'•» Class "?S^53 l Book, ^'AH^ Copyright ]^°_ . COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE HILL TRAILS A BOOK OF VERSE BY ARTHUR WALLACE PEACH BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1917 «,-^\^'^ ^^^v Ck)PYBIGHT, 1917 Sherman, French 6^ Company JAM -4 1318 ©C1.A479828 TO MY MOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE I wish to thank the editors of the pubHca- tions listed below for their kindness in permit- ting me to republish from their columns such verse of mine as I cared to include in this vol- ume. The list: Munsey's Magaziney Ainslee*s Magazine, Collier's Weekly, Smart Set, Lippin- cotfs Magazine, National Magazine, Overland Monthly, The Delineator, New York Sun, Smith's Magazine, People's Home Journal, Ave Maria, Town Topics, New York Times, The Christian Advocate, Boston Transcript, Simset Magazine, Holland's Magazine, The Church- man, The Independent, Christian Endeavor World, Sunday School Times, Farm and Home, Orange Judd Farmer, American Messenger, Epworth Herald, The Congregationalist. I also wish to express my appreciation of the interest readers have taken in the poems as they have appeared serially. That friendly interest is the sole reason for the appearance of " The Hill Trails." Arthur Wallace Peach. Edge O' Pines, Ames Hill, West Brattleboro, Vermont. CONTENTS , PAGE The Song of the Hiul Trails .... 1 The Open Seas S The Fools 5 Alchemy 6 Height and Hearth 7 Kinship 8 Twilight 9 Winds of Yesterday 10 The Visitor 12 The Hills of Enchantment IS Humanity 1* If Hearts Were Candles 15 Voyagers 1^ The Home Lights * . 17 An Old Inn 18 The Frolic Wind .19 Storm 21 The Legend of the Fadeless Rose ... 22 The Ancient Call 24 The Common Ways 26 The Inn 27 When Evening Like an Angel .... 28 The Cherished 29 The Battlefield SO Longing ^^ The Cross 32 Day's Close SS The Secret 3* The Wells of Sleep S5 PAGE A Son of Pan 36 To One Grown Old 37 Autumn 38 The Hills in Absence 39 The Hidden Gate 40 Memories 41 An Old Church 42 Dusk and Dawn 43 Spring Rain 44 The Angel of the Twilight 45 Vespers 47 Assurance 48 As the Years Pass 49 Reunion . 50 The Brotherhood 51 Power 52 A Question 53 In After Years 54 Teachers 55 Those Who Answer Not 56 In Answer 57 The Dials 58 Lilacs of Memory 59 The Season's End 60 The Masquerader 61 Evening Rain 62 A Footnote 63 The Full Life ; . . 64 In the Angel's Book 65 In a Twilight Garden 66 PAGE The Wind's Invitation 67 The First Sorrow 68 Without Thee 69 Sunset from a City Tower 70 A Song of the Road 72 Genesis 73 The Wager 74 In an Old Garden Forgotten .... 76 Old Ports 77 The Sunset Isles 78 Night and the Ages 80 Requiem 82 The Watcher 83 Exiles 84 The Lowly Pledge 86 A Twilight Plea 87 Song's End 88 THE HILL TRAILS THE SONG OF THE HILL TRAILS Quiet runs the valley way Where the river dreams, And the winds go light along, Weaving into tender song Happy moods and themes ; Upward where from mountain heart Breathe the stormy gales, And the white-plumed torrents cry. Plunging rocky barriers by, Run the hilly trails. Oh, the high trails, the hill trails The sunny trails of brown. Seeing first the sun arise And last its going down ! Ever do they call the heart With their windings far. Luring feet to follow on Where peak is friend with star! Quiet runs life's valley way. Gently for the feet. But there vision fails the eyes Looking to the narrow skies Where mount and cloudland meet. Only on the mountain path Vision never fails ; Shimmering plains are far away, [1] And beauty lingers night and day On the hilly trails. Oh, the high trails, the hill trails, Life's lofty trails await, Mounting through the flaming dawn, The pilgrim heart elate. Glorious are the visions there. Far the eye can see Wonders of the years agone. And of the years to be ! [«] THE OPEN SEAS "Sail with God the seas." — Emerson. A SHIP passed the harbor at night where the tide-lulled boats were resting, And turned to the open sea, the star-linked bil- lows breasting; A song came soft on the wind, over the dark waves winging — A song with a burthen sweet, as of sailors' far- off singing. " Break from thy moorings of age and despair, Thou in the harbor sleeping! Peace that is there is the peace of the dead; Death with the years comes creeping. Hail, thou who sleepest ! Awake ! Break from they moorings and swing to the breeze — Come, sail with thy God the wide, open seas ! " Storms thou shalt meet that will temper thy soul, Ever thy heart's strength trying; But far at the end are the gleam of the goal And glories worth the dying ! Hail, thou who sleepest! Awake ! [3] Truth needs thy strength and thy Hfe — heed her pleas ! Come, sail with thy God the great, open seas: I " A ship passed the harbor at night where the silent boats were resting, And turned to the outer sea, as if on a far course keeping; A song came soft on the wind, a call to strong manhood bringing — A song with a burthen sweet, over the dark waves winging! [4] THE FOOLS They wore on life's great stage the cap and bells, And played a happy fool's low comic parts ; About them wailed the battle's solemn knells, And lovers fought to win their maidens' hearts. The tumult echoes far, the banners wave No more with silken song o'er plumed head, No more in sounding charge the war-horns rave. And kingdoms mingle with the ancient dead. The dusty pages tell the kingly tale Of crowns and honors bartered for a kiss ; On tombs the sculptured praise begins to fail — Death buries all from sight in night's abyss. And who has wisdom now — the king or fool ? Which sweeter is — steel's clang or rolic song? From kings and conquerors of ages cruel Time lifts the wreaths and crowns the motley throng ! [5] ALCHEMY I HEAR the voice of evening on the hills, Like sound of pilgrim pipes on distant ways; Sweet from the misty meadows' silver haze Brook answers brook with song, and childish rills Are calling each to each. There night distills Her dews, and 'mid the rushes each pool lays Its chart of starry skies; there evening plays Upon the trees a song that soothes and thrills. At evening's summoning, what sprites arise. What pixies, fairies in the woodlands meet Of course cannot be known or even guessed. For they no more are seen by profane eyes ; But magic is abroad and fays discreet. When common ways with twilight's charm are dressed! [6] HEIGHT AND HEARTH Thy pace I cannot keep, The hills are cold; Far down the home lights gleam By bam and fold. Thy eager feet can mount Fame's star-led way, Mine for the meadows long, The common day. Speed thou — the gleaming heights With cheer essay ! I at my cottage door Will watch and pray. m KINSHIP Afar from gleaming streets, when night had thrown Her magic mantle o'er the countryside, I stood upon a hill with vision wide, And saw the meadows of the night with star bloom sown; The winds seemed winging by soft music blown From cosmic choirs ; I felt the voiceless tide From dark eternal deeps around me glide: I stood with alien things of dusk, alone. Chill with the ancient fear of night and star. The brooding form that walks the aisles of eve. The silence dread that seems about to speak, I turned where shining streets and loved ones are. And joyed like one who suddenly might leave With homeward thought some still, gray, northern peak ! [8] TWILIGHT A WILD rose red aflame on the hills Whence the weary day has flown, A rush of night down the wooded steeps The sunset rose has blown. Here in the valley gray and still Go our dreams on their nightly quest - O that over the hills had gone The thoughts that never rest ! [9] WINDS OF YESTERDAY Over the hills you fled from me, Oh, winds of yesterday ! Bearing from me so much I loved. Oh, winds of yesterday — A bit of the golden dust of youth, Blowing it far with careless ruth ; The laugh of a friend, a low, sweet song Sung when the shadows lingered long; A hope that died with the setting sun, A dream that waned when day was done — These and a thousand loved things more You took from my life for evermore ; And never a prayer that priests can frame, Never a charm that lips can name. Never the yearnings of worlds of men. Can bring them back to me again ! Yet if you come no more to me, Oh, winds of yesterday, Out of the shadowy hills of the past, Oh, winds of yesterday — I'll treasure the dust that still remains. Shield it from loss and darksome stains ; The friendly voice with its cheery thrill Shall speak with the old loved accents still; [10] The strain of the song that fled away My heart shall recall at the close of day. The hope that died I shall ne'er regret, For hopes must die and hearts forget; The dream that waned in the bright day's glare Remembered still leads me to do and dare. Life is calling forever great deeds to perform, Love waits still to guide me through shadow and storm ; I follow you not on your far hill way — Farewell, ye winds of yesterday ! [11] THE VISITOR Some one down the city street " Passed unseen, on soundless feet. Who it was I do not know, But I saw worn faces glow, And I saw dim eyes grow bright With a rapturous delight; Sweeter came the children's laughter; Longer echoed it thereafter. Some one came and went along Through the wide street's crowded throng. In the forest, far away. Some one crept at close of day. Folded softly wing on wing — A wind of spring! [12] THE HILLS OF ENCHANTMENT High o'er the sunset's splendor, long ago, Piled on the flaming clouds, I saw them shine ; Their peaks, agleam with golden light divine, Plunged in the starry tides' unceasing flow. They are, I thought, beyond our earth's deep woe ; Their circling heights Avilion confine. And Arthur's home which meadows deep en- shrine, Where hail falls not and winds are ever low. Long did I dream — might I find the way. Look once ere death and see those meadows gleam. Hear winds and brooks that have no sound save song! Then, thought I, foolish heart, thy yearning stay: From those far hills thine own of beauty seem. And there for thine some restless heart may long! [13] HUMANITY Deep answers deep along that gloomy shore ; Far out ships hail, then pass and speak no more. Only the great lights on the headlands burn ; Truth, right, and peace — toward these the ages yearn. [14] IF HEARTS WERE CANDLES If hearts were candles Shining through the night, I wonder would I see One tender light? — One candle gleaming Brightly out to me, To turn my footsteps homeward — And to thee ! [16] VOYAGERS A HARBOR there is where the ships go out — Frail little ships they are — With white sails poised to the kiss of the wind Over the gleaming bar. Over the great wide world they go, Breasting the foaming tides, Until they rest in the havens afar Where the dark storm never strides. Some never return from their distant quest - Lost, and none knows where — And the years go by, but never again Over the seas they fare. And where is the harbor whence they sail Under the blue above? The harbor is found in the hearts of men ; The ships are their words of love. [16] THE HOME LIGHTS O TENDER lights afar that call us home, Across the darkened miles how bright you burn! As if beseeching wandering feet no more to roam, But back among the old scenes to return. Not all of us would walk life's homeland ways. Far o'er the hills the Unseen calls the heart ; Youth hears the summons sweet, and no more stays To play in lowly fields a humble part. And love in vain may long to hold the feet That yearn to tread the white road o'er the hills Which runs to meet the stars with windings fleet, Far from the valleys where man sows and tills. But evermore the gentle lights shall burn In ceaseless watching for the hearts that roam. And we who at gray even homeward yearn Shall smile through tears and bless the lights of home. [17] AN OLD INN A PATRIARCH asleep Beneath the drowsy elms, Calm in the old content Of other centuries — What tales of merry hours his lips could tell, Of cronies old, of wistful face from far, Of beggar filled, of birthnight and burial morn. Of shy, coquettish, passing eyes — closed, ah, for many years ; What tales — as one might speak In reverie, tenderly, brokenly. Of vanished things, with pauses, halting For recalling and a bit of Dreaming; if he might wake and speak What happy hours — But he shall waken Never ! [18] THE FROLIC WIND The wind laughed down the valley, And sang to the whispering trees ; It kissed the flowers rudely, And tumbled the laden bees. It played with a maiden's ringlets, It startled a drowsy fire, And wrought by a dreaming river The reeds in a low-tuned lyre. It stole from a flowery garden A burden of sweet perfume, And scattered the scent of the roses About in a dark sick-room. It paused on a city corner. And tugged at the passers-by; It crept in a chimney corner. And moaned as a ghost would sigh. With joyous hands it pummeled A noisy window-pane. And shook a swinging shutter With aU its might and main. It bent o'er a weary workman Where he toiled in a sultry place, [19] And, pursing its lips with coolness, Blew soft on his heated face. It stopped where a bird was singing, And, catching the lilt of the song. Bore it to one in anguish. Who smiled and listened long. At last, when the day was dying. It fled down the golden west. And far beyond the mountains Sank to its evening rest. [20] STORM The lightning's lances flaming o'er earth's rim Crashed and splintered on the mountain's shield ; The graj^-plumed troopers of the rain on field And wood swept after, leaving, stark and dim, The sodden miles ; ranked, dark and grim, The clouds' battalions down the gray steeps reeled Like foam-tipped flood; on peaks the priest winds kneeled, In mighty tone arose the battle hymn. Day fled before the downward plunging horde And earth resounded with their thundering feet, In mounting tides they tossed and whirled and spun ; Then o'er the eastern hills a radiance poured; The storm's black squadrons turned in wild retreat Before the golden armies of the sun ! [21] THE LEGEND OF THE FADELESS ROSE In Spain the elders tell the legend o'er To listeners about the rose-hung door. Once in a castle dwelt two lords of old, One kind of heart, the other cruel, cold. One eve the warder came who guards the gates, And said : " A figure at the portal waits. *^ It would not enter in, but bids me say That it would speak with you without delay." Then cried the baron dark : " Swift shall I go ! This begging one strength of my arm shall know ! " Returning later, answered he : "I smote A beggar bold, and cast him in the moat ! " The warder came again with cringing mien — " A figure at the outer gate is seen." " This time I go," the gentle knight replied, " Such nights as these worn travelers have died." [2^] Returning in his hand a rose he held From whose white heart a wondrous perfume welled. He said: '' I saw a maiden at the door; She vanished in the storm-wind's gusty roar. " This rose she gave me which her bosom bore, And said that it would bloom for evermore." And even now, some say, the white rose blooms With beauty shining in the dim, gray rooms. Its perfume brings to men glad dreams of spring, The song of birds, the low wind's murmuring. A meaning in the legend many find : Fair gifts has life for those whose hearts are kind. [23] THE ANCIENT CALL The wind is a hale old fellow, A gypsy and vagabond ; He's wandered the world all over, And even a little beyond. He bends to the youth in the meadow, Dreaming of lands that lie Fairer than hill and valley Under his homeland sky. He bends to the youth, and he voices A lure that is ever strong; Fellowship true and promise, He weaves in a weft of song. " Heigh-ho, laddie, would you wonders see.'' Then a happy rover must you be ! Drop your plow and harrow, leave this life so narrow. And come along — just come along with me! " He stoops to the lad in the city. Dreaming of hills afar. Where God's great winds blow nightly, And golden is every star. He stoops, and he sings so softly, His voice is like meadow streams, [24] But ever one thought threads lightly, The lilt of his wayward themes : " Heigh-ho, laddie, would you wonders see? Take with me the hill ways, far and free ! Far away we'll follow April and the swallow ! Come along — just come along with me!" The wind is a hale old fellow. But the heart within his breast Beats in common with the throbbing Of youth's longing and unrest. So he called the young hearts vanished Long ago in ages dim. And he calls them now as gayly To up and follow him ! [25] THE COMMON WAYS The little waves of Galilee Now touch all human shores, The little ways of Nazareth Run to all earthly doors. The peace He found one quiet eve Among the olives gray We find who walk our garden aisles At hushing of the day. In silent rooms of prayer we know What lonely watch must be Ere we can leave with soul serene Our dim Gethsemane. The shadowed hill of Calvary On every life looks down, And we go up like Him to win The Cross — and then the Crown ! [«6] THE INN There weary travelers lay their burdens down, Nor ever rise to take them up with morn ; There saint and sinner rest, the sage, the clown ; There hushed are voice of praise and voice of scorn. Down corridors that never sound with din. Where enter winds that from all singing cease. An angel moves ; if asked by venturers in What sought the sleepers there, she answers, " Peace." [aT] WHEN EVENING LIKE AN ANGEL When evening like an angel walks The dim old village street, And children's homing voices die In echoes far and sweet, I watch the home lights softly glow Between the arched trees Like lights of love along life's way Or by its chartless seas; I hear low greetings in the dusk. The word of friend to friend, The tender phrase of one who meets A love at journey's end; And o'er the village hearths and homes In fancy I can see The angel of the evening speak A benedicite! [28] THE CHERISHED Her home was quaint and quiet, Some distance from the street, And o'er it vines ran riot, Around were flowers sweet. The older people called her " A spinster " in a way That made it seem a sad thing To be alone and gray. But one wee lad who loved her (Her sugar cookies, too) Thought God had made his spinsters In number all too few! [29] THE BATTLEFIELD Here where hell triumphed for a crimson day, And rose the cries that still must echo far Amid the spaces linking star with star, Sunshine and shadow keep a love-tryst gay. Wood-winds, from forest aisles, with light touch sway Shy meadow flowers; where tangled thickets are. Bright wings glint goldenly; and from her jar Of silver. Summer blows sweet scents away. No sign is here of that dread battle-ground. So well the grass has woven through brief years Its kindly shroud, and Summer spent its gold: Within this peace, so tender and profound, How hollow seem the victor's boastful cheers And fame of conquerors in ages old ! [80] LONGING Just a bit of longing for an absent face — How it brings the shadows in a sunny place 1 Just a bit of longing for a happy voice, And the heart finds nothing making it rejoice. Just a bit of longing for a roguish smile Makes the day seem longer, lengthens every mile. Just a bit of longing for a footstep's sound Keeps the heart alistening to the footsteps 'round. Just a bit of longing makes love seem far more, When, the parting ended — love meets us at the door! [31] THE CROSS Symbol of shame for years beyond our count, Its form became upon the shadowed mount Symbol of love, of faith, of hope and cheer, That holier grows through every human year. But not the cross alone, for life as well Is now for us a holy miracle. And all its darker, meaner moments share Some of the beauty Christ brings everywhere. [32] DAY'S CLOSE *' Farewell," the wind sang through the gar- den, Loath to leave his loved ones there ; " Good-night," the flowers answered ; sweetly Rose their whispers on the air. " Good-by," the harpist fountain Played upon his silver strings. And the tinkling notes fell lightly Where the rose-vine sways and swings. " All the night calm be thy slumber," Murmured far the meadow streams, Their low, lingering accents mingling; And the thrush replied, " Sweet dreams ! " [33] THE SECRET O, LITTLE bird, you sing As if all months were June ; Pray tell me ere you go The secret of your tune? " I have no hidden word To tell, nor mystic art; I only know I sing The song within my heart ! " [34] THE WELLS OF SLEEP The wells of sleep are in a sunset land Where purple shadows hedge the low-hung trees, Where all is still from stir or song or speech, And never leaves move with a restless breeze. When day is done each human heart waits there The silver cup that bears the draught of sleep. And brings a peace that soothes and comforts fair While through the night the cool gray shadows creep. The heart grows weary with the setting sun, The feet must weary on the paths of day : No greater gift the Master gave to earth — The wells of sleep where burdens slip away. [36] A SON OF PAN In Roman woods the nightingale, In English lanes the lark, But in my own New England vale The minstrel robin — hark ! How quaintly from the apple tree He sounds his clear-toned flute; He little cares if all the world Around is hushed and mute. A brother, he, to troubadours And singers long ago ; A comrade hail on any trail Through sunshine, rain or blow. Sweet in the dusks of Italy May sing the nightingale; In English lanes the happy lark When hawthorns bud and pale. But never there does search reveal To longing eyes of man A true descendant, pure of blood. To claim the wreath of Pan. When spring bloom dims New England hills. An exile though he seems. You hear him pipe in merry mood The cheery old wood-dreams ! [36] TO ONE GROWN OLD So softly have thy years come unto thee, I can not think of them but as the snow With muffled step when Autumn's leaves are low — That steals o'er field and woodland silently. From all regret and longing thou art free ; Thy Springtime's rain ne'er dimmed the sun- light's glow; Thy Autumn was serene, yet thou didst know The certain sorrows of humanity. Thy Winter is not that of chill and storm, Of grieving winds and dark sky overcast. Of stricken brook the shrouding snowdrift hides ; But rather that of hearth side, bright and warm. Of friendships growing sweeter to the last, Because within thy heart the Spring abides. [37] AUTUMN No more the cricket's quiet mirth Sounds from his grassy door, Or speaks the distant whippoorwill His admonition o'er. The autumn songs are tender songs, But with low minor strains That seem to breathe of long farewells. Of mists and moaning rains. We vow that we will merry be. And fill the days with cheer, But springtime songs seem somehow false With autumn's quiet here. These are the days when hearts draw near. And love comes close to keep The tender blossoms of the soul From lifelong winter sleep. So while the gay, glad summer throngs To silence deep return. Our souls shall swing their portals wide, And bright our hearths shall bum ! [38] THE HILLS IN ABSENCE There's the song of a storm on the old hill trails, And the lure of a vanished day ; There's the sound of the waves that are never still, As they roll on the open bay. There's the white, still hush of the waiting woods. And the call of the deer at eve. And the sough of the pines that forever tell Why the ancient oceans grieve. There's the camp-fire's gleam on the dusky trees. There's a pipe and a bit of song. While the stars above through the branches smile, And the big moon dreams along. And here are the streets with their hordes of men That the gleam of the gold pursue ; Oh, give me the gold on the pines at dusk — My hills, how I long for you! [39] THE HIDDEN GATE There is a gateway o'er which trees Unlifting shadows throw, Where down the gently moving breeze Forever roses blow. About it creep gray vines that hide A carven symbol there, And underneath the leaves abide Shy pilgrims of the air. High grows the grass whose whispering Is ever grave and low. Who don the dews' bright glistering When cool the wood-winds blow. The symbol carved is " Youth," my dear, The gate the vines o'ergrow Leads gently down through many a year To youth's bright long ago. It opens on a garden fair — The Garden sweet of Dreams, Where wind-blown bloom perfumes the air, And songs have happy streams. O let us once more swing the gate. The Garden's beauty know! But vain he seeks returning late The Golden Long Ago. [40] MEMORIES Like fragrance blown from garden aisles Of roses after rain, Sweet through the windows of the heart Loved memories drift again. Like magic borne from twilight flutes Through evening's starry door, Or song of thrush from woodland dusk. Loved voices speak once more. Like that sweet touch of twilight's lips The drowsy flowers know, We feel again the tender kiss That hushed us long ago. Oh, summer night, you summon back From lost and vanished years The music stilled, the dreams forgot, The laughter and the tears ! [41] AN OLD CHURCH Here hollowed steps and shining woodwork show The passing feet and touch of long ago ; And vain all search though sent the wide world o'er To seek the feet that walk these aisles no more. Yet here the childish hands took hold on things Whose strength outlasts the ancient might of kings ; Here footsteps, wavering with the years, Have climbed to peace beyond the Vale of Tears. Around the ivied walls the drifting years are piled. And fading leaves are blown where summer smiled ; Dreams of a day — elsewhere such thought may come; Here Christ has touched doubt's lips and made them dumb! [42] DUSK AND DAWN So softly came the dusk, When night met day, No eye could see the light Fade to shadows gray. Upon earth's weary eyes The twilight gently fell, And brought the hush of peace Ineffable. So softly comes death's sleep With life's release, No heart shall ever know When it finds peace ; But as beyond the night There waits the dawn, So shall we wake, and find — The shadows gone! [43] SPRING RAIN Gray and misty is the rain Down the quiet, winding lane ; The pools look up, Each with a cup Held for the sunshine, but in vain. Chilly seems the windless air; Dampness lingers everywhere, Though bright within The fire-elfs spin. Ere up the chimney's dark they fare. Memories of vanished years. Laughter stilled, forgotten tears — These come when rain Beats on the pane. And dusk from western valley nears. But hark! Adown the misty lane Ripples a merry, mirthful strain! Our hearts find cheer. For there we hear A robin chuckling in the rain ! [44] THE ANGEL OF THE TWILIGHT When roads of earth grow dusky with the night, And home lights gleam in vale and on dim height ; When altars of the west from flaming cease And from their songs the winds of day find peace ; The angel of the twilight comes from deeps un- known Where beacon-light of stars is never thrown. On country roads where winking windows smile, Through glowing city streets where mile on mile The night is fringed with fire, through forest deep And woodland aisle in slumber calm asleep. Beyond the last far lingering light of day That fades among the stars, she makes her way. The haunts of men she enters, cottage small. The shepherd's hut, the princely castle hall, With step so light none heeds her drawing near. With face so fair, if seen, no heart would fear; In all so like a mother, on her breast. The weary heart could find a perfect rest. [45] Beneath her touch the restless hands grow still, Beneath her kiss the hurt finds balm for ill ; She breathes upon the tired eyes of grief, And slow they close in slumber's sweet relief; In tender arms she bears hearts wounded sore Where hate can scar and failure bruise no more. So comes the twilight angel when the rose Of day is ash in western garden close; She comes to all yet none has seen her face. Though all have slumbered, hushed in her em- brace : No more than this we know at dawn of light : She came, a lovely visitant of night! [46] VESPERS Around the dusky brow of night The sunset bound a fillet bright, And like a priestess at a pyre, She knelt beside the altar fire. From dim cathedrals of the hills The mingled chant of winds and rills Rose softly on the evening air, The solemn vesper rites to share. Slow died the altar's flame of gold ; The face of night, bright aureoled. In shadow dimmed, as, kneeling low. She watched the embers' fading glow. The chanting winds grew still ; the brooks Fell silent in the forest nooks ; And down the world's vast aisles night went With folded arms and soul content! [47] ASSURANCE A THOUSAND shining days shall flow Across the dawn's pearl bars ; A thousand nights shall come and go With splendor of the stars. And one shall bear you far away, As dreams bear one in sleep, Be3^ond the utmost verge of day, Beyond the sunset-deep. Dread not the parting that must be ; Yours is no journey new; Hearts go that way eternally, And I shall follow you ! [48] AS THE YEARS PASS Come softly, years, though be your coming swift. That thinking not of you life's way I go, Glad for tlie sun, the rain, love's precious gift — Then, sudden, find the hills are white with snow! [49] REUNION Within the murmuring river The singing brooks are free, And rivers rest forever In the quiet of the sea. Each cloud from silver chalice Gives back to earth the rain; Paths go from hut and palace, But each returns again. A pilgrim westward wending Toward the setting sun Finds at his journey's ending The dawn and sunset one. Unto the broken-hearted Such thought is ever sweet : Though love from love be parted, Love with love shall meet! [50] THE BROTHERHOOD That some hurts lie too deep for balm of tears, Each heart knows well, or will as speed the years. Each joins the silent brotherhood who wear No cross, nor gray monastic pallet share. But who, by gentle deed and touch of hand. Show that they are of those who understand. No balm there is to heal — and yet how sweet The quiet word, the fingers' pressure fleet! [51] POWER How pitiful seem all the burdened years, How mean the might of all things gross and base, How empty all the future's formless fears, Before the smiling of one brave, strong face ! [52] A QUESTION If I take the path to song And you take the road to gold, I wonder if we shall meet When the years are old? If I bear a harp with me And you have a golden scale, I wonder if one shall win — Or if both shall fail? Over my path there go Pilgrims but now and then; Over your road there tread A million men. Perhaps, it is wise and best Our pathways should wander far, Yours where toil's thunders rise, Mine where the thrushes are. I wonder if I with a harp And you with a bag of gold Will meet on the way of peace When the years are old? I wonder if we shall speak With the oldtime friendliness? If the Inn at the journey's end Is — " Happiness " ? [S3] IN AFTER YEARS How often in the after years when time Has touched us whitely with his frosty rime, In silent moments never spoken of, We long to know again a mother's love. Bright gold, hard labor's guerdon, may be ours. And fame have brought us satisfying dowers. Yet in the moment when our life has all — All would we give to hear her gently call. When fevered with the fret of life and toil. The strife of living, and the day's turmoil, How do we yearn, so deeply and so much. To feel again the healing of her touch. When bitter in defeat, by failure stung, When from the heart, hot, careless words are flung. How thought brings back, our dark moods to beguile. The pleased, reproving laughter in her smile ! Ah, mothers, little do you know or guess How in our secret hearts your name we bless ; How you are present through life's joys and tears. Forgotten not through life's increasing years ! [54] TEACHERS The little brook that down the vale Sings on though days be bright or gray Has taught me how I, too, may sing My cares and griefs away. The flowers growing by the path With faces lifted to the sky Have taught me where to look for Him Whose truth I journey by. The roadside spring whose waters well To quench the thirst of man Has taught me how my life may be Of service in God's plan. And so it is where'er I go, Whate'er I hear or see ; The humblest dwellers of the earth Are always teaching me ! [55] THOSE WHO ANSWER NOT I WONDERED whj soHie loved one did not speak Across the silent void that we call death, But I have learned. From on a wooded peak I called far down to one, till spent was breath, Who answered not nor looked, though joyously Would he have hurled a merry, ringing word To my far seat with greeting cheerily. Could he, within the rocky vale, have heard. I watched him pass beyond my longing sight. Nor deem me waiting on the mountainside; So those who watch from death's far, upper height Can reach us not who on earth's plains abide : Theirs is the wish to call with friendly cheer ; Ours is the silence deep — we cannot hear ! [56] IN ANSWER Shall I remember you? When hearts Forget to ache, and nevermore Lips rest on lips ere Love departs Beyond the opened door: When at the window of the years No more eyes backward look to see Love enter in the vale of tears That fronts eternity: When 'mid the tread of countless feet, The heart no more shall wait to hear Familiar steps, nor start to greet The face no longer near: When memory has gone from men. And all the dreams of joys they knew And hope of joys to come, say, then — I have forgotten you! [57] THE DIALS With fingers softer than the touch of death The sundial writes the passing of the day, The hours unfolding slow to twilight gray, The gleaming moments vanished in a breath. But sunny hours alone the sundial names ; All unrecorded are the midnight spans And vain within the dusk the watcher scans The marble face ; thereon no record flames. So on eternal dials that God may hold. And those more humble in the human heart, No bitter deeds their passing hours impart; Kind deeds alone are marked in fadeless gold! [58] LILACS OF MEMORY It never seems that spring has come Until my lilacs bloom, And shy winds bear within the house The drifting wraith-perfume. I never know until I scent Its spirit in the place That I shall bend no more to kiss One gentle flower-face. For long ago when lilacs dreamed In bloom beside the door, Spring took her far beyond the hills. And brings her back no more! [59] THE SEASON'S END Now rounds the apple on the bough, And glows the aster by the road, The birds have left the graying nest, The milkweeds scattered far their load, At twilight, redder burns the sun — Ah, lad, the trysting time is done. The autumn fires in spirals slow Mount up like incense to the sky. The locust plays his failing fife. The brook in muffling robe goes by, The thrush at twilight sings no more — Ah, lad, the mating time is o'er. The leaves put on a raiment bold For final revels of the year. The fading beauty of the hills Wanes to a grayness, dim and drear, The winds go by with presage cold — Ah, lad, 'tis love that grows not old ! [60] THE MASQUERADER A GRAY form flitted from the quiet wood ; I wondered what the vagabond could bring; Then as the gay wind lifted high the hood — I saw the dimpled, laughing face of Spring! I knew not what she hid beneath her cloak, As on she tripped with swift-blown kiss to me, But everywhere the dreaming blossoms woke. And winds were glad with summer's prophecy. [61] EVENING RAIN As gentle as the voice of love Low-speaking in the eve, As tender as the word of love To wistful hearts that grieve, The murmuring evening rain I hear Beyond my open door; And in my heart its summoning Brings memories of yore. The drifting scent of fading rose Within my garden walls Upon the warm and whispering air Like some sweet incense falls. The light wind bears it to my room, And like a charm it brings The rapture of dear days agone. The joy of vanished springs. Oh, ministry of twilight hours, No holier balm for pain. No richer gift of peace you have Than breath of evening rain ! [62] A FOOTNOTE Age glancing through his tattered book of life Reread the fading notes that told of strife And peace, regret and hope, forever past, And underneath them all he wrote this last — The rich reward of life's long journeying, The comfort that the years alone can bring: " Where once I wept, I smile." [63] THE FULL LIFE Until one knows how keen the hurt Of failure after strife may be ; Until one takes with humble heart The meeds of victory ; Until one learns with unreserve To give up what is greatly dear; Until one learns that weight of worth Is not in length of year; Until one looks upon the face Of one who speaks to him no more ; Until one knocks with bruised hand Upon a fast-closed door; Until one sees in every day Eternity is schemed; He has not found the good of life — He has not lived but dreamed ! [64] IN THE ANGEL'S BOOK I DO not hope to find beneath my name Tlie sounding syllables of an earthly fame But just a little friendly word or two To show that you loved me and I loved you ! [66] IN A TWILIGHT GARDEN Who walks a garden aisle at hush of eve, When winds of day are still, and everywhere The dreaming shadows rest, can well believe The flowers have an evening hour of prayer. When round the heart the restful silence folds, And life's tumultuous turmoil throbs no more, It seems as if the friendly twilight holds A healing Presence worn souls hunger for. One in the garden's dusky peace can guess Why Jesus longed one starlit night to be Far from the restless city's din and press, Within the quiet of Gethsemane. [66] THE WIND'S INVITATION Leave thy work and follow, lad ; The spring is in the air; Adown the ways a laughter plays Up and on we fare. Music from the meadows Where the brooks awake — There is healing, laddie. For an old heartache ! Hush ! the trees are telling Dreams of winter long — Hark ! that voice ethereal Wraps the world with song. Up, away, and caring Not for any fate; At the end of faring Love is at the gate. Up and follow, laddie. Arm and arm with mirth ; Farewell to winter's sorrow — The spring has come to earth! [67] THE FIRST SORROW By this, O grieving heart, you enter in A brotherhood as ancient as the stars, Immortal as the grief that David knew. And limitless as are the dreams of men. By this you enter in to mysteries Which only those who suffer know; all life Shall have new meanings rich with truth, And you shall see not darkly as before. There is no bond like sorrow in the world To knit the hearts of men in common good ; Above their dead the foemen are as friends. And grief beside the ashes turns to love. By this are you made kin in holy rite To greatest of the earth and lowliest ; Forevermore you share their hope and faith. And in that sharing shall your soul find peace. [68] WITHOUT THEE When whitelj blooms the rose of morn In gardens of the sky, And gay with laughter of the birds The lyric winds go by, I often think how dull would be The morning without thee! When noon has swept the hills with gold And tinted bright the trees, When in their leafy tents the birds Have hushed their minstrel glees, I think how gray and lone would be The noontide without thee ! When evening calls the thrushes' choir For vesper service sweet. And from the clangor of the day Hearts find a calm retreat, I know how void of rest would be A twilight without thee ! You are to me the morning's joy. The noontide's sunny beam. The twilight's friendly hand of peace. And ever do I dream How great my need of you will be Through time's eternity ! [69] SUNSET FROM A CITY TOWER A MOTE between the soaring skies and earth, I peer into the deep abyss below, Where sweeps a tide that hath nor ebb nor flow With murmur as of devils' distant mirth. In its great womb a thousand sounds have birth, Merged in one mighty chant, confused and low; Far down the lights burn with a dull red glow Like deep-gloomed forges set in night's black girth. Then Fancy stoops to Thought : I think of all The souls that whirl fore'er on that great tide, The face of youth, of sin, of peace, of years ; There Death walks nightly when the shadows fall, There Love keeps watch some one beloved be- side. There sorrow follows joy, and laughter, tears. Then turning toward the far, dark-hooded west. With thoughts full of life's strange unrest and woe, I saw the darkened heavens burst — and lo ! [70] As with great hands the clouds apart were pressed — Forth leaped the sunset on its evening quest ! Wide as the great earth's verge its bright tides flow, With crimson fire the city skylines glow, While chimes are singing hymns of peace and rest. So shall we leave earth's fevered winding ways, Its dark dim paths where surest footsteps fail, And some day see the darkness part and bare The towered heights of Paradise ablaze. While sweetly ringing bells our coming hail. And stands the Master with his welcome there J [71] A SONG OF THE ROAD Ho, for the voice of the winds, CalHng the freeborn far, O'er the crest of the earth to a kingly birth, Friends with the northern star! Ho, for the sunny world. Blossom and bird and bee. For the song of the streams, the cool night dreams. The lure of the sky- rimmed sea ! Ho, for the red of the blood, Stirring the restless heart, For the brave who would stray o'er the world's great way Down where the dawn tides start! Ho, for the voice of the road. Calling the pilgrim far, O'er the crest of the earth to a kingly birth. Friends with the northern star! [72] GENESIS Out of tlie silence, song; Out of the bud, a rose; Out of the rose, the scent The wood- wind blows. Out of the years, a faith ; Out of life's travail, truth ; Out of the heart, the charm Of ageless youth. Out of the things unseen. Out of the inner dream. Ever in beauty is born The love supreme ! [73] THE WAGER El Shamab, was a builder Of fame long years ago; Ar Hamel was a poet Of whom we little know. But once, a legend has it, Shamar stood and smiled Before a palace golden Which he had reared and styled. " Ar Hamel, I'm a builder, And you a singer — say. You write a song ; I'll wager Your song first fades away ! " Ar Hamel wrote a love song ; A fragile thing it seemed Beside the palace golden That in the sunshine gleamed. But when the lofty palace Had crumbled into dust. And on the wind was dancing. The plaything of each gust; When Shamar long had vanished, Forgotten was his name. When Hamel, happy-hearted. Was known no more to fame ; [74] still in that land the love song Was sung by lovers true: The love song was immortal, Its theme forever new ! [75] IN AN OLD GARDEN FORGOTTEN Here even sunbeams stumble as they thread The tangled aisles where weed and thicket twine In clasps unriven by the years ; here vine With vine weaves shrouds to hide the ghostly dead Of vanished springs. Here dying roses shed Their petals, drifting memories that shrine With fleeting glory of a garland fine, A haunt whence one might think all beauty fled. Yet here among this riot wild of bloom And leaf, where Summer heaps the refuse of Her toil, and shadow close to shadow clings, A vesper thrush amid the thickets' gloom Makes sweet the night — a symbol of the lave That dwells among the heart's forgotban things ! [76] OLD PORTS I LOVE to wander in the dim old ways Where seamen came from countries far and wide ; The sleepy wharves redolent with the tide, The battered ships, gray veterans of grim frays, An ancient sailor's yarns or salty lays — They lure me ever to the blue seaside, For there I find my dull thoughts vivified With musing in the dreams of other days. There is a beauty in the oldtime things That men have touched and loved, which served their need, Yet which they leave when sailing days are done; Around old ports the loving fancy flings A charm that wakens vanished life and deed. And brings back days of glories lost and won. [77] THE SUNSET ISLES Still are the towered isles beneath the sunset's smile That lulls the earth with benediction's holy peace, And bids the soul's gray chapel close a little while From din of life and wrangling tongues that will not cease. The star-gemmed ripples whisper round the dark shore stones With accents tender as a mother's good night tune; The priestlike winds to music hush the far sea moans, And soothe the breakers' sullen mutter to a croon. The winding walks beneath the trees that bend with bloom. Like veiled nuns in white who fear men's pry- ing eyes. Are still and sweet with scented shadows but no gloom. And here and there the silver spraying foun- tains rise. [78] There down the twilight aisles the happy lovers stroll, With woven arms and hearts merged deep in love's accord ; There laughter like a cloud-borne lark springs from the soul, And to the yearning arms of grief joy is re- stored. Soft voices speak in mellow murmurs through the dusk, And seem like half-forgotten music heard again, But reft from low mortality's crude earthen husk That stills the finer strains bom in the souls of men. The dark-eyed, mystic dreamers know not where they lie. Those happy sunset isles forever smiling fair. But sometimes through our broken dreams we see them nigh, — And pray that we, when toil is done, may enter there. [79] NIGHT AND THE AGES Dusk with a charm has lulled The noisy world to sleep; Only the stars keep watch, And the never-resting deep. Think of the countless years That night has come to men, Going they knew not where, Nor if it came again! Over the sparkling blue Of the gem-isled Grecian seas It crept with its shadows cool, Hiding the argosies. Csesar its coming knew Where, by his camp-fire's light. He dreamed of his far-off Rome And the steps that lead to might. Over red Waterloo It laid the shroud of peace. Cooling the parching lips. Bringing with death surcease. Centuries now have gone — Still do we watch it come. Touching the heart with peace Till railing lips are dumb. [80] Here do I welcome it, As countless men have done; Ages have come and passed, But night makes mankind one! [81] REQUIEM The ships come in from the sea, And the tide moves inwardly; The wild bird seeks its nest, And the heart its rest. The winds that ranged the hills And sang with stars and rills, From mirth and music cease, And the heart finds peace. On paths that backward turn. Where home lights softly burn, Feet haste, no more to roam, — And the heart goes home. [8«] 1 THE WATCHER When, Joy has left the gray, deserted rooms, When Friendship, Trust, and Dreams for- e'er depart, Still through the day from dawn to twilight glooms, Hope watches by the window of the heart I [83] EXILES The homeland hills are dreaming Beneath the moon's white beaming, And the river murmurs seaward quietly; We can hear the wood-winds calling, Watch the dark tree-shadows falling, The meadow dampness rising mistily. Many miles between us lying Mock our eager homeward sighing. Where we sit alone within the dusk and dream ; Think in fancy lights are burning Just to welcome our returning. Make believe that they are real, not what they seem. We who exiles are may wander, But our hearts grow ever fonder Of the old home ways and each familiar scene ; Memories of love still bind us. Speeding seasons ever find us. With hope of our returning ever green. When the toil of day is ended. And the golden moon ascended, Our thoughts go back to homeland hills once ^^m more; 'IH [84] i Up the path we hasten lightly Where the home lights beckon brightly, And we dream our loved ones greet us at the door. [85] THE LOWLY PLEDGE There is no song I would not sing for thee, Were magic mine to weave the melody. There is no deed I would not do for thee, If thine, and thine alone, the fame might be. There is no death I would not die for thee, If dying, thine were immortality. Yet as no song nor deed nor death may be The gift my love can oifer unto thee. This may I do: in small ways faithfully Till life is done, serve and be true to thee! [86] A TWILIGHT PLEA Hush thy music, wind of evening; Lay thy silver harp aside; Let the golden notes, long lingering, Drift to peace at eventide. Song is sweet, but rest is sweeter. When the heart is full with dreams. And the thoughts on still paths wander Down to immemorial streams. Touch the murmuring strings no longer. Lest the mellow tones awake Ghosts of vanished sighs and laughter. Bring once more some old heartache. Hush thy music, wind of evening ! Let thy thrumming fingers cease; Twilight comes, our hearts are weary — Nothing would we ask save peace. [87] SONG'S END Think not that song must end, and peace be all. In the wide meadows of eternity; The lyric brooks that heed the ocean's call But join its vast, unending symphony! [88]