£597 
 
 ISHMAEL 
 
 AND 
 OTHER ESS A YS 
 
 IN VERSE 
 
 HKRBY 
 
GassTSg 5l5 
 

AND 
 
 OTHER ESSAYS 
 
 IN VERSE 
 
 BY -> 
 J. HEP BY 
 
 ^t^ 
 
 1917 
 DeWitl and Snelling 
 
 OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA 
 

 . ^"^ yP\ 
 
 ^^y 
 
A 
 
 £ 
 
 -3- 
 
 ^N»l CONTENTS. ¥^^ 
 
 Dedication — — 1 
 
 Life - - 2 
 
 Ishmael — — 3 
 
 To A Woman - - 7 
 
 J^ The Choice — - - 8 
 
 p Buffalo Bill's Last Ride - 9 
 
 Apostrophe — — 10 
 
 Robert G. IngersoU - - 12 
 
 Poland - - - 13 
 
 Genius — — 14 
 
 Hail Glorious Flag — 15 
 
 To Adele Aus Der Ohe - 16 
 
 Twilight --- - - 17 
 
 The Answer Of The Gods 18 
 
 The Undertow - - 19 
 
 Totila - 20 
 
 Convention — — 21 
 
 Thos. H. Huxleg - " 22 
 
 My Butterfly - — - 23 
 
 Knowledge — - — - 24 
 
 To A Young Lady -— 25 
 
 Spring - - - 26 
 
 Woodrow Wilson - 27 
 
 Death Of The Poet - 28 
 
 The Muse - - --- 29 
 
 Charlotte Gruenhagen — 30 
 
 Night — - --- 31 
 
 The Water Maid - 33 
 
 Bertha Bell - - — 34 
 
 To A. B. C. 35 
 
 Ingeborg — — 36 
 
 The Earth And The Moon 38 
 
 Onlij - - 39 
 
 Voices — - — - 40 
 
 Death 41 
 
"Shall best I guatd Her kallowed ligkt 
 By sheltered service on her towers, 
 Or strife with Mammon and the powVs 
 That hold humanity in night?" 
 
 George Sterling 
 
^EDICATIOK, 
 
 As flies the Homing bird at eventide 
 Against the setting sun, and will abide 
 In no unwonted place, intent to rest 
 Contented in its own, though rough-made, nest; 
 
 So fly, my song bird, on the w^ngs of Night 
 Or Day across the world but to alight 
 And build your cherished home within the heart 
 Of those who love the strains you mag impart. 
 
 In youth I found you by the wayside, weak, 
 With ungrown wings, when fiom your chirping beak 
 I could but feintly hope you might belong 
 To those whose mission is the Art of Song. 
 
 And as I send ijou on your wing-borne way 
 Untaught, half-fed, yet would I hope you ma.^ 
 Where e'er you flij some little com^rt bring, 
 And find a friend that loves to hear gou sing. 
 
LIFE. 
 
 A life, tKey say, is but a graven chart 
 
 In the engraver's hand. Its features show 
 
 Here smiling landscapes, bright as childhood's glow. 
 
 There luscious orchards, nursed by Nature's art. 
 
 In scented vales rest Hope and Love, where part 
 The rugged mountain peaks that shadows throw. 
 Cooling the dale. Beneath in cadence flow 
 The subterranean rivers o£ the heart. 
 
 And here, enclosed in heavy lines, appear 
 
 The contours of a bleak Sahara's sands; 
 
 While round the coast the maelstrom's waters lave. 
 
 But by the sunny sea where sailors steer 
 Rich laden vessels back from distant lands. 
 Sits beckoning on the shore the silent Grave. 
 
ISHMAEL. 
 
 I am the war-lord! Master of the world am I; 
 I stride the land, I wade the sea, and from the sky 
 I hurl my messenger of death on cowering town 
 To kill, to maim, to starve, to burn. My royal tfown 
 Shall palsy all in fear. And my imperial arm 
 Shall wither field and orchard, and despoil the ^rm. 
 And on the future's tablets shall be writ my name 
 Where it shall shine with God's and with illustrious 
 &me. 
 
 No Alexander, Cyrus, Pyrrhus, Hannibal, 
 Or Ceasar, or Napoleon, or other shall 
 Approach my star of glory. For I stand a hero 
 Above the great Domitian, Herod, and Nero. 
 Their little cruelties were childish, few, and small 
 When measured by my labors in Ambition's call. 
 
 What! There is my crown which I have held if om 
 
 God a gift. 
 And to my heirs with final glory hoped to shift. 
 How come before my soul these apparitions strange? 
 My crown, its golden lustre lately seems to change 
 And fade, and in its flaming jewels must I see 
 The agony of death, and hear the sufferer's plea? 
 
 O, Horror! Comes again unhid the cruel sight 
 
 Of sinking Lusitania! In the murky night 
 
 A sudden consternation, and the quivering ship 
 
 Stagger and lurch and plunge as if it felt the grip 
 
 Of death in watery deeps, with clammy arms that fcld 
 
 About its victim like a python's deadly hold. 
 
I see upon the sinking ship the deep despair 
 Of mothers, fathers, children; and I hear the praijer 
 0{ agony and death. Go, go, thou crown, away, 
 I am the war-lord, I command thee, go, obey! 
 
 God! There in another jewel's flash appear 
 
 A thousand imps of vengeful Hell that jibe and jeer 
 And point accusing fingers to the ffuitless fields 
 Of France and Belgium. 'Tis but Destiny that wields 
 The scourge of war. I, I am guiltless of the blood 
 That cries to Heaven of vengeance for Life's ebbing 
 flood! 
 
 1 am the ruler of the earth! Why should the rays 
 Of baubles so disturb me, that the passing days 
 
 Are pictured terrors, and the sleepless nights are filled 
 With awful shrieks until my bone and blood are 
 
 chilled? 
 Away, away, dread crown! I will not look again. 
 Ah! But I must. Thou drawest me with resistless strain. 
 There, must I see again the soul-consuming show. 
 The peaceful villages with burning shells aglow; 
 And shattered, shapeless bodies to my vision come, 
 And bleaching sculls upon the hillslopes of Mort 
 
 Homme! 
 
 God! Must I look once more into the jewel's glare. 
 And see the Polish plains deserted, burnt, and bare; 
 And homeless men that hopeless rove, who yesterday 
 Plowed peaceful, fertile fields, and saw their children 
 
 play; 
 
 Who trudge and stare today with wan and vacant eye, 
 While to the suckling babe the mother's breasts are 
 dry? 
 
What of it then? Who prate of useless paper scraps, 
 0{ treaties torn and broken? Know they not, perhaps, 
 That strength is justice, power is equity, and we 
 Are but the God-made arbiters of Destiny? 
 
 Ah! Now another jewel in its treacherous light 
 Brings to my harrowed mind and helpless eye the sight 
 Of driven, sullen slaves from ravished lands; whose lot 
 Is that of laggard, dull, yoked cattle. Well, why not? 
 I am dictator. If it be my royal will 
 To tell my oath-bound minion he must murder, kill, 
 He shall rejoicing slay his ^ther, sister, brother 
 And lay unholy hand upon his trusting mother, 
 If I command. I hold the regency of God; 
 I am the bearer of his sceptre and his rod. 
 
 He by my hand shall "strafe" all the fees that dare 
 Raise impious hand 'gainst him and me; let them be- 
 ware. 
 God's vengeance soon shall smite them, hip and thioh, 
 As smites the lightning's bolt from out the leaden sky. 
 To zenith heights my glory shall be flashing fcrth 
 As flashes the aurora of the wintry North! 
 
 O God, Great God! Yet must I see torn limb fiom 
 
 limb 
 Sweet, cooing babes. Still in the jewel's glare the grim 
 Accursed Lusitania! And its visions bring 
 The cutting sword of conscience, like a poisoned 
 
 sting. 
 
The myriad dead, whose hollow eyes in vengeance stare 
 
 Into my soul with hateful gleam as if to tear 
 
 Mij heart. While bony Famine stalks throughout the 
 
 realm, 
 And on the sea sits grinning Death beside the helm. 
 
 O, that I were one of the laborers that come 
 At dusk with tired and trudging steps toward the home, 
 To eat the simple evening meal upon the board, 
 And talk of sheep and cattle, hay and harvest's hoard. 
 God, might I have one hour such restful peace as theij. 
 Just one short hour, O God! Do grant me this, I pray. 
 One hour, that I might ieel again the innocence 
 Of childhood's care free days, and cast these tortures 
 hence. 
 
 Thou answerest not, O God! Am I, then, Ishmael 
 Whose hand is raised against the world; on whom there 
 
 fell 
 The hand of all Humanity? The curse of Cain 
 Upon my head, and on my hand the crimson stain 
 Of ravished innocence? O, Moloch, Ahriman, 
 And Bell, and Typhon, hear ye, then, my plea, and 
 
 span 
 And gird the earth with cruelties and pains so new 
 And herce that in imagination's soil there grew 
 No so luxurious flowers; and in deep Tartarus 
 Such tortures were unboasted. Ah! What ominous. 
 Prophetic writing in the ruby do I read. 
 That: "Mene, mene, tekel . . . ?" By high Heaven I 
 
 plead. 
 It is the crown, the crown; God! Do not crucify 
 An innocent! It is the crown, not I, not I." 
 
TO A WOMAN. 
 
 Sweet woman! When I met you heart to heart 
 The hidden powers within the world I knew 
 That move the atom and that downward drew 
 The stars from out the welkin's l&rthest part. 
 
 The powers that move the world on busy mart, 
 And at creation's dawn enquickening blew 
 The breath of life; and from whose seeds there grew 
 The Soul's desire in beauty and in art. 
 
 Yet out of all the women you alone, 
 
 It seemed. Love's ecstacy so could enthrone 
 
 As would Life's yearnings fully satisfy. 
 
 And to resist your charm 'twere sin to try, 
 For in your eye's compelling depth I see 
 All fe>rces welded into unity. 
 
THE CHOICE. 
 
 Ye Powers of Earth! Ye Beauties of the World! 
 Come hither, speak of Beauty, Strength, and all; 
 And thou that wert from the Celestials hurled, 
 Show me the grandeur that obeys thy call. 
 
 Show ye to me the glories of the Sun, 
 
 When beams of Morning's light translucent glow; 
 
 Or at his noon, or, eventide begun. 
 
 When on the Ocean's brow his raylets flow. 
 
 Or show ye then to me the subtle Air, 
 
 That balms all creatures of the Earth and Sea; 
 
 The mighty Hurricane, whither it fare, 
 
 As Lightnings Vulcan-strong flash o'er the lea. 
 
 Or then the gorgeous, varied flowers that blow 
 In spring and summer, and the Woods and Fields; 
 How these their grace with lavish hand bestow, 
 And each to hut or palace beauty yields. 
 
 Or when the Night receives with open arms 
 Her countless children, glittering far in space. 
 Pressing, while Moonlight spreads its witching charms, 
 Them to her bosom in a fend embrace. 
 
 My Love, fcr whose embrace I scorn high Heaven 
 And laugh at Hell, is more than all; fcr she 
 To whom Love's sacred, matchless power was given. 
 Is lovelier than all the World to me. 
 
"BUFFALO BILL'S LAST RIDE. 
 
 A messenger rode with the eagle's speed 
 Across the plain on his dust gray steed; 
 Shouted to those on the village green: 
 "The redskins come. They are painted to kill. 
 Does any one know, or has any one seen 
 Where is Buffalo Bill?" 
 
 And one of the crowd, there, lifted his hand 
 To his broad brimmed hat with its leathern band 
 As, shading his eyes turning toward the west. 
 He looked at his guns. "I see on the hill 
 There 's going to be fun. They are passing the crest," 
 Said Buffalo Bill. 
 
 And swiftly he galloped, nor deigned to wait 
 For others to follow, or man or mate; 
 For when he levelled unerring gun 
 The redskins knew it was sure to kill. 
 They yelled: "Turn back to the setting sun; 
 It 's Buffalo Bill." 
 
 And when there appeared ffom the Stygian shore 
 A charger whose bridle was red with gore, 
 The old scout nodded, and, grasping the rein. 
 Sprang into the saddle and then with a will 
 Through the Dale of Death into Manitou's plain 
 Rode Buffalo Bill. 
 
APOSTROPHE. 
 
 God of the Universe! Hast turned Thine ear 
 
 Away from Earth's despair? Darest Thou not hear 
 
 The awful shrieks, the triumph shouts, the roar 
 
 Of all the furious World, that rise before 
 
 The firelit Heaven? Hearest not the mother's groans 
 
 Beside her dying child, whose low moans 
 
 Attest the waning life? Helpless she kneels 
 
 Kissing the shell-torn body. Crushed, she &e\s 
 
 Injustice pitiless, as with its hand 
 
 It scatters misery throughout the land. 
 
 Stifling all living things. Hearest not, O God, 
 
 The screams of children, whom the War-Gods trod 
 
 With scornful heel? Hearest not the last, low sigh 
 
 Come fi-om the lovely maid, within whose eye 
 
 There glow e'en unto death the fires that burn 
 
 For him she loves, and for his hoped return? 
 
 Hearest Thou the lying of the war-lord's tool, 
 The jumbled gibbering of the mitred fool 
 For victory? As if the length of swords 
 Measured world-justice and the truth of words! 
 
 Or is, O God, Thine eye by age grown dim 
 Thou seest not on the welkin's blood red rim 
 The murder spear, by Mars in fury hurled 
 ^-Xtt the bared breast of a helpless World? 
 The gaping trenches, like the mouth of Bel, 
 Opening to swallow in the maw of Hell 
 The sons of men? Seest not the fertile fields 
 Sown with the hatred of the war eagle's shields? 
 The bird of battle hovering o'er his prey. 
 Spewing fire-venonij rejoicing when he slay? 
 
 (IAh.T^ 
 
And seest Thou not the iron swordfish dive 
 With joyous grin beneath the wave and drive 
 Into the staunch leviathan his steel, 
 Piercing its heart? Nor in his conscience iSel 
 Remorse; but music to his Vandal ears 
 Are prayers of agony, and shrieks, and tears. 
 
 Or is the poisoned air the last, fcul breath 
 
 Of War-Gods in their insane dance of death? 
 
 And is the burning city's ghastly light. 
 
 Spreading its gruesome fire-tongues tL^rough the night 
 
 Freedom's and Brotherhood's heaven-holy fire; 
 
 Kings', emperors', tyrants', final funeral pyre? 
 
 Or is. Great God, this Rightfulness the fell 
 
 Appearance of a passing, deadly spell, 
 
 That is to Gods a game of chess, with pawns 
 
 Moved forth on Cruelty's un^eling lawns? 
 
 Or shall this pregnant Madness soon give birth 
 
 To a regenerated, free*made Earth? 
 
'ROBERT G. INGER50LL. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Upon a precipice the Lion lay, 
 Divinest of all creatures on the sphere; 
 Tranquil and strong and true, nor knowing fear. 
 Unmoved he was by noisij dogs that bay 
 
 The moon. Beneath the precipice the gray. 
 Thick clouds of clamor rose against the ear: 
 "Blasphemies on his Godless ^ce appear; 
 Ha! We will kill him at the break of day!" 
 
 And so the baiting beasts the coming morn 
 Gathered about. And on the breeze were borne 
 Reverberating echoes of their hate. 
 
 But slunk away within the kennePs gate 
 
 The hounds. For when the Lion turned his head 
 
 The yelping pack in coward terror fled. 
 
 12 
 
"POLAND. 
 
 Hark! Ye sons of Poland, to the winds that softly 
 
 blow, 
 Scented zephyrs from the fields where Freedom's 
 
 blossoms grow. 
 Listen to the voices whispered over moor and fen: 
 ^^Back to Poland's soil is coming Liberty again." 
 
 Lo! Thy brother stands there, Poland, grasping Free- 
 dom's hand; 
 
 And the crown, blood-rusted, shall be banished from 
 thy land. 
 
 And the children of thy mothers shall be freemen 
 when 
 
 Back to Poland's soil is coming Liberty again. 
 
 See the Vistula uneasy under tyrant's oar; 
 Hear its gentle murmur rising to a thund'rous roar. 
 'Tis the song of triumph sung to freedom-loving men: 
 "Back to Poland's soil is coming Liberty again." 
 
 Hark! Ye sons of Poland, hark, ye mothers, maid- 
 ens, boys; 
 
 For Democracy is singing with exultant voice. 
 
 And the Polish Breeze is proudly whisp'ring this re- 
 frain: 
 
 "Back to Poland's soil is coming Liberty again." 
 
 13 
 
gEKIUS. 
 
 As leaps the Stream the tall clifPs edge, ice cold 
 And crystal clear, the mighty Glacier's child. 
 Profusely sprinkling rocks bjj Aeons piled. 
 Then with increasing swiftness plunges bold 
 
 Into the waiting Deep's enclosing fcld 
 And, eddying, dimpled, clear, flows undefiled 
 In gently gliding curves 'mid flowers wild. 
 To thirsting Plants a life stream pure as gold. 
 
 Thus Genius leaps irom unpolluted spheres; 
 Regarding nor the clamors nor the cheers 
 From multitudes that near its channel play. 
 
 Unmoved it passes on its tranquil way; 
 
 Reffeshing with life-giving nectar all 
 
 The thirsty Souls that heed its quickening call. 
 
 14 
 
HAIL, GLORIOUS FLAG! 
 
 Hail, Glorious Flag! The United States 
 
 Has walked with thee through Freedom's gatesj 
 
 American men salute thy stars 
 
 To break fcrever Oppression's bars. 
 
 Hail, Glorious Flag! Thy stripes shall stand 
 
 Equality's emblem in every land; 
 
 With American men inspired to fight 
 
 For world-wide justice, fcr Truth and Right. 
 
 Hail, Glorious Flag! Where thy fclds were spread 
 The thrones have tottered and Tyranny fled; 
 For American men stand staunch and true 
 Where wave thy colors, Red, White, and Blue. 
 
 Hail, Glorious Flag! On land and sea 
 American men the guides shall be 
 That lead the people from Thralldom's chain 
 To Liberty's mountain and Freedom's plain. 
 
 15 
 
rO ADELE AUS DER OHE. 
 
 Charmer of human souls, O Music sweet! 
 Deep-rooted Ygdrasil, with branches i&r 
 Up-reaching to the Azure's farthest star! 
 Touched soul to soul, within thy compass meet 
 
 The deep-stirred Hearts of nations; and all greet 
 Thy favorite. No notes of discord mar 
 The dulcet sounds that float across the bar, 
 Whose waves to Music's rhytmic cadence beat. 
 
 From out her instrument about us soar 
 Voices of distant thunder's rising roar; 
 Again she plucks with gentlest touch of hand 
 
 Exquisite notes of mild and tender tones; 
 
 Like floating rose leaves, picked in southern zones 
 
 And strewri by children's fingers o'er the land. 
 
 16 
 
TWILIGHT. 
 
 When the sun sets 
 
 And his last raylet frets 
 
 With glittering spears the western skij; 
 
 Fantastic shrouds 
 
 Woven iffom darkening clouds 
 
 Low on the outstretched Heavens lie. 
 
 The Mountain stands 
 
 And holds with reaching hands 
 
 The sunlight on its seaward side; 
 
 As if its Heart 
 
 Refused with day to part, 
 
 And feared the distant, droning tide. 
 
 Then slowly rise 
 
 Against the murky skies 
 
 The silhouettes of the naked pines 
 
 On yonder hills. 
 
 Weird mist the canyon fills. 
 
 And thought to ^ncies strange inclines. 
 
 Stealthilij come 
 
 From their eitxjsmal home 
 
 The playful Spirits of the Night. 
 
 The hiding scroll 
 
 From Heaven's lamps they roll, 
 
 And fill the world with mystic light. 
 
 17 
 
THE ANSWER OF THE GODS, 
 
 Beyond the confines of remotest stars 
 Where blackness inconceivable controls, 
 Beyond where sunlight shimmers on the bars 
 Of Morning's gate; and where untiring rolls 
 
 Swift Sirius, I prayed. The answer came: 
 "Within each atom is from you concealed 
 A universe of suns. A world the same 
 With moons and planets circling unrevealed. 
 
 The stars which you with reverent eye behold 
 
 Throughout illimitable, eternal space 
 
 Are dust from God's ethereal flowers that fold 
 
 Their petals in the cosmic Night's embrace. 
 For limitless are both the great and small, 
 And God is All in One and One in All." 
 
THE UNDERTOW. 
 
 At twilight I sit by the sea; 
 
 The sluggish waves roll to and fro; 
 
 A low diapason I hear- 
 
 The voice of the calm undertow; 
 
 The buzz of the day not yet passed, 
 
 Recurrent its tides ebb and flow 
 
 On the shore of the weary, worn mind- 
 
 I wait fcr the calm undertow. 
 
 19 
 
TOTILA. 
 
 When Asbadi raised his spear in thrusting poise 
 He heard with fiendish glee the indignant voice: 
 ^^Basest of dogs. Would you your master kill?" 
 And felt his demon heart within him thrill, 
 
 And harder threw the spear. He pierced the man 
 Who in the fights was fcremost in the van; 
 Who was as far beyond his savage day 
 As is the sun's beyond the pale moon's ray; 
 
 Who had to friend and ioe a manly heart, 
 
 Scorning deceit, despising cunning art. 
 
 He, loved by all the honest men and brave, 
 
 Was placed within a common, dismal grave. 
 His tomb, though robbed of his sepulchral cloths 
 Yet keeps the best and greatest of the Goths. 
 
 20 
 
CONVENTION. 
 
 When Adiam walked along the bank, he threw a 
 
 wistful eye 
 On Eve's sweet form of womanhood, and heaved a 
 
 deep, deep sigh; 
 Then boldly asked her for a walk. She stammered, 
 
 blushed, confused: 
 "Why, oh! but, how? I mean, I think, -we've not 
 
 been introduced." 
 
 21 
 
THOS. H. HUXLEY. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Thou, too, great master, passed to final rest 
 Where mijriad kindred went their way befcre; 
 Nor didst thou ^ar Nirvana's silent shore. 
 Following glad thy mother's stern request. 
 
 Wouldst say: "To Nature's purpose it was best?" 
 But thou with Titan shoulder ever more 
 Pressed hard against the slowly yielding door 
 Of knowledge, to obtain its per^ct test. 
 
 Truth was thy all in all, more than thy life; 
 Slowly she grew, as grows a trembling vine, 
 Until thou, fearless, made her battle thine. 
 
 A giant in the long, rewardless strilS 
 Thou stoodst. Fearing thy keen Ithuriel 
 Phantoms of Dread and Darkness fled or fell. 
 
 22 
 
MY BUTTERFLY. 
 
 In the sun's clear, shining ray 
 Flitted through the summer day 
 A bright butterfly and gay 
 
 All mij soul in gentle swaij 
 Held she. Would it not allay 
 Heartaches if I caught her, pray? 
 
 On a rose she perched to plaij, 
 Promised she would ever stay. 
 Nor to distant flowers stray. 
 
 Did she wrong? I cannot say, 
 In the twilight's dusky gray 
 Vanished she fer, fer away. 
 
 23 
 
KNOWLEDGE, 
 
 While ages roll their wonted course amid 
 Those worlds of worlds whose grandeur we conceive 
 But in the least degree; while men but weave 
 Escapes from burdens Li^ so wisely bid; 
 
 While kingdoms rise and fell; jjet is the lid 
 Not lifted ofF true knowledge. Men believe; 
 But; then, perhaps they but themselves deceive, 
 For grudgingly tells Nature what she hid. 
 
 Why, then, should man his ignorance disguise. 
 And feign to know what never mortal knew? 
 Why should he not confess: ^^All to my eyes 
 
 Alike is wondrous, mountains, morning's dew? 
 The ^Great First Cause' I cannot e'en surmise. 
 Nor know I whence came first the starry Blue." 
 
 24 
 
TO A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 Safe from the ocean's spray, 
 Nestling among rock-bosomed hills, 
 Where play the ever laughing Rills, 
 A peaceful garden laij. 
 
 Among its shady bowers 
 Spreading its fragrance sweet there grew 
 A rose as fresh as morning's dew- 
 The loveliest of flowers. 
 
 Winter his wonted wiles 
 In reverence to its beauty stayed, 
 For on its daintij bud there played 
 But nineteen summers' smiles. 
 
 The pausing husbandman 
 Said: "If I might transplant this rose 
 Life would be poetry, not prose." 
 And oft he paused again. 
 
 Yet stands this flower feir 
 Unguarded there; nor knowing fear. 
 Or shall perchance the twentieth year 
 Draw round it tenderer care? 
 
 25 
 
SPRING. 
 
 Lo! The bowers 
 
 Stand in youtKfiil array; 
 
 From the quickening Soil rise the Flowers, 
 
 Raptured drinking the day 
 
 After showers. 
 
WOODROW WILSON. 
 
 Rises the Rock above the swirling sea, 
 Though oft the cloak of turgid waters rolled 
 Above its head and their enstrangling hold 
 Seemed but Destruction's treacherous decree. 
 
 However violent the tempest be, 
 However roaring are the Waves and cold; 
 The storms abate. Again the Rock shall bold 
 Stand ferth immovable, unconquered, free. 
 
 The Gods have chosen in your hand to place 
 The fate of Empires, that ijour pen may trace 
 Un^ding lines on Right's and Duty's scroll. 
 
 More sacred judgment awed no human Soul 
 Than this. Nor prince nor potentate till now 
 Such laurels bore encrowned upon his brow. 
 
 27 
 
"DEATH OF THE POET 
 
 An artist Hewed his sculpture, striking, bold 
 Into a promontory's Earless side 
 As &iries brought him models o'er the tide; 
 His chisel ever i&ithful to the mold. 
 
 And thus the storij of the heart he told- 
 A bas-relief, a gallerij world wide; 
 With one another myriad features vied. 
 Depicting here the dross and there the gold. 
 
 Thus was there written by the poet's pen 
 The story of the souls and hearts of men. 
 But when the Tomb the denerved stylus took 
 
 There was no sculptured work or written book 
 Could tell by chisel's or by writing's art 
 The story of the poet's soul and heart. 
 
 28 
 
THE MUSE, 
 
 When I was young 
 
 And life's hot pulse was strong, 
 
 I saw her figure lifting tall; 
 
 Now o'er the moor 
 
 Would she my steps allure, 
 
 Sounding her soft, enchanting call. 
 
 O'er woodlands now, 
 
 Or o'er the Mountain's hrow. 
 
 Her voice enticing, onward drew; 
 
 Umbrous her place 
 
 Of body, but her face 
 
 Clear-limned against Olympus' blue. 
 
 Gently her arm 
 
 Still draws with beckoning charm. 
 
 And love of her my heart-deep fills; 
 
 My suit nor done 
 
 Until mij setting sun 
 
 Sinks in the sea beyond the hills. 
 
 29 
 
CHARLOTTE GRUENHAGEN. 
 
 Graij-mantling clouds obscured the lingering daij 
 And draped the bier-laid sunlight as a pall, 
 But silently disparted at the fall 
 0{ night, and brought the youthful skij of May. 
 
 Stirred was all Nature by the witching play 
 0£ Charlotte Gruenhagen. Rising tall, 
 Music's sweet Spirit leaped apathy's wall, 
 And on the sad a wreath of gladness lay. 
 
 No, tell me not it was the violin's sound 
 That thrilled alone. Her beautij, crystallized, 
 Timbred the tones that drew all hearts around; 
 
 As draws the steel, tempered and magnetized, 
 The iron core. From Heaven it seemed there 1^11 
 Sweet harmonies in an enchanting spell. 
 
 so 
 
?<[IGHT. 
 
 Night, Still, Charming Night. 
 Opening thy volume from haunts of the east 
 After the turmoils of daylight have ceased 
 Callest thou gently to rest man and beast, 
 Night, Still, Charming Night. 
 
 Night, Infinite Night. 
 
 Wrapped in thy majesty, awful, sublime. 
 
 Thou wrapp'st in rev'rence each country and clime, 
 
 Leav'st in thy path never landmarks of time, 
 
 Night, Infinite Night. 
 
 Night, Beautifiil Night. 
 
 O'er thy wide bosom the bright gems are flung, 
 Torches that *neath the arched Heavens are hung, 
 Harps that with silvery chords thou hast strung, 
 Night, Beautifiil Night. 
 
 Night, Deep, Silent Night. 
 
 Seem they more awful, the still midnight hours. 
 
 That when thy breath moves the leaf in the bowers 
 
 Feel we thy Spirit on soft zephyrs hovers. 
 
 Night, Deep, Silent Night. 
 
 Night, Answerless Night. 
 
 Into thu infinite realms oft we fling 
 
 Heartfelt emotions; yet thou dost not bring 
 
 Answer again on ethereal wing. 
 
 Night, Answerless Night. 
 
Night, Sweet, Soothing Night. 
 Still, when the heart's cup of anguish overflows 
 Soothes thy deep stillness and grandeur its throes 
 When the great volume of day thou dost close. 
 Night, Sweet, Soothing Night. 
 
 Night, Nirvanian Night. 
 
 Then as thou lingering movest to the west, 
 
 "Take me with thee" is the sick Heart's request. 
 
 Vanishing into the deep sea to rest, 
 
 Night, Nirvanian Night. 
 
 32 
 
THE WATER MAID, 
 
 She steps with lifted head and grace£il poise 
 Toward Tamalpais, our Guard of State 
 And Keeper of the stone-hinged Golden Gate, 
 While with his weather-heaten locks she toys. 
 
 She greets with musical and sea-soft voice 
 That watchman gra^, at dawn or evening late; 
 As greets the darting hird her cM-perched mate, 
 With eye and wing expressing perfect joys. 
 
 From out the heart-deep of the southern sea, 
 Where laughing Waters mock the amorous Sun^ 
 The flask she fills with nectar pure and sweet. 
 
 Each ^ear the precious draught she hrings; and we 
 Adore the maid. Hills, Vajleys jo^l run 
 And scatter flowers ahout her welcome feet. 
 
 33 
 
"BERTHA BELL. 
 
 Where the dell-crescent turns like a shell to the sea, 
 Where in age-hoary oaks builds the ever busy bee, 
 Where the maple's deep shade spreads its sombre, 
 
 dark veil 
 Mu sweet Bertha sleeps peacefully, tender and frail. 
 
 Where the fern-girdled knoll bears a blossoming vine, 
 Where the branches of alder and birch intertwine, 
 Where the robins and thrushes their soft duets play 
 My sweet Bertha sleeps mild as a blossom in May. 
 
 Where the brook babbles forth as a gay, giggling lass. 
 Where it curves round her tomb to the sea's swelling 
 
 bass, 
 Where Forget-me-nots blue-eyed stand guard at her 
 
 grave 
 My sweet Bertha sleeps soothed by the brook's cooing 
 
 vave. 
 
 Where the blue sky extends and the white cloudlets 
 
 creep, 
 Where its image it paints in the sea's concave deep. 
 Where the Breeze sings sad requiems through bush 
 
 and tree 
 My sweet Bertha sleeps near by the deep-moaning Sea. 
 
ro A. B. a 
 
 ON HER LEAVING STANFORD FOR CORNELL. 
 
 WKy should we be so selfish? Yet we are, 
 That we the vantage others would debar- 
 To live within the pleasant atmosphere 
 Of those whose friendship so we value here. 
 
 And with the dread departure seems to cloud 
 The sympathizing Sky. A grayish shroud 
 Veils close our oak-clad hills; our very Home 
 Grows dark, disconsolate until you come 
 
 With smile again. We, each a heliothrope, 
 Turn to Cornell; whence once again we hope 
 The sun for us '11 be shining in the east. 
 
 When friends from friends at last must part. 
 Fraternal Love stands forth disdaining art 
 And claims all to himself affection's ^ast. 
 
INGEBORG. 
 
 Where Skagen^s Gren juts far into the sea 
 And Kattegat is rolling in the lea 
 Behind the Danish plain; where Noekken plays 
 At night his low, disconsolate, sweet lays, 
 Between embracing Seas a castle stands. 
 Early the home of chiefs with lawless handsj 
 Woergaard its name. Above the portal's arch 
 In shade of moss-grown oak and stately larch 
 The traveler yet may read her husband's name 
 And hers, carved in the gray-blue granite frame. 
 
 The fires of Hades shone with lurid glare 
 
 Above the sooty hell- walls black and bare. 
 
 The iron Doors, the parched and sweltering Rocks 
 
 Resounded sighs and groans, roused at the knocks 
 
 Of Ingeborg's bold messenger who came 
 
 To find her husband in the gloating Flame. 
 
 "Let me," the servant spoke, "my lord behold; 
 
 Above on earth my lady has been told 
 
 He's of the damned. I must receive his word 
 
 To tell her what here in the Deep occurred." 
 
 The hump-backed warden hardly deigned to speak, 
 But swung ajar the door with grating creak; 
 Out strode the suffering Soul with bearing proud, 
 Smoke circling round about a gloomy cloud. 
 
 "What, man of Earth, have you with me to do; 
 Is not to know I'm here enough for you?" 
 
 "My lady sent me. She desires to know 
 How fere you in Perdition's realm below. 
 Give me some token back to earth, I pray, 
 To prove my message; nor must I delay." 
 
"Full ill must every soul departed fere 
 
 In this domain. But tell her to beware. 
 
 Yon fire-eyed keeper said e'en yesterday 
 
 Her chair is all but finished. Also say 
 
 Her death bell yet may sound a peacefiil chime 
 
 If she requite our spoils, repent her crime. 
 
 Now as a token take this little thing, 
 
 She knows it well, it is mij wedding ring. 
 
 And when you tell her of this dreadfiil place 
 
 Say I implore her that she seeh. God's grace." 
 
 Thus spoke the Spirit while he slowly drew 
 
 A ring, and at the waiting servant threw 
 
 Its circling gold. As swift as lightning he 
 
 The hat extended, for he chanced to see 
 
 The ring flame hot with sulphurous fiimes of Hell; 
 
 And burning through his hat it hissing fell. 
 
 Thence quickly sped to earth the messenger 
 And as the master's ring he gave to her. 
 Thus spoke: "My lady, here's a ring of gold; 
 'Twas hot as ferging iron, now scarce cold." 
 
 " 'Tis true, 'Tis true, I know the token well; 
 Speak quicklij, speak the words he bade you tell." 
 
 "My lady, you're in danger of the doom. 
 
 For they, below in Hell, preparing room 
 
 For you, have made close to your husband's chair 
 
 Your own. My master prays that you beware." 
 
 "Ha! Nought it matters if below, above; 
 I care but fer the sweet voice of my love. 
 If Heaven or Hell, it is the same to me; 
 Where is my husband, there I, too, will be." 
 
THE EARTH AND THE MOON. 
 
 From bright Aurora's {kr abyss the tide 
 Rolled with the coursing Moon; each mighty swell 
 0{ waters on the Earth's great breast to tell 
 Her constant love. Against her mighty side 
 
 Beat hard a quivering heart. The oceans wide 
 Expanded as she sighed; the moon beams fell 
 Full on her bosom; as tones of a bell 
 That fondly tremble round a blushing bride. 
 
 When Jove had finished the sweet virgin, Earth, 
 He caught the sprightly evening Moon as he 
 His love and courtship whispered in her ears. 
 
 Jove, thundering, banished him far from his hearth. 
 So when his lovelorn face we do not see 
 'Tis hidden in a rain of streaming tears. 
 
 38 
 
OKLY. 
 
 Onlij a look {rom a lady feir, 
 But her sweet soul dwelt in her ege; 
 Snow white her teeth and silken her hair, 
 And her cheeks with the red rose vie. 
 
 Only a smile from a lady feir, 
 But its meaning came to me plain. 
 Bright as a ray it fell; would she care 
 If I gave her a smile again? 
 
 Only a touch from a lady i&ir, 
 
 But I felt her quivering hand; 
 
 Unspoken words as she pressed mine thera 
 
 I could not misunderstand. 
 
 Only a kiss from a lady feir, 
 But her heart beat warm in the kiss; 
 Held me in rapture; since then I bear 
 In my soul only heavenljj bliss. 
 
 Only the love from a lady ^r, 
 But it lay in her warm embrace. 
 Held in her arms I tasted Love's rare 
 Inexpressible joys and grace. 
 
 59 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Ghostly shone the full moon on the weird, haunted sea, 
 While the shuddering Clouds seemed in terror to flee. 
 Said the child: "Captain, what makes the waves here 
 
 so red?" 
 " 'Tis the blood of the grim Lusitania's dead." 
 
 Rose the mist from the soil on the Flandrian plain; 
 Child and mother walked blood-watered field paths 
 
 again: 
 "Mother, what makes so choking the air and the sun?" 
 " 'Tis the poisonous breath of the Vandal and Hun." 
 
 Strangely moaned the chill Wind in the mid-hour of 
 
 night 
 Through the shell-shattered trees. Spoke the child in 
 
 affright: 
 "Listen, fether! These sounds are of anguish and 
 
 dread." 
 "'Tis the curse of the murdered; the voice of the dead." 
 
 40 
 
"DEATH. 
 
 Art thou a beast of prey that men should flee 
 With terror stricken fece from thee away; 
 That they who hear thy low voiced call would stay 
 And hide as lightened fcwl 'neath bush and tree? 
 
 They pit their hope 'gainst hope they may not see 
 Thy tranquil i&ce; and would fcrever lay 
 On Life the burden of eternal day, 
 Nor pray to be in thy repose set ffee. 
 
 O Death, calm, gentle Death! The truest boon 
 To all the pain-yoked World. Never too soon 
 Thou camest, whether morn, or night, or noon. 
 
 'Tis blessedness to sleep and never dream, 
 
 Nor suffer e'en a transitory gleam 
 
 From vistas of Life's ever shifting stream. 
 
 41 
 
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