ix /w ^^^^- ffe ■I L ^ €V/ ADA M. KASSIMER t". iiS Class yS 3 « J Rnok . A6^^ I 5- GoipghtN»JgL£x6_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSHV ^pK^. BY ADAM.KASSIMER RICHARD G. BADGER THEGORHAM PRESS BOSTON IQ06 Copyright, 1905, by Ada M. Kassimer. All Rights Reserved. UBRARY of C0N6RESS Two QoDies Received '''^Sgp^.. Printed at The G or ham Press, Boston, U. S. A. CONTENTS. PAGE To Erato 7 In Dream .' 8 The Dark 15 My Dreamland Flower 17 Vego 18 The Birth of Tulips 19 A Day Agone 20 / Am Glad of Life! 22 The Golden River ... , 25 White Violet 26 Contrast 2y The Proof 28 The Wood Nymph 29 United > 31 The Lotus 32 Venus 33 My Ship 35 What Are You Like? 36 Love's Ingle Side 37 Emotion . 38 Agone and Now 39 I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK TO MY FRIEND, WINIFRED M. CRAWFORD. Come, give thy hand And go with me Across the land. Across the sea, Up, upward past all things terrene — Thy Lord I'll be and thee my Queen. Here's Fancy's Bridge That spans the stream. Look toward the ridge! The Land of Dream ! Ah, how the worries fall away When we have reached the Land of Lay. (Wilt cross the stream With me IN DREAM?) TO ERATO: Lead me to thy sea! Evoke the songs that He Prisoned in thy pink shells That I may tune my lyre To their sweet cadence for my love. IN DREAM I The wind blew snow and sadness in his face, As wearily the homeward path he trod ; His back was tired from the toiler's rod, His brow was frowning and a heavy trace Of sternness wrapped him 'round, and yet, a grace Of woman's tenderness spoke in each nod With which he greeted men as on he plod ; Then at his door he lingered for a space: Tis home and yet no light of cheer doth shine, None waits within with merry, welcome eyes, No woman's voice, no laughing children's tone, No succor for a weary heart is mine! I am as much at home beneath these skies As here within, — alas, I am alone !" II A pipe hung idly in his tired hand And rocked he to and fro into the night ; He gazed into the open fire's Hght And yet his thoughts were in the Shadow Land. Back there a sunburned laddie dug the sand And sea-mews caught his laughter in their flight And sky stooped down to kiss his eyes so bright And life was playtime's hours — the world, the strand. And then he saw a laddie larger grown Quick at his task of learning, eager bound To cope with wisdom and to man his soul For life's brisk battle, and a manhood own That should a vict'ry gain that none had found, That should walk proudly, kingly to the goal. Ill All through his revery there danced a face, A golden head and dimpled hands, and eyes That gleamed with laughter like the summer skies, — Then grew they proud, and shyness, sweetness, grace Draped 'round her form and childhood did efface. Yet nearer, sweeter, dearer did arise A woman's face that seemed to wear dis- guise — The eyes spoke love yet lips bore not a trace . . A blast of wind broke fiercely on the pane, Then shrieked around the house as though in quest Of some frail object to appease its wrath ; Ofif with a moan and swiftly down the lane Abearing like a demon that dream-guest, Then back again to glean the aftermath. IV But lo, the host in quiet slumber la}^ And heard not wind nor felt the fire's glow. A stranger dream, and yet more soft and low, More sweet, more real, so happily did play A soothing- lullaby from off some bay Where summer murmured in the water's flow, Where Joy and Laughter in a skiff did row And ships of Plenty anchored in the quay. The night grew still, the snow came gently down And lay a whitened silence over all; The peaceful breathing of the resting one. The embers flick'ring bright then burning down. The patient clock that hung upon the wall, Kept v/atch and faithful till the dream was done. V The sun shone dazzling on the crispy snow, The wind raced wildly with a hungry cry, The toiler hurried onward; with a sigh He thought how swift the dreams did come and go- But at his task that day a voice breathed low And quick a flash of light crept in his eyes ; A door was closed; ambition bid him rise; His tools he firmly grasped, — the dream must go- Another year did find a laurel wreath Upon his head ; his face was calm and youth Came back to claim his form. At last Around his secret flow'r had grown a sheath And worldly eyes that mocked, now saw a truth. (The noblest work is born from passion's past.) VI Alone a woman walks through moonlit fields ; A plaintive melody, thougli sweet, doth fill The night and echoes through her heart-strings thrill Recalling half-forgotten dreams ; she yields To some lost feeling 'gainst her thought and will: Back to a dream-shore, where a taunting rill, A face! . . . and naught the husband, baby shields. Who wait with loving eyes across the fields — A whip-poor-will cried sadly to its mate, A sigh effused, a kiss went to the skies. Dismissing wayward thoughts, she reached the door. A trusting love, the choicest gift of Fate, Was here for her, a pair of baby eyes, God's seal of love. (Should dreams come ever- more ?) VII What pow'r have we to stop the river's flow, Or blast the bloom of Nature's w^ldwood flow'rs, Or still the songs of birds, cease April show'rs, Or bid the wind be still or bid it blow? What pow'r have we to quell the passion's glow, Or kill the pain that rises from its death. Or silence sighs, or stifle with a breath A love born pure? — Receive, endure is all we know! And dreams are blossoms born in Shadow Lands, Their perfume, like a wine, elates the mind; Much anguish do they bring but joys redeem The pain when to our lips do press ghost-hands These flow'rs; then grief is sweet and tears are kind. Dear Dreams! What pow'r have we. to will in dream ? When Fair Daphne With Southern smiles Presents her amethysts and emeralds, I shall send them, in the casket Of my love to thee! THE DARK The Dark wears a mystery-mantle As she passes along the sky — A secret she holds in her bosom For the forests do echo her sigh. She gathers the worldly sorrows And she loads them into her pack, But the morning seems restless without them, She is bidden to give them all back. Perhaps she is sad like the mother Who holds to her breast through the night The child that is tired and sleepy But lets it go free with the light. Perhaps she doth hear the yearning, The calling that lips never tell. That souls pour forth in the darkness — She sooths but she never can quell. She would not be like her sister, That silent and world-dreaded Death, She would not grasp from the living Forever and ever the breath 15 That sobs like a lost wind from heaven Then flutters with childish delight, She would take all the moaning and crying Could she bear them for ere in her flight. And so with her unfinished mission, Like the tide-waves that ebb and flow, She follows the train of the evening And she dies with the morning glow. MY DREAMLAND FLOWER Love did lead me through his Dreamland Where a music sweet and low Murmured in the trembling tree-tops, Echoed in the river's flow^ In a dell of Springtime's flowers Where a fragrance thrilled me through And he pointed to Life's garlands And I chose and gathered you. (The bards of old have sung thee sweet re- frains — Some songs for gladness, some for sorrow's pains — And all have chosen finer words and thought Is woven 'round with dainty garlands brought From some dream-shore and yet they have not told The secret of my heart — that they withhold.) VEGA I know thy light! Thou diamond of the night! Thy fingers tremble on thy Harp, My spirit yearns for flight. I long to be Wrapped in thy melody, To wing past moon and silver clouds Far toward the North to thee. Fair Alpha, Queen, Thou leader, sweet, serene, Of Lyra's heavenly minstrelsy. Thou know'st me not, I ween. My lowly song Ne'er reached to thy throng, Yet love can soar beyond the stars For I to thee belong. What tender rest Doth fill my sighing breast When nightly I behold thy light! Ah, Vega, thou hast blest. THE BIRTH OF TULIPS Spring poured her nectar in a chalice grand And bade the wind to fold it in his arms And bear it onward to some Northern clime. But lo, he found a garden in a sunny land Where kneeled a pensive damsel and her charms Did lure him from his path; the gift sublime He threw aside, nor thought of Spring's desire ; Then through the grass sprang red and yellow fire. A DAY AGONE I did not know then what you'd be to me — The light of morning- and the glow of eve — What gold throughout my life you'd interweave. I gave my hand not carelessly but free, My heart told not the joy that was to be. The first glad moments seemed but short re- prieve, The last sweet breath, ere I should sink to grieve Forever in some deep, indomitable sea. But you have come alike the glory after strife, The freedom after long captivity — A new-born guest within my heart doth teem With wondrous music that doth flood my life : You are the true dawn of my day to be, The sweet reality of Elysian dream. (A song is not a song without you, dear. It is a threnody, a cruel wail, A sobbing pain of some lost nightingale — A poem singing joy brings but a tear — All Art is lacking when you are not near. I tramp in search of peace o'er hill, down dale And nature o'er her beauties throws a veil — I seem a spirit of another sphere — My soul is there with you, my body here. Yet, I have what is sweeter than a lay, Yes, greater than all poetry and art — All Nature does not with its sweetness teem^ I have the thought of you by night, by day That nestles close and warms my saddened heart And leads me from the world to you in dream.) I AM GLAD OF LIFE! I am glad of life ! I am glad of life because I have found the work that I love and that I am not distressed when my hands must do other work than that which I love. I am glad of life because I have been given a pair of eyes that can behold the beauties of Nature : the waving plumage of the ripened corn, the restless white caps on an unsteady sea, the blue distance that is more eloquent than the bards, the companionable grass with hosts of sweet-faced flowers, the trees that are sometimes more sheltering than my quiet room, the still lakes that reflect the beauty-world without as the eyes reflect the beauty-world within, the floating clouds by day and the stars by night, and the glories of the sinking sun. I am glad of Hfe because I have been given ears that can hear the music of the world: run- ning streams and rushing rivers and mighty roar- ing oceans, twitterings of birds and calHngs of wild beasts, gentle zephyrs and wailing winds, the laughter of joy and the sobbing of pain, and the voices of those I love. I am glad of life because I can be near men and women ; because I can share with them what happiness I have. I am glad of life because there are some who love me. I am glad of life because I can love. I am glad of life because I feel it is the highway which leads to the Eternal City: there are hills to climb but there are dales in which to lie down ; there are rivers to cross but the Ferry- man speaks kindly; there are barren lands but my thirsty lips find somewhere an oasis ; when the journey seems long, I meet a patient traveler ; when the night comes I can lie down and see the stars; and ever along with me goes a silent, un- seen spirit whose presence is the rest for the toil, the succor for the pain, the music for the harsh words, the happiness for the misery, the gentle- ness for the cruelty, the love for the hate. I am glad of life because it was God's Will that I should live. I am glad of Hfe! 23 List, at her lips there's a sighing, Eyes ht with fire undying. Breasts with emotion are heaving, Fingers their task idle leaving — Look, — ah, the ears hears a ringing — A song is the zephyr abringing? — 'Tis the sound of a foot-step a-falling, 'Tis the music of love that is calling; A lad through the lane comes a-humming . . . Come, Stranger Eyes ! — Are you coming ? (I cannot write a poem, dear, That tells all I would say — A poet's words I cannot sing. But I can love alway. I cannot string a melody, I know no harpist's way — My clumsy fingers know no art. But I can love alway. My lips can press a kiss, dear one. My eyes can cast a ray Of tenderness, — my heart can tell A loves that lives alway.) 24 THE GOLDEN RIVER That river doth lead us to Fair Fancy's Isle, To glorious Dreamland, to Once-in-a-while, Where life is a vague, half-forgotten tale That sobbed in our ears like a passing gale ; And into the land once where kisses its gold. Our dreams are reality, visions unfold. And lo, we are crowned ! With palms in our hand We march to our throne, we conquer the land. 25 WHITE VIOLET Sun-down's redness through the wood Lingered for a space — Then the evening grayness veiled Every beauty trace. Black the night hung heavily — Trees were phantoms, tall, Then came silver-winged light From a mystic ball. Black and silver interlaced Through the trembling trees Kissed a white-faced Violet — Perfume kissed the breeze. Walked I through the busy streets — Dim my eyes and wet, Then a zephyr soothed my cheek — Sweet White Violet! 26 CONTRAST Her eyes were full of laughter, joy and fun, And mirth in sun-lit glances quick did run Across her face, and gleamed such smiles Of happiness, complete, of heavenly whiles ! - Dark eyes that looked afar in Sorrow's Vale And sadness welled a deep and aching tale And pain did sit upon the lips, the cheek — The wistful dreamer still the dream did seek. 27 THE PROOF The proof of Love lies in his eyes — Unveiled regions of the soul — Nor joy, nor pain does he disguise, He gives the black, the white, the whole. The proof of Love lies in his voice — The Fair Euterpe's instriiment — Echoes and chords, he makes no choice - Marvelous music, resonant! But greatest of the proofs when he Lost from his love and in despair. Does bless his sorrow, misery. In silence asks no better fare. 28 THE WOOD NYMPH There is a list'ning ear Awaits a voice to hear At early morn and through the sunHt hours, At glowing evening's tide, When night spreads far and wide, — Awaits a voice, in hearts of woodland flow'rs. There is a voice that calls From out the water- falls ; Wind-rustled leaves and golden-throated birds, And lisping, swaying grass Aerial songs amass. That lure, beseech with strangely unknown words. There is a hand that becks And woodland's deep it flecks With gorgeous greens and russet-burning browns, With cold and solemn grays, With whitest, shimm'ring maze, — Ah, dresses all in multicoloured gowns. ; 29 There is a heart that glows And bosoms sweet repose But placid, clear-eyed lakes reveal its soul, And quick its love doth speak To all who would it seek, And gives its beauties, one by one, the whole. Goddess of the Wood, Who none have yet withstood, Who steals all hearts and fascinates all eyes, 1 helpless walk a-dream And seek thy vision's gleam That near me shines, then dots the starry skies ! UNITED Through all the days and nights we knew not one another Our souls were treading side by side ; And what one gleaned and kept that gleaned and kept the other For unknown hands across the wide. Each culled some bloss'ming joy, each culled some prickly sorrow ; Each rose a victor from the strife ; Each knew a cloudy day would bring a bright to- morrow ; Each longed for each, — a perfect life. A prayer, a tear, a half-forgotten hope, a listless going. And then a firm resolve to gain Broke through each soul alike unchained waters flowing And hand met hand and all was plain. What though the storm-waves hiss, what though the wind is shrieking. What though the ship has lost her way, Soul stands by soul, lips sweeten lips, silence is speaking Above the gale, "Love finds its way." 31 THE LOTUS Sleep is thy perfume, Lotus Flower, Rest lies within thy petal's fold ; Night is a long, sweet, shadow hour When thou giv'st forth thy precious gold. Death is so like thee, Lotus Flower — A sleep, a rest it too doth hold, Its night is one eternal hour, But is it sweet, ah, who has told? Like thee, does it forgetting bring And drops the worldly as a sigh? And through our dreams does music ring, And are we but Lotophagi? VENUS In faith, she hath rechristened me, In name, in nature, poise of head. Glance of eye, lips, breath and all. Where weakling was, where crying ugly babe Drank bitter food from out its mother's breast, Where hideous panther sprang upon its prey Devoured all and spurned the blood-drops On the ground, where wolfe stole innocence And bit it through and flung it to the winds. Where youth drank passion, as a wine, to flate His low desires to insult a saint, Where brawny arms and haired with beastly look Caught lovely maiden in their iron hold, — Where once a hell-embodied monster stood, There stands a man, a prince, a king Of tenderness, of purity, of grace. All passion dead and buried deep in earth And on the mound a saintly flower growing. No thought save innocence, no low desire, No flame shoots from the eye save Melted loveliness, and hands that were as tremb- ling reeds 33 That bend above a stream, lips murmur words That angels well might hear, arms Flinging forth their strength in tenderness, And eyes that gather naught but purity, — The god of Love reborn in soul of man : That am I now since she hath looked on me. 34 MY SHIP I know there's a ship that is saihng for me Somewhere on a far-off sea^ Though prairies and hills lie sullen between, I shall see its sails, I ween ; For a star leads it and that star leads me, I to the shore, my ship from the sea: No fate can bar my way. No wind my ship can stray. For the ship that sails for me Is sailing now to me. Though eyes are blind and ears are dull, I see the sails, and, in the lull Of life's sweet eventide, I hear a song across the wide, A song from my ship to me. Go on. My Heart, sail valiant. Ship, But one more mile, but one more dip. And we shall have our own. And we shall have our own. 35 WHAT ARE YOU LIKE? What are you like? My Sweet Morning Glory? They are your eyes, But they tell not the story ; Their radiant light is but dew of the morning, Yours is the light my life is adorning. W^hat are you like? My Full Summer Rose? They are your lips but never one knows The sweet of your breath, the charm of your speaking, — No wind ever knows the flush of my seeking. What are you Hke? My Dear Valley Lily? A hyacinth, tulip, A daffadowndilly? You're not like a flower, and yet are a flower, More fragrant and dear, more lasting and near, Than all of the flowers ablowing. Then all that our God will be sowing. 36 LOVE'S INGLE SIDE Come sit beside Love, lassie, When wind is tossing wide The snowflakes in his anger, — Come to Love's Ingle Side! Come sit beside Love, lassie, When wind does moan and ride Through wood and glen and prairie, - Come to Love's Ingle Side! Come, Love shall sing a song, dear. Whose sweetness will abide Forever in your heart, dear. Come to Love's Ingle Side! The moaning and the shrieking, The waiHng will subside, And you will know the rest, dear, Peace, by Love's Ingle Side. Then through the casement look, dear. The night, white as a bride, Is decked with stars, calm beauty, — The moon has glorified. 37 Come sit beside Love, lassie, Your hands within his hide, Your head rest on his bosom, Your home, Love's Ingle Side. EMOTION O that my body were a trembling lyre Whereon my soul could string its strains of fire, Enkindling trees, aburning fast the bars. Lap to the skies and ride the silver stars. On, onward through the night with ravage fraught Until the earth is bare and heaven is naught And, when the strain, that were more fire than sound. Fills every space and fiercely quakes the ground. When all the crime is done and God doth frown, I'd jeer my Fate and mangle Mercy's crown. If, to repent my deeds, I'd lose one sight Of all the glorious burnings of my flight. 38 AGONE AND NOW I lived in a castle in olden days Where knights lead their ladies through golden ways, Where day was a smile of a lovely maid, Where night was an evening of tinted shade. Where air was a perfume of melted bliss. Where life was as sweet as a long, long kiss. I lived in a cottage for down the vale Where life wore a visage then wan and pale. Where wind shrieked a story of cold and pain, Where called a sad voice from the dripping rain, Where day was an hour of cloudless gleam. Where night was a long, oh, a restless dream. I live in a garden where Youth might pass Delighting his eyes with my queenly lass. Where Age, hope abandoned, might rest and smile. Where life is a long, a sweet, quiet while, Where dreaming is day-time and dreaming is night, — I live in the Garden of Love's Delight. 39 Ah, Life is a mantle of fibers gold When she beckons the eyes of Youth to behold, And life is a wo,rn and a faded thing That covers Old Age with a careless fling; But Love, ah, dear Love, is a gift for ere. It reaches the worn, it reaches the fair, It dances with Youth, it solaces Age, It stifles a sigh and it calms a rage, A-laughing at Life with her threat'ning look And Death it never records in its book : Yes, Love is a knowing, a free-willed bliss, Atelling its story, ah, kiss by kiss. This song to the dreams that I dreamed of old, This song to the tale that was left untold. This song to my w^hite eglantine, my rue. This song to my lass, to my Dream-Come-True. (If you had gone away, my dear. Ere life had grown so fair. And Sorrow's eyes had seen my tear. Could I have borne the care? If you had gone away ? If you should go away, my dear. And leave this dream a sleep, A galling agony, a fear, More awful than Death's deep. If you should go away, — 40 Ah, love, you cannot go away, I hold too close your heart, 'Tis woven in my own to stay And never will depart. You cannot go away.) I send a withered wreath to crown thee queen. When thou should'st have a diadem to wear As radiant with beauty as thy hair. These perished blossoms and this shriveled green Once bowed in worship to some water's sheen And perfume lifted to the sky as prayer. O'er joyed I culled them thinking they would bear A sweeter message than all else terrene. Ah, long I pressed them to my lips, my breast, — I thought my passion and their souls to blend. But ere I taught my heart its love to wean, The flow'rs were dead and I was sad, dis- tressed — So thus, dear heart, I have but love to send, I have but withered flow'rs to crown thee queen. 41 m^ u i^uD 'r^^iMEmm^l LIBRARY OF CONGRESS Q 015 973 839 5 \ < i 1 ^n\