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 OVE 
 
 AND 
 
 li 
 
 IFE 
 
SONNETS 
 
 I2OVE AND I2IFE 
 
 WRITTEN 
 
 \^ 
 EDWARD WELLS, Jr. 
 
 ANO 
 
 HEISTRV ED^TVARD BETUFO^D 
 
 NEW YORK 
 FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER 
 
 UCCESSORS TO WHITE. <STOKES * All Eh 
 1887 
 
PROTEAN LOVE. 
 
 © 
 
 HANGE fills the veins of Love; all forms lie ^wears, 
 And life for him is one unceasing round 
 Of transmigrations, into the profound 
 
 Death-guarded kingdom, where at length he bares 
 
 His shrouded face forever. Now he glares 
 
 From passion's haggard eyes, to-morro-w chills 
 The blood he heated, like a mist distills, 
 
 Life-filling, or is vanished unaAvares. 
 
 Life cannot bind him, no, nor changeless death ; 
 Between the fingers that would grasp he slips 
 
 Like desert sands. He comes as the -wind blo^vs. 
 Though he be gone at passing of a breath, 
 Happy the life before whose door his lips 
 
 Part, w^ith the secrets that alone he knows. 
 
THE COMING. 
 
 (3 
 
 SILKEN rustle on the tufted stair, 
 
 A pause, a gentle footstep's muffled, fall. 
 Waking its elfin echoes in the hall, 
 A waft of violets, and I am -ware 
 Of her -within the door, her russet hair 
 
 Framing a billowy nimbus, like a haze 
 About her face. She seems, standing at gaze, 
 A ne-w^ly bodied spirit of the air. 
 
 Through the light music of her talk, a strain 
 Of subtle melody runs, like the theme 
 
 For a sweet song -whose rythmics yet unsung 
 Sleep in her heart. Weave, weave, oh, unwrought skein. 
 Into the chorded music of love's dream, 
 
 And let those unborn harmonies find tongue. 
 
© 
 
THE FACE MIRRORED. 
 
 ENTLY she bent and put aside the green 
 Thick veil from off the mirror of the lake. 
 And saw her perfect self therein awake 
 
 Out of the liquid darkness,— dimly seen 
 
 At first, and quivering to life betw^een 
 The parted lilies— till a zephyr bent 
 To kiss the fair reflection, and so sent 
 
 O'er it the w^avering ripple's cryptic screen. 
 
 So w^as it that you stooped and straightw^ay savir 
 Yourself in the dark mirror of my heart 
 Enshrined among its shadow^s, all unfit 
 To wreathe your image. If some sudden fla-w 
 Breathe on the glass, turn not away, nor start 
 To steal the trembling gladness out of it. 
 
LIFE'S MEASURE. 
 
 HE sky above is fathomless as Fate, 
 
 Cloudless as youth, and dark as hopeless age, 
 With stap-dust glimmering on its mystic page. 
 
 Half up the hills the lingering shadoAVs wait 
 
 >Arith skyward stretching arms. The sun is late. 
 But flings a parting show'r of red and gold. 
 The river's pulse is still, save where the fold 
 
 Of foamless water and the boat's prow mate. 
 
 Let the day die unheeded darkly do-wn 
 Into its dusky hill-bound sepulchre. 
 One word of yovLPS and morning is astir. 
 
 One touch of yours and a new world is sown. 
 And all the compass of a life is spanned 
 In the brief measure of your clasped hand. 
 
THE SHROUDED HEART. 
 
 CANNOT Avin her, for our ways divide, 
 
 And we are far apart -who once were near. 
 Through niisty eyes I saw her go ; hers clear. 
 
 Untroubled as a sumnner sky, denied 
 
 A mirror for my thoughts ; the >vaterside 
 
 On cloudy days outstretches deep and blank. 
 And doubles not the fern upon its bank. 
 
 So calm her face ; and the drear world so w^ide. 
 
 Let be ; hid somewhere in the dreaming cloud 
 
 That w^reathes Love's altar, though but smouldering 
 Ai-nid the chilly ash, some embers burn 
 Whose touch can wake her dead heart from its shroud, 
 And, like the turning of the magic ring. 
 
 Back to my side her wandering footsteps turn 
 
THE DAY'S WRAITH. 
 
 NTO the shadow of the mountain's crest 
 
 The daylight flutters like a wounded bird : 
 The larches stretch their prayerful arms unstirred, 
 The water-lily sleeps upon the breast 
 That suckles it. Day's brawling voices rest. 
 I hear your heart beat softly where I lie, 
 The thought that makes us one. These throbs that die 
 With golden legacies leave us nfiore blest. 
 
 The ghost of this sweet hour glimmering pale 
 Between the braided brax^iches beckons me 
 To follow its dim flight to shadow-land ; 
 I may not now^, but mem'ry shall not fail 
 Hereafter -when the beaming face I see 
 
 And run to clasp again its welcoming hand. 
 
NOONTIDE SHADOW. 
 
 HE dusty road outstretches bare and white 
 Down to the shore ; the palpitating air 
 V/ith fevered pulse is quivering in the glare, 
 
 And August's fiery kiln is all alight. 
 
 Through the hot air unloosed m random flight 
 A hundred winged arro-ws swiftly slant, 
 Languish the breathless trees; the grasses pant 
 
 Like travellers in dusty vesture dight. 
 
 This is enough ; hid from the heat and flare 
 That burns along the road, let me abide 
 Here in the quiet shadows of our love. 
 In speeehful silence let me w^atch the glare 
 Sift through thy rosy finger-tips that hide 
 
 My eyes from all save thine that bend above. 
 
LIFE'S GUERDON. 
 
 O him who knows the -weariness of strife, 
 
 The hundred disappointments, small and great, 
 That mould each day and night into a life 
 
 Of fiercest struggle, though it seem a fete, — 
 To him who faces fearlessly defeat 
 
 Of cherished plans and hopes, Love bears a balm 
 And waits his coming home to greet 
 
 ^ATith consolation of divinest calm. 
 
 Fate binds Life's irksome hauberk on at day, 
 And flings the fickle dice that turn the fray ; 
 Love — gentle lady— waits at eventide 
 
 To loose the clasp of battered helm and g reave. 
 To sweeten conquest, or defeat relieve, 
 And bid her Knight share honor at her side. 
 
THE ALPINE GLOW. 
 
 (3 
 
 FEW brief moments coiiae ere day has fled, 
 The purple shadows in the valleys grow 
 Deeper and duskier, and on the snow- 
 That crowns the soaring peaks day's lingering tread 
 Is bound a-while in naanaeles of red. 
 
 In vain the sun doth as a guerdon throw 
 
 To coming night the ruddy Alpine 9I0W ; 
 
 One flickering flush and the spent day is dead. 
 
 Sometimes the dearest faces that Ave know. 
 Fading from sight forever, leave behind 
 
 A golden radiance, like the Alpine glow 
 That fills w^ith mem'ries bright the darkened mind, 
 Till the eternal twilight of time nears 
 And shrouds all mem'ries 'neath the veil of years. 
 
THE UNTRELLISED VINE. 
 
 VER the casement droops a tender vine, 
 
 Rudely untrellised from the storm-Avorn wall, 
 And helplessly its slender fingers fall, 
 
 Reaching at random where the sunbeams twine 
 
 Their golden meshes, drawn in shining line 
 Across the floor. A languorous perfume 
 Floats in the still air of the silent room, 
 
 Sweet as the scent when myrrh and fire coinbine. 
 
 If on the unhe-wn wall of life there grow 
 
 Some fair, frail vine whose clinging fingers send 
 Their search between the crannied stones and lend 
 A blooming loveliness, a fragrance sweet. 
 Remorseless years have laid it at my feet 
 And wailed their mockery. 'Twag fated so. 
 
THE VACANT HOUSE. 
 
 HE has gone out and shut the echoing door 
 Behind her going ; dark and ■windOAA/'less 
 She leaves my little house ; the chance caress 
 
 Of a stray sunbeam falls along the floor 
 
 Where she Avas wont to stand, but stays no more. 
 
 The guests she summoned, each with some fair gift, 
 Are vanished with her ; only shadows drift 
 
 Disconsolate where fell a song before. 
 
 The subtle fragrance of spilled wine afloat, 
 Wedded to silence when the banqueters 
 Are gone, fantastic music's dying thrill 
 Sighing its lesson when the hands that smote 
 It into life are ceased, a mist that blurs 
 
 The present — only these life's chambers fill. 
 
HI 
 
VEILED WOODLANDS. 
 
 HE pines' sweet balsams on the crisp air float 
 Hither and yon. All silently the few 
 Gray clouds that linger yet in heaven's blue 
 
 Drift through the azure like the phantom boat 
 
 Of childhood's dreams. No more the swelling note 
 Of joyous song-birds fills dull Nature's ear; 
 Winter w^ith chilly fingers now is near, 
 
 To dress the forest in its sear brown coat. 
 
 Through mem'ry's woodlands Love's dim garments trail, 
 And from their silken folds faint perfumes sweet 
 As piney balsam or the spice of Crete 
 
 Steal o'er me. Ah! they cannot make 
 
 Love's shadows real, her voice awake, 
 
 When Time o'er life draw^s Winter's sombre veil. 
 
I 
 
THE FORGOTTEN. 
 
 E drifted back, to the familiar town. 
 
 Bent with the weight of days, -with snowy hair 
 
 Bleached by the storms of many a weary year, 
 
 Storm-tossed and sad, with tropic sunshine brown, 
 
 Came back to find the old place older gro-wn, 
 
 Strange children playing in the village street, 
 
 Only a stare from them he chanced to greet, 
 
 And cobwebs on the doors his youth had known. 
 
 Only the silent sleepers on the hill 
 
 Know the poor wand'rer turning from the deep ; 
 Over their graves the Summer breezes sigh 
 In mournful melody a welcome still. 
 
 For soon at best he'll sleep the dreamless sleep, 
 And side by side with childhood's mem'ries lie. 
 
LOVE AND LIFE 
 
 fi 
 
 OVE lingered on the earth's rennotest verge 
 And. imped his weary pinions to explore 
 The void expanse that chafes Time's yielding shore- 
 
 The pathless way whither all ways converge. 
 
 Against his face he felt the flying surge 
 
 Of darkness tangible. His weak wings tossed 
 Like the sea spray in the darkness lost, 
 
 And startled Silence woke to moan his dirge. 
 
 And Life despairing stood with outstretched hands 
 Watching Love's fading pinions fan the dusk 
 As one who Ihigers while the western skies 
 
 Bind up the day's last sheaves with golden bandw, 
 And wonders whether evening's withered husk 
 Into to-morrow's morning shall arise. 
 
-{.I! a' 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 018 603 057 6 f