PS 3537 .P82 S6 1913 Copy 1 mm I lid Class Rnnk StZ^6 rmiiyiightN" / ^ l3 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. i SONGS OF SEVEN YEARS s BY SYDNEY ROWE cxxv^., ...^ .X BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 191S ri\3 l\r^ \'\ Copyright, 1913 Sherman, French & Company 'CJ.A854243 AN INTRODUCTION The heart has thoughts too sacred for the tongu( Or, if at all the profane oracle Have leave to babble them, they must be said In riddles, as the secrets of old fanes Once unto men thus darkly were disclosed In the flawed mirror of such speech as mine. The curious foot, irreverent, presses now Among the fallen sacred columns old Of those mute temples; now within my breast The alien presences may take their way But hear no fateful voice or, if at all They hear, oft guess not what the sound implies. The sad, deep whispers of mysterious lips Are borne upon me — if ye hear^ attend! i CONTENTS PAGE Storm 1 My Tryst 3 "Take Thou my Song" 4 An Apology for Sorrow 5 Wanderer's Song 6 The Walk 7 "Strong Heart That Fear'st to Die" . . 9 "When in Dim Ways That Hearken to Our Tread" 10 The Poets' Poet 11 The Builders 12 Loneliness 13 In Absence 14 The Queen 15 Marjorie 16 The Ramble 17 The Approach of Spring 19 Reminiscence 20 Tranquillity 21 "The Sunshine Doth not Blaze upon the Earth" 22 Remembrance 23 The Sea-Maiden 24 CONTENTS PAGE Youth's Reply 25 At the Window 26 The Spell Retained 28 On the Terrace 29 Inspiration 31 On Some Stray Verses 32 Fragment of a Narrative Poem .... 33 Supposed Thoughts in a Sickroom ... 35 Motherhood 37 The Island 38 To Anne 39 Our Maple 40 On a Picture 42 Tristram 43 A Summer Stroll 45 To 47 Flower Song 48 Lover's Song 49 Rondeau 50 To the Moon 51 The Evening Hour 53 To Tranquillity 54 The Chieftain 56 The Day of Rejoicing 59 Evensong 60 SONGS OF SEVEN YEARS STORM Storm breaks upon the mountains. Heaven and earth Answer each other's thunders, from the base Of wave-dashed cliffs even to the utter height Of visible heaven. Black-winged clouds dis- close Keen lightnings quivering in their breasts a moment ; Then all the shapes of Nature seem to share In the oblivion of death. The floods Of heaven are opened on the earth. Anew The mighty pall of darkness is rolled back. The lifted wave, the steep-walled mountain- range, The gray clouds shrinking from the middle glare, Are fixed in intense outline on the brain Long after sight has lost them. Suddenly Overhead the thunder's mighty cymbals clash With peal on peal of sound. In answer rings ! A wild bird's cry [1] O vast Confederacy Of air and fire, the once-upheaved earth And the still heaving ocean, chained calms And wind-lashed tempests with their myriad tongues, — Yea, and the silent stars, beyond their call, That keep the changeless courses of wide heaven, — The greatest wonder of the Universe Is Life, defying thee to reign alone ! [2] MY TRYST Nightly I keep my tryst with one fast holden A captive far away; When the deep west from green and red and golden Has faded mto gray I feel a sweet insistence in my being That draws me from the earth, Until, as dewdrops mingle in their fleeing From places of their birth, My calmer thoughts and those that fain would ever In distant channels stray Are drawn together in one happy river That runneth on alway Till — the great depth of calm our spirits hold- ing In a sweet rest supreme. The shadowy cloak of slumber round us fold- ing— I kiss the lips of Dream ! [3] 'TAKE THOU MY SONG" my song My song shall live with thee; Then in thy grave My song shall buried be. 'Tis fame enough That thou art kind to me! Rich, rich my song To live — to die — with thee! [4] AN APOLOGY FOR SORROW As the showers to wakening Earth In the April days, So our sorrow is to mirth Along life's ways. Chide us not, that we should weep When we might be gay; Mirth itself must sometimes sleep, Or waste itself away. [5] WANDERER'S SONG My heart has taken pilgrimage O'er many miles and many years ; But for my birthright's heritage My heart at last goes back with tears. O golden valleys ! golden hills ! So early loved, and lost so long! Again my sight with splendor fills; Again ye touch my lips to song! [6] THE WALK A WIND went swimming through the grain. Our feet were happy to be free. We laughed and talked and laughed again. The wind blew raindrops from the tree. We went into the wood-shadows. The wind did not care very much For dead old brush and stones and those. We left ; we were quite glad of such. The bold wind met us, like a man. One walked each side the tiny path. Below the brown, soft turf it ran. The wind a grey, last year's leaf hath. We wandered as the water does. The wind sang like a little flame. The wind said all our words for us Till by the shadowy brook we came. The wind went laughing from the brook. We followed after, by and by. I know not what way our feet took. The wind and we told earth goodby. [7] We came unto the lake, I think. It was all strung for the wind's lyre — I saw the strings and fingers wink. Our hearts were our own harp and choir. The wind had led us home again — We parted where the leaves were thinned. The sun saw us make promise when We'd next go walking with the wind. [8] "STRONG HEART THAT FEAR'ST TO DIE" Steong heart, that fear'st to die, Pass not this blossom by, Pure as the morning sky, Frail as a tear. This flower knoweth death, Rendereth up its breath, Fadeth, and vanisheth. And hath no fear. [9] "WHEN IN DIM WAYS THAT HEARKEN TO OUR TREAD" When, in dim ways that hearken to our tread, Fearful, we see we know not what thing take Shape from our fears, if we can then awake Our senses from the drugged drowse of dread. And, with eyes forward strained and fixed head. Make loath acquaintance with the phantom drear. Relief comes sudden as a hard-shed tear On seeing that from which we w^ould have fled. Yea, spirits oft, more deep in tenderness Than sighing wind as one to sleep departs, Take, in life's doubtful night, funereal dress And eyes that watch unseen and chilling breath Of horror; yet if we bravely play our parts We find them harmless — even the one called Death ! [10] THE POETS' POET Soothed with thj songs, I almost take af- fright Whene'er a dazzled critic, vexed, half raves At these — the toyings of thy spirit light — Thy whirlwind coursers, thy enchanted caves. Alas, he and his kin ne'er fully yet Found out all splendid mysteries of the night : Though earth's proud heirs search all that steep is set, Some orbs there be that are beyond their sight. Well may these hail on high the rosy sign Of one who held his thistle to their hearts! That for their comfort: but a loftier line Looked up, and were made glad through all their marts, When thy clear spirit clove its shadowy bars Within the heaven of heavens, a star unto the stars ! [11] THE BUILDERS FouR'SauARE they la}^, the unfinished pyra- mids ; And round them swarmed the innumerable mites of toil, Only less countless than the sands that spread Leagues west, leagues south, leagues east, leagues north from them. How did they build? — in blind despair alway Of seeing a final block heaved past the scourge? — Or shown that what they wrought should dawn on earth An answering sign for heaven's securest star? Haply some poet, reeking 'mong that throng, Took station on the visionary top Ere yet the substance rose, and, gazing thence, Saw age on age sink into dust before him. [12] LONELINESS Not highest splendor of night — Nor lowest glimmer of dawn — Nor twilight's elfin delight — Refresheth me, now thou art gone, Because I watched them with thee — Because thy seeing led mine To see things hidden in the tree, In the hill, in the star's eyes, and thine! [18] IN ABSENCE Ere I went sailing from thy sight I sware in whisper low My heart should ope to no delight Save that I loved thee so. A wind made all the ocean rough For miles and miles along; I could not drink me joy enough Of such a shout and song! The wind went off, and all the stars Came forth about the sea; My heart flew to thy window bars And dwelt all night with thee! [14] THE QUEEN When in her youth she sat from state, Great respite grew of jesters great, Who revelry before her made And loudly sang and loudly played. "Play on ! Play on !" she oft would say ; "My heart grows merrier day by day For joys of souls in voices dight, And laughter of the lute's delight !" But when long years had faded her Like strown gray leaf, that scarce will stir, Where in the palace-court she lay, With languid hands and looks away, She said, "Draw near, ye choristers. And harpers on slow dulcimers. That with your solemn, saddening sound My life may run her final round." [15] MARJORIE In the bower that was her choice, Luting to her tender voice, Sat my Marjorie. Passers all, that her did spy, 'Gan a-twinkling of the eye At my Marjorie. She had heed for string and ditty; For their hearts she had no pity, Marjorie, my Marjorie! But when I came sadly by. Slow of foot and mild of eye, By my Marjorie, Then she snapped refrain and string, Then the sweet came hastening — Why, my Marjorie? 'Cause she'd have no fool to love her. And chose me, that seemed above her?-- Mar j orie ! — my Mar j orie ! [16] THE RAMBLE When the glad morning beckoned at the door, We went out toward the hilltops to explore. Strong winds all night had held the dew away, So that the drifting grass was dry as hay, Swaying each side the smooth path pleasantly ; And so no mist-drops trickled from the tree ; And we walked without question anywhere. Great upland fields, by sheep cropped almost bare. We entered; the stiff mulleins stood around; But very barren was the rocky ground. We looked away and saw the leaf-hid town — A million green leaves over roofs of brown! One sharp, white spire stood highest, tipped with gold; And village streams made glimmerings mani- fold. Then the slow upward slope our steps beguiled ; Halfway we found a small brook running wild ; While, somewhat further, two great rocks to- gether, Which shone like ebon in the sunny weather. Rose from the turf. We saw about their bases Cool-shadowed ferns outlined in feathery traces. [17] But we passed on until with hastening feet We neared and running gained the summit. Sweet It is to stand where scarce is room beside For anyone to come and share your pride ; So there we stood, all in the mighty air! Beyond the gulfs of hollow valleys fair The hills in faint blue distance were withdrawn ; And over them the far-off skies went on ; And all took splendor from the lofty sun ! And so we praised the prospect, one by one ; And, having looked awhile, we turned toward home. Morning had seen us go — noon saw us come ! [18] THE APPROACH OF SPRING Ere yet is grown the lily of the valley That in broad leaves hides up its crystal bells, While yet on chestnut lawn and woodland alley Only the shade of the bare branches dwells, Even now the sun is gently, gently creeping Out of the hard old bonds of ice-cold cloud; Even now the rivers are but lightly sleeping Under their shining robes ; and every crowd Of sparrows making harsh the chill, shrill breezes Makes us remember birds of velvet voice; And all the world that fades and binds and freezes Will hold, ere long, gifts of a happier choice. So, sit we waiting, and, all suddenly, A robin circles down from yonder tree! [19] REMINISCENCE In the free days of childhood I have perched, Light as a bird, on such a swinging bough As o'er me mocks my decorous limbs but now — O the wild wind-rush through the leaves ! — how lurched The restive branch whereon I sat, besmirched Perhaps with pine gum or the sticky flow From the horse-chestnut buds ! Now I must go In sober cleanliness, and leave unsearched The airy chambers of the wild tree-top. Ah, well ! perhaps even now I've gone too far — Let some loose thoughts outrun my dignity. Man lives to watch his business — tend his crop — Not to career in winged Fancy's car. And yet, it was so happy to be free ! [20] TRANQUILLITY O Loveliness of the unbroken day — When, with no sorrows frowning on its way, No dreary heart-throbs urging it to end. It moves with man as an inviolate friend! And after sunset, may th' attempered night Yield us no anguish with its softened light. But ever watch above our slumber mild — Like a tired mother over a tired child. [21] "THE SUNSHINE DOTH NOT BLAZE UPON THE EARTH" The sunshine doth not blaze upon the earth This afternoon, but lieth as a veil Over the woodlands, marvelous and pale. The faded meadows, waiting spring's green birth. Oppose their dreary flats to that wan mirth. The pools yet glimmer in chill coats of mail ; And sharp, dark forms of far-flown swallows sail Athwart the clouds that crowd the world's gray girth. And yet, in gazing on this scene I feel A melancholy languor, that is sweet As music heard from far; and yet I know That art awaits me, and the toil for weal. Whereof my sense is loath, filled with such glow As for one wasted hour makes recompense complete. [22] REMEMBRANCE We may forget old Friendship ; We may forget old Love ; We may forget old Longing For blessed souls above ; But we shall yet remember And v/e shall yet be true Long as in gray December There comes a gleam of blue! The clouds may darken round us, The winds roar in our ears, Our hands wear out their cunning, Our eyes shed all their tears ; But time is never weary And hath all things in hold; And though the path be dreary It brings us to the fold! Return, O Love and Friendship And Longing for the Lost ! Speak tenderly and sadly Unto us, tempest-tossed ; And guide us into harbors Like pilots wise and strong; For safe in fair green arbors All sea-blown souls belong! [23] THE SEA-MAIDEN I HEARD a footstep on the sea As I sat waiting drearily For the ship to come and take me home, And bring me home to thee. I heard — I saw; I heard a step — I saw a maiden on the sea! Her eyes and hair made her more fair Than any one but thee ! She beckoned me ! She called to me ! Monotonously as the sea Her voice came to me — and slipped through me, Thinking but of thee. Another sat beside me there. He saw her eyes ; he saw her hair ; She becked and called him ; she enthralled him ; He went to her lair ! She willed him to her with her eyes ; Then with her hair, in wildest wise, She wound him, prisoned — strangled — bound him. Dragged him down, never to rise! [24] YOUTH'S REPLY I HEAR the sullen minstrel sing How all delight is on the wing, And nothing here with us may stay Save leaden-weighted sorrows gray. O minstrel, thou wilt sure remain. And thine own words shall be thy chain; But if my joys take flight with laughter I'll make words wings and follow after! [25] AT THE WINDOW The dusk grew close and dense against the pane. She, cheek in hand, leant staring, tense and still. The firefly's spark flashed out, and flashed again. Across the hard, gray path she watched in vain For one who loved her, though the love was ill. She sat, and did not move or speak or sigh. Sometimes her husband's parting kiss be- came A brand still laid across her lips ; but high And patient was her glance, that seemed to try If it might pierce the shadow like a flame. Quick steps across the lawn were like a dart To shock her heart from life ; then, swift and sweet, A flock of kisses, as with secret art, Drew all the warm, sweet savor of her heart Through her sweet-thrilling lips with thrills as sweet. [26] And then with all its tresses and its flowers She put her warm, brown head into his breast, And cried, "Oh, save me from these barren hours ! Take me aw^ay where love may all be ours ! Save me from him I cannot love the best !" And wept, and sobbed, "Oh, from my husband save ! For you alone I live ; for you I die If death must be ; but oh, before the wave Turns seaward, slay and lay me in my grave. Or take me in your arms to hold for aye !" Then suddenly she saw her husband's face — White as a stern, white cliff, and stern, and still ; And suddenly he burst from her embrace And rushed into the darkness ; while the place Rang with a cry, "My heaven is turned to hell!" [27] THE SPELL RETAINED I SAW thee once of old, Where the deep, green meadows rolled, And the hills stood round about, And the sun shone overhead; We walked and talked awhile; And thy language held no guile. Yet a charm was on my thought, And a power my footsteps led! I met with thee but now. And we did but glance and bow. And there was no time for talking. And our ways w ere separate ways ; But still I felt upon me The same soft spell that won me When first we two went walking In the old rural days ! [28] ON THE TERRACE We on the westward-rounding terrace sat Together; all the rest had entered in. The sun shot radiance from beyond the hills. A sole, sweet star hung halfway to the south. The low clouds lay like smoke along the wood. There in the dusk I felt thy presence grow Into a temple of all purity, In which I sat a breathing worshiper, While all things round insensate seemed o'er- spread With that which made them sacred unto thee And to the twilight, thy preferred hour, O goddess gentler than the quiet eve. To whom I offer incense of dim song And sacrifice of everlasting love. Sitting by thee, I look on the sweet world Which seems a shadow of thy loveliness. The darkness imperceptibly as sleep Settles upon the land more closely ; now Star after star is gradually discerned About the calm, dim dome ; on earth, more near, The fireflies come and go, inconstant stars; And the clear waters glimmer to the skies. [29] Voice there is not, save of the marshy throng That from the distance are distinctly heard, And now and then a faint, sweet note that floats Out of the dark, mysterious trees, and thrills The soul as if the utterance were its own. Thou stirrest but a finger, and my sense, Long in forgetful contemplation lost. Returns to thee: — as when some deeper strain Of that same music which taught loveliest thoughts To the dim brain at length breaks in upon them, Shattering all sense but of the melody. Thou and the peaceful night fulfill for me All longings nurtured in my fiercer hours. I am content with all things as they are. Hope, labor, sorrow, cease ; for thou art all I hoped for, all I labored to deserve. All that has been a balm for sorrow ; thou Art the whole aim and remedy of life. And life's one sweeter gift than death, to me ! Thou speakest, and my selfish thoughts are shed; And all my happy calm becomes desire To serve and gladden thee. What wilt thou have ? Rise up — the night is chill: let us go in. [30] INSPIRATION Dead calm is on the waters. Leisurely The slow wave rises and the slow wave falls. No voice to the still fleet awakening calls ; Dull as the creek that drains the sand-hills dry Is all the sea, and duller all the sky, Thick clogged with stagnant clouds. The shrouds and falls On all the craft slack inward. Slowly palls The water, with a darker shade on high. Suddenly all is changed; a breeze comes on; Great sails are moved; smooth-sided hulls glide through The swelling waters ; life is on the sea ! So to my heart, whose laughter long was gone Into the burial shade life's clouds bestrew. There comes a moment of bright energy. [31] ON SOME STRAY VERSES Walking beside the sea, I wrought a song — Or it mayhap was fashioned in the wood That shapes its edges to the winding coast, Or even inland, in some undefined Spot amid villages and streeted towns ; I cannot recollect the place, — but through My song there breathed the salt air's shudder- ing breath. Dank with the floating foam ; one seemed to hear A low sea-undertone of washing waves Amid the cadence of the verses wild ; And one who found them on an Autumn day Read them among the j^ellowed woodlands then ; And he forgot the crisp, sweet Autumn breath ; And he forgot the frost upon the grass ; And he forgot the falling leaves ; he saw Only the rolling waves, and heard alone The thunder of them ; and his heart was glad. [ 32 ] FRAGMENT OF A NARRATIVE POEM My tale is of the fortunes of a knight Who fought with old King Arthur and his men In the rude days miscalled of chivalry, When Britain was well-nigh a wilderness. He is not named in legends that have crept Through the dim maze of years down to our time; For in a mighty battle, that was fought Early in Arthur's luster-gathering reign. He fell nigh dead beneath an axe's blow. And for a long time in a doubtful place Remained as one whose ears and lips and eyes Are as they were not to him having them ; And afterward he was removed away — Not yet recovered of his fearful wound — Into the midst of comrades who had camped In a green forest near where he had been; And here he slowly grew like one alive. But they that brought him being folk not known Of them to whom they brought him in his pain. He could not learn what place it was where he Had lain so long in stupor or dull dreams, (For a long time it was since last he drew His sword, or set his lance against the foe), And so he might not touch the friendly hands That there had ministered to his sad state. But only blessed them in his heart betime.«, [33] And prayed that succor they might find at need ; And, as he now was able to depart And go unto his king at Lyonesse, He thither set his face, in company With others of his comrades like of mind, Traveling with them on horses through the woods. Now, both while he had lain recovering From that dire wound by camp-fires of his friends, And while he journeyed now with health re- vived, There had grown up among his various thoughts Remembrances of things beheld or dreamed In that long darkness which his wound had kept About him in the place he knew not of. It seemed that he had sometime gazed dull- eyed On a low ceiling, ridged with stubborn beams. And dusky with the grime of backward years, — And that once, as he lay upgazing there, He had seen for a moment over him Bending so fair a face, he could not tell Where he had seen a fairer ; though his eyes Had looked on lovely Guinevere, the Queen, And many a fair-handmaiden of her train, And many a lady at the tournament. And many another woman here and there. [34] SUPPOSED THOUGHTS IN A SICKROOM I TIRE of being shut in painful gloom, Of sitting with myself within my room ; I tire of days with neither speech nor tune, Of rest that wearies, shelter not immune From plaguing thoughts and impotent desires. I would the stars were mine with all their fires ! I languish for the moon's light and the sun's! I would that I might sit where water runs ! I would that leaves might shadow me, and winds Breathe incense such as Araby's and Ind's Into my nostrils, and that birds might tease My languid ears with passionate melodies! For days are but as shadows unto me, And nights the same — I know not which times be; I care not which, unless I move with them. Somewhere away, along a forest's hem There runs a swirling brooklet, shallow and wide, And half in shade and half in sun, beside Full many a rock fringed round with tender ferns. And pigmy beeches, that the sunlight burns. And long, green, shadowy grasses stirred with wind. [35] There, in late summer, ere the leaves were thinned, I from beneath wide glooms of oak forth stepped Upon the pebbled marge. Cool breezes crept Amid the overhanging foliage where The sparkling waters played. Would I were there ! [36] MOTHERHOOD O BLESSEDNESS of thls — above all strife For glory, and all victory, and all pain, This one thing worthy in a whole vain life. To clasp — all things made possible again! [37] THE ISLAND A LAND in the midst of the sea! A water-girt region of green, Where the wings of the wind sweep free, And the shafts of the sun strike keen. A land that was chosen to be For a portion of man's demesne. On the verge of it, sand is and stone ; But inland are meadows and trees, And villages lying alone In the midst of them, while to the breeze Stand forth the low hills, that are strown As beacons far-seen from the seas. In my childhood, I ranged on the hills. And the meadows I made my delight ; I roamed in the w^oodland that fills The hollow, and looked from the height; I wandered by day with the rills. And slept in the village at night. And my heart still is tender with love For that fair foster-mother of mine. Whose nursling I was, who above All mothers save one was divine In the sight of my boyhood, whereof Still murmurs the wind in the pine. [38] TO ANNE Now, if one blossom smiles upon the air This morning, I will pluck it jou, and bear All of its dew and fragrance that I can Into the desert of your chamber, Anne ! I will not tell you of the wakened world. Lest you despair, on this dim couch upcurled — Not tell you of the tenuous poppies tall. How the rich buds break open, and let fall The scooped husks ; and I will not make known To you the vagrant wind's delicious tone Among the fresh, green leaves, that dance and sway As if to charm with gayety the day. If I were a magician, you should see The dewy world of morning, pace with me A little way across the webbed grass, Where bright-eyed robins startle as you pass, And sunlight glitters into pearl and gold; But, ah! these glories never will grow old, Though ancient as the sun that gave them birth ! So, do you still have patience ; and the earth Will seem more beautiful than e'er before To you, dear Anne, when you are strong once more. [39] OUR MAPLE A STURDY maple stands between The garden gay and lawn so green ; And there beneath its leafy screen, In heat of summer weather, We sit and watch the shadows play. Like troops of elves at holiday, Or gloomy thoughts, that shift and sway With brighter ones together. The great green leaves above us blow As the wind listeth, to and fro ; And sounds among them come and go. More soft than brooklet's murmur. The straight, clean trunk so smooth and round Is like a pillar time-imbrowncd ; It will not sway though gusts abound, But seems to stand the firmer. But all the branches overhead. One thinks, are delicately led To motion, and the air do tread So gracefully and slowly It almost puts one's thoughts to sleep To watch them so demurely keep Moving, as the slow airs do sweep About them, breathing lowly. [40] And so beneath our maple we Sit, while the days go drowsily Along their ways, and time's slow sea At high tide hangs uncertain ; And so, all the midsummer days, The maple hath our thanks and praise, As unto us it bends and plays, And shields us with its curtain. [41] ON A PICTURE She feels the freshness of the air That lifts her garments and her hair ; She hears the ripple of the stream Newly released from its long dream ; The ground is soft beneath her feet, And April's freedom wild and sweet! She strays along the waterside, And suddenly, in their golden pride, She sees full many a daffodil Upon the border of the rill ! She stoops and plucks one here and there. And wonders at a thing so fair. She need not wonder, for she is Herself more fair than daffodillies ! Her face is eager as the spring; Her lips are tender, as to sing; Her eyes serene as heaven's own blue, Yet lighted as with sunlight, too ! To me a memory she doth bring, As here I watch her wandering. Alas ! she makes me think of her For whom my heart doth liveliest stir — Doth liveliest stir, and lapse again ; For I have hope of only pain. [42] TRISTRAM A FRAGMENT Along the coast rode Tristram all alone; And the gray sea moaned round him in the tone The sea-wind carried in his ears ; but he Heard nothing of the moaning of the sea, Saw nothing of the vast, gray waters there That rolled beneath a vast, gray sky ; the bare Stretches of sand beneath his horse's feet He saw not, but saw ever, as the fleet Hawk sees before it a swift pigeon gone, That flees from it yet ever lures it on, — Saw ever, as a struggler in the sea. Close in the vessel's wake, sees pause and flee The vessel he would fain be with — a face Fair as the "sunshine in a cloudy place," A face leant eagerly toward his own. With calm, clear eyes, that yet, — as of the stone Men prize is said, — held an imprisoned fire, A fervent, curtained luster of desire. And wishful lips shut up together close As if with further fervency, and those Eyes — lips — framed in a crescent of dark hair, But all the face white as the lily fair And fair as the white lily; all alone That face he sees ; or if at all be known [43] A rival to it in his sight — lo, there, Leaning in mastery over her dark hair, A lank and sinewy figure, to dispel With the will's effort, as a nightmare fell That vexes one just dreaming of his love; But sometimes he, as in that dream whereof His vision was the likeness, by too much Power shook the specter off, and losing such Horror, lost too such beauty as he had Been dreaming of; a loss to make one mad, But soon restored ; so ever he rode on And saw alone these things, all else foregone. [44] A SUMMER STROLL I EOSE, and walked, one summer afternoon, Out from the house where I was stopping, soon To leave the lordly mountains and my friends. Returning . . . but forget that pleasure ends! Wander with me — while warm, slow breezes sweep Over the meadows — toward the bastion steep Of yonder wooded hillside, where deep shade Romantic rocks and mossy clefts hath made Even in the broad noontide ; and let rough care Fall off somewhere asleep, drunk with the languorous air. Up, and toward the forest-hooded top Of this green eminence! 'Twere vain to stop Here, or yet here, in hopes to drink the view; For these deep pines no eye can well pierce through. So, swift with slipping feet, we now descend The further slope, till pines with hemlocks blend. And these with maples, and, because we must, We come to a fenced highway, bare, and white with dust. [45] Out from the wood, through hot hay-fields it runs. Grasshoppers chant their drowsy orisons In one wide congregation ; overhead, Vast, blue and sun-inflamed, the sky is spread. Who moves, that moves not toward a beckon- ing goal? Ours is the leafy shelter of this shaded knoll. We mount, and from a terraced slope behold A lovely prospect, that the hills enfold — The awful, ancient hills, that awe and charm The spirit, as their pines with shades and balm And whispering music haunted. Here are vales So richly green that the wild fairy tales Of childhood scarce seem less than plausible In moments when the breast delights to swell — Fed with authentic glories. Far and faint Appears, as still the sight o'erleaps restraint, A glimmer from the breast of blue Champlain, Close by that ruined fort which fell without a stain ; And, standing here and gazing there afar, Strange thoughts of old days come — romance, and buried war. [46] TO Thou takest Earth in change for Heaven ! — Thou Icavest what thou canst not prove ! The wounds are healed, the wrongs forgiven And Friendship reigns in place of Love ! [47] FLOWER SONG Let the lustrous lily go To the altar; spare the glow Of the crimson rose to be Worn in beauty's rivalry. Let the pansy's leaves be shed On a buried lover's bed, And the bright forgetmenot Wither like a love forgot. [48] LOVER'S SONG theee's earth and rock about the land, And water in the sea; But in my heart, but in my heart. There's only love for thee! O there's many a flower blooms in the wood ; In the fields the flowers we see ; But in my heart, but in my heart, There's only love for thee! O there's many a song the wild birds sing. At home on the forest tree; But in my heart, but in my heart. There's only love for thee! O there's many a king hath jewels rare. And silver and gold in fee ; But in my heart, but in my heart, There's only love for thee! [49] RONDEAU I WONDER where my love can be ! Last night he did not come to me. A month has flown since first we met, And never has he failed me yet ; And that he loves me well I know, For often he has told me so ; And then — O what a treasure 'tis ! — He gave me many a loving kiss. Last night he did not come to me. I wonder where my love can be ! [50] TO THE MOON Mysterious Presence ! that, adorned with light, Dost make thy neighboring dwelling-place on high, Thee would I honor. While sleep shuts the sight Of others, still thou dost compel mine eye. O lovely and imperial orb afar! — Perfect thy movements are; And thou are clothed in beauty excellent! When thou discoverest thyself to air Mid starry spaces bare. Or, on a night storm-rent. Amid the clouds heaven's awful vault which bow, Kow beautiful art thou ! Long has thy praise been sung By many a tuneful tongue Since Homer called thee worthy to be hymned ; Nor is thy luster dimmed. On earth, young men and maids whom Venus guides. And happy bridegrooms, too, and happy brides, Have oft adored thee. The mighty ocean-tides Are yearning toward thee. [51] Winter beholds thee chastened yet benign, In sceptered calm divine; Thou meltest through the balmy summer nights, Scattering entranced delights. O moon ! with happy rapture thou dost fill me ! And let me not dismay If the sweet hopes which now awake to thrill me Should vanish with the day: For thou wilt come again to walk the heaven ; So hope, too, will return What time thou pourest through the silent even Fresh streams from thy bright urn. [52] THE EVENING HOUR Beyond the hill or distant wood or circle of the plain Sink softly out of sight, sweet sun, till morn bring thee again. Come, softest shadow, softest light, that mingle everywhere ; And come, ye faint first stars of heaven ; and come, ye dews of air. Descend, sweet peace of eventide, from the calm depths above; Bring, memory, the sweet images and tones of those we love ; And unto me, O brooding heart, O Mother Na- ture mild. Bring unto me sweet songs of rest, even unto me thy child. And thus, sweet Hour, walk through the land with grave and gentle mien. Like the blest ghost of one long dead that visits us unseen. Let the tired world from labor cease and put its sorrows by — A little while to feel thy power, ere shuts the weary eye. [ 53 ] TO TRANQUILLITY Thou, that hast left thy home in Paradise, And stoop'st in love to ease our mortal sighs — What is it that thou dost not do for us? Art thou not ever near, solicitous? Thou goest with us in the weary way ; Thou shar'st the burdens of the vexing day ; Thou art the pilot when Ambition sleeps ; Thou calmest the affrighted in the deeps ; Thou hoverest o'er our slumbers, quick to still The unquiet dreams and entering thoughts of ill; In calm or strife, o'er rough or easy ways. Thou art the gentle comrade of our days. But oh, th' unlucky hour when thou de- part'st ! — When, at some wanton mood, dismayed thou start'st. And, rising up on rapid pinions wide, Cleav'st the dim sky, no more to be descried Till, through a hell's black torture having passed. The penanced pilgrim wins thee back at last. Where, when thou flee'st afar, dost thou abide. Resting thy wings, at quiet eventide? [51] In no far desert or mid-ocean isle Can'st thou find refuge and thy fears beguile — For often, at that holy hour which fills With twilight shade the bosom of the hills, Thou com'st upon us from the voiced wood. And with thy presence feed'st our solitude. Aye, the deep wood is eloquent of thee, With grave and solemn utterance, speaking free Its oracles to every passing wind; And other haunts thou hast, and peace can'st find To charm thy senses in the courts of song; Nor doth sweet friendship not to thee belong. Brief is my lay ; but thou shalt honored be Long as within this world of misery These treasures in thy nature thou dost bear — Peace without weakness, riches without care. Health, that doth trouble not his own sweet rest, And wisdom, loving ever what is best. [55] THE CHIEFTAIN Let me unfold a tale whose setting lies In Italy. Imagine, if you will, A lonely scene, a landscape bare and wild, Lake, wood, and hill, and cross, and ruined tower, And, journeying up a steep and rugged way, A worn and solitary traveler. Look ! he has reached the cross, the emblem old Of that most sorrowful of travelers ; And at its foot he humbly kneels to pray. But what wild throng is this, that sallies forth From yon enmossed ruin, fierce horsemen armed And loosely ranked, in martial disarray? Forward they ride, and at their head seems one More noble yet less native than the rest. Who wears fierce looks, the weapons of com- mand. Beware, thou lonely, friendless traveler ! Beware, I pray thee, of this outlaw band — For such they seem, that bear no banners proud Nor mark nor ensign of authority: Too late, too late, alas ! — with foul intent, Careless of reverence or of courtesy, They are upon thee ; with drawn sword one stands [56] Upon his stirrups, ready to strike thee down, But first exulting in most hideous glee Ere he lean down to smite thee; one displays An empty pannier, and with wolfish eyes Stares at thy well-filled scrip, thy journey's stay. Hardly they look upon thee ; not one face Is lit with pity or solicitude; And lo, the heavens themselves are kindlier; For now the sun, from 'neath an uprolled cloud, Shines at its setting and illumines thee. Thy gray, thin hair, thy shoulders stooped with years. Thy patient, earnest face, are radiant now, As if to melt those iron hearts to tears Even at the thought of doing harm to thee. In vain ; unterrified at their design. Though all its horror blaze, they set upon thee ; — When lo, an arm is interposed between ; And fierce commands detain; swift they obey, Unwilling, for their leader 'tis commands. Who, finding one still nursing his desires, Is wroth, and, turning round with furious face. Unhorses him sheer from the saddle down; Then turns, and soothes the startled traveler's fears. But see, those fears have changed to wonder- ment. [57] What pain is this? Why shakes the old man so? Why doth he stretch his arms out to the chief And sob aloud? — and now he climbs a horse, The one whose rider was o'erthrown but now; And he that rode must lead the beast along. This way they come ; see, round the old man's waist The chieftain's arm is twined, and heavily The chieftain's head hath fallen on his breast ; And hark, the old man saith, "My son ! My son !" [58] THE DAY OF REJOICING All night the wild wind ceaseth not from its bewailing : What shall it do with what it hath for woe? Like an eternal spirit remorse is aye assailing, It wrestleth with its grief and will not let it go. So hath my heart made moan through dark, wild nights of sorrow — Deep lamentation uttered to the void above. Oh, lives there not in all the spaces some To- morrow That yet shall bring us healing on the wings of love? O that some golden day might float on rainbow pinions Out of the fair, white heaven we cannot see When Night hath made obscure her vast and lone dominions — O that one morn might break whose noon un- dimmed should be! [59] EVENSONG Sleep a little! What is night But a refuge from the light? Sleep a little, and forget That old Earth is toiling yet. Sleep, and do not fear ; For if Death come near He will haply pass thee by, Since thou dost so quiet lie. Sleep a little! Ease thy pain. What is worth thy while to gain? Sleep a little, ere To-morrow Give thee back the cast-off sorrow. Sleep, and as a flower Drop the passing hour — Care not if Time's end it brings; Thou art not with mortal things. [60] -.FP 5 1913 , ..LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 018 360 059 A ^