PS 3515 .E168 14 1917 Copy 1 DIVGRS TONGS H6,4ZLIT1 •^*' '?('(n(r(} Class Xci^a^^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSm r IN DIVERS TONES LYRICS BY CLARENCE WATT HEAZLITT Author of "When Skies are Gray" BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1917 .^0 1/ ■" NOV 12 1917 Copyright, 191T Sherman, French &• Compant ©CiA47Rl26 TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER THE LYRIST The woods have sylvan lyres On mhich the wmds may play. And clear is the piping of birds In the meadows of May; But there is richer melody, — Deeper, sweeter, higher — When the poet sings for me. With his heart for lyre. CONTENTS PAGE Solitude 1 A Woman and Sir Galahad 1 Sleep, the Magician 2 Revisited S Prayer 3 Quest 4 Out of the Years . 5 In a Gallery of Pictures 6 Moonrise 7 October Evening 7 The Advance of Night 8 Heathcliff and Catherine 8 Withered Branches 8 The Alien 9 Appearances 10 Seeming 11 The Tiger-Cat 12 Losing the Lily 12 Simon's Son 13 Barabbas 14 December 15 Bowed 15 The Fallen Leader 16 In Old Trinity 16 The Way Home 17 William Wilson 18 A Fatal Parting 18 Apollos at Corinth 19 Two Portrait-Painters 19 Snow and Fire 19 PAGE Sophistication 19 Music and Mystery 20 Dead in December 20 The Art Supreme 22 Purpose 22 A Dream 23 The Dream Caress 24 The Feast of Hope 24 Futility 25 Cui Bono? 26 " For Something Afar " 26 Doctor Kennedy 27 A Ripple on the Surface 29 The Salvation Army SO Sorrow for Angels 32 The Yellow Peril 32 Sleep 33 Failure 34 Unbidden Guests 34 Respite , . 35 Conflict 35 Kinship 37 At the Back of the Desert ..... 38 Black Wins 38 White Wins 39 White and Gold 40 At Sunrise 40 Another Chance 40 Possibility 41 February in the South 41 Spring's Awakening 42 PAGE April 42 April Noon 43 Pink and White and Purple 43 In Cherokee Park 44 By Southern Seas 45 July 46 After the Game 47 Reply to a Valentine 47 Mignonette 48 Vitium Funestum 48 The Poem A La Imagiste 48 He Goes on Forever 49 Uncle Sam to Kaiser Bill 49 The Purple Cat 51 Advent and Exit 51 Youth 52 Age 52 An October Elegy 53 Machpelah 54 Before Sunrise in November . . , , 55 November 55 The Two Guests 56 Mysteries . . i 56 Trespass 57 Audience 57 At the Tomb 58 " All That I Am not Is He " .... 58 The Whole Burnt-Offering .... 59 Safety 59 The Water of Life 60 SOLITUDE The witch, Loneliness, — I have seen her face, When the setting midnight moon Was shining through December woods. I have seen her face, — The witch. Loneliness, — On gala-nights. In splendor of electric lights, When the streets surged with festive throngs (To me but monks in sable hoods). And the air shook with shouts and songs And music of horn and rich bassoon, — I have seen her face. A WOMAN AND SIR GALAHAD Unless I dream, — this man's eyes seem pure ! He is not unmindful, — I can see that he admires, — But he looks on me As a priest might look on a picture of Our Lady. 2 In Dter0 Cane0 When I curve my foot, or clasp my hands, When I let down my hair, coil after coil, ' ^ His gaze is serious, smiling, steadfast, — Into these eyes he looks as a sweet boy might look. But this is no boy. . . . On his lips, in his eyes There is that which is strange to me, — That which may keep him safe, Where chieftains and kings have fallen. I have heard of saints — In desert cells and monkeries. But not in guise of gallant knight And warrior. Holy Mother, — can this thing be, — Can a man be — pure ? SLEEP, THE MAGICIAN In dreams All is well again. The gray pall and the dark cloud That enter into all things Are unknown. The world is young, And the morning sun is shining. In every hedge and fence-corner Is the low restful insect-chorus : 3n Dfiier0 Coneu 3 And everywhere is the smell of haj New-mown. All is well again — In dreams. REVISITED Since I was here, — is this enchanted ground Where change comes not, though change is all around? The same fair light, the same deep pensive hush On leafy, shadowed lawn; in yonder bush The selfsame robin trills its vesper song; And yet — and yet — 'tis long — long — Since I was here. O for the boon Of this sweet calm, — this changeless after- noon, — Within my wild and troubled heart ! 'Tis clear That I, / have changed — since I was here. PRAYER I WOULD rest my soul in the green Of the hills and meadows and trees Would that their life were mine, — Deep calm life of the trees ! In Ditier0 Cone0 Would that my soul were one With the rhythmical life of the trees ! I would rest my soul in the white Of yon dreamily-floating cloud: Would that I were as free and high, — Would that I were as white ! I would rest my soul in the blue, — Your wonderful blue, O sky ! Would God that I were as true — And as happy — as you ! QUEST From somewhere out of the wistful blue Where clouds are resting dreamfully, — Blending with far-off carol of birds — A spirit seems to be calling to me, Calling and calling to me. As though it were seeking — seeking to tell Of some strange beauty that few may see, — Wistfully seeking, — Why should it long to show beauty to me? . . . My God, is it you? In Dit)et0 Cone0 OUT OF THE YEARS He met me on a lonely walk And in a lonely place, When sunset fires were burning low, He came upon me face to face, — A pretty, dreamy boy I knew Many years ago. The same quaint wonder in his face — The same shy questioning gaze — As when the world beyond the hills Was story-land, — a wonder-place Of knights and dwarfs and fairy folk. In those far-distant days. More strange than any minstrel's lay, — This mystery of the years ! The little boy I met to-day With the weird smile and manner shy, — Who met me on my lonely way, — That dreamy boy was 1 1 In Ditjer0 Cotter IN A GALLERY OF PICTURES The spell — the spell of their dreams 1 Here would I always stay, Richly enshielded and safe From the gray world without, — That bleak world where I lived — Was it only today? Color and bloom are here; Here there are wonderful skies ; Castles and trees are here, — And haunting and beautiful eyes. Indian summer is here, And here is eternal spring; Here there is light on the sea, And blessed is everything. God's own magical world Where nothing offends nor hurts I Soft is the light all about; Here would I dream alway. Kindly enfolded and safe From the terrible world without. Dark with eternal gray. . . . O, the spell of their dreams ! 3n D{tJet0 Cone$ MOONRISE Gone with the day is the sordid West, — Voices metallic have ceased ; Still by the clatter and glare obsessed, Now for your silence and dusk I long. Ancient, mystical, changeless East! Give me your deep, immemorial calm. Born of the blend of your purple and orange! Give me your myrrh and your healing balm, East that is Samarkand, Babylon, Thebes, — Mystery, love and song! OCTOBER EVENING Pearl and amber and rose, — Ineffable calm and repose; Into the amber sky Blackbirds fly; Into the orange west. Through the gloaming, goes My life's road, — Orange and ashes-of-rose — Peace and repose. In Dtet0 Cotte0 THE ADVANCE OF NIGHT They fade through the west, — red streamers and gold, And the east is a dreaming world ; But anon through the zenith are standards un- rolled Of azure far-streaming emblazoned bold With jeweled crescent and stars untold, — The banners of Noctis unfurled. HEATHCLIFF AND CATHERINE Was it you calling me all last night. Or only the voice of the gale? And when the sobbing and wailing ceased And the stars came out, — Was it you that looked on my face in the night. Or only the pale moon, — Cathy? . . . WITHERED BRANCHES It was late afternoon in the winter woods And low in the west was a band of light. Dull and lurid, — the color of bronze, — Barred by the woods' black columns. In Dit3et0 Cone0 The ground was strewed with branches and twigs, Twisted and gnarled, — which the frost had lopped : And one came and gathered them up And bore them away through the gates of bronze. The time was late in the city streets, The silence of frost and ice was deep. Crouching women from doorways peered, — Peering faces, bloodless and pinched. Men were stretched on seats in the parks With heads drawn down between shoulders sharp : And one came and gathered them up And bore them away, as the clocks chimed twelve. THE ALIEN Said a queer little man of the world one day, In a voice in a silvery key, — " There is one among us who seems not of us. And we like him not," quoth he. " In his far-away eyes is the light of skies. In his voice is the sound of the sea : 10 3n Dit3er0 Cone0 And he bows not down to our little gold gods, — We like him not," quoth he. " Our mantles black and our crimson hoods On him are strange to see; His garb is of white and the green of woods ; We like him not," quoth he. " As we grovel and play and swear and pray, He takes no part, — not he. His gaze seems pure as the light of stars, — We like him not, — not we. " In his far-away eyes is the light of skies, In his voice is the sound of the sea ; And he will not bow to our little gold gods ; — We like him not, — not we." APPEARANCES A BAD face? It may be so. And a bad heart, too, for aught I know; But that I know which I might tell Of faces scorched with the fires of hell, — Branded faces, — cut and scarred Beyond imagining, — blasted, marred, — And yet those faces — faces of saints t In Dtaetg Coneg n No beauty there, you think, smock face? Not Hebe's cheek, — but trace on trace Of stress of conflict and slash of foe ! A bad face? Ay, — mayhap An Augustine — saved from a harlot's lap. A bad face? It may be so, — With Sir Galahad's heart, for aught I know. SEEMING Dancing in joy is the sunlit sea, Murmuring, laughing, singing to me. Clapping white hands in radiant glee To the rise and fall of cadences free ; — But yet — O sky that is bending above, What is she hiding from me, — the sea ? — Graves, Resting and dreaming, — the moonlit sea ; This murmuring song is a mother's croon ; Lullabies low she is crooning to me. As we dream in the calm of the night's high noon. Yet, ah, yet — of her lord in the sky I would crave one boon, — This prayer would I make to her lord, the moon : Tell me her name. — Death. 12 In Di\3er0 Cone^ THE TIGER-CAT My tiger-cat was bright and sleek In her shining coat of yellow and black, And softly she sung when I patted her cheek, And gently she fawned as I stroked her back,- My beautiful, beautiful tiger-cat. As of figures in dreams that sway and float Was the wondrous grace of my tiger-cat, — For lither she grew, and, truth to tell, Far stronger than I, — yet, I confess, I loved her terrible, fierce caress, Her masterful beauty, strong and bright ; — But there came a night, there came a night, — A night when she had her claws in my throat, And the deep green eyes were aflame of hell,- My beautiful, beautiful tiger-cat. LOSING THE LILY A LILY by my window grew. Wondrous fair and tall, — A lily of the light; And all its beauty was for me,- All its beauty white; That closer it might be, — 3n Ditjer0 Cotter i3 Its bright head might fall Upon my breast, — I plucked it from its stem, — When the lily it was lost to me, And it was lost to all. SIMON'S SON My boy from whom I hoped so much ! my boy. Whose fair young face looked sweetly up to mine; With curly head and smiling lips and fine Dark eyes that shone with eager hope and joy. I trained him well, and taught him right employ For subtle gifts of mind; of things malign I warned, — the lure of women and of wine, — And counseled pure delights that would not cloy. It cannot be [ With passionate regard He loved Him, — hung upon His word and thrilled With keenest pleasure at His lightest touch. Sold Him for silver? God, my God, — 'tis hard! Some midnight blast from hell, some curse ful- filled! My poor, poor boy for whom I hoped so much ! 14 3n D{t3et0 Cone0 BARABBAS 'Tis but a dream and vision of the night ! 'Tis very dark — as of my dungeon, — dark ; Beat thou thy breast and rouse thee ! yet, the mark Where fetters were, and are not, greets my sight. They told me I was free to seek the light, — Yet all is dark. I dream — is this high noon ? — Then what yon crimson orb, like blood-stained moon ? I seem mid surging crowds . . . than earth more bright A radiance streams from skull-shaped hill nearby ; I gaze . . . from middle cross of crosses three It streams, on which a shining One, who calls In silver-trumpet tones — to me? " I die Where thou shouldst die — upon thy cross — for thee ! " I do but dream within my dungeon walls t 3n Ditier0 Cone$ i5 DECEMBER A PALLID sky that faintly, sadly smiles As cold winds stir its veil of silv'ry gray ; Black trees that raise bare arms as if to pray — In dread amid the hush that fills the aisles Around, — forsaken aisles of tawny green. All strown thick with frost-dark, shrivelled leaves ; A silence brooding, — nay, that interweaves With all the mystic meaning of the scene. Ah, sad, pathetic silence! as of one Who, bowed and dreaming, sits at end of day, And muses o'er the ashes cold and gray Upon the hearthstone ; for the day is done. And with it fled the hope again to see A day that has been — and will never be. BOWED How heavily they weigh, — The years. So laded down are they With loneliness and tears. And they weigh Upon my soul. I would lift me up and pray 16 3n Ditierg Coneg And go upon my way, But the years, — The cumulative fears And burden of the years, Their loneliness and tears, — How wearily they weigh Upon my soul ! THE FALLEN LEADER Just a little grayer glooms the sky. Just a little darker my pathway. Just a little drearier falls the night. Since I lost faith in you. Just a little lower bows my head, Just a little fainter beats my heart, Just a little heavier burdens weigh. Since I lost faith in you. IN OLD TRINITY Another world it is, and far removed. In this rich gloom and solemn hush low-bowed. How strange to think that but a step would bring In Ditjet0 Cone0 i7 The thronged and sunny street where stern- browed men Shout and jostle in their eager strife, — Thy children, Lord, in quest of golden toys. But in this sacred place they seem as far As if by seas and ages vast removed, While He who bides the same from age to age Alone is near and real to burdened souls. " O Thou that changest not, abide with me 1 " THE WAY HOME To a city graveyard's farthest corner Daily came a man to dream and pray, When the sunset's level parting ray Touched with crimson fire the marble mourner, Gazing ever on the mounds below. Gray-haired, bowed and dreaming, — even so — Buried here his heart was, long ago. Strange the contrast to the sad-browed man Was a child who came each sunset hour Through the graveyard, singing as she ran, — Bonnie, blithe as any springtime flower. Gaily sped she down the walk alone, Disappearing through a gate of stone Thick with moss and ivy overgrown. 18 an Djt)et0 Cone0 Often had the lonely muser wondered Why the child should take that dreary way, Suited best to those who long had sundered Ties that bind to childhood's happy day. Half expecting prank of elf or gnome, To his gentle query came reply : " This way takes me straightest to my home ; To this gate my father's house is nigh." WILLIAM WILSON For me — and now — a tap at the door,- A tap at the door for me? Ay, just to say I come no more, — No more need yow open to me. A FATAL PARTING Quoth Self Respect to Self Control, " Be off, I have no need of you ; " Quoth Self Control to Self Respect, " My going would be the death of you ! " In Ditjer0 Cone0 i9 APOLLOS AT CORINTH " No man can God and Mammon serve," — So spake the Lord in accents mighty ; And he must shatter brain and nerve Who serves both God and Aphrodite. TWO PORTRAIT-PAINTERS One features paints, — nor reads the heart : In surface beauty revels ; The other's deeper, subtler art Paints witches, saints and devils. SNOW AND FIRE As oft may surge 'neath changeless snow Volcanic fires untold ; So burning human hearts may glow 'Neath surface calm and cold. SOPHISTICATION How strange to find in the shy gray eyes Reminder of things primeval! 20 3n Diuet0 Cone0 When they so furtively glance sidewise, Too plainly I trace The world-old sign of a fallen race, — The knowledge of good and evil. MUSIC AND MYSTERY A SONG there is at turn of every street, As sweet as life, — were there ears to hear it ; A tale there is in every face you meet. As strange as death, — were there seer to read it. DEAD IN DECEMBER Madison Julius Cawein * died December 8th, 1914. All white and hard the ground is and leafless is the bush; 'Tis fitting that the woods are bare since silent is the thrush; For the music of the beech trees — the silence of the pine ; — Since marble are the singing lips of Madison Cawein. * The poet pronounced his name with the accent on the last syllable. 3Jn Dit)er0 Cone0 21 All black and dead the grass is and voiceless is the hedge, And sluggish is the creek's flow among the frosted sedge ; For the singing of the orchards — the silence of the pine ; — Since hushed and cold the heart is of Madison Cawein. 'Tis fitting that the skies are draped, and air and earth are still. That not a wild thing stirs abroad on frozen field or hill ; The world he loved is slumbering, as though to give a sign That closed forever are the eyes of Madison Cawein. But the songs he sung! They have not died, nor will they die for aye, But live to cheer the sons of men to time's re- motest day; The hearts of us are kindlier, our souls are more divine, For the singing of the one who sleeps, — our Madison Cawein. 22 3tt Dit3er0 Cone0 THE ART SUPREME Said student to sage in minster dim While sunset rays were gilding, And far through the west the cloudland elfs Fantastic towers were building: " What is the noblest art of all, If counsel you were giving? " " My son," quoth he, " there is but one, — The golden art that day by day Weaves Beauty into Living.^'' PURPOSE God forbid that any eyes Should duller be for me! I would seek no richer prize Than so to live That some tired and listless eyes Might beam again For me. God forbid that any cheek Should paler be for me! I would seek — seek So to live That some wan and faded cheek 3n Dttierg Coneg 23 Might bloom again For me. God forbid that any lips Should sadder be for me! Undismayed by graceless slips, I would so live That some pathetic and drooping lips Might smile again For me. A DREAM Asleep, or near to Sleep, I lay, — Asleep, but as those who wake ; 'Twas at the end of a weary day. And my heart seemed throbbing as though it would break With burden of lonely woe. When in the room a presence there was, — A brooding presence of long ago, — As of one that hovered in sympathy sweet, As of one that to soothe and shelter would seek. As of one that bent low and kissed the cheek Of her child of long ago. 24 jn Ditjers; Cone0 THE DREAM CARESS Just the touch of one who cared, — A tender and playful touch, — A lifting the curls from the gloomy brow Of one burdened overmuch ; But it carried me back — and back — To boyhood's morning-land, — Where the wilful boy had one who cared, — And real was the dreamland hand. THE FEAST OF HOPE Roll the light song along, high heap the plat- ter, — Raise the high song and strong, — high din and clatter ! Thus the pale goblins of care shall we scatter: For this is the eve of the world's avatar, And all through the east shines a glory afar. Encore on encore sing, — why trouble borrow? Let voices roar and ring, — drown care and sor- row! Thunderous chorus of music sonorous, — Trumpet and viol and cymbal, — breaks o'er us! In Dit)et0 Cone0 ^5 Joy for tonight there is, hope for tomorrow ; For this is the eve of the world's avatar, When the kindly of heart see the Magian star ! FUTILITY I DREAMED in maze of flutes and viols That sobbed and yearned in cadence sweet ; Then dreamland faded, and I saw — A woman reeling down the street. I strolled rich galleries along 'Mid pictures by the mighty dead. And through a window glanced to where A child a drunken father led. Where wondrous beds of pansies bloomed, I wandered by a riverside, — When, — just ahead, — a beckoning hand, A smiling, luring face that lied. What help, O Christ, for such as these In pictures, pansies, symphonies.'^ 26 an Ditiet0 Cone0 CUI BONO? Strive again? As though it mattered! Yield the struggle, — What's the use? Ideals shattered, Banners tattered. Still you'd strive as though it mattered ! What's the use? More endeavor — more abuse, — Passions playing fast and loose, — What's the use — what's the use? Hunted, battered. Blood-bespattered, — Striving still as though it mattered? What's the use? Yield the struggle, — What's the use? " FOR SOMETHING AFAR " Famishing heart. Yearning forever ! Satisfied never. Famishing heart! Deathless thou art In Ditierg Coneg 27 In thy longing endeavor, Famishing heart Yearning forever! DOCTOR KENNEDY Not far from the river around a bleak corner Where sidewalks are battered to many a hole, Where factory smoke drapes the sun like a mourner, And small shop windows display their wares, — There hung years ago a storm-beaten sign: " Doctor Kennedy — office upstairs." Doctor Kennedy, — servant of all ; University honor-man ; Bushy gray hair and kindly eye. Broad of shoulder and careless of dress, — Little cared he for collar or tie, — But the cheer of his voice seemed to heal and bless. His heart was tender, his brain was clear ; Gladly he served for many a year. Answering calls by night and by day. Summoned to cottage and cellar and loft ; Easily found when troubles and cares Were thickest and heaviest, — quick to respond Was " Doctor Kennedy, — office upstairs." 28 3n Ditierg Coneg Never a bill or a dun sent he, No collector in his employ ; His one reply to " Doctor, how much? " — " Pay me whatever you can, my boy." — Think it not strange that when he died The streets were packed to the riverside. For there came a day of no response, Though the office door was open wide. Small care had he taken by night or by day, In fury of storm or wintry blast. Small care he took, — there was none to chide : Himself without stinting he freely gave. — And barefoot children and coatless men And women with shawls thrown over their heads Thronged all the way to his open grave. A man in workman's blouse spake out, — His eyes were wet and his voice was broken : " Men, for our friend, — this friend of ours, — We can't do much, — we must give some token ; A shaft of gold as high as the sky Would be none too good for the like of him." Some days after, — a week at most, — When the sun was low and the sunset clouds Trailed up the sky like a ladder of gold. Strong arms placed at the head of his grave A planed and polished cedarn post, — 3n Ditietg Coneg 29 Rounded and chiseled, — the work was fine ; And to it they fastened, 'mid tears and prayers, The old familiar, beloved sign : " Doctor Kennedy — of[ice upstairs'' A RIPPLE ON THE SURFACE (Chums discuss an incident) " Heard about her, — Sadie Carter? " " Sadie Carter? Don't recall her." " Yes, you do ; clerked for Kaiser, — Glove department; Good-looker and high-stepper, Classic bust, and all that." " Oh, yes ; sure, — fond of clothes ; Seems all right, though, — Wouldn't have a hat I bought her." " Her folks are good, — old Virginia — Widowed mother — only daughter." "Well, what about her?" " She got in bad at Clarke's Arcade Tuesday, — stole a shirtwaist. And they caught her." " The deuce you say ! " " Some scene at the station, — Several of the boys were there, — I was there, and John Legare." "John Legare 1" "You know him, don't you?" 30 In Ditierg Coneg " Know him ? . . . Yellow streak, believe me ! Infernal scoundrel when at college 1 " " Right you are ! He's been watching her for months, Like a hawk. — I can almost hear her now, — ' O my God, why did I do it ! ' John went on her bond. I saw them last night on a car, — Tenth St. owl ; they didn't see me ; 'Twas one o'clock or shortly after ; She had on some new white furs, — Her face was whiter than the furs: His eyes were on her like a vulture's. I saw them when they left the car At , you know the corner." " The very devil t So she's gone ! " " Yes, — and you and I Are as bad as he that we didn't warn her." THE SALVATION ARMY " Bare your heads in the presence of God, — Glory to His name ! " (" That bunch holds forth every night.** *' Look at those guys down on their knees! " " Believe me^ theyWe game, all right** 3n Ditjerg Coneg 3i ''Clear the way!'' ''Stop that car!'' " Lively y please! ") " Make the people hear ! " " He saved my soul and I hold Him dear, — Hallelujah!" " Blow the bugles, batter the drums, — Glory to His name ! " " I'm not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, — Glory to His name! * There is rest for the weary. Rest for you — (** That makes me feel like ' Kingdom come.' " " Heyy Skinny! here's a show." " I believe these folks are helping some." " Sounds good to me, if it's only so.") Rest for the weary, there is rest for the weary. In the sweet fields of Eden There is rest for you.' " " I proclaim the Light of the world, — Glory to His name ! " (" I'm for yer — shoot it to 'em, cap! " " Dunder und blitzen! don't I get through? " "Aw, what a very odd-looking chap! " " Holy Moses! — is that you? ") " Make the message clear ! " " That Light shines for me and you, — HaUelujah!" Sn Dit3et0 Cone0 " Make the people hear ; Strike the cymbals, batter the drums,- Glory to His name ! " SORROW FOR ANGELS Ring the bells of hell ! Let them boom across its moors, Let them clang along its shores, While red lightning cleaves the gloom. While the ceaseless thunder roars, — Through the prisons of the dead Let them tell, let them tell, — Let the gleeful news be spread: One more soul — one more soul Makes clioice with fiends to dwell! THE YELLOW PERIL Silvery wings and body of gold, — Dead — and the lure of gold the cause ; Delicate moth with wings of gauze, — Dead from a flame of gold. Ribanded, garlanded, golden youth, — Dead through a father's lust for gold ; At Mammon's shrine in very truth Dead for the love of gold ! In Diuer0 Cone0 ss SLEEP Weary of a weary life, Let him sleep ; Better than to pray or weep, Now, — so weary of the strife ! Let him sleep. Nought avails that he can do, — Let him sleep. Strenuous resolves to keep He sought, and failed, — so may you. Let him sleep. Sunken cheeks and very pale, — Let him sleep. They who sow must also reap; You and I may faint and fail. — Let him sleep. Such dark circles 'neath the eyes ! (Let him sleep.) Eyes closed in slumber deep. — Is there hope beyond the skies ? — Let him sleep. 34 3n Dit)er0 Cone0 FAILURE A STAR shone down through the dark, dark gorge Where the pale self-murdered lay; All night it shone on the pale, pale face, — All night till the break of day. O cold, kind star, so cold and far Was the light of your guiding ray ! UNBIDDEN GUESTS Whence can they be, — Those faces I see. That simper and fawn and smile on me, That glimmer and lower, that leer and glower At me when my eyes are closed? May some sweet power From the heaven of light. Coursing clear down through the fathomless night. Save my soul from the faces I see, Mocking and frowning and smiling at me. Sometimes when my eyes are closed. In Ditier0 Cone0 35 RESPITE Night by night my soul and I Plunge in a river dark and deep, And nought we know But its onward flow Till a cold gleam from the morning steep Strikes through the river dark and deep, When my soul and I, With shudder and sigh, Rise from Lethe, the river of Sleep. CONFLICT Silence such as this appals me, — 'Tis the silence of the tomb. Nay, but of the holy cloister y And the angel-haunted room. On the bed the westering sunlight Strangely minds of deathly swoon. All the room is softly sleeping In the golden afternoon. Souls through mournful eyes are watching,- Sad unceasing vigils keep. Loving eyes that follow, bless thee. At thy work and i/n thy sleep. 36 In Drter0 Cone0 Haunting pictures, books and pictures, Mocking spectres of the past ! Friends unchanging, rather deem them, Pure and patient to the last. Evermore the garden pathways Wend through silence into shade. Peace is there and calm seclusion; There sweet promises were made. Leagued with evil is this mirror, — The pale horror of the face! There is One who fain would make it Radiant with holy grace. Horror of the soul that ever Loves the truth and does the wrong. Hope there is and overcoming, Through the Stronger thorn the strong. Horror, ever deepening horror. For the murderer of his past ! " / am Alpha and Omega, Ever -first and ever last.'* O the crushing, crushing burden, — Burden of a life outworn ! Cast thy burden on the Mighty, EvWy burden He has borne. In Dit)er0 Cone0 si Through the blackness one voice only Ever lures and ever charms. Underneath forever, ever Are the Everlasting Arms. " Why not, why not end it quickly ? One swift plunge, and all is o'er." One there is who freely offers Life and love forevermore. " Why not, — why not end it quickly ? One swift stroke, and all is o'er." Thou 7nay^st tread a shinmg pathway. Upward, upward evermore. Wave on wave black floods are surging, Fiends are pressing, horde on horde ! Thanks he to God who victory gives Through Jesus Christ our Lord! KINSHIP Call of earth, call of earth, downward, down- ward : Near and warm, warm and near, — earth calls, earth calls : ss M Dfaetg Coneg Light of stars, light of stars cold gleams, dis- tant : Warm flesh and blood am I, — earth's child, earth's child. AT THE BACK OF THE DESERT Into a desert far-removed he fared, Where few have trod ; When, ]o, upon the drear horizon flared The mount of God! BLACK WINS Life's long game at last is over, — Black wins. Spite of hope recurring ever. Spite of faith and brave endeavor, Black wins. Hate and scorn at last have triumphed,— Black wins. Slander black o'er pure intention. Passion dark, — white Love's prevention,- Black wins. M Dit)et0 Cone0 39 Fiendish skill too great for mortal, — Black wins. Echoing back from beam and rafter Sounding now the gloating laughter, — Endless darkness follows after, — Black wins, black wins. WHITE WINS Yet for all this ghostly prowess, White wins ! Puzzled, baffled, pale and haggard, Yield thee not, though hope be laggard,- White wins. There's a way, — but give not over, — White wins. Well this dark and mocking stranger Knows despair's thine only danger, — White wins. Through the Stronger than the mighty, White wins. Through the faith o'er all prevailing, Hope eternal, love unfailing, White wins, white wins. 40 an Dit)et0 Cone^ WHITE AND GOLD* I WOULD walk with Thee in white — Snowy garb from crimson laver ; Then with Thee would walk in light — Golden sunshine of thy favor ; Only they who walk in white, — Only they are crowned with light. AT SUNRISE Fresh from the seas of dawn, Day in his bright canoe Rises and beckons and shouts, Beckons to me and to you ; Tossing his radiant hair Flashing with golden dew, — Fresh from the seas of dawn. Day in his bright canoe. ANOTHER CHANCE Another day is given you, — Beware, O man ! Mar not its record fair and new ; Strength seek, — and plan. * Reprinted through the courtesy of the publishers of The Sunday School Times. 3n Ditier$ Cone0 41 'Tis not in you to change the past, — It stands for aye. Then while this fair new day shall last, Watch you, — and pray. POSSIBILITY Just this to be said : Day after day Stoutly essay — Living or dead — The impossible way. Whi/ put a ban On the possible way^ It wovld I treads Foeless and easy^ — Surely y I may? Yes, — if you can. FEBRUARY IN THE SOUTH Though the trees are bare, There is languor in the air, And voices far and near. And laughter low and clear 42 an Diuet0 Coneg From the passers in the night ; For despite a breath of chillness, Sweet prophecies are cheering, Through memories endearing, In the warm and misty moonlight And the pulsing, vocal stillness Of this February night. SPRING'S AWAKENING At the kiss of this delicate air The young Spring turns in his woodland bed. And opens his drowsy violet eyes, And sleepily wonders who has spread — What gentle hand could have deftly tossed - This bright green mantle over his bed. With yellow flowers embossed. APRIL The joyous beauty of April I love, All free from the sad and old ; The beauty of azure and white all above And pale green all around, And decking the vivid emerald ground, The gay bright beauty of gold. 3n DiVJet0 Cone0 43 APRIL NOON From casements of the sky, Which elfs of the rain have hung With curtains white and blue, The sunlight shimmers through To lawns where lilacs bloom And cherry blossoms strew The tapestry of living green, All broidered thick with lowly flowers Of gold and purple hue. PINK AND WHITE AND PURPLE There's a mist along the river, there is purple in the west, And a faint delicious odor as of cherry blos- soms pressed. As I stray amid the twilight, through the pink and purple gloom. When the redbud and the dogwood and the lilac are in bloom. O the pink flush of the gloaming, the white cloud and the star, That send my thoughts a-roaming to the ex- quisite and far ! 44 Kn Dil3er0 Cone0 O the white and dreamy moonlight that goes dancing through m}^ room, When the redbud and the dogwood and the lilac are in bloom ! Let me wander through the meadow to the misty riverside, To the lonely tomb of winter, low-stricken in his pride. Then with pink and white and purple let me heap his grassy tomb. When the redbud and the dogwood and the lilac are in bloom. IN CHEROKEE PARK Warm and sweet the breath of June As I wander down a road Dark with beechen greenery, Passing flower-embowered homes, — Like to lordly old chiiteaux Or castles seen beyond the seas, — Crowning verdant terraced hills. Curves the road into the light. On the driveways far below Automobiles whirl and bound. But here is summer's deep repose. Clear within the vivid blue 3n Dit)er0 Cane0 45 Towers a cloud like mount of snow, Bright above the wooded knolls ; On a broad and sloping lawn Are trees with vines of crimson roses Closely circling them around, — Each a crimson column crowned With the foliage of June . . . White on azure, crimson, green, In a faery landscape blending . . . 'Tis the spell of middle June. BY SOUTHERN SEAS Far in the south I found a land. Years and years ago. Where, skirting the shores of gleaming sand. Live-oaks and magnolias grow, — Great evergreen oaks on bank and strand With Spanish moss draped low. A land where the surge of misty seas E'er breaks over isles of dream; And motionless leagues of giant trees Like hosts enchanted seem ; The forests of pine, unstirred by breeze At dawn or in sunset's gleam. 46 an Dit)et0 Cone0 A far-away land of languid grace 'Neath calm of azure skies, — With the richer charm of the winsome face And the glance of smiling eyes, — Frank and friendly, with never a trace Of cold and dark surmise. By sunny bayous and sedgy creeks Blossoms the red wild rose, — The rose that through long golden weeks In musky fragrance blows ; — The rose that on dark patrician cheeks In richer beauty glows ! JULY In airy robes my mistress goes Of deep dark blue and shimmering green ; The warm air sighs through her long dark hair, And sweet at her breast is the crimson rose ; Nor lip nor eye of maiden knows Her steadfast smile serene. In ^i\}tt$ Cone0 47 AFTER THE GAME Rest, little hand, Safely enfolded ; Tennis-entanned, Rest, little hand; Long have I planned. Petted and scolded ; Rest, little hand. Safely enfolded. REPLY TO A VALENTINE A HEART / found, the other day, I wonder if it's thine! " A heart, — you have found? Not mine, I assure you; To find it would cure you Of tripping around. Poor hearts to ensnare; For my heart is old. And not worth the keeping; Beyond all compare It is bitter and cold. 'Twere a sorrow profound, And a matter of weeping. 48 In DitJer0 Cone^ If the heart you have found Were no better than mine, My sweet Valentine. MIGNONETTE Dear little maiden smiling at me, Artlessly, acting no part. When you're older and wiser be, No such smile will you have for me,- Bless your innocent heart ! VITIUM FUNESTUM The, poem's good, it quicks my blood, It sends my fancy far a-gleaning; For all that it can't he good — It must be bad, — it has some meanmg. THE POEM A LA IMAGISTE A RARE exotic, — if chaotic Seem its slender grays and thin blues ! By all confessed, it stands the test — It has no meaning (save to Hindus?). In Dit)et0 Cotter 49 HE GOES ON FOREVER Long dead are hopes of wealth and fame, Youths' dreams are gone a-glinting ; Yet signs along the streets proclaim That Job is still prmtmg! UNCLE SAM TO KAISER BILL (February, 1917) Bill, what's that I hear through your hat? Arizona? New Mexico? And, — holy sword of Jehoshaphat ! — Texas? Why, Bill, don't you know Three-fourths of a hundred years ago Texas alone, at the Alamo, Frightened to death a bunch like that? Chorus : Bill, my boy, stay where you are, — Don't you fool with the Lone Star I Nor the forty seven that back of it are: We're mighty patient. Bill, my boy, But talk like that,— Please record it, — we don't enjoy. How does it read — " conquer them back " ? Ha 1 ha ! ha ! — If I hadn't seen 50 3n Dit)er0 Cone^ The words, Bill ! He seems to lack Something essential, — Zimmie, I mean. Arizona? New Mexico? And — shades of Houston and Davy Crock- ett ! — Texas? Bill, surely you know You haven't the world in your side-pocket? It's true the fool thing sounds like a joke, — But if not, — I'm blamed if I can see Where you found the consummate bloke That could perpetrate it ; — that gets me. But Bill, my boy, this is flat — Better not try it (no bluster nor brag) — Scores of millions are back of that! You mustn't joke like a man on a jag About striking stars from the American Flag ! Bill, my boy, stay where you are, — Don't you fool with the Lone Star I Nor the forty seven that back of it are : We're mighty patient. Bill, my boy, But schemes like that — Take it from me — you can't employ. Sn Dit)et0 Cone0 si THE PURPLE CAT To my porch there came and sat A very remarkable purple cat, With eyes that would neither blink nor bat, — Eyes that were beryls pure. With timorous crouch and gentle whine She raised her blinkless eyes to mine, — I never saw a green so fine, — Eyes that were beryls, sure. ADVENT AND EXIT Through the night resounds The challenge of his roar. As he bounds Through the high and stormy arch Of the midnight sky, Shaking snow and rain From his gray and shaggy mane, — To whom do I refer? March. Through meadows dusk and chill Beneath the sunset sky He flees with plaintive cry, — Nimble-footed, 52 an Diuer$ Cone0 Snowy-fleeced ; And when the rainbow arch, Now faint in paling gold, Is lost in purple gloom, He'll rest within the fold. — " This refers to — whom ? " March. YOUTH There was one who bartered a golden cup. All heavy with rubies and pearls. For a draught of the nectar his lips would sup ; And he tossed the cup at the last sweet drop, With a toss of his golden curls. AGE Tolling the hours, tolling the hours, — Dulcet the tones of the golden bell Tolling the hours ! Would I were where the hours are not. Their sad procession all forgot. And need there were none for the golden throat Of a bell that dulcetly. Softly and solemnly. Tolls the hours. an Dft3et0 Cone0 53 AN OCTOBER ELEGY There is sunshine Warm and mellow, But 'tis veiled. Trees are thick with leaves, But they are edged with yellow, — They were burned to red and yellow, When Spring's life failed. Butterflies, — Not of gorgeous dyes, — Small and yellow Butterflies Flit and hover In the veiled light and mellow Above the red and russet Leaves that cover All the ground. Over dreaming meadows Floats a still small sound, — Now a droning — now a quaver, — As of one that grieves ; And all the warm air Is filled with a savor Of death unto death. From the burning of the leaves, — With a churchyard flavor. From the burning of the leaves. 54 3n Ditoet0 Cone0 MACHPELAH Bury my dead Out of my sight, — Hopes that are dead. Fairer were they And purer than dawn, And cherished for many and many a day. Lay them away, Out of my sight. Bury my dead Out of my sight, — My dead past. This poor ghost of a beautiful day That perished utterly Long ago And so far away, — Bury it deeply, Out of my sight. Bury my dead Out of my sight, — My dead self; That sought to be patient, and smiled withal, And bore its part in the world of men ; That was quick to hear the voiceless call Of a soul in need; and even when In Dit)et0 Coneg 55 It suffered amid the cold-eyed throng, Yet strove to be kindly and prayed to be strong. — Wrapped in its winding-sheet of dreams, How long ago since it lived it seems ! A memory fair — For a grave in the night. — Bury my dead Out of my sight. BEFORE SUNRISE IN NOVEMBER Deep within a violet morning, Through which blackbirds wheeled and chat- tered, Hung the moon in pale glory (Glory from the parting night — Pallor from the coming day) : liike a shield of living light High upon the crystal wall Of some castle in the air, — Deep within the violet morning. NOVEMBER Quiet and gray is the world today. Like the ghost of a day I remember ; 56 In Ditoet0 Cotte0 The woods I love are quiet and gray, And quiet and gray is the sky above; The sobered year is treading his way Through the quiet and gray of November, THE TWO GUESTS (THIRTIETH PSALM) Sorrow comes like a lodger at even, Clad in November's gray, — But sweet faced Joy, like an angel from heaven, Comes at the break of day ; Sorrow sojourns for the night, storm-driven; But Joy will abide for aye. MYSTERIES A lurid day Of bitter strife ^^ — That is life. The long night That followeth — That is death. A quickening Spirit Day and night Keeping ward — That is God. In Ditiersi ConeiS 57 TRESPASS After the lapse of a careless day, Come not in careless mood to pray. For one there was in dreamy mood Who sought to pray one night, — When swift, insufferably fierce. There smote a stress of dreadful might Against his soul, as though to pierce With fire, and strike his lips to dumbness. 'Tis no light thing to lightly pray After the sin of a careless day. AUDIENCE To all who plead in fear or need His face is turned assuringly ; The child who dreads the haunted dark, The maiden with her rosary ; He bends His ear alike to hear The rugged psalm, the aria ; The "now I lay me" of the child, The vestal's Ave Maria ; For all amid this twilight dim But children are, to Him. 58 an Diuer0 Cone0 AT THE TOMB The eyes of the faithless Saw clothes of the dead; But love, through its tears, Saw angels instead. Feet that were faithless Forsook Him and fled; But the arms that were true Could carry Him — dead. They had gone to their homes,- Of such tales they were wary. She lingered — and heard The rare music of — Mary. « ALL THAT I AM NOT IS HE " All that I am not is He, My holy One of Galilee ; I am darkness — He is light ; I am weakness — He is might ; I in scorn and vengeful ire Foes would overwhelm with fire, — His the patience nought can tire. He is all that I am not, In Ditjeris; Cone^ 59 Or He my name from His book would blot. Patient, bright and loving One, May thy will, not mine, be done. THE WHOLE BURNT-OFFERING My body for thee, O God, — This body of nerve and fire; No cold and insensate clod. But glowing with pure desire And thrilled with an exquisite pain. As the flame on the altar leaps higher ; Wholly for thee, my God, — An offering made by fire. SAFETY WouLDST thou from ghosts be saved In age or solitude, — From dark illusions of the soul? Among thy guests include The Lord from heaven, And o'er the door of thy soul have graved A Jiome of the Holy Ghost. 60 3Jn Dit)et0 Cone0 THE WATER OF LIFE " I WILL drink of the water of life," I said, And raised the cup for an eager draught, — When a harlequin dressed in black and red Dashed the cup from my lips, and laughed. . . . The pure sweet water of life, distilled Of the blue of skies and the shimmer of woods And the notes of birds that at evening call And the golden light of the rarest moods ; — I lifted the cup with the nectar filled ; — " Not for you is the cup," he said, As he struck it down and the nectar spilled ; " There's a sweeter draught for you," he said : But he gave me a cup of the purest gall, — The harlequin clad in black and red.