V"^ o- \ 'Pi , //A . ;'*=' v LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. wl^fAt ®]^p. iop^rtj^i l|n. Shelf ...rJ?:A2^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. '^rra 7\ \ ^N^*'"^ \\\ '/&- N A( o^ ©- \ ^^•^ i/ — ^^ .(T^? 1\ C .^^-K^ 73 CHICAGO, NEW YORK, SAN FRANCISCO : BELFORD, CLARKE & CO, 1888. COPYRIGHT, BY BELFORD, CLARKE & CO. 1888. Donohue & Henneberry, Printers and Binders, Chicago, To My eMother. CONTENTS. MISCELLANEOUS. PAGE. After the Storm 109 Always Mine 25 A Defense 78 An Autumn Day 72 Better than I Could Ask or Dream 49 Communion 32 Completeness 45 Discontent 103 Enchantment 11 From a Far Country 112 From Barren Lands 58 From the H igh way s 21 Giving and Gaining 46 Her Eyes and Mine 57 Her Happier Lot 41 Inconsistency 89 Ingratitude 13 Invulnerable 98 If I had Known ... 80 In Any Land 47 In the Hammock , 69 V CONTENTS. PAGE. In the Shadow loi Lead Us Higher 83 Loss or Gain 60 Margaret 27 My Cup has Had Its Wine , 108 My Mask 117 Noblesse Oblige 99 One Day 30 Only an Hour Ago 17 Our Easter Day 39 Possibility 56 Recompense 19 Reconciliation 62 Repentance , 96 Second Sight^ 74 Strangest of All 95 " That Bit of Lace " 15 The Appointed Way 87 The Boundary 123 The Braver Way 75 The Dearer Dead 92 The Endless Questioning 114 The Fateful Years 125 The Garden of Long Ago 51 The Great Gulf 71 The Happier Doctrine 65 The Heaviest Cross 105 The Immortal Song 85 The Price 121 The Test 29 The Turn o' the Tide 63 CONTENTS. PAGE. The Unbidden Guest. 37 The Wine is Sweet, and the World is Fair 54 They Also Serve iig Too Late 68 Two Songs 107 Victory ....... 76 What Gain 35 Where God Writes Success m Wisdom 34. With Clear Vision , 81 ■via CONTENTS. IN MERRIER MOOD. PAGE. A Modern Minerva 130 Behind Her Mask 138 Hail and Farewell 1 34 High Art 12S In the Garden 153 IMetamorphosis ' , 146 ?vly Decision 155 The Ballade of the Baby 151 The Ballade of Light Housekeeping. 141 The Ballade of the Story-teller 126 The Ballade of the Unlearned Man 1^9 The Poet's Mail , 143 CONTENTS. ix LOVE SONGS AND SONNETS. PAGE. Ashamed 1S4 Auf Wiedersehen 204 A Fragment 194 A Thanksgiving 231 Dead 214 Do You Remember? 219 Eternal 240 Even Unto Death 224 Failure 222 Fisherman John and Fisherman Jack 199 For the Old Love's Sake 236 In Sleep » . .... 166 In Utter Want 188 In Vain 172 Jealousy ; 1S9 Lilacs 216 Love among the Lilies 1S5 Love's Meaning 193 Love's Wisdom 178 Mistaken 212 One Year Ago 203 Our New World 168 Renunciation , 209 Since Love hath Come 201 Still Waters 171 Stones for Bread , , 197 CONTENTS. PAGE. Storm-Strengthened 195 Sorcery 167 The Answer 196 The Bond of Pain 175 The Defender 1S2 The Eternal Bond 229 The Face She Turns to Me 160 The King. 238 The Perfect Gift 173 The Rose of a Dead June 227 The Source of Song o 158 The Sweetest Song 163 Through Time and Eternity 190 Unpossessed 179 Vivien 226 What Do I Wish for You ? 162 Why ?, , , , 207 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ENCHANTMENT. The sails we see on the ocean, Are as white as white can be; But never one in the harbor, As white as the sails at sea. The clouds that crown the mountains With purple and golden light. Turn to cold gray mist and vapor, Ere ever we reach the height. The mountains wear crowns of glory. Only when seen from afar; And the sails lose all their whiteness, Inside of the harbor bar. Oh, Distance, thou dear enchanter, Still hold in thy magic veil. The glory of far-off mountains. The gleam of the far-off sail! 12 MISCELLA NEO US. Hide in thy robes of splendor, O, mountain gold and gray ! O, sail in thy snowy whiteness, Come not into port, I pray. INGRA TITUDE. ij INGRATITUDE. Not in her open palm doth nature bear Her precious ores, her silver and her gold ; Not on her brow, nor on her garments' fold. Doth she with flaunting pride her jewels wear. But deep within the breast that makes no sign, She hides a world's desire, a world's delight; In silence calm and utter as the night. Waiting their day, the king's crown jewels shine. And not until her breast, with cruel blows. Is cut and torn, not till her gracious heart. By skill's persistent hand is torn apart. Doth she her royal opulence disclose. To every life that holds a secret vein Of wealth the great world needs is sorrow drawn As lightning to the tree, birds to the dawn. With all her servants following in her train. /4 MISCELLANEO US. Pale Want and Woe and heavy-footed Care, She bears upon that life, until, at last, As nature answers to the rending blast, The riches of the spirit are laid bare. Though gold and gems have neither flaw nor stain, And though life, grown a thing strong, grand and sweet, Casts sacred treasures at the world's glad feet, We raise no altars to the god of Pain. THA T BIT OF LACE. 15 " THAT BIT OF LACE.' I. Behind a little silken mesh of lace, That hides and yet reveals, I see her face ; The filmy web doth not obstruct my view; With softened grace her beauty shineth through; Eyes large and luminous, sweet lips aglow. Fair waving tresses on a brow of snow. So many charms the little net reveals, Can there be one I wonder it conceals ? So, wondering oft, a longing doth assail My very soul, to tear away her veil; So foolish ! Well I know her radiant face, Is all the fairer for that bit of lace. II. Behind a winning, baffling veil of pride, Intangible, yet real, her heart doth hide ; The subtle veil no single grace doth mar, Her truth and love shine through, yet doth it bar 1 6 MISCELLA NE US. My too audacious eyes; though many a day, I fain would tear the torturing thing away And see her soul. I will be wise ; who knows ? The bud hath beauty that the open rose Hath lost forevermore ; there is no room For sweet conjecture o'er a rose in bloom ; May be I love her more for that sweet pride, Behind whose strength her loving heart doth hide. ONL Y AN HO UR A GO. 17 ONLY AN HOUR AGO. Only an hour ago she spoke my name, And now the sweetest words that love can frame, Or harsh reproach, to her are all the same. 'Mid locks where yellow sunbeams find their kin, In the dear hand so pulseless and so thin, Over the heart so pure, so free from sin, I place these flowers for since she loved them so. She will be glad to take beneath the snow A little of their tender grace and glow. For when I saw her first a rosebud fair Lay in the meshes of her yellow hair; For memory's sake I place another there. Perhaps she knows — for there be those who say That this strange something that has gone avv'ay, Lingers awhile beside the cast-off clay. J 8 M ISC ELL A NE US. If this be true she knows the grief I feel ; Can she not find some way to break the seal ? Some way her loving presence to reveal ? But she lies still and cold and makes no sign, O, who this wondrous mystery can define ? Only a breath between her world and mine. They say she lives — I kneel beside the clay; They call her dead, yet living far away; O! what is life, and what is death, I pray? RECOMPENSE. ig RECOMPENSE. The earth gives us treasure four-fold for all that we give to its bosom ; The care we bestow on the plant comes back in the bud and the blossom. The sun draws the sea to the sky, O, stillest and strangest of powers, And returns to the hills and the meadows the glad- ness of bountiful showers. The mother regains her lost youth in the beauty and youth of her daughters. We are fed after many long days by the bread that we cast on the waters. Never a joy do we cause but we for that joy are the gladder. Never a heart do we grieve but we for the grieving are sadder. 20 M ISC ELL A NE US. Never a slander so vile as the lips of the willing re- hearser. And curses, though long, loud and deep, come home to abide with the curser. He who doth give of his best, of that best is the cer- tainest user, And he who withholds finds himself of his gaining the pitiful loser. The flowers that are strewn for the dead bloom first in the heart of the living. And this is the truest of truths, that the best of a gift is the giving. FROM THE HIGH W A YS. 21 FROM THE HIGHWAYS. I. Vice clad in silken garments walks the highways of the earth, And she tramples upon Virtue as a thing of little worth. She hath fame, and wealth, and honor, and is gar- landed with flowers, She is fair as morning sunshine, as the green earth after showers; She hath laughter and rejoicing, and the homage of men's eyes, And they kneel before her presence, prince and peas- ant, great and wise; She hath purple and fine linen, she hath gems upon her hair. Whose robe should be of sackcloth, whose crown should be despair. 22 M ISC ELL A NE US. She is strong in baleful beauty, and her smile is soft and sweet, And the helpless fall before her, in the palace and the street. And she weareth webs of luring for the weak, unwary feet. In her deadly, cruel kindness, in her smiling insolence. Her soft, sure grasp she placeth on the throat of In- nocence — Of Innocence and Weakness — and the anguish of their cries Is lost amid the laughter of her heartless votaries. She giveth tears for joy, and for light she giveth gloom, She makes merchandise of honor and defiles the hearth and home. II. And she says, Lo ! I am mighty, and I sit upon a throne. The great ones are my helpers and the world is all our own. FROM THE HIGHWA YS. 23 Though my soul be red with slaughter, yet my gar- ments show no spot, Men do my ready bidding, and the Lord God hath forgot. But in some mighty moment, when her heart is high and strong. The Lord sends his avengers with the whip and scourge and thong; With valiant hands that fear not, with hearts all un- dismayed, For the souls that she hath tempted, for the souls she hath betrayed ; For the desecrated hearthstones, for the hopeless souls that sit In the cruel gilded bondage of Love's loathsome counterfeit; They beat upon her strongholds, they discover all her shame. And she stands revealed in vileness, and men shud- der at her name. 24 MIS CELL A NE US. III. O noble, true defenders of the helpless and the weak, Strong be your hands for rescue, brave be the words you speak ! O ! cry aloud and spare not, though she sitteth on a throne. Though the great ones stand beside her and the world seems all her own ; Bid her know that God remembers, that, though Vir- tue suffereth long. Justice, tireless and eternal, follows fast the feet of Wrong. Bid her know though men defend her whom the world misplaces first, Man to manhood true and loyal, calls her evermore accursed. AL WA YS MINE, 2S ALWAYS MINE. You say the joy that has just come to me, To crown my life with glory and with grace Will perish, leaving but the agony Of loss in its dear place. And that 'twere better to forego the bliss, And so be spared the loss. I tell you nay: Because the night is coming, must I miss The brightness of the day? But yesterday the flowers and birds were here. To-day I watch the whirling, drifting snows; Nor am I saddened thinking of the dear Departed bird and rose. Give me the gorgeous skies, the sweet perfume Of flowers, aye, all the royal summer's charms, Though I must see her, robbed of all her bloom, Die in the winter's arms. 26 MISCELLA NEO US. I would not take your little negative Delights; I have no petty fear of death; Life is not worth the living, if to live Means just to draw the breath. No doubt my feet will tread the valley's ways, My eyes will dwell on lesser lower sights; But ah! they can not rob me — -those drear days- Of this day on the heights. MARGARET. ^7 MARGARET. Beauty she had not, neither place nor state; Not hers the gracious gifts that women prize, In learning of the schools she was not wise. She was not anything the world calls great. Yet, in the quaint old Southern city, where She lived and wrought, in polished marble set, Comrade of Jackson, Clay and Lafayette, Her statue rises clean and white and fair. Who was she, thus to win such comradeship? Who was she, thus to be immortalized With the beloved, honored, idolized Great names forever more on history^s lip? A woman who made bread, who at her stall Or by her bake-shop door sat day by day. Selling her wares in simple, honest way; A very humble woman — that was all. 28 MISCE LLA NE US. But everywhere the orphan children say, "She was our mother/^ and the city's poor Cry out, "^Twas she who blessed our hapless door/' While, from the past, the soldiers, blue and gray, Do speak her praise, and every noble cause Declares, "she was our helper ;'' every need Whispers, "she knew not any class or creed. But listened always to love's higher laws/' And so she died, and so the people set Amid their heroes — with a proud consent — This simple woman — crowned monument. And carved thereon the one word, Margaret. O, gracious city ! he who runneth reads Your pride in patriot fire, in martial fame; But in the place you give this humble name, You prove your faith in love's diviner deeds. THE TEST. 2g THE TEST. It looks a goodly ship; the favoring breeze Filling its sails; above, the cloudless sky, The peaceful sea beneath, no danger nigh; It is a goodly ship, but not by these 'Tis judged. Wait till the storm-king frees Its ministers — the v^inds, the waves, the shock Of mountain billows, and the treacherous rock Shall say if it be strong to ride the seas. Not till the heavy storms of life have sought Vainly to whelm ; not till the waves of wrong, Sorrow and loss, despair and doubt have fought For mastery; not till the siren throng In vain their all-entrancing wiles have wrought, Dare any soul to say: Lo! I am strong. JO MISCELLANEOUS. ONE DAY. It comes to all, this terrible "one day/' The day when all the world seems tempest-torn, And desolation on swift pinions borne, Makes all fair things its prey. You can remember when your one day came; To other eyes it was like other days, And you have walked since then the self-same ways, And never said his name. Yet the deep terror of that one day left You stricken as the lightning leaves the tree; Wrecked as the tempest leaves the ship at sea, Of every hope bereft. To you it came when bowed above the bed, You kissed unanswering lips and felt that all Glad things with her were lying 'neath a pall, And God himself seemed dead. ONE DA V. 31 And yours ? It was when with a sinking breath You read disloyalty in trusted eyes, Learning with unbelieving slow surprise, That there are sadder things than death. Your days have been all bright? If that be true, I am not sure that I am glad. I know Yours is the common heritage, and so Your dark day waits for you. 32 MISCELLANEOUS. COMMUNION. I sit beside my happy hearth, And yet in paths of dole and dearth, With you I wander o'er the earth. I look in eyes with love ashine, I join the dance, I taste the wine, I pray, and yet from song or shrine With you, dear Heart, in thought I go. In all your wand'rings to and fro. Where fierce suns shine and fierce winds blow. I feel the bitter storms that beat Upon your head; the rain and sleet, And all the thorns beneath your feet. I shiver with your cold, I weep Your tears, and while they say I sleep. With your dead dreams my watch I keep. COM AI UNION. J J With all your burdens do I cope, I pray your prayers, with you I hope, In all your darkness, love, I grope. I share with you all dread and dole; The waters of despair that roll Above you, overwhelm my soul. Your smallest choosing is my choice, In all your triumphs I rejoice, In all your songs lift up my voice. So on the sea or on the land, I stand in spirit where you stand. And in the spirit clasp your hand. 34 AIISCELLANEO US. WISDOM. She doth not flaunt her treasures in the face, Nor thrust them in the undesiring hand; Nor doth she at the imperious command Of swift, unthinking lips, unveil her grace. Who sees arigiii, the hidden spring may trace Where dull eyes see but wastes of barren land; So to the seeking souls that understand, Doth she disclose her blest abiding place. And, as the cooling spring, once found, doth rise With bountiful responsiveness to meet And bless the patient digger, so, at length. She doth her faithful followers recognize. And unto these alone yields up the sweet Eternal beauty of her truth and strength. WHA T GAIN? 3S WHAT GAIN? The woman across the way, The world knows not her name — She never hath dreamed of fame — She is fair as the flowers of May. She says, it were surely grand, That the songs one sings should go To the hearts of the high and the low, The length and breadth of the land. Sweet and blest it must be, To hear the voices of praise Come up from the world's wide ways, Because of such minstrelsy. But, if from the voices that come, I miss the sweetest, what gain Can atone for the loss and the pain, If the dearest of lips be dumb? 26 MISCELLANEOUS. And tell me, when all is done, Do you think in the many's praise. In what honor may crown my days, I am paid for the silence of one? THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. jy THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. Within my home that empty seemed, I sat And prayed for greater blessings. All That was mine own seemed poor and sadly small, And I cried rebelliously for that I had not, saying, if the good that gold Can bring were mine, journeys in far-off lands, With rest to weary feet, to burdened hands — If love, the love I crave, would come and fold Its arms around me, then would joy abide With me forever; peace would come to bless. And life would round out from this narrowness,' Into a fullness new and sweet and wide. And so I fretted 'gainst my simple lot; And so I pined for broader, fairer ways, Making a burden of the very days^ In mad regret for that which I had not. 38 MISCELLA NE US. And then one came unto my humble door, And asked 'to enter. ''Art thou love?" I cried, "Or wealth or fame? Else shalt thou be denied." She answered, "Nay, my child, but I am more. "Open to me, I pray; make me thy guest, And thou wilt find, although no gift of gold. Or fame or wealth within my hand I hold, That with my coming cometh all the best "That thou hast longed for." Fair, though grave her face; Soft was her voice, and in her steadfast eyes, I saw the look of one both true and wise. My heart was sore, and so, with tardy grace I bade her enter. How transfigured Seemed now the faithful love that at my feet So long had lain unprized; how wide and sweet Shone the small paths wherein I had been led. Duty grew beautiful; with calm consent I saw the distant wealth of land and sea; And all fair things seemed given unto me, The hour I clasped the hand of dear Content. OUR EASTER DAY. , jg OUR EASTER DAY. When is our Easter ? Nay, nor book nor creed Can tell for you nor me. Though over all the land, with joyous speed, The bells ring merrily. For we may kneel by altars hung with flowers, Flowers with no thorn's alloy, And still the Lenten sorrow may be ours. But not the Easter joy. It is that day the soul casts off its chain — For souls know bond and prison — It is that day when Doubt and Hate are slain, And Faith and Love are risen. When to the heart's neglected garden-plot, Comes Joy's awakening ray; When from some grave that human eyes see not The stone is rolled away 40 MISCELLA NE US. When with clear eyes we see the mountain height Above the mist that bars; When through the clouds we see the constant light Of Truth's eternal stars. And though, because of this, no glad bells ring ; Though neither song nor prayer Are heard of men; though no sweet censors swing Their odors on the air ; Though on no altar builded by men's hand Bloom violet or rose ; Though all the pulses of the teeming land, Beat softly 'neath the snows ; Still do we know, unhelped of book or creed, Though other lips gainsay. That we have won our life's supremest need, Our own true Easter day. HER HAPPIER LOT. 41 HER HAPPIER LOT. To that strange city on the hill — My heart by its great sorrow led — With grievings that no faith could still, I came, my gift of flowers to spread, My tears to shed. Lo ! in that city strange and fair, Whose restful paths to-day I trod, Lay, like a blessing everywhere. On shaded street and flower-strewn sod, The peace of God. Afar, the river, like a thread Of silver, poured, and farther down Lay fields that had been harvested; And autumn leaves, red, gold and brown, Made earth a crown. 42 MISC. ELL A NE US. And farther still, a city where Men go about with smiling eyes, The while their souls great burdens bear; And mingled moans and songs and sighs From pale lips rise. And in that city down below. Men note the yield of yellow grain, And watch the silvery stream, and know That blight or bloom or rise or wane Means loss or gain. Down there they clasp each other's hand, And vainly try to dull the ear Against the pitiless command. Which some sure day all men must hear, And all men fear. But in this city no one says, " To-morrow or to-day, maybe, I too must start on unknown ways, Or you to dread uncertainty Will go from me." HER HAPPIER LOT. 43 They do not reck of fertile fields, They care not in their peace divine, For shrunken streams or stinted yields — They never ask for any sign Of oil or wine. They do not mourn o'er vanished dreams, Nor weep for fame or love unwon. Nor long for that which only seems; They do not sigh at set of sun For work not done. But here the happy dwellers know Not any burden, pain or loss; They do not wander to and fro To hide a hurt or grief or cross Beneath the moss. Here every bosom, worn and sad. Hath found for every wound a balm, And tired hands and feet are glad, In the serene and perfect calm — God's gracious aim. 44 MI SC ELL A NE O US. Oh ! fair, sweet city, dare I ask Her back where sorrows never cease ? Back to the pain and care and task. After the long desired release Has wrought this peace? I lay these flowers on her breast, And whisper, trusting that she hears, "Dear Heart! be thine the utter rest. The smiles of the unending years, Though mine the tears." COMPLETENESS, 43 COMPLETENESS. Because it is fair shall the rosebud keep Its possible loveliness folded up? Would you have the pride of the forest sleep, For fear of spoiling the acorn cup? Nay, the bud hath dreams of the perfect flower, The acorn thrills with divine unrest; The one must blossom when comes its hour, The other follow its high behest. True, they do perish. 'Tis ever so. This law unerring all nature knows. The acorn and the bud are slain, but lo, The pride of the forest, and lo, the rose! 46 MISCELLANEOUS, GIVING AND GAINING. Though the river to the sea Is forever flowing, Though the blossom greets the bee All its sweets bestowing, Still the river floweth fleet, Still the rose^s heart is sweet. ^Tis the grand eternal law, Giving is but gaining; Nature knows no single flaw In her wise ordaining. He who gives, 'mid bounty, stands, Who withholds, hath empty hands. IN ANY LAND. 47 IN ANY LAND. I in a Northern land, and you Where the Southern cross gleams overhead; But we've drunk of the self-same cup — we two, We've eaten both of the self-same bread ; Purple wine and the friendly pledge. Bitter fruit and the teeth on edge. I where the white snows drift, and you Where fadeless beauty and bloom are spread; But my soul has bathed in the gracious dew That into your thirsty soul is shed; I in the North and you in the South, We have shared the flood, we have shared the drouth. I where the summer flies, and you Where never the summer time is dead; But we wandered both the darkness through, On the same sharp thorns our feet have bled; From the same still heights we've watched afar, The same white sail, the same white star. 48 MJSCELLA NEO US. What does it matter or here or there, The summer green or the winter gray; The rose and the rue bloom everywhere, And life is one and the same alway; From the East and the West comes Sorrow forth, And Joy knows never a South nor North. BETTER THAN I COULD ASK OR DREAM. 4g BETTER THAN I COULD ASK OR DREAM. Give her I pray, all good, bid all the buds of pleas- ure blow To perfect flowers of happiness wherever her feet may go; With Truth's bright shield and Love's strong arm pro- tect her from all earthly harm. Lest there should be some other thing better than all the rest, That I have failed to ask, I said, give Thou the very best Of every good. What Thou dost deem, better than aught I hope or dream. She lies before me still and pale; the roses that I prayed Might bloom along her path of life are on her bosom laid; Crowned with a strange, rapt calm she lies, like one made dumb by sweet surprise. 4. so MISCELLANEOUS. Better than I could ask or dream; this was my prayer, and now, That she is lying white and still, with God's peace on her brow, I wonder, sobbing, sore dismayed, if this be that for which I prayed. THE GARDEN OF LONG AGO, j/ THE GARDEN OF LONG AGO. Tve a garden, fair and bright, Crowned with a glad completeness; There's never a hint of blight In the red of the rose, of the white Of the lily's mystical sweetness, In that garden fair and bright. Into that garden I go, Whatever may be the weather; Whether fair or fierce winds blow. And the earth wears grass or snow, I and my heart together. Into that garden go. And there, though the skies be gray We slip the great world's tether; And while 'mid the bloom we stray, We deem 'tis the rosy May, I and my heart together, Though the skies be dull and gray. ^2 M ISC ELL A NE US. And we shut the great world out — The world with its work and worry- Its troubles and care and doubt, Its moan and sigh and shout, Its weariness, rush and hurry; We shut the great world out. And back from its grace and bloom, We bring of its helpful beauty, Some heart's ease for days to come, Some light for the days of gloom- Some strength for the coming duty We bring from its grace and bloom. And the friends that we love the best Look up in our eyes and wonder; Not knowing what peace and rest We have found in that garden blest; So close, yet so far asunder. Live the friends that love the best. You know it, this garden fair, O weary sisters and brothers ! Slipping the leash of care, Often you wander there, THE GARDEN OF LONG AGO, S3 Unseen, unknown of others, You know what fair winds blow, What immortal flowers grow In the garden of Long Ago. S4 MISCELLANEOUS, THE WINE IS SWEET AND THE WORLD IS FAIR Who from the hand of life has won, The gift he seeks? And who can say, When the night comes down to clasp the day, That all he has sought to do is done? Who can say that the cup he quaffs Is always sweet, and who but knows That his path is haunted by waiting woes, What time he dances and sings and laughs. Who does not know that pleasure shares The kingdom with pain, and who but feels Cold in his face what time he kneels. The breath of his own unanswered prayers. All men know that friendship flies, Ere weVe held its hand but a moment's space ; While hatred clasps with a strong embrace, And looks in our own with deathless eyes. THE WINE IS SWEET AND THE WORLD IS FAIR, jj What shall we say? That all is loss, That life is barren and cold and vain, With never a joy to atone for the pain, With never a crown so great as the cross, With never a love that is true and sweet. With never a friendship true and strong. With never a grand, triumphant song, For evil trodden beneath the feet? Nay, the wine is sweet, and the world is fair, Though bitter the lees, though the tempest mars; And love is true and the night hath stars, Though the soul is mantled in dark despair. The mills of the gods grind sure though slow, The mists and vapors of earth uprise And make a glory for all the skies; And out of the grave-dust violets grow. S6 M ISC ELL A NE US. POSSIBILITY. Our wishes, it is said, do measure just, Our capabilities. Who with his might Aspires unto the mountain's upper height, Holds in that aspiration a great trust To be fulfilled; a warrant that he must Not disregard. A strength to reach the height To which his hopes have taken happy flight. Remember, when these dreams and longings thrust Themselves, God-bidden, in your face, that each And every dream clasps some reality; The height your hope hath found your feet may reach ; And every wish is but a prophecy (Althougn your fears refuse it open speech) Of what you have the power to do and be. HER E YES AND MINE. S7 HER EYES AND MINE. Her eyes are quicker than my own to see The one worm-eaten leaf upon the rose, Or the one flaw the diamond faintly shows, She says, when I have grown as wise as she, I will not prate of snowy sails, nor be Deceived by the delusive light that glows Upon the distant hills, she knows, she knows. And for my ignorance she pities me. I see the rose^s beauty, not its blight, The jewel's flash and gleam, the crown that lies Upon the hills, to me the sails are white. Such pure delight comes to me through my eyes, I do not even wish her keener sight. And think it must be sad to be so wise. 5c? MISCELLA NEO US. FROM BARREN LANDS. Our lives have held too many bounties, and, In spite of fate's bestowing, To-day, we do not hold within the hand Aught that is worth the showing. We know that daily farther do we stray From gold that waits the mining; That still more distant from our feet to-day The mountain-heights are shining. Too many times we've drained love's sacred wine Sad truth the heart discloses; Too many times your careless feet and mine Have trodden dowm the roses. 'Tis he for whom love's cup but once is filled, Who knows its utter sweetness; Who plucks a single rose is longest thrilled With its divine completeness. FROM BARREN LANDS, jy 'Tis oft the empty hand that offereth The costliest sacrifices ; 'Tis out of some despised Nazareth The living light arises. Not for our sowing do the fruitful days Scatter their bloom before us; 'Tis not our happy careless lips that raise The hallelujah chorus. But, lo! the glad earth oft from sterile soil Sees fadeless flowers upspringing, And hears from smileless lips 'mid want and toil, Joy's deathless anthems ringing. 6o M ISC ELL A NE US. LOSS OR GAIN ? You weigh each motive and read the laws For the baby^s breath and the madman's freak And seek of science the mighty cause For the blush on a maiden's cheek. You sagely measure and count and spell, To learn of the secret soul of things; You break the heart of the exiled shell, To learn of the song it sings. With curious wonder and soulless smile, You prompt the coming of song or sob ; With careful fingers note meanwhile, The pulse's quickened throb. What have you gained, though your searching eyes Detect in the gold its speck of dross; Or see the dullness that underlies The glamor, bloom and gloss? LOSS OR GAIN? 6i What have you gained, though yours to know Each subtle motive and silent force? Though the smiles of joy or the tears of woe You trace to their hidden source^ This, that never although with tears You seek and pray, will there ever come Back again to your barren years, The vanished joy and bloom. Though you be wiser than other men, For your sad success you have only found That never for you in life again, Will the hills be glory-crowned. Never again in the fairest face. To see the beauty that lights and leads; Never again the unquestioned grace. Of high and holy deeds. And you know when all is over and done. Disappointed and sorrow-crost. That something better than you have won Out of your life is lost. 62 MISCELLANEOUS. RECONCILIATION. We crown the unconscious brow with wreath of bays; We press in pulseless hands the sweetest flowers; When all unneeded any word of ours, We give a willing voice to loving praise For which, perhaps, through weary, unblessed days. The dear one hungered. We are slow to prove The faithfulness and fervor of our love. Until that day, when loving word or phrase Come all too late; then we pray Heaven to guide Henceforth to freer giving for Love's sake. May it not be that on the other side They wait for us, and like us, long to make The sad wrongs right, ready to give and take, The hand-clasps and the kisses here denied? TURN '0 THE TIDE. 63 THE TURN O' THE TIDE. Ere the gold and purple of sunset has faded and turned to gray, Be wise, O friend of my heart, and turn your eyes away. Turn awa}' from the brook while gladly its full tide rushes by, From the young moon e'er its silver is lost in the depths of sky. Turn away from the sweetest music while yet it is sweet to the ear; Leave the woods and fields and meadows ere yet they are brown and sere. Leave the rose with the bloom upon it, the lily with leaf unsoiled ; Let ever the wine-cup's sweetness be by the lees un- spoiled. While Love is sweet and gracious look in his face and say, I own you dear and fair, therefore depart, I pray. 64 M ISC ELL A NE US. Bitter the lees of the wine, unsightly the dry brook's bed; Somber and sere the forest when all of its bloom is dead. After the royal sunset, chilling and dull the gloom; The strewn leaves' pallid beauty after the gathered bloom. After the watched-out moonlight the night is heavy and long; Ouickly the spell is broken that follows the sweetest song. After love's full fruition, O friend of my heart, who knows ? Lo ! the music, the wine, the sunset, the lily, the leaf, the rose ! THE HAPPIER DOCTRINE. 6s THE HAPPIER DOCTRINE. You preach the gospel of not enough; you sagely say While the wine is sweet to the taste, 'twere better to put away The cup from the eager lips; while music and song entrance, 'Twere best to turn from both for fear of the surfeit's mischance. Lest the faded wreath and the waning tapers vex the sight, You bid me leave the feast with the mirth at its height. You bid me forswear the rose because of its beauty's fleetness, Because dear love hath dole you bid me despise its sweetness. Or else, you wisely say, I will sit at the last with the taste Of the bitter lees in my mouth, in the ruin and waste 66 M ISC ELL A NE US. Of pleasure all outworn, from peace forever apart, With the withered rose in my hand and its thorn in my heart. You say I will sit in sackcloth with ashes upon my head. And mourn for the silenced song and the love that is dead. Ah ! this may be best for you, I own you are very wise, But how, I pray, can I walk by the light of your eyes? Let me fill my hands with roses though all you say be true; I will risk the prick of the thorn and the perished dew. Let me fill my life with love, tender and true and strong; Let me feast my soul on beauty and music and mirth and song. Though laughter end in tears and music and mirth prove fleet. Though beauty fades before me, and love is slain at my feet, THE HAPPIER DOCTRINE. 67 I will not weakly mourn when all these joys are flown, But will rather bravely say thank God for the joys I've known ! Thank God that of a knowledge absolute and com- plete, I can say that the rose hath beauty, and love and laughter are sweet. 68 MISCELLANE O US. TOO LATE. Now that her eyes are hid in death's eclipse, We give her tears and smiles; now that the crown Of God's great love is hers, we bow us down, And press our small love sign upon her lips. We bring her beauty; weary, unblessed hours Were hers; now that from out her gloom She hath passed on to fields of fadeless bloom. We come and bring our little gift of flowers. We give her praise; now that she doth not heed, So great her peace, what any lips can say, We come and speak the praise above her clay, That we denied her in her sorest need. If, as some deem, the spirit lingers near Its empty house awhile, I think she must Wonder to find her soul-deserted dust Grown suddenly so very strangely dear. IN THE HAMMOCK. 6g IN THE HAMMOCK. Backward and forward the hammock swings. Out in the garden under the tree; Bees and blossoms and flashing wings, — Fairest things in the world that be — Bright green grass and reddening clover, With the beautitul blue sky bending over, Flossy sees as she sings and swings, Out in the hammock under the tree. The butterflies flutter in airy fleetness. Like blossoms of purple and blue and gold; The bees go humming, their stores of sweetness, Carrying home to the honey-fold. The lilies bloom in their own sweet way, A perfect flower for a perfect day. This Flossy sees as she sings and swings, Out in the hammock under the tree. 70 MISCELLANEO US She hears the music of waters flowing. The sweet small tumults amid the trees; The myriad murmurings, coming, going, Hither and thither on every breeze. She is glad with the gladness of bee and bird, Glad with the gladness that needs no word; . She is one with all beautiful things and gay. She is one with beauty and love to-day, As backward and forward she sings and swings. Out in the hammock under the tree. As out in the hammock under the tree, Backward and forward she swings and sings, She is dearer than aught in the world to me. And fairer than all of its fairest things. Jewels or gold or roses or lilies. Fairer and dearer and sweeter she still is, And thus and ever for her I pray, That life may be like this perfect day, As out in the hammock she swings and sings. Out in the hammock under the tree. THE GREAT GULF, 71 THE GREAT GULF. Close by her side for so many years, So close I hear her beating heart, And yet our souls as far apart As though we dwelt in different spheres. Were seas between and leagues of land, I could bear this with better grace; But thus to look upon her face, And thus to clasp and claim her hand. And know while my thoughts never roam, That this is all I have; that far From me as any shining star Her thought forever seeks its home. This is death's pang; what though there rolls Wide wastes between your paths, a thought Can bridge that sea, but there is naught Can bridge the gulf between two souls. >f2 MISCELLANEOUS. AN AUTUMN DAY. The earth lies wrapped in peace; upon her brow The laurels of the fruitful year are pressed ; Triumphant and elate still seems she now As one who glad, yet weary, dreams of rest. The sun, Ids useful ardor wisely spent, Floods all the day with tender mellow light That crowns with smiling, well-deserved content, Sere-reaped meadows and gay wooded height. Upon the air's soft breath the gossamer Ghost of a blossom hither and thither flies; All insect life with plairly lessened stir. Pursues its aimless industries. Close by the fences, in still country-ways. The plumage of the crimson sumac shines; From tree and shrub with every zephyr sways The fairy drapery of scarlet vines AjV a UTUMiV da v. yj As though the summer, when her reign was o'er, Fleeing, usurped and wounded through the wood. Added unto her giving one gift more, And glorified them with her own lieart^s blood. Far out upon the little lake the trees Cast lengthening shadows; swaying branches nod Unto their fair reflection ; every breeze Kisses the glory of the golden-rod. And over all the loving sky leans low. And seeing all the beauty mirrored there, Itself most fair, smiles wonderingly, as though It had not dreamed the world was half so fair. 74 MISCELLA NE US. SECOND SIGHT. In this short life of mine sweet joy hath come x\nd crowned dear momehts with a perfect grace, . Sorrow hath held me in its strong embrace, Torn me with pain and left me bruised and numb, Left me a-hungered for the cup and crumb That no man gave. Temptation, fair of face. Assailed me in my life's most holy place. And left me worn with struggling, seeking some Safe shelter for my head. And now Since I have walked with these eternal three. Since I have clasped them each and all by hand, There is nought written on my brother^s brow. Nor in his eyes, mine own eyes may not see, Nor in his heart but mine may understand. THE BRA VER WA V. 15 THE BRAVER WAY. Oft in the old days weary men forsook The busy world because their hearts were sore; And women, who had said forevermore Farewell to happiness, in silence took Their way to convent gates. But shall we go Unto the convent or the cloistered nook To-day for such as these ? Nay, rather look Where smiles are bright, where eloquence doth flow; Where love is queen, and careless' pleasure reigns; Whereon sad brows fame's laurel wreath doth grow; Where keen wit sends its arrows to and fro. And sharp-edged traffic counts its golden gains. Here hide they 'neath such guise as will not fail. What weaker souls hid 'neath the cowl and veil. 7<5 M ISC ELL A NE US. VICTORY. She had sought for days and years For the gem that she knew somewhere Was shining for her to wear. Often with doubts and fears She was tempted and torn and tossed And sometimes her way she lost, In the darkness that, fold on fold, Clasped her fast in its hold. Oft in her soul there were tears, But smiles on her lips alway. And ever in sunniest day. Or darkest, heaviest night, Shone her eyes with a steadfast light. Unawed by the flight of time, Unheeding the lips that warned. Despising the lips that scorned. She sought with a faith sublime For this gem of her lifers desire, Snow-pure with a heart of fire. VICTORY, 77 One day upon her darkness gleamed The gem of which she long had dreamed. One day with happy hand she pressed It shining to her faithful breast. One day through all her being went The rapture of divine content, And then, while yet her heart was thrilled With joy, behold, that heart was stilled, And then her all-enraptured eyes Were closed upon their paradise, And men said: how unfair of fate, How pitiful that all too late, This grace has come to her. But she. Wrapped in the still intensity Of bliss, as one who understood The mystery of ill and good, Calm and triumphant seemed to say To those who leaned above her clay, Why should you weep ? for I have won All that I sought. What more hast mortal done ? j8 MISCELLANEOUS. A DEFENSE. Better to be comforted Once with living wine and bread, Better on the breast to wear The one flower divinely fair, Than to fill the careless hands, With lesser blooms from many lands; Than to seek with curious lip, Of a thousand cups to sip; Than to feast with kings and lords, At a thousand banquet boards. True, oh wise man, yet your creed Does not cover every need. If I think my cup holds wine, If I deem the true bread mine, And I find the long-sought draught, Bitter, tasteless, as 'tis quaffed ; If I find my cherished blossom Hides a sting within its bosom, If on stones my teeth I break. Must I then my search forsake? A DEFENSE. 79 In your steadfast eyes I know I seem like the winds that blow. You have won life's gracious dower, Royal feast and royal flower; What can you know 'mid such store, Of the soul at famine's door? What amid your peace and rest, Of my ceaseless, weary quest? How dare you with such small ruth. Judge my fealty to truth! For, oh wise man, oft I say All undoubtingly, "to-day I will find the perfect bloom. Find my soul's own banquet room.' Thus I seek with faith supreme. The one blossom of my dream ; Thus I seek on land and sea The fair portion mete for me. So, oh wise man in truth's name, Do I bear your foolish blame. 8o MISCELLANEOUS, IF I HAD KNOWN. If I had known one year ago to-day The little something that to-day I know, I would have warded off the heavy blow That sent you on your sorrow-laden way, With all your hopes laid low. With saddest of all hunger sore accurst, We miss by just a step the healing streams; M'ss the true bread of which the faint soul dreams; On hunger unappeased and unslacked thirst Too late the right path gleams. What is so hard in all the bitter years, As to look back and see the closed gate That one dear day we might have opened. Fate Wrings from our eyes the saddest, saltest tears, O'er wisdom won too late. WITH CLEAR VISION. Si WITH CLEAR VISION. Why, yes ; the world is full of bitter things ; Thorns grow in every path ; the fierce Wind blows Out of our gladdest skies; and sorrow stings, And evil lives, and truth hath many foes. But oh, such flowers bloom; such stars shine through The clouds; so many ships come in. Laden with all that life may hope to win ; So many hearts are warm and strong and true! I pray you see the blossom's beauty, not Its one poor blighted leaf; I pray you see The diamond^s sparkle rather than the blot Upon its brightness; on the orchard tree See the perfected apple, not the one Worm-eaten, insect-stung; and, for one field Barren, unfruitful, see the bounteous yield Of many thousands ripening in the sun. S2 MISCELLANEOUS. ' See how above lifers selfish gains and greeds The soul of man still lifts aspiring eyes; See how amid its rank and choking weeds Bloom the fair flowers of love and sacrifice Above the desert places of a soul ; See you the gardens where the sun has shone; See you what fruit its fertile fields have grown ; Speak you its beauty, not its dearth and dole. I pray for you the clear sight to discern, Amid the dross of life its pure, fine gold; I pray in all your learning you may learn To praise what sweet a bitter cup may hold; Above the critic eye, the critic phrase. To help and bless all souls where'er they be. Seek you the vision all life's good to see. Seek you the wisdom all its good to praise. LEAD US HIGHER, 83 LEAD US HIGHER. O, singer of sweet songs, the chords of sadness You strike too often ; failure, grief and wrong, And sad distrust and love's despair and madness, Burden your every song. True, life is full of care, and sad-eyed sorrow, To every lip its bitter cup will bring; Evil defies to-day and mocks to-morrow. And love is suffering. But joy sings often, hushing sorrow's wailing, And evil hides its head and justice reigns; And love divine, unselfish and unfailing. True to the end remains. Above the valley^s vapors shines the beauty Of mountain heights, serenely, gladly sweet; And there remains the blessedness of duty, Though love dies at our feet. 84 MISCELLANEOUS. Remembering this, and by true service lifted Above each small regret that daily bars Your path, your songs, oh, singer greatly gifted, Shall lead us to the stars! THE IMMORTAL SONG.