Gop}TigiitN?_^^ COI'^RIGHT DEPOSIT. TWENTY-ONE MULFORD DOUGHTY BOSTON THE GORHAM PRESS MDCMXVII Copyright, 1917, by Mulford Donffhty All Rirhts Reserved r\ X/^ ^^^ MADB IN THB UNITED 8TATBS OF AME5RICA The Gorham Pbbsb, Boston, U. 9. A. NOV 22 1917 ©CLA479166 ^Ub^ MY FATHER To one who steadfastly through weary years Has kept his faith in all things good and true, May the days bring you gladness, dry all tears. My Father! How I love and honor you. CONTENTS Page The Witch 9 The Aisne ^ ^ The Temple ^ ^ Somewhere in France I3 A Woman's Part U The Balkans, 1912 ^5 Fulfillment ^7 Out of the Sea 18 Spring ^9 Echoes 20 Night 21 Sunset Gardens 22 Twilight 23 Dusk 24 Visions 25 War 26 Nantucket 27 1625 ^^ The Peddler 29 Disillusion 30 Song 31 5 TWENTY-ONE THE WITCH The things I do beneath the sun are what all men may show. The things I do beneath the moon a fiend alone may know. In the sweet fields where dead men lie in never end- ing rows, I go at noon of night to write a message to my foes. My pen is formed from dead men's bones and bravely it will write Of fools who perished, that a land might grow in strength and might. My ink the blood that from their veins has sodden all the earth. No crop will spring from that fell soil, but hope- less want and dearth. Only the Devil rules and he is strong to guard his own; For him I toil and laugh to see the strong men sob and moan. Never since Earth begot the race, has such great joy been mine ; On, on they come, an endless tide in that long bat- tle line. Soon the sun sinks behind the hills, the grim hills, stark and bare. Then comes the night. Oh I shall write, there's pen and ink to spare. 10 THE AISNE 1913-1915 We walked together by the shining river When twilight hours, the gray nuns of the day, Lingered about us with their benediction And the sweet flowers bent their heads to pray. We walked together by the sullen river The twilight hours, grim sentries of the night, Roared over us a ghastly vesper service For souls that perished since the dawn of light. IX THE TEMPLE There is a Temple grim The atmosphere is dim For the great altar smokes by night, by day. The mighty organ rolls The anthems for the souls Of men who briefly in that service stay. The sacrifice of blood Pours out a costly flood, The blood of youth, blood of the brave and fair. Oh, high and glorious fate Who in that Temple wait! In life, in death, a crown of bay will wear 12 SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE Song of a fair May morning When the sky is bluer than blue And the white clouds floating across it Seem almost too white to be true, When the air is sweet with clover, And hums with the busy bee, And across the gray salt marshes. The guns thunder out to the sea, And the dead lie in rows With their face to the foes Only a mile from me. 13 A WOMAN'S PART I am restless to-night and the house can not hold me, I go out on the terrace and look at the stars. How long is it, Love, since we stood here together And your arm held me close as you pointed out Mars? The red star of war rules the stars of the sky, The red god of war rules the kingdoms of earth. All day I have toiled at grim food for the guns, Bombs, dynamite, cartridges there is no dearth. You toil in the trenches, I toil in the shops. The two halves of the whole, we are winning the fight. But, Oh God, if once more I could feel your strong arms Hold mc close and the scorch of your lips through the night. H THE BALKANS, 1912 Across blue sky, white clouds are drifting slow. I sit here in the garden drinking tea. A fresh breeze blows the green leaves to and fro, And melody of bird and hum of bee Are mingled with the sweetness of the air. All things about me are so fresh and fair. My mind dreams idly in this pleasant spot; Strange fancies come of ages long forgot. Clangor of arms and clash of steel I hear, And those who died full many years ago ; Behold I see them pass who know not fear. Brave knights ride by me, cased in flashing steel, Above their heads, strange banners whip the air, Ragged and torn from many a distant field. That once shone bright with gold and purple rare. And now with stern, unhappy faces come marching ranks of captive races; And as I gaze, my eyes are filled with tears. The martial music faints upon my ears. For far away, in lands forlorn. Women must weep and little children starve Amid the ruined fields of trampled corn. 1-5 The clouds have drifted far across the sky, And in the West a glorious sunset shines. Slowly the crimson fades before my eyes And all the air is sweet with vesper chimes; But as I leave this fair and haunted place And meet the present once more, face to face, I pray, O God of Nations, may thy car An emblem be of peace, and not of war. Load it with harvests of the yellow grain The crimson apple and the purple grape. And peace, a banner, float without a stain. i6 FULFILLMENT My Love is coming to-night He is coming at last, My King. I must dress in robes of state, In a robe of satin, white as snow, In a mantle of velvet, the color, and glow Of the rose, when summer is late. He is coming to-night. My King. For this I have lived my life; All of the hours and the days When I toiled in the desolate ways, When youth called aloud in the strife. He is coming to-night. My King. His lips will be pressed to mine In a bridal kiss divine And in the fire of his eyes. The blue of the midnight skies. I will give him my heart at last Oh Death, My Lover, My King. 17 OUT OF THE SEA Out into the dusk of the winding lanes that lead to the old gray sea, Out into the purple twilight, for a voice is call- ing me. Not for me the flickering hearthfire, but the salt of the ocean foam. For a voice in the night wind's calling, calling to me alone. Up from the harbor rolls the fog, obscuring house and tree, And with it come the souls of men, and one is there for me. I can not choose but follow the voice that calls me on. For what to me are living men, when the one I love is gone? I can not choose but meet him, my Love from out the sea, And naught care I for mor?:al men, however brave they be. Out of the sea-mist calling, out of the ocean gray, Into the arms of my lover and the great waves of the Bay. i8 SPRING The fires of the spring flame upward (Oh heart of my love) Crush me closer, yet closer, No gentleness of a dove) Thy flesh against mine, And to see in thy eyes the divine Light of passion and power and desire. May the grace of my face feed the fire (Oh love, let it glow) Forgotten all else in that light (Are the hours fast or slow?) To my softness, the strength and the might Of thy arms ; to my weakness, the sight Of the storm of thy love, sweeping low. 19 ECHOES Is it your voice that calls across the fields of shining asphodel ? Is it your voice I hear or the faint chime of distant bell? What is the message you would give to-day? (Oh hush, my heart, beat not so loud, I pray). What message for the one who loved you well? I listened and the soft winds stirred the leaves, Sadly they murmured like the voice of one who grieves. Afar on some green branch in moaning tone A purple wood-dove sang her song alone, And my heart ached for grief, again deceived. ao NIGHT I dreamed of you last night; I felt your hands, hot on my breast, Once more as in the days of old, I felt your strong caress; I saw again the passion in your eyes, the love and fire. And felt in that red light, the scorching touch of our desire. I woke; the night was black, and wild as deepest Hell: The great winds roared above the house like fiends, and the rains fell. Within that quiet room with me was one who slept in peace. And my whole soul cried out for Death to come with swift release. 31 SUNSET GARDENS The gardens of the western skies to-night Are gleaming bright, And ail the flowers of Heaven Are opening to the light. Upon the right a bed of roses Glows with a crimson flame, While up upon the northern border White clouds of lilies reign. Midway of this enchanted garden A small lake glimmers green, About the edge the golden primrose And purple iris lean. Softly the winds of twilight blowing Scatter the heavenly flowers, Drifts of golden and crimson petals Falling in rainbow showers. Changing, fading to pearl and silver Dissolved at last in the evening air. And where they vanished a star is shining Like a lost dewdrop, bright and fair. s» TWILIGHT The shadows of the evening come trooping through the pinewoods; Come peering, come creeping, along the shining floor; The soft gray shadows, the long gray shadows, Come gliding in among the trees when the bright day is o'er. The long gray aisles are lost in mist that drapes each stately column, And the plumed branches cease to wave, and silent droop above ; The thick black shadows, the great black shadows. Come thronging through the silent wood, as to a home they love. 23 DUSK The day is done, the sun is set, The purple dusk is dropping down. Above the little golden stars Reflect the bright lights of the town. 24 VISIONS Winds of the past are blowing through the pine woods, Echoes of days that were long years ago. The sun is sinking and the shadows lengthen, Dark shadows soft and slow. The light is dim, no longer glad and golden, For now the ghosts walk underneath the trees. Murmurs of voices asking and replying Faint as the evening breeze among the leaves. Wreathes of gray mist float silently about them. The twilight deepens from the marshes far And near; the frogs begin their evening chorus. Above unchanging shines a distant star. 25 WAR All day I lie upon the beach and watch The white battalions of the ocean charge, Rank behind thunderous rank. Upon my glowing cheek I feel the touch Of their salt banners hissing through the air; And in my ears resounds the martial tread Of that imperial army. Up the strand against the mighty fortress of the rocks, In vain they hurl their innumerable troops. No quarter given, or asked in this grim war That rages on until the end of time. 26 NANTUCKET The blue and gold are gone ; twilight is falling ; Through the soft dusk I hear far voices calling. Voices of women, and of men Who unseen walk the streets again. The gray fog rolls in from the sea Invades the town ; from tree to tree You can not see your way about So thick it is, no lights shine out. But still those plaintive voices whispering, calling Each unto each when the black night is falling, For that brief time the blind man's holiday Alone is theirs; in which once more to play The game of life, and in the crooked lanes Renew the memories of their joys and pains. 37 1625 To stand on the desolate seacoast With the roar of the waves in my ears. To look northward or southward or westward But no human being appears. To live in this rude cabin Where in winter I freeze with the cold And in summer I faint from the blistering heat, And never again to behold The home I have left. Oh my heart breaks! It is rent with the longing and pain To walk once again in the garden, To pick the sweet flowers and hearken To the nightingale's longing refrain. Let the strong men who care not for trifles Come here to this desert alone. Let them storm against tyrants and priestcraft Let them argue of tables of stone. Shall I ever again see the table of oak in the old hall at home? Where at morning and noon and at nightfall We gathered with laughter and song? Never more shall I see it, Oh never behold, the green grass on the lawn. Or hear the sweet song of the skylark, WTien the fields shine with dew at the dawn. 38 THE PEDDLER To J. F. Sunrise, birdsong in the pleasant weather. Lightheart, lightfoot, take the Broad Highway Selling duster, broom, or brush to bonny lass or matron. Oh, it's very well to tramp along upon a summer day. But how about the evening when the sun's gone out? When birds are silent in their nests until another day. When long black shadows lurk about before you and behind, It's weary hearts and weary heels that trudge the Broad Highway. 39 DISILLUSION O child with your innocent eyes and your loving heart Ready with eager hands to open the door of life, Ready with fearless feet to tread the path of the years, What do you hope to find in a world of sorrow and strife? Do you think because you are young and happy and brave Do you think if your heart is pure, that sin will pass you by? Careless of other's failures, sure that for you there will be Love and strength and courage, do you not hear a cry? A cry of exceeding sorrow, a cry of a shattered dream ! Did you think, poor fool, that for you the rules of the world would be changed? Discard all love of beauty, tenderness, faith, and truth. Be hard and grasping and selfish, and the world will not seem strange. 30^ SONG Some sing of life, its smiles, its tears, Sing of the sunshine gilding happy years, The flowers of pleasure with their fragrance sweet Make glad the way for their swift dancing feet. Some sing of Life. Some sing of Death, the lover whose embrace Is rapture beyond telling ; in whose face. Yearning above them with its shining light. Light of the stars draws them to sacred night. Some sing of Death. 31 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiTrifi'i[fiiii 018 602 856 9