LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 %P ©i^Mrij]^ ^ti., 
 
 Shelf.: 
 
 K^-''^?4> 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
" A good book is the precious life blood of a 
 master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on pur- 
 pose to a life beyond life." — MiLTON. 
 

POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 A YOUTHFUL BARD 
 
 WITH PREFATORY AND 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES 
 
 AUTHOR 
 
 "::sh^ 
 
 Truth, Magnanimity, Perfection 
 
 ^ 
 
 4.^^R^g??.; 
 
 OCT 10 1895' „'>'b^,/l/ 
 
 PHlLADELPHi>Cgf::»^*S^- 
 
 PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 
 Address Author KaCON A^DAMON, 
 
 139 First St. DETROIT, MICH. 
 pr MILLINGTON, MICH. 
 
\ 
 
 A-^^'' 
 
 ^^' 
 
 Copyright, 1895, 
 
 BY 
 
 Gordon A. Damon. 
 
OUT OF RESPECT FOR AND APPRECIATION OF 
 HIS PATERNAL LOVE, 
 
 AND 
 
 FOR HIS AID 
 
 IN 
 
 PROCURING THE PUBLICATION OF THIS, 
 
 MY FIRST WORK, 
 
 IS THE SAME MOST SINCERELY 
 
 2)cOtcateD 
 
 TO 
 
 MY FATHER. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGR 
 
 Fantasia: A Vision of the Future i7 
 
 Hymn to Music 26 
 
 To A Bird in a Cage 27 
 
 The Bird's Obituary — Sequel 29 
 
 Sonnet to an Unknown Friend 33 
 
 Truth 35 
 
 To A Rainbow .... 37 
 
 PvPIStle to a Dear Friend 39 
 
 Ode to the South Wind 43 
 
 God 46 
 
 Forest Reverie 49 
 
 To her Maternal Grace 61 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The present volume is a compilation of a collection of 
 youthful poems of "school-boy" days, composed in my 
 fifteenth year, — 1895. They are, for the most part, the 
 results of study of and communion with external nature. 
 In them I strive to bring out the love, the beauty, the 
 grandeur, and even the intellect (?) characteristic of this 
 queen of queens ; this goddess administering to the wants 
 of a tired earth; caressing it, and invoking a blessing on 
 its welfare. 
 
 To me there is something distinct, apart from the in- 
 animate in external nature. There is something human 
 and divine. What wonder that some of the ancient 
 peoples worshipped her forms? Surely, God inspires 
 them with life, and has placed His image in them. I 
 think she should be addressed and reverenced even as are 
 the distinguished personages of this plain. We should 
 search for her truths in the deep-delved earth ; in the re- 
 mote and obscure recesses of the woods and rocks, — 
 
 " Find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 
 
 In placing the work before the public, I wish to ask its 
 pardon ; and when struck with the inconsistency and un- 
 
12 PREFACE. 
 
 ripeness, as may occur frequently, to bear in mind the 
 conditions and the author. 
 
 As to *'The Bird's Obituary," you must excuse me for 
 writing on so trivial affairs. Byron has said, — 
 
 " The puny school-boy and his early lay 
 Men pardon if his follies pass away." 
 
 In the poems I have aimed towards originality ; but, of 
 course, as all authors have done, and probably always will, 
 I have received ideas from other works, although I trust 
 word-for-word quotations are infrequent. Plagiarism is a 
 thing to be avoided. I think I have brought out some- 
 thing new ; my friends are to vouch for it. 
 
 " Read not to contradict and confute ; 
 . . . but to weigh and consider." 
 
 This volume may be subject to severe criticism, and it 
 may not. Whatever be the case, the result will only serve 
 as an incentive -to a nobler object. 
 
 It may not receive the public favor. Byron, Shelley, 
 Keats, Wordsworth, and a host of others, met with oppo- 
 sition and discouragement in their early years, but did 
 that check their progress ? Keats, although conceded to 
 be an inferior and youthful writer, has promise in his 
 works. There is promise in them which seems to portend 
 the greatness of the soul back of it ; and, had his life 
 been spared, he would have doubtless astonished the 
 world with his sensuousness. 
 
 Sometimes ''a sharp criticism that has a drop of witty 
 
PREFACE. 13 
 
 venom in it stings a young author almost to death," but 
 if this vohmie meets with such, providing it is worth criti- 
 cising, I will do my best to survive. Braveness and mag- 
 nanimity (that property which enables one " to encounter 
 danger and trouble with tranquillity and firmness, which 
 raises the possessor above revenge and prompts him to act 
 and sacrifice for noble objects") are things invaluable in 
 this world. Byron was brave when he attacked the 
 "Scotch Reviewers," but his was braveness with .malice 
 in it ; braveness of hostility \ braveness without magna- 
 nimity. "Calamity is man's true touchstone;" or, in 
 other words, the first failure is the first step to success. 
 How often has this been demonstrated ! 
 
 In conclusion, I am sure my friends will find nothing in 
 the poems either impure or debasing. I trust the thought 
 in every case descends no lower than nobility. Words- 
 worth has wisely said, — 
 
 " Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend 
 Toward a higher object." 
 
 This expresses an ideal. That object is perfection. 
 And as this volume passes out of the press with all its 
 faults and all its gems (?), I promise you something better 
 in the future. 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 Gordon A. Damon. 
 MiLLiNGTON, Michigan, July 8, 1895. 
 
INTRODUCTORY .NOTE. 
 
 We look forward to a future ''Golden Age," as it were; 
 to ail age of peace, happiness, and contentment ; to an 
 age when there will be something in reality to live for 
 other than individual supremacy ; to an age when strife 
 in all its various branches shall be obliterated, when man- 
 kind shall enjoy the highest good, and realize heaven 
 upon the earth. We, no doubt, will not see it, but we 
 trust posterity will. Can we not do otherwise than 
 merely deem this age a myth of the past? When man's 
 intellect is sufficiently developed and his eyes are open 
 to the proper light of things, then shall he realize the 
 change. 
 
 " Fantasia" is thoroughly a child of fancy. 
 
POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 FANTASIA: A VISION OF THE FUTURE. 
 PART I. 
 
 Blue skies in glory beamed above, 
 And clouds, the breath of summer, decked 
 The vault thus formed with silver seas, 
 Which glistened as the sun shone through 
 The rifts and ripples of its morning tide. 
 A breeze bestirred itself that morn. 
 And as it passed o'er blooming fields 
 And meadows, pleasant lakes and streams, 
 It gathered in its bosom breath 
 Of flowers, elysian born, which bowed 
 Their heads in reverence to the God 
 Who made them, and who gave them grace 
 To cheer the hearts of mortals here below. 
 
 2 17 
 
1 8 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD, 
 
 A cataract, hard by, sent up 
 
 A tune to heaven as it moved 
 
 O'er rocks and crags, and thundered down 
 
 The steep, with Nature as its guide. 
 
 Who led the way through curious rocks 
 
 And deep ravines, and through the caves 
 
 And crevices along its path. 
 
 Now here, now there, now darting to 
 
 And fro as if in play, but on 
 
 And on forever to the sea ; 
 
 To sink into its bosom, thence 
 
 To rise unseen, and seek once more 
 
 The cataract from whence it sprung ; 
 
 To fall, but soon to rise again. 
 
 The trees, the shrubs, the scandent stems. 
 
 And herbs sent up a vigorous growth, 
 
 And graced a landscape, which, in blend 
 
 And form, surpassed by far, of art, 
 
 The instruments and skill which man e'er caught, 
 
 And put to flight his puny masterpiece. 
 
 And emulous nature all around, 
 
 Beast, bird and insect, — all the forms 
 
 Of life, — anon put forth their best 
 
 In effort to succeed and bring forth joy. 
 
 Alburnus rested neath an elm 
 
FANTASIA. 19 
 
 That, in the wisdom of its growth, 
 Had spread itself abroad and formed 
 A blest retreat from weary hours 
 Of toil. Here oft he sat and lisped 
 Unto himself the thoughts that rushed 
 In quick succession through his brain ; 
 But on this morn of brighter mood 
 He seemed, and wandering far away 
 Were all his thoughts ; and as the breeze 
 Came stealing o'er his verdurous couch. 
 Bearing its fragrant burthen in its breast ; 
 And as he gazed upon the sky 
 And silvery clouds above, he seemed 
 To fade away : then, lulled to rest, 
 And charmed by aerial scenes, to be 
 Absorbed, and soon fell fast asleep. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Now o'er the landscape changeling sped 
 His spirit free, and o'er the verge 
 To dreamland. On he sped until 
 He wandered in elysium, 
 Among interminable paths and tufts 
 Of emerald. Beauties orreeted him 
 
20 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Which, to the mortal eye so gross, 
 Were inconceivable. On he passed 
 In sweetest meditation. Thoughts 
 Of future ages wandered each 
 O'er each in blest profusion through 
 His new-born, heavenly intellect. 
 Inspired ! The very thoughts put on 
 New forms, — anon uprose before 
 His transfixed gaze stupendous forms, 
 And towers of adamant, and vast 
 Arenas bearing crimson lengths. 
 Which hunor as veils encirclintr all. 
 
 o o 
 
 Colossus, like Alburnus, stood 
 Immovable in the maze around. 
 He gazed, but still perplexed, — o'ercome 
 With charms so striking, yet unsought. 
 
 As thus he stood, there seemed a voice 
 From out the vaporous clouds to say, — 
 " Go forth, Alburnus. Stay not here 
 And waste thy precious hours in gaze 
 And idleness ; but haste thee, haste 
 To that mysterious realm, and seek 
 Thy wisdom in its garnished halls 
 And o'er its plains ; haste, haste thee, son. 
 
FANTASIA. 21 
 
 Bestirred Alburnus when the voice 
 
 Had ceased, and then with hastened step 
 
 Moved on the scene anon, — 
 
 Advanced, and thus addressed the Queen, — 
 
 "Oh, thou mysterious Future, in thy reahiis 
 Of unborn glories, hidden force and power, 
 Phenomena, which, man's prophecy, o'er- 
 
 whehiis, 
 And vast achievements, — meek Ambition's 
 
 tower, — 
 
 Oh, Hft thy veil. 
 
 ''Aye, condescend to lead me through thy ways, 
 And teach me all the wisdom thou must know ; 
 Oh, guide me, teach me, and thy sight repays 
 My yearnings, as the lover to the beau 
 Doth satisfy. 
 
 '' Lift, lift the shroud that now surrounds, ob- 
 scures thee, 
 And satisfy mine hungering soul with lore. 
 Mine eyes, oh, look, and penetrate the sea 
 Of crimson thou dost now behold, — adore, 
 And lead me on." 
 
22 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD, 
 
 Vanished the curtains, and his si^ht 
 
 Beheld the spectacle of his dream, — 
 
 Her Majesty, clad in robes the breath 
 
 Of gold, the essence of its worth. 
 
 Who stood as guardian o'er the realm 
 
 And o'er the fancy of her guest. 
 
 He spake not, more, — the Queen had heard ; 
 
 He read the answer in her eye ; 
 
 His heart enthralled, the sieht o'ercome. 
 
 He scarce could wait the Queen's reply, — 
 
 ''Welcome, thou chanorelinor ; follow me." 
 
 As doth the magnet rule the steel 
 
 So didst the Queen Alburnus rule ; 
 
 So didst her bearing catch his mind, 
 
 And drew his feet anon with her. 
 
 Behold ! Oh, what doth greet him now ? 
 
 What wondrous forms ! What shapely forms ! 
 
 W^hat genius blazoned all around ! 
 
 What cressets of ingenious lore ! 
 
 What superhuman feats entombed 
 
 In human casements ! Strength and power 
 
 Of mighty rulers yet unborn ! 
 
 What sights and mysteries unfold ! 
 
 Now musing pensively, and now 
 
FANTASIA. 23 
 
 Casting his wanton eye abroad, 
 
 Alburnus, conscious of the Queen 
 
 And conscious of the state, exclaimed,— 
 
 '' How wonderful are the works of God ! 
 
 And man, the noblest in the scale, 
 
 How lofty his ambition, and 
 
 How stern the motives of the soul !" 
 
 " O God, didst thou inspire these works? 
 
 Was't with thy skill he wrought the stone? 
 
 Is't with thy power such massive forms 
 
 Rise up before the startled morn?" * 
 
 Now on the right and on the left 
 
 Great halls burst forth,— arched entrances, 
 
 To coy the child f and lead him on. 
 
 He moved. What alien marvels rear ! % 
 
 Here sits stern Justice on the throne. 
 
 Here Education crowns each head. 
 
 Here Science thrives, and Wisdom fraughts 
 
 * Startled morn is a metaphor used to express the bril- 
 liancy with which the sun is supposed to have burst forth 
 and sent its rays over the landscape in streams of liquid 
 gold. 
 
 t His intellect was as a child's in this new realm. 
 
 X Rear in this position means a springing up, a springing 
 into existence. 
 
24 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 All civil ''' hearts, and sends die waves 
 Of thought throughout the public air. 
 Here Argon and the electrics fade, 
 And give the place to higher forms. 
 Here stately vehicles relieve 
 The breath of horses past and gone. 
 Now fade the implements of war. 
 No bloody strife infects the creeds. 
 No party contest marks the years. 
 No ionorance, no theft, no vice, 
 No vile submission of the poor, 
 But all in one "harmonious wliole," — 
 The brotherhood of man, — the age 
 Of wealth, of reason, and of lore. 
 
 Dimly yet surely through the arch 
 
 Of tangled vistas shines a star, 
 
 The cynosure of all. He moved, 
 
 And hastened more each step, each pace. 
 
 " Perfection ! Ah, deceitful star ! 
 
 Thou ignis fatuus of the realms ! 
 
 Canst thou not hold for man's desires ? 
 
 ^ Civil hearts refers to men in the service of the country, 
 the government ; really, a politician. Hcaj'ts is a me- 
 tonymy. 
 
FANTASIA. 25 
 
 Wilt thou not now receive his prayer?" 
 
 Alburnus mused. Now faint, now light, 
 
 Then bursting forth in one vast glare, 
 
 The beams o'erpowered his manly frame, — 
 
 Awoke his fancy with a start. 
 
 " O God," he said, "grant me once more 
 
 A sight of the future ; grant, oh, grant. 
 
 Perfection, ever in the eye, 
 
 Anon remains the thing before. 
 
 Man strives in vain to reach its heights, 
 
 But falls ere he has scaled the top." 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Thus on a time Alburnus, 'neath the elm, 
 Dreamt of the Future and its wondrous forms. 
 Now oft he strays to that same cosy spot. 
 To seek once more a vision of the realms, 
 But all to naught. Hope "never spreads her 
 
 wings ;" 
 Tis action brines the soul its hicrhest bliss.* 
 
 & 
 
 June, 1895. 
 
 * Hoping for that age is of no avail. 
 
HYMN TO MUSIC* 
 
 Come, holy mother, come and cheer thy son ; 
 And from thy founts of pure delight and love. 
 In thine eternal resting-place above, 
 
 Pour forth a draught of pleasure thou hast 
 won. 
 
 Stir old Timotheus with thy magic hand ; 
 
 Attune his lyre to move one's inmost soul ; 
 
 Present thy choir, for we will ask no toll ; 
 Proclaim the nation's peace throughout the 
 land. 
 
 Come from thy haunts wherein such pleasure 
 lies ; 
 Set me afloat upon elysian seas, 
 And cease not till mine hung'ring doth ap- 
 pease ; 
 Oh ! fill my soul with thine own rhapsodies. 
 
 * This was written while in a melancholy mood, and at 
 a time when out of music study. — Author. 
 26 
 
TO A BIRD IN A CAGE. 
 
 First published poem. 
 
 Oh, prisoner, in behind those slender bars 
 Of ductile steel, inclosed within a world 
 Whose metes and bounds so narrow seem to 
 
 us ; 
 Say, dost thou live and still enjoy thy fare 
 Of hemp and earth-brewed ale, with but a bone 
 From some poor fish on which to whet thy 
 
 bill ? 
 While out of doors thy winged sisters glide 
 On supple wing, through fields and meadows 
 
 fair 
 With blooming flora in its varied forms, 
 Through country, town, or great metropolis ; 
 Through grove and dale, or perched on the 
 
 bough 
 Of genial tree or shrub, to catch their prey, 
 Or warble forth a descant to the winds ? 
 Say, art thou happy in thy solitude, 
 With naught but puny house-plant underneath 
 For contrast with the wainscot, sill, or wall ; 
 
 27 
 
28 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 And bulky plaster canopy above, 
 
 To hide from view God's fair external shroud? 
 
 Art thou content to thus remain in-doors 
 In pent-up cell, exempt from Nature's bounds 
 Of infinite glory ; and suffice with view 
 Of landscape through the panes of lucid glass ; 
 While at thy side in beauteous brotherhood, 
 Thy winged mate in similar grievance hangs 
 Suspended with his cage, from lengths of 
 wire ? 
 
 So this thy lot has fate destined to be, 
 
 A prisoner yet unknown to freedom's will. 
 
 Farewell, oh, lovely bird, oh, type of love ! 
 
 Continue in thy praise of Joy divine. 
 
 And when the shades of evening softly steal 
 
 O'er cot and vale, may rest thy eyelids seek ; 
 
 And when beneath thy wing thy head is laid 
 
 " May peace be with thee," is my silent prayer. 
 
 May thine be pleasant dreams 'til morning 
 
 sun 
 Sheds forth his welcome rays o'er eastern hills. 
 Farewell ! Farewell ! 
 
 March, 1895. 
 
THE BIRD'S OBITUARY. 
 Sequel to ''To a Bird in a Cage." 
 
 Oh, Innocence ! My innocence ! 
 
 That thou shouldst meet thy fate 
 In this cruel manner, sad to tell. 
 
 Oh, why should I relate ? 
 
 Sweet freedom's air meant death to thee, 
 
 I heard thy requiem sigh 
 Through grass and limb, I knew't meant death, 
 
 'Twas in the feline eye. 
 
 I saw the death-trap opened wide ; 
 
 I saw thee in the tree ; 
 A glance soon caught thy downward flight ; 
 
 The worst was yet to be. 
 
 The stealthy cat, — blood-thirsty wretch, — 
 
 Alert for this gay fare, 
 
 Sprang swiftly towards the charmed prey. 
 
 Despite my threats and care. 
 
 29 
 
30 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 The end had come. The act was done,- 
 
 A pace she quick flew o'er, 
 And darted underneath the manse, 
 
 My pet was seen no more. 
 
 Oh, pretty bird ! Oh, lovely bird ! 
 
 Thy song oft stirred my heart ; 
 Without thee life is not complete ; 
 
 Why are we torn apart ? 
 
 A bard doth love such noble forms 
 As thee and thy sweet mates ; 
 
 Thy memory often moves his pen, 
 And soul and mind inflates. 
 
 Thou wert content within thy cell ; 
 
 No care of hfe had thee ; 
 But bush and tree proved danger's trap, 
 
 Which thou wert wont to see. 
 
 Thy feathery coat, and corpulent crop ! 
 
 How dainty in the sight 
 Of crouching cat ! — a leap, a bound, 
 
 I scarce could trace his flight. 
 
THE BIRirS OBITUARY. 3^ 
 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the ire 
 With which I whipped the thing 
 
 For this adroit carnal feat 
 
 On thy soft breast and wing ? 
 
 But why should I thus blame poor puss ? 
 
 'Tis instinct, — nothing more ; 
 As natural for a cat to kill 
 
 As waves to dash on shore. 
 
 A man craves flesh and so does brute ; 
 
 How closely they're allied ! 
 'Tis flesh on flesh, and blood on blood, 
 
 And both are satisfied. 
 
 But when one's pet is captured thus 
 
 To serve a luxurious meal, 
 One's common sense is quick reversed, 
 
 And wrath allowed to steal. 
 
 The cage (where thou wert caused to dwell) 
 
 Hangs empty, silent, still ; 
 No more sweet notes pour gayly forth 
 
 In mingled, transient trill 
 
32 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 No more I hear thy tender call ; 
 
 No more thy rustling wing ; 
 I see thee not atilt on perch ; 
 
 How strange thy mate doth sing ! 
 
 The cage hangs empty, — thou art gone, 
 
 And lonely is thy mate ; 
 And when I'm moved to write these lines, 
 
 How can I hesitate ? 
 
 I loved thee, but I loved too well ; 
 
 Fate cut in twain the tie ; 
 Thy memory' 11 ever leave a trace ; 
 
 Recurrinor leave a sio^h. 
 
 April, 1895. 
 
SONNET. 
 
 To an Unknown Friend. 
 
 Note. — These lines were inspired by a spontaneous 
 friendship arising through poems of a contemporary, oc- 
 curring occasionally in The Detroit Journal as specimens 
 of Michigan verse. — Author. 
 
 What noble friendships from vague sources 
 
 spring ! 
 What unions brief epistles often bring ; 
 What ties may often bind a kindred heart 
 With one of likeness, although far apart ! 
 And, if the winged poesy has inspired 
 A union thus (as I have so desired), 
 Then God ordain, for we are satisfied, 
 And God forbid that such can be denied. 
 Our faces are, as yet, unknown to each ; 
 But hearts. — We trust, no skill of man can teach 
 A dearer language than the human breast, 
 At once the giver and the thing carest ; 
 
 3 zz 
 
34 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 At once the thing that finds us here on earth ; 
 And, too, the secret of our heavenly birth.* 
 
 * If a man is of a kindly and loving nature, in sym- 
 pathy with his kind, extending it to those about him and 
 around him, and respecting that which is right and just, 
 he is said to be "good-hearted," a term expressive of a 
 quality of the human breast, which, in reality, is a 
 property of the intellect. ''The secret of our heavenly 
 birth" implies that one of this sort is welcome in the 
 sight of God. 
 
TRUTH.* 
 
 Nature ! How vast her bounds, and peerless 
 
 Truth 
 The solvent of her problems all, — aye, Truth ! 
 It stands alone, search as we may and long, 
 For likeness in the labyrinthine cells 
 Of Nature's most remote and obscure halls. 
 'Tis not as rock, — geology tells us no, — 
 For e'en the concrete silica must yield 
 Before the potent agencies of flame. 
 And veer from compact clod to molten stream. 
 Unlike the diamond ? Yes, for e'en this crem, 
 This piece of adamant, is but a fraud. 
 But evanescence — that is all — compressed 
 By some strange law of Nature lonor ao^o. 
 
 * Truth is my religion. Truth, in my opinion, is the 
 search -light of all the investigations of science. That is 
 what we are striving for; let us search for it in the life- 
 book of Nature ; in the vast resources of the earth and 
 air. — Author. 
 
 35 
 
36 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 A fraud, I say, because when 'neath the spell 
 
 Of an electric, the scintillations cease, 
 
 And it becomes a tintless vapor. Nay, 
 
 Not like the gem in this respect is Truth, 
 
 But, oh, how similar in brilliancy ! 
 
 Yea, e'en surpasses it. This is not all 
 
 (How different and yet how similar are the 
 
 two !) 
 The diamond is a stranger to some men, 
 And so is Truth ; to some there is a veil. 
 The veil of unostentation one ; the screen 
 Of Truth, one placed there by the faltering 
 
 hand 
 Of Error, Error ! Who can this deny ? 
 This cruel, fallacious sophiste. Oh, that she 
 Might be forever banished from men's sight, 
 And her dim and waverine beacon on the 
 
 sands 
 And shoals in life's ereat, heaving sea, de- 
 
 stroyed. 
 Nevermore to conjure innocent souls, 
 O Fate ! destroy her signal ; build a new, 
 And found it on a rock which will never fall. 
 May't be Truth's brilliant cresset ; may its rays, 
 United, shine, enlightening shore to shore. 
 
TO A RAINBOW. 
 
 How fair thy form 
 As o'er the distant sky thou blendest ! 
 And sending far thy mighty arm. 
 
 In o-race thou bendest. 
 
 o 
 
 How fair to sight, 
 As to thy vap'rous vault above 
 The skylark, fearless of his flight, 
 
 Swiftly doth move ! 
 
 How doth he sail. 
 This pilgrim of the air ! This form 
 Emblazoned on the ephemerous veil,— 
 
 The fadino^ swarm 
 
 Of silvery clouds, 
 Now dying with declining day, 
 Wrapped in the invisible shroud 
 
 Of sheer decay ! 
 
 37 
 
38 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Vainly the brush 
 Might rudely trace thee on the board, 
 But skill e'er fails ; and thou dost crush 
 
 As doth the sword 
 
 Man's feeble power ; 
 And thou dost steal away his charm ; ''' 
 But thou dost sympathy embower, 
 
 And guide his arm. 
 
 Thou givest him thoughts, 
 But roughly dons the paint, and coarse 
 The workmanship. No softness fraughts, 
 
 As in thy force. 
 
 Alas, farewell ! 
 Already dost thou fade, and leavest 
 Thy loved companion,f yet farewell. 
 
 Thy memory cleavest. 
 July 19, 1895. 
 
 * It irresistibly wins our admiration by the remarkable 
 softness of its tone, thereby lessening the charm of the 
 bow of the artist ; but it gives to the latter an inspiration 
 and prompts him to his best, which is but rude and rough 
 in comparison. 
 
 t The rainbow being double, on the disappearance of 
 one part the other is left alone. 
 
EPISTLE TO A DEAR FRIEND. 
 
 Lines on the Departure of my Friend and Tutor, 
 A. E. Wilber. 
 
 So friends must part ? 
 
 But fate must have his way. We have been 
 friends, 
 
 Yes, truest friends, indeed. The tie that 
 bound 
 
 Our sympathies and love has ne'er been cut in 
 twain, 
 
 And God forbid that such may ever be. 
 
 Not by thy hand (?), surely not by mine, 
 
 Will it be severed, well we know ourselves. 
 
 But, needs be such the case, by one un- 
 known. 
 
 What bond more sacred than sweet Friend- 
 ship's tie ! 
 
 What grief more heartfelt than the parting 
 sigh ! 
 
 39 
 
40 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 What deep regret in soul-made farewell tears 
 Of hopeful youth or wiser elder years ! 
 The suffering and the sorrow of the soul ; 
 The trespassing, the death-bed, and the goal ! 
 All these are represented on the stage 
 Of life, and stamped on Fate's mysterious 
 
 page. 
 Yea, all mankind must harbor such as these. 
 Despite gay thoughts of comfort, joy, and 
 
 ease. 
 The poor, the rich, the meek, the proud, the 
 
 brave ; 
 The workman, monarch. Christian, fop, the 
 
 grave ; 
 The fool, the vao^abond, and vagrant thief; 
 The eenius, artist, bard, and social chief; 
 The pensive, clever, florid, and secure, — 
 Yea, all of these, and yet how many more ! 
 
 So comes the tide when w^e must say fare- 
 well. 
 Aye, sad, indeed, the word, like vesper bell 
 When good Apollo lays himself to rest, 
 Comes breathing on mine ear and stirs my 
 breast. 
 
EPISTLE TO A DEAR FRIEND. 4 1 
 
 Farewell ? Ah ! darkling comes that parting 
 
 word, 
 Borne not on tinted wings of tell-tale bird, 
 But on thy own, thy own, thy faltering lips. 
 Its hungered burthen of my spirit sips. 
 Farewell ! for soon we lisp and drift apart, 
 And each leave golden memories on each 
 
 heart. 
 We trust 'tis not forever ; nay, much less ; 
 But may omnipotent Fate our union bless. 
 And with his wand, when thou art gone away. 
 With many a pass and indivisible stay. 
 This bond of friendship ! may he bind it 
 
 strone ! 
 All this, I trust, he'll do, and not do wrong. 
 
 So thou dost go? May joy be ever thine, 
 And In Minerva's lap may thou recline. 
 May Wisdom's crest, beset with adamant. 
 Thy future efforts crown, — may naught sup- 
 plant, — 
 And like the unseen power above, that guides 
 Man's feeble hand and stirs the ponderous 
 tides 
 
42 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Of destiny, thy footsteps may she note, 
 And thus divert thee from the treacherous 
 moat/^' 
 
 '^ Man is a scheming genius. Scheming is all right in 
 its place, — if we scheme to a good purpose, if the results 
 are going to benefit mankind. But there are too many in 
 this world who, in their scheming after wealth and fame, 
 even resort to falsehood, and thus sometimes get a fellow- 
 creature ''in a boat," to use the colloquial phrase. A 
 man who thinks he is moving in the right path may be led 
 to his downfall by the ignis fatuus of some treacherous 
 speculator. Therefore he must be on guard. — Author. 
 
ODE TO THE SOUTH WIND.* 
 
 Thou unseen zephyr from some distant clime, 
 Bowed down with fragrance from thy 
 mother's breast, 
 FroHcking with Aurora in her prime, 
 
 And kissino- the earth, which thou hast oft 
 
 carest ; 
 Whither dost thou go? Where's thy re- 
 treat, — thy nest ? 
 
 Art thou from heaven ? Wast thou born of God ? 
 
 Has thy soft feet e'er trod those ghttering 
 
 spheres ? 
 
 Or is earth thy mother ? forever hast thou trod 
 
 O'er the inglorious plain where heaven ne'er 
 
 appears ? 
 This universal death-bed and this vale of 
 tears. 
 
 *This ''Ode" was suggested by the hopeful, inspiring 
 zephyrs of glorious May. To the author it is even 
 passionate, and I do not feel satisfied until I have sung 
 
 its praise. 
 
 43 
 
44 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 But hence. Sweet zephyr, come dispel such 
 cares. 
 Bring joy with thee ; vain sorrow must de- 
 part, 
 For flowers appear despite a field of tares, 
 And thus leave eems with which to cheer 
 
 the heart. 
 Thou unseen zephyr, come, disperse such 
 cares athwart. 
 
 Welcome, sweet zephyr, from thy couch above. 
 The breath of heaven moves thy immortal 
 wings ; 
 Thou art the image of God's fearful love. 
 As are the lords the breath of potent kings ; 
 The eternal goddess fair, admonishing 
 heavenly things. 
 
 Thou hast a message from Apollo's breast. 
 
 And to the mother nature dost thou move 
 To bear its burthen to her teeming crest ; 
 And so bring forth her smiles as those 
 
 above. 
 Inflate her soul with thine, and fill her with 
 thy love. 
 
ODE TO THE SOUTH WIND. 45 
 
 The vigorous trees thou hast inspired with 
 song, 
 And ever, in their own monotonous lay, 
 They murmur to themselves and to the throng 
 That plods along the well-worn public way. 
 Till good Apollo bids farewell to parting 
 day. 
 
 E'en as the songsters poureth in full heart, 
 
 Gay strains of love upon a tired earth, 
 To charm with all the skill of unlearned art. 
 And soothe dull care with praise of graceful 
 
 mirth ; 
 We feel thou art its theme,— the prompter 
 of his birth. 
 
 May, 1895. 
 
GOD. 
 
 '' Oh thou Eternal One !" 
 
 Thy mighty presence here, 
 
 Althouorh unseen amonof 
 
 Us, brings to us the thoughts 
 
 Of master intellect 
 
 In realms beyond the grave ; 
 
 Thoughts of the maker 
 
 Of this universe ; 
 
 Thoughts of the one who guides 
 
 The ships through trackless depths ; 
 
 Thoughts of the one who stirs 
 
 The tides of destiny ; 
 And guides man's hand, and thus 
 Inspires the frailty of 
 His feeble intellect ; 
 And fills his huno-'rinor soul 
 With love and liorht ; and eives 
 Him power to raise mankind 
 To higher levels in 
 
 The silver spheres of Truth : 
 46 
 
GOD. 47 
 
 Thoughts of the one who gives 
 
 Life unto earth, and fills 
 
 The heart of nature full 
 
 With animation ; prompts 
 
 Her beings on life's path 
 
 To strive for higher things 
 
 Than earthly goals. We feel 
 
 Thy presence in the wood, 
 
 The stream, and depths of air. 
 
 And as we move at morn 
 
 Or evening to the haunts 
 
 In shady forest hearts ; 
 
 Or to her blest resorts, — 
 
 The caves in deep-delved earth, — 
 
 Apart from care and strife 
 
 Of routine worlds, to seek 
 
 Communion with her forms. 
 
 And solve her mysteries ; 
 
 We feel thy breath, 
 
 Thy presence, and thy love, 
 
 Thy whisper all around 
 
 That lisps thy truths, and binds 
 
 Our hearts to thee. Thou brinor'st 
 
 o 
 
 To us the thouo^hts of this 
 Vast universe ; and lead'st 
 
48 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Our fancy's children through 
 
 The lapse of ages to 
 
 The birth of worlds ; and through 
 
 Immeasurable space beyond 
 
 The bounds of imagery, 
 
 Till we feel thy power, 
 
 And realize our own 
 
 Inferiority. 
 
 O God ! we feel thou art 
 
 In everything. 
 
 Thou com' St 
 To us in grief; and thou 
 Dost send thy spirits (parts 
 Of Thee) to minister 
 Unto our woes till healed 
 By thy blest curative. 
 Teach us to live, that, when 
 Run down by death, our souls 
 May find a resting-place 
 In those eternal spheres 
 Thou hast prepared. To go 
 To be a part of thee, 
 And with thee seek new truths, 
 And act thy laws for aye. 
 
FOREST REVERIE.* 
 
 July 1 8 — August 6. 
 
 " There is a pleasure in the pathless wood, 
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
 There is society where none intrude, 
 By the deep sea, and music in its roar. 
 I love not man the less, but Nature more, 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal 
 From all I may be, or have been before, 
 To mingle with the universe, and feel 
 
 What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal," 
 
 — Byron. 
 
 Here will I sit in this dim wood, and list 
 Unto the merry notes that greet mine ear ; 
 Notes of the songsters, in such gurgling glee 
 That songs become a liquid melody, 
 And flow, like silver streams, adown the sky. 
 
 * This poem was suggested and composed, in part, 
 during one of my solitary rambles through the wood. The 
 surroundings were remarkably striking, and so prompted 
 me to write, and "Forest Reverie" is the product. It 
 is an exact portraiture of the scene, with the exception of 
 the cot described in the course of the poem, which is 
 thoroughly imaginary. — Author. 
 
 4 49 
 
50 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Huge trees send up their growth, and pierce 
 
 the vault 
 Of God's vast canopy, and hide the rays 
 Of that orbed flambeau, — shading me here, 
 
 and thus 
 Making my sojourn sweet and free from care. 
 Now steals the breeze, which finds its welcome 
 
 way 
 To my delightful resting-place upon 
 This venerable log, felled by some laboring 
 
 swain 
 Long, long ago ; for mouldering now it lies 
 Deep in decay, surrendering up its growth 
 Unto the elements. Ah ! such is life. 
 Man comes into the world, exists a time, 
 Then by the inevitable Death is stricken down, 
 To moulder in the sands. There let him 
 
 rest. 
 But speed his soul to fairer climes than ours ! 
 Hard by, the placid stream, kissed by the 
 
 breeze. 
 Hastens to greet its guest, then ripples on 
 O'er stones and crags, and through its winding 
 
 path, 
 Beset with verdure. Many a rustic bridge 
 
FOREST RE VERIE. 5 1 
 
 Doth span the course, but sometimes rudely 
 
 thrown 
 Into Its bed, to check its favorite course. 
 But hasten on, thou child of earth and air. 
 And cease not till thou reach' st thy destiny. 
 
 My God is here. (The wood was God's first 
 
 shrine.) 
 The trees attest His presence, and the wind 
 Breathes out to me a message of His love. 
 
 Say, what is this that I doth now discern 
 Far in the distant maze, surrounded by 
 The wood, and so made indistinct 
 By stalwart trunks, which intercept the range 
 Of vision. Now the sturdy oak in majesty 
 Doth rise and mock me fearlessly and bold. 
 The beech, birch, maple, each in turn appear 
 To serve that end, and last the spreading elm 
 Steals into view ; then, sendlnor itself abroad. 
 It forms a vast corona, — strives to hide 
 The cot beneath, but strives and strives in 
 
 vain. 
 I now advance, and slowly through the depths 
 Of trackless forestry doth stir my feet ; 
 
52 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Slowly and carefully, as did the child 
 
 Of Christ along the rugged mountain-path 
 
 When searching for the ''end" in Christian 
 
 life.* 
 Onward I press, and soon the enchanting bower 
 Receives my wearied form and gives me rest. 
 The ruined walk, the great elm-tree above. 
 The universe of wood, the flowery dale, 
 The grasses and the ivy creeping o'er 
 The crumbling wall, and o'er the tottering 
 
 thatch, 
 Afford a pleasing scene and noble f thoughts. 
 I rest secure, as, casting a thoughtful glance, 
 
 *An allusion to Christian in Banyan's ''Pilgrim's 
 Progress. ' ' 
 
 fit was first suggested to my mind to place "idle" 
 here, but I did not wish to convey this to my readers. It 
 is a wrong idea. I did not proceed to the wood to waste 
 the time in idleness, but for thought ; to pamper the soul 
 with the lessons and truths of our beneficent mother. 
 Some people have the opinion that one is "lazy" if he 
 does not employ himself in hard, manual labor. Study 
 and thought are considered idleness But this we know is 
 simply the height of ignorance. These are the sentiments 
 of people who do not think, and are not to be considered 
 by thinking people. — Author. 
 
FOREST REVERIE. 53 
 
 The sight soon falls upon the countless leaves. 
 Attached, I pause awhile, then murmur thus, — 
 "The leaves were born last spring, but to 
 
 decay 
 The zephyrs now doth kiss them wantonly ; 
 Full soon November turns their shroud to gold, 
 And icy winter covers them with snow. 
 
 Winter ! Why dost thou come here? 
 On thy approach in this our northern home 
 
 1 sooth would part with thee for fairer climes, 
 Where queenly Summer ever reigns supreme, 
 And o'er the teeming earth her mande throws. 
 But here the lot forbids me to remain.* 
 
 Give me the live metropolis of the north, 
 The thriving town, and genial farms around. 
 Thoueh cold the blast and chill the atmosphere, 
 'Tis past in time, and June again returns ; 
 The birds, the trees, the meadows then appear. 
 Our mother. Nature, smiles, then dons her best." 
 Now, strolling from the leaves to other sights, 
 
 '1^ The climate of the torrid zone hcas a natural tendency 
 to produce unthriftiness. Life seems to be sluggish. 
 There is not the thrift here that occurs in the north.— 
 Author. 
 
54 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 My thoughts run backward through the lapse 
 
 of time 
 To when this wood w^as wTou^ht with God's 
 
 own hand ; 
 How, lone aoo, those cliffs of iceland * soueht 
 To strew the land with rustic terraces ; 
 To leave their traces in the rising hills. 
 Here the warm sun sent forth his torrid rays 
 And bade the pompous heights yield at his will. 
 So yielded thus the cliffs of adamant ; 
 Thus caused a raeine sea o'er all our land. 
 
 * Reference to the Glacial Period. Steele, in a treatise 
 on the Glacial Epoch, carries our fancy so far in the fol- 
 lowing lines that we imagine we are gazing on the scene 
 itself: 
 
 *'The valleys are filled with broad, deep, majestic 
 rivers, whose waters, flowing to the sea, dig deep chan- 
 nels, open new routes to the ocean, plough through moun- 
 tain ridges, sort and sift the drift debris, arranging it in 
 layers and forming alluvial deposits of a great thickness. 
 In many parts of the Northern States only the loftiest 
 mountains emerge above the engulfing waters. Billows 
 roll w^here birds sang and flowers bloomed. The land 
 gained during all these ages of geological history seems 
 lost again. The ocean triumphs, and once more the Gulf 
 joins its waters with the Arctic Ocean." 
 
FOREST REVERIE. 55 
 
 Majestic streams gushed forth, and through 
 
 the vale 
 The darkhntr waters rolled their billows \\\o\\. 
 Here, where I sit, huge monsters of the deep 
 Once grovelled in the sands where rest my feet. 
 Here once the mammoth and the mastodon 
 Roamed through the wild with undivided sway; 
 The cave-bear slyly trod in quest of food. 
 But all are fled ; yes, all are buried now 
 Far in the deep-delved earth, — their clods as 
 
 rock. 
 The soil on which I rest is, not the soil 
 Which then received their footprints, — Father 
 
 Time 
 Has placed a strata 'twixt their bones and me 
 Which ne'er shall be removed unless, per- 
 chance, 
 Some dire convulsion of the Stygian hells 
 Shall rend its concrete structure to the wands. 
 Ah ! such has been the case when into form 
 God moulded first the plastic crust to grace 
 A sphere of life. Three kingdoms '^'- then up- 
 rose, 
 
 *The mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms. 
 
56 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 And soon a fourth, — the heavenly khigdom 
 
 'twas. 
 And what is Life? 'Tis but a stage on which 
 We all are actors, but a play to please 
 The sight of Him who made it to destroy. 
 Orders and kino^doms rise and fall with laws 
 Of evolution and environments. 
 We learn through Science many laws of God, — 
 How first, from certain vap'rous elements, 
 A single cell is formed by synthesis. 
 Then, being nurtured by apt elements. 
 At last is eraced an insect, flower, or man. 
 Thus throueh the ao^es beincrs lived and died, 
 Each giving place in turn to higher forms, 
 And lastly man. Here the rude savage 
 
 roamed. 
 And once possessed the pleasure of the wood. 
 The deer, the elk, the bear fell at his will. 
 But he is gone, oppressed by English blood. 
 Where were his blest retreats not long ago 
 The crowded city mocks his useless toil ; 
 Great breadths of masonry obscure the spot 
 Where once he sat in council, as the flash 
 Of war rushed through his poor yet active 
 
 brain. 
 
FOREST REVERIE. 57 
 
 Oh, blest the change ! And honor to the men 
 Who dared to brave the perils of the deep, 
 Who dared to face the red-skin's poison dart, 
 Who civilized our far-famed hemisphere. 
 Who made the atrocious copper to submit. 
 Oh, noble fathers of America, 
 Thou eav'st to us our freedom and our tonoue. 
 How can we thank thee other than by use 
 Of these, the boons which thou hast granted 
 
 us ? 
 America, our home, we reverence thee. 
 The vaulted roofs of heaven roll the sound 
 Of anthems back to greet our patriot hearts. 
 Thy fame transcends the glory of the east 
 When morning first ascends the golden sky, 
 When first she unfolds her robes and sends a 
 
 flood 
 Of light to wake the slumbering maidens fair. 
 What lusty statesmen hast thou wrought ! 
 
 What wealth. 
 What wisdom, what prosperity thou hast ! 
 But, oh, what vice ! Canst thou not compre- 
 hend ? 
 Canst thou not fling this monster from thy 
 bounds ? 
 
58 POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Canst thou not soon efface his tarnished name ? 
 Oh, why dost thou remain, IlHteracy, 
 To rob the nation and its tender youth ? 
 Art thou so stupid none can teach thee, say ? 
 Get hence ; we care not for thy company. 
 But, Wisdom, come ; proclaim thy presence 
 
 here ; 
 We'll sing thy praise in many a mused rhyme. 
 Let Ignorance be bound with manly steel, 
 And cast her worthless body to the past. 
 The past ! 'Tis gone ; nor could we wish it 
 
 back. 
 The future's in our sight, and lo, behold ! 
 The superior light shines indistinct before. 
 
 I watch the merry birds dart to and fro 
 From bough to bough, contented and in peace. 
 Let none disturb their fare. But as they move 
 At evening to the streets, "the fowler's eye" 
 Detects their presence ; then his skill pours out 
 Their life-blood o'er a God-created breast. 
 Has man a heart? If so, 'tis but a stone 
 When its true language tells the soul to kill. 
 Does he ''ne'er think what wondrous beinors 
 these" ? 
 
FOREST REVERIE. 59 
 
 Does he "ne'er think who made them and 
 
 who taught 
 The dialect they speak" ? Man has a soul, 
 But 'tis a brute's when 't fells an innocent bird. 
 
 A wandering sunbeam comes to tell to me 
 That 'tis the hour of noon ; but where' s my 
 
 food? 
 I look in vain about me. Pleasant the cot, 
 Pleasant this flowery nest, but not to starve.* 
 'Tf solitude makes scant the means of life," 
 Our souls must seek a sustenance elsewhere. 
 Hence I will hie me homeward to my lodge. 
 The wood is rude,f — exempt from public strife, 
 From clano-ine hammers and the roar of 
 
 wheels. 
 God's pristine handiwork stands undisturbed, J 
 The same keen charm now marks it as of yore. 
 Man clears the forest, but the stroke forbade, 
 Which strikes the shrine from off the smiling 
 
 earth. 
 
 * Meaning, not pleasant to starve, 
 f But is omitted here. 
 
 X The wood still stands in places with the same charm 
 and wildness as in earlier times. 
 
6o POEMS OF A YOUTHFUL BARD. 
 
 Give me the city, but let not the wood 
 
 Be stricken from our clods' indulgences. 
 
 Yet, oh, for the city's walls, its burnished 
 
 wealth. 
 Its culture, and its high society. 
 Here wisdom thrives, but we would ask for 
 
 more. 
 Welcome the time when we'll no longer place 
 Upon the tombstone of some mouldering 
 
 youth,— 
 '* Fair Science frowned not on his humble 
 
 birth." 
 " My visit still, but never my abode," 
 The cot has left its trace upon the soul. 
 
TO HER MATERNAL GRACE. 
 
 How oft in childhood's dark and weary hours 
 Has thy soft hand been laid upon my brow. 
 It seemed as if with supernatural power 
 To comfort me, and sympathy embower. 
 No balm, however sweet, can be compared 
 With this one. Nay, 't absconds into the depths 
 
 Of sheer defeat. 
 A loss of thee can never be repaired. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 6i