PS 3547 .0476 T5 1893 Copy 1 ^v. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. i^ap.!? Bifp^rig^i '^a M-^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THISTLE DOWN POEMS BY / Julia Ditto Y6ung Author of "Adrift: A Story of Niagara' crpCoA,; BUFFALO, N. Y. PETER PAUL & BROTHER 1893 Copyright, 1893, By Julia Ditto Young. PRBSS OF PETBR PAUL A BROTHER, BUFFALO, N. Y. TO MY MOTHER, THIS BOOK IS L VINGL Y DEDICA TED " Go^ little book, and wish to all Flowers in the garden^ meat in the hall, A bin of wine, a spice of wit, A house with lawns enclosing it, A living river by the door, A nightingale in the sycamore^ Robert Louis Stevenson. CONTENTS Words, A Sea Change, . Across the Street, The Death Day, A Ruin of Delaware Avenue An Autumn Morning, The Tryst, . A Message, Unprepared, . A Modern Templar, Forewarnings, Two Views, A Rainy Night, In Extremis, An Expert Opinion, A Stranger's Funeral Expectancy, . Resilience, The Philtre, The Old Mirror, A Woodland Walk, Mother Earth, . To My Pen, . A Reproach, The State Hospital, A Mistake, Requital, Death's Minstrel, PAGE. 13 15 17 19 21 23 24 26 28 30 32 34 36 37 38 40 41 42 43 45 47 49 50 52 54 55 57 58 CONTENTS. The Choice, . A Crumpled Rose-Leaf My Neighbor's Farm, Fidelity, , Risk, . A Question, A Second Marriage, A Summer Afternoon, In the City, Finished, . At First Sight, A Saint, . Consequences, Two Memories, . A Wedding, . A March Incident, A Large Contract, Caprice, . To Him That Hath! Unanswered, A Preference, Livingston County, Three Days, A Complaint, Heaven, Porcelain Painting, At Death's Door, A Modest Request, Two Friends, An Injunction, . Steadfastness, In the Dark, A Foundling, The Lodgers, 59 6i 62 64 66 67 69 71 72 73 75 76 77 78 79 80 82 84 86 91 92 94 96 98 100 103 104 105 107 109 rro III CONTENTS. 9 The Alternative, . 1X2 The Division, . . 113 The Raiment, 114 Grimm's Fairy Tales, . . 115 A Prayer Withdrawn, 116 A Treasure, . 118 Perfection, . 119 A Coquette, . 120 A Rondeau, . 121 Hindrances, . 122 A Likeness, . 123 A Love Song, . 124 After the Party, . 125 The Difference, 126 The Truth, . 127 In a Look, . 128 Death's Distinctions, 130 Flowering Currants, . . 132 A Poor Girl's Funeral, . nz With Leaves in a Letter, ' 134 Thistle Down, 135 The Elmwood Avenue Bridge • 137 At Twilight, 139 SONNE rs. Becalmed, • 143 The Prism, . 144 A Diamond, . 145 Indifference, 146 The Swimmer, . • 147 QUATRA INS. A Wish • 151 The Motto, . 151 CONTENTS. After Music, Blank Paper, Woman's Love, A Letter, Conscience, Limitations, . Consoled, Self-Sufficing, Purity, A Comet, A Fair Day, A Rainy Day, Mutability, The First Duty Love, Authorship, . Verse and Prose, Paralysis, Counter Currents Calamity, The Weapon, Surrender, . The Raising of the A Spendthrift, Open Sesame ! A Suicide, A Proof, . In an Album, An Idle Day, The Arrow, . My Pets, . Good- Will, . Dead POEMS WORDS. WORDS. T T galls my soul to hear men say How weak is language and how poor, So dense that half their mind must stay Enmeshed within its net obscure, — A stone too rough and coarse to build For lofty thoughts a temple meet, A chalice frail, that, passion -filled, Must break and spill its contents sweet. Not so I find it, — surely all I think I lack not words to frame. The birds come flying at my call, Aflutter, warbling, wild or tame ; Bright fabrics I delight to sew Surround me, — would I could beheve My thoughts deserved the outward show And brilliance of the garb I weave ! Many a poet wins no heart Because of any meanings high, — 'Tis only that he hath an art Of linking words that will not die, That in the memory chime and swing, And loiter in the dullest ear, And wile the saddest heart to sing, And day by day grow subtly dear. 14 THISTLE DOWN. Sweet syllables of mother-tongue ! No master I, yet I can play The pulsing multitudes among, And marshal them in right array, And of this goodly earth's delights, Not least or lowest 'tis to me. To summon up the tiny sprites Who ever at my bidding be. And some shall dash and run and leap, Some linger like a funeral train. Some onward whirl in breezy sweep, And some lag sluggish, sober, plain. And some shall dance at my command. In spiral twining turn and wheel. And some shall race across the land Beneath a letter's sacred seal. A SEA CHANGE. A SEA CHANGE. CUMMER smiled upon the land Snowy with its miles of sand, Smiled and dimpled on the bay, Silver-smitten all that day, — Slow and light, a little breeze Wafted distant argosies. Taught the tiny waves to play, Winnowed worldly fret away. Sunshine, pearl and purple sea, — These are things that ever be Helpful, healing to the eyes, Yet not always in them lies Magic power and mystic spell. Such as on me that day fell. Why, because the scene was fair, And like nectar was the air. Why should all the birds of spring In my heart begin to sing, Hope put forth a timid bud, Joy come in a swelling flood. And life ''suffer a sea change Into something rich and strange?" THISTLE DOWN. Nay, I know not ! All I know Is, some virtue touched me so, Heaven stooped so sweetly near, Earth grew suddenly so dear. Never coming care and cark, Never night of utter dark, Rage of tempest, terror's reign. Sorrow, sickness, crushing pain. But must all tormenting cease, Forced to grant a moment's peace To the freed soul, flown away Back to live again that day ! ACROSS THE STREET. 17 ACROSS THE STREET. A PATHWAY over-arched with trees, '^^ A stretch of meadow green and sweet, And passing tableaux no one sees But I who dwell across the street. My house alone commands this view Of sylvan shadow and retreat, Where maples, oaks and chestnuts grew While Indians lived across the street. And when I weary of my desk. Of bracing lame poetic feet, I watch encounters picturesque. And touching scenes across the street. For it is quite a lover's lane, And happy creatures there will meet, Unrecking of my window pane. And ramble on across the street. And some will quarrel, some will kiss. Some hurl reproaches, others beat Their breasts and madly flee ; but this Is seldom seen across the street. THISTLE DOWN, They chiefly walk sedate and slow, And drink the joy of moments fleet, As bees drink honey from the row Of hollyhocks across the street. What risk, what danger for them both ! An irate father might them greet With sudden curses, — nothing loath, I'd call ^' Fly here !" across the street. Ah, well ! what is it all to me ? My life is utterly complete. And yet methinks 'twere sweet to be A girl like those across the street. A foolish fancy ! well I know One's cake one cannot keep and eat, — I'll call my little son, and go With him to stroll across the street. THE DEA TH DA Y. THE DEATH DAY. Paraphrased from Thomas Hardy. C HE noted idly in the turn Of years revolving all the days Of birth, departure and return, That fix remembrance if it strays. Till suddenly one afternoon She felt a dread within her stir. And stared to think that late or soon A day would dawn — but not for her. That day of doom, unknown, unguessed. When all rebellious she must die, Unseen and sly among the rest That day went yearly circling by. Nor gave a token when it passed. To chill the blood and slow the breath, Nor darkly v/hispered her *'At last I point the way to dusty death ! ' ' 20 THISTLE DOWN. She gazed into her mirror's space And marveled where that day lay hid, When supple form and sunny face Should perish under coffin lid. She might not know that fatal day, Nor in what year it did abide. But later, careless folk would say, '' Poor Tess ! this is the day she died !' A RUIN OF DELAWARE AVENUE. A RUIN OF DELAWARE AVENUE. A X /"E cross the garden, where no flower or fruit Now springs from out the once well-tended earth, For did a rose put out a timid shoot The noxious growths would strangle it at birth. We pass the sheds, now flanked by flaunting weeds, Where daily did the mansion's mistress come And minister most kindly to the needs Of all her helpless charge of creatures dumb. Pause now upon the threshold. All the folk That filled with glowing life these dusky rooms — It seems the cerements of the grave have broke To lurk once more amid these ghostly glooms. They clutch and snatch at us, they seem to strive To make us as their wretched selves to be, — They hate us, merely that we are alive, And still the sunshine and the sky can see. Nay, why in death should there be any fear Of those who were in life so wondrous kind ? Then enter reverently, sure that here Dear gentle shades, if any, we shall find. 22 THISTLE DOWN. But no one greets us. Only overhead The echoes wake and murmur sad and low, And mourn a moment for a silent tread, And all the dead delights of long ago. The study, this ; — a wealth of garnered thought And wisdom once these stately walls did grace. And here it was that earnest worker wrought Beside his desk, while often he would pace From one vast window, overlooking meads Now white with winter, and now autumn-brown, Across to gaze where distantly recedes The wide way southward to the toiling town. Around the board of hospitable cheer. Of home the center and the very heart. What pleasant converse charmed the listening ear. Of books, humanity, religion, art? And in this parlor evening shadows brought The restful peace that night to labor owes. And firelight musings held them, till they sought The chambers sacred to well-earned repose. And is it wholly over? Is it fled, The light of influence from lives sublime? No, God be praised ! their precepts are not dead, And better is our city since their time. No day shall pass but that a chosen few Among us shall obey that noble twain — Because of him some lofty action do. Because of her from cruelty refrain. AN A UTUMN MORNING. 23 AN AUTUMN MORNING. 'T^HRICE welcome, rain ! a silver screen ^ The outer world and me between, Which shuts beyond its shining wires All that allures, distracts and tires. And closes in that sweetest balm For wearied souls, unbroken calm ! Thou bringest, rain, a long, still day None can invade or waste away, Whose precious hours I will not share With aught save Duty, grave but fair. Another gift thou bringest, rain ! When thou hast sown thy pearly grain. Not brighter are the lucent skies Than doth my freshened spirit rise ! How charming, after such a day, To meet upon the clean, wet way. Half doubted friends, or even those Whom, ere the rain, I deemed my foes ! One day's secluded peace hath brought Such meed of clear and healing thought That I forgive, and hope, and smile, And bless the soothing shower the while. 24 THISTLE DOWN. THE TRYST. A ND have you bided long, my pen, ^^ And patience almost lost? I could not come precisely when I promised, and it cost An effort even now to slip Away from all my cares. The luscious sweets with you to sip That stolen honey bears. Oh, be not vexed and sad, my pen, Forgive my forced delay, I will not be so late again, I who would ever stay Beside you, and who have no joy Save in my hour with you, — Ah, cruel to be still so coy Where tenderness is due ! THE TRYST. 25 I shall not be allowed, my pen, To seek you very soon. Perhaps we may not meet again Before another moon. All day tomorrow I must shop, The next day there's a tea, — The last leaves from the trees may drop Ere we unj^ited be. You leap to meet my hand, my pen. Alarmed at such a threat. The same forever used by men Till maidens' eyes be wet. But all too late you do relent, I hear harsh Duty's cry, — How wretchedly this hour was spent ! Goodbye, my pen, goodbye ! 26 THISTLE DOWN. A MESSAGE. /^H, the wind among the trees, ^-^ And the scudding clouds above ! Will you bear a message, breeze. Unto one I love ? Yes ? then haste in liberal sweeps Onward, — loiter not to play In the dead leaves' drifted heaps. But away — away ! On through night and tempest black Fly as never yet you flew, — Frightened, all will clear the track, Making way for you. What if he should lie asleep. When you breathless reach his door ? 'Tis important, 'twill not keep, 'Tis worth waking for ! Howl and whistle, rage and beat. Shrewdly seek each crevice thin. Summon aid of rain and sleet, Rouse him with your din. A MESSAGE. 27 Wild wet wind, I trust you so, Bear it safely o'er the land, — I've not told the message ? Oh, He will understand ! 28 THISTLE DOWN. UNPREPARED. T WAS not ever one of those Who deem the gifts that God bestows A right, as dew is to the rose. At every guerdon swift replies Of gratitude and rapt surprise Would from my humble heart arise. And I was happy, — naught so vain It could not please me, — sun and rain Alike brought beauty in their train. And as the rich Egyptian years Sufficed throughout a time of tears And soothed a famished people's fears, I said, '' I have so long been blest No future agony unguessed Me from my steadfast calm can wrest j So wondrous fair my lot is cast. So many years have smoothly passed, I well can suifer at the last, — UNPREPARED. 29 When on my head the certain dower Of anguish with resistless power Descends, I will not shrink or cower ! " Oh, I was wrong ! the flames but singe My garments' hem and yet I cringe, Unapt to bear that primal twinge. Release me, God ! I do not know The way to suifer — let me go Before another hideous throe ! 30 THISTLE DOWN, A MODERN TEMPLAR. A MID the faces of that gracious throng, Who fleeted thne with laughter and with song, An eye observant in its circling course Much might discern of beauty and of force, But they were all as common faces are, And one alone gleamed salient as a star. What history was written on this face One could not in a moment's study trace. Yet something in it thrilling echoes woke Of clashing horsemen and of splintered oak, Of battered helmet and of dented shield. Of deeds heroic on a hard-fought field, Of that long-past and half- forgotten day When passion, chivalry, romance held sway. And life than ours was simpler, yet completer, The blood more swift, blows fiercer, kisses sweeter. It was as if some knight of long ago. Some Templar of the time of Ivan hoe. With head uplifted and with bearing proud Had mingled with this merry modern crowd. A MODERN TEMPLAR. 31 It seemed this face its somber dark had won In Holy Land beneath an Orient sun, And yet this bronzing only half concealed A pallor telling of old Avounds unhealed. Not over young he was — a silver thread Blent with the sable cover of his head ; And grave was he, and something heavy browed. Though ever, as out from a midnight cloud The lightning's glow illumes the gloomy scene. His smile flashed sudden, brilliant, rapier-keen ; But yet he smiled not oft ; one might believe That for lost men-at-arms their chief did grieve, Weary to death of this ignoble life, « And yearning, heartsick, for the ancient strife. 32 THISTLE DOWN. FORE WARNINGS. A LL day there had been something eerie, Uncanny and weird in the air, The heavens hung cloudy and dreary. No glimmer of blue anywhere ; The wind had the howl of a dragon, And hideous the thunder did roll, And even the creak of a wagon Sent chills to my soul. The postman brought not the one letter. That might have redeemed the whole day And such as he brought he would better By far have torn up on the way ; A black cat I met, and yet maybe I still had averted my doom Had not the cross-eyedest baby Augmented my gloom. FOREWARNINGS. Then people said things just to spite me, And darker my fortune did frown ; It needed no more to affright me, When thirteen at table sat down. And then 'twas the kindest of brothers, Not meaning at all to be rude, Advised them to fly me, those others, For I was hoodooed ! And yet would you believe it ? — it staggers My faith in all omens and signs. In portents of coffins and daggers, In warnings my spirit divines, — No evil befell, and a blessing It was that the even time brought, A joy I scarce dreamed of possessing, And hopeless had sought ! 33 34 THISTLE DOWN. TWO VIEWS. /^F all the glories Heaven showers ^-^^ Upon this happy earth of ours, The one unstinted, wholly free Alike to kings and peasantry, Is love, sweet love, that like the sun Its radiance sheds on every one, — Yes, like the pink wild rose in June, The silver splendor of the moon, The dappling of the blue, bright sky. The carol of the birds on high. The currents of the clear fresh air. Love finds and feeds us everywhere. II. Oh, God ! why is it Thou hast made This earth so hideous, hast displayed Thy terror and the fear thereof, And anguish, and not any love ? Is love, then, even in heaven so rare. The angels could no portion spare ? TIVO VIEWS. 35 Scarce is there any desert land Without a fountain in the sand, Nor any rock so bleak and bare That moss can find no footing there, — But love, dear love, that gem unique Through barren years we vainly seek, — For lack of it we faint with thirst. For lack of it lead lives accursed, Until we die, unmourned, alone. Die dreaming of a bliss unknown. 36 THISTLE DOWN. A RAINY NIGHT. 13 LACK against the murky sky Oak trees toss their branches bare, While the last leaves riven fly On the wet and whirling air ; Rain like swift descending lash Beats the cold and sodden sward, And the wild keen lightning flash Cuts the darkness like a sword. God be thanked for night and storm ! 'Tis a blest relief to know Nature hath the power to form Other things that suffer so, Things besides my tortured heart. Torn with infinite despair, — Tempest, I of thee am part, And thy maddened ragings share ! IN EXTREMIS. 37 IN EXTREMIS. T F the world were about to end, '■' And its doom were known to you Tell me, O timid and soft-eyed friend, What would you do ? I would seek out one I know. And say what I never can say, And little I'd reck of humanity's woe, In that sweet day. For to me his glad reply A thousand times were worth Seeing mankind in agonies die. And ruin of earth ! 38 THISTLE DOWN. AN EXPERT OPINION. T HAVE studied the stars till I'm tired of the creatures, ■^ And have mastered the subject, I really think; I'm familiar with each shining orb's special features, As to when it should rise and just how it should wink. Yes, I've pondered the subject exhaustively over, In my lonely veranda this long summer past. While the zephyrs were sweet with the odorous clover. And the bicycles fluttered by, silent and fast. Would you know the conclusion I've come to concern- ing These distant and terrible neighbors of ours? That with all of their brilliancy, beauty and burning, Their dimensions stupendous and infinite powers. Neither they nor their planets that circle and hover Undiscerned all these millions of years since their birth, Can as places of residence ever discover The advantages held by this dear little earth. AN EXPERT OPINION. 39 We have trouble, of course, and there's sickness and sinning. Dissensions, delays, disappointments, and jars. But there's ever some good to be had for the winning, And perhaps that is more than they have in the stars. Or perhaps they have nothing but good, and how deadly The dullness of such a condition must be ! Who would not prefer the magnificent medley Of anguish and joy we are fated to see ? Do they hate with our ardor, enjoy with our fervor. Do they love with such exquisite rapture and bliss ? As a candid, albeit a distant observer, I deny that the star-people know how to kiss. And indeed, were I proffered existence immortal, To be on a star through eternity whirled, I'd promptly decline to pass over the portal. Nor risk any change from the things of this world ! 40 THISTLE DOWN. A STRANGER'S FUNERAL. T WISH it had not passed just now ; I was so happy till it came, And now, wet-eyed, I wonder how Not anything is still the same. Before, I saw no brown and red, Sad Autumn's hints, across the way ; A bird was singing, — overhead I wist not that the blue grew gray. I wish indeed you had not died, Poor brother whom I never knew ! For had you lived, the world is wide, And many a joy awaited you, — Sweet April's buds and rains and rills. The merry sports of winter-time, A moonlight glory on the hills, And sacred bells in far-off chime. And did I grudge the very road Down which the modest cortege went That bore you to your last abode, To exile and to banishment? Forgive me, brother ! I shall keep A thought of you perhaps for years, When other eyes that still should weep. Long since have dried their futile tears. EXPECTANCY. 41 EXPECTANCY. 4 i D OBIN HOOD " you've heard often before, It's a bother infernal to dress, And the whole thing is rather a bore. You'd prefer to stay home, you confess, And upon the last '' Century " pore, — And do not I agree with you ? Yes ! As a rule, home is best, but tonight I've a fancy to go just for this : Who knows but this evening one might Hear a strain that would raise one to bliss, Share a thrill of ecstatic delight One would not for diamonds miss ? Or tonight, 'mid the glitter and song One may glimpse (Fortune grant it be so !) A dear face in the palpitant throng, And the music will suddenly grow Like the strains which to seraphs belong, — Come, brother ! you cannot say no ! 42 THISTLE DOWN. RESILIENCE. T 1 rHAT is it forms the keenest pang in sorrow? ^ 'Tis that we know the peace for which we pray- Too soon arrives, — today, tonight, tomorrow, The woe most bitter will have passed away. Ah, shame ! that even while we prate of losing Not joy alone, but life and reason dear, And spurn all comfort, and are still refusing Surcease of anguish, suddenly 'tis here ! Too well the swimmers breast the whelming surges. Too callous are we, and too cruel-strong. And mingled with the swell of funeral dirges We mark the ripple of a marriage song. THE PHILTRE. 43 THE PHILTRE. /^H ! I utterly despise ^^ Modern means of luring love,- Just to wear a gown you prize In the hue he's fondest of, Just to relish all his wit, Smile or sigh at his command. Study up his work a bit, Be it leather, law, or land ! Where are all the wizards fled Who for maids forlorn would brew Queerest mixtures black and red. Mingled rosemary and dew. Blood and bones, a frog or toad, Easter water, gallows-chain. Horseshoe found upon the road. Straw where murderer hath lain ? Well ! they say that never man Lived who could the charm resist, - To the eager lass he ran. And her laughing lips he kissed. 44 THISTLE DOWN. Ah ! could love or money bay Such a potion nowadays, Who would not its virtue try In the ancient secret ways ? Yet a philtre still there is, Not the gross and vulgar style : Let your heart that seeketh his Dwell upon him all the while, Love him to the depth and height Of your nature fresh and free. And at last in sudden might Richly it returned shall be. 'Tis a risk ? he would not know ? Why, my dear, your face would lurk Everywhere that he might go. Drift between him and his work. Till at length he flings it down. Since it will not come aright. Thinking, "Is that girl in town ? Anyway, I'll call tonight ! " THE OLD MIRROR. 45 THE OLD MIRROR. T_T OW often has the fancy crossed My mind that never wholly lost Are images that once have been Thy silver depths reflected in, And that from thee, could but we tell The words of some weird chanted spell Unwritten now in any book, Dear faces once again might look, Blest visions of the vanished past, A moment in thy surface glassed. And of the myriad dead but three Are they I deeply long to see, — A man so sudden called to die There was not time to say good-bye ; A maid who life such beauty lent The sun is dimmer since she went ; A child, — would God that little child Might smile as all his life he smiled. And let me know if still there lies A joy and sweetness in his eyes. 46 THISTLE DOWN. Alas ! they come not forth to quell My longing, and the potent spell Lies not in sad and aching heart, Nor in the hot and bitter smart Of tears, for even as I gaze The mirror melts into a haze Beyond a misted veil of tears, And still I gaze, and naught appears. A WOODLAND WALK. 47 A WOODLAND WALK. TIT^ROM out the hated turmoil of the highway, Where crowds of sad and weary wanderers are, Two pilgrims slip adown a shady byway, A little unknown way that leads afar. No noise invades the forest's dim recesses, Only the leaves' cool murmuring is heard, The brook's low laughing to its moss and cresses. And now and then a golden throated bird. And Oh ! the peace and rest beyond expressing. Those mortals win amid the vernal calm, Where every breeze is laden with a blessing, And every blossom breathes assuaging balm. And Oh ! the rapture merely to be living From hour to hour in this twinned solitude, The sympathy now gaining and now giving. That lifts and lightens every passing mood. 48 THISTLE DOWN. But on this path there never is undoing Of taken steps, nor any going back, — It is as if a wizard were pursuing, And closed with thorns and twisted vines the track. Perchance those two shall reach a land of burning, A black hot land where bitter water lies, Where shade nor shelter is for all their yearning, Nor any love-light in once tender eyes. MOTHER EARTH. ^9 MOTHER EARTH. C WEET herbs of healing did we plant "^ Within our tiny garden's space, And prayed that later earth would grant To us their remedy and grace, But as we toiled and turned the ground. And of the fruitful future planned. Our hearts beat with a fuller bound. And stronger grew each arm and hand. And then we smiled to think that earth. Too kind, too generous to delay And so increase her bounty's worth. Did haste her new-made debt to pay, And ere we had the simples fixed That would next year our drugs have been, Such rich elixir earth had mixed, We had no need of medicine ! 50 THISTLE DOWM. TO MY PEN. "\T AY, not so fast ! a mettled steed thou art, And swift to dash across the wide white plain, But ere we on our morning's journey start, Let us resolve some certain point to gain. It matters not what road we shall pursue, The bosky aisles of forests cool and dim, The city streets, the shores of ocean blue. Or up the rocky steeps of mountains grim. It boots not if we dip in old romance, Or weave a rhyme to lull a babe asleep, Or sing the trifling pleasures of the dance. Or tell of happiness serene and deep. But we must reach at eve the goal Content, By level or by labyrinthine way. And feel the bygone hours were not illspent. Nor wasted so we may not humbly say : TO MY PEN. 51 '*A word there was with loving-kindness fraught, A hint that might a drooping faith renew, A plea for softer speech, for purer thought, A message hopeful, or a warning true." And were no man helped onward for a mile. No fainting brother lifted from the dust, No wan face won a moment to a smile, — 'Twere better, pen ! we should forever rust ! 52 THISTLE DOWN. A REPROACH. T T was not much I asked of you, — The mere unvalued dregs and crumbs Of that rich banquet whereunto A starving pilgrim never comes To sit in honor, but doth wait. The while Life's feast is amply spread, As may a beggar at the gate. The rain-storm beating on his head. Oh, I was weary, sad, alone ! I hoped — how vainly ! that you might Compassionate my stifled moan. And give me shelter for a night, And charm away this sullen ache That rankles ever in my breast, And pour some wine my thirst to slake. And speed and cheer me on my quest. A REPROACH. 53 But no, — you were not sweetly stirred By gentle Pity's mild command, You did not speak the longed-for word, You frowned upon my outstretched hand. A bitter pang it was, indeed, The bitterest I ever knew, — I pray to God that in your need No friend may ever so fail you. 54 THISTLE DOWN. THE STATE HOSPITAL. A GAINST the warm, wide, wholesome blue, Two red-capped towers close my view. And birch-trees, pines, and daisied green Of meadows only intervene ; And ever in a cloudy day The red roofs glow against the gray ; And ever in the mirkest night The hundred windows flash with light, Nor does it fret me thus to see That home of utter misery. For well I know that gentle care And anxious thought are lavished there, And all that underneath the sun Skill can accomplish will be done. And every morn I northward send A hope that ere the day shall end Some poor, distracted, darkened mind A glimmer of the light may find ; Some torn and tortured soul may win Relief from cruel strife within ; Some soldier fallen to the rear A thrilling bugle blast may hear. Resume among the ranks of men His place, and forward march again. A MISTAKE. 55 A MISTAKE. HP HAT is what they call it when ^ Half-read words or blinded light Plunge a hundred hapless men Into death's eternal night — Soothe the wail and still the curse, And for fate allowance make, Willful negligence were worse — This was only a mistake. So your heart you wrongly read, Misconstrued its quickened beat, — 'Twas but friendship's glow instead Of pure passion's wild white heat ? It is well that you have won Early knowledge of the flaw In your love — from scarce begun Games one safely may withdraw. But myself ! A black eclipse Darkens deep into my soul, While you press unto my lips Steadily the poisoned bowl. 56 THISTLE DOWN. Would to God that in the cup Lurked some bane my heart to break, Swiftly would I drink it up, And have done with your mistake ! REQUITAL. 57 REQUITAL. A S unawares, in ancient fairy lore, '^^ One kindly lodged and fed a wandering witch. And rose to find beside his couch a store Of coin and gems that made him sudden rich ; So I, to help a fellow creature's need, Not looking for reward, gave of my best, Of love and sympathy a generous meed, And found myself an hundred-fold more blest. 58 THISTLE DOWN. DEATH'S MINSTREL. '\A7'HY do I meditate and write On death, and scarce aught else at all ? Perchance his hand is raised to smite And stifle me in dusty pall. I hear the shivering droop and lift That shudders in his sombre wings ; I see him slow and solemn drift Above the beds of priests and kings. But me he spares ! The monster grim Rejects not flattery, that is why ; And while I seek to honor him, Whoe'er he summons, 'tis not I ! THE CHOICE. 59 THE CHOICE. OH, how sweet it is to think I am at my desk once more, — Silver holder, purple ink, Virgin pages, pens galore, Wait their pleasant task— to link Words to thoughts that upward soar. And the topics, — how they press, Claiming each to be my choice ! Time hath been, I must confess, I could heartily rejoice At such ample option — yes. Speedily give each a voice. But today the sun shines bright. Glowing on each golden tree. And the falling leaves invite Me their final hour to see, — Why should I sit here and write While all Nature calleth me ? 6o THISTLE DOWN. Just to live is better far Than Life's charms in words to state, — Whoso beareth not a scar Hath no right of war to prate, — Dream not of some distant star. Rise, — go forth to love or hate ! A CRUMPLED ROSE LEAF. 6i A CRUMPLED ROSE LEAF. AMI sad ? I would deny "^^ Such a charge if I but dared, But with these wet lashes, — why. Here's the truth, — as if you cared ! I am sad because a thought Grips me like a beast of prey. With such haunting horror fraught I can drive it not away. This, sir, is my crumpled rose : I am just one evening sad Thinking of my sisters, those Who for years no joy have had. Women cursed with shame and fear. Stricken widows, unloved wives, — Do I owe them not a tear For the heart-break in their lives ? No, I cannot happy be While so many only know Long dull days of misery, Heritage of cruel woe. Lives so maimed and incomplete Heaven can never make them right, - Oh, why don't you go down street? I shall smile no more tonight. 62 THISTLE DOWN. MY NEIGHBOR'S FARM. TT E has, forsooth, a certain yield ■*■ ^ From each well-tilled and fertile field. Ripe fruit and green delicious food. And shelter for a multitude Of creatures, pasture for his kine And horses, — but the rest is mine. Yes, mine the waves of morning mist Where silver blends with amethyst. And mine the sparkle of the dew That glints the tangled grasses through. The yellow glory of the corn. The starry blossoms of the thorn. The belted bees, who daily come And shame me with their busy hum. The birds, who yearly build their nests. And pour rich love-notes from their breasts, The odors sweet of new-mown hay. And of crab-apple trees in May, And of the furrows freshly tilled. And of the clover honey-filled, — M V NEIGHB OR'S FA RM. 63 From March, when first the elm-buds shine, The myriad leaves are always mine, And murmur softly all day long To me their languid dreamy song, — Yes, they are mine, till sadly down They drop in golden drifts and brown, — And mine the midnight silhouette That moonlight makes, when trees of jet Stand black against a silver sky. And swathed in snow the meadows lie. And so, you see, I envy not The wealthy owner of the spot ; I've thought it over, and opine His share is scarce so much as mine ! 64 THISTLE DOWN. FIDELITY. T CAN never understand How one can extend a hand, Then withdraw it in a breath ; Such a compact may not be Severed, so it seems to me, By a slighter sword than death. When I say, *'I am your friend," Why, it follows there's an end Of suspicion, anger, spite, — Nothing all the world can do Renders me one whit less true, Not himself my love can blight. Say my friend neglects to call, Shall I chide him ? not at all, — Less than ever would he come ; Say he should forget to write. Shall I fancy it a slight, And reproach him? I am dumb! FIDELITY. 65 Say that he is cold and strange, Shall I therefore also change, And be somewhat less than kind ? Ah, poor soul ! I cannot know All he has to undergo, — Here he shall a solace find. If they swear that on his head Lies the sin of secrets said. Things to be forever hid, Still I trust him, nor believe He of all men would deceive, And I say, '' He never did ! " Now the saddest case of all, — Should he from uprightness fall. Crime commit or honor lose, — Would I share the general scorn, Haste to leave him quite forlorn. Comfort and support refuse ? No, indeed ! I am not one In such need my friend to shun, — I would seek him in his shame. And one little word of cheer I would softly whisper, ''Dear, I shall love you just the same ! ' * 66 THISTLE DOWN. RISK. A S some young laughing child may stand '^^ Rose-footed in the snowy sand, Nor dare for all the realm of France One single further step advance, The while with dimpling sweep and swirl The gentle wavelets creep and curl About the tender timid feet, To ripple back in murmurs sweet, — So on the brink of deadly sin A soul shall shrink from plunging in, — Yet lingers still, with smiling eyes, Where fell temptation darkling lies. A QUESTION. 67 A QUESTION. T^O you recall how Shakespeare told ^^^ Again the Eastern fable old, — A drunken peasant's wondrous rise, And sojourn in a land of lies ? They took him, with his senses shut, From out his dark and chilly hut. Into a palace chamber, where Soft music filled the fragrant air. And woke him gently to an hour Of pride and luxury and power. Right gayly did the peasant play At lordship for one little day. And all that he could ask or think Was brought him, — luscious wine to drink, Exotic fruit and savory meat. Apparel rich and tendance fleet, And last, when tired of song and jest, A bed whose very touch was rest. 68 THISTLE DOWN. The game was done, — when heavy sleep His mind did in oblivion steep, They stripped him of his borrowed plumes And dragged him from those stately rooms,— And through the night air damp and raw They bore him to his bed of straw. And now, O friend ! the question's this : Was, afterward, that day of bliss A solace in his barren life, Or was he evermore at strife With fate, and did he curse the ill That kept him but a peasant still ? And so — if ever season short Of welcome sun should stream athwart A stormy stretch of leaden sky. Would one be thenceforth swift to cry : "The heavens are a deeper black Since I to that bright gleam look back ! " Or, rather, would one braver be Because of that brief ecstasy — Would one through tempest firmer stand, Toil onward with a surer hand. And say : " Though gray the clouds may be, I still that long-fled light can see ! " A SECOND MARRIAGE. 69 A SECOND MARRIAGE. ONCE more her widowed halls resound The echo of a master's tread, And long-lost happiness is found, And newly is love's glory shed. And it is sweet and passing sweet To share the love-words long unsaid, And watch in later summer's heat A rose half perished waxing red. And yet — 'tis but a stolen rose He holdeth who was not the first To plant and guard it, and who knows Another its beginnings nursed. Another summoned it to bloom, Its dewy petals first caressed, And first inhaled its rich perfume. And wore it first upon his breast. And O, to think her clinging kiss Is verily the same she gave In moments of supremest bliss To that within its lonely grave ! 70 THISTLE D O WN. Would not one hearken in the blast A desolate and hollow moan, As of a spirit flying past, ** Alas ! I thought her mine alone ! " And oft that ghost might entrance win When heart to heart is wildly pressed. And say with bitter mocking grin, ** But now I see she loved me best ! " A SUMMER AFTERNOON. 71 A SUMMER AFTERNOON. THEY steal away, my comrades wise, To close in sleep their languid eyes, And will anon refreshed arise. Not I, — I only do refuse Soft poppied slumber, do not choose This vibrant golden heat to lose. We must perforce the season black Of night devote to winning back The forces spent in day's attack. But day itself, — Ah, too divine The glorious strain to miss a line, Too rare for spilling is the wine ! And when black Death shall o'er me lour I would not give the churl the power To say '' Thou fool, who lost an hour ! " 72 THISTLE DOWN. IN THE CITY. T LONG to go into the country today, To pass the mill with its ceaseless mutter, And follow the stream full of boulders gray, Wherever the kingfishers poise and flutter ; To ramble into the grand old wood With its sweet warm scents, and find out whether The maples are yellowing as they should In these soft hours of autumn weather ; To gather the golden-rod and fern, To mark in the brook the trout's swift skimming, To wander along the lane and learn If a lilac haze the hills is dimming. But better methinks the dusty town, Where love is, than the glorious weather And rustle of foliage scarlet and brown. Unless, dear heart I we could go together ! FINISHED, 73 FINISHED ! T HAVE said whatsoever I wanted to say, And I've heard many compliments pleasant to hear, I have frittered the whole happy summer away, And indeed it is time to dismiss you, my dear. And it isn't so often that people can turn Down the page, assured certainly nothing's unread, And it's terribly sad for old comrades to yearn. And to realize something remaineth unsaid. Well, omissions are not the things we shall regret, — We have talked to each other the whole summer through. All is said, all is past, and now let us forget. Let us part, for this autumn brings oceans to do. Other fields, other faces, and isn't it well That our fancies can veer with the altering scene ? But what is it you say ? that your life will be hell, Mad black anarchy, ruined and reft of its queen ? 74 THISTLE DOWN. Why, my dear ! I'm astonished ! you never should try To take part in a game if you don't know the rules. And to swear when you're honestly beaten — O fie ! For shame ! was no fortitude taught in your schools? Never finished for you? Well, I'm sorry, but then I am sure I played fair, so it's your fault, not mine. And it's folly to say you won't see me again, — Come and dance at my wedding, and make not a sign. A T FIRST SIGHT. 75 AT FIRST SIGHT. MANY there be who heedless meet and part, And meet again unwitting, with no art To guess that surely some fair future year Will find them each to each grown wondrous dear, — And it is only after dull delays, Uncertain strayings in a dreadful maze. And secret tears and futile struggling speech. And wearing fears and angers, that they reach Love's high serenest table-land at last, Their sole regret the worse than wasted past. Happy the lovers who look back and know That not an instant did they trifle so,— That to the roving eyes first message fleet Two hearts responded with a startled beat, — That while a bliss undreamed upon them stole. There came a subtle call of soul to soul. And, claiming kinship though the lips were dumb. Two spirits spoke : *'I need you ! " and "I come ! " 76 THISTLE DOWN. A SAINT. T J NSELFISHNESS made manifest, ^^ Whose thought is all for others' needs, Who daily blesses and is blest In chrism of kindly loving deeds, Nor fails to frame in gentle speech, With eyes serene and accents calm. The message love and pity teach. That soothes the hurt heart like a balm. But sometimes must not such an one Grow weary of the placid days. And wish that fiercer blood did run Along the hidden vital ways. And long to yield to anger's sway. To balance hatred's rankling dart, And helpless strive to learn the way To harbor murder in the heart ? CONSEQUENCES. 77 CONSEQUENCES. /^FT a little laughing child ^^ Wantonly with fire will play, By the ruddy glow beguiled, Till he sees with sick dismay Cruel flames dart swift and wild On their doomed and hapless prey. And you fancied you could flee If too ruthless raged the fire ? Why, God's earth will never be Aught but altar-stone or pyre For your heart, a misery Of remorse or fierce desire. 78 THISTLE DOWN. TWO MEMORIES. J. G. L. A SUMMER'S day, the fleeting gleam "^ Of white arms glancing through a stream, Anon a drenched and laughing face Raised for a moment's breathing-space, And then the maiden floated, light As any lazy lily might. So close the rippled waters clung About that naiad, fair and young. So gently kissed, one might have guessed They loved the creature they caressed. A winter storm, — a darkened room, — A myriad blossoms' sad perfume, — Loose curls against a placid brow. Pale lips, their smiling over now, Small hands, quite done with work and play, Eyes, shut from love and life away. Cheeks, yester-month youth's tender rose. Blanched as her pall of soft, soft snows. A WEDDING. 79 A WEDDING. T N sooth, the scene is passing fair This home with myriad lights aglow,- Commingled in a bright parterre The youths and maidens come and go. Sweet music's into service pressed, And roses riot everywhere. And — chief allurement to the guest — The scent of coffee's in the air. And two no longer merely gay But deeply, richly blest are there. Who know that sorrow's fled away And to return will never dare, — Forever gone are pain and fear. Swept off the earth is cursed care, — A pair of fools, you say, my dear ? Of course, — but such a happy pair ! So THISTLE DOWN, A MARCH INCIDENT. O O early was the spring, that still *^ The snow-drifts lurked beneath the hill. And all the meadows that I crossed Half humid were, half dry with frost. And Oh ! the sweet wet scent of earth, The sense of new and wondrous birth, The glint upon the chestnut buds. The sunshine in such generous floods That each white drift I sauntered by. Less white, less wintry, seemed to lie. But when at last within the wood In cloistral chill and gloom I stood. So dense the bare boughs' tangled shade, Scant progress there the spring had made. Long miles I'd journeyed just to look At one dear little laughing brook, And now, alas ! still winter-bound, It mutely slumbered in the ground, So fettered by the ice and snow That sorrowful I turned to go. A MARCH INCIDENT. 8i Then slowly into life it woke, And timidly at first it spoke, And one by one cast off its chains, Half severed by the recent rains, And sudden tinkled forth to greet With all its own old music sweet The wanderer who so far had come And would have grieved to find it dumb. So was it given me to see Peculiar magic worked for me. A trifle ? Oh, of course ! But still, What if a heart were like that rill. And after winter should at length Know spring-time's glorious hope and strength, Should feel the green moss droop and dip In welcome, and the loosened slip Of pebbles, see the rootlets stirred To action by some mystic word. And watch the first brave robins fly Across the vivid windy sky, — What if 'twere yours, this happy heart Thus strangely called to bear a part In Spring's entrancing glow and gleam ? That does not such a trifle seem ! 82 THISTLE DOWN. A LARGE CONTRACT. OHE came to tell, that maiden mild, *^ Of her engagement and its bliss. How fortune so serenely smiled That she could every fear dismiss, — I did not undeceive the child, And only answered with a kiss. Oh, love's supremest hardihood ! How bravely women undertake To win from utter evil good Though failure dire fore-doomed to make. With this addition understood. Their hearts must in the effort break ! A man who only lived to roam In mad carousals, God knows where, Must learn from her to bide at home. Content with tea and muffins there, Nor hunger for the honeycomb. The wine, the oil of Egypt fair. A LARGE CONTRACT. 83 And he who swears he never met A woman faithful, true and pure, — She must persuade him to forget Those wicked lies, and make him sure That she at least will love him yet While ever moon and stars endure. The poisoned wounds that lawless strife To this most reckless brawler gave She must bind up, and all her life. From marriage-altar to the grave. Unto the sacred name of wife Must add the galling one of slave. And if amid this cursed lot One friendship should become a source Of fitful comfort, grudge her not That brief, bright respite, since of course The end is but a pistol-shot. Or shamed retirement of divorce. Ah, well ! I must not woe forecast For that poor creature quite so soon, — Who knows but Hymen may at last Have learned to sing some other tune ? My mood prophetic having passed, I'll send her roses, cup and spoon ! THISTLE DOWN. CAPRICE. T ET me be done with thee, Let me forget All thou hast taught to me, Even regret, — Oh, I am weary of Life and its joys. And thy once precious love Only annoys. So I dismiss it all, — Hark to that bird, — Why in its fluting call Is thy name heard ? I will forget — the breeze Lets me not speak, Telling of thee in these Airs on my cheek. If I forget thy kiss Haply my heart Reft of the stormy bliss Thy lips impart, CAPRICE. 85 May learn a blessed peace, Quieter grow, Give its poor slave release, Beating more slow. But if I should forget, Would not the sun For me forever set, Daylight be done ? Would not the roses cease Redly to blow ? Oh, I desire no peace, Winning it so ! 86 THISTLE DOWN. TO HIM THAT HATH. T T OW blest was I, in that my way "*■ ■*• Went now through glen, now sylvan glade, Through dells with rippling bird-song gay. Where tiny brooks blithe music made. And many a timid woodland bloom Stole into being as I passed, And each its delicate perfume Did tenderly upon me cast. And when so many flowers I had, Within my arms a fragrant weight. That I was tired of being glad, And thought of others' sad estate. Then, even then. Life, gliding near, Did pause to kiss me and to say, "My child, each hour thou art more dear,- Take thou the gift I bring today ! " TO HIM THA T HA TH. 87 I said, *' 1 will not have thy gift, — My comrades toiling in the heat, Go, try their weary hearts to lift, Go, offer them thy guerdon sweet. They faint, they fall beneath the sun, And have no wish again to rise. Not any blossoms have they won. And truly they thy boon would prize. ^'Enough for me these treasures wild I culled beside the mossy path," — Life smiling answered, ''Know, my child, I only give to him that hath ! " And smiling ever, on my breast Life laid one precious, perfect rose, More richly sweet than all the rest, — Ay, sweeter than aught else that grows ! 88 THISTLE DOWN. UNANSWERED. T S it anything to you, dear, that I love you, '*■ That when all the world is still I think of you. That I pray the sun and stars may shine above you, Would you cherish me and thank me — if you knew ? Is it anything to you, dear, that I languish Alone and desperate my whole life through, — Would you care to change for rapture all my anguish. Would you pity me and help me — if you knew ? A PREFERENCE. 89 A PREFERENCE. FULL oft when I a vigil keep To search the sky's unfathomed deep, I fancy that the Will Divine Which taught yon brilliant orbs to shine, Decreed to every glittering star A gifted race more godlike far Than men, whose thoughts are crystal clear, Whose pure hearts lodge not pain or fear, Whose kingly deeds are nobly done, Whose heaven even at birth is won. Whose lives serenely glide away, Unvexed by passion, crime, decay; — While our poor hapless world alone Was doomed to sweat and toil and groan. To stagger 'neath a load of pain. Besmirched with many a blood stain. Despairing victim of a curse. The charnel of the universe ! 90 THISTLE DOWN. Yet, Earth, my Earth, I'd rather be One of the wretches cumbering thee, To share their agony and sin. If only so my soul might win That joy which, childlike, will not go Where comes not first her sister, woe, — That rapture sweet beyond all praise Because so brief a time it stays, — Thy kindest lesson, Earth, is this: Who knows not anguish, knows not bliss ! LIVINGSTON COUNTY. 91 LIVINGSTON COUNTY. C~\ DEAR New Scotland, why so long have I ^-^^ Discoursed of very trifles, and delayed To sing the vistas that within thee lie, The dark clear brooks, the forest's moss and shade, The gentle hill-slopes bathed in purple mist. The scarlet-jeweled orchard's fragrant yield. The trees by Autumn into glory kissed. The wide gold stretch of many a fertile field ? Behold the reason : Truly overmuch I worship thee, and as a lover grows Bewildered, silent, at his lady's touch. While all his mind in passion's channel flows. When I thy zephyrs breathe, thy streamlets drink, And see thy skies bend o'er me blue and bright, I feel so much I not at all can think. My heart so dances that I cannot write ! 92 THISTLE DOWN. THREE DAYS. A DAY when sunlight's glory rolled ■^^^ Upon the earth in molten gold, When scarlet haws like coral glowed Mid crimson cornel by the road, And milkweed shed its silky snow With fragile thistle down to go Aloft, like ghosts of birds that fly Not under an October sky. A day of wind, when forest trees Breathed, low or loud, weird harmonies, And fallen leaves in maddest haste Along the frosty pathway raced, And it was good to be alive. Against the gay bold wind to strive, And feel the merry blood outleap The swift leaves in their onward sweep. THREE DA YS. 93 A day of rain, gray gentle rain, That gemmed the sweet briar in the lane, And gathered mist wreaths velvet soft To waver over copse and croft. And veiled the outlines of the hills, And swelled the murmur of the rills. While arid fields grew richly moist. And late-sown winter wheat rejoiced. And all the sweet hours of the three Were as one thought, dear heart, of thee ! 94 THISTLE DOWN. A COMPLAINT. XT O, no, I will not speak it, — there's no sense •^ In fretting over ills one cannot cure. And after all so slight is your offense, That haply I can still awhile endure, — Yes, even patiently unto the end I will conceal it, — you shall never know The hurt that, knowing, you could never mend, The lack in all my life that grieves me so. You thought I was quite happy ? That is it, — No, no, I will not tell, — well, if I must. It is that I'm too happy, — it were fit Some blow should smite me to the bitter dust. For how can human creature chastened grow Like me forever cherished and caressed ? Naught but the cruel discipline of woe Can rouse to action powers unconfessed. My friends all undergo much more than I, Poor women ! some are widows, — though of course I would not for a moment you should die, Yet why not try the anguish of divorce ? A COMPLAINT. 95 And not precisely would I have you rob, Or murder, gamble, forge, or even drink, Yet Oh, my heart exultantly would throb If somehow it might dwell on misery's brink ! I am so jealous when I daily read The strange adventures other wives go through ; They nobly suffer, and I also need More than the happiness I win from you. I'm tired of being happy, — could you not Somewhere upon the road your kindness leave, — Forsake, despise, revile me, curse the lot That linked us, and so teach me how to grieve ? 96 , THISTLE DOWN. HEAVEN. A^TE dream, sometimes, of that dim far-off land, * Our journey's end, our home, our second birth ; We only dream, — we cannot understand That wondrous riddance of the woes of earth. No failure there, no loss and no decay, No tempest, but clear shining after rain ; Like mists, life's myriad cares shall fade away. While all good things we knew on earth remain. The singer's voice in sweeter strains shall rise, The poet's verse in nobler numbers flow, Fair landscapes wait the painter's raptured eyes, And gazers on the stars at last shall know The very heart of all their mysteries. And Nature's faithful lovers shall not end Their lifelong quest of blossoms, birds and bees, But placid hours in peaceful woodcraft spent. They who on earth were doomed to dwell In crowded cities' heavy stifling air. May wander through a cool and ferny dell Beside fresh waters fringed with flowers rare. HE A VEN. 97 The pale and shrunken victims of disease, And they who writhed beneath the lash of pain. Shall healing find in every passing breeze, And all their pristine bounding strength regain. The worker's worn and weary hands shall rest, The bent back straighten in a gracious ease. The heart cease aching in the mourner's breast, — The baffled student then may grasp the keys Of soul and sense and many a mighty truth. And they who faint with age — life's last, worst ill — Shall quaff the spring of sweet eternal youth, And face the long, fair future, children still. 98 THISTLE DOWN. PORCELAIN PAINTING. ■pvAINTILY shell-shaped is the cup, ^^ A feather's weight as I hold it up, Frail as a bubble, creamily white, — Fairies fashioned a thing so slight. Mine is the task, with subtle skill And loving labor, to change at will This snowdrop's hue to a lovely sheen Of delicate color, — faintest green. Like grass in earliest spring-time seen, Tenderest lavender, palest pink. Or the melting blue that makes one think Of August skies ; and then you know. Round it a spray of flowers must go, — The daisy stars that gemmed our way Through the warm wide fields one happy day, The lily we found in the little pond, ^\iQ fleur-de-lis of the marsh beyond. The scarlet sumach's leaves, that stood Sentinel at the edge of the wood. The velvety moss, the maples red, Or fragile and fluttering ferns instead. Or some rich rose's crimson gloom, Or sweet confusion of apple bloom. PORCELAIN PAINTING. 99 And so whenever I drink my tea, My cup shall always bring to me — Though loud abroad the north winds blow, And wildly whirls the driven snow — A thought of the summer ceased to be. THISTLE DOWN. AT DEATH'S DOOR. THE COWARD. ' ' T SHUDDER at the frightful brink, The gasping plunge, the icy wave, — In all my quivering flesh I shrink The slow cold horror of the grave. Dim ghosts wait on yon shrouded shore. Their hope, sense, spirit, quenched in death, — Gray, helpless ghosts forevermore, — Oh, God ! I dare not die ! " one saith. THE TOILER. '* Fain would I sleep and be at rest, But whence would come my children's bread? Dear wife, dear baby at her breast. What fate were theirs if I were dead ? If but an hour my labor cease, The wolf comes howling nearer by, — Not yet for me death's holy peace, — No, no ! Lord, help me not to die ! " AT DEATH'S DOOR. loi THE SPINSTER. " Thou knowest, Lord, my life hath not Like others with love's radiance glowed, - I scarce remember one bright spot Along the weary, dusty road. If looking backward one could know One's heart with joy had once beat high, 'Twere easy then, methinks, to go, — I have not lived, — Oh, must I die? " THE VILLAIN. '* My crime-stained soul is doomed to hell ; Oaths foully perjured, friends betrayed. Tyrannic burdens, treasons fell, The hard-won honor of a maid. And cruel murder, last and worst, — These strew the earthly path I trod ! My writhing victims cry accurst ! How shall I face an angry God ? " THE POET. "To me there came a gift divine Of words to help and heal and bless, And they are mine and only mine, — No other may the message guess. My lips are hushed and sealed. Ah, then, I may not speak the thrilling, strong. Uplifting words God sent to men, — And earth is poorer by a song ! " THISTLE DOWN. THE BRIDE. '' O sweet the lilies, sweet the breeze, And sweet the sunset's pearl and rose ! Hath heaven sweeter things than these ? It may be true, — but yet, — who knows ? I care not for the higher bliss That dwells, they say, yon sky above, — O, clasp me — let me feel your kiss — And keep me — keep me here, O Love ! ' ' A MODEST /REQUEST. 103 A MODEST REQUEST. A N awful fear, my dear, my dear, '^■^ This faithful breast alarms, — That death one day will come this way, And snatch you from these arms. I do not ask an irksome task, Nor set my wishes high, I only pant to hear you grant The promise not to die ! Go where you please, across the seas, I'll meekly bear the pain. Alone, forlorn, the mark of scorn, I will not once complain. And should you flirt, 'tis my desert, I'll never breathe a sigh. But O my sweet, I still entreat, Do anything but die ! Oh, quite forget we ever met. And laugh my memory down. Or even worse, you may rehearse My faults to all the town, Unkindly speech your accents teach, And frowning pass me by, I'll bear your sneer, my dear, my dear, But Oh, you must not die ! 104 THISTLE DOWN. TWO FRIENDS. T IKE sail to wretched castaway, -*-^ Like manna to the Israelites, Like sunshine in a sullen day, Like bracing air of Alpine heights, This true and noble friend of mine Who makes each day a triumph-song, Who pours life's richest ruby wine, And bids me drink and so be strong. The other — never little child Did breathe at night more plaintive cry Than doth this soul unreconciled For light and help, and swiftly I Come running with a tender kiss And hush to peace this friend of mine, Who would not my fond soothing miss For angels' ministry divine. So dear, so dear my friends to me, I scarce know which may dearer be ! AN INJUNCTION. 105 AN INJUNCTION. T AM haunted by the story -■■ How one called to die Sternly bid a spectre gory From his bed to fly, — *'A11 too soon the curse is sent me To avenge my crime, — Devil ! why would ye torment me Thus before the time ? ' ' Oh, the morning mists are shifting Up the meadows fair, — Scent of ripened apples drifting On the mellow air, Birds are still their carols trolling In a silver chime, — Winter ! come not this way strolling Thus before the time ! io6 THISTLE DOWN. Oh, my heart is blithesome, dearest, Let me sing and smile. Tell me not of all thou fearest For a little while, — Let us linger till tomorrow In this pleasant clime, — I am brave, but would not sorrow Thus before the time ! STEADFASTNESS. 107 STEADFASTNESS. 'H^IS but a faint weak heart requires -■■ The constant tendance of its fires, Demanding they should aye be nursed By that poor wight who lit them first, With oil of praise, with fanning breath That comes when loving words one saith. With fuel of benignant deeds, Of wants foreseen^ and granted needs, — And if one hour's neglect ensue The guardian dearly it shall rue ! Almost a worthless heart, I wis. Is such a timid one as this. That lets the blaze sink to a spark, And trembles in its self-made dark. But it was in a stronger frame God made me, and the precious flame Within my breast myself can feed Forever, knowing not the need Of reassurance nor the bliss Of close embrace and ardent kiss. io8 THISTLE DOWN. Speak, or be silent ! 'tis all one, — Behind the cloud still shines the sun, And did I love a vanished star Still would I know that not so far It could withdraw beyond my ken I should not win it back again. Through lonely nights and toilsome days With patience will I watch the blaze, And sometime — sometime! tired and cold. You, wandering across the wold, Shall marvel at the beacon bright, And seek at last its warmth and light ! IN THE DARK. 109 IN THE DARK. ^~PHE rayless dark of doubt and fear, -*■ Where day dawns not to banish night, And no voice whispers words of cheer. And hearts chill with a nameless fright. How long unfaltering, Oh, how long Shall mortals trust beyond their ken ? '' For years — forever ! " saith the song, — Ah, no ! That were for gods, not men ! The lamp of faith, untended, burns But dim and flickers dead, — then hark ! The bravest heart despairing yearns To list a love-word through the dark ! no THISTLE DOWN. A FOUNDLING. ''T^WAS a simple idea of mine I desired not to cherish and keep, I esteemed it not pretty or fine, So I hastened to hush it to sleep. And I left it I scarcely know where On the road in a ragged shawl rolled, Little recking how ill it might fare, If it hungered or perished with cold. But another, ah me ! at its moan Gave it love and the warmth of her breast, And so fair and so high it has grown. In her laces and broideries dressed, That the people are wild in their praise Of the exquisite charm of the thought, And in future a chaplet of bays May be hers for the work she hath wrought. And the forfeited motherhood stirs In my heart, and I long to exclaim ''It is mine, it is mine, and not hers, — Give it back ! ' ' But I cannot for shame. THE LODGERS. THE LODGERS. pOOR PRIDE ! I well could pity thee ''- I nursed within my bosom warm, Not deeming thou shouldst ever be Cast out into the bitter storm. But now comes Love, and seeks my breast, And begs, and will not be denied, — Too small for him the house at best, And so — farewell, farewell, poor Pride ! THISTLE DOWN. THE ALTERNATIVE. "\ ^ riLL you grow old and be the sport Of grinding aches and pinching pains, With failing mind and memory short, And wasted flesh and shrunken veins ? Or do you think that now to die Less hateful were than growing old, — Beneath a brown wet weight to lie Forever in the creeping mold ? THE DIVISION. 113 THE DIVISION. "P ACH day my hours thus portioned be, ^^^ For weary duties twenty-three, And but one short sweet hour for thee. Unequal share ! I wonder why Reversed the balance may not lie, Nor life drag thus distorted by ! And yet so richly is it blest, That season brief, divinest, best, Its fragrance perfumes all the rest ! 114 THISTLE DOWN. THE RAIMENT. A /T ANY a thought unmeetly bold ^ Wears the sonnet's cloth of gold, Meriting the quatrain's four Linen foldings and no more. Yet "fine feathers make fine birds," — Great the charm of Tyrian words, — Trivial thoughts superbly dressed Often queen it with the best. GRIM APS FAIRY TALES. GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES. T^^HREE times the book aloud I read ^ At eve by Laurie's little bed, And grew to love as well as he The stories of the grateful bee, Twin brothers, lions, hunters, hares. Kings' daughters, fiddlers, dancing bears, Gnomes, foxes, tailors, golden lakes, Glass mountains, castles, and white snakes. And more than pleasure's my reward : Suggestions so the tales afford, That now whene'er I stranded be For image or for simile, The picture of a haunted wood, Of sad enchanted maidenhood, Of dragon battling with a knight, Of bandit cave's alluring light, Or some such fantasy will rise Before me, and my need supplies. And Laurie, when 'tis read to him, Delighted cries, " Why, that's from Grimm ! " i6 THISTLE DOWN. A PRAYER WITHDRAWN. "X XT' HEN that dear grave, which twenty times Hath greened and whitened through the year, Was starkly new, and pangs most drear Did sorely my poor heart-strings rack, Each hour I thought, '' From those fair climes Where now he dwells, he will come back ! *' Some day I shall no longer yearn In vain to see my darling's face, For swift from out that heavenly place, Down-dropping through the limpid air. Some day he will, he must return, And teach me how my pain to bear. *' Once more the sweetness of his smile Shall lap me in a holy calm. And tender words like healing balm Shall tell how love outlives the grave, And as I list, my soul the while Shall peaceful grow, and strong and brave. ' ' A PRAYER WITHDRAWN. 117 An idle hope ! 'Tis mine no more, Let not, dear God, that frantic prayer Be heard, but keep Thy chosen there, In Paradise ! He must not see The raven curls all silvered o'er, This wreck of what I used to be. He would not know me now, in truth ! I could not brook that sharp surprise Should chill the love-light in his eyes. At time's revenges, sorrow's trace, — Until death gives me back my youth I dare not meet him face to face. [i8 THISTLE DOWN. A TREASURE. pEERLESS my jewel, sure -*■ None ever saw Pearls so supremely pure, White, without flaw, — Nay, but I thank thee not, Dear, for thy gift, — Better the common lot. Joyless to drift. How can I thank thee, when Lonely at night, I wake to think again, Cold with affright,— ** Oh, is it still my own. Or is it gone?" And my heart like a stone Lieth till dawn. PERFECTION. PERFECTION. HTHERE is an instant at the end of day -*• Wherein the western sky so richly glows We wish It might unaltered ever stay In such blent harmony of gold and rose. O Life ! I pray thee cease thy rapid flight, Nor haste to terminate this hour supreme, But let me, ere the fall of gloomy night, One moment linger in the sunset's gleam ! I20 THISTLE DOWN. A COQUETTE. A GERMAN shepherd falsely cried ■^^^ " Wolf, wolf ! " until the neighbors ceased To heed him, and their aid denied When came in fact the savage beast. So when a flirt her love doth yield And strives to testify her truth, The man exclaims, against her steeled, '* A clever counterfeit, in sooth ! " A RONDEAU. A RONDEAU. VT'OU loved me once, — Ah, yes ! and though ■^ 'Twas not for me aside to throw Faith, duty, honor, nor to let Love's seal upon my heart be set, — I smile to think you loved me so ! A bud that Fate forbid to blow, — An airy dream of long ago, So slight, I almost could forget You loved me once ! Long since, O friend, time's balmy flow Your hurt hath mended, and I know No cruel image haunts you yet, Save Passion's gentle ghost. Regret, Who sometimes, haply, murmurs low — You loved me once ! THISTLE DOWN. HINDRANCES. A S once a lion in the forest lay, Enmeshed in hated bonds that said him, "Nay ! Strive not ! you shall not stir, rise, run, or leap. But unto death this loathed inaction keep," — So I in strangling coils am helpless bound. And must forever grovel on the ground. Nor seek the fields where fair achievements lie, Nor joyous scale the distant mountains high. But courage, heart ! faint not ! It yet may be A little mouse, Resolve, shall set me free. A LIKENESS. 123 A LIKENESS. WHEN one across the sands doth creep, And fainteth in brown dusty air, And scarce his onward way can keep, And scarce can breathe a tortured prayer For water, it may come to pass That far along the white-hot sand There gleams the cool, fresh, green of grass. That arid sea's salvation, — Land 1 And lo ! to bless the verdant plot A gurgling streamlet forth doth flow, — Why drinks the thirsting wanderer not? Why doth he sink in bitter woe? Alas ! within its very source A loathesome carcass rotting lies, — The stream bears poison through its course, — 'Tis cursed, and he who drinketh dies ! 124 THISTLE DOWN. A LOVE SONG. "T^EAR heart, I am so happy, merely stringing ^^ My daisy-chains of verse the whole day through, So happy, though you dream not I am singing, Dear heart, dear heart ! to you. Mere meadow blossoms are my simple treasures, Yet haply they are sweet and wet with dew, For tender thoughts are woven in the measures. Dear heart^ dear heart ! of you. Yet like a child that loves not to be lonely, And hastes before a mate its flowers to strew, I long to share my happiness, but only. Dear heart, dear heart ! with you. AFTER THE PARTY. 125 AFTER THE PARTY. T WAS furious when they said He^ forsooth, resembled you, — Had he such a kingly head, Were his eyes one-half as true ? No, there was not in his face Aught to touch and thrill me through,- Why, he lacked the slightest trace Of the charm there is in you. And they called me over kind. Said I even flirted, too, — Well, — if so, you need not mind, 'Twas because he looked like you ! 126 THISTLE DOWN. THE DIFFERENCE. /^H, when the meadows lay ^-^ Silver and black, Under Diana's ray, What did I lack? Was not the crystal sheen Heavenly fair ? Listless I viewed the scene — You were not there. And yet a city way Sodden and black In a chill rainy day, — How it comes back ! — Though the wind whistled keen I did not care, I found the day serene Since you were there. THE TRUTH. xz'j THE TRUTH. A A 7" HEN all the fancies involute Of woman's subtle complex mind Do circle to a poet's flute, What slightest hope is there to find Amid the whirling dancers fleet — Who sometimes clash a bit, in sooth, — Amid the concourse fair and sweet, The calm grave face of utter truth ! Can such an one herself decide What is or is not in her soul ? She feigns lamentings, anger, pride. And seeks their horrors to inscroll, The while one feeling only stays Unchanged in fresh eternal youth : There is no hour of all her days She fails to love — behold the truth ! 128 THISTLE DOWN. IN A LOOK. A LOOK can carry pleased applause, "^^ Soft pity's salve may in it lie, And oft the wildest tumults pause. Rebuked by stern superior eye ; A look, poor timid hope can slay. Can thrust contempt's keen poisoned lance, Can lighten half the toilsome day For him who meets a kindly glance. And sharper than the clash of swords The glance that hate to hate can fling, And from the eye of one who hoards A secret, oft it taketh wing ; A stare can bring the false to shame, Can hidden guilt and lies find out. Can kindle cravens into flame, And put their chilling fears to rout. IN A LOOK. 129 Among light little joys the chief It is to change across a throng A stolen glance, that, lightning-brief. Yet seemeth daringly too long, A thrilling gaze that says, *' Take this, O dearest heart, to-night in lieu Of circling arm and raptured kiss And tender words that wait for you ! " 130 THISTLE DOWN. DEATH'S DISTINCTIONS. "\ 1 /"OULD not one think that when the pall Of sorrow veils our stricken hearts We well might suffer once for all Whatever anguish death imparts, And know that if he comes again He will but old past pain renew? Ah, no ! he only cometh when Some special dart can pierce us through. For I remember when she died Who was for me the first to go, A peerless maiden, that I cried, " Can perfect beauty perish so ? " And when a man of giant frame Dropped lifeless at a single blow, I said, " Now strength is but a name, And mortal vigor lieth low." DEATH'S DISTINCTIONS. 131 And then death claimed a precious child With lovely graces so replete, Still is my heart unreconciled And childhood no more seemeth sweet, — And as with these my dear ones went Strength, beauty, sweetness, even so Each death must ever represent Some one peculiar cause of woe. 132 THISTLE DOWN. FLOWERING CURRANTS. A H ! never again their golden bloom "^^^ Shall flood the dark with rich perfume, But a face shall rise up out of the gloom, A face with passionate eyes, — And a wonder of mingled joy and pain Shall sweep across my dizzying brain. And the old, old love I thought was slain Once more in its might shall rise ! A POOR GIRVS FUNERAL. 133 A POOR GIRL'S FUNERAL. From the French of Auguste Briseux. T 1 rHEN fair Louise died in her early bloom, A woodflower severed by the wind and rain, Not many followed to her humble tomb, — A holy father, praying, led the train. Then came a youth who gave from time to time Low voiced responses in a solemn chime ; — A simple boxwood cross, a thread-bare pall. Alone adorned her bier, and scarce at all The bell was tolled to warn the country-side That its most lovely maid had drooped and died, For she was poor, and wealth alone hath power To lavish honors in the burial hour. But when the funeral in the golden morn Passed all the shady scented copses by. The dewy dells, the fields of broom and corn, Then sudden glory April flung on high. And showered forth her fragrant starry snows, Bathing in tears the verdant woodland way, — The hawthorn wore a robe of white and rose, A mist of blossoms trembled on each spray, And many a bird burst forth in w^elcome song, To greet the coffin as it passed along. 134 THISTLE DOWN. WITH LEAVES IN A LETTER. T WOULD that I might send to you ^ Fair tender buds besprent with dew, The symbols sweet of spring, instead Of these late gleanings dry and dead. Yet no, — for these are past decay, And as they are they still shall stay, — The garnered beauty of the year That changes not, I send you, dear. And never early bloom did know Such dark rich green, such topaz glow, Such ruby and impassioned flame As to these autumn jewels came. THISTLE DOWN. 135 THISTLE DOWN. T T lies before me on my desk, A pearly shadow, while I trace Its lines in curve and arabesque. The lid of my new book to grace. But lies no single instant still, — At lifted hand, at breath or sigh, Its pulsing tremors voice the will To flutter forth, to float, to fly. Be quiet, darlings ! Many miles I carried you to serve this need, Nor saucy pleadings, wistful wiles. Nor starts impatient do I heed. Why, you are not the only things Fast bound in duty's heavy chains, — I, too, would fly where Autumn flings Her largess, and imperial reigns ! And yet, you're very frail and white, — 'Twere sad if you should perish here, Nor would I rob the last delight, Poor Ariels, from your one sweet year. 136 THISTLE DOWN. And you might haunt me, — some dark day, I, musing in a study brown, Might hear the Christmas snowflakes say '' We are the ghosts of Thistle Down ! " A moment yet, — the sketch is done, The casement open wide I fling, — Wait till I kiss you ! — In the sun And laughing breeze go waltz and swing ! THE ELMWOOD AVENUE BRIDGE. 137 THE ELMWOOD AVENUE BRIDGE. \fsJ HAT though the wind blows piercing chill ? ^ ^ The scene is fair enough to keep One gazing from this snow-sprent hill Upon the water's merry leap From quiet lake to stiller pool With yellow willows on its brim, Where wild red leaves, at last grown cool. Among the bubbles slowly swim. And mingled with the slight cascade. Its laugh, its mimic plunge and roar. There comes the clang from pick and spade Of those who marry shore and shore ; The derrick, with its chains and rings. Benignant gallows of our race. Like tireless giant lifts and swings The chiseled masses into place. O brothers, yours the cruel stent This bitter dark November day ! Small wonder that the back is bent. The soul too wearied out to pray, — O cutting blast, less fiercely blow. And lagging hours, pass swifter by, — Come, Night, and let my brothers go Within thy kind embrace to lie ! 138 THISTLE DOWN. Yet not for just today you work : This noble span that you have wrought — And surely pride and joy must lurk In such a high inspiring thought ! — This graceful curve shall spring as true, A plan approved, a valued way, The whole long twentieth century through, As in its primal strength today. How many things instinct with worth Are yet but creatures of their age, Foredoomed to pass from off the earth As do the actors from the stage, — How soon our sermons, songs and pleas Are hushed forever, quite ignored, — We cannot hope the apple trees Will mind in spring last autumn's hoard ! When lips have lost their coral tint, And cheeks are washed with tears and wan. When certain books are out of print, And I superfluous linger on, — Some toiler worn, rheumatic, gray. Yet justly proud, upon this ridge Shall stand, and to a child shall say : '* My dear, your grandpa built that bridge ! AT TWILIGHT. 139 AT TWILIGHT. HP HE light is fading, — it is time To rest and put the pen away, And is there still no haunting rhyme, No last word one would wish to say ? For me tomorrow may not dawn, And it were well if they should find- My dearest ones — when I am gone, A faint last echo of my mind. Why, then, I say — 'Twas very sweet Of you to love me in despite Of my unworthiness complete, — I thank you all, — and so, goodnight I SONNETS BECALMED. 143 BECALMED. A S in the scorching flame of tropic heat, — ^ The sun a jewel in the turquoise sky, Whose rays, like blows, unceasingly do beat The conquered sullen sea, — a ship doth lie Becalmed and helpless, while her drooping sails Hang gray and heavy on the breathless air ; So is my life bereft of all the gales That onward sweep mankind to do and dare. My sluggish days know not the rushing tide Of work, nor biting breeze of adverse fate, Nor gusts of high ambition, anger, pride, Nor joy's soft zephyrs, nor wild winds of hate,- No passion's tempest shakes me like a leaf, Nor do I bow beneath the storm of grief. 144 THISTLE DOWN. THE PRISM. (~\ FAIR amalgam of harmonious hue ! ^^ Within the magic of thy tiny round, In little, all earth's glories shall be found : The sunset's gorgeous flame bursts on the view, The skies unfold, inimitably blue, Red's martial music sets the pulse abound, Wood violets sweetly strew the mossy ground. And yellow wheat fields wave, gold ripened through. And thou, O keystone color, vernal green ! How many a merry memory dost thou bring Of maids and knights in fabled forest-scene Down Sherwood, Arden, Windsor, wandering, — And something in thy emerald ray serene Bids '' Hope ! ' ' and bears a blessed hint of spring. A DIAMOND, 145 A DIAMOND. IV /[" ID horrid glooms of some chaotic hour Lost in the unwrit history of earth, A whirled white fire, a mad cyclonic power, A pressure vast, terrific, gave thee birth. Sunk in black depths tellural didst thou bide Age-long, nigh veins of gold, and wast aware Of that dread force which mountains fling aside. Rising wild- beast like from its unkenned lair, To strike the helpless wretched world a-quake. Then, toil and risk did daring men endure To rive thee from thy secret haunt, and make A perfect crystal, dew-bright and flame-pure. Were less the time, strength, riches hid in thee, Less meet wert thou the lover's gift to be. 146 THISTLE DOWN. INDIFFERENCE. A H, chilling, killing, thrice unwelcome guest, Who comes unbidden, never to depart ! Why must thou sever heart from loving heart. And hush life's currents to ignoble rest? Thou wilt not suffer in the lover's breast — O vile usurping victor that thou art ! — Its tender tenants: passion dwells apart. Faith fails, love dieth, at thy cold behest. A precious boon art thou, a balm, a bliss ! The surgeon's vapor, soothing in a breath ! Did not thy mercy, like the mists of morn. Veil beauty, hide life's treasures, freeze Love's kiss, Then were the fear of death a daily death. And death a pang too monstrous to be borne. THE SWIMMER. 147 THE SWIMMER. T ORD of two elements, with bounding heart, •*-^ And tingling blood, and mighty strength of limb, Stroke after stroke he swiftly- cleaves apart The lambent emerald waters bearing him. Or diving through the vast, dim under-world. He seeks the fabled mermaids hidden there, Rising to shake his locks all spray-empearled. And draw a long breath of the summer air. Again he idly floats a little space, Letting the lucent weight of each cool wave, Caressing as a kiss, his happy face And all his outstretched length of body lave. Then from a height with free, exultant spring He dives again, and feels himself a king. QUATRAINS QUATRAINS. 151 QUATRAINS. A WISH. T WOULD be as the kindly rain, and not Bless but a corner of love's garden-plot, — Not lavish all upon the lilies' needs, But nourish equally the humblest weeds. THE MOTTO. A Friday's child am I, and so Must ^* Love and Give " my motto make ; But these pursuits insipid grow, And henceforth I shall hate and take. AFTER MUSIC. When others of their pleasure spoke. And praised the player's brilliant art, I said not wild sweet echoes woke, And were a song for thee, dear heart. BLANK PAPER. Fair virgin whiteness, often I desire Your rich suggestiveness to laud and thank, But presto ! fancy glows with sudden fire, And all is spoiled, for you no more are blank. 152 THISTLE DOWN. WOMAN S LOVE. I fancy not the symbol old Of clinging vine and sturdy tree, — How oft within the strangling fold The forest monarchs murdered be ! A LETTER. A purple wine wherein are blent The summer's garnered bloom and scent, - Once and again I quaff my fill, Yet lo ! the goblet's brimming still ! CONSCIENCE. When dogs are sleeping, let them quiet sleep. Lest wakened, at thy throat they furious leap ; Walk warily, for fear the surly hound Called conscience rouse and drag thee to the ground. LIMITATIONS. As birds not fast enough can pour the notes Of love and joy from out their tiny throats, The sprites of fancy chase each other so, To capture them the pen is all too slow ! CONSOLED. Ah, yes, all pain is over now, — no more I suffer as I did in days of yore, — Then why tliese tears that flow like summer rain ? Come back, come flying back, O sweet past pain ! QUATRAINS. 153 SELF-SUFFICING. Let others seek the stress of worldly strife Or fairer haunts where pleasure wields control, Enough for me the thrill of plainest life, The rages, raptures, sorrows of my soul. PURITY. A rose or butterfly is good To tear to pieces, thinks the boy ; The vestal calm of maidenhood Man seeketh only — to destroy. A COMET. Past thought thy orbit's width, yet not so vast Thou wilt not whirl once more into our ken, — And I, left darkling, shall at last — at last A dearer vanished light perceive again ! A FAIR DAY. pulsing warmth of green and gold and blue, 1 cannot frame the ode that is thy due. And of thy beauty in the after-time Naught shall remind me save this tiny rhyme. A RAINY DAY. No friendly foot today shall cross the sill. The birds and bees in sheltered nooks are still, But fearing not to visit me through storm. The swift sweet thoughts about me wheel and swarm. 154 THISTLE DOWN, MUTABILITY. That woman is a thing of moods Is the most trite of platitudes, Yet freshly striking, since today A boon long craved I fling away. THE FIRST DUTY. You remember great Agassiz's answer sublime When advised to make money — '' I haven't the time !' Even so, why in labor life should we employ, Since we haven't half time enough just to enjoy? LOVE. O perfect rapture, ultimate, supreme ! What miracle of ecstasy is this. That mortals should thy sharpest tortures deem Delight more precious than a lower bliss ? AUTHORSHIP. Some pens there are whose work is all a lie Against the human race and God on high ; Or if by chance some truth they ever tell, So bitter is it, silence were as well. VERSE AND PROSE. As pearls and diamonds are not fitly set In silver, but demand the richest gold, So may man's meaner thoughts in prose be met, His noblest ones do but in verse unfold. QUATRAINS. 155 PARALYSIS. A fell disease doth bind the frame More fast than casket lid of lead, — *Tis cruel when that sickness' name . Befits the mind's estate instead ! COUNTER CURRENTS. Alas, poor poets ! theirs the fate, I ween. Of ships adrift and helpless, doomed one day To utter more than mortal man could mean, The next, to mean more than a god could say ! CALAMITY. '* The worst has happened ! " did he sigh. And feared to tell the tidings drear, — ** Nay, not the worst, dear love ! " quoth I, '' Since you can speak and I can hear ! " THE WEAPON. Long since a bee did pierce with mortal sting The jointed armor of a human foe. And scarce a larger dagger do I bring. The world's indifference seeking to lay low. SURRENDER. E'en as a warrior, bloody from the fray. His broken sword despairing casts away. Forever from the ranks of struggling men I beaten sink, and drop my worthless pen. 156 THISTLE DOWN. THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. I smile to hear the scoffer falsely say That never corpse again to life did rise, — No less a miracle, O love, today The waking of my heart beneath thine eyes ! A SPENDTHRIFT. Close, close he clasps his store of common gold, The sordid yield of traffic's noisy mart. But spurns aside as worthless wealth untold, The gift of God, a true devoted heart. OPEN SESAME A rock-hewn cave, its inner secret wall Lit with the diamond's flash, the ruby's flame, A stubborn portal shut and barred to all Save one who breathes a certain mystic name. A SUICIDE. Could he but sell that which he casts away, This man of life's sweet self a-weary grown, A million times the wealth of famed Cathay Were his, and kings would crawl before his throne. A PROOF. They say that truth is precious, — I believe The maxim by this simple proof: we grieve And agonize o'er trifling missives not at all, But truth-filled letters hunger to recall. QUATRAINS. 157 IN AN ALBUM. When Adam into being came He gave the creatures each a name,- 'Tis otherwise we moderns do, We haste to give our names to you. AN IDLE DAY. O utter blank, devoid of thoughts and null. How have I borne thy stagnant passage dull? Yet hush complaining, — many a life I know Entirely lapsing colorless and slow. THE ARROW. Just now a venomed shaft was sent From envy's quiver to my heart. But panoplied in calm content I never felt the futile dart. MY PETS. With fond caress I do not court Dumb things to dwell within my sight. Wee elfin fancies only sport Around me, and are my delight. GOOD-WILL. I thank Thee, God, no drop of gall Ferments and curdles in my heart ; The sweet earth's wide enough for all, I grudge not any man his part. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 018 395 654 1