PS 3539 . H637 A9 VW/ V^v V^v V .6* ^tf . <^ CT c ° " ° * ' <* < V ' q, ».,,•* .O-" k 0* , .*' •*« ,. v *+ - v^,\k/ \.. v^>*. V*- H0% AUGURIES AUGURIES By BASIL THOMPSON NEW YORK JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 1919 Certain of these Pieces have appeared in sundry Publications, but, for the most part, the Verses herein assembled are now pre- sented for the first time. COPYRIGHTED 1918 BY JAMES T. WHITE A CO MAR 20 1919 ©CIA516 CONTENTS AUGURIES 13 ITERATED 14 AWAKENING 15 LYRIC 17 THE ANSWER 18 PREINCARN ATION 20 ESCAPE 21 CORONA CRUCIS 22 BEATA MEMORIA 24 SEEKERS 25 WANDERERS 26 HARLEQUIN DISPOSES 27 DE8IDERIUM 32 COMPLAINT 33 OUR DREAM 34 DICTUM 36 STIMULUS 37 CONTENTS— Continued OLD SONG 38 THE DREAMER 39 CAMEO 4 1 ULTIMATUM 42 A YOUTHFUL POET PRAYS 45 SPRING, 1917 47 LUNECSTASY 49 ROSSETTI'S "SONG OF THE BOWER" 50 MEA CULPA 5 x VALUES 52 ALAN'S "RENDEZVOUS" 53 THE SENTINEL 55 HYMN TO BEAUTY 5^ PEACE 58 A CHRISTMAS QUERY 59 SONGS OF THE NIGHTLINGS 60 CONTENTS— Continued orison 61 IMPROMPTU 62 POSSESSION 63 RONDEL 64 BEAUTY ENCORE ! 65 SOLICITATION 67 QUANDARY 68 SHAKESPEARE 69 MONOTONE 70 RENUNCIATION 71 LYRIC 72 THE SPIRIT SPEAKS 73 LABORARE EST ORARE 74 RAIN-DROPS 75 ITEM 271, CAT. 17 76 FINIS 77 AUGURIES "Weak Verses, go, kneel at your Sovereign's feet, And say! — 'We are the masters of thy slave; What wouldest thou with us and ours and thine?' Then call your sisters from Ablivion's cave, All singing loud: 'Love's very pain is sweet, But its reward is in the world divine, Which, if not here, it builds beyond the grave.' So shall ye live when I am there. Then haste Over the hearts of men, until ye meet Marina, Vanna, Primus, and the rest, And bid them love each other and be blest; And leave the troop which errs, and which reproves, And come and be my guest, — for I am Love's." EPIPSYCHIDION. AUGURIES THESE, my callow rhymes, I tender In the way of one Who has caught the coming splendor Of the Morrow's sun, Who has felt a need to cast Back of him the ragged Past. Oh, to be the Dawn-Attender, Be the Future's slave! Gladly, should I, gladly render All the poor Past gave, Might I so, the fitter, be Servant of Futurity! 13 ITERATED "\TO Work is lost" — I heard Him say — ■!• ^> "No work that's wrought in sorrow; The weft you weave in tears today Shall be your wear tomorrow." 14 AWAKENING BLIND have I been these many years, Blind that I could not see This wonder-world which now appears So plain to me. Deaf was I that I could not hear, Dumb that I could not sing The song that fills both eye and ear This day of spring. Thus carols Youth, In his newly strength, When he learns at length The Truth. Life is a lilt today, it seems; Love is a light-foot thing, This world a bower-land of dreams Where blithe birds sing. And, oh! I know that these are enough, Life and a ringing song, Singing birds and the blue above, And Love a-long! 15 Thus carols Youth, In his newly strength, When he learns at length The Truth. 16 LYRIC OH, the cut of the wind Of a wintry night! Oh, the breath of the dew In the early light! Oh, the face of a flower Away in the wood, And the face of a woman, To me are good! Oh, the call of the horn From over the hill! Oh, the fret in the song Of the rivering rill! Oh, the murmur of music, The blue solitude, And the white of her bosom, To me are good! Oh, the blood in my body, The beat in my breast, Cry for beauty and rapture And rhythmic unrest! 17 THE ANSWER THAT, which your voice demands, That, will we gladly do; Our hearts, our heads, our hands, Our all, belong to you. The World is red today, The blood within us red; Red is the lust to slay, And red the slaughtered dead. The stretch of time is naught, And naught the span of man; That, which we do then ought, To be the best we can. The best we can is all; The rest is waste and vain, . . No matter what befall, Be it for bliss or bane. To you, we give our best; To you, will we attend, With love and zeal and zest, With honor to the end. 18 These little lives we live, These little deeds we do; Them, will we gladly give, Them, and our all, to you. 19 PREINCARNATION EREWHILE, when on some gladder sphere You laughed your little span away, Not mindful to be weeping here, As you are weeping here today; Did, once, you pause, the while you joyed, To ponder on a day to be, Which time, perchance, would be employed In Paradisal jubilee? Did you desire a higher place, Than that whereon you sang and played; Did, once, you crave a braver grace, Than that with which you were arayed? Did you not, rather, realize That you were then in Paradise? 20 ESCAPE OH, come with me Where we can be Elate and free Alone. Where we can lie Beneath the sky And sing or sigh Alone. Far from the crass, The moneyed mass, Just lad and lass Alone. Oh, lets away This golden day To dream and play Alone. 21 CORONA CRUCIS OUT of the warmth and the light, Out of the bright of the day, Into the black of the night, Into the wrack of the fray. Called from the comforts of home, Led from a leisurely life, Unto the beat of the drum, Into the heat of the strife. Theirs not to grieve or to whine, Theirs not to fever with fears; Theirs is the duty divine, Old as the song of the spheres. Certain that God is above, And seeing it, His mandate To work His will is enough — The rest is the task of fate. Why should they quibble or care? What should they query to know? Theirs is to do and to dare, Theirs to deliver the blow! 22 Honor and love are at stake, Freedom and all that is good; What matter Moloch should slake His fiery thirst with their blood? Some one must suffer and bleed, Some one must travail and chafe, That the enthralled may be freed, And that the freed may be safe. Does not Prometheus chained, Does not the passion of Christ Argue, the good that is gained More than the blood sacrificed? Petty the pleasures foregone, Petty the labor, the loss; Matched with the gain of His throne, Matched with the crown of His cross. Out of the black of the night, Out of the wrack of the fray, Into the warmth of His light, Into the bright of His day. 23 BEATA MEMOR1A THOUGH long, indeed, since I beheld thee last, Yet, surely, brief doth seem the space what time Thy beautific presence first was cast Upon my soul — O memory sublime! No sight, not even that of chaste Diane, Which so delighted poor Acteon's eyes, Has, may I venture, visited a man With such a very glimpse of Paradise. Young Dante, once, did pace a rivered street Whereon full many mortal maidens dwelt, And chancing there an angel-maid to meet, Perhaps, some whit the same he may have felt; But, lo! in what white song did he profess His love, and his dear lady's loveliness! 24 SEEKERS IT is not much we ask, We seeking ones; It is not over much, O, great, good God, Not over much. We do not plead for place, Nor fame, nor friends; We do not Earth aspire, O, great, good God, Not earth aspire. We do not wish for wealth, Nor health, nor strength, Nor is it love we seek, O, great, good God, Nor love we seek. We have but one desire, In this, Thy world, And that— To Find Our Work, O, great, good God, To Find Our Workl 25 WANDERERS CHEERY wanders are we, Happy wastrels roaming free, Laughing, loving, roving clan, Fearing neither God nor man — Cheery wanderers are we. Cheery wanderers are we, Happy wastrels roaming free, God nor man, ay, nothing loth, Neither fearing, loving both — Cheery wanderers are we. 26 HARLEQUIN DISPOSES A BIT "OF PANTOMIMIC EXTRAVAGANCE IT is a pleasance quick with flowers, A spot where lovers should delight To while away the moonlit hours, Hid out of sight; And Columbine is humming low To Harlequin, with happy face, And Pantaloon and pale Pierrot Move on apace. What time they wither out of view, Harlequin, the wicked knave, Makes haste, as knaves are wont to do, To misbehave. And Columbine though seeming charmed, And captured by his pretty speech, Yet very soon is so alarmed, As to beseeech: Harlequin, Harlequin, That he had used her wrong, Imp of hell, child of sin! Careful, now, or I shall tell 27 Who you are, and where you dwell, To papa Pantaloon. Don't you know it not aright, Thus to play away the night, When so very, very bright, Beams the Moon? Yet Harlequin gives little heed, But laughs and chaffs with such acclaim, He forces her the more to plead Her fear of shame. Harlequin, Harlequin, Quiet, please! What a din! Can't you give me any peace? Goodness gracious, how you tease! Cease, release me, do you hear? Or, I shall be quite severe, Silly, bolden, bad buffoon ! Even though I love you, Oh! 'Tis very wrong to hold me so, For yonder yet parade Pierrot And papa Pantaloon. And then, as though he did repent That he had used her wrong, He sued her grace and gave him vent, Unto this song: 28 Fair one, rare one, fly with me, Come and skim the sky with me, And I'll bring you, wing you far, To that rarer, fairer star, Where the Sprites and Faeries are, Where the Pixies croon. I will bring you, bear you there, Wafted on the winged air, Wafted, draughted, higher, higher, Skying, flying, we'll aspire, Satisfying our desire, Ever higher, higher, higher, Till at last we do expire— Till at last we swoon, On the Moon! And now with manner nervous, tense, As one bewitched with wine, As one bereft of will or sense, Sang Columbine: — To the Moon, Harlequin, To the yellow, mellow Moon, Where the Pixey creatures croon; Where the Sprites and Faeries sing In a ring In the air; 29 Where there's music everywhere, Very soft and very low; Where the dreams of Poets go; Where the songs of Singers blow; Where the liquid breezes flow, All atune; Where the breezes, songs and dreams, And the jingling of them seems, As they mingle and they rise, To make medley with the skies; Where the sight and scent and sound, So of Beauty all around, Makes you weep, Makes you sleep, As one would weep and sleep, In the lazy, hazy light, Of a lunar night in June; Is it so, Can we go To the Moon? A fickle something fanned the trees; A Cuckoo clamored to his mate, And suddenly the tacit breeze Came articulate: — 30 Take her, Devil, Ere she "screams; Take her, Break her, Slake her thirst; Revel, Devil, Work your worst, Ere she wake her From her Dream. M DESIDERIUM NIGHT-LONG thy silver voice did sound itself to me Adown the dim dream-vistas of the past, Foreshadowing a life too fair to be, Betokening a* love too rare to last; Oh, lithe, blithe wondrous one, Mistress of Mystery, How I do passion thee! Sure, thou art that which is a blend of bliss and pain, A bond betwixt divinity and death, A truant sun-ray revelling in the rain, A wistful waft of heaven-scented breath, Which even felt is flown, and venturously vain To wish to win again. Yet, were it not for thee and that clear call of thine, The which will ever trumpet my desire, I think, indeed, this thirsty soul of mine Should very soon of mortal voices tire; Their words are merely words, while thine are God's own wine, My Mystery divine! 32 COMPLAINT THE Daisy nodded her little head, The Lily laughed at me, And from where the red Rose lay abed Nigh yonder Hawthorn-Tree, She pouted mockingly. Ah, Daisy! you with your pretty head, Ah, Lily! feat and free, And ah! thou Rosa! snuggled abed, Ah! happy Hawthorn-Tree, Will ye not pity me? Since, heavy and heavy hangs my head, My limbs lag heavily, Since, oh! my Little Love lies dead By yonder Hawthorn-Tree, Ah, Pretties, pity me! 33 OUR DREAM WAS it a dream, that day of ours, Amid the wild-wood and the flowers, Was it a dream, a dream? Was it a dream, that mystic Isle, Whereon we played a little while Among the Faeries and the Elves, Forgetful of our stupid selves — Was it a dream, a dream? Were you a dream, Elaine or Eve? Were you a Princess Make-believe? Were you a dream, a dream — A visionary Faery-bride, Glad of the day your body died, Glad of the way your soul was born Upon that dim remembered morn — Were you a dream, a dream? Or were you not, in very truth, A mortal maiden christened Truth, Yearning to dream, to dream? And was not I a mortal Clod, A creature fashioned of the sod, But yet, withal, desiring things Of which the planet Venus sings — Yearning to dream, to dream? 34 Wei!, even so, what matter now? Not Love himself could disavow We had our dream, our dream! And verily, I do believe, You, who are Ruth, Elaine, or Eve, I do believe the Fates intend That, at the last, we twain shall blend Into our Dream, our Dream. 35 DICTUM SAID one: — "Come now, what do you see in this?' (To Shelley's "Adonais" he referred) At once, I was not sure that I had heard Aright and bade him to say over his Complaint, lest I mistake its cognizance. "What do you see in this vague, tedious stuff, This sentimental rot?" It was enough To prove to me my quizzer's ignorance. So I to him: — "My friend, one only sees, In such high poesy as this, his own High thoughts, the image of himself alone — The very semblance of the thing he is! 'No man,' — the dictum goes, — 'No man receives From Music, Art, or Song, save what he gives'." 36 STIMULUS THANK God, no matter what occurs, There has been given to me A certain fortitude which spurs My soul to victory! A certain faith, it well may be, A certain conscious pride In final immortality, Which will not be denied. Let chance what may, it argues not; No blow however real Can swerve my spirit's course one jot, In quest of its Ideal! 37 OLD SONG "HOW THE OLD SONGS HAUNT US." SAY, how shall I be blithe and glad, Say, how shall I be cheery! Oh, how shall I be aught but sad Since I have lost my dearie, Since I have my dearie! The night is all around me now, The chilly winds are wailing, The birds have flown the sleety bough, And all the flow'rs are failing, And all the flow'rs are failing. But still I think, when think I do For many an hour grieving, How fain she seemed and happy too, How happy to be leaving, Ay, happy to be leaving. It's not her loss that grieves me so, It's not her going thither, It's, just, that when she had to go She did not take me with her, She did not take me with her! 38 THE DREAMER THE Dreamer dreams his span away In wonder and delight, The Dreamer dreams his span away In all the World's despite. For he is one who. ventures far With never flagging zest, For he is one who ventures far Upon a knightly quest. He visions him a kingly thing, The figment of his Dream, He visions him a kingly thing Which he believes supreme. The very same which is withheld No matter how we strive, The very same which is withheld The while we are alive. Yet will these ever venture this With glory in their eyes, Yet will these ever venture this And scorn a meaner prize. 39 Thus when at length they come to die They waken out of sleep. Thus when at length they come to die The World will never weep. Because the World can never know What reveries were theirs, Because the World can never know How they are Heaven's heirs. In such a pattern dreams are schemed Though seeming fugitive, In such a pattern dreams are schemed That shall forever live. So not for naught the Dreamer dreams His weary Night away, So not for naught the Dreamer dreams Against the Golden-Day 1 40 CAMEO APART, alone The Dreamer stood, A thing of wood, Of stone. Still not of wood, Nor yet of stone, But flesh, and bone, And blood! 41 ULTIMATUM WHAT if I "fail"? Shall I bewail? Shall I lament And so give vent To futile grief, A child's relief, A craven's whine? Shall these be mine? Rather would I Forever try, Persist, pursue, Re-dare, re-do! Why should I care? Shall I despair? Shall I give in To vapid grin. Or fawn the frown Of clerk and clown And every clout Who bloats about His great success In "biz-i-ness"? 42 Shall such a mob Move me to sob, Move me to sigh? Indeed, not I! I rather think 'Tis mine to wink, This chorus chaff Makes me to laugh, For I possess Much blessedness: The fire of youth, The flame of Truth, The light of life, A loving wife, A little love, And God above. Let fools be sad Yet I'm right glad That God should deign To deal me pain. This instant, now, I pledge the vow That pain shall be 43 Supreme to me, Nor shall I wince Or whimper, since, I know the test Is for the best. So use Thy rod Good Master, God! 44 A YOUTHFUL POET PRAYS LORD Christ, Thou Master of poets, Thou vast and sublimest Bard, Wilt please to succor a poet, And of these the leastest, Lord! Wilt please to succor a singer Who never a song has sung, Possessed of a poet's spirit But not of a poet's tongue! A vexed and a silent spirit, Yet lighted with love within, Yet fighting with doubt and pity And passion, and so with sin. A spirit lighted with visions Of a braver life to be, A spirit fighting with visions That never the eye can see. A spirit lighted with visions Of a dreamy moonlit past, Of a streaming sunlit future, And the God-gleam at the last! 45 Yet never a sound to utter, Yet never a word to write, But only a battered spirit, A fighting soul in the night. Lord Christ, Thou Master of poets, Thou vast and sublimest Bard, Wilt please to succor a poet, And of these the leastest, Lord! 46 SPRING, 1917 IN this, our world, today, Our dizzy war-warped world Where Freedom's flag is furled, And Honor fled away, Should we not deem it well, And, mayhap, even best To give up dreams of rest, To bear our share of hell. Should we not try to feel That War is but a purge, The forms of Love and Trust Some universal weal? That from the charnel-house Of Murder, Hate and Lust, That forms of Love and Trust Shall quicken and arouse? Should we not know that God Wills aways what is best, That in Him there is rest For every bleeding clod; 47 That in Him there is love For all who are in woe, That who reaps not below, He, surely, reaps above; That they who toil and sweat With no intent to shirk, Albeit War or Work, The God will not forget? Then let us brave this night Which doth engulf our way, And let us learn to pray, And let us pray to fight! 48 LUNECSTASY I WANDER in the wan moon-light, And drink the air Through senses dizzy with delight Of draught so rare. The dead grass shows a ghostly white Beneath the snow. Ah, might I merge into this night, I love it so! No, never have I quivered quite In thus a way, Within the luteous, laving light Of any day. My spirit totters like a tipsy sprite, For oh! the Moon, She sighs me from her starry height Of Heaven soon! 49 ROSSETTTS "SONG OF THE BOWER" "TTTHAT were my prize, could I enter thy bower, V V This day, tomorrow, at eve or at morn? Large lovely arms and a neck like a tower, Bosom then heaving that now lies forlorn; Kindled with love-breath (the sun's kiss is colder!), Thy sweetness all near me, so distant to-day; My hand round thy neck and thy hand on my shoulder, My mouth to thy mouth as the world melts away." Ah! Painter-Poet, you've pictured a passion, Which every lover the world over knows; You've woven, in words of the fervidest fashion, A pleasure, a presence, the scent of the rose, The heat of a body, the beat of a bosom, The sweet of a fancy afar and away, The fever, the fire, the desire which enkindles The love of the lover forever and ayel 50 MEA CULPA SOMETIMES to salve my malady I think, Perhaps, that you meant not to be unkind; Perhaps, that it was I who spilt the ink Which blotted my poor person from your mind. Again I think, perhaps, that in my zest To have you understand this atom, me, I may have said some idle words in jest, With which it was not meet that you agree. But, Oh! I know, though this I may have done, I, also, know what deeds I dreamed to do; What deeds I gladly would, had I but won One little sympathetic word from you. The very all I visioned, at the end, Was, simply, that you'd let me be a friend. 51 VALUES I AM the Doer of Deeds; I am the Schemer of Schemes; I am the Sower of Seeds; I am the Dreamer of Dreams; I am the Blaze in the Blue; I am You. You are the Creature of Clay; You are the palpitant Clod; You are the Thing of a Day; You are the Minion of God; You are a Sand in the Sea; You are Me. 52 ALAN'S "RENDEZVOUS" Occasioned by a re-reading of Alan Seeger's "I Have a Rendezvous with Death." BROTHER, I have read your lines, And I have seen between That demi-light which only shines Where Deity has been. Brother, I have understood, I think, the God in you, For, verily, it is a God Who gleams and glimpses through These stanzas where you challenge Death, And bid him throw the main, And bide with eager, bated breath The moment of the slain. Oh! you had knowledge, rare, indeed! How meagre is the soul That dares not in the hour of need Return to Him the whole; 53 Return to Him, from whom all is, That all which He has lent, Believing that the Will is His, And It the instrument. Brother, there is something there In that fine pledge of yours, which seems a gemmy flame to flare, A beacon which endures. So long as Honor does not fail, And Youth is hot and true, So very long will you prevail In your brave "Rendezvous." 54 THE SENTINEL STARS above and the night around; Below the dew and the dewy ground; Failing moon and never a sound. All is well With the Sentinel. Hist, what's that? The cry of the loon. And that? The wood-dove's plaintive croon. How ominously scrawls the moon! All is well With the Sentinel. A footstep stabs the trembling air. Halt! . . . Halt! . . . Who's there? Who's there? Brother, breathe a bit of a prayer! All's not well With the Sentinel. Stars above and the night around, Below the dew and the dewy ground; A Soldier's Soul is homeward bound — All is well With the Sentinel. 55 HYMN TO BEAUTY WHERE Roses bloom and Daisies grow, And Valley- Lilies lie; Where Aeolus and Zephyr blow Their kisses to the sky; Where round about and to and fro Wee winged nothings fly; Where little airy Faeries flit And scamper, as you please, Upon the grass, all over it, And in amongst the trees, And where the solemn seven sit Yclept the Pleiades; Where Naiads drowse and Dryads dream And Faunus peeps at hand; Where deep in Oceanus' stream The naked Nereids stand; And, sudden, where a shafted gleam Shows Jove's august command; Where Pheobus checks his fiery steeds That champ to taste the morn; Where Thetis sings, and Peleus pleads, And Triton winds his horn; Where Neptune shakes away the weeds His shaggy bulk was worn; 56 Where Aphrodite hides her heat In some Olympian grove, And where the light-foot Muses' feet Have led their limbs to rove, And where the very air is sweet And redolent with Love; Where blends the scent of Flora's breath With Amphion's melodies; Where stream the dreams the Gods bequeath Their favored votaries; Where Cupid leads in shackles, Death, To where his Psyche is; Where all is glad and glorious; where Is Fancy's bright demesne, There, Everliving Beauty, there Thou art, and aye have been — Than Fancy's very self more fair, More gracious and serene. Sure, Song is not, or naught but noise, When it would rumor thee; When it would hint thy precious poise, Or cry thy sovereignty; Oh, Beauty! may we never voice Thine ancient witchery? 57 PEACE WHO wails for Peace? Not you, nor I. May Life be hot for us, Pard-like and swift and fired with faith That Life spells Strife; That not for us, Till Death Shall bring release, Is Peace! Yea, Life spells Strife. Passion and Pride, Love and Desire and Dreams — May these things never be denied While yet there's breath 1 Oh! not I trust, Till Death, Shall Striving cease In Peace! A CHRISTMAS QUERY DO you believe in Santa Claus? Do you really believe he's true? Of course, I believe in Santa Claus, Why certainly I do I And I believe in the Bunny That comes on Easter Day, And the Stork that came last summer And brought my sister, May. And I believe in the Fairies, In Puck and in Peter Pan, The Nixes, the Gnomes and the Brownies And even the Bogie-Man. And the Wizzard of Oz and Aladdin, And the two little Babes-in-the-Woods, And Cinderella and Robin Goodfellow, And Little Red Riding Hood. And Heaven and Angels and Christmas And baby Jesus, too — Of course I believe in Santa Claus, Of course I do! Don't you? 59 SONGS OF THE NIGHTLINGS OH, we wander in the gloaming, while the wiser ones are homing, Oh, we wander and we wonder where we wend; And our eyes begin to glisten, as we stop a bit to listen To the singing of the Nightlings now ascend. Oh, the music of their chorus, How it seems above to soar us, How to waft and wing itself away, away — How it seems to sail above us, And to carol: Love us, love us, We are dearer than the Children of the Day. Hear the busy little fellows, thridding, thridding on their cellos, Hear them strumming, humming each his own refrain, How the ground around is ringing, and our fancy flits a-winging To a paradise of mingled bliss and pain. Oh, the music of their chorus, How it seems above to soar us, How to stream and dream itself away, away — How it seems to drift above us, And to carol: Love us, love us, We are dearer than the Children of the Day. 60 ORISON GOD, Guide me to my work! Give me grace to seek it, Courage, lest I shirk. Strength, the which to speak it! God, Give me deeds to do! Grant me days to do them, Long time to pursue, Never time to rue them! 61 IMPROMPTU MY heart is so full of so many songs Which I would make for you, That to single one from out of the throngs Is more than I can do. So take, if you will, this beggarly rhyme Of better things in lieu; And I'll sing, perhaps, in a Saga time A worthy song of you 2 62 POSSESSION BECAUSE of the dark I saw you not, Because of the dark, the night, You passed me by, and I saw you not, For lust of life did, verily, blot My sight. Because of the noise I did not hear, Because of the noise, the din, You sang your song, and I did not hear, For that I had stuffed each stupid ear With sin. Because of the drug I felt you not, Because of the drug, the drink, You touched my flesh, and I felt you not, For I had sunk as low as a sot Can sink. Because of my soul I can't forget, Because of my soul divine, But ohl I know though and I can't forget, You'll never come back again, and yet — You're mine. 63 RONDEL AT taper-time I like to roam While other folks are snug at home, Beneath the heaven's starry dome. And often, roaming thus, I feel Upon my lively senses steal The presence of the Great Ideal. Because of this, it well may be, Wherefore I rather more than see Life's meaning and Love's mystery, At taper-time. 64 BEAUTY ENCORE! THOU— Deem it, indeed, Thy very creed, Thy braver duty To honor Beauty! For Beauty, Beauty quickens everywhere; She wantons in the sea, she reveals in the All life upon the earth Is big to give her birth; She merges lately born From out the lap of morn; Each swift succeeding hour Is totty with her power; What time the sun is low She gilds the after-glow; And when the shadows fall She dons her starry shawl; And should some darkling night Conceal her from the sight, Still sense of scent and sound Would bruit her all around. All life upon the earth Is big to give her birth And even death, the tomb, But warms her in it's womb, And waits the hour of pain 65 When she shall merge again And marvel all the eyes In some new fairer guise. In truth, ye are yet unawake, yet unaware For Beauty, Beauty quickens everywhere! Thou— Deem it, indeed, Thy very creed, Thy braver duty To honor Beauty! 66 SOLICITATION IN this day of sin and strife, In this hour of storm and stress, Ere I live my little life Lead me, Lord, to loveliness! In this time of toil and tears, Ruin, dolour, and duress, Ere I yield me to the years Lead me, Lord, to loveliness! Spirit, sense, and heart of me With Thy puissance, Lord, possess, Every petty part of me Lave it in Thy loveliness! 67 QUANDARY I AM puzzled, sore perplext, Very vext. Life and laughter, love and tears, All the doubts and all the fears Of my double-dozen years, Vex me not. Needs and deeds I dream to do, Fancies I would fain pursue, Youth, desire, and Dearest, you Vex me not. I am puzzled, sore perplext, Very vext. 68 SHAKESPEARE EVEN as the mock-bird carols all his kind In song which seemeth to surpass their own, So now, do thou vast master-molded mind, Our very all of vanities intone. Atween thee and this tiny feathered thing There is, methink, a quick similitude, For that ye both are wont so well to sing — The bird, the man, in each his every mood. O Shakespeare! grandest fashioner of thought, How rare and human is thy poesy? With what deep gratitude of feeling, ought We try to render tribute fit to thee. Indeed, in this our splendid English tongue, Than thee no Saga singer yet has sung! 69 MONOTONE PAIN and pleasure, pleasure and pain, Over and over and over again, Such is the burden of Man's refrain, Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain, Forever paired as the god's ordain, And never a man can part the twain, Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. In shack and palace, on peak and plain, In body and soul, in heart and brain, Though all else vanish do these remain, Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain, Such is the burden of Man's refrain, Over and over and over again, Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. 70 RENUNCIATION IT moves me not how mocks the mob, How takes the human stream, Yet, rather, would I drift than rob You of your Dream. Because or this, I hesitate To do as I would do, And deem it best, percnance, to wait, And work with you. But even though it be not best, There's respite in the thought That never bird has built a nest Which is for naught; That each gold deed done here below Must very swift arise, And wing itself on winds that blow To golden skies I 71 LYRIC Trudging homeward of a March night, he is held entranced by the music which a brisk breeze twangs from the branches of the white frozen trees. I SUDDEN stopped and listened long, And stood as one charm bound, For never had I heard such song Such sweet, sleet sound. The March night bristled with a breeze That seemed to waft and wing, And wind amongst the glist'ning trees. And with them sing. And, oh ! the song it was so fleet It found the soul of me, And whispered secrets passing sweet Of Love to be! 72 THE SPIRIT SPEAKS PERHAPS, my lad, long time from now, If you will still to wait, The God may heed and hint you how To gain the gate. Perhaps, my lad, in calmer years, If you have grown more wise, The God may brush away the tears That blind your eyes. Perhaps, my lad, if you pursue And plod on through the night, The God may get to favor you And grant you light. But now, my lad, go you and pray, And ever grace is gone, Give out: "Dear God, let chance what may. Thy will be done." 73 LABORARE EST ORARE LORD, I have bothered You enough With pleas and prayers and suchlike stuff; Hereafter, all I dare and do Shall constitute my prayer to You. 74 RAIN-DROPS HEN it rains w What a feeling fills my breast! What a fancy, fitful feeling of unrest! What a drear desire of sorrow! What a dear dream of the morrow! What delusion do I borrow When it rains. Tapping on the tin-roof, Rain. Siping in the sin-heart, Rain. Rain without and rain within, Heart of mine and roof of tin, Rain, Rain, Rain. 75 ITEM 271, CAT. 17 AH! here you are at last, at last — My little longed-for book, All wrapped, and tied, and bundled fast, And yet, I must not look, — I must not rend, I must not tear Your paper dress away In such a place, in such a glare, At such a time of day. I should, I know I should, postpone The moment of delight Until, at length, we are alone Within my "den" tonight. I pause, I think, I hesitate, I can't make up my mind; Perhaps, who knows, if I should wait I might be stricken blind. Or worse, some dread calamity Might fall on you, perchance, And I should never, never see Your lovely countenance. Ah! little book, your charm is such I know not what to do, For, lo! my apprehensive clutch Has rent and nuded you! 76 FINIS NOW one by one our days are going, And we with them alike unknowing Whither away the way is tending, Whether for weal or wail unending. Still we trust that the body's burden Gains, in the end, a Godly guerdon; That every duty and self-denial Sustains the spirit in its trial; That never a gift is rendered, ever, Which does not recompense the giver; That never a present-suffered sorrow But premises a joy tomorrow; That every-goodly man is given A chance to suffer and be shriven; And that the body's brave endurance Shall win, at length, the soul's assurance. Still one by one our days are going, And we alike with them unknowing Whither away the way is tending, Whether for weal or wail unending. 77 r HI? 89 f »°V **x 0* %. f\ $\ ft ^ •- y^< HECKMAN BINDERY INC. p ^ DEC 88