HARMONIES M.A.OeWOLFE HOWE Class JH^^£Xr Book Qss^Hs GopightD". <)0<^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. HARMONIES A Book of Verse HARMONIES A BOOK OF VERSE M^A^De WOLFE HOWE HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON AND NEW YORK • THE RIVERSIDE PRESS CAMBRIDGE 1909 1 0* COrVRIGHT, 1909, BY M. A. DE WOLFE HOWE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Published October iQog ^/ / ©GI.A25I2 NOTE A portion of the following collection is taken from the writer's previous volume, Shadows. For permission to re- print the verses which have appeared in periodicals acknow- ledgments are gratefully made to the various publishers. CONTENTS PAGE The Song to the Singer 2 Harmonies 3 Laus Dionysi 5 Finalities I. The Ambush IS II. The Last Enemy i6 The Valiant i8 For the Night 20 Distinction 22 Of Elizabethan Poets 22 The Unseen Panoply 23 The Lark Songs 25 A Birthday Verse 27 The Play 28 Proportion 30 The Sea Voice 32 The Evangel 34 Unconqiiered 36 The Helmsman Z1 viii CONTENTS By the Shore 38 Flags at Half-Mast 41 The Death 42 The Orchestra 44 The First of Spring 47 Weeping Willows 47 Interpretation 48 The Horizon at Sea SO The Field-Day SI '' Hoar-Frost like Ashes " S4 Winter Beauty S4 A Tree S5 Goldenrod 58 Revelation 58 Fire of Apple-Wood 69 Broken Stillness 61 Before the Snow 62 Song 63 Bitter-Sweet 64 The Blind 65 Giving and Keeping 66 A Treasure House 67 A Sermon 68 CONTENTS ix At the Heart 70 The Headsman 71 The Field of Honor 73 The Physician 74 Geography 75 Lesbians Sparrow 77 "Whom the Gods Love" 79 A Gala Day 79 Investigation 80 The Last Act 82 After All 83 The Travellers 84 "Where It Listeth'' 86 A Winter Elegy 87 The Waiting Deeds 89 The Sunrise 91 For E. W. H. The Abiding Voice 95 Returned 97 Fourscore 99 The Presence 100 The Inner Chamber 104 HARMONIES THE SONG TO THE SINGER They will not know who read and sing What you and I know who have known How fair I was that day of spring I hade you mould me for your own. These words which half reveal my soul Are how much more to you and me I Pellucid beauties, clear and whole, Behind, around them all we see. Above this faltering tune that tells The measure I must walk within, For us a sweeter music wells — The magic strain that should have been. Yet this is better than to die, And you had joy of me one day ; Then you are mine, and yours am I — Who likes us not may go his way. HARMONIES Strange Instrument of many strings For men to play on, slaves and kings, Let me but keep thee, Life, in tune, That fall what may, by night or noon. Still in the heart shall sing for me One clear and constant melody. Too oft the clamor and the strife Of living quench the notes of life; Too oft they lose their customed way, In alien sequences to stray. Yet ever stealing back, they fall Into the cadence sought through all. Then grief and gladness, love and pain Blend all their harmonies again; HARMONIES The heavens uplift a shining arch Spacious above the souFs brave march : // / but keep thee, night and noon, Ever and truly, Life, in tune — Strange instrument of many strings For slaves to play on, and for kings. LAUS DIONYSI (For Music) Chorus: Men^ Women, Boys SPRING ON THE LAND Spring on the vineyards of Attica ! Spring on the land, All the dear land of the Hellenes loved of the sun! The god Dionysus immortally breathes his com- mand, And the bars of the prison of winter dissolve, and are gone! He hath slept — he awakes; he stirs on the hills — he is free, And the blood at the bountiful heart of the earth throbs again; 6 LAUS DIONYSI Blue is the sky overhead and blue is the sea, And green roll the billows on laughing valley and plain. The sap, to the uttermost tendrils, is quick in the vine; It shall creep, it shall mount, till the spheres of delight take form; They shall blush, they shall swell, — and their blood flowing red in the wine Shall be one with the life-blood of men, all vibrant and warm. Who but thee, Dionysus, hath guarded the vine- yards at first? Their fruit at the last shall be turned to thy kingly employ; LAUS DIONYSI 7 And cool at the lips of sorrowing mortals athirst Flows ever thy chalice of kinship and freedom and joy. Chorus: Women THE BIRTH OF DIONYSUS Semele, a woman, bore thee: We, her mortal sisters, know All she won and suffered for thee — All her ecstasy and woe. lo Bacche, lo Bacche, Daughters of the sun-kissed grape Joy nor anguish may escape. Semele besought her lover: " Zeus, effulgent king, draw nigh ! All thy splendor now uncover As to Hera throned on high ! " LAUS DIONYSI lo Bacche, lo Bacche, Daughters of the mystic vine Ever crave a heavenly sign. "Semele, I come." And round her Blazed a glory, lightning- torn. Blinded, stricken, dead, they found her Yet was Dionysus born, lo Bacche, lo Bacche, Daughters of the mortal race Dying still to life give place. Child of Semele, we sing thee Hymns of holy mysteries; Nature's next of kin we bring thee Earth's eternal sympathies. LAUS DIONYSI lo Bacche, lo Bacche, Daughters of the soul's desire Joyful guard thy death-lit fire. Chorus: Men THE TOKENS OF DIONYSUS By the cup at thy leathern girdle, For the draught that sweetens toil. Thou art brother to all the brethren That conquer the stubborn soil. For thou hast yoked to our service The sun, the night, and the rain; And thy grateful vinesmen pay thee With toll of sweat and pain. That the wine of the victors' vintage May gush from the barren sod Thou sealest thy sons, the chosen ones, To follow the victor-god. 10 LAUS DIONYSI By the fawnskin on thy shoulder, Got with the price of blood, Thou art one with the creature kindred Of thicket and field and wood. But the comrades of the forest Must fall at thy children's will When the lust of blood is on them, The passion of man to kill; For the spell of a savage fury Reigns where the brutes have trod, And ever thy sons, the chosen ones. Must follow the victor-god. By the bull's horn at thy forehead The Chosen share thy might — Lusty of limb and fibre. Framed for the hard-won fight. By the pledge of the fertile pine-cone That crowns thy wreathed staff LAUS DIONYSI ii With the token of life's renewals, Men fling at Death their laugh : O'er all his conquests conqueror, Thy feet with triumph shod, Thou sealest thy sons, the chosen ones, To follow the victor-god. Chorus : Boys THE WINE OF YOUTH With shout and song and Bacchic cry Thy worshippers go reeling by. Their lips all dyed with ruddy juice. Their tattered goatskins flying loose. Wild creatures from the coverts come To join the rout with antics dumb, And man and satyr mingled seem Like some mad figment of a dream. Women with streaming locks unbound 12 LAUS DIONYSI Whirl tempest-like thine altars round; For men with eyes of roving fire The sacrifice flames high and higher. The grape, the grape! on every tongue Its praise and thine together sung! And we — the youngest-born of earth, O youngest of immortal birth, Need yet no draught of autumn wine To bring our hearts in tune with thine. We press no grape to drink our fill Of exaltation : ours to thrill From heart to prickling finger-tip With wine that staineth not the lip, The wine of youth, the wine of youth : — Who drink it need not seek thy truth; 'T is theirs unasked — a heavenly flood, Wine of the young heart's leaping blood! LAUS DIONYSI 13 Chorus: Men, Women, Boys SPRING IN THE HEART Spring in the heart, Eleutherios, highest of names ! The bonds of the spirit are broken; the prisoned go free! Mortal to mortal, emancipate, joyous, proclaims Spring in the heart, Dionysus, springtime from thee ! Fettered of darkness and cold lay the children of men, — For vision a dimness, the soul but a perishing slave, — Till the light and the warmth of thy being spread earthward, and then — Then what a glamor and glory thy godhead out- gave ! 14 LAUS DIONYSI Eyes that were lustreless shine with all beauty's delight, Flashing to grace and to color their signal, their gleam; Murmurs of song thrill sweet on the soundless night, Music of reeds and the wind on a magical stream. Lips that were dumb break forth in thy passionate praise. For spring in the heart, Dionysus, is light to the blind ; The ways of the spirit of song, love and life are thy ways — Flame of the fires of youth at the heart of man- kind! FINALITIES I THE AMBUSH Sudden turnings of the trail, Fading footprints, clues that fail — What may not these portents mean When the Foe is all unseen, And each fated pioneer Fares along the grim frontier? Lurking somewhere, left or right, Near the pathway, safe from sight. In his ambush subtly laid, Stands the patient, hostile Shade. Come you marching like a kingj Like a craven loitering, 1 6 FINALITIES Still the unconquerable Foe Waits your coming: forward go. Thus along the grim frontier Fares each fated pioneer. n THE LAST ENEMY For my destined last defeat Naught of mercy I entreat; Only borne to earth and faint May I fall without complaint; But, dear Foe, for them I love All thy mercy would I move. Torture not their end with vain Long vicissitudes of pain; Though they feel thee lurking near, Let their brave hearts laugh at fear FINALITIES 17 Then bestow thy sweetest gift, Smiting merciful and swift. Yet — yet may the stroke be stayed Till at evening, undismayed. They shall seize the vision far Of one reassuring star ! Foe no longer, friendly death, So thy horror vanisheth. THE VALIANT Not for the star-crowned heroes, the men that conquer and slay, But a song for those that bore them, the mothers braver than they! With never a blare of trumpets, with never a surge of cheers. They march to the unseen hazard — pale, patient volunteers ; No hate in their hearts to steel them, — with love for a circling shield, To the mercy of merciless nature their fragile selves they yield. Now God look down in pity, and temper Thy sternest law; From the field of dread and peril bid Pain his troops withdraw ! THE VALIANT 19 Then unto her peace triumphant let each spent victor win, Though life be bruised and trembling, — yet, lit from a flame within Is the wan sweet smile of conquest, gained with- out war's alarms, The woman's smile of victory for the new life safe in her arms. So not for the star-crowned heroes, the men that conquer and slay. But a song for those that bore them, the mothers braver than they! FOR THE NIGHT Give me of all thy weariness, O day! Let body, mind, and spirit so be spent That when death's herald-brother, sleep, is sent, Resistless, I may yield me. to his sway Till the black silence lulls me to content. Then let the dark fall like a total shroud, And fold me in till day again is bright. Not lifting with the gray retreat of night. To leave me lying mute before the crowd Of gliding shapes that steal upon my sight. Dread ghosts are they of all my deeds misdone And words unspoken; shield my wakeful bed From hours of dawn when most they rear their head, To whisper me of ungrasped moments gone, To mock my impotence now all is sped. FOR THE NIGHT 21 Nor give me dreams, for they will lead my feet To walk in paths wherefrom I needs must turn For streets of day; and though in sleep I spurn Their semblances, and vaguely scoff the cheat. Yet when the parting comes, the heart will burn. Nay, as if under Death's dark still caress, New courage silently would I attain To fight the new day's fight — and not in vain. If from its hours I win fresh weariness, To make me ready for the night again. DISTINCTION The village sleeps, a name unknown, till men With life-blood stain its soil, and pay the due That lifts it to eternal fame, — for then Tis grown a Gettysburg or Waterloo. OF ELIZABETHAN POETS Our later singers vaunt their new- turned lays, Doubling, they say, the world's poetic store; We turn to pages writ in Shakespeare's days, And lo ! the songs have all been sung before. THE UNSEEN PANOPLY He is dead — the towering chief, And the world must say farewell With the grandeur of public grief, With pageant and chant and knell, With the heavy fragrance of flowers, And the lingering march of those Who would hold the headlong hours When eternity presses close. Thus for the soul far sped Let his ashes honored be, For the master of men is dead, And but once come such as he. As he sank, an infant's breath Flickered and paused and ceased; To serve at the rites of death 24 THE UNSEEN PANOPLY Came father, mother, and priest. Where were the stately show, Dirge and garlands and pall? Where was the pomp of woe ? — Two hearts enwrapped it all. No echoing word was said. There was naught for the world to see; But the first-born child lay dead. And but once come such as he. THE LARK SONGS It was not thou alone I heard, First lark that sang from English skies, And to mine ears seemed less a bird Than chorister of Paradise. Full sweet from heaven thy music fell, Yet with it came two voices more, Two songs that blent with thine to tell The praise I knew of thee before. Thy truth to home and heaven sang one — And Wordsworth's note serene and strong, With earth and sky in unison, Made of thy flight itself a song. The other blither strain I caught Bore never a message but "Rejoice" — 26 THE LARK SONGS Song of thy very song, methought, Exultant with thine own glad voice. And unto this, I knew not how, Rose answer from the sons of men : " The world is listening, Shelley, now, As thou didst listen then." A BIRTHDAY VERSE How fierce the storm that starless night When she put forth alone ! Watching through tears that quenched my sight, I paced a shore unknown. But oh, when morning broke, and day Smiled up across the tide, Here in the harbor safe she lay, Her rescue by her side ! THE PLAY Through countryside and teeming towns The troupes of heroes, trulls and clowns, Captains and dames of high degree. Live out their farce, their tragedy. Half players in this world-wide show, Half lookers-on, 't is ours to go Bewildered, wondering what the scene And all its pageantry may mean; Crudely commingled, bad and good. Nothing complete, naught understood. Are we then doomed till death to gaze Distraught on life's chaotic plays? Are there no spectacles more fair ? Yes, in those blest dominions where The flying strands of life are caught THE PLAY 29 By magic, and by art are wrought To fabrics for the still delight Of eyes that shine with spirit sight. Here from the soul spring questionings Straight to the inmost heart of things; Here all the sons of Shakespeare dwell And all the daughters of Rachel. To every baffled fugitive From life's disorder still they give Laughter and tears — and grace to see The truth in life's epitome. PROPORTION There rose a star above the hill Across the bay; Through the night-spaces vast and still Shone the great ray; Beneath it glowed a lesser light By mortal lit, Yet through the dark a path as bright Led back to it. Here in the day a bird flies by, Above the trees; On other vision bent, mine eye Unheeding sees. Was it a distant eagle's wing That clove the blue, PROPORTION 31 Or some near insect harvesting The honey's dew ? If eyes deceive, then let my soul See clear and straight; Through all appearance, part and whole Stand separate! Know, soul, what things are near, what fary Sift great from small; Seize, soul, — whate'er the visions are, — The truth in all. THE SEA VOICE Up from the harbor side, Over the city's midmost hush of night, Swells, like a flooding tide, The insistent voice of some great ship, Deep-throated, as a man of might. Calling, perchance, new greeting to the land Now safe at hand; Or it may be with bugle at her lip, Seaward she flings the first far-reaching cry Of that vast speech of hers, whereby She sounds her way from strand to strand. Through ocean's fog and storm and mystery. Housed safe ashore, deep down Beneath the mountain clamor of the town, Never by day comes clear to me THE SEA VOICE 33 That rough old voice of the sea. Only in chance-caught silences men hear, As if by night, the ages' tale, — All are but dwellers by a shore. Mariners waiting their command to sail Forth on the uncharted sea each must explore. So strange a sea, so near. THE EVANGEL The songs of Christmas had not ceased Upon the New Year's air When first from realms unknown released Her spirit sought our care. And 'mid the watch with hope and dread Hark! in the dawn-light dim A child's voice in the room o'erhead Wakes with a crooning hymn. While shepherds watched their flocks by night. All thoughtless sings the boy ; — Shall lisping lips foretell the flight Of fear, the flood of joy ! Fear not — still hear the herald sing The treasured words of old; THE EVANGEL 35 Glad tidings of great joy I bring — The ancient truth is told ! For now the first small plaintive cry Of life stirs with the morn, And heaven to earth again draws nigh — To us a child is born. Thus came the Child of God to earth; And since the world began An angel song for each dear birth Rings in the heart of man. UNCONQUERED High o'er the city's roofs a storm-blown gull, Driven landward from the sea, Battles against the winds without a lull, Yet inland farther, ever back. Helpless is tossed with flying rack; But, messenger of constancy to me, I joy to see him facing ocean still, — As beaten souls through storm and night May changeless face the hidden light By heaven-sent power and strength of steadfast will. THE HELMSMAN What shall I ask for the voyage I must sail to the end alone? Sununer and calms and rest from never a labor done ? Nay, blow, ye life-winds all; curb not for me your blast. Strain ye my quivering ropes, bend ye my trembling mast. Then there can be no drifting, thank God ! for boat or me, — Eager and swift our course over a living sea. Mine is a man's right arm to steer through fog and foam; Beacons are shining still to guide each farer home. Give me your worst, O winds ! others have braved your stress; E'en if it be to sink, give me no less, no less. BY THE SHORE Town-bells over the land, Fog-bells over the sea; On the beach between in the mist I stand, And each bell calls to me. Out of the fog I hear : "Come, I am cool and sweet; My veil shall wrap thee away from fear, My paths shall rest thy feet. " Come, as the ship that came Into me on a morn of gray; Follow it, naming Love's dear name, And find what it bore away. "Find? Yes, so it may chance; Yet come for the respite's sake ; BY THE SHORE 39 Enough that I pledge you my ocean's trance And oblivion — come, and take ! " And the land-bells ring me: "Here, Here are the fixed and true; We ring for the lifted mists, the clear, Sure noons of gleaming blue. "Out into the day we call You and your peers, like men, Girt as ye are, to win and fall, And falling to win again. "Strength is yours for a shield; Take heart, and grasp it fast! Come, and bear from the hard-fought field The guerdon of love at last!" 40 BY THE SHORE On the beach in the mist I stand, And voices are calling me, — Town-bells over the land. Fog-bells over the sea. FLAGS AT HALF-MAST But yesterday the winds of hope Took heart of every banner high, And sped across each peopled slope And port of ships beneath the sky. Now to the colors drooping low The winds creep heavily, and pass, Bearing a weight of public woe; Alas for yesterday, alas! THE DEATH I SHUDDER not when back I bend My thought on life's first painful breath ; Nor will I tremble for the end — The last is only death. To fear this death would shame my birth, Yet lowers a death I fear to die — Even before our inn, the earth, Has place for me to lie. It shall overtake me when the face Of spring or winter speaks no word, When wind and water stir apace And naught but sound is heard; When walking in the silent wood I find no spirit breathing there, THE DEATH 43 No presence in the solitude Else spreading everywhere. It shall befall when, deaf to hear And dumb to speak what heart tells heart, Through one long winter of the year I fare from friends apart; When noble music, tale, or deed Warms not the blood to swifter flow, When numb alike to art and need In dull content I grow : — This were the dread and inmost fate, And burial were the end thereof. Should dearth of loving, known too late, Lose me the way to love. THE ORCHESTRA Upon the mountain's morning side The players, all in feathered coats, On tree-tops swing, in thickets hide, And sound preliminary notes. The violinists here and there Tune all their many strings unseen; Long sloping tones are in the air, With pizzicato bits between. Hark ! 't is a flute's roulade so near That revels gay and unafraid ! And there ! the clarinet rings clear Its mellow trill from yonder glade. The gentle tappings of a drum Sound where the beeches thinner grow; THE ORCHESTRA 45 Nearer a humorist is come Upon his droll bassoon to blow. And now a 'cello from afar Breathes out its human, dim appeal — A voice as from a distant star Where mortals work their woe and weal. Then down a sylvan aisle I gaze, And to my musing sense it seems A leader mounts a log, and sways His baton like a man of dreams. And here behold a marvel wrought ! For marshalled in a concord sweet The blending fragments all are brought To tune and harmony complete. 46 THE ORCHESTRA Is it a masterpiece that men Have heard before — and found it good ? Is this the Rheinland o'er again? Am I with Siegfried in the wood? Nay — for this priceless hour 't is mine To share with Nature's audience A symphony too rare and fine For skill of human instruments. Leader, what music hast thou stirred! Players, still heed him every one ! And God be thanked for every bird That sings beneath the May-day sun ! THE FIRST OF SPRING What jingling tumult spans the air From where the brook runs swift and bright? The host of hylas piping there, Or winter's sleigh-bells faint with flight? WEEPING WILLOWS The first to don the green at winter's death, Last, ere he lives again, to lay it by, — Like tears are ye, that spring with man's first breath. And loyally attend him till he die. INTERPRETATION These gentle lines of Nature's face Are like a living face I love, And keen mine eyes have grown to trace What signs soe'er across it move. To stranger eyes a peace serene Broods over all, from east to west; For them 't is as a painted scene; For me it quivers with unrest. Now on the water something stirs — A sail, a breeze, a flotsam thing; Now from the point of junipers The birds fly out on seaward wing. Slow creatures o'er the pasture stray, The shadows up the hillside run; INTERPRETATION 49 And lo ! through all the changeful day The miracles of wind and sun. The signal colors of the year Are mine to watch with heedful eye; The gradual seasons drawing near Claim vigilance and constancy. Unseen or clear the changes fall, And Nature's face that seems so still Is full of motion mystical And boding signs for good or ill. But ah ! the spirit hid within — When shall I learn its ways to trace ? The subtler skill when shall I win, And learn to read that living face? THE HORIZON AT SEA A LINE inexorably straight, In larger truth, a girdling ring, Fixed either way as firm as fate, And always onward beckoning; Clear-cut and far, or near and blurred, As powers of sun and cloud decree. By these thy provocations stirred, We seek the farthest mystery. Emblem of boundaries strictly set, Emblem of venturous search and hope, Circled by thee can man forget His limitation and his scope? THE FIELD-DAY A YELLOW banner first was seen Where every willow stood, Long, long before a hint of green Had touched the hillside wood. Then, as if autumn had come back, A glow of red returned To all the maple branches black. Whereon a dark fire burned. "Now strike your bleak and shivering tents!'* The signals gave the word. "Form, companies and regiments!" And all the army stirred. The marching orders of the year Were thus proclaimed at last; 52 THE FIELD-DAY The field-day of the spring was near, The winter bivouac past. In suits of green they decked them out, Like Robin Hood's brave band; The May winds rallied with a shout, The warm sun lit the land. The orchard trees must lead the van With banners pink and white; And so they gathered clan by clan. And formed their lines aright. Then was the great commander heard, And the order came to march; And music fell from every bird Beneath the heavens' high arch. THE FIELD-DAY 53 From street and lane and park and field, From road and hill and shore, The great green army wound and wheeled Across the world once more. "HOAR-FROST LIKE ASHES" An autumn field gave back the moon's wan smile; Each gazed at each, like lovers pale and fair; When morning came and wondering laughed awhile, An ashen glory lingered everywhere. WINTER BEAUTY Here stands a parable in all men's sight: 'Mid the green grass yon bowlder showed but gray. Now snows have clasped it in their frame of white, — 'Tis green with lichens, as the early May. A TREE Blown all one way I saw it stand Forth from its fellows of the wood That faced the sea-winds on the strand, A tall, unflinching brotherhood. Compassed by them, it might have grown In strength and symmetry like theirs, Not leaning landward now alone. Like one unfriended, bent with cares. The winds had shaped it, — so I mused. And gathered round I seemed to see The forms of creatures, storm-blown, bruised, Resting beneath their kinsman tree. Some were the men bent all one way By blasts of bitterness and wrong. 56 A TREE Doomed to a single-handed fray, Too weak to meet a foe so strong. The winds of poverty and loss Of all that man counts dear on earth — Whether the gold be gold or dross — Had shapen some to forms of dearth. And those there were whose backs were bowed By breezes they had thought all fair; Prospered and loved too much, they showed Distorted as the ugliest there. Alien to joy, to sorrow near. The subtler pains most subtly felt, All the sad company was here, Wherein misforming grief had dwelt. A TREE 57 And now the wind-bent tree is more Than tree unto mine inmost ken, For in its image by the shore I see the world-bent forms of men. GOLDENROD The dying summer, loath to lay aside Its customed many-colored robe of pride, With the last effort of a vanquished god, Skirts all its fields and roads with go!denrod. REVELATION Our air hangs full of dust specks seen by none, Until a shaft of light, as from a bow, Pierces its arrowy way from God's clear sun, And shows what stuff we're breathing here below. FIRE OF APPLE-WOOD The windows toward the east and north Rattle and drip against the storm. Though spring, without, has ventured forth, Only the fireside here is warm. Through wind-swept sheets of driven rain The ancient orchard shows forlorn, Like brave old soldiery half slain, With gaps to tell the losses borne. And fragments of the fallen trees Burn on the hearth before me bright. The fire their captive spirit frees; Musing, I watch it take its flight. In embers flushed and embers pale Sparkle the blooms of some far spring; 6o FIRE OF APPLE-WOOD Of bees and sunshine what a tale Told in a moment's flowering! How swift the flames of gold and blue Up from the glowing logs aspire! There yellowbird and bluebird flew, And oriole, each with wings of j&re. Now in the hearth-light — or the trees — Stirs something they and I have heard : Ah, is it not the summer breeze, Come back to us with sun and bird? Poor summers, born again — to die ! Quickly as they have come, they go. See, where the ashes smouldering lie, The orchard floor is white with snow. BROKEN STILLNESS Say you the gentlest note of Nature's speech Falls with the last faint raindrops of the spring, Or murmurs in the tide along the beach, Or in the leaves to slow winds answering? Gentle are these, but gentler, hark ! how low — The sibillant whisper of the falling snow. BEFORE THE SNOW The yellow flame of goldenrod Is spent, and by the road instead, The flowers, like smoke-wreaths o'er the sod, Hang burned and dead. The sumac cones of crimson show Beyond the roadside, black and charred; The trees, a bloodless, ashen row, Stand autumn-scarred. Dark are the field-fires of the year; Let all the flickering embers die! Without, the cold white days are near; Within are warmth — and you, and I. SONG Is it that I am poor in love? Nay, dear, unless it be My poverty, forsooth, I prove By love for none but thee. Is it through wealth of love that men Can see the first fires die. And give their hearts again, again? Then thrice a pauper I! But since to thee I 've given all That, rich or poor, was mine, I can abide whate'er befall The gift, dear, now 'tis thine. BITTER-SWEET They gave the garden Friendship's name, And planted many a seed, Unthinking, till a wizard came And did a wondrous deed. Where one seed lay he touched his wand, And high all else above. Sprang full-blown, fair all flowers beyond. The blood-red flower of Love. Then one said, " Come, be friends again," But ah! what magic cry Can bid the bloom grow back? Tis vain! The bittered flower must die. THE BLIND In empty days now left behind, I asked why Love was counted blind. No answer came until I learned What every lover has discerned : The blind — my answer ran — are reft Of one thing, but how much is left ! Touch, hearing, every quickened sense Thrills with an impulse thrice intense. And so when Love has filled the heart. Dull man awakes in every part; Undreamed-of potencies are rife Within him, crying "Sweet is life!" And if half-blindness be his lot, What matter — since he knows it not ? GIVING AND KEEPING Better than thy gift, dear friend, Rare and precious though it be. Is the thing thou couldst not send From thy inmost heart to me. Who am I to say thee so? Who but one taught long and well That from out the hand can go Naught that in the heart doth dwell? When to thee with gem or flower, I would offer most besides. Then, beyond a giver's power, Most within me still abides. A TREASURE HOUSE The poet's song, the painter's art, Are richest when they tell but part; We hear the sweetest player, and thrill With dreams of music sweeter still; The spring's first brightness is so dear Because we feel the summer near; — Shall I not love my love the more For keeping wealths of love in store? A SERMON Ten crimson drops of nature's blood, Ten berries of the alder tree, Saturday's gleaning from the wood, Went to the ch,urch with you and me. And while the learned doctor there His theologic missiles threw, These children of the sun and air Sat calm and heedless — so did you. But once I saw a small caress Steal from your finger to their cheek With messages of tenderness And sympathy no word could speak. A SERMON 69 'T was then I felt you kin to them, Pagan and nature-bred and free; And you and that bright woodland stem Preached gospels of your own to me. AT THE HEART The heart is but a narrow space For paltriness to find a place; But in its precincts there is room Sufficient unto bliss or doom. The certainties, so few, are there, The doubts that feed the soul with care; The passions battling with the will To guide their liege to good or ill; The saving grace of reverence. The saving hatred of pretence; The sympathy of common birth With all the native things of earth : The love begun with life, the love That years diminish not, nor move; And — more in such a narrow space ? — The image of a woman's face. THE HEADSMAN (On a picture found in an old country house) Covered with dust of years long dead, And hard beset by cruel chance, The painting and the girlish head Bear still the grace of ancient France. Look closer — yes — 't is poor Lamballe, The friend of royal Antoinette, Fair flower by Terror's fierce mistral Cut down untimely — fragrant yet ! Now the time-darkened eyes look out Through glass in broken forms grotesque. With curious cobwebs hung about In quaint festoon and arabesque. 72 THE HEADSMAN And one grim spider in his zeal Across the round white throat has made A straight line as of tarnished steel, In mocking memory of the blade. Dull emblem of oblivion wrought Where now my hand can brush it by — And thus a century is taught What once it was for her to die ! Picture and cobweb — ah, how vain On earth's remembrance yet to call! The sum of beauty and of pain, Spider and painter tell it all. THE FIELD OF HONOR Soldier and statesman fall no more Like Hamilton, slain in his pride; No sailor hero seeks the shore To die as great Decatur died; For honor's code of murderous lust Lies buried 'neath dishonor's dust. Now in the dark east waits the day Long prophesied, prayed, yearned for still, When angered nations shall obey God's law for men — thou shalt not kill. Then all the codes of blood shall cease, And fields of honor smile with peace. THE PHYSICIAN The lightning spark, the flowering field, The chemic lore of every land — All nature and all science yield Their tribute to his healing hand. These garnered wonders of the earth He carries to each home of pain. Where, through some spell of magic worth, His gentle strength brings hope again. And rooms of darkness grow to light. And life beloved gains yet a span. Hail him who stays the march of night, God's present minister to man ! GEOGRAPHY When you were once in Italy Its consecrated map Glowed like an ancient broidery Immune from time's mishap. And where you tarried for a space In fabled cities there, Each spot took on a passing grace That made the map more fair. The name of Florence shone as clear Beneath my curious gaze As if a Beatrice drew near To light our darker days. And Venice by the bridegroom sea Stood radiant as of yore; 76 GEOGRAPHY What wonder if its glow for me A nuptial semblance bore! In Rome's eternity of youth, 'Gainst every shock secure, I saw what things of love and truth May perish yet endure. So much for Italy : you turned New countries to salute, — The map became once more a spurned, Disreputable boot. LESBIA'S SPARROW « (From Catullus) Mourn, Goddesses of Love, and Cupids, mourn, And men of gentler mould where'er ye be; My sweetheart's sparrow hath been seized by Death — The sparrow, darling of my loved one's heart, Which she was wont to love more than her eyes; For he was sweet as honey unto her, And knew her as a maid her mother knows; Nor from her bosom was he fain to move, But hopping round about, now here, now there, He piped unto his mistress, her alone. And now along the darksome road he goes Where never step, men say, has yet turned back. Then ill betide you, wicked shades of hell. Which swallow up all lovely things ! So fair 78 LESBIA'S SPARROW A sparrow have ye borne away from her. The evil deed is done, alas ! Poor bird, It is thy fault that swollen eyes are red Through weeping, — that my loved one's eyes are red. "WHOM THE GODS LOVE" " Whom the gods love die young " ; — if gods ye be, Then generously might ye have spared to us One from your vast unnumbered overplus, ^ One youth we loved as tenderly as ye. A GALA DAY Men make them ready for the pageant bright With banners, robes, and panoply of cost, Yet cannot hold the rain-cloud of a night From that whereby the brilliance all is lost. INVESTIGATION There was a simple citizen Who read the news each day, And marvelled much that living men Their trusts could so betray. " Since all the world is steeped in sin, Were it not well," quoth he, "That some inquiries should begin At home, like charity?" And so this very simple man Put questions to himself. Though surely 't was a worn-out plan, Fit for a dusty shelf. He asked if he had ever bent To custom's smug control. INVESTIGATION 8i And made — 't was so expedient — Small rebates to his soul. Then how before all-searching eyes Would show his kindliest act? In what preservatives and dyes Were half his motives packed? Honor like his stood so secure That none could tempt it — still, Had he, with specious, subtle lure, Bribed never yet his will? Thus did the simple citizen Probe in his private court: The findings lie beyond our ken — He's published no report. THE LAST ACT If life 's a play — then what of us who sit Filling the boxes, balconies, and pit? How strange the drama, when not one of all Can keep his seat until the curtain fall ! Some stay the first act out, and some the second; Who see the fourth "old stagers" may be reckoned. But ere the last is ended, every one Takes up his cloak, and, looking back, is gone — Like poor suburbans hurrying for a train, Longing to see the end, alas ! in vain. AFTER ALL How shall the storm end? Thus, for me: — By night, with a west wind strong and free, Rolling seaward the clouds on high Like routed squadrons across the sky, Across the moon that shall change their gray To the silver-white of a mystic day; Rifts there shall be, and back, far back, In the depths of the blue so nearly black, A few sure stars like eyes shall shine And say, " Here the storms end, earth's and thine." THE TRAVELLERS Xhey made them ready and we saw them go Out of our very lives; Yet this world holds them all, And soon it must befall That we shall know How this one fares, how that one thrives; And one day — who knows when ? — They shall be with us here again. Another traveller left us late Whose life was as the soul of ours; A stranger guest went with him to the gate, And closed it breathing back a breath of flowers. And what the eyes we loved now look upon, What industries the hands employ, In what new speech the tongue hath joy, THE TRAVELLERS 85 We may not know — until one day, And then another, as our toil is done, The same still guest shall visit us, And one by one Shall take us by the hand and say, " Come with me to the country marvellous. Where he has dwelt so long beyond your sight. 'T were idle waiting for his own return That ne'er shall be; face the perpetual light, And with him learn Whatever the heavens unfold of knowledge infinite." Each after each then shall we rise. And follow through the stranger's secret gate, And we shall ask and hear, beyond surmise. What glorious life is his, since desolate We stood about the bed Where our blind eyes looked down on him as dead. « WHERE IT LISTETH" The wind is like a ravening beast to-night, Mad for its prey and howling down the trail; I hear without its baffled snarl and bite, And feel the shouldering of its fierce assail, Shaking the rooted walls with hideous din. And hoarse, as one with shouting, "Let me in!" Ah, ye who watch this night where sick men lie. Shelter their sleep as shrewdly as ye may ! So easily this blast that rushes by Might snatch a fitful breath and whirl away Into the blackness with it — on and on : "Whither," we cry, "oh, whither hath it gone?" A WINTER ELEGY (J. F. H.) To walk beside this winter shore Was not for his young feet; Of summer learned he all his lore, Smiling from life's wide-opened door, A summer world to greet. This icy channel's narrowed span 'T was not for him to know ; His current, widening as it ran, Still smoothly spreads as it began, Free from our frost and snow. Like sails of shallops overset, The floes of ice are borne Along a tide he knew not yet Whose boat no chilling blasts had met, Where Hope's brave flag is torn. 88 A WINTER ELEGY Now he is gone, I would not find These waters summer-fair, Girt round with meadows bland and kind; The rigors of the winter wind Better befit our care. Yet sometimes on the snow-wrapped hill A light at evening lies, Tender beyond the summer's skill : — What light, I wonder, fairer still, Gladdens his absent eyes? And sometimes, touched by winter's breath, I thrill with wakened powers. "Youth still is his," a whisper saith; "That searching spirit found not death, But life — more life than ours." I THE WAITING DEEDS (H. K.) Say not because the promised deed Dropped from his hand undone, His brow shall lack the laurel meed That conquerors have won. For pain stood baffled by the smile That marked him master still, And we who wished him strength the while Were stronger for his will. T is deed enough for some to be. Such deed his being was; And still of potent act is he The brave and gentle cause : 90 THE WAITING DEEDS The hearts that beat with his shall hold The rhythm his life hath set; With them through human paths untold His spirit marcheth yet. And past the threshold where he stood We see in cohorts dim The thousand waiting deeds of good — Now ours to do, for him! I THE SUNRISE Blow out the candle, day is come; The watchers need no other light Than that which floods the solemn room Where life is passing with the night. Across the smiling acres green, Across the point, the bay, the hills. Strong, like the soul that loved the scene; The tide of dawn the chamber fills. Blow out the candle — small his care Whose mortal light burns, ah! so dim; Haply his vision opens where The eternal sunrise shines for him. 92 THE SUNRISE Yes, day is bright about his bed, And night has vanished with his breath. Lo ! on his face, all shadows fled, The morning majesty of death. FOR E. W. H, THE ABIDING VOICE Once when you left me in a room alone, Sudden the world seemed void and black, So that my heart cried, "Were she gone, Gone, never to come back ! Some day, how will it be? What will remain for me ? " Then through the open door I heard Your gentle singing, as you stirred Li some unselfish task. And in my heart the answering song rang clear, " God bless her, always near." Now long miles spread between us, and I ask. Can we be sundered farther still ? These miles are naught, — Still I can feel your presence near, your song 96 THE ABIDING VOICE Still mingles with my thought To shame my fears of distant ill, And make my faltering courage strong : For listening here I know That when the miles stretch into infinite space, Beyond the scope of sense or sight. Upon my spirit's vision there will glow Sometimes the semblance of your face. And on my spirit's ear, attuned aright, Will fall your gentle singing, by heaven's grace Borne down to guide me groping in the night. Unable, but through you, to reach your place. (1898) RETURNED bo near she walked beside the stream That ever from the path she trod She watched the shining towers that gleam Above the citadel of God. And ever from the vision bright Her eyes were lighted with a ray That shed on us a heavenly light And glorified the common day. Till wandering by the very shore She entered once the shrouded bark, That ferries every mortal o'er, To cross at last the waters dark. Halfway it sped, then backward turned, And hearts that wept beside the strand 98 RETURNED With grateful joy unhoped-for burned When safe she came again to land. Nor was that nearer view for naught : Once more to earth when she was given, Back in her generous hands she brought Fresh lights and fragrances of heaven. (1904) FOURSCORE Yet is their strength then but labor and sorrow " Nay, not for all, not for the blest Whose strength it is to bring From out an antique day the best The ages gave to them whose quest Was with the gentle King. For bringing with them love and light And courage for new days, They arm a thousand for the fight, And fear no falling of the night On undiscovered ways. (1906) THE PRESENCE The vision seen from Patmos all may see : Prophets and poets draw their pictures clear. More strange the mystery that, beside God^s throne, Christ also dwells on earth. Where dwells He then ? These eyes that pierce the unseen may surely see What stalks or steals along our trodden ways. Where shall I seek, where find, the living Christ? Then hast thou sought where silent thousands kneel 'Neath immemorial arches heavenward wrought As with God's hand from His own forest aisles ? — Where incense folds and lifts the floating prayer, And music to the heart's cry lends a voice; Where listening ears drink in the word of God, Where wandering eyes rest on the changeless cross And every symbol of the gentle faith That made this Christian world the world it is ? THE PRESENCE loi There, to thy vision, o'er the multitude Hovers no form of Christ the Comforter ? A mystic shape ? Yes — there it broods indeed; Yet for a sign more intimate I yearn. Then hast thou marked the Doers of the Word, Women and men of every clime and tongue, Cribbed by no builded wall, no cramping name, Wearing no badge but service to their kind. Healing the sick and strengthening the poor. Moulding just laws and ruling righteously. Spending themselves till all be gladly spent With opening darkened windows to the light; Sharing the common lot of common men. But to such ends that round them day by day Heaven's kingdom spreads its earthly boundaries ? Mid all this soldiery, this countless host I02 THE PRESENCE Whose warfare is the victory of love, Moves not the Captain plainly to and fro ? Yes, surely He is there; yet in the press Of them that minister and them that need, One can hut hearken, " There He passed — and there'' ; One may not stand as he who doubted stood And marked, past peradventure, hands and side. Turn from the many; fix thy gaze on one, One for whose path His footsteps mark the way — For such a path must somewhere touch thine own ; — Look on the tokens of His presence there : Heed in the voice that last sincerity Which holds pure heart and speech in perfect tune ; Watch in the human eyes the loving look Of Him whose deeds of mercy still are done. THE PRESENCE 103 Again in human weakness see Him brave To bear the imminent cross, to walk in trust That Love encompasseth and guideth all, And so to walk in fearlessness and joy. Ever more like in outward semblance they Who move through years of inmost unison; So to His image hourly grows each one In whom the Christ His habitation makes, For not in creed or deed shines He so clear As in one radiant life aglow with Him; And daily for a sign shalt thou behold New Calvaries of self, and from its grave New resurrections of the living Christ. So neaTf and yet I sought Him far, — all hid Beneath a guise so plain I scanned it not ! Through all the seeming now His presence flames ; Nonv in the mortal flesh I feel the wounds. ..(1908) i '^ \y THE INNER CHAMBER Peace dwelt with her, and faith, and gentleness, And all things else that dwell with souls benign. Hath she not left these in some visible shrine Whereunto we may press In holy pilgrimages, to renew Our strength that had been weakness but for her ? Nay, there is naught for outward view; I may not open any door and say, " Here with these trappings of her mortal day Some living part of her is yet astir." This may not be, but reared within my heart A secret, inner chamber stands apart, All furnished forth with her. — There charity And justice side by side appear, Not as mere dreams of good. THE INNER CHAMBER 105 But as they stood Embodied in herself unchangeably: A charity that spread like shafts of light, Glowing with warmth and radiance near, Yet searching, reaching every lair of night; A justice, like God's mercy, fain to see In every soul an equal weight and worth, And, seeing, to withhold from none on earth The bread of love, the cup of sympathy. And here, the more to glorify the place With what she was. Are ancient firm beliefs in the old cause Of truth eternal, and, through heaven-sent grace, A smiling courage still by them to live. Here, too, is humor, warm and sensitive, Playing like a summer breeze Through open windows flooded with the sun. Tempering the air with all felicities Of true proportion. io6 THE INNER CHAMBER Hither I come for solace from the moil And emptiness without; And all about The signs of her — these and so many more ! • Blend as they blent of yore In aspirations deep And yearnings oft untold For them her inmost heart would ever keep Inviolate from hurt or soil. These thoughts of her like tapestries enfold My inner chamber, whence I turn again Refreshed, renewed to face the world of men. (1909) CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A NOV 8 1909 /COPY- OH.. TO CAT. OIV, NOV 8 11309 ^ I