VERSES 
 
 WILSON JEFFERSON 
 
Class ^Sn^ 
 Book 'E^ f V4- 
 CopyiightN'ja^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: 
 
VERSES 
 
 WILSON JEFFERSON 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 1909 
 
Copyright 1909 by Wilson Jefferson 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 
 
 ©C(.A251871" 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A Memory 5 
 
 Should I Despair 6 
 
 The Clod Speaks 7 
 
 Night Workers' Song 8 
 
 Dead River 9 
 
 The Workers lo 
 
 The Builders 1 1 
 
 Dreams 12 
 
 The Gift Possessed 13 
 
 Journey's End 14 
 
 After Death 15 
 
 The Wife 16 
 
 Pioneers 17 
 
 The Vine 18 
 
 A Song of May 20 
 
 To a Book Peddler 21 
 
 For Lo! He Stooped and Sighed 22 
 
 Thought 23 
 
 Sonnets of Remembrance — 
 
 Lincoln 24 
 
 Garrison 25 
 
 John Brown 26 
 
 3 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Secret 27 
 
 Militant 27 
 
 To Miss S. D 28 
 
 The Soul That Surpasses 29 
 
 America 30 
 
A MEMORY 
 
 A rich rare grace green fields o'crspread — 
 Bird notes rang clear — the dew 
 
 Sun-kissed at morn threw back the charms 
 Given to earth by you. 
 
 On those first days we braved the maze 
 Of life's old things and new. 
 
 Earth, air and sky bent to our wills 
 
 And moved in unison 
 With all the present's store of bliss 
 
 And all yet to be won : 
 Then the heart's beat and striving feet 
 
 Heeded life's call as one. 
 
 The low dull hum of deadening things 
 Reached not our fair demesne, 
 
 Dwellers of earth we lived apart 
 In a fair world serene, 
 
 Where cares like swift sea-seeking streams 
 Love's fingers slipped between. 
 
SHOULD I DESPAIR? 
 
 Should I despair because my lot on earth 
 Is bound and meted by the chance of birth? 
 Should I despair because earth's vested power 
 Demons can wield for one brief soulless hour? 
 Should I, forsooth, allow the monster, Hate, 
 In me to rise and stain my soul's estate? — 
 And grieve if knowledge all its powers use 
 Distrust to kindle and to nurse abuse? 
 Know thou, my soul, a vaster kingdom lies 
 Beyond this rim of meeting earth and skies. 
 And here and now the guileless heart can feel 
 The power that shapes a godly people's 
 
 weal, — 
 The Presence that, unseen, still shapes the end 
 Of those who, claiming strength, on God de- 
 pend. 
 And, owning weakness, place their hope and 
 
 trust 
 In him whose banner ne'er yet trailed the 
 dust. 
 
THE CLOD SPEAKS 
 
 In kindred, groveling dust I lie, — 
 A part of earth, to earth I clingy— 
 
 Yet kin I am to stars on high. 
 And man I give meet nourishing. 
 
 The rich, the poor, proud king or clown, 
 Are for a day my betters all; 
 
 Yet the same feet that press me down 
 Press onward till beneath my thrall. 
 
 Though all things bloom to fade, I boast 
 The primal strength I knew of old, — 
 
 And new strength gain, as all earth's host, 
 Or soon, or late, I shall infold. 
 
 As men know death I know it not, — 
 Both man and nature I defy, — 
 
 Systems and powers will be forgot 
 And perished all — ere I shall die ! 
 
NIGHT WORKER'S SONG 
 
 We seize the tangled skein of things 
 When tired hands are folded by, 
 
 And night to our unraveling brings 
 The glory of the star-set sky. 
 
 Day with its garish charms departs 
 
 And dark, gem-studded, rims our world; 
 
 And peace all-healing seeks our hearts 
 
 From night's dim, star-strewn spaces 
 hurled. 
 
 Moonlight and mist and silence weave 
 A calm that soothes the wearied brain; 
 
 The round, full earth may sob and heave, 
 But we know not its pulse and strain. 
 
 We lightly drift from cares along 
 Earth's planet-whirling, distant way. 
 
 And hear the fabled heavenly song 
 
 From hights where no earth-interests stray. 
 
"DEAD RIVER" 
 
 [A local legend tells of a woman who 
 fruitlessly waited the return of a truant and 
 faithless lover, and finally, bereft of reason, 
 drowned herself in the waters of this river. 
 It was then a part of the main stream of 
 the Savannah, hut thereafter the river grad- 
 ually changed its course and left this sleeping 
 calm.] 
 
 Its waters, quiet, cool and dim. 
 E'er keep a strange devotion, — 
 
 Even the oaks and poplars slim 
 About it show no motion; 
 
 Placid its bosom lies and weirdly still 
 
 To streams that pierce the plain or leap the 
 hill. 
 
 Its face by day reflects a sun 
 
 Soft-lying and at rest 
 Like to an infant lulled upon 
 
 Its mother's tender breast. 
 By night it wooes the glancing vagrant star 
 With charms as rare as any maiden's are. 
 
Strangely it keeps a hallowed peace 
 
 Amid the world's wild roving, 
 And from the thrall seeks no release 
 
 Of one once madly loving; 
 Strangely it shows that constancy and love 
 One heart defiled and one heart died to prove. 
 
 THE WORKERS 
 
 Toil-seeking, yet with morn's glow in their 
 faces, 
 By sleep and dreams renewed, they haste 
 along; 
 Dark roofs that hide from them life's sunlit 
 places 
 Await them, yet they go, a joyous throng ! 
 
 But passed the long dull day I see again 
 Homebound, the weary, shambling haste 
 of those 
 Who joyous saw morn's golden amber stain 
 Poured round the sky when daylight first 
 arose. 
 
 lO 
 
THE BUILDERS 
 
 Through labyrinths of crossing beams 
 Bold, crafty figures sunward glide, 
 
 And toil serene where virgin gleams 
 Of daylight fall their way beside. 
 
 Yonder on frail, scant scaffoldings 
 A bit of pulsing life looks down. 
 
 And higher still a figure swings 
 Between the flaring sun and town. 
 
 Like a new tribe or species sprung 
 To serve the gods of Use and Space, 
 
 Some kindly spirit hither flung 
 Yon hardy, nimble-footed race. 
 
 And solved for each the mystery 
 Of all that doth far planets bind, 
 
 Wherewith to rear strong walls to be 
 A hive for teeming humankind. 
 
 II 
 
DREAMS 
 
 I reared a dream-spun fabric to the sky, 
 
 Woven of all the glorious thrills of youth; 
 Like threads of silver, life's bold hopes and 
 high 
 Ran through fair threads of golden-prom- 
 ised truth. 
 
 Then one by one came earth's disasters 
 swift — 
 Rough winds to shake and mists to hide its 
 gleaming — 
 Till scattered wide its shattered fragments 
 drift 
 Earthward, but I to other ports of dream- 
 ing. 
 
 12 
 
THE GIFT POSSESSED 
 
 To a Caged Bird 
 
 Thy home, gay songster, Is the free 
 Far leagues of space's immensity — 
 
 Dim woods and quiet, leafy bowers; 
 Yet from thy prison small and bare 
 Thy soul, forgetting bounds, doth fare 
 
 In strains that shame man's cruel powers. 
 
 Wings hast thou, and the instinctive sense 
 That, free, thou couldst pierce the immense 
 
 Far stretches of a luring sky; 
 And yet, forbidden, thou thy wings 
 Foldest, while from thy heart upsprings 
 
 Sweet strains thy lot to glorify. 
 
 O bird ! would that my heart, like thine 
 Earth-bound, could still feel the divine 
 
 Sweet issues of the gift of life — 
 And should to me heaven aught deny, 
 Would that I still might glorify 
 
 The gift possessed — come calm or strife. 
 
 13 
 
JOURNEY'S END 
 
 I have felt the lures of earth, 
 
 Sun-flecked road and heaving tide; 
 
 But the place that knew my birth 
 I would seek now, to abide. 
 
 Through life's noon-time splendor, I 
 Roamed and felt the world's wild call; 
 
 Give me now a glimpse of sky 
 Here where peace is over all. 
 
 Once earth's bounds to me seemed nearer. 
 And my joys sprang from the road; 
 
 Now yon hearthside calling clearer. 
 Rest would give me and my load. 
 
 H 
 
AFTER DEATH 
 
 And for his passage 
 The soldier s music, and the rites of war 
 Speak loudly for him. — Hamlet. 
 
 "The soldier's music, and the rites of war" — 
 Aye, for his passing fain we grant him these, 
 Who reaped in life heart-pang and jeer and 
 
 scar. 
 While men, unknowing, reaped his victories. 
 
 In life men pitied,— but his faith was bold; 
 Men counseled, but he strove in his own way; 
 Men balked him, but the truth his heart did 
 
 hold 
 Triumphed, and heaven, somehow, earth's 
 
 debt will pay. 
 
 15 
 
THE WIFE 
 
 I glory when earth's honors come to thee ; 
 
 I sorrow when thy cherished plans go wrong ; 
 
 Attuned to thine, my heart beats weak or 
 strong, 
 
 And naught thou reapest but what yields to 
 me: 
 
 Yet often more than what the world doth see 
 
 Of good or 111 I bear with joy or tears; 
 
 My poor heart quails ofttlmcs, and yet o'er 
 fears 
 
 I shrink from, thou, through me, hold'st mas- 
 tery. 
 
 Deep in my soul thou knowest I little care 
 For things prized dearly by the throbbing 
 
 world; 
 For thy approval all earth's gifts I'd spare, — 
 Nay, count naught lost If Love his flag un- 
 furled 
 O'er the strewn wrecks of all our earthly 
 
 gain. 
 And left thy heart and mine without a stain. 
 
 i6 
 
PIONEERS 
 
 Across the prairies wild a cavalcade 
 Winds its slow way — or hugs the mountain- 
 side 
 'Neath frowning cliffs, and where stretch 
 
 chasms wide: 
 Where the deep canon throws its death-like 
 
 shade 
 They penetrate. Naught leaves their hearts 
 
 dismayed. 
 One pulsing hope urges the restless tide 
 Out where God's mighty stillnesses abide, 
 And the West smiles! — as yet by man un- 
 made. 
 
 On, on they move, defying death and all 
 
 The sombre train of earth's calamities; 
 
 The fire that glows within, nor home, nor 
 
 ties 
 Of friends or kin could quench, nor aught 
 
 enthrall 
 The spirit bold that urged them stake life's 
 
 best 
 For all the storied splendor of the West. 
 
 17 
 
THE VINE 
 
 i 
 
 This thing I saw about a common vine 
 
 That sprang from common soil; 
 
 Following the nature of its parent stock 
 
 That earth and air and sun 
 
 Had wakened, coaxed and urged 
 
 To full free life, — 
 
 High in the air its tendrils reached, 
 
 Like a thing of sense. 
 
 But not so seeming good or kind, — 
 
 So smiling like, is earth always; 
 
 Rains pelted and winds tossed 
 
 Its stem about. Heat and cold, 
 
 Following too closely. 
 
 Dwarfed it. Careless feet 
 
 Twice pressed it down. 
 
 "Surely," said I, "'twill never reach 
 
 A coign of support." 
 
 But one brave tendril, all undaunted, won 
 
 My sympathy as up It strove 
 
 Above its fellows. 
 
 It reached to clasp a neighboring bush, — 
 
 Through a long day toiled painfully, — 
 
 And failed. 
 
 i8 
 
Then, not discouraged, on the next 
 
 It reached again, 
 
 And groped and sighed, 
 
 And spent itself, — 
 
 Its goal still bafflingly remote. 
 
 Then through succeeding days 
 
 It likewise toiled. 
 
 Sorrowing it seemed that fate its life 
 
 Had doomed to unfulfilment. 
 
 Days passed and I the vine forgot. 
 So near to failure did the issue seem, 
 That I confused and all uncertain, — 
 For thoughts of failure often bring 
 Regrets that blur sad issues out, — 
 Forbade my thoughts thereon to dwell. 
 And then by chance my eyes one day 
 The erstwhile trailing tendril caught. 
 And lo ! it had its haven reached, — 
 Had drooped and sighed, no doubt, and 
 
 moaned. 
 But still itself about itself 
 Had twined; 
 
 Had reached and drooped 
 And twined again, 
 And still again. 
 
 Till its own body gave it strength 
 A.nd stoutness to reach out and clasp 
 The neighboring bush. 
 19 
 
And there It grew, 
 
 Twisted about Itself and curled 
 
 And all unshapely, — 
 
 Its symmetry and grace all lost, — 
 
 But earth and the untowardness of things 
 
 Spurned, and new glory given 
 
 To faith sublime in self! 
 
 A SONG OF MAY 
 
 My soul, look thou beyond the gloom 
 
 Of sorrows strewn between 
 
 The short-lived joys of yesteryear. 
 
 To where in rolling grace appear 
 
 Yon billows of soft green, — 
 
 And know a thousand thousand hopes 
 
 Rise daily with the sun, — 
 While life, like earth's unfolding, brings 
 New gifts of cheer, and glimmerings 
 
 Of joys yet to be won. 
 
 20 
 
TO A BOOK PEDDLER 
 
 Meek, cheerful, hopeful, upward looking 
 
 man ! 
 Thy task Is one unlovely, and thy lot 
 Not to be envied, yet withal thou art 
 Man's benefactor, counselor and friend. 
 The world its back turns on thee in disdain 
 And dubs thee nuisance, trifler, and the like, — 
 Makes thee the butt of coarse, unfeeling 
 
 jokes, — 
 Impatient leaves thee and thy wares, nor 
 
 heeds 
 Thy piteous appeals. But these are they 
 Who need the kindly pitying prayer and 
 
 tear — 
 Despairing ones who've never known or felt 
 The sweet delights of books. Black Ignorance 
 Encircles them. Their faculties are doomed 
 To move In one worn groove of empty 
 
 thought. 
 They see just to their finger tips, nor wish 
 Further to scan. 
 
 21 
 
Ignore their frowns and jee^s; 
 Pass by their cold refusals and the smile 
 That leers, and ply thy trade for us who wish 
 Broad fields of wisdom and of wit to roam — 
 Who would o'erstep the narrow bounds of 
 
 time 
 And circumstance, and fondly contemplate 
 Thought ages old and wide experience 
 Flowered into feeling poetry or prose. 
 
 FOR LO! HE STOOPED AND 
 SIGHED" 
 
 We are poorer since she died — 
 
 Sadder, poorer, since she died, 
 
 Yet sure I am that Death 
 
 Gazed and turned a worshipper: 
 
 For lo ! he stooped and sighed, 
 
 Stooped and eased the pain-drawn breath, 
 
 And laid, in tenderest love, his hands on her. 
 
 22 
 
THOUGHT 
 
 Weak and unavailing thought Is, If It's warm- 
 ed not by the heart : 
 
 Deeds born of It lack the fire that divorces 
 deed from doer; 
 
 Words born of It lack the essence that an- 
 other heart would cherish; 
 
 All things born of It are short-lived, empty, 
 vain, and unavailing. 
 
 23 
 
SONNETS OF REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 I 
 
 LINCOLN 
 
 Beside thy greatness, O most noble man! 
 Speech seems a vapor striving with the sun; 
 And all our far-fetched figures vainly run 
 A gamut metaphoric, when the plan 
 Of thy rich wisdom they would wisely scan. 
 Our similes and tropes in love begun 
 Strive at high tasks, but ere a victory won 
 Acknowledge that our love all thought out- 
 ran. 
 
 And yet, to venture, thou art like a tree 
 
 That doth in some dank forest side up- 
 
 spring. 
 Stalwart and bold, a beacon of the glade. 
 
 Whose limbs far-spreading tell of liberty. — 
 Giving support to lesser things that cling, 
 To rivals of its greatness offering shade. 
 
 24 
 
II 
 
 GARRISON 
 
 A later knowledge man has somehow gain- 
 ed— 
 
 A knowledge born, they say, of wisdom 
 rare — 
 
 That honors means, not ends, and doth 
 prepare 
 
 To cancel griefs and wrongs that long have 
 pained 
 With sore afflictions, as by heaven ordained — 
 
 Not rashly, as they say, but biding time 
 
 And circumstance, till man and goodness 
 chime 
 
 And all the boons of love flourish unfeign- 
 ed. 
 
 But thou, O Father, knowest of his heart 
 Who stirred at wrongs, impatient as the 
 
 wind 
 Sweeping the level fields of bending grain; 
 Who evil saw and nobly did his part; 
 
 Left friends and foes and dalliers all be- 
 hind, 
 And strove to bring to earth thy love again. 
 
 25 
 
Ill 
 
 JOHN BROWN 
 
 God fired his soul with purposes of right, 
 Gave it a dauntless daring glow, and gave 
 Its owner faith, that armor of the brave 
 Who heed the heart's appeal against man's 
 might, — 
 
 And then with boldness flamed he on the sight 
 Of men and weaklings, like a star far- 
 flashed 
 Across the waiting dark, leaving abashed. 
 In rich effulgence, those of lesser light. 
 
 Even now his courage glows across the years 
 Of servile thought confused and faith 
 
 grown cold 
 With no uncertain glimmer; as of old 
 It stirred the heart through self-forgetting 
 tears — 
 It still condemns the part that reason plays 
 O'er hearts unreasoning and degenerate 
 days. 
 
 26 
 
THE SECRET 
 
 Life's best for self I'd win, and yet 
 
 I'd spare another pain; 
 The boons of life I seek, but set 
 
 My soul on righteous gain. 
 
 And so I teach my striving heart 
 
 A noble way to live ; 
 I always find life's sweeter part 
 
 Left when the best I give. 
 
 MILITANT 
 
 I strive with fervor, yet my heart 
 Accepts earth's sure decree 
 
 Whereby I only gain in part 
 The all that I would be; 
 
 But 'gainst the dull effects of things 
 
 That bid me less desire — 
 Life, steel me with the faith that brings 
 
 Thy unrelenting fire. 
 
 27 
 
TO MISS S. D. ^ 
 
 Having Attained Her Majority 
 
 A child thou wert the embodiment 
 
 Of winsome wiles and graces, 
 A radiant, flower-like presence sent 
 
 To cheer earth's lonely places, 
 A breath of morning's sweetness blown 
 About a world with weeds o'ergrown. 
 
 All that those early years foretold 
 
 Time fitly now discloses, 
 Of the soul's promise of pure gold 
 
 And cheeks to bloom like roses; 
 For childhood's charm still round thee lingers 
 Dulled not nor marred by time's rough 
 fingers. 
 
 28 
 
THE SOUL THAT SURPASSES 
 
 I grieve not that my hands are bound 
 To dull tasks, and my feet must go 
 
 Ofttimes the care-encumbered round 
 Weak, struggling mortals know; 
 
 My heart can spurn the strife and noise 
 Of warring things that round me rage,. — 
 
 For out of love's far deeps come joys 
 Earth's sorrows to assuage. 
 
 My weak earth-humbled flesh can creep 
 Awhile past life's despoiling things, — 
 
 And my bold soul can rise and sweep 
 Past earth's mean offerings, — 
 
 Where all the pangs of grief I've known, 
 And all the cares that burdened me. 
 
 Shall drift like leaves by wild winds blown 
 From the storm-beaten tree. 
 
 29 
 
AMERICA 
 
 Fit theme art thou for prophet, poet, seer, — 
 America, home of earth's far-straying tribes ! 
 Nature has flowered in thee, through men 
 
 and things. 
 And bold high purposes, full many a wish 
 Long cherished by the nations older grown. 
 Thy youth with many a garland rich and rare. 
 Such as become the ripened age, is decked; 
 And thou a host of glorious memories hast, 
 Rich with a store of honors nobly won 
 From noble causes fathered by the sons 
 Who nurtured at thy bosom ; richer still 
 In inspiration to the advancing lines 
 Of newer sons, upon whose shoulders rest 
 The fashioning of the state the fathers 
 
 dreamed. 
 Whose base is brotherhood, whose fabric is 
 Of love and tolerance and faith compact. 
 And 'tis w ith these thy future weal doth lie ! 
 Into their keeping all thy dearest boons 
 Are fondly given — and unto them thy past 
 Makes its appeal: Lincoln and Washington, 
 And Garrison, outspoken for mankind, — 
 Whittier the gentle, and high-starred John 
 
 Brown, — 
 
 30 
 
And many another unknown patriot gave 
 Thy Institutions goodly scope and power — 
 Relinquished for mankind the narrow ties 
 That bound them to a selfish gain, and spent 
 Life to its uttermost for thy advance. 
 
 And yet the power that's now thy pride can 
 
 be, 
 If loosed to passion's base appeals, or used 
 For the mere ends of gain, the potent means 
 Of thy undoing; while the unfeigned joy 
 Thou hast in brave, red-blooded, daring men 
 And projects v^ast, may blindly lead thee on 
 Past yonder humble, godly one who strives 
 Far from the prying gaze of men, unknown, 
 Unhonored, yet with a bold faith that dares 
 All things for earth's and mankind's good, 
 
 and hopes 
 For no reward save what his own appeased 
 Strict conscience grants. 
 
 Thy spires tall may point 
 Ever in pious passiveness to heaven; 
 Thy marts may teem with men of trade, thy 
 
 schools 
 With seekers after truth — and yet far flown 
 May be life's higher choice — far driven all 
 That makes for manhood and the true ideals 
 
 31 
 
Of noble living: for to gain the things 
 Earth dearest holds is oft to lose one's seul 
 And blight a thousand more; to win the ap- 
 plause 
 Of men may be a seeming glorious quest 
 While in pursuit, yet in the afterglow 
 Of seasoned years, may be the one dark blot 
 That shuts heaven's glory out. 
 
 To own the springs 
 That from life's hallowed, sacred sources flow 
 In actions toward our fellow-men — to spend 
 Our talents for the common good of all — 
 To bear the weak's infirmities, and spurn 
 Our own shortcomings; this it is to live 
 The God-ordained life, and grow and thrive 
 i\nd keep the lamp aglow our fathers lit 
 To flash a ray of hope around the world. 
 
 32 
 
IjQV 29^9^ 
 
 ^O TAT oiy 
 
 'VOV 29 1309