¥ f I if 
 
 M\Q 
 
 
 BI:(;S};':NPiif')-^ 
 
 IVER ALLSTORM. 
 
Class .^T^ 'hS:Q-\ 
 Book d^SS^l^ 
 
 GopightN" 
 
 i3U)J 
 
 A^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Poems. 
 
OLIVER ALLSTORM 
 
CHORDS 
 
 FROM 
 
 A STRANGE LYRE 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVER ALLSTORM. 
 
 SIMS, WILSON & SIMS. 
 
 259 Wabash Avenue 
 
 CHICAGO, ILL. 
 
 1902 
 
 3 '3 •" 3 J D 
 

 rTHE LIBRARV OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two C0f»tE8 REC€tVEO 
 
 JUL. I 1902 
 
 >, COPVWIOHT EHTHV 
 
 dtASS C^XXa No. 
 COPY 8. 
 
 COPTBIGHT 
 
 By OLIVER ALLSTORM 
 A. D. 1902 
 
 
THIS LITTLE BOOK IS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED 
 
 TO MY MOTHER 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Saraphal 9 
 
 The Calm Of Night 11 
 
 I Would Rest Me in The Light 13 
 
 Evening Star 15 
 
 Unrequited 16 
 
 Twilight Dream 16 
 
 The Yoke Of Burdens 19 
 
 The Blending 20 
 
 Away Fond Heart 21 
 
 Love Of My Love 22 
 
 Floweret Of Blushes 23 
 
 Why Doth Love IMove 25 
 
 The Exception 27 
 
 The Inseparable 29 
 
 With You Beside Me 31 
 
 Fragment 32 
 
 We May Never Meet Again 33 
 
 The Tangled Maze 34 
 
 Eunice 35 
 
 Dear I^ove I Believe 36 
 
 Somehow 37 
 
 An Autograph 38 
 
 Eventide 39 
 
 Sunset From My Window 40 
 
 Uncrowned Princess 41 
 
 I know That It Is Wrong, This Wish 43 
 
 Lines to A Fair Stranger 45 
 
 When I Embrace Thee 48 
 
 Hovr Strangely Sad I Feel To-night 49 
 
A Ballad Of The Day 51 
 
 As The Day So Is My Life 53 
 
 Forgive, Me Love 55 
 
 Absence 56 
 
 A Dandelion 57 
 
 The Rainy Day 58 
 
 I Shall Use No Charm To Win Thee 59 
 
 The Heart I Love Is Beating Yet 60 
 
 Solitude 61 
 
 Ultramundane 65 
 
 Up The Silver Tombigbee 66 
 
 My Love For Thee 67 
 
 Indian Summer 68 
 
 The Harvest 69 
 
 Don't Go Yet 71 
 
 Who Has A -Better Right? 73 
 
 The Assurance 75 
 
 The Penalties 76 
 
 You Hadn't Ought To 77 
 
 Proposal At Sea 79 
 
 Three Kisses 81 
 
 O'Connor Bells 85 
 
 The Shepherdess 86 
 
 As You Have Done For Me 87 
 
 Lullaby Of A Dying Mother 89 
 
 Wail Of A Night 91 
 
 My Wingless Angel 97 
 
 Violets 99 
 
 Forbidden Fruit 100 
 
 Remember The Maiue 102 
 
 San Juan 103 
 
 Anselmas Phanciancois 104 
 
 Old Alabama Banjo 107 
 
 The Last Good-Night 109 
 
 'Tis Now Far More Than Ever Ill 
 
 Lines On A Stuffed Eagle 113 
 
 A Farewell 115 
 
 To A Child 117 
 
 Leon F. Czolgosz 121 
 
SARAPHAL. 
 
 SAEAPHAL. 
 
 THEEE is a harp whose tranquil string 
 Touched by the hand of one, 
 Can, like the twilight zephyrs, bring 
 Sweet peace when day is done; 
 And there's a voice whose music sweet 
 
 Attends this harp of mine, 
 Whose notes outlive the echoes fleet — 
 And love, that voice is thine. 
 
 There is a brow whose temples form 
 
 The archway to the soul, 
 Can, like the sunbeams in a storm, 
 
 Make clouds of sorrow roll; 
 And there's an eye whose azure orb 
 
 Affords a light divine, 
 Whose lash no evil things absorb — 
 
 And love, that eye is thine. 
 
10 SARAPHAL. 
 
 There is a form whose matchless grace 
 
 Might well adorn a queen, 
 Can, like the fairies 'trance the place 
 
 Wherever it is seen; 
 And there's a soul whose hopes arise 
 
 Ahove life's terrene brine, 
 Wliose light has made my paradise — 
 
 And love, that soul is thine. 
 
THE CALM OF NIGHT. 11 
 
 THE CALM OF NIG-HT. 
 
 HOW can the soul of mortal man 
 In this deep calm of night, 
 Deny God's firm unaltered plan 
 Oi' universal light? 
 
 The very touch of finite things 
 
 One cannot understand, 
 Yet hattles with the orh that swings 
 
 His omnipotent hand. 
 
 I can not view the starry arch 
 
 Without a sense of peace; 
 And, joining in the glory march, 
 
 My aspirations cease. 
 
 I feel too deep, I know too well, 
 
 How small a thing am I, 
 Yet in the consciousness' of hell. 
 
 Dare raise my feeble cry. 
 
 And thou, oh God of love and light, 
 
 Support me at thy bar 
 With this sweet peace, the calm of night. 
 
 That moves me to a star. 
 
12 THE CALM OF NIGHT. 
 
 Then beauty, unadorned by day, 
 Shall mark my spirit brow 
 
 And whisper all my fears away 
 More faithfully than now. 
 
7 WOULD REST ME IN THE LIGHT 13 
 
 I WOULD EEST ME IX THE LIGHT. 
 
 I WOULD rest me in the light 
 Of the quiet west. 
 On the bosom of the night 
 In eternal rest. 
 
 There the morning's light is dead, 
 
 As my soul would be 
 Lost in crimson on the bed 
 
 Of eternity, 
 
 Not to wake in boundless bliss 
 
 Of the vast unknown, 
 But to rest beneath a kiss 
 
 In the grave alone. 
 
 Though that kiss cannot be thine, 
 Still thine was the last; 
 
 And its pressure still is mine 
 On my lips so fast. 
 
 Thus while m.em'ry still is green, 
 
 And ere I forget, 
 Ere the cold light comes between' 
 
 Or a shadow yet. 
 
14 I WOULD REST ME IN THE LIGHT. 
 
 I would rest me in the light 
 
 Of the quiet west, 
 On the bosom of the night 
 
 In eternal rest. 
 
EVENING STAR. 15 
 
 EVENING STAR. 
 
 HOW exquisitely beautiful 
 Thou shine st forth to-night! 
 I fain would bathe my conscious soul, 
 Within thy mellow light. 
 
 Eaptui"^ may bear my finite mind 
 
 Across thy pathless sea. 
 Yet thou, star of human hope. 
 
 Art more than dreams' to me. 
 
 Fve viewed thee in the darkest night, 
 When hope's last breath came low, 
 
 And in thy steadfast beam I felt 
 New life within me flow. 
 
 And ever, as I turn to thee, 
 
 I can not feel forlorn, 
 For something whispers while you shine 
 
 Man has no need to mourn. 
 
16 UNREQUITED. 
 
 UNREQUITED. 
 
 OH, how can I cancel 
 My passion for thee, 
 My love and affection 
 Burning so free? 
 
 Yet still I ranst leave thee, 
 Cruel fate to regard, 
 
 And suffer repentance 
 Without a reward. 
 
 Repent, — for I loved thee 
 In moments of bliss? 
 
 Ah, yes — for the wild dream 
 Awak'ning to this. 
 
 So, farewell, thou faithless; 
 
 Still I shall be true. 
 Like birds I'll remember, 
 
 My summer with you, 
 
 And fly when the winter 
 Has ceased in thy breast. 
 
 And whisper, for thee love, 
 I die with the rest. 
 
TWILIGHT DREAM, 17 
 
 TWILIGHT DREAM. 
 
 GO to thy window at sunset, 
 My love, when the day is low, 
 Go to thy window at sunset, 
 
 When the soft sweet zephyrs blow, 
 And list to the west-wind songlet, 
 To the sound the angels know. 
 
 Look back to the wooded inland, 
 Where the last beams fade away, 
 
 Look back to the dreary inland, 
 Where the sky is tinged with gray. 
 
 And think of him in the low land, 
 Where the shadows darkly lay. 
 
 Join the sunbeam with the moon beam. 
 Let no shadow twixt them roll: 
 
 Join the day-dream with the night-dream, 
 In the annals of our scroll; 
 
 Let no thought beyond a love-dream 
 Intervene thy soul, my soul. 
 
 Look beyond the peaceful river, 
 
 my life, my soul, my love. 
 Look beyond the quiet river, 
 
 Where the bright stars shine above. 
 And remember e'en thy lover 
 
 Knows what thou art dreaming of. 
 
18 TWILIGHT DREAM. 
 
 Watch the purple join the darkness 
 With the sinking of the sun; 
 
 Wat(3h the west verge in the darkness 
 When the d3dng day is done, 
 
 With the brightness and the darkness 
 Of the heart that you have won. 
 
 Then when all the world is' silent. 
 And the darkness steals the light, 
 
 Breathe a prayer that reaches heaven 
 To the glory of the night, 
 
 And in silence hold communion 
 With the love you deem is right. 
 
THE YOKE OF BURDENS. 19 
 
 THE YOKE OF BURDEN'S. 
 
 WHY do the tears come to my eyes 
 In thinking thus of thee, my love? 
 Thou art not yet in paradise, 
 
 Though thou wert framed to dwell above. 
 
 Why do the fears rise in my breast? 
 
 Because I know thou art too fair 
 To launch from out thy place of rest 
 
 Into my sea of winding care. 
 
 Why do the years stretched out before, 
 Seem less than what they ought to be? 
 
 Because I fear your heart the more 
 Shall suiJer, when I burden thee. 
 
 Why do the tears rebuke the smiles 
 
 That welcome thee e'en now as mine? 
 
 Because I fear some day the trials 
 That weigh on me shall all be thine. 
 
20 THE BLENDING. 
 
 THE BLEIsTDING. 
 
 YOU love with a love 
 One gives to the one 
 One cares to be with forever; 
 1 love with the love 
 
 You give to the one 
 That cares to be absent never. 
 
 We love with a love 
 
 That comes from above, 
 
 Which naught on earth can sever; 
 
 But one can we love, 
 As two we are one, 
 
 That wish to be one forever. 
 
AWAY FOND HEART. 21 
 
 AWAY FOND HEART. 
 
 AWAY, fond heart, I hear the bell! 
 The shipman's cry, aye I aye! 
 One kiss, and then, dear love, farewell 
 Until our bridal day. 
 
 Away, fond ship, thy beaten deck 
 
 Bosoms my soul to-night. 
 May slum.bers not npstir a wreck, 
 
 ()r conscience know affright. 
 
 Away, fond sea, I turn to shore; 
 
 Thy bright waves' speak to me; 
 Their whisperings bear my darling o'er 
 
 And safely back to me. 
 
 Away, fond world, I go to rest; 
 
 Do not disturb my dream. 
 But wake me when my aching breast 
 
 Is wept on by Maream. 
 
22 LOVE OF MY LOVE. 
 
 LOVE OF MY LOVE. 
 
 LOVE from above, 
 A flame of fire; 
 Love of m}^ love, 
 
 My soul's desire; 
 Love for the star, 
 A moth at sea; 
 Love, though afar, 
 Longing for thee. 
 
 LoTO from below, 
 
 A snowfiake white; 
 Love, may 1 know 
 
 You melt to-night? 
 LoYC for the sky, 
 
 A drop of rain; 
 Love, may T fly 
 
 To thee again? 
 
 Love from your soul, 
 
 A breath divine; 
 Love to control 
 
 A heart like mine; 
 Love for the love 
 
 I give to thee; 
 Love from above 
 
 That dwells in me. 
 
FLOWERET OF BLUSHES. 23 
 
 FLOWEEET OF BLUSHES. 
 
 FLOWRET of blushes, 
 Thou^rt bursting in bloom. 
 Teacher of thrushes 
 
 Thou'rt singing for whom? 
 Oh, whisper the beating 
 
 Thy heart is repeating 
 So pealfully, 
 
 Stealfully, over the scale. 
 Light over the gamut, 
 
 The echoes avail. 
 Avail for the dearest, 
 
 The loved and the nearest; 
 floweret of blushes, 
 
 The river that rushes, 
 The brooklet that gushes, 
 
 Is' singing of thee. 
 Is singing thy beauty. 
 
 Thy heart and thy duty; 
 Fve heard it in slumber, 
 
 Ah, times without number. 
 Oh, shall it prove sombre, 
 
 Or sweet unto me ? 
 
24 FLOWERET OF BLUSHES. 
 
 Lily of whiteness, 
 
 Thou'rt blooming so fair; 
 Being of lightness 
 
 Thon'rt gardened with care. 
 Thy petals are sprouting, — 
 
 No human is doubting, 
 So sweetfuUy, 
 
 J^eatfully, scented and true. 
 That poachers' are ready 
 
 To cite an ado. 
 To pluck thee, and claim thee, 
 
 To wear thee, and name thee, 
 Lily of whiteness, 
 
 The sun in its brightness. 
 The fairies of lightness, 
 
 ^re guarding but thee; 
 And I from the thicket 
 
 Am warding the wicked. 
 That they in their madness. 
 
 May not cause you sadness. 
 love, in your gladness, 
 
 Turn gently to me. 
 
WHY DOTH LOVE MOVE. 25 
 
 WHY DOTH LOVE MOVE. 
 
 WHY doth love move 
 The human breast, 
 That dares not make 
 
 Its passion known? 
 Long nights of wake, 
 
 Devoid of rest. 
 And days to live 
 
 And walk alone! 
 Why doth love move 
 
 A single heart, 
 That finds defeat 
 
 And solitude, ^ 
 Yet suif ers well 
 
 Though still apart, 
 dream of life, not understood? 
 
26 WHY DOTH LOVE MOVE. 
 
 Why doth love move 
 
 The human breast, 
 That finds res^ponse 
 
 With eager breath, 
 And ready hands 
 
 To make him blest, 
 And footsteps made 
 
 E^en nnto death? 
 Why doth love move 
 
 Two hearts as one, 
 Two lives to live 
 
 One attitude, 
 A changeless dream 
 
 Till time is run, 
 truth of life, not understood? 
 
THE EXCEPTION. 27 
 
 THE EXCEPTIOJSr. 
 
 TAKE her, piece by piece, mother. 
 Look! so small and slender, 
 Coughing at the lightest wind — 
 Who could be more tender? 
 
 Take her when the day is done, 
 On her knee thanks giving; 
 
 Then name of a victory won, 
 Worthy of the living. 
 
 Take her mind, so richly blest, 
 With dream-music blending, 
 
 Thinking only what is best. 
 Ready for life's ending. 
 
 Take her heart's low, timid beat, 
 
 Not a note complaining. 
 Could a virgin be more sweet 
 
 In this world so staining? 
 
 Take her eyes so kind and pure. 
 Tear bedimmed, yet dreaming; 
 
 Then ask why the stars endure 
 In their luster beaming. 
 
28 THE EXCEPTION. 
 
 Take her hands so small and white. 
 
 Ceaseless in contriving. 
 Constant, from the morn till night, 
 
 For another striving. 
 
 Take her, mother, as thine own, 
 
 Her my hope assuring; 
 Coupled with thy heart alone, 
 
 Love shall be enduring. 
 
 Take her, mother, close to thee. 
 Look! so small and slender, 
 
 Smiling through a sea of tears — 
 Who could he more tender? 
 
THE INSEPARABLE. 29 
 
 THE INSEPARABLE. 
 
 I HOPE the time may come when we 
 By other lips may hear it said, 
 How unreserved, how true they seem, 
 
 How lost each in the other's dream! 
 Here are two souls that move as one. 
 
 Two hearts that beat a tender note, 
 Two voices from a single throat. 
 
 Two meant to have each other won, 
 And won, they feel each other's need. 
 
 Each serves to please in word, and deed. 
 Oh, theirs is bliss a heart might crave, 
 
 For like the child at careless play. 
 They smile the ills of life away. 
 
 And nothing daunts them to be brave. 
 Well may I hope for such a trust. 
 
 For love I dare, and love I. must. 
 My being flames to trust and dare, 
 
 And in return I ask as much, 
 Since God ordained our lives as such. 
 
 Ijet others know that ours' is fair; 
 Let others learn that we can teach 
 
 And whisper when we sit alone: 
 Here are two souls so widely known, 
 
 That one might truly say of each, 
 Inseparable. 
 
30 THE INSEPARABLE. 
 
 And if that time may ever be, 
 
 When other lips shall whisper thus, 
 We fehall not blush, nor feiar, forsooth! — 
 
 We heed the mandates of all truth. 
 For love, if love it be, and right, 
 
 Must shed some sign, must feel in part 
 A kinship to the poorest heart, 
 
 So strong its all absorbing light, 
 So great its pow'r that we might move 
 
 An awe-aspiring world to love. 
 Some little seed, some kind word said. 
 
 Would bloom, and flourish at our feet, 
 And w-e would feel our lives complete, 
 
 Save for the days of love ahead. 
 Ah, cannot this be our sweet lot. 
 
 In leaving all but love forgot? 
 We too might hear that sweet refrain. 
 
 Without" a blush mark on the cheek; 
 Forgetting that our souls are weak, 
 
 We'd strive to hear that sound again; 
 And listening angels in the skies 
 
 AYould echo God's fulfilled command, 
 As we come smiling hand in hand 
 
 Straight from the earth to paradise — 
 Inseparable. 
 
WITH YOU BESIDE ME 31 
 
 WITH YOU BESIDE ME. 
 
 WITH you beside me, 
 Thou tender &'oul, 
 Love shall subdue 
 
 The grosser bowl, 
 And many passions 
 
 Bear control. 
 Thou art that to rae, 
 
 S^veet soulful sound, 
 Which stays the beast 
 
 And holds him bound, 
 A fond protector 
 
 1^'rora each wound. 
 
 With you beside me, 
 
 Sorrows depart, 
 And lovers sweet light 
 
 Glows in my heart. 
 Hope builds' an altar 
 
 Without art. 
 Thou art more to me. 
 
 Sweet, winsome love. 
 Than all of earth 
 
 Worth dreaming of, 
 A bright gem loaned me 
 
 From above. 
 
32 FRAGMENT. 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 YES I was once a sleeping babe, 
 Locked in my mother's arms, 
 Looked in the fond embrace of love, 
 
 And pure as angels far above, 
 And guiltless as the guiltless are — 
 I was the household pet and star 
 Tjong ago. 
 
 Would I were still that sleeping babe, 
 J^ocked in that fort of love, 
 
 In slumber on that mother's breast, 
 In the sweet untroubled rest, 
 
 Safe in the dearest place on earth, 
 The throbbing bosom of my birth, 
 Once again. 
 
WE MAY NEVER MEET AGAIN. 33 
 
 WE MAY :NrEVEE MEET AGAIN. 
 
 If there is a Never 
 There is no EteTnity, 
 
 FAEEWELL, Aurelia dear, farewell! 
 Meet, ah shall we ever? 
 Time shall part us from all time 
 
 If there is a never, 
 Time shall meet ns in a clime 
 If there is forever. 
 
 Here to-night in the belfry-tower, 
 
 Shall time strike forever? 
 Here to-night we part the hour — 
 
 Meed:, ah shall we ever? 
 Time shall part ns in a bower, 
 
 Eain, is there a never? 
 
 To-morrow we shall beat the sun, 
 
 Aye, a day forever; 
 Time shall lay us gently down 
 
 In the mould'ring ever; 
 You, and I shall meet again, 
 
 Never? Oh, forever. 
 
34 TEE TANGLED MAZE. 
 
 THE TANGLED MAZE. 
 
 WERE it mine to know the mystery 
 Of the coming years^, or days, 
 CoLild I draw aside the curtain, 
 
 Could I pierce the tangled maze, 
 Would my life be any brighter, 
 
 Would my heart be more content? 
 No, 'twere better far to leave with God 
 
 The years till they are spent. 
 Could 1 bear to see the sorrow 
 
 Which those future years wilJ bring? 
 No, 'twere better far to take the joy 
 
 Of to-day and learn to sing. 
 "If the world looks dark and gloomy 
 
 Just to-day, why should I sigh? 
 There will be a silver lining 
 
 To each dark cloud by and by.'' 
 
 — By My Cousin Aurelia. 
 
EUNICE. 35 
 
 EUNICE. 
 
 SWEET Eunice, charming Eunice, 
 Although you love me not, 
 Within my passioned hosom 
 
 There is a tender spot; 
 Although unworthy of thee, 
 
 Regard the love I own, 
 
 Spurn not the spirit in me. 
 
 That spirit^s love alone. 
 
 Yes, I would fain forgive thee, 
 
 Forgive and call you blest. 
 If hope could heal the cancer 
 
 JSTow buried in my breast. 
 Eegardless of your splendor, 
 
 I worship at your heart; 
 Aye, mine for thee beats' tender, 
 
 SAveet angel as thou art. 
 
 But I forget in passion, 
 
 Forget in hours of bliss. 
 That I am out of fashion 
 
 To court a love like this. 
 Although unworthy of thee. 
 
 Forgive affection^s glow, 
 That bums in anguish only 
 
 In this poor heart below. 
 
36 DEAR LOVE I BELIEVE. 
 
 DEAE LOVE I BELIEVE. 
 
 DEAE love, I believe thee, 
 You shall not deceive me; 
 I know, though yon leave me, 
 
 You still will be true. 
 Ah, thus do you grieve me 
 And fondly bereave me, 
 Yet absence shall weave me 
 A love song of you. 
 
 Deep seas shall divide us, 
 Vast mountains shall hide us, 
 But hope shall provide us 
 
 In seasons' of care; 
 Through all God shall guide us. 
 And trust shall abide us, 
 So farewell — ^beside us — 
 
 Our souls are at prayer. 
 
SOMEHOW. 37 
 
 SOMEHOW. 
 
 SOMEHOW I can't forget thee, 
 Nor would I ere forget; 
 Somehow you have impressed me 
 
 E'er fiince the day we met; 
 Somehow, but still I love thee, 
 
 Nor will my love e^er die; 
 Somehow I failed to move thee, 
 And you alone know why. 
 
 Somehow at times I mourn thee, 
 
 When love sighs' for the past; 
 Somehow sweet thoughts are borne me. 
 
 Sweet thoughts too sweet to last; 
 Somehow since I have kissed thee 
 
 Love's bitter-sweet farewell. 
 Somehow, but I have missed thee 
 
 As tongue can never tell. 
 
 Somehow, beloved, I trace thee 
 
 In every leaf and flower; 
 Somehow my fancies place me 
 
 Back in your humble bower; 
 Somehow, such love I bore thee, 
 
 Love that can never die! 
 Somehow, but I deplore thee, 
 
 And you alone know why. 
 
38 AN AUTOGRAPH. 
 
 a:n^ autograph. 
 
 ^^ I ^ WEEE vain to string 1113^ harp again, 
 
 _!_ Since naught but discord doth remain; 
 So, woman fair, thy tender plea 
 
 Suspend to lisp again to me. 
 The chords I knew, the songs I sung 
 
 Have left my wild-harp now unstrung. 
 'No more its shell so oft abused 
 
 Shall answer to a world confused. 
 So, fair one, pray some simpler task 
 
 Of lasting strength, my favor ask, 
 A more domestic useful art, 
 
 Where hands are gracious to the heart; 
 No sonnet with no meaning, save 
 
 Some fourteen lines that need a gi*ave. 
 
EVENTIDE. 39 
 
 EVENTIDE. 
 
 IT is evetide, the hour that ushered me 
 luto the night of time, Eternity. 
 Therefore I love, though loving far too well. 
 The smothered sound of life's sweet vesper 
 hell. 
 Hail, hallowed hour, sublime to me and calm; 
 More sacred is thy voice than David's psalm. 
 Under thy watch-light, hope's radiant star, 
 I view the trackless realms of beauty far; 
 Unimaginable reality, 
 
 Blest fount of love, I drink, I drink of thee 
 My fill, and hold communion sweetly now 
 With thee, blest shade, that cools my burn- 
 ing brow. 
 Move to my heart my child-faith, peace re- 
 store, 
 Until I thirst for life and earth no more. 
 
40 SUNSET FROM MY WINDOW. 
 
 SUNSET FROM MY WINDOW. 
 
 LIKE the whisper of an unspoken thought, 
 Alas, how sinks the melting day from 
 view. 
 Light clouds, envapored rains of ocean-blue, 
 Eound many beams of light refulgent 
 caught 
 By those light winds that breathe a twilight 
 
 song 
 
 And waft their own sweet breath with them 
 above. 
 God, love, I thank thee for this long; 
 
 My passions rise, I envy but the dove. 
 Who, in his careless flight ten steeples high. 
 
 Can view the slow decline, (denied to me,) 
 Of that day star, whose beamings do supply 
 
 The life of love and hope for destiny. 
 Then sink, thy Maker made another light 
 
 Thy substitute throughout the darkest 
 night. 
 
UNCROWNED PRINCESS. 41 
 
 UNCROWNED PRINCESS. 
 
 UNCROWNED princess, name of angels, 
 Art thou mortal, mortal still? 
 Framed in beauty— beauty fadeth. 
 
 Oh, and thou, alas, must will 
 Golden lock and eye, that shadeth 
 
 Nothing earthly that is ill, 
 To the cold, cold wind that rageth 
 
 On the bleak and barren hill. 
 Oh, thy Maker, He that pinneth 
 
 Beings on the soil of Eve, 
 Should^ have known the world that winneth 
 
 Such a paragon would grieve 
 At her parting as all mortals 
 
 Must the summons once receive. 
 
 As a star above the waters. 
 
 Trembling o'er the silent deep, 
 Looking earthward, hope that beameth. 
 
 Shining where the shadows creep, 
 Ever waking, still thou seemest 
 
 Like an angel in her sleep. 
 And within thine eyes' there gleameth 
 
 Tears that strive but cannot weep. 
 Tears that check the tear thait falleth 
 
 Where the throbs of grief uprise, 
 
42 UNCROWNED PRINCESS. 
 
 Shedding a cool balm that calleth 
 Fever from the weeping eyes, 
 
 thou qnoen of lowly mortals. 
 Fitted more for paradise. 
 
 Paradise's seal is on thee, 
 
 On thy lips and on thy hair, 
 Beauty's robe, and harp " that playeth 
 
 Tunes unrivaled, faultless, rare, ^ 
 Now await thee, heaven sayeth, 
 ^ Thou of earth, the fairest fair. 
 Claimed by mortal, he who prayeth 
 
 Thy reprieve from glory's share. 
 One short season, one that shineth 
 
 Where truth's heart is wont to feel 
 All thy beauty only lineth 
 
 All that of thee is but real, 
 All that conquers sin, and mortal — 
 
 Love the grave cannot conceal. 
 
 Wert thou for the turf created 
 
 Sad thy destiny I trow 
 Bitter truth, grim death defieth 
 
 A]l my love — hopes here below. 
 Loved one, list! (My soul replieth 
 
 To my heart-pulse song of woe.) 
 "Move not restless, though she dieth: 
 
 It is best that she should go." 
 Yet in grief my spirit soweth. 
 
 For the knock is at thy door 
 And the wilder-wind that bloweth 
 
 Lifts thee yet uncrowned before 
 Till at last when we poor mortals 
 
 Meet as angels evermore. 
 
I KNOW THAT IT 18 WRONG, THIS WISH. 43 
 
 I KXOW THAT IT IS WEOXG, THIS 
 WISH. 
 
 (Lament.) 
 
 IKXOAV thn.t it is wrong, this wish, 
 But, oh I do so long for sleep. 
 Kow since all tliat to me is dear, 
 All that of life I held more deep, 
 Lies buried here, lies buried here. 
 
 I know the gay world still moves on, 
 But, oh, why must the weary one? 
 Yet weariness to me were bliss 
 
 If where thou art I could l)e won 
 Away from this, away from this. 
 
 I know the cold sod wraps thee now. 
 But, oh, why came the day so soon? 
 Why were it not as I could bear: 
 
 Thou here, or I within thy tomb, 
 As peaceful there, as peaceful there. 
 
 1 know the day sometime shall come. 
 But, oh, ^tis now I long for rest, 
 'Tis now my heart-pulses implore; 
 
 They cannot beat but from thy breast. 
 Yet shall no more, yet shall no more. 
 
44 / ENOW THAT IT IS WRONG, THIS WISH. 
 
 I know tliat it is wrong, this wish, 
 But, oh, can mortal-mind refrain? 
 Although I know that thou art free, 
 
 Were it a sin to wish again 
 
 To be with thee, to be with thee? 
 
LINES TO A FAIR STRANGER. 45 
 
 LINES TO A l^^AIR STRANGER. 
 
 BLESS you, oh, could my lyre swell 
 The tranquil chords my bosom bears, 
 How sweetly would its notes foretell 
 
 The hopes I dare not breathe in prayer. 
 Such music then might stir thy soul 
 And win for me thy tender breast; 
 ^Tis this I seek — that sweet control 
 
 Where half love's fears are put at rest. 
 
 But, as' it is, the wild winds roar; 
 
 My bassoon's notes dare mock the breeze; 
 Their discord chafes my heart till sore 
 
 And sinks my bark on darkened seas. 
 Obdurate in my heart there grows 
 
 A longing that I can not waive. 
 I live, but living, — heaven knows! — 
 
 A corse fit for a meaner grave. 
 
46 LINES TO A FAIR STRANGER. 
 
 This season of suspense and pain, 
 
 Ah, were it but a season's clime, 
 I well might bear its falling rain 
 
 In knowing there's a change sometime, 
 In knowing that this tear should cease 
 
 As winter spends itself by spring; 
 So would I trust, though winds increase. 
 
 To bend the bough on which I cling. 
 
 For after all the summer's' breeze 
 
 Of love should cool my burning brow 
 And whisper SAveet low melodies 
 
 In strains I j'^earn so madly now, 
 What would these bitter pangs then be 
 
 But jewels in my crown of love, 
 Since they have borne so long for thee 
 
 On rocks that billows cannot move. 
 
 But still, ah still, the veil is low; 
 
 The future's shadows move ahead. 
 What clime is raging, I would know, 
 
 In paths where I am wont to tread? 
 Why must as creatures we appall 
 
 Behind time's great, alluring beam, 
 And in its shadows dare and fall, 
 
 To hnd life's hope a transient dream? 
 
 Yet in my fervored soul I trust 
 
 My abject form to sin so prone, 
 To llim, in whom all creatures must, 
 
 For mankind dare not walk alone. 
 Alone, alone, how cheerless cold 
 
 That word of m,ore than passing sound! 
 It chills my soul when I am told 
 
 Alone must I return to ground. 
 
LINES TO A FAIR STRANGER. 47 
 
 Away! I will not list to these, 
 
 Xor strew such seed on fallowed soil; 
 Too soon perhaps my blood shall freeze 
 
 And end my pilgrimage of toil. 
 But while life's goblet's blush and smart 
 
 Give me my portion of its wine, 
 That portion still should fill my heart 
 
 In knowing that thou art but mine — 
 
 Mine till the setting sun of life 
 
 Shall stay the passions o'er the 'bowl 
 And call to arms, no more in strife, 
 
 The terrene labors of the soul. 
 Till then alas, alas for me, 
 
 "What light can penetrate the gloom, 
 What pinion bear my hope from thee 
 
 Except the key note of my tomb? 
 
48 WHEN I EMBRACE THEE. 
 
 V/HEN I Ei\IBEACE THEE. 
 
 WHEN I embrace thee, 
 It is the world, 
 The things I love; 
 All else beyond thee 
 Is snch of life 
 I know not of. 
 
 When I embrace thee, 
 
 It is my soul 
 
 That cannot die; 
 Ail else within me; 
 
 Is made of death. 
 
 Oh, glad am I. 
 
HOW STRANGELY SAD I FEEL. 49 
 
 HOW STEANGELY SAD I FEEL TO- 
 MGHT. 
 
 HOW strangely sad I feel to-night! 
 And, yet, I have no cause to be. 
 No sorrow storms my inward breast; 
 All that I know is harmony, 
 
 Save for the rest, save for the rest. 
 
 The rest? forgive if here I fail; 
 My beating heart scarce knows its own. 
 The rest? what can that remnant mean? 
 And who can know, least 1 alone, 
 
 What rolls between, what rolls between? 
 
 What rolls between, betwixt, aye, what? 
 Between that peace I do not know, 
 Myself confused, and that to be 
 The rcbt of which I wonder so? 
 
 This conquers me, this conquers me. 
 
60 HOW STRANGELY SAD I FEEL. 
 
 And conquered, in the rock-bound cave, 
 Wliere hies the guilty soul from ^iew, 
 In quiet, where the heart and soul 
 May wrestle with the combat through, 
 I mourn the whole, I mourn the whole. 
 
 Yet, baffled by the deeper cause. 
 As babes who trust the mother-breast, 
 I lay me down to slumbers light. 
 And leave to Him who knows the rest 
 AAHierefore my heart is sad to-night. 
 
A BALLAD OF THE DAY. 51 
 
 A BALLAD OF THE DAY. 
 
 RESERVED in a measure, 
 Eelnctant and shy, 
 Assuming a treasure 
 
 Man never can buy — 
 Thus have I known thee, 
 
 Thou being of light, 
 Thy caprice has shown me 
 The shadow of night. 
 
 We met in the gloaming, 
 
 The deep twilight hush. 
 And night found us roaming. 
 
 Where hearts were in blush. 
 I whispered thee only. 
 
 Would I had forborne! 
 For thought makes me lonely, 
 
 And love wails forlorn. 
 
52 A BALLAD OF THE DAY. 
 
 Eich lustre adorns' thee, 
 
 But 1 know thy heart; 
 'Tis birth-pride that scorns me- 
 
 ^Tis fashion to part. 
 Wealth grins low between us, 
 
 Pride fosters its power, 
 While suffering unseen thus, 
 
 Yow pine in your bower. 
 
 Reserved in a measure. 
 
 Ah, well it might be. 
 I'll help you with pleasure 
 
 And make you right free. 
 Adieu, then, reserved be, 
 
 Eeluctant and shy. 
 Assuming a treasure 
 
 Man never can buy. 
 
AS THE DAY, SO IS MY LIFE. 53 
 
 AS THE DAY, SO IS ]\IY LIFE. 
 
 AS the day, so is my life; 
 As the rain so I subsist, 
 As the winds, cold winds that rave. 
 Wherefore would my sonl resist? 
 Wherefore \\onld I shim the grave 
 When it leads beyond the mist? 
 
 As the day, so is my heart, 
 
 railing' lecives deep in the wold: 
 
 As the wind my woes invade 
 And deface my hnman mould. 
 
 Twill avail earth's flower to fade 
 If beyond 'twill bloom, Fm told. 
 
 As the day, so is my soul. 
 Yet my sorrows more accrue. 
 
 Than winds or rain, timely brought: 
 These must perish; these ensue. 
 
 Better days, and pleasant thought, 
 But my soul is weary through. 
 
54 AS THE DAY, 80 IS MY LIFE. 
 
 As the day, thus let life be, 
 Lily-beds or beds of snow 
 
 All things good may seem 'aloof 
 i^ut m life beyond we know 
 
 V/L^^^^""^'' "" constant proof 
 Uf the place to which we go 
 
FORGIVE ME LOVE. 56 
 
 FORGIVE ME, LOVE. 
 
 FORGIVE me, loye, 
 If when I rise 
 Thy image is not in my eyes. 
 
 Forgive me, love, 
 At noon of day, 
 If my thoughts are too far away. 
 
 Forgive me, love, 
 
 At dead of night, 
 If thy soul gives to mine no light. 
 
 Forgive me, love. 
 
 When I am weak 
 And other v/ords than love do speak. 
 
 I orgive me, love. 
 
 My stubborn will. 
 That never can surmount the hill. 
 
 Forgive me, love. 
 That I may live; 
 Forgive, as I would still forgive. 
 
56 ABSENCE. 
 
 ABSENCE. 
 
 A MELODY of love-bells, 
 A soft refrain 
 From out of the silence 
 Clieers me again; 
 
 An anthem of gratitude, 
 
 Since mine thou art. 
 True in thy faithfulness, 
 
 Near or apart; 
 
 An ode of contenting trust, 
 
 A sonnet for thee. 
 Borne on the while between. 
 
 Love, you and me; 
 
 A hymn to the mighty space 
 
 Twixt us to-night, 
 Sung from thy soul to mine 
 
 Till we unite. 
 
A DANDELION. 57 
 
 A DANDELION. 
 
 "TTE loves me^, he loves me not/' 
 
 J[ 1 Sang a little maid, 
 Blowing at a dandelion 
 
 In the summer shade. 
 Gentle winds caressed her brow, 
 
 Birds sang overhead, 
 And a bnsy bumblebee 
 
 Heard the words she said. 
 
 "He loves me, he loves me not — 
 
 Ah! still there are more. 
 Green's the ivy on the tree, 
 
 Low's the wave on shore. 
 Fly, ye white-winged fairies', %, 
 
 I have three to blow. 
 Then npon the summer wind, 
 
 E'en my soul will go." 
 
 "He loves me — the stem is bare. 
 
 Joy! he's true to me. 
 Sweet's the peace within my heart, 
 
 Calm's the wave at sea. 
 Fly, ye white-winged fairies, fl}^ 
 
 Out into the west. 
 Tell my sailor of your stem 
 
 Pinned upon my breast." 
 
58 THE RAINY DAY. 
 
 THE RAINY DAY. 
 
 HIGH and low, and far and near, 
 Dark the sky so cold and drear. 
 Eippling rains are falling mad; 
 
 Here the world is dark and sad. 
 Winds are whistling down the street, 
 
 Urging on the weary feet. 
 Clouds are clashing with each other. 
 
 Oh! but it is windy weather. 
 See the beggar hug his cloak, 
 
 Whom the gamin does provoke. 
 There the bootblack, barefoot Jim, 
 
 Chucks the beggar on the chin. 
 There is Nell the drunkard's child 
 
 Weeping, innocent and mild. 
 Winds are nuid with one another — 
 
 Oh! but it is' windy weather 
 Now the toiler, bent and low, 
 
 Homeward from his work doth go, 
 Thinking of his humble roof, 
 
 Where the winds have no reproof; 
 Glad his labor day is done, 
 
 Glad the night of rest begun. 
 Winds are beating with each other — 
 
 Oh! but it is windy weather. 
 
I SHALL USE NO CHARM TO WIN THEE. 59 
 
 I SHALL USE NO CITAKM TO WIN THEE. 
 
 I SHALL use no charm to win thee, 
 Though thy love may be at stake. 
 Truth shall find no felon in me; 
 ni be faithful for your sake. 
 
 Other lovers may adore thee, 
 Winsom.e gestures falseJy play; 
 
 But my life shall move before thee 
 In its right and simple way. 
 
 Truth, tho' tried and sorely shaken, 
 Conquers, though it be too late, 
 
 Thou mayest love, yet not awaken 
 Till within the hour of fate. 
 
 Yet, beloved, if still you love me. 
 Bid love's whims to quickly fly, 
 
 Trusting more a heart that moves thee 
 In a wav that cannot die. 
 
60 THE HEART I LOVE 18 BEATING YET. 
 
 THE HEAET I LOVE IS BEATING YET. 
 
 THE heart I love is beating j^et: 
 Long years I thought it still; 
 And oft I reveled to forget 
 The angel of my will. 
 
 Above my couch a spirit sped, — 
 I could not break my vow, — 
 
 And for the one I wept as dead 
 My soul is joyful now. 
 
 In foreign realms on land or sea, 
 
 However long the stay, 
 If love be true, the heart must be 
 
 Consistent till decay. 
 
 The heart I love is beating yet: 
 Long years was death my guard; 
 
 And tho^ mine eyes with tears were wet, 
 Love smiles a dear reward. 
 
SOLITUDE. 61 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 To 
 
 SOLITUDE, sweet sabbath of the soul. 
 Sweetest when vesper bells noise to the 
 night, 
 Though't hint the close of that most terrene 
 day 
 Wherein the heart has felt the pain of life, 
 Eapture my soul, infuse thy s'oothing theme. 
 And breathe thy cool, sweet winds upon my 
 brow 
 That I may weep. Such winds have power to 
 move 
 When with them come the floods of thought 
 
 divine. 
 Have even power to move a heart like mine, 
 Whose chords atuned vibrate to sounds of 
 glee. 
 But now whose notes are tempered by the 
 breeze 
 On whose light wing lamenting farewells roll. 
 
62 SOLITUDE. 
 
 And, be it thus, like sim beams hearts must 
 set — 
 
 A final close awaits each ebbing hope. 
 And so my doom is set, my woe begun, 
 
 My death -seed sown, my life deflowered of 
 bloom. 
 Shall T com.plain, are waitings for the best? 
 
 Or is the silent grief a sign of pain? 
 To ask a gay world thus were shame to death. 
 
 Therefore to thee, and to thy peaceful vale, 
 Blest solitude, reminder of the past, 
 I come in whisper lest the world might hear. 
 
 Men boast to quaff the burning wine gives 
 rest — 
 
 To burn the brain, and make the senses reel. 
 To taste, and smell of fumes, and then forget, 
 
 Forget, Oh, what oblivion in dreams! — 
 Dreams that besiege and work the fevered 
 brain 
 
 To that high pitch where man is not himself. 
 Woe be to me that remedy from pain I 
 
 Ah no, if stupor tends me to forget, 
 I, of all men would shun the sparkling glass, 
 
 And suffer pain for them that bear for me. 
 So shall 1 live but you shall be my guide. 
 
SOLITUDE. 63 
 
 Sweet solitude, teach me thy alphabet 
 
 That I may learn to bear and to forbear 
 Each pulse-beat prone to rage within my breast, 
 
 Each sorrow doomed to intervene my joy. 
 Thy avenues are wide, and lined with green, 
 
 Imbued with vernal flowers and cypress wild; 
 And thy soft wind can cool my fevered brow, 
 
 Can turn my carnal-eye to sacred forms. 
 And in thy breezes whisper — "Death is life/' 
 
 Such thoughts would I employ and such 
 create; 
 So take nie now, thy twin friend I would be. 
 
 Ah, yes, too soon ere many morrows cease, 
 
 With thee, sweet soul, that flittest on thy way, 
 
 I shall my burden wreck, and stretch my limbs, 
 
 And breathe the breath whose sigh preceed- 
 
 eth none. 
 
 I know not then, but now 'twere sweet to pass 
 
 ^ As lightly from this world as first I came. 
 Since thou art fled, thou source of all to me. 
 
 I, too, would fly, fly far beyond the mist 
 Beyond the horizon, above the skies. 
 
 Anywhere, everywhere, God knows where 
 best. 
 
64 SOLITUDE. 
 
 Enough with wailings, the mill must ever grind, 
 
 On fancy's' loom such silken chords may spin, 
 But in life the real is' still sublime — 
 
 We sow, we reap, we love, we die, and then, 
 Ah, then, 'tis time to feel to know the worst' 
 
 The best, or aught that is in store for me; 
 But oh, still must I wail, lament for thee. 
 
 Life still is void without is rays of love, 
 Ah, yes, too soon, and days not years were mine, 
 
 In which my life arose. God must it close! 
 Must I so soon view from the rugged height 
 
 The sunset in whose beams my hopes were 
 born? 
 
ULTRAMUNDANE. 65 
 
 ULTRAMUNDANE. 
 
 TWILIGHT and sunset 
 And deeper shades for me 
 Shall keep me in the peaceful glada 
 
 Where I so long to be. 
 Sunset and shadows 
 
 And a]] that tends to make 
 The world as when you left it 
 I love them for your sake. 
 
 Zephyrs and mild-winds 
 
 And mournful sounds for me 
 Bring back the buried echoes 
 
 That warbled once in thee. 
 Calm seas, and white sails 
 
 Bedim my weary eye. 
 For, Love, you were an angel, 
 
 A ship just passing by. 
 
 Dead flowers and tresses. 
 
 All that remains of thee, 
 A faded scroll of treasured lore. 
 
 Love's sweetest memory. 
 Sunset and shadows 
 
 And love's own evening star 
 Make the world as when you left it. 
 
 So you cannot tarry far. 
 
66 VP THE SILVER TOMBIOBEE. 
 
 UP THE SILVER TOMBIGBEE. 
 
 UP the silver Tombigbee 
 Southern winds had wafted me, 
 As the tide my heart was free, 
 
 my fairy angel! 
 Lightly sailed my birch-canoe 
 On the waters deep and blue, 
 Till your dream-boat; came in view, 
 my fairy angel! 
 
 Would the tide would turn again: 
 I might find the lost refrain, 
 For I dream of thee in vain, 
 
 my fairy angel! 
 Lost is all the peace I knew, 
 Constant dreams revert to you, 
 Nothing can my hope renew, 
 
 my fairy angel! 
 
 Up, up with the silver tide 
 
 To the source so deep and wide. 
 
 With a heart, but with no bride, 
 
 my fairy angel! 
 There is still one balm for me, 
 That my mind may feast on thee 
 Through the long eternity, 
 
 my fairy angel! 
 
MY LOVE FOR THEE. 67 
 
 MY LOVE FOR THEE. 
 
 MY love for tliee, is more than love; 
 Breadth hath no bound, nor depth a 
 base, 
 ISTor height a canopy above: 
 
 My being breathes unending space. 
 
 In dreams I knew thee ere we met; 
 
 Now dreams are past and life is reaL 
 No power can teach me to forget 
 
 The love I know, the touch I feel. 
 
 Love, smile, and all my sorrows flee; 
 
 Weep, if you must, tears are divine. 
 No change of mood can harrow me; 
 
 No virtue make thee more than mine. 
 
 Time was with me as it is now. 
 And ever will be but the same, 
 
 A laurel weaved to fit thy brow, 
 
 An endless song to praise thy name. 
 
 My love for thee, Thy love for me, 
 
 Are wrought on God's great forge, as one 
 
 With wings' plumed for eternity. 
 
 With lips to voice life's victory won. 
 
68 INDIAN SUMMER. 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER. 
 
 YE chirping birds, 
 Sweet tuned^ at war. 
 Ye Indian summer 
 
 Tranqnil days, 
 What human heart 
 
 Can now discard 
 Thy full-fledged beams 
 
 And anthem lays? 
 What soft winds from 
 
 A soulthern shore 
 Blow vainly by 
 
 This northern sea? 
 What floweret blush 
 
 To bloom once more 
 Ere this fair clime 
 
 Shall cease to be? 
 
 Ye golden hours, 
 
 Again returned 
 As some sweet dream 
 
 Unto a bride. 
 Who mourns' to think 
 
 Her heart's loA^e spurned, 
 Yet smiles the while 
 
 Her tears are dried. 
 We hail thee, 
 
 Echo of the past. 
 And bless thee for 
 
 The zephyr-breeze. 
 For kiss returned 
 
 Before the blast, 
 For smiles between 
 
 The naked trees. 
 
TEE HARVEST. 69 
 
 THE HARVEST. 
 
 THE first low wail of the waning year. 
 Is a sad and lonely sound to hear. 
 When one sees through the gathering mist 
 The teeming fields, by the sickle kissed, 
 Laid low in their blazoned gorgeous dress, 
 In mild contentment, and loveliness. 
 
 When low on the breeze the reaper's song 
 Grows faint, as the autumn nights grow long. 
 
 When chill vapors in the sylvan grove 
 Gather as tears from the eyes of love, 
 
 And the landscape round with hectic bloom 
 Smiles as in sadness from out her tomb. 
 
 When the breath-wind sighs deep o'er the wold 
 And the storm-wind moans, and days' grow 
 cold, 
 When the blue-bird prunes his wings for flight 
 And the ground-hog hies from the world of 
 light. 
 Ah then, with the crop and stipend good 
 My yearning soul, art thou understood? 
 
70 THE HARVEST. 
 
 When the dews of heaven bedeck the grain 
 And the harvest past blooms not again, 
 
 Methinks in the liglit of all terrene, 
 
 No sad, more sweet, more heavenly scene. 
 
 Oh, would that my pen conld paint the soil 
 Where man joins hands with his God in toil. 
 
 Then when this rife scene looms o'er the brink 
 Of my last days, and, I'm wont to think 
 
 Of the cold sepulchre's' sullen shade, 
 In whose dark cell I must once be laid, 
 
 Oh, may I then, as the sheaves in dress. 
 Receive, the "Well done" in loveliness. 
 
DON'T GO YET. 71 
 
 DON'T GO YET. 
 
 WHEX the clock has struck eleven, 
 With its ringing wild alarm, 
 Don't you wish that it were seven, 
 
 With her clinging to your arm? 
 But it is another story, 
 
 When your feet are cold, and wet — 
 Don't it make you mad, to hear her 
 Softly whisper, "Don't go yet?" 
 
 When the clock strikes twelve so loudly, 
 
 That it fairly shakes your heart. 
 And you say in softest accents, 
 
 "It is' really time to start." 
 But it is another story. 
 
 When your winsome little pet — 
 Puts her little arms around you, 
 
 Saying softly "Don't go yet." 
 
 One the clock strikes, all is silent; 
 
 Not a mouse is there astir, 
 And she sleeps upon your bosom. 
 
 While you only look at her. 
 But it is' another story 
 
 Of the sleep that you will get: 
 You must stay and hear her whisper 
 
 "If you love me, don't go yet." 
 
72 DOISI'T GO YET. 
 
 Time goes on, and Two is striking. 
 
 Be more patient, lover dear, 
 There are many places for you. 
 
 But the dearest place is here. 
 Still there is another story; 
 
 Y'ou must never once forget, 
 There are some who have no sweetheart. 
 
 Who will w^hisper "Don't go yet." 
 
WHO HAS A BETTER RIGHT? 73 
 
 WHO HAS A BETTER RIGHT? 
 
 IF you have a little sweetheart, 
 One who kicks when you pursue, 
 When you kiss, or when you hug her, 
 
 Just as you should always do; 
 Or when you turn the gas so low 
 That it scarcely gives a light, 
 Then if she kicks, ju^t whisper, — 
 ^•'Who has a better risrht?" 
 
 ^fc)-" 
 
 If her little silken shoe-lace 
 
 Open when upon the street. 
 And you stoop to tie it for her, 
 
 Kissing both her little feet, 
 Then if you should gaze upon them, 
 
 With a sort of sweet delight, 
 Smile when she kicks, and whisper,— 
 
 "Who has a better rightP' 
 
 If at times you feel like hugging 
 
 As you never did before, 
 Don't be backward, but repeat it 
 
 Till your muscle's weak and sore. 
 There's a world of joy in wooing 
 
 When you kiss, and hug her tight, 
 For if she kicks, just whisper, — 
 
 "Who has a better right?" 
 
74 WHO HAS A BETTER RIGHT? 
 
 If at times you call her pet-names, 
 
 Such as dearie', or as wife. 
 Don't be fearful when she scolds you; 
 
 She is all to you in life. 
 For if you do what you should do 
 
 All for love to make life bright. 
 She'll join your darling whisper, — 
 
 "Who has a better right?" 
 
THE ASSURANCE. 75 
 
 THE ASSURANCE. 
 
 SAYS I, "Darling do you love me?" 
 Says I, "Darling, are you true? 
 If you hold no heart above me, 
 
 Prove it darling prove it, do! 
 End this cru'l suspense and longing; 
 
 Start not, though I may repent; 
 Let my midnight see a dawning; 
 Let me feel your hearths intent.*' 
 
 Says I, "Darling, do you love me? 
 
 It is time my heart should know 
 If you hold no one above me, 
 
 Darling, loA^ed one, tell me so. 
 Sweep aside our style of Avooing; 
 
 Social sets' may like that best, 
 But to-night my heart is suing 
 
 For my soul's suspended rest." 
 
 Says I, "Darling, do you love me? 
 
 Says I, "Prove it, is it well? 
 If you hold no soul above me 
 
 End this constant cruel spell." 
 Then with heart aglow I kissed her 
 
 Lips so sweet without a stain, 
 "While she coyly whispered "Mister — 
 
 You may kindly call again." 
 
76 THE PENALTIEa. 
 
 THE PENALTIES. 
 
 THINE is a patient love, 
 Enduring much for me, 
 Entreating, when I falter — 
 A tear's the penalty. 
 
 Thine is a changeless love. 
 Enduring change in me, 
 
 Steadfast as a sunbeam — 
 A sigh's the penalty. 
 
 Thine is a faithful love. 
 Enduring scorn in me, 
 
 Still as a fond forgiver — 
 A smile's the penalty. 
 
 Thine is a worthy love, 
 
 Enduring all in me, 
 Returning, good for evil — « 
 
 A kiss's the penalty. 
 
YOU HADN'T OUGHT TO. 77 
 
 YOU HADX'T OUGHT TO. 
 
 WHEN" tempted in weakness, 
 What power these words brew 
 In the heart of my soul, 
 "You hadn't ought to/' 
 
 They've strengthened my spirit, 
 
 When mockery beguiled, 
 And made me the hero. 
 
 And not the defiled. 
 
 They've cheered me in sadness, 
 
 A task to be true. 
 But they sounded so sweet, 
 
 I had to smile too. 
 
 They've guided, and warned me, 
 
 When mostly oppressed. 
 And given my wild soul 
 
 A pillow for rest. 
 
78 YOU HADWT OUGHT TO. 
 
 But still is it wondrous, 
 
 Or still is it less, 
 Just why these words cheer me?- 
 
 I'll leave you to guess. 
 
 But if you've a sweetheart 
 
 You'll know as I do, 
 Then, if you should blame me, 
 
 "You hadn't ought to." 
 
PROPOSAL AT SEA. 79 
 
 PEOPOSAL AT SEA. 
 
 WE were sailing, only we, 
 In a dainty little ship, 
 And I murmured, "Ah, for me 
 
 Just to kiss her rosy lip!" 
 We were sailing, only we, 
 
 Friends' in hliss there side by side, 
 And I mnrnmred, "Ah, for me, 
 If she were my honnie bride." 
 
 We were sailing, only we, 
 
 Now the day was passing by, 
 And I nmrmAired, "Ah, that we 
 
 Might together live and die." 
 We were sailing, only we; 
 
 Now the moon began to shine, 
 And I murmured, "Ah, for me, 
 
 AYould that she were only mine." 
 
80 PROPOSAL AT SEA. 
 
 We were sailing, only we; 
 
 Xow the waves they meekly stirred; 
 And I murmured, "Ah for me 
 
 Just to speak that little word." 
 "We were sailing, only we; 
 
 Now I faltered at her side, 
 And T pleaded, "Ah, for me. 
 
 Just to have you for my bride." 
 
 We were sailing, only we; 
 
 Now the waves did madly roar. 
 And she fiercely cried to me, 
 
 "Take me quickly back to shore." 
 We were sailing, only we, 
 
 Backward to the dreary shore. 
 And I murmured "Woe is me! 
 
 Now 111 sail with her no more." 
 
THREE KISSES. 81 
 
 THREE KISSES. 
 
 OH, how many of life's tragedies 
 Begin with, a kiss 
 When the first faint tinge of blushes 
 
 Kindles to a flame of bliss! 
 Then ^tis time for friends to wonder 
 
 If they both are true, 
 If the God of tender mercy 
 
 Gave them of his wisdom too; 
 If the kindly stars of heaven 
 
 Do not fear their light, 
 Then, ah kiss, you foolish lovers, 
 
 For who has a better right? 
 But in kissing heed my council. 
 
 Guard the red-lip-line; 
 Other lips may mar the pollen 
 
 On the rose thou claim'st as thine. 
 Eivals in the guise of friendship, 
 
 Praise you for your prize, 
 But with your retreating foot steps 
 
 Each one to her bosom hies. 
 Deep's the nest, and high's the tree-top 
 
 Free from guilt or stain, 
 If so's yours, you foolish lovers. 
 
 Kiss, and kiss, and kiss again. 
 
82 THREE KISSES. 
 
 Kissing^s not the art of wooing; 
 
 Wooing is' a style; 
 Just as women choose their dress-wear, 
 
 So they choose to pass the while. 
 Men should learn to know their sweethearts 
 
 Ere they swing the bow, 
 Ere they aim with Cupid's arrow, 
 
 Striking where? they do not know. 
 There is danger, here's the warning; 
 
 Listen to my song: 
 AVho should know but you, lovers 
 If a kiss is right or wrong? 
 Judas. 
 Oh, how many of lifes' tragedies 
 
 Begin with a kiss! 
 When a Judas like an angel 
 
 Covets with a smothered hiss. 
 Innocence, a prey to beauty, 
 
 Flattered by the charm. 
 Little dreams that ere the sunset 
 Deep her breast will know alarm. 
 Little weans that ere the morning 
 
 She shall feel the pain, 
 Pain that WTccks her life forever 
 In the kiss that leaves a stain. 
 Trace the taint and see it fl.ourish. 
 
 Hush, and follow me; 
 See yon mother, bowed in anguish 
 
 On her gelid bended knee; 
 See yon brother — who would know him? 
 
 God, can it be true? 
 Is this all the work of Judas? 
 Is this what a kiss can do? 
 
THREE KI88E8. 83 
 
 Aye, alas, comes back the echo 
 
 Like a mournful wail. 
 Like the soimrl of smothered music 
 
 Of the kiss that has a tale; 
 There's a grave yard near the village 
 
 Decked with slabs of stone. 
 But away, far from that grandeur, 
 
 Is a humble grave unknowai: 
 There she sleeps, the j^rey of Judas, 
 
 By the world laid there. 
 How she died and why she perished, 
 
 Could a world of pleasure care? 
 Who shall pay her price for mercy 
 
 On the judgment day? 
 Who but he, v/ho helped to damn her 
 
 When he kissed her hope away? 
 Mother. 
 Oh, how many of life's tragedies 
 
 Begin with a kiss! 
 But a mother's stills the tempest 
 
 More than mortal can surmise. 
 Not till those fond lips are silenced 
 
 And the touch be dead, 
 Not till wafted on life's billow 
 
 Is their treasured value read. 
 From the trundle-bed of mercy 
 
 To her grave, or thine, 
 Tho' depressed and oft heart-trodden, 
 
 Still her kiss is all divine. 
 Nothing can remit the beatings 
 
 That her heart must know- 
 When her lips are fondly pressing 
 
 On the one's she covets so. 
 
84 THREE KISSES. 
 
 Life has not a touch so tender, 
 
 Nor a bense more true; 
 Death has not a fonder solace: 
 
 Brother, let this bear on you. 
 Scoff not at her soft entreaties 
 
 'V\Tiispered for your good: 
 Hold in esteem all her wishes; 
 
 Let her soul be understood. 
 Love must have a sign to prove it — 
 
 Where is one more s'weet? 
 Other whims may serve the purpose. 
 
 But the lip's the souFs retreat. 
 Then, when her fond heart is beating, 
 
 Such love never fails; 
 Answer back with sweet protection, 
 
 One as manly never quails. 
 Hold her kiss a seal as holy 
 
 One can yet bestow, 
 For its eymbol smiles to heaven 
 
 "Where yon tarry I must go." 
 
O'CONNOR BELLS. 85 
 
 O'CONNOE BELLS. 
 
 DO you hear those bells, O'Eeilly? 
 List how sweet their melody; 
 They repeat the tunes of blessing, 
 Tunes' that are so dear to me. 
 
 Do you know those bells, O'Eeilly, 
 Sound the same as long ago? 
 
 Only now their notes sink deeper, 
 Somewhat like a song of woe. 
 
 For you know, don't ye, O'Eeilly, 
 How my heart long years ago 
 
 With my Mary's was united 
 For the good priest made it so. 
 
 On that moonlight night O'Eeilly, 
 As beside that bride o'mine, 
 
 Sweetly rang these bells O'Connor, 
 Wedding bells with mellow chime. 
 
 And when now, just now, O'Eeilly, 
 As I hear these sweet bells ring, 
 
 They bring back the heart o' Mary 
 In her grave a-mouldering. 
 
 Wedding bells, sweet bells, O'Eeilly, 
 List how sweet their melody! 
 
 Einging their eternal blessing, 
 Opening a wound for me. 
 
86 THE SHEPHERDESS. 
 
 THE SHEPHERDESS. 
 
 LOOK lip, thou pretty shepherd lass, 
 Forget the sheep a-gTazing, 
 Forget the world and let it pass, 
 
 And listen to my praising. 
 There's life within thy sparkling e'e, 
 
 Though I'm a city rover, 
 Oh could their lashes shadow me, 
 Fd be a faithful lover. 
 
 There's music in the gentle stream, 
 
 The past storms' benediction; 
 Thy hovel is a palace dream, 
 
 To me love's sweet conviction; 
 Thy bleating lambs are guards divine. 
 
 Which round the sheep-folds hover. 
 Oh, would their home alike were mine 
 
 Fd be a happy lover. 
 
 The gentle kiss o' summer's breath. 
 
 More welcome than my garret, 
 Oh, to go back were worse than death: 
 
 My heart could never bear it. 
 So, shepherd o' the bonnie hills, 
 
 Make me thy constant drover. 
 1 swear, by all thy spirit wills. 
 
 To be a faithful lover. 
 
AS YOU HAVE DONE FOB ME. 87 
 
 AS YOU HAVE DONE FOE ME. 
 
 To A Friend. 
 
 FRIEISTD of m}- soul, whose pensive eye 
 Has opened nnto me 
 More mysteries than 1 dare defy. 
 
 More truth than sympathy; 
 My wayward step might wander on, 
 
 My careless heart be free, 
 
 And few should care to interpose 
 
 As you have done for me. 
 
 Tho' thou dicFst move a tender chord 
 
 In this cold breast of mine, 
 I dare not lisp a grateful word 
 
 Or count you as divine; 
 I only know my conscience's clear. 
 
 And feel that I am strong, 
 Since you've thought best to intervene 
 
 When I was doing wrong. 
 
 When other hearts and other hands 
 
 Had wearied of my care, 
 You saw it fit to break the bands' 
 
 And warn me to beware. 
 You knew my spirit's love of life. 
 
 And feared that I might rue. 
 So came like one to intercede 
 
 Lest I might perish too. 
 
88 AS YOU HAVE DONE FOR ME. 
 
 'Tis true, the while Pxiy spirits rose 
 
 And high ambition's flame, 
 In watching some weak mimic pose 
 
 Or glory in his shame; 
 But ere the curtain fell each night, 
 
 Some voice would whisper low, 
 Some unseen hand would intercept, 
 
 x\Dd gently, tell me, "Xo!" 
 
 Thus may I on life's troubled brine, 
 
 When angry surges roll, 
 Eeceive some word as true as thine 
 
 To ease my trited soul. 
 And when, if ere, I do forget. 
 
 And long for all that's vain, 
 A thought of thee shall intersperse 
 
 And cheer my heart again. 
 
 Then, still for thee, my conscious breast 
 
 Shall breathe a song of praise, 
 And lightly shall remembrance rest 
 
 On all my future days. 
 I'm grateful for your simple fear 
 
 That turned me home from sea, 
 For few should care to interpose 
 
 As you have done for me. 
 
LULLABY OF A DYING MOTHER. 89 
 
 LULLABY OF A DYING MOTHER. 
 
 SOFT and low, soft and low, 
 Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
 Hnsh my baby, all is right; 
 There will be no storm to-night — 
 Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 
 
 Soft and low, soft and low, 
 Blow gently, blow, winds, blow, 
 
 Ere my dying breath depart. 
 
 Rest thee closer to my heaitt — 
 
 Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 
 
 Soft and low, soft and low, 
 
 Blow gently, blow, winds', blow. 
 Bab/s dearest place on earth 
 Is the bosom of its birth — 
 
 Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 
 
90 LULLABY OF A DYING MOTHER. 
 
 Soft and low, soft and low, 
 
 Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
 
 Oh, my babe, I weep for thee; 
 
 Storms shall soon enrage the sea — 
 
 Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 
 
 Soft and low, soft and low, 
 
 Blow gently, blow, winds, blow. 
 Though your day be dark or bright. 
 Kiss, my babe, we part to-night — 
 
 Blow, winds, softly, blow, winds, blow. 
 
WAIL OF A NIGHT. 91 
 
 WAIL OF A XIGHT. 
 
 IN the gloomy hour of twilight, 
 Homeward from my toil I trod, 
 Weary with the noise of labor. 
 
 Careless of a friendly nod, 
 
 Looking only forward, weary. 
 
 Sadly on the withered sod. 
 
 All the care of day has left me, 
 Like the snn on yonder liill. 
 
 Sinking slowly in the west sea, 
 Leaving here a darkness still, 
 
 Leaving here within my bosom 
 Nothing bat a bitter chill. 
 
 Onward, weary, as a lost one, 
 As a dreamer bowing low, 
 
 Caring little where I tany. 
 Wishing deeper not to know. 
 
 Wishing only I might journey 
 Where the saintly spirits go. 
 
92 WAIL OF A NIGHT. 
 
 Deep the evening shades around me 
 Wrap me in their terrene gloom, 
 
 Lure me to the darkest portal 
 Of my soul's enchanted room, 
 
 Where my lighter hopes are buried 
 In a darksome, unknoAvn tomb; 
 
 In a tomb by memory guarded, 
 In a dim, dark lonely wood, 
 
 In a silent land of qui'tness 
 
 Where the heart is understood. 
 
 Where the stillness is unbroken, 
 And the wicked mourn the good; 
 
 Where the past is all forgiven, 
 And the present knows no fear, 
 
 Where affection is rewarded 
 By a thought surpassing dear. 
 
 Where the bosom of the faithful 
 Is remembered with a tear; 
 
 Where the rain of joy and sorrow 
 
 Beat upon its mossy door. 
 Beat upon the past eternal. 
 
 Where my hopes have bloomed before, 
 Where the deeds of the departed 
 
 Are forgotten nevermore. 
 
 Here, within these walls, Tve enitered, 
 
 Not to tear the solemn past. 
 But in answer to the summons 
 
 Of my sad thoughts falling fast, 
 To a dear voice, now a still one. 
 
 Which is silenced in the blast. 
 
WAIL OF A NIGHT. 93 
 
 Walls of crystal, walks of granite 
 
 Border round the chasm's side, 
 Gleam and sparkle like a planet 
 
 Of the welkin deep and wide, 
 Like the ghost-light of a candle 
 
 Burning for my silent bride. 
 
 On a horse of rude upholster, 
 
 On two slabs' of granite stone, 
 In a room without an exit. 
 
 There my loved-one lies alone, 
 There she sleeps, whose soul is wanting, 
 
 But whose clay is still my own. 
 
 Dew drops on her garb of samite 
 
 Prove a mirror to my soul; 
 In their orbs reflect the sorrow 
 
 Death has written on my scroll; 
 In their orbs I read each morrow 
 
 How my future life shall roll. 
 
 Waitches may disturb the wicked, 
 When the watch is o'er the dead, 
 
 Wh.en the casket throws a shadow 
 Of a form whose soul is fled. 
 
 When the candle dankly flickers. 
 And the last low prayer is said. 
 
 Many passions move the temper, 
 
 But to-night my soul is calm; 
 Somelthing of the past disarms me 
 
 To the nature of a lamb; 
 Something like a Benediction, 
 
 Or good David's shepherd psalm, 
 
94 WAIL OF A NIGHT. 
 
 Save my head is imanointed, 
 Eod, nor staff, nor guide have I, 
 
 And my cup nor runneth over, 
 Nor in pastures green I lie, 
 
 Nor is table spread before me — 
 Dare I hope to question why? 
 
 Parched my lips and fever stricken, 
 TiOnging for a change of mind, 
 
 For a well spring, deep and deeper 
 Than the slough of human kind: 
 
 Thus, I thirst and creep and falter 
 For the need I can not find. 
 
 Dead one, loved one, cold and palsied. 
 
 All my life I give to thee; 
 Dead am I, as dead as thou art, 
 
 Since thy soul has gone from me. 
 Since mine eyes scan the horizon 
 
 Of a deep, and shoreless sea. 
 
 Life is deep, but death is deeper; 
 
 Here my mournful wail must end. 
 It is morning, and the day-break 
 
 Do my fears' somewhat amend. 
 All my tears in vapor vanish 
 
 Where nought can the soul offend. 
 
 Out, out from the tomb of sorrow, 
 Back into the world again, 
 
 From the silent land of quietness, 
 To the turmoil of the vain, 
 
 From the stillness ne^er unbroken, 
 To the heart-rent sound of pain; 
 
WAIL OF A NIGHT. 95 
 
 From the dark enchanted portals, 
 
 From the dead-sea of the night, 
 From the secret, place of sorrow, 
 
 I'o the grosser shame of light, 
 To the combat with a brother^ 
 
 To the thickest of the fight; 
 
 From the horse of rude upholster. 
 
 From the slabs of granite stone, 
 From the room without an exit, 
 
 1 must face the world alone, 
 I must smile as if no sorrow 
 
 Ever in my heart were known; 
 
 From the tear-drenched garb of samite, 
 
 From the caskef s icy pall. 
 From the loved form low within it, 
 
 To the world's ungracious call, 
 To the factory's noisy whistle, 
 
 To the hammer's ringing fall. 
 
 I have said enough with wailing; 
 
 Yet, ah, yet, 1 weep and wail, 
 Just as if it stilled the moving 
 
 Of my ship's unanxious sail; 
 Tis so sweet to hear (the soft wind, — 
 
 Sorrow, sorrow, do not fail! 
 
 ^'Linger still one moment longer, 
 
 liinger yet one moment more," 
 Pleads the sad, uncertain rustle 
 
 Of the tomb's encurtained door; 
 Pleads the echo of her last words, 
 
 Svs^eter now than e'er before. < 
 
96 WAIL OF A NIGHT. 
 
 Still beloved, farewell forever, 
 Backward to my toil I trod, 
 
 Back to win the bread I shun so 
 For the ones who love my nod, 
 
 Back to earn the rose of summer 
 That may wither on your sod. 
 
MT WINGLESS ANGEL. 97 
 
 MY WINGLESS ANGEL. 
 
 (Irregular.) 
 
 I WILL not call you an angel: 
 Of thee I cannot lie; 
 But, forgive, thou dost resemble 
 
 More than the passing by. 
 Thy long, light flowing ringlets 
 
 A seraph might possess; 
 So I'll call thee Wingless' Angel 
 While on a world like this. 
 
 How came you to this region, 
 
 Unstained, and so slender? 
 And what gentle soft wind 
 
 Bore thee so tender? 
 Who named thee, who framed thee 
 
 So perfect and supreme? 
 And from what isle of beauty 
 
 Came ye to my dream? 
 
98 MY WINGLESS ANGEL. 
 
 One woment, I was lifted 
 
 From a world of gloom. 
 With thy soul that drifted 
 
 Towards the pallid moon, 
 Drifted swiftly, burdened only 
 
 With my bleeding heart. 
 Wilt thou e'er return it to me 
 
 Sweet angel as thou art? 
 
 Nott as an angel, lightly 
 
 Winged as the snow-white dove, 
 But in the charming beauty. 
 
 Created but to love. 
 Return to this cold bosom, 
 
 Or tender thine instead, 
 For one without a true heart 
 
 Had better far be dead. 
 
 So I'll not call thee an angel, 
 
 But twixt hope and fear. 
 Wait with a patient longing 
 
 To have thy presence near; 
 And, when life's day is ended, 
 
 Nought else would I possess. 
 But the dream that we together 
 
 Might fly a world like this. 
 
YIOLETS. 99 
 
 VIOLETS. 
 
 VIOLET sweet violet, 
 Love, I love you true; 
 Green's the wood, I must forget 
 
 Treaded oft by you. 
 Violets wild, wild before, 
 
 Painted from your eyes'; 
 Violets your spirit bore 
 Eresli from Paradise. 
 
 Did we dream as we do now? 
 
 Hope and beauty fade. 
 Wh}^ then, did I deck your brow 
 
 When my soul forbade? 
 Love, you were a dream to me, 
 
 Like a flower in May, 
 More to my soul's destiny 
 
 Than the narrow way. 
 
 Violet, poor violet. 
 
 Child of tenderness, 
 Fonder hopes of life beset 
 
 Your dream of happiness. 
 Scarce I blame thy soul to rest. 
 
 Still, can you be gay. 
 With the red-blue on your breast. 
 
 Turning unto gray? 
 
 LofC, 
 
100 FORBIDDEN FRUIT. 
 
 FOKBIDDEN" FEUIT.. 
 
 EDEN hath an apple-tree 
 Still for my lot. 
 Love, believe, I love but thee, 
 
 Tho' wooing not. 
 In thy glance my spirits rise; 
 
 Yet am I mute, 
 For thou art of paradise. 
 Forbidden fruit. 
 
 Adam's rib, full fair as thou, 
 
 Walked by his side, 
 E'en perchance as thou dost now, 
 
 Tho' not my bride. 
 Pure his heart beat in her breast, 
 
 E'en as mine beat. 
 Save mine knows no soothing rest 
 
 To him so sweet. 
 
FORBIDDEN FRUIT. 101 
 
 "Forbidden still/' God has said 
 
 Softly to me; 
 "Thy love shall another wed 
 
 Dearer than thee. 
 "Bid thy fainting heart be still 
 
 Sooth, thou, thy soul; 
 In the light of His own will 
 
 Thou art made whole. 
 
 Eve walked in to Adams lair, 
 
 Thou out of mine; 
 Fair One, dearest of the fair, 
 
 Still I am thine. 
 Hush, thou, heart, so prone to break, 
 
 Love would do right; 
 Bid the angel of thy wake 
 
 A last good-night. 
 
102 REMEMBER THE MAINE. 
 
 EEMEMBER THE MAII^E. 
 
 SON'S of Freemen, pass the cry 
 Man to man — Who'll question why? 
 Is ihere one who dare reply? 
 
 Eemember the Maine! 
 Break the might of Spanish claim, 
 For her yokes' are all the same. 
 Let us prove that we are game. 
 Remember the Maine! 
 
 Men hold that revenge is sweet 
 We are right the Dons we'll meet 
 Ours the vict'ry, theirs defeat. 
 
 Remember the Maine! 
 Yield no straw unto the foe; 
 Strike and lay their banner low; 
 Make them pay the price of woe. 
 
 Remember the Maine! 
 
 Honor's price can not be paid 
 Till the tyrant's hand be staid, 
 Till their mercy plea be made. 
 
 Remember the Maine! 
 Blood for blood's a righteous boast; 
 Here's the seal, and here's the toast; 
 Here's to God we love the most. 
 
 Remember the Maine! 
 
 Music by Henry Corneilius. 
 
SAN JUAN. 103 
 
 SAN JUAN. 
 
 DO you know I felt like weeping 
 When I saw oiir laddies sweeping, 
 When 1 saw onr laddies leaping, 
 
 Up the heights of San Juan? 
 Do you know the tears came streaming 
 When 1 heard the cannons screaming, 
 When I knew the dreadful meaning, 
 Up the heights' of San Juan? 
 
 Do you know I felt like sighing 
 When I saw the wounded dying. 
 When 1 saw the dead-ones lying 
 
 On the heights of San Juan? 
 Do you know my blood was burning. 
 And my inmost soul was yearning 
 For the comrades not returning 
 
 From the heia^hts of San Juan? 
 
104 AN8ELMAS PHANCIANCOIS. 
 
 ANSELMAS PHANCIANCOIS. 
 
 COLOK guard," the colonel said; 
 ^^The rebel will watch for you. 
 He'll make a target of your head 
 
 And split it right in two. 
 So, let me say that, when to-night 
 
 The ambushed foes appear, 
 And when the charge is made to fight, 
 
 Man! hold the colors near. 
 Spring to the front and wave them high, 
 
 Where rebel eyes can see, 
 Where Union hearts shall dare defy 
 
 The foes to liberty. 
 
 ^'Fear not the musket, or the shell 
 
 That round your head may burst. 
 But guard the colors passing well; 
 
 Eemember last and first, 
 I charge you Ansel, ^tis a trust, 
 
 And that you surely know, 
 So keep the banner from the dust. 
 
 As well as from the foe. 
 There'll be a sentry waiting you 
 
 To pick you if you're brave; 
 But mark me, Ansel! still be true: 
 
 The stars and stripes must wave." 
 
AN8ELMA8 PHANCIANCOIS. 105 
 
 Old AnseJ turned his wooly head, 
 
 War burning in his eye, 
 "Fll bring these colors back," he said, 
 
 "Or report to God just why. 
 Port Hudson may be built as strong 
 
 As old forts^ uster be, 
 But they shall need a mightier throng 
 
 To take this flag from me. 
 Old thirteen's glory shall not fade, 
 
 The Union shall not fall, 
 So, Massy, when the charge is made, 
 
 This flag shall lead them all." 
 
 That night on Hudson's brow they lay, 
 
 One thousand tried and true, 
 That night they met the stalwart gray, 
 
 As soldiers ought to do. 
 They stormed the port with shot and shell 
 
 And made their cannons roar. 
 Their bayonets played a part as well 
 
 As oft they'd done before. 
 No man, not one, was there dismayed. 
 
 But "Forward" was their cry. 
 They saw red death, but still obeyed 
 
 And did nor wondered why. 
 
 The gray coats' missiles spread our line 
 
 And held our boys at bay. 
 So each true heart took in the sign 
 
 That we would loose the day. 
 Not so with Ansel, hot with shame, 
 
 Ajid burning to be free, 
 Sprang to the front in Old Abe's name, 
 
 Proclaiming liberty. 
 
106 AN8ELMAS PHANCIANC0T8. 
 
 Hot with the spirit of the fight. 
 
 He waved the starry flag, 
 And deemed that ere another night 
 
 He'd scour the rebel rag. 
 
 "Charge boys!" he cried, but ere he'd done, 
 
 One shoit, and Ansel fell. 
 One moan, and then, a crown was won; 
 
 One sigh, and all was Avell. 
 Thus fled his soul from right's demands, 
 
 As hero-like he died; 
 A thousand honest, willing hands 
 
 Still kept his colors wide. 
 Still kept the star, the stripe, and sttaff 
 
 High o'er the foes around. 
 And gloried in each others laugh, — 
 
 It never touched the ground. 
 
 Thalt day was lost, but not the cause; 
 
 God had each star in view: 
 He knew the right of human laws, 
 
 The Red, the white and blue. 
 Though Ansel fell, he won his fight, 
 
 As one with right accord. 
 He'd done his part that bloody night 
 
 i^'or mankind, and his Lord. 
 And though he brought no colors back, 
 
 AV'ho would his right deny? 
 He'd gone to God without a lack 
 
 To report the reason why. 
 
OLD ALABAMA BANJO. 107 
 
 OLD ALABAMA BANJO. 
 
 WHEJST cl/C brighlt sun am a sinkin', 
 Den de eyes ob dis ole coon 
 Look away up inter hebben, 
 
 Whar de white clouds am rollen, 
 Whar de silber clouds am formin' 
 
 Pictures round de yeller moon; 
 And I see mah ole log cabbin, 
 
 Heah mali poor, mammy callin', 
 Call in' fo' her pickaninny, 
 
 Weepin' an a sobbin'^ so, 
 Dat it kinder makes me tremble 
 
 Just de bitter fact ter know, — 
 Neber mo on dis creatin 
 
 Will I see the old plantation; 
 But I still hab consolation 
 
 Wid mah ole AFbama banjo. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Dars no mock bird in the wild wood, 
 
 No song bird in de tree, 
 No voice, no matter how good, 
 
 Can sing so sweet ter me. 
 I'se ben round dis whole creation, 
 
 I'se been high, and Fse been low, 
 But I finds no consolation, 
 
 Cepiin' on mah ole banjo. 
 
108 OLD ALABAMA BANJO. 
 
 I was but a pick-a-nin-ny 
 
 On de banks ob Tombigbee, 
 When (ley took me down de ribber, 
 
 Many, many miles away. 
 Mammy prayed an' wept ter save me 
 
 From de "block" on de lebbee, 
 Daddie came with the ole banjo. 
 
 Darkies don' you heah him say? 
 "Lift your heart, mah pickaninny, 
 
 One mo' gran' ole jubilee, 
 One mo' serenade, don yo' .tremble, 
 
 You's io cross de stormy sea, 
 You's ter leab dis habitation, 
 
 Gwine ter roam der wide creation. 
 Take de pride ob de plantation, 
 
 Dis here ole Al'bama Banjo." 
 
 But dat war long years ago, 
 
 Now I'se on life's highest hill. 
 All I'se waitin' fo's' de message, 
 
 An' de Massa's big ballon, 
 Fo, ter come ter take me over. 
 
 Over whar de storms am still. 
 Hoop la, 0! darkies, I recken 
 
 Den I'll be a happy coon. 
 When I join 'em in de singin'. 
 
 In that endless jubilee; 
 An' I kinder think de angels. 
 
 Will be proud ter welcome me. 
 If I bring mah ban j oration, 
 
 Give de saints an inspiration. 
 Won't dey look wid admiration. 
 
 On de ole APbama Banjo? 
 
 Music by Joseph F. Mors. 
 
THE LAST GOOD-NiaHT. 109 
 
 THE LAST GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 STEP lightly, don say noffing, baby's sleep- 
 
 Turn down de lights low, close de do', 
 Call in de preacher, hush! now stop yo weepin'; 
 
 Yo^ warm tears can wake her no mo\ 
 Unstring de banjo, stop de clock's noisy tick, 
 
 Call de mock-bird away from de tree, 
 While you's a-praying remember I'se sick, 
 
 T'o' dey taken my baby from me. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Baby's sleeping, baby's sleeping, 
 
 In de garment cold and white. 
 Sun am sinkin', stars am win kin'. 
 
 Den yo' darkies say good-night. 
 
no THE LAST GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 De long night am a-settin', baby's skepin'; 
 
 Tell all de hands round make no noise; 
 Tell dem de angels don hab in dar keepin' 
 
 De sun-ligh!t ob all de good boys. 
 Gadder de posies on de dark lonely hill, 
 
 Put a 'reath ob de flowers on de do', 
 Walk on yo' tip-toes, and mind yo' be still, 
 
 Fo' you'll see our dear baby no mo! 
 
 Long de banks ob de ribber, baby's sleepin', 
 
 Down on her grave de posies bloom, 
 Softly, and sadly southern am sweepin' 
 
 De homstead am shrouded in gloom. 
 'Way up in liebben, past de clouds up on high, 
 
 Whar de storm clouds do nebber mo' roll, 
 Dar I shall see her, mah babe in de sky. 
 
 When do good Lord shall call fo' mah soul. 
 
 Music by S. Janet Davies. 
 
'TIS NOW FAR MORE THAN EVER. Ill 
 
 'TIS N'OAV FAR MORE THA^^ EVER. 
 
 Tune — I'll be all smiles tonight. 
 
 b' 
 
 TIS now far more than ever, 
 Beloved, I long for thee, 
 For honest hearts have whispered 
 
 That thoit hast gnarded me. 
 I've heard thou did'st repress them, 
 
 Who laid my spirit low; 
 And now my heart reproves me 
 Because I love you so. 
 
 There's a weight upon my bosom, 
 
 An arrow in my heart; 
 They told the truth in mercy: 
 
 I should have told my part. 
 Therefore to-night disarm me,^ — 
 
 Thou hast a right to know, — 
 And lead me to thy shadows. 
 
 Because I love you so. 
 
112 'TIS NOW FAR MORE THAN EVER. 
 
 No other heart need arm them; 
 
 'Tis not for them, but thee, 
 Since thou hast spumed the curses 
 
 That they have heaped on me; 
 Since .thou hast held me loyal, — 
 
 Forgive though't be a blow, — 
 I should have told you all, dear, 
 
 Because I love you so. 
 
 But, then, what need repeat it. 
 
 Since Fve repented now 
 And thou hast heard the worst, dear, 
 
 Unflinching in thy vow. 
 'Tis now for me to cheer thee. 
 
 And set thy heart aglow. 
 And plead a fond forgiveness. 
 
 Because I love you so. 
 
 But why now, more than ever. 
 
 Do I so long for thee? 
 Is a guilty mind so lonely 
 
 It need have company? 
 Ah no, 'tis not thy presence. 
 
 But love, I long to know, 
 If thy pure soul forgives' me, 
 
 Because I love you so. 
 
 To-night I shall embrace thee 
 
 And promise to be true; 
 And I shall do thy pleadings 
 
 As thou wouldst have me do. 
 Why is it I'm submissive? 
 
 Why is it Fm aglow? 
 Because Fve learned you love me. 
 
 Because I love you so. 
 
LINES ON A STUFFED EAGLE. 113 
 
 LINES ON A STUFFED EAGLE. 
 
 (A very early piece.) 
 
 ALONE, proud bird, exalted king, 
 With pinions spread out far and wide, 
 No more a monarch on the wing 
 
 To guard thy nest on mountain side; 
 No more to screech thy piercing strain, 
 
 For, dumb as are the silent dead, 
 You stately stand in my domain. 
 
 Crowned emblem o'er a nation's head. 
 
 As iitful and as clear of light 
 
 Upon that rock of mold-decay 
 No more to dare thy fearless flight, 
 
 Or plume thy wings to fly away; 
 No more to seek thy mountain nest 
 
 Among the cliffs and shelters far; 
 No more to lay thyself at rest 
 
 Beneath the midnight shining star. 
 
114 LINES ON A STUFFED EAGLE. 
 
 Now far, far from thy feathered lair, 
 
 Thou noble bird with dauntless eye, 
 Thy unwearied wings spread so fair 
 
 Seem fain to plunge the endless sky. 
 Thy gaze too fierce for weary flight 
 
 Back to thy rock-borne mountain home 
 Too eager for to reach that height 
 
 Where human foot steps never roam. 
 
 Ah, never more these joys for thee, 
 
 Proud bird of taxidermist's skill 
 Wrought forth as in a mutiny, 
 
 With open claws, and sharpened bill. 
 Dead, dead, yet living in my bower 
 
 So placid on that rock of gray 
 You'll stand till in the invisible hour 
 
 You pass, as with the dust, away. 
 
A FAREWELL. 115 
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 DEAR child, sweet child of song, 
 As draws the eve of parting near, 
 I feel a longing, I have felt it long, 
 To press one kiss, one faltering tear, 
 To thy fair cheek, and to my breast 
 Embrace thee, and strive to tell — 
 Ah! could I only — my deep unrest 
 Ere T bid thee one long farewell. 
 
 How oft in the stillness I wait in tower, 
 Not thatt I long to part from thee. 
 But a feeling akin to the infestive hour 
 Hurries me on to what must soon be; 
 And deep the tangled chords of song 
 Reproach me with a parting knell. 
 Oh! how rends my bosom, and how long 
 Before this sad, this last farewell. 
 
116 A FAREWELL. 
 
 High on the moTint I view the vale, 
 As one forlorn, whose hope entombed, 
 As one who sees' the fluttering sail 
 Depart, and .thinks it ever doomed, 
 As one who hears the wind at sea, 
 The cry beyond the harbor-bell, 
 Such is the wail that comes to me, 
 And so must be our last farewell. 
 
 Forgive this unpretending theme, 
 This crude anthem of a broken heart. 
 For sad is the low song of my dream, 
 AVhose mournful burden's "We must part." 
 And, oh! must this be thy abysmal goal 
 Nor time, nor death to break the spell? 
 Give answer, child, then will my soul 
 Recall its cry, farewell, farewell. 
 
TO A CHILD. 117 
 
 TO A CHILD. 
 
 TO him, first crowned 
 Of this our coming race, 
 I pass the annals by, 
 
 But bless the ground, 
 Wherein, unbounded space, 
 Is heard the infant's' cry. 
 
 A father's might, 
 
 A sirens well worthy fame, 
 Sweet child, are nought to thee; 
 
 But brave the fight, 
 And claim an honored name 
 
 Throughout thy destiny. 
 
118 TO A CHILD. 
 
 A life to live, 
 
 A work is thine to do. 
 God, may your task avail! 
 
 Arise and give, 
 And fear no prospect through. 
 
 But launch, and spread the sail. 
 
 A sea before. 
 
 To rear, and either side. 
 Ah, shores are far apart, 
 
 But bend the oar. 
 And learn the changing tide, 
 
 Then anchor in your mart. 
 
 Life is a game: 
 
 We play, we win, we loose. 
 The outset is' our own. 
 
 Ourselves to blame. 
 Ourselves to take and choose, 
 
 Ourselves to smile or groan. 
 
 Death is a thing 
 
 Of which we are to be, 
 
 Therefore concerns us not: 
 Pauper or king 
 
 Knows not his destiny 
 Save one small lowly spot. 
 
 There is an end 
 
 To all that does begin. 
 
 And that which is, has been; 
 So do not bend 
 
 To aught that you would win: 
 The srain's for other men. 
 
TO A CHILD. 119 
 
 Ait best, I pray, 
 
 Learn to discern "the man." 
 Your game defray at length; 
 
 Act on to-day; 
 Give aid, and say, "I can;" 
 
 Then prove assertion's strength. 
 
 To-morrow's light 
 
 ^0 man can claim to-day, 
 So shirk no duty's call: 
 
 'Tis now to figlitt, 
 Tis' now to act, and pray, 
 
 'Tis now to rise, or fall. 
 
 So welcome, thou, 
 
 To this our terrene sphere. 
 God be your strength, and guide 
 
 On land and sea; 
 Through all of human fear — 
 
 May you be pacified. 
 
 There is a rest 
 
 For every heart that beats, 
 '^A calm for those who weep." 
 
 God's for the best; 
 In Him we find retreat, 
 
 In him our precious sleep. 
 
 There is a sleep. 
 
 Whose eyelids seals a doom; 
 Two worlds, one is for you: 
 
 To walk or creep, 
 A haven, or a tomb, 
 
 A cup to spill, or brew. 
 
120 TO A CHILD. 
 
 So shall you reign, 
 
 So shall you come to die. 
 
 Oh, self-willed, conscious heailt; 
 But bear the pain. 
 
 Nor ask, nor wonder why, 
 But manly play your part. 
 
 Launch out, spread sail, 
 To battle with a world, 
 
 Out to life's waiting goal. 
 Succeed or fail. 
 
 Thy banner's name unfurled 
 Shall still sustain thy soul. 
 
LEON F. CZOLGOSZ, 121 
 
 LEON F. CZOLGOSZ. 
 
 BBEEAVEMENT, deep anguish of the 
 soul, 
 Mournfullest when recollection takes us back 
 Unto that day of mourning and of grief 
 Wherein the cause of anarchy was espoused. 
 Did sense of duty hail thy heart, wretch, 
 And call thee to an act so foully fell? 
 Writhe in thv death's anticipation, man, 
 And then in hideous solitude collect thyself. 
 And, pondering, mutter thus: "The deed is 
 
 done." 
 Dark is thy prison cell, dark is fthy heart; 
 Thy morn of hope shall never more return; 
 Thy night of stress has come, thy woe begun. 
 
122 LEON F. CZOLGOSZ. 
 
 Still, all, still, God is for thee, though man be 
 
 nott — 
 God is for thee, and thou art not for him. 
 Turn, Leon, turn thine eyes to heaven. 
 Up to that height to which thy soul must fly, 
 Back to its maker and unto its God, 
 Still unprepared, poor wretched soul of blood. 
 
 None shall weep for thee; 
 Few shall pray for thee; 
 God will deal with thee. 
 
 Is not thy every dream disturbed by night? 
 
 Is not thy every thought disturbed by day? 
 
 Does not the shadow of thy crime return? 
 
 Its raven wing flit gloomy on thy cell? 
 
 Are not the shackles hard upon thy wrist? 
 
 The sweat drops cold upon thy burning brow? 
 
 What more, man of shame, needs bring re- 
 morse ? 
 
 Slander is thine now from a million tongues; 
 
 Scorn from humanity's heaving breast. 
 
 Foolhardy act, vain in its mad career! 
 
 Was it then praise you sought beneath a ker- 
 chieft hand? 
 
 Did that hearths blood, that soul's return to 
 God, 
 
 Atone for fancied ills thy spirit bore? 
 
 Or, did that shot, the death knell of our chief. 
 
 Make thee a man, or heal a running sore? 
 
 Nay, deluded heart, fault is not wholly thine, 
 Though men would curse thee, and would rend 
 
 and tear, 
 As if thy death would cure a painful sting. 
 
LEON F. CZOLGOSZ. 133 
 
 Full many like thyself do thirst thy blood, 
 
 As if its flow could make the dead return 
 
 And right the wrong that others taught to thee. 
 
 Crime breeds crime, 
 
 And yours was bred from teachings red as 
 blood, 
 
 Eed as the blood you spattered on your kin. 
 
 Theirs is the sorrow and theirs is the remorse; 
 
 Theirs is' the penalty, a shame for it to be; 
 
 Theirs is the empty mouth, and theirs a roof- 
 less bed. 
 
 Their willing hands for toil are scoffed by men. 
 
 Oh, shame for thee, Leon, oh, shame for thee! 
 
 Thine is the privilege to pass away 
 
 More lightly from this world than first you 
 came. 
 
 Thanks' to the sovereign law that you disown — 
 
 The law that you would hurl from off the earth. 
 
 Unlike that Bresci, Humbert's dagger fiend, 
 
 Who passed through forty hells before the end. 
 
 You'll fall asleep without a tortured flesh. 
 
 And feel no pain, save in your fear to die. 
 
 Poor wretch! the end draws near, the shadows 
 fall; 
 
 Your light of life is flickering to a close; 
 
 Grim darkness gathers, and alone you stand 
 
 Upon the brink of vast eternity. 
 
 Where will you leap, to darkness or to light? 
 
 And at what goal in that dim universe 
 
 Will your soul live, in torment or in joy? 
 
 Where shall the anchor sink into the swelling 
 sea? 
 
 Shall there be "moaning of the bar," or carols 
 sung? 
 
124 LEO:^ F. CZOLGOSZ. 
 
 It lies with thee, Leon, it lies with thee. 
 Meet God with contrite heart and spirit mild, 
 And leave the world a farewell of regret 
 For that base crime the centuries cannot blot. 
 Mourn with the depth of sorrow in thy heart, 
 And say to man, "Farewell! Forgive, forget!" 
 That then thy dust may rest all undisturbed, 
 And mingle with the many gone before. 
 Mourn, that thy soul may live in boundless joy, 
 Eedeemed upon the bosom of thy God. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Jill 7 « IA«-. 
 
JUL 7 
 
 1 COPY OEL. TO CAT. DW. 
 JUL. 7 1902