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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
THE 
 
 DRAMA OF THE CYCLE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 ^]4U^. M. J. GORTON 
 
 (Ki 
 
 SEP X4 189] 
 
 14 115^1 / 
 
 ^^ 
 
 JOSEPH GEORGE CUPPLES 
 
 2^0 Boylston Street 
 
 MDCCCXCI 
 

 Copyright, 1891, 
 By M. J. Gorton. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface 
 
 . iii 
 
 Ballad of the Cycle 
 
 I 
 
 The Abode of Materia Prima 
 
 • 36 
 
 The Under Side of the Web . 
 
 • 38 
 
 A Mortal's Doom 
 
 • 39 
 
 On Friendship .... 
 
 . 41 
 
 Whip-poor-Will 
 
 . 42 
 
 Lessons in Life 
 
 43 
 
 Song of Life .... 
 
 45 
 
 Lament of the Guerilla's Wife 
 
 46 
 
 The Bridge .... 
 
 49 
 
 Rest and Peace 
 
 51 
 
 Reminiscence .... 
 
 52 
 
 Soul Life .... 
 
 53 
 
 A Ballad of Maiden Lane 
 
 54 
 
 The Housewife's Roundelay 
 
 56 
 
 Bargains 
 
 58 
 
 The Phcenix .... 
 
 61 
 
 Little Homes .... 
 
 63 
 
 The Verdict .... 
 
 64 
 
 Life and Death 
 
 68 
 
 The Choice .... 
 
 70 
 
 Home Light the Best 
 
 71 
 
 Hidden Sorrow 
 
 72 
 
 Nora's Love .... 
 
 73 
 
 The Song of the Sea 
 
 76 
 
 The Raindrop .... 
 
 77 
 
 The Lone Sleeper of the Los Ani 
 
 
 mas 
 
 79 
 
 The Philosophers' Mistake , 
 
 81 
 
 Ballad of Life on the Up-grade 
 
 82 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Les Miserables 
 Christmas in Poverty Row 
 The Mother's Lament 
 Flower and Fruit . 
 The Undying Question . 
 Egypt's Choice . 
 
 94 
 96 
 9S 
 
 lOI 
 
 102 
 104 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Bishop Butler in the introduction to his 
 Analogy bases his Argument on the doc- 
 trine of probability. Voltaire, in an essay 
 on judicial inquiries, teaches, also, that 
 probable evidence is the basis of action 
 in the affairs of life. "Moral action," 
 says Mr. Gladstone, " is conversant 
 almost wholly with probable evidence." 
 
 The fact that moral duty may be studied 
 in the light of the progressive spirit of 
 man down through the ages, under the 
 crucial test of scientific scrutiny, does 
 not hinder the fact of statement so con- 
 ceived and so stated, that, true to the 
 laws of moral evidence from the stand- 
 point taken, the premises and conclusions 
 are just; and yet the result may shock 
 the finer sensibilities and traditional in- 
 stincts of a differently cultured public. 
 The plea that the dreary code of the 
 morality taught in the " Kreutzer Sonata" 
 is repulsive to western nations, does not 
 affect the fact that the book is moral in 
 fact and in statement. 
 
 The Oriental idea that marital love, even 
 when approached and lived in the purest 
 manner, is looked upon as an unclean thing, 
 and this base view of passionate expres- 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 sion, ishappilj; without recognition among 
 western nations. 
 
 Music, Sculpture, Art, the Drama and 
 family affection, and that form of Romance 
 which generates into altruistic develop- 
 ment, are recognized as the foundation of 
 pure living and clean morals, and en- 
 courages the highest expression in Art, 
 and on this view of progress as opposed 
 to that adopted by Count Tolstoi — with 
 the probable evidence of scientific truth 
 in this statement of morals — is the argu- 
 ment on which *' The Ballad of the 
 Cycle," is founded and sung. 
 
 To condemn all expression of Art save 
 that used in worship of the Highest is to 
 limit the intellectual range and dwarf the 
 affections, but to progress toward the 
 Good, the True, and the Beautiful by ad- 
 vancing from the Seen to the Unseen is 
 the pathway of natural growth. 
 
 M. J. G. 
 Iowa City, Iowa, March 10, 1891. 
 
DRAMA OF THE CYCLE. 
 
 Before Time was, the Eternal 
 Lay and brooded in the darkness, 
 In the vast and silent darkness, 
 Till a fragment of his Spirit, 
 Slow-detaching from his substance, 
 From his substance immaterial, 
 Forming into misty masses, 
 Into misty, tremulous vapors, 
 Slow-evolving in the darkness, 
 Ever stretching farther, wider, 
 Lay around the great Eternal, 
 A huge globe of frothing vapor. 
 Then the great Omnipresent 
 Breathed upon this misty vapor 
 And the currents of his breathing 
 Set the whole in whirling motion. 
 Drove the globules of the vapor 
 Into balls of greater denseness. 
 
2 THE CYCLE. 
 
 And he breathed and blew upon them, 
 With his breath he formed them 
 
 whirling 
 Fast and ever faster ; as the 
 Potter shapes the vessels swiftly 
 Whirling, so the Great Eternal 
 Shaped the misty, vapor masses. 
 Drew the globules close together 
 Of the vapor, faster whirling, 
 Formed the sun and all the planets 
 From this misty, whirling vapor, 
 Gave them each their place in heaven. 
 Marked their pathway plain before 
 
 them, 
 Set the bounds of their outgoing. 
 Bade them come again in circles. 
 In vast circles, never meeting. 
 Ever coming, ever going. 
 With the rapid whirling motion 
 That his breathing gave unto them. 
 When from mist he shap'd and 
 
 form'd them. 
 Deep in the trough of the whirlwind. 
 Dashed the hail, crashed the thunder, 
 Zigzagged the fiery lightnings 
 Thraugh the gloomy night, yet shape- 
 less. 
 As the darkness closed upon them, 
 Lay upon these worlds in motion. 
 Then the mighty One, outstretching 
 
THE CYCLE. 3 
 
 His strong right hand, touched the 
 
 planet 
 With the touch of his forefinger. 
 At his touch glared the lightnings, 
 Flared in mighty conflagration, 
 Burst the sun in kindling grandeur 
 Full upon his brother planets, 
 And his warm light shone upon them 
 With a warm and radiant blessing. 
 Straight the power of the Eternal, 
 Till then slumbering in the darkness, 
 Thunder-rolling took on substance, 
 Clothed itself in forms of beauty 
 Round the cliffs and heights of 
 
 mountains. 
 Flung a mantle of green verdure 
 Till the Earth was clothed with gar- 
 ments 
 Gay embroidered as for a bridal. 
 
 (Magician of the Dust.) 
 
 Straggling atoms. 
 Solidified being, 
 Of precious gems 
 Subtler form seeing. 
 
 Flying in mist, 
 Filling the river ; 
 Buried in dust, 
 Changing ever. 
 
4 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Another basis, 
 Hidden from light, 
 Crimson gashes 
 Throbbing to sight. 
 
 In arctic glacier, 
 Wrought in lava heat. 
 Crushed rock masses, 
 Feeding yellow wheat. 
 
 Object-lessons in the Earth life, 
 Gay 'broider'd as the sun shone on it, 
 Shone on the Earth green-vested, 
 And this mighty force, glad-quick'n- 
 
 ing 
 Greater powers of the Eternal, 
 That still lay in heavy slumber 
 That a babe knows ere its waking 
 To this life of sin and sorrow. 
 Stirred them up to greater action. 
 And they took new forms upon them. 
 Forms of beasts and forms of fishes. 
 Forms of birds and forms of cattle. 
 Till the Earth with life was teeming, 
 Till the primrose and the snowdrop 
 Gem'd the Earth as the stars the 
 
 heavens, 
 And the water, clear as crystal, 
 Showed the gliding forms of fishes. 
 And the Spirit, the All-powerful, 
 
THE CYCLE. O 
 
 Breathed the breath of life through 
 
 nature, 
 That the air might be health-giving, 
 That the Earth might bring forth 
 
 plenty ; 
 And the water, rippling, sparkling, 
 Through the grassland, through the 
 
 woodland, 
 Giving moisture to the herbage 
 And pure draughts to thirsty crea- 
 tures ; 
 Swiftly onward flowed the rivers, 
 To the bed of the great ocean, 
 Filled it full to overflowing, 
 Peopled it with flashing fishes. 
 
 And the heaving mass of waters, 
 Caught the motion of their cradle. 
 Of the Earth, the ever whirling, 
 Formed the mighty rushing current 
 That lies warm beneath the tropics, 
 Rising from the storm-toss'd ocean, 
 'Neath the belt of the Equator, 
 Ever flowing, gliding onward. 
 With a grand, majestic motion. 
 Then the warm sun, warmer beam- 
 ing 
 On the breast of the broad ocean, 
 Drew up clouds of wat'ry vapor, 
 Raised them till they hung suspended, 
 High above their parent fountains, 
 
6 THE CYCLE. 
 
 On the breast of their earth mother. 
 
 {^Magician of the Mist.) 
 
 Wordless gloom, 
 Speechless doom, 
 Was overcome by struggling and rev- 
 olution ; 
 Conflicts fierce, 
 Storms and peace, 
 Were the products of varied evolu- 
 tion. 
 
 Day and night. 
 Darkness, light. 
 Passed thro' birth throes, and were 
 girded, ere the earth 
 Settled to order 
 From centre to border. 
 Or meditation was, or thought had 
 birth. 
 
 Sweet melody. 
 Exact harmony, 
 Caught their tone from the humming 
 spheres ; 
 Growling thunder. 
 Lightning's wonder, 
 Gave forth dread, awe, hatred and 
 ghastly fears. 
 
THE CYCLE. < 
 
 As things took form, 
 Time was born, 
 Seasons became years, years passed 
 into epochs ; 
 Dateless ages, 
 Bodiless breaths. 
 Are pall-bearers of Time to Eternity's 
 crypts. 
 
 {Spirit of Creation.) 
 
 Lying about in the pure ether 
 Were mighty powers of the Eternal, 
 Strongest essence of his Spirit. 
 With the power of multiplying 
 Taken from the dark Earth's bosom, 
 With the gift of ceaseless motion 
 Won from rivers ever-flowing, 
 With the vasty depths of being 
 Stolen from the tossing ocean. 
 With the breath of life eternal 
 Drawn from winds world encircling. 
 With the warm and radiant blessing 
 Of the sunlight shining on them. 
 These great powers of the Eternal, 
 Of the Mighty, the All-powerful, 
 Lay upon the shining vapor 
 Of the clouds in heaven soaring, 
 Mused and pondered on the being 
 Of the green Earth far below them, 
 
8 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Marked the motion and the changing 
 Of the powers of the Eternal, 
 Of their mighty lesser brothers 
 Who took forms of herbs and cattle, 
 Living on the round Earth's bosom. 
 
 And they saw this ever-changing, 
 Ever-moving life beneath them 
 Went by law and not by license. 
 Went by order, grand, eternal. 
 In which naught was lost or wasted. 
 But throughout the ceaseless changes, 
 Moving in appointed order. 
 The beginning held the ending. 
 And the end a new beginning. 
 
 Then these greatest, grandest forces 
 Of the mighty Father Spirit 
 Throbbed throughout their mighty 
 
 being 
 With a thought, grand, all-absorbing, 
 With a thought of highest grandeur. 
 And they said, with deep communing : 
 Down below us there is motion, 
 And the ceaseless change of forces 
 Changing into one another. 
 Following each its law of action, 
 Moving on in blind obedience 
 To the great will of the Creator ; 
 We will take their life upon us. 
 Live among our lesser brothers. 
 
THE CYCLE. « 
 
 Like them live in ceaseless changes, 
 Like them follow laws of action, 
 As demanded by the Great Spirit. 
 
 {Chorus of Spirits.) 
 
 Ere light had birth, 
 The chrysalis earth 
 Was the tempest-toss'd scene of 
 conflicts and death ; 
 The mosaic mind 
 Of all mankind 
 Was wrought from chaos, the wind, 
 storm, breath. 
 
 Hopes and fears. 
 Smiles and tears, 
 Were of Creation's experimental 
 trials ; 
 Ere Adam began, 
 Or ever Eve span, 
 There were tremulous vibrations of 
 tears and smiles. 
 
 Wisdom and folly, 
 Sanity and frenzy, 
 Sprang from the Stygian depths of 
 storms and strife ; 
 Darkness and light, 
 Weakness and might, 
 Strove as mighty giants ere matter 
 won life. 
 
10 xHE CYCLE. 
 
 v^ „ i and evil, 
 
 Angel and Devil, 
 Were coexistent from the beginning ; 
 
 Love and death, 
 
 Discord and breath, 
 Mingled their cries, ere mortal was 
 born to sinning. 
 
 (Spirit of Creation.) 
 
 Ere mortal was, the spirits saw 
 
 All the world-wide, pregnant diff'- 
 
 rence 
 'Twixt the deeds of Good and Evil, 
 Bound themselves by right laws 
 
 only, 
 Promis'd then obedience conscious 
 To the laws and rules of action 
 Of the Great Father, the Eternal. 
 
 At the end of the communing, 
 Of the fruitful consultation, 
 These high powers of the Great 
 
 Spirit 
 Gently sank down through the ether, 
 Softly lighted on Earth's bosom, 
 Took upon them shape and features. 
 Stood erect most radiant creatures. 
 
 Thus man was born, self-conscious, 
 Knowing well both good and evil ; 
 Partaking of a double nature, 
 Man and woman formed the Eofo, 
 
THE CYCLE. H 
 
 Double in form, but one in jpe'cies ; 
 ThuSj two in one, from the beginning, 
 Heaven born, but earth nurtured. 
 
 {Spirit of Evolution.) 
 
 When Nature had made all her 
 
 throng, — 
 Plants and beasts (their name is 
 
 legion), — 
 Gave each its zone, and place among 
 Created forms of its region, 
 
 Look'd she for one nobler, higher. 
 Commander of this motley host, 
 With aptitude for life where'er 
 Life can flourish from coast to coast. 
 
 Man came, and he partakes most 
 Of rhythm, of discord, worse than 
 
 either, 
 As he guards the helpless lost host, 
 Or lives for self, regarding neither. 
 
 If man, guided by superstition, 
 Degraded by a human creed. 
 Human God, damning devil, question 
 Which is master, both serv'd at need. 
 
 {Spirit of Creation.) 
 
 Hence man, pursuing both good and 
 evil, 
 
12 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Sees that man's lesser brothers, 
 Birds and fishes, plants and cattle, 
 Follow straightway Nature's teach- 
 ings. 
 For they had no power of choosing, 
 Knew no law but that of Nature ; 
 But men had the power of choos- 
 ing,— 
 Ere train'd in ethics, such choice 
 made they. 
 
 (Spirit of Man.) 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 Old Vanity, head uplifted. 
 
 Glances haughtily around, 
 
 With self-esteem is gifted, 
 
 As he jauntily treads the ground. 
 
 Murmuring gayly, as he minces, 
 
 A bacchanalian song. 
 
 On his head ringed tresses 
 
 Are tossed as he walks along. 
 
 Ah me ! how shallow, how silly, is 
 
 life to him whose brain 
 Is careless of being lov'd ; and lives 
 
 his day in vain. 
 Who ever thinketh of self, brooding 
 
 visions that enchain. 
 
THE CYCLE. 13 
 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A sound of joyous shouting 
 
 Upon the air swept by 
 
 From the school ; Philosophy, 
 
 At the Academe, close by, 
 
 The master taught the pupils 
 
 With tales of the roaring sea, 
 
 By changes of the earth and sky, 
 
 The fire flaming merrily, — 
 
 Four elements to eternity. 
 
 " In atoms, the joys of earth," he 
 
 said, " the gods have sent ; " 
 As they blend in one, and life is 
 
 short, let it in joy be spent ; 
 Seeking always pleasure, let gleeful 
 
 song and wine be blent. 
 
 LABOR. 
 
 Swindling leeches that fatten 
 On poverty's lean emptiness. 
 Rolling in silk and satin 
 And gilded expensiveness, 
 Finds man a dull machine. 
 The sum and aim of life. 
 To live a narrow purpose mean, 
 Grasping, with greed and strife, 
 Usury from honest livelihood. 
 For wealth is hugging self, despite 
 hunger and rags, 
 
14 THE CYCLE. 
 
 At cost of Labor^s lean stomach, and 
 
 moneyless bags ; 
 Forgotten : " As the work so the 
 
 reward is," — best of adageSo 
 
 SENSUALITY. 
 
 Sirens with tinkling voices, 
 
 Bright eyes and golden hair. 
 
 Drank cups of ruby claret, — 
 
 Enchantment, with visions fair. \ 
 
 And one, the fairest vision 
 
 Amidst the shouting crew, 
 
 First kissed the ruby goblet 
 
 Excess held high to view ; 
 
 ^' Come, pledge ! " she cried, with ac- 
 cents wild, as notes of any child : 
 
 "Pledge to me! I to you!" The 
 infatuated youth, beguiled, 
 
 Drank to the dregs, and awoke, de- 
 serted, and went mad. 
 
 EARTHLY WISDOM. 
 
 Wisdom teaches well this lesson, 
 '' Put not your trust in any man." 
 We mourn that the restful trust. 
 Of two-thirds our allotted span, 
 Should be our faith betrayed, 
 To perish in the outer cold ; 
 Those who clung to us in summer, 
 Have gone away as we grow old. 
 
THE CYCLE, 15 
 
 Ah me ! killing, chilling, is the solemn 
 
 trust betrayed ; 
 Save to yourself the roses, when the 
 
 pale snowdrops fade; 
 There is no help in any child of man, 
 
 howe'er displayed. 
 
 DESPAIR. 
 
 Despair, to shun the revel, 
 
 And rushing of the throng. 
 
 Sought a solitary level, 
 
 Far from where men came along ; 
 
 But like the merry sportsmen. 
 
 That surround their prey. 
 
 The eager band press forward, 
 
 To bar the poor man's way. 
 
 Ho ! wait for us, thou sad one ; wipe 
 
 those weeping eyes of thine ; 
 There is no help on earth, therefore 
 
 cheer your soul with wine : 
 But sorrow digged for himself a 
 
 grave, before his faded prime. 
 
 (Spirit of Evolution.) 
 
 Why continue ? See what sadness, 
 Man, unrestricted, chooseth ever ! 
 Look ye ! the unknowing brute beasts, 
 Birds, plants, fishes, all creation, 
 Taught by instinct, not by reason. 
 With no learning, no traditions, 
 
16 THE CYCLE. 
 
 With no speech, no way of telling 
 Wisdom learned to one another, 
 See, they grow and thrive and 
 
 prosper, 
 Wrought out works of greatest 
 
 cunning. 
 Built the comb to hold the honey, 
 Wove soft nests for tiny birdlings ; 
 Lined with color soft shell-houses, 
 Lined them with the tints of heaven, 
 As when the round-orbed sun is 
 
 setting, 
 Painting them with colors tinted, 
 As no human hand could paint them. 
 All these things man's lesser brothers 
 Did by following Nature's teaching, 
 Following straight in blind obedience. 
 All the laws of the Creator, 
 Laws electrical and eternal. 
 But their inward conscious knowledge 
 Puffed men up with pride and envy. 
 And they straightway left obedience, 
 Silly grew, as lacking guidance — 
 Found they broken law compelling, 
 Something higher than earthly wis- 
 dom — 
 Some exposition to 'scape chastise- 
 ment, 
 Caught by the woes of excess, vanity, 
 
THE CYCLE. 
 
 1? 
 
 Labor's woes, despair, the irony ot 
 fading years. 
 {Spirit of Progress.) 
 Misfortunes, criminality, acts beyond 
 control. 
 Too late. 
 Brings agonizing defeat, and the 
 result 
 Is fate. 
 
 (^Spirit of Evolution.) 
 If wisdom seek, men may by obedi- 
 ence overtake ; 
 Laws, if observed, soften the rulings 
 of cruel fate. 
 {Spirit of the Ages.) 
 Erom him that hath not, shall be 
 torn what he hath ; 
 Storms rend the living oak, 
 Flames follow lightning's stroke ; 
 So might wins Earth's sanction, but 
 failure her wrath. 
 
 Figs grow not on thistles, nor grapes 
 on thorn trees; 
 From the bud springs the flower, 
 Thus strength begets power, 
 To cover the land, from seed sown by 
 the breeze. 
 
18 THE CYCLE. 
 
 The soul that sins, shall many lives 
 
 overwhelm, — 
 Stern decree, but ever true ! 
 
 For lost is ship and crew, 
 Though void of offence, if a fool be 
 
 at the helm. 
 
 If light shine in darkness, the dark- 
 ness is great ; 
 To outward form strict, 
 Pharisaical, exact, 
 The inward life perishing, dying 
 from hate. 
 
 The fathers ate sour grapes, the 
 children suffer sore ; 
 Not alone does man live, 
 His excesses others grieve. 
 Condemning to pain, by heredity's 
 power. 
 
 Time weaves the web, wrought of 
 joy and of sinning ; 
 Purity in one age. 
 May become sacrilege. 
 Culture determines so, since the 
 beginning. 
 
 But in the shadow the Eternal twists 
 the thread ; 
 Por he understands, 
 How frail are human hands, 
 
THE CYCLE. 19 
 
 And that goodness and faith by life- 
 blood are fed. 
 
 The strongest ever live, the weakest 
 must go ; 
 Thus Nature has spoken, 
 And though hearts be broken, 
 Deepest love cannot save him who 
 is his own foe. 
 
 Into the tangled threads, love and 
 faith are blending 
 Golden gleams of prayer, 
 Frightens away despair, 
 Despair to resignation, send trium- 
 phant ending. 
 
 Life's living, fate's doom, leads to 
 bitter heart-break ; 
 But Charity's birth, 
 And smiling, brave worth. 
 Teaches victory may the darkest 
 doom overtake. 
 
 What a man sows, that alone shall 
 be his reaping ; 
 Another sows not in my field, 
 I garner not his yield. 
 The fates guard each harvest, while 
 man lies sleeping. 
 
20 THE CYCLE. 
 
 (Spirit of Creation.) 
 Men, not beasts, broke the laws of 
 
 being. 
 Marked out paths for their own 
 
 liking, 
 Laid out roads for their sweet 
 
 pleasure, 
 Setting up their ideal fancies, 
 For the guide-posts of their pathway. 
 Murmured that the will of Heaven, 
 Ruled still in spite of impulse — 
 For ever above the narrowed view 
 Of man's selfish vision, a mystic 
 
 rhythm. 
 In God's own time, keeps truthful 
 
 measure. 
 
 (Spirit of the Ages. Cry of the Masses.) 
 
 Greater might for the stronger. 
 Less strength for the weaker, 
 The world has no aid, for the brother 
 in need ; 
 But gathers to squander, 
 Poverty's scant beaker, 
 And empties the cup, in the hogs- 
 heads of greed. 
 
 Eoyal gifts for the mighty. 
 But tax from the lowly, 
 
THE CYCLE, 21 
 
 So riches shall gain more, while 
 want shall still lose ; 
 And nothing buys slightly, 
 Either wicked or holy, 
 And the poor sell their lives, in pay- 
 ing Earth's dues. 
 
 Give aid to the conqueror. 
 But strike down the fallen. 
 Any crime save defeat, a man may 
 redeem ; 
 For success is the flower, 
 And fame is the pollen. 
 That sets the false fruit of wordly 
 esteem. 
 
 Ringing shouts for the victor, 
 But scorn for the vanquished, 
 Though one be a boor, and the other 
 a king ; 
 For fate recks not how godly. 
 The heart that is vanquished, 
 When wounded and torn by failure's 
 dread sting. 
 
 (Altruistic Spirit.) 
 
 Labor groans in throes of travail, 
 Looking for the strictest justment, 
 When it brings mediaeval vestments, 
 To the world-market at fixed prices. 
 Lo ! the fibre now demanded. 
 
22 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Is stuff of wool, linen, silk and cotton, 
 Machinery made by forces invisible, 
 Suitable to changeful climates. 
 Suitable to man's wants, everywhere, 
 Peopling all the plains and mountains. 
 Reducing wildernesses to maji's 
 
 wishes. 
 Co-operating for man's needs, in 
 
 living, 
 Will give to perishing souls their 
 
 share. 
 'Tis bitter folly gold to offer. 
 When universal iron is needed, 
 
 {Spirit of the Ages.) 
 
 Or deliver message by Herald's 
 
 trumpet, 
 When lightning is page to the Stock 
 
 Exchange. 
 
 {Cry of the Metropolitan Masses.) 
 
 In the vile street, 
 All sins do greet. 
 And miogle with the hoarse roar of 
 crimes effete ; 
 Wretches beer-sodden, 
 Laborers down-trodden, 
 Famish'd, shrink to cold garrets, 
 starving children to greet. 
 
THE CYCLE. 23 
 
 Foulj arid homes, 
 Slime-garbaged stones, 
 Drenched with squalor, and grey 
 with rotted horror ; 
 Vile-visaged tramps. 
 Under glaring lamps, 
 Shout curses, and crowd pale helots 
 into the gutter furrow. 
 
 Living they sicken. 
 Their doom to quicken, 
 Gladly closing a life they never 
 fully lived ; 
 Fire dying or dead, 
 The boards a bed. 
 They die in filth, and rest unknown 
 in Potter's field. 
 
 {Spirit of Evolution.) 
 
 Whence comes human development ? 
 For man's progress and enlightening. 
 Is not bitter biting hunger. 
 Cold and nakedness the factor ? 
 
 (Cry of the Citizen) 
 
 I must have bread, 
 For I hear with dread 
 The mills are closed, there is no work 
 where we dwell. 
 No work can I see, 
 
24 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Earth has no room for me, 
 Want, ghoul-like, is sucking life, 
 until our souls rebel. 
 
 Shall I steal bread ? 
 I must be fed : 
 Work I must have now, or I shall 
 go mad. 
 " There is plenty of bread " — 
 Is that what you said ? 
 ^' None to-day ? " — why work, when 
 work is ever denied ? 
 
 The felon has meat, 
 I starve on the street. 
 And sleep at night amid snow and 
 sleet ; 
 What crime can I do. 
 To provide a home, too ? — 
 Prisons, only refuge for the proletar 
 riate. 
 
 {Evolution Spirit^ 
 
 Civilization, what answer ? — 
 innocence appeal, sorrows cry ; 
 Else bitter hatred, fiercest strife, 
 Frenzy, despair, wholesale slaughter. 
 Never changing, never varying, 
 In the spinning, in the weaving. 
 In the living, in the dying, 
 I.s progression, retrogression 
 
THE CYCLE. 25 
 
 Onward action, degeneration. 
 
 (Mephistopheles. — Organic progres 
 sion, against Degeneration.) 
 
 Load the scales, the weights adjust. 
 The balance is against man, ever, 
 Let him struggle and strive. 
 At odds with life, howe'er clever ! 
 
 Virtuous life, three score and ten, 
 Comes now a vile temptation ; 
 Sin-fallen, life-smitten, cursed, 
 Now to Eternity, by theologian. 
 
 Vile action, impure the fountain. 
 Of those yielding temptation. 
 Ere death, latest intonation. 
 Repents, wins ecstatic translation. 
 
 Fresh cream for Gods Olympian, 
 Few sour drops, spoils the potation ; 
 Mould, — spite of incantation, — 
 Reverse, sweet to sour, no reaction. 
 
 Blackness of doubt, and grim despair, 
 Nestles amid the orange bloom ; 
 Life abounding, fervent prayer. 
 Swooning, droops down into the tomb. 
 
 (Progression.) 
 
 Charity, hopefulness and faith, 
 Trinity, divinely pledged. 
 
26 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Does lighten the lowliest path, 
 From infancy to the tomb. 
 Back into the soft green meadows, 
 Back into the happy pathways 
 Trod by those who give obedience, 
 Knowing, willing, glad obedience 
 To the will of the Eternal, 
 Turned the wayward children gently. 
 Clothed the moral law with vest- 
 ments. 
 Welcoming mystical E-eligion 
 Interpreting death in Resurrection. 
 
 (Mephistopheles.) 
 
 Pleasure on earth, beauty in heaven. 
 Springs from passion well-directed ; 
 Soul unto soul harmonized, self 
 Held in check, the dross extracted. 
 
 Shock electric passes, hits man, 
 Sets him brooding, strikes out self ; 
 Love, the awakener, grips him, — 
 Jealousy transforms to demon-elf. 
 
 (^Evolution.) 
 
 Passion seems the primal fountain 
 Of music, sculpture, work artistic ; 
 But the passions, if unbridled. 
 Lead to sorrow and oppression. 
 
THE CYCLE. 27 
 
 When Mercury led 
 A pure maiden free, — 
 
 On lier shining head, 
 
 The wreath of mystery, — 
 
 Through the bright south 
 
 They onward sped ; 
 He kissed her mouth, 
 
 Rosy and red. 
 
 Love wove his chain 
 
 Of deepest gold ; 
 Worn in sun and rain. 
 
 The tale grew old. 
 
 His soul grew weary 
 
 Of the hated tie ; 
 On a morning dreary 
 
 He saw her die. 
 
 Rueful, he fled 
 
 Where none pursue ; 
 Visions of the maid 
 
 Her memory renew. 
 
 Thoughts of the slain 
 
 Follow the youth ; 
 He left the plain 
 
 Where perished truth. 
 
 To mountain heights 
 Then fled the youth, — 
 
28 THE CYCLE. 
 
 The mountain of Dry-facts, — 
 When he had slain Truth. 
 
 Lost, love and youth, 
 
 But visions still 
 Remind the Epicurean 
 
 That Nemesis can kill. 
 
 When passion is out- breaking, 
 Trespasses with unlicensed will, 
 The Spirit of Humanity 
 Decides the '' Thou-shalt-not " and 
 
 '' Thou-shall." 
 Deep the moral fibres striking, 
 Euling still the wild rebellion, 
 Led these lost and erring children 
 Through the depths of wild morasses, 
 Through deep bogs of evil-doing. 
 Through much of sorrow, much of 
 
 striving, 
 To value the worth of virtue, — 
 Virtue tempted, virtue yielding, 
 'Gainst virtue tempted, never yield- 
 ing, — 
 To the fountain-head of virtue. 
 The All-powerful, the Eternal. 
 And they daily grew in knowledge. 
 Learned the worth of truth and jus- 
 tice. 
 Till one day there burst upon them 
 The grand lesson of forgiveness, 
 
THE CYCLE, 29 
 
 And the wondrous gift of loving ; 
 Not the loving of one's household, 
 Not the love of home and children, 
 But grand love, wide-embracing 
 Every being, good and erring. 
 That mankind counts in its numbers : 
 Each living for the good of others. 
 
 ALTRUISTIC. 
 
 {Youth Singing.) 
 
 Oh, Paradise, where art thou ! 
 
 Amid frost, amid flowers, 
 Amid roses, amid snow, — 
 
 Is it found amid summer hours ? 
 I have sought thee my life long. 
 
 Night after night, and day by day, 
 With prayers, tears, and with song. 
 
 All the long tedious by-way. 
 
 (Progress.) 
 This is the way to Paradise, 
 
 No gold can purchase your way. 
 But love in maiden's eyes. 
 
 And love can show love the way. 
 
 (Maiden Singing.) 
 Oh, I found a four-leaf clover. 
 
 And I put it in my shoe. 
 And I wished a wish upon it. 
 
 For they say it will come true. 
 
30 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Chokus — Oh. my lucky four-leaf 
 clover, 
 
 Lying hid witliiii my shoe, 
 Bring the wish that I am wishing, 
 
 Or my heart will break in two. 
 
 What I wish I must not whisper, 
 Lest the charm should be undone ; 
 
 But I have a bashful lover, 
 And he is the favored one. 
 Chorus. 
 
 But I know full well he loves me. 
 Though he ne'er a word has said; 
 
 For he trembles when he sees me, 
 And his face turns white and red. 
 Chorus. 
 
 But he is by far too bashful, 
 
 To suspect he's won my heart ; 
 Though, if smiles could give him 
 courage, 
 I'm sure I've done my part. 
 Chorus. 
 
 If he should now come a-wooing, 
 
 I will surely tell to you 
 What I wished upon the clover. 
 
 That I hid within my shoe. 
 Chorus. 
 
THE CYCLE. 31 
 
 And for fear he grows no bolder, 
 And my wish should ne'er come 
 true, 
 I will tell him of the clover. 
 That I hid within my shoe. 
 Chorus. 
 
 {Lover ^ 
 Oh, love is the Paradise 
 
 Of the wandering pilgrim ; 
 Home is the shrine and prize. 
 
 This side of happy heaven. 
 Wisdom, silver, golden wealth, 
 
 Glory, learning and fame, 
 Far in just value beneath 
 
 Wedded love and bliss, great name. 
 
 (Spirit of Evolution.) 
 Many ages, many lessons. 
 Were required to give this teaching, 
 * Adulterous else — from this bind- 
 ing 
 Comes terms endearing, sister, broth- 
 er, 
 Husband, wife, children, father, 
 
 mother, 
 Confederation sublime. 
 
 Man is now slowly conning. 
 Dimly, darkly comprehending, 
 
 * This thought Brownhig develops with great 
 beauty. 
 
32 THE CYCLE. 
 
 All the worth, all the importance, 
 Of these lessons, of these bindings, 
 To solve the onward, upward rising 
 Of the human spirit, tending 
 Ever to a broader, grander outlook, 
 To virtue, justice and unself, 
 To truth and divine forgiveness. 
 Do you ask why this working 
 Of the Power of the Great Spirit, 
 Down through the race for all ages ? 
 Why this forming of the planets, 
 Why this birth of plant and creature, 
 Why the form of man appearing, 
 And to what the whole is tending ? 
 Poets answer all the wherefore. 
 All the reasons that are asked them. 
 Life lives not, except in motion ; 
 Life is motion, death is quiet, — 
 Nay, is but another motion, 
 Is a backward retrogression, 
 Till life, seizing firm upon it, 
 rills it with deep-glowing vigor, 
 Builds it up in other structures. 
 Other forms of plant or creature. 
 Hence the Great One, the Eternal, 
 By his very law of being, 
 Felt the need of growth and motion, 
 Knew that there was life in action, 
 For he would not meanly perish. 
 Since he is, and always will be. 
 
THE CYCLE. 33 
 
 SONG OP THE FAIRIES. 
 
 (Spirit of Creation.) 
 When new souls come down to our 
 earth, 
 The fairies are busy as busy can 
 be, 
 Making ready, with laughter and 
 mirth, 
 The statue for the thought hither- 
 to free. 
 
 One flies to the west, 
 One flies to the east. 
 At Love's behest. 
 Singing cheerily, cheerily. 
 High up in the sky, on a sunny day. 
 There floats soft clouds of fleecy 
 mist; 
 There is where unborn spirits stray, 
 And gently float, as the spirit list. 
 Loving thoughts around them, 
 All the day through ; 
 Loving care surround them : 
 This is what the fairies do. 
 They gather sweet honey from the 
 bee-hives. 
 And nectar from clover and col- 
 umbine tips, 
 And mould it and mix it, as if for 
 their lives, 
 
34 THE CYCLE. 
 
 Then add fresh sweetness from vi- 
 olet lips. 
 
 Whether shady or sunny. 
 Their work they pursue, 
 So loving and bonny : 
 This is what the fairies do. 
 At last the statue takes the infant's 
 form : 
 They wrap it in rose-leaves, soft and 
 white, 
 And tinge the lips with carnation 
 warm, 
 And underneath the eyelids slip the 
 light. 
 
 Eyes from the blue sky, 
 Hair from thistle down, 
 Life from lightning flash. 
 Breathing and warm. 
 
 {Evolution^ 
 Caught life from the Great One, the 
 
 All-powerful : 
 He, moving, felt life glowing in him, 
 And he knew that he was living. 
 By such laws and rules of action, 
 Born within his mighty bosom 
 (Creation follows law, not license, 
 Else the world would be chaotic). 
 Thus was formed all the vast system, 
 From the substance of His being, 
 
THE CYCLE. 35 
 
 From his being, electrical. 
 
 When the pathway of Creation 
 Has been trodden to its ending, 
 There the place of the beginning, 
 Also, lies in the vast circle. 
 In this universe of wonder, 
 With its wealth of sun and planets, 
 With the broad earth, fruitful, bear- 
 ing 
 Plant and creature, and Earth's chil- 
 dren, 
 Latest born and fairest favored. 
 Men, the wise, the law-abiding, 
 All will join this mighty being. 
 Man, the foolish, the law-breaker. 
 May gather the Sodom-fruit of Chaos ; 
 But justice, in the courts of heaven. 
 Will hold the balance and will gather. 
 All who have the force for being 
 One, uniting with the Parent, 
 Will become again a portion 
 Of the Mighty One, All-powerful, 
 Who will take their new being, 
 Eorm new worlds by constant motion, 
 Far above the comprehension 
 Of mankind, the question-askers. 
 
36 ABODE OF MATERIA PRIMA. 
 
 THE ABODE OF MATERIA 
 PEIMA. 
 
 YLIASTRON. 
 
 'Mid Zarrahs of space are new 
 
 thoughts born, 
 To take on dream-shape as night 
 
 sweeps by ? 
 Through the dim silence they go and 
 
 come, 
 And in the darkness recede to die ? 
 
 Trembles the faint gleam of thoughts 
 
 unsung. 
 That creep and creep amid human 
 
 tears. 
 Of those who lacked strength to live 
 
 and sing, 
 And died unheard in the bygone 
 
 years ? 
 
 Or do souls inhabit the dim night 
 
 wraiths ? 
 Those who once knew triumph and 
 
 heart-break, 
 And now know sleep and bodiless 
 
 breaths, 
 Whose forgotten thoughts arise and 
 
 awake. 
 
ABODE OF MATERIA PRIMA. 37 
 
 From thence come new ideals, start- 
 ling change, 
 
 Fashion'd by inventors, who strive 
 'mid scoffing, 
 
 Seeking for earth's hidden force, the 
 mainspring 
 
 Of Time's birth, on far Eternity's of- 
 fing ? 
 
 Or the wordless gloom of a song un- 
 sung, 
 
 That lay buried in the clay-bound 
 soul ; 
 
 The strong earth-bands loosed, it 
 floats along, 
 
 A rhythmic harmony, a rounded 
 whole ? 
 
 Or the moaning, or the faint sad cry, 
 
 Of those who pant amidst want and 
 scorn. 
 
 Bowing and dooming in fevered la- 
 bor. 
 
 The myriad lives yet unborn ? 
 
 Or the phantasmal glow of the soul's 
 
 light. 
 Ever springing through the magic 
 
 night. 
 Struggling to know dawn, and to win 
 
 sight 
 
38 UNDER SIDE OF THE WEB. 
 
 Of tlie latent source of strength and 
 might ? 
 
 Or the despairing cry of the Spirit 
 Of those who would vocalize unknown 
 
 strands ; 
 Those poor mortals who find not such 
 
 merit, 
 Till Death lead them to quiet far-off 
 
 lands. 
 
 THE UNDEE SIDE OF THE WEB. 
 
 So long as busy Time shall feed 
 Her web, of many colors dyed, 
 
 Self-sacrifice and selfish greed 
 
 Run through the pattern side by 
 side. 
 
 The rocks were powdered long ago. 
 By glacial cold and lava heat, 
 
 Ere vine could climb or water flow. 
 Or fertile earth yield yellow wheat. 
 
 Men bless the tender wayside spring, 
 But if it fail, from lack of rain, 
 
 Their angry voices loudly ring, 
 The while its scanty cup they drain. 
 
A MORTAL'S DOOM. 39 
 
 The tender, clinging, ivy vine 
 Lends sturdy oak an airy grace, 
 
 But as its tendrils closer twine, 
 The tree is doomed by its embrace. 
 
 It ever was since Time had birth, 
 And thus will be till Time be dead ; 
 
 No good has ever blessed the earth, 
 But what it was by life-blood fed. 
 
 A MORTAL'S DOOM. 
 
 There was beauty in the summer 
 
 skies, 
 
 Or hopelessness of black despair ; 
 
 Hope sung to joy in sweet surprise, 
 
 Or days were full of sorrow and 
 
 care. 
 
 Sorrow and care, 
 Joy and sorrow, 
 Is ever your fare. 
 Upon each morrow. 
 
 Dreamily, solemnly, to and fro. 
 Wearily crooning a rhythmic song, 
 
 A mystic shape, moving ever slow, 
 Kept pace with me as I went 
 along. 
 
40 A MORTAL'S DOOM. 
 
 It was my doom, 
 The hidden fare, 
 On to the tomb, 
 Of joy or despair. 
 
 I gazed into the dim mirror's face. 
 Where, I was told, faintly shone 
 The future's surest, truest trace 
 Of that rocket's track, a mortal's 
 doom. 
 
 A picture true. 
 Of future life; 
 Honey or rue, 
 Joy or strife. 
 
 In that dim glass odd fancies run, 
 And take on shape in the silent 
 gloom ; 
 Through the lone watches they go 
 and come, — 
 A soul faltering on the verge of 
 doom. 
 
 But this is truth, — 
 The soul's doom ever, — 
 As ye sow in youth, 
 So age must gather. 
 
 Time told the truth, Fate was rul'd by 
 me, 
 And I held in my fingers the 
 thread 
 
ON FRIENDSHIP. 41 
 
 Of what I am, shall do, and what 
 shall be, - 
 I make life a thing of joy or of 
 dread. 
 
 If good prevail, 
 Joy is the end ; 
 What men call fate, 
 Is life turned friend. 
 
 ON FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A ROUMANIAN 
 PROVERB. 
 
 Thou mayest gaze on cloudless skies, 
 When summer winds are bringing 
 
 Earth's sweetest perfume from the 
 fields 
 Where busy scythes are ringing ; 
 
 Thou mayest see a perfect rose. 
 By cottage door-cheek growing ; 
 
 Thou mayest find a flawless pearl, 
 With purest lustre glowing ; 
 
 Thou mayest woo a peerless face, 
 Of beauty most bewitching ; 
 
 Thou mayest win a loyal heart. 
 Thine own with love enriching ; 
 
42 WHIP-POOB- WILL. 
 
 Thou mayest feel the sweet heart- 
 throb 
 That thrills a lover^s greeting ; 
 Thou mayest know the heavenly 
 bliss 
 Of fond lips slowly meeting ; 
 
 Of perfect things thou mayest find, 
 The list indeed is endless ; 
 
 But never search for faultless friend, 
 Lest thou for aye be friendless. 
 
 WHIP-POOR-WILL. 
 
 Loud rang the voice of the whip- 
 poor-will, 
 Singing to the poppy so red ; 
 The heart of the poppy, a-thrill, 
 Sank as it were dying or dead. 
 
 " Love, love, my love ! " he 
 
 cried, 
 " Open thy fringed eyes to me ; 
 '^ Thou art ever my queen, ^' 
 
 he said, 
 " Why droopest thou so wea- 
 rily ? " 
 Still sang the voice of whip-poor-will, 
 All night so mournfully it fell ; 
 
LESSOJVS IN LIFE. 43 
 
 Faithfully its soft, plaintive call, 
 Beseeching love for whip-poor-will. 
 ^^So sadly thou droopest" he 
 
 said, 
 " So lowly bows thy lovely 
 
 head, 
 love, my love ! poppy so red. 
 Come, come, my queen, low is 
 my bed." 
 
 Slowly the poppy unfolded 
 
 Her fringed petals to the rain ; 
 But her hue, from a ruby red, 
 Faded so white and so wan. 
 
 The raindrop saved the bride ; 
 But alas ! her heart was chill. 
 Lonely and true at her side. 
 Sang the faithful whip-poor- 
 will 
 
 LESSONS IN LIFE. 
 
 Time lack I for empty seeming, 
 Wish lack I for idle dreaming ; 
 From sun to sun firm facts are mine, 
 Teaching lifers lesson line by line. 
 
 Duty done by self and neighbor, 
 Living earned by honest labor, 
 
44 LESSONS IN LIFE. 
 
 Cares and trials and pricking thorn 
 Met with brow like a summer's 
 morn ; 
 
 Kind words spoken, loving deeds 
 
 done, 
 Hatred and malice held toward none. 
 Trust in God, and faith that his law 
 Maketh the mighty sun to draw 
 
 From the sea's broad breast the drop 
 of rain, 
 
 To water, on meadow, field or plain, 
 
 Some tiny roadside flower that 
 grows 
 
 Where no man plants, but God him- 
 self sows ; 
 
 Trust that the God who careth for 
 
 this, 
 Will keep his child from going 
 
 amiss : 
 These things make a triumph, 
 
 though one 
 Of no man honored, by no man 
 
 sung. 
 
 Though poor and plain my life seem 
 
 to thee, 
 Yet these things make a triumph 
 
 for me ; 
 
SONG OF LIFE. 46 
 
 Heart's fullest joy and content are 
 
 mine, — 
 I learn life's lesson line by line. 
 
 SONG OF LIFE, 
 
 Life is action, life is motion, 
 Rising, falling, like the ocean ; 
 Moons are fulling, moons are wan- 
 ing, 
 Naught at stand-still is remaining ; 
 Suns are rising, suns are setting, 
 Men are losing, men are getting ; 
 Want and plenty rank are grow- 
 ing, 
 Sow your choice, and reap your 
 sowing. 
 
 Life is doing, life is working, 
 None gains aught by idle shirking ; 
 Hours well spent in honest labor, 
 Brings harvest, to self and neighbor. 
 Thistles tall will fields encumber, 
 If ye lie in idle slumber ; 
 
 'Tis the weeds unfit for reaping, 
 Sow themselves, while men are 
 sleeping. 
 
LAMENT OF THE GUERILLA'S 
 WIFE. 
 
 AN ARKANSAS BORDER BALLAD. 
 
 Th' track at th' turnin', 
 You er' discernin', 
 Is where I us'ter look an' look fer 
 my man, 
 When, his day's work dun, 
 At th' set o' th' sun, 
 He'd kum wi' sum game fer me i' his 
 han'. 
 
 Now, orn'ry th' evenin', 
 I set heyr a-grievin'. 
 And set, an' set, an' sob heyr by my 
 lone; 
 I set heyr a-dreamin'. 
 By th' fire a-gleamin', 
 A-listenin' for his step on th' door- 
 stone. 
 
 Eh ! but love is sorrer. 
 Too bitter t' borrer 
 Fergettin' as th' shadder kums up th' 
 
 hill; 
 
 i 
 
GUERILLA'S WIFE, 47 
 
 Th' crick as it flows, 
 Tribbles o' my woes, 
 An' I git inter th' deeper shadder 
 still. 
 
 At our weddin' solem, 
 I tuk me er colum, 
 An' I stud him outer it amongst men 
 thet hi' ; 
 He wuz my idol, 
 Up on a ped'stal, 
 An' I kep' him thar wi' a hankercher 
 on my eye. 
 
 My man, he deceiv'd me, — 
 Would death had bereav'd me. 
 Afore my mate had condescended so 
 low. 
 Thet we must now part, 
 Thet breaks my heart ; 
 But yit — we're married till death : 
 thet was my vow. 
 
 Eh ! my joy an' pride, — 
 Would I had died. 
 When I wuz sech a desprut happy 
 creetur. 
 It do me sech good, 
 Ter reck'leckt how proud 
 We two wuz : hit beats all human na- 
 tur. 
 
48 GUERILLA'S WIFE. 
 
 We wer thet pore, 
 Th' wolf wuz at th' door, 
 Thet winter long an' col' 
 at all ; 
 Bread thar wuz nun, 
 Nor ary stray bone, 
 Times wuz thet hard. Well, my man 
 had a call 
 
 Ter go ter th' West, 
 Ter make er ter bust. 
 He lef me his las' red, when he sed 
 farwell, — 
 Wuz off like er shot. 
 Dear suz ! came a blot 
 On his fair name ; but I clings ter 
 him still. 
 
 Futher will he roam. 
 While I bide alone, 
 Sence his las' desprut chances o' mis- 
 doin'; 
 An' I mus' keep on, 
 To do right by my lone, 
 Seein' I kin keep us by weavin', 'um- 
 bledoin'. 
 
 So I set by the gleamin', 
 Lone harth, a-dreamin', 
 A-wishin' an' a-wishin' fer thet time 
 so old; 
 
THE BRIDGE. 49 
 
 When he was so near, 
 When he was so dear, 
 Thet all ither love seems common 
 and cold. 
 
 When Jim comes agin, — 
 Fer I look fer him, 
 Day an' night, night an' day, an' all 
 the year thro', — 
 I will claim him, 
 I will name him ; 
 Tho' no ither would speak ter .him; 
 I'll be true. 
 
 THE BRIDGE. 
 
 Casually, my idle wandering 
 Brought me to the river side, 
 
 Where the bridge, with curving 
 arches. 
 Spans the swiftly flowing tide ; 
 
 And listening to the murmur 
 Of the waves against the pier, 
 
 While the music of the water 
 Sung a song unto my ear. 
 
 From the bridge so far above us, — 
 Sang the waves in silvery tones, — 
 
50 THE BRIDGE. 
 
 Come the notes of joyous laughter; 
 Come the sounds of sighs and 
 moans ; 
 
 Come the bursts of smothered weep- 
 ing 
 
 That betoken bitter grief, 
 Till the swiftly falling tear-drops 
 
 Bring the sad hearts some relief. 
 
 Now a maiden weeps her lover, 
 Who her face has soon forgot ; 
 
 While a drunkard's wife, low sob- 
 bing, 
 Speaks loudly of a sadder lot. 
 
 Or a street waif's tears are welling, 
 Because he lacks a father's name ; 
 
 While a father's slow, salt tear-drops, 
 Fall fast for a son's deep shame. 
 
 All these tears come down unto us, — 
 Sang the waves in sadder notes, — 
 
 And we bear them swiftly onward, 
 As we bear the laden boats. 
 
 But with us they must not mingle 
 Lest the stream with death should 
 flow, 
 
 For these drops of purest crystal 
 Are poisoned with human woe. 
 
REST AND PEACE. 51 
 
 But the warm power of the sunshine 
 Draws them upward in a mist, 
 
 And they wait at Heaven's gateway 
 Till time shall have ground its 
 grist 
 
 Then these bitter, burning tear- 
 drops 
 Shall be changed to draughts of 
 gall. 
 And each must drink from that chal- 
 ice 
 Who once caused those tears to 
 fall. 
 
 REST AND PEACE. 
 
 I sat on the jutting headland 
 
 And gazed down o'er the plain, 
 While o'er low hills to westward 
 
 Waved silvery veils of rain. 
 Snow-white, in towering masses, 
 
 Swift on, the storm-cloud drew, 
 Till misty, rain-shot curtains 
 
 Hid plain and farm from view. 
 The storm passed by with its wail- 
 ing, 
 
 The sun sank down to rest. 
 
52 REMINISCENCE. 
 
 The eastward-stretching shadows 
 Lay dark on fields storm-prest. 
 
 My heart grew free from its brooding 
 O'er long-borne grief and pain, — 
 
 And rest greeteth us as surely 
 As night the wind-swept plain. 
 
 KEMIXISCENCE. 
 
 Forget the past, 'tis full of pain ! 
 
 Friendship says, with kind intent : 
 Others may forget, but I 
 
 Could easier from myself be rent. 
 The past has made me what I am. 
 
 And in its bosom bears the shape 
 Of what I will be, as the vine 
 
 Brings forth the flower and then 
 the grape. 
 What if the past brought pain ! Ah 
 well! 
 There never was a grief but taught 
 Grand lessons joy could hardly tell. 
 And views of life with knowledge 
 fraught. 
 My friends, the past I'll ne'er forget, 
 But from its days two ros'ries 
 make : 
 
SOUL LIFE. 53 
 
 The one to help me bear in mind 
 Sweet truths I learned by sad 
 heartache ; 
 
 The other, strung from happy hours, 
 Full rounded in their bliss, I'll lay 
 
 Above my heart, and tell it o'er. 
 To cheer me when life's skies are 
 gray. 
 
 And in these ros'ries, richly worth 
 The pains they cost, kind friends, 
 I'll keep 
 
 Life greatest treasures, truth and joy, 
 Till life for me shall fall asleep. 
 
 SOUL LIFE. 
 
 Give your soul some time for living, 
 Eefresh your life with joyous 
 mirth. 
 
 And win a taste of Heaven's pleasure, 
 'Mid the endless tasks of earth. 
 
 Who will ask when you are fading. 
 What you did in such a time ; 
 
 Yet hours spent in needful resting 
 Will give time for thoughts 
 sublime. 
 
54 BALLAD OF MAIDEN LANE. 
 
 Friends, by-and-by, will cherish 
 Words of counsel you may say, 
 
 Much more than your weary working, 
 When your life is passed away. 
 
 There are other hours coming, 
 Take, then, some joy in this ; 
 
 Half an hour less spent in toiling. 
 To-morrow's tasks will never miss. 
 
 A BALLAD OF MAIDEK LANE. 
 
 IOWA CITY, IOWA. 
 
 Can't I kum in ? — 
 I'm so glad I kin ; 
 Fer I kum erlong afeerd an' by my 
 lone. 
 W'y, then, did I kum ? — 
 Kase I got no home ; 
 And my bar' feet tech th' hard o' th' 
 cold stone. 
 
 So nipped they are. 
 An' bealin' an' sore ; 
 An' nobody ever wishes ter see my 
 face. 
 Back er Close's mill. 
 
BALLAD OF MAIDEN LANE. 55 
 
 I hide thar still ; 
 I's no chance wi^ th' odder kids as 
 has a place. 
 
 I cries by my lone, 
 But no good kin come, 
 When yer little, an' lone, an' so 
 hungry an' pore. 
 Arter yer gits grown, 
 Misshun folks kum, 
 Tend ter yore soul, — can't hear little 
 kids any more. 
 
 Ther' is sich er many. 
 If yer tend to any ; 
 They would find there's sich er 
 many forlorn, 
 Who has no fader, 
 Nor yet a mudder. 
 An' they was never ast 'erbout wher' 
 they was born. 
 
 I heerd kerreck. 
 An' I reck'leck', 
 The misshun man sed, " Chilrun's 
 angels at God's door." 
 But Lord ! is that so ? 
 When we cries to you. 
 An' we're alius so mis'ble, an' 
 hungry, an' pore. 
 
56 HOUSEWIFE'S ROUNDELAY. 
 
 I jist didkum, 
 Kase me see one 
 0' th' kids comin', an' she did say 
 thet nice, 
 " Th' teacher'll be glad 
 Ter see a pore kid," 
 An' I want'd ter see one who'd like 
 ter see my face. 
 
 THE HOUSEWIFE'S EOUND- 
 ELAY. 
 
 Tired am I of plodding duties, J I 
 
 Tired of life's dull daily round, if 
 
 Tired of the prosy tread-mill. 
 
 Tired of tasks that do abound, 
 Tired of my narrow pathway. 
 
 Tired of the bare dark ground. 
 Tired of heing^ doing nothing, 
 
 Perforce a modern martyr crowned. 
 
 Oft I've listened to the story 
 
 Of the heroes of our earth. 
 Of the toilsome rugged pathway 
 
 Leading to the throne of worth. 
 Michael Angelo, a scullion, 
 
 Proved his soul of heavenly birth ; 
 
HOUSEWIFE'S ROUNDELAY. 57 
 
 Sketched wondrous visions fadeless, 
 With the charcoal from the hearth. 
 
 Christine Nillson, though a peasant, 
 
 Taught herself the way to sing 
 From the birds among the treetops. 
 
 Till like them her voice could ring. 
 Great Giotto was a sheep-herd, — * 
 
 Sketched his flock in yielding sand ; 
 Struggled upward to be foremost 
 
 Of the world's great artist band. 
 
 Eobert Burns, though a ploughman. 
 
 And while toiling in the field. 
 Wrote his poems, telling simply 
 
 What his world to him revealed ; 
 And his lines show to what purpose 
 
 The common things of life can 
 yield. 
 When the pathos is unfolded, 
 
 Which in all life lies concealed. 
 
 Then upon this sunny morning 
 
 There is no time to weakly cry. 
 While the bonny sky is smiling 
 
 And there is time and health to try. 
 There is joy in simple living. 
 
 Doing all that can be done ; 
 Eeaping joy, because joy giving, 
 
 Receive the price of merit won. 
 
BAEGAINS. 
 
 " All the world's a stage 
 And men and women are but players." 
 That's wrongly said. The world's a 
 
 mart, 
 Where all is valued, bought and sold, 
 By strictest measure, truest weight, 
 And naught brings simply naught, no 
 
 more, 
 No less, and none may pay a price 
 Too high or low for what he gets. 
 Thou bringest thither so much vice 
 Or so much virtue, so much done 
 For good or evil, and receiv'st 
 From justest scales the fullest worth 
 Thy treasure merits. If thy goods 
 Doth please thee not, then blame the 
 
 price 
 Thou gav'st, not the things that thou 
 Hast purchased : they are fully worth 
 All that thou didst pay for them. 
 
 Perchance 
 Thy offering was scant in weight, — 
 And, though it were thine all, it ne'er 
 Could gain for thee thy heart's desire j 
 
BARGAINS. 59 
 
 And though thou bring'st even more 
 Than is demanded, still thou'lt fail, 
 If thou should'st offer gold when iron 
 Is wanted. True in weight and right 
 In kind must be the price thou 
 
 bring'st, 
 That it may gain thee what thou 
 
 want'st ; 
 Yet e'en the worst of bargains yields 
 A wealth of value far beyond 
 Its cost when viewed aright, although 
 Thine eyesight, blinded by desire 
 For other things, may see it not. 
 
 There weeps the mother o'er the 
 
 babe 
 For whom she gladly would have 
 
 died 
 That it might live. She hath done 
 
 much 
 That most is worth the doing, yet 
 O'erlooked the foul drain's poisoned 
 
 breath. 
 And all her deeds of good can ne'er 
 Restore the child she lost through 
 
 lack 
 Of doing one most needful thing ; 
 And yet it well may be that could 
 Yon mother see the path that lay 
 Before her darling's feet in life's 
 
60 BARGAINS. 
 
 Wide field, her tears would cease 
 To flow, and she would ne'er regret 
 Her darling's future in the upper fold. 
 Omnipotence 
 Sees clearly, and when the wage of 
 
 woe 
 Is paid, that by sloth is justly earned, 
 Or by ignorance, with open hand 
 Is compensation given, and our ills 
 Are overruled to become blessings 
 From weary pitfalls. 
 
 But, best of all, 
 Yon mother from the woe may learn, 
 That when the earth enfolds unto 
 Her bosom and takes into her arms 
 Her sorrowing children, — when, far 
 
 from 
 The present bitter blight and cold, 
 Our babes are taken, evermore to live 
 In fairer valleys beyond the tide, — 
 'Tis not life's saddest sorrow, 
 Although we cry, and, unreconciled, 
 Blame Zeus, who claimed his own. 
 But to be life and soul bound as one. 
 Sharing love's light and gladness ; all 
 Inspiration in communing, each with 
 
 other, 
 Springing from the glad presence 
 Of one to that baptismal other ; 
 
THE PHCENIX. 61 
 
 That change may come and build 
 Between these sacramental sealed 
 
 units 
 An everlasting wall, — 
 This is the saddest thing in life to 
 
 me . 
 The saddest thing in all the world, 
 To the disunited, lone, sad souls, 
 That once were a contented whole. 
 Faith can teach yon mother, in her 
 
 woe. 
 That life is one of the leadings given 
 To teach trust in immortality ; 
 And having humbly bowed her head 
 Before the will of God, may now 
 Regain her babe, — no wall between 
 Her and her tenderly loved. 
 And she can feel it near her till 
 Her own weary feet shall pass the 
 
 gates 
 Of immortality, where is peace. 
 And tears and partings are unknown. 
 
 THE PHCENIX. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 There is many a seed that is wasted, 
 There is many a birdling dies, 
 
62 THE PHCENIX. 
 
 There is many a bud that withers, 
 There is many a heart that sighs ; 
 
 But seeds there are in plenty, 
 
 There are more young birds in the 
 nest, 
 
 Fresh flowers are ever springing, 
 And hearts that ache love best. 
 
 The life that has seen no sorrow, 
 
 The joy that has felt no pain, 
 The love that has known no heart- 
 ache, 
 Grows parched like the sun- 
 scorched plain ; 
 
 Salt tears may give way to laughter. 
 Deep griefs laid aside for new joy. 
 
 Sorrows add fresh sweets to loving. 
 Pleasure alone is apt to alloy. 
 
 The wasted seed brings a harvest. 
 Summer songsters sing as before. 
 
 New buds on bruised plants are fairest, 
 The heart again with love runs o'er. 
 
 Learn to drink of death and of life. 
 To take of grief and of pleasure ; 
 Learn that naught can live or die 
 lonely. 
 And sorrow clasps joy as his treas- 
 ure. 
 
LITTLE HOMES. 
 
 Bare the hedges, droops the clover, 
 The dancing leaf whirleth down, 
 The cold is creeping, creeping over. 
 The green earth groweth bare and 
 brown. 
 Oh, singing, singing, singing. 
 
 Are the cicalas, are the crickets ; 
 Oh, endless, endless, endless, 
 Are the concerts in the thickets. 
 
 Short the daytime, long the night. 
 And the birds are farther going ; 
 Cold is coming, — cold and quiet. 
 Gone the time of summer's sowing. 
 Oh, the flying, flying, flying. 
 
 Of the birds strong in flight. 
 From the land in twilight lying. 
 To the land of warmth and light. 
 
 Oh, the lonely, lonely, lonely. 
 Little homes in trees o'erhead ; 
 
 Oh, the lowly, lowly, lowly, 
 Little homes beneath my tread. 
 
64 THE VERDICT. 
 
 Summer is dying, autumn is fly- 
 ing, 
 Low hangs the red sun in the 
 west; 
 Winter is coming, snow is trying 
 To close the doors of homes at 
 rest. 
 
 Wild the storm-blast, — wilder grow- 
 ing, — 
 The crickets, singing, gather inside ; 
 Chirp, chirp, chirp, — ever chirping, — 
 Little homes by the warm fireside. 
 Thickets shield the brave snow- 
 bunting, 
 Eerily, cheerily, in the snow ; 
 Little homes have not Baby- 
 bunting, — 
 Little homes are closed by 
 snow. 
 
 THE VERDICT. 
 
 AN ARKANSAS BORDER BALLAD. 
 
 Ye say yeVe kum to lynch the chap 
 That shot Jedge Brown ? Then I'm 
 
 The man yer lookin' fer ; but drap 
 Yer gun down, pard. Go fine ! 
 
THE VERDICT. 65 
 
 I helped to hoi' a lynchin' bee 
 On Roarin' River in the May 
 
 Ov '73. The man wuz free 
 Ter tell hiz side hiz way. 
 
 As he tor hiz, kin I tell mine ? 
 
 I kin ? All right ! Who here 
 Remembers Charlie Coast ? Well, I'm 
 
 What's lef o' him ; that's clear. 
 
 Ye'd not know les' I tol my name, 
 Fer twenty years hez lef a mark 
 
 On my old phiz. Besides, I'm lame ; 
 Fell into a shaft in the dark. 
 
 ' Hurry up ? Talk fast ? ' Kerrect ! 
 Heft 
 A wife and child behin'. 
 When I skipped out. Kate made the 
 heft 
 Ov our hard livin' alone. 
 
 She'd had the chice 'twixt me and 
 Brown, 
 An' picked on me ; I wuz 
 Good-lookin' them days. All the 
 town 
 Watched us git spliced. Dear suz ! 
 
 It duz good 'ter reck'leckt thet day, 
 In spite of all thet's cum 
 
66 THE VERDICT. 
 
 And gone sence then. ' Shet up ? ' 
 Now, say ! 
 Jest wait till I git done. 
 
 Ten min'ts ain't mucli ter giv a man 
 Thet's gwine ter swing. I sed 
 
 Kate merried me ; Brown had the 
 san' 
 Ter say if she was dead 
 
 It'd be better lots for her. We 
 Wuz pore ; times wuz hard, 
 
 You bet ! It cut me deep ter see 
 Kate at the wash-tub, pard. 
 
 When I'd no work I lef,' ter make 
 Er bust in Joplin. Luck 
 
 Went clean agin me, an' th' break 
 I made, one night, ter buck 
 
 Th' faro-bank, tuk my last red. 
 
 Nex' day I writ a line 
 Ter tell Kate I wuz wus nor dead, 
 
 But hoped sh'd still think kin' 
 
 Ov me. " She'll marry Brown," 
 I thought ; 
 
 I didn't know what luv 
 A woman haz. It can't be bought 
 
 Nor beat, nor will it shove 
 
 A man out-doors if he is mean 
 An orn'ry : Kate sed "■ No " 
 
THE VERDICT. 67 
 
 Ter Brown. But when at last lie seen 
 What she sed had ter go, 
 
 He turned 'ter Bell, our child ; 
 
 Talked sweet, give her a ring, 
 Then lef her with her good name 
 siled, — 
 
 Jest as sum man may bring 
 
 Yer darters down ter shame. Poor 
 Kate 
 Knelt ter him, and pray'd he'd 
 right 
 Th' gal afore it got too late ; 
 
 His teeth show'd like they'd bite. 
 
 '^I begged yer onc't," he sed, "and 
 now 
 
 I'll giv yer back agin 
 What you giv me, — a no." I 'low 
 
 He made the devil grin 
 An' angels cry. Kate went away, 
 
 Ter hide from her ole fren's. 
 And watcht our fourteen-ye'r Bell 
 die; 
 
 Then sent fer me. Two fiends 
 
 Got after Brown, — the devil and me. 
 
 I did my work ; I shot him : 
 The devil hez got his to do, 
 
 Red-het, bilin' over, now he's got 
 him. 
 
68 LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 Men's no noshun what a mother feels 
 
 Beside a grave like thet ; 
 Hit givs a wound that never heals, 
 
 But alius burns red-het. 
 
 Well, Kate's dead now; died las' 
 week, 
 And lies side o' Bell. I see 
 Her thin, white face, an' hear her 
 speak, 
 Rite now. There's wuss for me 
 
 Than hell in livin', — hurry up ! 
 
 I'm glad Brown's dun fer; I 'low 
 He'll do no more devil's work. Tut ! 
 
 Kum on, now ! What's th' row ? 
 
 I kin go, kin I, scot free ? I — 
 I know yer fair ter me, pard ; 
 
 Thank yer. But I would sooner die ; 
 To live alone and damn'd is hard. 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 From the under-world up to warm 
 
 sunlight, 
 I struggling pressed, and passed 
 
 grim Death, 
 
LIFE AND DEATH. 69 
 
 A gaunt shadow shrinking from the 
 
 sight; 
 His misty scarf enwrapped me, his 
 
 breath 
 Struck chill and cold: ''Thou art 
 
 mine," he saith. 
 
 Death, — Life, — so much to each, 
 
 day by day. 
 Careless I, striving on to heights 
 
 imperial; 
 A mist-like form confronted my 
 
 pathway, 
 Grim, spoiled, distorted, material: 
 " Life as thou hast lived it," — false, 
 
 unreal. 
 So this is life ! Memory's sad snatches 
 Of fiery conflict, pain, blind hope, 
 
 combine 
 With sunny bits and jubilant catches. 
 To point the arrows along this 
 
 route of mine : 
 '0 life ! hard and bare is thy decline.' 
 
 Naked and stripped, thou art grim, 
 life ! . M ^ 
 
 Death pursues with grasp of mailed 
 steel ; 
 
 But memory and hope renew the 
 strife, 
 
70 THE CHOICE. 
 
 And join the note of life : I feel 
 Beyond Death's grim margin lies 
 the real. 
 
 THE CHOICE. 
 
 Why piece from out the dry dead 
 leaves 
 Of long-past days a prickly dress, 
 Thick-lined with memories that will 
 sting, 
 Though joy come close with soft 
 caress ? 
 
 Were it not wiser far to tread 
 The bruised flax beneath thy feet, 
 
 And with its softest fibres weave 
 A new white robe^ so bright and 
 
 sweet ? 
 
 Still all the glory of the clouds, 
 And all the fragrance of the flowers. 
 
 Shall gather around thy every step. 
 To brighten e'en thy saddest hours. 
 
 The choice is thine ; 'tis thine to 
 choose, 
 'Twixt robe of joy or garb of pain. 
 
HOME LIGHT THE BEST. 71 
 
 Choose well; the dress once surely 
 worn, 
 Needs must, through all of life 
 retain. 
 Live, then, thy life ! — in each to- 
 morrow, 
 Bury the pain of the yesterday ; 
 Let hope spring from the grave of 
 sorrow, 
 And gather joy on thy onward way. 
 
 HOME LIGHT THE BEST. 
 
 I've wandered through the forest 
 Where sunbeams dance and quiver, 
 
 I've spent long hours a-boating 
 By moonlight on the river ; 
 
 I've risen ere the dawning 
 
 And climbed the mountains hoary, 
 And watched the sun awaking 
 
 To flood the world with glory ; 
 
 I've lingered in the twilight 
 To view the sunset fading, 
 
 I've gazed into a dewdrop 
 
 To catch the rainbow's shading ; 
 
72 HIDDEN S ORR O W. 
 
 I've looked on all lights earthly 
 And know which beams the 
 clearest, 
 
 It is the glow of firelight 
 On hearth and faces dearest. 
 
 HIDDEN SOREOW. 
 
 Is there canker in the rosebud ? 
 
 None can tell that this is so, 
 For the evil deep is hidden, 
 
 But the rose will never blow. 
 
 Has the tree been struck by lightning. 
 Time may heal the wounded part ; 
 
 But the tempest fells the oak-tree. 
 For 'tis wasted at the heart. 
 
 Thus may pain and sadness wearing, 
 Through a whole life send its taint ; 
 
 Though the lip should ne'er cease 
 smiling. 
 Lest it utter some complaint. 
 
 Wordless thoughts oft tell the trouble 
 To the hearts whose love is best. 
 
 And there's grief that thou art griev- 
 ing,— 
 Sadder grow they at thy jest. 
 
NORAS LOVE. 73 
 
 Turn, sad one, turn from sorrow ; 
 
 Forget that the earth is sad ; 
 For none can scatter gladness. 
 
 If the inner heart be not glad. 
 
 For this is truth the poet sings, 
 Choose the robe thou would'st re- 
 tain ; 
 
 For the mem'ry of vanished things, 
 Is thyself, be it joy or be it pain. 
 
 NOKA'S LOVE. 
 
 " Love me, Nora, my darling ; 
 Love me, once and again ; 
 Oh, tell me that you trust me, 
 And I'll be the truest of men." 
 
 The laughing echo, down in the 
 
 glen, 
 Mocked back gaily — *' truest of 
 men." 
 
 " My mother says, ' Be careful, 
 
 When words of love are spoken, 
 
 For if men go a-wooing 
 
 Their vows are lightly broken.' " 
 Soft sighing echoes, like a token 
 By angels sent, sobbed — " lightly 
 broken." 
 
74 NORA'S LOVE. 
 
 ^' Your mother's heart is jealous, 
 But she has loved and mated ; 
 She cannot keep you always, 
 Our meeting has been fated." 
 And, like a story twice related, 
 The words re-echoed — " has been 
 fated." 
 
 He threw his arms around her, — 
 The moon was shining clearly ; 
 ^' Dear one, your eyes are speaking, — 
 They say you love me dearly." 
 
 The lying echo murmured merely ; 
 
 Earnestly whispered — " love me 
 dearly." 
 
 Clingingly she trusted him, — 
 
 True always and a day ; 
 
 He left her to long vigils, — 
 
 " I will not be long away." 
 
 The low echo laughed, that sad day, 
 Mockingly, saying — " not be long 
 away." 
 
 Long afterward with loving words 
 She greeted him, at their home 
 Where, truth and falsehood wedded, 
 Falsehood said, " I never will roam." 
 The bantering echo, light as foam 
 Blue waves carry, said — ^' never 
 will roam." 
 
NORA'S LOVE. 75 
 
 The world was in love with her, 
 But he broke her heart day by day ; 
 " Good-by, Nora, my sweet darling, 
 I will not be long away." 
 
 The echo spoke truth, that baleful 
 
 day, 
 When repeating the words — " be 
 long away/' 
 
 She cried, '' Why has he left me ? 
 Must I bear our shame alone ? 
 No tears have I for weeping. 
 And my heart is turned to stone." 
 The echo low answered, making 
 
 moan. 
 Like a lost soul wailing — "turned 
 to stone." 
 
 The world heaped scorn upon her. 
 Who had given love and trust ; 
 But honored her false lover. 
 Wearing robes of crime and lust. 
 The ages echo the cry — " Is it 
 
 just. 
 That faith must suffer for giving 
 trust ? " 
 
THE SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 On that morn the waves sung a cra- 
 dle song, 
 As they lovingly kissed the warm 
 sand, 
 Where Oona stood watching the fish- 
 ing smack, 
 Gaily sailing away from the land. 
 Oh ! the sea has songs it loves to 
 sing, 
 In the ear of the fisherman's 
 wife. 
 As she watches the boats, and 
 prays for them, 
 And the loved ones far dearer 
 than life. 
 
 At the set of sun loud wailed the sea, 
 And it sang of the harm it had 
 done, 
 While Oona stood gazing away wea- 
 rily, 
 For the boat that held husband 
 and son. 
 
 Oh ! the sea has songs, etc. 
 
THE RAINDROP. 11 
 
 The storm passed on, the sea softly- 
 moaned 
 A dirge for the boat on the reef, 
 And Oona in wordless pain lay on 
 the ground, 
 While the stars looked in on her 
 grief. 
 
 Oh ! the sea has songs, etc. 
 
 Still the sea sings on, its sweet cra- 
 dle song, 
 And the men come safely with 
 their catch ; 
 But to Oona there is ever an appalling 
 note. 
 For no son now lifts the latch. 
 Oh ! the sea has songs, etc. 
 
 THE EAINDEOP. 
 
 Rhythmic murmurs amid the rainfall. 
 
 Followed the rounding of the gem. 
 
 As the drop fell to the heart of the 
 
 snowball. 
 
 Like a pearl from Spring's diadem. 
 
 Chill, chill, snowball. 
 
 Moaned the raindrop in its 
 gloom ; 
 
78 THE RAINDROP. 
 
 Thy heart, snowball, is chill, 
 And pale in its breathless 
 doom. 
 
 There came a breathing at night-fall, 
 
 That stirred the drop in its grief ; 
 Sinking downward, the raindrop 
 Fell to the innermost leaf. 
 Chill, chill, O snowdrop. 
 
 Cried the raindrop from its 
 tomb; 
 Thy heart, O snowball, is chill. 
 And pale in its breathless 
 gloom. 
 
 Dark and deep the raindrop lay cold, 
 
 Entomb'd since its fall in the 
 
 show'r, 
 
 Until the mist drew upward, extoPd, 
 
 This gem from the heart of the 
 
 flower. 
 
 Again it fell as a dewdrop, 
 Burning and bright, its heart 
 afire. 
 Flashing its flame from the pop- 
 py's cup, — 
 This was the flower of its mad 
 desire. 
 
THE LONE SLEEPEK OF 
 THE LOS ANIMAS. 
 
 On a slope, rock-sown, 
 Of a gulch alone 
 'Mid the spurs of the Los Animas 
 mountains, 
 Where a rippling brook 
 Glides by a quiet nook. 
 On the way from its snow-fed foun- 
 tains ; 
 
 There a sobbing pine 
 Sings, in slowest time, 
 'Mongst the scattered and wind- 
 swept grasses. 
 Over a narrow mound 
 Of pebble-strewn ground. 
 Scarcely to be seen through the cac- 
 tus masses. 
 
 A rough board of spruce. 
 
 For monumental use. 
 And a rose of Nature's wild planting ; 
 
 Broken stones in disorder. 
 
 For the wall's low border. 
 Toward the still, lone sleeper are 
 slanting. 
 
80 THE LONE SLEEPER. 
 
 Sparkling with early dew, 
 Crocus-cups of dainty blue, 
 
 With the earliest spring are blowing ; 
 Purple asters nod. 
 Beside the golden-rod, — 
 
 'Neath the summer's warm sun are 
 glowing. 
 
 But no woman's love 
 Tends that lonely grave, 
 And no grief mars that lad's calm 
 sleeping ; 
 A mother's heart lies 
 Beneath that rise. 
 Where the spruce-tree its watch is 
 keeping. 
 
 For a ruined cabin, 
 
 And a shaft caved in, 
 'Mid the rocks with lichens hoary, 
 
 Of bootless quest, 
 
 And endless rest. 
 Sadly tell the pitiful story. 
 
 w 
 
THE PHILOSOPHERS' MIS- 
 TAKE. 
 
 Mucli they talk of law and order, 
 Of the rule of each on earth, 
 
 Tell us of the deeds of nature, 
 But they fail to explain birth. 
 
 They show us all the wondrous work- 
 ings 
 
 Of our frames in taking breath, 
 But their very wisest wisdom 
 
 Cannot save that frame from death. 
 
 They prate learnedly of living, 
 Say this world is full of strife. 
 
 And the fittest wins survival, 
 Yet they know not what is life. 
 
 All their learning is the knowledge 
 That force acts by certain laws. 
 
 And they show its way of working, 
 But they cannot tell the cause. 
 
 Their mistake is not in saying 
 That law rules us by its rod, ^^ 
 
 But in preaching " laws of nature, 
 When they should teach " laws ot 
 God." 
 
BALLAD OF LIFE ON THE 
 UP-GRADE. 
 
 With candle dimly burning 
 
 In the night, 
 In Earth's deep heart, yearning, 
 
 I toiled with might. 
 'Neath porph'ry, rosy red, 
 Veins of rich ore-beds led ; 
 Masses cunningly enclosed 
 
 In crystal star 
 
 Of sparkling spar. 
 
 Low-roofed was the narrow drift, 
 
 With heavy girders ; 
 Pungent fumes of powder lift, 
 
 'Mid heavy vapors. 
 There we toiled for eight long hours, 
 Stifling save at apertures 
 Of narrow shafts, breathing doors 
 
 For the new morn, 
 
 From Heaven let down. 
 
 Into the bucket gladly springing 
 
 To mount aloft, | 
 
 I slowly rose, twisting, turning; *' 
 
 Then stood abaft 
 
LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 83 
 
 The throbbing engine, where the chill 
 Of the fresh-born air of the hill 
 Pulsed in my being, athrill. 
 
 Upon the stroke 
 
 My mates awoke. 
 
 The first faint morning breeze 
 
 Stirred without, 
 Sending a shiver through the trees 
 
 Standing about. 
 'Neath a dead tree's limbs was seen 
 The full-orb' d, round-disc'd moon. 
 With dim aureole, presaging doom 
 
 Of coming storm 
 
 Ere another morn. 
 
 Towering peaks touch'd heaven, east- 
 ward, 
 
 Grandly gleaming ; 
 Outlin'd, each crested mountain, west- 
 ward. 
 
 Thread edge, a silver lining ; 
 Smoky clouds in furrows weltering. 
 These grand heights snug sheltering 
 The vale of Bois d'arc, checkering 
 
 The landscape wild 
 
 O'er mount and field. 
 
 Fields tilled, yellow stubble. 
 Joined the foot-hills ; 
 Slowly rising, the slopes double 
 
84 LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE, 
 
 Into billowy swells ; 
 Torn, as the raging torrents dashed, 
 The full-rounded folds were washed, 
 And ripp'd by gulches gashed, 
 
 As the fierce fountains 
 
 Lash'd the nude mountains. 
 Aspen, oak, pine, quaint cucumber 
 
 Fringed Bois d'arc, 
 Heavy growths of pine and cedar 
 
 Crowned Ozark ; 
 Uprear'd its high peaks i' the dawn- 
 ing, 
 Eound its forehead played the morn- 
 ing, 
 Crimson glory purloining 
 
 From rosy fingers 
 
 As the sun-god lingers. 
 Darker swells, 'twixt glowing catches 
 
 Pink and salmon. 
 Changed and deepen'd to brighter 
 snatches 
 
 Of flaming crimson ; 
 Then fleecy grew, like surf breaking ; 
 Then golden gleamed, partaking 
 Of victory. Sun-god, awaking, 
 
 The cloud-veil rent, 
 
 Gracious splendor aslant. 
 
 Stretching forth a glittering arm. 
 He clasps aside, 
 
LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 85 
 
 In his embrace so ardent, warm, 
 
 His earth-bride; 
 Awaking birds begin to chirp, 
 Cheery sparrows flitting, flirt. 
 Thieving crows, jays, saucy, pert. 
 
 From bough to tree, 
 
 Twittering softly. 
 
 The birds astir, gave life to Nature — 
 
 Peaceful strife ! 
 The engine pulsing made small stir. 
 
 And noisy life : 
 Master of all, man, the miner, — 
 Coarse in thought, all the finer 
 Life crushed by hardest labor, — 
 
 Living, corpse-fashion. 
 
 Soul cramped in. 
 
 Slowly leaving the shaft shop. 
 
 At the summit 
 Comes to view a fearful blot. 
 
 Where the sunlit 
 Path extended down the slope ; 
 Fruitage pensile from a rope, 
 Eed-ripe, unplucked, — no hope 
 
 Of toothsome bit 
 
 From facet-flash fruit. 
 
 Came a sudden woman shriek. 
 
 Dwarfed all else ; 
 Sympathy flashes, as a spark, 
 
86 LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 
 
 Each human pulse. 
 Kush of men, faces a-pinch ; 
 Ha ! more work for Judge Lynch ! 
 Given an ell, they take an inch, — 
 
 Regulators ! 
 
 Investigators ! 
 
 Thick fog-curtains, swiftly rising, 
 
 Veiled the sun ; 
 All the glories comprising 
 
 The golden ocean 
 Of floating clouds departing. 
 The scar'd birds hush their chirping ; 
 Flakes of snow fell, softly whirling. 
 
 As a cover 
 
 To disorder. 
 
 To look upon the livid face, 
 
 Dilated eyes. 
 Flawless mask, — of life no trace, — 
 
 Hellish prize ! 
 Who heard the agonizing groan, 
 The fruitless prayer, the maddening 
 
 moan. 
 The struggle in the dark alone ? 
 
 In bitter gloom 
 
 Meet such a doom ! 
 
 On a spur of the Ozark's, 
 
 'Mid pebble-strewn ground. 
 O'er looking the valley of Bois d'arc. 
 
 il 
 
LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 87 
 
 Is a narrow mound, — 
 A slanting stone to mark the spot. 
 His history was ne'er forgot ; 
 His memory kept clean from blot, 
 
 By woman's breath 
 
 And woman's faith. 
 
 A maiden sings above his grave, 
 
 This little song, 
 Commemorating her brave, 
 
 To right her wrong. 
 For she knew not the true tale told ; 
 Her lover died for love of gold, — 
 For love of it, his soul he sold, — 
 
 A murderer 
 
 And train robber. 
 
 (Maiden Sings.) 
 
 I'll sing you a song, 
 
 When life to me was gay ; 
 
 For life is long, 
 
 The skies sad and gray. 
 
 Our grief shall last, 
 
 Forever and a day ; 
 Our pleasures cast, 
 
 One gleam and away. 
 
 That thou sayest. 
 
 Bears back once more, 
 
88 LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 
 
 The happy days again, 
 
 That all too soon were o'er, 
 
 Then I'll sing me of joy. 
 
 Forgetting my grief; 
 And, in others' gladness, 
 
 My heart shall find relief. 
 
 Nay ; hear'st that gay song, — 
 It brings back once more 
 
 That one hour of heaven. 
 That all too soon was o'er. 
 
 Oh ! the sad awaking, 
 Again I live it through ; 
 
 I tasted sweet honey. 
 
 But drank my cup of rue. 
 
 The pansy glad may bloom. 
 And bud and bloom again ; 
 
 But hearts are not like pansies, 
 Joy blooms but once for men. 
 
 And if their leaves reopen, 
 The blight is in the flower ; 
 
 Memory dims its petals. 
 Sorrow is its dower. 
 
 The ghosts of joys long buried 
 Have risen from the tomb, 
 
 And all of life's bright sunshine 
 For me is changed to gloom. 
 
LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 89 
 
 Too soon I learned the lesson 
 
 Life gives us all to read, 
 That joy is but the wrapping 
 
 And sorrow is the seed. 
 
 {The Miner?) 
 
 Thus life went: and I, by miner^s 
 might, — 
 Busy on the Up-grade, — 
 In narrow drift, by flaring lamplight, 
 
 Toiled with pick and spade. 
 For a mess of pottage, sold my 
 
 heaven, — 
 Song of birds, shapes in clouds, 
 
 driven 
 By the sweet air of the even, — 
 While I burrow 
 In saddest sorrow. 
 
 Not as the maiden sorrows, sorrow 
 Comes to me ; 
 
 But that each sad to-morrow 
 Leaves me less free 
 
 To see each sunrise — my birth- 
 right — 
 
 Bursting into glory on the glad sight. 
 
 Through the cloud-rifts, bright sun- 
 light. 
 Buried I must toil 
 For wealth in the soil. 
 
90 LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 
 
 If fate would yet grant to me 
 Love for yon maiden, 
 
 Soon would her sorrow forgotten be, 
 By cheer o'erladen. 
 
 I'll toil for her, she shall love me. 
 
 The light of day shall look on and see ; 
 
 Love's law straightens inequality. 
 That Fate has made. 
 In the struggle Up-grade. 
 
 {The Miner's Wife?) 
 
 My life is in a minor key, 
 
 Although I'm young ; 
 
 Woe and gall have a harmony. 
 Demanding song. 
 
 The gay hours of youth time fills 
 
 With many quavers and glad trills ; 
 
 The joyousness of Nature thrills. 
 Swelling fullness urge — 
 Low moans the dirge. 
 
 Love's love ; loving is the life 
 
 Of woman, — 
 I should be happy as a wife. 
 
 Being human. 
 Caresses bring a dart of pain, — 
 I love my miner, but am fain 
 Eemember buried ghosts, that reign 
 
 In my heart. 
 
 Of the past a part. 
 
 it 
 
LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 91 
 
 While he, my poet miner, mines, 
 
 The day long, 
 I drink bitter dregs of life's wines, 
 
 And sing my saddest song. 
 I chant of my fallen idol. 
 That I mounted on a pedestal. 
 Which by its own weight fell. 
 
 Dragged to doom, 
 
 And the tomb. 
 
 Lost to the world's just esteem, 
 
 How the memory 
 Cuts, burns and stings, and my dream 
 
 Kenews the misery ! 
 So deep in my heart of hearts, 
 The last sad drama upstarts ; 
 And through each moment darts 
 
 The maddening sight, — 
 
 My life's blight. 
 
 Oh, my pride, my joy, who mad'st me 
 
 Proud'st, glad'st of women. 
 
 How could'st thou sin so wofuUy ! — 
 
 A thing alien 
 To my love and faith, that were bond 
 Enough to hold thee, I so truly fond ; 
 And thou didst strike me to the 
 ground, 
 
 I unknowing 
 
 To thy vile doing. 
 
92 LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 
 
 And didst thou, my fallen love, 
 
 So wofully suffer ? 
 Where were thy friends, hand in glove 
 
 With the robber ? 
 I, alone, alas ! am left to protect 
 Thy memory, lost to all respect, 
 Not mentioned by the circumspect. 
 
 Alas ! what a cheat 
 
 Is love like that. 
 
 Cold and dismal is my life, 
 
 Worse than alone ; 
 Since I am an honored wife. 
 
 With heart of stone. 
 May God send strength, to benumb, 
 All thought, remembrances that come, 
 Of him who lies unhonored, 
 
 Of love, not worth. 
 
 Guilty to death. 
 
 Thou chosest wrong, 
 
 I must keep on 
 Where truth and right do lead me ; 
 Alone, scorned, another must need be 
 My all in all, nor yet forbid me 
 
 The memory, bitter-sweet, 
 
 Of thee. Escheat ! 
 
 I live again 
 
 That dismal morn ; 
 
LIFE ON THE UP-GRADE. 93 
 
 I see thy brow, with dismal shade 
 
 creeping; 
 I hear the murmur, some secret keep- 
 ing; 
 I guessed the wherefore, afterward, 
 not heeding 
 The stabbing word, 
 "Robbed the Road." 
 
 Turn me — turning 
 From saddest yearning — 
 To welcome my noble poet-miner ; 
 Him, — dross extracted, all the finer 
 Manhood cherished, — almoner 
 Of my sad life 
 When drugged in grief. 
 
 Long shining shafts 
 Through cloud-rifts, 
 G-lancing through the mountain 
 
 passes, 
 Out of a sky of gold and crimson 
 
 masses, 
 Wrap him, as he comes, in tresses 
 Of fretted light — 
 A welcome sight ! 
 
 He knows my grief, 
 I lighten his life, 
 
94 LES MISERABLES. 
 
 By gladness at his daily coming. 
 Like weary dove, flying to its homing, 
 His soul straight comes, intoning 
 Thoughts grand and sad, 
 Wrought in lives Up-grade. 
 
 LES MISERABLES. 
 
 The sun shines for us, around us are 
 built. 
 We respectables. 
 Unseen walls to keep us from souls 
 dark in guilt — 
 Les Miserables. 
 
 wretched lives ! lost hearts ! pin- 
 ing to soon die, 
 Why perish ? 
 Asking for bread, charity gives a 
 stone, hoping thereby 
 Some good to cherish. 
 
 In your foul-smelling homes ye cry 
 for aid in vain : 
 *' Increase our wage ; 
 Long days spent in toil for bread, life 
 liv'd in pain, 
 We die at early age. 
 
LES MISERABLES. 95 
 
 " Popular Aid Societies care not for 
 human cause, 
 But work for self, 
 To gain the frayed edges of vain self- 
 applause. 
 Or bit of pelf/' 
 
 Poor, doom 'd lives ! none may change 
 the soul within ; 
 Yourselves do show 
 Lack of earnest thought, pure air, 
 cleanly living, to win 
 From your woe. 
 
 Your cry is for wealth, striving for 
 golden treasures, — 
 Will this cure sin ? 
 Drive away filth and rottenness at 
 the core, 
 That stifles the soul within ? 
 
 Life must be filled with thought, that 
 subtler sense, 
 For delight. 
 That lives, works, breathes pure air, 
 thro' new lens 
 Wins sight. 
 
 Respectability must toil themselves 
 to save 
 All ; but help they cannot, 
 
96 IN PO VERTT RO JV. 
 
 Lost souls who are healed not from 
 within, 
 To better their lot. 
 
 CHRISTMAS IN POVERTY 
 ROW. 
 
 "Kum erlong, kum, get a move ! 
 
 Goin' ter th' p'lice, that's shore; 
 Santy-Claus, my bloomin' cove, 
 
 Haint givin' picters to th' pore. 
 
 *' Oh, he brung it right ter yer ! 
 
 Kum now, yer small pertaties 
 Ter hev swell-lookin' picters 
 
 Kum to yer from Santy-Claus. 
 
 "I say, wher did yer git it, 
 
 Kid ? We're no sich blame softies ! 
 How did yer kum outer it ? 
 
 Wher was yer ole Santy-Claus ? 
 
 " Yer cribbed it, yer know yer did, 
 
 Outen th' tonies swag; 
 Yer ketch'd, my bloomin' cove, 
 
 Tryin' to swell, and ter brag. 
 
 *'This picter is Santy hisself, 
 A-skootin' ahin' his nifty deers ; 
 
 Wouldn't de kids giv' derself 
 A picnic if he'd look a-here's. 
 
IN PO VER TY ROW. 97 
 
 *^ Say, kid, guv me de picter 
 Yer must or I'll call th' p'lice. 
 
 Then, ' Where did yer git outer 
 It ? ' dey'U ask ye mity fierce." 
 
 " An angel brung it, so she did ; 
 
 It's mine, kum down from th' windy, 
 A-swingin' by a teeny thread. 
 
 From the Amen chap'l, ther' Chris- 
 mus shindy. 
 
 " Ther's my angel now. She's kum, 
 Ter fetch kids sumfin what's pore ; 
 
 Looks like a angel spilt plum 
 Outen the sky, that's shore." 
 
 " Why, Mabel, this young loafer 
 
 Has your Parian marble statue ! 
 Police ! Not a word, Mab, in his 
 
 favor. 
 Here, take this tramp in charge. The 
 
 rascal ! " 
 
 Christmas eve ! Glad crowds aglee ! 
 
 Joyous greetings throughout the 
 town. 
 
 Christmas splendor I Christ's re- 
 nown ! — 
 
 Amid tramps and ruffians unclean, 
 
 Christ's child, Scabbie, wept, unfed, 
 unseen. 
 
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. 
 
 Col' an' dark, 
 Stiff an' stark, 
 Lies my girl i' th' bed whar we laid 
 her last, 
 Scorchin', gallin', 
 Tears are fallin', 
 Like rain swift and fierce and fallin' 
 es fast. 
 
 Hid from sight. 
 Lonely o' night. 
 Is her bed, an' she can't speak, see^ 
 nor stir ; 
 Worry an' care 
 Is still my share. 
 An' she no longer here, an' I can't 
 come to her. 
 
 I'd know her, 
 I'd follow her, 
 Oh, my empty arms ! an' oh, my 
 heart is sore ! 
 Ever and alway. 
 Day arter day 
 And night arter night, I miss her 
 more an' more. 
 
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. 99 
 
 When happy days 
 Is in our lives, 
 Thar's a mighty diff'rence ^twixt rich 
 an' pore ; 
 When death so close, . 
 Strikes like a force, 
 Hit brings together what joy rives 
 apart so far. 
 
 'Tis rich an' high 
 Mourns with I, 
 As worship'd the trac' o' her little 
 footsteps light, 
 As her trippin' feet 
 Made prints i' th' street. 
 As straight and slender as a ray o* 
 sunlight. 
 
 When come noon-day. 
 They took her from me, 
 An^ laid her by her lone on the barren 
 hill; 
 Like a cold stone. 
 My heart sunk down, 
 The sky grew dark, an' life fer me 
 stood still. 
 
 My lone girl-babe ! 
 My purty child ! 
 My one blossom, my pride, my glad 
 desire ! 
 
100 THE MOTHERS LAMENT. 
 
 My tears unshed, 
 Burned i' my head, 
 I made no moan and my sight shone 
 like fire. 
 
 Till one as is rich 
 Shed tears which 
 Loosed the dried-up fountains o' my 
 tears. 
 An' when he cried, 
 '■'■ Would she had not died ; 
 Though dead she is my own an' I am 
 hers!" — 
 
 When love so true. 
 Comes close to you, 
 It draws your heart, an' your own 
 grief is still. 
 I walk th' path, 
 In patient faith, 
 To the lowly grave upon th' lonely 
 hill. 
 
FLOWER AND FRUIT. 
 
 Drunk on the wine 
 
 Of spring sunshine, 
 The orchard blossoms free ; 
 
 Helped by the power 
 
 Of summer shower, 
 The fruit sets on the tree. 
 
 With color won 
 
 From August sun. 
 Apples glowing yellow, 
 
 At hint of frost, 
 
 From boughs wind-toss'd, 
 Drop down ripe and yellow. 
 
 Buds for blooming. 
 
 Months for growing, 
 These bring harvest pleasures ; 
 
 Blighted flowers. 
 
 Stormy hours. 
 Ruin Autumn's treasures. 
 
 In youth's bright May, 
 
 Spread blossoms gay, 
 And manhood sets the fruit ; 
 
 But old age shows 
 
 What apple grows 
 From spring-time's budded fruit. 
 
THE UNDYING QUESTION. 
 
 I agreed one day to act on the stage 
 (For my life work, and harvest sow- 
 ing), 
 And in gay mood tried to teach my 
 age 
 (The law of love, joy, and Romance 
 roving). 
 
 As I stood on the shore of Life's great 
 sea 
 (Playing at life's dreams and 
 agonies), 
 I scorn'd the old myths, men-made 
 mysteries 
 (And felt joy, and taught life's 
 ecstasies). 
 
 Atoms ever changing, but life en- 
 dures 
 (Love's law, love's love, ever reign- 
 
 Life in cycles, motions, endless 
 powers 
 (Enjoy the hour, the hour its joy 
 retaining). 
 
 One law reigns and rules over all, 
 (The trees and flowers have like 
 emotions). 
 
UNDYING QUESTION. 103 
 
 Man and the teeming land in thrall 
 (To pleasure's law, and love's 
 potions). 
 
 Nor Christ nor Pilate was, Ideals 
 each 
 (Of altruistic rise and ebb). 
 The fruitful earth glad kinship teach 
 (Life is living, joyfully, tears all 
 shed). 
 
 When lo ! from my side to dimmest 
 gloom 
 (Death stole my one love to silence 
 away). 
 Where is God? To love, is Joy's 
 doom 
 (Law's logic explains not death or 
 the tomb.) 
 
EGYPT'S CHOICE. 
 
 Far to the northward shadows are 
 
 slowly creeping, 
 Burnishing broad realms, beneath 
 
 wide horizons, 
 Where are few pampered lordlings 
 
 in palaces, 
 And in mud-huts the sad-eyed fella- 
 
 heens ; 
 Where are palm-trees and reeds of 
 
 papyrus. 
 Lotos and crocodiles basking in the 
 
 sun, 
 And hawk, heron, stork, cooing dove 
 
 and ibis : 
 A land teeming with a wide, full-fed 
 
 plenty ; 
 The twilight land, grey, with memo- 
 ries haunted, 
 Of a limitless past backward reaching 
 
 to the dawn; 
 A thrifty land, with arteries and 
 
 sinews fed 
 From the life-giving ichor stored in 
 
 icy fields. 
 Where giant spires shoot straight to 
 
 their crowning. 
 
EGTPT'S CHOICE. 105 
 
 From frozen gulfs lying betwixt the 
 pinnacles, 
 
 Above the mists/neath southern stars, 
 snow-cap'd. 
 
 In these far-away mountains, above 
 the zephyrs. 
 
 Or song of brooding bird or chirp of 
 summer insect, 
 
 Beside the very grave of life, where 
 death comes not, 
 
 For lack of life in the frozen desola- 
 tion, — 
 
 Resurrection far below, in torrent, 
 forcing a passage. 
 
 Leaps into the Libyan desert, sweep- 
 ing, surging. 
 
 Groping thro' the mournful sandy 
 silences 
 
 (Brimming river swelled too, by mid- 
 sea freshets, 
 
 Kolls on 'neath other stars, far to 
 southward ), 
 
 Down to the land of the Sphinx, 
 allegorical witness 
 
 Of Time's changelessness in bewilder- 
 ing epochs — 
 
 So born, so has been, so is, the mystic 
 life-giving Nile. 
 
106 '5 choice: 
 
 ( Voice of^ ttie Nile.) 
 
 Come worship at my shrine, 
 
 Ye sons of toil ! 
 From the desert and the sea, 
 I made this soil : 
 Built the deltas, comprehending 
 The land of Egypt ; befriending 
 By eons of toil, work unending. 
 
 Pray you, pray ! If I abide. 
 There is corn for reaping ; 
 Let me leave, turn aside, 
 Barrenness and weeping : 
 Stifling sands exterminate 
 All moving things animate, — 
 Silence, waste, exanimate. 
 
 Far-off, flitting memories 
 
 From a dim past ; 
 
 Struggling, grim phantoms 
 
 Of the Won and Lost : 
 
 Creatures who liv'd and fed 
 
 Upon my banks, then vanish'd. 
 
 And others came to fill the void. 
 
 Cities sprang into being, — 
 City of the Greek and Cairo, 
 
 Full of life and living, 
 Memphis, Sais, Dendara; 
 Spread her wings pillar'd Karnakj 
 
EGYPT'S Ch 1 107 
 
 And gnomon Pyramids, gigantic, 
 Perched on the spurs of Mount 
 Mokat. 
 
 Pallid man, the sad-eyed, 
 
 Master-mind, the sculptor, 
 Wrought works allied 
 To those of the Creator : 
 [Marble! porphyry! Gold! Color- 
 ing! 
 Mighty temples adorning ; 
 Eevelry fantastic, towering. 
 
 I have thankless wrought 
 
 For hordes of Earth's denizens, 
 And never yet sought 
 Nor found remuneration 
 Of Man : he, of created things. 
 Is ever plunged in endless war ; 
 I, the unwilling spectator. 
 
 Man, the miserable, 
 
 Even when conqueror. 
 
 Struggles continual 
 
 For balance of power ; 
 
 Eastern Asia, Western Europe, 
 
 Seeking for a wider scope ; 
 
 Death-grip here, without hope. 
 
 " See, forty centuries 
 You to look down upon, 
 
108 EGYPT'S CHOICE. 
 
 Frenchmen! soldiers!" 
 Shonted Napoleon. 
 Pyramids, by my brim, years — 
 Uncounted in blood, in tears — 
 Preceded Tel-el-Kebirs. 
 
 'Tis the old, old story, 
 
 Written in stone ; 
 Nature-worship hoary, 
 'Gainst civilization. 
 If martyr'd shades look down, 
 In the slowly coming dawn, 
 Does he the riddle read ? — Gordon I 
 
 Struggle as ever 'twixt factions, 
 
 Time is shrivell'd to a jot. 
 The lists, Egypt's land, to settle 
 questions. 
 Which is master, which is not. 
 Inner life, outward action, 
 Progress tends, of the fraction, 
 Thrust down, no resurrection. 
 
 But I fail not : deepest snow 
 
 Feeds never-failing fountains, 
 Far-off, 'neath the Equator, 
 Gathered on the mountains. 
 I change not, for I ever feed 
 This ingrate land at its need, — 
 Ages and ages as they breed. 
 
EGTPTS CHOICE. 109 
 
 Let them pray ! If I abide, 
 There is corn for reaping ; 
 If I leave or turn aside, 
 
 Languishment and weeping. 
 For I give the palms, corn, lotus, 
 I feed the cattle, doves and ibis, 
 All things that are most precious." 
 
 The worth of life may be drawn from 
 Earth's heart ; 
 
 Yet brave as is the show of worth, 
 most worthless 
 
 Without the murmuring, unpausing, 
 ever gliding 
 
 Evenly, sinuously fruitful flood slow- 
 ly rising : 
 
 Thus all are fed by the same unvary- 
 ing law, — 
 
 Men, beasts, vegetation, all things 
 animate, — 
 
 And each lives by the law of its 
 organic being 
 
 Liv'd, fed and liv'd again by law of 
 reproduction ; 
 
 All but man the insatiable, man the 
 greedy. 
 
 He, of strength and power of cunning 
 cumulation, 
 
 Enslaved his brothers, doomed them 
 to toilsome labor, 
 
110 EGYPT'S CHOICE. 
 
 Built Pyramids, huge columned tem- 
 ples, palaces, 
 
 Statuary of godlike proportions, and 
 by speech 
 
 And many curious hieroglyphics 
 taught the ages 
 
 Of his doings, — the toiling millions 
 in mud hovels. 
 
 The pampered lordlings in their fine 
 palaces, — 
 
 Also of many devasting bloody battles 
 
 In which men strove as beasts, and 
 struggling, died. 
 
 Slaying, ravaging, burning ; yet time 
 for yearnings 
 
 Fill'd the suffering souls, whose ask- 
 ings are not fantasy. 
 
 ( Wailing of a Captive.) 
 God dwells in meanest things, 
 
 In ghosts of Ka and Tum, 
 In beetles, lizards, toads and bugs. 
 If murmurs reach beyond the tomb, 
 He will hear the shivering sigh 
 That friendless woman knows, 
 Too proud and pure to sell her 
 
 soul, 
 When driven to sin or die. 
 
 We exist, nor can we help it, 
 Prisoners to the victor braves. 
 
EGYPT'S CHOICE. HI 
 
 Stolen from the spurs of Mokat, 
 Bound and sold for slaves. 
 
 Oh, happy the people who can 
 
 die ! 
 For sad the life of all women; 
 Sadder yet, if a gentle human, 
 Doomed against her will to 
 live a lie. 
 
 Why dwells not God in woman ? 
 Why has she not a soul, and a 
 place 
 Among created things, though 
 human ? 
 Does not the bull receive wor- 
 ship, Apis ? 
 Be she alive or be she dead. 
 Who takes thought or note ? 
 Slaves or worse than the brute; 
 The seed-bed only, where is 
 planted seed. 
 
 God of heaven ! To thee we cry ! 
 If that thou mads't divine Osiris, 
 He that rules in fairest sky, 
 
 Mads't thou not the gentle Isis ? 
 
 Within this narrow dreary pen, 
 
 Looking upon a noisome court. 
 
 We fainting die, of men the 
 
 sport. 
 
112 EGl'Pl^'S CHOICE. 
 
 We too are children of the 
 dawn. 
 
 Men sin, too, if we are slaves 
 To passion's falsest action ; 
 They make us suffer to our graves, 
 Tho' always two form that pac- 
 tion. 
 Why man dictate of weal and 
 
 woe ? 
 When two sin, why one sin- 
 less ? 
 When two act, why one stain- 
 less ? 
 Why yet a man, she a seraglio ? 
 
 {Old Princess — buying slaves.) 
 {Phoenicia.) — How wildly sings 
 yon maiden ; 
 
 Bring her here, make room. 
 She looks an Egyptian, 
 
 Sings she of her home ? 
 
 {Captive, running, kneels.) 
 
 Lady ! Buy me, buy ! 
 Protect me from danger. 
 
 1 will toil night and day ; 
 
 Save the poor stranger. 
 
 Make me your meaq^st slave, 
 I will toil from sun to sun ; 
 
EGYPT'S CHOICE. 113 
 
 I will bake, prune, weave, 
 To please your every whim. 
 
 {Frincess.) 
 Too pretty to bake and brew, 
 
 To fine to toil afield. 
 What can I do with you. 
 
 Poor, pretty, lost child ? 
 
 Oh, let me be your slave ; 
 
 Think of my fate, alas ! 
 With none to pity or to save : 
 
 I, born maid to Isis. 
 
 Brought forth of sorrow. 
 Bred from my native ooze, 
 
 Upon each sad to-morrow, 
 My youth and beauty lose. 
 
 {Frincess}) 
 Veil yourself, your price is paid, 
 
 Follow where my eunuch leads, 
 Thy name is now Ehodope, 
 
 Rose of the Nile, Rhodopis. 
 
 As of eld, the sun rose on the sacred 
 river, and shone on Egypt's land, 
 
 ^' Striking, with his first rays, music 
 from Memnon's statue on the Nile," 
 
114 EGYPT S CHOICE. 
 
 When the captive maid, now queen 
 of the West, noblest of women, 
 
 Keturn'd to her battle-strewn land, 
 missionary, queen. Savior. 
 
 Behind the snowy peaks the day was 
 breaking ; 
 Through mists was seen, 
 Nitocris, the queen. 
 Advance where light and shadow 
 gay fretwork making 
 To her realm, 
 Land Egyptian. 
 
 Shining shafts of light through aisles 
 and passes — 
 In grandeur solemn, 
 The palm-tree columns. 
 Lay in gold, crimson, pink and am- 
 ber masses. 
 On the floods 
 Of Nile outspread. 
 
 Wrapped by the mist in a wedding- 
 gown of white. 
 Sweet mignonette, 
 Roses with dawn-dew wet. 
 Cling in fragrance to her shining 
 garments of light, 
 Truth her guerdon. 
 Queen of Wisdom. 
 
EGYPT'S CHOICE. 115 
 
 Through slavery, pain and sorrow, to 
 her place of ease, 
 Had this woman. 
 Divinely human, 
 Won her way through formalisms to 
 truth and peace, 
 By right of worth, 
 Fairest Queen of Earth. 
 
 {Song of the Queen.) 
 O my people, hearken ! Would ye 
 
 reap again. 
 Mind the sheaves ye bring are of 
 
 golden grain, 
 For ye must sow aright, if so ye 
 
 would obtain. 
 
 At the judgment bar of Osiris, must 
 
 ye all come. 
 If the life be beastly, comes the final 
 
 knell of doom ; 
 If good, righteousness and mercy 
 
 follow to the tomb. 
 
 If ye would be mighty and grow a 
 
 nation strong. 
 Ye must not bind the soiils of any, 
 
 to drive to wrong ; 
 For your women are slaves bound 
 
 with brand and thong. 
 
116 EGTPTS CHOICE. 
 
 Ye suffer thereby. Give them honest 
 
 love and thought ; 
 For Love is pure when shared by 
 
 each, not bought. 
 The West is right, the East burdened 
 
 ■with a sadder lot. 
 
 That woman's love is brutal, her kiss 
 
 an act of sin, 
 When lavished on her husband, and 
 
 true to the soul within, — 
 Here ye are at fault, my people ! 
 
 are slaves to begin. 
 
 Slaves are ye born, in bondage the 
 mother's groan ; 
 
 Your land ever a battle-ground. Civil- 
 ization 
 
 Will struggle to drive ye back in all 
 the years to come. 
 
 Grapes grow not on bramble bushes, 
 
 nor figs on the thorn, 
 All people are growing either thistles 
 
 or the corn, 
 Sybarites are sowing mighty tares, 
 
 thinking not of the morn. 
 
 At morn there is seeking for the seed 
 that is sown. 
 
EGYPT'S CHOICE. 117 
 
 Tears and sorrow follow storing the 
 
 crop that is grown, 
 Nor think of the sowing — each soul 
 
 reaps its own. 
 
 The fruitful sun shines on the just, 
 
 the unjust as well, 
 But the seed sown in the valley, the 
 
 seed sown on hill, 
 Must produce of its kind, crop of 
 
 wisdom or of hell. 
 
 The Kose of Egypt sung and died in 
 
 Nitocris, Queen ; 
 Love is daily slaughtered, her land 
 
 still lacks civilization. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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