Class (£S54f}T Book . i / i-^0 Copyright }I^_ 7//, COPYRIGHT DEPOSIR THE OVERTURE AND OTHER POEMS 'h^>^° THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO THE OVERTURE AND OTHER POEMS BY JEFFERSON BUTLER FLETCHER AUTHOR OF "THE RELIGION OF BEAUTY IN WOMAN," ETC. ¥eto fork THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1911 All rights reserved "f6 ,1^^^ \^il Copyright, 191 i, By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published September, xgiZt M J. 8. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. Ci.A297206 TO MY WIFE TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE The Overture 3 Sky-Children 26 To Dante 29 The Ransom 33 A True-Love-Knot 63 Miserere, Domine ! 56 The Daisy-Field 63 Truce of God 64 New Life 69 Lilith and Cain 70 Lilith: Mother of Sin 73 Harmonics 80 After Poliziano . .81 " For They Laid the Land of Desire Desolate " . . 85 Michelangelo . 93 Michelangelo 94 At the Last Judgment 95 The Balm of Peace 99 Spring 101 Demos Triumphant 103 vii VIU TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE Seven Sandwichmen on Broadway .... 105 The Glory that was Spain ...... 107 On " First and Last Things " 109 "A Holy and Humble Man of Heart " . . .112 To a Poet of Paradox 113 The Children's Hour 115 Homo Sum ......... 116 The Beatitude of Dante 117 Eden Bower 119 ' ' When They Had Slain Their Children to Their Idols " 121 The Serpent on the Hearth 123 Guido Cavalcanti 136 Guido Cavalcanti to Dante Alighieri .... 137 Petrarch 138 Petrarch 140 Petrarch ...» 142 Petrarch 143 Petrarch 144 Petrarch 146 Petrarch 148 Petrarch 150 Petrarch 152 Galeazzo Da Tarsia 154 Lorenzo De' Medici 156 *' Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother " . . .158 Riverside 161 TABLE OF CONTENTS IX PAGE Night-Piece . , . , 163 Love is Life 165 The Pledge 166 The Round of Pleasure ...... 167 The Service of the Leaves 169 To an Empty Locust Shell in Autumn . . . .170 The Thornapple Tree 172 To a June-Bug 174 Lost 176 Hidden Blessings 179 Orchids 182 The Unimpressionable Bee 184 Under the Matrimony-Vine 186 Christopher Sly Awakes 189 The First Pair of Shoes : Cobbler's Song . . .191 Inquisitive Quatrains 194 Belle-o'-the-May 196 The City-Child 198 The Lesson 200 A Nice (?) Distinction 203 THE OVEETURE AND OTHER POEMS THE OVERTUEE Persons richard. hans. cosima. {It is evening. Cosima bends towards the fire^ which lights up her face, Richard leans on the mantel, watching her. Through a door ajar is heard a piano, softly hut distinctly. They listen in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly Cosima starts.) COSIMA Richard, I cannot like it. RICHARD Cosima! 4 THE OVERTURE COSIMA Nay, I have hurt you ! Yet I meant not yet It frightens me! EICHARD Then I have failed! But COSIMA Oh, no! RICHARD Well? COSIMA {with a nervous laugh) Once on a lonesome countryside I heard a crazed girl sing to a wild moon : Moon, I bind thee by this rite, Shine upon my love to-night : THE OVERTURE 5 If he seek me, Moon, shine bright ; If he shun me, mad Moon, bhght ! Hear my wrong, and work my right: Dead or Hving, late or soon. Draw him hither by thy hght, Moon! I was a child, and in my ears for weeks The weird chant rang. I heard it in my dreams. Then, as a child will, I forgot . . . until Just now, as Hans played, through your music throbbed Once more that same low sobbing tune! RICHAED And you Were frightened — why ? 6 THE OVERTURE COSIMA I cannot say . . . unless Maybe, the child I was, hearing, waked up To its child's terror. Let it pass, and — listen 1 {A pause. The music grows more passionate, CosiMA shivers once or twice; at last gets up and moves restlessly about the room, Richard follows her with his eyes.) COSIMA {half to herself) It speaks . . . that which I may not hear, and be . . . That which I am ! {She goes to the door.) Hans ! THE OVERTURE 7 BICHARD Hush ! (Coldly.) Your husband plays To me. Will you forbid him for — a whim ? cosiMA (sinking into a chair) Forgive ! (She laughs nervously.) Have you inwoven here a spell Caught from some wizard or weird sister's lips, Richard ? Have you invoked the two-horned moon — Like my poor love-crazed girl ? RICHARD Why not ? COSIMA (staring at him) Why . . . not . . .? 8 THE OVERTURE EICHARD My music tells — a tale. You have for- gotten — {He recites with ironical gayety.) How Tristan fetched Iseult the Fair Home to King Mark — a bride ; And how Iseult loved young Tristan, And he loved her, and died. cosiMA (slowly) And in your music sings the spell they drank ? So I forgot . . . EICHARD (calmly) King Mark ? COSIMA (blankly) King . . . Mark . . .? THE OVERTURE 9 {A long paicse, during which Cosima, after a furtive glance at Richard, stares mutely into the fire. Her hand, hanging over the chair-arm, is tightly clenched. The 'music grows softer, pleading,) KICHARD The spell Works, Cosima : listen, now it is they love. COSIMA (as if not hearing) And how Iseult loved young Tristan, And he loved her, and died ! . . . And died? Runs the old tale not so? He died. Yes, it were better love should die — such love! 10 THE OVERTURE And poor King Mark, he loved her too . . . did he Too die? RICHARD {with bitterness) Aye, full of years — at peace ! COSIMA That's well. RICHARD Well ? True, for Mark the King, that sage, calm man, That very calm, sage, temperate man ! He loved ? No, he conceived it wisdom to be wed, — A comfortable course approved of old To purge young perilous humors, to base firm THE OVERTURE 11 Dynasties, to console old lonesome age ! What knew King Mark of loving or — Iseult ? COSIMA Hush, Richard, Hans . . . RICHARD {interrupting) Would think it blasphemy So to profane his music — nay, 'tis mine. Good, sage, calm Hans, whose pulse has never beat ViDace, — save when the score was marked Vivace ! Well, I'll not mar his music : I'll speak lower. COSIMA You must not speak this way of my . . , your friend. 12 THE OVERTURE Has he not helped you in your bitter need ? You have desponded, — did he mock you then? KiCHARD {with sudden passion) Yes, he has helped me in my bitter need ! I was lonely ; and he took me home — to you! Downcast ; and he lifted me — to you ! Heartsick ; and he healed my heart — with you! I have desponded; would he not mock me now? {Again with ironical levity.) Good Mark the King loved young Tristan. (Heigho, King Mark was blind !) THE OVERTURE 13 But — ''Woe is me," cried young Tristan, ''That ever King Mark was kind !" cosiMA {starting to her feet) Richard, you dare ! RICHARD {fiercely) Sit down ! {They face each other for a moment; then CosiMA sinks down, covering her face in her hands. The music grows again pas- sionate.) Hear you those chords Torn from the dumb heart of this instru- ment. That wail and plead, — yes, triumph — if love lives? 14 THE OVERTURE His are deft hands that draw them forth : his mind Is unperturbed, bent on its task ; whilst mine, Like some raw captain, bUnd with too much zeal, Cried Halt ! yet Forward ! till my fingers, dazed, Broke in confusion all along the — keys ! You think I jest ? Not so. I state his case; He, mine ! Hear the poor innocent, how he woos — King Mark woos Iseult for Tristan ! Cosima, You are the instrument we play on, he And I : under his even, passionless touch You have chimed here in sweet treble, like a child THE OVERTURE 15 White-robed before an altar, wistfully Singing it knows not what. {The music has stopped. In the doorway ap- pears Hans, smiling genially. As he lis- tens, unperceived, the smile knots into pain.) And that was good, — Better, God knows, than these harsh jangling chords I draw from the deep woman's heart of yours That slept, but is awakened now forever. Cosima, we have drunken of the draught : It works ! There is no power can now undo Its working . . . COSIMA {in mournful abstraction) . . . Iseult loved young Tristan, And he loved her, and died ! 16 THE OVERTURE RICHARD {vehemently) No, no ! He lived ! Think you he lived be- fore? He died? Well, so have all men; yet he lived — Yes, in his love's brief moment he outlived Them that bore out his body. Why, were Hans Even here and heard (Hans starts) and killed me — as were just — Yet because you have loved me — as I see — In this swift moment I outlive his years. (Hans makes a despairing gesture.) cosiMA (brokenly) Wherefore not die then . . . now ... to- gether ? THE OVERTURE 17 Hans {advancing into the room) No! (CosiMA gives a gasping cry. Richard stands erect. A long pause, during which the two men stare at each other. Then Hans points commandingly towards the open door. Richard hesitates ; then says mean- ingly.) RICHARD And she . . . ? HANS {with an effort) Still to me is more sacred than . . . RICHARD {fiercely) You lie I HANS {with still more evident effort at self-control) Not in her presence . . . now ! . . . B 18 THE OVERTURE RICHARD {bowing stiffly) Your pardon ! To-morrow then ? {He goes slowly out. At the door he turns impulsively, as if to speak; hut as Hans still points grimly, he goes out, Hans paces the floor agitatedly, Cosima, ivho has sunk back into her chair, sobs. After some minutes, without looking at Hans, she rises, and staggers towards the door.) HANS {coldly) Sit down ! cosiMA {with wildness) Let me go . , . I . . . ! . HANS No! THE OVERTURE 19 COSIMA {suddenly drawing herself up, and facing him) Well? HANS In good time. Sit down ! COSIMA I will not. (Hans shrugs and resumes his pacing.) COSIMA {after a pause) Speak ! {In a lower tone) Kill me ! HANS Tut, tut ! You have mistaken your stage-cue : I am no more King Mark than — Iseult you, Or Tristan he. I am a plain trousered man 20 THE OVERTURE Whose wife fancies another trousered man. Sit down, I say; and we will try — you hear ! — Will try to see things as they are. You two Love — so it seems — each other : you, my wife — These almost ten years long my wife, — and he, The friend I loved next you this side . . . well, well. No use in this ! . . . You love, — well, what^s to do ? cosiMA (impulsively) Forget ! HANS (vaguely) Forget? Forget . . . what? THE OVERTURE 21 cosiMA {with ever increasing exaltation) That he came Between us. You are right: 't was but a fancy, Mere fancy of an idle, bad, blind child. Now she is woman, and . . . still, Hans . . . your wife ! HANS {in tense, even tones) Yes, you are woman, — so he said ; a child Once in this house, he said; but where — when — wife f Cosima, I have sometimes thought the Christ Missed the one sacrifice : he never loved A woman, never yielded up a woman Because there loved her one he had called friend. 22 THE OVERTURE I will . . . Oh, no, I will not so blas- pheme ! . . . I make no sacrifice : I do not love ! Did not your lover say I could not love, — I, such a commonplace, mechanic man ? And could one love, yet give away his love ? If I gave you to him, then I loved not ; Therefore it were no sacrifice, therefore You must not thank me, you and he, be- cause It were but . . . cosiMA {looking Mm steadily in the face) Were but, Hans, a sacrifice To pride ! HANS To pride, — yes, that is it. Why not ? THE OVERTURE 23 Should not a man have pride ? Have I not talent, Strength, industry to get myself a name ? . . . A true wife, as it seems, is but a name ! . . . Why, do you hold yourself so necessary. You think that losing you, I lose . . . well, what? What is best nameless ! You it is are proud ! You pity, — aye, most charitably you pro- fess Contrition, and will be — oh, generous ! — My dutiful wife! Well, I admire your penance ; I should be proud ! cosiMA {brokenly) You are all too unjust ! 24 THE OVERTURE HANS Unjust, too? On my word, I'm worse and worse ! Will you deny in me forbearance next Towards our joint friend ? cosiMA {timidly) To-morrow, Hans, — you two . . . HANS Meet? It may be. What then? He will come back. (Abruptly.) Good-night. (On his way to the door, he pauses and turns, then continues almost lightly.) Wait. It is early. (Significantly.) I must sleep — To-morrow! I'll play his music once again. THE OVERTURE 25 When was such music ? what a master, eh ? {He goes out Cosima stands panting; hut as the first bars are heard, played with a grotesque accelerando, she claps both hands over her ears, shrieks, and falls in a dead faint. The music goes on, while the curtain falls very slowly.) 26 SKY-CHILDREN SKY-CHILDREN CHILDREN Cherubim ! Cherubim ! How will you dance ? CHERUBIM Just as wee motes where Sunbeams glance. CHILDREN Cherubim ! Cherubim ! Supposing one cries, How shall he wipe His poor wet eyes ? CHERUBIM Innocents ! Innocents ! If one should cry, SKY-CHILDREN 27 Out in the wind He would fly, fly, fly, — Just as the dewy Dripping bees Back in the Earth-time Dried in the breeze. CHILDEEN Cherubim ! Cherubim ! Tired are we ; Put us to sleep Where the light won't see. CHERUBIM Lullaby ! Lullaby ! On our soft wings. 28 SKY-CHILDREN When the winds blow, Every one swings. When the stars whisper, Little ears, hark ! Lower, lids, lower ! Hush ! alFs dark. TO DANTE 29 TO DANTE O thou who, risen on dream-wings of love, In heaven heldst parley with transfigured stars, Which for thy confirmation shaped the Cross, And justified by sign the Imperial Eagle, — Thou who, yet mortal, saw thine immortal lady At peace by Rachel in the mystic Rose, — Dante, doubt like a worm has sapped that rose ; Thy seven spheres move not to laws of love ; Red comets sweep where, throned, abode thy lady; Angels no longer pilot the blind stars ; 30 TO DANTE Clipped are the talons of Rome's haughty- Eagle ; And pales for men the glory of the Cross. Of blindness men must bear again their cross ; Thy faiths, like petals from a faded rose, Are fallen away; hadst thou now eye of eagle And spirit howe'er patient in its love, Forever mightst thou search the huddled stars, Nor find among them thy once buried lady. Ah, who might tell thee where abides thy lady? His lips are mute who died upon the Cross ; TO DANTE 31 And vacantly they stare, the senseless stars : Tell me thou, rather, where is last year's rose. — In eagle's ejry nests a dove : thy love, Fond poet, is the dove ; and death the eagle. We grope in light ; nor may, like fabled eagle, Gaze on the sun unblinded ; no throned lady, Down from God's threshold stooping, lifts through love The doubt that weighs upon us like a cross : Wherefore we gather, while it blows, the rose. Lest we find not another in the stars. And if we in our fear beseech the stars. We are like lambs bleating beneath the eagle. — Ah, Dante, he that drew thee with a rose 32 TO DANTE And with the book wherein thou sangst thy lady, Saw not the subtle preacher of the Cross, But loved, as we, the singer of man's love. Thy figured stars but shape for us who love. An eagle bearing in his beak a rose To deck a lady martjnred on death's cross. THE RANSOM 33 THE RANSOM Then He is gracious unto him, and saith, Deliver him from going down to the pit : I have found a ransom. — Job xxxiii. 24. I "What is this love," he sneered, "which puts me off With words? That way half-hearted women use, Guarding their precious souls!'' Stung by the scoff, She answered: "Dear, I think that I could lose My soul only in losing thine ; that lost, God's heaven itself were little to refuse." c 34 THE RANSOM At that I heard him laugh. ^^ Perchance this boast/' He said, ^Hhou one day must make good; to-night Give me of love an earnest at less cost." He spoke, cajoling. I saw her lip turn white Where her small teeth met in it, while young shame Strove with strong passion in a losing fight. But when the sated beast in him grew tame And slept, lightly he put her to one side, Saying : '^Indeed her frailty was to blame : Did she not lure me in her woman's pride ? She had her will : let her then bear the cost." THE RANSOM 35 He went his ways ; while she sat wistful- eyed. '^ Will he not pity me when I am lost ?" She said, — ''when I have given my soul for his?" Until illumined with such faith her ghost I saw drift through the vale where no light is. II Then in my dream I saw him where he lay Dying in his own bed ; the while his kin Watched, and some wept, and others I heard pray. Their prayers were like a veil before his sin ; And their tears gentlier dropped upon his pride Than a cool ointment on a blistered skin. 36 THE RANSOM Yea, and behind their prayers he thought to hide From God. ^' Will not His vengeance pass me by, Seeing how I of men am justified ? " He thought Then his death-cry I heard ; and felt, it seemed, my substance drawn. Even as a thread is through a needless eye. Into his body ; and knew that all were gone Save I, who clothed again in flesh and blood. Gazed now in awe. Between me and the dawn Breaking upon far hills, a woman stood. THE RANSOM 37 III She stood before me, meekest of earth's daughters ; Albeit beside my swarthiness she gleamed Bright as the sun's way over rippling waters. Her raiment flowed forth, living, all un- seamed, Out of her living substance, white as pearl ; But where it touched her flesh, like flesh it seemed. From under her bare feet I saw upcurl Live wings of flame. Upon her, face to face, I dared not look ; but like a conscious girl 38 THE RANSOM Whose nakedness is seen and her disgrace, My spirit cowered, whispering a name. So stood we motionless a httle space. She with outstretched arms, I bowed in shame And meekly pitiful, she wept. (I felt Her tears.) Then closer unto me she came; And presently I knew that she there knelt, And spake, — in tones like faint familiar chimes Of church-bells in a dream where childhood dwelt In joy. ^^ Rememberest thou?'' Three times She spake the words. Speechless I cringed the while, THE RANSOM 39 As a man faced with long-evaded crimes, Who casts in mind to cover guilt with guile ; And then I felt her soft lips touch my hand, — Yea, felt her mercy like a flaming brand ; But mastered, like a man that walks in sleep. Followed her where she led me, through a land Unknown, — woeful, yet powerless to weep. IV Erelong, before us as we went, on high A mountain reared, o'erhanging like blind night Above our heads as swiftly we drew nigh. Howbeit, turning not to left or right. 40 THE RANSOM We took our way straight upward, till my knees Knocked one against the other, and my sight Blurred; and her garment I was fain to seize, As might a child, fear-stricken and foot- sore Whereat she stooping lent my travail ease. Up that way steep as death the woman bore Me faint, until it seemed I heard the stars Sing, and the rivers of whirled planets roar. Around, like sentries in old Titan wars, Cloud unto cloud shouted a thunder-call, Challenging us, it seemed, who brake their bars. THE RANSOM 41 At last, where cliffs rose upright like a wall, With level steps along a ledge between That rock-height and a chasm of sheer fall. We crept ; until as through a glass wiped clean. Purpling the dun depths like an amethyst. Glimmered a meadow. Song of birds un- seen Shrilled musical beneath us ; fleecy mist Veiled a soft billowing greensward; and the smell Rose up of flowers fragrantly sun-kissed. Concave and rounded like a scallop-shell, The meadow spread out from the moun- tain-side. Girt by a forest faintly visible 42 THE RANSOM Through the prismatic mist. As a young bride The while, who in her yearning yet would shrink From the desired kiss, so stood my guide Still hesitant upon that arduous brink. V At last she spake. ''The Lord hath heard my vow : And unto us is given this fair land To find our peace together, I and thou,^' She said; and downward led me by the hand. And there we dwelt together. Often came Wild creatures from the wood, by His command Bringing their strength to serve us. Each by name TEE RANSOM 43 She called ; but I, still lacking faith, in fear By night lay trembling, fenced about with flame. So, as it seemed, our days told off a year. And she sang with the days; and all her song Was of that Love, within whose radiant sphere She had been surely then but for my wrong. But I the while in slothfulness grew fat, — Yea, so soul-pampered in my sin, erelong All day, like some sleek parish almsman, sat Stolidly comfortable, and had dozed. Save in mine ears there ever like a gnat The voice of her singing of Christ still buzzed ; So that when on a day she yearningly 44 THE RANSOM Held forth her babe, my heart more grimly closed. Haply He by this child shall chasten me, I thought; and sneered; ^^Thy boast was to remit The curse He graved upon my forehead : see. See, where it flames by thy hand deeper writ ! Unbid, thou took'st upon thee to atone For my lost soul : what hast thou done for it. But like a fetter on the bare bruised bone, Galled, till I loathe thee near. If thou must stay . . .'' ''Yea, I must stay,'' she said; ''what then?" "Have done,'' THE RANSOM 45 I cried, '^with hope; nor flatter — to be- tray— My pride. Thou yearn' st to heaven. Go then ! Thy wing Is folded ; but still open lies thy way. May one renounce a thing, yet have a thing?'' Then she: ^^ Curst art thou; yea, and I am curst : So be for thee and me one reckoning !" She moaned; and licked her lips as one in thirst. VI Both then, foregoing hope, abode together. But now nor beast nor bird came bringing food; 46 THE RANSOM Earth, parched, crunched underfoot in the dead weather ; And the leaves crisped upon the sapless wood. Erelong our babe died; yet the woman, cold, Wept not ; but on my head I felt its blood. And with the hours it seemed that I grew old Suddenly. Hunger and forced toil off- scaled Sloth that had cased my spirit like a mold ; Mine eyes were opened, and I saw unveiled That which I was. Heart-sick and hunger- spent. THE RANSOM 47 Close by her side, like a whipped hound, I quailed. Dimmed was her glory of strong faith, and rent Her robe of peace; yet she was witching fair — Half woman and half serpent subtly blent, — That all day lay her length in the warm air Luxurious, but by night, laughing with life, Danced moonwhite through her cloudiness of hair. Yea, and I came to fear my fell witch-wife : Ruthless was she if delving might not win For her some one sweet root; and rose there strife 48 THE RANSOM Between us, I heard, as if at call of kin, Hissings of menace, — until I suppliant cringed. Yet as I watched her, beautiful in sin, Ofttimes my fear was with compassion tinged; For though, mocking, she laughed, her laughter shrilled Harsh like the grating of a soul unhinged. And ever more this voice of pity stilled Anger, and overcame rebellious pride ; Until love might have won me, had she willed. Erelong, once as I hunted food, sore tried To sate her luxury and my need, and scanned The lean earth, on a sudden I espied, THE RANSOM 49 Shyly alone in all that desolate land, A flower dew-sprinkled and sweet blue. Amazed, I ran, and took the woman by the hand. And brought her, all reluctant, where it raised Its frail blue head, like hope, amid that waste. Awhile, biting her lip, she stood and gazed : Then on a sudden, flaming, me she faced. ^' Know'st thou who set it there? ^' she said. '^Iknow,'^ I answered — ''yea, I know.'' ''So thou betray'st Me unto Him, whom thou hast made my foe!" She hissed ; and all around hissed menacing 50 THE RANSOM Allies invisible. With head bent low, I faltered back : ''Perchance awakening It brings of hope." Then she: ''Thou runagate, May one renounce a thing, yet have a thing? Hope bad'st thou not renounce? I tell thee hate Here springeth for us twain." With naked heel She stamped the frail bloom out. "Too late! too late!" I heard her wail; then laugh, wild peal on peal. VII Then like a meadow-mist at dawn of light, She drifted, drifted off ; swiftly anon. THE RANSOM 51 White-flickering along the mountain height, Lighter than winged seed the wind wafts on, Still floated upward; and when at last I reeled Drunkenly after her, was gone. — And gone With her the dream. Yet ofttimes when have pealed Bells tunelessly afar, or birds have screamed By night, I hear her laughter, see revealed That meadow where we dwelt; and I have dreamed That I go ever seeking, seeking still. The while hope whispers: ^^Are not they redeemed Who love ? Be patient, and thy task fulfil 52 THE RANSOM Of slow atonement through the healing years : Ye shall find peace together in His will." — Alas ! I call and call, and she not hears. A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT 53 A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT Meeting upon the midway stair, Said Mephistofeles to Peter, A parable, you man of prayer, I'll put you in short meter. * * * * There was a Liar loved a Lady ; She loved to her undoing ; Yet found her place in Heaven ready — After some years of ruing. Him we enrolled among our minions ; To her the blow was sharp : She simply drooped her golden pinions. And would not touch her harp. 54 A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT Moved by such very constant love And Mary's mediation, Your Liege wrote, — Deliver him above, Admitted on probation. So like a bubble that man^s soul Upfloated, and received Its robes and wings and aureole ; Yet felt itself aggrieved. The flames of Hell were hot, it said ; I felt them keenly. Sire ; But hotter on this sinful head I feel her coals of fire. She puts me ever in the wrong, And hurts with each caress ; A TRUE-LOVE-KNOT 55 Send me below, where I belong ; You damn me when you bless ! She overheard hrni, and she sighed : My way, O Lord, is plain. Hell is for me, since he^si denied. I go ; let him remain ! Your Good Lord frowned ; the Angels wept ; But the Lady had her way : Last night his Soul in Heaven slept ; Hers wakes in Hell to-day. ;{: 4: H: * 4: When God brought Love and Sin together. Old man, he raised a breeze Must sometimes bring you stormy weather ! Quoth Mephistofeles. 56 MISERERE, DO MINE! MISERERE, DOMINE! Unfathomable One, Maker of all things, breath Of all breath, spirit-spun Thread inwoven in birth and life and death, — Whence came for thee the mood To make ? What vision, seen by thee alone, Urged thee from solitude To an uneasy throne. Where sounds forever the sad monotone Of souls in worlds unnumbered, from the dust Crying for justice against thee, the Just ? Did darker thoughts harass. And drive thee to these noises, — MISERERE, DO MINE! 57 Lulled, as on storms thy sea-bird, brooding, poises? ' Or hast thou mirrored thee, unveiled, in man, As for mere vanity A girl dotes on her image in a glass ; And so thy sorry plan Is but a shadow-show to flatter thee ? Or, restless evermore. Hast shaped this jarring scheme because thy peace Is not of strife surcease. But instant victory in constant war ? Or was thy making blind Wilfulness, which has brought. Life out of life, moved by no further thought ; Wherefore, unlit by mind. 58 MISERERE, DO MINE! Thy world is groping out of nought to nought ? Master, what is thy will For us? Peace? Lovef Thou seest, Lord, our life : Does it thine ends fulfil ? — Yea, they have peace, the strong, the con- querors ; While whipped men nurse their sores. Yet though cowed rage awhile may sheathe the knife, Hate hides behind ; and strife But waits upon occasion, — till old scores Blood shall have blotted : leagued, the wolf- pack preys ; But should a leader limp or lag, it slays. MISERERE, DOMINE ! 59 Thou seest blind love enmesh The wills of men : how in the baser crew Flesh hungers after flesh, And feeds ; hungers afresh, And dies ; and how the few Grasp at an iris-bow Of many-colored hopes that come — to go. Where is that love supreme In which souls meet, — where is it satisfied ? Unless the bridegroom conjure his pale bride From insubstantial dream ; Or, when a maid has died, Some brooding poet quicken vain desire With his own spirit's fire. And nursing in his soul the dear device. He make — and be — his own still paradise. 60 MISERERE, DO MINE! Enisled on heaving sands Of lone desire, spirit to spirit cries ; While float across the skies Bright phantoms of fair lands Where fancies fade not, and where dreams abide. Then on a day the dear illusions lift : Sundered, upon a shoreless sea adrift, With eyes that yearn to eyes, Mute, with imploring hands. The twain go driven whither no land lies ; And whether side by side. Or swept apart by some swift passionate tide. Each in the bark of each Lies bound ; nor ever soul to soul shall reach. Time was indeed when some MISERERE, DO MINE! 61 Gaunt, with averted eyes and voices dumb For all save thee, on rocky fastnesses. In woods, or by waste sands. Sought by self-scourging and bead-mumbled spell Guerdon of heaven : — ah, why in silences Fulfilled with thee, sighed they for vague dreamlands Of mystic asphodel, Who, long self -cloistered in disgust of men, Must greet on yonder multitudinous shore Those they but scorned before, Still in the spirit carnal — even as then ? Ancient of days, bemoanst thou the rent bars Of sleep ? — thine ere the inexplicable pang 62 MISERERE, DO MINE! Stirred in their sockets thy fixed balls of sight, And thy lids loosened, and the vital light Flamed on the dust of uncompacted stars, Until these joined, and sang; And on the four winds rang The long thin shrill wild cry of a world's woe. Lord, with unshaken soul Shalt thou forever, hearing, will it so ? Not halt these spheres that roll Infect? Not with submissive knowledge own Good was for thee alone ? Not then, withdrawing thee in thee, atone? THE DAISY-FIELD 63 THE DAISY-FIELD Man looked upon the sky by night, And loved its tender azure, bright With many a softly beaming hght ; And sang his Maker's praises. "The sun declares Thee in Thy dread ; But from the stars Thy peace is shed : Would that by day they comforted !" God heard ; and made the daisies. All in a firmament of green Their golden orbs now float, serene, Twinkling with rays of silvery sheen. To comfort him who gazes. 64 TRUCE OF GOD TRUCE OF GOD THE SON Father ! Father ! Forsakest thou me ? THE FATHER I brood New worlds. Do thou for respite in long war Gather about thee lovingly the good ; Ease them ; yet suffer not the warrior In sloth to grow unready. THE SON As God wills. But shall there then be peace in Heaven no more Than one hushed day ? Are there immortal ills TRUCE OF GOD 65 To come ? my father, is this the faith ? Another peace proclaimed I from the hills To men in Galilee, — life after death In love forever. Must then, behind these walls Besieged, man ever draw uneasy breath? THE FATHER Look where the shadow of my finger falls On the far earth : what seest thou there ? THE SON I see A flood shaken by the winds; yea, and cloud calls To cloud in anger; and the tusked waves flee, Trumpeting, in stray herds. E 66 TRUCE OF GOD THE FATHER Is no live thing Mingled with the elements ? THE SON How might there be, And be alive ? THE FATHER Yet look. THE SON On level wing, Calm as a cloud in summer skies at even, On the storm's turbulent bosom slumber- ing, Hovers a pensive bird. THE FATHER The peace of Heaven TRUCE OF GOD 67 So pillowed is on strife ; and God broods so, Impassionate, above where, tempest- driven, The shoreless tides of Being ebb and flow, Timing his world's recurrent working-day Ever in larger rhythms. Where no winds blow. Yon seabird is not seen : what might upstay Those poised pinions, if gales slept? son, If evil slumbered, and sin died away. How might man's soul, soaring, be wafted on To higher things? How might not God, ungirt With strength resistant, be himself undone. And he and thou and all life else revert 68 TRUCE OF GOD To nothing, all having been in vain ? For sloth Is nothingness, and only sloth. Inert Were Heaven without HelFs neighborhood; and both, So either once admitted full defeat, Futile. Enough : be thou no longer loath. Hise, take thy place upon the Judgment-seat. I go unto my rest. Farewell ! THE SON Farewell, My father I THE FATHER Send now Angels forth to greet Men, saying: ^^Come! ye are called in Heaven and Hell.'' NEW LIFE 69 NEW LIFE If One, flame-garmented, Came unto you, and said : "Why crave to live, being dead?" Would you not answer ? — '' Still Mine old task to fulfil, But with a better will ; Asking not wages won. But for the little begun Time that it may be done, — Time, and the heart to bask Warm at a human task.'' — Friend, is there more to ask ? 70 LILITH AND CAIN LILITH AND CAIN Up from the cave of her despair To Eden Lilith came by night, And danced before young Cain, moon-white Under her cloudiness of hair ; For she had found him entrance there By subtlety for her delight. And suddenly over him she bent. Her breathing seemed a serpent's hiss, And like a serpent's sting her kiss ; Her hair was all a ravishment Of amber light and poppy scent. Bathing him in sunshiny bliss. It glimmered like the afterglow Of summer suns on rippling streams ; LILITH AND CAIN 71 Until he sighed, as one who dreams : '^LiUth, Lilith, I love thee so !'' And she made answer, soft and low ; And her white lids veiled her eyes' red gleams. '^O Cain, I was thy father's wife Long ere this waxen woman Eve. Yea, and because of me they grieve, For that with God I taught them strife. She lives now in thy brother's life. Thou lov'st me ? Slay, — and I beheve." Now thrice three nights from her lone lair Must Lilith the blind Moon entreat. Cursing the God who gives defeat. And the woman Eve, and the sons she bare ; 72 LILITH AND CAIN Ere the touch of a hand is on LiHth's hair, And the sting of burning hps on her feet, ^^0 Cain, I have waited long,'' she said. ^^Yea, love, I know," he answered '^ Death I wait ; and long he tarrieth ! My mother weeps my brother dead." Then seeing how his hand dripped red, Fell Lilith laughed under her breath. ^^In sin and death is Eve's seed sown ; Overthrown is she that me outthrust," Sneered Lilith. ^^Lo, her God is just V Then Cain fled like a leaf wind-blown ; Gone was Lilith ; but writhing prone, A serpent hissed there in the dust. LI LIT H: MOTHER OF SIN 73 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN {Adams erste Frau. Nimm dich in acht vor ihrem schonen Haaren, Vor diesem Schmuck, mit dem sie einzig prangt. — Goethe.) Slowly she uncoiled herself. ''Walks God here ? Long He hath sat tossing from hand to hand the spheres, Tireless. Is it ended? May we now have rest?'' She yearned towards Him; but between, words formed, Forbidding her : ''Unclean Desire of Me Before Light was, answer thou ! Where is Man? 74 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN Where is the Woman ? Witch, thou hast hid them, — where ? '' ^^ Witch ! I ? '^ she hissed. ''Nay, what then He who gat Me? Was the Man not mine, — Thy breathing fleshed For me, because I lusted Thy flesh? . . . Worm ! When from his pithless prude^s embrace I swelled. And bare him serpents, he fled, shaming me. Him favoring yet unjustly, gavest Woman, Fashioned to his nicer appetite a frail Fair doll. I was forgot : whilst they two toyed Openly in my face, secure in Thee. LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 75 (And thought' st — when I sat gnawing these torn wisps, Once Thy Hps' lure ! — I brooded but as beasts Which chew the cud ?) They fed their play, and slept, Surfeited. Then I tempted ; and she bent Down to my smooth cleft tongue her ear — the fool ! Thou angered, — but against me impotent. Them punished'st. And I laughed. Because of me, Went they from Eden out into the swart Starved land. Yet not enough curst were they: still By his warm side she walked, — the comforter. 76 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN Though their eyes lowered, cloudy with blind tears, Mine, which looked inward to their love- light, scorched. Her mouth drooped, pallid as a young moon born Of winter ; but when his in the dim even Shadowed it once, and passed, hers smiled : and I . . . I grinned, — as wounded wolf baited by curs. In meet time from the Woman's side was pressed The man-child, Cain. I sat down by him, yet A mere green boy, raining across his lips All my hair's harlotry. The savor of it He tasted willingly : sweet in the mouth LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 77 It was ; but in his belly a close fire. So he burnt mad, and, when I tempted Abel, Slew him, and next himself. But when chaste Abel Had shuddered from me as from a thing to loathe. Startled, I leaned me by a still pool, there To prove my beauty safe. And there I saw The semblance of this fated Tree, their bane ; But all its fair was foul : grey scabby moss Mouldered upon the shrunken limbs ; within The rotting, exposed heart were things that writhed, Intolerable. Yet I looked, and saw What had been Lihth ; and I sickened . . . I ! Though I cast in defilement to those depths, 78 LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN And overlaid that mirror with dead slime, Still shuddered there my livid horror. Mad, Then in the Tree I hid me, where I knew Not Thou dared^st pry. Till for me, brooding long On vengeance against them and Thee, their shield, Thoughts shaped them of the Woman's woman-seed : How I might come, hag-riding on the winds By night, and lay me prone along girl-babes. And lap their delicate loins, until these waxed Poisonous, fruitful of me ; how upon The lips of sleeping virgins I might breathe That flame whereof I am consumed, till they LILITH: MOTHER OF SIN 79 Awoke, like harlots laughing; how privily, In the quick ears of wives overmuch alone, Might whisper from behind, till they forgot All for a stranger's bed ! . . . So planned ; so acted. No woman's garment ever was so white. But I spat out my venom on it. The steps Of the least daughter of this Woman Eve Have I misguided : because of my false lights, Nor she, nor any that shall trust her, find Again this Eden of still peace. They hide Their sin from Thee, O Jahveh, cravenly, — I know not where : I am indifferent To such as serve me ; and the rest I shun." — She ceased ; and writhed back into the hollow Tree. 80 HARMONICS HARMONICS Oh, sing to me, but not with words I may not know from lies. Sing to me only as the birds When winter dies. For all the love thy true heart owns Mine to soft echo wins As flutes attuned wake answering tones In vioUns. AFTER POLIZIANO 81 AFTER POLIZIANO La hrunettina mia My little nut-brown maiden Where the clear spring plashes Her face each morning washes, And tranquil breast. Modestly she is drest All in a kirtle snowy; Paints, powders, trinkets showy She despises. She wears no strange disguises : Ruffs, furbelows, pelisses, Like your highborn misses, All airs and graces. 82 AFTER POLIZIANO A garland of bright daisies Set on her golden head, She goes gay-spirited, Lissome and chaste. Often she trips in haste Away, — not that she flees me, ' But only to tease me ; Then comes back dancing. Ah me, she is entrancing, My little gentle maiden, A flower-o'-the-thorn, dew-laden On a sweet Mayday. Joy is for him in its heyday Who, not despairing, pursues her ; AFTER POLIZIANO 83 Blessed the mortal that woos her Adorable dimples ! Mischief ripples and wimples Along her lips so merry, Each like a ripe strawberry Or ruby precious. And oh, her voice delicious Might tear a stone asunder ; I say, though you may wonder, What I've a right to. This hemisphere she gives light to, My little dark-eyed beauty ; And 'tis her mouth's sweet duty To rain honey. 84 AFTER POLIZIANO Wise and true as bonny, She's never pouting or pining ; She's just a wee bit designing - For harmless pleasures. But to exhaust her treasures Nor power nor art is given ; Only, her love I will live in Until I die. LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 85 ''FOR THEY LAID THE LAND OF DESIRE DESOLATE" The love of woman is a lure to sin, Man said; and woman, hearing, straight denied Love; and with scourgings branded her white skin ; And where no man might claim her for his bride She made her home, — yea, hiding her apart Where no man saw her save the Crucified. Till on a day man, hungering in his heart, Came unto where she was, and knelt to her. 86 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE Thou art the worthier; make me as thou art, He said. And she : Love maketh worthier All them who serve his Lord. At the man^s side She girt the sword, and on his heel the spur. And he pricked forth, the armed knight, and vied In battle for Love's Lord;- then claimed Love's spoil ; And the kiss perilous was not denied. The kiss of woman is the serpenfs coil, The man said, having had his will of lust. She tempted: let the shame on her recoil! And woman bore the shame : unto the dust She bowed her head; she laid her hands below LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 87 Her husband's foot ; she shared his bond- slave's crust ; Until he at that apathy of woe Again before her humbled him, ashamed. Thou art the wiser : teach me how to know. He thus ; and in her eyes a strange hope flamed. She said : Lust hlindeth : slay that beast which aye, Overmastering thee, leaveth thy spirit maimed. So man, self -tamed, all a summer's day Sat mute beside the woman, passion-calm, The while she, wistful, spelled the hours away With subtle talk and tale and soft-sung psalm To dove-white love; nor guessed his fevered sense 88 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE Flamed but the fiercer under her sweet balm — Till even; when, long hushed in dark sus- pense, Heaven at last in harsh, slow thunder burst On woman wailing for her innocence.' The wit of woman is a spell accurst, Man said; and she, all tearlessly, turned down The cup of knowledge, and rebuked her thirst ; And went, a child clothed in the matron^s gown, Clasping her lord's cold hand, weeping when chid. Or lightly lying to escape his frown y LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 89 And all her wisdom was to do as bid. Wherefore, when to her meek simplicity, A stranger glozed with lies the Fruit For- bid, Calling lust love, and virtue cruelty, Guileless she listened, erelong sinless sinned, Still wailed her lover gone his ways, care- free. Who trusteth woman, soweth on the wind. The husband said ; and while she cried for death. Life to her breast the Scarlet Letter pinned. For her babe's sake she lived, although man's breath Hissed at her where she shrank apart, soul-faint 90 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE From the sharp cross she faltered on beneath; Till the man chafed that so without complaint She made atonement before God. He sneered : How is it thou the sinner, seem^st the saint? And she was dumb; yet there was that he feared Of heaven in her face ; and this fear stayed The blow which else his own blind soul had seared. When from his mind it was as if a shade Passed suddenly away, and all seemed plain. His gaze grew gentle, and hers unafraid. Fool have I been, he said ; yet thy will vain : LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE 91 Idol or doll have made thee; as thy lord, Now have I forged, now, slave, have felt, thy chain. Even as the beast in me thou hast abhorred And starved, or siren-like appeased. Hence strife Hath been betwixt us, — though with ghosts we warred. Now let us stand up equals, man and wife. Neither obeisance making save to truth, And live shamefast, yet not ashamed of life. He ended ; but with melancholy ruth The woman smiled. Yea, be betwixt us truce. She said, I saw thy vision in my youth; But see the beast in thee that breaketh loose 92 LAND OF DESIRE LAID DESOLATE Ever, — and ever shall; and see — oh, frail! — My heart still wooing that death-sweet abuse. Wearily she spake; but at her babe's faint wail, Leaning unto the downcast m?n, she said : To question what shall he, what doth avail? Hark, our habe hungers ! Work ! that we have bread. MICHELANGELO 93 MICHELANGELO Gli occhi miei vaghi delle cose belle Mine eyes desirous of all fairest things, And even so my soul of her reward, In having these adored, Gain their one virtue that to heaven wings. From the high stars there springs A splendor, hither flowing. Which thither desire brings. And men call Love, unknowing. Nor Cometh Love, all-glowing. Into the gentle heart, save from a face Within whose eyes those stars have left their trace. 94 MICHELANGELO MICHELANGELO Per qual mordace lima By what corroding file Are thy worn trappings fretted still and frayed, Invalid soul ? When shalt thou, by time's aid. Break free? — to wing again where thou above Wast pure and glad erstwhile. S^ Sp *P 3^ ^ I hide not from thee, Love, Even that I have envy of the dead. Lord, in mine hour of dread. Reach unto me Thy merciful arms ; oh, take Me from myself, and one to please Thee make! AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 95 AT THE" LAST JUDGMENT (The Wandering Jew speaks: — ) I may repent me yet, and live? How kind Is then this Christ ! How cunning is this God! How He hath trained His puppets to believe The strings they dangle from their own ac- cord ; Aye, so to love bondage that threat of free- dom — Which they call death — sufficient is to bring The bravest of them to his shaking knees ! But in His eager vengeance hath this God In me o'erreached Himself : what makes their hfe 96 AT THE LAST JUDGMENT Dear unto men — that they may lose it when They know not, the sad sweet uncertainty Which gilds with golden possibilities Their leaden outlook, — that He lifted from My life : I knew that I should never die. Felt ye what pity is, ye who still prate Ever of pity, ye should weep to hear Those words, — / knew that I should never die! And yet the Torturer was not satisfied. Unwilling, whilst Earth lasted, unto hfe Was I bound hand and foot. Jerusalem Fell ; from her ruins I escaped, alone Unbruised. Rome the giantess fell ; I stood Beneath the falling statue ; it fell, and crushed Me not. I plucked the beard of Attila, Hater of men ; but he smiled on me, and AT THE LAST JUDGMENT 97 I lived. Fool ! I have rent me, thinking so Life must be startled from me. I have leapt Into the flaming womb of iEtna ; where I with the Giants roared ten months, until The laboring monster gave me birth again, Curled to a seething ember, yet — alive. I have cohabited with poisonous toads And snakes deadly to all save me ; they stung, And the sting rankled, but destroyed me not. I took a leprous woman to my bed ; She died ; and the ten sons she bore me died. Lepers ; and still I lived, and men forsook Me not, although my shadow was the Curse. And yet the Torturer was not satisfied. For now He says, I may repent me yet, And live ! And says, that God is pitiful ; G 98 AT THE LAST JUDGMENT But even so saying, lies. If God, He is Without pity ; if pitiful, He is No God. Pity is sorrow born of sorrow ; Weakness consoling weakness ; the sad sense Of woes conjointly to be borne. — To live, And in His Heaven ? Aye, if I repent ! But I have had my fill of life. Besides, I live; I am immortal as Himself; Haply — who knows ? — He mortal as I am. Like the stark Indian cobra, to and fro, Sleepily beating out His rhythm of days, His arm sways now — what if it pause, or strike At His own life? That were a boon might bribe Submission ! Nothing else avails, O Christ. THE BALM OF PEACE 99 THE BALM OF PEACE *'Let us have peace!" we clamor, man to man, Mistaking in our weakness, Lord, Thy plan. Nature, reveaUng Thee, does not abhor Atom with atom continually at war : Her law is one for all — Survive who can. We journey, each of us a caravan Of selves that, like a lawless gypsy clan, Brawling and wrangling still, will never- more Let us have peace. And all thy world's an army, in whose van There rides beside thee Life the conqueror ; 100 THE BALM OF PEACE Only far in the rear, grim guardian Of them that are soul-wounded and heart- sore, Death will respond when bloodless lips implore — ''Let us have peace !" SPRING 101 SPRING {After Heine) Brightly the ripples glimmer and gleam — Loving's so lovely in spring. The shepherdess sits beside the stream Sweet flowers garlanding. They blossom and burgeon in odorous bliss — Loving's so lovely in spring. From her deep, deep heart sighs the shep- erdess, '^For whom is my garlanding?" A cavalier rides along the stream ; He greets her so gallantly bred. 102 SPRING The shepherdess follows with eyes that dream ; Far flutters the plume on his head. Into the tide, all tearful, mute, She drops her posy-ring. Of love and kisses the nightingales flute — Loving's so lovely in spring. DEMOS TRIUMPHANT 103 DEMOS TRIUMPHANT Prospero touched the Ups of CaHban ; And to speech, calUng, answered timid thought, Which made the loutish fingers deft, and taught The fierce heart patience. Shrewd the master's plan ; But on a day was hfted the long ban Of fear, — when the wand, broken, no spell wrought, And Ariel vanished. Then the master sought Where he had left a slave, and found a man. And Prospero was afraid, expecting death 104 DEMOS TRIUMPHANT From one he thought mad with remembered wrong ; And cursed his broken wand and vagrant elf. But Cahban said gently : '^Of thy breath Was born the spirit which has made me strong. Caliban spares thee lest he shame himself." SEVEN SANDWICHMEN ON BROADWAY 105 SEVEN SANDWICHMEN ON BROADWAY Shuffling and shambling, woebegone, they pass, Seven in single file, and seven as one, — As if a spectrum of all woe the sun Here cast through some bewitched prismatic glass. From their stooped shoulders, back ard fore, hang crass High-colored chromos of a stage mignonne In tights, astride a grinning simpleton Squat on all fours, and long-eared like an ass. ^'Success I ^^ ^' Success!'^ we read — yea, thy success 106 SEVEN SANDWICHMEN ON BROADWAY We read, O wanton among cities : vice Saddled on folly, woe beneath sevenfold : Woe of the lust of Hfe, and the shameful price Of life, — woe of the want, the weariness, — Of fear, of hate, — of the thrice false weights of gold ! THE GLORY THAT WAS SPAIN 107 THE GLORY THAT WAS SPAIN I stood above Granada, on a height Between Alhambra, goldenly aglow, And the sad hill Albaicin, where woe And squalor cower in noisome caves by- night. Far down, the Darro, in its path of light, Glimmered toward day now swiftly dipping low. Yet kissing with last, lingering rays the snow On tall Sierras, till all the East was bright. Brighter wast thou, O Spain, at thy white dawn. When thou stoodst firm, strong bulwark of Christ's folk; 108 THE GLORY THAT WAS SPAIN Ere from thy face the Christ-hght was with- drawn, And on thy neck was laid the bigot's yoke. Now between gilded show and knaves that fawn, Thou sitt'st at dusk, proud in thy beggar's cloak. ON ''FIRST AND LAST THINGS" 109 ON ^^ FIRST AND LAST THINGS'' TO H. G. WELLS You, a philosopher and famous, choose, You put it, to beheve that death ends all ; Save that the Species (with a capital) Goes marching on in Brobdingnagian shoes. Elate, along skull-paved, broad avenues Unto some foreordained Valhalla hall, Where girls are ^^fair and most divinely tall," And god-like boys hold altruistic views : And then f — But let that pass. Suppose, for you, Famous and a philosopher, to live, Once life has given the best life has to give. Were irksome ; yet for us that never knew 110 ON "FIRST AND LAST THINGS" Fame, us whose fair dreams never can come true, Who failed, or fell, — what cheer ? What palliative ? We ask, indeed, not any palliative For truth; but when you blandly urge the view Which leaves us comfortless, and will it true, And praise it, that we cannot all forgive, — We who have somehow missed our chance to live ! We would not whimper to the winds, or chew The lotus of illusion ; we, as you. Would sift all things, though hope slip through the sieve : ON ''FIRST AND LAST THINGS'' HI And if we are worm-bitten leaves that fall — We others — by our rotting to infuse Into next season's foliage fairer hues, Profuser sap, — so be it : death ends all ! But shall the cankered, bruised leaf, grateful, call Life good, or that which made it live excuse ? 112 A HOLY AND HUMBLE MAN OF HEART ''A HOLY AND HUMBLE MAN OF HEART" GEORGE RICE CARPENTER He was a brother to his friends, a friend To all in need. He gave himself, as kings Strew gold, in little daily helpful things. Ungrudging, while there yet was life to spend. Humble of heart and holy to the end He lived ; for in his soul were Pisgah springs Whereon God's shadow fell, and beckonings Of hopes which our mortality transcend. Hardly we reached to that shy soul of his. So like the tall Alps which he loved, aloof Like them in quietness, high over earth. Yet without scorn he met life as it is. In service putting his high soul to proof, Womanly gentle, lit by cleanly mirth. TO A POET OF PARADOX 113 TO A POET OF PARADOX TO G. S. Dolorous by nature, jovial by choice, You dance, it seems, under the shade of yews, Drinking to Lethe, while your nun-like Muse Austerely sings of Phryne and of Loys ; And from your verses speaks a dubious voice. Which gives both consolation and "the blues,^' Crying to men that starve for hope — Refuse! Commanding men that half despair — Re- joice! Refuse J — for only they that covet, want ; Rejoice, — how futile are the thoughts which haunt 114 TO A POET OF PARADOX A mother at her first-born's passing-bell ! Renounce, — envy it is that leaves life gaunt. — Yet I am weak ; or else you sing too well : For envy's born when your verse sounds its knell. THE CHILDREN'S HOUR 115 THE CHILDREN'S HOUR As we staid elders at the children's hour Give out some riddle stale long, long ago, And hsten amused, as down the eager row In turn each tries his (Edipean power ; So sit the indulgent Gods ; before them our Most sapient masters of all those who know. Just now one Nietzsche guesses. La Roche- foucauld Applauds ; and Voltaire nudges Schopenhauer. Again the Delphian drawls his question : ages To ages echo each response ; and men Painfully harken. Meanwhile old Vulcan nods ; The Cyprian plays Minerva, souls for gages ; Jove kisses Psyche ; Cupid pouts — and then Peals the low belling laughter of the Gods. 116 HOMO SUM HOMO SUM Unto a dying man there entered three. ''Turn thou to Allah : Allah gives delight In dreams of beauty through a dawnless night/' Thus one. The second: ''Everlastingly To woe art thou reborn, that will'st to be : Swoon thou in Buddha, putting out thy light." He ceased. The third: " Love is His gracious might Whose Word am I : blessed who heareth me!'' Yet clave that spirit to its earthen shell, Those three thus answering : "Delight nor rest Nor the still contemplation of the blest I crave, who dream no heaven, dread no hell ; I am a man, to a man's tasks addressed : Give me a new task, masters, — a new zest." THE BEATITUDE OF DANTE 117 THE BEATITUDE OF DANTE ''Si che m'hafatto per moW anni macro ^^ Dante, not supine in ecstatic swoon Held'st thou communion with the Love which moves The sun and other stars : not so behooves Man to abjure his manhood. Late and soon Thy gentle heart besought as for a boon Service; beheved he serves God best who loves Life, — who, still holding fast the good, yet proves All things, — and else were recreant and poltroon. 118 THE BEATITUDE OF DANTE Unto this end sweet Lucy made her prayer ; Gentle Matilda washed thy spirit clean ; Pure Beatrice led up the mystic stair — That thou might' st know where lies man's true demesne ; Which is not yet where angels have no care, But in such loving toil as left thee lean. EDEN BOWER 119 EDEN BOWER Idol and doll he has made her; he has bowed His neck before her, petted her, — and shamed. Spreading his nets of passion, he has tamed Her singing spirit, love-lured from the cloud ; Till she has walked beside him, humbly- proud To be his shadow while the world acclaimed, His cheering sunshine if the world defamed, Her own life-hunger meekly disavowed. Under love's spell she feels herself how frail, Her heart how wooing love's death-sweet abuse — 120 EDEN BOWER The fair false glamour, and the old, old tale Of tears ; yet if, heart-weary, crying a truce With love, she rends the sacred bridal veil, Love smiles, — and bends her to his wonted use. CHILDREN SLAIN TO THE IDOLS 121 "WHEN THEY HAD SLAIN THEIR CHILDREN TO THEIR IDOLS" She seems embodiment of fairest dreams — Of Brunhild's majesty and Dian's grace ; She might have been a Msenad once in Thrace, Or walked with Sappho through still Academes. Reflected in her brooding eyes are gleams From brighter worlds than roll in star-lit space ; Maid Mary's meekness glorifies her face ; Him whom she smiles upon, her smile re- deems. Friend, sister, daughter, wife — no claim of kin 122 CHILDREN SLAIN TO THE IDOLS Or call of kind has found her deaf or loath : With purest love she has kept perfect troth. Yet soiled is all this temple with one sin : Medea slew her children, being wroth ; This woman, calmly, hers that might have been. THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 123 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH (a ^'meredithyrambic'O I (Prologue) A simple lout came on a frozen snake Abandoned by its kind, — deaf, stiff, stone- cold. Awhile he stared; then pitied; then, grown bold, Fetched home the creature dangling from his rake; And left it thawing — for sweet charity's sake. Now by and by (dear God ! the tale is old) By warmth and false security cajoled, 124 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH The lout nodded, — just as it thawed awake. Starved the poor serpent was from all that fasting : And when the rustic's wife, young, tempting, sweet. Stood on the hearthstone toasting her white feet, How could one blame His Snakeship for just tasting ? — Sure, it had been ungracious to be wasting Such evident hospitality and — sweet meat ! II (Tertium Quid) To speak to her, to breathe one word of this, So to uplift for them the veil which yet — THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 125 Perhaps — masks the mute yearning, the regret I read forever in their eyes that kiss ; To tell her to her face she does amiss ; Babble of duty ; bid her heart forget That it beats love — oh, so were to abet Propensity's self, to lean o'er the abyss ! Then, must I hold my peace while they two drift Farther and farther on that passionate tide ? Not clutch her hand before the surge runs swift? — Blindfold, this way and that my thoughts go wide ; I stand, shaken between this doubt, that shift ; Yet still dissemble, tutored so by pride. 126 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH III (Indulgences) She grows solicitous in my behalf : Smiles; speaks caressingly; consults mine ease; Protests she loves me ; studies how to please ; Angles with kisses for a fugitive laugh ; Daily, to feed me kills the fatted calf, — Herself the Prodigal ! So to appease Possible jealousy, of her drained love's lees Pours these libations, wherein I should quaff Contentment ! — Madam, you play a foolish part : For 'tis a practice most idolatrous. Faith wanting, by good works to seek salva- tion. THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 127 Come, act the Luther to your Papist heart : Burn its Indulgences, — such reformation Alone might win our Eden back to us. IV (Pique) Light friends have rallied her. I heard their jest, Stupid enough, God knows ! yet pointed too, — If to have pierced my shell of vanity through To the live, bleeding quick, be any test. She gave no sign: a stranger might have guessed Her the unkindly used one of us two. I bit my lip ; frowned ; without more ado 128 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH Turned on my heel; so left them, self-con- fessed, I, of the heinous fault of being absurd. Their laughter rippled after us ; she talked, Gravely, of this and that ; I, not a word. Ridiculous in dignity I stalked, Cranehke, ahead. By and by chanced our Third : He and she paired, of course; behind, I walked. V (A Trick in " Hearts ") Why must they look on one another so ? As if their eye-beams twisted were, and came Reluctantly apart, when some vague shame — THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 129 Haply at my felt frown — drooped her lids low. Meanwhile the cards, shrewd dealt, plead ^'Yes^'and'^No'^ Her lips set with the rigor of the game ; She loses ; but her eyes make piteous claim To sweet condolence from their smiling foe. My turn's to play ; and lest my pique shine through, I play, aye, play my appointed part — his foil. I lose, of course, — must I not take my cue ? She, kind, commiserates my futile toil : ''Indeed, 'twas no fair match,'' she coos: ''we two For him, dear, are, it seems, too easy spoil !" 130 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH VI (Wedding Bells) Care on the anvils of my stunned sore brain Has plied his busy hammers all night long. His journeyman-imps, black-aproned fancies, throng The smithy ; and they pound to a refrain : You her, her he, she him — all love in vain ! They you, you them, they one, you two — thus wrong ! Hush then — a bell ! Your passing-bell — ding-dong ! Ding-a-ding, dong ! — Nay, 'tis a merry strain ! Seven months and seven you lie there under- ground ; THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 131 Seven months and seven love has foregone his will. Ding-dong, ding-dong! To church! To church ! They sound. Pine not ! Repine not ! Peace, poor ghost, lie still! Cannot you see from under your green mound How bhthe she steps, white-veiled, across God's sill? VII (Spleen) Nel mezzo del cammin — yes, there I stand, God help me ! half inclining to halt there. Gone are the most who one time seemed to share 132 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH The perils which beset men in this land. I let them go ; I never raised my hand To stay them; proud, I would not seem to care. Yet not from friendships lost now springs despair ; It is a friend new-found has me unmanned. Alien is she whose love was my new-birth ; Who walks beside me with averted face, Seeing in him all that she holds of worth. — Were 't not redemption then to yield my place Unto my friend ? I but encumber earth ; He breasts the panting leaders in life's race. THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 133 VIII (Heroics) Perchance to yield her up, and yet not die, And yet not so much hve, as hve a dream, Where all that never can be yet might seem Forever : where forever she and I Might walk together as in days gone by ; Or, sitting pensive in the ember-gleam, I yet might feel her touch, her breathing steam My cheek, and hear her low sweet lullaby : To feature forth this vision in a tale Perchance, tender and soft spoken and so sad That reading it one day, she might grow pale, And half forget one moment to be glad. — Ah, so to lose were partway to prevail ; Unless, maybe, men losing so — go mad ! 134 THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH IX (Epilogue) After a while the lout aforesaid wakened ; The fragrant smell of tea assailed his nose. Still there before the fire, toasting her toes, Stood his goodwife ; his hearth the snake still blackened, As stiff as if no friendly heat had slackened Its frozen joints. Determined to expose Dissembling treachery, the rustic rose And poked the poisonous creature with his rake-end. It stirred not ; yet he cudgelled but the more. Till from it many a glittering scale was sloughed, And out of it there dribbled on the floor THE SERPENT ON THE HEARTH 135 Great clots — of sawdust. . . . "Why^ the thing was stuffed ! '^ Gasped he. His goodwife smiled. ^'Why get so huffed?" She said. ^'I could have told you that be- fore." 136 GUI DO CAVALCANTI GUIDO CAVALCANTI CM e questa che ven ch^ ogn^ om la mira Lo ! who is this which cometh in men's eyes And maketh tremulously bright the air, And with her bringeth love so that none there Might speak aloud, albeit each one sighs ? Dear God, what seemeth if she turn her eyes Let Love's self say, for I in no wise dare : Lady of Meekness such, that by compare All others as of Wrath I recognize. Words might not body forth her excellence, For unto her inclineth all sweet merit ; Beauty in her hath its divinity. Nor was our understanding of degree, Nor had abode in us so blest a spirit. As might thereof have meet intelligence. GUI DO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE 137 GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE ALIGHIERI I come to thee infinite times a day And find thee thinking too unworthily : Then for thy gentle mind it grieveth me, And for thy talents all thus thrown away. To flee the vulgar herd was once thy way, To bar the many from thine amity, — Then when of me thou spak'st so cordially When thou hadst set thy verse in full array. But now I dare not, so thy life is base. Make manifest that I approve thine art. Nor come to thee so thou mayst see my face. Yet if this sonnet thou wilt take to heart, The perverse spirit leading thee this chase Out of thy soul polluted shall depart. 138 PETRARCH PETRARCH Voi ch^ ascoltate in rime sparse il suono You who now hear in vagrant rhymes the sound Of sighs wherewith I entertained my heart When I was other than I am in part, — Even in the meshes of young folly bound : For moods inconstant wherein I compound, Weeping, between vain hope and vainer smart, Where there is one who knows by proof lovers art, There may be pity, if not pardon, found. Yet hearing well how on men's lips my name A byword has been long, oft and again. PETRARCH 139 At mine own self I am myself dismayed ; And of my vanity the fruit is shame, Yea, and repentance, and discernment plain What things men joy in are as dreams that fade. 140 PETRARCH PETRARCH Lasso, ben so die dolorose prede Alas, I know what pitiable prey Death, which exempteth none, soon makes of all; How quickly on the world our memories pall ; How little while, and faith is put away. Now on my spirit thunders the Last Day ; I see for my long woe compassion small ; Yet will not Love render me up withal, Neither due tribute to those eyes delay. The days, the hours, the moments — how they hale The years away, I know ; nor am bewitched Save by a might much more than magic arts. PETRARCH 141 'Twixt will and reason has been battle pitched Seven years and seven ; yet shall the higher prevail, If prescience be of good in mortal hearts. 142 , PETRARCH PETRARCH Dodici donne onestamente lasse Twelve ladies all un wantonly at ease, Rather twelve stars and in their midst a sun, I saw embarked, joyous, with others none, Nor know when this craft's equal cleft the seas. Not such was Jason's when he sailed to seize That fleece of gold all are now fain to don, Nor his — the swain who left Troy woebegone; Though the world ring with bruit of both these. And her I saw on a triumphal van — My Laura with her proud pure mien — anon, Sitting apart and singing a sweet song, — A thing not earthly, a vision not of man. Happy Tiphys, happy Automedon, To pilot so delectable a throng ! PETRARCH 143 PETRARCH Movesi il vecchierel canuto e bianco As wends the aged goodman hoar and pale From the sweet spot where passed his prime away, And from the Httle household in dismay, Which from its sight sees the dear father fail ; While he along his shrunken limbs must trail In these last labors of his earthly day, On his good will leaning as best he may, Broken by years and by the way worn frail ; And comes to Rome pursuant of his quest To look upon the semblance of that One Whom to behold in heaven he, hoping, waits : So I alas ! go seeking off and on. Lady, so much as may be, in the rest Your own desired, veritable traits. 144 PETRARCH PETRARCH Quando fra V altre donne ad ora ad ora When among other ladies day by day Love Cometh in her countenance divine, By all she doth in beauty all outshine Grows the desire which holds me in its sway. Blessed the place and time and hour, I say. Mine eyes first hf ted were to that far shrine ; Again I say. Give thanks, O soul of mine, That this high homage thou wast chosen to pay. From her there comes to thee that thought of love Which, so thou follow, leads to highest good, PETRARCH 145 Making seem small the things on which men brood ; From her that grace of soul is understood Which beckons the straight way that leads above : So that already high in hope I move. 146 PETRARCH PETRARCH Tra quantunque leggiadre donne e belle When among ladies howso fair and bright She comes who in the world has not her peer, With her fair face she makes of others near What makes the sun of every lesser light. Close at mine ear seems Love then to alight, And say: ''The while this one abideth here. Shall life be sweet ; and afterward how drear, And all worth lost with her and all my right. Should nature moon and sun from heaven ban. Winds from the air, grasses from earth's green side, Yea, and intelligence and speech from man. PETRARCH 147 And from the sea, fish and the Hquid tide ; No lonesomer were all things or more wan Than if her eyes death should seal up and hide." 148 PETRARCH PETRARCH Se lamentar augelli e verdi fronde If birds are plaining, or with gentle sighs Midsummer breezes through green branches ghde, Or raucous murmurs of bright waters rise To the cool flower-enamelled riverside Where at my writing, pensively I bide : Then her whom heaven vouchsafed us, earth denies, I see and hear, and know she has not died, But from afar unto my plaint replies. ''Wherefore untimely wilt thou pine away?" All pitiful she says ; "and why still shed From so sad eyes these waters of dismay ? PETRARCH 149 Nay, weep not thou for me : my days were made, Dying, eternal ; and to an inward ray Mine eyes, that seemed to close, were opened. '^ 150 PETRARCH PETRARCH Gil angeli eletti e V anime heate The chosen angels and the spirits, blest Citizenry of heaven, that first day My lady passed among their bright array. About her, worshipful and wondering, pressed. '^What splendor is this? what bliss new- manifest?" Each whispered each. '^From where men go astray Never in all this age hath winged its way Spirit so fair unto this place of rest." She, in her soul's new dwelling gladsomer, There paragons those God hath highest placed ; PETRARCH 151 And nathless now and then she turneth her, Looking if I still follow, and goes slow-paced ; Wherefore each wish, each thought I sky- ward spur ; Because I hear her pray that I make haste. 152 PETRARCH PETRARCH Levommi il mio pensier in parte ov^ era My thought upbore me unto where she was Whom upon earth I seek, nor find again : There, in that sphere which moveth to Love's laws, I saw her, loveher and of less disdain. My hand she took, and said : ^'Here shall we twain Yet joined be, unless desire deceive; She am I who thee brought to such long pain. And mine own day fulfilled ere it was eve. My weal is more than mortals understand : I wait but thee, and that thou hast loved so, My veil of beauty, harbored there below." PETRARCH 153 Ah, wherefore ceased she and let go my hand ? For at those words so tender and unstained, Little there lacked that I in heaven remained. 154 GALEAZZO DA TARSIA GALEAZZO DA TARSIA Camilla, che ne lucidi Camilla, thou who in those still and clear Fields of the sky a new star art reborn, And leav'st me, but remembering thee, to mourn. Lacking thy comfort in the darkness here, To me from time to time thou drawest near, Pitiful, yet in the glory of thy new morn Such that I scarce may look upon ; forlorn Then am I left the more, as thou more dear. Hadst thou but stricken both, O Death, how far Less fell thy stroke ! and I how fortunate. Who now alas ! wait where no fair things are. GALEAZZO DA TARSIA 155 Pray thou Our Lord — since men disdain or hate — Pray, O my saint, that I who once, elate, Plucked thee, a flower, may see thee yet, a star. 156 LORENZO DE' MEDICI LORENZO DE' MEDICI THE ENAMOURMENT Fair ladies to the music moved their feet, Dancing, sweet love atingle in each breast. Fair youths I saw, and maidens shyly meet, And hands by hands one instant softly pressed. Glances and signals, sighs — love's art com- plete, — Brief words, whose meaning but one hearer guessed. And many a flower let fall with innocent art, To be caught up, kissed, hidden next some heart. LORENZO DE\ MEDICI 157 Amidst the pleasures of that brilliant place My lady fair, my lady of delight, Outgracing all, yet lending all her grace. Stood in a garment of transparent white. Pleading in parlance mute and rare the case, With her eyes to my heart, of love's high right : — Come, said she unto me, dear heart of mine; Here, here is peace for every will of thine. 158 HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER ^^ HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER '^ ^' Honor thy father and thy mother," saith the letter of the Law. Is it duty? and may duty touch the secret springs of awe ? He that made the parent sacred hath not made the child abject : All the Decalogues of Heaven cannot legis- late respect. Honor is but honoris guerdon, else the Hebrew prophet lied : God avengeth not the parent when the parent's will was pride. HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER 159 Cursed be the social custom by whose canons it is styled Criminal to sell a slave, lawful to enslave a child. Bought and sold in open market — and we others laugh outright — Man^s own flesh and blood for money, man's own soul for appetite. Yes, it's marriage. She is happy. And the Turkish bride is so ! Both are bred up to the harem, both too ignorant to know. Riches, titles, creature comforts — these she has been taught to prize : 160 HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER Speak to her of love, she simpers, — truth, she droops incurious eyes. Honor thy father and thy mother for a heri- tage Hke this ! God hath spoken? — Godf or devil? Man hath often heard amiss. RIVERSIDE 161 RIVERSIDE Windless waters roll aglaze Under smoke-swept purple haze Streaked with long, slant, lurid rays. Heights across the river seem Drifting off like hills of dream, On which silvery steam-wraiths gleam. Eerily, as daylight dies, Motor-cars with nightmare eyes, Scuttle past with croaking cri-es ; Soon like monstrous spiders run Over shadow cobwebs spun By trees naked 'neath the moon. 162 RIVERSIDE Where dim buildings loom aline, As from many a cliffside shrine, Lights in cavelike chambers shine. Past the moon-path in midstream Lithe tugs leap with sudden scream ; Huge squat barges, beam to beam Like slaves fettered, three and three, With the slave's pace, patiently Bear their burdens to the sea. Earthward now the young moon slants ; Troops of laughing stars advance, While the myriad shore-lights dance. Nature so glad vigil keeps ; And with solemn beauty steeps The soiled city while it sleeps. NIGHT-PIECE 163 NIGHT-PIECE Over the river on shadowy heights Come dancing forth the far shore-hghts Like fairies on midsummer nights. And the moon with smihng countenance Acts chaperon as the stars too dance To the tunes the west wind piping chants. O^er the tired city that lies adream, The skies as with a presence gleam Of angels stooping to redeem. Like jewelled censers, to and fro Sway budded bushes that palely aglow Through many a bloom sweet incense blow. 164 NIGHT-PIECE A scowling cloud has scattered the stars ; The moon pales, prisoned behind mist-bars ; Close by, a man's bitter laughter jars. He is telling of want, of vain-sought jobs; While the young girl with him softly sobs. — Like a fevered pulse this parched air throbs! A woman reels by, half dazed with drink ; Close to her side two wee tots shrink. — These lights, how like evil eyes they wink ! :ic H: * * 4: Black night has buried the stars and the moon; And dismal and shrill drones the wind's bassoon : For the wind's turned east, and it's out of tune. — God pity man's life : it's out of tune ! LOVE IS LIFE 165 LOVE IS LIFE For home and wife — since love is life — He made him ready to fight his fight ; But soft arms held him tight. Beat, drmn ! shrill, fife ! — yet love is life. — He dreamed of his famous victory ; But a babe clung ^round his knee. Far, far from strife — where love is life — He lies beneath where the wild bee sips ; And a smile is on his lips. 166 THE PLEDGE THE PLEDGE Year after year I drank my toast to Wealth ; And Wealth replied: To-morrow is yours and mine ! Peering one day into the golden wine, I saw a wizened, yellow face inside. Year after year I drank my toast to Fame ; And Fame replied : To-morrow is yours and mine I Peering one day into the ruby wine, I saw a face flushed red with bitter shame. All humbly then I drank a toast to Love ; And Love replied : To-day is yours and mine ! I peered that day into the sparkling wine, — A radiant face smiled back at mine above. THE ROUND OF PLEASURE 167 THE ROUND OF PLEASURE Squirrel, squirrel, in your wheel, Tell me, squirrel, do you feel. Whirling, whirling, idly busy, Never bored or never dizzy ? Will that walled-in, steep, blind alley Open in some pleasant valley One day, think you ? Or, each time On that mo tor- wheel you chmb. Do you leave (in fancy) home. And where fancy leads you, roam, Over tree-tops, dawn-dyed rosy. Into hollow tree-trunks cozy, Crunching acorns, cheerily chattering, Over velvet mosses pattering. 168 THE ROUND OF PLEASURE Till when tired fancy flags, And your motor-wheel, spent, lags, Back again at your own door, Glad to settle down once more. You alight then ? Little brother, I too have just such another Wheel, which racing in, I measure Hours and hours, and call it pleasure. Yet, small friend, between us two, I get very bored. Do you ? THE SERVICE OF THE LEAVES 169 THE SERVICE OF THE LEAVES When drear, sear days creep in like thieves, Sisterly kind are the golden leaves : Through long, warm, simmering summer noons They have dipped from the sun with their emerald spoons : Now their hoarded sunshine, scattering, stays The famine of these lean fall days. 170 TO AN EMPTY LOCUST SHELL TO AN EMPTY LOCUST SHELL IN AUTUMN Stark shell, that late a locust sheathed, Chirping where sunny meadows, wreathed With buttercups and daisies, seethed On summer noons. Now to this willow trunk bequeathed And wintry moons ; You hollow mockery of nature, Perfect in outward form and feature, Who, death mask of yourself, here teach your Memento morij How often man, your fellow-creature, Retells your story ! TO AN EMPTY LOCUST SHELL 171 Who pipes on May morns white and gold As if he never should be old, But when his autumn days grow cold, And early dusk, Becomes like you a pithless mould, A withered husk. Poor husk, I'd like to think your spirit A fairer garment might inherit. And blithe, through sunnier summers wear it Where daisies blow. You lived, and chirped : what greater merit Has man to show ? 172 THE THORNAPPLE TREE THE THORNAPPLE TREE Thornapple tree, what is the sense Of wearing such a barbed-wire fence, As if you wanted to make rents In a chapes breeches ? I call it just a vain pretence Of secret riches. Now were your apples fit to eat — Tart Gravensteins or Baldwins sweet, Russets or pippins, — you might cheat Some hungry spirit ; But it's a spinsterly conceit In you to fear it. THE THORNAPPLE TREE 173 And yet — who knows ? — thornapple tree, The tables you might turn on me, And say I guard as jealously Things I think pretty. But which, if angels stooped to see, Would move their pity. 174 TO A JUNE-BUG TO A JUNE-BUG Patient, pot-bellied insect-clown, Smug in your Quakerish suit of brown, Why keep on cracking your poor crown Against my shutter, — To tumble sprawling upside-down In such a flutter ? No doubt it's dull there in the gloom ; Yet if you got inside my room. You'd only flop about, and boom, No whit the richer ; Till in my lamp you found a tomb, Or in my pitcher. TO A JUNE-BUG 175 To follow the gleam beheld afar, Or hitch one's wagon to a star, Is well for such as poets are ; But life discloses That we who beat 'gainst nature's bar, Just bump our noses. 176 LOST LOST One hurried by me through the mist. It seemed an old, old man, A little frail, infirm old man, Who rather leapt than ran. A feather floating on the air Were not so light as he ; But as he passed, I heard him breathe Like the wind in a hollow tree. All suddenly he stopped, and turned, And hushed me with his hand. (I heard the breakers boom below Around that high headland ; LOST 177 On that lone height I saw no sight Should make him peer and peer With red bright eyes that blinked bat-wise, When he was standing near.) '^I have scoured the wood; I have scoured the field — Wherever a lass might be ; And now/' and here he slily grinned, ''I must go scour the sea V^ One instant over his blank face That crafty grin was thrown, Over the skin like wrinkled tin Upon each lean cheekbone ; 178 LOST Then I clutched at the form; but in the storm It vanished at one bound ; And — God knows if a stray loon laughed, Or a man laughed so, that drowned ! HIDDEN BLESSINGS 179 HIDDEN BLESSINGS I A dandelion grew by a grey stone-wall ; And grew and grew, till it grew so tall That it felt quite sure it could by and by See over the wall with its curious eye. But though it grew stout on sunshine and dew, And wrestled for fun with all winds that blew, Yet, stretch as it might from root to petal, The wall overtopped it still — just a Httle. And it wondered what lived on the other side, And wondered so hard that it almost cried ; 180 HIDDEN BLESSINGS Till its own green meadow looked mean and small, And happiness seemed just over that wall ; Which it scowled at by day, and dreamed of at night. Till its golden head turned a ghostly white . . . When a sudden gale clipped those gossamer locks. And blew them clean over the barrier-rocks ! II Just over the wall it chanced there fell One feathery wisp ; and, strange to tell. When the Spring came back, you might have seen Two dandelions now with the wall between. HIDDEN BLESSINGS 181 One was from last year's root reborn, And one was sprung from the tress wind-torn ; But both were eaten with envy and gall, Because neither could quite see over the wall. For the parent's folly was in the seed ; And the creed of the one was the other's creed : That nothing one sees is really right Compared with the things just out of sight. So each one envied the other's lot. And pined away for it knew not what . . . But I wonder though if the farmer's boy Added more sorrow or brought strange joy, When one day bent on a chipmunk chase. He tumbled the wall from top to base ; And those envious weeds came face to face ! 182 ORCHIDS ORCHIDS '^0 Cinderella, fie!" I hear Prince Charming sigh, ''Why, here's your crystal shoe All frozen stiff with dew. The pretty, mottled strings Are spread hke beetles' wings ; The bright toe has a crack ; And oh ! the satin back Is trodden down quite flat, How could you, dear, do that?'' '^0 Cinderella, fie!" I hear godmother cry, ''How dare you make my slipper A sort of water-dipper ORCHIDS 183 For all the bugs in town To tumble in and drown ? Well, mistress, since you're proven Such an ungrateful sloven, I'll turn your slighted dower — Hey, presto ! — to a flower." 184 THE UNIMPRESSIONABLE BEE THE UNIMPRESSIONABLE BEE The Bee flew into the Garden, Where the Rose sat wistful-eyed. The Bee flew into the Garden, And ever the Heart' s-ease sighed. The painted Tiger-lily Flamed in her siren guile ; The Daisy bobbed and curtsied ; The Violet tried to smile. The Sweet-pease turned all colors When the saucy Buttercup mocked ; The Bachelor-button glowered ; And the Maidenhair Fern looked shocked. THE UNIMPRESSIONABLE BEE 185 Buzz-buzz sang the Bee in his singsong, Till the Bluebell tinkled nigh ; There was rapt applause from the Cowslip; Tear-dew in the Bright Ox-eye. The Foxglove threw down his gauntlet ; The Dogtooth bit his lip ; But the Jack-in-the-pulpit protested When the Snapdragon snapped his whip. The Bee flew into the Garden : Wear willow, sweet Rose and Rue ! For the Bee flew into the Garden ; And — out again he flew I 186 UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE In his morning-glory the sunflower rose; The merry bluebells rang ; Fantastic tripped the mistletoes ; A paean the peony sang. ^' Young marigold marries the maidenhair fern," The wallflowers whispered, blue. The heart' s-ease laughed in her unconcern ; But the adder's-tongue hissed, — ^*She will rue!" Sneered the big begonia, — ''He's under- sized!" Sighed the passion-flower, — ''He's cold !" UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE 187 But the buds all dandelionized The dashing marigold. A jack-in-the-pulpit published the banns; They were wed by a cardinal-flower. The bride's lace veil was real Queen- Anne's ; A pennyroyal her dower. Sweet cicely, primrose, and pale rosemary Her train of sweet lavender bore; The ushers had goldenrods to carry, And bachelor's-buttons wore. From pitcher-plants for pick-me-ups They drank old hollyhock iced ; And sipped tea-rose in buttercups, With lemon-verbena sliced. 188 UNDER THE MATRIMONY-VINE Then his good horse-chestnut the groom lark- spurred, And waved his keen grass-blade ; For tiger-lilies had been heard To growl in the grim night-shade. And a lady's-slipper for luck was shied; The trumpet-weed blew a blast. '^ Forget-me-not !" then tulips sighed; Two ox-eyes were downcast. CHRISTOPHER SLY AWAKES 189 CHRISTOPHER SLY AWAKES I dreamed a king, and I seemed a king, And I steamed in a king's warm bed. Marry ! As a man and a drinker, Kit Sly the poor tinker Had the merrier crown to his head. (Says I in the king's great bed.) I was clean like a king ; I'd a queen like a king ; I could lean on a king's gilt throne. Marry ! A tinker's squat bench and a tinker's fat wench 190 CHRISTOPHER SLY AWAKES Are likelier all his own. (Says I on the king's tall throne.) I was stripped by the king ; I was tipped by the king ; I was shipped by the king's back-door. Marry ! I care not a damn, — not a tinker's damn: For this being a king's a bore. (Says I by the king's back-door.) THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES 191 THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES: COB- BLER'S SONG Home came Adam sore one evening ; Cain was naughty ; Eve was cross. (It was scrapping, scrapping . . . scrap . . . scrap . . . scrapping !) ''Hang these nettles V muttered Adam, "How they sting one! Come now, Madam, Mop my feet with warm wet moss." (It was mopping, mopping . . . mop . . . mop . . . mopping, Mopping with the warm wet moss !) 192 THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES Abel heard the father. Abel Was a knowing lad, — was he ! (Never napping, napping . . . nap . . . nap . . . napping !) Killed two rabbits, skinned 'em, dried 'em, Shaped 'em, sewed 'em, tm-ned inside 'em All the nice warm woolly fuzz, (Just for wrapping, wrapping . . . wrap . . . wrap . . . wrapping. Wrapping in the woolly fuzz !) Adam laughed, dehghted ; Eve she Tittered ; Cain, he scowled. (Eyes all snapping, snapping . . . snap . . . snap . . . snapping !) So the first two shoes were cobbled : THE FIRST PAIR OF SHOES 193 Never after Adam hobbled ; Never Eve's white feet were fouled. (They went slopping, slopping, slip . . . slip . . . slopping, Slopping not a bit befouled !) 194 INQUISITIVE QUATRAINS INQUISITIVE QUATRAINS Would you rather get busy, or fuss, When things are looking bad ? Would you rather your friend were a cad. Or hadn't a fault to discuss ? Would you rather have all go well, Orsay— 'a toldyouso"? If I morally stubbed my toe, Would you rather, or not, I fell ? Would you rather be able to frown At my mote, or to cast out your beam ? Would you rather be drowned up-stream, Or once your back's up, back down ? INQUISITIVE QUATRAINS 195 Would you rather your country were right, Or be able to prove her wrong ? Would you rather cry — ' ' Lord, how long ? " Or take off your coat, and fight ? Would you rather St. Peter slammed Those pearly gates in your face, Or find up there in grace Some folks your creed had damned ? Would you rather your aureole In that blessed choir of God, Or the loan down here of His rod To chasten your neighbor's soul ? 196 BELLE-O'-THE-MAY BELLE-O'-THE-MAY " Marry in May, Rue for aye!" These ravens, dear, croak not aright That marriage-bells in May ring rue ; For rue is yellow and sour like spite ; May bluebells are like you. And blue's for hope — so poets tell, Constant and sweet and pure and true, As is my bonnie own May-belle With never a touch of rue. With never a touch of rue, wife dear, We have gone hand in hand together Along life's path this many a year Through storm and quiet weather. BELLE-O'-THE-MA Y 197 So may we grow stiil towards God's sky On trellises of happy time, — You like a flower, sun-lit, and I The earth-rooted vine to climb. 198 THE CITY-CHILD THE CITY-CHILD Rain-drops splashed on the window-panes, And tear-drops on his chubby cheeks. He heard the clock tick, tick — it seemed The ticks ticked weeks. ''I think 'twas mean of the dear Lord," He said, ^Ho send me to New York ! I'd go straight back, if only I Could catch that Stork ^'That took me from the Stars that used To let me ride in them, and drive ; And where I'd lots of friends, and toys That were alive. THE CITY-CHILD 199 *'For my bear Pettijohn, that squeaks, My soldiers, and my hobbyhorse Up there could play with me ; but here They can't, of course." Wind-gusts shook the window-panes, And weary sighs the little frame ; Till the shadows crept to comfort him, And the Sandman came. 200 THE LESSON THE LESSON He stood in a neat back-yard in town, A small boy rigged like '^Buster Brown, ^ Legs wide apart, hands clasped behind. With something plainly on his mind. Beside him a small maid, whose air Proved her just old enough to care If other children were not ^^nice" — Not meaning naughtiness or vice. But such as nurses lacked, or shoes, Or had dark skins, or might be Jews. You must not blame the little maid : She only did as grown-ups said. But neither nudge or frown could balk Her brother of his bubbling talk : THE LESSON 201 He found them quite too interesting, This pair of little darkies nesting Like crows upon the high board-fence, Whose words seemed funny, yet made sense. Perched on the roof of a wood-bin, She on bent elbow leaned her chin ; He on crossed arms : you had surmised Them Raphael's Cherubs ebonized. After some desultory chat And skirmishings 'round this and that. Came, like a bolt, the planned attack : ''Are you so wicked why you're black?" (I gasped in my window.) But quite bland, — ''Huh, is youse wickeder when youse tanned?" 202 THE LESSON He chuckled. ''Guess we'd match up, skinned. — See !'' And the dusky youngster grinned. The other, though discomfited. Yet ralhed once. ''And does,'' he said, "Your mother love you just the same?" Unruffled still the answer came In tones that rang with confident joy : "Well, ah should smile ! Ain't I her boy ? " — Just then Nurse called to lessons ; one, Perhaps, already was begun. A NICE (?) DISTINCTION 203 A NICE (?) DISTINCTION Her son had married a fair lady friend, The sort young fellows don't write home about. One soothed: *'It may come right, dear, in the end/' She said : '^The Lord's ways are past find- ing out." The mother sighed: ^^But one thing cannot mend : The woman's not respectable!" /'No doubt," The comforter smiled back, ''but then, she's — well, My dear, she's perfectly presentable." THE following pages contain advertisements of a few of the Macmillan books by the same author or on kindred subjects By JEFFERSON BUTLER FLETCHER The Religion of Beauty in Woman Cloth, i2mo, 205 pages, $1.25 net; hy mail, $1.33 " Professor Fletcher places * Platonic love,' — the friendship of gentle hearts and sympathies, — in noble and dignified light. The essays, with their beauty and imagery, recall the days of Lamb and Hazlitt, and will be welcomed by all those who de- light in that almost extinct art — the literary essay." — Friends' Intelligencer. "These studies of woman, in addition to their own uses, gather a significant chapter on the status of woman at a certain historic stage." — New York Evening Star. "The essays in this volume glance at one interesting event in the literary history of woman, the rise and fall of this peculiar worship, or maybe idolatry, of woman's physical and spiritual beauty as a means of grace. In this atmosphere Dr. Fletcher is quite at home. Dante and Cavalcanti, Neo-Platonism, and the Italian world of thought in the late Middle Ages are as familiar to him as the air he breathes. That part of the Italian Renais- sance about which he writes is only a phase of a larger matter of which he is a thorough master. He also has a variety and felicity of expression which will please the most fastidious." — New York Herald. " It is a work to delight the true bibliophile with its wealth of curious information and its graceful style." — New York Times. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York By ALFRED NOYES The Flower of Old Japan, and The Forest of Wild Thyme Cloth, decorated covers, i2mo, $i.2j net " Mr. Noyes is first of all a singer, then something of a seer with great love and high hopes, and aims to balance this rare combination, . . , Readers of gentle fibre will find this book not only full of rich imagery and refreshing interest, but also a wonderful passport to the dear child land Stevenson made so real and telling, and which most of us, having left it far behind, would so gladly regain."^ — Chicago Record- Herald. The Golden Hynde and Other Poems " It has seemed to us from the first that Noyes has been one of the most hope-inspiring figures in our latter-day poetry. He, almost alone of the younger men, seems to have the true singing voice, the gift of uttering in authentic lyric cry some fresh, un- spoiled emotion." — New York Post. Poems Cloth, decorated covers, $i.2j net " Mr. Noyes is surprisingly various. I have seldom read one book, particularly by so young a writer, in which so many things are done, and all done so well." — RICHARD Le Gallienne, in the North American Review. By W. B. YEATS Poems and Plays In two volumes, cloth, decorated covers, ismo, $3.^0 net The first volume contains his lyrics up to the present time ; the second includes all of his five dramas in verse : The Countess Cathleen, The Land of Heart's Desire. The King's Threshold, On Baile's Strand, and The Shadowy Waters. " Mr. Yeats is probably the most important as well as the most widely known of the men concerned directly in the so-called Celtic renaissance. More than this, he stands among the few men to be reckoned with in modern poetry." — New York Herald. By Mrs. ELLA HIGGINSON When the Birds Go North Again Cloth, i2mo, $i.3s net " The poetry of the volume is good, and its rare setting, amid the scenes and under the light of a sunset land will constitute an attractive charm to many readers." — The Boston Transcript. The Voice of April-land and Other Poems Cloth, i27no, $1.25 net The Chicago Tribune says that Mrs. Higginson in her verse, as in her prose, " has voiced the elusive bewitchment of the West." THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-60 Fifth Avenue New York By CONINGSBY WILLIAM DAWSON The Worker and Other Poems cioth, ibtno, $t.2s net " Characterized by unusual tenderness and spiritual uplift," says one critic, " a quiet, unstriving beauty that will repay reading." By SOPHIE JEWETT The Pilgrim and Other Poems ciotk, z2wo, $i.2s net There are many who will treasure these verses almost as a personal message from one whose interpretations of life were singularly poetic, clear-sighted, and beautiful in simplicity. By ALFRED AUSTIN Sacred and Profane Love and Other Poems Cloth, i2mo, $1.40 net " Sacred and Profane Love," the name ascribed by tradition to the well-known picture by Titian in the Villa Borghese, Rome, suggested the title. The Picture has long been regarded as symbolical, likewise is the Poem. But the symbolism of the latter is distinct from any hitherto ascribed to the Picture ; con- trasting as it does Worldly Ambition with Spiritual Aspiration, the Political career in its lowest aspect with the Literary career in its highest. By WILLIAM J. NEIDIG The First Wardens CMk, ibmo, $1.00 net " Grace of expression and clearness of thought, blent with careful, clean, poetical workmanship, are the characteristics of this little volume of poetry." — Chicago Tribune. " In rhythm, in diction, in imagination and beauty of thought Mr. Neidig has seemed to us to have been decidedly suc- cessful." — Richmond Times Despatch. By WENDELL P. STAFFORD Dorian Days Cloth, i2mo, $i.2s net A volume of poems by Justice Wendell P. Stafford, of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia. The title, Dorian Days, comes from the fact that the beauty of ancient Greece is in great measure the inspiration of the volume. This return to classic art and classic myths on the part of one who has played so prominent a part in the life of his own day as Justice Stafford is particularly noteworthy. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York English Poetry Its Principles and Progress with Representative Masterpieces and Notes. By CHARLES MILLS GAYLEY, Litt.D., LLD., Professor of the English Language and Literature in the Univer- sity of CaHfornia, and CLEMENT C. YOUNG, of the Lowell High School, San Francisco, California. Cloth, i2mo, $1.50 net A manual for the general reader who takes an interest in the materials and history of the higher English poetry, and seeks a simple statement of its principles in relation to life, conduct, and art. The introduction on "The Principles of Poetry" aims to answer the questions that inevitably arise when poetry is the subject of discussion, and to give the questioner a grasp upon the essentials necessary to appreciation and to the formation of an independent judgment. " The Introduction on ' The Principles of Poetry ' should be an inspiration to both teacher and pupil, and a very definite help in ap- preciation and study, especially in the portion that deals with the ' Rhythm of Verse.' The remarks on the different centuries, in their literary significance and development, are helpful, and the notes to each poem, lucid and sufficient."— HARRY S. Ross, Worcester Academy, Worcester, Mass. For more advanced students A History of English Prosody From the Twelfth Century to the Present Day. In three volumes. By GEORGE SAINTSBURY, M.A. (Oxon.), Hon. LL.D. (Aberdeen), Professor of Rhetoric and English Litera- ture in the University of Edinburgh. Volume I — From the Origins to Spenser. Cloth, 8vo, xvu + 428 pages, $1.50 net " What strikes one is the sensibleness of the book as a whole. Not merely for enthusiasts on metrics, but for students of literature in general, it is a good augury toward the probable clearing up of this entire blurred and cloudy subject to find Omond's mild fairness and Thomson's telling simplicity followed so soon by this all-per- vading common sense. . . . The most extraordinary thing about this volume is that, unintentionally as it would appear, the author has produced the one English book now existing which is likely to be of real use to those who wish to perfect themselves in the formal side of verse composition." — The Evening Post, New York. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York A History of English Poetry By W. J. COURTHOPE, C.B., D.Litt., LL.D., Late Pro- fessor of Poetry in the University of Oxford. Cloth, 8vo, $3.23 net per volume VOLUME I. The Middle Ages — Influence of the Roman Empire — The Encyclopaedic Education of the Church-- The Federal System. VOLUME II. The Renaissance and the Reformation — Influence of the Court and the Universities. VOLUME III. English Poetry in the Seventeenth Century — Decadent Influence of the Feudal Monarchy — Growth of the National Genius. VOLUME IV. Development and Decline of the Poetic Drama — Influence of the Court and the People. VOLUME V. The Constitutional Compromise of the Eighteenth Century — Effects of the Classical Renais- sance — Its Zenith and Decline — The Early Romantic Renaissance. VOLUME VI. The Romantic Movement in English Poetry. " It is his privilege to have made a contribution of great value and signal importance to the history of English litera- ture."— Pa// J/«// Gazette. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York SEP 28 19U One copy del. to Cat. Div. ^fr 5^ ,^,y ■ill