mm SB .-.'■•■•■< f« '€& ■ -■"*■■•.*■'■■■.■■••'■ Hi flB ■ '■ • ■ ■ , Class _^5h3£60 Rook Al ?3 GopyiightN . COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/passingvoiceOObost A PASSING VOICE BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER Sty* ®nrf?am ifrwa MCMVII Copyright, 1907, by Richard G. Badger All Rights Reserved I LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Copies Rec9!*«3 JAN 6 1908 Copynem tnto iSrASS 4 „ XXe, flu. COPY B. TA^ Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. CONTENTS PAGE Trailing Arbutus 7 Song 9 To the Moon 10 A Child's Sacrifice 12 The Power of Genius 20 For the Dead 21 Children of Cain . . . • 2 5 The Prayer of the Parted 38 The Lilies' Lullaby . . " ' . . . .40 Sappho . . . . . . -43 Homesickness 45 Messiah 48 A Cloud Palace 51 A Lullaby for a Forgetful Heart ... 57 Orpheus 59 Love 62 Loss 64 Effort 66 5 Contents Return . Good By Chios and Patmos For , Who Died A Lover s Mood The Passing of the Century Long Ago in Ireland The Violinist Invitation Oh, the Morning Breaks PAGE 67 69 7 1 74 76 81 82 85 86 TRAILING ARBUTUS Oh, shy and sweet and fair, Dear Spirit of the wood, Nymph of the fragrant air, Dryad of Solitude, Thou art the breath of Spring; The dawn's awakening kiss; Some world's sweet whispering Wandering down to this. Oh, sweet and fresh and wild, Our wondering sight to bless, What thought of little child Has found its ideal dress ? What vibrant wish of bird Looks from thine opening eyes ? What seraph's thrilling word Lives in thy shy surprise ? Spirit of youth and dawn, Morning's light fragrant dream, Shadow of blossoms on A living, sunlit-stream, Passing, as thy sweet breath Wavers to meet the air, Too live to dream of death, Too frail for life to wear, Fair spirit, summoning Dream-spirit memories, Brushing with perfume's wing The utmost starry skies, — Stay, with thy subtle grace Touching the inmost heart; By thine Aurora face, Thy wondrous spell impart. How does thy charm beguile! Veiled in thy guardian leaves Thy sweet elusive smile The old enchantment weaves. Smile of the rosy light That kisses earth from sleep, Shaking the dreams of night Into the waiting deep, Be thou the year's fresh dawn; Bring thou our heart's new day; And ere thou passest on Teach us thy fragrant way. Oh, fine and sweet and shy, Thou lovely fragrant thing, A message from the sky, Thou art the very Spring. 8 SONG To a Creole Air Ah, Suzette! Suzette, so dear to me. Ah! Suzette, Suzette, so far, so far from me. Art thou coming to my heart ? Wilt thou promise ne'er to part ? Since when I am far from thee, Ah! joy is not for me. Love and joy, Suzette, thou witch, thou dear, Love and joy are mine, are mine when thou art near. Wilt thou never go away ? Wilt thou ever, ever stay ? Oh, my weeping heart will break, All, all for thy sweet sake. Ah, my love! come to my cradling heart. Ah, my love! my love, from me thou'lt never part. Sheltered on my loving breast Thou shalt never know unrest. Sorrow shall a stranger be, Ay, to my love and me. Come, beloved; beloved, and mine alone. Come, beloved; beloved, thou art my very own. Love and balm shall be thy breath, Love shall overmaster death. Leave, ah, leave me not to die, Love, hear my pleading cry. TO THE MOON Thou the glory of the night, Mounting upward silver-paced, By the stirrings of delight Is thy shining progress traced; By the magic calm that falls Over memory's shadowed walls. Silently, silently, Thy bright footstep passes by Like an angel from the sky. Thou hast bound the world with light, And thy silent song endears The sweet spirit of the night That thy rounding pearl enspheres All the air-spun clouds, star-haunted, Part before thy light enchanted; Dreamily, dreamily, From their web thy witcheries peep Like a child's eyes waked from sleep. Sweeter than night's sweetest sleep Is thy pure light's heavenly kiss. And earth's crystal dews must weep For joy to hold a face like this. As thy shining splendors fall Life's discords grow musical. Restfully, restfully, The tired earth looks up to thee, And draws upon thy silver sea. 10 Fair swan of the upper blue, Floating in divinest calm, Wilt thy purity endue Hearts that long for heavenly balm ? Where the white star-lilies blow, And Pleiads veil their breasts of snow, Radiantly, radiantly, Trail thy white wings through the sky As if time's swift sail flashed by. II A CHILD'S SACRIFICE Red rose the moon o'er the water's brim, And the warm earth longed for soothing. Dark stood the cedars, flame-tipped and grim, The river sighed to its utmost rim As it felt the sweet wind's smoothing. And far on its borders a threatening shape Clutched at a shadow that would escape. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Here on the river's hither side, In the green bank's gentle bending, Where the forest spreads its branches wide, And the morning dreamed on the quiet tide, A narrow pathway's wending Led to a doorstep whose mossy stone Told of a fireside cold and lone. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Once on its hearthstone a sweet child played, Drawing with its wee fingers The heart of the father, unafraid, Hastening at eve to his little maid, Where the dear home radiance lingers; For deep in the shadow of violet eyes A mother beckoned from Paradise. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Now in the light of the golden noon They walked the sunlit meadows; Now in the silver shine of the moon, Where the river crept with its ceaseless croon, 12 They watched the silent shadows; All silent themselves in their happiness; The child's hand patting a mute caress. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Sweet eyes laughing through tangled hair Broke through the morning's dreaming; A merry shout through the darkening air Startled the echoes unaware, At the father's frightened seeming. And the loving watcher's eyes grew dim As the child sang low her evening hymn. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Oh, the feasts 'neath the laughing leaves, With many a forest dainty, In the spell that a child's wild fancy weaves, With its sweet pretends and its make-believes- Fancy's delicate plenty. Hearts as light as the feast cloud-born, Fed from a child's heart all unworn. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Oh, the fairies within the wood, Almost seen in the gloaming; The song of the trees, half-understood, The plumed squirrel that could speak if it would; The treasures of one day's roaming, Faithfully lisped from the rustling nest, The father's lips on her forehead pressed. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. 13 As a fair isle in the summer seas Out of the storm wraith lifted, As a dream of golden harmonies, As a rainbow when the wild rains cease To the mariner storm drifted, — To the wanderer, bowed with memories, Seemed this retreat 'neath the sheltering trees, Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Love is queen on the heart's great throne, The sun of a golden heaven; Love of a man for a maid's low tone, For a child from his angel playmates flown; — God of His best has given. Love is the sweetness of Paradise, Love is the lure of the beckoning skies. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Memory in the calm, new-made, Went wandering 'mid her islands; Even as an interlude softly played 'Twixt a stormy past and a coming shade, The soul of a silver silence. And the troubled heart of the man was blest, Peaceful where all was peacefulest. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. One sweet morn when the dew's fair stars Twinkled among the grasses, When the catbird trilled his liquid bars, And the light and shade their mimic wars Fought where the light wind passes, H Forth to his labor the father went, The sweet child watching in gay content, Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Doom may fall from a smiling sky, Death echo gayest laughter; And unawares a last goodbye May flash its love from a laughing eye That knows but tears thereafter. Love, argus-eyed, may watch, until Just at the crisis its fears are still. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Ere the shadows shortened into noon, Hushing the sounds of morning; Nay, while the dew its silver rune Still traced on the thronging leaves of June — It might be the unread warning — As the child bent low o'er some charmed page A shadow fell on the hermitage. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. "Child, I have wandered long and far," — The stranger's voice was weary: "Here where delight and quiet are, And yon spring gleams like a fallen star, Let me cease a quest so dreary; And grant me a drink from your crystal spring While I rest and hear the catbird sing. " Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. 15 Down fell the book on the low doorsill, As the child gave gentle greeting. "Yes, sit and rest where the wind is still; I will bring you water and food if you will," — Undismayed by the sudden meeting. And soon by the little spring's low fall Her song rang clear as the wood-thrush's call. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. "O fountain of youth," he smiling said, "I am well pleased to have found you. And what were you reading, my little maid, Here is the silence and the shade With only the trees around you ?" Idly he stooped and took the book, Glanced at the pages with careless look. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. The cover fell from the fly-leaves fair, Only a name was written; But the man's face fixed in a fearful stare, And a shudder ran through the summer air; He seemed like one plague-smitten. "Child, whose is this?" and his strained voice shook, And frenzy flamed in his altered look. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. "I have sought him long over land and sea, With a hate that could not rest; Have I found thee at last, mine enemy ? Thou shalt pay a life-long debt to me, Even in thine own home nest. 16 From my hand hast thou taken every prize, Now shall I look in thy baffled eyes." Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. In wide-eyed terror the young child stood, Transfixed at the man's mad scorning; The echo rang from the hill's thick wood, The trembling air must have understood. Oh, lost is the peace of morning. "Even the woman I loved," he cried, "Followed his eyes, and my man's heart died." Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. "Whose is the book ?" he sternly saith. Down rained the frightened tears; "My father's," faltered the sweet young breath; White the lips as if kissed of death; The heart but the harp of fears. "Why are you angry, and rage and cry? My father's the best man under the sky. " Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. "You are his child ?" and the frenzied laugh The startled echoes gather. "No torments are dire enough by half, But the bitter cup his lips shall quaff Will find the heart of a father.' ' And his mad eyes flashed in hellish glee, And he seized the young child ruthlessly. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. *7 Still the summer sky was bathed in light, Still sang the birds in the meadows. But deep in the slumberous caves of night The fiends laughed high in their mad delight, Dancing with hell-born shadows. And a star fell from the golden arch, One footstep less in the heavenly march. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. The river sped on its endless way, A new tone in its singing; The sunbeams played with a softer ray, And 'mid the songs of the perfect day A new, sweet song was ringing; For a new angel soul was born That day in the Kingdom of love and morn. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. But the murderer started back in fright At the long-dead eyes of a lover; A moment poised in its heavenward flight The child's soul looked from its windows bright Into the eyes above her. And the air by his piercing shriek was riven: "Her eyes! her eyes! O God in heaven!" Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. The shadows lengthened towards the east, — The long, deep shades of the summer; Ere the robin's good-night song had ceased, While the light flamed low in the purple west, Hurried the tired homecomer. 18 Low on the threshold, stained with red, Rested the darling golden head. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Darker the gathered shadows close Around the long day's waning; A silver streak the river grows; For the catbird's golden fluting, rose The whip-poor-will's complaining. Rustled the leaves as if angel tears Softly fell from the heavenly spheres. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. O evening star, canst shed thy peace Into a heart that's broken ? Will the long heart hunger never cease Till it hears beside the crystal seas The low "My father" spoken, And sees in the heart's dear Paradise The sweet child's smile and the mother's eyes ? Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. Still stands the house by the river brim; None call it home forever. Through aisles as of cathedral dim Still chant the trees their echoing hymn, The harp that ceases never. Still sing the birds in the leafy June, Still dreams the day to the river's tune. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. And there on the river's farther side, When night falls over the meadows, 19 They whisper that, where the murderer died That justice might be satisfied, Is a shadow among the shadows. And the long shade sways in the moonlit air, And the river murmurs a ceaseless prayer. Oh, the blood-red moon is eerie. THE POWER OF GENIUS 'I loved thee once, Atthis, long ago." — Sappho. Oh, who thou wert we cannot tell, Dear name of long ago; We know that Sappho loved thee well, And this is all we know. No hint of personality Lies in that sweet love song; And yet thine immortality The low sweet notes prolong. No form, no voice, a name alone Thou floatest down the years; And vaguely, like some minor tone, Touchest the soul to tears. Love leads thee, O sweet mystery, Across fame's shining portal; Sweet Sappho sings her love for thee; And lo, thou art immortal! 20 FOR THE DEAD How still, how still my lady lies, The peace of heaven upon her eyes, While subtly through the silence stir A hundred vibrant thoughts of her. A low wind sweeps the silent cheek, A thousand thronging memories speak; That soft curl waves in the soft breeze, The wings of spirit harmonies Flutter through all the haunted room And lift the slumberous perfume. love, O love, alone with thee! Though thou hast faced eternity And swept in thine aerial flight The borders of the infinite, Hast passed the opal gates of morn Where mystic human dreams are born, Hast looked upon the crystal sea Whose depths have drowned all mystery, Hast seen that Face whose kingly eyes The deepest longing satisfies, — Still, still I know thy spirit free Is still with me, is still with me. 1 hold thee yet; love's clasping hand Can reach into the spirit land, And nerveless though the fingers be Their need can move infinity. O still mine own! though veiled thine eyes Thy spirit on my spirit lies. 21 Through the hushed lips no fragrant breath In love's low accents murmureth. But heart with angel heart communes, Mine ear to seraph speech attunes; And thou hast not forgotten, love, The love of earth, the speech thereof, For unto all eternity Love to love's longing holds the key. No taint of flesh the spirit stains; A higher love the soul attains. Unfettered by the chains of earth A spirit love leaps into birth. I know thee now as ne'er before When veil of flesh thy spirit wore; And now thy inmost soul is bare What heart communion shall we share. A seraph love, and born of heaven; What greater gift could love have given! And heart to heart and soul to soul While age to heavenly age shall roll, Eternity itself is love, We plunge into the deeps thereof. The crown of rapture to each soul The white flame of love's aureole; And in all heaven, ay, on the Throne, No name so glorious as Love's own. O breaking heart, thy straining chords Would find relief in swelling words. Not yet is flesh to soul sublimed, The mortal to the immortal timed; 22 Thou unto heaven's highest key Art tuned in perfect harmony; But still for me earth's grosser sense, Beauty's resistless redolence, The aura of all loveliness, The halo lent by love's excess, The echo of love's melody As if an angel's wing flashed by, The witchery of thy dawn-flushed face, The longing for love's warm embrace, Thine own sweet lips' transcendent thrill, The promise that thine eyes fulfil. O fragrance of love's matchless rose! O flame that only passion knows! Even the ashes of thy fires Whiten to flame as flame expires. Ah, tyrant heart! Ah, wilful human! I'd still be man, and have thee woman. And every motion of this frame Gathers to feed the sacred flame, The flame that upward burns to thee Though thou art gone from earth and me. Ay, thou hast left our earthly ken And now art heaven's citizen; And all thy thought and all thy love In unknown orbits live and move. Still though earth's fenced horizon lifts To circle heaven's wider gifts, And though within thy larger soul Undreamed of worlds their paths unroll, 23 Never from thy heart's memory Can earth's supremest love song die. And sometimes let thy spirit sweep Across the solemn depths of sleep, Prophetic of that glorious day When flesh and sense have passed away, And in that heaven-kept surprise Thy spirit be my soul's sunrise. 24 CHILDREN OF CAIN The plain rolls eastward till the river's brink Has cooled its edges; there, beside the stream, Where thirsty lips can stoop themselves to drink, And beauty-loving eyes look up and dream, The exiled murderer had made his home; And children's children greet the unworthy one That poured forth Abel's blood, then turned to roam, Banished until his guilty life was done. O kindly earth, thou art a gracious mother; For red blood spilt thou givest, with generous hands, The fragrant juice of the grape; and for that brother Whose brotherhood was hate, a fair home stands, Rich in all fruits, trees, flocks, and spacious lands. On Lamech's tent the slanting sunbeams rested, Engilding Adah's hair; who, at the door, With upraised hand her mother eyes had crested, Shielding her heedful glance that wandered o'er The still plains to the dying sun's last flame. Against the yellow glory of the sky Outlined in sturdy strength, the tall form came Of Jabal, tending his herds carefully A smile softened her lips; the anxious frown passed by. But still her look intent scanned the sky's bound; The waiting eyes were still unsatisfied. The flocks all folded, scarce she turned her 'round Towards homeward coming ones nearing her side. She spoke with absent lips, her heart away. Now all are gathered for the evening meal, 25 Ere yet the shapes and colors of the day Flee westward that the other sphere may feel Warmth, light, and life for them, as on the planets wheel. Each seat is filled; each tired, contented heart Takes rest and comfort; and the peace of home Woos tired eyes to think of sleep's sweet part In the soft night, when newborn strength doth come To the strained limbs; and o'er the weary eyes Steals new delight in all the world's sweet ways; A blessing sent down from the arching skies; "Let there be power" each night for work-filled days. God's hand on nerve, heart, senses, brain, softly He lays. All gathered, seated, resting; all save one. One seat alone is empty, and one cup Undrained; yet, sooth, it seems remarked by none Save by the mother heart that gathers up The absent, the unnoticed, the forgot. And once or twice, perhaps, Naamah's gaze Roamed to the empty seat; but she spoke not. But Lamech asked of Jabal's herd; gave praise To Zillah's roasted kid; spoke of the lengthening days. Planet and star brightened the night's deep blue Before the tent door parted, scarce the slip Of a young tree trunk, and there glided through A slender boy; a smile curving his lip At sight of his mother's face, into which came 26 Quick welcome; silently he sat upright On the waiting skin spread for him; the last flame Of the burnt-out brand leaped up to catch the light In the great dreamy eyes, then died in deeper night. When all reclined in sleep, the mother's touch On her boy's arm, drew him into the night Where the stars smiled; nor chid she overmuch; Thrilling with joy to see his eyes' deep light. "Mother, the sounds of night I stayed to hear. Oh, but for thee I would have stayed till morn. What tell they, mother, to thy listening ear — The story of a baby world newborn ? God's touch of dew while yet the strings lay all unworn ? " Was the first sound, with all the stars to hear, Like other sounds ? or fresher, quicker, dearer ? Did the new thrill give birth to human ear, Lest God should speak and there should be no hearer? Have the trees souls, or only voices, mother ? And have the stars ears, that they look so glad ? Do the stones speak as brother unto brother, And we too big to hear, or if we had, Not know the voices of the little souls unclad ? "O mother, when they whisper to the night, — A thousand rustlings, sighings, echoings, — Almost I hear what's silent to the light; God sends some message by the quivering wings, Some word for me to sound forth o'er the streams. Mother, it haunts me, but it flies me ever. 27 Sometimes it wakes me from my summer dreams, Mine surely now, but oh, I grasp it never. Dost think 'twill ever fly, and I pursue forever?" The lips grew sad, but in the dreaming eyes A rapt smile lingered. " Nay, " the mother cried, "The God who made the music of the skies Whisper at thy quick ear, unsatisfied, Will teach thy soul to speak; fear not, my son; He who creates will know a thousand ways. Wait for the teaching of the Almighty One. Be sure He numbers all thy waiting days; Thou wouldst not miss one from the full note of His praise. Has He not taught thee on the whispering reed To voice the sounds that ever charm thine ear ? 'Tis but thy babyhood; when thou shalt need, Thy soul shall grow, master of all thou'lt hear. Nay, breathe thou in mine ear, ere I shall sleep, The dreams that gather in that hollow thing; Even as earth her sweetest winds doth keep Till night and darkness brood with hovering wing. What is it that the wandering breath sweetly doth sing?" Impatiently he flung the clustering hair From his broad brow; drew from his robe beneath The reed that met his lips; then to the air Gave all the magic of his tuneful breath. The whisper of the night was in the strain; Now soft and sweet it sank to gentlest sighs; 28 Now full and clear it rose to heaven again; 'Tis glad with singing, sad with wailing cries; Now leaps to freeborn life, now softly, softly dies. His mother's look was hushed in deep delight; Her ear drank in the sound; her hungry eye Fed on the face of Jubal, drank the sight Of his rapt look, gazing unseeingly. The wild pulse quivered in the fluttering throat; The long breath steadied, ceased, again began; A ready finger checked the o'erlengthening note; From soft to wild the liquid current ran. What other world, what other life, whispers to man ? He ceased at last, and stood, still listening, Moved, but unsatisfied; his spirit far, Questioning space, or sweeping with swift wing The tense chord of some distant singing star That octaves earth; weaving the harmonies That the creative Voice made possible. Nearest the ear, the spirit sense, there lies The quick soul, fain to fill its full. It is the Word that shows us God, the Ineffable. The mother, moving, sighed in full content; And loving, half-revering, bent to kiss The soft lips where the quick breath came and went. Perhaps the dreams of both were full of bliss; The mother's of her boy; the boy's of sound Which earth heard never; where each melting note Its own responsive mate forever found; Where most tumultuous feelings found a throat, And vaguest thoughts a voice, and no heights were remote. 29 Father, Thou givest to man creative powers, But only in so human a degree The breath that breathes in us is Thine, not ours, And still beyond the ideal gleams fitfully. Thou sayst " Let light be, " and there is light; And the real and the fair ideal are one. But what man does, to what he dreams, is night To some fair summer dawn luring the sun. 'Tis only Thou canst say, " Behold, 'tis good, 'tis done." Yet when the impulse comes 'tis sovereign master, No other voice can drown the insistent cry. When Jubal woke, his heart but followed faster The fleeing thing that called alluringly. The compass needle shall forsake the pole Before the lovely phantom lose her lover; And though a million suns their courses roll, Still would he hunt her to her unknown cover. When she shall fade, or he forget, let life be over. The slow moons passed; the broad earth wheeled her flight Around the unquiet sun; still the new days Called Jabal to his herds; set the great might Of Tubal-Cain, pursuing his own ways, To ring the clanging iron. And still each hour Beat Jubal's heart against the intangible. His slender frame had knit to manhood's power; His boyish treble of deep notes was full; Still shone the stars in his eyes; still lured the beau- tiful. 30 Sometimes he walked beside the lisping stream, Naamah's hand in his; the mountain's crest, Haloed with sunset glory, flashed a gleam From its dark silence to each throbbing breast. Love brings us tumult, brings us sweetest rest; Makes gods of us; makes very babes again. Heaven is his birthright, but when earth has pressed His pulse ethereal, Love knows her pain, But shares his birthright, singing still the heavenly strain. Exalted and uplifted, scorning sleep, His throbbing pulses heralding the dawn, Jubal his happy vigils still would keep. Enchanting night! when young hearts dream upon Dark eyes; again together the lips press. All things are easy; heaven to earth comes down. God-like, the spirit doffs its earthly dress To keep pace with its peers. To win the crown Of one shy maiden's heart, 'twould dare the lightning's frown. Sometimes he sighed upon his mother's heart. Then, proudly lifted to his kingly height, He smiled into her eyes; drew her apart To hear some wayward note, or see the light Play over'Tubal-Cain's bright metals, where The sparks leaped from the kissing iron's shrill ring. Then off he wandered to the forest rare To dream of sound; to hear the wildbird sing; To listen to the vague, sweet music of the air. 31 One morning in the earth's most joyous time Of the firstfruits, as forth went Tubal-Cain, Swinging his hammer, harkening to the chime Of iron and brass, the soul's ear's quick refrain, Far off he heard, upon the astonished air, A new sound charm his sense; like silver bells The sound came stealing to his eager ear. Now like the wind's wild rush the music swells, Then soft as if a spirit would endear The memory of a farewell with a falling tear. Amazed, enchanted, still he listened on; His own heart's passions, or its softest thought, Translated to himself; the roseate dawn Of a new sense, new power to feel, had wrought Its miracle on the untutored mind. He held his breath, he looked up to the sky, He loved and wondered, dreamed, rushed to endeavor; All earth and heaven whirled with ecstasy, Himself one pulse of passionate pain, and never Could life be aught but deep delight, but heaven, forever. The sun laughed high in heaven; the nooning call Of Jabal gladdened all his hungry herds; With one last thrill, the music's soft footfall Died on the air, like love's last whispered words. There at the little grass-woven tent's wide door Stood Jubal, pale still in his conquering might; The stars of joy in his eyes; while his brow wore The unearthly look of beauty; at the sight Tubal came toward him, stammering with delight. 32 "Show me the spirits of thine enchanted tent, Whose seraph voices just have died away. My heart is big, yet all my strength is spent; I pray thee do not madden with delay. Oh, bid them speak that have bewitched my heart, For earth is cold till all my pulses flame. Such melody must be the Godlike part Of heaven; never earth can be the same; She has heard heaven; give her then some grander name." Half-dreaming Jubal looked upon his brother, And then his smile came like a flash of light. "What! thou, my brother, pleased with any other Than thou canst handle, shapen with thy might ?" Then back he stepped, and once again uprose The magic breathings that transformed the air. Tubal stood breathless till the whispered close. Then turning looked with wondering despair Upon his brother, standing haloed unaware. "Thou doest it ? Oh, art thou then a god ? Dost thou command the wind, the sea, the heart ? And I ne'er saw upon thy forehead broad The power that rends the very rocks apart ? Nay, thou hast rent my heart from out my breast; If thou didst make it, it is very thine. Thou wakest tempests as thou givest rest, By the sweet wonders of that voice divine. Thou plantest an undying fire in this heart of mine. " 33 But Jubal laughed, and carelessly he smote His brother's shoulder: "Nay, thou'rt folly's tongue. Thyself hast often struck a ringing note. That pierced the ear as tinglingly it rung; Art thou a god then ? No one makes but He; We use but what He gives so lavishly. He sends the wish that will not set us free Until at least 'tis granted partially. Come thou, and with the twilight I'll return with thee." With eager tongue, with stammering, eloquent speed, The wondrous tale was told by Tubal-Cain : That air and winds and waves had voice indeed; The wondering herald stars had sung again. Jubal had power to summon at his will Sounds which no mortal ear had ever heard. And every one might come and hear his fill, Hear Jubal's skill outrival the sweet bird. And all hearts listened eagerly, with wonder stirred. Over the seething kid sweet Adah bending Pursued her work, murmuring low harmonies. Fair was she still; though her soft hair was blending The moonlight with its sunlight, in her eyes The smile was still undimmed; the steadfast love Of her warm heart still gathered over all The atmosphere in which alone do move The dearest joys of life which here befall. Still youth was in her feet at any loved one's call. 34 She caught the drifting echoes of the words Of Tubal-Cain; starting, she looked, to see Jubal stand smiling, and like tuned chords Each knew the other's heart; and joyfully She looked into his eyes; he bent to kiss Her happy forehead; lingering at her side; Smiling to see the tender mother-bliss Rise in her face with love's resistless tide. Joy filled his heart; could her soul be unsatisfied ? Before the shapeless shadows of the night Had made real unreal, giving reality To that which is not, in the softening light A rain of footsteps fell most musically Under the sheltering trees; the winds were whist; The mountain-circled calm soothed the strained ear; With lapping wave the little river kissed Its velvet banks; the full moon's lucent sphere Hung low in heaven, listening; the soul of night was here. And on the expectant air rose a low cry, So faint, so far off, yet so human, too, It smote the waiting hearts that breathlessly The sweet pain of a smitten harpstring knew; Slowly the sound came earthward, mingling, blent, With love and sorrow, joy and grief and calm; A hundred hearts breathed forth each great intent Of rivaling heaven with some great swelling psalm That should voice passion, longing, joy; be earth's great balm. 35 And then the winds of heaven whisperingly Cooled the hot hearts that would have earth and heaven; The sound of waves sang of the shoreless sea That would not rest, like a soul unforgiven. And now a glad bird singing over all, With untamed rapture that enfolds the soul, As if the spirit of gladness would enthrall For one wild hour the heart hot tears control, And make our sorrowful half of life a golden whole. Who feels the warmth of music's magic breath Melt all his soul to bliss, he only knows The pain of joy, the joy of pain; knows death When most alive; and while the soft spray blows From the infinite sea over his weary thought, Feels life through death; hears the great song of time, When all the earth's discords into tune are wrought, Sound through eternity its ringing chime; And all the circling orbs swing into rhythm and rhyme. No marvel that a breaking mother heart, O'erfolded by the empty arms of grief, Sobbed out with tears that bade despair depart, "I heard my baby cry;" and pain's relief Comes in one wave of fuller, softer pain; And youthful hearts that lived but to aspire Felt vague desire a living power gain; And slow hearts, kindled with the heavenly fire, Felt newborn might to lift earth to the seraph choir. 36 The heart's conceptions spring like leaping flame; In molten mass the liquid mirror lies, Until the spirit thing without a name In crystalline fire of opal greets the eyes. The soul awakes and knows its heaven-born kin; Genius has touched the waiting chords of earth; Without, the air is trembling flame; within, New thoughts, new loves, new joys, have wondering birth; Spirit knows spirit; mortals know celestial mirth. From the first master have the notes come down, Far, faint, and sweet, yet full of music's might. The earth is royal with its potent crown, The heart of man throbs with a new delight. Heart knows a brother heart when the one tongue, The mother tongue, a common love can tell. The sweetest voices that have ever sung Live still, like sound in the sea-haunted shell, Remembered, though unheard, in unborn years to dwell. Hail, Jubal! Father, so the record saith, Of all who handle harp or organ; ay, And those who listen, with suspended breath Borne on the surges of all harmony. And as the waves of music softly die The quivering nerve its mystic message feels; The soul uplifted to its ecstasy Follows the rhythmic dance the planet wheels, And pressing Godward, breathes the Infinite breath, and kneels. 37 THE PRAYER OF THE PARTED He has gone from me, heaven! My true love has gone; Ere the high sun has shriven The white soul of dawn; And the heart in my bosom — One great swelling tear — Melts in snow, like the blossom That first greets the year. Bend low, gentle grasses, His foot touched you last; The wind's footstep passes, But his step has passed; And the fair stars of heaven Their long paths shall trace, And the sweet dews of even Fall oft on earth's face, Ere the sun of my heaven Shall warm my sad heart, And sorrow be driven In joy to depart. Dear Father in heaven, Oh, keep him, I pray, Although he be driven A world's length away. 38 Through the perils that hover O'er all who must rove, Be Thy hand his cover, His surety Thy love. And should Thy love find him In desolate seas, And Thy white angel blind him For death's mysteries, And Thou make in the ocean His loneliest grave, Deep, deep, where no motion Can lift the dead wave, — One grace to me, heaven, Oh, one grace to me. Let the blue waves roll over My lover and me. Or if down on the clover He lay his tired head, And the sweet winds blow over Like prayers softly said, And they part for his resting The fragrant brown sod, With the bird songs attesting Thy goodness, O God, — One grace to me, heaven, Oh, one grace to me. Let the long grasses cover My lover and me. 39 Long years have rolled over Since that prayer was said, And the long grasses cover Both lover and maid. THE LILIES' LULLABY Sleep, little baby, I said As I stood by the little bed With hands full of lilies, And looked on the winsome face In careless baby grace Where sleep so still is. Sleep, little baby, I said. I bring the fragrant sense Of your white innocence, Baby, so still and fair. Wake, with the dimpled smile; With the unconscious wile Your sister lilies wear. Wake, little baby, I said. But the sweet baby head Still pressed the little bed, With the lilies sleeping. Earth's most impassioned cry The little heart slips by, Its slumber keeping. 40 Sleep, little baby, they said: Down in your grassy bed Where the tall lilies lie. We sing the lullabies To the closed baby eyes. Lullaby, lullaby. Sleep, little baby, they said. Sleep, little baby, we sing. Moonlight and peace we bring For your sweet sleeping, Down where the lilies wave There your sad mother gave You to our keeping. Sleep, little baby, we sing. Sleep, little baby, we pray; Shaded from glaring day, Cool in the grasses. While the white lilies bow, Bending and courtesying now When the wind passes. Sleep, little baby, we pray. Sleep, little baby, we sing. The low winds are whispering To you where you lie. All the tall lilies wave, White shadows on your grave; Lullaby, lullaby. Sleep, little baby, we sing. 41 Sleep, little baby, oh, sleep. The peace of your slumber keep Through all its lightness. On your untroubled breast Still let the lilies rest To borrow whiteness. Sleep, little baby, oh, sleep. Sleep, little baby, we say. Passed is earth's troubled day; Here in the shadows Where sweetest fragrance lives, Where heaven its white dream gives From star-sown meadows, Sleep, little baby, we say. Oh, sleep, little baby, sleep. Their watch the lilies keep 'Neath the wide sky. As the white leaves take wing Still to your heart we sing, Lullaby, lullaby. Oh, sleep, little baby, sleep. 42 SAPPHO No woman but a spirit thou, With flashing brow and lips of flame; The south wind breathing even now The violet odors of thy name. A glory and a mystery rest On the sweet wonder of thy lyre, As, starlike, from thy shining breast Rain down thy deathless songs of fire. And luminous in the shadowed air Thy image shines on marveling eyes; Upon thy glistening golden hair A crown of woven sunlight lies. A goddess veiled; a flame through mist; A planet drinking in the sun; An angel by a mortal kissed; A song of love, immortal one. For thy sweet singing sounds the note Of love, of love, and still of love. Forever through thy music float The full sweet flutings of the dove. No spirit but a woman thou, With woman's passionate, loving heart, Captive at love's low, whispered vow; Broken, if love and truth can part. 43 A clinging human heart that feels Love's power on its spirit lie; Knows love's triumphal chariot wheels, And love's dark shadow, jealousy. Knows nature's melting, witching moods That set the riotous pulses leaping; Knows silences and solitudes, Love's faithful vigils ceaseless keeping. And little children's winsome charm Finds voice within this heart of flame; A mother's heart, tender and warm; A lover's echoing to a name. A song in music's softest key; A breath, a flame, an ecstasy. Yet earth's supreme reality Is echo, winged voice, to thee. 44 HOMESICKNESS When twilight has cast its glamor Upon earth's dusky breast, And the day's insistent clamor Dies in the opal west, When the tired steps of the passers, Fainter and nearer home, Lead the thronging memories onward Till the homesick tears must come, Then the strong chain of the present Falls from the hungry heart; Like a bird to its native ether The eager fancies start. Fair is the home of the stranger, And dear my alien nest; But the heart is a wayward ranger And loves its own way best. The rosy land of the sunset Shines 'gainst a golden sky, And hearts are warm and voices soft Where the western glories lie; But oh, the home of my father, And oh, my mother's eyes! The sound of the lute strings' 'plaining When the moon swings in the skies; 45 And out of the darkness stealing My true love's melting voice, With its tenderness appealing To the very soul of joys; While the long line of the dancers Wavers and winds and sways; And oh, to foot it featly As in the dear old days! The light on the shadowed mountains Falls like a purple crown; And from their starlit fountains The wine of life comes down. And oh, to know your sweet old ways, O youth and love and home; The outlook to the fairy days, The days that never come, When each one crowned will honor, Life's prizes in her hands, The world's sun shining on her, Shall come from other lands And bring to the dear old home land Some dream-world's counterpart; Some rainbow kingdom, captured To please the mother heart. But with insatiate longing, Home-hunger never stilled, I bring an aching, empty heart That clamors to be filled. 46 And oh, but the dear old memories Lie closer on my breast Than childish dream on childish eyes — With all their sweet unrest. And again I join the dancers As the wavering circles sway; And once again my lover's song Thrills in the sweet old way. And on the arm of my father I lean my happy head; And the low lutes call through the shadows, And the sweet good nights are said. Only a shadow forever The old home of my love; And the echoes memory gathers Are the only sounds thereof. And the deep voice of my father Shall charm my ear no more. And oh, to be an exile Upon a stranger shore! 47 MESSIAH In doubt, in dread, in darkness, in strange lands; The hope that will not die Still heavenward lifts the patient, waiting hands To the promise of the sky. He tarrieth long; but surely He will come, All nations' strong Desire. Day questions day; the empty years are dumb; Silent the seraph choir. Voiceless and vague, the patient hope lives on; A world's hope who can still ? 'Tis darkness as of midnight, yet the dawn A whole wide world shall thrill. Darkness and silence; the dumb prayer unheard; So chaos lay in night; Till softly on its sluggish waters stirred The living Spirit of light. O Thou creative Voice, whose mighty ring Called music into birth, Speak yet again, till isle to isle shall sing Across the wastes of earth. Till noon and morning and the purple even Scatter night's sullen glooms; And singing earth cry unto listening heaven: He comes, Messiah comes. 48 Till then the waiting; oh, the waiting years, Sick with the hope deferred: The prayer that struggles through despairing tears, The cry that must be heard. And still the unhearing sky bends its calm arch Above earth, and apart; The stars shine on in their unending march 'Round some great central Heart. O heart of earth, will thy need move the heaven ? Thy cry the heart of God ? And to thy longing be the blessing given, Thy dust be heaven-trod ? Be still and know; His are the eternal years; On His unchanging Word Rest the whole earth and all the whirling spheres; He spake, and thou hast heard. When the still midnight lingers toward the dawn, The wakened winds draw breath; Long ere the curtain of the day is drawn The darkness murmureth. The rustling of wee wings creeps to the ear; Whispers the silence break; And then a drowsy pipe as if in fear The morning would not wake. 49 The air is restless; a new hope is born; New life the silence thrills; And then the sweet bird chorus, and the morn Flushes the waiting hills. So in the spirit world a vague unrest Through the heart's darkness sings; A purpose wakes; as in some dawn-stirred nest The fluttering of wings. Stand thou on tiptoe, earth; wait for the light; The shadows pale to gray; And faith's quick ear hears through the straining night The whisper of the day. And wondrous glories to this day belong; Heaven crowns earth's earnest prayer. The floating music of some strange sweet song Throbs through the radiant air. Sing the glad tidings to the farthest lands; Be earth His winged car. Through the darkness, o'er the drifting desert sands, Shines the glory of the Star. 50 A CLOUD PALACE A radiant palace lives for me In a skyey place; Balanced cloud-like, dreamily; Dome on dome ethereally Lifts a magic grace; Matchless minaret and spire Lift the glorious vision higher; When I look out to the skies All the world beneath me lies. Cloud-like traceries, frescoes rare, O'er my head are bent; Tremulous in the fragrant air Incense rises like the prayer Of a penitent. Every voice of earth and heaven To my air-hung home is given. So near heaven its dome shall be Heaven itself will talk with me. Sunrise, like a spirit's smile, Gilds each rosy dome; Golden morn with radiant wile, Evening down each purple aisle, Crown my skyborn home. Noon's glad splendor, touched with fire, Lifts to heaven my heart's desire. When my sunset windows close Folded is my heart of rose. 51 Strangely sweet sky-secrets are When the heart is still, Shining from some steadfast star — Heaven so near and earth so far — On the heavenly will; Longings voiced by some sweet breath Where a spirit whispereth; Echoes, in their solemn flight, Of the march of day and night. When the pearl moon through the sky Draws a lambent light, In its soundless harmony Earth's dark, wheeling ball flees by, Greatening on my sight, With its unsolved mystery Shadowed by eternity; Like a sombre chrysalis Waiting for the great sun's kiss. Soft enchantment of moonlight With thy dreamlike ray, More mysterious than the night, More inspiring than the light Of the unseeing day, Shining on my gleaming floors Through the alabaster doors, Prophet-like through thee we see Glimpses of infinity. Day's sun-woven veil of light Falls from earth's worn face; To the stars' transcendent sight All the secret ways of night Show their hiding place. 52 Ghosts of buried hopes arise Like another world's surprise, Exhalations from that deep Where all human memories sleep. A thousand mystic murmurings rise Through the waiting even, Lyrics of lost paradise, Surging to the peaceful skies, To all-hearing heaven. The great human harp is stirred And its wild notes must be heard. O mysterious heart of man, Singing since the world began. Harmony and discord thine, If but utterance; Whispered echoes, spirit-fine, And through all the chord divine Thrills the human sense. Memmon-like, the winged morn Calls to song the day newborn; Herald-like the stars forewarn " Peace on earth, the Prince is born. " When the mystic step of night Hastes into the past, As the shadow world takes flight Halos of the morning light Into life are cast, Glancing on the golden spires, Flaming through the crimson fires Of the windows' thousand dyes, Splendid as a peacock's eyes. 53 Like a dove's neck's lovely tints Falls the changing light, Gloom and opal softly prints, As a butterfly's wing glints When the noon is bright, Or as ruby-throated bird When its fairy hum is heard, Flashes on the eager eye Like a new thought of the sky. While from all the heaven around, To enchanted ears, As if voice were newly found, Comes a universe of sound From the circling spheres. Heaven's own orchestra distils From sources of the golden hills Such immortal poesy The stars keep time in ecstasy. Filled with beauty, tranced with sound, Still is life complete ? Will not heaven's widest bound, The trackless deeps the stars have found, Stay thy longing feet ? Wider is the heart's desire Than the star-sun's farthest fire. Oh, grandest sights! Oh, sweetest sounds! The heart is full, but the heart still longs. Beauty, what is thy secret name, What thy power to bind — As a lost song the echoes frame — The haunting thought of thy sweet flame Upon all mankind ? 54 Still thy subtle meaning slips Into reason's dull eclipse; Still the sweet enchantment lures; Still the old, old spell endures. Ah, we bring even to the sky Earth's insatiate heart; 'Mid the spaces' swelling sigh Still goes up the ceaseless cry; Still the longings start. As evening darkens down the sky I would my restless thoughts would die; The sunset gold, a glorious veil, Hiding earth's shadow-haunted sail. It cannot be; the heart is there; The long, long love still calls; And even in the heavenly air, Even in the ecstasy of prayer, Earth's great shadow falls. A changing song, and yet the same, A secret wish without a name, A ceaseless strain the heart within That conquers but it cannot win. So the God within the man Draws him to the skies; Makes our life a moment's span, A lullaby that earth began In its Paradise, As prelude to the manhood song The world's great chorus shall prolong, And whose prophetic dreams torment The mirror of this earth's content. 55 Shall the man within the God Feel earth's pulses beat ? And dream of summer vales untrod Where roses part the fragrant sod And sky and hilltop meet ? Man's heart is but God's in less; Only the infinite Loveliness And growing consciousness thereof, Shall satisfy our longing love. Come climb with me my palace tower And hear, in mystic chime, All day and night in silent power The rhythmic passing of the hour Mark the march of time. And upward to the flushing skies, Godward, lift thy human eyes And sweep all heaven's celestial dome, Our feet on earth, our heart at home. 56 A LULLABY FOR A FORGETFUL HEART Love is a silent comer; But where he makes his nest The music of his summer Sings in the happy breast. But like a blackened ember, When dies love's thrilling fret, The heart that must remember, The heart that can forget. The nest that held love's sweetness Is empty to the rain; And life's dreamed of completeness Can never come again. It is the heart's November; The winds wail with regret; And I must still remember. Love, love, dost thou forget ? The song its echo haunteth; The dead its memory; The shell its low roll chanteth Because it knew the sea; And as some dying ember Its heart of fire regrets, Thy love I must remember, My truth thy heart forgets. 57 Unless the snow embosom The hidden thought of Spring, April would know no blossom And June no wild bird's wing. Though cold the bleak December When low the pale sun sets, One heart must still remember; And, love, thy heart forgets. Thine is the child's heart, seeking Its happiness in mirth; But Love is ever speaking In sorrow to the earth. The storms of stern November Thine eyes with wild tears met. Oh, my heart must remember, But let thine heart forget. I would not have the shadows Lie on this heart of thine; Thy place is in wide meadows Beneath the warm sunshine. Fair as the sweet September Thine eyes of violet. My heart must still remember; Sweetheart, let thine forget. 58 ORPHEUS Night Quiet and rest and calm Over the great world be; Hush, while I sing my psalm, Oh, restless earth and sea. Pure pale queen of the night, Measure the hours of sleep With thy silent step of light, While the slow clouds onward sweep. Hark to my pleading lyre As the tides of midnight flow, Stars, with a crystalline fire Deep in your breasts of snow. When Jove with a voice of thunder called into being and life All that is living and beautiful, all that is fair and young, Still as his bosom swelled with power, while the winds with his voice were rife, The secret of creation lay with the first notes ever sung. What doth create but music ? Tell me, O winds of heaven ? What is the thrill of the waiting air but the magic of thy breath ? What is the good-night kiss to earth in the purple hour of even But the last sweet carol of birds enchanting even the ear of death ? 59 What speaks to the throbbing pulses, O living human heart, Like the mounting waves of harmony, king over joy and pain ? What is the master of love, oh, say, lovers who meet and part, But the voice that the ear hears ever, nor ever hears in vain ? When the warm, lithe body, lapped in sleep, lies on the fragrant grass, Careless of earth, and dead to love, following a tangled maze, Softly the sweet lute drops a note as the wandering minstrels pass; The sleeper quickens to happy dreams, or wakes unto love-filled days. The mourner weeps in silence; then hears in some sweet-breathed chant The sound of the old days come again, and all her pulses stir. The piping shepherd is very Pan to the clear reed's flattering vaunt; Apollo's sun-kissed brow shines forth from his lowliest minister. Oh, sweet, mysterious, mighty child of the longing heart, Master of throbbing pulses, prince in the soul's domain, Thou the voice of my yearning, life of my life thou art, Child and mother and goddess, Psyche's sweet self again. 60 Jupiter has his thunderbolts, but with his silver lyre Apollo holds a sceptre that no heart can withstand. Take you the enslaved lightnings, give me the heavenly fire That flames in souls that love it o'er all the smiling land. Ring it in silver clarion o'er mount and vale and sea; Sing it in sweetest whisperings unto the lute's low breath; Follow it where the haunting pipe rings out al- luringly; Mourn to it when the muffled beat tells of a hero's death. And thou, my lyre, with thy sweet sounds my very life is blest; Thy strings my heartstrings, and thy sighs the breathing of my soul; When thou art silent, know thou, my forces all are spent, And when thou speakest, ah, my life rounds to a perfect whole. And when this hand falls pulseless, and the shadows claim their own, And I hear the spirit voices calling, calling, from afar, Jove set thee in his heavens, in his own silver zone, To live in light immortal, each quivering string a star. Rest and quiet and calm Over the earth shall be. Peace! let the mystic balm Of music fall on thee. 61 LOVE Earth's transcendent wonder, I have seen thine eyes; Blue and starry and beautiful, they have looked on me. Heaven's divinest glamour in their clear depth lies. Beauty's self is born in thee, O fair Eurydice. Dream of a golden morning, dawn like a blush rose's heart, Witchery like the very soul of music's softest note; Oh, can such unthought wonder be of the earth a part ? Nay, in a rainbow home doth thy rapt spirit float. Thine is the ideal loveliness the sunrise fain would show; Thine is the floodtide splendor of noon's golden skies; Thou art the sweet quick pain when the evening bird sings low; Thou the wistful longing when the sunset dies. Soft at the purple mantle, night o'er the twilight throws, Noiseless as the footsteps of the tranquil morning star, More hushed, more silent, than the sweet birth of the rose, So soft, so silent, is thy coming, as all raptures are. 62 Skyborn, when thy winged spirit swept its fairy flight To the happy river that henceforth sings of thee; When thou dawnest on my wonder, radiant morn- ing light, Life and joy and sound celestial, waked in me. Thou who art life and morning, fragrance and breath and song, In the heart whose beating pulses measure love alone, Heart of my heart, thou art the moon of my sea that surges strong On the echoless shores of longing, longing for its own. Breath of delight, I claim thee; now thou art very mine; Mine eyes know but thy beauty, mine ears thy haunting voice. Come then, love, to mine arms, with the kiss that is most divine. Sing for me, stars of heaven! fountains of earth, rejoice! 63 LOSS All the stars are fallen from heaven; Dawn nor noon no more I see; Only in the purple even Can my sad heart sing of thee. Thou art gone from earth's cold border; All my life is gone with thee. Hades's triple-headed warder Guards thee now, Eurydice. Flaming-eyed, the serpent-traitor Was a fitting messenger, Pluto, when thou didst await her, With thine envious heart astir. Ah, thou black king, didst thou meet her, Insolently touch her hand ? Didst thou leave thy queen to greet her As she reached the shadow land ? King although the shades may call thee, Know that love is master yet. Let thine impotence appal thee; No true heart will e'er forget. And thou, my sweet Eurydice, Though braving Lethe's river, Wilt hold thy heart above the sea And love but me forever. 64 Yet thou art gone from my embrace. I turn to kiss thy loving lips, The cool mists lightly greets my face; And all my life is in eclipse. The dawn no longer sees its youth Mirrored in thine uplifted face; The rose its other self, in truth, But borne with more transcendent grace. How can the lambent morning star Pour light upon my silent lips, When my beloved is wandering far Beyond the port of mortal ships ? I hear thy light step in the breeze That dallies o'er the willing leaves; Thy low laugh, when the bending trees Lift skyward in sweet summer eves. When all the noon-hushed weary birds Are harkening to the brook's low calling, Thy voice comes fluting, and thy words Of love are through the silence falling. And when I hold the violet Thy sweet breath passes o'er my lip. Dost thou forget, dost thou forget, The dear joys of companionship ? And still when all the stars rejoice And the moon shines clearest, Comes the echo of thy voice, Oh, my love! my dearest! 65 EFFORT Then shall love not be power in the breast of a man. Say thou, O my lyre ? Though earth and hell cannot, surely love can; If love but inspire, The flame in the heart burns each barrier down. Shall I fear Jove's lightning, or Pluto's dark frown ? To thy feet, to thy heart, O Eurydice mine; Love findeth the way. Though gods be thy keepers, yet love is divine. Thou Star of the day, If thou do but greet me and long for me there, Die thou, my dark sorrow; lie down, black despair. I shall rush to thine arms ere the dawn flames the sky; Nor shall hell intervene. Yea, even the deathless immortal shall die, Who dares stand between. Shame, shame on despair. What! a coward, and love ? Nay, despair's from beneath and sweet love's from above. Flame up in my heart, O Promethean fire, Love calls to the strings: Hast played for my pleasure, O musical lyre ? Hast borne on thy wings The spirit whose longing would sweep to the sky ? Now thrill to my pulses, and great death shall die. 66 spirit of love that the universe fills, Empower my heart. Earth, summon thy fountains, thy mystical hills, Their strength to impart. And girt with thy fulness, O mightiest love, 1 measure thy might against conquering Jove. RETURN Oh, gone, gone, gone, Eurydice! And I alone. Thy wistful eyes' appeal I see, And hear thy moan. And almost thou wert mine. O woe! The love that won, That very love made overthrow Of joy begun. O fatal look! yet how forbear, When, at my side, Thy luminous shadow on the air Made love's floodtide. Shine not on me, O sun of heaven; Withdraw thy light. Thy brightness only should be given To bring delight. The starless, moonless night is mine, Where shadows be; Since the dark underworld is thine, Eurydice. 67 How shall I live my weary life , From thee apart; And thy farewell, my love, my wife, To break my heart. The weary moons their vigils keep On night's black shore; And in my heart the shadows sleep Forevermore. Love, love, thy voice! Ah, no; on high The branches toss. And wide beneath the arching sky The sense of loss. Oh, vital spirit of love, that lives, Will live forever, Can that which sense of Godhead gives Have ending ever ? Can that which conquers even death, By death be slain ? Surely I'll see, beyond this breath, My love again, And clasp thee in mine arms once more, Eurydice; What matter though an alien shore Our love shall see. Our triumph yet shall be complete, My love, my own; I shall o'ertake thy wandering feet In some far zone, 68 And love that conquered once, shall keep Its victory, And clasping its beloved, shall sweep Death's shoreless sea. GOOD BY "Good night, good by," said he. "Good night," said she. "Nay, say good by to me, And say it graciously, Since I am going. " "Good by, good by," said she; "Good by," said he; " If you once think of me, I'll know it joyously Where I am going. " Good by, good by, Lenore, Good by once more. My friend till life be o'er, Though I have passed your door, Though I am going. " His lips caressed her hand; Facing they stand: Never time's running sand Shall see them hand in hand After his going. 69 Down the steps to the street; — Parting too fleet! More parting words were meet, Since parting is so sweet When one is going. Down the street blithesomely His steps fall free. "Lest I be late," said he, " The wind blows merrily To speed my going." The hand his lips caressed, Her lips now pressed: "God send me quiet rest; All the heart in my breast Goes with his going. " Two hearts, for love's sweet sake, Life's pain may take; When but one heart doth ache, What can it do but break, When one is going ? " Fragrance and life and love 'Round him do move. Dreams all their glamor wove; Where is the soul thereof ? — Gone with his going." Dark fell the shadows there; Heavy the air. Low bowed the raven hair; One heart earth's sorrow bare, Just for his going. 70 CHIOS AND PATMOS O blind old man, whose wondrous seeing eyes Saw yet the vision of the Grecian ships; Saw Helen's beauty, love's ensnared surprise; Achilles's fire, when anger sealed his lips. The flaming ruin of great Troy's eclipse Flared in thine eyes from the great wonder days. Greece leaped into her throne; her long ellipse In circling course began its changeful ways. A Queen of beauty, and a Queen of deathless praise. Thine eyes looked over the long span of years With the far poet's vision, unafraid; A long river of light the past appears. Purpled by many a thunder-cloud's deep shade. And gods and heroes lent their conquering aid To hang a golden vision in the sky. The magic of the roseate dawning made The unreal after-days like ghosts pass by; Its matchless music an immortal rhapsody. A thousand years pass over thy heart's dust, Thou whose eye sought the golden age, the past; And deemed the threatening, air-hung future must Shadow a morn too glorious to last ; When in thy neighbor isle an emperor cast, In pride of tyranny, an exiled man, Over whose head an hundred years had passed; But an old eagle still, whose eye could scan, Undimmed, the sun of time, and heaven itself outspan. 71 O Son of Thunder, Patmos heard thy voice; And on its rocks thy lifeworn body lay. Rejoice among thy sister isles, rejoice That 'round thy head the crowns of lightning play. Exile, upon thine eyes the eternal Day Broke with the glory of the God of light, And through thy vision, on his conquering way, The pale horse rode into earth's shuddering night And bore his rider through the shadow's headlong flight. A Voice, the sound of many waters, woke Thy melting heart, and love's deep memory stirred. Into one burst of song the heavens broke, Thrilling with praise to the incarnate Word Who left His throne, as One who ministered, And lifted to His heart the earth that sinned. Rapt and inspired thou stoodst, as one who heard The spirit of the future on the wind; While sun and blood-red moon the earth incarna- dined. Trumpet to trumpet calls across the ages, And torch to torch flashes one golden flame; The book is open, from whose living pages The roll call sounds of each forgotten name. Great Babylon, the harlot city, came To hear her doom; humbled her haughty pride; No more for her the purple flaunt of fame; No more the voice of bridegroom or of bride; Her glories swept away upon the scarlet tide. 72 The sheeted lightnings of the wrath divine Flame white into the trembling soul of guilt; The fires of doom, that blacken as they shine, Drop from the vials as blood that had been spilt. O God, the heavens depart which Thou hast built; And like untimely fruit the shaken stars Fail earthward, trailing ruin where Thou wilt; The seven thunders, whose unwritten wars Shattered the air, crash, roaring, through their flaming cars. And still the fragrant odors of earth's prayers Rise to the Throne and make a silence there; Hushed heaven stoops; and, trembling unawares, The vibrant harps thrill through the listening air. And as a loud amen to such a prayer The chorus of the ransomed breaks in song; Ten thousand times ten thousand fill the air; Earth echoes the full thunder far along; And from her saints new thousands press to swell the throng. The vision of the rainbow-circled Throne Beside the sea of mingled glass and fire, The New Jerusalem, like jasper stone, Coming down out of heaven in bride attire, These are the visions that thy soul inspire, Thou banished to the isle 'twixt sea and sky; Thou hearest the singing of the angel choir, And earth, and all thine exile, passes by. The Lamb as't had been slain fills thine enraptured eye. 73 Long since Greece laid her sceptered glory down. Still lives her story in her poet's lyre; Still wears her memory its violet crown; And graves of heroes tell her patriot fire. But, Chios, thou hast seen thine high desire; Thy golden age passed in her glorious flame; The sun of thy proud hope could rise no higher; Thy glory passed resistless as it came; And Homer, Greece, Achilles, Troy, are but a name. Only the vision of what yet shall be Has flashed, O Patmos, on thy sea-washed sand. When time shall wake into eternity Shall come the wonders glimpsed in thy far land; And that rapt vision earth shall understand. And when the awful glories of that day Flame on the mountain peaks, and the great Hand That opened to send earth upon her way, Closes in darkness o'er her, death has passed away. FOR , WHO DIED A violet, whose fragrant breath Caressed each hovering air, Transplanted by the hand of Death Makes heaven itself more fair. A strain of music, passing rare, Where dearest memories meet, Transported to diviner air Makes heaven itself more sweet. 74 A flame, whose pure and perfumed heart Made earth a hallowed shrine, Its rainbow halo shall impart To atmospheres divine. A woman, in whose gentle breast Celestial whispers stir, Has passed to the eternal Rest To make heaven lovelier. All dreams of heaven are possible Remembering what thou art; The cup of love be brimming full To reach thy saintly heart. O sweet, O fair, thy listeners deem The earth itself more dear And touched by a diviner gleam Since thou hast sojourned here. Sweetest of earth, thy loveliness Enchants the heavenly air, Drawing by love's compelling stress Since thou art living there. 75 A LOVER'S MOOD The purple evening shrouds the sky; The low wind sings its lonely part; All nature breathes that long slow sigh, The swelling of earth's homesick heart. My longing heart cries out for thee. Dost thou not dream, at least, with me Of those far days, when, cheek to cheek, We leaned above the dimpling wave, Or westward watched the vivid streak Faint in the glory that it gave; Then turned from all the grandeur of the skies To the dear April in the drooping eyes. Oh, wisdom, of the ancients sung With fervent zeal and ready tongue, Beloved of heaven, of man revered, By sages blest, by mind ensphered, — Match me, with all your vaunted skill, A rounded cheek's auroral tint, Or test your cunning if you will Against a burnished tress's glint. At love's low song bewildered eyes Uplift a look of shy surprise, A slow, sweet waking to its bliss That gives the next world's joy in this. Thou callest, wisdom, but afar There shines the glory of a star, Nay of a sun, whose warmth divine Is life and light, is love and song, And the whole universe is mine, And all that breathe to love belong. 76 And all the listening worlds are stirred By the low music of a word. Oh, sound divine, oh, matchless tone, Music shall live in thee alone, And all earth hear but thee, my own. Even as my heart, forever mute, Is listening for thy lips' low lute; Alas! I listen for it now In the strained silence' waiting hush As slowly, through the trembling bough, Rustles the pushing wind's quick rush; My heart cries out, my lips are dumb; Long waited for, thou dost not come. And evening has a double spell Beside a river's rhythmic flow; The whisper of the waves' long swell, The lapping on the rocks below, Mystery and charm to silence lend, And fated future days portend. 'Twas such a magic night as this, Earth waiting for the heaven's kiss, A mimic moon within the wave, A dancing star the shore to lave, When lover's lips their greeting gave To lips beloved, and love's embrace Clasped all of beauty 'neath the sky. Sweetness and love breathed in the face And from the dark and steadfast eye Looked forth the soul of loyalty. LOfC 77 'Round innocence and purity Forever breathes the air of heaven; Whiteness is virtue's surety; Armor of proof to truth is given. And when love lends the gentle glance, The glorious fire given to earth, Mad thrills along the pulses dance And life's sweet rapture leaps to birth. O Love, the very thought of thee Is one transcendent ecstasy; And memory wields her silent power, Thou'rt mine for this enchanted hour. Again I marvel at those eyes, Unmatched in all the starry skies; Again the magic of thy tongue Breathes o'er my heart the soul of song; And night's sweet nameless witchery Is voiced in its low melody. Sorrow and sadness all are fled, Save the sweet, haunting shade of pain By joy itself interpreted — The echo of earth's ceaseless 'plain. Hast thou a charm to stay the hours Lest rapture pass ere we can taste it ? As dew exhales from spring's frail flowers Ere the hot sun come up to waste it. Ah, press thy lips upon my own Till both our beings melt in one. How like a shadow earth has grown, How like an echo pain is gone. Pass thou, O time, eternity's great shade, And give forever all thy pause has made. 78 O love, the star of this lone earth, The soul upon thy beauty dreaming Hath overleaped its mortal birth, Is god indeed, or god is seeming, And like a thought or purpose runs, At home amid the circling suns, Wherein the spirit bathes in light, Till, subtly as a lost perfume Thou passest, and earth's hopeless night Has not a star to break its gloom. spirit-haunted memory, Thy shadows on my spirit lie; The loftiest spirit earth can know, From world above to world below, Thou art the sweet electric chain That binds in one the severed twain, The deathless bond, that, never broken, Links human still to the divine, Interpreter and mystic token That life shall still be yours and mine. And since my heart has cradled thee Earth cannot fill its longing full. 1 know thy home my home must be, And I shall find thee, Beautiful, Tracking thy footsteps through the blaze Of star and world and kindling sun, Searching the sweet, star-haunted ways, Braving the comet's fiercest rays. Till, at a breath, I come upon The unforgotten radiance Of thy transcendent starry glance, 79 Oh, will I find the human thrill When I shall hear thy low, sweet tone, And hast thou there the lover's will To be forever with thine own ? Still, still I haunt the river's brim Still dream I of the sweet old days; Sadly the robin's evening hymn Sends memory in the dear old ways When thy sweet breath was on my lips, Thy shining eyes my heart's depths haunting, The waves that bore our treasure ships Their long roll through our pulses chanting O evening wind of memory, Through all my heart thy rustle creeps And stirs afresh the mystic sea That 'round our lives in mystery sleeps. 80 THE PASSING OF THE CENTURY Tumultuous time, a rounded century Drops from thy ranks to join the silent dead : No longer know her years thy captaincy, They march in shadow ranks, with echoless tread. An hundred years; and all at last are fled; An hundred years; how glad they came to earth; The long, long years; and all are vanished. How swift is death, how fast it treads on birth. Farewell, O hurrying shade, heedless of grief or mirth. O calm eternity, receive thine own; In thee no time nor past nor future is. What has lived, lives; what will live, thou hast known; And that which never comes thou wilt not miss. Thine are the dead years, full of pain and bliss, Yet every hour we live is truly ours. The past doth build our present self; and this Another prophecy of life embowers. The present our promise is, the seed of future flowers. And now the account: O Judge of earth and heaven, Deal gently with the creatures Thou hast made, Who filled with folly years for wisdom given, Who hear Thy voice, like Adam, and are afraid. We are Thy debtors for the years unpaid, The years that came to fill the earth with light, That pass on, darkened with earth's brooding shade. Our hearts are silent as the hours' mute flight. And the gigantic shadow melts into the night. 81 LONG AGO IN IRELAND She sits alone on the distant hill; The wind from the West comes faint and chill; The dream in her dark eyes lingers still. Dropped in her lap lies a sweet white rose, Over the green stem her fingers close. On her cheek the color comes and goes. Where southward stretches the narrowing track Echoes of hoofbeats come faintly back; The trees in the moonlight stand stern and black. Shadows of horse and rider thrown Show three plumes waving against the stone, Crowning the horseman who rides alone. Out of the North comes the wild Red Rover; All wild things hear him and run to cover. Canst make fit husband from lawless lover ? Red Rover spurs up the mountain side, His charger's nostrils are stretching wide And the red blood drips from his panting side. Red Rover kneels by the fair Eileen, His bold eyes rove o'er her hair's black sheen, Were ever such long-fringed eyelids seen ? He lays a pearl in her slender hand; O fairest lady in all the land, ccept this tear from the ocean's strand. " A 82 She starts to her feet in keen dismay, And the dream from her eyes is chased away; " Nay, take back your priceless pearl, I pray. " 'Tis only the flowers that grow for me; And the wondrous gems of the summer sea Are made for the hand of royalty. " " Nay, lady, for thee all beauty grows; If too white a flame in my pearl's heart glows Give me in exchange thy fair white rose. " The rose flush springs to her rounded cheek; She looks toward the long road's narrowing streak; She clasps her rose, but she cannot speak. Red Rover marks her with darkening brow: " Oh, a dainty chooser of gifts art thou; But I know the best gift for thee now. " And ere through the blue of the highest heaven The snowy sail of the moon is driven, That gift of gifts to thy hand is given. " The maddened charger's straining rush Has died away in the tranquil hush; And white and cold is the sunset's blush. And far on the white road's narrowing track Another shadow flies swift and black, And threatening echoes come grimly back. 83 Ay, cry to the heaven's far arch, Eileen, And stretch thy hands to its gracious Queen; But a man's deep curses lie between. The road's white river bears on its breast The shade of a horseman with sword at rest, And three plumes nodding above a crest. And far behind, but with shortening space, Another shadow travels apace, And it flies as one who runs a race. Oh, why has the night so threatening grown! Was that a cry on the night wind blown That the heart in thy bosom turns to stone ? Where the night dews perfume the sleeping rose The sweetest flower of all that grows Lies prone where the rustling night wind blows. A struggle of hoofs on the mountain side, A black horse, dripping and terrified, The rider's drawn sword all with red blood dyed. Red Rover kneels to the tortured maid, His laugh rings mocking and unafraid; Three plumes on the crimsoning grass he laid. Eileen, with one low, heartbroken moan, Herself on his dripping sword has thrown, And her life-blood blends with her lover's own. And even Red Rover's cheek grows white As he sees the hope of his heart take flight. For love is braver and stronger than might. 84 THE VIOLINIST A hush, a presence, a spirit calling Unto the soul of song; A rain of notes in golden sunlight falling The ways of earth along. The power and the sweetness of the strings Fall full upon the heart, And memory whispers, and dear longing brings Its witchery to his art. Stillness and calm, power and might and sweetness Live in the waiting air; Life with its radiance, life with its fleetness, Life with its hope, is there. Youth, hope, and love, — and still the strings in- vite With whisper softer grown; The world is melody, the world is light, The spirit has her own. The winds rush downward, and the sea awakes; And on the listening ear The ever-living human anthem breaks — All that the heart holds dear. The swift bow poised above the waiting string — A soul and its desire — Calls through the silence, then with downward wing Strikes out its heart of fire. 85 And now, coquette, it dallies on the string And laughs in gleesome notes, As might a myriad dawn-waked birds take wing, With April in their throats. Again the hush; again the spirit calling Unto the soul of song; The stars are swaying, and the star-dew falling The heavenly ways along. Enchanted bow! so thrilling and so glorious, With spirit-compelling sound, Would earth might move with them in rhythm victorious, In her diurnal round. INVITATION 'Round earth's wide purple rim Gray shadows hover; Birds sing their evening hymn; Come, little rover, For twilight is sleepy time all the world over. Day's last faint kiss of light The pale clouds cover; Come, little wandering sprite, Home to your lover. For sleepy time is kissing time all the world over. 86 Come, till I work my will On my wee rover; Come, till I have my fill, With night for cover, For twilight is loving time all the world over. Closer the shadows fold The earth in cover; Come, little wanderer, fold Your wee hands over, For twilight is praying time all the world over. Sweetly the rose's breath hails The dew its lover; So on my lips exhales Your kiss, my rover. For loving time is kissing time all the world over. Softly the shadows creep Your tired eyes over; Sweetly, oh, sweetly sleep, Dear little lover. For twilight is dreaming time all the world over. Dream of the angels fair That 'round you hover; Oh, in your heaven there Would I were rover. And oh, for the dreaming time when the day's over. 87 OH, THE MORNING BREAKS O'ER THE WORLD Oh, the morning breaks o'er the world. Slowly the rose-white dawn, In transparent light impearled, With resistless grace comes on. Oh, the morning breaks o'er the world. Shadow and midnight flee, Into outer darkness hurled; But a troubled memory. Oh, the morning breaks o'er the world. Streamers of red and gold From the banner of day unfurled Their glorious light unfold. Oh, the morning breaks o'er the world, And the palpitant, newborn light Wakes, as dew in a rose impearled, A whole new world of delight. Oh, the morning breaks o'er my heart. And in melody all divine All that heaven can impart Of glory and joy is mine. Oh, morning shall break o'er the world And sorrow and sin be gone, And the black flag by sin unfurled Be lost in the endless dawn. So the morning breaks o'er the world. Hail, heaven's gift, the morn! The sky's bright pennant's unfurled And a fair new day is born. 8 9 JAN . i n