flood : These are the price, ere the long race be run. Ill Yet who shall tell me by what path to find The palace gate, the forest, as I wind. Uncertain here, unknowing often where The serpent's fang my heart in prison would bind. QUATRAINS 107 IV And yet Success, when conquered is the game, Were little more or little less than tame, If Heaven's intuitions of the heart We follow not. Ah me! An empty fame! Give me the simplest cot beside the wall, The smallest jug of ale among you all. I 'd choose thee willingly, O humbler Peace, Than sacrifice my soul's far greater call! VI They led me to their palace strong and high, And told me from its summit I might fly. "But to us give thy soul," they darkly cried. I fled; nor could I tell them truly why. VII Strange, that our friends would bury us beneath Their ov^oi distorted mound upon the heath. "Thou sink'st to dust," they say, "without our aid." And yet they know not of us one drawn breath. io8 QUATRAINS VIII Perchance, the half closed eye shall see for me. A single thought within my heart may be The jewel of the crown so dearly sought. Ah ! Then come triumph and delight — and Thee. IX Without provision for the faults of Good, That men present alway for daily food. Without our own disclaimer: "yea," or "nay," Divine the Truth of life we never should. X Then blow these bubbles through the autumn sun, Seeing their colors fading, one by one; They rise, to fall, and vanish through the air. Leaving behind them nothing lost or won; XI And hear the purple to the azure say: "We come from nought, to nought return, and lay QUATRAINS 109 Our colors o'er the mists around the sphere, To live to-morrow as we live to-day." XII But if these words begin and end in nought; If man may give to man but treasures bought; How, through the maze and turmoil, shall he live, Save if the palace of his Soul be sought ? XIII And if I seek this palace in myself, Am I an higher Being or an elf: A spirit, half divine and half debased: A Something to its God, or to itself? XIV Come wake then from the dark, that I may see If more than part of each is the Decree That comes from Heav'n, and I on Earth am made One half my Soul, one half myself to be. no QUATRAINS XV My Soul : the greatness of my heart's desire, My prayer, that through the ages shall transpire; Myself: the poison of the earth below. That kills its own extinguishable fire. XVI Since then of light and darkness we be made, Oh, seek the sunlight, to eschew the shade. And when the Beauties of thy Soul are freed, Thy Master's calling thou shalt have obeyed. XVII They say the poppy conjures sleep divine. I would that I then dared this heart of mine To waft asleep, with odors breathing death. And lose my pain in something more than wine. XVIII But what, when I have ceased to breathe, shall be The outcome of this problem here for me — What .? — should I find beyond the same dark way. Leading to paths or chasms of the sea .? QUATRAINS iii XIX What say' St thou then ? Abide and rest awhile. With lightness of thine heart the time beguile, And soft at evening, when these shadows fade, A pleasure comes, no longer to revile. XX But yet, — ah, yet, — the Night shall come apace. The passing breath shall end thy solemn race: No Goal beyond for Thee who sought no love; No Hell for Thee whose heart true love did grace ! 1899-1900. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS WRITTEN IN 1897-1898 EPITHALAMIUM A WEDDING CHIME I Ding, dong! A bridal morn shines forth. Ding, dong! For all there is of living worth, My song Sings to the winds of Heaven a tune, From sun and sky, to stars and moon. II Belong to any race of man. Be strong. Be of a weak and shortened span, Or long; There cometh to each life an hour. To fill it with a nobler power. Ill Ding, dong! Upon the tower high. Along ii6 EPITHALAMIUM With shades and where the shadows He, My song Rings out from many an iron tongue, That through deep centuries have rung. IV Ding, dong! Ding, dong! They grow apace. A throng Below hath many a noble face; For long The high possessor of a name, That nobleness hath brought to fame. V Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Why should we wait So long .? An altar stands beyond the gate. 'T is strong With flowers and Heaven-besprinkled dew, That bloom but for a chosen few. VI Ding, dong! My heart is beating fast: A song EPITHALAMIUM 117 Sounds through the aisle, an organ blast, Ding, dong, Is echoed in a soul that prays For happiness, in sacred ways. VII Ding, dong! Away with weeping now! Belong No sorrows to the bridal vow. A wrong Is righted in a moment's time. Fanned by one breath of air sublime. VIII Ding, dong! Oh, mighty bell, peal on. Our song. Drowned in thy voice, is pale and wan; Ding, dong; Rolling the waves of sound, to toy With oceans of unbounded joy. IX Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Lo, Hymen comes! For long. ii8 EPITHALAMIUM A winged boy — a garland runs — Ding, dong — Around the graver Cupid's wand. A bridal torch burns in his hand. X Ding, dong! Apollo's son flies high, And long. He bears a ring beyond the sky. With song. Descend sweet blessings on the bride. All happiness our friends betide! XI Ding, dong! Pour forth the noble crowd; The throng. Elated wishes rise aloud. And long. Lingering, as with a happy heart, Thus we behold the bride depart. XII Ding, dong! My life hath died away. Ding, dong — EPITHALAMIUM 119 The distant bell sinks with the day. Ding, dong — Suns still unseen have yet to rise, Burning these mists from off the heavy eyes. TO A FOUNTAIN^ Soft drops of rain, that fall Half musically, some Within a veil-like wall. That through the mists become Each some pearl gem whose lights have strayed from home: II Their song falls through the day, Born laughingly beneath The wave, whose graceful way Turns from its native heath; In vain desire to find some parting wreath. Ill Oh, speak thy whispering joy, Thou plaything of the air, ^ The fountain is one of the smaller ones, situated at one of the principal entrances of the Public Garden of Boston, in the centre of which is the statue of a goddess in white marble. In summer the spray of the fountain falls over the statue, amid a miniature pond filled with water plants and azure colored water lilies. TO A FOUNTAIN 121 To me! What pains alloy! What wounds would ye repair ? Scarce may we tell within this watery lair. IV What sayest thou so low ? Thy pattering footsteps fall, Each in their liquid flow, To form some fairied hall, Studded with diamonds of dew withal. V Thou hast no sin nor woe. No duties to perform. Those cares that mortals know Fall from thee without harm. Thou dost pour forth thine heart upon the storm. yi Lo! Thou canst say of Love: "I know not of thy pain. Thy lowering shades above O'ershadow not my plain. I do but drop within this marble fane." 122 TO A FOUNTAIN VII Life, still thou fallest o'er, In those unfeeling grains Of palest thought, to soar Through our ozone. The strains Of thy cold music from the heart refrains. VIII Oh, thou tiny fountain, Flowing through the air; Like some silvery mountain; Like some mermaid's hair, Whose tresses fall in joy and without care; IX Like some feathery being. Bursting to the sun; Like some spirit fleeing. As the day is done; Thy race is o'er. Thy life has just begun! X Thou couldst gayly teach us, How our days to soend TO A FOUNTAIN 123 In new heavens above us. Our unconscious end, Of this short space comes where the soul would wend. XI Strange, these drops of sadness. Scattering through the light, Turn our hearts to gladness, Wakening at the sight Of so much beauty born within the night! THE FAUN^ I Out into a garden fair ^ Strode a faun; 'Mid the flower-perfumed air, In the morn. II Cold and empty had it been, Till the spring. Nothing grew; no bird was seen There to sing. Ill Life had found its winter too For the faun. ^ The metre of the poem is that used in some of the forms of the Latin Ode, less common in English poetry, where the lines are so short as often to be considered lacking in strength of feeling or dignity. ^ The Ode has been placed here, though it was in reality written in 1894, in London, the last two stanzas, however, having been added in England in 1901. THE FAUN 125 Cupid ever from him flew. He was worn. IV Weary of an empty race For the child Who all men of every race Hath beguiled; Thus had come into the plact Cupid loves. There upon the lawn, a race With the doves, VI Runs a little winged God, With his bow, Whence into the bending sod. Arrows go. VII There remaining, soon they grow Everywhere, 126 THE FAUN While their blossoms, as they blow, Scent the air. VIII Such a fairy sight as this Saw the faun. Cupid shot at him a kiss. Love was born! IX Sunshine suddenly was spread, There around. Flowers grew in every bed, O'er the ground. X Thus in life a garden too. As the faun. Is the place where, if we woo, Love is born. XI Maiden, then thine heart retain, Fair and free; THE FAUN 127 Cupid soon its surface stain; Though it be; XII Yet shall many a joy be thine, When 't is gone, Lost within that holy shrine Of the faun! THE CLOUD O THOU soft breath of Heaven that passeth by, From the unknown, to where we may not see, Born by the wind of the eternal sky. From what celestial anger dost thou flee ? II In fleecy softness, gathered through the air, Thou art blown o'er the pale-tinted blue, Shadows to send, beneath the ocean's lair. And form new fancies from the evening dew. Ill Through the deep sound of Nature's voice thou art Silent in passage, swift in airy flight, But half unseen, yet half inclined to part From the soft sunshine or aerial light. IV Tell those who linger lovingly below, Who gaze with wonder o'er thy silvery shade. THE CLOUD 129 Where are concealed thy secrets in the flow Of wind and weather, ere thy beauties fade ? Showers of rain fall from thy weeping eyes, Oft moistening the parched and mournful throng; Tell us thy sorrows, for with tears and sighs We weep with thee, half knowing of thy wrong. * VI Hast thou some grief, found in the gathering storm. Some tempest hurled in anger to the earth ? Where are thy missiles, where thy lowering arm ? The cloud has joined the air that it is worth ! SNOW-FLAKES Snow-flakes fall through leaden air, Like tresses of celestial hair. Pale frost enshrouded grains that blow: Oh, whence to come ? Oh, where to go ? II Tears drop from the weeping eyes, Accompanying fears or sighs : Cold snow-flakes, are you tears of Heaven, Or but the storm's departing leaven ? Ill Snow-flakes spin their peaceful robe Around life's ever turning globe. For peace comes oft with death alone. Then peace, come ere these snows have flown! ON BOARD THE VENTURE I At rest within the harbor's peace, Her sides caressed by gentle waves, The Venture lies; her sailors cease From toil: above, the awning saves The eye from many a piercing ray Of sun and sky, that burn the face. And tell of a voluptuous day, That in its beauty grows apace. II Some bird beyond the neighboring shore Sings out a song, that breathes an air Of half we feel of poet's lore. Of half we know, within its lair. And many a vision rises high. Beyond our view of happy hours. As in a languid mood we lie. Dreaming of higher deeds and powers. 132 ON BOARD THE VENTURE III The trembling pennant far above Reflects the wind's uncertain air, And bears on high a sailor's love Of all he holds in life most fair! The splash of passing v^aters' flov^ Accompanies some seaman's boat, As gliding through the ocean lov^. Within the harbor she w^ould float. IV Thus o'er the Venture's shady deck, We linger at the sunset hour. And witness from the distant wreck. Approaching us, a seaworn rower; "Oh, shelter here, thou tired mate! Returned from old to youthful bark. O'er life's long sea, 't is oft our fate To find new light from what was dark." RETURN OF THE CONSTITUTION^ Welcome, O Warrior of the stormy seas, To thine adoring home. Once more shalt thou recHne at ease. Beneath this heavenly dome. Fast flow our tears of joy; again They hail thine honored form, Tattered and with a century's stain, Borne by the nation's storm! II Peace thou hast brought us; peace at Honor's hand. Won with thy laurel crown. Well didst thou bear thy noble band Of heroes to renown! ^ These stanzas were written on the occasion of the famous battleship's return to Boston, on March 4, 1897. An enthusiastic public meeting was held in the Old South Church on that date, addressed by the Governor of Massachusetts and other distinguished persons. The poem was written on returning from the meeting. 134 RETURN OF CONSTITUTION Then may we turn to greet one leaf, Remaining yet behind, And with our eheers, increase behef In country and in kind. Ill Turn to thy glorious rest, proud ship of war, That we may hold thy name All through our land, beyond the roar Of battle or of fame. Cleave in our hearts the wondrous thought, Achievement to attain. Thus, for our country were we wrought: To bear and honor pain! STANZAS WRITTEN IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY O vast, sepulchral, shaded hall! Beneath dark shadows of thy wall We kneel, and in an air divine, Lay our faint tribute at thy shrine. II A space for highest honor made, By man for man; each stone is laid. To God's eternal praise of truth. And our acknowledgment of worth. Ill Rise nobler towers, higher domes Than these, above historic tombs, For saints, for heroes, and for kings, Where grandeur with tradition rings? 136 STANZAS IV Have men of other lands an aisle, That centuries shall not defile, Bestrewn with laurel leaves of fame. Each bearing their immortal name ? Have we a greater gift to God, Than o'er some graves to lift the sod. And build in grief a temple fair. Enshrining life's achievement there ? VI Oh, melancholy air of death, That Cometh with each passing breath. That lingereth near the shaded tomb. Depart from this exalted gloom! VII Thy poisoned arrow's shaft is gone. When Honor thou hast hither borne. To lie in this sublime repose, With bearers of the English rose. STANZAS 137 VIII O Genius, thou art well repaid, With Honor to be nobly laid : Here thou hast built a vaster dome, And immortality its home! . A DIRGE WRITTEN TO THE BELL OF A CHURCH NEAR NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND, WHERE BISHOP BERKELEY PREACHED O BELL, peal on, o'er thine unbroken waves Of deepening sound, that gently bathe my face; And ring unto eternity the souls — The souls of the departed dead that sleep. The trees resound with echoes of their joy. With songs of long-passed vanity and power. With tales of woe, with pleasures of their day; While softer waves wash our repining hearts. And we invoke pale mysteries from thy dirge. Oh, tell me of those strange, departed beings And where they pass, beyond these winds of night Toward higher goals of their awakening dawn. The shades fall o'er the pale bewildered eye. The tones of thy departing sound grow dim. They fall upon the ear, as on they pass. Sadly they fade and sadly sing their wail: A DIRGE 139 "Long have we rung these dirges through the years, That pass, with wickedness or vain desire. Pale myrmidons, beyond our reach, cry forth. A day breaks o'er the scene, as Hfe would close, And grand eternity shines through the soul." Stay! thou art but a thing worn old and gray; Yet from thee, man may gather many a tune. Then ring through years unborn; thy voice may fill Cold hearts with fervor, softening eyes with tears. Ring then through many a watch; thy song shall bring New life to sadness in the hour of death ! TO FAME Oh, thou art but an idle dream! I wake: I tremble. 'T was but a fairy sunbeam, To dissemble The soft light of fancy; To wave a laurel crown — a necromancy ! II But stay: there may be more to Fame. We wait; we wander. With each new step, the self -same Way we render A new path to power, And wake at last upon ambition's tower! I TO SPRING Hail to thee, Spring! Prince of the season's sway. Cast off are our dark winter shades! Leave all dull sadness and cold winds away. Come! Let us bathe in sunny glades! II Hail to the Sun! Burst out of nature's clouds; Pouring forth light and radiance and love. Unknowing delights have torn off the shrouds. Hail! Spring again falls from above! TO THE SPIRIT^ Great Spirit, hear me as I rove Through field or forest, wood or grove. Through wind encircled moods of woe; Or flee from an approaching foe. Great Spirit, hear me as I rove; To conquer wickedness with love! II Behold! There comes a wakening voice, Lipped in its half immortal choice, That sings from the surrounding shade. And reaches oft the sunny glade. Behold! The songs upon the wind Ring with the breath of life behind ! Ill Great Spirit, thy divine refrain Would turn these mockeries of pain ^ First published in Boston, June, 1899. TO THE SPIRIT 143 From dull despair to notes of joy, To life and find the winged boy. Great Spirit, rest, and long remain Love, ruling earth's enshrouded fane. TO MUSIC O Music ! rain sweet showers of love, To quench our thirsty heart. Turn, toward the skies of heaven above. Pleasures that never part. Fall, with thy love awakening joy, In strains that nothing shall alloy! II O Music! guard my panting soul. And stay vain passion's power. Lead me to the eternal goal. Clothe inspiration's hour, Fanning our flights upon the way, With liquid notes that Gods do play! POEMS WRITTEN TO PERSONS AND PLACES -^ THE GREEN BOOK Youth is ever green and young. Then guard thy song of youth, when sung In the spring of Hfe, and say 'T was but a minstrel's early lay. NEW YEAR'S EVE The old year passes out of sight; The new comes on apace; And we look back o'er Time's down-trodden path. Our pleasures and our happiness, our sins, our wrath. Rise up and greet us face to face; Advancing with the old year's flight! 1893. HOW FAST TIME FLIES Ah me! How fast time flies! How swift the moments go, That should have made us more than wise, Had we but once said no To Satan's smile; if we had twice Temptation treated so, To-day would we have had full thrice The strength that in us Hes! 1894. THE AURORA A LUMINOUS and meteoric Hght arose Last eve, as I my homeward way did wind. Out of the northern night's repose. Its deep intensity upon the mind Impressed itself with many a passing flight. As mingling in their great majestic way, Long hnes of silver sheen renounced the night. The calm cold north, where oft they stay. Unseen, unknown, invisible throughout the day. And while they shone o'er some celestial land. THE AURORA 177 I stood before this show of Heaven's hand. My eyelids closed, to open once again. The zenith of the sky bore in its train A thousand splendors gathering there around; While I in rapture Hstened for a sound, To give some speech to this strange symbol from the ground. But none there came. A stillness half defined There seemed instead to rest on everything, A worthy child of darkness and the blind, More true indeed than when we listen not. Yet seem to hear unconsciously the ring Of life and battle, 't is the common lot Of men to hear whilst in the realm of fight. But still the sky gave forth its wondrous sight. And we are left to heed it, or to think 'T is but a flight of Nature's fancy, fair To see, and seen by men, again to sink Into its own oblivion and air! 1894. SONNET Ah, fair and frosty February sky! Cold as the crystal waters of the deep, That through the day with sunlight greet the eye, And mirror thee at night when man 's asleep. Thy purple canopy is spread sublime, Bearing the spirit of the winter's night. Sending its rays of feathered light, each time We gaze with admiration at the sight. Thy magically fashioned evening star. High over all as Vesper sinks to rest; Thy waning moon, whose misty way doth mar The light upon the world to east and west: These and their thoughts, of which the soul is fond. Breathe of th' aerial atmosphere beyond. 1894. LINES WRITTEN ON A SABBATH MORNING Hail unto thee, sublime and wintry morn, Fairer and yet more fair for thy sublimity! Thy soft and silvery beams of light are born From the great emblem of eternity! I wake, and find me in a jewelled hall, Dazzling with crystal beams around, above, A beauty indescribable on all. That radiant surety of Nature's love. A myriad of beams, like birds in flight. Pour forth, a joyous army of delight! Their lances shining, pierce the misty glass. Glancing, they gleam as onward they would float In wondrous majesty, and swiftly pass. Mantling the air with their new-fashioned coat. On waves of magic seas into the room. And purge my soul, and break the Lenten gloom. And thus my soul awoke from what had been A long, dark, deep, and melancholy night. Clouding the youthful visions I had seen. Ere darker shades had closed about my sight. i8o LINES My spirit leapt in true and heavenly joy, Loosed from its thorny bondage of the past, Clothed in the new-born vigor of a boy Who finds the longed-for freedom his at last. A metamorphosis of spirit o'er me came. Making me one v^hose sudden minstrelsy Sang to the sacred multitude around. I floated forth v^ith them, in ecstasy. Thus suddenly to know that I had found A place in the great font of Nature's love, That often I had seen, afar and dim. And recognized as something from above. Addressed in youth with many a prayer and hymn. Far into the unknown we swiftly sailed, Over the cold and wintry airs of dawn. The sparkling sunbeams left their fairy trail Over the parting mists of early morn. Thus through the sky we floated, and away, Borne by the unresisting heavenly light. Enveloped in a sense of new delight, O'er the pale seas of the approaching day. And then I found me lifted far in air. The heavenly host retired, and I gazed. SONNET i8i And saw the face of Heaven itself laid bare. Then suddenly my soul returned, amazed, To this poor frame that holds it for a space. I lay upon my bed yet filled with grace, And rose with joy to meet the sabbath day. Oh, light me then ! Oh, hear my humble prayer ! Cast off my sins, and dry this bitter tear! And light, O God, the channel of my way! 1894. SONNET FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE "BOSTON EVENING TRANSCRIPT," FEBRUARY 1 3, 1 894 Again the Christian's panorama turns The Lenten season to our saddening gaze; Sad that the fire of evil ever burns Within us, through a year of life's dark maze. And we, in sombre garb with bowing head Look back upon the moments wasted, lost, Their numbers causing us to shrink, and dread The consequences that our follies cost. 1 82 LOVE'S KNOWLEDGE We cast aside the pleasures of the past. Our shattered resolutions to the church We bring, in hopes that they may be recast. But faltering at the gate, our hearts we search Careless and full of wrong has been the year. The truth is still so far — and yet so near! LOVE'S KNOWLEDGE I Afar away, there seems to be a distant light approaching. Near and ever nearer with a growing force That wavers often, though 't is always on the night encroaching. Changing darkness into light, and slaying night's remorse. II Afar away upon the sea of life there is awak'ning. With an unknown power, Love's satiety. Whose mark, as years roll by, the tide of time will soon be making On those who without it know not life's entirety. LOVE'S KNOWLEDGE 183 III Then is the Hght upon the sea approaching, and begetting Wisdom and a wise man's love of true philosophy ? Or is the vision vain ? Am I all that I knew for- getting ? Surely such a thought would be but vain so- Hloquy. IV Ah, yes, it is the heavenly hght of earthly know- ledge growing, Stronger still and stronger as o'er life we go; Beloved and loving all around, the seeds of love still sowing. Changing darkness into light. Would all the world were so! 1894. DEPARTURE To-night I sleep o'er the deep, And sleeping still I sail, r the dawning of morning, While night and day are pale. II Dear One, I creep for a peep. In vain for those I leave Far behind; to my mind Their holy love shall cleave. Ill So do not weep; rather keep A glad heart, to bewail Nor the parting, nor starting For mountains from the vale! 1894. The lines were written on board a ship, prior to its departure. ON A LITTLE CHILD A FRAGMENT I I MET a little child the other day. So fair was she, she might have been a fay, Or sprite, she was so bright. I lost myself in love. And found new pleasures at the sight. II Alas! My love must unrequited go. For in some younger channel hers did flow. At first, I half had cursM: She was indeed so like One who had satisfied Love's early thirst. Ill A fair and childlike " JuHet" she made. Her tiny ringlets hanging, as she bade A fond farewell, for aye It seemed to her. As "Romeo," like Cupid, fled away! 1894. THE CHATELAINE OF SAINT AIGNAN I WALKED along an avenue of trees, Straight, though their time-worn trunks showed growing signs Of age and wrinkles, to the whispering breeze. And told of bygone histories in misty lines. Nor with beginning nor a settled end. Their course unerring held a stately guard High o'er the ground, that in a ragged bend Reviewed the winding river, stern and hard. Behind there rose, out of the morning sun The ancient walls — carved in that master hand, The Gothic Renaissance hath ever won Through this fair land — Of an old chateau rising proud and high Above the mediaeval walls out of the town. Below it nestled, seeming weak and shy; Like some fair maid beneath this noble crown. I turned, and saw a trooper flying past. His steed, hung with its armor cold and gray. Fled o'er the shaded avenue so fast, CHATELAINE OF SAINT AIGNAN 187 That as I rose to draw myself away From his strange path, that in its swiftness led Beyond the canopied retreat wherein I stood, I turned; and with a cold, unearthly dread. Lest in my reveries and lingering mood I should be cast by him aside. His fleeting course wound ever on In a strange, ghostly, spectral ride. That seemed the race of an enchanted one Upon the soft earth and the grass beneath. A moment's pause upon the rustling air Showed that above his brow a plaited wreath He wore, of branches half unknown but fair. Brought from far lands that he had proudly won. Arrived before the chateau's ancient door. He halted, resting the while half in air; Then sprang from saddle to the leafy floor That lay beneath, and called his Lady Fair. And while I looked in wondering fear, I saw Float from the upper casement a light form. Clothed all in white; and on her head she bore Chaplets of roses circhng to her arm, And in her hand held one as fair as she; And smiHng kissed the rose, and fell betime [88 CHATELAINE OF SAINT AIGNAN Into the trooper's fond embrace, to be At the next moment torn away! A crime Had been committed, now full many a year, Upon the mistress of the chateau here; Yet still her lover to her charms did bow, And in the sunny noontide leave her bier, And find her spirit lovingly as now! 1894. THE FAIRY PRINCESS There lived within her palace of delight A Fairy Princess, fair to look upon, Whose countenance was an enchanted sight. That made all other beauty pale and wan. And fade in sad and dim comparison. There in the midst of vast, innumerable halls. Of crystallized or jewelled stalactite. And many a precious gem, within their walls. Throwing their richly colored beams to right. To left, above, below, on every hand; So that the eyes were ravished at the sight. And perfumes far beyond conception, fanned The nostrils with each faintest wave of air: There, in the midst of this ecstatic lair, A veritable shrine and paradise. And seated amid bowers that would entice The sternest and most austere man to love, Or admiration of the place, its Mistress sat. Her courtiers with gay dissipation strove To cheer her, stretched upon a Persian mat, 190 THE FAIRY PRINCESS Scented with spices and sweet fragrant airs, That swept the nostrils with their varying kinds; And gathering round the throne, in eager pairs, Hummed their soft music to the Eastern winds. Yet as she sat, in half desponding mood, A white-winged falcon floated through the hall, Holding within its beak an oHve branch; And for a moment, near the throne it stood. And perched on high, and swept against the wall. And on the Princess dropped the fatal branch. Then through the courtiers passed a sudden stir; Thus to perceive a bird from Greenland's peak. Here in the air of frankincense and myrrh, Alive through climates, where the eastern streak Of early dawn destroys the northern heather; Here, in defiance of the winds and weather, CircHng the fairy palace of their Queen. Ne'er in this hall had such a sight been seen. As the white falcon in a southern clime. Far from its native snows and icy sheen. Showing its speckled wings in summer time. Then, to the wonder of her courtier train. The Princess rose, and with a rapturous smile THE FAIRY PRINCESS 191 Held forth her arm, and made it straightway plain That the swift bird her languor should beguile. CircHng the jewelled hall again, he Kghted On the fair hand of his awaiting queen, And thus, unknown, his fairy troth was plighted; For the next moment those around had seen Change the white falcon to a Prince delighted! Oh, happiest moment of the fairy realm! The Princess now a Queen, the Prince a King, Th' enchantment of a lifetime overwhelm. And seal their union with the magic ring! 1894. TO MY LADY LOVE So far away my thoughts did rove Last evening, that they formed a ditty, Worthy of nought, nor wise, nor witty; Yet such as it is, 't is to my Lady Love : II Thou art indeed a fairy maid. To hold my heart, my soul; to dally With so unsought a love; to sally. With a sweet summer's blush on thy features laid. Ill Ah, but, my gentle lady, pray, While I gaze on thy fairy beauty. Give to thy swain this pleasant duty. Here at thy feet, his hand and heart to lay ! 1895. THE QUESTION I Dost thou love me, as I love thee ? As I love one, dost thou love two ? Or is it — as I thought I knew — That thou lov'st me, as I love thee ? II Do I love thee, as thou lov'st me ? I know not. But if I 'm not true, No man e'er loved: I would I knew That I to thee was all thou art to me! 1895. A BRIDAL SONG I Comes there a time when God above And men below would join in love. Or happiness more bright and gay, Than on a lover's wedding day ? 194 A BRIDAL SONG Lives there a moment, ne'er forgot, More sacred to the earthly lot, When blushing maid with conquered man. Before an altar join the bann ? Ill Then ring this merry peal of bells: Of earthly paradise it tells; Forever old, forever new; Forever sweet, and ever true. IV Oh, strike the bell, and send thy gift, Before this marriage day shall lift The wedding veil from off thine eyes, Showing new joys and sunny skies! 1897. SUMMER HOURS Summer hours! To float away, And seek some distant nook, Where in the warm breath of the day We find some busy brook. II Summer hours! To cast aside The city's smoke and war. And Hghtly carry off our bride. To live in Love's sweet law! Ill Summer hours! To tear apart All that is worst in Hfe; To pluck, in June, some lover's heart; 'T is thus we banish strife! 1897. THE ENCHANTRESS I I CAME at evening as I rode, To where the sea sinks from the land, And leaves a shadowy abode. To rise out of the ocean's hand. II And as the steep incline I gained. The shaded outlines of the home Of some fair mistress half refrained. And half allowed the eye to roam. Ill Yet as the soft air fanned the head, The door turned, and disclosed the form Of the Enchantress, who had led My steps from the approaching storm. IV Sweet Lady, may I then remain With thee, an hour of fancy spend .? THE ENCHANTRESS 197 (For fancy often we would fain, To our own heart's desire lend.) To drink, in cool refreshing draught. To the Enchantress and the place. While laurel branches faintly waft Sweet odors o'er the languid face. VI Yet, fair Enchantress, even shades Steal on apace, and I away Must hie me, ere the twilight fades Into the enemy of day. VII Then, ere we part, one word I breathe; One, after many in music's sound From thy fair voice would I bequeath Unto this sea-encircled mound. VIII Turn once again the long lost door, That I may find within its fold 198 MEMORY This hospitable hall once more, And feel the subtle charm of old! IX Farewell! The shadows longer grow. Life passes on; the years ride by. Time turns the glass of hours that flow. Turn once again, and let it lie. X Ah, then, Enchantress, may this rest Be oft repeated, as I ride O'er the broad seas, that serve at best To bring two mortals side by side I 1897. MEMORY An old house stands upon the hill. With memories my heart to fill As I retrace these long lost days. Enjoyed amid its peaceful ways. MEMORY 199 II There are indeed few things that dwell Upon the heart, their joys to tell In after years, more full of peace Than those few things that shall not cease. Ill We speak of friends : 't were better said. Some higher path than mortals tread Leads them in time to nobler hearts. Beating with love that never parts. IV To those who toil upon the hill Of life, they seem untutored still; To sport upon the quick'ning sod. Where older feet have sadly trod. To those beyond they stand as men Who bear the shadow of a fen. Folding within its treacherous creek Their youth, whene'er its haunt they seek. 200 MEMORY VI Yet to the hill, our journey o'er, We would retrace our steps once more, And live again one youthful hour, Where friendship held so fair a power. VII The house still stretches wide its door. Some footsteps, echoing o'er the floor, Fade out again. But where are they Whose hearts gave forth the joyous lay .? VIII Some say that Memory is dear. To those who for the future fear. Yet would I still remain the last. Held by dim shadows of the past! 1897. THE STREAM I What is it in yon stream I hear ? Such music ne'er hath reached my ear, As from the meadow wanders up, Born like some magic loving cup ? II And whence doth rise this soft refrain, To feed my heart, and fill the brain With every sound that spring may bring. And in its melody to sing ? Ill The note seems like an echo brought. As o'er the western wind is wrought The gentler sound, the peaceful dream Of some rejoicer in the stream. IV Of its new life, we know nor care. Save if its voice be in the air. 202 FUTURITY Of its own happiness we feel But this, as on the grass we kneel. V Of its dark bed, beneath the veil Of sunlit waters, through the dale; Of its chance care, its toil or woe. What may we human beings know ? VI But if in Springtime life doth sing, Let us rejoice with this plain thing; Our voice joined to its heaven-tuned air; And live an hour in nature's lair! 1897. FUTURITY I Is there an unseen hand within the soul, To pierce these shades of dim Futurity ? Or are we beings born to know no goal And take life's passage in security ? FUTURITY 203 II Yet as the heart pours out its own deep thought, A light, an unknown harbinger of day. Breaks in the distant scene (where there was nought But cold and darkness), with a brilHant ray. Ill There are indeed more treasures in the years That roll in unknown numbers at the feet Of all frail mortals than the ocean bears To watery Neptune in his cold retreat. IV Let us then seek to tread the Soul's fair way Into the far gray atmosphere above. Leaving all thoughts unhonored by our day To fall and perish in the realm of love. 1896. ANNIVERSARY ' I As old and honored Time flies by, In his strange circle of the year, There comes a moment when we sigh: The winter dies, and spring is here. II This season brought into our Hfe The first impressions of a place. Made dear to us amid the strife Of youth, and dearer as we face III Our world, in its uncertain Hght, As unknown promises arise. As we pursue the earnest flight From darker clouds to brighter skies. IV Tell us, dear place, where first we found That life was more than we had thought; * Written on the occasion of "Anniversary Day" at St. Paul's School, Concord, N. H., June 3, 1897. ANNIVERSARY 205 As in affection we abound, May we return where we were taught. V And once again as summer's air Has wafted in its sweet refrain, And turf and tree grow green and fair. We find St. Paul's our home again. VI Then to her Chapel we would go. And honor those who lie beyond, Join in her games, or swell the flow Of youth beside the glimmering pond. VII Seek with me yet again the brook. Where on a time I used to spend A treasured hour with friend or book. And stones into the water send. VIII Tell us once more that life is well, That those departing still return To organ note, to peal of bell. As in their hearts thy fires burn. 2o6 TO OUR MOTHER IX Then let us raise a final cheer, Guarding its echoes as we go, And keep the Anniversary here, That marks these numbering years that grow. 1897. TO OUR MOTHERS I Oh, thou first guardian of a man's own heart, The hero's truest friend. Thou, who with tears hast seen his youth depart, And time its sadness lend To his advancing life: Where may he turn for aid, when thou hast passed the strife ? II Tender in care and thoughtful in thy love, Thou art the noblest one Of all his thoughts that lead to paths above. As the dark waters run ^ Written on the birthday of the author's mother. TO OUR MOTHER 207 O'er his half lighted path, Thine everlasting constancy deters their wrath. Ill There is one day within each busy year When we may pause to bow, Or kneeling bend and leave a joyful tear On thy beloved brow, And wish for a return Of this same day upon Hfe's ever changing urn. IV Rejoice with us, for our own Mother lives, All who have knov^n her love; For the diviner breath of Heaven still gives Its treasure from above Unto its worthy sons; That it may rest and sanctify while their life runs. 1897. TO LADY MARY ON HER BIRTHDAY Sixteen or twenty-one, to-day ? Ah, that is difficult to say. So wreathed in youth and graceful charm, Is she toward whom we bend our arm! II A couplet scarce could hold the health We drink to happiness and wealth. A triple verse were better far. To reach a heart that nought should mar! Ill Sixteen or twenty-one, I say. Wouldst thou not tell us. Lady May .? Still, let thine age be what it be. Thou art both young and fair to me! 1897. DREAMS Sweet dreams, gentle dreams, Fraught with visions of dehght. Fill all my waking hours with beams Of new and radiant light. II Soft dreams, peaceful dreams. Known but to the joyous soul. Reveal an imagery, that seems The God of all my goal. 1897. LINES WRITTEN AT SUNSET Ah, deepening circles of the setting sun! What volumes to my soul would you unfold, O'er the wide wintry course my life has run, Of laurels lost, of victories yet untold ! 210 L'ENVOI Thus would I love to dream away my days; My fleeting visions fraught with flames of fire, To light some men upon their tortuous ways; That ere I died I might the world inspire! 1897. L'ENVOI I CLOSE the new Green Book of idle leaves, Now filled, and older with the years of youth That have thus passed by in health or pain. And as I turn the pages of my heart, I find some passages are graven here With the imperfect chisel that we hold. When first we carve the future with our hand. Yes, dear gray Time, I bless thy passing step. Though it oft brings its load of care and toil, Yet leaves upon us the impress of life. The wedded harmony of joy and woe. 1897. UNFINISHED POEMS AND FRAGMENTS < 3 > j^^^^^^^SS?^^^^^^ ;; ;5^^ LINES WRITTEN IN NORMAND^^ A Norman landscape with a cloak of green, That might fiill tell us of a land of love, Where we forget our grief in thoughts on high : An hillside, where the faint beams of the sun Fall in their gentle light upon the scene. And make the heart beat with the thoughts of love. Or love's own fancy in its fairy hour: Such is the place, where in an idle mood I brought myself, to dream away the time Of early sunset though invisible. The cuckoo's note fell soft upon the ear, To drown the Hghter sounds of summer even. In its own deeper tone of melody. The faint caw of some thievish crow disturbed, Its distant cadence lent unto the air. And soon I found myself, though not asleep. Yet moved, as by some higher, natural power Than we do know as inmates of the world. A wandering mood took hold upon my heart; 214 LINES WRITTEN IN NORMANDY And without thought of any plan but this, My soul strayed far beyond the hillside and the scene. Thus in a magic moment's time, it fled Back to the days of long unburied past; When the great Conqueror sallied from his shores To found an Empire's power by his sword. Or the fair Maid of Rouen, burned with fire, Sought for her deeds a martyr's tragic end. Lifted in thought; the air seemed filled with glory. And to my vision showed a future state. Tranquil and filled with peace and songs of birds. And unattended by the sounds of war. There the soft land of Normandy displayed Its smiling valleys, where the silky herds Grazed happily, and ran with milk betimes. And as the sun broke over radiant France, I saw its peace revealed through years to come. Shorn of its kingly glories though it be. Yet blessed by deep-felt joy and tranquil laws. No more shall tyrant cause the Norman maid To pierce the heart of man, besmeared with blood. LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION 215 Nor Marat yet again a Corday bring From the dark agonies of anarchy! Here in thy peaceful pastures let me dream, Casting all evil from the drooping eyes, And on thy meadowy couch find rustic joy, As eventide draws fragrance from the day! 1894-. LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION A DEEPENING melancholy shades the hour. That should be privileged in early life; A pall of sadness covering the power. That is youth's gift, to battle through its strife. A cruel hand has cast my sacred hope Into this deep, unfathomable woe. Where with Dejection I must vainly cope. And leave my vanished happiness below. 1894. "TO BE WITHOUT" To be without one day of peace, One idle thought, one tear: to cease The occupation of an hour For other cares; nor feel the power Of blest simplicity, to shower Its fragrant joy : — this is not life. 'T is but an everlasting strife. 1897. LIFE O Life, thou art indeed to me Dull pain and wretchedness and hate. Joys and delights too vast to see. Tormenting dreams of power and fate, A wondrous, overwhelming mass! 1897. LINES WRITTEN AFTER WAKING FROM A DREAM A VOICE within the watches of the night Sang to me, "Rise and ride into the dawn. There shalt thou find new powers from the world, And turn to Hght the darkness now that reigns." I raised the girdle of my sword, and woke The guards who lay beyond my couch, and found The latch of the great door, that bound the world Of mine own self from that without the gate. A passing hawk flew by, with fleeting wing, A circling omen of th' approaching wind; And I rode onward, with my men behind. Like warriors of the old, old days now dead; And suddenly beheld the plain of life! 1897. ENVY AND DISCONTENT Envy and discontent rode forth. They drew strange clouds of woe, That floated from the south to north, Unto the world to go. "Curse on thy fair success," sighed one. "I hate thee!" cried the other; "Thou hast the prize I should have won!" And thus they passed together. 1897. HAPPINESS Ah, Happiness! why hast thou flown away.? Time was when thou didst linger Near to my soul, and point thy magic finger Toward the warm sun, that streaming through my day, Brought visions of unsought and true delight That now, alas, are lost within the ni8:ht! 1897. THE DEATH OF SUMMER Fair Summer lies upon a bed of flowers, With leaves half faded as she dreams in peace. The air blows o'er her couch with chiUing breath, And yet she slumbers, as she still reclines. Pale votaries of warmth grow gray and weary Falhng around with faint and fainter life. And yet the Goddess of it all doth sleep. Oh, wake! For thou art now indeed still bathed In beauty and in youth! Awake, awake! For thou hast yet some space in which to Hve, When thou may'st give thy radiance to earth. Oh, wake! Why dost thou lie so cold and numb In silence and in mutability .? The Goddess keeps her deep tranquiUity, Even as our cry doth hold its saddening note. Arise ! But thou art dead ! Ah, thou art dead, To slumber now until the pregnant spring. In joy revealed, gives birth to thee again. E'en now the frosty air comes flying by! Autumn, thou dying ember of the year, Approach! 'T is thine the hour in which to live. 220 LINES ON NATURE Pale Summer sleeps, and thou indeed dost reign In golden splendor o'er the fleeting day! 1897. AUTUMN The first faint breath of Autumn in the air Would turn pale Summer from her drowsy bed; To give one last sigh of despair, When leaves are turning red. Oh, wake th' autumnal lyre and away! To sing the sad song of the dying year. For thou hast yet, in Heaven, a prayer to say For those that Hnger here. 1897. LINES ON NATURE WRITTEN IN SPRING I STRAYED out, far into the country-side, One sunny day, and found myself alone; And wandered there among sweet shady trees. Where the caress of honey-scented Spring LINES ON NATURE 221 Had drawn light blushes o*er their maiden boughs, And sent its spray of foliage on every hand. Tell me, strange life of Nature, thus observed, Where v^e are found by God, who lives in us, And speaks to the true hearted in a voice Unknown to those who love not gentleness, Where art thou hidden, in mysterious shades Of our existence that in Heaven had birth ? There are strange thoughts that well within our souls. As we grow swiftly into early manhood.' Casting aside the trappings of our youth. We stand forth boldly o'er the stage of life, And gaze in awe upon our destiny. And there appears before our untrained eyes A Hght, as we do search th' horizon's line. All filled with an anxiety to learn Some secrets from our own surrounding world. Truth! Though in our pale ignorance we turn From thy diviner power in later years, And fall into strange chasms of ourselves. Thou art forever the approaching guide 222 LINES WRITTEN BY WAYSIDE To nobler realms and great accomplishment! High o'er the brow, in majesty thou floatest, As we would fain pursue life's fitful way; And as we seek for thee, thou may'st descend. Crowning with greater joy our victory. 1897. "TO BREATHE SWEET ODORS'' To breathe sweet odors, and in peace. To turn from silent toil, to cease In one short moment sounds of woe; Finding love with us would go: This is life, tranquil hfe. Free from all discordant strife. 1897. ^ LINES WRITTEN BY THE WAYSIDE Over the heavy air of early summer Arose the hum of many a pleasing voice. Born from the sylphs that lined the shady dell. Wrapt in the warmth of an enchanted hour. LINES WRITTEN BY WAYSIDE 223 The breath of our belated, panting steed Came fast, as we at ease withdrew our rein. Murky below, the stream wound sulkily, A way that knew no willing source nor goal. The voices rose, and we in joy refrained From pressing forward on our wayward course. And listening to the happy sounds of summer, That came and went in many a note of joy, Heavy the eyelids grew by music's fan. And soon we fell with heaviness asleep. And there we dreamed of magic fairy forms; While sylphs came dancing forth in winged groups. That spread around our fancy love-born showers, And kisses fell upon the lips half closed, And visions of the fairy dell revealed New pleasures that in life are all unknown. The tall trees waved above the sultry air. Each flower within this dreamy land, bedewed, Lay trembling with a watery diamond, And moonbeams played with shadows by our side, While whisperipg soft sweet pleasures in the ear. 1897. LIFE AND DEATH Ah, how these shades and shadows form Our own dim selves, defaced and torn By journeys o'er the surging seas Of Life or Death, without release! Then would I pass, to unknown hours Bedecked with honey-laden flowers; And know no more of life than this : To live 'neath one eternal kiss. "TO LOVE YET NE'ER BE LOVED To love, yet ne'er be loved, ah me! This is the keenest pain of all. To feel one being near, to see Love's tower fall; To lisp the poor dull panting song. That bears each image of our lifelong hope; To weep, to sigh, to sadly long. And in despair to mope — 1898. FRAGMENT Oh, that I were once more upon the sea, To Merrie England bound, my love, with thee; Or in its place, to some soft climate led By the south wind, upon a mossy bed! 1897. "LEAVE ME BUT A CHILD" Oh, leave me but a child of Nature, As I live. To dwell beside some simple pasture; There to give Each happy hour The nobler power That we breathe into life; And I may rise over the blue. With only a few. Where happiness is rife. 1897. "SO YOUNG AND YET SO OLD" So young and yet so old/ To be a poet and live! So lightly to enfold, All that we would forgive, In childhood's hour; Its later power. To cast o'er sea and land. To wave above thy magic wand That stays — these are thy subtle ways, O Genius, that despair repays! 1897. OVERTURE ^ Well then to thoughts and chance poetic fancies, Such as they be, I would devote these leaves Made tender by the hand of friendship's tie, And dedicate at their first opening. To make some confidence beneath its clasp! 1897. ^ These lines referred to a person known to the author. ^ First written for the Spirit oj Love, but afterwards rejected, as a dedi- cation. LINES TO CONTE CARLO EMO ACCOMPANYING A PICTURE WouLDST thou receive these lines, good friend, That with my features I would send To thee, but yet with many a sigh That long drawn years have passed by. Ere I had vowed to lay my head, A' wearied, o'er Italians bed ? 1898. TOURAINE SOME YEARS AFTER VISITING IT Ah, fair Touraine! how wouldst thou hold my heart. As thy pale dreams, awakening joy, impart To my poor soul, that haunts the stones laid bare; And breathe again thine history-laden air! Sweet are thy groves and light, thy sunny skies; Happy each cloud that o'er their surface flies; 228 LINES WRITTEN AT VERSAILLES Graceful thy towers that toward the heavens arise, Crowning those jewels that the world would prize. 1898. LINES WRITTEN AT VERSAILLES IN THE PARK NEAR THE BASIN OF NEPTUNE Now would I wind my peaceful days Round these fair woods, these silent ways! For here pass'd Vanity has laid A crown of beauty o'er the head. An air of sentiment that dwells. In these now long deserted dells. Here courts and crowned women sang, And with their loves these echoes rang! 1900. LINES WRITTEN AT HAMILTON WHILE SEARCHING FOR A SUITABLE PLACE IN WHICH TO WRITE SOME POETRY I AM making a primary tour of inspection, To find some bucolic and kindly protection; To rest in the wood, in profoundest reflection; Or bathe me in Hamilton's gay predilection! Still homeless, in search of a house, I am seen Now disporting myself with a book on the green; Now tearing my hair for a rhyme to "between," Or refraining from thoughts — till I know what they mean! Yet the ways of a poet have some compensation. He 's poor; but his joy — 't is the world's com- mendation. Posterity honors, though never repays Half the care or the pain that he spends on his lays! Yet if fame he can hold at the end of his life, He will gladly espouse the fair Muse as a wife, And go down to his grave — though he starve by the way — With an happier heart than most men of his day! 1898. STONEOVER WRITTEN WHILE WANDERING THROUGH THE WOODS AT STONEOVER, LENOX I've found a bank where stones and sprays Of pattering water find their ways, Through woods and fields and pastures gay, Where man with nature seems at play; Through weeds and rushes that shall tell My secrets to the fairied dell. For here I pour my heart's delight. And with the sunshine take my flight. 1898. A WELCOME WRITTEN ABOVE THE DOOR OF A ROOM He who may enter this my shrine Shall share with me my cup of wine. And find warm welcome in the bowl. To cheer his heart and find my soul. 1898. EPITAPH TO A FALLEN TREE Full many a year of silent toil to-day Falls in an hour beneath the woodman's blow, And nature mourns as he the homeward way Of man, rejoicing to destroy doth go. 1898. THE INN^ An old, old Inn, Partly akin; Partly a legacy to win The passing traveller, weary, wise. To rest him here beneath the skies. A draught of ale, a drop of gin — What matters life ? The wheel doth spin; And we must end where we begin. 1897. ^ Lines writen upon the door of a room at the Groton Inn. THANKS TO AN OLD WOMAN ^ I SAT within this hall, to rest (An ancient house that Time hath blest): Thanks, kindly mistress; may good cheer And God be with thee many a year! 1897. UNREQUITED LOVE Love that is unrequited, or untuned By honor's voice, or where the heart is given In holiest form, yet finds but paltry seed Sown on the highways of the lighter sort. Were best returned to that high shrine from whence it came. And death dealt out to those that toy with life. 1899. * Written to the mistress of an old house, on receiving some hospitality. BRIDAL FANFARE Ding, dong, wedding bells, Ring wherever Hymen dwells! Away, away! Arise the day, When happiness the God foretells! 1898. ^^^^^w^1^,^^'"^\.v^^.He > COUPLETS OTIS WRITTEN ON THE DOOR OF A ROOM AT OTIS, AFTER COMPLETING THE "SPIRIT OF LOVE " Here have I passed inspired days, With Poesy's art and peaceful ways. SORROW Sorrow, some note of future joy shall bring, To harbinger th' approach of early spring. JOY But joy some pang of sorrow still retains. That pierces half the pleasure that remains. 1898. COUPLETS 235 WEALTH Ah, but the power of wealth deters mankind From many a thought of nature he might find! ART AND POVERTY Art unto poverty her face must turn, Herself create, the world her effort spurn! 1902. LOVE Give me but love, ideal, undeterred; And to the heavenly sphere my soul is stirred! WORK Not in this world may man find fairy bowers : By work alone shall he attain his powers. SUCCESS Claim but success, and count it all thine own. The world shall follow, and the gods atone. 1902. 236 COUPLETS POETRY The art Divine, the highest thought of man: Woo it, aHke possess it if you can. PAINTING Give unto Painting beauty, strength subhme; Color to thoughts that from the soul shall climb. SCULPTURE ^ Carve me the marble statue of the Greek: Something divine, although it may not speak ! MUSIC The melodies of Nature, knov^n to Pan, Revealed, attuned, attributed to man. 1902. ^ Variation : Carved out of marble, statues by the Greek ; Something divine, that needs but life to speak ! ► LETTERS IN VERSE A LETTER ^ to mrs. p and mrs. b- Dear Mrs. P and Mrs. B A tale of woe is this, from me : Music, our Muse, revered, divine. That cheereth when our hearts repine, FHes from my presence; and despair Fills now my soul — and tears my hair! Picture my misery, noble friends. When the inspired Orpheus sends His sweet sounds — softer than the air Of summer — wan with ceaseless care, I still remain without his groves. Filled with pale imageries and loves! In this sad mood from cares I flee. To those whom I had thought would be Fair Consolation and Repose From these dark, self-abandoned woes. * This letter, written to two ladies celebrated not only for their wit but for their musical talents, was a humorous request that they should play to the writer some of the music of Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach. 240 LETTERS IN VERSE May I then once but lightly tread Your hill, and there my soul re-wed To Music, and my heart to joy. As you your wondrous arts employ. Ah, let me one short hour recline. While you pour forth those sounds divine. That turn our shadows into light. Destroying phantoms of the night. Long have I wished to list awhile To those whose sounds the hours beguile. Long have I tried to shower in vain Light fancies over flattery's train. Long have I lived, but to decline In poesy's favor and repine! Long have I suffered; now I pray That I may hear these Muses play! Beethoven sounds grave nature's horn. Mozart throws light o'er pathways worn. Bach hath dehghted ears grown cold. Pass but once more some passage old. Ah, noble Muses, thus you see A suppliant kneeling — little me — Thirsting but for a favor'd hour To waft my soul from tree to tower. Hearts are not cold beneath such grace. LETTERS IN VERSE 241 Souls have shone through the passing face. Notes sound within us; as without Music shall melancholy flout. Play but once to these eager ears: Then shall my Muse dispel vain fears. Let verse thus advocate my whim; And gratitude mine eyes shall dim. 1898. A LETTER to a lady, after missing an appointment for church My dear Miss D Admonish me! I woke to-day, long after eight. Crying aloud, "Too late, too late!" For thus so truly Morpheus arms His guards, that he perforce becalms The senses — and religion's air, That would to church with lady fair. What shall I say, or write, or do. To be forgiven now by you ^ Sleep is but Nature's homely law; 242 LETTERS IN VERSE And man was made with many a flaw. Then, if we live, we are but human, Forgiveness doth belong to woman! Now, since upon my bended knee, Repentingly, I fain would be Still earnest, though asleep I lie. Pray pass my misdemeanor by. 1898. A LETTER sent on christmas eve, with an ode to anacreon Dear Mrs. R and dear Miss C These lines of rather faulty knowledge (Acquired nor at school nor college), Congratulations bear from me. Ringing a merry Christmas chime. They carry with their tune a rhyme. Not worthless, and not yet subHme! They fly from country into town, And seek at last to gain renown For one whose pile of growing songs Depict hfe's many joys or wrongs. LETTERS IN VERSE 243 Full many a time I 've sought to find Something, around your hearts to wind. But now I send this tiny ode (To fair Anacreon's fancy owed), Produced far from your genial board, Yet thinking of its generous hoard. Prithee, dear ladies, take these lines. And may they mingle with your wines. Upon them cast one fleeting look. And, better still — just read my book! I've carried to these wooded dells Of Sudbury's slope, a thought that dwells,^ And sinks in memory's softer eyes. Like to ambrosia from the skies. May the new year its happiest days Bring to these hostess' of my lays. Then, were there pleasure more than meet To join with viands, than to treat Our souls to gentlest wit the while. Or Epicurus to beguile .? 1899. ^ This letter was written from Longfellow'*s famous Wayside Inn, im- mortalized by him in the Tales of a Wayside Inn. It is situated at South Sudbury, near Boston. 244 LETTERS IN VERSE A LETTER TO THE POET BUTTERWORTH (^Written at Christmas time from the Wayside Inn') Dear Friend, now many weeks I 've waited (My thought of you not yet abated), To hear your footsteps o'er the floor. That creaks and bends about my door. That echoes many a soul now gone,^ And many a deed by hero done! Indeed, this Inn has not yet seen Your form since in it I have been. And yet your spirit haunts the room. Where you had promised once to come. Then take these words that wish you well; For many an idle tale I 'd tell. My first-born child — a book — I send. Ere the New Year a moon may bend. I pray you keep it near your heart, 1 When writing these lines the author was occupying a room at the Way- side Inn, used by Longfellow. The Inn was the haunt of many famous men, including Emerson, Hawthorne, and others. LETTERS IN VERSE 245 And let your favor find some part; Coming too late for Christmas eve, Yet at your door good cheer 't would leave. May Time his blessings to you show, And to your soul some joy bestow! 1899. A LETTER TO AN UNCONSCIONABLE FLIRT Fair damsel, bathed in beauty's smile. Wherewith the playful hours beguile In coquetry their light possessor. Hie to your guardian or confessor! Yet, in captivity your eyes Play havoc with your swains, and sighs Too deep for happiness reveal The gentle agony they feel. Then would I wisely hold without This charmed circle — little doubt. With what sincere regard I flee — Your friend, but not your swain to be ! I cannot, will not come to tea. Then pray forgive this frank admission. 246 LETTERS IN VERSE Let wisdom grant its own decision, And keep me from this false position. How many stalwart friends have I, Now sick of love, content to die, Their lives despoiled of happiness; Yet not allowed one small caress! How many swains are wounded, hurt, By an unconscionable FHrt! Then take from man his fairest gift. The love that should his soul uplift. The fullness of his life's desire; And leave him, hapless, to expire! Not this for me, fair careless dame! My life is far too dull and tame For such gay birds with plumage bright. Who find Despair a pleasing sight. 'T is well enough to gaze afar. And watch the glimmer of thy star. Go forth, to revel in the air, With those that love yet do not care. 1902. Printed at the Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass,, U.S. A, IN PREPARATION The following volumes to appear successively when complete, uniform with " The Spirit of Love and other Poems." Love Sonnets. This volume is expected to be ready for publication during 1907. Odes and Elegies. About one half the number of these poems have already been written. The remainder, it is ex- pected, will be completed in time for publication during 1908. Dialogues and Satires. It is hoped that this volume will be complete and ready for publication in 1909. n DEC 5 1906