Class ' r\)3 5^/ 
 
 Gm0W 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 
Fate and I 
 
 And Other Poems 
 
This Edition, Signed by the Author, 
 
 IS Limited 
 
 To Two Hundred and Fifty Numbered Copies 
 
 OF WHICH THIS IS 
 
 ^tmhzv 
 
FATE AND I 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 By 
 
 Gerda Dalliba 
 
 
 
 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 NEW YORK 
 
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 OONGRCGS, 
 
 Two Cocizs Riai«flVSD 
 
 ore, 23 190? 
 
 OtASe Q-^XXe No. 
 
 //. r 6 c? ^ 
 
 COPY B, 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1902 
 BY 
 
 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 
) - 
 
 t ^ TO 
 
 MY FRIEND 
 
 MRS. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS GRATEFULLY 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 Fate and I 
 
 Page 
 II 
 
 Strength 
 Sorrow 
 
 12 
 
 14 
 
 Love 
 
 15 
 
 To Keats — A Sonnet 
 
 16 
 
 Rain 
 
 17 
 
 A Sea Myth 
 Rondeau Redouble 
 
 18 
 
 35 
 
 Villanelie 
 
 37 
 
 A Prayer to Orithyia 
 
 On the Death Mask of a Poet 
 
 38 
 
 40 
 
 A Night in the Michigan Wild 
 
 "Yesterday and To-morrow Morn" 
 
 A Feeling 
 
 Would'st Thou Speak to Me, Bright Day? 
 
 Woman 
 
 41 
 
 47 
 49 
 50 
 51 
 
 A Secret — A Sonnet 
 
 52 
 
 Fall 
 
 A Mood 
 
 53 
 55 
 
 A Sonnet 
 
 56 
 
 A Ballad 
 
 57 
 
 The Moon and the World 
 
 70 
 
 A Child— A Tale in Rhyme 
 
 72 
 
Fate and I 
 
 OH, you and I, Fate, are two gods, I trow! 
 You, god of the future, and I, of now. 
 I watch to-night, with a fair delight, 
 Over the mountains the waning light. 
 Yet, when the day-beams stronger grow. 
 It is you, yourself, who may lay me low ! 
 
 Oh, you and I, Fate, are two gods, two kings ! 
 And Life is the spoil for which each flings 
 The royal strain of his purple blood — 
 Like in a wood, a panting flood 
 O'er the wild woodlands leaps its way — 
 I with to-night, and you with to-day ! 
 
 And yet, as I watch in the spring sky warm 
 The brooding heat of a thunder storm. 
 Nor ever fear t'will not disappear: 
 So I hold you calmly, though close and near ! 
 And, as deep mosses within a stream. 
 To-night I lie by myself — and dream. 
 
 II 
 
Strength 
 
 WE cannot all be noble, Yet I ween, 
 We all can have the strength that 
 Atlas bore, 
 And hold the Earth securely on our arm. 
 They cry to me : " God's will be done," — they 
 Of little strength, but of tremendous faith. 
 And with lips clenched to bleeding, I reply: 
 " God's will be done." 
 
 Yet I have little faith : 
 It seems to me, the tide has moments when 
 It palpitates between the silver sands 
 And the deep bodied bosom of the sea. 
 So palpitates the soul 'tween life and death. 
 We die more often than we think. Upon 
 Each passion we are laid a limped corpse ; 
 And are reborn to Earth alone in Thought ; 
 And strength grows in us as the ruddy will 
 Keeps emotions back from outward show, 
 Pulls a smile across the face — and says : 
 " I'm happy ! See, I'm smiling ! I can take 
 Thy care unto me, as a summer plant 
 Absorbs the moisture from the atmosphere. 
 
 12 
 
My heart a canvas is: take thou and paint 
 In thine own shade. My soul's a viol : play 
 Thy music out upon me, and rejoice ! 
 Vm strong — for what I feel thou shalt not know.' 
 
 13 
 
Sorrow 
 
 I 
 
 SAW a woman bend her head 
 Over a grave beneath a tree. 
 Woman, I know thy love is dead ! 
 But still my love is dead to me. 
 
 I saw her lift a small white hand, 
 And pass it slow across her eye. 
 
 Woman — I know— I understand — 
 
 Yet mourn we most for those who die ? 
 
 I saw her fix with tender care 
 
 Flowers, with fragrance resting deep. 
 
 Woman — there are no flowers there 
 Where my love lies, and fell to sleep ! 
 
 And suddenly I saw and heard 
 
 A red-breast robin come that way. 
 
 And — Oh my God ! There is no bird. 
 Where rests my love, to wake the day ! 
 
 Ah ! woman, can'st thou ever know, 
 'Mid memories and grasses tall. 
 
 That in my heart my love did grow 
 Alone — and died there ? That is all ! 
 
 H 
 
Love 
 
 OVE was born of a thought, and a passion, 
 Down in the Heart-world, far away ; 
 Beneath the sweep of the Earth and 
 Ocean — 
 Beating upon it night and day ! 
 
 Beneath the sky, where God's hand trembled 
 
 Dragging the planets into place. 
 Beneath the court, where Heaven assembled. 
 
 Seraph and Saint to see its face. 
 
 And all the universe coming in terror 
 Gazed upon it — but named it good. 
 
 God baptized it, and freed it from error. 
 Giving its charge unto maidenhood. 
 
 »5 
 
To Keats — A Sonnet 
 
 I THOUGHT, in the vast shade of yonder 
 tree, 
 Endymion lay, upon his floweret bed — 
 As o'er the darkening meadow and the sea 
 The young moon rose triumphant overhead. 
 And then you came, Keats, came straight unto me. 
 With all your sweet perplexity of tone — 
 Of what in dreamland distant far might be. 
 And what upon this earth was felt and known. 
 I wonder if you find now what you sought. 
 And languished for, and found not and so died ? 
 No grand philosophy of deed, or thought, 
 Was yours — Your ideals were the ones that hide 
 Behind the clouds — the romances God wrought. 
 To set within the spheres where saints abide ! 
 
 i6 
 
Rain 
 
 THERE are tear-drops on the window pane! 
 Who is weeping ? Heaven — 
 What from thee can be withheld ? 
 What grief unto thee given ? 
 
 17 
 
A Sea Myth 
 
 TO 
 
 AH, many a song has been tuned to the harp, 
 y~\_ With network of silvery rhyme. 
 
 Through the modulations of flat and sharp. 
 
 You may hear the heart-beat of time. 
 Ah, many a poet has dared to part. 
 
 The rose from its Southern clime. 
 And place an icicle next its heart. 
 
 In singing a song sublime. 
 And though the Sea has been lost in its foam, 
 
 I dare to sing of the Sea — 
 And then my fancy wandering home. 
 
 Has brought back my verse to thee. 
 
 I 
 
 Under Euboea's isle. 
 Under Jupiter's smile. 
 Under the Earth — God*s wile, 
 Making triumph and trial. 
 
 The home of Neptune rests in turbulent seas. 
 The waves beat on the shore 
 Of Earth that Heaven bore 
 Upon its breast of yore. 
 
 Yet knoweth not of Ocean's mysteries. 
 
 i8 
 
II 
 
 Waves are foamed in white 
 
 On a summer's night ; 
 They mould themselves in shapes of young half 
 moons. 
 
 Before the Sun departed 
 
 And Earth was broken-hearted, 
 It shone there with full glory at its noons. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Yet the deep of green 
 That is seldom seen 
 Lies laced in between, 
 
 The surface Sea, and its endless, fathomless bed. 
 And there the mermaids fair. 
 With floating sea-swept hair. 
 
 Still lull the drowned with songs that please the 
 dead. 
 
 IV 
 Under the Earth and Sky, 
 Under fair Greece's eye. 
 Homes of the Sea-Gods lie. 
 
 As oft in times of Greek supremacy olden. 
 In under the white foam's breast, 
 In under the green lights pressed. 
 Where the surge has sunk to rest, 
 
 In under Euboea, Neptune's palace is golden. 
 
V 
 
 Golden palaces, 
 
 Golden lattices, 
 
 Golden trellices. 
 And yet, a golden throne for Neptune's seat. 
 
 With golden courts below 
 
 Where mystic mermaids show 
 All of their woman part, with beauty sweet. 
 
 VI 
 
 Golden chairs for queens, 
 
 Nymphs of stately miens. 
 Upon whose faces fair the monarch looks. 
 
 With Spirit-Solitudes 
 
 There stolen from their woods 
 And from their distant rivers, lakes, and brooks. 
 
 VII 
 
 Lights that tinted strange. 
 
 With an opal's range 
 Of colors, habitate the watery way. 
 
 And yet they are the sprites 
 
 That ship-men see by nights, 
 And they who sleep, and find their rest by day. 
 
VIII 
 
 Mosses deep, unseen, 
 
 Old, and yet as green 
 As verdant meadows under soft spring skies. 
 
 And some like yellow grains. 
 
 Where the young harvest reigns 
 In tinted orange and in golden dyes. 
 
 IX 
 
 Shells with voices sent 
 From the reeds that blent 
 Pan to merriment, 
 
 As when from out the woods he laughing ran ; 
 And yet, with pensive strain. 
 Where wilful nymphs complain — 
 And of a great love-pain 
 
 Born to creation, when the v/orld began. 
 
 X 
 
 Phosphorescent plants, 
 
 Clammy cold sea-damps. 
 And all the pungent life that Nature breeds 
 
 Where men can never know. 
 
 And where the poets go 
 Alone when thitherward a soft dream leads. 
 
 21 
 
XI 
 
 Gorgons with icy glance 
 
 Frozen within a trance 
 To motionless inertion doomed to stand 
 
 Like now, on sea-shore capes. 
 
 The snow is piled in shapes 
 Of livid monsters, by the Ice King's hand. 
 
 XII 
 
 Sirens, singing sweet 
 
 Melodies, full meet 
 For lover's bowers, under fair moon-beam ; 
 
 And yet whose perfumed breath 
 
 From roseate lips means death 
 To those who listen to their song — and dream. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Harpies, woman-eyed. 
 
 Looking wan and wide. 
 
 Yet forever tied 
 To foul bird-bodies, claw, and flapping wing — 
 
 And every creature there, 
 
 Both horrible and fair. 
 
 That the deep waters bear 
 Where they upon the Seashore's bosom fling. 
 
XIV 
 
 In the spacious hall 
 
 Where the shades would fall 
 
 Covering over all — 
 If haply the warm Sun were there to die — 
 
 Bright-blue lights from the wave 
 
 Had colored all the cave 
 Where Proteus and Triton sat on high. 
 
 XV 
 
 Poloyphemus — wide, 
 
 Heavy, tired-eyed — 
 
 Sat by Glaucus' side 
 While they held converse there somewhat apart; 
 
 When suddenly there came 
 
 A flash of greenish flame 
 That lit the cave and shivered every heart. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Amphitrite the pure 
 
 Hung her head demure 
 On Neptune's knee, and trembled with affright; 
 
 For it was Circe there, 
 
 But her wild look was fair, 
 For she had banished Scylla, the past night. 
 
 23 
 
XVII 
 
 Now the afternoon 
 
 Lulled the cave with droon 
 Of heavy waves that roared on and on, 
 
 When Neptune rose with state, 
 
 And for his bridal-mate 
 Took from the deep a regal sapphire crown; 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Placing the shimmering band. 
 
 With his feeble hand, 
 Upon her head, while crimson was her face ; 
 
 And every eye was cast 
 
 And fixed firm and fast 
 Upon the wonder of her perfect grace. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Sea-Gods standing there 
 Felt their wild hearts stir 
 Gazing straight at her. 
 
 Who long ago had come from out the West, 
 When Neptune's monarchy 
 Had threatened all the Sea — 
 Not yielding quietly 
 
 Unto his sway upon the waters pressed. 
 
 24 
 
XX 
 
 For in Cronus' reign, 
 
 Ere the Gods were slain, 
 By Neptune — Pluto — Jupiter — the three 
 
 Great sons who stole away 
 
 Their Father's — Cronus' — sway, 
 Oceanus ruled all the boundless Sea. 
 
 XXI 
 
 Oceanus old. 
 
 Hoary Tethys cold, 
 
 Pontus there, the bold, 
 Then dwelt beyond the bound'ries of the Earth 
 
 Within a western cave. 
 
 And felt a tidal wave 
 
 Upon their Kingdom lave 
 Of the old Dynasty, with Neptune's birth. 
 
 XXII 
 Nereus there wed — 
 Though on a sea-bed — 
 Doris, a nymph, who bred 
 
 Fifty fair daughters to the dying race ; 
 And one was as a dream. 
 With golden hair a-stream. 
 And soft, fair eyes a-beam — 
 
 And the new East-God gazed upon her face. 
 
 *5 
 
XXIII 
 
 For upon a day, 
 
 Now long passed away, 
 
 Winds and waves astray 
 
 Swept o'er the land that kills the setting Sun. 
 And where the nights are found 
 And on the drear Earth bound, 
 There rose a battle sound 
 
 Of Neptune's arms, and the old reign was done. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Far from out the East, 
 
 Like a frenzied beast. 
 The monarch Neptune rode full wrathfully, 
 
 With dolphins golden-maned 
 
 And iron-hoofed, and trained 
 To bear the royal chariot o'er the Sea ; 
 
 XXV 
 
 While the Earth upreared 
 Forest-locks, and feared 
 For her far lands that neared 
 
 The bound'ries of her furthest western coasts: 
 For with vast Time, that goes, 
 New Gods will rise — and rose, 
 And fierce with battle throes 
 
 Upon the old, who seemed like withered ghosts. 
 26 
 
XXVI 
 
 And the myriad throng 
 
 Pass like notes along 
 
 In Progression's song, 
 Sung through the age-chords, and by parting life. 
 
 Each God with his libation 
 
 The rise of each new nation. 
 
 Each man (a whole creation) 
 That born — gives birth and dies within the strife. 
 XXVII 
 
 On that day now set 
 
 In the amulet 
 Of the dead past, Neptune had fought the throne 
 
 Of the old Dynasty 
 
 For the supremacy 
 
 Across the boundless sea, 
 And then proclaimed both East and West his own. 
 XXVIII 
 
 On the last blue line 
 
 Of the western brine. 
 
 Marked straight and fine. 
 There rose a low cry as of agony. 
 
 For while the old Gods fought 
 
 They still were overwrought 
 
 By the vast strength and thought 
 Of Neptune of the Younger Dynasty. 
 27 
 
XXIX 
 
 By Neptune's trident hand 
 Unyielding Fate did stand, 
 With a firm command 
 
 Upon her lips, and new thought in her eyes ; 
 And perchance the old Gods saw 
 That they must now withdraw. 
 Or only felt the law 
 
 Of withered flesh upon their cheeks and thighs. 
 
 XXX 
 
 But the victor — he 
 Paused suddenly — 
 
 A daughter of Nereus old stood there ; 
 
 'Twas she who was the dream, 
 With her fair eyes a-beam 
 And her gold hair a-stream, 
 
 And mosses caught upon her shoulders bare. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 From his chariot far 
 
 Like a shooting star 
 Descended he to where dull waters rise. 
 
 And dripping from the foam 
 
 He raised her — bore her home — 
 The starlight playing in his wayward eyes. 
 
 28 
 
XXXII 
 
 Now, the afternoon 
 Lulled the cave with droon 
 
 Of heavy waves and blue and emerald light ; 
 And the long years had sped 
 Fast o'er their bridal-bed ; 
 
 And waved the shadows of each happy night, 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Since upon that day, 
 
 Now long passed away, 
 
 Winds and waves astray 
 Swept o*er the land that kills the setting Sun ; 
 
 And he the old Gods fought, 
 
 And them had overwrought, 
 And his own prize, fair Amphitrite, had won 
 
 XXXIV 
 While the sapphire crown 
 Brilliancy shot down 
 
 Of long blue shadows on the fair girl's form, 
 And Juno's peacock dyes 
 Still glistened from her eyes, 
 
 And on her cheeks swift raged the crimson storm. 
 
 29 
 
XXXV 
 
 Now, where fields are held, 
 And the forests felled 
 
 Clean by the axe, and small birds winged to nest, 
 Sang out a sunset bell. 
 And the wild shadows fell 
 With the fond Sun's farewell ; 
 
 And all the meadow-workers sought their rest. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Underneath the lands 
 
 Where Euboea stands. 
 The dew-time fell, but with no outward show. 
 
 And there waves resonant. 
 
 And green and blue and constant. 
 Still beat with steady, wailing, ceaseless flow 
 
 XXXVII 
 Then with the dying day, 
 Sea-Gods stole away — 
 The River-Gods, and Nymphs of Fountains — 
 Naiads, 
 
 To depths below, above — 
 Sang sweet unto her love 
 Fair Amphitrite, beneath the rising Pleiads. 
 
 30 
 
;^ong of Stmpbitrite to l^cptiine. 
 " I am the growing-one 
 Born of the Flowing-One ; 
 Over the glowing-one 
 I sweep my long hair. 
 In the East tremblingly. 
 Faltering and musically. 
 With low head bendingly, 
 I kiss Neptune there. 
 
 « Born in the western cave, 
 Deep, I my bosom lave 
 Deep in the briny wave. 
 To make it gleam white. 
 I command the waves' roaring. 
 The large Sea-gulls' soaring-— 
 But all this ignoring, 
 I bend to thy sight. 
 
 " The mystic revealing 
 Of infinite feeling 
 Upon me is stealing, 
 Oh Neptune! Oh King! 
 The wild ruby's burning 
 To dull red is turning. 
 Beside the all-yearning. 
 That I to thee bring. 
 
 3» 
 
" The unsteady motion 
 Of old Father Ocean 
 Bringeth no notion- 
 Of glory — of space. 
 Upon thy heart lying. 
 Upon thy lips sighing, 
 Oh Neptune ! and dying, 
 I bury my face ! " 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 Far, as in a dream, 
 
 O'er sea and lake and stream 
 
 The moon rose ; over town and lane and field ; 
 And unto babes new-born, — 
 Old people, tired, worn, — 
 
 A soft beneficence its rays did yield. 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 But below — below — 
 
 Where the waters flow. 
 
 With their ripples slow. 
 In silver on the dark heart of the deep, 
 
 Pure Amphitrite's fair charm 
 
 Lay on the hoary arm 
 Of her King Neptune, who did soundly sleep. 
 
 32 
 
XL 
 
 High within a tower 
 
 Swung the midnight hour 
 From ofF a church-clock on village green ; 
 
 And far into the night, 
 
 As souls in search of light, 
 The steeples in the sky did rise and lean. 
 
 XLI 
 
 But, Oh the briny foam 
 
 And crested wave, where roam 
 The tossed wrecks of broken ships once sailed 1 
 
 The North wind reaching far 
 
 To South, from polar star. 
 Upon th' infinite breast of Ocean wailed. 
 
 XLII 
 
 In the spacious cave, 
 
 Underneath the wave. 
 The anxious Sea-Queen turned from side to side, 
 
 Fair Amphitrite, the pure. 
 
 And what hath woke thee ? " Sure 
 Thy monarch sleepeth well beneath the tide.*' 
 
 33 
 
XLIII 
 
 Tears fell from her face — 
 What a fair, wondrous grace 
 
 There is in weeping! Quiet lay he there, 
 While o'er his wayward beard, 
 And long, and strong, and seared. 
 
 Her sweet lips fell, and on his brow and hair. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 On the bounteous Earth 
 
 Fair Morn had her birth 
 In regal splendor of a Sun's fresh grace, 
 
 That in the sky was bound. 
 
 Upon the Earth was found 
 The dew, and light upon the mountains' face. 
 
 XLV 
 
 But under the Sea 
 
 Lay a stern mystery — 
 The monarch there raised not his lordly head. 
 
 Upon his body prone 
 
 Lay Amphitrite alone — 
 She wept her love — her Neptune — who was dead. 
 
 34 
 
Rondeau Redouble 
 
 THERE is no strong yet unfulfilled desire, 
 Thought is the Slave of Mind, and 
 Dream of Soul, 
 The Heart is master of its burning fire. 
 And these three monarchs have supreme 
 control. 
 
 Within all spheres there is no mystic goal 
 To which sane complex Thought cannot 
 aspire — 
 
 All Ages unto progress hand their scroll : 
 There is no strong yet unfulfilled desire. 
 
 Sweet Dream need use no artifice t' attire 
 Drear Life in beauteous garb. Her aureole 
 
 Will lend the pale face a celestial fire — 
 Thought is the Slave of Mind, and Dream 
 of Soul. 
 
 The emotional Heart, it is still great and 
 whole; 
 Its own musician, it can wake the lyre 
 Of yearning, where the mighty tone- waves 
 roll,— 
 The Heart is master of its burning fire. 
 
 35 
 
The Heart, the Mind, the Soul, they are entire 
 Rulers of joy. The Heart, the Mind, the 
 Soul ; 
 For they shall ever reach toward something 
 higher : 
 And these three monarchs have supreme 
 control. 
 
 And they were monarchs when the body stole 
 
 Into existence, and did strength acquire. 
 And they are monarchs when the grand bells 
 toll 
 A lingering farewell o'er the funeral pyre. 
 They have no unfulfilled desire. 
 
 36 
 
Villanelle 
 
 u 
 
 PON my heart my lady lies, 
 Her hair is blown across my cheek, 
 And blinded are my tearless eyes. 
 
 Oh God ! a voice within me cries, 
 
 My sinking breast has grown but weak ; 
 
 Upon my heart my lady lies ! 
 
 Vain are all prayers, and wishing sighs, 
 " Her hair forbids my lips to speak." 
 And blinded are my tearless eyes. 
 
 The strong resistance in me dies. 
 Before her face my soul is meek — 
 Upon my heart my lady lies. 
 
 Her mouth that burns upon me tries 
 
 My love to agony to pique, 
 
 And blinded are my tearless eyes. 
 
 Dear rhapsody of rhapsodies, 
 Dear Heaven that I dared not seek, 
 Upon my heart my lady lies, 
 \nd blinded are my tearless eyes ! 
 
 37 
 
A Prayer to Orithyia 
 
 {J Ballad) 
 
 TIS Aquilo in the tree, 
 Beauteous maiden list and hear ! 
 For he doth sing heart feelingly 
 To a fair one he loves dear. 
 Beauteous maiden lend an ear 
 To his wild love's northern strain, 
 Grave, impassioned, and austere; 
 Full of anger, full of pain ! 
 
 Hear the wild blast : it is he ! 
 Feel the snowflake : 'tis his tear! 
 'Tis his yearning strife for thee. 
 At the tempest have no fear, 
 'Tis thy lover's wooing, dear : 
 Madness he cannot restrain — 
 Grave, impassioned, and austere ; 
 Full of anger, full of pain ! 
 
 Orithyia, glorious is his plea, 
 Decked in language harsh and drear, 
 And not fit the garb to be 
 Of his love, at least sincere. 
 In an iceberg atmosphere 
 Grows a powerful hurricane — 
 Grave, impassioned, and austere ; 
 Full of anger, full of pain ! 
 
 38 
 
Emotion, nymph, thou can'st revere, 
 Though return not, nor retain : 
 Grave, impassioned, and austere ; 
 Full of anger, full of pain I 
 
 39 
 
On the Death Mask of a Poet 
 
 FEATURES dead with mouth forever 
 Silent as a frozen river. 
 Lips that never wake, nor quiver — 
 Never more with life's light, never. 
 
 Sunken cheek, and brow projecting, 
 O'er the great Mind's heart, reflecting 
 On the future, and expecting 
 Death which now upon it lies ! 
 Lips where unrepressed Desire 
 Built herself an altar-fire. 
 Rising ever higher — higher — 
 Only satiate with the skies ! 
 
 Straight and aquiline and slender 
 Nostrils that revibrate — tender — 
 All the fine emotions render. 
 That pass in and through the Soul. 
 Chin, that if the dead were risen, 
 Would denote a large precision. 
 Which would conquer world or vision 
 Through the vastness of control. 
 
 Eye-brows great and massive, lying 
 On the forehead. Eye-balls trying 
 To express the bosom's sighing. 
 When the poet suffered dying. 
 
 40 
 
A Night in the Michigan Wild 
 
 HID within the deep wood of a Michigan 
 wild 
 I have seen a small river couched down 
 
 like a child 
 At the foot of great pine trees which, stretching 
 
 above, 
 Pay the sky, as the river prays them, for its love. 
 And upon that small river bank, winding and 
 
 bending 
 Amid pine trees, and fir trees, and beech never 
 
 ending. 
 The wild roses are clustered, and sunbeams are 
 
 too. 
 And the shadows of night fall majestically 
 
 through 
 The joined branches, and touch it ! Ah wait ! 
 
 Let me try 
 To describe that weird scene, where the North 
 
 beauties lie. 
 
 Here the dome of the heavens is deeper and 
 
 clearer, 
 And yet, even the grey of the dull days bends 
 
 nearer 
 
 41 
 
The world here, than within the soft tropical 
 
 South ; 
 And still further away at the wide river's mouth 
 The North skies and the waters have met, and 
 
 the still 
 Of their passion-embrace is not broken, until 
 The fond wind has at last found the long finger 
 
 tips 
 Of the trees and then presses them with its 
 
 moist lips. 
 And still looking to landward, the far rugged 
 
 haze 
 Of the higher hills rises upon one's rapt gaze. 
 That will shroud with the veil of the soft morn- 
 ing mist 
 All the bright inland lakes at their feet, and will 
 
 list 
 To the break of their waters upon their own 
 
 brink, 
 While wild roses grow redder and redder, and 
 
 sink 
 'Neath the blushing within their calm, fair river 
 
 glass 
 At the beauty they see in themselves. But 
 alas ! 
 
 42 
 
That the ferns must be hid in their close and 
 
 wild wood, 
 Which alone for the past generations have stood 
 All unseen in their hermit-like silence, austere 
 And unchanged in the Spring and the cold dying 
 
 year. 
 
 A dull, dark night had come to the river, as fast 
 As if one might be watching a round sun full 
 
 past 
 Its burnt horizon waning, and ah ! one might 
 
 feel 
 One had entered the heart of all nature's ideal ! 
 While adown the stream's current, a bark-boat 
 
 was drifting 
 Slow, because the monotonous sound of uplifting 
 And the dropping of oars on the surface was 
 
 still, 
 And the tide of the river bore it, by Its will, 
 On and on, to the great Lake Superior — where 
 It still mingles with waters so deep from the air, 
 That one hardly can feel their immensity, while 
 In their calm on the shore they may ripple and 
 
 smile. 
 And yet slow, slow, but constantly moving along, 
 
 43 
 
The bark-boat and the strong tide were drifting 
 
 with song 
 Of the evening — to where hid away in the deep 
 Of the distance and dark, the great lake lay 
 
 asleep. 
 
 Now the woods, even pine trees, and fir trees, 
 
 seemed more 
 Rich and luminous far, on the great waters* 
 
 shore — 
 And one dreaded, yet longed for that darkness 
 
 and gloom, 
 As the soul of man dreads and yet longs for 
 
 the tomb. 
 The prow was straight set, and the roses and light 
 Of the evening far back were forgotten in night — 
 Yet the girl in the boat, with her finely poised ear, 
 Tho' her soul was far sent into dreamland, 
 
 could hear 
 A wild music — for music was rising — from 
 
 where ? 
 From the great reaching dark, and the night 
 
 and the air — 
 And a music that blended so much with the scene. 
 That its harmonies flowed forth in dark and in 
 
 green 
 
 44 
 
Of the far-stretching forests, with rolling chords 
 
 flung 
 From the region of mystery, whence they were 
 
 sprung- 
 Til] at last it grew calmer and sweeter — so sweet 
 That an angel in listening might hear the heart 
 
 beat 
 Of a love in its tone, as if losing the sound 
 It had lost the weird wail of the darkness, and 
 
 found 
 All the quiet of Heaven — where souls being 
 
 free 
 Will sing ever — sing always — from mere ecstacy! 
 
 And yet then — and as if with a pitying thought — 
 In a cloud of soft melody — back it had brought 
 The girl's soul unto earth — with no too harsh a 
 
 tone : 
 The melodious minor, the soft wind hath blown 
 O'er the face of the flowers — before the white 
 
 snow 
 Of the winters will come, and the dear summers 
 
 go— 
 And yet 
 
 * * * ♦ * 
 
 45 
 
It was only a Heavenly scene, 
 With the large night hung close, like a mist veil, 
 
 between ; 
 And the music was only the heard, clearer part 
 Of th' unrealized yearnings within her own 
 
 heart. 
 Then the maiden awoke, while the bark-boat 
 
 went on. 
 Out of night, out of forest — and into the dawn! 
 
 46 
 
"Yesterday and To-morrow 
 Morn " 
 
 TWO daughters to old Time are 
 born — 
 Yesterday and To-morrow Morn ; 
 And their Mother is To-day. 
 (One wears a garment new and gay, 
 And the other old and torn.) 
 
 For before the world began, 
 
 And the Earth had dreamt of Man, 
 
 In a region far away. 
 
 Father Time had wed To-day 
 
 In meadows soft where fair brooks ran. 
 
 And she never leaves his side. 
 She his old and faithful bride, 
 Tho' his hoary locks grow young. 
 When the daylight has begun. 
 Till the misty even-tide. 
 
 But the years are going fast. 
 And the Future and the Past 
 Are the wilful children sent. 
 When To-day and Time are blent 
 In a union great and vast. 
 
 47 
 
Now one daughter is so fair 
 She has moon-light in her hair. 
 And her laughter is the trees, 
 Swaying gently in the breeze, 
 Softly waving here and there! 
 
 But the other is as cold 
 
 As a flower growing old, 
 
 And withered in a damp, dark, shade- 
 
 And yet there is a perfume made 
 
 From such flowers — so they hold. . 
 
 48 
 
A Feeling 
 
 A 
 
 FEELING is a rain-bow in the sky 
 Of life, where many tints and colors vie 
 And blend, the whole great arch to 
 
 glorify — 
 
 Emotions of the grand and noble heart. 
 Planned in divine and overflowing art. 
 Each and yet all perform their separate part. 
 
 They are the tints and colors, many hues 
 Of heartfelt joys and griefs, smile-shines, tear- 
 dews, 
 Of pinks and yellows, crimsons, and bright-blues! 
 
 Nor can God's promise of no flood adorn 
 Or cross the firmament for us that mourn, 
 Unless it be by colored rain-bows born. 
 
 Nor can a feeling ever be complete. 
 Unless all strong emotions join and meet. 
 And all their different harmonies make sweet ! 
 
 49 
 
Would'st Thou Speak to Me, 
 Bright Day? 
 
 WOULD'ST thou speak to me, 
 bright day?— 
 Me of griefs, and me of pains ; 
 Me, where all the heart's soft strains 
 Sound a discord on the ear ? 
 Hark ! do I thy voice still hear ? 
 Would'st thou speak to me, bright day ? 
 
 Would'st thou cease thine own wild play 
 With the sun-beams, golden bright ; 
 With all joy, and all delight, 
 With all gayety and glee ? 
 Would'st thou stop to speak to me ? 
 Would'st thou cease thine own wild play ? 
 
 Ah ! Thou speak'st j thy voice is gay ! 
 
 But I cannot hear it's tone. 
 
 Cease my spirit — cease your moan — 
 
 For one moment silence all : 
 
 Let me listen to that call — 
 
 Ah ! Thou speak'st ; thy voice is gay ! 
 
 50 
 
Woman 
 
 COULD woman's heart but add onestrain 
 Of strength, still all its sweet retain, 
 Its pearly streams would surely break 
 Into a glorious sun-set lake, 
 Where passion-waves would not be free, 
 But guarded, kept most tenderly 
 To add their force to under-tide. 
 And make one feeling grand and wide ! 
 
 5» 
 
A Secret — A Sonnet 
 
 WHAT is this secret hidden and concealed 
 Past all the days that wake and come 
 and go — 
 Past wayward winds that in the spring-time blow, 
 And past the snows in Winter's heart congealed — 
 Past sun-rise, and the endless, restless flow 
 Of rivers bearing constant, on and on, — 
 Past moon-rise and the turbulence of dawn, 
 Forever breaking on the world below ? 
 Unknown to all the little leaves and blooms, 
 Untold to all the giant elms and palms, 
 Unpictured to the panting light that swoons 
 Thro' woods and forests, reaching to cool 
 
 calms ; 
 Undreaming of the quiet of the tombs. 
 It has within its breast no hopes — no balms ! 
 
 52 
 
Fall 
 
 THIS is the time when the old Summer 
 bendeth 
 Her head to receive a vast crown of red 
 gold. 
 This is the time when the blossom still sendeth 
 
 A fragrance that proveth it dying or old. 
 Ah, the soft rain that the garden still tendeth, 
 Now serveth it only with kisses turned 
 cold! 
 
 This is the time when the grass on the meadows, 
 The leaf on the tree, and the heat in the year, 
 
 Steal far far away, on the tip of the shadows, 
 To waver a moment and then disappear. 
 
 Asters that seem like the newly grieved widows 
 Will weep their past loves, with a ravishing 
 tear. 
 
 This is the time when the colors and blends of 
 
 them 
 Gleam ruddy on apples from the morns to 
 
 the eves. 
 While wild leaves slow fade to a brown on the 
 
 ends of them, 
 
 53 
 
And gold groweth great in the heart of the 
 
 sheaves. 
 Tired days wane, with the burning red Suns of 
 
 them. 
 Where the harvest Moon smiles and her white 
 
 bosom heaves. 
 
 54 
 
A Mood 
 
 c 
 
 ALM the morning falls from Heaven, 
 Dim and over-spread with clouds. 
 And the mountain-tops are driven 
 Back into their mists of shrouds. 
 
 And sweet rest is on the valleys, 
 Weary of their swaying grass j 
 
 For the sun far eastward tarries. 
 And the winds no longer pass 
 
 To and fro — but all are sleeping 
 Quiet in the soft gray sky; 
 
 And the peaceful Heavens are weeping- 
 It would save my heart, could I ! 
 
 5S 
 
A Sonnet 
 
 WHAT are these mad repinings ? — 
 Promises 
 Of the full harvests, of the golden grain 
 Of passions, ripened in the fields of pain ? 
 In vain my mind my heart admonishes — 
 The past is dead ; each day astonishes 
 The world by rising gloomily or fair. 
 The sun sinks fire, yet meager hint is there 
 Of what the Morrow's bosom nourishes — 
 And tho* the tears may rise and fall as fast 
 As tempest waves within a boundless sea. 
 Or drop the rains when skies are over-cast, 
 Still time is speeding and unchanged by me. 
 Then leave the wayward Future and the Past; 
 And let me sit and dream awhile — of thee I 
 
 S6 
 
A Ballad 
 
 T 
 
 HE hour grew late, the guests still sate 
 Around the bridal board. 
 The wines were gone, the festal song 
 Had -died with its last chord. 
 
 II 
 
 The bride beamed fair; behind her chair 
 
 The groom stood bent and still. 
 Up rose a sire in war's attire : 
 " A story by thy will !" 
 
 Ill 
 
 Loud rang the cry of ecstasy. 
 
 " Pray speak," the fair bride said. 
 His face gleamed pale — " I tell a tale 
 
 Of one who now is dead." 
 
 IV 
 
 His eyes stared strange, they went the range 
 
 Of space as sentinel's round. 
 But as he broke the trance, and spoke, 
 
 They rested on the ground. 
 
 57 
 
V 
 
 " Thou wert a child, who laughed and smiled 
 With lips as sweet as now. 
 Thy family dwelt by the sea, 
 On a clifPs projecting brow, 
 
 VI 
 
 " Thy family dwelt by the sea. 
 
 On rocks that reach the wave. 
 Thy brothers made sand-wells, and played, 
 (There stood thy mother's grave.) 
 
 VII 
 
 •' Three boys there were, and thou the fair : 
 One had a patient soul ; 
 The next breathed forth, as wind from north, 
 With power, sweep and roll, 
 
 VIII 
 
 " And worked by hand, o'er fruits of land, 
 With honesty and care. 
 Then came another, the last third brother, 
 And thou, bright bride, the fair. 
 
 58 
 
IX 
 
 " Thy next in age, like to a sage, 
 Had brain of regal thought. 
 In wide book-lore, no man knew more ; 
 And vast his heart was wrought. 
 
 X 
 
 " Yet as a tree that restlessly 
 Is swayed by every wind, 
 Wild fancies took vast hold, and shook 
 The quiet of his mind. 
 
 XI 
 
 " He loved thee well ; thou hast heard tell 
 His love, by passion's flow 
 Of kisses that broke on thee when woke 
 A spring bud flaked with snow. 
 
 XII 
 
 " But after the field rich grain did yield ; 
 Nor scythe was worked nor plow j 
 With the dead year did disappear 
 
 Thy brother — and knowest thou how ? 
 
 59 
 
XIII 
 
 '' O'er this calm age rash war did rage 
 In lands where set of sun 
 Warns golden bright approach of night, 
 When our day is begun. 
 
 XIV 
 
 " The countries all gave clarion call 
 For humanity's stern cause, 
 To break the chains of base kings' reigns. 
 That fettered feeble laws. 
 
 XV 
 
 I braved the fight, while left and right. 
 
 Close pressed in thick array 
 The men fell fast before the blast 
 
 Of shots that came our way. 
 
 XVI 
 
 " The war smoke black made me give back. 
 And paused me for the night; 
 Then rushing on, in blear of dawn, 
 I stumbled in my flight. 
 
 60 
 
 (C 
 
XVII 
 
 " And fell with wrath. Across my path 
 A soldier's body lay. 
 He seemed as dead, with bleeding head 
 From the victorious day. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 " I pressed the hair, with no soft care, 
 From off the forehead high. 
 His limbs were stark, his eye gleamed dark. 
 I knew that death was nigh. 
 
 XIX 
 
 " I could not brook the searching look 
 That from his eye did roll. 
 As unto Death. I held my breath ; 
 It scorched my very soul. 
 
 XX 
 
 " And back I fell, with piercing yell, 
 When lights the fields did lave. 
 The features shone — thy brother's own — 
 God rest him in his grave! 
 
 6i 
 
XXI 
 
 " Now giant Time three years sublime 
 Had marked by Progress' hand, 
 Ere from war stern my heart might turn 
 Once more to its own land. 
 
 XXII 
 
 '' Shone ocean wide with moon's fresh pride, 
 Ere our ship kissed the quay. 
 When summer's bloom thrice decked his 
 tomb 
 Straight came I unto thee. 
 
 XXIIl 
 
 " But tho' I came and breathed thy name, 
 In greeting to thee here, 
 I could not bear the grief to stir 
 For one thou didst hold dear. 
 
 XXIV 
 
 " Yet dry the tear, for o'er his bier 
 Vain Glory placed her rose. 
 To jubilee add victory 
 
 Of his — nor weep his woes." 
 
 62 
 
XXV 
 
 Each head was bent, as right grief went 
 
 To each heart with the tale. 
 The look of age on the war-sage 
 
 Grew deep; the bride grew pale. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 While the groom's face had lost the grace 
 
 Of youth and beauty's glow. 
 The sage spoke on, in growing dawn, 
 
 The groom's pulse beat but slow. 
 
 XXVII 
 
 He held control, tho', o'er his soul, 
 
 As King o'er subject land. 
 And no one knew how his veins grew 
 
 Great on the firm white hand. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The stare of eye was his reply 
 
 Of mourning for the dead, 
 Till the sweet bride, close by his side. 
 
 Lifted to him her head. 
 
 63 
 
XXIX 
 
 The tender grace of her fair face 
 
 Startled the man in him ; 
 His conscience woke, his deep voice broke 
 
 On day, then rising dim. 
 
 XXX 
 
 '* Thy brother died. I by his side 
 Had watched his dying breath; 
 And still far more — I vowed and swore 
 That I should be his death. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 " For in my past, and hidden fast 
 As secrets e*er can be. 
 There lay a sin that entered in 
 Became a mystery. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 " As floods that run to Western sun 
 Sing not the far East's song. 
 So in my breast I held in rest 
 The secret of a wrong. 
 
 64 
 
XXXIII 
 
 " And yet one night, by moon's pale light. 
 We drank — both he and I — 
 At tavern's round, and there he found 
 That secret I put by. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 " My secret cast into the past 
 Was open to his gaze, 
 As all the moods of life, like woods. 
 Are seen by fierce fire's blaze. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 " And then ere long it grew a wrong 
 Upon myself and thee ; 
 As one apart he judged the heart 
 Full kind, that sinned in me. 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 " But when it came, that thy fair name 
 Should wedded be with mine, 
 I knew as brother he would discover 
 My fault to thee and thine. 
 
 6j 
 
XXXVII 
 
 " Yet, still I strove, and went to rove 
 At far, to rise above 
 My thoughts of thee, the agony 
 To crave thee for my love. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 " And then the war swept the land o'er; 
 I fought with desperate might, 
 And in the blare of battle air 
 I felt my heart grow light. 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 " Far hid from sight, and as in night 
 Was all, yes, all but smoke. 
 The sun seemed dead, yet rose full red 
 When through the line we broke. 
 
 XL 
 
 " Right by my side stood he who died — 
 Thy brother in its light. 
 White gleamed his face (in hour of grace 
 May it for me gleam white) ! 
 
 66 
 
XLl 
 
 " He stood there still. My heart beat till 
 I felt it in my throat ; 
 For thou wert mine, if in the line 
 I killed him (none should note). 
 
 XLII 
 
 " But then from far, as 'twere a star, 
 A blaze fell from the sky. 
 The ranks rushed on, and in the dawn 
 By another did he die. 
 
 XLIII 
 
 " And so with Fate, tho' oft we wait 
 Thro' weary life for peace. 
 From trial or dread, that Chance has bred, 
 'Tis Chance will bring release. 
 
 XLIV 
 
 " And I fought on, out of the dawn, 
 With mine own heart in me ; 
 My battle-fire was my desire 
 That yearned yet for thee. 
 
 67 
 
XLV 
 
 " My battle-field I would not yield — 
 Not for his life nor mine — 
 Was smiles that play full blithefully 
 And on thy fair lips shine. 
 
 XLVI 
 
 " My battle throes were eyes that rose — 
 Thine eyes that hung above, 
 In mirrored art, o'er my rapt heart ; 
 My fight was for thy love. 
 
 XL VII 
 
 " And now, fair bride, here by my side. 
 Wilt lay thy hand in mine ? 
 Forgive the wrong that, cleansed long 
 In sorrow, may decline ? '* 
 
 XLVIIl 
 
 The guests sate still, to wait her will, 
 To know her answer there. 
 
 The wines were gone, and festal song ; 
 The groom bent o'er her chair. 
 
 68 
 
XLIV 
 
 The tale is old ; the grain is gold 
 
 At peace now by the sea. 
 The bride was young; her answer sprung- 
 
 " Yes ! For thou lovedst me ' " 
 
 bg 
 
The Moon and the World 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL Moon rose proudly one 
 night. 
 And looked on herself with a pensive 
 delight. 
 And the white of her skin was as pure and soft, 
 As when she lay on the Saviour's loft. 
 And she saw from the deep of a pool in a dale. 
 Where weird Hghts glisten and waters turn pale. 
 The very effect of her loveliness, sent 
 Into their struggling and discontent 
 And sluggish uprisings. 
 
 And the Moon, 
 As she looked on herself, could almost swoon 
 From the ideal spirit-like visage seen 
 Through the tangled boughs of the forests green. 
 And she said to the World : "You have grown old ! 
 And your fast excess of rotation has told 
 Upon you since you followed the sun 
 With a mad extreme when the day's begun. 
 And even the springs that pass over your heart 
 Have left the cold leaves of the autumn to start 
 Under the feet of the winters, and lie 
 Dead on the ground where the snows pass by.'* 
 
 70 
 
The old World stopped, and held her breath, 
 And thought on life — and creation — and death ; 
 And then she replied with the dark night's moan 
 To the beautiful Moon in an undertone: 
 " Yes, oh Moon ! but you froze in your rest ; 
 While children sleep sweetly upon my breast." 
 
 71 
 
A Child — A Tale in Rhyme 
 I 
 
 THERE was once a little boy's spirit born 
 To a world of merriment all forlorn ; 
 
 For the beautiful mother God gave him 
 Had a sparkling eye and a conscience dim. 
 And when she saw the little red thing 
 Lying near to her, without feeling a sting 
 Of conscience, she feared least a care 
 Should rob her of one golden hair. 
 And she frowned on the lace in the richly 
 
 decked room ; 
 And the fresh flowers there that were all abloom 
 Looked sadly down on the little boy sent 
 Into that world of merriment. 
 
 II 
 
 But the little boy grew, and bye and bye 
 
 When a sturdy look came and he stood so high 
 
 He could touch her bed, the mother proved, 
 
 The doctor advised that he be removed. 
 
 So in a nursery kept far apart 
 
 He was given all that could please the heart 
 
 72 
 
Of a little boy. All kinds of fair 
 And beautiful picture books were there, 
 And toys and sweets of every kind 
 To fascinate a childish mind. 
 And, tho' the nurse would often scold, 
 'Twas better than the days of old. 
 
 Ill 
 
 But suddenly there came a day 
 
 When the beautiful toys were thrown away. 
 
 And the Mother Goose book and the pictures all 
 
 Of the goblins short and the giants tall 
 
 Had no more fantasy, joy nor dread 
 
 For the little boy, and his curly head 
 
 Lay heavy in his dimpled hand 
 
 With thoughts he could not understand j 
 
 Until from out the dazzling black 
 
 Of blinded eyes a thought came back — 
 
 That, passing by, he oft had seen 
 
 A dark recess behind a screen. 
 
 IV 
 
 And then, at last, he knew not how. 
 The screen was pushed aside — and now 
 He stood upon a fur-rugged floor, 
 Oblivious of screen and door, 
 
 73 
 
Or who should come, or who should see — 
 
 He stole into the library ! 
 
 At first he did not like the hue 
 
 Of the dark-covered books — so grand and new. 
 
 And dull and strange and piled so high. 
 
 He could not reach them with his eye. 
 
 Until he came to where was placed 
 
 A bookcase filled for childhood's taste. 
 
 V 
 
 Ah, what he read! And all the hours 
 
 Were from November till the flowers 
 
 Began to bloom again, and he 
 
 Was deep in Fairy mystery. 
 
 He knew the tale of every maid 
 
 By some wild witch or wretch waylaid ; 
 
 And then of all the charmed knights 
 
 Who fought and helped them in their plights. 
 
 And so intense was all his store 
 
 Of myths and ancient goblin lore, 
 
 He felt and lived within their age. 
 
 As in his own world lives the sage. 
 
 VI 
 And far, and far, in childish dreams 
 He went to where the moonlight streams 
 
 74 
 
Upon young lovers, and a book 
 Brings thought into an old man's look ; 
 And in his own, own little way 
 He pushed the clouds of life away. 
 And saw the angels in the sky. 
 There are two times before we die 
 When we can see far more than men — 
 The first is childhood's dreaming, then 
 When we grow old. But no one knew 
 The strange, weird way in which he grew. 
 
 VII 
 
 But one night late the little boy woke ; 
 
 The bubble force of a dream had broke 
 
 The sleep from his eyes, and a goblin tale 
 
 Shone in them as the moon did pale. 
 
 And his hand went up, and he rubbed his eyes. 
 
 His bed was placed so he looked on the skies, 
 
 And he, gazing, thought the star-beam he saw 
 
 Was a witch's silver hair. Her claw 
 
 Was the great dark tree. And a wee sob came 
 
 For the maid — he could not remember her 
 
 name — 
 Who was under the powerful witch's spell. 
 And his head no more on the pillow fell. 
 
 75 
 
VIII 
 
 And the starlight waned not nor died away, 
 But grew so bright that he thought the day 
 Was coming in at his window. And soon 
 The pale, ghost-shivering, awe-striking moon 
 Would grow dim ! So he waited and sat as still 
 As if he were sleeping full soundly until 
 His nurse should wake him. But fairy dreams 
 
 came. 
 And he did so wish to remember the name 
 Of that poor, witch-tempted, beautiful maid 
 Of the fairy tale ! And the book was laid 
 'Way, 'way down in the library — while 
 He sprang from his bed with a naughty smile. 
 
 IX 
 
 All was dark on the upper stairs, 
 
 And by his wee little cot, unawares, 
 
 He stumbled on the rocking-horse back. 
 
 And clutched madly at its mane for lack 
 
 Of other support, until to this day 
 
 You can see the place where the hair's pulled 
 
 away. 
 And yet his purpose still did uphold. 
 As one often sees in th' unpolished gold 
 
 76 
 
Of childhood set a wonderful stone 
 Of character, dazzling the eye alone ; 
 But down stairs it was very bright, 
 And the library, too, was lit that night. 
 
 X 
 
 And all was light in the parlors — all light 
 In the windows resting against the night ; 
 And the flowers there were as fresh and green 
 As the meadows breed them 'neath morning 
 
 sheen. 
 And the vases stood tall with their patterns fair, 
 And the spirit of dancing was on the air. 
 And the great old chairs of the family heart 
 Were gone from the salons. In every part 
 Naught was to be seen of a family sign 
 But women and men and costumes fine, 
 While in the centre of all this stood 
 The woman who dreaded motherhood. 
 
 XI 
 
 The woman who dreaded motherhood smiled, 
 
 And the deep, rich mass of her long hair piled 
 
 In affected carelessness on her head, 
 
 As she nodded, let loose a ringlet as red 
 
 With a brilliant gold as any flower 
 
 That mellows the fields within summer's hour. 
 
 I..---. 17 
 
And everyone said that her mouth, like the 
 
 moon, 
 Had a mystical curve on the end, and would 
 
 swoon 
 Into a laugh with the magical charm 
 Of moody midsummer nights, which alarm 
 By darkness, and then are with moonlight 
 
 beguiled. 
 While the woman who dreaded motherhood 
 
 smiled. 
 
 XII 
 
 But the little boy passed the parlors, too, 
 
 Upon his way to the library, thro' 
 
 Perhaps losing his way, or perhaps by the glare, 
 
 Or perhaps it was only because aware 
 
 Of brilliance and gaiety hid from sight 
 
 Behind the curtains, he felt that night 
 
 A little curiosity — when 
 
 He was harshly told by the butler that " men 
 
 Only sit up." But when, bye and bye. 
 
 He saw a strange lady and started to fly, 
 
 He found himself at the library door. 
 
 His bare feet treading upon the floor. 
 
 78 
 
XIII 
 Had the little boy sailed over distant seas 
 In magic ships unto far countries, 
 And seen the myriad sights of the world, 
 No more of wonderment could be held 
 Within the large of his eyes sky shade. 
 Than the lights and the music that night had 
 
 made. 
 But soon he found by the bookcase old 
 The book where the goblin taie was told. 
 Then someone came through the door — his 
 
 mother — 
 And someone with her — not father — nor 
 
 brother — 
 And they stopped, and their voice had a tremu- 
 lous tone ; 
 For you know, they thought themselves alone. 
 But the little boy, buried within his book. 
 Had a chance when he heard the train rustle to 
 
 look. 
 And then it was, after a moment of fright. 
 He thought he would have an adventure that 
 
 night. 
 So the little boy came by the corner to peek. 
 When he saw something fall on the pink of her 
 
 cheek, 
 
 79 
 
And then, grownig bolder, he went ail the way 
 
 To the table, as fearless as if it were day. 
 
 But a mouse, or something strange, that he saw 
 
 Made him quickly again withdraw, 
 
 And he waited breathless behind the case 
 
 Till a wicked book fell with a thud from its place. 
 
 XIV 
 
 And then — how is it that born within 
 
 A woman's breast nor sorrow, nor sin. 
 
 Nor petty life, nor selfish thought 
 
 Can kill the motherhood instinct wrought 
 
 By the Creator ? But ever there. 
 
 Sometime or other, its wings will stir. 
 
 And bear the feeling over the soul 
 
 That makes a womanhood great and whole ! 
 
 And how was it that the little boy lay 
 
 On her arm, as he had not for many a day, 
 
 And good night fell from her lips unaware 
 
 To the someone gazing with love at her ? 
 
 XV 
 
 The little boy grew and he went to school. 
 And found in his heart that the measured rule 
 
 80 
 
Of hour and moment and lesson and strife 
 (Tho* he hated the work) was the substance 
 
 of life. 
 His clever mind grew, as with all little boys, 
 To express the usual sorrows and joys — 
 But perhaps a little more keenly ; for he 
 Had seen as a child more than others could see. 
 While the woman who dreaded motherhood 
 
 smiled. 
 Now and then, from a true-hearted pride in her 
 
 child. 
 
 8i 
 
UtU 20 1902