v.;*trrr.>:£n\r,-iwrm*; mxifiminmi^irmiwsirifiji LririiuuiririM i u m n i i 4L LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf. a_M-42 UNITED STATER OF AMERICA. nJTtV ^ BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. BY LOUISA PARSONS HOPKINS, AUTHOR OF "MOTHERHOOD." OS U)a BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK : CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. l88l. Copyright, 1881, By Louisa Parsons Hopkins. University Press : John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. PREFACE. This volume, which makes but a very modest claim in the world of poetry, is put forth primarily at the request of many who have read or listened to its contents, especially a few of the longer poems recited on Alumni occasions at the Framingham State Normal School. The other verses are a frag- ment of the incidental indulgence of a life devoted to more pressing work, and were written only in obe- dience to that instinct for expression which indicates the mission of the poet, however limited in gift or development. This mission I am not satisfied, as I look down the slope of life, to leave altogether unfulfilled or unrecorded, although its record falls far short of my early hope • but as the flower of the grass does not IV PREFACE. refuse its measure of beauty and sweetness to the wayfarer, so I give these verses to the casual reader, hoping they may bear some perfume from the fields of Nature, and breathe in some degree its restful inspiration. L. P. H. CONTENTS. \ PAGE Preface iii Nonquitt 7 Tempestuous Deeps 12 The Coruscating Sea 14 The Tender Love of God 16 The Secret of the Night 18 The Hereafter 20 The Salt-Marshes 22 Easter Songs 27 The World's Lullaby 30 Epklea 33 Sanguinaria 35 Apple-Blossoms 37 Morning-Glories 39 Easter Lilies 41 The Lily of the Valley 43 vi CONTENTS. Nasturtiums 45 Barberries 47 In the Fernery 49 "Tell them, daisies" 52 Compensation 53 Teachers of Old 54 In the Beginning ... 60 The Building of the Tabernacle 64 Pshanshaw 77 The Evening Star 90 A Twilight Fantasy 92 December . . . . 94 The Lesson of the Rain 96 Christmas Week 98 The Christmas Snow 100 Witness of the Spirit 102 Forget-me-nots 105 Alumni Poem 112 PHONE ; or, The Spirit of Nature and Life 125 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. NONQUITT. Summer has flashed her golden shuttle by My dreaming eye ; Its shining web of days so soft and fair, Without a care, Is folding down into the silent past, Too bright to last. Night unto night has told its peace serene, While Luna, queen, BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Paved her white, shimmering path above the deep, That stirred in sleep To lisp its dreamy bliss around the shore Forevermore. Day unto day ushered its beauty in With happy din, Thrush and song-sparrow trilling through the hours, While myriad flowers Bespangled dewy grass and fragrant wood, And all was good. The odorous breeze wafted its music round, — A varied sound. Called from the wide campaign the whistling quail, The tern's shrill wail NONQUITT. Answered afar, and boomed from rock to rock The billows' shock. Here have I sat without my cottage-door And watched the shore, Followed its curving line to where the town Lies sloping down, Its clustering gems in simple beauty set, — Fair coronet ! And still along its amber thread of strand Stretches the land, Till the grim fortress at the harbor's mouth Looks threatening, south, But hears no sound save dash of spray that wet Its parapet. 10 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Then on and on the rippling waters spread By cliff and head, By long, low neck, and sunny-sanded isles, The blue bay smiles, Till, like a soul within the conscious seas, Sits Penekese. And to and fro the opal sails have sped, Or glimmered red The seven coast-lights about the landlocked bay, While night and day The broad blue sky with sun or star has lit Light-bathed Nonquitt. But now the slopes are shadowing with wings, And southward swings NONQUITT. II The clamoring host of swallows o'er the sea; Tis time for me To seek my closer eaves, and, sighing, fold This cloth of gold. 12 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. TEMPESTUOUS DEEPS. Passionate, stormy ocean, Spreading thine arms to me, The depths of my soul's emotion Surge with the surging sea: Waves and billows go o'er me, Give me thy strong right hand ! The throes of my heart's vain struggle I know thou wilt understand. Break with thy hidden anguish, Restless and yearning main ! Echo my sighs; I languish, Moaning in secret pain. TEMPESTUOUS DEEPS. 13 The heart I had trusted fails me, The hopes I would rest in flee ; Woe upon woe assails me, Comfort me, answering sea ! Mightily tossed with tempest, Lashed into serried crest, Roaring and seething billows Give thee nor peace nor rest : O, to thy heaving bosom Take me, wild sobbing sea ! For the whole earth's groaning and travail Utters itself in thee. 14 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE CORUSCATING SEA. I left my cares behind me, I left them all with glee, When flashed beyond the cedars The coruscating sea. Beyond the sombre cedars, Beneath an azure sky, The white caps dash and sparkle, The white gulls dip and fly. The snowy spray is wafted Like pennons on the breeze, The glowing rocks begemming The blue and bossy seas. THE CORUSCATING SEA. 15 My cares I leave behind me, My glad heart springs to song, With blithe steps bounding lightly I dance the sands along. I greet the joyous ocean ! I greet the ecstatic day ! — The day when by the billows I flung my care away. 1 6 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE TENDER LOVE GF GOD. HAMPTON BEACH. In every line of breaking beauty seen, In every foamy crest or concave green, O'er blue expanse, where sky and ocean meet, The tender love of God is brooding sweet. Written in wavy tracery on the sand, Spoke by the echoing rocks' encircling band, Breathed in the pure and healing winds that fly, The tender love of God is hovering nigh. Painted on every fair and pearly cloud, Sung by the sea's grand monotone aloud, THE TENDER LOVE OF GOD. 17 Whispered within each convoluted shell, The tender love of God so close doth dwell. In quickened pulse by his own finger stirred, In grateful heart responsive to his word, In burning soul that worships at his feet, The tender love of God abides most sweet. 1 8 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT. The night is full of meaning; whispers run From either firmament; the mystic sea Responds along her borders audibly; The sibyl moon her vigil has begun, And thrills the wave with weird illumining. Full well she knows the secret of the air, Forbidding all the billows to declare Its deep intent, and when they, longing, spring For sympathy to the confiding shore, She strikes them with her wand, and naught is heard But broken sobs and vague, unuttercd word, Mocking the yearning heart forevcrmore. THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT. 19 But round the sea's gray arc, o'er yon dark rim The message is borne onward; in the deeps Its purpose understood; the wonder creeps Silent along the path where moonbeams swim, Then 'cross the reach of outer shade it rolls To leave its burden at magnetic poles. 20 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE HEREAFTER. wide blue arc of sea, What wondrous mystery- Flees over thy thin edge? To it my faith I pledge ! 1 know not how nor when Its measure I shall ken, What secret waits revealing, W 7 hat treasure Death 's unsealing j But that horizon's rim Shall not be always dim ; Sometime my heavenly eyes Shall look without surprise THE HEREAFTER. 21 Beyond its mystic verge, And Paradise emerge, With its fair, beckoning shore, Safe from the tempest-roar. Then all shall be made known, And what is dark be shown, — All longing satisfied; And ways that we have tried, Tempt and delude no more, On that far, unseen shore. 22 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE SALT-MARSHES. There 's a wondrous wide level of beauty, the Oldtown salt-marshes, — Hemisphere of lush green with its conical islands of russet, Perch of the windy snipe or throne of the eagle, Graced by the gulls ; their summits diverging, retreating, Dwindle to dots of gold where they fleck the horizon. The green, green intervals stretching so fresh and so quiet, Wet with the lapsing tide and meandering river, Spread in alluring repose, now concealed, now dis- covered, — THE SALT-MARSHES. 23 Limitless peace, earth's response to the blessing of heaven ; Reaching afar they decoy the thought beyond vision, Luring the fancy to fly as birds hither and thither, Circling and winding to follow the wandering river, Hieing to cover and shadow, then forth to the sunlit Infinite opening, to take the wings of the morning And speed to the uttermost sea beckoning there with white fingers. There 's a way that the foot can tread over rocks gray and mossy, Through woods of the balmy pine and vine-netted bushes ; There have I walked with another; our young hearts, expanding, 24 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Grew with the growing beauty, and were not astonished. Discerning the secrets which Nature reserves for her children, We saw, as the poet, clouds floating beneath the dark pine-trees, — Tenderest cloudlings tethered like flocks to their bushes, — Impalpable mist of color from shrubs newly bud- ding, — Amber the willows, rosy the oaks and the maples. To us they appeared the pillar of cloud of God's presence, Mystical symbol, the cloud of expressed resurrection. There have we walked through glory of crimsoning sumach, Purple of ciders, the prodigal hues of the maples, THE SALT-MARSHES. 25 Radiant golden-rod, dazzle of starry aster, To the dull marsh-gold shot through with the blue threading river. But O the way of the tide ! with white wings to follow The wake of the gulls among the dissolving islets, To drift with the tortuous current through emerald waters, To cruise into crystal shallows with shifting rudder, Glide into the dream within dream, the maze of the meadows ; The gracious skies deepening above us and breathing around us, Our hearts throb with joy, with the fulness of life all our pulses ; To the close brooding Spirit our souls, palpitating re- sponsive, 26 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Plume their wings and soar away to the Source and the Fountain. Our ghosted souls aswing from the body's moorings, Mated and plumed and poised in infinite spaces, Rising on buoyant wings of divine aspiration, Are one with the heart of Nature, the worship of earth and of heaven. EASTER SONGS. 27 EASTER SONGS. The song of the sap From its mother's lap Springing to welcome the Easter Day ! The song of the wood That groweth good With the sap that riseth and will not stay. Clear harmonies Of the fluted trees, The organ-pipes of the bird and bee, The voice that wells From the leaflet-cells, — A hidden murmur of melody ! BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE, The opening sheath Of the willow's wreath; Chorus of birds, high carolling; The cymballed psalm Of the air's soft palm Closing after the cleaving wing; The patter of showers, The waving flowers, The symphony of the south-wind free ; The vibrant harp Of the ice-clad scarp, Struck to the chord of the sounding sea; The whir of wings, The bubbling springs, The bursting ice and the melting snow ; EASTER SONGS. 29 The rapid's roar And the rippling shore, The unchained brooks and the rivers' flow; The nestling broods, The interludes Of chirp and trill, of coo and call, — The loosening hold Of the leaf-bud's fold, And the resurrection of each and all ! Let the paean rise In the eastern skies, While planets sing on their mystic ways; With heart and voice Earth and heaven rejoice, And the song of life be a song of praise ! 30 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE WORLD'S LULLABY. Behold the soft- swathed earth Cradled in balmy air, Since its glad hour of birth Rocked like a child most fair; Girdled with downy bands, Clothed in the beauteous lands, In swaddling seas at rest Like sleeping babe upon its mother's breast ! In tender ether wrapped, It swingeth to and fro, While in bright outline mapped The swift, fresh breezes blow ; THE WORLD'S LULLABY. 31 And round it strons: winged birds, Or singers of sweet words, Through gales of perfume fly, Chanting unceasing songs of lullaby. Fairly arrayed it lies, — Peak upon peak of snow Piercing the outer skies, — The pearly seas below ; Green plains in beauty spread, 'Broidered with silver thread; The river-feeding rills Glancing among the velvet-verdured hills ! The silver-horne'd moon Leans o'er the babe asleep ; 32 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. The burning sun of noon Stretches its torrid sweep; The belting zodiac Spreads wide its starry track; Ranks of celestial guard Through the close clustering worlds keep watch and ward. Float on, calm babe asleep, In hollow of God's hand ! He holds the oceans deep, He weighs the mighty land; Inspired by his breath, Life shall be thine, not death ; So down thy cycles swing, To grow unto the stature of a king. EPIGsEA. 33 EPIG^EA. Out of the woods' dim sepulchre, Fresh from the shrouding leaves, Bloom the flowers for Easter-morning, And my heart their pledge receives, Of the Lord of the Resurrection, Who death and loss retrieves. Sweet to my sense their presence, Lovely their soft, pink flush ! As the day-spring lights the heavens In the Easter-morning's hush, So the message of life perfumes them And kindles their tender blush. 3 34 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. " See ! Life from death awaketh ! " The mould-sprung blossoms say; "Angels from sealed sepulchre Have rolled the stone away; Christ is risen, and through the shadow Streams the eternal day ! " SANGUINARIA. 35 SANGUINARIA. Soul-flower, so pure and white, — A star of chrysolite ! Thy central flecks of gold Such dainty care do hold Not to emboss the petals chaste and fair, Nor drop one wanton mote of pollen there ! The sheltered, modest stem Kissing thy blossom's hem, Swaying with slender grace, Wrapped in the leaf's embrace, The brown-ribbed leaf, hued like the olive-tree, Conserving all the dews of heaven for thee ; — 36 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Christ's love — thy bleeding root The symbol well may suit ! From it the soul shall spring, Dressed in white blossoming, While round her growth the sheltering church doth fold, And o'er her bloom droops Heaven's crown of gold. APPLE-BL OSSOMS. 3 7 APPLE-BLOSSOMS. Storm-twisted, gnarled bough, Bloom forth in beauty now, Spring breezes woo thee ! Hush the wind's blustering, Wear thy fresh clustering Blossoms, close mustering, Hastening to thee ! Leaf, bud, corolla fair, Spread in ambrosial air, Bossy branch cover ; 38 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. In pink and white array, Decked for thy bridal day, Reaching forth graciously, Welcome thy lover ! MORNING-GLORIES. 39 MORNING-GLORIES. Delicate vases of fairest hue, Daintily set for the early dew, That the dying stars their grace may view; Pink of the conch-shell, blue of the sea, Tyrian purple with pearl flecked free, Tint their Etruscan symmetry. Hebe might covet the sheeny cup On its heart-shaped salver offered up, Where the queenly mornings their nectar sup. 40 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. 0, prodigal beauty for opening eyes ! The tendrilled vine with its grand surprise Of bloom upturned to the dawn-flushed skies ! EASTER LILIES. 41 EASTER LILIES. The pure and holy lilies Attend their Lord alway; The Easter-lilies praise him, They " of the valley " pray. Red-lilies speak his passion, Field-lilies breathe his love, And Water-lilies image His peace in heaven above. Weave in the glorious blossoms To deck the Easter tide, 42 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. An offering fit and spotless, By Jesus sanctified ! And when in bliss we see him, — The gates of life thrown wide, — The Angel of the Lily Shall lead us to his side. THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. 43 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY. In its mossy bed, See ! the lily's head Is drooping low in its sweet, sad grief; So my soul is bowed With a love I vowed To a heart dead to me as the withered leaf. The lily is white From the sorrow-spent night, Though it felt the soft breath of the south-wind warm j So I wake more pale When the night's dim veil Is snatched from my dreams of a vanished form. 44 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. But the lily fair Sheds its sweetness rare Through the grateful valley, o'er its mossy bed ; While this tearful vale Of the life I bewail Is sadder yet for my bowed head. fragrant flower ! 1 will bless the hour Which thy modest life has perfumed for me ; And the valley I tread Shall have sweetness shed O'er its lonely path when I think of thee. NASTURTIUMS. 45 NASTURTIUMS. Bright flowers, still loyal to the summer's heart, — Flag of her blazonry on death-strewn field, — Hold high aloft your banners, act your part, And, like the patriot-martyr, never yield, But clasp, undaunted, your firm radiate shield ; Sword from your golden scabbard proudly wield ! I know ye, glorious flowers incarnadine ! Your twining stems have grappled round my life ; For o'er twin patriot graves your blossoms lean, And on white stones are cut with sculptor's knife, Symbol of blood shed in a country's strife, — With sacred love and holv memories rife ! 46 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. I breathe your pungent perfume wafted near, Your aromatic fragrance I inspire ; Type of how costly sacrifice ! the tear Of deep affection springs ; my strong desire Calls back those fresh, young faces, souls of fire, - My brothers ! — offered on fair Freedom's pyre. Bloom till ye fall like heroes at the front; With gold and crimson colors lead the fight ; How well your green escutcheon bears the brunt ! Your flaming rays still challenge winter's night, Guerdon that brave souls shall not suffer blight, But " precious shall their blood be in his sight " ! BARBERRIES. 47 BARBERRIES. To the sunny autumn fields Let us stray, In the glory of an Indian-summer day ; Through the singing, grass-hid broods, To the sedgy quiet woods, From the busy city's hum far away ! In the myriad leafless stems We may see Blazing banners of the fruit on bush and tree ; Barberry sprays like pendent gems, Where their ruby diadems Crown with triumph Nature's bright euthanasy ! 48 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Each fair drop translucent gleams In the light, Iridescent, coruscating like a sprite; All in gay prismatic beams, Till its burning shimmer seems The last flush of summer's soul before its flight. IN THE FERNERY. 49 IN THE FERNERY. Wondering, I sit and see Types of clear symmetry, Model of leaf and tree, Grow in my fernery. Delicate tracery Outlined so fine and free, Pencilled and etched for me, Gracefully, airily. Rising like verdurous dream, Emerald spires they seem, 4 50 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Piercing light's golden beam, — Minaret's crescent gleam ! Gossamer web of green, Fine ebon curves between, Feathers of grace that lean, Plumes for Palmyra's queen. Exquisite fronds entwine Beauty's acanthus line Chiselled in serpentine, Nature's own seal and sign. Shaft and volute and scroll, Stem and leaf-bud enroll, Archetypes finished, whole, Fair as fair sculpture's soul. IN THE FERNERY. 51 Each line a groove of thought Where divine skill has wrought, Marvels of beauty brought From Empyrean court. How complete ! how refined Nature's casts ! form and mind In their true parts combined, Clearly by God outlined. No hasty work is done, Perfect the mould is run, Nicely the web is spun, Surely the victory won. 52 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. "TELL THEM, D AISLES." Tell them, daisies, tell them sweetly All I fain would say; Let your white stars say it meetly Through the soft fern-spray. With a love-look, full, complete, Speak it, pure-lipped Marguerite ; In a heart-throb, perfume-set, Breathe it, mignonette ! COMPENSATION. 53 CO MP ENS A TION. Does the snow gently fall? How quick the sunlight sparkles through the air, And gladly over all The smile of heaven plays beautiful and fair. Does the rain come in showers? Listen ! for soon the thankful earth will sing, And through the happy flowers Will run the thrill of the bird's dripping wing. Fades the rich crimson west Into night's stillness? See how close and bright The heavens with stars are drest, And day transfigured in celestial night ! 54 BREATH OF THE FT ELD AND SHORE. TEACHERS OF OLD. So far away That dim, historic time, When in their mighty prime Egypt, Chaldea, Assyria's kingdoms lay Colossal and sublime, Wielding majestic sway Over the fertile valley of the Nile, Beneath the shadow of the sculptured pile, Or where the Tigris and Euphrates stray Over their marshy beds whose shores beguile The wayward currents through their reeds to play, Those century-sounding chords which sing their glorious day. TEACHERS OF OLD. 55 Yet clear, through ages dim, Sounds the inspiring hymn, — Call of the teachers of man. From generations far They have marshalled the holy war, They have marched in the van, Crying, " Forward ! shout reveille ! Lead on from night to day, From the false to the true, From the chrysalis of the old to the winged hope of the new ! " See, in the far-off ages, From Ur of the Chaldees, Rideth a white-robed Sheik, Spear poised and quick to strike 56 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. For the one God whose call He followed, not knowing at all Whither he went; With folded tent, The slow-paced caravan In the shadow of this man Stretched over the star-lit plain, Winding to narrow main, To the Nile's grain-fringed coasts, Obeying the God of Hosts By his servant Abraham, — The world's bright oriflamme ! The eternal letters of the skies Were clear to this man's eyes, Lesson that faith could understand, Watching the pointing of God's hand. TEACHERS OF OLD. 5 7 With the spirit to learn that made him grand, Made him a teacher and a seer. So through all history doth appear He who can listen and learn so well That he needs must tell What God tells him, and accept his mission Obedient unto the heavenly vision ; — The called of God to go Before the hosts and show The way to the Promised Land, To repeat the divine command From division to division. So listened Moses to the call, Feasting in Rameses' hall, Leaving the sweets of earthly bliss 58 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. And the glory of Heliopolis, — Leaving forever his princely youth To seek the pure, eternal truth. Listening again and again From the tower of flocks on Midian's plain, Till the burning bush, in tongue of flame, Pronounced the all- inspiring name; A commission to him who heard To interpret that radiant word To the nations enslaved, who wait, Crushed and disconsolate, Amid oppressor's rule, For the leader and teacher to guide them Into the desert school. With primer of wonders and sign, With precept and line upon line, TEACHERS OF OLD. 59 And the lesson on tables of stone That God was God alone, — They learned from mountain-pages The mighty truths of the ages ; And the face of Moses shone With a glory not his own, Till the holy task was done, — Great teacher and leader in one. 6o BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. IN THE BEGINNING. What force in creation's dower To lay its foundations, whether Bastions of logic tower Bolting its walls together, Or bands of colossal power Are stretched for a planet's tether ! Atom to atom clinging, Planet to planet swinging, Outer darkness alluring, Suns centripetal pouring Light through elastic ether, Firmament upper and nether ! IN THE BEGINNING. 6 1 Magnetic poles are burning, Electric wheels are turning, Spinning adamant cables Stranger than myths or fables ; Swifter than weaver's shuttle Crossing the threads so subtle, Meshing the infinite spaces With fine, intangible traces, — Ah ! what strength and skill Fashions the worlds at will. Gases seething and tossing, Condensing, burning, embossing Heaven with its globes of fire To shine, decay, expire ! With many lightnings and thunders Evolving God's plan of wonders ; 62 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. With unseen and unheard forces The stars are set in their courses ; The world swings true to her motions, With balanced lands and oceans. She had shot off a lamp for her night With phases of silver light; The palpitating air Softened her outline fair; To everything that lives Some share of thought she gives ; But man, earth's parasite, Is Nature's high delight. He, creature of an hour, Beggars all else in power. Behold him king ! invested With might from all things wrested : IN THE BEGINNING. 6$ All forces he shall tame, And call the stars by name. To him she will delegate The right of her high estate, — Her dear prerogative, To him she deigns to give; Of choosing a life to live, — Of infinite, far progression, In endless resurrection. 64 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. Word came to the people of God in the great con- gregation, " Take from among you an offering, bring an oblation ; Offering of silver and gold, of purple and spices, Stones to be set, and onyx for holy devices, Skins of the chamois and ibex, and brass for the laver, Shittim-wood dyed, and acacia-wood for the carver; Whosoever is willing, the rich or the lowly, Let him bring forth out of his treasure for service most holy." So they came, — every man with a heart of wisdom within him THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 65 Brought silver and brass and gold, fine purple and linen ; With bracelets and amulets came all the women wise- hearted, Or spun the red wool and silk from the cocoon parted. For the work of the tabernacle and service of altar Their hearts did not fail them in giving, their hands did not falter. More than enough for the service they brought unto Moses, Till he answered, " Restrain ye ; sufficient the tent-cloth encloses." Then Miriam spoke for the women, her brow all aflame With the passion that burst from her soul, and tumul- tuous came To her lips silver-portal, in speech like a quivering fire, Up-surging and soaring in voice of celestial desire : 5 66 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. "Thou hast called us, my brother, to bring as a gift for the Lord Our choicest and rarest of treasures, most precious of hoard ; All the jewels we brought from the Nile-land, the bracelets we wore In the court of the Pharaohs' daughters, our garments of yore, Precious heirlooms embroidered with emeralds and heavy with gems, Our circlets of set scarabaei and chased diadems, Our beautiful linen enwrought with the blue lotus-flower, Our pearl-woven tassels and fringes, the silks of our dower, Graven signets of sapphire and amethyst, necklace of gold, THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 67 Our exquisite girdles of wreathen-work, fair to behold, Pure olive-oil beaten for burning, and silver lamps hung With fillets of bells chiming sweetly, and jasper urns swung From curious settings of agate, thin vases perfumed With Egypt's rare odors, with topaz and diamonds illumed ; Quaint symbols and mysteries of lily-work, sculptured and done By the chiefest of Rameses' sculptors, the glory of On ; Chaste, delicate patterns of beauty in ivory made, Tall feathers of red-sheathed papyrus, the grain's golden braid, Nile-lily and lupine and flax-flower and fleece of the trees, Stork, pelican, ibis, their plumage up-tossed by the breeze, 68 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. All loveliness run in the fine glass, shot through in bright hues Gold threads and lace meshes of silver; rare art to infuse ! The frescos of Karnak's grand temple, the spirals that twine Round the pillars of white alabaster encircling the shrine, Long colonnades wondrously fretted, feast-dishes that graced The table where thou, my beloved, in honor wert placed ; Rare dishes of porcelain colored and basins of bronze, Long towels of fine twined linen for Rameses' sons. Priceless gems from the land of our bondage, we count them as dust For the dwelling of Him whom we worship, whom un- seen we trust. THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 69 Out of these, my son's son, Bezaleel, of God-given skill, Build the ark with its mercy-seat holy that Shiloh shall fill ! Mould cherubim hovering over, branched candles of gold, High altar and holy of holies with hangings enfold ; Raise pillars with chapiters glorious and doors of the shrine, Cloths of service and ephod and breastplate and girdle divine, Golden bells for the hem of the priest-robe, the mitre and plate, Plate of clear gold with " Holiness " graven for Aaron's high state. Forget not the skill of the graver on blue-chiselled steel, Nor the fashion of moulding and caning thou may'st not reveal, 70 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. And the gods of the Nile thou shalt ravish of cunning and lore For the house of Jehovah-Redeemer, — the God we adore. Now to him do we bring all our offerings in gladness of soul, And we send up our song like an incense above them to roll ; With the music and dance will we praise him, and offer our gift — For he our transgressions will pardon, our weakness uplift — To the God of our Fathers enthroned on the clear sapphire height Where Moses with shining face saw him pass by in his might j THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 71 Up the grand sacred terraces climbing, soar high, my song ! All winged with a passion of worship, and wafted along O'er the ladder celestial of Jacob, where angels as- cend And the seraphim chant him their paeans, yea, world without end ! We praise thee, O Elohim, Throned in the cloud ! Swift lightnings express thee, And thunderings loud ; Sweep, burst like a whirlwind From height unto height, Grand chorus of trumpets Proclaiming his might ! 72 BREATH OF THE FIELD AXD SHORE. Unclothed are the mountains, And naked and hoar The ancient rocks tremble Thy presence before. In thick clouds and darkness Thy majesty hide, For the day of thy coming, Ah, who may abide ! O'er foot-scorching deserts Thy sun-arrows smite, Devouring fire, Thy glory and light ! Till in great rock-shadows The heat fades away, And the cool rest of eventide Endeth the day. THE BUILD TXG OF THE TABERNACLE. 73 With shimmering lances O'er yon deepening sky- Night's serried host glances From camp-fields on high. Their star-banner riven Floats white o'er the plain, And the music of heaven Re-echoes our strain. Hark ! hark ! from the rock-cleft We hear thee proclaim, " Long-suffering, merciful ! " Gracious, new name ! O, gentle hand-cover ! O, soft touch of love ! O, heart like a mother, Our weakness above ! 74 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Why feared we thy thunder, Why shrunk from thy light, Cloud-pillar before us, Flame-banner by night? Like Nubian lions The foam-billows reared, Curbed back from the path Where thy glory appeared. Thy flock like a shepherd Thou 'st tenderly led, In thirsty land nourished, In barren land fed. No longer thy glory Our spirits appall, But patience and tenderness Covcrcth all. THE BUILDING OF THE TABERNACLE. 75 Touch gently, maidens, The timbrel and lute ! Sing softly, sweet singers, Harsh cymbals, be mute ! But let the harp's yearning Breathe out on the air The sweetness of worship, The nearness of prayer ! Toss high, O ye palm-trees, Your emerald plumes ! Bright tamarisk blossoms, Waft wide your perfumes ! Wave, purple acacia, Your tassels abroad, And offer sweet incense To Israel's Lord ! 76 BREATH OF THE FIELD AA T D SHORE. Ye zones of winds rushing, Ye streams of the sea, Ye desert-wells gushing Perennial and free, Ye fountains of waters And gathering rain, — Join all your glad voices To swell the refrain ! Ye grand rock-hewn temples, Shafts piercing the skies, Ye stairways of angels From Sinai that rise; Ye great congregation, Redeemed by his rod. — Awake the grand anthem To Israel's God ! PSHANSHA W. 77 PSHANSHAW. AN INDIAN IDYL. I, THE MORXIXG PRAYER. Ameo the prairies of the wild Missouri Stretches the village of the Ricarees ; Bright flowers and grasses, beautiful pot-pourri, Wave gayly in the early morning breeze. The distant line of blue hills undulating Frames the fair picture like enamelled ring ; Bright-plumaged birds through rosy airs gyratim Above the flowery billows soar and sing. 78 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Swiftly from out the picket's tall enclosure Runs little Pshanshaw, the Sweet-scented-grass ; Above her swings the amber-budding osier, The drooping boughs bend low for her to pass. Her flashing, jetty tresses loosely streaming O'er trailing robe of young white buffalo, Her shining necklace of the elk-teeth gleaming, Her beaded moccasins that come and go ; Her pretty slip embroidered with fair seeming Of blossom and of berry, fawn and doe, — All her glad vestal garments brightly beaming, A shaft of light upon the morning's glow; — A radiant form upon the waving prairie, Speeding toward the sunrise, sweet Pshanshaw ! PSHANSHA W. 79 Hastening to greet day's glorious luminary, And worship at his feet in grateful awe. The fragrance of a wilderness of flowers, Sweet-scented grasses, purple clustering fruit, Are incense in that temple mid whose bowers Kneels little Pshanshaw with glad wonder mute. Then o'er the blue hills and the rushing river Bursts the new glory of the rising sun ; His clear light-arrows round her shine and quiver, And greet her with warm kisses, — happy one ! So home she speeds, blest with this morning praying, While all the songful voices of the air, And wandering breezes through her tresses straying, Sing to her heart in ceaseless praise and prayer. 8o BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHGRE. II. THE BATH. The level shafts of light spread o'er the prairies, Great sunflowers turn to flash their high salute, Wild roses blush, and delicate dawn- fairies Breathe the fresh scent from myriad flowers and fruit. The blue-leafed boughs of buffalo-bush hang heavy, Their scarlet berries dewy with the prime ; The butterflies in many a dancing bevy Greet the tall crimson lilies in the thyme. Over the wide-expanded verdurous ocean Race the fleet deer, or crops the tender doe, PSHANSHAW. 8 1 While o'er the distant hills in wild commotion Plunge the grand, shaggy herds of buffalo. Into the sunrise whirls the glancing river, And glitter all the jewels of the strand ; Agate and jasper, prisms all a-shiver With sparkling light on water and on land. Upon the cliffs, whose castellated border Shelters the beach, stand wary sentinels, Bow strung and arrow set for sly marauder Who dares to glance into the swimming dells. So over shining pebbles of red jasper Rounding with ebb and flow, the maidens run. Disrobed, from mother's arms that fondly clasp her, Flies Pshanshaw from Seetsebea, — Mid-day-sun. 6 I BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Then in the eddying current boldly dashing, Swims Pshanshaw gracefully from side to side, One tossing arm amid the spray out-flashing, One swinging low beneath the boiling tide. And through the surging billows strong and daring, Bounds the bright maiden like a fleet canoe ; Fresh as the fawn so innocently staring, Sweet as the balmy air and early dew. PSHANSHAW. 83 III. THE BREAKFAST. Now from the terraced heights and shining beaches Hastens each happy mother, happy maid, Across the meadows' wide and blossomed reaches, Toward the homes within the palisade. Around the wigwam Pshanshaw steps so featly, Bringing the marrow- fat and pemmican, And tempting acid berries mixed discreetly, Gathered with dainty care as home they ran. Seetsebea stirs the succotash so steaming, In earthen bowl the golden corn-meal piles, 84 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. The cup of crystal water sparkles gleaming, Dipped from the pool where the Great Spirit smiles. Then reverently the red-clay pipe she bringeth, Filled with the willow-bark and spicy musk; The gift of peace where'er its soft smoke wingeth The seeds of trust and friendship to the dusk. Mahtotohpa soon enters in his glory, Chief of the tribes, Pshanshaw's brave father too ; A gallant warrior in his war-paint gory, The terror of the hostile, fierce Sioux. His shirt of mountain-goat skin, white and flossy, Embroidered with the quills of porcupine, Adorned with tufts of black hair, long and glossy, With fringe of ermine tails and skins most fine ; PSHANSHA W. 85 His leggings fringed with scalp-locks tossing quickly, And worked with quills of every richest dye, His moccasins of buckskin beaded thickly In flaunting grace about his ankles lie ; His glorious crest of white War-Eagle's pennons Tossing aloft or down his sinewy back, Streaming afar when dashing through the canons, — A deadly challenge on the red war-track ! While round his brawny chest the trophy-necklace Of fifty huge claws of the grizzly bear, Savage and sharp, a sign of contest reckless, In token of his name he '11 proudly wear ; His tall white bow as delicate as ivory, Carved with the cunning of wise Medicine, 86 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. He carries haughtily, his forest livery, Scaring the wild-wood game and venison \ His quiver of the panther's skin ; his arrow Feathered with hawk-plumes and the eagle's quill, Its blade of chiselled flint, envenomed, narrow, To pierce the death-wound with unerring skill; His tall and two-edged lance with shaft elastic, Stained deep with blood drunk in by many a strife ; His painted robe of fine white doeskin plastic, His belt and tomahawk and scalping-knife ; — So full arrayed, Mahtotohpa has entered ; Seetsebea and Pshanshaw stand meekly still ; In him obedient love and pride is centred, His breakfast is prepared and waits his will. PSHANSHAW. 87 IV. MAIDENHOOD. So through the seasons bloomed this Indian flower, In modest promise, Nature's happy child ; Untrammelled health and freedom was her dower, And o'er her pathway every morning smiled. She learned her maiden duties from her mother, — Swung the calm pappoose in its hammock gay, Beaded the moccasins for roving brother, Watched the wild scalp-dance in the morning gray Played with the prairie-dogs about their hutlets, Welcomed the braves returning from the chase, SS BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Prepared the buffalo-steak and venison cutlets, Or peered into the warrior's painted face ; Caressed the pretty little dappled ponies, Braided the grass-mats and the willow-withe, Paled at the war-whoop of the fierce Shoshones, Watched the ball-players, graceful, strong, and lithe ; Followed where late the wise old beaver lingers, Or trapped the muskrat in the sedgy green, Moulded the red clay in her dimpled fingers, Shot her canoe across the Lacque du Cygne : But when some savage mystery would haunt her, When the weird Medicine his chant began, Or torture with its stoic silence daunt her, Her thirsty soul to clearer fountains ran ; PSHANSHA W. I And sad, dim yearnings would her soul inspire For something purer than her faith had known, A holier shrine and truer altar-fire Before her young imagination shone. " O that I knew where I might find that Power, Higher than height and deeper than the deep ! " So burns her heart while night's dark shadows lower, So dreams she longing through her maiden sleep. 90 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE EVENING STAR. Beautiful star that whisperest of the night, Her holy prophet with the calm white light Upon thy brow ! thou singest an evangel Which tells of welcome rest, thou twilight angel; Peace which the good God sends in holy dark enfolded, In raven wings the lily-calm is shrouded. Beautiful star ! thine is no idle mission, To say, " Lo, Night ! " then show us the pure vision, To hush the ruddy west that we may win A calm where God's fair angels enter in. Move gently on in constant prophesying Of peace, the foretaste of the heaven's undying. THE EVENING STAR. 91 We look up fresh to God and only there. Night is all fraught with holiness and prayer. We feel more close the love of God, warm-pressing; The quiet wraps our souls in its caressing, Peace covers us with its white wings, and Even Lifts us up full into the calm of heaven. 92 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. A TWILIGHT FANTASY. A low, round cedar bush Dark in the twilight hush, With wreath of nodding daisies round it spread ; Like stars just flickering The daisies wave and swing Like vestal lamps above a crowned head, — Above one crowned and dead. And through the silence deep, And through that cedared sleep, I hear the low waves washing to the shore ; A TWILIGHT FANTASY. 93 A dirge, a moan they seem, — The voices of a dream, Resounding deep and sad forevermore, — A dirge from ocean's roar. 94 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. DECEMBER. Blow, northern winds ! To brace my fibres, knit my cords, To gird my soul, to fire my words, To do my work, — for 't is the Lord's, ■ To fashion minds. Come, tonic blasts ! Arouse my courage, stir my thought, Give nerve and spring, that as I ought I give my strength to what is wrought, While duty lasts. DECEMBER. 95 Glow, arctic light ! And let my heart, like burnished steel, That bright, magnetic flame reveal Which kindles purpose, faith, and zeal For truth and right. Shine, winter skies ! That when each brave day's work is done, I wait in peace, from sun to sun, To meet unshamed, through victory won, Your starry eyes. 96 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. THE LESSON OF THE RAIN. The rain falls sadly on the icy panes, — Bereaved the dull day wanes ; The drops are past my counting, and the grief Seems past relief. Nay ! who knows what the losses or the gains Of sadly dropping rains? Who counts the tears I shed, or numbers o'er My blessings' store? I am too bold to call it sad or vain, Nor all my grief restrain. THE LESSON OF THE RAIN. 97 The cloud may wear an aureola bright In upper light. And the swift beat of the unceasing rain May be the glad refrain Of singing harvests ; yea, the blooming earth May call it mirth. Poor words are these : the angels will explain ; True meanings shall remain Till we read " joy " for " mourning " ; and for " sad " Read "light" and "glad." 98 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. CHRISTMAS WEEK. Like fair plateau lifted on snowy peak Is spread the Christmas week; Its towering plain slopes down on either side Into a valley wide ; The valley of the season-varied years From its high front appears Verdured in summer or a harvest-plain Teeming with golden grain. This crowning height on the sierra's breast Stretches its perfect rest, Wherein the carol of heaven-greeting bird By every heart is heard. CHRISTMAS WEEK. 99 Glaciers may spread their winnowed whiteness round, Or avalanche resound, The torrent over awful chasms dash, Or giant boulders crash; But still so near the calm, eternal skies That peaceful plateau lies, No sound of terror and no icy sea Can mar its ecstasy. There quietly the trusting pilgrim waits Between its sacred gates, While o'er the outspread valley of the year God's love is shining clear. 100 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE, THE CHRISTMAS SNOW. i. See what a pure, soft robe hath Nature spread About the living and above the dead, Wrapping us all within its ample folds ! And while I think of the dear dead it holds So close to me alive, I hardly know How not to greet them through the whispering snow, But feel the Christmas greetings passing there, Like snow-flakes floating in the peaceful air. 2. We who, to-day, are thinking of our dead, How deep the snows are lying o'er their head, THE CHRISTMAS SNOW. 10 1 How dimly we may dream them near, or see The meaning of their silent mystery, Too faintly still we whisper through our grief: i( Lord, I believe ; help thou my unbelief 1 " Too deaf our ears to their still yearning voice, — " As thou hast loved me, so wilt thou rejoice ! " 3- Yes, we who keep the festival to-day With sadness that we cannot drive away, Let us be happy, too, and inly sing Like birds from empty nests but on the wing To fairer climes, who, as they sing and fly, Feel warmer breezes ever drawing nigh, See sunnier skies as swifter on they roam, And know that just before is peace, and rest, and home. 102 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT. My daily round I tread On heights serene, And nightly lay my head On angel-guarded bed, By love o'er-canopied, Felt, though unseen. What matter how the task Employ my hands? God makes the work his mask, So in his smile I bask, And find that when I ask The promise stands. THE WITNESS OF THE SPIRIT 103 I entered in the shade Shrinking, alone; " Let this cup pass/' I prayed ; When, lo ! Christ stood arrayed ; I could not be afraid, The darkness shone. When in the fire of pain I agonize, If neither spot nor stain Shall from its purge remain, I '11 covet it again For sacrifice. And when to watch and wait Befits my soul, 104 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Some sweeter word than " Fate " Still keeps my heart elate ; Gladly I trust my state To his control. Poised and sustained I rest, Whate'er betide. By life's hard duties pressed, My weakness all confessed, Stayed on a Heavenly Guest, And satisfied. FOR GE T-ME-NO TS. 105 FORGE T-ME-NO TS. A winning, waving meadow, with scarf of blue and green — 'Twas the sedgy grass and water, with forget-me-nots between — We were wading over ankles, and the sun was shining hot, But we school-girls at West Newton loved the wild forget-me-not. Other meadows stretched alluring, where placid streams flowed through, And the gentian with its fringes, and the river flag gleamed blue, 106 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. But the plashy, mocking mosses, with their clumps of starry eyes, The slender-stemmed forget-me-nots were more bewitch- ing prize. And when the July sun looks down on each successive year, And the happy green and blossoms, and the birds are settled here, I find within my memory a sunny summer spot, — Tis the old school at West Newton wreathed with wild forget-me-not. Retracing that bright picture, it is easy to begin With the fog-cloud in the morning that shut the village in. We were up in time to see it, ere it, lifting, thinned away, FOR GE T-ME-NO TS. I O 7 For we rose to read our lessons in the violet bloom of day. Anon the school was opening, and the instant found us there — Still how fresh the inspiration from the choral hymn and prayer. Sowing seed by other waters, it has strengthened us and blest, When our hands were almost failing, and our hearts were sorely prest. Soon blackboards teem with mystic curve and cabalistic sign, And a gentle lady stands there, with a mind so crys- talline, She guides the swift brain-coursers, and from her magic hand 108 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Runs thrilling to each eager steed the unseen electric band. And oft I have remembered, when my soul was dull and spent, How a queenly one looked up on us, — her color came and went, While her glowing words swept over us as healthful winds sweep by, And forever she enriched us with her dark and fervent eye. Enthusiasm — holy power ! best alchemist art thou, Kindled from soul to soul, and sped from radiant brow to brow, Changing to joy all duty, and on transfiguring heights Showing us all the shades of earth fair with celestial lights. FORGET-ME-NOTS. 1 09 Not least in this clear vision I remember, if I may, Running cross the fields at twilight by a narrow, trodden way, — And she, at whose magnetic call, we every breadth could span, Shone like a rare crown-jewel in the home of Horace Mann. Education has its heroes ; they lay not their armor down Till they meet death in the combat, and receive the victor's crown. And the pioneer who, east and west, held firm th' advancing van, Was one of lordly heart and mien, — our own great Horace Mann. HO BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. At last the happy seasons of that rich school year were fled; They had lavished all their largess, and we gathered round our head. As a crescent of white lilies waits for some reviving dew, We, pale with parting, waited for his benediction true. And when, with our commissions in his hand, he stood and prayed, We felt like the Apostles, strong in God, in self afraid ; And an earnest, full assurance was given then and there, That God himself would answer that deep, availing prayer. So, young and full of courage, we looked the future through, FORGE T-ME-NO TS. 1 1 1 And thought — There 's naught upon the earth we will not dare to do. All holy work is woman's work, unworthy she who scans Each feebly set partition that divides her work from man's. Ah, wreaths of blue forget-me-not ! bloom new and fresh alway, Immortalize in us the faith and spirit of that day ; And when, all met in Paradise, the long roll-call is made, Each with her work before the Lord, — we will not be afraid. 112 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. POEM READ TO THE GRADUATING CLASS AND ALUMNI OF STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, JULY, 1 8 74. Across the gentle slope of low-walled fields Blows up the cool west-wind to fan my brow, And all the beauty that the landscape yields Is borne upon its wings to bless me now; The belting grove, the blue o'erarching sky, Teeming with life and joy or e'er the summer die. The circling swallow intersects the air With arc on arc, cleaving the passive blue, Or, swooping round the meadow, cuts his share The green, rock-islanded declension through, AL UMNI POEM. 1 1 3 Then straight into the sky he steers his way, The music of his flight tuning the happy day. And myriad drowsy noises soothe mine ear : The locust rasping still his busy wing, The rustling corn or whirring loom more near, Or on the fir-tree spire a bird may sing, — Glad pulse in Nature's seething, tidal voice, — It knocks at my heart's door and bids my soul rejoice. So rides full high the summer of my life! Its heavy hum of work, its fields of bloom, Its odorous winds with hundred perfumes rife, Its many-voiced joy, its tempest gloom ; All various hues, commingling light and shade, The changing cloud and shine harmoniously inlaid. 114 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. And while this noon of life hangs o'er my way, In press of duties, 'neath meridian sun, I pause to rest and would its ardor stay, — Look back to where — its labor scarce begun — The spring-time fair in hazy beauty rose, Recall its singing birds, its visions bright disclose. Like you I stood upon the threshold stone In earnest posture ; forward, eager gaze I cast where through the golden vista shone Alluring beauty, light of hope, whose rays Flush wide the path of life to youthful eyes, Its fields unfading green, unclouded blue its skies ! Others may speak of girlhood's careless joy, Its wayward moods, coquettish wiles and pranks, AL UMNI POEM. 1 1 5 Its shallow fascinations for the toy Of soberer manhood's pastime ; little thanks They win who seek to deepen its intent, Enlarge its scope and aim, say true what girlhood meant. I know with you that in its playful mood There hides the longing to be true and pure ; A wish for consecration, womanhood Seems beautiful, good angels reassure The tender self- distrust, and by the door Of opening life they promise courage evermore. I know how fresh the air seems all about; Elastic, bounding pulse and buoyant heart And radiant eye all spectres put to rout, And laughing lips defy care's sober art ; n6 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. The cup of life is sparkling to the brim, Hope swells its foaming crest, jewels its silver rim. And when like you to-day I stood between, Hands either way outstretched, to wave good-by To youth's bright revels, and then forward lean To take the task God called me then to try, I heard his voice within my deepest soul, And glad I gave to him my work, my way, — the whole ! For all is his, — not part; your life's sweet spring, Through which his love has breathed in whisperings oft, The while his grace perfumed its blossoming And floated o'er it in a halo soft ; — How can you but breathe back the incense sweet, And all the joy of youth in song of praise repeat? ALUMNI POEM. 117 Before you wait the truths you long to learn, Such glorious lessons in God's book to read ! — Or where the shining stars forever burn, Or where enticing Nature fain would lead, The secret treasures of her hoard to find, And quench the heaven-born thirst of the insatiate mind. Why in the heart of girlhood should there wait The keen desire to hear God's word of love Not only in responsive hearts, elate With dreams of bliss, but in his works, above, Below, around, where'er he speaks in tone Of concord, — law and germ and growth, — all, all his own? And while in beauteous order he evolves All phases fair, suggestions, germs, and roots n8 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Of being, or all form resolves Into its deathless elements, the fruits Of circling power creative, — he feels still Your single, conscious life, and bids you do his will. He gives you these, his temples, you believe, — Fresh, healthful forms of beauty, soul-lit eyes, All avenues of knowledge to receive Hints of himself, to grow pure, good, and wise, To make your life his home, — keep integral This rhythmic, triune being, — body, mind, and soul. Now, as you stand just waiting on the verge Of holy womanhood, what fair ideal Shall from the future's shadow-land emerge, Inspiring vision you must make all real? AL UMNI POEM. 1 1 9 With girlhood's prophet-eyes you see more clear Than ever spirit came to wizard or to seer. Perhaps the enraptured song of Dante stirs Your quick imagination, and you see His calm-browed, gold-haired Beatrice, — hers Such winning, gracious charms, the mystery Of Love divine enshrined in mortal guise, All loveliness looks out from her celestial eyes ! Or, if too lofty Beatrice stand In garment spotless on her radiant throne, You turn to one who offers you her hand In easier wisdom, but with grace her own, The classic Portia of transparent mind Gemming her clear, keen wit with mercy for her kind ! 120 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. But there are names more honored and more dear, More vitally our own in history; Yearn we to follow in the noble sphere Of science, comprehending mystery, Interpreting the laws of vale and hill, Reading heaven's numbers right? lo ! Mary Somerville. Or should you hear God calling you by sign Of sympathy with lowly hearts in pain, To bear the cross with them and to resign All meed of social praise, all hope of gain, To walk the earth with cup of Holy Grail, — Tread in the sainted steps of Florence Nightingale. Yet chiefly, O, be true to self and God ! As you are gifted and as you are led, ALUMNI POEM. 121 Unfold his gifts, follow his guiding word; So feed you others, so shall you be fed. The rosebud blooms a rose ; the lily's cup No other than its own pure fragrance offereth up. And we, my sisters, who have come to speak One word of cheer and greeting to each other, However brief that word, however weak, 'Tis sweet to hear and tell our fostering mother, Who calls us with a voice of welcome now To hang our votive laurel on her honored brow. She lit within our hearts a deathless flame, — To love and seek the truth by every' path ; And now we come with paeans to her name, Perchance with harvest or with aftermath, 122 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. To say how bright and how undimmed the ray Which beckons us still on to truth's millennial day. What stars have risen o'er our horizon-line ! What clear, full planet-truths above us swung ! Revealing Science swept the heavens divine And read their story with her silver tongue ; From dark to light their secret they unroll, God's bow is set in the cloud, a fair and open scroll ! See we so near across the sunny seas With gentle outline of white shining shore, Sad, consecrated isle of Penekese, Waiting the teacher who will come no more? The lapsing wave sings low its soft refrain, — "He who our secrets read, — he ne'er will come again ! " AL UMNI POEM. 1 2 3 His life to Nature's inmost life so nigh, His all-absorbed, receptive, childlike heart, The ecstasy of rapture-kindled eye, Magnetic inspiration to impart, His reverent love, his calm, unuttered prayer, Each form and type of life his golden altar-stair ! O, noble pattern of the teacher, he ! From depth of soul and fervent zeal he taught. To hidden things a mirror he could be, To show what wondrous works the Master wrought. His eye of love saw nothing small or mean Where the least finger-print or thought of God had been. So stand the teacher high amid his time ! Directing thought, uplifting all the race, 124 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Tracing the thread of histories sublime, Interpreting the signs of Nature's face ; From arts of school and rules of method free, By native force of soul true educator he ! His very presence breeds a noble trust; Within his sphere great-hearted love is born ; All broods of narrow strife, self-seeking lust, Disperse like mists before a sunny morn. The glory of a shrine his looks express, Life, light, and utterance his priesthood high confess ! PERSEPHONE. PERSEPHONE; OR, THE SPIRIT OF NATURE AND LIFE. PART I. Nature in sweet bewilderment From out her snowy vesture creeps : The gentle Spring forgetful sleeps, Lulled in her dream of deep content ; Dream that in rosy hopes will break, When dancing o'er the daisied lea, Shall step the bride Persephone, And all the earth to life awake. 126 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Shy Nature kneels in trembling guise, Her pure brow white as driven snow, Her fleecy robes the south winds blow, Love's mystery lights her dewy eyes. She hears the ripple on the shore, The tuneful bluebird cleave the skies ; Her heart leaps up in glad surprise To know her hour has come once more. Swift-footed bride, Persephone, How blush the meadows at thy tread ! The oak unfurls his banners red, And swallows come across the sea. PERSEPHONE. 1 2 7 The downy willow from her shroud Hangs out her tassels' yellow bloom, The nestling fern unrolls its plume, The modest woods are veiled in cloud. How gleams the golden oriole Out-glancing from her swinging nest, Her chirping brood beneath her breast, While songs of joy to Nature roll ! Ring every golden buttercup, — A bell of bridal festival ; Weave white the daisy coronal, And gather all the sweetness up. The chrysalid with rapture stirs ; The water-beetle feels more nigh 128 BREATH OF THE FIELD AXD SHORE. His glory of the dragon-fly, And nectar fills the flower-spurs. Down in the confidential green Of clover-fields the insects hum, While myriad creatures pipe and drum, And live their busy life unseen. The flowers of the Indian corn Droop their fair feathers o'er the sheath, And all their pollen grains bequeath That golden harvests may be born. Ye chiding bees, I will not heed Your busy murmur ; summer's sky PERSEPHONE. 129 Enchants me, though I know not why. On her ambrosia let me feed, And wander with Persephone, As walking in a happy sleep, Enraptured with the chorus deep Of Nature's ceaseless symphony. The night-moth dips his honeyed tongue In whispering blossoms of the dusk, And cereus wafts her subtle musk While nightshade bells are passion-rung; And meteors down the milky way Hurl their swift lances, till the night Is quivering in the silver light, The mystic dawning of the day. 9 130 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. In ravishment so full and true I fain would linger ; nay, but hark ! The carol of the meadow-lark Is palpitating through the blue. The sweet azalea scents the breeze, The barberry's warm and spicy breath, Its fragrant incense offereth On noon's high altar 'neath the trees. The laurel's rosy-plaited cup Clusters above its glossy leaves, Where Poesy her garland weaves, And Hebe holds the chalice up. Hush ! break no more the golden calm j Persephone in bliss shall dream, PERSEPHONE. 1 3 1 The Naiads sleep upon the stream, While drowsy airs are thick with balm. The summer-tide swells high and fall; I sit within the waving grass; The scented breezes o'er me pass, The thistles shed their silky wool. The ox-eyed daisies hail the sun, And sprinkle all the acres bright With golden stars of radiant light Amid the feathery grasses dun. The plaintive brook reflects the glow Of rows of bleeding cardinal ; 132 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. The whippoorwill's sweet madrigal Breathes through the sunset soft and low. I see the dear Persephone Trailing her purple robes more slow, Her lovely eyelids drooping low, And gazing pensive o'er the sea. The fringed gentians kiss her hand, The milkweed waves its soft adieus ; Their tender words she must refuse, For dark steeds wait upon the strand. Ere while the sap has had its will, The bud has opened into leaf, PERSEPHONE. 1 33 The grain is ripening for the sheaf, Demeter's arms have had their fill. The seed has dropped into the mould, The flower all its petals shed, The rattling stalks are dry and dead, Persephone is still and cold. Fair Nature's dream is all fulfilled, Her clinging robes she folds once more, And glides within her close-locked door, For all the wine of life is spilled. Come now, ye reapers, to the field, Tread in the wine-press' purple stain, And bind with joy the golden grain, The record of the year is sealed \ 134 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. The harvest garnered ; yea, the chaff Blown wide upon the vagrant wind. The cup is drained, and naught behind Is ours again to spurn or quaff. Adieu, divine Persephone ! We wait another summer's joy, When the pomegranate's juice shall cloy, And Hades ope its gate for thee. part n. Bewildering miracle of life ! The brooding nest, the swelling bud, The rushing river at its flood, And Spring with all its promise rife. PERSEPHONE. 135 Now Nature calls from star to clod All things to fruitful blossoming; The resurrection-soul of Spring Speaks out the vernal thought of God. For birth is holy as a shrine, And sacred is the hidden germ; The seed is sown when faith is firm, And Nature's vestal hour divine. The snowy lily lifts her face Upon the placid, waveless lake; Her pure white petals, flake on flake, Are peerless in their queenly grace. The rose in all his pride superb, Blush-tinted or in royal red, 136 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Still holds aloft his crowned head, In empire none would dare disturb. But rose and lily I forego To watch the grass-blade's juicy shoot, The impulse of the swelling fruit, The spring of life I fain would know; How bud the microscopic cells, What subtle forces polarize To build the walls of plants and skies. And where essential power dwells. The cool of evening o'er the land Blew onward with its soothing rest, PERSEPHONE. 1 3 7 And through its peace a presence pressed, Methought a child might understand. The gorgeous blossoms of the noon, The lavish wealth of leaf and flower, Were hid in that revealing hour, Which brought the spirit's precious boon. The seed, the bloom, the germ, the cell, The protoplasm's mystery, Evolve their various history, And one creative presence tell; That Presence in the garden's shade Then talked with me as friend with friend; 138 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. Sweet converse that shall never end, And love that maketh not afraid. The simmering seasons leave me this : Desire to know and understand The thought that bids all life expand, And blossom in eternal bliss. If haply I that hand may clasp Which touches with electric thrill Material force or spirit- will, — All things within its loving grasp, — And work its purpose evermore Through endless summers of delight, PERSEPHONE. 1 39 Growing and blooming in his sight, And learning his celestial lore. Love-hungering and thirsting soul ! Persephone shall give to thee Her beauty for eternity, And wing thee for immortal goal. She decks the glorious walks of heaven With rose-suns lighting all its noons, With planet-lilies, argent moons, Blooming in more than colors seven. While all about that garden fair The starry buds and blossoms shine 140 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. With grace and fragrance so divine As nourished in celestial air. Thereon the soul, with vision new, Gazes and wonders more and more : Bright sea of light without a shore, The spotless robe of heavenly blue. From birth to death, from death to birth : So sing the swift recurring years. The chant rolls on in other spheres, " Behold, I make new heavens and earth ! ' New senses, new rewards of sense, The spectrum filled, all dark lines bright. PERSEPHONE. 1 4 I Released from this close-fettered sight, We see life's fuller evidence. And music unimagined here Shall break in wave on wave of sound, No grand chords silent, and no bound To limit the enfranchised ear. Fresh miracle and fresh desire, And nature's still enlarging scope, A deeper faith, a broader hope, A steadier purpose to aspire ; New inspiration rounding life, And speeding it upon its way 142 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. To those great cycles, where the day Is without shadow, without strife. Whene'er I dream of poet-seer, And stand with him on highest height, We hail no planet's splendid light, Nor gaze on star without a peer; But on to farthest nebulae We point the searching telescope ; Imagination winged with hope May revel in that mystery. Then thought may pass the bounds of space, And wonder swell to worship meet, PERSEPHONE. 143 Till in a trance sublime and sweet, We sing from out our heavenly place, The hymn of forming elements, Of lighted suns in orbits grand, Resolving chaos and the strand That separates the firmaments; Of forces striking through the void, The anthem of God's " Let there be ! " When mists shall sink to surging sea, And star-dust pulsate to spheroid. So through all things the breath of life Is breathed from God, the increate, 144 BREATH OF THE FIELD AND SHORE. The one essential germ of fate, To push its way through bounds and strife ; To hold its course by converse strain, To keep unswerved its orbit grand, Still circling on as he had planned, Resolvent of life's joy and pain. Perhaps, God grant ! the dreaded sin, Like backward stroke of wing or oar, Shall urge us on till, more and more, We see the good that we must win, And faster sail the billowy sea, Or swifter wing the buoyant air, For wind or wave that crossed us there, Than any tide that swung us free j PERSEPHONE. 145 Till, looking back through vista far, We see our course as 't was to be : True in the vast eternity As radiant track of circling star. Cambridge : Printed by John AVilson & Son. By the Sa7ne Author. MOTHERHOOD: a Poem. Square i6mo. Cloth. Gilt edges. Price $1.50. NOTICES OF THE PRESS. " Mrs. Hopkins's verses entitled 'Motherhood' sweep the whole scale of that loving office and holy ministry with the true touch. In form and expression they are unsurpassed ; particularly, it seems to me, the earlier ones, which deal with deep and sacred mysteries. I wish every woman and man also capable of receiv- ing them, could read these revelations and be lifted into their atmosphere." — Ge7ieral Joshua L, . Chamberlain, President of Bowdoiii College, Maine- " In this book a woman, rarely gifted by nature and training, attempts to utter in words what Francia and Raphael put on canvas. 'The Travail,' its cul- minating poem, is of almost Miltonic strength and dignity, so pure, so sublimely heroic, and so infinitely touching that .1 shrink even from quoting it. Nothing can be more free from cant than is the religious sentiment in this little volume." — Colonel T. W. Higginson in Wo7naris Journal. " The author of these tender, love- fraught poems has won a universal recog- nition from the critics of the country as a true poet." — Chicago Alliajice. Alice Wellington Rollins says, " Its ' lyrical cry ' is one that will speak not only to mothers but to many who will recognize with literary appreciation the charm of rare and exquisite feeling adequately expressed ; it is impossible not to be personally stirred by its vigorous and daring lines." Rev. W. C. Gannett in " Unity" says, "Only a mother and only a poet could have written it. Perhaps only an American mother would have had the boldness and the delicacy to do this most womanly and beautiful act of faith." " The book is one of the prettiest, most readable, and beautiful gems of poetry that have ever fallen into our hands." — Detroit Advertiser. "The elevated thought, chosen diction, simplicity and chasteness of expression, fully carry out the author's intention to portray, in its purity and holiness, the most beautiful instinct of humanity." — National Intelligencer, Washington. " In the presence of its graceful words and of its delicate translation of experi- ences, the mind and heart are purified." — Syracuse Journal. " The poems are simple, fresh, and sweet, full of tender reverence, and with touches of playfulness and fancy." — Ednah D. Cheney in Religious Index. "The subject as thus conceived is a daring one, never before attempted, to our knowledge. There can be no question, however, with regard to the delicacy and tenderness with which the sacred joys of motherhood are here invested, nor of the genuine poetry which shines out from the greater portion of the volume. Its real- ism is transfigured, and shines with the glory of ideality." — Boston Traveller. " Extreme delicacy, natural tact, and touching pathos mark each stroke of this self-uttering artist's work, this autobiographic genesis of being." — The Word. " It touches the best in all natures, is expressed in verse of unusual merit and force, and yields a satisfaction that is as the peace of communion with Deity." — Commonwealth. " The poem is sweet and strong ; it exalts what some in this day are in danger of forgetting, the dignity of true motherhood." — Christian Weekly. "This brave mother tears away the veil which prudery has drawn before these holy emotions and lets the light of heaven in upon them. This little volume has a mission to perform, and we bespeak for it a hearty welcome and a candid hear- ing. ' ' — New Haven Palladium. "The author sounds the depth of mother-love, and the beautiful little book is a series of expressive pictures." — Inter-Ocean. " The verses show a nicety of finish and a thoughtfulness of words and mean- ing which make them far more valuable on a second reading."— Pittsfield Journal. " Birth, Death, and Life she sings with a fervor that tells her own motherhood, and with a power that the mere versifier never attains.". — New London Telegram. "It reflects equal honor upon the head and heart that conceived it. Every mother should have it for her own comfort." —N. Summerbell. " Well would it be for the children if the earliest hope should awaken in the mother's mind the sacred, reverent joy which finds expression here." — Christian Union. " Now that a mother has done this, the wonder is that it has not been done before, to do it seems so natural a thing. The sentiment of these poems is all that could be desired ; nothing could be purer and sweeter, more reverent and holy." — Christian Register. " Excellent verse that never falls below the dignity of the theme." — Methodist. " It is a beautiful poem, breathing all the buoyancy and enthusiasm of a mother's hope with all the pathos of Rachel's sorrow. " — Spectator, St. Louis. " Evidently the production of a poet in fact as well as in name- It is alive with thought and feeling. It is distinguished throughout by delicacy of concep- tion and elegance of literary finish. Every mother will appreciate its exquisite lines. The conception of the work is original, and it must achieve popularity." — Keystone, Philadelphia. " These are verses which bar criticism because their sentiment carries them into a sphere beyond it. Nor has the author lacked ability to embody her thought in a rhythm well adapted to it, so that the poem fulfils all the conditions required in whatever light it may be viewed." — Philadelphia Press. "An exquisite poem or series of poems which embody every feeling and aspiration of the mother ; refined and beautiful verse, as light and pure as the soul of the child of which it sings." — Demorest? s Monthly. " The devout and cultivated mother will especially appreciate it ; all readers of fine susceptibilities will admire it." — Portland Argus. " A remarkable product, treating a most delicate matter with the purity of the immaculate conception, the boldness of innocence, and the fulness of experience. The verse is melodious, the feeling vivid and strong, and the poem cannot fail to win the approval of lovers of excellent poetry. " — Newburyport Herald. "The theme is as old as humanity, yet ever new in its manifestations, and never was it disclosed with more delicate grace and tenderness." — New York Star. " A book that every true mother will love to read, as giving the best thoughts of her life. Some of its stanzas rise to a poetic height that is rare." — Concord Blade. " The woman who wrote it has rendered a great service to other women, and has done much to redeem the sweetest and purest of human instincts from the slough of vulgarity." — Providence Journal. " Some exquisite verse on one of the most sacred and beautiful of subjects." — Syracuse Standard. "The charm of the poem is not so much in its music and choice diction as in the high and intensely sacred spirit that breathes through it." — Chicago A dvayice. " She has succeeded, in most beautiful and charming rhythm, in giving a portraiture that every mother's heart will responsively accept." — State Capital, Columbus. " The poetry is pure and indicates true poetic genius as well as a vivid appre- ciation of the indescribable pathos and tenderness of love that sway a mother's heart." — Christian at Work. " The exceedingly beautiful dress with which this poem is adorned is richly deserved. With our whole heart we commend the poem to every mother, young or old. It is a gem of the purest water. When ouce read how lovingly and tenderly will it be treasured as the grandest and most beautiful expression of the very sentiments which all have felt without the ability to put them in tangible form." — Home Journal. " The poetic fancy takes an unusual flight in this volume. The treatment is delicate in the extreme, and the versification of unusual merit. The closing poems are bright and graceful as well as beautiful." — Providence Journal. " The lesson woven so tenderly in verse is one of sweetness, solemnity, and purity." — Manchester Mirror. "The effusions appeal to and tenderly exalt the love of a mother for her child ; no parent can read them without a thrill of thankfulness." — Cleveland Sun. " In strong and yet very harmonious lines she has chastely but daringly sung the thoughts and sentiments of motherhood. It is a remarkable poem, and many a young mother will find a happy expression of thoughts hitherto unuttered, in this beautiful little volume." — Zion's Herald. " In ' Motherhood ' we strike true poetry. To come upon such a work is like finding the grain of gold after the washing of much sand. Here we have a pro- found poetic sentiment colored with deep and genuine experience. Its delicacy and tenderness are great. Only a mother could have written this holy song, and no mother-heart can fail to respond to it ; it is a spiritual beauty." — Literary World. -in/lnv rfflfr n55 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 012 074 552 9 ■ :