Class —h'sl) 35 ^j 
 Book._.i54.]A/3 
 
 COEXRICHT DEPOSIT. 
 
The Walls 
 of Jrlamelin 
 
,-56^^ 
 
 
 Copyrighted and Published 1922 6y Princeton University Press 
 Printed by the Princeton University Press, Princeton, U.S.A. 
 
 HAY, ^6 73 
 
 DC1A704G74 
 
 "Vvo 
 
 I 
 
r 
 
 TO 
 BARBARA GARY KENNEDY 
 
 THIS LITTLE BOOK 
 
For permission to reprint certain of the poems in this vol- 
 ume the author thanks the editors of Scribner's Maga- 
 zine, American Magazine, Everybody's Magazine, 
 Ainslee's Magazine, and American Poetry Magazine. 
 
Contents 
 
 I 
 
 i have known beauty 3 
 
 o singing hour of love 5 
 
 love's memories 7 
 
 MOTHS 10 
 
 A HOMESPUN HEAVEN 11 
 
 ONCE CAME A FLAME 13 
 
 ON THE BREAKWATER 15 
 
 MEMORY 17 
 
 SWEETER, FAIRER THAN ALL THESE 18 
 
 O NEVER SPRING RETURNS 21 
 
 THE SHINING DARK 22 
 
 SPRING IN PROVINCETOWN 23 
 
 THE MARSH 1^ 
 
 BEACH SAND 26 
 
 RAGGED SAILORS 28 
 
 SOON COMETH MAY 29 
 
 A GRAY DAY 3I 
 IN THE MIST 
 LOVE WALKED WITH ME 
 
 33 
 
 34 
 
 AND THEN CAME SPRING 36 
 
 37 
 
 O WHERE DOTH BEAUTY DWELL 
 
 II 
 
 THE TURNING TIDE 4I 
 
 YOU WHO ONCE WALKED BESIDE ME 43 
 
 THERE IS A SECRET MUSIC 44 
 
 THE ENCHANTED WOOD 4^ 
 
 BESIDE THE HEARTH 46 
 
 IN A child's GARDEN 47 
 
 LOVE TOOK THE SWIFTNESS OF WIND 48 
 
 THE WISH I WISH TONIGHT 49 
 
 I HUNG THE WALLS WITH HOLLY BOUGHS 5I 
 
 THE ORACLE r2 
 
 DEPARTURE ^3 
 
 I SHALL RETURN 54 
 
ORCHARD TREES $^ 
 
 WHEN SPRING RAN LAUGHING DOWN THE HILL 57 
 
 THE END OF THE DAY 58 
 
 BROTHERS OF THE WIND 59 
 
 THEY THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA 61 
 
 DEATH IN THE REEDS 63 
 
 THE SHIP OF DREAMS 64 
 
 NIGHT JEWELS 65 
 
 THE QUEST 66 
 
 GHOST SHIPS 67 
 
 VANISHED SAILS 69 
 
 BEAUTY DOTH EVER TEASE 70 
 
 THE SHORES OF SLEEP 7I 
 
 III 
 
 AS I WENT DOWN TO PROVINCETOWN J $ 
 
 THE LONG ROAD 78 
 
 THE TRUANT 79 
 
 heart's DESIRE 80 
 
 who'll buy a rose 81 
 
 silver pennies 82 
 
 a preacher in the market 83 
 
 day after day 84 
 
 the gates of dawn 85 
 
 IV 
 
 THE TORCH-BEARERS 89 
 
 PRINCETON, 1917 91 
 
 TO H. C. B. 92 
 
 V 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CHARM 95 
 
 NURSERY SONGS FOR CHRISTMAS EVE 96 
 
 THREE SONGS FOR CHRISTMAS 98 
 
 A CHRISTMAS PRAYER 100 
 
 VI 
 
 THE WALLS OF HAMELIN IO3 
 

/ Have Known Beauty 
 
 O rain-sweet loveliness of the warm earth, 
 Returning with the May in green rebirth ! 
 Thou who art beauty in the flowering grass, 
 A singing in the summer winds that pass, 
 A bird-note wild beside the violet sea, 
 Or snow-drift blowing from the wild plum tree ! 
 Thou wise interpreter of noisy years. 
 Cherishing pain and glorifying tears. 
 Depart not from me — be my light to mark 
 The way unto the still, enfolding dark. 
 
 What silent magic lights thy dreaming grace 
 Filling the wind and every haunted place 
 With memories of love — O wild and sweet 
 The wind-blown grasses round thy rose-white feet ! 
 That bird-song — doth it rain from yonder tree 
 Or from remembered gardens by the sea 
 Long years ago ? The sorcery of the moon 
 Hath borrowed golden splendor from a noon 
 Long vanished, when the blue skies dreamed above 
 A wild earth singing round the feet of love. 
 
 O loveliness of the enchanting earth ! 
 Thou dream divine of beauty come to birth ! 
 Thou art our love of life, our hate of death, 
 Thou art our heritage — thou art the breath 
 Of all our being in the sunlit years 
 
That hasten unto night. O loveliness, 
 Be thou beside me with thy soft caress. 
 Bring to mine ears, till sound shall come no more, 
 The organ-swell of breakers on the shore, 
 The robin's song from some white orchard tree 
 Wind-tossed upon high cliffs beside the sea, 
 The cry of fishing sea-gulls, shrill and harsh. 
 Borne on the sea wind from the salt sea marsh. 
 
 Bring thou the fragrance of dark, mountain pines. 
 Of fern-rimmed pools, and skyward clambering vines 
 Bring thou the warm scent of wide meadow spaces. 
 The silence of old gardens, and still places 
 Amid the beech woods ; bring the memory 
 Of dreaming days beside the whispering sea 
 And dreaming nights when interlacing spars 
 Made shadowy patterns to enclose the stars. 
 Beauty that having been shall always be ! 
 Do thou enfold me with thy mystery 
 Through all the years — a witchery, a flame, 
 A melody, a sweetness beyond name. 
 
 O loveliness of the enchanting earth ! 
 O haunting splendor that doth stamp the worth 
 Of all our hope of life and dream of death, 
 Be with me — stir me — fill me with thy breath ! 
 Lift up mine eyes upon the flowering light 
 That takes a glory from the coming night. 
 So may I say, when the last hour is spent, 
 "I have known beauty" — and so sleep content. 
 
O Singing Hour of Love 
 
 O singing hour of love ! 
 O flower of dreams 
 Fairer than stars above 
 Clear running streams ! 
 
 Thou only hast the key 
 Of beauty's house, 
 Beset with melody 
 Under white boughs. 
 
 All hues of changing light 
 Are beauty's dower ; 
 Breath of the coming night, 
 And fading flower 
 
 Wherewith the wind is sweet . . . 
 All transient things 
 Running with frail feet 
 And fragile wings. 
 
 She weaveth nets of dew 
 For budding flowers ; 
 She crowneth earth with blue 
 And silver hours. 
 
 ■^5^ 
 
Knowing that death comes after, 
 And the dark, 
 
 She toucheth life with laughter ; 
 And the lark 
 
 Singeth alway her song : 
 That earth is dear 
 Because no hour is long, 
 And night is near ; 
 
 Singeth that love is sweet 
 Under the sun. 
 Because time runneth fleet 
 For love begun. 
 
 ^>64^ 
 
Loves Memories 
 
 Three seals upon my heart are set 
 With magic light that lingers yet , 
 Love's memories that shall not pass 
 While sun is warm upon the grass, 
 And moonlight sleeps upon the hill. 
 Though the gray years work their will 
 To dull the pain of beauty, Spring, 
 With budding rose and bluebird's wing, 
 Shall find me still remembering. 
 
 One first taught me of the sea 
 
 And all its faithless witchery ; 
 
 Taught me joy of ropes and spars, 
 
 Sailing under friendly stars. 
 
 On the wide, warm-scented beaches. 
 
 Where the nodding marsh-grass reaches 
 
 Beckoning arms to golden light, 
 
 We dreamed by day, we dreamed by night. 
 
 Beach pea, beach plum, bayberry. 
 
 Flowered in beauty ; the laughing sea 
 
 Slowly climbed the pebbled shore, 
 
 Tapping, tapping, at the door 
 
 Of the green, inviolate earth. 
 
 By the dreams that came to birth, 
 
 By the dreams that linger still. 
 
 Though the light pales on the hill, 
 
 ■^7^ 
 
Though the cliffs fail in the sea, 
 Thy seal is set on memory. 
 
 One called me once to walk with him 
 
 In a far land beyond the rim 
 
 Of barren days, where sunlight shone 
 
 More golden-warm than heart has known 
 
 Save on blue, Homeric seas, 
 
 Or gardens of Hesperides. 
 
 He laid a book before mine eyes. 
 
 And all the singers, all the wise. 
 
 Heart-broken dead became my friends. 
 
 In the black night when doom descends 
 
 He taught me law ; out of the dust 
 
 He showed me beauty's upward thrust 
 
 To life and light ; ah ! when no more 
 
 His hand shall be upon the door, 
 
 I shall not lose him — in each spark 
 
 Of beauty singing in the dark. 
 
 His voice shall come unto mine ear, 
 
 And I shall know him somehow near. 
 
 One came with tender, starry eyes 
 
 Under the blue, unclouded skies. 
 
 And all the green earth flamed with light, 
 
 And beauty singing in the night. 
 
 Life became a dream, a vision, 
 
 A haunting light on streams Elysian, 
 
 A fragrance of the wild grape crushed, 
 
A dew-flower in the dawn light hushed. 
 By earth transformed and magic skies 
 Her seal is set until life dies, 
 And longer, longer, if there be 
 Some echo of life's melody. 
 
 Three seals upon my heart are set 
 With magic light that lingers yet ; 
 And the last sun-warmed, fragrant Spring 
 Shall find me still remembering. 
 
 •^9^ 
 
Moths 
 
 I would not climb the lighthouse stair 
 In the dim night, 
 
 Because of little ghosts that flutter there 
 About the light ; 
 
 Pale, fragile, broken wings that beat 
 Against the glass. 
 
 Light as the fingers of the west wind sweet 
 Upon the grass. 
 
 O pale moths, in this dav/n of Spring, 
 Hath one frail spark 
 Of wonder drawn you broken, fluttering. 
 Into the dark? 
 
 O still and beautiful, brave death ! 
 O swift, sweet pain ! 
 
 To be made fey with beauty until breath 
 Is softly slain ! 
 
 -^ 10-^ 
 
A Homespun Heaven 
 
 Some day when I have reached the end 
 Of all the strength I have to spend, 
 When shadows lengthen from the west 
 And time has come to stop and rest, 
 If heaven be a place apart 
 Where peace is sealed upon the heart, 
 I think I'll try my hand alone 
 And build a heaven of my own. 
 
 golden streets are fine, no doubt, 
 And golden rivers flowing out 
 
 By pearly gates ; such dreams evoke 
 A joy, perhaps, for inland folk. 
 
 1 want a sweep of sand and sea ! 
 Beyond a wind-blown apple tree 
 Tossing in the salty gale 
 
 I want the sea-line and a sail ! 
 
 I'll build my heaven where great winds come. 
 Where bayberry and wild beach plum 
 Spill their fragrance on the wind. 
 Under gnarled, twisted apple boughs 
 I'll find a spot to build love's house, 
 
 ^11^ 
 
With white-washed walls and hanging eaves, 
 With moss-grown roof to match the leaves . . 
 Still place of peace to heal the mind . . . 
 Where windows open to the breeze 
 And the sleepy drone of bees. 
 
 I'll have a glass to scan the sky, 
 To watch the plunging ships go by 
 When comes the menacing, dull roar 
 Of racing breakers on the shore. 
 Upon my walls I'll have a row 
 Of ten, wise, magic books I know. 
 To bring all ages and all lands 
 Within the stretching of my hands. 
 
 I'll have a garden filled with phlox, 
 
 Delicate, pale hollyhocks, 
 
 Lavender and five o'clocks ; 
 
 Each old-fashioned flower that grows. 
 
 Berry bushes set in rows, 
 
 And every lilac bloom that blows. 
 
 O little heaven of heart's delight ! 
 Here would I meet the enfolding night. 
 Wishing for no eternal bliss 
 More than such homespun heaven as this! 
 
 ^>12-^ 
 
Once Came a Flame 
 
 My heart is saddened with dream, 
 And mine eyes with the beauty of May, 
 When the dawns under white boughs gleam. 
 And the dusk empurples the bay. 
 
 The marsh-grass breaks into flame 
 At the passionate feet of Spring ; 
 Only the heart is tame 
 With long remembering. 
 
 Once came a flame and a splendor 
 With silver swiftness of light, 
 More than the moon can render, 
 More than the stars by night. 
 
 Once was the vision given 
 More transforming than death, 
 And the ancient heavens were riven, 
 And new stars shone — for a breath — 
 
 But the sunlight pales on the earth. 
 And a shadow sleeps on the sea ; 
 The frail hours come to birth 
 Untouched of minstrelsy. 
 
 ^13^ 
 
Love past can not rise with a dream, 
 
 Nor youth be reborn with the May. 
 
 Can a thought rekindle the first star's gleam, 
 
 Or the rose-dawn of day *? 
 
 -^14-^ 
 
On the Breakwater 
 
 Here the long road hath ending; here at last 
 
 The white dunes cease, and the gray rocks are massed 
 
 Against the tearing fingers of the sea. 
 
 Southward the moors are sweet with bayberry 
 
 And all the shining stretches of the bay 
 
 Glow with gold fire, or darken with the gray 
 
 Of gliding shadows quenching the bright flame 
 
 In tall marsh-grass that whispereth thy name. 
 
 All loveliness hath ending — O my dear, 
 
 It f alleth in a day or in a year ; 
 
 After the sunrise cometh noon — and night, 
 
 And darkness runneth on the heels of light. 
 
 This is of love the bitter, tragic doom — 
 
 To cease to be — ^to vanish from the room 
 
 That once was bright with laughter and with Spring. 
 
 New life shall be — new love have blossoming 
 
 Under the pale, rose skies of breaking day. 
 
 Under the scented branches of the May ; 
 
 But never twice the miracle of dawn, 
 
 Or love's feet flashing on the dewy lawn. 
 
 Ah, my beloved, let me feel thee near. 
 
 Seaward the channel lights are burning clear. 
 
 And silver starlight kindles in the dark. 
 
 Time hath not slain the wonder of the lark 
 
 That sang love's dawn, nor dimmed the sunny ways 
 
Bright happiness hath overflowed our days. 
 The plunging organ-surges of the sea 
 Throb with a fuller, deeper melody ; 
 And all the glowing spaces of the hill 
 In Autumn's burnished hues are lovely still. 
 
 Though loveliness hath ending in a sleep, 
 The soul of all things fair doth vigil keep 
 Within the heart, where the slow, kindly years 
 Are garnered up beyond the touch of tears. 
 
 Once from the cup of Spring Love poured to me 
 The wine of all time past, all time to be. 
 
 ■^16^ 
 
 J 
 
Memory 
 
 I swore that all the beauty of thine eyes 
 Should be a dream forgotten ; nevermore 
 Thy presence near, thy hand upon the door 
 To shake me with remem.bered agonies. 
 
 And so I dreamed that all old things were slain . . 
 Then some still night of stars, a breath of Spring, 
 A fallen rose leaf, bluebirds on the wing . . . 
 And all the dead past kindles into pain. 
 
 4 17 -i^ 
 
Sweeter, Fairer tharz all These 
 
 When the long sweep of drifted snow 
 
 On fields where now the grasses glow 
 
 With golden fire shall write the token 
 
 That summer's scented wand is broken ; 
 
 When on the hearth the ashes pale, 
 
 And windows rattle in the gale 
 
 Of driving sleet; when doors are barred 
 
 Against the cold that freezes hard 
 
 On creaking trees, whose boughs forget 
 
 The Spring when April dews were wet ; 
 
 When the still shadows gather round. 
 
 And in the darkening room no sound, 
 
 Either to comfort or to mock. 
 
 Save the slow ticking of the clock ; 
 
 Then, of the memories that throng 
 
 Of happiness remembered long, 
 
 I wonder which would shine most bright 
 
 In the watches of the night. 
 
 When the silent hours at last 
 
 Recall the record of the past ! 
 
 45-18-5^ 
 
I think the sweetest sound would be 
 The fugitive, faint melody 
 Of beauty's song ; the fairest sight 
 The magic gleam of beauty's light ; 
 The memory of loveliness 
 That doth encompass earth and bless. 
 The dawn light on midsummer morn, 
 The wind's frail fingers in the corn ; 
 White houses seen through orchard trees. 
 And mimic villages of bees ; 
 The white surf like a silver band 
 To bind the blue sea to the land ; 
 Meadows gay with golden rod. 
 Ragged sailor, milkweed pod 
 Ripe with spun-silk, creamy down 
 To weave elf's cap, or fairy's gown. 
 
 Sound of quail in meadows calling; 
 Sound of hidden waters falling 
 From a tumbling mountain stream 
 To silent, secret pools where gleam 
 The deep, still shadows of the trout. 
 On green, cool wood roads winding out 
 Through forest aisles, the busy tap 
 Of woodpecker with fiery cap. 
 On some lightning-blasted tree 
 Engaging his shrewd husbandry. 
 
 •^19^ 
 
But sweeter, fairer than all these 
 Children's laughter on the breeze, 
 Eager voices, busy hands, 
 White feet flashing on the sands, 
 Gold hair burning in the sun, 
 Till the flying day be done. 
 Sweeter, fairer than all these 
 The thousand homespun memories 
 That sunny hours of friendship give 
 With men who make life great to live ; 
 All the natural, kindly ties 
 That bind men's hearts under the skies, 
 Making life higher than the stars. 
 And wider than all prison bars. 
 
 O loveliness, by love set free 
 From touch of pale mortality, 
 Be with us still where shadows throng 
 In some last strain of deathless song, 
 Some glory of remembered light. 
 To bring us beauty in the night. 
 
 20^- 
 
O Never Spring Returns 
 
 O never Spring returns 
 Beside the hill, 
 Or hawthorn blossom burns, 
 But there is still 
 
 Breath of a vanished May 
 On bud and flower. 
 Light of a vanished day 
 In every hour ; 
 
 When from the flowering dust 
 Love's songs were made. 
 And one swift, piercing thrust 
 Of beauty's blade 
 
 Opened the wound unhealing 
 Until death, 
 
 That aches with Spring's revealing, 
 And the breath 
 
 Of loveliness that passes 
 Frail and fleet, 
 Bending the summer grasses 
 With unseen feet. 
 
 7r2l -^ 
 
The Shining Dark 
 
 Hark I From his shadowy station on the hill 
 Waileth the unforgiving whip-poor-will, 
 Unto the stars appealing once again 
 With dazed reiteration of old pain ; 
 The still, soft-stealing night winds touch and stir 
 The slumbering branches of the scented fir. 
 And the high stars with silver fingers mark 
 The earth with beauty dreaming in the dark. 
 
 O Love ! this very starlight is a dream 
 
 Of fires extinct, and darkened orbs whence stream 
 
 Long memories of light ; all time is one. 
 
 And all that hath been is, under the sun ; 
 
 Nor light is cleft from dark, nor dark from light. 
 
 But both are beauty clothing day and night ; 
 
 And no man knoweth joy and grief apart, 
 
 But only love that kindleth in the heart. 
 
 End and beginning, hope and memory. 
 
 Pain that is song, grief that is melody. 
 
 Death that is life, and life that knows no name . . 
 
 All these shall still be one thing and the same ; 
 
 Yea ! in the night between the worlds a spark 
 
 Shall kindle beauty in the shining dark. 
 
 •^22-^ 
 
spring in Province town 
 
 Beauty hath made this land her own ; 
 On sand and sea, on lichened stone, 
 Her mark is set — a long caress 
 Of dreaming light, a loveliness 
 Of form and hue, a witchery 
 That haunts the margins of the sea- 
 Pale gold of dawn on crumbling slips 
 Where drowse the fettered, restless ships; 
 White glare of blazing, cloudless noons 
 On the hot stillness of the dunes ; 
 Upon the bar 'round bleaching hulls 
 A ceaseless crying of the gulls. 
 
 Child, child, so gay, so sure. 
 Trusting morning to endure ; 
 While the golden hours run 
 Finding love and beauty one ! 
 When love and loveliness are blended 
 What shall be when love is ended? 
 When the words of love are spoken, 
 When the ivor}^ walls are broken, 
 What remains? — My dear, my dear, 
 It will still be lovely here. 
 Still shall Autumn woods be gay, 
 And apple boughs grow white in May ; 
 Still shall crooked streets run down 
 To make a crooked, white-walled town ; 
 
Sea winds still shall bring the scents 
 
 Of far, remembered continents. 
 
 It will still be lovely here . . . 
 
 May you never know, my dear, 
 
 When youth and love have ceased to be, 
 
 Beauty's bitter mockery ! 
 
 •^24-^ 
 
The Marsh 
 
 In the dim gray marshes the white winds stir 
 Down tangled sedge-aisles, green and still ; 
 And the air is jewelled with flash and whir 
 Of wild wings waking and hearts athrill. 
 
 The slow tides turn with the turning hour, 
 An endless pulsing of changeless sea; 
 Billowing marsh waves foam in flower. 
 With reed notes mocking the waves that flee. 
 
 The sea winds murmur of dim tomorrows, 
 Joys of the brown earth, grief of the wave ; 
 Tongueless wailing of old sea-sorrows 
 In the gray marsh whispering finds a grave. 
 
 Shadows lengthen, and dusk returning 
 Snares in the marsh reeds blossoming 
 Far sea-dreams in the sunset burning, 
 Shadow-visions and starlight yearning. 
 Sleepy twitter and muffled wing. 
 
 ^25^ 
 
Beach Sand 
 
 Up the scented hill-slope Spring, 
 With feet of flame, comes hastening, 
 And from his topmost, leafy spray 
 I heard the cardinal today, 
 
 Apple boughs are blowing white 
 
 And hawthorn scents the moonlit night; 
 
 All the green wood on the hill 
 
 Beauty fashions to her will . . . 
 
 But my heart will not be still. 
 
 Singing of the white beach sand 
 
 At the far edge of the land 
 
 Where the wind blows sharp and salt. 
 
 And Spring's white, fragrant armies halt. 
 
 At the fish-shed pilings rapping 
 
 All day long the waves are slapping; 
 
 All day long the gulls are crying 
 
 Where the fishing boats are lying 
 
 Drifting with the lazy swell 
 
 That swings the deep-voiced channel bell. 
 
 Hawthorn buds are fair at noon 
 And apple boughs against the moon ; 
 Dogwood, violets, and clover, 
 These are charms to charm a rover ; 
 Thrush and robin pour again 
 
 •>?-26^ 
 
Silver notes like silver rain ; 
 All the green wood on the hill 
 Beauty fashions to her will . . . 
 But my heart will not be still. 
 
 Where the marsh-grass meets the sea, 
 That is where my heart would be ; 
 Where the tall, white ships go by 
 Underneath an azure sky. 
 
 4? 27 4?- 
 
Ragged Sailors 
 
 Around the lighthouse, white and tall, 
 Bright blue against the rain-washed wall 
 Grow clumps of ragged sailors massed 
 Like weary hearts that here at last 
 Have found a peace, where flaming sun 
 With shining, golden feet doth run 
 Upon the sea, and climbing moon 
 Nightly silvers hill and dune. 
 
 O laughing bloom ! if it may be 
 That death doth mould life secretly 
 Unto new life — a flower, a flame, 
 A dream of life without a name . . . 
 Were it not peace for sea-spent men. 
 Wave-tossed, wind-driven, to know again 
 The light in quiet, sunny places 
 Untroubled by the windy spaces 
 Of running sea, and flying foam ; 
 Firm-rooted in the still, dark loam 
 Were it not peace to know at night 
 The steady shining of the light, 
 To feel beside the lighthouse wall 
 No fear of any wind at all ? 
 
 •^28^ 
 
Soon Cometh May 
 
 Soon Cometh May, 
 And soon — O soon — 
 Wild plum blossoms 
 Under the moon. 
 
 Far — O far— 
 
 In the blossoming night 
 
 Faint minstrelsy 
 
 Of all delight, 
 
 Touching the heart 
 With flame, with song, 
 When hours are fleet, 
 And dreams are long. 
 
 Beauty returneth 
 Upon the earth, 
 A flaming, rain-sweet, 
 Rose-white birth. 
 
 Beauty returneth 
 Veiled in light, 
 A silver flame 
 In the silver night. 
 
 429^ 
 
Beauty returneth, 
 Runneth fleet ; 
 Her sandals fail not 
 From her feet. 
 
 Soon Cometh May, 
 And soon — O soon — 
 Wild plum blossoms 
 Under the moon. 
 
 •^30-iJ- 
 
A Gray Day 
 
 Easterly winds and driving rain 
 Are blurring every window pane 
 With crystal dots, and silver threads 
 That slip and slide across the glass 
 Like silver serpents in the grass. 
 
 Under gray skies in wind-whipped beds 
 
 The tiger-lilies, tall and frail, 
 
 Turn their backs upon a gale 
 
 Of scudding cloud, and racing sea. 
 
 And wind that runneth restlessly. 
 
 Ah ! love, hath all the former day 
 Of golden glory passed away? 
 Of Spring across the meadows calling. 
 Of moonlight on the orchards falling. 
 Of rose-white blossoms on the bough ? 
 
 Though the gray rain is blowing now 
 Upon the hill, and great gusts sweep 
 The fields where meadow grass grew deep. 
 Though the wind waileth ceaselessly. 
 That which hath been still shall be ; 
 All that hath lived liveth ever ; 
 All that hath loved dieth never, 
 If once youth flamed with magic light, 
 If once the green boughs burned to white ! 
 
O light that f adeth not again ! 
 O white boughs shining through the rain ! 
 O beautiful the blossoms round our feet, 
 Where love was young, and beauty once 
 was sweet ! 
 
 4->32^ 
 
In the Mist 
 
 Mist and the voice of a bell, 
 
 As the slow tides flow ; 
 
 And the shadowy, blundering, fog-bound 
 
 ships of the sea 
 Grope to and fro. 
 
 Faint hum of sailors, and laughter. 
 
 Tiny port-holes a-light ; 
 
 Then — fog-strangled churning of engines, 
 
 hoarse growl of a horn, 
 Recede in the night. 
 
 In dream-light of visions returning 
 
 Years storm-darkened gleam ; 
 
 And sudden winds singing one word — one 
 
 word I would say 
 Ere you vanish in dream. 
 
 One golden-winged, jewel-wrought word ! 
 Would life's gates spring apart? . . . 
 Only the mist and the slow-swinging, 
 
 bronze-throated bell . . . 
 Dumb lips, dead heart. 
 
 •*33<4- 
 
Love Walked with Me 
 
 Many an hour of many a day 
 I walked alone a winding way 
 Through fields of clover, up the hill, 
 Where pines croon low, and waters spill 
 From rock to rock, from pool to pool 
 Moss-edged with velvet crisp and cool. 
 
 Many an hour, by many a way, 
 
 I watched the pageant of the day ; 
 
 Saw beauty veil in golden mist 
 
 The willow boughs that Spring had kissed ; 
 
 Heard beauty run in golden notes 
 
 That filled the air like dancing motes ; 
 
 Found beauty's footprint, found her trace, 
 
 But never met her in her grace. 
 
 Although the heart stood still to hear 
 
 The rustle of her presence near 
 
 Stealing from her worshippers. 
 
 Stirring as the tall grass stirs. 
 
 Or creeping through the scented clover 
 
 At hide-and-seek with those that love her. 
 
 •*34^ 
 
On a new hour of a new day 
 Love walked with me that leafy way, 
 And life found fragrance and heart's ease 
 Amid the quietness of trees. 
 Yea ! all the hours of all the day 
 Love touched the known, familiar way 
 With magic from the heart of May. . . 
 Then in each secret, shadowy place 
 Mine eyes saw beauty face to face. 
 
 «35 4«- 
 
And Then Came Spring 
 
 The wild rose blossoms on the hill, 
 The red rose by the door ; 
 The little wren hath built again 
 Just as before. 
 
 There's bloom upon the apple boughs, 
 And flash of bluebird's wing . . . 
 But who shall come to sing the song 
 You used to sing *? 
 
 •5^36* 
 
O Where Doth Beauty Dwell 
 
 O where doth beauty dwell, 
 Ye who pursue her ? 
 What hour doth strike her knell, 
 All ye that rue her ? 
 
 Who knoweth loveliness 
 In common things, 
 All homely joys that bless, 
 Needeth no wings 
 
 To climb the steep, blue sky, 
 Or search the earth ; 
 In every kindly tie, 
 And natural birth. 
 
 Is beauty lodged. O sweet 
 The sun and rain ; 
 Toil and black bread and meat. 
 And toil again ; 
 
 Roof-tree and bright hearth-stone. 
 Clear, running spring ; 
 Harvest of seed sown 
 And blossoming ; 
 
 •^37^ 
 
slow words of simple truth, 
 Deeds of high end ; 
 The laughing faith of youth ; 
 Handclasp of friend ; 
 
 The warm soil's sunny mirth, 
 The moonlight's spell ; 
 In these hath beauty birth, 
 Doth beauty dwell. 
 
 O not on honey-dew 
 Is beauty fed ; 
 She doth her life renew 
 With wine and bread. 
 
 She stands where thou dost stand, 
 Is where thou art ; 
 Nearer than foot or hand. 
 Near as the heart. 
 
 •*5>38^ 
 

The Tur 722770 Tide 
 
 Slack water, and a night bereft of stars ; 
 A bitter wind blows in from out the dark, 
 And I go seaward with the turning tide. 
 
 The yellow lights that blink across the night, 
 The fragrance of salt marsh, the incessant whisper 
 Of waves upon the rocks — these things have been 
 Blood of my blood, bone of my bone since birth. 
 
 The dear loved faces that have filled my years. 
 The voices I would know across the world, 
 These will remain, and one by one be numbered 
 With those that vanish from the kindly shore. 
 
 New lands, new faces, yea ! it may be — peace ; 
 But never again the old familiar greeting, 
 The homely v/ord, the honest smile that lights 
 The worn and furrowed face with holiness. 
 
 Day after day sails vanish into silence. 
 And we who linger, wonder and are still. 
 
 Then in the night the call, insistent, low. 
 Offering the heart nor joy nor grief. 
 But keen-edged as a sword that shears away 
 The treasure of the dear remembered years. 
 
 •)?-4M-^ 
 
The rhythmic slap of halyards on the mast 
 Sounds from the darkness, straining anchor chains 
 Speak of the currents setting to the sea, 
 And I go seaward with the turning tide. 
 
 Before — the unknown silent years. Behind . • . 
 Inviolable and crowned with morning light. 
 The secret, dreaming fairylands of Dawn. 
 
 •7^42-^ 
 
You Who Once Walked he side Me 
 
 Where have you strayed, my son ? To what far dwelling, 
 You who once walked beside me — arm in my arm? 
 You from whose boyish heart laughter was ever welling. 
 Where have you found a haven — beyond all harm? 
 
 Where are the magic roads we tramped together. 
 Sunlit valley and hill, and the white ways of the plain ? 
 Where are the dreams we dreamed in the rain-sweet April 
 
 weather ? 
 All these are gone — returning never again. 
 
 Never again the voice of your eager calling ; 
 
 Never again the touch of your hand on my arm ! 
 
 And I face the empty years knowing Time's slow sands 
 
 falling 
 Hold now for you — for me — no more of harm. 
 
 •^43^ 
 
There is a Secret Music 
 
 There is a secret music haunts the hours 
 
 Within my garden wall, 
 
 Where many a bird long vanished from her bowers, 
 
 Repeats her olden call. 
 
 And round the wind-blown nests of vanished Springs, 
 
 Empty of joy or strife, 
 
 Still haunts a glory of soft, brooding wings. 
 
 Still clings a dream of life. 
 
 The grassy walks are gay with petals flying 
 From laughing winds at play ; 
 And yet I know not if they've long been lying, 
 Or if they fell today. 
 
 For Time has lost his witchery and wonder ; 
 Yea I while my garden grows 
 Shall never more resolve the years asunder . . . 
 Enchanted by a rose. 
 
 ^HA^ 
 
The Enchanted Wood 
 
 Out of the dark I have heard you calling. 
 
 Spirit of wind and light ! 
 
 Out of the dusk and the white dew falling 
 
 Heard you singing of joy divine. 
 
 And my heart has thrilled in the silent night, 
 
 And my feet have sought you, Heart of Mine, 
 
 In the silver dusk and the white dew falling. 
 
 Shimmer of moonlight, glimmer of pearl, 
 Mist on the air like a filmy lace ; 
 Eddying wood-wraiths dance and swirl 
 Where dreams are born in the forest cool. 
 O Heart of Mine, I have seen your face 
 In the silver dusk by the shadowy pool. 
 Where eddying wood-wraiths dance and swirl. 
 
 Out of the wood when shades are falling. 
 
 And flickering elf-lights gleam ; 
 
 Out of the dusk I hear you calling, 
 
 A fugitive presence, a haunting song ! 
 
 O, ever elusive, luring dream ! 
 
 The heart is lonely and time is long. 
 
 In the silver dusk and the white dew falling. 
 
 ^AS^ 
 
Beside the Hearth 
 
 From fairyland she came to me, 
 And dwelt — a blessed while; 
 Lo ! All the shadows of the room 
 Were lightened by her smile. 
 
 She took my hand as one who said, 
 "If thou can'st not be free, 
 I know no other freedom save 
 To dwell here, love, with thee." 
 
 She swept the room — upon the hearth 
 She lit an altar flame ; 
 And peace abides within the house 
 At the naming of her name. 
 
 Yet sometimes in the stillness here 
 1 know she hears again 
 The laughter of the elves that dance 
 Between the drops of rain. 
 
 And while she lays her hand in mine, 
 Turning her eyes to me, 
 I know she dreams of fairy ships 
 That sail a fairy sea. 
 
 •5?-46^ 
 
In a Child' s Garden 
 
 I could be happy in remembering 
 Her laughing eyes, her dancing feet, 
 Her voice that sings in every wind of Spring 
 A music elfin-sweet. 
 
 I could be happy but to see in dream 
 Her flower-face, her flying hair, 
 To know again the vision-worlds that gleam 
 In soft enchantment there. 
 
 ^47^ 
 
Love Took the Swiftness of Wind 
 
 Love took the swiftness of wind. 
 And fragrance of wood flowers, 
 
 Laughter of silver stars, 
 Silence of summer hours, 
 
 Whiteness of new-fallen snow. 
 Sweetness of April rain. 
 
 And fashioned them to a child 
 Slender as waving grain . . . 
 
 Who that knew her laughter, 
 And her flying feet. 
 
 Would think of blowing wind as swift 
 Or April rain as sweet *? 
 
 •^48<-4- 
 
The Wish I Wish Tonight 
 
 Starlight, star bright, 
 Fairest star I've seen tonight, 
 For little hearts you light to bed, 
 Lagging foot and nodding head, 
 For sleepy eyes that smile to see 
 Your taper shine so cheerily. 
 Starlight, star bright, 
 This is the wish I wish tonight : 
 
 Beauty to shine on seeing eyes ! 
 
 Beauty to mould the heart ! — O wise 
 
 Who follow beauty far and far 
 
 By glowing sun and shining star. 
 
 Beyond all that the heart has known 
 
 Here where our lives are thrown ; 
 
 Or whether on familiar land 
 
 Where year by year salt winds have blown 
 
 The wild plum blossoms on the sand, 
 
 In grass-grown paths and simple ways 
 
 Come golden days. 
 
 Far or near, come weal or woe, 
 
 Summer sun and vv^inter snow. 
 
 Out of the mire, out of the dust. 
 
 Beauty's climbing tendrils thrust 
 
 Upward to eternal light, 
 
 A dream, a sorcery, by night, 
 
 •^49<-<- 
 
A glory in the flowering grass, 
 
 A singing in the wind that shall not pass, 
 
 Until the heart is still 
 
 Under the wind-blown grasses on the hill. 
 
 That love may be as sandals to swift feet, 
 For surely love is venturesome and fleet ; 
 Love is a flame, love is a light, 
 Love is a singing in the night ; 
 Love is a vision and a dream, 
 Love only is, where all things seem. 
 
 Starlight, star bright, 
 
 Ray of blue, and ray of white. 
 
 This is the wish I wish tonight. 
 
 4p^ 
 
/ Hung the Walls with Holly Boughs 
 
 I lit the laughing candle lights 
 Upon your Christmas tree ; 
 I hung the walls with holly boughs 
 In joy of thee. 
 
 Now only in a lonely heart 
 
 Your Christmas candles glow ; 
 
 And the holly boughs lie spread— lie spread — 
 
 Under the snow. 
 
 •^s\^- 
 
The Oracle 
 
 O heart ! Is not my palace fair 
 As eye may know ? 
 
 Nay! Children's blocks have built as rare 
 Long years ago. 
 
 O heart ! Have not my battles sought 
 Life's golden store ? 
 
 Nay! Leaden soldiers oft have fought 
 A nobler war. 
 
 O heart ! Are not my days well sped ? 
 No hour brings tears. 
 
 Dost thou not know that thou art dead 
 These many years ^ 
 
 ^52^ 
 
Departure 
 
 I knew it would be bitter at the end 
 
 To say farewell ; 
 
 To take the gray road winding, pass the bend, 
 
 So passing from the fields I loved so well. 
 
 I knew it would be hard to turn the key 
 Upon the past ; 
 
 The plan of life we wrought so patiently, 
 The secret things we cherished to the last. 
 
 And yet I knew not how that earth had grown 
 Of me a part ; 
 
 How with its living seeds my life was sown, 
 And all its roses rooted in my heart. 
 
 I did not know the years had treasured up 
 A robin's song ; 
 
 I did not dream one sip from one rose-cup 
 Had worked enchantment for a whole life long. 
 
 ■^sz^ 
 
I Shall Return 
 
 I shall return 
 
 At evening with the falling of the dew, 
 
 Through the gray dusk of some still night in May ; 
 
 Needing no words at last to say to you 
 
 The thousand things that once I could not say. 
 
 I shall return 
 
 With the night wind that stirs your quiet room, 
 Or some shy fragrance drifting up the glen 
 Like kisses blown from apple boughs in bloom ; 
 And you shall know how much I loved you — then. 
 
 ^s^^ 
 
Orchard Trees 
 
 Plucked harp or lute strings wake 
 No melodies 
 
 Sweet as the wind doth shake 
 From orchard trees ; 
 
 Fine nets of silver spun 
 Gleam not so fair 
 As silver buds upon 
 The evening air. 
 
 A dreamer, slow of speech, 
 And rough of hand. 
 Once scanned this pleasant reach 
 Of smiling land, 
 
 Choosing the sunlit hill. 
 Long years ago, 
 For flowering trees that fill 
 The orchard row. 
 
 He watched the young green turning 
 To creamy white ; 
 
 He loved the young boughs burning 
 With rosy light. 
 
 •^55^ 
 
He heard when winds awoke 
 Their symphony, 
 Faint song or surge that broke 
 Like breaking sea. 
 
 He saw when redbird's coat 
 Or bluebird's wing 
 Flamed like a colored note 
 From green lute string. 
 
 Stoop-shouldered, silent, slow, 
 Loving the sod. 
 Did he not say, "I know 
 Not even God 
 
 Could make a sweeter thing 
 Under the sun 
 
 Than white boughs May winds sln^ 
 Their songs upon ; 
 
 Could grant a fairer boon 
 Between the seas 
 Than silver from the moon 
 On orchard trees." 
 
 -^5^^ 
 
When Spring Ran Laughing Down 
 the Hill 
 
 when Spring ran laughing down the hill, 
 And sang in every hawthorn hedge, 
 I rose with all my heart a-thrill 
 And followed her by reed and sedge. 
 
 I heard her song ring sweet and clear 
 Through all the green world, far and wide . . . 
 Then came I where you once were dear, 
 And all Spring's music broke and died. 
 
 ^si^ 
 
The End of the Day 
 
 Sitting with folded hands, 
 
 With weary eyes and dim, 
 
 She sees the glow on the western sands, 
 
 The sun on the ocean's rim. 
 
 And her heart turns back to the nights 
 
 Of song and roses and love, 
 
 When life was sweet in the diamond-lights 
 
 Of myriad stars above. 
 
 She hears the wind in the trees. 
 
 The summer rain on the grass. 
 
 The prattle of children about her knees ; 
 
 Soft shadows come and pass 
 
 And cluster about her chair, 
 
 And fairy fingers blow 
 
 Kisses sweet as April air. 
 
 From lips of long ago. 
 
 Sorrow and pain are past, 
 
 Passion and longing are dead ; 
 
 Evening shadows are falling fast 
 
 About her drooping head. 
 
 Sitting with folded hands. 
 
 With weary eyes and dim, 
 
 She sees the glow on the western sands. 
 
 The sun on the ocean's rim. 
 
 ^s»-ifr 
 
Brothers of the Wind 
 
 Do ye not hear the voices of your kin. 
 Straying brothers of the wind and rain? 
 
 Ye dream of life with dumb, unshaken hearts, 
 And brooding eyes that watch the slow hearth-flames 
 Flaring in green and mauve and golden light . . . 
 Wind-harried driftwood melting in one gleam 
 Of blue, Homeric seas and jewelled sand. 
 
 Your lotus-bonded souls that sang at dawn, 
 Hearing the call of winds that range the world, 
 Forget old kinship with the wings that cleave. 
 The hearts that search the borderlands of life. 
 
 Behold ! The ancient vision and the dream. 
 Chant of the gray wave, voice of the dim, white rain. 
 And all the quickening gospels of the wind. 
 Grow alien to your altars and your creeds. 
 
 Coiners of sunlight ! Gatherers of dew ! 
 Pan pipes unheeded in the river reeds ; 
 The kindly prophecies of the green earth 
 Die in your hearts as empty oracles. 
 
 ^59^ 
 
O straying brothers of the wind and rain ! 
 Your lodge of old was roofed with friendly stars. 
 The wild air blossomed with your brushwood fires ; 
 Your sons were bred amid green silences. 
 
 Ye were the red earth's children, blood and bone ! 
 Dim memories of forest centuries 
 Unlocked the secret of the snapping twig, 
 Swift rustling leaves, splash in the dark pool, 
 And the unanswered yearning of the wind. 
 
 Horizon-breakers in the ancient dawn, 
 Cleaving the sea-line, piercing the yellow fog ! 
 Have ye forgot the hulls that foamed, the sails 
 That flamed across the gray waves of the world? 
 
 Are there no dreams of noon-day left to men ? 
 Strike off the bondage of your craven years. 
 Old, dying creeds shall perish from the earth, 
 And new horizons kindle with new light. 
 
 Do ye not hear the voices of your kin. 
 Straying brothers of the zvind and rain? 
 
 •^60^ 
 
They That Go Down to the Sea 
 
 There's a smell of rotting leaf-mold, and the winds of 
 
 Spring are blowing, 
 There's a voice that lures and whispers in the mad Spring 
 
 weather, 
 As the sunlight on blue water sets the gypsy blood 
 
 a-glowing, 
 And the sailor's heart runs seaward, snapping tie and 
 
 breaking tether. 
 And a thousand ships grow dim on the far sea-line. 
 
 They ferret out their cargoes on the other side the world, 
 Rose pearls and moonlit ivory and golden crocks. 
 Before the trade v/inds scudding, in tempest thunders 
 
 hurled 
 Around the world and back again to scum-washed docks. 
 
 They seek a hope no heart can name where long waves 
 
 whiten, 
 A dream the wind has moulded out of flying foam ; 
 From burning east to burning west the gray waves lighten, 
 And driving to the flying sea-line white sails roam. 
 
 ^61 ^ 
 
For the sea with flowing magic fills the hearts of men with 
 
 vision ; 
 They are hers in bone and sinew, and her love is in their 
 
 eyes; 
 Though she smite them with disaster, though she slay them 
 
 in derision, 
 They will hear her call and follow till the last breath dies. 
 
 They will hear her voice and seek her down the pathways 
 
 of the mist, 
 And nose their way around the world till swinging tides 
 
 shall cease ; 
 They shall gaze without misgiving on the lips her lips 
 
 have kissed 
 As they sink through swirling waters where green silence 
 
 offers peace. 
 
 When breaking ice goes seaward and the winds of Spring 
 
 are blowing, 
 When a thousand voices whisper in the mad Spring 
 
 weather, 
 When sunlight on blue water sets the gypsy blood 
 
 a-glowing, 
 Then the sailor's heart runs seaward, snapping tie and 
 
 breaking tether, 
 And a thousand ships grow dim on the far sea-line. 
 
 -^62^ 
 
Death in the Reeds 
 
 No more the sunlight quivers in my veins, 
 With sudden, piercing ecstacy of life ; 
 Night-shadows deepen in my withered leaves ; 
 Was it not yesterday that I was young ? 
 
 When Spring was kindling on the barren hills, 
 And naked marshland trembled into flame, 
 Blade upon blade I woke unto the sun, 
 And the long, fragrant kiss of the white wind. 
 
 Upon my face I caught the golden fire, 
 From leaf to leaf it thrilled upon my heart. 
 And all the brown earth melted into light ; 
 Was it not yesterday that I was young ? 
 
 The swaying reeds, marsh-brothers, marsh-beloved, 
 Bowed down their heads before me in the dawn ; 
 The Spring's green passion burned from stalk to stalk. 
 And life's wild magic throbbed within the root. 
 
 Around my feet the waters laughed and whispered, 
 Telling me secrets of the old, rough earth. 
 
 No more the heart flames upward to the sun ; 
 Night-shadows deepen in my withered leaves. 
 Surely I have but dreamed of life and light I 
 Or was it yesterday that I was young ? 
 
The Ship of Dreams 
 
 On the silver trail there's a sail tonight, 
 And a ship stands in from the far sea-line ; 
 A shape that never is seen by day, 
 In mist enshrouded and veiled in spray, 
 Bearing no store of mart or mine. 
 
 Out of the haven of heart's desire 
 Many a year she's overdue ; 
 Dreams forgotten and visions old, 
 Magic skies, and fairy gold . . . 
 These are the wares she brings to you. 
 
 Spoil of the lands of long ago. 
 
 Treasure of years when the heart was young ; 
 
 Light of unlived splendid days, 
 
 Laurel crown, and whispered praise , . . 
 
 The blow unstruck and the song unsung. 
 
 You never shall hear her anchor chains. 
 Nor ever the sound of her flapping sail ; 
 Yet eyes that are weary and old and dim 
 Have seen her far on the ocean's rim 
 Sailing across the silver trail. 
 
 4} 64 ^ 
 
Night-Jewels 
 
 window by window, more and more, 
 
 Gleam the evening lights on the curving shore, 
 
 A chain of topaz blazing white 
 
 On the throbbing bosom of the night. 
 
 A glint of ruby, an emerald spark. 
 From a drifting ship in the velvet dark. 
 Rise and fall with the long wave's crest 
 As jewels stir on a woman's breast. 
 
 •5^65<-^ 
 
The Quest 
 
 The shadow sails grow far and dim, 
 The shadow squadrons melt away 
 Beyond the ocean's silver rim, 
 Beyond the gates of night and day. 
 
 Eyes of yearning that know the vision, 
 Hearts of hunger that seek the gleam, 
 Stirred by whispers of lands Elysian, 
 Over the sea-line follow a dream. 
 
 Their dreams are woven of sun and tears ; 
 Out of the dusk the South wind blows 
 Faint music of forgotten years, 
 The haunting fragrance of a rose. 
 
 •^66-^ 
 
Ghost Ships 
 
 Still are the winds, my love, that laughed at dawn 
 Upon a sea of dreaming amethyst ; 
 And through the velvet shadows of the dusk 
 Night flashes golden fire from star to star. 
 
 Beneath the sleeping headlands, far and dim, 
 Touched with the silence of the centuries. 
 The ghost ships of the world drift with the tide, 
 One by one out of the twilight stealing. 
 
 Fleet-oared triremes of Sidon, and Grecian galleys, 
 Dim-fabled argosies of silk and spice. 
 Swift Viking sails of half-forgotten years. 
 Gray and still they swing with the weary tides. 
 
 Love and war and the golden lure of the wind, 
 Yearning and dim, sweet visions of foreign faces, 
 Drew them into the mists that blow around 
 The utmost borders of the world, forever. 
 
 Song of the salt, mad wind and wine of the sea. 
 Cry of the gray wave calling out of the night. 
 Waken the ghosts of happy, vanished shores, 
 Waken the murmur of old, dreamlike voices. 
 
 467^ 
 
One sail that lingers in foi gotten lands, 
 One face that dreams not on the evening air 
 Yet in the broken music of the wind, 
 Blowing from out the gardens of the dawn 
 I hear your silver laughter, O my love I 
 
 -^68-(f 
 
Vanished Sails 
 
 Under the golden harvest moon 
 Silver sails on the sea, my love, 
 Creeping out on the wings of night, 
 Out to the dawn and the eastern light . . . 
 Silver sails on the sea, my love. 
 
 Under the pallid winter moon 
 
 No gleam of a roving sail, my love ; 
 
 The shores are bare, and the seas are bleak, 
 
 And wandering hearts are far to seek ; 
 
 No gleam of a vanished sail, my love. 
 
 •?>69^ 
 
Beauty Doth Ever Tease 
 
 Beauty doth ever tease 
 With swift surprises ; 
 From all who seek she flees 
 In strange disguises. 
 
 No heart may hold her fast, 
 Or hold her long; 
 She slippeth free at last 
 With mocking song. 
 
 Once in the breathless game 
 She turned her head : 
 "Dost thou not know my name 
 Is love?" she said. 
 
 I cried: "At last — -the truth!" 
 She slipped behind me : 
 "Suppose my name were youth, 
 How would you find me*?" 
 
 •^70^ 
 
The Shores of Sleep 
 
 At last our ways have found their utmost goal 
 On the gray shingle of the unbordered sea. 
 
 The shrill, insistent voices of the world 
 Are stilled behind us in a sudden hush, 
 And the harsh tumult of unhallowed years 
 Dies in the swaying silence of the deep. 
 
 In the far regions of the purple dusk 
 Forgotten visions stir, and, dimly known. 
 Peace dreams in the untroubled ocean depths. 
 Washed in the flowing silver of the stars. 
 
 So far, so faint, as of a mightier ocean 
 Beyond the shadows of the world, there beats 
 The ebb and flow of time and life and love 
 Down the dim reaches of Eternity. 
 
 Sleep after weary toil. Night folds about us 
 The velvet mantle of her endless tides ; 
 And the low voices of a holier dawn 
 Blow from the isles of slumber in the sea. 
 
 •5r7it^ 
 
^^(III)4^'< 
 
As I Went Down to Provincetown 
 
 As I went down to Provincetown, 
 Under the hill 
 Frost was in the marshes, 
 And the air was chill. 
 
 As I went down to Provincetown, 
 Before a crooked house 
 I saw an old man sitting 
 Still as a mouse. 
 
 Skin like russet apples, 
 
 And shaking hands ; 
 
 Eyes that searched for something 
 
 Beyond the sands. 
 
 Low eaves green with moss. 
 And a low, green door ; 
 But no voice within. 
 Or foot on the floor. 
 
 "A fine, warm place 
 To be sitting in the sun ! " 
 His eyes sought mine 
 At the word begun. 
 
 •55-75^ 
 
"Aye ! warm in the sun, 
 But the air is chill ; 
 The dark comes early . . ." 
 The house was still. 
 
 Said he : " It's quiet here 
 Day by day ; 
 Never been the same 
 Since the boys went away. 
 
 One made money, 
 And the like o' that ; 
 Hard for him to get away 
 From his own door mat. 
 
 One went to sea ; 
 Always was a rover, 
 Driving with the wind 
 The whole world over. 
 
 But one was close as bark to me, 
 Rain and snow ; 
 
 Twenty year since he was took . . 
 Twenty year ago . . ." 
 
 •>->76 45- 
 
Skin like russet apples, 
 
 And shaking hands ; 
 
 Eyes that searched for something 
 
 Beyond the sands. 
 
 "A fine, warm sun. 
 But the air is chill ; 
 The dark comes early . . . 
 And the nights are still." 
 
 ^77^ 
 
The Long Road 
 
 Brother, what if the road be long, 
 Out of the gray town, over the hill ! 
 A gay, good heart and a snatch of song. 
 And life laughs back as we trudge along. 
 What if the inns be good or bad ! 
 Turn your face to the wind, my lad ; 
 Take the long road with a will, 
 Out of the gray town, over the hill ! 
 
 Brother, what if the day be long ! 
 Journeys end, and the stars, and the sun. 
 There's a dusty highway ribboning free 
 Through a jewelled land to a gleaming sea ; 
 Drink a health to the hearts that roam ! 
 Fling the cup at the stay-at-home ! 
 Then take the road till the day be done. 
 Till journeys end, and the stars, and the sun. 
 
 •5^78*- 
 
The Truant 
 
 O he came back at five o'clock 
 Who should have come at four, 
 With slow hand on the turning lock, 
 And slow foot at the door. 
 
 Said he: "I've played the fool, I know." 
 Said he: "I've played the clown; 
 But O the apple boughs a-blow 
 Beyond the edge of town ! 
 
 And though I come at set of sun 
 Answering the old call, 
 Some day — some day I'll turn and run. 
 And never come back at all." 
 
 •^79<^ 
 
Hearfs Desire 
 
 There is a land with sunlight on its rivers, 
 
 There is a realm with silver on the sea ; 
 
 In every scented, vagrant wind there quivers 
 
 The chanting of love's elfin melody; 
 
 And in her garden where her hopes are springing 
 
 From every bud in tender, green attire. 
 
 Her still, sweet voice is never weary, singing 
 
 Visions of heart's desire. 
 
 Musing amid green leaves she sits alone, 
 With eyes wherein eternity doth sleep ; 
 And all the fairy visions men have known, 
 All hopes they hold, all vigils that men keep. 
 She weaves with magic fingers silently. 
 Conjuring joy from out the depths of pain, 
 As after ebb the great tides of the sea 
 Set to the shore again. 
 
 For her the world is great, and wide, and free ; 
 Her footsteps touch the meadows into flame. 
 All love and beauty, death and mystery 
 Are hinted in the naming of her name. 
 Wind after wind may hunt her down the world, 
 Sword upon sword may harry her and mar . . . 
 At last her crimson banners are unfurled. 
 Beyond the last, dim star. 
 
 ■^8o-(f 
 
Who'll Buy a Rose 
 
 who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 
 Little red rose-cups to catch the dew. 
 One for a token, two for a smile, 
 Three if you'll love me a little while ! 
 Who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 
 
 Put away your pennies, your little silver pennies ; 
 
 In all the realm of Fairyland there's nothing they will buy. 
 
 I met a little fairy once, and tried to buy a silver star ; 
 
 I met a little fairy once, and tried to buy a star. 
 
 She laughed and said, "A bargain O ! 
 
 Wise little pigs to market go ;" 
 
 (Her voice was sad) "A bargain O — a penny for the sky ! " 
 
 Put away your pennies, your little silver pennies, 
 
 Can they swim like silver fish, or shine like silver stars'? 
 
 I've lost the way to Fairyland, but I've no rose to sell 
 
 to you ; 
 I've lost the way to Fairyland, — but I've no rose to sell. 
 (Her voice was sad — "A bargain O ! 
 Wise little pigs to market go.") 
 O, I've no red, red rose to sell to folk in golden cars. 
 
 Who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 
 Little red rose-cups to catch the dew. 
 One for a token, two for a smile. 
 Three if you'll love me a little while ! 
 Who'll buy a rose ? Who'll buy a rose ? 
 
 ^81 <<• 
 
Silver Pennies 
 
 The banker's son hath bags of gold, 
 And silver shillings to lend ; 
 He bartereth hours he may not hoard 
 For coins he cannot spend. 
 
 The banker's son hath a violin, 
 And a magic bow so fine. 
 That vveaveth songs for many a heart. 
 But never a song for mine. 
 
 For my heart knoweth a secret place 
 To dwell the whole year long. 
 Where each day bringeth a silver penny, 
 And each night bringeth a song. 
 
 •^82^ 
 
A Preacher in the Market 
 
 A preacher in the market ! 
 
 I stopped to hear, 
 
 And on the market fell 
 
 The chiming of a bell. 
 
 Then far and near 
 
 A voice like distant music on my ear. 
 
 He said, "All men are children, 
 
 In their play 
 
 Hoarding as precious things 
 
 Pebbles and colored strings, 
 
 The baubles gay. 
 
 That drop from tired hands at end of day." 
 
 He said, "All men are children 
 
 That laugh and weep, 
 
 Striving they know not why, 
 
 Striving till, day gone by. 
 
 Weary and flushed they creep 
 
 Into the arms that fold them into sleep." 
 
 So preached he in the market ! 
 
 Rose again 
 
 A din of market cries ; 
 
 Then in his kindly eyes 
 
 A smile — as when 
 
 One from the hills might look at market men. 
 
 483^ 
 
Day after Day 
 
 Day after day she came and went in silence, 
 About her round of tasks from dark to dark, 
 Through streets which filth and squalor and disease 
 And brawling voices made the courts of Hell. 
 
 Within her heart insistent yearnings clamored, 
 Beneath her eyelids smoldered dumb despair ; 
 Moulded of the divine — cast out to be 
 Chaff of the threshing-floor upon the wind. 
 
 Toil for the crown of slow, undying hours, 
 And blows for guerdon of her bitter years . . . 
 Of these she drew a strength of sacrifice 
 That hallowed life with mute nobility. 
 
 But sometimes in the darkness kisses rained 
 Upon her weary lips, and straining arms 
 Drew in her broken, frail, uncherished form- 
 Then strength grew dead within her — and she wept — ■ 
 Great tears of generations of despair. 
 
 •^•84^ 
 
The Gates of Dawn 
 
 Today, beside the dusty road, I dreamed 
 
 Of half-forgotten scenes and days of youth ; 
 
 Of paths that crossed the cool, fresh fields at dawn, 
 
 The glory and the splendor of the dew. 
 
 Green leaves against the sun — of days that knew 
 
 The witchery and wonder of the world. 
 
 Clean winds, white rain, and stars, and children's laughter. 
 
 Great argosies upon the summer brooks. 
 
 And traffic with the squirrels of the wood ; 
 
 The quick, sharp ring of skates on winter ice ; 
 
 Dear, dreaming faces by the brushwood fire. 
 
 And the slow, silent fall of midnight snow. 
 
 Somewhere the land of youth and love and laughter 
 Lies near — so near, the echoes of old songs 
 Beat in the stillness on a leaping heart. 
 And whisperings of long-remembered voices 
 Recall the dear, lost treasure of the years . . . 
 
 Then upon dreaming eyes the vision falls, 
 Through gates of silver, and with aching hearts 
 Men hear again the long roll of the sea, 
 Beholding the dim sails of great, tall ships 
 That roamed the world ; and those that lie a-fevered 
 With life's slow pain seem once again to feel 
 Themselves upborne on the long crested waves 
 Of shoreless seas ; viewing with unfamiliar eyes 
 
The old familiar things that hedge them in ; 
 Hearing the rain that drummed upon the decks 
 Of ships long wrecked and driven with the winds ; 
 Or starting up from slumber at the moan 
 Of gales that swept forgotten lands of youth. 
 
 And women whose hearts have drunk so deep of life 
 
 Even unto the lees, that all its beauty 
 
 Burns through the sadness that has made them gray, 
 
 And all its splendor sleeps within their eyes 
 
 Though old and dim — these feel on weary brows 
 
 The winds that blew upon the morning hills, 
 
 Whispering far prophecies of pain 
 
 Born of great joy, and joy beyond all pain ; 
 
 When they were brushed by sudden, unseen wings. 
 
 And all the ancient gray earth flamed in glory 
 
 Beneath a god's feet shining on the hills. 
 
 ^86^- 
 

The Torch-Bearers 
 
 Here where the sloping meadows run 
 In laughing bloom to meet the sun, 
 And dripping rain-sweet apple trees 
 Spill fragrance on the morning breeze ; 
 Here where the scented hours caress 
 All the green wood to loveliness, 
 I hear the bells of Princeton ring 
 The hours of another Spring. 
 
 Mid trees enlacing, green and high. 
 Three towers dream against the sky. 
 While round them swirl and laugh and beat 
 The tides of youth in Nassau Street. 
 From field and lake, from winding stair. 
 Laughing voices fill the air. 
 While golden hours softly chime 
 And magic stills the pulse of time. 
 
 O eager hearts that gaily there 
 Run to meet life, and find it fair, 
 Scornful that age so shrewdly sips 
 The cup they drain with thirsting lips ! 
 O hope that dwells in eager eyes 
 Untouched of wintry agonies, 
 Smiling to see age grown so slow 
 To stake life lightly at one throw ! 
 
 •^89^ 
 
O feet that pass the open door 
 
 To come no more — to come no more ! 
 
 Years flower and change and die away ; 
 Still comes new beauty with the May ; 
 Still flow the joyous tides of youth 
 Loving beauty, seeking truth, 
 Lifting the torch that age lays down. 
 
 O ivied walls ! O dreaming town ! 
 Who knows what secret blossoming 
 Shall be the glory of thy Spring ? 
 
 •^90-i^ 
 
Princeton^ igiy 
 
 He dropped his book ; he left his task ; 
 
 He cast his gown away, 
 
 Hearing a great cry in the wind : 
 
 "It is The Day— The Day ! " 
 
 Out of the river and under the hill, 
 
 His ship went down the bay. 
 
 God knows the rose grew tall and fair 
 In Flanders' fields, and Picardy ; 
 And bird-songs once filled all the air 
 From meadow grass, and swaying tree ; 
 God knows the children's dreams were sweet 
 As any dream could be. 
 
 He rose at the first bugle-note, 
 
 Putting his youth away. 
 
 With morning light upon his face 
 
 And a high heart and gay. 
 
 I think that God hath blessed the ground 
 
 Where he lies today. 
 
 ->^9i^ 
 
To H. C. B. 
 
 Of thee, whom honor drew 
 As moon the sea, 
 What words have we that knew 
 For elegy? 
 
 Lover of truth, thou art 
 Where all is true ; 
 The whole that of the part 
 Death doth renew. 
 
 Lover of beauty thou. 
 Beyond all art 
 Made one with beauty now, 
 And beauty's heart. 
 
 Lover of chivalry 
 
 And gentleness. 
 
 Gently death deal with thee. 
 
 And slow time bless. 
 
 ^92^ 
 
•^•^^f V )^>4-'^-i— 
 
A Christmas Charm 
 
 Heap on the logs this Christmas Day, 
 Fill all the house with light and cheer, 
 That friends may lift the latch, steal in 
 And linger here. 
 
 Heap on the logs this Christmas Day, 
 To warm us with a magic art. 
 That winter's chill may never freeze 
 Upon the heart. 
 
 Heap on the logs this Christmas Day ! 
 We'll conjure from their ruddy gleams 
 A secret charm to fill the year 
 With Christmas dreams ! 
 
 •^95-(^ 
 
Nursery Songs for Christmas Eve 
 I 
 
 It was a little candle, dear, 
 
 Beside your Christmas tree, 
 
 That danced, and laughed, and danced again, 
 
 And winked most roguishly. 
 
 But when the tree, unheeding, 
 Stood stiffly in his place. 
 The little candle bowed her head, 
 With tears upon her face. 
 
 II 
 
 Not all the gleaming holly. 
 And silver mistletoe. 
 Nor far, thin carols on the air, 
 Across the drifted snow, 
 
 Make up the tale of Christmas . . . 
 But deep within your eyes 
 To see the joy of Christmas shine 
 Like stars in Christmas skies. 
 
 ■^96^ 
 
Ill 
 
 Christmas comes but once a year, 
 So the wise folk say, my dear ; 
 
 But they quite forget to say 
 
 That Christmas always comes to stay. 
 
 Over the drifts of this year's snow 
 Ring Christmas bells of long ago ; 
 
 And by these candle-gleams we see — 
 How many a vanished Christmas tree ! 
 
 May Christmas joy and Christmas cheer 
 Abide within this house, my dear ! 
 
 So shall your heart still sing in May 
 The songs you sang on Christmas Day. 
 
 ■^97^ 
 
Three Songs for Christmas 
 I 
 
 We'll hang the walls with holly boughs, 
 And silver mistletoe ; 
 We'll light a Yule-flame on the hearth 
 And fill the room with candle-glow. 
 
 Yet Love could still keep Christmas Day, 
 
 Though all the house were bare . . . 
 One song of Yuletide on youx lips, 
 One spray of holly in your hair. 
 
 II 
 
 If I could dress a Christmas tree 
 With all the gifts you've given me — 
 
 The spell you weave in magic ways 
 Of quiet peace through all our days ; 
 
 The healing word, the shy caress, 
 The secret dream of happiness, — 
 
 I'd hang them on a Christmas tree 
 And give them back, my dear, to thee. 
 
 -^98^ 
 
Ill 
 
 who hath nor purse, nor golden coin, 
 Who holds no lands in fee. 
 He singeth gay on Christmas Day 
 In jolly beggary. 
 
 For who hath nought to give but love, 
 Gives all his heart away, 
 And giving all, hath all to give 
 Another Christmas Day. 
 
 ■^99-¥r 
 
A Christmas Prayer 
 
 God bless this house on Christmas Day, 
 And all who in it dwell ; 
 And send us work, and send us play, 
 And many a glad Noel. 
 
 God send us store on Christmas Day 
 Of friends, and health, and mirth ; 
 And bless us with that dream alway, 
 That blessed the world on Christmas Day : 
 "Good will, and peace on earth." 
 
 And think ye well on Christmas Day 
 That love is more than art, 
 And the words of love and cheer alway 
 Rhyme well within the heart. 
 
 So sing we all on Christmas Day 
 Old songs of Christmas cheer. 
 God grant us brave, true words to say; 
 Yea ! help us live some better way 
 In all the glad new year. 
 
 •^ 100^ 
 

The Walls of Hamelin 
 
 So under shining, summer skies 
 
 The Piper stood with musing eyes ; 
 
 The June wind blew through Hamelin town 
 
 Twitching his torn and tattered gown. 
 
 Their cunning mockery he heard 
 
 Unheeding . . . 
 
 Somewhere near, a bird 
 Sang of the sun and laughing dew, 
 Sang of the scented earth he knew 
 Beyond the town, beyond the moat. 
 Where laughter bubbled in the throat, 
 Where men were free, where life was warm, 
 Unsmitten of the icy storm 
 That numbs the heart. 
 
 The Piper stirred 
 As at some half-forgotten word ; 
 His fingers on his pipes of reed 
 Touched all the stops — and paused ; indeed 
 Like dreamers in the dawn of day 
 Half-waking at the scent of May. 
 
 He lifted up his eyes, and lo ! 
 Drab streets unlit b)^ any glow 
 Of sun, or silver of the stars ; 
 Drab houses locked with iron bars . . . 
 A place of faithless, scornful men 
 Sunk in their ledger-world again. 
 
who drove the gray rats from the mart, 
 But let them nest within the heart ; 
 Selling life with market cries 
 That rose like smoke to steely skies. 
 
 Then in the sudden stillness fell 
 A thin, sweet strain, a silver spell ; 
 And from the pipes of reed there flowed 
 Songs of the sea, the winding road, 
 The warm earth's scented, sunny mirth, 
 And love that had no market worth : 
 
 Love is the heart's desire 
 For the moon — for the star. 
 With frail wings that aspire 
 To all heavens that are. 
 
 No houses built with hands, 
 No walls of stone. 
 Rise in the laughing lands 
 Love calls her own. 
 
 Love goeth where love will 
 By land and sea. 
 Breaking all bonds until 
 The world is free . . . 
 
 And as the reed-notes drifted down 
 The cobble streets of Hamelin town 
 
 •^104^ 
 
Like sudden fragrance in a room 
 From rain-washed lilac boughs in bloom 
 The burghers stirred uneasily, 
 Fearful what thing might come to be 
 With such songs sung before the door 
 As never in Hamelin town before. 
 
 But in each barred and shuttered house 
 The children, still as any mouse, 
 Stood motionless to hear that strain 
 Drifting like sweet April rain 
 From some far land of singing skies 
 Whose blue still slumbered in their eyes, 
 Some fairyland of golden light 
 They half-remembered in the night. 
 
 Still sweet and sweeter flowed the song. 
 
 As clear, cool waters slip along 
 
 A fern-rimmed bank — more sweet, more sweet. 
 
 Till every winding, cobble street 
 
 Was filled with sound of little feet . . . 
 
 Before their eyes the river ran 
 
 With laughter never heard of man, 
 
 And meadow grass and orchard tree 
 
 Sang an ancient melody ; 
 
 The gray walls melted from their sight 
 
 And blue skies filled with morning light. 
 
Laughing, dancing in the sun, 
 Like echoes of the song begun. 
 Beyond the walls, beyond the town, 
 With streaming hair and flying gown. 
 Amid the stillness of the noon, 
 Under the golden sun of June, 
 They followed, followed, to the hill 
 The singing pipes that drew them still 
 
 Love is older than life, 
 A nd longer than breath ; 
 Love is bolder than strife. 
 And stronger than death. 
 
 Over the hills of dawn 
 And far away. 
 Soft on the dewy lawn 
 Her white feet stray. 
 
 Except ye seek as a child. 
 With a child's heart. 
 Loveliness defiled 
 Shall be your part. 
 
 Love goeth where love will 
 By land and sea. 
 Breaking all bonds until 
 The world is free. 
 
 ■v^ 106 -if 
 
Love is the heart's desire 
 For the moon — for the star. 
 With frail wings that aspire 
 To all heavens that are . . . 
 
 Faint and fainter flowed the strain ; 
 Fainter — and ceased — and grew again 
 Then died away to come no more, 
 As with the shutting of a door, 
 Save for a far, thin fairy quill 
 Blown in the grasses on the hill. 
 
 •^107 -if 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS