anb (Dt\}cv poems. 
 
 "%^9 ;C39 
 
 ST. JAHES cunniNGs, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'STAVES OF THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE.' 
 
anb (Dii}cv poems. 
 
 
 BY 
 
 ST. JAHES cunniNGS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ♦'STAVES OF THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE." 
 
 Published by the Author. 
 
 OHARIiESTON, S. C 
 
 1899. 
 
TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 
 
 Offlca of the 
 Register of Copyp|gaf§, 
 
 
 x)pyright, 1899. 
 By St. James Cummings, 
 
 S£COMO COPY, 
 
 V U ^ k 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 WALKER, EVANS AND COGSWELL CO 
 
 CHARLESTON, S. C. 
 
 1S99. 
 

 To K. J. C. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THE FIGHT OFF FLAMBOROUGH HEAD. 
 Undaunted up and down the open seas. . . 9 
 
 THE CHARTER OF YANN NIBOR. 
 
 Hail, Yann Nibor, and hark, tlie happy 
 song ^^ 
 
 THE AMERICAN'S ANTHEM. 
 
 America, safe on thine ample breast 18 
 
 A VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Here show me a sign, O heart within 20 
 
 SPANISH PRAYER. 
 
 From the far open Courts of Heaven hear 
 us 22 
 
 THE RED PRIVATE. 
 
 The Red Private stands in the ranks, and 
 waits 26 
 
 BET'^'EEN THE CONTINENTS. 
 
 Once Nero's oath, once Diocletian's word . 28 
 
 BETWEEN THE HEMISPHERES. 
 
 Armenia's rage is in the doctor's care 30 
 
6 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE WRECK OF THE ELBE. 
 
 The Elbe sails no more 32 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BANQUETER. 
 
 I sat with my friends at the festal board . . 37 
 
 THE LIGHT OF THE PRESS. 
 
 One beacon more along the shore.'^ of 
 thought 41 
 
 NEAR MT. MITCHELL. 
 
 Day after day, I see the great blue heights 42 
 
 A FAVOR. 
 
 A Favor ! Heart, what can it be ? 43 
 
 AUBADE. 
 
 Shall joy be all in afternoon ? 44 
 
 WHAT OF MY BELOVED ? 
 
 What of my Beloved, ye who know her 
 well ? 45 
 
 TO TRUANT LOVE. 
 
 Come home to my heart, O Love, come 
 home, and remain 47 
 
 THE AVOOER. 
 
 Love, thou hast the rarest, fairest 48 
 
 WITHOUT WORDS. 
 
 Now, now, or she leaves me 49 
 
 HOME CAME I TO MY LOVE. 
 
 Home came I to my Love fiO 
 
7 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THE SEASONS OF HER SOUL. 
 
 Hast thoxi once passed the gateways of the 
 Spring 52 
 
 CHARLESTON. 
 
 What buffets from the wind of circum- 
 stance 54 
 
THE FIGHT OFF FLAMBOHOUGH HEA.D. 
 
 1779. 
 
 Undannted up and down tlie open seas 
 Saileth my gallant Captain John Paul Jones. 
 
 The oaths and prayers, the fears and moans, 
 And scowling castles of his enemies 
 He entertains or scorns, as he may please. 
 Alas the port, to which the favoring breeze 
 Wafts in such visitor by night or day. 
 Small grace hath he. nor hath he long to stay. 
 This David of the blue doth sore affright 
 The British giant of the island thrones. 
 His restless heart is eager for the fight _ 
 That God will send him with the fall of night. 
 
 With little squadron of provoking ships, 
 Southward he drops at ease. 
 In range of Scarborough Castle's guns. 
 A grim smile lights his lips. 
 When suddenly he sees 
 That leagues away off Flamborough Head, 
 Hither for his impatient welcome runs 
 A yellow frigate, one of Britain's best. 
 The staunchest, tightest, finest of her kind. 
 But never an ill-starred foeman's dread 
 Besets my captain's mind. 
 The chance of conflict thrills his manly breast. 
 And yet his ship Bonhomme Richard, 
 
 What is it but a shell? 
 With rust-cracked guns and joints ajar. 
 And a motley crew that know but one sure spell, 
 W hether the hazard be for good or ill— 
 The magic of my captain's will. 
 
10 
 
 Some quiet signal given, some quick words said — 
 And bristling o'er with cliallenge, the old ship 
 
 hies, 
 With gladness dancing in the seamen's eyes. 
 Across the crested wave toward Flamborough 
 Head; 
 And hails with solemn state 
 The sancy frigate in canary dressed, 
 Serapis — and is answered with a jest: 
 "How are you ladeuV Harkye, what's your bait, 
 O merchantman, begrimed, and quaint, and old?" 
 Quick from our heroes bold 
 Flies back the answer piping hot, 
 "Round, grape, and double-headed shot." 
 
 Short is the parley, ere each host 
 
 Knows whom he dares, and every tar 
 
 Thinks less and less of jest and boast. 
 
 The decks are cleared for action, but the night 
 
 O'ertakes them ere the old Bonhomme Richard 
 
 Can coax the vain Serapis to the fight. 
 
 Then with the dark of night begins 
 A darker conflict, when our hero spins 
 A broadside's mortal taunt against the foe ; 
 And thundering to and fro, 
 
 The minions o'er the waters go. 
 The fiend Destruction leaps from deck to deck. 
 Vain, vain, the dominant brain, the hearts of 
 might ! 
 
 For mark you well our luckless plight. 
 Already our ancient vessel is a wreck. 
 Our bursting cannon tear its beams away, 
 And scatter our baffled gunners by the score. 
 Only three guns avail of all our store ! 
 And must we yield so early in the fight? 
 
 Now what will save us from dismay? 
 
 The frigate moving in the meagre light 
 Hath driven her bow into our mizzen-mast — 
 And swift our old sea-tiger hath her fast. 
 Lashed in a death-hold, bound and tied. 
 Thus roughly rafted, side by side. 
 And bow by stern, the two ships ride. 
 
11 
 
 The faltering guns with courteous kisses greet 
 Each other as the jostling rivals meet. 
 
 The strife goes on that one must win 
 By peep of moonlight and the cannon's flash. 
 And none can tell in all the murk and dm, 
 
 Whicli vessel suffers crash on crash. 
 
 In full career of battle the fury dies, 
 
 A solemn quiet settles o'er the ships: 
 
 On a sudden hushed is the babble of iron lips ; 
 
 When blind with smoke, but blinder still with 
 
 pride. 
 The Briton exults, and "Have you struck?" he 
 
 cries. 
 The lordly spirit whom he hath defied 
 
 Sharp on the silence of the night 
 Answers : "I have not yet begun to fight !" 
 Fiom the Serapis' wall of guns once more 
 The rei streams of her wrath outpour. 
 Shall our brave gunners unresisting die? 
 The rusty shattered guns make no reply. 
 Larboard and starboard old Bonhomme Richard 
 
 In woful vents doth yawn, 
 
 And eTOry hope seems gone. 
 
 Defeat cannot be far. 
 
 Oh, God of truth ! What help may stay our doom? 
 Our sister ship i^lliance, stricken mad. 
 Not rebel, not royal, but foul at heart and bad, 
 And blundering and skulking in the gloom. 
 Rakes us with fire, yet spares the tugging foe. 
 Can human hearts hold out 'gainst such a blow? 
 Did ever demon out of smoke and fire 
 Of black perdition bum with such desire? 
 Despite our howls of deep, outraged despair, 
 She wheels, and strikes us hard — again — again 1 
 One shot of hers hath slain eleven men. 
 Master of right ! is this triie fight and fair? 
 Head, side, and stern, she cuts us through and 
 
 through. 
 And never a deed to stay her can we do. 
 
12 
 
 Four monster foes we now are forced to fight ; 
 (Ay, and a fifth one is the blinding night!) 
 The sea, that breaks in on us fast and free ; 
 And fire, that eats our ship up greedily; 
 
 Our ally too (God save the mark!) 
 Who worries us and damns us in the dark, 
 And shows the world what turning friends may 
 
 be; 
 And last the frigate, welcomed and defied, 
 For weal or woe fast grappled to our side. 
 
 Nay, arc there more? Now heaven knows 
 
 This is the great birth-bed of foes : 
 The master-of-arms, supposing all but lost, 
 Hath loosed some hundred prisoners, and straight 
 
 They swarm on deck to know their fate. 
 But ere to friends alongside they have crossed, 
 
 My captain turns tiheir agile fears 
 To the unmanned pumps, and wins their willing 
 
 cheers. 
 Oh, heard you ever the like? Two mighty foes 
 He pits against each other, and on the battle goes. 
 
 We seek to fight below, but all in vain — 
 Smoke, fire, and flood, and hospital of pain! 
 No answer there we hope to make 
 Their galling guns that through our timbers break . 
 Brave men speak out, and in one voice implore : 
 "Captain, what fight we for? Give o'er, give o'er. 
 The ship is bitten with fire, and flooding fast ; 
 Already it sinks — our happy hour is passed. 
 Can mortal man fight on beneath the wave? 
 Is honor ever to lose, and never to save?" 
 "Take heart, brave lads," he cheerily cries, "take 
 
 heart. 
 We're anchored to the foe : keep up the fray. 
 And if our vessel sink, and we must part, 
 We'll man a better one the coming day." 
 
 On deck we haste, and all our seamen s wear, 
 Since we are cripi)led down below, 
 
 The British shall not fight another hour 
 On deck, or in the top, 
 
13 
 
 But in the belly of their craft must stay. 
 Up here we mean to fight and win the day. 
 Out hurricane ! let drive the leaden shower I 
 Well done, marines ! Now down their top-men 
 
 drop ! 
 Erelong their decks and masts we clear of men : 
 The British captain walks his deck alone, 
 Save for the dead and dying 'round him strewn. 
 
 Now feed them with surprise again I 
 My merry sailor on the yard runs out, 
 
 With hand grenade and live rosette. 
 Into the hatchway, where confined they fret, 
 He throws his smoking hot ball w th a shout 
 Amid their stores of powder and traps of woe, 
 And half a hundred Britons feel the blow. 
 Direr than cannon sounds the sailor's breath! 
 Confusion hatches in this nest of death. 
 
 His broken battery my captain wields 
 Against the mainmast of the foe— it yields — 
 It totters — and yet firm their captain stands. 
 
 He wonders, though no word he saith. 
 Is the American in league with Death? 
 Carnage of pent-up comrades checks his breath. 
 He hearkens for a moment to the cries ; 
 Then melts the wild defiance in his eyes. 
 
 And left alone, with his own hands 
 He hauls his colors down the trembling mast. 
 Hail, hail ! O Sea ! and hail, ye English towers I 
 Bonhomme Richard hath won the light at last. 
 Sad, yet still proud, the Briton steps aboard 
 
 This battered victor-ship of ours 
 But such a hero shall not lose his sword. 
 My gallant captain plays the host to-hight: 
 In such a valiant foe he takes delight. 
 
 And still the fight goes on above, below: 
 The fires still rage, and still the waters flow. 
 It boots not to withstand : the bustle is vain. 
 The good old ship must sink beneath the main. 
 'Tis sweet to live, and feel the hour sublime — 
 Up, up ! all hands ! and off, while there is time, 
 
14 
 
 And bear away our dying and our dead 
 To safer quarters in our prize instead. 
 
 The old and war-torn, flame-scarred bark 
 Hath borne us well the past dread night and dark. 
 Now in the light of day, with honor bright, 
 With glorious colors at the masthead flying — 
 Behold the sight, ye scatheless and ye dying — 
 The battle done and won, here in the captain's 
 
 sight. 
 With every pledge fulfilled that he hath said, 
 Bonhomme Richard goes down off Flamborough 
 
 Head. 
 
THE CHARTER OF YANN NIBOR.* 
 
 TTiil YaniiNibyr! and hark! the happy song t 
 Up with the tide and down, good ballads strong. 
 To make the sailor dance upon the sea, _ 
 And swell his heart ^vith thoiight that rises free 
 O'er sunny prospects, and o'er duty done. 
 
 Cheer for the mighty cratt that run 
 The long steam-beaten roadway of the blue. 
 
 Or sullenly heave to 
 At the imperious trumpet-call of war! 
 Do men still dare the tempest'? and what for? 
 
 Good Breton, we would have expressed 
 The lusty hopes that fill the sailor's breast ; 
 And ^^hy out o'er the billow with the wind. 
 He sneeds away, nor moans to leave behind 
 ?he ?mne ?f love, and calm, rock-bedded rest. 
 
 Thou knowest: for the wooing waves did sing 
 
 Enchantment for thy heart, and lo, not Spring. 
 
 Nor generous Summer held thy pleasure after 
 
 On Breton slopes by festal night or day 
 
 Si^g us the chai-m for which thou fledst away 
 
 From old St. Malo to the open sea— 
 
 The rippling murmur, and the mellow laughter. 
 
 And sighs as of a bride a waiting thee. 
 
 * Th*^ most Dicturesque thing which any Minister of 
 
 Senlingly hewn of ot fanite with a -tc-^t^ Yanu 
 January, IS'JG. 
 
16 
 
 For oh, we fain would keep in heart, 
 Though time and tide drift all apart, 
 
 The rare fond music of the breeze that blew, 
 When first we went a-venturing. 
 And when the long, white wake would run 
 
 E'en like a bride's veil. That was ere we knew 
 The hazard of the life begim, 
 
 Ere Fortune mocked us, and we failed to bring 
 More boon than sorrow from the deep — 
 
 Dimly that music haunts us when we sleep. 
 
 And hearken, Yann Nibor, sea-minstrel true, 
 Thou art a man, hast fought the hurricane 
 
 through, 
 Peered through the fog to read the star-bright 
 
 blue. 
 Hast thou a song to drive the black thoughts out, 
 That stow in mariners their murky rout, 
 Make blank the heavens like a beamless night, 
 Stifle the spirit like a windless sea — 
 Thoughts darkening, deadening past all sound 
 
 or sight 
 The golden worth of mortal man's desire? 
 Sing the clear morrow, and the reefless lea. 
 Blow us a boon to kindle the dampened tire, 
 To crest the surge, and fill the listless sail, 
 And rouse the wretch that ev'n in dreams would 
 
 quail. 
 Above the dead who strew the ocean's floor. 
 If thou canst make us smile, nor think of shore 
 As Death's wide mDuth forever in a roar. 
 Then sing, O Captain, we will chime v.-ith thee. 
 If good fair weather in our hearts there be. 
 We'll lightly reck the black blast when it raves, 
 And make night radiant with thy flashing staves. 
 
 The black thoughts gone, then sing thy bravest 
 
 will. 
 We'll doubt no more oar shipmates or our wives ; 
 Nor think the landmen barter sailors' lives, 
 But share with us the stores from vale and hill. 
 We'll feel, as to thy melody we thrill. 
 
17 
 
 That hearts of millions ride with us the seas, 
 And fall'n, we shall not be forgot of these. 
 Ours too the land; though exiled on the tide, 
 Out faith will match our inland brothers' pride 
 
 Strike thou at need the stirring battle-note, 
 To tune the t-torm-bred sailor's throat. 
 
 If fight we must, and kill. 
 Cry the great combat just, and worth the life. 
 
 And tacit peace but ill. 
 So will the sailor gather from the strife 
 With wind and wave the rapture of devotion, 
 And hear his loved ones' whisper on the ocean. 
 
 O Yann Nibor, thy song is sweet, 
 
 Thou mighty minstrel of the Fleet. 
 For as thou singest, each one in his heart 
 Reads clear the mission wherein he hath part 
 Life's nassion seems less blindly understood: 
 Fled is the evil, leaving but the good. 
 What is defeat, if thou keep up thy singing? 
 Or death's cold silence, if thy chant be ri' ging? 
 Hearty applause in thy brave voice «ve hear 
 For all good deeds wherewith the rolling earth 
 Goes brighter through the heavens from year to 
 year. 
 
 Thou keep'st u'; mindful of the glorious dead : 
 But ere their living peers be sped. 
 Name them, and make us know their worth. 
 Sing us of love, and faith, and mirth. 
 We would not risk the sea for naught — 
 
 Sing the glad havens that all men have sought. 
 We will be more than sailor men : 
 Some day we may not sail again. 
 Past cloud and star, past wind and foam, 
 
 Ho, for soul's weather! sing the sailor homel 
 
18 
 
 THE AMERICAN'S ANTHEM. 
 
 America, safe on thine ample breast 
 
 I wake from my slumber, I work and rest. 
 And whether my homestead be 
 The lowlands that face the sea, 
 
 Or towering hills, yet thou all art mine. 
 
 May God, of His grace, make the end divine 
 In all that thou art to me. 
 
 Oh, where could I hope with my heart to flee, 
 And leave thee this side of eternity? 
 
 Though robbed of both ej^es and voice, 
 
 In thee should I still rejoice 
 To lay my fond hand on thy sacred soil. 
 And stand with my brothers and share their toll, 
 
 So dear is my home, my choice. 
 
 Thou too hast thy part of the grief of earth, 
 
 But great is thy joy as our manhood's worth. 
 The centuries hold in store 
 That freedom declared of yore 
 
 By heroes that came at thy call and died ; 
 
 And if our true heritage be defied, 
 
 Ask thou of me more and more. 
 
 No shame ever ri&e for my land's despair ; 
 
 Thy goodliness sweeten to me my care — 
 To climb, and disdain to creep. 
 Or faint though thy heights are steep. 
 
 With gain from the field, and the mine and the 
 mart. 
 
 Take thou richer harvest from out my heart. 
 Where hopes of thy days I keep. 
 
19 
 
 O God, we do offer thanksgiviKg to Thee, 
 
 And round every yenr with a JTibilee. 
 Grant Thou that no hostile gun, 
 Nor treason that hates the sun, 
 
 May lower our standards, or sound our Icuell; 
 
 But may our fair land be the one to tell 
 How Thy great accord is won. 
 
 Our Mother, whose children are life to thee, 
 Who bless thee with beauty though dead they be, 
 Time keep thy young honoi' bright 
 Through men who will live for right ; 
 And joy in the freedom the fathers found 
 Sing praise for the hills and vales around. 
 And virtues that come to light. 
 
 In women endeared may the land be blest. 
 Each deeming the Nation her hoTsehold's guest. 
 
 To bridal or burial bell 
 
 May Faith answer, All is well 
 With good for our portion, in heaven our trust, 
 Let hearts of glad millions, whose lives are just, 
 
 The patriot's anthem swell. 
 
20 
 
 A VOLUNTEER. 
 
 Here show me a sign. O heart within ! 
 
 By the new name hail! yon are volunteer! 
 Away with the paltry compound of sin, 
 
 With vanity, self -loving, doubt and fear. 
 
 And up with the hope that shall shine on high, 
 And flame with a glory to fire the earth. 
 
 To light me the vision that may descry 
 The greatest gift that my life is . orth. 
 
 Out of all the blessings showered on me. 
 May God inspire me \\ ith faith to give 
 
 Some home -born offering s v\ eet that may be 
 Refreshing food ^> hereby love may live. 
 
 .A touch from my mother's tender hand, 
 And a kiss on my brow from her trembling lips — 
 
 Ah. smile for my witness, my native land! 
 And flutter ye flags on the eager ships ! 
 
 For God is behind that hand and touch. 
 
 I cannot be lost w here'er I go. 
 I accept the pa'n, be it little or much : 
 
 For the right and the power are Thine to bestow. 
 
 I am one of the army of God's High Will. 
 
 Work tlie name in, while I bow my head. 
 When I rise, I am sworn to charge and kill 
 
 Till the wrong we combat or I be dead. 
 
 That is the sum of it all, my heart ; 
 
 But I lift my voice for our leaders too: 
 As they deal out the peril by map or chart, 
 
 God save us the blunders, and keep us true 
 
21 
 
 While in heaven Thou holdest the grand review. 
 The sv?eep of our landsmen and seamen to scan. 
 
 Send blazing Thy love and Thy wrath on through 
 The Commander's breast to the last, last man. 
 
 And the foe? and the foe? Thy will be done. 
 
 They are Thine, as v^'e are — Oh, grant them 
 grace 
 With us, slayers and slain, when the peace is won, 
 
 To meet for Thy pardoning face to face. 
 
22 
 
 SPANISH PRAYER. 
 
 (Santiago de Cuba, 13th July, 1898.) 
 
 From the far open courts of heaven hear us, hear 
 us. 
 Shut in, beyond hail, agasp as a beast in a 
 well. 
 Oh, that o'er thunder of harrowing musket and 
 
 shell. 
 With spii es and houses falling, and madness near 
 
 us, 
 Almighty God might once from the distance hear 
 us. 
 Could this be the fate no seer had thought to 
 foretell — 
 That God in His heaven should turn His face, 
 
 and leave us? 
 Shall we liold to the heartless life, and the siege 
 that's grievous? 
 li we light without sweet, glad faith, is the 
 
 fight for Thee? 
 Answer, and let us escape, shut in on an is!e 
 of the sea. 
 Pray for us Holy Virgin, our sway is 
 
 broken. 
 Silent is Heaven still, its favor unspoken. 
 For the love of mercy, that He may grant 
 us a token. 
 Pray for us ! pray for us ! 
 The only response we get the enemy say for 
 us, 
 Unpriestly burden of the cannons' lips 
 From their camps and from their ships : 
 Down in the dust ! down ! 
 With Spain and her old renown. 
 With her people and her crown. 
 Forsaken of God and all 1 down ! down ! 
 
23 
 
 Much we fear there's a great hidden v.m onjr ■ hat 
 dooms us ; 
 Belike a thcnsand go with it all out. of .-t eing. 
 From ghosts unseen is there neve." ;t ■Jionce 
 of fleeing? 
 Great Creditor, maybe an unpaid debt <•. u.-dmes 
 us 
 That calls for the nation's life ard nK.ioto 
 
 pay- 
 To be dead and a beggar still to f|i' .judg- 
 ment-day. 
 Lord pardon for sins we've foigotteii. or ne'er 
 
 did know. 
 The dust of the long years settles on i'vi'"i.l and 
 
 foe, 
 And given and taken grow one with all Urn IMiee. 
 In vain we count the doubloons from I'l'- iltht to 
 
 be fiee; 
 And in vain would we balance the wroni: nul, the 
 right. 
 Thou knowest where now our oldoii i i:'.':i-iire8 
 
 be, 
 Or in Peruvian mine or Mexican a(--i 
 Take pay from our hearts that are o]"hii«-.1 and 
 
 turned unto Thee. 
 Make straight the account, O God, wiili Thy 
 
 righteous sight, 
 And the devious paths of cur t'eet coni:i<l< i- light. 
 O Blessed Virgin, bear our pr:iv.'ip on 
 
 high. 
 There comethno answer from i]i'- !< aden 
 
 sky 
 But the surly mutterings of tbf- ciditions' 
 
 lips 
 From the foemen's camps and fvoui their 
 ships : 
 Down in the dust v^th the Spaniard ' dnwnl 
 down ! 
 
24 
 
 It is Spain that prays : Thou knowest her genera- 
 tions, 
 The world-owner Spain, in the East and the 
 West most glorious. 
 Body and soul we ruled as Thy primate 'mong 
 the nations. 
 It was long ago : and the changers have tram- 
 pled o'er us. 
 But our hearts are the very same — Almighty, 
 restore us ! 
 What race of the world that runs may not slip 
 
 and stumble? 
 Ah, wouldst Thou save us just to be heart-sore 
 and humble? 
 Nay, still save us, but lend us the heart that 
 
 obeys Thee, 
 To go empty, and lone, and palsied, and 
 praise Thee. 
 Sant lago, pray tor us, children of Spain the 
 mother. 
 We cry for answer from heaven, and get none 
 other 
 Than the hot death-jargon rom the lips 
 Oi. the foemen's cannon in their camps 
 and ships : 
 Down in the dust with the Spaniard ! down I 
 down! 
 
 Is hope now beyond our prayer? is help? is sur- 
 render? 
 Hast Thou narrowed the Spaniard's prayer 
 to a call for death? 
 How long is Spain to strike for the end Thou wilt 
 send her. 
 And choke in the smoke till Thou stop both 
 prayer and breath? 
 Oh, marvelous mission of death 1 
 Not for love or for mercy's sake. 
 Death, that we may not take, 
 Death, we must work and win, 
 All else being despair and sin. 
 
25 
 
 Majestic One, so now we pray Thee to hear ua, 
 We of Spain in death-prayer with no answer to 
 cheer us, 
 But the wonder when will the rack be o'ert 
 wAjid never a Spaniard hear forevermore 
 That roar of the cannons' lips 
 From the foemen's camps and ships : 
 Down in the dust ! down! 
 With Spain and her old renown, 
 With her people and her crown. 
 Forsaken of God and all ! down I down I 
 
26 
 
 THE RED PRIVATE. 
 (Romance in Cuba, 1898.) 
 
 The Red Private stands in the ranks, and waits; 
 
 But captain and sergeant do not divine 
 The truth of his name or race who rates 
 . As a six-foot private superfine. 
 
 But there he stands with his belt and gun, 
 And the silence of four hundred years he holds. 
 
 Scion of a people whose time is done, 
 And heir to lost acres and hundred-folds. 
 
 There he goes grimly in front of them all. 
 Red Pathfinder blazing a way for the Fates. 
 
 Santiago flag, you are doomed to fall. 
 Santiago bars, you must ope your gates. 
 
 Santiago's streets are opened wide. 
 And out and in the world pours through ; 
 
 An army at rest is encamped outside, 
 And a new flag rises and floats in the blue. 
 
 Santiago — San Salvador, surges the thought. 
 Here lies the doomed fleet with the drowned 
 and the slain : 
 
 There came the great Mariner when he brought 
 The first bold caravels hither from Spain. 
 
 What moved the Red Private's heart to fight? 
 
 Ask him, ask him ; for none else knows. 
 To restore and defend imperilled right? 
 
 Or to halt proud Error where he goes? 
 
 Somebody sometime taught him to spell. 
 And he conned the page of the Spaniards' deeds 
 
 Of highways and byways to heaven and hell. 
 And the caste of unholy and holy creeds. 
 
27 
 
 Small hope of his own had he to restore, 
 And yet for hearth and home wrought he. 
 
 Vast tribes evanished, they come no more, 
 But man is man : and he must be free. 
 
 What clouds the Red Private's dusky brow, 
 When the cable burns with the promise of 
 peace? 
 
 From sword and gun to pen and plow. 
 Is this all to him but a poor release? 
 
 From the deep-set eyes what a light breaks 
 through 
 
 At our Admiral's praise, to the crews' Amens 
 Of the faith and the worth of the Chinese few, 
 
 Who were meet to be fellow -citizens. 
 
 No allegiance to swear, yet loyal and brave, 
 
 Of ancient pedigree, yet unknown, 
 'Mid foreign hosts he stood and gave 
 
 A native's love, with no land for his own 
 
 Up. red hero, come home with the rest! 
 
 Your heart beats true above bar or ban. 
 Come home to your mother, the mighty West, 
 
 Baptized a man and American. 
 
28 
 
 BETWEEN THE CONTINENTS 
 
 Once Nero's oatli, once Diocletian's word 
 Went forth that only by the sword and fire 
 The imperial world might cleanse itself of quick 
 Contagion from the Christian head and heart. 
 Then in the amphitheatre the lamps 
 Were human beings that an hour or two 
 Blazed through the Roman dark, and strove apace 
 With moon and stars that made a light in Heaven. 
 Only 'mid terrors of the Catacombs 
 Might Christian kin prolong their dubious years ; 
 Not theirs the sky, not theirs the open fields. 
 The world was Rome's ; and like octopus' arms 
 The highway drew them to the circus sands. 
 
 And that was near two thousands years ago, 
 Now he of Buddha looks to him of Christ, 
 From Ganges east to Land's End in the west, 
 And stares with heavy thought, remembering 
 Thousands of years that washed with ears of 
 
 blood, 
 Thousands of miles that lie 'twixt creed and creed. 
 Hath deluge come again? the arena's flame? 
 And blade insatiable, that at its ease. 
 From day to day of ordered festival. 
 Fells the fair lives appealing helplessly 
 Between the continents? For wide around 
 The nations pause aghast, and from the tiers 
 Of mountain ranges peer into tne close 
 Of wracked Armenia. See the ghostly eyes 
 Of Sivas, Trebizond and Erzeroum, 
 And hamlets at the foot of Ararat, 
 Gleam in the waste begirt by Euxine cold 
 Mediterranean waters. Marmora, 
 And the Aegean with orchestral isles, 
 It is the Colosseum swollen too large 
 For Tiber's banks, and ample for the world 
 To throng its awful circle of despair. 
 
29 
 
 The wraith of Asia Minor now may haunt 
 The listless sleep of myriads, and the fate 
 Of nations proud with conquest and content, 
 May mark full soon with rubric of God's wrath 
 The folk and lands from farthest Hebrides 
 To Hindoo Kush. For ought not she who wears 
 Of London and Calcutta, those great crowns, 
 To strike the brigand conscience of the Turk, 
 Who blots the path between her palaces 
 With blood and ashes, hard by Palestine? 
 
 There is a nation that the ocean makes 
 
 A stranger unto those around the walls, 
 
 And blood- splashed pillars of that awful place. 
 
 Earth keeps her seasons ; may she not have kept 
 
 The impulse of the good Samaritan? 
 
 What though a people, moved in love's behalf, 
 
 Perish thereby, like monk Telemachus 
 
 Their day of service, like a child's, may bear 
 
 High passion of communion, and outshine 
 
 Hundreds of years unloving and secure. 
 
 O, God of all, Inviolate, forbid 
 
 Tnat vampire hosts should revel in the blood 
 
 Of Thy lone hostages, and still deny 
 
 Their ransom save by death. Wake Thou with 
 
 light 
 The great lethargic continents, to rise 
 For new mom's litany, and short Beware! 
 Now brute Offence, thou shalt pollute no more. 
 
30 
 
 BETWEEN THE HEMISPHERES. 
 
 (Cuba, 1898.) 
 
 Armenia's rage is in the doctor's care. 
 
 No arbiter with the heroic voice 
 
 And instant power hath c eigned to solace her. 
 
 Bnt in the West the Marshals are convened. 
 
 From host to host the word of war is passed : 
 
 Off with the heavy hand and brutal foot! 
 
 The oppressed is Cuba, and the oppressor Spain. 
 
 It shall no longer be. Custom and grace 
 
 Old privilege and pride must all be broken, 
 
 To mend anew in after days or years, 
 
 As mercy and justice wisely may prescribe. 
 
 Now flames the fire of battle, and life and deat^ 
 Are closer comrades than for many a year. 
 The whole world wheels alert ; and sun and muon 
 By day and night at once illuminate 
 The unbroken battle-field and battle-main. 
 Cancer and Capricorn are highways now. 
 Only where polar realms elude man's life 
 Can fancy stand aside and take no part. 
 
 Look in man's heart and see the battles bom. 
 
 East Indies had a sister in the west. 
 
 Daily Antilles hailed the Philippines, 
 
 Awaked at morn by fretful i- urging seas: 
 
 You pay your tax as we, and we are kin. 
 
 Hold ! cry the millions of America, 
 
 You pay the tax no more — we too are kin. 
 
 Vague doctrines of aloofness we put by 
 
 In quick abeyance, whlie we cry abroad : 
 
 No hermits we, ensconced in our conceit. 
 
 To break away and seek the forest depths 
 
 When foreign feet come echoing down our paths ; 
 
 Nor fond crusaders, at o'erwhelming cost 
 
 To abandoned homes and every rood of the way 
 
31 
 
 Forcing opinion on remote world-ends. 
 
 We look for equity, to keep the approach 
 
 To heart and head wide open to the world. 
 
 Keenly to know and feel the right and wrong. 
 
 The deed is record of our power to see. 
 
 Now when this dark bulk here obstructs the light, 
 
 We strive to make th' horizon clear again. 
 
 For we are kin, and would not be ignored. 
 
 Ask your own heralds : they may find the strain 
 
 Some dozen or score of centuries agone. 
 
 But we are kin, and claim the brother's right 
 
 To ask the wherefore of the whip and screw, 
 
 The bloody welt and ceaseless, piteous cry. 
 
 You broke the bulwark that the distance made. 
 Ah, saving distance ! nature's great police, 
 The mute patrol that holds the tyrant safe. 
 Distance in blood, and time and place may build 
 A belt as of Gibraltars 'round intrigue, 
 Impregnable but to the sun and rain. 
 But here Afliiction to our doorstep clings, 
 And here the Tioubler follows in our sight. 
 
 Up with the flag ! the long quiescence ends ! 
 
 What callous realms of the Old World condone, 
 
 Balance of empire, and colonial sway, 
 
 Cuts to the heart the New World's man as man. 
 
 Remembering his distress of other years. 
 
 Who fights great odds for life and home, ard lives. 
 
 Ne'er tastes the fullness of his gratitude. 
 
 Till Grief has known his hospitality. 
 
 Away, rude sovereignty, and off for home ! 
 The sea- waif , smitten of you, is now f ur guest. 
 Hark, CoiTsin, we are kin. The tax is paid. 
 
32 
 
 THE WRECK OF THE ELBE. 
 
 The Elbe sails no more. 
 Now chant the reijuiem with the waves thab roar 
 O'er the North Sea in troublous, dread halloo. 
 Lost is the babe untried, and lost the tried and 
 true. 
 No flowers, alas, need we 
 To scatter balm on soft and murmuring winds ; 
 No graves that beg forget-me-nots there be, 
 Save in the keep of sad, memorial minds ; 
 No warm tears falling on the cradling earth — 
 But change at once the music of our mirth. 
 And tone our Miserere on the air, 
 To assuage with flowing words our great despair : 
 The Elbe staunch that lately pux to sea 
 From sea will ne'er come home again. 
 With children, maidens, wives, and men. 
 From many a nation's firesides came 
 The voyagers, and many a worthy name 
 Was taxed for victims — all the world for gain 
 Would the extortionate sea distrain ; 
 And now of thrice a hundred lives and more 
 Behold the remnant, but a score — a score. 
 
 Hark, what one sad and lonely woman saith. 
 The only woman saved from that wide death : 
 '* Up out of the cold, drear, morning dim there 
 
 came 
 A blind, mysterious craft of which none saw 
 
 The flag or name — 
 The fellow of that flying spectral shape. 
 
 Which cruising 'round the southern cape, 
 Destruction in its wake doth draw. 
 And as the rash sea-unicorn might pierce 
 The fisher's fragile boat, this heedless, fierce 
 Sea-farer crashed into our vessel's bow 
 Into her breast drove home its murderous prow, 
 
33 
 
 Paused for a space in deadlock— took to flight, 
 In a trice was off and away, and out of sight ; 
 
 Leaving a tunnel wide 
 
 In our poor vessel's side. 
 Through which the mass of waters swept 
 
 In one strong steady tide 
 O'er those who waked and those who slept. 
 
 Oh, there was dreadful waking at gi-ey mom! 
 Hundreds that wakened not were borne 
 Still dreaming down to the ocean's roomy bed. 
 With never a soft good-bye or blessing said. 
 The captain on the bridge, what could he do? 
 The pilot at the wheel, for aught he knew. 
 Was steering the good ship unflinchingly 
 Down headlong to the bottom of the sea. 
 And oh, the mist, the cold and raging wave! 
 The people hanging o'er their common grave! 
 And boats were lowered, and swallowed in the 
 
 foam, 
 Void of their human freight that longed for home. 
 The other boats defying might and main, 
 Were ice-bound in the iron chain, 
 
 The deathlike cruel grasp 
 Of the sinking ship that no man coiild unclasp. 
 And the seamen cried. In vain, in vain! 
 And each one felt the agonizmg weight — 
 The ship was swiftly settling to her fate. 
 A great sea rose just then and carried me o'er. 
 I saw a strange light like a falling star ; 
 My ears were smitten by the awful roar. 
 Wildly I clutched at— caught a floating spar, 
 
 Held fast : and knew no more." 
 
 The cadence of the sorrow that we sing 
 Falls not alone for those who careless lie 
 In ocean's darkness; bat we ring, we ring 
 The solemn note for some whose bodies warm 
 Now housed on sunny shores escaped the storm. 
 For ah, their souls are cold and in the dark, 
 And like their comrades' corses that lie stark 
 
34 
 
 And hidden from the light, that cannot come 
 
 The long, dark, dismal way 
 
 To them far off, and blind, and niamb ; 
 
 For doubly barriered are they 
 'Gainst love's bright eye, and all the beaming day. 
 Needs the Almighty help, that His rude sea 
 Must be assisted in its huge employ 
 Of making desolation, bringing joy 
 To dreadful silence where dead sea-things be? 
 And if the hearts beieaved should ever say, 
 * 'Seaman, where saw you last our loved ones then?" 
 
 Must his soul answer, "Men are men; 
 Each for his ovsm life on the sea and land. 
 We saw your loved ones standing hand in hand, 
 Some beckoning from the half -merged ship for 
 
 aid. 
 And others praying mutely unafraid ; 
 Some drifting blinded by the wintry spray, 
 Those few quick moments as we pulled away 
 From the endangering hulk that shook men down 
 In desperate leaps upon our burdened boat. 
 And do ye wonder that with meaning frown 
 We struggled from them sieging us afloat?; 
 
 From the careening ship we sped, and so 
 We know not of the end ; but know 
 The Elbe breasts the waves no more. 
 The doomed ship's wanderings are o'er. 
 And we, a handful from her cabins, live 
 For what small cheer remaining j'ears may give. 
 Forbid that any ghosts should walk the deep, 
 And pass us yonder where the others sleep." 
 
 Spirits of Norsemen, who were wont to play 
 On these wild waves in your heroic day. 
 Saw ye the cold desertion and the blow 
 That smote the strugglers back into their woe? 
 Light task had ye to conquer, if ye sailed 
 
 The Northern Sea to-day. 
 
 Ye would not thus have (juailed 
 If blundering kin had wrought you such dismay 
 To fill God's ark of safety, when His waves 
 
35 
 
 Waken the old deluge far from shore- • 
 
 One woman to a score. 
 And is it thus the fleeing soul outbraves 
 The challenge to nobility, and hears 
 Those hundred voices crying in his earsV 
 Alas, for comfort's world, where ease is all, 
 And sacrifice is but a name for pain. 
 
 ni -fated ship, rest quiet 'neath the main. 
 
 Nor hope for namesake : would a captain call 
 
 A new-manned craft by thy unhappy name? 
 
 The Ship Unmanned forever be thy fame. 
 
 Rest thee far do tvn, and may we never know 
 
 More for thy deep-sea burden than the woe 
 
 Of wounded faith afflicted with the scorn 
 
 Of man that is of woman born. 
 
 Yet at the manly -season in her stead 
 
 Takes the soft vantage, leaves her with the dead . 
 
 But heroes still will have their day, 
 
 And here we fondly pray 
 That boyish hearts of unchilled chivalry. 
 Who o'er toy seas now steer their paper fleet 
 
 May still wax glorious when they meet 
 The sudden appalling peril of the open sea. 
 
 And may the mother's pride 
 Find naught in all the years that may betide 
 
 The daunting of that spirit of youth, 
 Despoiling of that heart of native ruth. 
 Or ague poisoning the growing man, 
 With conscience murmuring its direful ban. 
 Honor's confiding whisper let them hear : — 
 
 Sweet is the safety of a heart that sijrings 
 
 To saving of another. Heavenly cheer 
 
 Frequents such hearts, and in them some 
 thing sings 
 
 Like song-birds in a sunny atmosphere. 
 
 In our young manhood's quickening sight 
 
 Be it forever a rare delight, 
 
 A prize to crown life's holiday. 
 The joyous hazard of those who lead the van. 
 
36 
 
 God's ovm, who dare alway 
 
 To do what mortal can — 
 From o(;ean's grasp to snatch the hapless host 
 Of any shattered and dismantled bark 
 
 Ere billows bury thera down in the dark, 
 
 Or toss them to the coast. 
 These shall onr sailors be ; 
 And wert thou drifting still in the North Sea, 
 'Twould be a boon in haste to speed to thee — 
 
 But no, the Elbe sails no more, 
 And boy and man are gone to their long rest: 
 The mother with her child upon her breast. 
 The maiden for he^- beauly all unblest. 
 
 Bide there forever alone down in the deep; 
 For never a man will dream, ev'n in his sleep, 
 Of finding a mate of like distress for thee, 
 Elbe the Ship Unmanned, and lost in the North 
 Sea. 
 
37 
 
 THE BIRTHDAY BANQUETER. 
 
 I sat with my friends at the festal board, 
 
 With viands, and wine and a closing year. 
 
 I fed my life on the tender cheer , , . ^ 
 
 That rich in their harvest-hearts they had stored, 
 
 And now spread bounteous to comfort me. 
 
 I touched my lips with the morsels rare 
 
 Of life that flies, and swims and blooms, 
 
 With clov< r pastures and summer air 
 
 Found meshed in nature's herding looms. 
 
 The meliing cream, and the crisp, tart tlake. 
 
 The quick, sweet word that a warm heart spane, 
 
 I know not which had the rarest savor. 
 
 Or which intended the fairest favor ; 
 
 For each was as lingerly bland as the other 
 
 And each might have been the other s mother. 
 
 But about the host and guests there moved 
 An outer circle of curious creatures. 
 That scanned the servers' careful features. 
 And with them flitted, as if it behoved 
 Their proper pride to be just as intent 
 To catch the banqueter's nodding assent. 
 These were my ministering outlived Years, 
 That served me unnoted of others' ears. 
 And mindless of others' hands and eyes. 
 With queries as low as the breeze that dies. 
 Each when her days were rounded complete. 
 Turned to a Hebe, and brought me to eat 
 Of the memories of hours that were bitter and 
 
 sweet — 
 Of ambrosia, and nectar, and food that grew 
 In fields that were sown when my hopes were 
 
 new. 
 
 And 'round each form there hovered a crowd. 
 Who prompted in voices now muffled, now loud. 
 Various ofters of burdens they bore : 
 "Give him that plum that he scorned before ; 
 It may be sweet now, since there are no more. 
 
38 
 
 Toss him that cherry, and the red, ripe kiss 
 That would have gone with it — ah, what he did 
 
 miss! 
 What different welcomes hath Eve from men — 
 Dangle that peerless apple again." 
 
 In their laps they held me the Autumn's plenty — 
 ('Twas barely enough when outing at twenty !) 
 And warm to their bosoms they held the glory 
 Of Spring's bloom-bounty, calling back an old 
 
 story 
 Spiced with lush favors that wax in the sun 
 As a boon for desire when the year is begun. 
 At ease on their shoulders in sheaves and festoons 
 Garnerings they brought of December noons. 
 To cadence of music and dancing they swayed, 
 And bright in my hands the plump grain they 
 
 laid. 
 With blushes and laughter they carried the 
 
 charms 
 Of tunny rich Summer in their rofe-bronzed arms. 
 (Oh, the breath of the orchard, and oh, the blind 
 
 lover, 
 Mistaking her cheeks for the peaches above her. ) 
 
 They were lovely together, and lovely each one. 
 Playing rivals no more than do rainbow and sun. 
 They threaded and circled in silent confusion, 
 And flashed their delights in bewildering profu- 
 sion. 
 They had succiilent sugar-cane bound in a sheaf, 
 Strawberries fresh in a rhubarb leaf — 
 (They grew on a hill by a beautiful river. 
 How memorj' sets the lips a-quiver ! 
 I plucked and ate them in happy days. 
 With only a boy's short pause for praise. ) 
 - - - And honey stolen from a vrildwood tree, 
 Borne in a poplar-bark boat that the bee 
 Would follow in rage as a skipper's cries 
 Follow with fire a pirate's prize. 
 And nuts lately hidden 'neath forest leaves. 
 Left snug in their hulls by the tree-top thieves 
 
39 
 
 (Heigh-ho the nutting! when the squirrels ran 
 Scamparing before as a merry van. 
 A nutshell or kernel brings back again 
 The rattling branches that fed me then. ) 
 
 Ah, shadowy servitors, laden Years, 
 
 There are echoes of laughter, shine of tears, 
 
 In your cornucopias, savory bowls ; 
 
 Your treasure -trove is a food for souls. 
 
 But there is many a dish that is dismal enough. 
 
 Cold as cellar-damp, dry as snuff : 
 
 Folios that moths might reckon sweet. 
 
 Salmis that only the heart could eat, 
 
 Violet salads whose fading blue 
 
 The eyes of dear children seem peeling through. 
 
 Out on the Roman Emperor's taste, 
 Who would ravage a realm, and nature waste. 
 Would outlaw his palate to swallow down 
 Farragos supreme of the price of a crown. 
 For here at my beck I have lordlier feasts. 
 Let the surfeited tyrant doze with the beasts. 
 If I turn me about, with the flash of thought, 
 Ragouts from the ends of the earth are brought, 
 And spiced to my will, to trickle and melt 
 On my inner sense with the tang I felt 
 When I knew not whether to eat or sing. 
 During youth's gay luncheon, when I was king. 
 
 O Years, my Years, no tinkling bell 
 
 Rings the dinner done under your strange spell. 
 
 Riches or poverty strive in vain 
 
 To change your providing through loss or gain. 
 
 Age and dignity trim their fare ; 
 
 Climate, condition, criss-cross of care, 
 
 Take toll from men's larders, but leave yoa free. 
 
 Victuallers, tell me — here's the last toast — 
 
 O'er which fair board did I linger most? 
 
 Could a whisper of treason get to my host? 
 
40 
 
 Press me not ; nay, let the fillip go — 
 The other half sugared her lips, I know; 
 But this is December, and that was June — 
 I remember there followed a murmured tune. 
 
 Close the brave feast — (my lady, your lace — ) 
 For thankful hearts God grant us grace. 
 
41 
 
 THE LIGHT OF THE PRESS. 
 
 One beacon more along the shores of thought. 
 Where myriad ventures of the soul pass by. 
 And shall its little radiance be for nought ? 
 
 Though but a child's torch, waved an hour on 
 high. 
 Some mammoth rover of the sea may take 
 The glimmering path, and from destruction fly. 
 
 Made steadfast year to year, its gleam may break 
 
 Upon the pilot's ken with starlike dower 
 Of guidance for the hopes he has at stake. 
 
 What glowing hearts for its effulgent hour, 
 
 To feed the flame, may lend of their desires, 
 We trust will seek new fervor from that Power, 
 
 Who keeps the great sun constant in its fires, 
 
 Maintains intense the jewels of the night. 
 And all the luminous lords of men inspires. 
 
 There is no danger but by lack of light. 
 
 They who through outer fog and gloom survive. 
 Need yet some signal for the inner sight. 
 
 From whate'er realm where men heroic strive, 
 The multifarious freight is hither brought, 
 
 Lo, for the craft that to our harbor drive. 
 One beacon more along the shores of thought. 
 
42 
 
 NEAR MT. MITCHELL. 
 
 Day after day I see the great blue heights 
 Reach to their kindred blue of sun and stars, 
 While in the vales I stop at streams and bars, 
 
 Far from hope's summit, and its beacon-lights. 
 
 And yet the brightest rainbows bend to me, 
 And wreaths of mist and rain come floating by. 
 If song-birds keep the valley, may not I ? 
 
 Where life with wmgs is glad, so hearts may be. 
 
 But hold ! I am not where these fern-leaves grow. 
 
 I stay not sheltered here with timid birds ; 
 
 I bask not on these slopes with lowly herds, 
 Nor await the sun to find these glens below. 
 
 My soul in truth is with yon azure peak. 
 I stand with mountains taking note aloft, 
 People with starry friends my skyey croft, 
 
 Whence heaven's sapphire pinnacles I seek. 
 
 I clasp far landscapes and the farther sea, 
 Yet rise above them into nobler space, 
 Rest on the earth, yet with the stars have place — 
 
 How far 'neath heaven that aye outreaches me. 
 
43 
 
 A FAVOR. 
 
 A favor ! Heart, what can it be ? 
 What favor will she ask of me ? 
 Oh, will it be the diamond star 
 That trembled in the blue afar, 
 And while she whispered seemed to be 
 A pledge of faith and secrecy ? 
 
 The leaf that fell dovra from the sky 
 Upon our book when she was nigh, 
 And as it caught her startled eyes, 
 Rustled a little, over wise. 
 When lo ! 'twas spirited away, 
 Gossiping the secret to the day ? 
 
 Or will it be the silver brook ? 
 
 Into whose face we tried to look. 
 
 Though ne'er a brook's face could we see 
 
 Beside the deep-reflected tree — 
 
 Far cloudland hollows fresh and fair. 
 
 And not a cherub anywhere : 
 
 Just two shy marplots of he blue 
 
 Hid 'neath the rim, were peering through. 
 
 Brook, leaf, or star — which will it be ? 
 Speak, fond Caprice, and challenge me. 
 
44 
 
 AUBADE. 
 
 Shall joy be all in afternoon ? 
 The shadows lengthen all too soon. 
 When twilight brings the silver moon, 
 I lose both thee and afternoon. 
 
 'Tis joy to find thee in the night, 
 When stars, and eyes, and words are bright, 
 When laughter makes the darkness light 
 Till I have lost thee in the night. 
 
 But oh, to greet thee in the morn. 
 To take thee when the day is born. 
 When gems of dew the flowers adorn, 
 And add thy splendor to the morn. 
 
 To have the day begin with thee — 
 What fairer wakening could there be ? 
 Radiance of sky, and land, and sea, * 
 Revealing my delight in thee ! 
 
 Come such a morn when dreams are done, 
 Toil shall be sweet beneath the sun, 
 And praise be mine, when thou art won. 
 Oh, happy mom, when dreams are done ! 
 
45 
 
 WHAT OF MY BELOVED ? 
 
 "What of my Beloved, ye who know her well ? 
 Tell me something of her laughter, of her sigh- 
 ing, singing. 
 Not a single comer with a tale to tell 
 Brings an answer for the wonder in her lover 
 ringing. 
 
 Birds go by in heaven, hut no outbiirst make ; 
 And the south wind following softly not a 
 whisper leaves me. 
 Why should light of morning o'er the horizon 
 break. 
 And yet shine not on my darkness, as each day 
 deceives me ? 
 
 Who to hear the story longeth more than I ? 
 The familiar years reluctant to behold me 
 waiting, 
 Wheel their seasons slowly as they pass me by. 
 And the stars in heaven wonder at the long 
 belating. 
 
 Just a little token from my true-love's heart: 
 Is there never a soul to find it, and to bring it, 
 tell it ? 
 Silence knoweth all, but it is loth to part 
 With the hoard of golden fame by any sign to 
 spell it. 
 
 Here I wait and love her, as I've waited long. 
 My Beloved hath my heart, but she delays 
 exchanging. 
 Rich is she in music, but withholds the song: 
 Can her heart have fear of love, yet fear not 
 love's estranging ? 
 
46 
 
 Tell me why she wakes not '? why her heart 
 should sleep ? 
 "Would she love a secret better than her lover's 
 gladness ? 
 Rainbows gem the mountahis, and the pearls the 
 deep, 
 But my height and depth of passion hath a soul 
 of sadness. 
 
47 
 
 TO TRUANT LOVE. 
 
 Come home to my heart, O Love, come home and 
 
 remain. 
 The days are delivering me stores of honeyed gain ; 
 I am loth to hoard them alone, my Love, I am 
 
 fain 
 To share them with thee, and for thanks to share 
 
 thy pain. 
 
 No slumbers or dreams come out of the golden 
 
 west 
 Can rob me of thoughts of thee, no crystal jest 
 That sparkles and lights mine eyes but it shows 
 
 thee plain — 
 Come home to my heart, O Love, come home and 
 
 remain. 
 
 The rivers thou f ollowest will lead thee out to sea. 
 Mirage of mountain and plain shifts far from me. 
 Turn back and leave them — to circle the globe is 
 
 vain — 
 Come back to my heart, O Love, come home and 
 
 remain. 
 
 'Tis not forever that love proffers fruits o' the 
 
 year, 
 Or music floats leeward for comer and goer to 
 
 hear. 
 Each life hath its rain and rainbows, and gets 
 
 no more : 
 Come home while thy heart is open and I have 
 
 store. 
 
 Else all thou wouldst find might teach thee late 
 
 to complain 
 Of loss of the kisses that warm on thy lips had 
 
 lain. 
 The troth, and the sweet busy days, with heaven 
 
 for gain — 
 Come home to my heart, O Love, come home and 
 
 remain. 
 
48 
 
 THE WOOER. 
 
 Love, thou hast the rarest, fairest 
 Face that e'er made seeing praising. 
 
 All my sighs thou hearest, Dearest, 
 Prayers are that my heart is raising. 
 
 And thy voice is meeter, sweeter 
 For reply than any other's ; 
 
 And thy heart is surer, purer 
 Than the music that it mothers. 
 
 Wouldst thou have me truer wooer 
 Than I am for beauty's favor ? 
 
 "Wouldst thou have me blinder, kinder, 
 Yet as master wiser, braver. 
 
 Make me better ; take me, make me 
 Matchless with my arms about thee, 
 
 Richer to caress thee, bless thee. 
 Than the greater man without thee. 
 
49 
 
 WITHOUT WORDS. 
 
 Now, now ! or she leaves me, 
 Smiles parts, and away ! 
 
 Speak ! Silence bereaves me : 
 Heart, what dost thou say ? 
 
 See, love waits to bless me. 
 
 Wait too ? Traitor nay ! 
 Thon, thou dost oppress me: 
 
 Heart, what dost thou say ? 
 
 There ! thou art to hold, love ; 
 
 Close, heart to heart lay. 
 Yes ! — How was it told, love ? 
 
 Heart, what didst ihou say ? 
 
5Q 
 
 HOME CAME I TO MY LOVE. 
 
 Home came I to my Love, 
 
 And %vhat, my heart, found I ? 
 Two deep trne eyes that watched with heaven 
 
 above 
 For my safe coming, and with tokens sweet 
 
 Shone down the path to meet 
 
 Her lover as he drew nigh. 
 
 And more than that, my heart : 
 
 The merry voice rang out. 
 To break the calm that falls when lovers part. 
 And murmurous music rich came rushing in 
 
 Between the kisses I did win 
 
 From lips that breathe no doubt. 
 
 I felt her heaving breast 
 
 Warm to my own again. 
 And her soft hand upon my forehead j-ressed 
 The soothing favor that o'er joyed my thought: 
 
 While from her sighs I caught 
 
 "My one triie man of men." 
 
 "My Love, how did you fare '?" 
 
 But ere I spake a word, 
 She laughed the laugh of those who have no care, 
 Mused while I told her — started at her name, 
 
 And vnth the sweetest shame 
 
 Praised what she had not heard. 
 
 Then she took up the plot 
 
 How through the lonely hours— 
 But paused— "I love you so 'tis all forgot." 
 So deep into her eyes I Avent my way, 
 
 And found the heart of May, 
 
 The secret of the flowers. 
 
51 
 
 Oh, she'll be ever fairer 
 
 Than any rose that blows. 
 Of all her worth I am her cliosen bearer. 
 Woall you had seea her hail my glad return'! 
 
 Day ne'er again may burn, 
 
 Such passion to disclose 
 
52 
 
 THE SEASONS OF HER SOUL. 
 
 Hast thou once passed the gateways of the 
 Spring. 
 Gone through the doors to where the peerless 
 power 
 Smiled o'er her secrets and the charms that bring 
 Her bounties forth when she hath named the 
 hour ? 
 
 And hast thou traced the poet's fairies back 
 To their still haunts from which he bade them 
 come ? 
 
 And led thy fellow by their gossamer track 
 To sunless caves w^here they lie lone and dumb? 
 
 Hast thou e'er torn sweet Echo from her mate ? 
 
 And for unveiling of the distance dim, 
 Lifted the curtain that both early and late 
 
 By day and night sweeps the horizon's rim '? 
 
 For if thou hast, then shouldst thou come with me 
 Into the glorv of one girl's sweet face, 
 
 Thou Spring discoverer, to stand and see 
 Seasons for which thou hast not found the place. 
 
 And thv melodious master with his song 
 Of Mnnning words, and all the Muses' train, 
 
 To match the hosts that 'neath her eyelids throng. 
 Will set his magic spirits to dance in vain. 
 
 And for her laughter and her lightest word 
 Vanishing Echo from the hill and dale 
 
 Could wake no softer music, nor the bird 
 With pipe or flute o'er her bright call prevail. 
 
 To her light gusts of ecstasy and glee, 
 That flush her face, and all her ringlets shake, 
 
 What were the shadows that o'er wheat fields flee, 
 Or quivering aspen, or the rippling lake ? 
 
53 
 
 And of the silence in the forest's heart, 
 That in the twilight to the sky appeals. 
 
 Deep in her eyes I see the counterpart. 
 When sorrow o'er her brooding spirit steals. 
 
 Ah, wouldst thou scorn the seasons of her soul ? 
 
 Stay then with Echo and tvoods that house her 
 voice. 
 Watch thou the orbs that far in heaven roll : 
 
 But in her radiant face will I rejoice. 
 
54 
 
 CHARLESTON. 
 
 What buffets from the wind of circnmi-.tance 
 Can hope to tear from out thy storied earth 
 The flower of thy beauty ? And would chance 
 
 Or burly skepticism claim thy birth '! 
 What time the heavens fall thou mayst await 
 Thy full-orbed doom : and never lesser fate 
 Will hide thy face from looking on the sea. 
 To welcome friend or foe exultingly, 
 Charleston. 
 
 Was it not here that nature's angels came 
 For thy enduing with the heaven's best ? 
 Beauty enveloped thee as in a flame ; 
 
 Morn kissed thee in the East, eve in the West. 
 But the Apollyon wings of vandal war 
 Dimmed the kind radiance of both sun and star, 
 And like sirocco from the hostile sea, 
 The dragons breathed their fire iinceasingly, 
 Charleston. 
 
 Here was a home for miracles that wake 
 The soul to august wonder, whether sky 
 
 And treacherous land had not made thee a stake 
 To play for wlien the spirit of storms was high — 
 
 The lightning's dread caressing, and the bane 
 
 Of thunder's music, and the riotous rain ! 
 
 While rumbling, gaping earth in rivalry, 
 
 Like a leviathan, shook ponderously, 
 Charleston. 
 
 Between the upper and nether fury thou 
 
 Wast darkling with disaster for a while ; 
 But careful mother, thoii couldst not allow 
 
 The rude eclipse. And soon thy sovereign smile 
 Met the iintroubled siin's good cheer again. 
 Thou didst but whisper to thy maids and men. 
 And thy old altars were upraised for thee 
 Out of the dust, prayerfully, lovingly, 
 Charleston. 
 
55 
 
 Tliou wast a mother ever ; and the homes 
 That make so fair thy acres are as sweet 
 As thy rare gardens where the wise bee roams. 
 Thou too, hast nectar for the soul most meet. 
 Ah, what rich memories grace the empty chair ! 
 The traveller oft has found his welcome there. 
 When aged eyes in the strange face would see 
 Some vanished child of thine, so wistfully, 
 Charleston. 
 
 In White Point now the song-birds carol clear. 
 
 Nature and man no more need thwart thy heart. 
 The laden seasons of the kindly year 
 
 Exchange their myriad treasures in thy mart. 
 The stranger and thy child together spell 
 The shining symbols thou hast wrought so well. 
 And he that shall thy sure millennium see 
 Will see thee smile as ever, beauteously, 
 Charleston. 
 
 •^C. 
 
OCT "4 18« 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 863 995 6