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I I 1 f r 1 1 7 > J t 1 r J«*: 1 i i r i V V i I I i r 1 f 7 j 1 i i i I \ \ i i i » > i i i / I ) f M J I I f . 11 y, 1 I I j I 1 1 1 i ^ i I I < V ' {; *, ^ 41l[(^ll|lfl4iRllrfi|i ^■' ^ h l( CJass [io()k_ 'R]:s)-;nti-:i) in- v^. .i^^.^:;-^^^. ^^-''^^ *^>t^' y/c^) W ^^'^.. ^^^t^^ ^^^^^JTy^v^p:^^^ \ V .' m^-i- LONGFELLOW DAY- BY- DAY EDITED; BY ANNA • H • SMITH NEW -YORK THOMAS . Y. CROWELL . COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL 8c CO. PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER, 1906 ^'4^ COMPOSITION AND ELECTROTYPE PLATES BY D. B. UPDIKE, THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS, BOSTON JANUARY JANUARY FIRST A LL are architedls of Fate, /\ Working in these walls of Time ; JL -^ Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base ; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place. TAe Butlden JANUARY SECOND O thou sculptor, painter, poet ! Take this lesson to thy heart : That is best which lieth nearest ; Shape from that thy work of art. T:he Ladder of St. Augustine JANUARY THIRD All common things, each day's events. That with the hour begin and end, Our pleasures and our discontents. Are rounds by which we may ascend. T/ie Ladder of St, Jugust/ne JANUARY FOURTH Will ye promise me here, (a holy promise ! ) to cherish God more than all things earthly, and every man as a brother ? Will ye promise me here, to confirm your faith by your living, Th' heavenly faith of afFe6tion ! to hope, to for- give, and to suffer. Be w^hat it may your condition, and vi^alk before God in uprightness? T^he Children of the hordes Supper JANUARY FIFTH Bear through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, In thy heart the dew of youth, On thy lips the smile of truth. Maidenhood JANUARY SIXTH Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains; For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be. I will obey thy voice, and wait to see Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains. T:he Good Shepherd JANUARY SEVENTH Chill airs and wintry winds ! my ear Has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, — I listen, and it cheers me long. Woods in Wlntef JANUARY EIGHTH I am weary Of the bewildering masquerade of Life, Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as strangers j Where whispers overheard betray false hearts ; And through the mazes of the crowd we chase Some form of loveliness, that smiles, and beckons. And cheats us with fair words, only to leave us A mockery and a jest; maddened, — confused, — Not knowing friend from foe. The Spanish Student JANUARY NINTH Ah ! when the infinite burden of life descendeth upon us. Crushes to earth our hope, and, under the earth, \n the graveyard, — ■ Then it is good to pray unto God ; for his sorrow- ing children Turns he ne'er from his door, but he heals and helps and consoles them. The Children of the hordes Supper JANUARY TENTH Sacred heart of the Saviour 1 O inexhaustible foun- tain ! Fill our hearts this day with strength and submis- sion and patience 1 E'vangeline [3] JANUARY ELEVENTH Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy work of affeilion ! Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endu- rance is godlike. Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, Purified, strengthened, perfedled, and rendered more worthy of heaven 1 Evangeline JANUARY TWELFTH Then in Life's goblet freely press The leaves that give it bitterness, Nor prize the colored waters less. For in thy darkness and distress New light and strength they give ! The Goblet of Life JANUARY THIRTEENTH Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame ! The Ladder of St. Augustine JANUARY FOURTEENTH All thoughts of ill ; all evil deeds. That have their root in thoughts of ill; Whatever hinders or impedes The a6lion of the nobler will ; — = r4i All these must first be trampled down Beneath our feet, if we would gain In the bright fields of fair renown The right of eminent domain. The Ladder of St. Augustine JANUARY FIFTEENTH Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celes- tial ascended, — Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgive- ness, and patience ! E'vangeline JANUARY SIXTEENTH Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others, This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her* So was her love diffused, but, like to some odor- ous spices. Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with aroma. Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour. E'vangeline [5] JANUARY SEVENTEENTH But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after confession. Homeward serenely she walked with God's bene- diction upon her. When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music. Enjangeline JANUARY EIGHTEENTH We cannot walk together in this world ! The distance that divides us is too great ! Henceforth thy pathway lies among the stars ; I must not hold thee back. The Spanish Student JANUARY NINETEENTH O weary hearts ! O slumbering eyes ! O drooping souls, whose destinies Are fraught with fear and pain, Ye shall be loved again ! No one is so accursed by fate, No one so utterly desolate. But some heart, though unknown, Responds unto his own. Endymion [6] JANUARY TWENTIETH Ye voices, that arose After the Evening's close, And whispered to my restless heart repose ! Go, breathe it in the ear Of all who doubt and fear. And say to them, " Be of good cheer !" UEn'vot JANUARY TWENTY-FIRST Our feelings and our thoughts Tend ever on, and rest not in the Present. As drops of rain fall into some dark well. And from below comes a scarce audible sound, So fall our thoughts into the dark Hereafter, And their mysterious echo reaches us. The Spanish Student JANUARY TWENTY-SECOND Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! A61, — aft in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! A Psalm of Life JANUARY TWENTY-THIRD O holy Night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before ! Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, And they complain no more. Hymn to the Night [7l JANUARY TWENTY-FOURTH O sleep, sweet sleep ! Whatever form thou takest, thou art fair, Holding unto our lips thy goblet filled Out of Oblivion's well, a healing draught ! '^he Spanish Studejit JANUARY TWENTY-FIFTH Were half the power, that fills the world with terror. Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts. Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts. "The Arsenal at Springfield JANUARY TWENTY-SIXTH The warrior's name would be a name abhorred ! And every nation, that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain ! I'he Arsenal at Springfield JANUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH Then, through the silence overhead, An angel with a trumpet said, "For evermore, for evermore, The reign of violence is o'er!" And, like an instrument that flings Its music on another's strings, [8 ] . The trumpet of the angel cast Upon the heavenly lyre its blast, And on from sphere to sphere the words Reechoed down the burning chords, — "For evermore, for evermore. The reign of violence is o'er ! " 'The Occultation of Orion JANUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH Cross against corslet, Love against hatred, Peace-cry for war-cry ! Patience is powerful ; He that o'ercometh Hath power o'er the nations ! The Saga of King Olaj JANUARY TWENTY-NINTH Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare Over the harvest-fields forsaken. Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow. Sno^-w-Tlahes [9] JANUARY THIRTIETH Even as our cloudy fancies take Suddenly shape in some divine expression, Even as the troubled heart doth make In the white countenance confession, The troubled sky reveals The grief it feels. Sno'w-Flakes JANUARY THIRTY-FIRST This is the poem of the air, Slowly in silent syllables recorded; This is the secret of despair, Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded. Now whispered and revealed To wood and field. Snonv-Flakes [ 'O] FEBRUARY FEBRUARY FIRST ONWARD its course the present keeps, Onward the constant current sweeps, Till life is done ; And, did we judge of time aright. The past and future in their flight Would be as one. Coplas de Manrique FEBRUARY SECOND But at length the feverish day Like a passion died away, And the night, serene and still. Fell on village, vale, and hill. Daylight and Moonlight FEBRUARY THIRD All are sleeping, weary heart ! Thou, thou only sleepless art ! All this throbbing, all this aching, Evermore shall keep thee waking, For a heart in sorrow breaking Thinketh ever of its smart ! The Spanish Student [ " ] FEBRUARY FOURTH This life of ours is a wild aeolian harp of many a joyous strain, But under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail, as of souls in pain. The Spanish Student FEBRUARY FIFTH Faith alone can interpret life, and the heart that aches and bleeds with the stigma Of pain, alone bears the likeness of Christ, and can comprehend its dark enigma. T^he Spanish Student FEBRUARY SIXTH Why should I live ? Do I not know The life of woman is full of woe ? Toiling on and on and on, With breaking heart, and tearful eyes, And silent lips, and in the soul The secret longings that arise, Which this world never satisfies ! Some more, some less, but of the whole Not one quite happy, no, not one ! The Spanish Student [ 12] FEBRUARY SEVENTH Talk not of wasted afFeftion, affedlion never was wasted ; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, re- turning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment ; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. E'vangeline FEBRUARY EIGHTH Think of thy brother no ill, but throw a veil over his failings. Guide the erring aright; for the good, the hea- venly shepherd Took the lost lamb in his arms, and bore it back to its mother. This is the fruit of Love, and it is by its fruits that we know it. The Children of the Lord's Supper FEBRUARY NINTH Love is the creature's welfare, with God ; but Love among mortals Is but an endless sigh ! He longs, and endures, and stands waiting, SuflFers and yet rejoices, and smiles with tears on his eyelids. The Children of the Lord's Supper { '3] FEBRUARY TENTH Hope, — so is called upon earth, his recompense, — Hope, the befriending. Does what she can, for she points evermore up to heaven, and faithful Plunges her anchor's peak in the depths of the grave, and beneath it Paints a more beautiful world, a dim, but a sweet play of shadows ! The Children of the LorcTs Supper FEBRUARY ELEVENTH All is of God ! If he but wave his hand. The mists coUedl, the rain falls thick and loud. Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, Lo ! he looks back from the departing cloud. "The T5] FEBRUARY SEVENTEENTH To me the thought of death is terrible, Having such hold on life. To thee it is not So much even as the lifting of a latch ; Only a step into the open air Out of a tent already luminous With light that shines through its transparent walls. pure in heart ! from thy sw^eet dust shall grow^ Lilies, upon whose petals will be written "Ave Maria" in charadlers of gold ! 'fhe Golden Legend FEBRUARY EIGHTEENTH The night is come, but not too soon ; And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behind the sky. Within my breast there is no light, But the cold light of stars ; 1 give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars. T^he Light of Stars FEBRUARY NINETEENTH O star of strength ! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain j Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, And I am strong again. [ i6] The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still. And calm, and self-possessed. T^he Light of Stars FEBRUARY TWENTIETH And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm. As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm. O fear not in a world like this. And thou shalt know erelong. Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong. T: he Light of Stan FEBRUARY TV/ENTY-FIRST The prayer of Ajax was for light ; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of that noonday night, He asked but the return of sight, To see his foeman's face. the Goblet of Life [ 17 ] FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND Let our unceasing, earnest prayer Be, too, for light, — for strength to bear Our portion of the weight of care, That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race. rhe Goblet of Life FEBRUARY TWENTY-THIRD All through life there are way-side inns, where man may refresh his soul with love; Even the lowest may quench his thirst at rivulets fed by springs from above. 'the Golden Legend FEBRUARY TWENTY-FOURTH Lord, what am I, that, with unceasing care. Thou didst seek after me, — that thou didst wait. Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate, And pass the gloomy nights of winter there ? O strange delusion ! — that I did not greet Thy blest approach, and O, to Heaven how lost, If my ingratitude's unkindly frost Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet. To-morrovj [ i8] FEBRUARY TWENTY-FIFTH How oft my guardian angel gently cried, "Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see How he persists to knock and wait for thee ! " And, O ! how often to that voice of sorrow, "To-morrow we will open," I replied. And when the morrow came I answered still, " To-morrow." To-morroiAj FEBRUARY TWENTY-SIXTH My Redeemer and my Lord, I beseech thee, I entreat thee. Guide me in each adl and word, That hereafter I may meet thee. Watching, waiting, hoping, yearning, With my lamp well trimmed and burning ! T/ie Golden Legend FEBRUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH Interceding With these bleeding Wounds upon thy hands and side, For all who have Hved and erred Thou hast suffered, thou hast died, Scourged, and mocked, and crucified, And in the grave hast thou been buried ! The Golden Legend [ '9 ] FEBRUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH If my feeble prayer can reach thee, O my Saviour, I beseech thee, Even as thou hast died for me, More sincerely Let me foUov/ w^here thou leadest, Let me, bleeding as thou bleedest. Die, if dying I may give Life to one vi^ho asks to live. And more nearly. Dying thus, resemble thee ! The Golden Legend FEBRUARY TWENTY-NINTH Where, twisted round the barren oak, The summer vine in beauty clung. And summer winds- the stillness broke. The crystal icicle is hung. Woods in Winter [20] MARCH MARCH FIRST O BLESSED Lord ! how much I need Thy light to guide me on my way ! So many hands, that, without heed, Still touch thy wounds, and make them bleed ! So many feet, that, day by day, Still wander from thy fold astray ! Unless thou fill me with thy light, I cannot lead thy flock aright ; Nor, without thy support, can bear The burden of so great a care. But am myself a castaway ! The Golden Legend MARCH SECOND The day is drawing to its close; And what good deeds, since first it rose, Have I presented. Lord, to thee. As offerings of my ministry ? What wrong repressed, what right maintained. What struggle passed, what vi6lory gained, What good attempted and attained ? The Golden Legend [21 ] MARCH THIRD Feeble, at best, is my endeavor ! I see, but cannot reach, the height That lies forever in the light. And yet forever and forever, When seeming just within my grasp, I feel my feeble hands unclasp, And sink discouraged into night ! For thine own purpose, thou hast sent The strife and the discouragement ! The Golden Legend MARCH FOURTH O beauty of holiness. Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness ! O power of meekness, Whose very gentleness and weakness Are like the yielding, but irresistible air. Enjangelifie MARCH FIFTH Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the an- chor is hidden. Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions. E'vangeline [^2] MARCH SIXTH Blessed are the pure before God ! Upon purity and upon virtue Resteth the Christian Faith. 'The Children of the Lord's Supper MARCH SEVENTH I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God's-Acre ! It is just ; It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. GoiTs-Acre MARCH EIGHTH God's-Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown The seed, that they had garnered in their hearts. Their bread of life, alas ! no more their own. Gods-Acre MARCH NINTH Weep not, my friends! rather rejoice with me. I shall not feel the pain, but shall be gone, And you will have another friend in heaven. Then start not at the creaking of the door Through which I pass. I see what lies beyond it. The Golden Legend [23l MARCH TENTH Above the darksome sea of death Looms the great life that is to be, A land of cloud and mystery, A dim mirage, with shapes of men Long dead, and passed beyond our ken. Awe-struck we gaze, and hold our breath Till the fair pageant vanisheth, Leaving us in perplexity, And doubtful whether it has been A vision of the world unseen, Or a bright image of our own Against the sky in vapors thrown. 'The Golden Legend MARCH ELEVENTH Now if my aft be good, as I believe, It cannot be recalled. It is already Sealed up in heaven, as a good deed accomplished. The Golden Legend MARCH TWELFTH No aftion, whether foul or fair, Is ever done, but it leaves somewhere A record, written by fingers ghostly, As a blessing or a curse, and mostly In the greater weakness or greater strength Of the ads which follow it, till at length The wrongs of ages are redressed, And the justice of God made manifest. The Golden Legend [ 24] MARCH THIRTEENTH In ancient records it is stated That, whenever an evil deed is done, Another devil is created To scourge and torment the offending one ! But evil is only good perverted, And Lucifer, the Bearer of Light, But an angel fallen and deserted. Thrust from his Father's house vv^ith a curse Lito the black and endless ni2:ht. "The Golden Legaid MARCH FOURTEENTH If justice rules the universe, From the good adions of good men Angels of light should be begotten. And thus the balance restored again. The Golden Legend MARCH FIFTEENTH In the w^orld's broad field of battle. In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle; Be a hero in the strife I A Psalm of Lift [25 ] MARCH SIXTEENTH Pray for the Dead ! Why for the dead, who are at rest ? Pray for the living, in whose breast The struggle between right and wrong Is raging terrible and strong. As when good angels war with devils ! The Golden Legend MARCH SEVENTEENTH Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing Like the compass in its brazen ring, Ever level and ever true To the toil and the task we have to do, We shall sail securely, and safely reach The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach The sights we see, and the sounds we hear. Will be those of joy and not of fear ! The Building of the Ship MARCH EIGHTEENTH O precious hours ! O golden prime, And affluence of love and time ! Even as a miser counts his gold. Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — "Forever — never ! Never — forever !" The Old Clock on the Stairs [26 1 MARCH NINETEENTH Never here, forever there, Where all parting, pain, and care. And death, and time shall disappear,— Forever there, but never here ! The horologe of Eternity Sayeth this incessantly, — "Forever — never ! Never — forever ! " The Old Clock on the Stairs MARCH TWENTIETH I shot an arrovv^ into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where ; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song ? 7 he Arroiv and the Song MARCH TWENTY-FIRST Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still un broke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. The Arro-w and the Song [27] MARCH TWENTY-SECOND The moon was pallid, but not faint, And beautiful as some fair saint, Serenely moving on her way In hours of trial and dismay. As if she heard the voice of God, Unharmed with naked feet she trod Upon the hot and burning stars, As on the glowing coals and bars That were to prove her strength, and try Her holiness and her purity. The Occultation of Orion INARCH TWENTY-THIRD Instead of whistling to the steeds of Time, To make them jog on merrily with life's burden, Like a dead weight thou hangest on the wheels. Thou art too young, too full of lusty health To talk of dying. The Spanish Student MARCH TWENTY-FOURTH Yet I fain would die. To go through life, unloving and unloved ; To feel that thirst and hunger of the soul We cannot still ; that longing, that wild impulse. And struggle after something we have not And cannot have; the effort to be strong; And, like the Spartan boy, to smile, and smile, While,secret wounds do bleed beneath our cloaks ; All this the dead feel not, — the dead alone! Would I were with them ! The Spanish Student MARCH TWENTY-FIFTH You are passionate ; And this same passionate humor in your blood Has marred your fortune. T^he Spanish Student MARCH TWENTY-SIXTH Yet thou shalt not perish. The strength of thine own arm is thy salvation. Above thy head, through rifted clouds, there shines A glorious star. Be patient. Trust thy star ! The Spanish Student MARCH TWENTY-SEVENTH Tell me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream!" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not w^hat they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest," Was not spoken of the soul. APsahnof Life MARCH TWENTY-EIGHTH Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; [29] A Psalm of Life Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. MARCH TWENTY-NINTH Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing. Learn to labor and to wait. A Psalm of Life MARCH THIRTIETH Gentle Spring ! — in sunshine clad. Well dost thou thy power display ! For Winter maketh the light heart sad. And thou, — thou makest the sad heart gay. He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train. The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain; And they shrink away, and they flee in fear. When thy merry step draws near. Spring MARCH THIRTY-FIRST Did we but use it as we ought. This world would school each wandering thought To its high state. Faith wings the soul beyond the sky, Up to that better world on high, For which we wait. Capias de Manriqta [ 30 ] APRIL APRIL FIRST ETERNAL Sun ! the warmth which thou hast given, To cheer life's flowery April, fast decays ; Yet, in the hoary winter of my days, Forever green shall be my trust in Heaven. 'The Image of God APRIL SECOND Celestial King ! O let thy presence pass Before my spirit, and an image fair Shall meet that look of mercy from on high, As the refledted image in a glass Doth meet the look of him who seeks it there. And owes its being to the gazer's eye. The Image of God APRIL THIRD And on her lips there played a smile As holy, meek, and faint, As lights in some cathedral aisle The features of a saint. The Sluadroon Girl [31] APRIL FOURTH I have no other shield than mine own virtue, That is the charm w^hich has protected me ! Amid a thousand perils, I have v^^orn it Here on my heart ! It is my guardian angel. T/zt" Spanish Student APRIL FIFTH Thy virords fall from thy lips Like roses from the lips of Angelo : and angels Might stoop to pick them up ! the Golden Legend APRIL SIXTH Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glim- mering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet de- scending from Sinai. Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven. Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. Ruangeline rsO APRIL SEVENTH Sleep, sleep, O city ! though within The circuit of your walls there lies No habitation free from sin. And all its nameless miseries ; The aching heart, the aching head, Grief for the living and the dead, And foul corruption of the time, Disease, distress, and want, and woe, And crimes, and passions that may grow Until they ripen into crime ! The Golden Legem APRIL EIGHTH O suffering, sad humanity ! O ye afflided ones, who lie Steeped to the lips in misery. Longing, and yet afraid to die, Patient, though sorely tried ! The Goblet of Lip APRIL NINTH This world is but the rugged road Which leads us to the bright abode Of peace above ; So let us choose that narrow way, Which leads no traveller's foot astray From realms of love. Coplas de Manrhim [33] APRIL TENTH Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing. Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. T^he Village Blacksrnith APRIL ELEVENTH Tlianks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus bit the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought ; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought ! 'The Village Blacksmith APRIL TWELFTH In the furrowed land The toilsome and patient oxen stand ; Lifting the yoke-encumbered head, With their dilated nostrils spread. They silently inhale The clover-scented gale, And the vapors that arise From the well-watered and smoking soil. For this rest in the furrow after toil Their large and lustrous eyes Seem to thank the Lord, More than man's spoken word. « Rain in Summer [34] APRIL THIRTEENTH As a pilgrim to the Holy City Walks unmolested, and with thoughts of pardon Occupied wholly, so would I approach The gates of Heaven, in this great jubilee, With my petition, putting off from me All thoughts of earth, as shoes from off my feet. The Golden Legend APRIL FOURTEENTH This is the day, when from the dead Our Lord arose; and everywhere. Out of their darkness and despair. Triumphant over fears and foes. The hearts of his disciples rose ; When to the women, standing near, The Angel in shining vesture said, "The Lord is risen; he is not here !" The Golden Legend APRIL FIFTEENTH Labor with what zeal we will. Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still Waits the rising of the sun. Waits, and will not go away ; Waits, and will not be gainsaid ; By the cares of yesterday Each to-day is heavier made. Something Left Undone [35] APRIL SIXTEENTH O little feet ! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load ; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road ! Weariness APRIL SEVENTEENTH O little hearts ! that throb and beat With such impatient, feverish heat. Such limitless and strong desires ; Mine that so long has glowed and burned, With passions into ashes turned Now covers and conceals its fires. Weariness APRIL EIGHTEENTH A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark. And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet ; That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight. Kindled the land into flame with its heat. Paul Re'vere^s Ride [36] APRIL NINETEENTH Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts, in glad surprise. To higher levels rise. The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares. Santa Filomena APRIL TWENTIETH Honor to those whose words or deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, And by their overflow Raise us from what is low ! Santa Filomena APRIL TWENTY-FIRST Come to me, O ye children! And whisper in my ear What the birds and the winds are singing In your sunny atmosphere. For what are all our contrivings, And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses. And the gladness of your looks ? Children [37] APRIL TWENTY-SECOND O child ! O new-born denizen Of life's great city ! on thy head The glory of the morn is shed, Like a celestial benison ! Here at the portal thou dost stand, And with thy little hand Thou openest the mysterious gate Into the future's undiscovered land. To a Child APRIL TWENTY-THIRD Laugh of the mountain ! — lyre of bird and tree ! Pomp of the meadow ! mirror of the morn ! The soul of April, unto whom are born The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee ! T/ie Brook APRIL TWENTY-FOURTH How without guile thy bosom, all transparent As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round pebbles count ! How, without malice murmuring, glides thy cur- rent ! The Brook [38] APRIL TWENTY-FIFTH Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river Fell here and there through the branches a tre- mulous gleam of the moonlight, Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit. E'vangeline APRIL TWENTY-SIXTH When the warm sun, that brings Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs The first flower of the plain. From the earth's loosened mould The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives; Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold, The drooping tree revives. An April Day APRIL TWENTY-SEVENTH The softly-warbled song Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along The forest openings. I 39] Sweet April ! — many a thought Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed ; Nor shall they fail, till, tc its autumn brought,^ Life's golden fruit is shed. An April Day APRIL TWENTY-EIGHTH Showers of rain fall warm and welcome, Plants lift up their heads rejoicing, Back unto their lakes and marshes Come the wild goose and the heron. Homeward shoots the arrowy swallow, Sing the bluebird and the robin, And where'er my footsteps wander. All the meadows wave with blossoms. All the woodlands ring with music. All the trees are dark with foliage ! T^he Song of Hianxjatha APRIL TWENTY-NINTH All things above were bright and fair, All things were glad and free j Lithe squirrels darted here and there, And wild birds filled the echoing air With songs of Liberty 1 The Slave in the Dismal Snuamf 1 40 ] APRIL THIRTIETH Down goes the sun But the soul of one, Who by repentance Has escaped the dreadful sentence. Shines bright below me as I look. The Golden Legend [41 ] MAY MAY FIRST THE sun is bright, — the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing, And from the stately elms I hear The bluebird prophesying Spring. So blue yon winding river flows, It seems an outlet from the sky, Where waiting till the west wind blows. The freighted clouds at anchor lie. It is not airways May MAY SECOND All things are new; — the buds, the leaves. That gild the elm tree's nodding crest. And even the nest beneath the eaves; — There are no birds in last year's nest 1 // is not airways May MAY THIRD The robin and the bluebird, piping loud. Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee, The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be ; [43 ] And hungry crows assembled in a crowd, Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly, Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said : "Give us, O Lord, this day our daily bread !" T^he Birds of Killing^worth MAY FOURTH 111 fared it with the birds, both great and small ; Hardly a friend in all that crowd they found. But enemies enough, who every one Charged them with all the crimes beneath the sun. The Birds of Killingnvorth MAY FIFTH When they had ended, from his place apart, Rose the Preceptor, to redress the wrong, And, trembling like a steed before the start, Looked round bewildered on the expeftant throng. The Birds of KiUing JUNE TWENTY-SIXTH Alas ! we are but eddies of dust. Uplifted by the blast, and whirled Along the highway of the world A moment only, then to fall Back to a common level all. At the subsiding of the gust ! The Spanish Student [62] Yet why should I fear death ! What is it to die ? To leave all disappointment, care, and sorrow. To leave all falsehood, treachery, and unkindness, All ignominy, suffering, and despair, And be at rest forever ! O dull heart. Be of good cheer ! When thou shalt cease to beat, Then shalt thou cease to suffer and complain ! 'The Spanish Student JUNE TWENTY-SEVENTH "Blessed be God ! for he created Death !" The mourners said, "and Death is rest and peace;" Then added, in the certainty of faith, "And giveth Life that nevermore shall cease." The Je'wish Cemetery at NeiJuport JUNE TWENTY-EIGHTH The thought of my short-comings in this life Falls like a shadow on the life to come. The Golden Legend TUNE TWENTY-NINTH Man-like is it to fall into sin, Fiend-like is it to dwell therein, Christ-like is it for sin to grieve, God-like is it all sin to leave. Poetic Aphorisms JUNE THIRTIETH Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined ; Often in a wooden house a golden room we find. Poetic Aphorisms (63] JULY JULY FIRST UNDER him lay the golden moss ; And above him the boughs of hemlock-trees Waved, and made the sign of the cross, And whispered their Benedicites; And from the ground Rose an odor svi^eet and fragrant Of the w^ild-flovi^ers and the vagrant Vines that wandered. Seeking the sunshine, round and round. T^he Golden Legend JULY SECOND And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill The world ; and, in these wayward days of youth, My busy fancy oft embodies it, As a bright image of the light and beauty That dwell in nature, — of the heavenly forms We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds When the sun sets. the Spirit of Poetry [65 1 JULY THIRD Why then are you not contented ? Why then will you hunt each other? I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your wars and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wranglings and dissensions ; All your strength is in your union. All your danger is in discord ; Therefore be at peace henceforward. And as brothers live together. the Song of Hiawatha yULY FOURTH Is it, O man, with such discordant noises. With such accursed instruments as these. Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, And jarrest the celestial harmonies ? the Arsenal at Spr big field JULY FIFTH Down the dark future, through long generations. The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!" the Arsenal at Springfield [66 1 JULY SIXTH Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise. the Arsetial at Springfield JULY SEVENTH The Parson, too, appeared, a man austere, The instind of whose nature was to kill; The wrath of God he preached from year to year, And read, with fervor, Edwards on the Will ; His favorite pastime was to slay the deer In Summer on some Adirondac hill ; E'en now, while walking down the rural lane. He lopped the wayside lilies with his cane. The Birds of Killingnjuorth JULY EIGHTH The Summer came, and all the birds were dead; The days were like hot coals; the very ground Was burned to ashes ; in the orchards fed Myriads of caterpillars, and around The cultivated fields and garden beds Hosts of devouring inseds crawled, and found No foe to check their march, till they had made The land a desert without leaf or shade. The Birds of Killingnvorth I 67 ] JULY NINTH The farmers grew impatient, but a few Confessed their error, and would not complain, (For after all the best thing one can do When it is raining is to let it rain.) Then they repealed the law although they knew It would not call the dead to life again. 'The Birds of Killing^worth JULY TENTH Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How they built their nests in Summer, Where they hid themselves in Winter, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them " Hiawatha's Chickens." Of all beasts he learned the language. Learned their names and all their secrets, How the beavers built their lodges. Where the squirrels hid their acorns, How the reindeer ran so swiftly, Why the rabbit was so timid. Talked with them whene'er he met them. Called them " Hiawatha's Brothers." 'The Song of Hiaivatha [68 1 JULY ELEVENTH Forth into the forest straightway- All alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows ; And the birds sang round him, o'er him, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!'* Sang the robin, the Opechee, Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!" The Song of Hia