THe-POeAS-OF 
 CeLIA 
 
 THAXTeR 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 /"^ct^r^ ■ 
 
 Chap. Copyright x\o 
 
 Slielll.i,:;>: 
 
 -^^A^../ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
appleSate ^tsitian 
 
 THE POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 CELIA THAXTER 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 OF 
 
 / 
 
 CELIA THAXTER 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1899 
 
 /I 
 
Library of Congrassy 
 Office f the 
 
 DEG6-1I 
 
 Register of Copyrlghf«r 
 
 48671 
 
 Copyright, 1871, 1878, and 1886, 
 
 By L. L. THAXTER, HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & CO. 
 
 AND CELIA THAXTER. 
 
 Copyright, 1896 and 1899, 
 By ROLAND THAXTER. 
 
 A// rights reserved. 
 
 SECOND COPY, 
 
 The Eiverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 
 
 Jon) , \ \r> '^ ^ 
 
In this new edition of the collected writings of Celia 
 Thaxter, great care has heen taken to keep to her own 
 arrangement and to the order in which the poems were 
 originally published. In this way they seem to make 
 something like a journal of her daily life and thought, 
 and to mark the constantly increasing power of obser- 
 vation which was so marked a trait in her character. 
 As her eyes grew quicker to see the blooming of flow- 
 ers and the flight of birds, the turn of the waves as 
 they broke^on the rocks of Appledore, so the eyes 
 of her spirit read more and more clearly the inward 
 significance of things, the mysterious sorrows and joys 
 of human life. In the earliest of her poems there is 
 much to be found of that strange insight and antici- 
 pation of experience which comes with such gifts of 
 nature and gifts for writing as hers, but as life went 
 on it seemed as if Sorrow were visible to her eyes, 
 a shrouded figure walking in the daylight. Here I 
 ' and Sorrow sit was often true to the sad vision of her 
 imagination, yet she oftenest came hand in hand with 
 some invisible dancing Joy to a friend's door. 
 
 Through the long list of these brief poems (begin- 
 ning in the earliest book with Land-locked and follow- 
 
VI PKEFACE 
 
 ing through the volumes called Driftiveed and The 
 Cruise of the Mystery ; all reprinted here with some 
 later verses found together among her papers), one 
 walks side by side in intimate companionship with this 
 sometimes sad-hearted but sincerely glad and happy 
 woman and poet, and knows the springs of her life and 
 the power of her great love and hope. In another 
 volume all her delightful verses and stories for children 
 have been gathered; but one poem. The Sandpiper^ 
 seemed to belong to one book as much as to the other, 
 and this has been reprinted in both. 
 
 In the volume of her Letters will be found the 
 records of Celia Thaxter's life and so far as it could be 
 told the history of her literary work, while some per- 
 sonal notes by the hand of one of her dearest and old- 
 est friends leave little to be said here. Yet those who 
 have known through her writings alone the islands she 
 loved so much, may care to know how, just before she 
 died, she paid, as if with dim foreboding, a last visit 
 to the old familiar places of the tiny world that was 
 so dear to her. Day after day she called those who 
 were with her to walk or sail; once to spend a long 
 afternoon among the high cliffs of Star Island where 
 we sat in the shade behind the old church, and she 
 spoke of the year that she spent in the Gosport par- 
 sonage, and went there with us, to find old memories 
 waiting to surprise her in the worn doorways, and 
 ghosts and fancies of her youth tenanting all the an- 
 
PREFACE VU 
 
 cient rooms. Once we went to the lighthouse on 
 White Island, where she walked lightly over the 
 rough rocks with wonted feet, and showed us many 
 a trace of her childhood, and sang some quaint old 
 songs, as we sat on the cliff looking seaward, with 
 a touching lovely ca*^.ence in her voice, an unfor- 
 gotten cadence to any one who ever heard her sing. 
 We sat by the Spaniards' graves through a long 
 summer twilight, and she repeated her poem as if its 
 familiar words were new, and we talked of many 
 things as we watched the sea. And on Appledore she 
 showed us all the childish playgrounds dearest to her 
 and to her brothers, — the cupboard in a crevice of 
 rock, the old wells and cellars, the tiny stone-walled 
 enclosures, the worn doorsteps of unremembered houses. 
 We crept under the Sheep rock for shelter out of a 
 sudden gust of rain, we found some of the rarer wild 
 flowers in their secret places. In one of these it 
 thrills me now to remember that she saw a new white 
 flower, strange to her and to the island, which seemed 
 to reach up to her hand. "This never bloomed on 
 Appledore before," she said, and looked at it with 
 grave wonder. "It has not quite bloomed yet," she 
 said, standing before the flower; " I shall come here 
 again; " and then we went our unreturning way up the 
 footpath that led over the ledges, and left the new 
 flower growing in its deep windless hollow on the soft 
 green turf. 
 
viii PEEFACE 
 
 It was midsummer, and the bayberry bushes were 
 all a bright and shining green, and we watched a 
 sandpiper, and heard the plaintive cry that begged us 
 not to find and trouble its nest. Under the very rocks 
 and gray ledges, to the far nests of the wild sea birds, 
 her love and knowledge seemed to go. She was made 
 of that very dust, and set about with that sea, islanded 
 indeed in the reserves of her lonely nature with its 
 storms and calmness of high tides, but it seemed as if 
 a little star dust must have been mixed with the ordi- 
 nary dust of those coasts; there was something bright 
 in her spirit that will forever shine, and light the 
 hearts of those who loved her. It will pass on to a 
 later time in these poems that she wrote of music, of 
 spring and winter, of flowers and birds, and of that 
 northern sea which was her friend and fellow. 
 
 S. 0. J. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAQB 
 
 Land-locked 1 
 
 Off Shoee 2 
 
 Expectation 4 
 
 The Wreck of the Pocahontas 6 
 
 A Thanksgiving » 11 
 
 The Minute-guns 12 
 
 Seaward 14 
 
 Rock Weeds 15 
 
 The Sandpiper 18 
 
 Twilight 19 
 
 The Swallow 20 
 
 A Grateful Heart 22 
 
 The Spaniards' Graves 24 
 
 Watching 25 
 
 In May 27 
 
 A Summer Day 29 
 
 Regret 32 
 
 Before Sunrise 34 
 
 By the Roadside 37 
 
 Sorrow 39 
 
 November 41 
 
 Courage 41 
 
 Remembrance 43 
 
 Song : " We sail toward Evening's lonely Star" . 44 
 
 A Tryst 45 
 
 Imprisoned 48 
 
 Presage 50 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 Midsummer Midnight 51 
 
 April Days 53 
 
 Heartbreak Hill 54 
 
 The Song-Sparrow 57 
 
 In Kittery Churchyard 59 
 
 At the Breakers' Edge 61 
 
 "For Thoughts" 63 
 
 Wherefore 64 
 
 guendolen 66 
 
 The Watch of Boon Island 67 
 
 Beethoven 70 
 
 Mozart 72 
 
 Schubert 73 
 
 Chopin 74 
 
 The Pimpernel 75 
 
 By the Dead 78 
 
 Footprints in the Sand 80 
 
 A Broken Lily 83 
 
 May Morning 84 
 
 All 's Well 86 
 
 The Secret 90 
 
 Seaside Goldenrod 92 
 
 March 93 
 
 SONGl 95 
 
 The White Rover 95 
 
 Contrast 99 
 
 A Faded Glove 100 
 
 Portent 103 
 
 Song : " Sing, little Bird, oh sing " .... 105 
 
 Renunciation 106 
 
 Song: "Oh the Fragrance of the Air" . . . 107 
 
 Two Sonnets 108 
 
 Daybreak 109 
 
 Song : " O Love, Love, Love ! " Ill 
 
 The Nestling Swallows 112 
 
 Vesper Song 114 
 
 1 By Oscar Laighton. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 XI 
 
 Flowers in October jii 
 
 Wait l^g 
 
 Karen 217 
 
 A Mussel Shell ^ hq 
 
 Trust 120 
 
 modjeska 222 
 
 Song : " Swallow, sailing lightly " , ... 123 
 
 Lars 224 
 
 Song : " A Rushing of Wings in the Dawn " . . 127 
 
 Thora 228 
 
 The Happy Birds 230 
 
 Slumber Song 232 
 
 Starlight 232 
 
 Song : " Hark, how sweet the Thrushes sing ! " . , 135 
 
 Remonstrance 235 
 
 Morning Song 238 
 
 Beethoven 
 
 139 
 
 Song : "What good Gift can I bring Thee, O thou 
 
 Dearest " 239 
 
 With the Tide 240 
 
 " The Sunrise never failed us yet " 142 
 
 Enthralled 243 
 
 Song: "Rolls the long Breaker in Splendor, and 
 
 glances" 245 
 
 Transition 246 
 
 Leviathan 248 
 
 To A Violin 249 
 
 Philosophy 250 
 
 Medrick and Osprey 152 
 
 Alone 253 
 
 Reverie 254 
 
 Heart's-Ease 156 
 
 Autumn 258 
 
 Song : " Love, art Thou weary with the sultry Day? " 159 
 
 Submission IgO 
 
 Song : "I wore your Roses, Yesterday" . . . .162 
 
 Spring again 162 
 
 Sonnet : " As happy Dwellers by the Seaside hear " 165 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 Song : " Above in her Chamber her Voice I hear " . 165 
 
 Foreboding * . 166 
 
 Homage 167 
 
 Discontent 168 
 
 Already 170 
 
 Guests 171 
 
 Mutation 173 
 
 Farewell 174 
 
 Doubt 175 
 
 Sunset Song , 176 
 
 "Love shall save us all" 177 
 
 The Cruise of the Mystery 177 
 
 Schumann's Sonata in A Minor 184 
 
 Because of Thee 185 
 
 Flowers for the Brave 186 
 
 Expostulation 187 
 
 Persistence 188 
 
 S. E 190 
 
 Poor Lisette 190 
 
 To J. G. W 192 
 
 In Tuscany 193 
 
 Good-By, Sweet Day 195 
 
 In Autumn 196 
 
 West- Wind 197 
 
 Impatience 199 
 
 In the Lane 200 
 
 Her Mirror 202 
 
 For Christmas 203 
 
 At Set of Moon 204 
 
 My Garden 205 
 
 Lost and Saved 208 
 
 A Rose of Joy 209 
 
 In September 210 
 
 Under the Eaves 212 
 
 November Morning 214 
 
 In Death's Despite 217 
 
 A Song of Hope 218 
 
 Our Soldiers 219 
 
CONTENTS xiii 
 
 Two ! 220 
 
 Compensation 222 
 
 Sonnet : " Back from Life's Coasts the ebbing Tide 
 
 HAD dbawn" 224 
 
 Joy 224 
 
 Beloved 225 
 
 The Answer 226 
 
 Song : '* Past the Point and by the Beach " . . 227 
 
 August 228 
 
 Song : "A Bird upon a rosy Bough" . . . .229 
 '* Oh tell me not of heavenly Halls " . . . . 230 
 
 Midsummer 231 
 
 New Year Song 232 
 
 Captured 232 
 
 Faith 234 
 
 At Dawn 235 
 
 In a Horse-Car 236 
 
 A Valentine 238 
 
 Within and Without 239 
 
 Betrothed 240 
 
 Questions 242 
 
 Tyre and Sidon 244 
 
 Hjelma 245 
 
 My Hollyhock 247 
 
 Benediction 250 
 
 Sonnet : *•' If I do speak your Praise, forgive me, 
 
 Sweet ! " 250 
 
 On the Train 251 
 
 Peace 253 
 
 As Linnets Sing 254 
 
 Ruth 255 
 
 Petition . 257 
 
 Appeal 258 
 
POEMS 
 
 LAND-LOCKED 
 
 Black lie the hills; swiftly doth daylight flee; 
 And, catching gleams of sunset's dying smile, 
 Through the dusk land for many a changing mile 
 
 The river runneth softly to the sea. 
 
 O happy river, could I follow thee ! 
 
 O yearning heart, that never can be still ! 
 
 O wistful eyes, that watch the steadfast hill, 
 Longing for level line of solemn sea! 
 
 Have patience; here are flowers and songs of birds, 
 Beauty and fragrance, wealth of sound and sight. 
 All summer's glory thine from morn till night. 
 
 And life too full of joy for uttered words. 
 
 Neither am I ungrateful; but I dream 
 Deliciously how twilight falls to-night 
 Over the glimmering water, how the light 
 
 Dies blissfully away, until I seem 
 
OFF SHORE 
 
 To feel the wind, sea-scented, on my cheek, 
 To catch the sound of dusky flapping sail 
 And dip of oars, and voices on the gale 
 
 Afar off, calling low, — my name they speak ! 
 
 O Earth! thy summer song of joy may soar 
 Kinging to heaven in triumph. I but crave 
 The sad, caressing murmur of the wave 
 
 That breaks in tender music on the shore. 
 
 OFF SHOEE 
 
 Rock, little boat, beneath the quiet sky; 
 Only the stars behold us where we lie, — 
 Only the stars and yonder brightening moon. 
 
 On the wide sea to-night alone are we; 
 The sweet, bright summer day dies silently, 
 Its glowing sunset will have faded soon. 
 
 Rock softly, little boat, the while I mark 
 The far off gliding sails, distinct and dark. 
 Across the west pass steadily and slow. 
 
 But on the eastern waters sad, they change 
 
 And vanish, dream-like, gray, and cold, and strange. 
 
 And no one knoweth whither they may go. 
 
OFF SHORE a 
 
 We care not, we, drifting with wind and tide, 
 While glad waves darken upon either side, 
 Save where the moon sends silver sparkles down, 
 
 And yonder slender stream of changing light, 
 Now white, now crimson, tremulously bright, 
 Where dark the lighthouse stands, with fiery crown. 
 
 Thick falls the dew, soundless on sea and shore: 
 
 It shines on little boat and idle oar. 
 
 Wherever moonbeams touch with tranquil glow. 
 
 The waves are full of whispers wild and sweet; 
 They call to me, — incessantly they beat 
 Along the boat from stern to curved prow. 
 
 Comes the careering wind, blows back my hair, 
 All damp with dew, to kiss me unaware. 
 Murmuring " Thee I love," and passes on. 
 
 Sweet sounds on rocky shores the distant rote; 
 Oh could we float forever, little boat, 
 Under the blissful sky drifting alone! 
 
EXPECTATION 
 
 EXPECTATIOISr 
 
 Throughout the lonely house the whole day long 
 The wind-harp's fitful music sinks and swells, — 
 
 A cry of pain, sometimes, or sad and strong. 
 Or faint, like broken peals of silver bells. 
 
 Across the little garden comes the breeze, 
 Bows all its cups of flame, and brings to me 
 
 Its breath of mignonette and bright sweet-peas. 
 With drowsy murmurs from the encircling sea. 
 
 In at the open door a crimson drift 
 
 Of fluttering, fading woodbine leaves is blown, 
 And through the clambering vine the sunbeams sift, 
 
 And trembling shadows on the floor are thrown. 
 
 I climb the stair, and from the window lean 
 Seeking thy sail, love, that still delays; 
 
 Longing to catch its glimmer, searching keen 
 The jealous distance veiled in tender haze. 
 
 What care I if the pansies purple be. 
 
 Or sweet the wind-harp wails through the slow 
 hours ; 
 Or that the lulling music of the sea 
 
 Comes woven with the perfume of the flowers ? 
 
EXPECTATION 5 
 
 Thou comest not! I ponder o'er the leaves, 
 The crimson drift behind the open door: 
 
 Soon shall we listen to a wind that grieves, 
 Mourning this glad year, dead forevermore. 
 
 And, O my love, shall we on some sad day 
 
 Find joys and hopes low fallen like the leaves, 
 
 Blown by life's chilly autumn wind away 
 
 In withered heaps God's eye alone perceives ? 
 
 Come thou, and save me from my dreary thought! 
 
 Who dares to question Time, what it may bring? 
 Yet round us lies the radiant summer, fraught 
 
 With beauty: must we dream of suffering? 
 
 Yea, even so. Through this enchanted land. 
 This morning-red of life, we go to meet 
 
 The tempest in the desert, hand in hand, 
 
 Along God's paths of pain, that seek his feet. 
 
 But this one golden moment, — hold it fast ! 
 
 The light grows long: low in the west the sun. 
 Clear red and glorious, slowly sinks at last. 
 
 And while I muse, the tranquil day is done. 
 
 The land breeze freshens in thy gleaming sail! 
 
 Across the singing waves the shadows creep: 
 Under the new moon's thread of silver pale. 
 
 With the first star, thou comest o'er the deep. 
 
THE WRECK OF THE POCAHONTAS 
 
 THE WRECK OF THE POCAHONTAS 
 
 I LIT the lamps in the lighthouse tower, 
 
 Eor the sun dropped down and the day was dead. 
 
 They shone like a glorious clustered flower, — 
 Ten golden and five red. 
 
 Looking across, where the line of coast 
 
 Stretched darkly, shrinking away from the sea, 
 
 The lights sprang out at its edge, — almost 
 They seemed to answer me ! 
 
 warning lights ! burn bright and clear. 
 Hither the storm comes ! Leagues away 
 
 It moans and thunders low and drear, — 
 Burn till the break of day ! 
 
 Good-night ! I called to the gulls that sailed 
 Slow past me through the evening sky; 
 
 And my comrades, answering shrilly, hailed 
 Me back with boding cry. 
 
 A mournful breeze began to blow; 
 
 Weird music it drew through the iron bars; 
 The sullen billows boiled below. 
 
 And dimly peered the stars; 
 
THE WRECK OF THE POCAHONTAS 
 
 The sails that flecked the ocean floor 
 From east to west leaned low and fled; 
 
 They knew what came in the distant roar 
 That filled the air with dread! 
 
 Flung by a fitful gust, there beat 
 Against the window a dash of rain: 
 
 Steady as tramp of marching feet 
 Strode on the hurricane. 
 
 It smote the waves for a moment still, 
 Level and deadly white for fear; 
 
 The bare rock shuddered, — an awful thrill 
 Shook even my tower of cheer. 
 
 Like all the demons loosed at last, 
 
 Whistling and shrieking, wild and wide, 
 
 The mad wind raged, while strong and fast 
 EoUed in the rising tide. 
 
 And soon in ponderous showers, the spray, 
 Struck from the granite, reared and sprung 
 
 And clutched at tower and cottage gray, 
 Where overwhelmed they clung 
 
 Half drowning to the naked rock ; 
 
 But still burned on the faithful light. 
 Nor faltered at the tempest's shock. 
 
 Through all the fearful night. 
 
THE WRECK OF THE POCAHONTAS 
 
 Was it in vain 1 That knew not we. 
 
 We seemed, in that confusion vast 
 Of rushing wind and roaring sea, 
 
 One point whereon was cast 
 
 The whole Atlantic's weight of brine. 
 
 Heaven help the ship should drift our way ! 
 No matter how the light might shine 
 
 Far on into the day. 
 
 When morning dawned, above the din 
 Of gale and breaker boomed a gun! 
 
 Another! We who sat within 
 Answered with cries each one. 
 
 Into each other's eyes with fear 
 
 We looked through helpless tears, as still, 
 One after one, near and more near, 
 
 The signals pealed, until 
 
 The thick storm seemed to break apart 
 To show us, staggering to her grave. 
 
 The fated brig. We had no heart 
 To look, for naught could save. 
 
 One glimpse of black hull heaving slow. 
 Then closed the mists o'er canvas torn 
 
 And tangled ropes swept to and fro 
 From masts that raked forlorn. 
 
THE WKECK OF THE POCAHONTAS 
 
 Weeks after, yet ringed round with spray 
 Our island lay, and none might land; 
 
 Though blue the waters of the bay 
 Stretched calm on either hand. 
 
 And when at last from the distant shore 
 A little boat stole out, to reach 
 
 Our loneliness, and bring once more 
 Eresh human thought and speech, 
 
 We told our tale, and the boatmen cried: 
 " 'T was the Pocahontas, — all were lost ! 
 
 For miles along the coast the tide 
 Her shattered timbers tossed." 
 
 Then I looked the whole horizon round, — 
 
 So beautiful the ocean spread 
 About us, o'er those sailors drowned! 
 
 " Father in heaven, " I said, — 
 
 A child's grief struggling in my breast, — 
 " Do purposeless thy children meet 
 
 Such bitter death? How was it best 
 These hearts should cease to beat? 
 
 " Oh wherefore ? Are we naught to Thee ? 
 Like senseless weeds that rise and fall 
 Upon thine awful sea, are we 
 No more then, after all ? " 
 
10 THE WEECK OF THE POCAHONTAS 
 
 And I shut the beauty from my sight, 
 
 For I thought of the dead that lay below; 
 
 From the bright air faded the warmth and light, 
 There came a chill like snow. 
 
 Then I heard the far-off rote resound, 
 
 Where the breakers slow and slumberous rolled, 
 
 And a subtile sense of Thought profound 
 Touched me with power untold. 
 
 And like a voice eternal spake 
 
 That wondrous rhythm, and, " Peace, be still ! '* 
 It murmured, " bow thy head and take 
 
 Life's rapture and life's ill, 
 
 "And wait. At last all shall be clear." 
 The long, low, mellow music rose 
 And fell, and soothed my dreaming ear 
 With infinite repose. 
 
 Sighing I climbed the lighthouse stair. 
 Half forgetting my grief and pain; 
 
 And while the day died, sweet and fair, 
 I lit the lamps again. 
 
A THANKSGIVING 11 
 
 A thanksgiving- 
 High on the ledge the wind blows the bayberry 
 
 bright, 
 Turning the leaves till they shudder and shine in the 
 
 light; 
 Yellow St. John's-wort and yarrow are nodding their 
 
 heads, 
 Iris and wild-rose are glowing in purples and reds. 
 
 Swift flies the schooner careering beyond o'er the blue; 
 Faint shows the furrow she leaves as she cleaves lightly 
 
 through ; 
 Gay gleams the fluttering flag at her delicate mast; 
 Full swell the sails with the wind that is following fast. 
 
 Quail and sandpiper and swallow and sparrow are here : 
 Sweet sound their manifold notes, high and low, far 
 
 and near; 
 Chorus of musical waters, the rush of the breeze, 
 Steady and strong from the south, — what glad voices 
 
 are these ! 
 
 O cup of the wild- rose, curved close to hold odorous 
 
 dew. 
 What thought do you hide in your heart ? I would 
 
 that I knew ! 
 
12 THE MINUTE-GUNS 
 
 beautiful Iris, unfurling your purple and gold, 
 What victory fling you abroad in the flags you unfold 1 
 
 Sweet may your thought be, red rose, but still sweeter 
 
 is mine, 
 Close in my heart hidden, clear as your dewdrop 
 
 divine. 
 Flutter your gonfalons. Iris, the paean I sing 
 Is for victory better than joy or than beauty can bring. 
 
 Into thy calm eyes, Nature, I look and rejoice; 
 Prayerful, I add my one note to the Infinite voice: 
 As shining and singing and sparkling glides on the 
 
 glad day. 
 And eastward the swift-rolling planet wheels into the 
 
 gray. 
 
 THE MINUTE-GUNS 
 
 I STOOD within the little cove. 
 
 Full of the morning's life and hope, 
 
 While heavily the eager waves 
 
 Charged thundering up the rocky slope. 
 
 The splendid breakers ! How they rushed, 
 All emerald green and flashing white. 
 
 Tumultuous in the morning sun. 
 
 With cheer and sparkle and delight! 
 
THE MINUTE-GUNS 13 
 
 And freshly blew the fragrant wind, 
 The wild sea wind, across their tops, 
 
 And caught the spray and flung it far 
 In sweeping showers of glittering drops. 
 
 Within the cove all flashed and foamed 
 With many a fleeting rainbow hue; 
 
 Without, gleamed bright against the sky 
 A tender wavering line of blue. 
 
 Where tossed the distant waves, and far 
 
 Shone silver- white a quiet sail; 
 And overhead the soaring gulls 
 
 With graceful pinions stemmed the gale. 
 
 And all my pulses thrilled with joy. 
 Watching the winds' and waters' strife, 
 
 With sudden rapture, — and I cried, 
 
 " Oh, sweet is life ! Thank God for life ! " 
 
 Sailed any cloud across the sky. 
 
 Marring this glory of the sun's? 
 Over the sea, from distant forts. 
 
 There came the boom of minute-guns! 
 
 War-tidings ! Many a brave soul fled. 
 And many a heart the message stuns! 
 
 I saw no more the joyous waves, 
 I only heard the minute-guns. 
 
H SEAWARD 
 
 SEAWAED 
 
 TO 
 
 How long it seems since that mild April night, 
 When, leaning from the window, you and I 
 
 Heard, clearly ringing from the shadowy bight, 
 The loon's unearthly cry ! 
 
 Southwest the wind blew, million little waves 
 Ean rippling round the point in mellow tune, 
 
 But mournful, like the voice of one who raves, 
 That laughter of the loon! 
 
 "We called to him, while blindly through the haze 
 Uprose the meagre moon behind us, slow, 
 
 So dim, the fleet of boats we scarce could trace, 
 Moored lightly just below. 
 
 We called, and lo, he answered! Half in fear 
 We sent the note back. Echoing rock and bay 
 
 Made melancholy music far and near, 
 Sadly it died away. 
 
 That schooner, you remember 1 Flying ghost ! 
 
 Her canvas catching every wandering beam, 
 Aerial, noiseless, past the glimmering coast 
 
 She glided like a dream. 
 
ROCK WEEDS 15 
 
 Would we were leaning from your window now, 
 
 Together calling to the eerie loon, 
 The fresh wind blowing care from either brow, 
 
 This sumptuous night of June ! 
 
 So many sighs load this sweet inland air, 
 
 'T is hard to breathe, nor can we find relief, — 
 
 However lightly touched we all must share 
 This nobleness of grief. 
 
 But sighs are spent before they reach your ear; 
 
 Vaguely they mingle with the water's rune, 
 No sadder sound salutes you than the clear. 
 
 Wild laughter of the loon. 
 
 BOCK WEEDS 
 
 So bleak these shores, wind-swept and all the year 
 Washed by the wild Atlantic's restless tide. 
 
 You would not dream that flowers the woods hold dear 
 Amid such desolation dare abide. 
 
 Yet when the bitter winter breaks, some day, 
 With soft winds fluttering her garments' hem. 
 
 Up from the sweet South comes the lingering May, 
 Sets the first wind-flower trembling on its stem; 
 
IG KOCK WEEDS 
 
 Scatters her violets with lavish hands, 
 
 White, blue, and amber; calls the columbine, 
 
 Till like cloar tlamo in lonely nooks, gay bands 
 Swinging their scarlet bells, ol)ey the sign; 
 
 Makes buttercups and daiidelions blajse. 
 
 And throws in glimmering patches here and there, 
 The little t>yebright's pearls, and gently lays 
 
 The impress of her beauty everywhere. 
 
 Later, June bids the sweet wild ivse to blow ; 
 
 Wakes from its dream the drowsy pimpernel; 
 Unfolds the bindweed's ivory buds, that glow 
 
 Aa delicately blushing as a shell. 
 
 Then purple Iris smiles, and hour by hour. 
 The fair procession multiplies; and soon. 
 
 In clusters cit>amy white, the elder- tlower 
 
 AVaves its bivad disk against the rising moon. 
 
 O'er quiet beaches shelving to the sea 
 
 TtUl mulleins sway, and thistles ; all day long 
 
 Flows in the wooing water dreamily, 
 
 With subtile music in its slumbei\)us song. 
 
 Hexb-robert hears, and prineess'-feather bright, 
 And goldtluvad clas^>s the little skull-cap blue; 
 
HOOK WEEDS 17 
 
 Ami troDpH of H\viill«>WH, f^'athoriii^' for Uioir (li^'l'L 
 O'ov gohUMUoil iiiid iiMlnr.i hohl loviow. 
 
 Tho barren ialiuul *lr»uuiiM iii llo\v«^rM, wliilo Mow 
 Tlio Hoiith wiiuls, dniwiii^ Im/o (>^^r M(mi ami land; 
 
 Vol tho groat, hoart of ocoaii, lliroliliiiig hIow, 
 
 Makoa tho frail blosBOiuB vibrato wUovo Mu^y Mtaiid ; 
 
 And liintH of lioavior pnlRoa soon to shako 
 IIh mighty b^^^aMt \\\um Hummt^r in no moro, 
 
 And dovaHtating wavt^a H\v«^t^l> on aiul l)r^^aU, 
 And ohlH]) with girdlo wliitt* tht^ iron ^^llor^^. 
 
 (M()H(s foldod, mio within iUo Hholtoring nood, 
 BloHHom antl lu^ll ami h^afy bt^auty hide; 
 
 Nor icy blant, nor bittor H^ray thoy hood, 
 Hnt ])ati(Mitly tlioir \V(»mb'oiiH chnngo abide. 
 
 Tho lioart of (Jod Mirough lii.s croation ntirH, 
 Wo thrill to fool it, trombling aw tlu^ lloworn 
 
 That dio to live again, — bin nioaHongorn, 
 
 To koop faith 11 rm in thoao sad aoula of ours. 
 
 Tho wavoH of Tinio may dovaatatc^ our livoa, 
 
 Tho froata of ago may cIuh-U our failing breath, 
 
 Thoy ahall not touch tho apirit that aurvivea 
 Trium[thant ovt^r doubt and i>ain antl d(uith. 
 
18 THE SANDPIPER 
 
 THE SANDPIPER 
 
 Across the narrow beach we flit, 
 
 One little sandpiper and I, 
 And fast I gather, bit by bit. 
 
 The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 
 The wild waves reach their hands for it. 
 
 The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, 
 As up and down the beach we flit, — 
 
 One little sandpiper and I. 
 
 Above our heads the sullen clouds 
 
 Scud black and swift across the sky; 
 Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 
 
 Stand out the white lighthouses high. 
 Almost as far as eye can reach 
 
 I see the close-reefed vessels fly, 
 As fast we flit along the beach, — 
 
 One little sandpiper and I. 
 
 I watch him as he skims along, 
 
 Uttering his sweet and mournful cry. 
 He starts not at my fitful song. 
 
 Or flash of fluttering drapery. 
 He has no thought of any wrong; 
 
 He scans me with a fearless eye. 
 Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 
 
 The little sandpiper and I. 
 
TWILIGHT 19 
 
 Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night 
 
 When the loosed storm breaks furiously ? 
 My driftwood fire will burn so bright! 
 
 To what warm shelter canst thou fly ? 
 I do not fear for thee, though wroth 
 
 The tempest rushes through the sky: 
 For are we not God's children both, 
 
 Thou, little sandpiper, and 1 1 
 
 TWILIGHT 
 
 September's slender crescent grows again 
 Distinct in yonder peaceful evening red. 
 Clearer the stars are sparkling overhead. 
 
 And all the sky is pure, without a stain. 
 
 Cool blows the evening wind from out the West 
 
 And bows the flowers, the last sweet flowers that 
 
 bloom, — 
 Pale asters, many a heavy-waving plume 
 
 Of goldenrod that bends as if opprest. 
 
 The summer's songs are hushed. Up the lone shore 
 The weary waves wash sadly, and a grief 
 Sounds in the wind, like farewells fond and brief. 
 
 The cricket's chirp but makes the silence more. 
 
20 THE SWALLOW 
 
 Life's autumn comes; the leaves begin to fall; 
 
 The moods of spring and summer pass away ; 
 
 The glory and the rapture, day by day, 
 Depart, and soon the quiet grave folds all. 
 
 O thoughtful sky, how many eyes in vain 
 Are lifted to your beauty, full of tears ! 
 How many hearts go back through all the years, 
 
 Heavy with loss, eager with questioning pain, 
 
 To read the dim Hereafter, to obtain 
 
 One glimpse beyond the earthly curtain, where 
 Their dearest dwell, where they may be or e'er 
 
 September's slender crescent shines again ! 
 
 THE SWALLOW 
 
 The swallow twitters about the eaves; 
 
 Blithely she sings, and sweet and clear; 
 Around her climb the woodbine leaves 
 
 In a golden atmosphere. 
 
 The summer wind sways leaf and spray, 
 That catch and cling to the cool gray wall; 
 
 The bright sea stretches miles away. 
 And the noon sun shines o'er all. 
 
THE SWALLOW 21 
 
 In the chamber's shadow, quietly, 
 
 I stand and worship the sky and the leaves, 
 
 The golden air and the brilliant sea, 
 The swallow at the eaves. 
 
 Like a living jewel she sits and sings; 
 
 Fain would I read her riddle aright. 
 Fain would I know whence her rapture springs, 
 
 So strong in a thing so slight ! 
 
 The fine, clear fire of joy that steals 
 Through all my spirit at what I see 
 
 In the glimpse my window's space reveals, — 
 That seems no mystery ! 
 
 But scarce for her joy can she utter her song; 
 
 Yet she knows not the beauty of skies or seas. 
 Is it bliss of living, so sweet and strong ? 
 
 Is it love, which is more than these ? 
 
 O happy creature ! what stirs thee so ? 
 
 A spark of the gladness of God thou art. 
 Why should we seek to find and to know 
 
 The secret of thy heart? 
 
 Before the gates of his mystery 
 
 Trembling we knock with an eager hand; 
 Silent behind them waiteth He ; 
 
 Not yet may we understand. 
 
22 A GRATEFUL HEART 
 
 But thrilling throughout the universe 
 Throhs the pulse of his mighty will, 
 
 Till we gain the knowledge of joy or curse 
 In the choice of good or ill. 
 
 He looks from the eyes of the little child, 
 And searches souls with their gaze so clear; 
 
 To the heart some agony makes wild 
 He whispers, "I am here." 
 
 He smiles in the face of every flower; 
 
 In the swallow's twitter of sweet content 
 He speaks, and we follow through every hour 
 
 The way his deep thought went. 
 
 Here should be courage and hope and faith; 
 
 Naught has escaped the trace of his hand; 
 And a voice in the heart of his silence saith, 
 
 One day we shall understand. 
 
 A GRATEFUL HEART 
 
 Last night I stole away alone, to find 
 A mellow crescent setting o'er the sea, 
 And lingered in its light, while over me 
 
 Blew fitfully the grieving autumn wind. 
 
A GKATEFUL HEART 23 
 
 And somewhat sadly to myself I said, 
 
 "Summer is gone," and watched how bright and 
 
 fast 
 Through the moon's track the little waves sped 
 past, — 
 " Summer is gone ! her golden days are dead. " 
 
 Eegretfully I thought, " Since I have trod 
 Earth's ways with willing or reluctant feet, 
 Never did season bring me days more sweet. 
 
 Crowned with rare joys and priceless gifts from God. 
 
 "And they are gone: they will return no more." 
 The slender moon went down, all red and still: 
 The stars shone clear, the silent dews fell chill; 
 
 The waves with ceaseless murmur washed the shore. 
 
 A low voice spake: "And wherefore art thou sad? 
 Here in thy heart all summer folded lies, 
 And smiles in sunshine though the sweet time dies; 
 
 'Tis thine to keep forever fresh and glad! " 
 
 Yea, gentle voice, though the fair days depart. 
 And skies grow cold above the restless sea, 
 God's gifts are measureless, and there shall be 
 
 Eternal summer in the grateful heart. 
 
24 THE SPANIARDS' GRAVES 
 
 THE SPANIARDS' GRAVES 
 
 AT THE ISLES OF SHOALS 
 
 SAILORS, did sweet eyes look after you 
 The day you sailed away from sunny Spain? 
 
 Bright eyes that followed fading ship and crew, 
 Melting in tender rain? 
 
 Did no one dream of that drear night to he, 
 
 Wild with the wind, fierce with the stinging snow, 
 
 When on yon granite point that frets the sea, 
 The ship met her death-blow ? 
 
 Fifty long years ago these sailors died: 
 
 (None know how many sleep beneath the waves:) 
 Fourteen gray headstones, rising side by side, 
 
 Point out their nameless graves, — 
 
 Lonely, unknown, deserted, but for me, 
 
 And the wild birds that flit with mournful cry, 
 
 And sadder winds, and voices of the sea 
 That moans perpetually. 
 
 Wives, mothers, maidens, wistfully, in vain 
 Questioned the distance for the yearning sail. 
 
 That, leaning landward, should have stretched again 
 White arms wide on the gale. 
 
WATCHING 25 
 
 To bring back their beloved. Year by year, 
 
 Weary they watched, till youth and beauty passed, 
 
 And lustrous eyes grew dim and age drew near, 
 And hope was dead at last. 
 
 Still summer broods o'er that delicious land, 
 
 Eich, fragrant, warm with skies of golden glow: 
 
 Live any yet of that forsaken band 
 Who loved so long ago? 
 
 O Spanish women, over the far seas. 
 
 Could I but show you where your dead repose ! 
 
 Could I send tidings on this northern breeze 
 That strong and steady blows ! 
 
 Dear dark- eyed sisters, you remember yet 
 
 These you have lost, but you can never know 
 
 One stands at their bleak graves whose eyes are 
 wet 
 With thinking of your woe ! 
 
 WATCHING 
 
 In childhood's season fair. 
 On many a balmy, moonless summer night. 
 While wheeled the lighthouse arms of dark and bright 
 
 Far through the humid air; 
 
26 WATCHING 
 
 How patient have I been, 
 Sitting alone, a happy little maid, 
 Waiting to see, careless and unafraid, 
 
 My father's boat come in; 
 
 Close to the water's edge 
 Holding a tiny spark, that he might steer 
 (So dangerous the landing, far and near) 
 
 Safe past the ragged ledge. 
 
 I had no fears, — not one ; 
 The wild, wide waste of water leagues around 
 Washed ceaselessly; there was no human sound. 
 
 And I was all alone. 
 
 But Nature was so kind! 
 Like a dear friend I loved the loneliness; 
 My heart rose glad, as at some sweet caress, 
 
 When passed the wandering wind. 
 
 Yet it was joy to hear. 
 From out the darkness, sounds grow clear at last, 
 Of rattling rowlock, and of creaking mast, 
 
 And voices drawing near ! 
 
 " Is 't thou, dear father ? Say ! " 
 What well-known shout resounded in reply. 
 As loomed the tall sail, smitten suddenly 
 
 With the great lighthouse ray ! 
 
IN MAY 27 
 
 I will be patient now, 
 Dear Heavenly Father, waiting here for Thee: 
 I know the darkness holds Thee. Shall I be 
 
 Afraid, when it is Thou ? 
 
 On thy eternal shore, 
 In pauses, when life's tide is at its prime, 
 I hear the everlasting rote of Time 
 
 Beating for evermore. 
 
 Shall I not then rejoice ? 
 Oh, never lost or sad should child of thine 
 Sit waiting, fearing lest there come no sign, 
 
 No whisper of thy voice ! 
 
 IN MAY 
 
 That was a curlew calling overhead, 
 
 That fine, clear whistle shaken from the clouds: 
 See ! hovering o'er the swamp with wings outspread. 
 
 He sinks where at its edge in shining crowds 
 The yellow violets dance as they unfold. 
 In the blithe spring wind, all their green and gold. 
 
 Blithe south-wind, spreading bloom upon the sea, 
 Drawing about the world this band of haze 
 
 So softly delicate, and bringing me 
 
 A touch of balm that like a blessing stays; 
 
28 IN MAY 
 
 Though beauty like a dream bathes sea and land, 
 For the first time Death holds me by the hand. 
 
 Yet none the less the swallows weave above 
 
 Through the bright air a web of light and song, 
 
 And calling clear and sweet from cove to cove, 
 The sandpiper, the lonely rocks among, 
 
 Makes wistful music, and the singing sea 
 
 Sends its strong chorus upward solemnly. 
 
 Mother Nature, infinitely dear! 
 Vainly I search the beauty of thy face. 
 
 Vainly thy myriad voices charm my ear; 
 
 I cannot gather from thee any trace 
 Of God's intent. Help me to understand 
 Why, this sweet morn, Death holds me by the hand. 
 
 1 watch the waves, shoulder to shoulder set. 
 
 That strive and vanish and are seen no more. 
 The earth is sown with graves that we forget, 
 
 And races of mankind the wide world o'er 
 Rise, strive, and vanish, leaving naught behind. 
 Like changing waves swept by the changing wind. 
 
 " Hard-hearted, cold, and blind, " she answers me, 
 "Vexing thy soul with riddles hard to guess! 
 
 No waste of any atom canst thou see, 
 Nor make I any gesture purposeless. 
 
A SUMMER DAY 29 
 
 Lift thy dim eyes up to the conscious sky ! 
 God meant that rapture in the curlew's cry. 
 
 "He holds his whirling worlds in check; not one 
 
 May from its awful orhit swerve aside; 
 Yet breathes He in this south-wind, bids the sun 
 
 Wake the fair flowers He fashioned, far and wide, 
 And this strong pain thou canst not understand 
 Is but his grasp on thy reluctant hand." 
 
 A SUMMER DAY 
 
 At daybreak in the fresh light, joyfully 
 
 The fishermen drew in their laden net; 
 The shore shone rosy purple, and the sea 
 Was streaked with violet; 
 
 And pink with sunrise, many a shadowy sail 
 
 Lay southward, lighting up the sleeping bay; 
 And in the west the white moon, still and pale, 
 Faded before the day. 
 
 Silence was everywhere. The rising tide 
 
 Slowly filled every cove and inlet small; 
 A musical low whisper, multiplied. 
 You heard, and that was all. 
 
 No clouds at dawn, but as the sun climbed higher, 
 White columns, thunderous, splendid, up the sky 
 
30 A SUMMER DAY 
 
 Floated and stood, heaped in his steady fire, 
 A stately company. 
 
 Stealing along the coast from cape to cape 
 The weird mirage crept tremulously on. 
 In many a magic change and wondrous shape, 
 Throbbing beneath the sun. 
 
 At noon the wind rose, swept the glassy sea 
 
 To sudden ripple, thrust against the clouds 
 A strenuous shoulder, gathering steadily. 
 Drove them before in crowds; 
 
 Till all the west was dark, and inky black 
 
 The level-ruffled water underneath, 
 And up the wind cloud tossed, — a ghostly rack. 
 In many a ragged wreath. 
 
 Then sudden roared the thunder, a great peal 
 
 Magnificent, that broke and rolled away ; 
 And down the wind plunged, like a furious keel. 
 Cleaving the sea to spray; 
 
 And brought the rain sweeping o'er land and sea. 
 And then was tumult! Lightning sharp and 
 keen. 
 Thunder, wind, rain, — a mighty jubilee 
 The heaven and earth between! 
 
A SUMMER DAY 31 
 
 Loud the roused ocean sang, a chorus grand; 
 
 A solemn music rolled in undertone 
 Of waves that broke about, on either hand, 
 The little island lone; 
 
 Where, joyful in his tempest as his calm, 
 Held in the hollow of that hand of his, 
 I joined with heart and soul in God's great psalm, 
 Thrilled with a nameless bliss. 
 
 Soon lulled the wind, the summer storm soon died; 
 
 The shattered clouds went eastward, drifting slow; 
 From the low sun the rain-fringe swept aside. 
 Bright in his rosy glow, 
 
 And wide a splendor streamed through all the sky; 
 
 O'er sea and land one soft, delicious blush. 
 That touched the gray rocks lightly, tenderly; 
 A transitory flush. 
 
 Warm, odorous gusts blew off the distant land, 
 
 With spice of pine-woods, breath of hay new 
 mown. 
 O'er miles of waves and sea scents cool and bland, 
 Full in our faces blown. 
 
 Slow faded the sweet light, and peacefully 
 The quiet stars came out, one after one: 
 
32 KEGRET 
 
 The holy twilight fell upon the sea, 
 The summer day was done. 
 
 Such unalloyed delight its hours had given, 
 
 Musing, this thought rose in my grateful mind, 
 That God, who watches all things, up in heaven. 
 With patient eyes and kind. 
 
 Saw and was pleased, perhaps, one child of his 
 
 Dared to be happy like the little birds. 
 Because He gave his children days like this, 
 Kejoicing beyond words; 
 
 Dared, lifting up to Him untroubled eyes 
 
 In gratitude that worship is, and prayer, 
 Sing and be glad with ever new surprise, 
 He made his world so fair! 
 
 EEGEET 
 
 Softly Death touched her, and she passed away 
 Out of this glad, bright world she made more fair. 
 
 Sweet as the apple-blossoms, when in May 
 The orchards flush, of summer grown aware. 
 
 All that fresh, delicate beauty gone from sight. 
 That gentle, gracious presence felt no more! 
 
 How must the house be emptied of delight, 
 
 What shadows on the threshold she passed o'er! 
 
REGRET 33 
 
 She loved me. Surely I was grateful, yet 
 I could not give her back all she gave me. 
 
 Ever I think of it with vague regret, 
 Musing upon a summer by the sea: 
 
 Remembering troops of merry girls who pressed 
 About me — clinging arms and tender eyes. 
 
 And love, like scent of roses. With the rest 
 She came, to fill my heart with new surprise. 
 
 The day I left them all, and sailed away, 
 
 While o'er the calm sea, 'neath the soft gray sky, 
 
 They waved farewell, she followed me, to say 
 Yet once again her wistful, sweet "good-by.'^ 
 
 At the boat's bow she drooped; her light-green dress 
 Swept o'er the skiff in many a graceful fold; 
 
 Her glowing face, bright with a mute caress. 
 Crowned with her lovely hair of shadowy gold: 
 
 And tears she dropped into the crystal brine 
 Tor me, unworthy — as we slowly swung 
 
 Free of the mooring. Her last look was mine, 
 Seeking me still the motley crowd among. 
 
 O tender memory of the dead I hold 
 
 So precious through the fret and change of years ! 
 Were I to live till Time itself grew old. 
 
 The sad sea would be sadder for those tears. 
 
34 BEFORE SUNRISE 
 
 BEFORE SUNRISE 
 
 This grassy gorge, as daylight failed last night, 
 
 I traversed toward the west, where, thin and 
 young, 
 
 Bent like Diana's bow and silver bright. 
 Half lost in rosy haze, a crescent hung. 
 
 I paused upon the beach's upper edge: 
 The violet east all shadowy lay behind; 
 
 Southward the lighthouse glittered o'er the ledge, 
 And lightly, softly blew the western wind. 
 
 And at my feet, between the turf and stone, 
 Wild roses, bayberry, purple thistles tall, 
 
 And pink horb-robert grow, where shells were strown 
 And morning-glory vines climbed over alL 
 
 I stooped the closely folded buds to note. 
 That gleamed in the dim light mysteriously, 
 
 Wliile, full of whispers of the far-off rote, 
 Summer's enchanted dusk crept o'er the sea. 
 
 And sights and sounds and sea-scents delicate, 
 So wrought upon my soul with sense of bliss, 
 
 Happy I sat as if at heaven's gate, 
 
 Asking on earth no greater joy than this. 
 
BEFORE SUNRISE 35 
 
 And now, at dawn, upon the beach again, 
 Kneeling I wait the coming of the sun, 
 
 Watching the looser-folded buds, and fain 
 To see the marvel of their day begun. 
 
 All the world lies so dewy-fresh and still! 
 
 Whispers so gently all the water wide, 
 Hardly it breaks the silence : from the hill 
 
 Come clear bird-voices mingling with the tide. 
 
 Sunset or dawn: which is the lovelier? Lol 
 My darlings, sung to all the balmy night 
 
 By summer waves and softest winds that blow. 
 Begin to feel the thrilling of the light I 
 
 Ked lips of roses, waiting to be kissed 
 
 By early sunshine, soon in smiles will break. 
 
 But oh, ye morning-glories, that keep tryst 
 With the first ray of daybreak, ye awake ! 
 
 bells of triumph, ringing noiseless peals 
 
 Of unimagined music to the day I 
 Almost I could believe each blossom feels 
 
 The same delight that sweeps my soul away. 
 
 O bells of triumph! delicate trumpets, thrown 
 
 Heavenward and earthward, turned east, west, north, 
 south. 
 
36 BEFORE SUNRISE 
 
 In lavish beauty, who through you has blown 
 
 This sweet cheer of the morning with calm mouth ? 
 
 'Tis God who breathes the triumph; He who 
 wrought 
 
 The tender curves, and laid the tints divine 
 Along the lovely lines; the Eternal Thought 
 
 That troubles all our lives with wise design. 
 
 Yea, out of pain and death his beauty springs, 
 And out of doubt a deathless confidence: 
 
 Though we are shod with leaden cares, our wings 
 Shall lift us yet out of our deep suspense ! 
 
 Thou great Creator! Pardon us who reach 
 For other heaven beyond this world of thine, 
 
 This matchless world, where thy least touch doth 
 teach 
 Thy solemn lessons clearly, line on line. 
 
 And help us to be grateful, we who live 
 Such sordid, fretful lives of discontent. 
 
 Nor see the sunshine nor the flower, nor strive 
 To find the love thy bitter chastening meant. 
 
BY THE ROADSIDE 37 
 
 BY THE EOADSIDE 
 
 Dropped the warm rain from the brooding sky- 
 Softly all the summer afternoon; 
 
 Up the road I loitered carelessly, 
 Glad to be alive in blissful June. 
 
 Though so gray the sky, and though the mist 
 Swept the hills and half their beauty hid; 
 
 Though the scattering drops the broad leaves kissed, 
 And no ray betwixt the vapor slid, 
 
 Yet the daisies tossed their white and gold 
 
 In the quiet fields on either side, 
 And the green gloom deepened in the old 
 
 Walnut-trees that flung their branches wide; 
 
 And the placid river wound away 
 
 Westward to the hills through meadows fair, 
 Flower-fringed and starred, while blithe and gay 
 
 Called the blackbirds through the balmy air. 
 
 Eight and left I scanned the landscape round; 
 
 Every shape, and scent, and wild bird's call, 
 Every color, curve, and gentle sound. 
 
 Deep into my heart I gathered all. 
 
38 BY THE ROADSIDE 
 
 Up I looked, and down upon the sod 
 
 Sprinkled thick with violets blue and bright; 
 "Surely, ' Through his garden walketh God,' " 
 Low I whispered, full of my delight. 
 
 Like a vision, on the path before, 
 
 Came a little rosy, sun- browned maid, 
 
 Straying toward me from her cottage door, 
 Paused, up-looking shyly, half afraid. 
 
 Never word she spake, but gazing so, 
 
 Slow a smile rose to her clear brown eyes. 
 
 Overflowed her face with such a glow 
 
 That I thrilled with sudden, sweet surprise. 
 
 Here was sunshine 'neath the cloudy skies! 
 
 Low I knelt to bring her face to mine; 
 Sweeter, brighter grew^ her shining eyes, 
 
 Yet she gave me neither word nor sign. 
 
 But within her look a blessing beamed; 
 
 Meek I grew before it; was it just? 
 Was I worthy this pure light that streamed? 
 
 Such approval, and such love and trust 1 
 
 Half the flowers I carried in my hands 
 Lightly in her pretty arms I laid; 
 
SORROW 89 
 
 Silent, but as one who understands, 
 Clasped them close the rosy little maid. 
 
 Fair behind the honeysuckle spray 
 Shone her innocent, delightful face ! 
 
 Then I rose and slowly went my way, 
 Left her standing, lighting all the place. 
 
 While her golden look stole after me, 
 
 Lovelier bloomed the violets where I trod; 
 
 More divine earth's beauty seemed to be: 
 "Through his garden visibly walked God." 
 
 SOKKOW 
 
 Upon my lips she laid her touch divine, 
 
 And merry speech and careless laughter died; 
 
 She fixed her melancholy eyes on mine, 
 And would not be denied. 
 
 I saw the west wind loose his cloudlets white 
 In flocks, careering through the April sky ; 
 
 I could not sing though joy was at its height, 
 For she stood silent by. 
 
 I watched the lovely evening fade away ; 
 A mist was lightly drawn across the stars; 
 
40 SORROW 
 
 She broke my quiet dream, I heard her say, 
 " Behold your prison bars ! 
 
 "Earth's gladness shall not satisfy your soul, 
 This beauty of the world in which you live; 
 The crowning grace that sanctifies the whole, 
 That, I alone can give." 
 
 I heard and shrank away from her afraid; 
 
 But still she held me and would still abide; 
 Youth's bounding pulses slackened and obeyed, 
 
 With slowly ebbing tide. 
 
 "Look thou beyond the evening star," she said, 
 "Beyond the changing splendors of the day; 
 Accept the pain, the weariness, the dread. 
 Accept and bid me stay ! " 
 
 I turned and clasped her close with sudden strength, 
 And slowly, sweetly, I became aware 
 
 Within my arms God's angel stood at length. 
 White-robed and calm and fair. 
 
 And now I look beyond the evening star, 
 Beyond the changing splendors of the day. 
 
 Knowing the pain He sends more precious far, 
 More beautiful, than they. 
 
COURAGE 41 
 
 NOVEMBEE 
 
 There is no wind at all to-night 
 To dash the drops against the pane; 
 
 No sound abroad, nor any light, 
 And sadly falls the autumn rain; 
 
 There is no color in the world. 
 
 No lovely tint on hill or plain; 
 The summer's golden sails are furled, 
 
 And sadly falls the autumn rain. 
 
 The earth lies tacitly beneath, 
 
 As it were dead to joy or pain : 
 It does not move, it does not breathe, — 
 
 And sadly falls the autumn rain. 
 
 And all my heart is patient too, 
 
 I wait till it shall wake again; 
 The songs of spring shall sound anew. 
 
 Though sadly falls the autumn rain. 
 
 COURAGE 
 
 Because I hold it sinful to despond, 
 And will not let the bitterness of life 
 
 Blind me with burning tears, but look beyond 
 Its tumult and its strife; 
 
42 COURAGE 
 
 Because I lift my head above the mist, 
 
 Where the sun shines and the broad breezes blow, 
 
 By every ray and every raindrop kissed 
 That God's love doth bestow; 
 
 Think you I find no bitterness at all ? 
 
 No burden to be borne, like Christian's pack ? 
 Think you there are no ready tears to fall 
 
 Because I keep them back ? 
 
 Why should I hug life's ills with cold reserve. 
 To curse myself and all who love me ? Nay ! 
 
 A thousand times more good than I deserve 
 God gives me every day. 
 
 And in each one of these rebellious tears, 
 
 Kept bravely back. He makes a rainbow shine; 
 
 Grateful I take his slightest gift, no fears 
 Nor any doubts are mine. 
 
 Dark skies must clear, and when the clouds are past, 
 One golden day redeems a weary year; 
 
 Patient I listen, sure that sweet at last 
 Will sound his voice of cheer. 
 
 Then vex me not with chiding. Let me be. 
 
 I must be glad and grateful to the end. 
 I grudge you not your cold and darkness, — me 
 
 The powers of light befriend. 
 
REMEMBRANCE 43 
 
 REMEMBRANCE 
 
 Fragrant and soft the summer wind doth blow. 
 Weary I lie, with heavy, half-shut eyes. 
 And watch, while wistful thoughts within me 
 rise. 
 
 The curtain idly swaying to and fro. 
 
 There comes a sound of household toil from far, 
 A woven murmur: voices shrill and sweet, 
 Clapping of doors, and restless moving feet, 
 
 And tokens faint of fret, and noise, and jar. 
 
 Without, the broad earth shimmers in the glare, 
 Through the clear noon high rides the blazing 
 
 sun, 
 The birds are hushed; the cricket's chirp alone 
 
 With tremulous music cleaves the drowsy air. 
 
 I think, — "Past the gray rocks the wavelets run; 
 
 The gold- brown seaweed drapes the ragged ledge; 
 
 And brooding, silent, at the water's edge 
 The white gull sitteth, shining in the sun." 
 
44 SONG 
 
 SONG 
 
 We sail toward evening's lonely star 
 
 That trembles in the tender blue; 
 One single cloud, a dusky bar, 
 
 Burnt with dull carmine through and through, 
 Slow smouldering in the summer sky, 
 
 Lies low along the fading west. 
 How sweet to watch its splendors die, 
 
 Wave-cradled thus and wind-caressed! 
 
 The soft breeze freshens, leaps the spray 
 
 To kiss our cheeks, with sudden cheer; 
 Upon the dark edge of the bay 
 
 Lighthouses kindle, far and near, 
 And through the warm deeps of the sky 
 
 Steal faint star- clusters, while we rest 
 In deep refreshment, thou and I, 
 
 Wave-cradled thus and wind- caressed. 
 
 How like a dream are earth and heaven, 
 
 Star- beam and darkness, sky and sea; 
 Thy face, pale in the shadowy even, 
 
 Thy quiet eyes that gaze on me ! 
 Oh, realize the moment's charm. 
 
 Thou dearest! we are at life's best, 
 Folded in God's encircling arm. 
 
 Wave- cradled thus and wind- caressed. 
 
A TRYST 45 
 
 A TRYST 
 
 From out the desolation of the North 
 
 An iceberg took its way, 
 From its detaining comrades breaking forth, 
 
 And traveling night and day. 
 
 At whose command? Who bade it sail the deep 
 
 With that resistless force 1 
 Who made the dread appointment it must keep ? 
 
 Who traced its awful course ? 
 
 To the warm airs that stir in the sweet South, 
 
 A good ship spread her sails; 
 Stately she passed beyond the harbor's mouth, 
 
 Chased by the favoring gales; 
 
 And on her ample decks a happy crowd 
 
 Bade the fair land good-by ; 
 Clear shone the day, with not a single cloud 
 
 In all the peaceful sky. 
 
 Brave men, sweet women, little children bright. 
 
 For all these she made room, 
 And with her freight of beauty and delight 
 
 She went to meet her doom. 
 
46 A TRYST 
 
 Storms buffeted the iceberg, spray was swept 
 
 Across its loftiest height; 
 Guided alike by storm and calm, it kept 
 
 Its fatal path aright. 
 
 Then warmer waves gnawed at its crumbling base, 
 
 As if in piteous plea; 
 The ardent sun sent slow tears down its face, 
 
 Soft flowing to the sea. 
 
 Dawn kissed it with her tender rose tints, Eve 
 
 Bathed it in violet, 
 The wistful color o'er it seemed to grieve 
 
 With a divine regret. 
 
 Whether Day clad its clefts in rainbows dim 
 
 And shadowy as a dream, 
 Or Night through lonely spaces saw it swim 
 
 White in the moonlight's gleam, 
 
 Ever Death rode upon its solemn heights, 
 
 Ever his watch he kept; 
 Cold at its heart through changing days and nights 
 
 Its changeless purpose slept. 
 
 And where afar a smiling coast it passed. 
 
 Straightway the air grew chill; 
 Dwellers thereon perceived a bitter blast, 
 
 A vague report of ill. 
 
A TRYST 47 
 
 Like some imperial creature, moving slow, 
 
 Meanwhile, with matchless grace, 
 The stately ship, unconscious of her foe, 
 
 Drew near the trysting place. 
 
 For still the prosperous breezes followed her, 
 
 And half the voyage was o'er; 
 In many a breast glad thoughts began to stir 
 
 Of lands that lay before. 
 
 And human hearts with longing love were dumb, 
 
 That soon should cease to beat, 
 Thrilled with the hope of meetings soon to come, 
 
 And lost in memories sweet. 
 
 Was not the weltering waste of water wide 
 
 Enough for both to sail ? 
 What drew the two together o'er the tide. 
 
 Fair ship and iceberg pale 1 
 
 There came a night with neither moon nor star, 
 
 ' Clouds draped the sky in black; 
 With fluttering canvas reefed at every spar, 
 And weird fire in her track. 
 
 The ship swept on ; a wild wind gathering fast 
 
 Drove her at utmost speed. 
 Bravely she bent before the fitful blast 
 
 That shook her like a reed. 
 
48 IMPKISONED 
 
 O holmsniiui, turn thy wheel ! Will no surmise 
 Oloavo throiigli the midnight droar? 
 
 No \varnin|j; of tho horriblo surprise 
 lloacli tliino unconscious car? 
 
 Sho ruslunl upon hor ruin. Not a Hash 
 
 l>^(>k(^ up the "waiting dark; 
 Dully thn>ugh wind and sea ono awful crash 
 
 fcJoundoil, with uoiuy to niark. 
 
 Scarcely hor crow liad timo to clutch despair, 
 
 So swift tho wt>rk was done: 
 Ero thoir palo lips coukl franu> a speechless prayer, 
 
 They perished, every one I 
 
 HVirillSONED 
 
 Ltotitly she lifts the large, pure, luminous sholl, 
 
 Poises it in hor strong and sha]>ely luuid. 
 'Listen," she says, "it has a talc to tell, 
 
 Spoken in language yi>u may undorstand. " 
 
 Smiling, she holds it at my dreaming ear: 
 The old, delicious murmur of the sea 
 
 Steals like enchant nuMit thnnigh me, and 1 hear 
 Voices like echoes of eternity. 
 
IMPRISONED 49 
 
 She stirs it softly, Lo, another speech ! 
 
 In one of its dim chambers, shut from sight, 
 Is sealed the water that has kissed the beach 
 
 Where the far Indian Ocean leai)s in light. 
 
 Those laughing ripples, hidden evermore 
 In utter darkness, plaintively repeat 
 
 Their lapsing on the glowing tropic shore, 
 In melancholy whispers low and sweet. 
 
 O prisoiuul wave that may not see the sun I 
 O voice that never may be comforted ! 
 
 You cannot break the web that Fate has spun; 
 Out of your world are light and gladness fled. 
 
 The red dawn nevermore shall tremble far 
 Across the leagues of radiant brine to you ; 
 
 You shall not sing to greet the evening star, 
 Nor dance exulting under heaven's clear blue. 
 
 Inexorably woven is the weft 
 
 That shrouds from you all joy but memory; 
 Only this tender, low lament is left 
 
 Of all the sumptuous splendor of the sea. 
 
50 PRESAGE 
 
 PRESAGE 
 
 If, some day, I should scok those eyes 
 So goiitle now, — - and tind tho strange, 
 Pale shadow of a coming change, 
 
 To chill mo with a sad surprise; 
 
 Shouldst thou recall what thou hast given, 
 And turn mo slowly cold and dumb, 
 And thou thyself again become 
 
 Homoto as any star in heaven; 
 
 Would the sky ever seem again 
 
 Perfectly clear? Would the serene. 
 Sweet face of nature steal between 
 
 This grief and me, to dull its pain? 
 
 Oh not for many a weary day 
 Would sorrow soften to regret, 
 And many a sun would rise and set 
 
 Ere I, with cheerful heart, could say: 
 
 "All undeserved it camo. To-day, 
 God takes it back again, because 
 Too beautiful a thing it was 
 For such as I to keep for aye." 
 
MIDSUMMER MIDNIGHT 51 
 
 And ever, through the coming years, 
 
 My star, remote in happy skies, 
 
 Would seem more heavenly fair through eyes 
 Yet tremulous with unfallen tears. 
 
 MIDSUMMER MIDNIGHT 
 
 The wide, still, moonlit water miles away 
 
 Stretches in lonely splendor. Whispers creep 
 
 About us from the midnight wind, and play 
 
 Among the flowers that breathe so sweet in sleep; 
 
 A soft touch sways the milk-white, stately phlox, 
 
 And on its slender stem the poppy rocks. 
 
 Fair faces turn to watch the dusky sea, 
 
 And clear eyes brood upon the path of light 
 
 The white moon makes, the while deliciously. 
 Like some vague, tender memory of delight, 
 
 Or like some half remembered, dear regret, 
 
 Rises the odor of the mignonette. 
 
 Midsummer glories, moonlight, flowers asleep. 
 And delicate perfume, mystic winds that blow 
 
 Soft-breathing, full of balm, and the great deep 
 In leagues of shadow swaying to and fro; 
 
 And loving human thought to mark it all, 
 
 And human hearts that to each other call; 
 
52 MIDSUMMER MIDNIGHT 
 
 Needs the enchantment of the summer night 
 Another touch to make it perfect 1 Hark ! 
 
 What sudden shaft of sound, like piercing light, 
 Strikes on the ear athwart the moonlit dark ? 
 
 Like some keen shock of joy is heard within 
 
 The wondrous music of the violin. 
 
 It is as if dumb Nature found a voice, 
 
 And spoke with power, though in an unknown 
 tongue. 
 What kinship has the music with the noise 
 
 Of waves, or winds, or with the flowers, slow-swung 
 Like censers to and fro upon the air. 
 Or with the shadow, or the moonlight fair ? 
 
 And yet it seems some subtile link exists. 
 We know not how. And over every phase 
 
 Of thought and feeling wandering as it lists, 
 Playing upon us as the west- wind plays 
 
 Over the wind- harp, the subduing strain 
 
 Sweeps with resistless power of joy and pain. 
 
 Slow ebbs the golden tide, and all is still. 
 
 Ask the magician at whose touch awoke 
 That mighty, penetrating, prisoned will. 
 
 The matchless voice that so divinely spoke. 
 Kindling to fresher life the listening soul, 
 What daring thought such fire from heaven stole ? 
 
APRIL DAYS 53 
 
 He cannot tell us how the charm was wrought, 
 Though in his hand he holds the potent key, 
 
 Nor read the spell that to the sweet night brought 
 This crown of rapture and of mystery, 
 
 And lifted every heart, and drew away 
 
 All trace of worldliness that marred the day. 
 
 But every head is bowed. We watch the sea 
 With other eyes, as if some hint of bliss 
 
 Spoke to us, through the yearning melody. 
 
 Of glad new worlds, of brighter lives than this; 
 
 While still the milk-white, stately phlox waves slow, 
 
 And drowsily the poppy rocks below. 
 
 APRIL DAYS 
 
 Oh the sweet, sweet lapsing of the tide, 
 
 Through the still hours of the golden afternoon I 
 
 Oh the warm, red sunshine, far and wide, 
 Falling soft as in the crowning days of June! 
 
 Calls the gray sandpiper from the quiet shore, 
 
 Weave the swallows light and music through the air, 
 
 Chants the sparrow all his pleasure o'er and o'er, 
 Sings and smiles the Spring, and sparkles every- 
 where. 
 
54 HEARTBKEAK HILL 
 
 Well I know that death and pain to all are near, 
 That, save sorrow, naught is certain this world 
 gives; 
 
 Yet my heart stirs with the budding of the year, 
 And rejoices still with everything that lives. 
 
 Fold me then, O south- wind ! God is good. 
 
 Gladly, gratefully I take thy sweet caress. 
 Call, sandpiper, from thy solitude. 
 
 Every sight and sound has power to bless. 
 
 Oh the sweet, sweet lapsing of the tide. 
 
 Through the still hours of the golden afternoon I 
 
 Nor death, nor pain, nor sorrow shall abide, 
 For God blesses all his children, late or soon. 
 
 HEAETBREAK HILL 
 
 In" Ipswich town, not far from the sea, 
 
 Rises a hill which the people call 
 Heartbreak Hill, and its history 
 
 Is an old, old legend, known to all. 
 
 The selfsame dreary, worn-out tale 
 Told by all peoples in every clime, 
 
 Still to be told till the ages fail, 
 
 And there comes a pause in the march of Time. 
 
HEARTBREAK HILL 65 
 
 It was a sailor who won the heart 
 
 Of an Indian maiden, lithe and young; 
 
 And she saw him over the sea depart, 
 
 While sweet in her ear his promise rung; 
 
 For he cried, as he kissed her wet eyes dry, 
 
 "I '11 come back, sweetheart; keep your faith! " 
 
 She said, " I will watch while the moons go by : " 
 Her love was stronger than life or death. 
 
 So this poor dusk Ariadne kept 
 
 Her watch from the hilltop rugged and steep; 
 Slowly the empty moments crept 
 
 While she studied the changing face of the deep, 
 
 Fastening her eyes upon every speck 
 That crossed the ocean within her ken; 
 
 Might not her lover be walking the deck, 
 Surely and swiftly returning again? 
 
 The Isles of Shoals loomed, lonely and dim, 
 In the northeast distance far and gray, 
 
 And on the horizon's uttermost rim 
 The low rock heap of Boon Island lay. 
 
 And north and south and west and east 
 
 Stretched sea and land in the blinding light, 
 
 Till evening fell, and her vigil ceased, 
 And many a hearth-glow lit the night, 
 
56 HEARTBREAK HILL 
 
 To mock those set and glittering eyes 
 Fast growing wild as her hope went out. 
 
 Hateful seemed earth, and the hollow skies, 
 Like her own heart, empty of aught but doubt. 
 
 Oh, but the weary, merciless days, 
 
 With the sun above, with the sea afar, — 
 
 No change in her fixed and wistful gaze 
 From the morning-red to the evening star! 
 
 Oh, the winds that blew, and the birds that sang. 
 The calms that smiled, and the storms that rolled. 
 
 The bells from the town beneath, that rang 
 
 Through the summer's heat and the winter's cold! 
 
 The flash of the plunging surges white. 
 The soaring gull's wild, boding cry, — 
 
 She was weary of all; there was no delight 
 In heaven or earth, and she longed to die. 
 
 What was it to her though the Dawn should paint 
 
 With delicate beauty skies and seas ? 
 But the sweet, sad sunset splendors faint 
 
 Made her soul sick with memories: 
 
 Drowning in sorrowful purple a sail 
 
 In the distant east, where shadows grew. 
 
 Till the twilight shrouded it, cold and pale, 
 And the tide of her anguish rose anew. 
 
THE SONG-SPARROW 57 
 
 Like a slender statue carved of stone 
 She sat, with hardly motion or breath. 
 
 She wept no tears and she made no moan, 
 But her love was stronger than life or death. 
 
 He never came back ! Yet faithful still. 
 She watched from the hilltop her life away. 
 
 And the townsfolk christened it Heartbreak Hill, 
 And it bears the name to this very day. 
 
 THE SONG-SPAEEOW 
 
 In this sweet, tranquil afternoon of spring. 
 While the low sun declines in the clear west, 
 
 I sit and hear the blithe song- sparrow sing 
 His strain of rapture not to be suppressed; 
 
 Pondering life's problem strange, while death draws 
 near, 
 
 I listen to his dauntless song of cheer. 
 
 His shadow flits across the quiet stone: 
 
 Like that brief transit is my space of days; 
 
 For, like a flower's faint perfume, youth is flown 
 Already, and there rests on all life's ways 
 
 A dimness ; closer my beloved I clasp. 
 
 For all dear things seem slipping from my grasp. 
 
58 THE SONG-SPARROW 
 
 Death touches all; the light of loving eyes 
 Goes out in darkness, comfort is withdrawn; 
 
 Lonely, and lonelier still the pathway lies, 
 
 Going toward the fading sunset from the dawn: 
 
 Yet hark ! while those fine notes the silence break, 
 
 As if all trouble were some grave mistake ! 
 
 Thou little bird, how canst thou thus rejoice, 
 As if the world had known nor sin nor curse 1 
 
 God never meant to mock us with that voice ! 
 That is the key-note of the universe, 
 
 That song of perfect trust, of perfect cheer. 
 
 Courageous, constant, free of doubt or fear. 
 
 My little helper, ah, my comrade sweet. 
 My old companion in that far-off time 
 
 When on life's threshold childhood's winged feet 
 Danced in the sunrise ! Joy was at its prime 
 
 When all my heart responded to thy song. 
 
 Unconscious of earth's discords harsh and strong. 
 
 Now, grown aweary, sad with change and loss. 
 With the enigma of myself dismayed; 
 
 Poor, save in deep desire to bear the cross 
 God's hand on his defenseless creatures laid. 
 
 With patience, — here I sit this eve of spring, 
 
 And listen with bowed head, while thou dost sing. 
 
IN KITTERY CHURCHYARD 59 
 
 And slowly all my soul with comfort fills, 
 
 And the old hope revives and courage grows; 
 
 Up the deserted shore a fresh tide thrills, 
 
 And like a dream the dark mood melts and goes, 
 
 And with thy joy again will I rejoice: 
 
 God never meant to mock us with that voice ! 
 
 m KITTERY CHURCHYAED 
 
 *' Mary, wife of Charles Chauncy, died April 23, 1758, in the 24th 
 3'ear of her age." 
 
 Crushing the scarlet strawberries in the grass, 
 I kneel to read the slanting stone. Alas ! 
 How sharp a sorrow speaks ! A hundred years 
 And more have vanished, with their smiles and tears, 
 Since here was laid, upon an April day, 
 Sweet Mary Chauncy in the grave away, — 
 A hundred years since here her lover stood 
 Beside her grave in such despairing mood. 
 And yet from out the vanished past I hear 
 His cry of anguish sounding deep and clear, 
 And all my heart with pity melts, as though 
 To-day's bright sun were looking on his woe. 
 "Of such a wife, O righteous Heaven! bereft, 
 What joy for me, what joy on earth is left? 
 Still from my inmost soul the groans arise. 
 Still flow the sorrows ceaseless from mine eyes." 
 
60 IN KITTERY CHURCHYARD 
 
 Alas, poor tortured soul ! I look away 
 
 From the dark stone, — how brilliant shines the day I 
 
 A low wall, over which the roses shed 
 
 Their perfumed petals, shuts the quiet dead 
 
 Apart a little, and the tiny square 
 
 Stands in the broad and laughing field so fair, 
 
 And gay green vines climb o'er the rough stone wall, 
 
 And all about the wild birds Hit and call, 
 
 And but a stone's throw southward, the blue sea 
 
 Kolls sparkling in and sings incessantly. 
 
 Lovely as any dream the peaceful place. 
 
 And scarcely changed since on her gentle face 
 
 For the last time on that sad April day 
 
 He gazed, and felt, for him, all beauty lay 
 
 Buried with her forever. Dull to him 
 
 Looked the bright world through eyes with tears so 
 
 dim! 
 "I soon shall follow the same dreary way 
 That leads and opens to the coasts of day." 
 His only hope! But when slow time had dealt 
 Firmly with him and kindly, and he felt 
 The storm and stress of strong and piercing pain 
 Yielding at last, and he grew calm again, 
 Doubtless he found another mate before 
 Ho followed Mary to the happy shore! 
 But none the less his grief appeals to me 
 Who sit and listen to the singing sea 
 This matchless summer day, beside the stone 
 
AT THE BllEAKEliS' EDGE 61 
 
 Ho made to echo with his bitter moan, 
 And in my eyes I feel the foolish tears 
 For buried sorrow, dead a hundred years I 
 
 AT THE BREAKERS' EDGE 
 
 Through the wide sky thy north wind's thunder 
 roars 
 
 Resistless, till no cloud is left to flee, 
 And down the clear, cold heaven unhindered pours 
 
 Thine awful moonlight on the winter sea. 
 
 The vast, black, raging spaces, torn and wild, 
 
 With an insensate fury answer back 
 To the gale's challenge; hurrying breakers, piled 
 
 Each over each, roll through the glittering track. 
 
 I sliudder in the terror of thy cold. 
 
 As bull'eted by the lierce blast I stand, 
 
 Watching that shining path of bronzed gold. 
 With solemn, shadowy rocks on either hand ; 
 
 While at their foot, ghastly and white as death. 
 The cruel, foaming billows plunge and rave. 
 
 Father! where art Thou? My feeble breath 
 
 Cries to Thee through the storm of wind and wave. 
 
62 AT THE breakers' EDGE 
 
 Tho cry of all thy childron since the first 
 
 That walked thy planets' myriad paths among; 
 
 Tho cry of all mankind whom doubt has cursed, 
 In every clime, in every age and tongue. 
 
 Thou art the cold, the swift fire that consumes; 
 
 Thy vast, unerring forces never fail; 
 And Thou art in the frailest flower that blooms, 
 
 As in the breath of this tremendous gale. 
 
 Yet, though thy laws are clear as light, and prove 
 Thee changeless, ever human weakness craves 
 
 Some deeper knowledge for our liuman love 
 
 That looks with sad eyes o'er its wastes of graves, 
 
 And hungers for the dear hands softly drawn. 
 One after one, from out our longing grasp. 
 
 Dost Thou reach out for them ? In the sweet dawn 
 Of some now world thrill they within thy clasp ? 
 
 Ah ! what am I, thine atom, standing here 
 
 In presence of thy pitiless elements. 
 Daring to question thy great silence drear. 
 
 No voice may break to lighten our suspense I 
 
 Thou only, infinite Patience, that endures 
 Forever ! Blind and dumb I cling to Thee. 
 
 Slow glides the bitter night, and silent pours 
 Thine awful moonlight on the winter sea. 
 
j-OR thoughts" 63 
 
 FOR THOUGHTS" 
 
 A PANSY on his breast she laid, 
 
 Splendid, and dark with Tyrian dyes; 
 "Take it, 'tis like your tender eyes, 
 
 Deep as the midnight heaven," she said. 
 
 The rich rose mantling in her cheek, 
 Before him like the dawn she stood. 
 Pausing upon Life's height, subdued, 
 
 Yet triumphing, both proud and meek. 
 
 And white as winter stars, intense 
 With steadfast fire, his brilliant face 
 Bent toward her with an eager grace, 
 
 Pale with a rapture half suspense. 
 
 " You give me then a thought, O Sweet ! " 
 He cried, and kissed the purple flower, 
 And bowed by Love's resistless power. 
 Trembling ho sank before her feet. 
 
 She crowned his beautiful bowed head 
 With one caress of her white hand; 
 " Rise up, my flower of all the land, 
 
 For all my thoughts are yours," she said. 
 
64 WHEREFORE 
 
 WHEEEFORE 
 
 Black sea, black sky ! A ponderous steamship driv- 
 ing 
 
 Between them, laboring westward on her way, 
 And in her path a trap of Death's contriving 
 
 Waiting remorseless for its easy prey. 
 
 Hundreds of souls within her frame lie dreaming, 
 Hoping and fearing, longing for the light: 
 
 With human life and thought and feeling teeming, 
 She struggles onward through the starless night. 
 
 Upon her furnace fires fresh fuel flinging, 
 The swarthy firemen grumble at the dust 
 
 Mixed with the coal — when suddenly upspringing. 
 Swift through the smoke-stack like a signal thrust, 
 
 Flares a red flame, a dread illumination ! 
 
 A cry, — a tumult ! Slowly to her helm 
 The vessel yields, 'mid shouts of acclamation, 
 
 And joy and terror all her crew o'erwhelm; 
 
 For looming from the blackness drear before them 
 Discovered is the iceberg — hardly seen. 
 
 Its ghastly precipices hanging o'er them. 
 
 Its reddened peaks, with dreadful chasms between. 
 
WHEREFORE 65 
 
 Ere darkness swallows it again ! and veering 
 Out of its track the brave ship onward steers, 
 
 Just grazing ruin. Trembling still, and fearing, 
 Her grateful people melt in prayers and tears. 
 
 Is it a mockery, their profound thanksgiving? 
 
 Another ship goes shuddering to her doom 
 Unwarned, that very night, with hopes as living 
 
 With freight as precious, lost amid the gloom. 
 
 With not a ray to show the apparition 
 
 Waiting to slay her, none to cry " Beware ! " 
 
 Eushing straight onward headlong to perdition. 
 And for her crew no time vouchsafed for prayer. 
 
 Could they have stormed Heaven's gate with anguished 
 praying. 
 
 It would not have availed a feather's weight 
 Against their doom. Yet were they disobeying 
 
 No law of God, to beckon such a fate. 
 
 And do not tell me the Almighty Master 
 Would work a miracle to save the one. 
 
 And yield the other up to dire disaster, 
 By merely human justice thus outdone! 
 
 Vainly we weep and wrestle with our sorrow — 
 We cannot see his roads, they lie so broad: 
 
66 GUENDOLEN 
 
 But his eternal day knows no to-morrow, 
 
 And life and death are all the same with God. 
 
 GUENDOLEN 
 
 She is so fair, I thought, so dear and fair! 
 Maidenly beautiful from head to feet. 
 With pensive profile delicate and sweet, 
 
 And Titian's color in her sunny hair. 
 
 So fair, I thought, rejoicing even to note 
 The little flexible, transparent wrist. 
 The purple of the gold- clasped amethyst 
 
 That glittered at her white and slender throat; 
 
 The tiny ear, curled like a rosy shell; 
 
 The gentle splendor of the wide brown eyes. 
 Deep, lustrous, tender, clear as morning skies; 
 
 The full, sad lips, — the voice that like a bell 
 
 Rang thrilling with a music sweet and wild, 
 High, airy-pure as fluting of the fays, 
 Or bird-notes in the early summer days, 
 
 And joyous as the laughter of a child. 
 
 Dearest, has Heaven aught to give thee more ? 
 I thought, the while I watched her changing face, 
 
THE WATCH OF BOON ISLAND 67 
 
 Heard her fine tones, and marked her gestures' 
 grace, — 
 Yea, one more gift is left, all gifts before. 
 
 We go our separate ways on earth, and pain, 
 God's shaping chisel, waits us as the rest, 
 With nobler charm thy beauty to invest, 
 
 And make thee lovelier ere we meet ag^hi. 
 
 THE WATCH OF BOON ISLAND 
 
 They crossed the lonely and lamenting sea; 
 
 Its moaning seemed but singing. "Wilt thou 
 dare, " 
 He asked her, " brave the loneliness with me ? " 
 
 "What loneliness,'^ she said, "if thou art there?" 
 
 Afar and cold on the horizon's rim 
 
 Loomed the tall lighthouse, like a ghostly sign; 
 They sighed not as the shore behind grew dim, 
 
 A rose of joy they bore across the brine. 
 
 They gained the barren rock, and made their home 
 Among the wild waves and the sea-birds wild; 
 
 The wintry winds blew fierce across the foam, 
 But in each other's eyes they looked and smiled. 
 
68 THE WATCH OF BOON ISLAND 
 
 Aloft tlio liglitliouso sGiit its warnings wide, 
 Fed by their faithful hands, and ships in sight 
 
 Witli joy behold it, and on land men cried, 
 
 "Look, clear and steady burns Boon Island li^ditf 
 
 And, while they trimmed the lamp with busy hands, 
 "Shine far and through the dark, sweet light 1" 
 they cried; 
 
 "Bring safely back the sailors from all lands 
 
 To waiting love, — wife, mother, sister, bride ! " 
 
 No tempest shook their calm, though many a storm 
 Tore the vexed ocean into furious spray ; 
 
 No chill could find them in their Eden warm. 
 And gently Time lapsed onward day by day. 
 
 Said I no chill could find them ? There is one 
 Whose awful footfalls everywhere are known, 
 
 With echoing sobs, who chills the summer sun, 
 And turns the happy heart of youth to stone; 
 
 Inexorable Death, a silent guest 
 
 At every hearth, ])ef()re wliose footsteps flee 
 All joys, wlio rules th(5 earth, and, witliout rest, 
 
 Koams the vast shuddering spaces of the sea. 
 
 Death found them ; turned his face and passed her by, 
 But laid a linger on her lover's lips, 
 
THE WATCH OF BOON ISLAND 69 
 
 And ihoro was silence. Then tho storm ran high, 
 And tossed and trouhled sore the distant ships. 
 
 Nay, who shall spoak tho terrors of tho night, 
 Tho spoechless sorrow, tho siipromo despair? 
 
 Still like a gliost she trimmed tho waning light, 
 Dragging her slow weight up tho winding stair. 
 
 With more than oil the saving lamp she fed, 
 
 While lashed to madness tho wild sea she hoard. 
 
 Sho kept her awful vigil with tho dead. 
 And God's sweet pity still sho ministered. 
 
 sailors, hailing loud the cheerful beam, 
 
 Piercing so far tho tumult of tho dark, 
 A radiant star of hope, you could not dream 
 
 What misery there sat cherishing that spark ! 
 
 Three times tho night, too terrible to bear, 
 Descended, shrouded in the storm. At last 
 
 The sun rose clear and still on hor despair, 
 And all her striving to the winds she cast, 
 
 And bowed her head and let tlie light die out, 
 For the wide soa lay calm as her dead love. 
 
 When evening fell, from the far land, in doubt. 
 Vainly to find that faithful star men strove. 
 
70 BEETHOVEN 
 
 Sailors and landsmen look, and women's eyes, 
 For pity ready, search in vain the night, 
 
 And wondering neighbor unto neighbor cries, 
 
 " Now what, think you, can ail Boon Island light ? " 
 
 Out from the coast toward her high tower they sailed ; 
 
 They found her watching, silent, by her dead, 
 A shadowy woman, who nor wept, nor wailed. 
 
 But answered what they spake, till all was said. 
 
 They bore the dead and living both away. 
 
 With anguish time seemed powerless to destroy 
 She turned, and backward gazed across the bay, — 
 
 Lost in the sad sea lay her rose of joy. 
 
 BEETHOVEN 
 
 SOVEREIGN Master! stern and splendid power. 
 
 That calmly dost both Time and Death defy; 
 Lofty and lone as mountain peaks that tower. 
 
 Leading our thoughts up to the eternal sky: 
 Keeper of some divine, mysterious key, 
 
 Kaising us far above all human care. 
 Unlocking awful gates of harmony 
 
 To let heaven's light in on the world's despair; 
 Smiter of solemn chords that still command 
 
BEETHOVEN 71 
 
 Echoes in souls that suffer and aspire, 
 In the great moment while we hold thy hand, 
 
 Baptized with pain and rapture, tears and fire, 
 God lifts our saddened foreheads from the dust, 
 The everlasting God, in whom we trust ! 
 
 II 
 
 O stateliest ! who shall speak thy praise, who find 
 
 A fitting word to utter before thee ? 
 Thou lonely splendor, thou consummate mind. 
 
 Who marshalest thy hosts in majesty; 
 Thy shadowy armies of resistless thought. 
 
 Thy subtile forces drawn from Nature's heart, 
 Thy solemn breathing, mighty music, wrought 
 
 Of life and death — a miracle thou art ! 
 The restless tides of human life that swing 
 
 In stormy currents, thou dost touch and sway; 
 Deep tones within us answer, shuddering, 
 
 At thy resounding voice — we cast away 
 All our unworthiness, made strong by thee, 
 Thou great uplif ter of humanity ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 And was it thus the master looked, think you ? 
 
 Is this the painter's fancy? Who can tell! 
 These strong and noble outlines should be true: 
 
 On the broad brow such majesty should dwell. 
 
72 MOZART 
 
 Yea, and these deep, indomitable eyes 
 
 Are surely his. Lo, the imperial will 
 In every feature ! Mighty purpose lies 
 
 About the shut mouth, resolute and still. 
 Observe the head's pathetic attitude, 
 
 Bent forward, listening, — he that might not hear ! 
 Ah, could the world's adoring gratitude. 
 
 So late to come, have made his life less drear! 
 Hearest thou, now, great soul beyond our ken. 
 Men's reverent voices answering thee, "Amen"? 
 
 MOZAET 
 
 Most beautiful among the helpers thou! 
 
 All heaven's fresh air and sunshine at thy voice 
 Flood with refreshment many a weary brow, 
 
 And sad souls thrill with courage and rejoice 
 To hear God's gospel of pure gladness sound 
 
 So sure and clear in this bewildered world, 
 Till the sick vapors that our sense confound 
 
 By cheerful winds are into nothing whirled. 
 O matchless melody ! O perfect art ! 
 
 lovely, lofty voice, unfaltering ! 
 strong and radiant and divine Mozart, 
 
 Among earth's benefactors crowned a king! 
 Loved shalt thou be while time may yet endure, 
 Spirit of health, sweet, sound, and wise, and pure. 
 
SCHUBERT 73 
 
 SCHUBERT 
 
 At the open window I lean; 
 Flowers in the garden without 
 Faint in the heat and the drought; 
 
 What does the music mean ? 
 
 For here, from the cold keys within, 
 Is a tempest of melody drawn; 
 Doubts, passionate questions, the dawn 
 
 Of high hope, and a triumph to win; 
 
 While out in the garden, blood-red 
 The poppy droops, faint in the heat 
 Of the noon, and the sea-wind so sweet 
 
 Caresses its delicate head. 
 
 And still the strong music goes on 
 
 With its storming of beautiful heights. 
 With its sorrow that heaven requites, 
 
 And the victory fought for is won ! 
 
 High with thy gift didst thou reach, 
 Schubert, whose genius superb 
 Nothing could check or could curb: 
 
 Thou liftest the heart with thy speech! 
 
74 CHOPIN 
 
 CHOPm 
 
 Calm is the close of the day, 
 All things are quiet and blest; 
 Low in the darkening west 
 
 The young moon sinks slowly away. 
 
 Without, in the twilight, I dream: 
 Within it is cheerful and bright 
 With faces that bloom in the light. 
 
 And the cold keys that silently gleam. 
 
 Then a magical touch draws near. 
 And a voice like a call of delight 
 Cleaves the calm of the beautiful night. 
 
 And I turn from my musing to hear. 
 
 Lo! the movement too wondrous to name! 
 Agitation and rapture, the press 
 As of myriad waves that caress. 
 
 And break into vanishing flame. 
 
 Ah! but the exquisite strain. 
 
 Sinking to pathos so sweet! 
 
 Is life then a lie and a cheat? 
 Hark to the hopeless refrain! 
 
THE PIMPEKNEL 75 
 
 Comes a shock like the voice of a soul 
 Lost to good, to all beauty and joy, 
 Led alone by the powers that destroy, 
 
 And fighting with fiends for control. 
 
 Drops a chord like the grave's first clod. 
 Then again toss the waves of caprice. 
 Wild, delicate, sweet, with no peace, 
 
 No health, and no yielding to God. 
 
 O Siren, that charmest the air 
 
 With this potent and passionate spell. 
 Sad as songs of the angels that fell. 
 
 Thou leadest alone to despair! 
 
 What troubles the night ? It grows chill — 
 
 Let the weird, wild music be; 
 
 Fronts us the infinite sea 
 And Nature is holy and still. 
 
 THE PIMPERNEL 
 
 She walks beside the silent shore. 
 The tide is high, the breeze is still; 
 
 No ripple breaks the ocean floor. 
 The sunshine sleeps upon the hill. 
 
76 THE PIMPERNEL 
 
 The turf is warm beneath her feet, 
 
 Bordering the beach of stone and shell, 
 
 And thick about her path the sweet 
 Red blossoms of the pimpernel. 
 
 " Oh, sleep not yet, my flower ! " she cries, 
 "Nor prophesy of storm to come; 
 Tell me that under steadfast skies 
 
 Fair winds shall bring my lover home.'' 
 
 She stoops to gather flower and shell. 
 She sits, and, smiling, studies each; 
 
 She hears the full tide rise and swell. 
 And whisper softly on the beach. 
 
 Waking, she dreams a golden dream, 
 Eemembering with what still delight. 
 
 To watch the sunset's fading gleam. 
 
 Here by the waves they stood last night. 
 
 She leans on that encircling arm, 
 Divinely strong with power to draw 
 
 Her nature, as the moon doth charm 
 The swaying sea with heavenly law. 
 
 All lost in bliss the moments glide; 
 
 She feels his whisper, his caress; 
 The murmur of the mustering tide 
 
 Brings her no presage of distress. 
 
THE PIMPERNEL 77 
 
 What breaks her dream? She lifts her eyes 
 
 Reluctant to destroy the spell; 
 The color from her bright cheek dies, — 
 
 Close folded is the pimpernel. 
 
 With rapid glance she scans the sky; 
 
 Eises a sudden wind, and grows. 
 And charged with storm the cloud-heaps lie. 
 
 Well may the scarlet blossoms close ! 
 
 A touch, and bliss is turned to bale ! 
 
 Life only keeps the sense of pain; 
 The world holds naught save one white sail 
 
 Flying before the wind and rain. 
 
 Broken upon the wheel of fear 
 
 She wears the storm- vexed hour away; 
 
 And now in gold and fire draws near 
 The sunset of her troubled day. 
 
 But to her sky is yet denied 
 
 The sun that lights the world for her; 
 She sweeps the rose-flushed ocean wide 
 
 With eager eyes the quick tears blur; 
 
 And lonely, lonely all the space 
 
 Stretches, with never sign of sail, 
 And sadder grows her wistful face. 
 
 And all the sunset splendors fail. 
 
78 BY THE DEAD 
 
 And cold and palo, in still despair, 
 
 With heavier grief than tongue can tell, 
 
 She sinks, - — upon her lips a prayer, 
 Her cheek against the pimpernel. 
 
 Bright blossoms wet with showery tears 
 On her shut eyes their droplets shed. 
 
 Only tlie Wakened waves she hears. 
 That, singing, drown his rapid tread. 
 
 " Sweet, I am here ! " Joy's gates swing wide, 
 And heaven is theirs, and all is well, 
 And left beside the eblnng tide. 
 Forgotten, is the pimpernel. 
 
 BY THE DEAD 
 
 Poverty ! till now I never knew 
 
 The meaning of the word ! What lack is here I 
 pale mask of a soul great, good, and true ! 
 
 O mocking semblance stretched upon a bier I 
 
 Each atom of this devastated face 
 
 Was so instinct with power, with warmth and 
 light; 
 What desert is so desolate ! No grace 
 
 Is left, no gleam, no change, no day, no night. 
 
BY THE DEAD 79 
 
 Where is the key tliat locked these gates of speech, 
 Oiico beautiful, where thought stood sentinel, 
 
 Where sweetness sat, where wisdom passed, to teach 
 Our weakness strongtli, our homage to compel? 
 
 Despoiled at last, and waste and barren lies 
 
 This once so rich domain. Where lives and moves, 
 
 In what new world, tlic splendor of these eyes 
 That dauntless lightened like imperial Jove's? 
 
 Annihilated, do you answer me ? 
 
 Blown out and vanisliod like a candle flame ? 
 Is nothing left but this pale efligy. 
 
 This silence drear, this dread without a name ? 
 
 Has it been all in vain, our love and pride, 
 
 This yearning love that still purswis our friend 
 
 Into the awful dark, unsatisfied. 
 
 Bereft, and wrung with pain ? Is this the end ? 
 
 Would God so mock us ? To our human sense 
 No answer reaches through the dbubtful air; 
 
 Yet with a living hope, profound, intense. 
 Our tortured souls rebel against despair; 
 
 As bowing to the bitter fate we go 
 
 Drooping and dumb as if beneath a curse; 
 
 But does not pitying Heaven answer " No ! " 
 With all the voices of the universe 1 
 
80 FOOTPEINTS IN THE SAND 
 
 FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND 
 
 Lazily, through the warm gray afternoon, 
 
 We sailed toward the land; 
 Over the long sweep of the billows, soon, 
 
 We saw on either hand 
 Peninsula and cape and silver beach 
 
 Unfold before our eyes, 
 Lighthouse and roof and spire and wooded reach 
 
 Grew clear beyond surmise. 
 Behind us lay the islands that we loved. 
 
 Touched by a wandering gleam. 
 Melting in distance, where the white sails moved 
 
 Softly as in a dream. 
 Drifting past buoy and scarlet beacon slow, 
 
 We gained the coast at last. 
 And up the harbor, where no wind did blow, 
 
 We drew, and anchor cast. 
 The lovely land ! Green, the broad fields came down 
 
 Almost into the sea; 
 Nestled the quiet homesteads warm and brown, 
 
 Embraced by many a tree; 
 The gray above was streaked with smiling blue, 
 
 The snowy gulls sailed o'er; 
 The shining goldenrod waved, where it grew, 
 
 A welcome to the shore. 
 Peaceful the whole, and sweet. Beyond the sand 
 
 The dwelling-place I sought 
 
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND 81 
 
 Lay in the sunshine. All the scene I scanned, 
 
 Full of one wistful thought: 
 Saw any eyes our vessel near the shore 
 
 From vine-draped windows quaint? 
 Waited my bright, shy darling at the door, 
 
 Fairer than words could paint? 
 I did not see her gleaming golden head, 
 
 Nor hear her clear voice call; 
 As up the beach I went with rapid tread, 
 
 Lonely and still was all. 
 But on the smooth sand printed, far and near, 
 
 I saw her footsteps small; 
 Here had she loitered, here she hastened, here 
 
 She climbed the low stone wall. 
 Such pathos in those little footprints spoke, 
 
 I paused and lingered long; 
 Listening as far away the billows broke 
 
 With the old solemn song. 
 "The infinite hoary spray of the salt sea," 
 
 In yet another tide. 
 Should wash away these traces utterly; 
 
 And in my heart I cried, — 
 "O thou Creator, when thy waves of Time, 
 
 The infinite hoary spray 
 That sweeps life from the earth at dawn and prime. 
 
 Have swept her soul away. 
 How shall I know it is not even as these 
 
 Light footprints in the sand, 
 
} FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND 
 
 That vanish into naught? For no man sees 
 
 Clearly what Thon hast planned." 
 And sadly musing, up the slope I pressed, 
 
 And sought her where she played. 
 By breeze and sunshine flattered and caressed, 
 
 A merry little maid. 
 And while I clasped her close and held her fast, 
 
 And looked into her face, 
 Half shy, half smiling, wholly glad at last 
 
 To rest in my embrace. 
 From the clear heaven of her innocent eyes 
 
 Leaped Love to answer me; 
 Divinely through the mortal shape that dies 
 
 Shone immortality ! 
 What the winds hinted, what the awful sky 
 
 Held in its keeping, — all 
 The vast sea's prophesying suddenly 
 
 Grew clear as clarion call. 
 The secret nature strives to speak, yet hides, 
 
 Flashed from those human eyes 
 To slay my doubt: I felt that all the tides 
 
 Of death and change might rise 
 And devastate the world, yet I could see 
 
 This steady shining spark 
 Should live eternally, could never be 
 
 Lost in the unfathomed dark ! 
 And when beneath a threatening sunset sky 
 
 We trimmed our sails and turned 
 
A BROKEN LILY i 
 
 Seaward again, with many a sweet good-by, 
 
 A quiet gladness burned 
 Within me, as I watched her tiny form 
 
 Go dancing up and down, 
 Light as a sandpiper before the storm, 
 
 Upon the beach-edge brown, 
 Waving her little kerchief to and fro 
 
 Till we were out of sight, 
 Sped by a wild wind that began to blow 
 
 Out of the troubled night; 
 And while we tossed upon an angry sea, 
 
 And round the lightning ran. 
 And muttering thunder rolled incessantly 
 
 As the black storm began, 
 I knew the fair and peaceful landscape lay 
 
 Safe hidden in the gloom. 
 Waiting the glad returning of the day 
 
 To smile again and bloom; 
 And sure as that to-morrow's sun would rise, 
 
 And day again would be. 
 Shone the sweet promise of those childish eyes 
 
 Wherein God answered me. 
 
 A BEOKEN LILY 
 
 O Lily, dropped upon the gray sea-sand. 
 
 What time my fair love through the morning land 
 
 Led the rejoicing children, singing all 
 
84 MAY MORNING 
 
 In happy chorus, to their festival, 
 
 Under green trees the flowery fields among; 
 
 Now, when the noon sun blazes o'er the sea, 
 And echo tolls not of the song tlioy sung. 
 
 And all thy silver splendor silently 
 Thou yieldest to the salt and bitter tide, 
 
 I find thee, and, remembering on whose breast 
 Thy day began in thy fresh beauty's pride. 
 
 Though of thy bloom and fragrance dispossessed, 
 Thou art to me than all June's flowers more sweet, 
 Fairer than Aphrodite's foam-kissed feet I 
 
 MAY MORNING 
 
 Warm, wild, rainy wind, blowing fitfully. 
 
 Stirring dreamy breakers on the slumberous May sea. 
 
 What shall fail to answer thee? What thing shall 
 
 withstand 
 The spell of thine enchantment, flowing over sea and 
 
 land? 
 
 All along the swamp-edge in the rain I go; 
 All about my head thou the loosened locks dost blow; 
 Like the German goose-girl in the fairy tale, 
 I watch across the shining pool my flock of ducks that 
 sail. 
 
MAY MORNING 85 
 
 Redly gloam tho rose- haws, dripping with the wot, 
 Fruit of sober autumn, glowing crimson yet; 
 Slender swords of iris leaves cut tho water clear. 
 And light green creeps the tender grass, thick spread- 
 ing far and near. 
 
 Every last year's stalk is set with brown or golden 
 
 studs ; 
 All tho boughs of bayberry are thick with scented 
 
 buds ; 
 Islanded in turfy velvet, where tho ferns uncurl, 
 Lo! tho largo white duck's egg glimmers like a pearll 
 
 Softly sing tho billows, rushing, whispering low ; 
 Freshly, oh! deliciously, tho warm, wild wind doth 
 
 blow! 
 Plaintive bloat of now- washed lambs comes faint from 
 
 far away; 
 And clearly cry tho little birds, alert and blithe and 
 
 O happy, happy morning ! dear, familiar place ! 
 O warm, swoet tears of Heaven, fast falling on my 
 
 face! 
 O well-remembered, rainy wind, blow all my caro 
 
 away. 
 That I may bo a child again this blissful morn of May. 
 
86 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 What dost thou here, young wife, by the water-side, 
 
 Gathering crimson dulse? 
 Know'st thou not that the cloud in the west glooms 
 wide. 
 
 And the wind has a hurrying pulse ? 
 
 Peaceful the eastern waters before thee spread, 
 
 And the cliffs rise high behind, 
 While thou gatherest sea- weeds, green and brown and 
 red. 
 
 To the coming trouble blind. 
 
 She lifts her eyes to the top of the granite crags, 
 
 And the color ebbs from her cheek. 
 Swift vapors skurry the black squall's tattered flags. 
 
 And she hears the gray gull shriek. 
 
 And like a blow is the thought of the little boat 
 
 By this on its homeward way, 
 A tiny skiff, like a cockle-shell afloat 
 
 In the tempest- threatened bay ; 
 
 With husband and brother who sailed away to the 
 town 
 When fair shone the morning sun. 
 
ALL 'S WELL 87 
 
 To tarry but till the tide in the stream turned down, 
 Then seaward again to run. 
 
 Homeward she flies; the land-breeze strikes her cold; 
 
 A terror is in the sky; 
 Her little babe with his tumbled hair of gold 
 
 In her mother's arms doth lie. 
 
 She catches him up with a breathless, questioning cry : 
 
 "O mother, speak! Are they near?" 
 "Dear, almost home. At the western window high 
 
 Thy father watches in fear." 
 
 She climbs the stair: "0 father, must they be lost? " 
 
 He answers never a word; 
 Through the glass he watches the line the squall has 
 crossed 
 
 As if no sound he heard. 
 
 And the Day of Doom seems come in the angry sky, 
 
 And a low roar fills the air; 
 In an awful stillness the dead-black waters lie. 
 
 And the rocks gleam ghastly and bare. 
 
 Is it a snow-white gull's wing fluttering there. 
 
 In the midst of that hush of dread ? 
 Ah, no, 't is the narrow strip of canvas they dare 
 
 In the face of the storm to spread. 
 
88 ALL 'S WELL 
 
 A moment more and all the furies are loose, 
 
 The coast lino is blotted out, 
 The skiff is gone, the rain-cloud pours its sluice, 
 
 And she hears her father shout, 
 
 "Down with your sail! as if through the tumult 
 wild," 
 
 And the distance, his voice might reach; 
 And, stunned, she clasps still closer her rosy child. 
 
 Bereft of the power of speech. 
 
 But her heart cries low, as writhing it lies on the 
 rack, 
 "Sweet, art thou fatherless?" 
 And swift to her mother she carries the little one 
 back. 
 Where she waits in her sore distress. 
 
 Then into tlio heart of the storm she rushes forth; 
 
 Like leaden bullets the rain 
 Beats hard in her face, and tlic hurricane from the 
 north 
 
 Would drive her back again. 
 
 It splits the shingles off the roof like a wedge, 
 
 It lashes her clothes and her hair, 
 But slowly she fights her way to the western ledge, 
 
 With the strength of her despair. 
 
ALI. S WKLL 89 
 
 Through Uio Hying s})niy, through the raiu-cloud's 
 sliJiUcrod strojun, 
 
 What sh;ii)cs in the diytuncc groiw, 
 Like liguros that haunt the shore of a dreadful dream ? 
 
 She is wikl with a doaporate hope. 
 
 Have pity, merciful Heaven! Can it he? 
 
 Is it no vision that mocks ? 
 From hillow to l)ill<)w tlie headlong plunging sea 
 
 Has tossed them liigli on the rocks; 
 
 And the hollow skill' like a child's toy lies on the 
 ledge 
 This side of the roaring foam, 
 And up from the valley of death, from the grave's 
 drear edge, 
 Like ghosts of men they come ! 
 
 Oh sweetly, sweetly shines the sinking sun. 
 
 And the storm is swept away; 
 Piled high in the east jire the cloud-heaps purple and 
 dun, 
 
 And peacefully dies i\w day. 
 
 But a sweeter peace falls soft on the grateful souls 
 
 In the lonely \sh) that dwell, 
 And the whisjier and rush of every wave that rolls 
 
 Seem murmuring, "All is well." 
 
90 THE SECRET 
 
 THE SECRET 
 
 "Oh what saw you, gathering flowers so early this 
 
 May morn ? " 
 "I saw a shining blackbird loud whistling on a thorn; 
 I saw the mottled plover from the swamp-edge fly 
 
 away; 
 I heard the blithe song-sparrows who welcomed the 
 
 bright day; 
 I heard the curlew calling, oh, sweet, so sweet and far ! 
 I saw the white gull twinkling in the blue sky like a 
 
 star." 
 
 "And is the blackbird whistling yet, and does the 
 
 curlew call, 
 And should I find your rapture if I saw and heard it 
 
 all? 
 Life seems to me so hard to bear, perplexed with 
 
 change and loss. 
 Heavy with pain, and weary still with care's perpetual 
 
 cross. 
 Why should the white gull's twinkling wings, half 
 
 lost amid the blue. 
 Bring any joy? Yet care and pain weigh just as 
 
 much on you, 
 And you come back and look at me with such joy- 
 beaming eyes 
 
THE SECRET 91 
 
 An angel njiglit have been your guide through fields 
 
 of Paradise ! 
 What is the secret Nature keeps to whisper in your ear 
 That sends the swift blood pulsing warm with such 
 
 immortal cheer, 
 And makes your eyes shine like the morn, and rings 
 
 sweet in your voice. 
 Like some clear, distant trumpet sound that bids the 
 
 world rejoice? " 
 "Her secret? Nay, she speaks to me no word you 
 
 might not hear. 
 Her voice is ever ready and her meaning ever clear: 
 But I love her with such passion that her lightest ges- 
 ture seems 
 Divinely beautiful — she fills my life with golden 
 
 dreams. 
 I tremble in her presence, to her every touch and tone; 
 I answer to her whisper — love has to worship grown. 
 She turns her solemn face to me, and lays within my 
 
 hand 
 The key that puts her endless wealth for aye at my 
 
 command ; 
 And so, because I worship her, her benedictions rest 
 Upon me, and she folds me safe and warm upon her 
 
 breast, 
 And in her sweet and awful eyes I gaze till I forget 
 The troubles that perplex our days, the tumult and 
 
 the fret. 
 
92 SEASIDE GOLDENROD 
 
 Oh, would you learn the word of power that lifts, all 
 
 care above, 
 The sad soul up to Nature's heart? I answer, It is 
 
 Love!" 
 
 SEASIDE GOLDENROD 
 
 Graceful, tossing plume of glowing gold, 
 Waving lonely on the rocky ledge; 
 
 Leaning seaward, lovely to behold. 
 
 Clinging to the high cliff's ragged edge; 
 
 Burning in the pure September sky. 
 Spike of gold against the stainless blue, 
 
 Do you watch the vessels drifting by ? 
 Does the quiet day seem long to you? 
 
 Up to you I climb, perfect shape ! 
 
 Poised so lightly 'twixt the sky and sea; 
 Looking out o'er headland, crag, and cape. 
 
 O'er the ocean's vague immensity. 
 
 Up to you my human thought I bring, 
 
 Sit me down your peaceful watch to share. 
 
 Do you hear the waves below us sing ? 
 Feel you the soft fanning of the air ? 
 
MARCH 98 
 
 How much of life's rapture is your right? 
 
 In earth's joy what may your portion be? 
 Kocked by breezes, touched by tender light, 
 
 Fed by dews and sung to by the sea ! 
 
 Something of delight and of content 
 
 Must be yours, however vaguely known; 
 
 And your grace is mutely eloquent. 
 
 And your beauty makes the rock a throne. 
 
 Matters not to you, O golden flower! 
 
 That such eyes of worship watch you sway ; 
 But you make more sweet the dreamful hour 
 
 And you crown for me the tranquil day. 
 
 MAKCH 
 
 The keen north wind pipes loud; 
 Swift scuds the flying cloud; 
 Light lies the new fallen snow; 
 The ice- clad eaves drip slow, 
 For glad Spring has begun, 
 And to the ardent sun 
 The earth, long time so bleak, 
 Turns a frost-bitten cheek. 
 Through the clear sky of March, 
 Blue to the topmost arch, 
 
94 MARCH 
 
 Swept by the New Year's galos, 
 The crow, harsh-clamoring, sails. 
 Hy the swift river's Hood 
 The willow's golden blood 
 Mounts to the highest spray, 
 More vivid day by day; 
 And fast the maples now 
 Crimson through every bough, 
 And from the alder's crown 
 Swing the long catkins brown. 
 Gone is the winter's pain; 
 Thougli sorrow still rcnuain, 
 Though eyes with tears be wet, 
 The voice of our regret 
 We husli, to hoar the sweet 
 Far fall of sunnnor's feet. 
 The Heavenly Father wise 
 Looks in the saddened eyes 
 Of our un worthiness, 
 Yet doth He cheer and bless. 
 Doubt and l)esi)air are dead; 
 Hop(3 dares to raise her head, 
 And whispers of delight 
 Fill the earth day and night. 
 The snowdrops by the door 
 Lift upward, sweet and pure, 
 Their delicate bells; and soon. 
 In the calm blaze of noon. 
 
TIIK WHITK liOVKU 95 
 
 J\y lowly wiiulow-sills 
 Will laugh iluwlairodils! 
 
 SON(J 
 
 Tiiic clovor bloHHoniH kiss lu^r fci^t, 
 
 SI 10 is so swoot, 
 Wliilo 1, who may not kiss h(w haiu], 
 Bless till lh(^ wild llowtMr. in l.h<^ laud. 
 
 ISoft suiishiiu^ falls across hci* broast, 
 
 Sh(^ is so bloat. 
 I 'm jealous of its aruis of gold, 
 Oh l.hal th('M(^ aruiM Ikm* forui uiight fold! 
 
 Gently Iho broo/c^s kiss bur hair, 
 
 Sho is so fair. 
 Let llovvors aud sun and bn-ozo go by, 
 O dearest! Love nie or J ilio. 
 
 Osc^Au iiAuniroN 
 
 TUK WIITTIC MOVVAl 
 
 TnKY callod Mi<^ liMIn schooiKU" IIk^ Wliib^ I\.(>v<u*, 
 When they lightly launcluMl \um- ou l,ho briiuuiiug 
 tide; 
 
 Stanch and triiu she was to sail ilu^ broad scmis ov(w, 
 Aud with rhccrs they .s|»n'ad lu^r suowy cauvas widt^ ; 
 
96 THE WHITE ROVER 
 
 And a thing of beauty, forth she fared to wrestle 
 With the wild, uncertain ocean, far and near, 
 
 And no evil thing befell the graceful vessel, 
 
 And she sailed in storm and sunshine many a year. 
 
 But at last a rumor grew that she was haunted; 
 
 That up her slender masts her sails had flown 
 Unhelped by human hands, as if enchanted, 
 
 As she rocked upon her moorings all alone. 
 
 Howe'er that be, one day in winter weather, 
 When the bitter north was raging at its worst. 
 
 And wind and cold vexed the roused sea together. 
 Till Dante's frozen hell seemed less accurst, 
 
 Two fishermen, to draw their trawls essaying. 
 Seized by the hurricane that ploughed the bay. 
 
 Were swept across the waste; and hardly weighing 
 Death's chance, the Rover reefed and bore away 
 
 To save them, — reached them, shuddering where they 
 waited 
 
 Their quick destruction, tossing white and dumb, 
 And caught them from perdition; then, belated. 
 
 Strove to return the rough way she had come. 
 
 But there was no returning! Fierce as lightning 
 The eager cold grew keener, more intense. 
 
THE WHITE ROVER 97 
 
 Across her homeward track the billows, whitening, 
 In crested mountains rolling, drove her thence; 
 
 Till her brave crew, benumbed, gave up the battle, 
 Clad in a mail of ice that weighed like lead; 
 
 They heard the crusted blocks and rigging rattle, 
 They saw the sails like sheets of iron spread. 
 
 And powerless before the gale they drifted, 
 
 Till swiftly dropped the black and hopeless night. 
 
 The wild tornado never lulled nor shifted, 
 
 But drove them toward the coast upon their right, 
 
 And flung the frozen schooner, all sail standing, 
 
 Stiff as an iceberg on the icy shore ; 
 And half alive, her torpid people, landing, 
 
 Crept to the lighthouse, and were safe once more. 
 
 Then what befell the vessel, standing solemn 
 
 Through that tremendous night of cold and storm, 
 
 Upon the frost-locked land, a frigid column. 
 Beneath the stars, a silent, glittering form? 
 
 None ever saw her more ! The tide upbore her, 
 Released her fastened keel, and ere the day. 
 
 Without a guide, and all the world before her, 
 The sad, forsaken Bover sailed away. 
 
98 THE WHITE ROVER 
 
 But sometimes, when in summer twilight blending 
 Sunset and moonrise mingle their rich light, 
 
 Or when on noonday mists the sun is spending 
 His glory, till they glimmer thin and white, 
 
 Upon the dim horizon molting, gleaming. 
 
 Slender, ethereal, like a lovely ghost 
 Soft looming, in the hazy distance dreaming, 
 
 Or gliding like a film along the coast, 
 
 I seem to see her yet: and skippers hoary, 
 
 Sailors and fishermen, will still relate 
 Among their sea- worn mates the simple story 
 
 Of how the wandering Rover met her fate; 
 
 And shake their heads: "Perhaps the tempest wrecked 
 her. 
 
 But snug and trim and tidy, fore and aft, 
 I 've seen the vessel since, or else her spectre, 
 
 Sailing as never yet sailed earthly craft. 
 
 Straight in the wind's teeth; and with steady mo- 
 tion 
 
 Cleaving a calm as if it blew a gale ! " 
 And they are sure her wraith still haunts the ocean. 
 
 Mocking the sight with semblance of a sail. 
 
CONTRAST 99 
 
 CONTRAST 
 
 The day is bitter. Through the hollow sky 
 Rolls the clear sun, inexorably bright, 
 
 Glares on the shrinking earth, a lidless eye, 
 
 Shedding no warmth, but Hoods of blinding liglit. 
 
 The luirricane roars loud. The facile sea 
 
 With passionate resentment writhes and raves 
 
 Beneatli its maddening whip, and furiously 
 Responds with all the thunder of its waves. 
 
 The iron rock, ice-locked, snow-slu^atlied, lies still, 
 
 The centre of this devastated world, 
 Beaten and lashed by wind and sea at will, 
 
 Buried in spray by the fierce breakers hurled. 
 
 Cold, raging desolation ! Out of it, 
 
 Swift-footed, eager, noiseless as the light, 
 
 Glides my adventurous thought, and lo, I sit 
 With Mennion and the desert in my sight. 
 
 Silence and breathless heat I A torrid land, 
 Unbroken to the vast horizon's verge. 
 
 Save once, where from the waste of level sand 
 All motionless the clustered palms emerge. 
 
100 A FADED GLOVE 
 
 Hot the wide earth and hot the blazing sky, 
 And still as death, unchanged since time began. 
 
 Far in the shimmering distance silently 
 Creeps like a snake the lessening caravan. 
 
 And on the great lips of the statue old 
 Broods silence, and no zephyr stirs the palm. 
 
 Nature forgets her tempests and her cold, 
 
 And breathes in peace. "There is no joy but 
 calm." 
 
 A FADED GLOVE 
 
 My little granddaughter, who fain would know 
 Why, folded close in scented satin fine, 
 
 I keep a relic faded long ago, 
 
 This pearl-gray, dainty, withered glove of mine, 
 
 Listen: I '11 tell you. It is fifty years 
 Since the fair day I laid my treasure here. 
 
 But yesterday to me the time appears; 
 Ages ago to you, I know, my dear. 
 
 Upon this palm, now withered as my cheek, 
 Love laid his first kiss, doubting and afraid: 
 
 Oh, swift and strong across me while I speak 
 Comes memory of Love's might, my little maid! 
 
A FADED GLOVE lOl 
 
 I yet was so unconscious! 'Twas a night — 
 Some festal night; my sisters were above, 
 
 Not ready quite; but I, cloaked all in white, 
 Waited below, and, fastening my glove. 
 
 Looked up with smiling speech to him who stood 
 
 Observing me, so still and so intent, 
 I wondered somewhat at his quiet mood, 
 
 Till it flashed on mo what the silence meant. 
 
 What sudden fire of dawn my sky o'orspread! 
 
 What low melodious thunder broke my calm ! 
 Could I be dreaming that this glorious head 
 
 Was bending low above my girlish palm ? 
 
 His majesty of mien proclaimed him king; 
 
 His lowly gesture said, " I am your slave ; " 
 Beneath my feet the firm earth seemed to swing. 
 
 Unstable as storm-driven wind and wave. 
 
 Ah, beautiful and terrible and sweet 
 
 The matchless moment! Was it life or death. 
 
 Or day or night ? For my heart ceased to beat, 
 And heaven and earth changed in a single breath. 
 
 And, like a harp some hand of power doth smite 
 
 To sudden harmony, my soul awoke. 
 And, answering, rose to match his spirit's height, 
 
 While not a word the mystic silence broke. 
 
102 A FADED GLOVE 
 
 'T was but an instant. Down the echoing stair 
 Swept voices, laughter, wafts of melody, — 
 
 My sisters three, in draperies light as air; 
 
 But like a dream the whole world seemed to me, 
 
 As, steadying my whirling thoughts, I strove 
 To grasp a truth so wondrous, «^o divine. 
 
 I shut this hand, this little tinted glove. 
 To keep its secret mine, and only mine. 
 
 And like an empty show the brilliant hours 
 
 Passed by, with beauty, music, pleasure thronged, 
 
 Phantasmagoria of light and flowers; 
 But only one delight to me belonged, 
 
 One thought, one wish, one hope, one joy, one fear, 
 One dizzy rapture, one star in the sky, — 
 
 The solemn sky that bent to bring God near : 
 I would have been content that night to die. 
 
 Only a touch upon this little glove. 
 
 And, lo, the lofty marvel which it wrought! 
 
 You wonder; for as yet you know not love, 
 Oh, sweet my child, my lily yet unsought I 
 
 The glove is faded, but immortal joy 
 
 Lives in the kiss; its memory cannot fade; 
 
 And when Death's clasp this pale hand shall destroy. 
 The sacred glove shall in my grave be laid. 
 
PORTENT 108 
 
 PORTENT 
 
 When the darkness drew away at the dawning of the 
 day, 
 
 I heard the medricks screammg loud and shrill across 
 the bay; 
 
 And I wondered to behold all the sky in ruddy gold, 
 
 Flashing into fire and flame where the clouds like bil- 
 lows rolled. 
 
 Red the sea ran east and west, burning broke each 
 
 tumbling crest. 
 Where the waves, like shattered rubies, leaped and 
 
 fell and could not rest; 
 Every rock was carmine-flushed, every sail like roses 
 
 blushed. 
 Flying swift before the wind from the south that 
 
 roared and rushed. 
 
 "Is it judgment day?" I said, gazing out o'er billows 
 red. 
 
 Gazing up at crimson vapors, crowding, drifting over- 
 head. 
 
 Listening to the great uproar of the waters on the 
 shore. 
 
 To the wild sad-crying sea-birds, buffeted and beaten 
 sore. 
 
104 PORTENT 
 
 " Is the end of time at hand ? is this pageant, strange 
 
 and grand, 
 A portent of destruction blazing fierce o'er sea and 
 
 land?" 
 Then the scarlet ebbed, and slow, sky above and earth 
 
 below, 
 Drowned in melancholy purple, seemed with grief to 
 
 overflow. 
 
 And while thus I gazed, the day, growing stronger, 
 
 turned to gray ; 
 All the transitory splendor and the beauty passed 
 
 away; 
 And I recognized the sign of the color poured like 
 
 wine 
 In this morn of late October as from clusters of the 
 
 vine. 
 
 'Twas the ripeness of the year; soon, I knew, must 
 
 disappear 
 All the warmth and light and happiness that made the 
 
 time so dear; 
 And again our souls must wait while the bare earth, 
 
 desolate. 
 Bore in patience and in silence all the winter's wrath 
 
 and hate. 
 
SONG 105 
 
 SONG 
 
 Sing, little bird, oh sing! 
 
 How sweet thy voice and clear 1 
 How fine the airy measures ring, 
 
 The sad old world to cheer I 
 
 Bloom, little llower, oh bloom I 
 
 Thou niakest glad the day; 
 A scented torch, thou dost illume 
 
 The darkness of the way. 
 
 Dance, little child, oh dance I 
 
 While sweet the small birds sing, 
 
 And [lowers bloom fair, and every glance 
 Of sunshine tells of spring. 
 
 Oh! bloom, and sing, and smile. 
 Child, bird, and flower, and make 
 
 The sad old world forget awhile 
 Its sorrow for your sake ! 
 
106 KENUNCIATION 
 
 RENUNCIATION 
 
 Like scattered flowers blown all about the bay, 
 The rosy sails, lit with the sunrise, shine; 
 
 The white stars in the brightness fade away; 
 In perfect silence dawns the day divine. 
 
 "Oh bring me neither gifts of good or ill, 
 Delicious day ! Let only peace be mine ! '' 
 
 And the fair hours, advancing calm and still, 
 
 Passed by her mute, nor brought her word or sign. 
 
 But when the glory of the sunset flame 
 
 Held all the world in triumph brief and sweet. 
 
 The last bright hour, with faltering footsteps, came 
 And laid a gift august before her feet. 
 
 Yet she entreated, " Peace ! Take back your gift, 
 
 golden hour! I am content to be 
 Lonely as yonder fading sails that drift 
 
 'Neath saddened skies upon the silent sea." 
 
 Fate answered her, "The gods may not recall 
 
 Their gifts, once given. Be wise, therefore. Ac- 
 cept 
 
 Their bounty gratefully ; for not to all 
 
 Such largess falls. " She bowed her head and wept. 
 
SONG 107 
 
 She turned her from the sunset's red and gold, 
 She faced the dim East's waning violet, 
 
 She saw the twilight stealing pale and cold. 
 And all her soul was wrung with her regret. 
 
 Pure, powerful, triumphant music shook 
 The listening air and floated up the sky ; 
 
 The dust and ashes of her life she took 
 And passed the gift of splendid beauty by. 
 
 "But oh, must storm and strife be mine," she cried, 
 " Forever ? Shall I never find repose ? 
 
 Mocked by mirage of hope and still defied 
 And buff'eted by every wind that blows ! " 
 
 From farthest distance high a clear voice rang, 
 "Ashes and dust shall blossom like the rose! 
 
 Climb thou above the tempests," sweet it sang; 
 
 " Patience ! * On every height there lies repose. ' " 
 
 SONG 
 
 Oh the fragrance of the air 
 
 With the breathing of the flowers! 
 Oh the isles of cloudlets fair. 
 
 Shining after balmy showers I 
 
108 TWO SONNETS 
 
 Oh the freshly rippling notes ! 
 
 Oh the warbling, loud and long, 
 From a thousand golden throats! 
 
 Oh the south wind's tender song! 
 
 Oh the mellow dip of oars 
 
 Through the dreamy afternoon ! 
 
 Oh the waves that clasp the shores, 
 Chanting one delicious tune! 
 
 Wears the warm, enchanted day 
 To the last of its rich hours. 
 
 While my heart, in the sweet May, 
 Buds and blossoms with the flowers. 
 
 TWO SONNETS 
 
 Not so ! You stand as long ago a king 
 
 Stood on the seashore, bidding back the tide 
 That onward rolled resistless still, to fling 
 
 Its awful volume landward, wild and wide. 
 And just as impotent is your command 
 
 To stem the tide that rises in my soul. 
 It ebbs not at the lifting of your hand, 
 
 It owns no curb, it yields to no control; 
 Mighty it is, and of the elements, — 
 
 Brother of winds and lightning, cold and fire, 
 
DAYBREAK 109 
 
 Subtle as light, as steadfast and intense; 
 
 Sweet as the music of Apollo's lyre. 
 You think to rule the ocean's ebb and flow 
 With that soft woman's hand ? Nay, love, not so. 
 
 And like the lighthouse on the rock you stand. 
 
 And pierce the distance with your searching eyes; 
 Nor do you heed the waves that storm the land 
 
 And endlessly about you fall and rise. 
 But seek the ships that wander night and day 
 
 Within the dim horizon's shadowy ring; 
 And some with flashing glance you warn away, 
 
 And some you beckon with sweet welcoming. 
 So steadfast still you keep your lofty place, 
 
 Safe from the tumult of the restless tide, 
 Firm as the rock in your resisting grace. 
 
 And strong through humble duty, not through 
 pride. 
 While I — I cast my life before your feet, 
 And only live that I may love you, sweet ! 
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 In the morning twilight, while the household yet 
 Slumbering securely day and night forget. 
 Lightly o'er the threshold I pass, and breathless stand 
 In the dream of beauty that rests on sea and land. 
 
110 DAYBREAK 
 
 Fresh and calm and dewy, bathed in delicate air, 
 The happy earth awakens and grows of day aware. 
 Sweetly breaks the silence some bird's delicious trill, 
 And from the southern distance a breeze begins to 
 thrill. 
 
 All the stars have faded, and the low large moon 
 O'er the western water will have vanished soon. 
 Crystal-clear and cloudless the awful arch is bright. 
 As up the conscious heaven streams the growing light. 
 
 On the far horizon softly sleeps the haze; 
 O'er the ocean spaces steal the rosy rays; 
 Winds and waves are quiet, only far away 
 'Gainst the rock a breaker tosses sudden spray. 
 
 Out behind the headland glides the coaster slow. 
 All her canvas blushing in the ruddy glow; 
 Where the steadfast lighthouse watches day and night, 
 Beautiful and stately she passes out of sight. 
 
 Day that risest splendid, with promise so divine. 
 Mine is thy perfect gladness, thy loveliness is mine. 
 Thou touchest with thy blessing God's creatures great 
 
 and small; 
 None shalt thou find more grateful than I among them 
 
 aU. 
 
SONG 111 
 
 I turn my face in worship to the glory of the East. 
 I thank the lavish giver of my life's perpetual feast, 
 And fain would I be worthy to partake of Nature's 
 
 And share with her a moment so exquisite as this I 
 
 SONG 
 
 O Love, Love, Love! 
 
 Whether it rain or shine, 
 Wliether the clouds frown or the sky is clear, 
 Whether the thunder fill the air with fear, 
 Whether the winter rage or peace is here, 
 
 If only thou art near. 
 
 Then are all days divine. 
 
 O Love, Love, Love I 
 
 Where thou art not, the place 
 Is sad to me as death. It would be cold 
 In heaven without thee, if I might not hold 
 Thy hand in mine, if I might not behold 
 
 The beauty manifold. 
 
 The wonder of thy face. 
 
112 THE NESTLING SWALLOWS 
 
 THE NESTLING SWALLOWS 
 
 The summer day was spoiled with fitful storm; 
 
 At night the wind died, and the soft rain dropped 
 With lulling murmur, and the air was warm. 
 
 And all the tumult and the trouble stopped. 
 
 We sat within the bright and quiet room, 
 
 Glowing with light and flowers and friendliness; 
 
 And faces in the radiance seemed to bloom, 
 Touched into beauty as by a caress. 
 
 And one struck music from the ivory keys, — 
 Beethoven's music; and the awful chords 
 
 Upbore us like the waves of mighty seas 
 That sing aloud, "All glory is the Lord's!" 
 
 And the great sound awoke beneath the eaves 
 The nestling swallows; and their twittering cry, 
 
 With the light touch of raindrops on the leaves, 
 Broke into the grand surging melody. 
 
 Across its deep, tremendous questioning. 
 Its solemn acquiescence, low and clear, 
 
 The rippling notes ran sweet, with airy ring 
 Surprised, inquiring, but devoid of fear; 
 
THE NESTLING SWALLOWS 113 
 
 Lapsing to silence at the music's close, 
 
 A dreamy clamor, a contented stir. 
 "It made no discord," smiling, as he rose, 
 
 Said the great master's great interpreter. 
 
 No discord, truly ! Ever Nature weaves 
 
 Her sunshine with her shadow, joy with pain: 
 
 The asking thunder through high heaven that cleaves 
 Is lost in the low ripple of the rain. 
 
 About the edges of the dread abyss 
 
 The innocent blossoms laugh toward the sun; 
 
 Questions of life and death, of bale or bliss, 
 A thousand tender touches overrun. 
 
 Why should I chronicle so slight a thing? 
 
 But such things light up life like wayside flowers, 
 And memory, like a bird with folded wing. 
 
 Broods with still joy o'er such delicious hours. 
 
 Dear unf orgotten time ! Fair summer night ! 
 
 Thy nestling swallows and thy dropping rain, 
 The golden music and the faces bright. 
 
 Will steal with constant sweetness back again. 
 
 A joy to keep when winter darkness comes; 
 
 A living sense of beauty to recall; 
 A warm, bright thought, when bitter cold benumbs, 
 
 To make me glad and grateful. That is all. 
 
114 FLOWERS IN OCTOBER 
 
 VESPER SONG 
 
 Lies the sunset splendor far and wide, 
 
 On iho golden tide I 
 Drifting slow toward yonder ovoning rod, 
 With the faint stars sparkling overhead, 
 roacefully we glide. 
 
 Swoot is rest: the summer day is done, 
 Gone tlio ardent huu. 
 
 All is still: no wind of twilight blows; 
 
 Shuts the evening like a crimson rose; 
 Night comos like a nun. 
 
 Lift we loving voices, pure and clear. 
 To the Father's ear; 
 Fragrant as the flowers the thoughts wo raise 
 Up to heaven, while o'er the ocean ways 
 Draws the darkness near. 
 
 FLOWEIIS IN OCTOBER 
 
 TuE long black ledges are white with gulls, 
 As if the breakers had left their foam; 
 
 With the dying daylight the wild wind lulls, 
 And the scattered lishing-boala steer for homo. 
 
FLOWKllS IN OCTORER 115 
 
 On the crag 1 Hit, with tlio oiiHt boforo. 
 
 The Huii bcliiml mo in low in tlio sky; 
 Warm is its touch on tho rocky shore; 
 
 Sad th(^ vuHt ocean spaces lio. 
 
 Tho cricket is hoarse in tho faihnl grass ; 
 
 Tlie h)W hush rusthw so tliin untl sere; 
 Swift ovoi'head th(^ small hinls pass, 
 
 With cri(^s that are h)nely and swtH^t ami clear. 
 
 The last chill aat(irs their pi^tals foM 
 And gone is tho morning-glory's hell, 
 
 I5ut close in a loving hand I h(»hl 
 Long sprays of tlie scailet jtimpernel, 
 
 And thi<'k at my f«iet an^ blossom and leaf, 
 Blossoms rich red as the robes of kings; 
 
 Hardly they 're touched by the autumn's grief; 
 Do tlu^y surmise what tho winter brings? 
 
 I turn my oyivs from th(^ swei^t, sad sky, 
 
 From the foam-white gulls and the sails that 
 gleam, 
 
 To muse on tho scattered flowers that lie 
 Lost as yc^t in a summer dream. 
 
 () darlings, nurs(Ml by the salt sea-spray I 
 O shapes of beauty so (juaint and bright! 
 
116 WAIT 
 
 But for a little the frosts delay, 
 
 Soon will be ended your brief delight. 
 
 Could I but succor you, every one. 
 
 Spread wings of safety 'twixt harm and you; 
 Call from its southern travel the sun. 
 
 Banish the snow from the arching blue ! 
 
 It may not be, and the frosts must fall. 
 
 The winter must reign in the summer's stead; 
 
 But, though you perish beyond recall, 
 Ever I love you, alive or dead. 
 
 WAIT 
 
 Are the roses fallen, dear my child? 
 
 Has the winter left us only thorns. 
 Sharp and shuddering stalks in tangles wild, 
 
 Set with cruel teeth and iron horns? 
 
 Wait a little, fret not, and at last 
 Beauty will the barren boughs again 
 
 Tenderly re- clothe, when snows are past. 
 And the earth grows glad in sun and rain. 
 
 Never vex your heart nor tear your hands, 
 Searching 'mid the thorns for vanished bliss; 
 
KAREN 117 
 
 For the soul that patience understands 
 Needs no wisdom more divine than this: 
 
 Wait ! The sweet flowers of the coming spring 
 Beautiful as those you mourn shall be. 
 
 Wait! for happy birds are sure to sing, 
 While now roses bloom for you and mo. 
 
 KAREN 
 
 At her low quaint wheel she sits to spin, 
 Deftly drawing the long, light rolls 
 
 Of carded wool through her lingers thin, 
 By the fireside at the Isles of Shoals. 
 
 She is not pretty, she is not young. 
 
 Poor homesick Karen, who sits and spins, 
 
 Humming a song in her native tongue. 
 That falters and stops, and again begins. 
 
 While her wheel flies fast, with its drowsy hum, 
 And she makes a picture of pensive grace 
 
 As thoughts of her well-loved Norway come 
 And deepen the shadows across her face. 
 
 Her collar is white as the drifted snow, 
 
 And she spun and wove her blue gown fine 
 
118 KAKEN 
 
 With those busy hands. See, a flitting glow 
 
 Makes her pale cheek burn and her dark eyes shine ! 
 
 Left you a lover in that far land, 
 
 O Karen sad, that you pine so long ? 
 Would I could unravel and understand 
 
 That sorrowful, sweet Norwegian song! 
 
 When the spring wind blew, the "America wind," 
 As your people call it, that bears away 
 
 Their youths and maidens a home to find 
 In this distant country, could you not stay 
 
 And live in that dear Norway still, 
 
 And let the emigrant crowd sail West 
 Without you 1 Well, you have had your will. 
 
 Why would you fly from your sheltering nest? 
 
 homesick Karen, listen to me: 
 
 You are not young, and you are not fair, 
 
 But Waldemar no one else can see. 
 For he carries your image everywhere. 
 
 Is he too boyish a lover for you. 
 
 With all his soul in his frank blue eyes ? 
 
 Feign you unconsciousness ? Is it true 
 
 You know not his heart in your calm hand lies? 
 
A MUSSEL SHELL 119 
 
 Handsome and gentle and good is he; 
 
 Loves you, Karen, better than life; 
 Do but consider him, can't you see 
 
 What a happy woman would be his wife? 
 
 You won't be merry? You can't be glad? 
 
 Still must you mourn for that home afar? 
 Well, here is an end of a hope I had, 
 
 And I am sorry for Waldemar! 
 
 A MUSSEL SHELL 
 
 Why art thou colored like the evening sky 
 Sorrowing for sunset? Lovely dost thou lie, 
 Bared by the washing of the eager brine. 
 At the snow's motionless and wind-carved line. 
 
 Cold stretch the snows, cold throng the waves, the 
 
 wind 
 Stings sharp, — an icy fire, a touch unkind, — 
 And sighs as if with passion of regret, 
 The while I mark thy tints of violet. 
 
 beauty strange! shape of perfect grace. 
 Whereon the lovely waves of color trace 
 The history of the years that passed thee by, 
 And touched thee with the pathos of the sky I 
 
120 TRUST 
 
 The sea shall crush thee; yea, the ponderous wave 
 Up the loose beach shall grind, and scoop thy grave. 
 Thou thought of God ! What more than thou am I ? 
 Both transient as the sad wind's passing sigh. 
 
 TEUST 
 
 See how the wind is hauling point by point to the 
 south, 
 By the boats in the little harbor, that swing to its 
 lightest touch; 
 And the coasting craft emerge from the far-ofif river's 
 mouth. 
 And on the rocks the breakers relax their impotent 
 clutch. 
 
 At last is the tempest ended, the bitter northeast 
 
 And the world will soon be sparkling in clear white 
 
 fire and dew, 
 And the sullen clouds melt swiftly, by the might of 
 
 warm wind seized. 
 And the heavens shine in splendor, where broadens 
 
 the matchless blue. 
 
 Carol the birds in chorus ; glitters the snow-white gull, 
 Screaming loud in mid-air, slow-soaring high with 
 delight; 
 
TRUST 121 
 
 And the rosebuds loosen their petals, the drenched 
 flowers, sodden and dull, 
 Break out into stars of purple and gold and crimson 
 and white. 
 
 Where wert thou, Spirit of Beauty, while earth lay- 
 cold and dark, 
 And the chill wind struck to our hearts, and the 
 sky like an enemy scowled. 
 And we crept through the mists desponding, and never 
 a glimmering spark 
 Shot a ray through the gloom while the storm like 
 a demon groveled and growled ? 
 
 Where art thou. Heavenly Father, when thy world 
 seems spoiled with sin. 
 And darker far than thy tempest arises the smoke 
 of doubt, 
 That blackens the sky of the soul 1 — for faith is hard 
 to win: 
 To our finite sight wrong triumphs and noble things 
 die out, 
 
 While shapes of monstrous evil make fearful thy nights 
 and days. 
 And murder stalks unhindered, working its hideous 
 will. 
 
122 MODJESKA 
 
 And innocence, gentleness, charity seem to forsake 
 earth's ways, 
 And in the hearts of thy creatures are madness and 
 nameless ill. 
 
 Behind the cloud Thou waitest, hidden, yet very near, 
 
 Infinite Spirit of Beauty, Infinite Power of Good! 
 At last Thou wilt scatter the vapors, and all things 
 shall be clear, 
 And evil shall vanish away like a mist by the wind 
 pursued. 
 
 MODJESKA 
 
 Deft hands called Chopin's music from the keys. 
 
 Silent she sat, her slender figure's poise 
 Flower-like and fine and full of lofty ease; 
 
 She heard her Poland's most consummate voice 
 From power to pathos falter, sink and change; 
 
 The music of her land, the wondrous high, 
 Utmost expression of its genius strange, — 
 
 Incarnate sadness breathed in melody. 
 Silent and thrilled she sat, her lovely face 
 
 Flushing and paling like a delicate rose 
 
 Shaken by summer winds from its repose 
 Softly this way and that with tender grace, 
 
 Now touched by sun, now into shadow turned, — 
 
 While bright with kindred fire her deep eyes burned ! 
 
SONG 123 
 
 SONG 
 
 SWALLOW, sailing lightly 
 The crystal deeps of blue, 
 
 With flashing wings that brightly 
 Glitter the sunshine through, 
 
 What sayest thou, returning 
 From sunny lands and fair, 
 
 That summer roses burning 
 Shall light the fragrant air ? 
 
 That merry days thou bringest. 
 And gone is winter's woe, — 
 
 Is this the song thou singest 1 
 Gay prophet, is it so? 
 
 1 know all beauties follow 
 
 Swift in thy shining track, 
 But to my heart, O swallow, 
 Canst thou bring summer backl 
 
 No shaft of sunshine glorious 
 Shall melt my winter snows, 
 
 No kiss of June victorious 
 Awake for me the rose ! 
 
124 LARS 
 
 LAES 
 
 "Tell us a story of these isles," they said, 
 
 The daughters of the West, whose eyes had seen 
 
 For the first time the circling sea, instead 
 Of the blown prairie's waves of grassy green: 
 
 "Tell us of wreck and peril, storm and cold, 
 Wild as the wildest." Under summer stars, 
 
 With the slow moonrise at our back, I told 
 The story of the young Norwegian, Lars. 
 
 That youth with the black eyebrows sharply drawn 
 In strong curves, like some sea-bird's wings out- 
 spread 
 
 O'er his dark eyes, is Lars, and this fair dawn 
 Of womanhood, the maiden he will wed. 
 
 She loves him for the dangers he has past. 
 
 Her rosy beauty glowed before his stern 
 And vigilant regard, until at last 
 
 Her sweetness vanquished Lars the taciturn. 
 
 For he is ever quiet, strong, and wise; 
 
 Wastes nothing, not a gesture nor a breath; 
 Forgets not, gazing in the maiden's eyes, 
 
 A year ago it was not love, but death, 
 
LAKS 125 
 
 That clasped him, and can hardly learn as yet 
 How to be merry, haunted by that pain 
 
 And terror, and remembering with regret 
 The comrade he can never see again. 
 
 Out from the harbor on that winter day 
 
 Sailed the two men to set their trawl together. 
 
 Down swept the sudden snow-squall o'er the bay. 
 And hurled their slight boat onward like a feather. 
 
 They tossed they knew not whither, till at last 
 Under the lighthouse cliff they found a lee, 
 
 And out the road-lines of the trawl they cast 
 To moor her, if so happy they might be. 
 
 But quick the slender road-lines snapt in twain 
 In the wild breakers, and once more they tossed 
 
 Adrift; and, watching from his misty pane. 
 
 The lighthouse keeper muttered, "They are lost!" 
 
 Lifted the snow: night fell; swift cleared the sky; 
 
 The air grew sharp as death with polar cold; 
 Raged the insensate gale, and flashing high 
 
 In starlight keen the hissing billows rolled. 
 
 Driven before the wind's incessant scourge 
 
 All night they fled, — one dead ere morning lay. 
 
 Lars saw his strange, drawn countenance emerge 
 In the fierce sunrise light of that drear day, 
 
126 LARS 
 
 And thought, "A little space and I shall be 
 
 Even as he, " and, gazing in despair 
 O'er the wide, weltering waste, no sign could see 
 
 Of hope, or help, or comfort, anywhere. 
 
 Two hundred miles before the hurricane 
 The dead and living drove across the sea. 
 
 The third day dawned. His dim eyes saw again 
 The vast green plain, breaking eternally 
 
 In ghastly waves. But in the early li^ht, 
 
 On the horizon glittering like a star, 
 East growing, looming tall, with canvas white, 
 
 Sailed his salvation southward from afar ! 
 
 Down she bore, rushing o'er the hills of brine, 
 Straight for his feeble signal. As she past. 
 
 Out from the schooner's deck they flung a line, 
 And o'er his head the open noose was cast. 
 
 Clutching with both his hands the bowline knot 
 
 Caught at his throat, swift drawn through fire he 
 seemed. 
 Whelmed in the icy sea, and he forgot 
 
 Life, death, and all things, — yet he thought he 
 dreamed 
 
 A dread voice cried, "We 've lost him! " and a sting 
 Of anguish pierced his clouded senses through; 
 
SONG 127 
 
 A moment more, and like a lifeless thing 
 He lay among the eager, pitying crew. 
 
 Long time he swooned, while o'er the ocean vast 
 The dead man tossed alone, they knew not where ; 
 
 But youth and health triumphant were at last. 
 And here is Lars, you see, and here the fair 
 
 Young snow-and-rose-hloom maiden he will wed. 
 
 His face is kindly, though it seems so stern. 
 Death passed him by, and life begins instead, 
 
 For Thora sweet and Lars the taciturn. 
 
 SONG 
 
 A RUSHING of wings in the dawn, 
 
 A flight of birds in the sky ! 
 The darkness of night withdrawn, 
 
 In an outburst of melody ! 
 
 O birds through the heaven that soar 
 With such tumult of jubilant song! 
 
 The shadows are flying before. 
 For the rapture of life is strong, 
 
 And my spirit leaps to the light 
 On the wings of its hope new-born. 
 
 And I follow your radiant flight 
 Through the golden halls of morn! 
 
128 TIIORA 
 
 THOKA 
 
 Come under my cloak, ray darling I 
 
 Thou little Norwegian maid! 
 Nor wind, nor rain, nor rolling sea 
 
 Shall cliill or make thee afraid. 
 
 Come close, little blue-oyed maiden, 
 
 Nestle within my arm; 
 Though the lightning leaps and the thunder peals, 
 
 Wo shall be safe from harm. 
 
 Swift from the dim horizon 
 
 The dark sails scud for the land. 
 Look, how the rain-cloud drops its fringe 
 
 About us on either hand I 
 
 And high from our plunging bowsprit 
 
 Dashes the cold white spray, 
 And storm and tumult fill the air 
 
 And trouble the summer day. 
 
 But thou fearest nothing, darling. 
 
 Though tlie tempest mutter and brood. 
 
 Though the wild wind tosses thy bright brown locks, 
 And flutters thy grass-green snood. 
 
TUOKA 129 
 
 I kisH thy wIho whito forohoad, 
 VVliili^ tli(^ Uiuiulcr rolls so grand; 
 
 And I iiold ilui curve of thy lovely check 
 In the hollow of my hand; 
 
 And I wiitch the sky and ilu^ ocean, 
 
 And study thy gentle faci^ — 
 Its liiu^s of Hwoetncss and power, 
 
 The type of thy strong Norae race. 
 
 And I wonder what thy life will be. 
 
 Thou dear and charming cliild, 
 Who hast driftetl so far across the world 
 
 To a home so lone and wild. 
 
 Rude and rough and sad, perhaps; 
 
 Anxious, and full of toil; 
 But I think no sorrow or hardship 
 
 Thine inn(^r [)wice can spoil. 
 
 For better than kingly fortunes 
 
 Is the wealth that thou dost hold — 
 
 A nature i)orfoctly balanced, 
 A beauty of heart untold. 
 
 Tliou wilt ()p(Mi th(^ door of patience. 
 When sorrow shall come and knock; 
 
 15nt to ev(^ry evil, unworthy thing 
 Wilt thou the gates fast lock. 
 
130 THE HAPPY BIEDS 
 
 So shall thy days be blessed, 
 
 Whatever may be thy lot. 
 But what I am silently pondering 
 
 Thou understandest not, 
 
 And liftest to me thy steadfast eyes, 
 Calm as if Heaven looked through. 
 
 Do all the maidens in Norway 
 Have eyes so clear and blue ? 
 
 See, darling, where, in the distance, 
 The cloud breaks up in the sky, 
 
 And lets a ray of sunshine fall 
 Where our far-off islands lie I 
 
 White they gleam, and the sea grows bright, 
 
 And silver shines the foam. 
 A little space, and our anchor drops 
 
 In the haven of Love and Home ! 
 
 THE HAPPY BIEDS 
 
 All about the gable tall swift the swallows flit, 
 
 Wheel and call and dart and, fluttering, chatter 
 sweet; 
 
 All along the sloping, sunny eaves they perch and sit, 
 Bright as lapis-lazuli, glittering in the heat. 
 
THE HAPPY BIRDS 131 
 
 O spirits of the summer, so dainty, delicate, 
 
 Creatures born of sunshine and cheer and all de- 
 light, 
 Pray you, but delay a moment, yet a little wait, 
 
 Ere for southern lands again you spread your wings 
 in flight! 
 
 Yet the August sun is hot, yet the days are long, 
 Though the grass is over-ripe and the aster blows; 
 
 Still the silence echoes to the sparrow's quiet song. 
 Still, though late, in thorny thickets lingers the 
 wild rose. 
 
 Tarry yet a little, for after you have flown 
 
 Lonely all the housetops and still the air will 
 grow; 
 Where your cheerful voices rang autumn winds will 
 moan; 
 Presently we shall be dull with winter's weight of 
 snow. 
 
 Oh! that we could follow you and cling to Summer's 
 hand. 
 Ye happy, happy birds, flying lightly through the 
 sky! 
 Reach with you the rapture of some far, sunny land, 
 Leave to Winter's bitterness our glad and gay good- 
 by! 
 
132 SLUMBER SONG 
 
 SLUMBER SONG 
 
 Thou little child, with tender, clinging arms, 
 Drop thy sweet head, my darling, down and rest 
 
 Upon my shoulder, rest with all thy charms; 
 Be soothed and comforted, be loved and blessed. 
 
 Against thy silken, honey-colored hair 
 I lean a loving cheek, a mute caress; 
 
 Close, close I gather thee and kiss thy fair 
 White eyelids, sleep so softly doth oppress. 
 
 Dear little face, that lies in calm content 
 Within the gracious hollow that God made 
 
 In every human shoulder, where He meant 
 Some tired head for comfort should be laid ! 
 
 Most like a heavy-folded rose thou art, 
 In summer air reposing, warm and still. 
 
 Dream thy sweet dreams upon my quiet heart; 
 I watch thy slumber; naught shall do thee ill. 
 
 STARLIGHT 
 
 The chill, sad evening wind of winter blows 
 Across the headland, bleak and bare and high, 
 
 "* bustling the thin, dry grass that sparsely grows, 
 And shivering whispers like a human sigh. 
 
STARLIGHT 133 
 
 The sky is thick with stars that sparkle keen, 
 And great Capella in the clear northeast 
 
 Kolls slowly up the cloudless heaven serene, 
 And the stern uproar of the sea has ceased 
 
 A fleeting moment, and the earth seems dead — 
 So still, so sad, so lonely, and so cold ! 
 
 Snow- dust beneath me, and above my head 
 
 Star-dust in blackness, like thick-sprinkled gold. 
 
 The stars of fire, the tiny stars of ice. 
 
 The awful whirling worlds in space that wheel. 
 
 The dainty crystal's delicate device, — 
 
 One hand has fashioned both — and I, who kneel 
 
 Here on this winter night, 'twixt stars and snow, 
 As transient as a snowflake and as weak, 
 
 Yearning like all my fellow-men to know 
 
 His hidden purpose that no voice may speak; 
 
 In silent awe I watch his worlds : I see 
 
 Mighty Capella' s signal, and I know 
 The steady beam of light that reaches me 
 
 Left the great orb full seventy years ago. 
 
 A human lifetime ! Eeason strives in vain 
 To grasp at time and space, and evermore 
 
134 STARLIGHT 
 
 Thought, weary grown and baffled, must again 
 Retrace its slow steps to the humble door 
 
 Of wistful patience, there to watch and wait 
 Devoutly, till at last Death's certain hand. 
 
 Imperious, opens wide the mystic gate 
 
 Between us and the future He has planned. 
 
 Yea, Death alone. But shall Death conquer all 1 
 Love fights and pleads in anguish of despair. 
 
 Sooner shall great Capella wavering fall 
 Than any voice respond to his wild prayer. 
 
 And yet, what fire divine makes hope to glow 
 Through the pale ashes of our earthly fate t 
 
 Immortal hope, above all joy, below 
 
 All depths of pain wherein we strive and wait I 
 
 Dull is our sense; hearing we do not hear, 
 And seeing see not; yet we vaguely feel 
 
 Somewhere is comfort in the darkness drear. 
 
 And, hushing doubts and fears, we learn to kneel. 
 
 Starlight and silence ! Dumb are sky and sea ; 
 
 Silent as death the awful spaces lie; 
 Speechless the bitter wind blows over me, 
 
 Sad as the breathing of a human sigh. 
 
SONG 135 
 
 SONG 
 
 Hark, how sweet the thrushes sing! 
 
 Hark, how clear the robins call I 
 Chorus of the happy spring. 
 
 Summer's madrigal! 
 
 Flood the world with joy and cheer, 
 ye birds, and pour your song 
 
 Till the farthest distance hear 
 Notes so glad and strong! 
 
 Storm the earth with odors sweet, 
 O ye flowers, that blaze in light! 
 
 Crowd about June's shining feet, 
 All ye blossoms bright. 
 
 Shout, ye waters, to the sun ! 
 
 Back are winter's fetters hurled; 
 Summer's glory is begun; 
 
 Beauty holds the world! 
 
 EEMONSTRANCE 
 
 "Come out and hear the birds sing! Oh, wherefore sit 
 
 you there 
 At the western window watching, dreamy-pale and 
 
 still and fair, 
 
136 REMONSTRANCE 
 
 While the warm summer wind disparts your 
 
 clustering gold? 
 What is it on the dim sea line your eyes would fain 
 
 behold?" 
 "I seek a sail that never looms from out the purple 
 
 haze 
 At rosy dawn, or fading eve, or in the noontide's 
 
 blaze." 
 
 " A sail ? Lo, many a column of white canvas far and 
 near! 
 
 All day they glide across the blue, appear and disap- 
 pear; 
 
 See, how they crowd the offing, flocking from the sul- 
 try South! 
 
 Why stirs a smile more sad than tears the patience of 
 your mouth ? " 
 
 "They lean before the freshening breeze, they cross 
 the ocean floor, 
 
 But the ship that brings me tidings of my love comes 
 
 "Come out into the garden where the crimson phloxes 
 
 burn. 
 And every slender lily-stem upbears a lustrous urn; 
 A thousand greetings float to you from bud and bell 
 
 and star, 
 
REMONSTRANCE 137 
 
 Their sweetness freights the breathing wind; how 
 
 beautiful thoy arc ! " 
 "Their brilliant color blinds me; I sicken at their 
 
 breath ; 
 The whisper of this mournful wind is sad to me as 
 
 death." 
 
 "And must you sit so white and cold while all the 
 
 world is bright? 
 All, come with me and see how all is brimming with 
 
 delight! 
 On the beach the emerald breaker murmurs o'er the 
 
 tawny sand; 
 The white spray from the rock is tossed, by melting 
 
 rainbows spanned." 
 "Nay, mock me not! I have no heart for nature's 
 
 happiness ; 
 One sound alone my soul can fill, one shape my sight 
 
 can bless." 
 
 "And are your fetters forged so fast, though you were 
 
 free and strong. 
 By the old, mysterious madness, told in story and in 
 
 song 
 Since burdened with the human race the world began 
 
 to roll? 
 Can you not thrust the weight away, so heavy on your 
 
 soul?" 
 
138 MORNING SONG 
 
 "There is no power in earth or heaven such madness 
 
 to destroy, 
 And I would not part with sorrow that is sweeter far 
 
 than joy.'' 
 
 "Oh marvelous content, that from such still despair is 
 
 born! 
 Nay, I would wrestle with my fate till love were slain 
 
 with scorn! 
 O mournful Mariana ! I would never sit so pale, 
 Watching, with eyes grown dim with dreams, the 
 
 coming of a sail ! " 
 "Peace, peace! How can you measure a depth you 
 
 never knew ? 
 My chains to me are dearer than your freedom is to 
 
 you. " 
 
 MOENING SONG 
 
 We launch our boat upon the sparkling sea, 
 
 We dip our rhythmic oars with song and cheer; 
 
 Before our dancing prow the shadows flee. 
 Behind us fast the fair coasts disappear. 
 
 So fade our childhood's shores. Without regret 
 We leave the safe, green, happy fields, and try 
 
 The vague, uncertain ocean, storm-beset, 
 Nor see the tempests that before us lie. 
 
BEETHOVEN 139 
 
 Flushed with our hope the unknown future gleams, 
 Freighted with blissful dreams our barque floats on, 
 
 And life a shining path of victory seems, 
 
 Crowned with a golden peace when day is done. 
 
 BEETHOVEN 
 
 If God speaks anywhere, in any voice. 
 To us, his creatures, surely here and now 
 We hear Him, while the great chords seem to bow 
 
 Our heads, and all the symphony's breathless noise 
 Breaks over us with challenge to our souls ! 
 
 Beethoven's music! From the mountain peaks 
 The strong, divine, compelling thunder rolls, 
 
 And, " Come up higher, come ! " the words it speaks, 
 " Out of your darkened valleys of despair, 
 
 Behold, I lift you upon mighty wings 
 Into Hope's living, reconciling air! 
 
 Breathe, and forget your life's perpetual stings; 
 Dream, — folded on the breast of Patience sweet. 
 Some pulse of pitying love for you may beat ! ^' 
 
 SONG 
 
 What good gift can I bring thee, thou dearest ! 
 
 All joys to thee belong; 
 Thy praise from loving lips all day thou hearest, 
 
 Sweeter than any song. 
 
140 WITH THE TIDE 
 
 For thee the sun shines and the earth rejoices 
 
 In fragrance, music, light; 
 The spring-time woos thee with a thousand voices, 
 
 For thee her flowers are bright; 
 Youth crowns thee, and love waits upon thy splendor, 
 
 Trembling beneath thine eyes; 
 The morning sky is yet serene and tender, 
 
 Thy life before thee lies. 
 What shall I bring thee, O thou dearest, fairest! 
 
 Thou boldest in thy hand 
 My heart as lightly as the rose thou wearest; 
 
 Nor wilt thou understand 
 Thou art my sun, my rose, my day, my morrow, 
 
 My lady proud and sweet! 
 I bring the treasure of a priceless sorrow, 
 
 To lay before thy feet. 
 
 WITH THE TIDE 
 
 Swift o'er the water my light yacht dances, 
 Flying fast from the wind of the South; 
 
 Bright from her bowsprit the white foam glances, 
 And straight we steer for the harbor's mouth. 
 
 The coast line dim from the haze emerges, 
 With tender tints of the spring-time toned; 
 
 On silver beaches roll sparkling surges. 
 
 And woods are green on the hills enthroned. 
 
WITH THE TIDE 141 
 
 The sentinel lighthouses watch together, 
 
 As the stately river we reach at last; 
 The robins sing in the blithe May weather, 
 
 And the flood-tide bears us onward fast. 
 
 From bank to bank flows a chorus mellow 
 Of rippling frogs and of singing birds; 
 
 The fields are starry with flowers of yellow, 
 And green slopes pasture the lowing herds. 
 
 A lovely perfume blows softly over 
 
 From apple-blossoms on either side. 
 From golden willow and budding clover, 
 
 And many a garden of lowly pride. 
 
 And a lazy echo of glad cocks crowing 
 From door-yards cosy rings far and near! 
 
 And the city's murmur is slowly growing 
 From out the distance distinct and clear. 
 
 Over the river, so broadly flowing. 
 
 Cottages look from the sheltering trees; 
 
 And out through the orchard, with blossoms snowing, 
 Comes a brown-haired maiden from one of these. 
 
 She waves her hand as in friendly token. 
 And watches my swift boat sailing on; 
 
 I answer her signal — no word is spoken, 
 'T is but a moment, and she is gone. 
 
142 "THE SUNRISE NEVER FAILED US YET " 
 
 And when, from the far-off town returning, 
 Dropping down with the ebbing tide. 
 
 Seaward we sail, with the sunset burning 
 O'er wastes of the ocean, lone and wide, 
 
 Again in the orchard her white hand lifted 
 Shows like a waft of a sea-bird's wing. 
 
 While the rosy blossoms are o'er her drifted, 
 And loud with rapture the robins sing. 
 
 I know her not and shall know her never, 
 But ever I watch for that friendly sign; 
 
 And up or down with the stately river 
 Her lovely greeting is always mine. 
 
 And her presence lends to the scene a glory, 
 More beauty to blossom and stream and tree; 
 
 And back o'er the wastes of the ocean hoary 
 Her gentle image I take with me. 
 
 "THE SUNRISE NEVER FAILED US YET" 
 
 Upon the sadness of the sea 
 The sunset broods regretfully; 
 From the far lonely spaces, slow 
 Withdraws the wistful afterglow. 
 
ENTHRALLED I43 
 
 So out of life the splendor dies; 
 So darken all the happy skies; 
 So gathers twilight, cold and stern; 
 But overhead the planets burn; 
 
 And up the east another day 
 Shall chase the bitter dark away j 
 "What though our eyes with tears be wet? 
 The sunrise never failed us yet. 
 
 The blush of dawn may yet restore 
 Our light and hope and joy once more. 
 Sad soul, take comfort, nor forget 
 That sunrise never failed us yet! 
 
 ENTHRALLED 
 Like huge waves, petrified, against the sky, 
 
 The solemn hills are heaved; by shadow kissed, 
 Or softly touched by delicate light they lie 
 
 Melting in sapphire and in amethyst. 
 
 The thronging mountains, crowding all the scene, 
 Are like the long swell of an angry sea, 
 
 Tremendous surging tumult that has been 
 Smitten to awful silence suddenly. 
 
 The nearer slopes with autumn glory blaze, 
 Garnet and ruby, topaz, amber, gold; 
 
144 ENTHRALLED 
 
 Up through the quiet air the thin smoke strays 
 From many a lonely homestead, brown and old. 
 
 The scattered cattle graze in pastures bare, 
 The brooks sing unconcerned beside the way, 
 
 Belated crickets chirp, while still and fair 
 Dies into sunset peace the golden day. 
 
 And toward the valley, where the little town 
 
 Beckons with twinkling lights, that gleam below 
 
 Like bright and friendly eyes, we loiter down 
 And find our shelter and our fireside glow. 
 
 But while the gay hours pass with laugh and jest, 
 And all is radiant warmth and joy once more, 
 
 My captured thought must wander out in quest 
 Of that vast mountain picture, o'er and o'er; 
 
 Where underneath the black and star-sown arch 
 Earth's ancient trouble speaks eternally; 
 
 And I must watch those mighty outlines march 
 In silence, motionless, with none to see; 
 
 While from the north the night- wind sighing sweeps. 
 And, sharp against the crystal sky relieved, 
 
 The tumult of forgotten ages sleeps 
 
 Where like huge waves the solemn hills are heaved. 
 
SONG 145 
 
 SONG 
 
 Rolls the long breaker in splendor, and glances, 
 
 Leaping in light! 
 Sparkling and singing the swift ripple dances, 
 
 Laughing and bright; 
 Up through the heaven the curlew is flying, 
 
 Soaring so high! 
 Sweetly his wild notes are ringing, and dying, 
 
 Lost in the sky. 
 Glitter the sails to the south-wind careening, 
 
 White-winged and brave; 
 Bowing to breeze and to billow, and leaning 
 
 Low o'er the wave. 
 Beautiful wind, with the touch of a lover 
 
 Leading the hours. 
 Helping the winter-worn world to recover 
 
 All its lost flowers. 
 Gladly I hear thy warm whisper of rapture, 
 
 Sorrow is o'er! 
 Earth all her music and bloom shall recapture, 
 
 Happy once more. 
 
146 TRANSITION 
 
 TEANSITION 
 
 A CLASH of human tongues within 
 Made the bright room a dreary jail; 
 
 Dull webs of talk the idle spin 
 Turned all its glow and color pale. 
 
 Outside, the peaceful sunset sky- 
 Was burning, deepening with the night; 
 
 One great star, glittering still and high, 
 Sent o'er the sea its track of light. 
 
 And wearily I spoke, and heard 
 
 An empty echo of reply, 
 Fretting like some imprisoned bird 
 
 That longs to break its cage and fly; 
 
 When suddenly the din seemed stilled, 
 
 Karer the air so dense before; 
 A mystic rapture warmed and thrilled 
 
 My heart, and I was dull no more. 
 
 Joy stole to me with sweet surmise, 
 With sense of some unmeasured good; 
 
 There was no need to lift my eyes 
 To know who on the threshold stood, 
 
TRANSITION 147 
 
 More splendid than the brilliant night 
 That looked in at the window-pane, 
 
 Welcome as to parched fields the light, 
 Refreshing touch of summer rain ! 
 
 She moved with recognition sweet, 
 
 She bowed with courtesy calm and kind, 
 
 As graceful as the waving wheat 
 
 That bends before the summer wind. 
 
 Swift sped the step of lagging time. 
 
 As if a breeze of morning blew; 
 Clear as the ring of Chaucer's rhyme 
 
 The vapid, idle talking grew ! 
 
 I heard her rich tones sounding through 
 
 The many voices like a strain 
 Of lofty music, strong and true, 
 
 And perfect joy was mine again. 
 
 I did not seek her radiant face, 
 
 Bright as spring light when winter dies, 
 
 But warm across the crowded space 
 I felt the gaze of noble eyes; 
 
 And in that glorious look, at last, 
 I seemed like one with sins forgiven, 
 
 With all life's pain and sorrow passed. 
 Entering the open gates of heaven ! 
 
148 LEVIATHAN 
 
 LEVIATHAN 
 
 Betwixt the bleak rock and the barren shore 
 
 Rolled miles of hoary waves that hissed with frost, 
 
 And from the bitter north with sullen roar 
 
 Swept the wild wind, and the wild water tossed. 
 
 In the cold sky, hard, pitiless, and drear, 
 
 The sun dropped down; but ere the world grew 
 gray, 
 
 A sweet, reluctant rose-tint, sad and clear. 
 
 Stained icy crags and leagues of leaping spray. 
 
 Midway between the lone rock and the shore 
 A fountain fair sprang skyward suddenly. 
 
 And sudden fell, and yet again once more 
 The column rose, and sank into the sea. 
 
 Silent, ethereal, mystic, delicate. 
 
 Mushed with delicious glow of fading rose, 
 
 It grew and vanished, like some genie great, 
 
 Some wild, thin phantom, woven of winter snows. 
 
 'T was the foam-fountain of the mighty whale, 
 Rising each time more far and faint and dim. 
 
 All his huge strength against the thundering gale 
 He set; no hurricane could hinder him I 
 
TO A VIOLIN 149 
 
 There came to me a gladness in the sight, 
 A pleasure in the thought of life so strong, 
 
 Daring the elements, and making light 
 
 Of winter's wrathful power of wreck and wrong. 
 
 I gloried in his triumph o'er the vast 
 
 Blind rage of Nature. All her awful force, 
 
 The terror of her tempest full she cast 
 
 Against him, yet he kept his ponderous course. 
 
 For her worst fury he nor stayed nor turned. 
 
 'Twas joy to think in such tremendous play, 
 Through the sea's cruelty, all unconcerned. 
 
 Leviathan pursued his placid way ! 
 
 TO A VIOLIN 
 
 What wondrous power from heaven upon thee 
 wrought ? 
 
 What prisoned Ariel within thee broods? 
 Marvel of human skill and human thought, 
 
 Light as a dry leaf in the winter woods! 
 
 Thou mystic thing, all beautiful ! What mind 
 Conceived thee, what intelligence began 
 
 And out of chaos thy rare shape designed, 
 Thou delicate and perfect work of man? 
 
150 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 Across my hands thou liest mute and still; 
 
 Thou wilt not breathe to me thy secret fine; 
 Thy matchless tones the eager air shall thrill 
 
 To no entreaty or command of mine; 
 
 But -comes thy master, lo ! thou yieldest all : 
 Passion and pathos, rapture and despair; 
 
 To the soul's need thy searching voice doth call 
 In language exquisite beyond compare, 
 
 Till into speech articulate at last 
 
 Thou seem'st to break, and thy charmed listener 
 hears 
 Thee waking echoes of the vanished past, 
 
 Touching the source of gladness and of tears; 
 
 And with bowed head he lets the sweet wave roll 
 Across him, swayed by that weird power of thine, 
 
 And reverence and wonder fill his soul 
 That man's creation should be so divine. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 So soon the end must come. 
 
 Why waste in sighs our breath 1 
 
 So soon our lips are dumb, 
 So swift comes death. 
 
PHILOSOPHY 151 
 
 So brief the time to smile, 
 
 Why darken wc the air 
 With frowns and tears, the while 
 
 We nurse despair? 
 
 Hold firm the sujBfering will 
 
 And bravely thrust it back; 
 Fight with the powers of ill, 
 
 The legions black. 
 
 Stand in the sunshine sweet 
 
 And treasure every ray, 
 Nor seek with stubborn feet 
 
 The darksome way. 
 
 Have courage ! Keep good cheer ! 
 
 Our longest time is brief. 
 To those who hold you dear 
 
 Bring no more grief. 
 
 But cherish blisses small. 
 
 Grateful for least delight 
 That to your lot doth fall, 
 
 However slight. 
 
 And lo ! all hearts will bring 
 
 Love, to make glad your days; 
 Blessings untold will spring 
 
 About your ways. 
 
152 MEDllICK AND OSPREY 
 
 So shall life bloom and shino, 
 Lifted its ])ain Jihovo, 
 
 Orownod willi lliis gift, diviiio, 
 The gift of Lovo. 
 
 MEDllICK AND OSPKEY 
 
 Medrick, waving wide wings low over tlio broo/e- 
 ripplod biglit; 
 Osjiroy, soaring superl) overhead in the fathomless 
 blue, 
 Graceful and fearless and strong, do you tlirill with 
 the morning's delight 
 Even as 1 ? P>rings the sunwhine a message of beauty 
 for you ? 
 
 Oh the blithe In-eozn of the west, blowing sweet from 
 the far-away land, 
 Bowing the grass heavy-headed, thick crowding, so 
 slender and proud ! 
 Oh the warm sea sparkling over with waves by the 
 swift wind fanned! 
 Oil the, \vi(l(^ sky (crystal clear, with bright islands of 
 delicate cloud! 
 
 Feel you tlic waking of life in the world locked long 
 time in tlie frost, 
 J^eautiful birds, with the liglit Hashing bright from 
 your banner-like wings? 
 
ALONE 153 
 
 Osprey, soaring on high, in i]w dopths of thi^ .sky half 
 lost, 
 Medrick, hovering low whoro the sandpiper's sweot 
 note rings 1 
 
 Nothing am 1 to you, a blot, porliajis, on the day; 
 Nauglit do I add to your joy, but precious you are 
 in my sight; 
 And you seem on your glad wing.s to lift uw up iiilo 
 the other away, 
 And the morning divine is more radiant because of 
 your glorious flight. 
 
 ALONE 
 
 TiiK lilies clustered fair and tall; 
 
 I stood outside the garden wall; 
 
 I saw her light robe glimmering through 
 
 The fragrant evening's dusk and d(;w. 
 
 She stooped above the lilies pale; 
 Up the clear east the moon did sail; 
 I saw her Ixuid her lovely head 
 O'er her rich roses l)lushing red. 
 
 Her slender hand the flowers caressed, 
 
 Her touch the unconscious blossoms blessed; 
 
154 KEVERIE 
 
 The rose against her perfumed palm 
 Leaned its soft cheek in blissful calm. 
 
 I would have given my soul to be 
 That rose she touched so tenderly ! 
 I stood alone, outside the gate, 
 And knew that life was desolate. 
 
 REVERIE 
 
 The white reflection of the sloop's great sail 
 
 Sleeps trembling on the tide; 
 In scarlet trim her crew lean o'er the rail, 
 
 Lounging on either side. 
 
 Pale blue and streaked with pearl the waters lie 
 
 And glitter in the heat; 
 The distance gathers purple bloom where sky 
 
 And glimmering coast-line meet. 
 
 From the cove's curving rim of sandy gray 
 
 The ebbing tide has drained, 
 Where, mournful, in the dusk of yesterday 
 
 The curlew's voice complained. 
 
 Half lost in hot mirage the sails afar 
 Lie dreaming, still and white; 
 
REVERIE 155 
 
 No wave breaks, no wind breathes, the peace to mar; 
 Summer is at its height. 
 
 How many thousand summers thus have shone 
 
 Across the ocean waste. 
 Passing in swift succession, one by one, 
 
 By the fierce winter chased! 
 
 The gray rocks blushing soft at dawn and eve, 
 
 The green leaves at their feet, 
 The dreaming sails, the crying birds that grieve, 
 
 Ever themselves repeat. 
 
 And yet how dear and how forever fair 
 
 Is Nature's friendly face. 
 And how forever new and sweet and rare 
 
 Each old familiar grace! 
 
 What matters it that she will sing and smile 
 
 When we are dead and still ? 
 Let us be happy in her beauty while 
 
 Our hearts have power to thrill. 
 
 Let us rejoice in every moment bright, 
 
 Grateful that it is ours; 
 Bask in her smiles with ever fresh delight, 
 
 And gather all her flowers; 
 
156 heart's-ease 
 
 For presently we part: what will avail 
 
 Her rosy fires of dawn, 
 Her noontide pomps, to us, who fade and fail, 
 
 Our hands from hers withdrawn ? 
 
 HEAET'S-EASE 
 
 Southward still the sun is slanting day by day, 
 Skies that brim with gold and azure slowly change; 
 
 Beauty waxes cold and dim and cannot stay. 
 
 Into tone and tint steals something ill and strange. 
 
 Threat of evil finds its way to every ear, 
 
 Lurks in light and shade and sounds in every 
 breath; 
 From the pathless snow-fields comes a warning drear, 
 And the shuddering north-wind carries news of 
 death. 
 
 Stealthy step of Winter near and nearer draws: 
 Locking earth beneath him, terrible with might, 
 
 Strides he from the icy zone without a pause. 
 
 Swift and sure and fierce, with ready hand to smite. 
 
 Dearest, when without the door he threatening stands. 
 Having rendered desolate the fair green earth. 
 
 And sent her happy birds to sunnier lands. 
 
 And choked with sullen snows her summer mirth, 
 
heart's-ease 157 
 
 We shall sit together, you and I, once more, 
 
 Warm and quiet, shut away from storm and cold; 
 
 We shall smile to hear him blustering at the door, 
 While the room glows with the firelight's ruddy 
 gold. 
 
 How safe my heart keeps every memory sweet, 
 Holding still your picture, as you used to sit, 
 
 Ever lovely, full of grace from head to feet, 
 
 With that heap of snowy wool I watched you 
 knit; 
 
 With the lamplight falling on your cloudy hair — 
 On the rich, loose bands of brown, so soft to touch; 
 
 On the silken knot of rose you used to wear. 
 On the thoughtful little face I love so much. 
 
 You remember, when aloud I read to you. 
 
 Sometimes silence intervened. You would not 
 move. 
 
 But in your radiant cheek the blushes grew, 
 
 For you knew I paused to gaze at you, my love! 
 
 Paused to realize my heaven, till with kind, 
 
 Clear and questioning gray eyes you sought my face. 
 
 What a look ! Its kindling glory struck me blind ; 
 'T was a splendor that illumined all the plac^. 
 
158 AUTUMN 
 
 What to us are Winter's blows and hate and wrath? 
 
 And what matter that the green earth's bloom is 
 fled? 
 There has been immortal summer in our path 
 
 All the happy, happy years since we were wed. 
 
 AUTUMN 
 
 Round and round the garden rushed a sudden blast, 
 Crying, "Autumn! Autumn!" shuddering as it 
 
 Dry poppy- head and larkspur-spike shrill whistled in 
 the wind. 
 Together whispering, "Autumn! and Winter is be- 
 hind!" 
 
 Tossed the sumach pennons, green and gold and red; 
 
 Flapped the awning scallops loudly overhead; 
 Swung the empty hammocks lightly to and fro; 
 
 While the crickets simmered, chirruping below. 
 
 Keen the star of evening hung glittering in the sky, 
 Red the west was burning, deepening silently; 
 
 Summer constellations slow wheeling out of sight, 
 Great Orion shining clear upon the face of night. 
 
 Sadly sang the ocean, sighing in the dark; 
 Far away the lighthouse lit a sudden spark; 
 
SONG 159 
 
 Black against the sunset sails wore gliding past; 
 
 Earth and soa and sky wore saying, "Autumn 's hero 
 at last I" 
 
 Soon will snow be flying, soon will tempests roar, 
 
 Soon the freezing north will lash us hitter as before ; 
 I heard the waters whisper, I heard the winds com- 
 plain. 
 But sweet, reluctant Summer I knew would come 
 again. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Love, art thou weary with the sultry day 1 
 Fain would I be the cool and delicate air 
 
 About the whiteness of thy brow to play. 
 And softly, lightly stir thy cloudy hair. 
 
 Upon thy head doth the fierce winter smite, 
 And shudderest thou in darkness cold to hoi 
 
 I would I were the coming of the light. 
 
 Shelter, and radiant warmth to comfort thee. 
 
 I would be fire and fragrance, light and air, 
 
 All gracious things that serve thee at thy need; 
 
 Music, to lift thy heart above all care; 
 
 The wise and charming book that thou dost read. 
 
160 SUBMISSION 
 
 There is no power that cheers and blesses thee 
 But I do envy it, beneath the sun! 
 
 Thy health, thy rest, thy refuge I would be ; 
 Thy heaven on earth, thine every good in one. 
 
 SUBMISSION 
 
 The sparrow sits and sings, and sings; 
 
 Softly the sunset's lingering light 
 Lies rosy over rock and turf, 
 And reddens where the restless surf 
 
 Tosses on high its plumes of white. 
 
 Gently and clear the sparrow sings. 
 While twilight steals across the sea, 
 And still and bright the evening-star 
 Twinkles above the golden bar 
 That in the west lies quietly. 
 
 Oh, steadfastly the sparrow sings. 
 
 And sweet the sound; and sweet the touch 
 Of wooing winds; and sweet the sight 
 Of happy Nature's deep delight 
 
 In her fair spring, desired so much! 
 
 But while so clear the sparrow sings 
 A cry of death is in my ear; 
 
SUBMISSION 161 
 
 The crashing of the riven wreck, 
 Breakers that sweep the shuddering deck, 
 And sounds of agony and fear. 
 
 How is it that the birds can sing 1 
 Life is so full of bitter pain ; 
 
 Hearts are so wrung with hopeless grief; 
 
 Woe is so long and joy so brief; 
 Nor shall the lost return again. 
 
 Though rapturously the sparrow sings, 
 No bliss of Nature can restore 
 
 The friends whose hands I clasped so warm, 
 Sweet souls that through the night and storm 
 Fled from the earth for evermore. 
 
 Yet still the sparrow sits and sings, 
 
 Till longing, mourning, sorrowing love. 
 
 Groping to find what hope may be 
 
 Within death's awful mystery, 
 Eeaches its empty arms above; 
 
 And listening, while the sparrow sings. 
 And soft the evening shadows fall. 
 
 Sees, through the crowding tears that blind, 
 A little light, and seems to find 
 And clasp God's hand, who wrought it all. 
 
162 SONG 
 
 SONG 
 
 I WORE your roses yesterday: 
 
 About this light robe's folds of white, 
 Wherein their gathered sweetness lay, 
 
 Still clings their perfume of delight. 
 
 And all in vain the warm wind sweeps 
 These airy folds like vapor fine. 
 
 Among them still the odor sleeps, 
 And haunts me with a dream divine. 
 
 So to my heart your memory clings. 
 So sweet, so rich, so delicate; 
 
 Eternal summer-time it brings. 
 Defying all the storms of fate ; 
 
 A power to turn the darkness bright. 
 Till life with matchless beauty glows; 
 
 Each moment touched with tender light, 
 And every thought of you a rose ! 
 
 SPKING AGAIN 
 
 I STOOD on the height in the stillness 
 And the planet's outline scanned. 
 
 And half was drawn with the line of sea 
 And half with the far blue land. 
 
SPRING AGAIN 163 
 
 With wings that caught the sunshine 
 
 In the crystal deeps of the sky, 
 Like shapes of dreams, the gleaming gulls 
 
 Went slowly floating by. 
 
 Below me the boats in the harbor 
 
 Lay still, with their white sails furled; 
 
 Sighing away into silence, 
 
 The breeze died off the world. 
 
 On the weather-worn, ancient ledges 
 
 Peaceful the calm light slept; 
 And the chilly shadows, lengthening, 
 
 Slow to the eastward crept. 
 
 The snow still lay in the hollows, 
 
 And where the salt waves met 
 The iron rock, all ghastly white 
 
 The thick ice glimmered yet. 
 
 But the smile of the sun was kinder, 
 
 The touch of the air was sweet; 
 The pulse of the cruel ocean seemed 
 
 Like a human heart to beat. 
 
 Frost-locked, storm-beaten, and lonely, 
 In the midst of the wintry main, 
 
164 SPRING AGAIN 
 
 Our bleak rock yet the tidings heard: 
 " There shall be spring again ! " 
 
 Worth all the waiting and watching, 
 The woe that the winter wrought, 
 
 Was the passion of gratitude that shook 
 My soul at the blissful thought! 
 
 Soft rain and flowers and sunshine. 
 Sweet winds and brooding skies, 
 
 Quick-flitting birds to fill the air 
 With clear, delicious cries; 
 
 And the warm sea's mellow murmur 
 Resounding day and night; 
 
 A thousand shapes and tints and tones 
 Of manifold delight, 
 
 Nearer and ever nearer 
 
 Drawing with every day ! 
 But a little longer to wait and watch 
 
 'Neath skies so cold and gray, 
 
 And hushed is the roar of the bitter north 
 Before the might of the Spring, 
 
 And up the frozen slope of the world 
 Climbs Summer, triumphing. 
 
SONNET 165 
 
 SONNET 
 
 As happy dwellers by the seaside hear 
 
 In every pause the sea's mysterious sound, 
 The infinite murmur, solemn and profound. 
 
 Incessant, filling all the atmosphere, 
 
 Even so I hear you, for you do surround 
 
 My newly- waking life, and break for aye 
 About the viewless shores, till they resound 
 
 With echoes of God's greatness night and day. 
 
 Eefreshed and glad I feel the full flood-tide 
 Fill every inlet of my waiting soul; 
 Long-striving, eager hope, beyond control, 
 
 For help and strength at last is satisfied ; 
 And you exalt me, like the sounding sea, 
 With ceaseless whispers of eternity. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Above in her chamber her voice I hear 
 
 Singing so clear; 
 Among her flowers I stand and wait, 
 Dreaming I lean on the garden gate. 
 
 In joy and fear. 
 
 Softly the light robes she doth wear 
 Sweep down the stair; 
 
166 FOREBODING 
 
 eager heart, less wildly beat, — 
 
 1 shall behold her, stately, sweet, 
 
 All good and fair ! 
 
 Nearer, her voice! In a moment more 
 
 Through the open door 
 Come grace and beauty and all delight 
 The round world holds to my dazzled sight, 
 
 The threshold o'er! 
 
 She holds me mute with her beaming eyes 
 
 Full of bright surprise; 
 Still grow the pulses her coming shook. 
 In the gentle might of her golden look 
 
 My heaven lies! 
 
 FOEEBODIISra 
 
 Cricket, why wilt thou crush me with thy cry ? 
 How can such light sound weigh so heavily ! 
 Behold the grass is sere, the cold dews fall. 
 The world grows empty — yes, I know it all. 
 The knell of joy I hear. 
 
 Oh, long ago the swallows hence have flown. 
 And sadly sings the sea in undertone; 
 The wild vine crimsons o'er the rough gray stone; 
 The stars of winter rise, the cool winds moan; 
 Fast wanes the golden year. 
 
HOMAGE 167 
 
 O cricket, cease thy sorrowful refrain 
 This summer's glory comes not back again, 
 But others wait with flowers and sun and rain; 
 Why wakest thou this haunting sense of pain, 
 Of loss, regret, and fear 1 
 
 Clear sounds thy note above the waves' low sigh. 
 Clear through the breathing wind that wanders by, 
 Clear through the rustle of dry grasses tall ; 
 Thou chantest, "Joy is dead! " I know it all. 
 The winter's woe is near. 
 
 HOMAGE 
 
 Nay, comrade, 't is a weary path we tread 
 
 Through this world's desert spaces, dull and dry, 
 
 And long ago died out youth's morning-red. 
 And low the sunset fires before us lie: 
 
 And you are worn, though brave the face you wear. 
 
 Forbear the deprecating gesture, take 
 The honest admiration that I bear 
 
 Your genius, and be mute, for friendship's sake. 
 
 Up to your lips I lift a generous wine. 
 
 Pure, perfumed, potent, living, sparkling bright; 
 A deep cup, brimming with a draught divine ; 
 
 Drink, then, and be refreshed with my delight. 
 
168 DISCONTENT 
 
 It gladdens you ? You know the gift sincere ? 
 
 You dreamed not life yet held a thing so sweet ? 
 Nay, noble friend, your thanks I will not hear, 
 
 But I shall cast my roses at your feet, 
 
 And go my way rejoicing that 't is I 
 
 Who recognize, acknowledge, judge you best, 
 
 Proud that a star so steadfast lights the sky. 
 And in the power of blessing you most blest. 
 
 DISCONTENT 
 
 There is no day so dark 
 But through the murk some ray of hope may steal. 
 Some blessed touch from Heaven that we might feel, 
 
 If we but chose to mark. 
 
 We shut the portals fast, 
 And turn the key and let no sunshine in ; 
 Yet to the worst despair that comes through sin 
 
 God's light shall reach at last. 
 
 We slight our daily joy. 
 Make much of our vexations, thickly set 
 Our path with thorns of discontent, and fret 
 
 At our fine gold's alloy. 
 
 Till bounteous Heaven might frown 
 At such ingratitude, and, turning, lay 
 
DISCONTENT 169 
 
 On our impatience burdens that would weigh 
 Our aching shoulders down. 
 
 We shed too many tears, 
 And sigh too sore, and yiekl us up to woe, 
 As if God had not planned the way we go 
 
 And counted out our years. 
 
 Can we not bo content, 
 And lift our foreheads from the ignoble du.st 
 Of these complaining lives, and wait with trust, 
 
 Fulfilling Heaven's intent? 
 
 Must we have wealth and power. 
 Fame, beauty, all things ordered to our mind 
 Nay, all these things leave happiness behind! 
 
 Accept the sun and shower. 
 
 The humble joys that bless, 
 Appealing to indiflferent hearts and cold 
 With delicate touch, striving to reach and hold 
 
 Our hidden consciousness; 
 
 And see how everywhere 
 Love comforts, strengtliens, helps, and saves us all; 
 What opi)ortunities of good befall 
 
 To make life sweet and fair I 
 
170 ALREADY 
 
 ALEEADY 
 
 Already the dandelions 
 
 Are changed into vanishing ghosts; 
 Already the tall ripe grasses 
 
 Are standing in serried hosts, 
 
 Bowing with stately gesture 
 
 Whenever the warm winds blow, 
 
 Like the spear-heads of an army 
 Charging against the foe. 
 
 Already the nestling sparrows 
 Are clothed in a mist of gray, 
 
 And under the breast of the swallow 
 The warm eggs stir to-day. 
 
 Already the cricket is busy 
 With hints of soberer days, 
 
 And the goldenrod lights slowly 
 Its torch for the autumn blaze. 
 
 O brief, bright smile of summer! 
 
 days divine and dear! 
 The voices of winter's sorrow 
 
 Already we can hear. 
 
GUESTS 171 
 
 And we know that the frosts will find us, 
 
 And the smiling skies grow rude, 
 While we look in the face of Beauty, 
 
 And worship her every mood. 
 
 GUESTS 
 
 Sunflower tall and hollyhock, that wave in the wind 
 together, 
 Cornflower, poppy, and marigold, blossoming fair 
 and fine, 
 Delicate sweet- peas, glowing bright in the quiet autumn 
 weather. 
 While over the fence, on fire with bloom, climbs 
 the nasturtium vine ! 
 
 Quaint little wilderness of flowers, straggling hither 
 and thither — 
 Morning-glories tangled about the larkspur gone to 
 seed, 
 Scarlet runners that burst all bounds, and wander, 
 heaven knows whither, 
 And lilac spikes of bergamot, as thick as any weed. 
 
 And oh, the bees and the butterflies, the humming- 
 birds and sparrows. 
 That -over the garden waver and chirp and flutter 
 the livelong day ! 
 
172 GUESTS 
 
 Humming-birds, that dart in the sun like green and 
 golden arrows, 
 Butterflies like loosened flowers blown off by the 
 wind in play. 
 
 Look at the red nasturtium flower, drooping, bending, 
 and swaying; 
 Out the gold-banded humble-bee breaks and goes 
 booming anew! 
 Hark, what the sweet-voiced fledgeling sparrows low 
 to themselves are saying, 
 Pecking my golden oats where the cornflowers 
 gleam so blue! 
 
 Welcome, a thousand times welcome, ye dear and deli- 
 cate neighbors — 
 Bird and bee and butterfly, and humming-bird fairy 
 fine! 
 Proud am I to offer you a field for your graceful 
 labors ; 
 All the honey and all the seeds are yours in this 
 garden of mine. 
 
 I sit on the doorstep and watch you. Beyond lies 
 the infinite ocean. 
 Sparkling, shimmering, whispering, rocking itself to 
 rest; 
 
MUTATION 173 
 
 And the world is full of perfume and color and beauti- 
 ful motion, 
 And each new hour of this sweet day the happiest 
 seems and best. 
 
 MUTATIOJN 
 
 About your window's happy height 
 The roses wove their airy screen: 
 
 More radiant than the blossoms bright 
 Looked your fair face between. 
 
 The glowing summer sunshine laid 
 Its touch on field and flower and tree; 
 
 But 'twas your golden smile that made 
 The warmth that gladdened me. 
 
 The summer withered from the land, 
 The vision from the window passed: 
 
 Blank Sorrow looked at mo; her hand 
 Sought mine and clasped it fast. 
 
 The bitter wind blows keen and drear. 
 Stinging with winter's flouts and scorns, 
 
 And where the roses breathed I hear 
 The rattling of the thorns. 
 
174 FAREWELL 
 
 FAREWELL 
 
 The crimson sunset faded into gray; 
 
 Upon the murnmrous sea the twilight fell; 
 The last warm breath of the delicious day 
 Passed with a mute farewell. 
 
 Above my head, in the soft purple sky, 
 
 A wild note sounded like a shrill-voiced bell; 
 Three gulls met, wheeled, and parted with a cry 
 That seemed to say, "Farewell!" 
 
 I watched them: one sailed east, and one soared west. 
 
 And one went floating south; while like a knell 
 That mournful cry the empty sky possessed, 
 "Farewell, farewell, farewell!" 
 
 "Farewell!" I thought, it is the earth's one speech; 
 
 All human voices the sad chorus swell; 
 Though mighty Love to heaven's high gate may reach. 
 Yet must he say, " Farewell ! " 
 
 The rolling world is girdled with the sound. 
 
 Perpetually breathed from all who dwell 
 Upon its bosom, for no place is found 
 
 Where is not heard, "Farewell!" 
 
DOUBT 175 
 
 "Farewell, farewell!" — from wave to wave 'tis 
 tossed, 
 From wind to wind: earth has one tale to tell; 
 All other sounds are dulled and drowned and lost 
 In this one cry, "Farewell!" 
 
 DOUBT 
 
 The wild rose blooms for the sun of June, 
 
 The tide ebbs slowly out; 
 I hear in the dreamy afternoon 
 
 The far-off fisher's shout. 
 
 The sand lies gray and the sea leaps blue, 
 
 The tide ebbs slowly out; 
 O lover mine, who called to you, 
 
 That you left me here to doubt ? 
 
 The white gull's wing sweeps the whiter foam, 
 
 The tide ebbs slowly out; 
 'T is not your white sail, yearning home 
 
 To put my fears to rout ! 
 
 The rose may blush and the sun may shine. 
 
 The tide ebbs slowly out; 
 The world is good if you are mine, 
 
 Ashes and dust without ! 
 
176 SUNSET SONG 
 
 SUNSET SONG 
 
 Far off against the solemn sky 
 
 Black lie the city's towers; 
 Before me rustles, dim and dry, 
 
 My field of golden flowers. 
 
 How thin the wind's cool whisper draws 
 Through withered leaf and stalk! 
 
 Is this the breeze that once would pause 
 With blossoms bright to talk ? 
 
 Dark lies the land in twilight sad, 
 No bird sings in its bowers; 
 
 Where is the glory once that clad 
 My field of golden flowers ? 
 
 The distant city rings its bells, 
 Like memory's tender chime; 
 
 sweet, sweet bells, ye speak farewells 
 To life's enchanted prime! 
 
 Dark lies the land in twilight cold. 
 Gone are the sumptuous hours; 
 
 The city sleeps, and shadows fold 
 My field of golden flowers. 
 
LOVE SHALL SAVE US ALL." 177 
 
 "LOVE SHALL SAVE US ALL" 
 
 O PiLGBiM, comes the night so fast ? 
 
 Let not the dark thy heart appall, 
 Though loom the shadows vague and vast, 
 
 For Love shall save us all. 
 
 There is no hope but this to see 
 
 Through tears that gather fast and fall; 
 
 Too great to perish Love must be. 
 And Love shall save us all. 
 
 Have patience with our loss and pain. 
 Our troubled space of days so small ; 
 
 We shall not reach our arms in vain. 
 For Love shall save us all. 
 
 O Pilgrim, but a moment wait, 
 
 And we shall hear our darlings call 
 
 Beyond death's mute and awful gate, 
 And Love shall save us all! 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 
 
 The children wandered up and down, 
 Seeking for driftwood o'er the sand; 
 
 The elder tugged at granny's gown. 
 And pointed with his little hand. 
 
178 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 
 
 "Look! look!" he cried, "at yonder ship 
 That sails so fast and looms so tall ! " 
 She turned, and let her basket slip, 
 And all her gathered treasure fall. 
 
 "Nay, granny, why are you so pale? 
 
 Where is the ship we saw but now ? " 
 " Oh, child, it was no mortal sail ! 
 
 It came and went, I know not how. 
 
 "But ill winds fill that canvas white 
 That blow no good to you and me. 
 Oh, woe for us who saw the sight 
 That evil bodes to all who see ! " 
 
 They pressed about her, all afraid: 
 
 '* Oh, tell us, granny, what was she ? " 
 "A ship's unhappy ghost," she said, 
 "The awful ship, the Mystery." 
 
 " But tell us, tell us ! " " Quiet be ! " 
 She said. "Sit close and listen well, 
 For what befell the Mystery 
 It is a fearful thing to tell ! " 
 
 She was a slave-ship long ago. 
 Year after year across the sea 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 179 
 
 She made a trade of human woo, 
 And carried freights of misery. 
 
 One voyage, when from the tropic coast 
 Laden with dusky forms she came, — 
 
 A wretched and despairing host, — 
 
 Beneath the fierce sun's breathless flame 
 
 Sprang, like a wild lieast from its lair. 
 
 The fury of the hurricane. 
 And sent the great ship reeling bare 
 
 Across the roaring ocean plain. 
 
 Then terror seized the piteous crowd: 
 With many an oath and cruel blow 
 
 The captain drove them, shriciking loud. 
 Into the pitch-black hold below. 
 
 Shouting, "Make fast the hatchways tight! " 
 He cursed them: "Let them live or die, 
 
 They '11 trouble us no more to-night! " 
 The crew obeyed him sullenly. 
 
 Has hell such torment as they knew? 
 
 Like herded cattle packed they lay, 
 Till morning showed a streak of blue 
 
 Breaking the sky's thick pall of gray. 
 
180 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 
 
 "Off with the hatchways, men! " No sound! 
 What sound should rise from out a grave 1 
 The silence shook with dread profound 
 The heart of every seaman brave. 
 
 "Quick! Drag them up," the captain said, 
 "And pitch the dead into the sea! " 
 The sea was peopled with the dead, 
 With wide eyes staring fearfully. 
 
 From weltering wave to wave they tossed. 
 
 Two hundred corpses, stiff and stark. 
 At last were in the distance lost, 
 
 A banquet for the wandering shark. 
 
 Oh, sweetly the relenting day 
 
 Changed, till the storm had left no trace, 
 And the whole awful ocean lay 
 
 As tranquil as an infant's face. 
 
 Abaft the wind hauled fair and fine, 
 Lightly the ship sped on her way ; 
 
 Her sharp bows crushed the yielding brine 
 Into a diamond dust of spray. 
 
 But up and down the decks her crew 
 
 Shook their rough heads, and eyed askance. 
 
 With doubt and hate that ever grew. 
 The captain's brutal countenance. 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 181 
 
 As slow he paced with frown as black 
 
 As night. At last, with sudden shout, 
 He turned. "'Bout ship! We will go back 
 And fetch another cargo out ! " 
 
 They put the ship about again; 
 
 His will was law, they could not choose. 
 They strove to change her course in vain: 
 
 Down fell the wind, the sails hung loose. 
 
 And from the far horizon dim 
 
 An oily calm crept silently 
 Over the sea from rim to rim; 
 
 Still as if anchored fast lay she. 
 
 The sun set red, the moon shone white, 
 
 On idle canvas drooping drear; 
 Through the vast, solemn hush of night 
 
 What is it that the sailors hear? 
 
 Now do they sleep — and do they dream 1 
 Was that the wind's foreboding moan? 
 
 From stem to stern her every beam 
 Quivered with one unearthly groan! 
 
 Leaped to his feet then every man, 
 And shuddered, clinging to his mate; 
 
 And sunburned cheeks grew pale and wan. 
 Blanched with that thrill of terror great. 
 
182 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 
 
 The captain waked, and angrily 
 
 Sprang to the deck, and cursing spoke. 
 "What devil's trick is this? " cried he. 
 No answer the scared silence broke. 
 
 But quietly the moonlight clear 
 
 Sent o'er the waves its pallid glow: 
 
 What stirred the water far and near, 
 With stealthy motion swimming slow ? 
 
 With measured strokes those swimmers dread 
 From every side came gathering fast; 
 
 The sea was peopled with the dead 
 That to its cruel deeps were cast! 
 
 And coiling, curling, crawling on. 
 
 The phantom troop pressed nigh and nigher. 
 
 And every dusky body shone 
 Outlined in phosphorescent fire. 
 
 They gained the ship, they climbed the shrouds. 
 They swarmed from keel to topmast high; 
 
 Now here, now there, like filmy clouds 
 Without a sound they flickered by. 
 
 And where the captain stood aghast. 
 With hollow, mocking eyes they came, 
 
THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 183 
 
 And bound him fast unto the mast 
 
 With ghostly ropes that bit like flame. 
 
 Like maniacs shrieked the startled crew ! 
 
 They loosed the boats, they leaped within; 
 Before their oars the water flew; 
 
 They pulled as if some race to win. 
 
 With spectral light all gleaming bright 
 
 The Mystery in the distance lay ; 
 Away from that accursed sight 
 
 They fled until the break of day. 
 
 And they were rescued, but the ship, 
 
 The awful ship, the Mystery, 
 Her captain in the dead men's grip, — 
 
 Never to any port came she; 
 
 But up and down the roaring seas 
 
 For ever and for aye she sails, 
 In calm or storm, against the breeze, 
 
 Unshaken by the wildest gales. 
 
 And wheresoe'er her form appears 
 
 Come trouble and disaster sore. 
 And she has sailed a hundred years, 
 
 And she will sail for evermore. 
 
184 SCHUMANN'S SONATA IN A MINOR 
 
 SCHUMANN'S SONATA IN A MINOR 
 (mit leidenschaftliciiem ausdruck) 
 
 The quiet room, the flowers, the perfumed calm, 
 The slender crystal vase, where all aflame 
 
 The scarlet poppies stand erect and tall. 
 Color that burns as if no frost could tame, 
 
 The shaded lamplight glowing over all, 
 
 The summer night a dream of warmth and balm. 
 
 Outbreaks at once the golden melody, 
 
 "With passionate expression!" Ah, from whence 
 Comes the enchantment of this potent spell. 
 
 This charm that takes us captive, soul and sense? 
 The sacred power of music, who shall tell, 
 
 Who find the secret of its mastery 1 
 
 Lo, in the keen vibration of the air 
 Pierced by the sweetness of the violin. 
 
 Shaken by thrilling chords and searching notes 
 That flood the ivory keys, the flowers begin 
 
 To tremble; 'tis as if some spirit floats 
 And breathes upon their beauty unaware. 
 
 The stately poppies, proud in stillness, stand 
 In silken splendor of superb attire: 
 
BECAUSE OF THEE 185 
 
 Stricken with aiTows of melodious sound, 
 Their loosened petals fall like Hakes of fire; 
 
 "With waves of music overwhelmed and drowned, 
 Solemnly drop their flames on either hand. 
 
 So the rich moment dies, and what is left? 
 
 Only a memory sweet, to shut between 
 Some poem's silent leaves, to find again, 
 
 Perhaps, when winter blasts are howling keen. 
 And summer's loveliness is spoiled and slain. 
 
 And all the world of light and bloom bereft. 
 
 But winter cannot rob the music so! 
 
 Nor time nor fate its subtle power destroy 
 To bring again the summer's dear caress. 
 
 To wake the heart to youth's unreasoning joy, — 
 Sound, color, perfume, love, to warm and bless, 
 
 And au's of balm from Paradise that blow. 
 
 BECAUSE OF THEE 
 
 My life has grown so dear to me 
 
 Because of thee ! 
 My maiden with the eyes demure. 
 And quiet mouth, and forehead pure, 
 Joy makes a summer in my heart 
 
 Because thou art! 
 
186 FLOWERS FOE THE BE AVE 
 
 The very winds melodious be 
 
 Because of thee! 
 The rose is sweeter for thy sake, 
 The waves in softer music break, 
 On brighter wings the swallows dart, 
 
 Because thou art! 
 
 My sky is swept of shadows free 
 
 Because of thee! 
 Sorrow and care have lost their sting, 
 The blossoms glow, the linnets sing. 
 All things in my delight have part, 
 
 Because thou art! 
 
 FLOWERS FOR THE BEAVE 
 (decoration day, 1883) 
 
 Here bring your purple and gold. 
 Glory of color and scent; 
 
 Scarlet of tulips bold. 
 
 Buds blue as the firmament. 
 
 Hushed is the sound of the fife 
 And the bugle piping clear. 
 
 The vivid and delicate life 
 
 In the soul of the youthful year 
 
EXPOSTULATION 187 
 
 We bring to the quiet dead, 
 
 With a gentle and tempered grief: 
 
 O'er the mounds so mute we shed 
 The beauty of blossom and leaf. 
 
 The flashing swords that were drawn, 
 No rust shall their fame destroy ! 
 
 Boughs rosy as rifts of dawn, 
 
 Like the blush on the cheek of joy, 
 
 Rich fires of the gardens and meads 
 
 We kindle, these hearts above! 
 What splendor can match their deeds? 
 
 What sweetness can match our love? 
 
 EXPOSTULATION 
 
 Tears in those eyes of blue ! 
 Sparks of fiery dew. 
 Scornful lightnings that flash 
 'Twixt dusky lash and lash! 
 Never from sorrow grew 
 That rain in my heaven of blue. 
 
 Full of disdain are you. 
 Scorn for these fetters new. 
 Sweet, you were free too long! 
 
188 PERSISTENCE 
 
 Love is a master strong, 
 Hard are the words but true, 
 None may his chain undo. 
 
 Nay ! Let your heart shine through 
 And soften those eyes of blue ! 
 Glide from your chilly height, 
 Banish your anger bright; 
 Fairest, be gentlest, too, 
 Fate is too mighty for you! 
 
 PEESISTENCE 
 
 Skeleton schooner, looming strange on the far hori- 
 zon's rim, 
 
 Wasted and blurred by the bitter cold, all ghastly and 
 pallid and dim. 
 
 Whither goest thou, stiiBf and stark? What harbor 
 locked in the frost 
 
 Steerest thou for, through the freezing spray by the 
 hissing breakers tossed? 
 
 Wherefore strivest thou, fighting still to plough thy 
 
 perilous way 
 Against the might of the fierce northwest so woefully, 
 
 night and day ? 
 
PERSISTENCE 189 
 
 Turn thee and spread thy wings so white, and fly to 
 
 the tropic seas, 
 Till the clogging ice that loads thee now dissolves in a 
 
 torrid breeze; 
 
 Till the blazing sun shall melt the tar in every rope 
 and seam; 
 
 Till thy frozen keel warm tides shall rock in a languid, 
 lovely dream; 
 
 Till thou liest lapped in perfumes sweet in some palm- 
 girdled bay, 
 
 Anchored in peace, to rest at last, for many a golden 
 day. 
 
 What cheer can be in thy dreadful toil, what hope in 
 
 the raging deep ? 
 What joy from out their troubled voyage can thy worn 
 
 seamen reap? 
 Loosen thy close-reefed canvas, then, fling wide thy 
 
 pinions white, 
 Leap the long billows, swiftly sail into the south 's 
 
 delight! 
 
 Steadfast she steers to the bitter north along the hori- 
 zon's rim. 
 
 Wasted and blurred by the cruel cold, dull, ghostly, 
 and pallid, and dim; 
 
100 TOOK LISETTK 
 
 For grand aro tlio will {iiid courage of man, and still 
 
 sho must keep her course, 
 And tliough ylio perish still must fight against nature's 
 
 terrible force. 
 
 S. E. 
 
 She passes up and down life's various ways 
 
 With noiseless footfall and with serious air; 
 Within the circle of her quiet days 
 
 She takes of sorrow and of joy lier .sliare. 
 In her bright home, like some jjire jewel sot, 
 
 The lustre of her beauty lives and glows, 
 With all the fragrance of the violet. 
 
 And all the radiant splendor of the rose. 
 As Kim[)le and unconscious as a iU)wer, 
 
 And crowned with womanhood's most subtle charm. 
 She blesses her sweet realm with gentle power. 
 
 And keeps her hearth-fires burning clear and warm. 
 To know her is to love her. Every year 
 Makes her more precious and more wise and dear. 
 
 POOR LISICTTE 
 
 Sadly the quails in the cornland pipe, 
 Yellow the harvest is bending ripe, 
 Gayly the children each other greet, 
 Wandering down through the village street. 
 
POOIi IJKKTTK 191 
 
 l^y li(U' garddu {^iiici I(<ii.iiM pooi* IjiM(il,l,(i. 
 "Ilcir 1(>V(U'," ili(\y vvliiMjMir, "coiikim iiol, y«il'." 
 SIm^ IooUh ufjir to i\w (i(l|.;(i ol (,lin tiky, 
 Wli<ii«i MiKi Hiid iiiiMl.y l\\i\ iii(Hiiil.;iiiiM lio. 
 
 Wluit Hiidddii (U',li<)(<H of liln luid dniiri 
 Down tlio lotij^, dim, windiii}.; viilh^y c.oiiirl 
 Oil, l»rin{^ tlicy iicvvh for Mi<^ poor liinol-l-o, 
 liaptuni id l.iMt-, or a lif(/M rnj^^ml, ? 
 
 Iligll V\U[/^ tll(^ hllfdn iioldM HO HW(i(it, 
 Noardr Mio rliytliiiiic, l,r!i,iii|> of f(inl, — . 
 What tumjxiHt riiHli(5H to claHp IjImciM/cs, 
 Witli lipH HO warm n,nd witli (lyoH ho wot I 
 
 She i.M H.'ifc, ill licr Iov«'r'H ariiiH iit lust; 
 A dnsiry dni.im is tlin wr(itc,li(«.d piiHt ; 
 Tlio miiHif of joy ill Ikm' }^Iiid IkiiiiI, j>I.'iyH, 
 And iiioniing duvviiM in licr radi;uit f.-u^^: 
 
 VVIiilo chnirly tlwi (piailn in tlio cornland l)ij)0, 
 And nihiiit tlio luirvcHt in Ixindinj^' 'ilx'i 
 And tlio (■liildrc.ii nlioiit to tlii*, life, und drum 
 Tliat pain in ovor juid jmmkmj \h como. 
 
192 TO J. G. W. 
 
 TO J. G. W. 
 
 ON HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY 
 
 What is there left, I wonder, 
 To give thee on this glad day? 
 
 Vainly I muse and ponder; 
 What is there left to say? 
 
 There is winter abroad, and snow. 
 And winds that are chill and drear 
 
 Over the sad earth blow, 
 
 Like the sighs of the dying year. 
 
 But the land thou lovest is warm 
 At heart with the love of thee, 
 
 And breaks into bloom and charm 
 And fragrance, that thou mayest see, 
 
 Violet, laurel, and rose, 
 
 They are laid before thy feet, 
 
 And the red rose deeper glows 
 At a fate so proud and sweet. 
 
 Gifts and greeting and blessing, 
 Honor and praise, are thine; 
 
 There 's naught left worth expressing 
 By any word or sign I 
 
IN TUSCANY 193 
 
 So, like the rest, I offer 
 
 The gift all gifts above 
 That heaven or earth can proffer, -^ 
 
 Deep, gentle, grateful love. 
 
 IN TUSCANY 
 
 Down San Miniato in the afternoon 
 
 Slowly we drove through still and golden air. 
 
 'Twas winter, but the day was soft as June; 
 Florence was spread beneath us, passing fair. 
 
 The matchless city ! Set about with flowers, 
 Peaceful along her Arno's banks she lay; 
 
 Her treasured splendors, roofs and domes and towers, 
 In tender light of the Italian day. 
 
 Sweet breathed the roses, glowing far and wide. 
 Pink, gold, and crimson; dark in stately gloom 
 
 Stood the thick cypresses ; on every side 
 The laurestinus, rich with creamy bloom. 
 
 And exquisite, pale, sharp-leaved olives grew 
 In moonlight colors, silver-green and gray. 
 
 While, lifting their proud heads high in the blue. 
 Sprang the superb stone-pines beside the way. 
 
194 IN TUSCANY 
 
 Oh, wonderful, I thought, beyond compare ! 
 
 And hushed with pleasure silent sat and gazed, 
 When lo! a child's voice, and I grew aware 
 
 Of loveliness that left me all amazed. 
 
 A little beggar girl, that leaping came 
 
 Forth from the roadside, reaching out her hand, 
 
 And dancing like a bright and buoyant flame, 
 Besought us in the music of her land. 
 
 Her eyes were like a midnight full of stars 
 Below the dazzling beauty of her brows. 
 
 Her dusky hair dark as the cloud that bars 
 
 The moon in troubled skies when tempests rouse; 
 
 A mouth where lightning-sweet the sudden smile 
 Came, went and came, and flashed into my face. 
 
 And caught my heart, as, holding fast the while 
 The carriage edge, she ran with rapid grace. 
 
 Who could withstand her pleading, who resist 
 The magic of those love-compelling eyes. 
 
 Those lips the red pomegranate flowers had kissed, 
 The voice that charmed like woven melodies ! 
 
 Not we ! Surely, I thought, imperial blood. 
 Some priceless current from a kingly line, 
 
GOOD-BY, SWEET DAY 195 
 
 Ran royal in her veins, — a sunny flood 
 
 That marked her with its fine, mysterious sign. 
 
 She was not born to ask, but to command; 
 
 She seemed to crown the wonder of the day, 
 The perfect blossom of that glorious land, 
 
 While her sweet " Grazie ! " followed on our way, 
 
 As down 'mid olive, cypress, stately pine. 
 Among the roses in a dream we passed. 
 
 Through glamour of the time and place divine. 
 Till Arno's quiet banks were reached at last. 
 
 And pleasant rest. 'T is years since those fair hours. 
 But their rich memories live, their sun and shade, 
 
 Beautiful Florence set about with flowers. 
 And San Miniato's peerless beggar maid. 
 
 GOOD-BY, SWEET DAY 
 
 FOR MUSIC 
 
 GooD-BY, sweet day, good-by ! 
 I have so loved thee, but I cannot hold thee. 
 Departing like a dream, the shadows fold thee; 
 Slowly thy perfect beauty fades away : 
 Good-by, sweet day ! 
 
196 IN AUTUMN 
 
 Good- by, sweet day, good- by ! 
 Dear were thy golden hours of tranquil splendor, 
 Sadly thou yieldest to the evening tender 
 Who wert so fair from thy first morning ray; 
 Good-by, sweet day ! 
 
 Good- by, sweet day, good-by ! 
 
 Thy glow and charm, thy smiles and tones and glances, 
 
 Vanish at last, and solemn night advances; 
 
 Ah, couldst thou yet a little longer stay ! 
 
 Good-by, sweet day ! 
 
 Good-by, sweet day, good-by ! 
 All thy rich gifts my grateful heart remembers. 
 The while I watch thy sunset's smouldering embers 
 Die in the west beneath the twilight gray. 
 Good-by, sweet day! 
 
 IN AUTUMN 
 
 The aster by the brook is dead, 
 
 And quenched the goldenrod's brief fire; 
 The maple's last red leaf is shed. 
 
 And dumb the birds' sweet choir. 
 
 'Tis life's November, too. How swift 
 The narrowing days speed, one by one! 
 
WEST- WIND 197 
 
 How pale the waning sunbeams sift 
 Through clouds of gray and dun ! 
 
 And as we lose our wistful hold 
 
 On warmth and loveliness and youth, 
 
 And shudder at the dark and cold, 
 Our souls cry out for Truth. 
 
 Ko more mirage, O Heavenly Powers, 
 To mock our sight with shows so fair ! 
 
 We question of the solemn hours 
 That lead us swiftly — " Where ? " 
 
 We hunger for our lost — in vain ! 
 
 We lift our close-clasped hands above, 
 And pray God's pity on our pain, 
 
 And trust the Eternal Love. 
 
 WEST-WIND 
 
 The barley bows from the west 
 Before the delicate breeze 
 
 That many a sail caressed 
 
 As it swept the sapphire seas. 
 
 It has found the garden sweet. 
 And the poppy's cup it sways; 
 
198 WEST-WIND 
 
 Bends the golden ears of wheat; 
 And its dreamy touch it lays 
 
 On the heavy mignonette, 
 Stealing soft its odors fine, 
 
 On the pansies dewy yet, 
 On the phloxes red as wine. 
 
 Where the honeysuckle sweet 
 
 Storms the sunny porch with flowers, 
 
 Like a tempest of delight 
 
 Shaking fragrance down in showers, 
 
 It touches with airy grace 
 
 Each clustering, perfumed spray, 
 
 Clasps all in a light embrace. 
 And silently wanders away. 
 
 Come forth in the air divine. 
 
 Thou dearest, my crown of bliss! 
 
 Give that flower-sweet cheek of thine 
 To the morning breeze to kiss. 
 
 Add but thy perfect presence 
 To gladden my happy eyes, 
 
 And I would not change earth's morning 
 For the dawns of Paradise ! 
 
IMPATIENCE 199 
 
 IMPATIENCE 
 
 E. L. 
 
 Only to follow you, dearest, only to find you! 
 
 Only to feel for one instant the touch of your hand; 
 Only to tell you once of the love you left behind 
 you, — 
 
 To say the world without you is like a desert of 
 sand; 
 
 That the flowers have lost their perfume, the rose its 
 splendor, 
 And the charm of nature is lost in a dull eclipse; 
 That joy went out with the glance of your eyes so 
 tender. 
 And beauty passed with the lovely smile on your 
 lips. 
 
 I did not dream it was you who kindled the morning 
 And folded the evening purple in peace so sweet; 
 But you took the whole world's rapture without a 
 warning, 
 
 And left me naught save the print of your patient 
 feet. 
 
 I count the days and the hours that hold us asunder: 
 I long for Death's friendly hand which shall rend in 
 twain. 
 
200 IN THE LANE 
 
 With the glorious lightning flash and the golden thun- 
 der, 
 These clouds of the earth, and give me my own 
 again ! 
 
 IN THE LANE 
 
 By cottage walls the lilacs blow; 
 
 Rich spikes of perfume stand and sway 
 At open casements, where all day 
 
 The warm wind waves them to and fro. 
 
 Out of the shadow of the door, 
 
 Into the golden morning air. 
 
 Comes one who makes the day more fair 
 And summer sweeter than before. 
 
 The apple blossoms might have shed 
 Upon her cheek the bloom so rare; 
 The sun has kissed her bright brown hair 
 
 Braided about her graceful head. 
 
 Lightly betwixt the lilacs tall 
 
 She passes, through the garden gate, 
 Across the road, and stays to wait 
 
 A moment by the orchard wall; 
 
IN THE LANE 201 
 
 And then in gracious light and shade, 
 
 Beneath the blossom-laden trees, 
 
 'Mid song of birds and hum of bees, 
 She strays, unconscious, unafraid, 
 
 Till swiftly o'er the grassy space 
 
 Comes one whose step she fain would stay. 
 Glad as the newly risen day 
 
 He stoops to read her drooping face. 
 
 Her face is like the morning skies. 
 
 Bright, timid, tender, blushing sweet; 
 She dares not trust her own to meet 
 
 The steady splendor of his eyes. 
 
 He holds her with resistless charm. 
 
 With truth, with power, with beauty crowned; 
 
 About her lovely shape is wound 
 The strong, safe girdle of his arm. 
 
 And up and down through shade and light 
 They wander through the flying hours. 
 And all the way is strewn with flowers, 
 
 And life looks like one long delight. 
 
 Ah, happy twain ! No frost shall harm, 
 No change shall reach your bliss, so long 
 As keeps its place the faithful, strong. 
 
 Safe girdle of that folding arm. 
 
202 HER MIRROR 
 
 Could you this simple secret know 
 No death in life would be to fear, 
 When you may watch, in some sad year, 
 
 By cottage walls the lilacs blow ! 
 
 HER MIEKOR 
 
 MIRROR, whence her lovely face 
 Was wont to look with radiance sweet, 
 
 Hast thou not kept of her some trace, 
 Some memory that thou mayest repeat? 
 
 Could I but find in thee once more 
 Some token of her presence dear! 
 
 mirror, wilt thou not restore 
 Her shadow for an instant here? 
 
 Thou couldst not yield a boon so great. 
 
 I see my own dim face and eyes 
 With love and longing desolate, 
 
 All drowned in wistful memories. 
 
 Blindly for her dear hand I grope ; 
 
 There 's nothing life can have in store 
 So sweet to me as this sweet hope. 
 
 To feel her smile on me once more! 
 
FDR CHRISTMAS 203 
 
 FOR CHRISTMAS 
 
 "Thy own wish wish I thee in every place." 
 
 The Christmas joy, the song, the feast, the cheer, 
 
 Thine be the light of love in every face 
 
 That looks on thee, to bless thy coming year. 
 
 Thy own wish wish I thee. What dost thou crave 1 
 All thy dear hopes be thine, whate'er they be. 
 
 A wish fulfilled may make thee king or slave; 
 I wish thee Wisdom's eyes wherewith to see. 
 
 Behold, she stands and waits, the youthful year! 
 
 A breeze of morning breathes about her brows; 
 She holds thy storm and sunshine, bliss and fear, 
 
 Blossom and fruit upon the bending boughs. 
 
 She brings thee gifts. What blessing wilt thou 
 choose ? 
 Life's crown of good in earth or heaven above, 
 The one immortal joy thou canst not lose. 
 
 Is Love! Leave all the rest, and choose thou 
 Love! 
 
204 AT SET OF MOON 
 
 AT SET OF MOON 
 
 The wind blows from the stormy quarter and the 
 
 moon is old. 
 Trouble has gathered in the sky so pallid, dim, and 
 
 cold. 
 Can this be morning? Is the world so blank and out 
 
 of tune 1 
 Down yonder dim horizon something fades beside the 
 
 moon. 
 
 What is it? 'Tis the ghost of joy that made the 
 
 earth so sweet; 
 Life's one supreme, bright happiness, that hastes with 
 
 flying feet. 
 The fading »moon will brighten soon, in splendor shine 
 
 again. 
 But joy that was the life of life is merged in bitter 
 
 pain. 
 
 Last night I passed her window: she dreamed not I 
 
 was near. 
 One ray slipped through the jealous curtain, rosy- warm 
 
 and clear; 
 I kissed the flowers on which it fell, all dewy cold 
 
 were they. 
 With patient anguish in my heart I turned and stole 
 
 away. 
 
MY GARDEN 205 
 
 She will not miss me, will not know if I am here or 
 there ; 
 
 If I am dead, or if I live, will neither know nor care. 
 
 Death is not bitter as my grief, which craves one sin- 
 gle boon, — 
 
 Release me, God ! let my life fade like yonder waning 
 moon. 
 
 MY GARDEN 
 
 It blossomed by the summer sea, 
 A tiny space of tangled bloom 
 Wherein so many flowers found room, 
 
 A miracle it seemed to be I 
 
 Up from the ground, alert and bright, 
 The pansies laughed in gold and jet, 
 Purple and pied, and mignonette 
 
 Breathed like a spirit of delight. 
 
 Flaming the rich nasturtiums ran 
 Along the fence, and marigolds 
 " Opened afresh their starry folds ^^ 
 
 In beauty as the day began; 
 
 While ranks of scarlet poppies gay 
 
 Waved when the soft south- wind did blow, 
 
206 MY GARDEN 
 
 Superb in sunshine, to and fro, 
 Like soldiers proud in brave array. 
 
 And tall blue larkspur waved its spikes 
 Against the sea's deep violet, 
 That every breeze makes deeper yet 
 
 With splendid azure where it strikes; 
 
 And rosy-pale sweet-peas climbed up, 
 And phloxes spread their colors fine, 
 Pink, white, and purple, red as wine. 
 
 And fire burned in the eschscholtzia's cup. 
 
 More dear to me than words can tell 
 Was every cup and spray and leaf; 
 Too perfect for a life so brief 
 
 Seemed every star and bud and bell. 
 
 And many a maiden, fairer yet. 
 Came smiling to my garden gay, 
 Whose graceful head I decked alway 
 
 With pansy and with mignonette. 
 
 Such slender shapes of girlhood young 
 Haunted that little blooming space, 
 Each with a more delightful face 
 
 Than any flower that ever sprung ! 
 
MY GARDEN 207 
 
 shadowy shapes of youthful bloom ! 
 How fair the sweet procession glides 
 Down memory's swift and silent tides, 
 
 Till lost in doubtful mists of gloom ! 
 
 Year after year new flowers unfold, 
 Year after year fresh maidens fair, 
 Scenting their perfume on the air, 
 
 Follow and find their red and gold. 
 
 And while for them the poppies' blaze 
 I gather, brightening into mine 
 The eyes of vanished beauty shine, 
 
 That gladdened long-lost summer days. 
 
 Where are they all who wide have ranged? 
 
 Where are the flowers of other years? 
 
 What ear the wistful question hears? 
 Ah, some are dead and all are changed. 
 
 And still the constant earth renews 
 Her treasured splendor; still unfold 
 Petals of purple and of gold 
 
 Beneath the sunshine and the dews. 
 
 But for her human children dear 
 Whom she has folded to her breast, 
 No beauty wakes them from their rest, 
 
 Nor change they with the changing year. 
 
208 LOST AND SAVED 
 
 LOST AND SAVED 
 
 "0 Love," he whispered low, "Eternal Love! " 
 And softly twilight's shadows round them drew, 
 
 And one by one the stars grew bright above, 
 And warm airs from the gates of sunset blew. 
 
 Swift o'er the summer sea they lightly sailed; 
 
 The rushing winds, the rushing waves, sang sweet; 
 But sweeter than all sounds the voice that failed, 
 
 Shaken by the full heart that strongly beat. 
 
 Fast piled the clouds in darkness south and east, 
 Each other's starry eyes they only saw. 
 
 What was the world to them ? The breeze increased, 
 And caught the glimmering sail with gusty flaw. 
 
 Low stooped the mast; the firm hand at the helm 
 Held bravely yet the light craft to its course, 
 
 Though hurrying breakers fain would overwhelm. 
 And the gale gathered with resistless force. 
 
 Black night, black storm, that rose in sudden wrath ! 
 
 All lost the cheerful stars forgot to burn. 
 And death was waiting silent in the path, 
 
 Along whose wavering way was no return. 
 
A ROSE OF JOY 209 
 
 Or life or death — what niatt(;ro(l it to thorn? 
 
 Locked nmto and still within each other's arms, 
 They sought no more the temj)est's rage to stem, 
 
 Deaf to the tumult of the night's alarms. 
 
 Beyond their fate uplifted, death was naught, 
 Nor could they know, borne safe all pain above, 
 
 Into immortal life together caught, 
 
 That only thus should live Eternal Love ! 
 
 A ROSE OF JOY 
 
 FOR A BETROTHAL 
 
 As when one wears a fragrant rose 
 Close to the heart, a rose most fair, 
 
 And while the day's life onward Hows 
 Forgets that it is fastened there. 
 
 And wonders what delicious charm 
 Dwells in the air about, and wluuice 
 
 Come the rich wafts of perfume warm 
 Subtly saluting soul and sense; 
 
 And then, remembering what it is, 
 Bends smiling eyes the flower above, 
 
 Adores its beauty and its bliss 
 
 And looks on it with grateful love — 
 
210 IN SEPTEMBER 
 
 Even so I wear, friend of mine, 
 
 The sweet thought of your happiness; 
 
 The knowledge of your joy divine 
 Is fragrant with a power to bless. 
 
 With the day's work preoccupied 
 Vaguely, half conscious of delight. 
 
 Upborne as on a buoyant tide, 
 
 I wonder why life seems so bright. 
 
 Then memory speaks; then winter gray 
 And age and cares that have no end 
 
 Touch me no more. I am to-day 
 
 Eich in the wealth that cheers my friend. 
 
 m SEPTEMBER 
 
 Leaping from the boat, through the lazy, sparkling 
 
 surf. 
 Up the slope we press, o'er the rich, elastic turf. 
 Heavy waves the goldenrod in the morning breeze, 
 Swift spring the startled grasshoppers, thick about our 
 
 Look, how shines the distance! Leagues of water 
 
 blue, 
 Wind-swept, sunshine-flooded, with a flying sail or 
 
 two, 
 
IN SEPTEMBER 211 
 
 Gleaming white as silver, and dreaming, here and 
 
 there, 
 A snowy-breasted gull floats in the golden air. 
 
 How sweet to climb together the scented, flowery 
 slope, 
 
 dearest, hand in hand, like children following hope; 
 Laughing at the grasshoppers, singing with delight, 
 Only to be alive this September morning bright! 
 
 But where would be the beauty of this brilliant atmos- 
 phere 
 
 Wert thou away, my darling? Would not the sky be 
 drear. 
 
 And gray the living azure of the changing, sparkling 
 sea? 
 
 And blossoms, birds, and sails, and clouds — what 
 would they be to me ? 
 
 Best we here a little upon the breezy height, 
 
 And watch the play of color, the shadow, and the 
 
 light, 
 And let the lovely moment overflow us with its bliss. 
 When shall we find, another so beautiful as this? 
 
 1 turn from all the splendor to those clear eyes of 
 
 thine, 
 That watch the shimmering sails on the far horizon 
 line; 
 
212 UNDEPv THE EAVES 
 
 While Sim and wind salute thy chook till rosea hloa- 
 
 som there, 
 Thou golden creature, than the morn a thousand times 
 
 more fair! 
 
 Ah! must it end? Must winter hurl its snow across 
 the sea, 
 
 And roar with leagues of bitterness between thy face 
 and me? 
 
 Must chill December fill with murk and storm this 
 wooing air, 
 
 And the west-wind wail like the voice of some su- 
 preme despair? 
 
 Too surely ! But, O friendly eyes, hold summer safe 
 for me; 
 
 Only, O gentle heart, keep warm and sw(i(^t my mem- 
 ory; 
 
 And no fury of the tempest my world can desolate — 
 
 This wingbd joy will lift my soul above the storms of 
 fate. 
 
 UNDER THE EAVES 
 
 Pleasant above the city's din 
 My quiet room beneath the eaves; 
 
 The first to see the day begin, 
 
 The last the sunshine lingering leaves. 
 
UNDER THE EyVVKS 213 
 
 Pleasant upon the window pane 
 
 Uplifted high, so near the sky, 
 To hoar tho patter of tlio rain. 
 
 Or see the snow go swirling l)y; 
 
 To watcli the gildcul weathereocka 
 
 In every eddy turn and wheel; 
 To hoar the clear, melodious shocks 
 
 Of chiming bolls that clang and peal. 
 
 ])()ve-liaunted roofs and towers and spires, 
 
 The friendly faces of the clocks, 
 The network of electric wires. 
 
 The sparrows gossiping in Hocks, 
 
 ■The smoke's dim, ragged phantoms soft 
 From myriad chimneys lightly curled, 
 
 That mingle with the clouds aloft 
 
 Slow sailing with the sailing world — 
 
 Pleasant and peaceful all. Moat sweet 
 When morning and when evening lires, 
 
 Silent above the busy street, 
 
 Touch the dove-haunted roofs and spires. 
 
 Neighbored by sparrow and by dove, 
 
 A coinradci of the weathercocks. 
 My quiet, airy jx^rch I love. 
 
 The chimney-stacks, the city clocks; 
 
214 NOVEMBER MORNING 
 
 And thank the heavens that bend above 
 For leave to find such deep delight 
 
 In tower and spire and fluttering dove, 
 Color and cloud and sparrow's flight. 
 
 NOVEMBER MORNING 
 
 With clamor the wild southwester 
 Through the wide heaven is roaring, 
 
 Ploughing the ocean, and over 
 The earth its fury outpouring. 
 
 Lo, how the vast gray spaces 
 Wrestle and roll and thunder, 
 
 Billow piled upon billow, 
 Closing and tearing asunder, 
 
 As if the deep raged with the anger 
 Of hosts of the fabulous kraken ! 
 
 And the firm house shudders and trembles, 
 Beaten, buffeted, shaken. 
 
 Battles the gull with the tempest. 
 
 Struggling and wavering and faltering. 
 
 Soaring and striving and sinking. 
 Turning, its high course altering. 
 
NOVEMBER MORNING 215 
 
 Down through the cloudy heaven 
 
 Notes from the wild geese are falling; 
 
 Cries like harsh bell-tones are ringing, 
 Echoing, clanging, and calling. 
 
 Plunges the schooner landward, 
 
 Swiftly the long seas crossing. 
 Close-reefed, seeking the harhor. 
 
 Half lost in the spray she is tossing. 
 
 A rift in the roof of vapor! 
 
 And stormy sunshine is streaming 
 To color the gray, wild water 
 
 Like chrysoprase, green and gleaming. 
 
 Cold and tempestuous ocean, 
 
 Ragged rock, brine-swept and lonely. 
 
 Grasp of the long, bitter winter — 
 These things to gladden me only ! 
 
 Love, dost thou wait for me in some rich land 
 Where the gold orange hangs in odorous calm? 
 
 Where the clear waters kiss the flowery strand. 
 Bordered with shining sand and groves of palm? 
 
 And while this bitter morning breaks for me, 
 Draws to its close thy warm, delicious day; 
 
216 NOVEMBER MORNING 
 
 Lights, colors, perfumes, music, joy, for thee, 
 For me the cold, wild sea, the cloudy gray I 
 
 Kises the red moon in thy tranquil sky. 
 Plashes the fountain with its silver talk, 
 
 And as the evening wind begins to sigh. 
 
 Thy sweet girl's shape steals down the garden walk. 
 
 And through the scented dusk a white robe gleams. 
 Lingering beneath the starry jasmine sprays, 
 
 Till where thy clustered roses breathe in dreams, 
 A sudden gush of song thy light step stays. 
 
 That was the nightingale ! Love of mine, 
 Hear'st thou my voice in that pathetic song. 
 
 Throbbing in passionate cadences divine. 
 Sinking to silence with its rapture strong? 
 
 I stretch my arms to thee through all the cold. 
 Through all the dark, across the weary space 
 
 Between us, and thy slender form I fold. 
 And gaze into the wonder of thy face. 
 
 Pure brow the moonbeam touches, tender eyes 
 Splendid with feeling, delicate smiling mouth, 
 
 And heavy silken hair that darkly lies 
 
 Soft as the twilight clouds in thy sweet South, — 
 
IN death's despite 217 
 
 beautiful my Love ! In vain I seek 
 
 To hold the heavenly dream that fades from me. 
 
 1 needs must wake with salt spray on my cheek, 
 
 Flung from the fury of this northern sea. 
 
 IN DEATH'S DESPITE 
 
 Whither departs the perfume of the rose? 
 
 Into what life dies music's golden sound? 
 Year after year life's long procession goes 
 
 To hide itself beneath the senseless ground. 
 Upon the grave's inexorable brink 
 
 Amazed with loss the human creature stands; 
 Vainly he strives to reason or to think, 
 
 Left with his aching heart and empty hands; 
 He calls his lost in vain. In sorrow drowned. 
 Darkness and silence all his sense confound. 
 
 Till in Death's roll-call stern he hears his name. 
 
 In turn he follows and is lost to sight; 
 Though comforted by love and crowned by fame, 
 
 He hears the summons dread no man may slight. 
 Sweetly and clear upon his quiet grave 
 
 The birds shall sing, unmindful of his dust; 
 Softly in turn the long green grass shall wave 
 
 Over his fallen head. In turn he must 
 Submit to be forgotten, like the rest. 
 Though high the heart that beat within his breast. 
 
218 A SONG OF HOPE 
 
 The rose falls and the music's sound is gone; 
 
 Dear voices cease, and clasp of loving hands; 
 Alone we stand when the brief day is done, 
 
 Searching with saddened eyes earth's darkening 
 lands. 
 Worthless as is the lightest fallen leaf 
 
 We seem, yet constant as the night's first star 
 Kindles our deathless hope, and from our grief 
 
 Is born the trust no misery can mar. 
 That Love shall lift us all despair above, 
 Shall conquer death, — yea. Love, and only Love I 
 
 A SONG OF HOPE 
 
 The morning breaks, the storm is past. Behold! 
 
 Along the west the lift grows bright, — the sea 
 Leaps sparkling blue to catch the sunshine's gold, 
 
 And swift before the breeze the vapors flee. 
 
 Light cloud-flocks white that troop in joyful haste 
 Up and across the pure and tender sky; 
 
 Light laughing waves that dimple all the waste 
 And break upon the rocks and hurry by ! 
 
 Flying of sails, of clouds, a tumult sweet, 
 
 Wet, tossing buoys, a warm wild wind that blows 
 
OUR SOLDIERS 219 
 
 The pennon out and rushes on to greet 
 
 Thy lovely cheek and heighten its soft rose ! 
 
 Beloved, beloved ! Is there no morning breeze 
 To clear our sky and chase our mists away, 
 
 Like this great air that sweeps the freshening seas. 
 And wakes the old sad world to glad new day ? 
 
 Sweeter than morning, stronger than the gale. 
 Deeper than ocean, warmer than the sun, 
 
 My love shall climb, shall claim thee, shall prevail 
 Against eternal darkness, dearest one! 
 
 OUK SOLDIERS 
 
 Peace smiles over hamlet and city. 
 
 Peace broods over mountain and stream, 
 Our tears of anguish and pity 
 
 Are a half- forgotten dream. 
 The tempest of battle is ended. 
 
 And our dear, delivered land 
 Stands free in the sunshine splendid, 
 
 No stain upon her hand. 
 
 What shall we do to honor 
 
 Her dauntless sons to-day, 
 Who shed such glory upon her, 
 
 Striking her chains away? 
 
220 TWO 
 
 Fair floats the banner o'er her, — 
 What did not her children give ? 
 
 They cast their lives before her, 
 Dying that she might live. 
 
 Remember them, praise them, love them, 
 
 The noble hearts and brave! 
 May earth lie lightly above them 
 
 In many a nameless grave. 
 Great was their high endeavor. 
 
 Great is their glorious meed; 
 Honor our heroes forever, 
 
 Praise them with word and deed! 
 
 TWO 
 
 She turned the letter's rustling page; her smile 
 Made bright the air about her while she read: 
 
 " I come to you to-morrow, love ; meanwhile 
 Love me, my sweet," he said. 
 
 "What other business has my life? " she thought, 
 And musing passed, as in some happy dream. 
 
 To the day's care and toils, and while she wrought 
 Time winged with light did seem. 
 
 To-morrow ! When the summer morning broke 
 In rose and gold, and touched her slumbering eyes 
 
TWO 221 
 
 Softly, with tempered splendor, and she woke 
 To the rich dawn's surprise. 
 
 Birds sang aloft and roses bloomed below; 
 
 Flushed wide the tender fleecy mists above ; 
 Came Memory, leading Hope, and whispered low, 
 
 "Love me! I come, my love." 
 
 "So that thou comest," she thought, "skies may grow 
 gray. 
 
 The sun may fade, the sea with foam blanch white, 
 Tempest and thunder dread may spoil the day, 
 
 But not my deep delight." 
 
 O sweet and awful Love ! power supreme. 
 
 Mighty and sacred, terrible art thou! 
 Beside thee Life and Death are but a dream; 
 
 Before thee all must bow. 
 
 When in the west the sunset's crimson flame 
 
 Burned low and wasted, and the cool winds blew. 
 
 Watching the steadfast sky she heard her name 
 Breathed in the voice she knew. 
 
 Joy shook her heart, nor would its pulse be stilled; 
 
 Her fair cheek borrowed swift the sunset's bloom. 
 A presence beautiful and stately filled 
 
 The silence of the room. 
 
222 COMPENSATION 
 
 "Hast thou no word of welcome? " for indeed 
 Like some mute marble goddess proud stood she; 
 
 She turned. "0 king of men!" she cried, "what 
 need 
 That I should welcome thee ? " 
 
 Her eyes divine beneath her solemn brows 
 
 Met his clear gaze and measured strength for 
 strength. 
 
 She drooped, as to the sun the lily bows, 
 Into his arms at length. 
 
 Wide swung heaven's gates for them; no more they 
 knew. 
 
 The silent stars looked in, they saw them not. 
 The slow winds wandered soft through dusk and dew, 
 
 But earth was all forgot. 
 
 COMPENSATION 
 
 In that new world toward which our feet are set, 
 Shall we find aught to make our hearts forget 
 Earth's homely joys and her bright hours of bliss? 
 Has heaven a spell divine enough for this ? 
 For who the pleasure of the spring shall tell. 
 When on the leafless stalk the brown buds swell. 
 When the grass brightens and the days grow long, 
 And little birds break out in rippling song ? 
 
COMPENSATION 223 
 
 Oh sweet the dropping eve, the bkish of morn, 
 The starlit sky, the rustling fields of corn. 
 The soft airs blowing from the freshening seas, 
 The sun-flecked shadow of the stately trees. 
 The mellow thunder and the lulling rain, 
 The warm, delicious, happy summer rain. 
 When the grass brightens and the days grow long, 
 And little birds break out in rippling song! 
 
 O beauty manifold, from morn till night. 
 
 Dawn's flush, noon's blaze, and sunset's tender light! 
 
 O fair, familiar features, changes sweet 
 
 Of her revolving seasons, storm and sleet 
 
 And golden calm, as slow she wheels through space 
 
 From snow to roses, — and how dear her face 
 
 When the grass brightens and the days grow long. 
 
 And little birds break out in rippling song! 
 
 O happy Earth ! home so well beloved ! 
 What recompense have wo, from thee removed? 
 One hope we have that overtops the whole, — 
 The hope of finding every vanished soul 
 We love and long for daily, and for this 
 Gladly we turn from thee and all thy bliss. 
 Even at thy loveliest, when the days are long, 
 And little birds break out in rippling song. 
 
224 JOY 
 
 SONNET 
 
 Back from life's coasts the ebbing tide had drawn, 
 
 The singing tide that brimmed with joy the shore: 
 The torch of sunset and the blush of dawn 
 
 Seemed to have lost their glow forevermore, 
 There was such silence in the empty sky! 
 
 And Nature mocked me, grown so cold and dumb, 
 And Faith, I thought, had perished utterly, 
 
 Nor knew I whence a ray of hope should come ; 
 When, like a royal messenger of good 
 
 Sent to some sad and famine-stricken land, 
 Across my threshold dark you passed, and stood. 
 
 Bearing the keys of heaven in your hand; 
 And wide the bright, resounding gates you threw ! 
 Tell me, friend, what I shall do for you ! 
 
 JOY 
 
 Joy breathes in the sweet airs of spring, 
 And in the shy wild blossom hides. 
 
 And soars upon the swallow's wing. 
 And with the singing water glides. 
 
 Where lilies stand, a fragrant crowd. 
 
 Rocked by the warm south wind he lies; 
 
BELOVED 225 
 
 And dreams upon the balmy cloud 
 Soft floating in the tender skies; 
 
 Shines clear from out the crescent sharp, 
 
 Glittering above the sunset's red, 
 And of the west wind makes a harp, 
 
 And gleams in starlight overhead. 
 
 Joy mantles in the golden wine, 
 
 Joy to earth's humblest doth descend, 
 
 And looks at me with cheer divine 
 From out the dear eyes of my friend. 
 
 BELOVED 
 
 A STRONG sweet tide toward the lonely shore 
 
 Sets steadfastly, till every inlet sings. 
 And to the waiting silence, blank before. 
 Its full refreshment brings. 
 
 Through the day's business passing to and fro, 
 Ever she grows more conscious of the charm 
 Upholding her wherever she may go, 
 Like some enfolding arm. 
 
 For this dear joy all days more fair do seem. 
 The night's repose more blissful and more deep, 
 
226 THE ANSWER 
 
 As pillowed on the breast of this sweet dream 
 Softly she falls asleep. 
 
 Safe is she, lifted all earth's ills above; 
 
 No storm can break her calm, no evil reach 
 Within the charmed circle drawn by Love, 
 Blest beyond thought or speech. 
 
 maiden, dream thy dream! Life's crown of thorns, 
 
 Draws it not down, unseen, about thy brows ? 
 The glory of thy summer eves and morns 
 Stern winter shall espouse. 
 
 Within this Eden of thy sweet content 
 
 No mortal stays, — that, the great gods forbid; 
 But canst thou learn that in thy banishment 
 A higher good lies hid ? 
 
 THE ANSWER 
 
 The blossoms blush on the bough. 
 And the air is full of song, 
 
 Oh give me my answer now, 
 Dear Love, I have waited long! 
 
 The blossoms mantle and flush, — 
 I see but the rose in your cheek, 
 
SONG 227 
 
 And the birds their music hush, 
 For the fate your lips may speak. 
 
 I listen for life or death, 
 
 With hope's deep rapture stirred, 
 
 And faint as the blossoms' breath 
 Comes your low, delicious word. 
 
 And the earth reels under my feet, — 
 O blossoms that burn on the bough I ^ 
 
 With the strength of a joy so sweet, 
 For I have my answer now! 
 
 SONG 
 
 Past the point and by the beach. 
 Oh but the waves ran merrily. 
 
 With laughter light and silver speech. 
 And red the sunset flushed the sea. 
 
 Two lovers wandered side by side, — 
 Oh but the waves ran merrily; 
 
 They watched the rushing of the tide, 
 And fairer than a dream was she. 
 
 About her slender waist was cast — 
 Oh but the waves ran merrily — 
 
228 AUGUST 
 
 His strong right arm that held her fast, 
 A zone that clasped her royally. 
 
 He gazed in her bewildering face, — 
 Oh but the waves ran merrily : 
 "See how the waves each other chase! 
 So follow all my thoughts to thee.'* 
 
 "And seest thou yonder star? " she said,— 
 Oh but the waves ran merrily, — 
 
 " Superb in yonder evening-red ? 
 
 So dost thou light my life for me ! " 
 
 'Twas long ago that star did shine, — 
 
 Oh but the waves ran merrily; 
 Love made for them the world divine 
 
 In that old time beside the sea. 
 
 The soft wind sighs, the great sea rolls, — 
 
 Oh but the waves run merrily; 
 What has Time done with those two souls ? 
 
 And Love, who charmed them, where is he ? 
 
 AUGUST 
 
 Buttercup nodded and said good-by, 
 Clover and daisy went off together. 
 
 But the fragrant water-lilies lie 
 
 Yet moored in the golden August weather. 
 
SONG 229 
 
 Tho swallows chatter about thoir flight, 
 The cricket cliirpa like a rare good follow, 
 
 The asters twinkle in clusters bright. 
 
 While the corn grows rip© and the apples mellow. 
 
 SONG- 
 
 A BIRD upon a rosy bough 
 
 Sang low and long, sang late and loud, 
 Until the young moon's silver prow 
 
 Was lost behind a bar of cloud. 
 
 The south wind paused and hold its breath - 
 Sing loud and late, sing low and long — 
 
 While sweet as Love and sad as Death 
 The matchless notes rose wild and strong. 
 
 They rang with rapture, loss and change, — 
 Sing low and late, sing long and loud — 
 
 A tumult passionate and strange, 
 
 A speechless grief, a patience proud; 
 
 Till with "farewell for evermore," — 
 
 Sing late and loud, sing low and long, — 
 
 Like waves that kiss a barren shore 
 In sobbing cadence died the song. 
 
230 "OH TELL ME NOT OF HEAVENLY HALLS ' 
 
 "OH TELL ME NOT OF HEAVENLY HALLS" 
 
 Oh tell me not of heavenly halls, 
 Of streets of pearl and gates of gold, 
 
 Where angel unto angel calls 
 
 'Mid splendors of the sky untold; 
 
 My homesick heart would backward turn 
 To find this dear, familiar earth. 
 
 To watch its sacred hearth-fires burn, 
 To catch its songs of joy or mirth. 
 
 I 'd lean from out the heavenly choir 
 To hear once more the red cock crow, 
 
 What time the morning's rosy fire 
 O'er hill and field began to glow. 
 
 To hear the ripple of the rain, 
 
 The summer waves at ocean's brim. 
 
 To hear the sparrow sing again 
 I 'd quit the wide-eyed cherubim! 
 
 I care not what heaven's glories are; 
 
 Content am I. More joy it brings 
 To watch the dandelion's star 
 
 Than mystic Saturn's golden rings. 
 
MIDSUMMER 231 
 
 And yet — and yet, dearest one ! 
 
 My comfort from life's earliest breath — 
 To follow thee where thou art gone 
 
 Through those dim, awful gates of Death, 
 
 To find thee, feel thy smile again, 
 
 To have eternity's long day 
 To tell my grateful love, — why, then. 
 
 Both heaven and earth might pass away ! 
 
 MIDSUMMEE 
 
 White as a blossom is the kerchief quaint 
 Over her sumptuous shoulders lightly laid; 
 
 Fairer than any picture men could paint. 
 
 In the cool orchard's fragrant light and shade 
 
 She stands and waits: some pensive dream enfolds 
 Her beauty sweet, and bows her radiant head; 
 
 The delicate pale roses that she holds 
 
 Seem to have borrowed of her cheek their red. 
 
 She waits like some superb but drooping flower 
 To feel the touch of morning and the sun, 
 
 And o'er her head the glowing petals shower, 
 And to her feet the shifting sunbeams run. 
 
232 NEW YEAR SONG 
 
 I follow to her feet their pathway fine, 
 
 And while my voice the charmed silence breaks, 
 
 What startled splendors from her deep eyes shine ! 
 Into what glory my rich flower awakes! 
 
 NEW YEAE SONG 
 
 Sorrow, go thy way and leave me ! 
 
 Weary am I of thee, thou Sorrow old. 
 Unclasp thy hand from mine and cease to grieve me, 
 
 Fade like the winter sunset dim and cold. 
 
 Depart, and trouble me no longer ! 
 
 Die ! Vanish with forgotten yesterdays. 
 Eastward the darkness melts, the light grows stronger, 
 
 And dawn breaks sweet across the shrouding haze. 
 
 Die and depart. Old Year, old Sorrow ! 
 
 Welcome, O morning air of health and strength ! 
 glad New Year, bring us new hope to-morrow, 
 
 With blossom, leaf, and fruitage bright at length. 
 
 CAPTURED 
 
 Nanette ! 
 
 Can you not teach me to forget? 
 
 It is so hard to understand ! 
 
 You would not lift your slender hand 
 
CAPTURED 233 
 
 To keep me yours, yet must I be 
 
 Yours only, yours eternally. 
 
 Though 'neath the chain I strive and fret, 
 
 Nanette ! 
 
 That golden hour when first wc mot, 
 
 Like the swift inundating sea 
 
 Love's tide swept in and conquered me. 
 
 Love uttered Love's supremest word, 
 
 A moment you were touched and stirred; 
 
 Ah, that 's the anguish of regret, 
 
 Nanette ! 
 
 My every thought on you was set; 
 
 I poured for you Love's priceless wine, 
 
 You could no more its power divine 
 
 Than one small blossom's cup of gold 
 
 The boundless firmament could hold: 
 
 My eyes with scornful tears are wet, 
 
 Nanette ! 
 
 This withered spray of mignonette 
 
 You gave me, from my heart I take, 
 
 This sick, sad heart you taught to ache, 
 
 And fling it in the restless sea — 
 
 I would my thought of you could be 
 
 So flung away from me; and yet, 
 
 Nanette ! 
 
 I cannot break the cruel net, 
 
 Though I may curse my fate and swear 
 
 You are not kind, nor good, nor fair. 
 
234 FAITH 
 
 You '11 hold me by one silken tress, 
 Or eyelid's down-dropped loveliness, 
 A touch of hand, or tone of voice, 
 Or smile that all my will destroys : 
 Ah Heaven ! the only boon I crave 
 Is rest, the silence of the grave. 
 Eelease me ! Teach me to forget, 
 Nanette ! 
 
 FAITH 
 
 Fain would I hold my lamp of life aloft 
 
 Like yonder tower built high above the reef; 
 
 Steadfast, though tempests rave or winds blow soft, 
 Clear, though the sky dissolve in tears of grief. 
 
 For darkness passes, storms shall not abide: 
 
 A little patience and the fog is past. 
 After the sorrow of the ebbing tide 
 
 The singing flood returns in joy at last. 
 
 The night is long and pain weighs heavily. 
 But God will hold his world above despair. 
 
 Look to the East, where up the lucid sky 
 
 The morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair! 
 
AT DAWN 235 
 
 AT DAWN 
 
 Early this morning waking, 
 I heard the sandpipers call, 
 
 And the sea on the shore was breaking 
 With a dreamy rise and fall. 
 
 The dawn that was softly blushing 
 Touched cloud and wave with rose, 
 
 And the sails in the west were flushing, 
 No breeze stirred their repose. 
 
 What tone in the water's falling 
 Had reached me while I dreamed ? 
 
 What sound in the wild birds' calling 
 Like a heavenly greeting seemed ? 
 
 What meant the delicate splendor 
 That brightened the conscious morn 
 
 With a radiance fresh and tender 
 Crowning the day newborn ? 
 
 All nature's musical voices 
 Whispered, "Awake and see! 
 
 Awake, for the day rejoices ! " 
 What news had the morn for me ? 
 
280 IN A HORSE-CAR 
 
 Then I romcmberod the blessing 
 So swoot, O friend, so near I 
 
 The joy beyond all expressing, — 
 To-day you would be here. 
 
 IN A HOKSl^CAR 
 
 I WONDERED wliut pOWCF pOSSCSRcd tho plaCO 
 
 As I took my seat in the motley crowd, 
 And glancing swiftly from face to face 
 
 Of the poor and mean, and the rich and proud, 
 
 And all the stages betwixt the two 
 
 That daily travel the iron track, 
 I stopped at a young face frcsli as dow, 
 
 I'ramod in white with a hood of black. 
 
 'T was a little Sister of Charity ; 
 
 Oh young and slender, oh sweet and calm I 
 Like a pensive moonbeam ])alo was she. 
 
 With her fair hands folded palm to palm. 
 
 And a delicate beauty of higli r('j)()s(^, 
 A sacred peace, as if far wiilidrawn 
 
 From the hard world's din, like a cloistered rose, 
 She blossomed pure as the breath of dawn. 
 
IN A HOKSK-CAlt 287 
 
 I marvolod iimch how a girl liko tliia 
 
 III lier Miiytiino 8[)londor could turn away 
 
 From iho brimming cup of her youth's bright bliss, 
 To succor tho sorrowful day by day. 
 
 And y(3t when I looked at hor onco more, 
 With her lofty aspect of tempered cheer, 
 
 All the joys oi the eartli soomod vain and poor 
 To the lovely record written here. 
 
 And 1 felt how true it is, how sure 
 
 That every good deed adds a light 
 To the human face, not there before, 
 
 While every ill thing leaves its blight. 
 
 It does not follow that women and men 
 Must live in a cloister to work for God; 
 
 There 's enough to do, to the dullest ken. 
 
 In the groat world's paths spread wide abroad. 
 
 And th(^ good or ill of the life we lead 
 Is sculptured clear on the countenance; 
 
 15e it love and goodness, or sin and greed, 
 Who runs may read at a single glance. 
 
238 A VALENTINE 
 
 A VALENTINE 
 
 What is the whole world worth, Dear, 
 Weighed against love and truth ? 
 
 Sweet is the spring to the earth, Dear, 
 Bright is the blossom of youth: 
 
 And the skies of summer are tender 
 In fullness of life and strength, 
 
 And rich is the autumn splendor, 
 But winter comes at length. 
 
 Tell me, what spell shall charm us 
 When the golden days expire ? 
 
 What is there left to warm us 
 Save Love's most sacred lire ? 
 
 While on the soul's high altar 
 Its clear light burns secure, 
 
 Though the step of joy may falter, 
 And the glad years are no more, 
 
 The frosts of ago are naught, Dear! 
 
 I clasp thy hand in mine 
 Fondly as when youth sought, Deai^ 
 
 To be thy Valentine. 
 
WITHIN AND WITHOUT 239 
 
 WITHIN AND WITHOUT 
 
 The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
 The water brims the creek and falls ; 
 A cottage weather-stained and brown 
 Lifts at the brink its time-worn walls. 
 
 Beneath the lowly window sill 
 Two little beds of blossoms gay 
 The wandering airs with fragrance fill, 
 Sweeten the night and charm the day. 
 
 The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
 From the low window's humble square 
 A woman in a faded gown, 
 With care-dimmed eyes and tangled hair, 
 
 Looks out across the smiling space 
 Where golden suns and stars unfold: 
 Blue larkspur, the pied pansy's face, 
 Nasturtium bells of scarlet bold, — 
 
 She sees them not, nor cares, nor knows. 
 A man's rough figure noon and night 
 And morning o'er the threshold goes, — 
 No sense has he for their delight. 
 
240 BETROTHED 
 
 The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
 In that dull house a little maid 
 Lives lonely, under Fortune's frown, 
 A life unchildlike and afraid. 
 
 To her that tiny garden-plot 
 
 Means heaven. She comes at eve to stand 
 
 'Mid mallow and forget-me-not 
 
 And marigolds on either hand. 
 
 They look at her with brilliant eyes, 
 Their scent is greeting and caress; 
 They spread their rich and glowing dyes 
 Her saddened soul to cheer and bless. 
 
 The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
 Within, how base the life and poor! 
 Without, what wealth and beauty crown 
 The humble flowers beside the door ! 
 
 BETEOTHED 
 
 Softly the flickering firelight comes and goes; 
 
 The warm glow flashes, sinks, departs, returns, 
 And shows me where the delicate red rose 
 
 In the tall, slender vase of crystal burns. 
 
BETROTHED 241 
 
 The tempest beats without. The hush within 
 Is sweeter for the turmoil of the night; 
 
 Ice clatters at the pane and snowflakes spin 
 A web of woven storm, a shroud of white. 
 
 Its secret the wild winter weather keeps, 
 
 No sound transpires except the tempest's breath; 
 
 Locked in the frost the muffled pathway sleeps, 
 For any human token still as death. 
 
 My eyes the room's familiar aspect hold, 
 Its quiet beauty and its sumptuous gloom, 
 
 Its glimmering draperies of dull rich gold, 
 
 The gleam upon the burnished peacock's plume. 
 
 My rose, my book, my work, I see them all. 
 With my whole soul surrendered to one sense. 
 
 My life within my ears, for one footfall 
 
 Listening with patience breathless and intense. 
 
 'Tis my heart hears, at last, the silent door 
 Swing on its hinges, there 's no need the fire 
 
 Should show me whose step thrills the conscious floor, 
 As suddenly the wayward flame leaps higher. 
 
 Thou comest, bringing all good things that are ! 
 
 Infinite joy, and peace with white wings furled. 
 All heaven is here and thou the morning-star. 
 
 Thou splendor of my life ! " Thou Day o' the world ! " 
 
QUESTIONS 
 
 QUESTIONS 
 
 The steadfast planet spins through space, 
 
 And into darkness, into light 
 Swiftly it wheels its living face: 
 
 "'Tis day," we say, or "It is night." 
 
 And we who cling and with it turn, 
 Till spent is our brief span of years, 
 
 Watching our sister stars that burn 
 Through the dim trouble of our tears, 
 
 We question of the silence vast. 
 
 Of souls that people distant spheres; 
 
 What of their future and their past? 
 Have they our sorrows, joys, and fears? 
 
 Do the same flowers make glad their sight? 
 
 The same birds sing ? On their great seas 
 Do ships like ours, with canvas white. 
 
 Move stately, answering to the breeze? 
 
 Have they their Christ, their Christmas Day? 
 
 Kjiow they Mahomet? Buddha? One, 
 Or all or none 1 And do they pray ? 
 
 And have they wrought as we have done? 
 
QUESTIONS 243 
 
 We cannot guess; 'tis hard indeed, 
 
 Our own orb's tale of its dim past 
 Through centuries untold to read, 
 
 And who its future shall forecast? 
 
 We only know it keeps its place, 
 
 An atom in the universe, 
 As through the awful realms of space 
 
 The mighty hosts of stars disperse. 
 
 We know the hand that holds in check 
 The whirling worlds, each in its course, 
 
 And saves the universe from wreck 
 And peril, this tremendous Force 
 
 Holds likewise all our little lives; 
 
 The suns and stars do all obey 
 His bidding, never planet strives 
 
 To swerve from its appointed way. 
 
 The dangerous boon alone to us 
 
 Is given, to choose 'twixt ill and well. 
 
 Rebellion or obedience, — thus 
 
 To build our heaven, or dig our hell. 
 
 But one great thought our strength upholds: 
 Nothing shall perish! Though his rod 
 
 Smites sore, his mercy still enfolds 
 
 His own; God's souls are safe with God. 
 
244 TYRE AND SIDON 
 
 TYEE AND SIDON 
 
 Be thou ashamed, Sidon, saith the sea! 
 
 The loud voice of the world is in thine ears, 
 The world thy service hath and ruleth thee, 
 
 Thou givest unto vanity thy years. 
 
 Hearken, O Tyre! For God stretched forth his hand 
 Over the sea and He the kingdoms shook, 
 
 The broad earth quaked at breath of his command. 
 From thy proud head the gleaming croAvn He took. 
 
 Is this the joyous city wont to boast 
 
 Antiquity of ancient days? Behold 
 Her feet shall carry her afar, her ghost 
 
 Shall mourn in desolation and in cold. 
 
 Because the promise of Eternal life 
 
 And endless glory and unchanging good 
 
 Was naught to her, and she chose sin and strife. 
 Vain mocking shows, and empty husks for food; 
 
 Because so eagerly she served the world 
 
 Choosing the base and temporal things it gave, 
 
 Down from her throne her haughtiness is hurled. 
 And all her pride is leveled to a grave. 
 
HJELMA 245 
 
 HJELMA 
 
 Stands Hjelma at her lady's chair, 
 
 Serving with ready hands, 
 About her head her shining hair 
 
 Braided in golden strands. 
 
 A rose blooms in her maiden cheek, 
 
 And on her mouth's repose 
 A sweet content she cannot speak 
 
 Is lovelier than the rose. 
 
 " What is that shrill and sudden cry. 
 
 My little maiden? Say!" 
 "The wild wind shakes the windows high. 
 
 And tears the sea to spray; 
 
 " Oh see you not the black, black sky. 
 
 My mistress dear ? " cries she. 
 "The squall comes down, the waves run high; 
 
 Oh hear you not the sea? 
 
 "Oh glad am I the boats are in. 
 And little Nils and Lars 
 Are safe, before the waves begin 
 To leap across the stars ! " 
 
246 HJELMA 
 
 And up and down and here and there 
 She goes with willing feet, 
 
 So busy, with that gentle air 
 Of still contentment sweet! 
 
 At the far reef, since morning light, 
 All day her brothers twain 
 
 About the wreck of yesternight 
 
 Have worked with might and main. 
 
 She knows not when the cruel gale 
 Made wild the waning day. 
 
 It seized upon their shivering sail 
 And flung their skiff away. 
 
 She knows not they are driven, lost, 
 
 Over the roaring brine. 
 Toward the dim, billow-beaten coast, 
 
 While heaven will make no sign, 
 
 But scatters down its freezing snow 
 To hide the fading light, 
 
 And drives its hurricane below 
 To fright the shuddering night. 
 
 She hums her sweet Norwegian songs, 
 She lights the lamps, and smiles; 
 
MY HOLLYHOCK 247 
 
 The breakers rush in raging throngs 
 Across the lonely miles. 
 
 And where is handsome Lars, so tall? 
 
 And where is Nils, so dear? 
 Upon her soul no shadows fall, 
 
 Nor any hint of fear. 
 
 And who shall speak to break the spell? 
 
 And who will deal the blow 1 
 The brothers twain she loved so well, 
 
 Their fate must Hjelma know! 
 
 Loud thunders on the savage storm, 
 
 With deep, defiant roar; 
 Unconscious in her shelter warm 
 
 She hears it lash the shore. 
 
 And brightly shines her braided hair, 
 
 And on her mouth's repose 
 Is sweet content, untouched by care, 
 
 And on her cheek the rose. 
 
 MY HOLLYHOCK 
 
 Ah me, my scarlet hollyhock, 
 Whose stately head the breezes rock, 
 How sad, that in one night of frost 
 
248 MY HOLLYHOCK 
 
 Thy radiant beauty shall be lost, 
 And all thy glory overthrown 
 Ere half thy ruby buds have blown! 
 All day across my window low 
 Thy flowery stalk sways to and fro 
 Against a background of blue sea. 
 On the south wind, to visit thee, 
 Come airy shapes in sumptuous dyes, — 
 Eich golden, black-edged butterflies. 
 And humming-birds in emerald coats, 
 With flecks of fire upon their throats, 
 That in the sunshine whir and glance, 
 And probe the flowers with slender lance; 
 And many a drunken, drowsy bee, 
 Singing his song hilariously. 
 About the garden fluttering yet, 
 In amber plumage freaked with jet. 
 The goldfinches charm all the air 
 With sweet, sad crying everywhere. 
 To the dry sunflower stalks they cling, 
 And on the ripened disks they swing; 
 With delicate delight they feed 
 On the rich store of milky seed. 
 
 Autumn goes loitering through the land, 
 A torch of fire within her hand. 
 Soft sleeps the bloomy haze that broods 
 O'er distant hills and mellowing woods; 
 
MY HOLLYHOCK 249 
 
 Rustle the cornfields far and near, 
 And nuts are ripe, and pastures sere, 
 And lovely odors haunt the breeze, 
 Borne o'er the sea and through the trees. 
 Belated beauty, lingering still 
 So near the edge of winter's chill, 
 The deadly daggers of the cold 
 Approach thee, and the year grows old. 
 Is it because I love thee so 
 Thou waitest, waving to and fro 
 Thy flowery spike, to gladden me. 
 Against the background of blue sea? 
 I wonder — hast thou not some sense, 
 Some measure of intelligence 
 Eesponding to my joy in thee? 
 Almost I dream that it may be. 
 Such subtleties are Nature's, hid 
 Her most well-trodden paths amid; 
 Such sympathies along her nerves; 
 Such sweetness in her fine reserves. 
 Howe'er it be, I thank the powers 
 That gave me such enchanted hours 
 This late October, watching thee 
 Wave thy bright flowers against the sea. 
 
250 BENEDICTION 
 
 BENEDICTION 
 
 " Oh heaven bless you, heaven keep you, sweet ! " 
 It was God's hand that dropped the healing balm 
 
 Upon her head, and clothed in prayerful calm 
 Her soul as saints are robed from head to feet. 
 
 Gone is the beautiful beloved voice 
 
 That spake that blessing in the vanished years; 
 Yet in her grateful memory still she hears 
 
 The tender tones that made her heart rejoice. 
 
 And ever will, while memory keeps her seat; 
 
 And though she dwelt among the nameless dead, 
 Her dust would thrill beneath the voice that said, 
 
 "May heaven bless you, heaven keep you, sweet!" 
 
 SONNET 
 
 If I do speak your praise, forgive me, Sweet! 
 
 Since love demands expression, let me say 
 How joyfully my heart goes out to greet 
 
 Your grace and charm with every changing day: 
 How sweet your morning kiss, how dear your smile, 
 
 And tender touch, and voice that 's low and clear. 
 
ON THE TRAIN 251 
 
 And with what deep content I yield the while 
 You draw me to you, near and yet more near, 
 
 And show me what pure depths within you lie, — 
 The powers of good, the gentle steadfastness. 
 
 The quiet wisdom and the purpose high, 
 
 So strong to love, to lift, to cheer and bless ; 
 
 While like a robe of loveliness you wear 
 
 Your flower-like radiance delicately fair. 
 
 ON THE TEAIN 
 
 Through the storm, through the wind and the rain 
 
 Kushes the clattering train; 
 
 Past the hills, across valley and plain, 
 
 Through city and hamlet again. 
 
 With a rumble and roar we speed on 
 
 Till the half of our journey is done. 
 
 Close wrapped in my corner I dream, 
 Watching the raindrops stream 
 O'er the misty pane, and the gleam 
 Of the white of the steam. 
 As they hurry past and are lost, 
 On the wings of the tempest tossed. 
 
 Through the smoke and the din and the blur 
 Fast, fast I am flying to her! 
 
252 ON THE TRAIN 
 
 All the thunder, the rattle and whir, 
 The noisy discomfort, the stir, 
 Are nothing to me, for my sense 
 Is lost in a rapture intense. 
 
 And like golden bees through the storm 
 Sweet memories cluster and swarm; 
 Sweet thoughts round a maidenly form 
 That I see by the firelight warm, — 
 Bright eyes that are watching the clock, 
 Little ears that are waiting my knock; 
 
 And I know how the color will rush 
 
 In that beautiful mantling blush 
 
 To her cheek, till its delicate flush 
 
 Shall rival the rose, as I hush 
 
 With a word her heart's tumult divine 
 
 And she lays her white hand within mine. 
 
 Then thunder, thou clattering train. 
 And roar through the wind and the rain, 
 Past the hills, across valley and plain 
 Devour the long leagues ! — till again 
 In the light of my love's happy eyes 
 The sun of my life shall arise. 
 
PEACE 253 
 
 PEACE 
 
 Calm of the autumn night, 
 
 With the glow of a primrose sky 
 
 Drowned in a sea of golden light 
 From the harvest moon on high ! 
 
 Against the rose of the sky- 
 Winging their silent way, 
 
 Darkly the gulls go floating hy 
 In the glow of the dying day. 
 
 Infinite peace and calm 
 
 In the hreast of the ocean wide, 
 In the air like delicate balm, 
 
 In the faint, sweep lapse of the tide. 
 
 With the cricket's pensive sound. 
 
 With the breath of the late, last rose, 
 
 Comes a sense of joy profound. 
 And a bliss of deep repose. 
 
 What is thy mystic charm, 
 
 beautiful autumn night ! 
 Not the sigh of the south wind warm, 
 
 Not thy harvest moon's pure light; 
 
254 AS LINNETS SING 
 
 Not the calm of the glassy sea, 
 E-eflecting thy stars above; 
 
 Nor thy perfumes borne to me 
 On the balmy air I love : 
 
 But the soul of all thou art 
 Calls to the soul in me, 
 
 And speaks to my quiet heart 
 With the voice of sky and sea. 
 
 AS LINNETS SING 
 
 Nay, wherefore should I seek thy patient ear 
 
 To weary thee with words that naught avail! 
 This faltering voice will not ring true and clear. 
 It will but break and fail. 
 
 And yet I cannot keep back any part 
 
 Of my delight; fain would I give thee all 
 The music that thou makest in my heart. 
 As David sang to Saul. 
 
 Would bring thee garlands sweet and manifold. 
 Meek violets full of fragrance, — roses, too. 
 Dark pansies richly streaked with burning gold. 
 And lilies bright with dew. 
 
EUTH 255 
 
 But ah, they grow so pallid 'neath my hand I 
 
 So scentless and so colorless and frail — 
 The music cannot reach where thou dost stand, 
 It will hut hreak and fail. 
 
 Still at their source the notes are true and strong, 
 And as some linnet sings, whose happy hreast. 
 Filled with the summer's rapture, thrills with song 
 That will not he suppressed. 
 
 Until she cannot choose hut strive to blend 
 
 Her slender silver thread of wavering sound 
 With all the nobler voices that ascend. 
 
 Though lost it be and drowned, — 
 
 So sing I to the sun that fills my sky 
 
 With warmth and light and health. So I to thee 
 Send up my broken music ceaselessly. 
 Silent I cannot be. 
 
 EUTH 
 
 A BABY girl not two years old 
 
 Among the phlox and pansies stands, 
 
 And full of flowers as they can hold 
 Her mother fills her little hands, 
 
 And bids her cross to where I stay 
 Within my garden's fragrant space, 
 
256 EUTH 
 
 And guides her past the poppies gay 
 ^Mid mazes of the blooming place, 
 
 Saying, '^ Go carry Thea these ! " 
 Delighted, forth the baby fares, 
 
 Between the fluttering- winged sweet peas 
 Her treasured buds she safely bears. 
 
 'T is but a step, but oh, what stress 
 Of care ! What difficulties wait ! 
 
 How many pretty dangers press 
 Upon the path from gate to gate ! 
 
 But high above her sunny head 
 She tries the roses sweet to hold, 
 
 Now caught in coreopsis red. 
 Half wrecked upon a marigold. 
 
 Or tangled in a cornflower tall. 
 Or hindered by the poppy-tops, — 
 
 She struggles on, nor does she fall, 
 Nor stalk nor stem her progress stops, 
 
 Until at last, the trials past. 
 
 Victorious o'er the path's alarms, 
 
 Herself, her flowers and all are cast 
 Breathless into my happy arms. 
 
PETITION 257 
 
 My smiling, rosy little maid ! 
 
 And while her joy-flushed cheek I kiss, 
 And close to mine its hloom is laid, 
 
 I think, " So may you find your bliss, 
 
 " My precious ! When in coming years 
 Life's path grows a bewildering maze, 
 So may you conquer doubts and fears 
 And safely thread its devious ways, 
 
 "And find yourself, all dangers past. 
 
 Clasped to a fonder breast than mine, 
 And gain your heavenly joy at last 
 Safe in the arms of Love Divine." 
 
 PETITION 
 
 My little grandson three years old 
 Sleeps by my bedside nightly. 
 
 Through the long hours of dark and cold, 
 Dreaming he slumbers lightly. 
 
 He feels my love around him fold, 
 
 And in its heart reposes. 
 Upon his hair a gleam of gold. 
 
 His cheeks like damask roses. 
 
258 APPEAL 
 
 All through the chill and silent night 
 I stretch a hand caressing, 
 
 To draw the blanket, warm and light, 
 About him, with a blessing. 
 
 In sleep he knows that touch so sweet, 
 
 So lingering and tender, 
 Turns his dear face my palm to meet. 
 
 With soft and glad surrender. 
 
 God of pity and of love, 
 
 Have patience with our blindness. 
 
 Thy hand is stretched our heads above 
 Warm with Thy watchful kindness. 
 
 Give us this baby's perfect faith ! 
 
 Whatever ills assail us, 
 Help us to feel, in life or death, 
 
 That Thou wilt never fail us. 
 
 APPEAL 
 
 The childish voice rose to my ear 
 Sweet toned and eager, praying me, 
 *^ I am so little, Granna dear, 
 
 Please lift me up, so I can see." 
 
APPEAL 259 
 
 I looked down at the pleading face, 
 Felt the small hand's entreating touch, 
 
 And stooping caught in swift embrace 
 The baby boy I loved so much, 
 
 And held him high that he might gaze 
 
 At the great pageant of the sky, 
 The glory of the sunset's blaze, 
 
 The glittering moon that curved on high. 
 
 With speechless love I clasped him close 
 And read their beauty in his eyes, 
 
 And on his fair cheek kissed the rose. 
 Sweeter than blooms of Paradise. 
 
 \And in my heart his eager prayer 
 Found echo, and the self-same cry 
 Kose from my heart through heaven's air, 
 " gracious Father, lift me high ! 
 
 '* So little and so low am I, 
 
 Among earth's mists I call to Thee, 
 Show me the glory of Thy sky ! 
 Oh lift me up that I may see ! " 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 PAGE 
 
 All's WeU 86 
 
 Alone 153 
 
 Already 170 
 
 Answer, The 226 
 
 Appeal 258 
 
 April Days 53 
 
 As Linnets Sing 254 
 
 At Dawn 235 
 
 At Set of Moon 204 
 
 At the Breakers' Edge 61 
 
 August 228 
 
 Autumn 153 
 
 Autumn, In 196 
 
 Because of Thee 185 
 
 Beethoven ,70, 139 
 
 Before Sunrise 34 
 
 Beloved 225 
 
 Benediction 250 
 
 Betrothed 240 
 
 Broken Lily, A 83 
 
 By the Dead 78 
 
 By the Roadside 37 
 
 Captured 232 
 
 Chopin . 74 
 
 Christmas, For 203 
 
 Compensation 222 
 
 Contrast 99 
 
262 INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 Courage 41 
 
 Cruise of the Mystery, The 177 
 
 Daybreak 109 
 
 Discontent 168 
 
 Doubt 175 
 
 EnthraUed 143 
 
 Expectation ......... 4 
 
 Expostulation 187 
 
 Faded Glove, A 100 
 
 Faith 234 
 
 Farewell . . * 174 
 
 Flowers for the Brave 186 
 
 Flowers in October 114 
 
 Footprints in the Sand 80 
 
 For Christmas 203 
 
 " For Thoughts " 63 
 
 Foreboding 166 
 
 Garden, My 205 
 
 Good-By, Sweet Day 195 
 
 Grateful Heart, A 22 
 
 Guendolen 66 
 
 Guests 171 
 
 Happy Birds, The 130 
 
 Heartbreak Hill 54 
 
 Heart's-Ease 156 
 
 Her Mirror 202 
 
 Hjelma 245 
 
 HoUyhock, My 247 
 
 Homage 167 
 
 Impatience 199 
 
 Imprisoned , . 48 
 
 In a Horse-Car 236 
 
 In Autumn 196 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 263 
 
 In Death's Despite 217 
 
 In Kittery Churchyard 59 
 
 In May 27 
 
 In September 210 
 
 In the Lane 200 
 
 In Tuscany 193 
 
 Joy 224 
 
 Karen 117 
 
 Kittery Churchyard, In 59 
 
 Land-locked 1 
 
 La*s 124 
 
 Leviathan 148 
 
 Lost and Saved 208 
 
 " Love shall save us all " 177 
 
 March 93 
 
 May, In 27 
 
 May Morning . .84 
 
 Medrick and Osprey 152 
 
 Midsummer 231 
 
 Midsummer Midnight 51 
 
 Minute-Guns, The 12 
 
 Modjeska 122 
 
 Morning Song 138 
 
 Mozart 72 
 
 Mussel Shell, A . . .119 
 
 Mutation 173 
 
 My Garden 205 
 
 My Hollyhock 247 
 
 Nestling Swallows, The 112 
 
 New Year Song 2Z2 
 
 November . 41 
 
 November Morning 214 
 
 Off Shore 2 
 
264 INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 " Oh teU me not of Heavenly Halls" 230 
 
 On the Train 251 
 
 Our Soldiers 219 
 
 Peace ........... 253 
 
 Persistence 188 
 
 Petition 257 
 
 Philosophy 150 
 
 Pimpernel, The 75 
 
 PoorLisette 190 
 
 Portent . 103 
 
 50 
 
 Questions 242 
 
 Regret 32 
 
 Remembrance 43 
 
 Remonstrance 135 
 
 Renunciation 106 
 
 Reverie 154 
 
 Rock Weeds 15 
 
 Rose of Joy, A 209 
 
 Ruth 255 
 
 Sandpiper, The . 18 
 
 Schubert 73 
 
 Schumann's Sonata in A Minor 184 
 
 S.E. . 190 
 
 Seaside Goldenrod 92 
 
 Seaward 14 
 
 Secret, The 90 
 
 September, In .....••• • 210 
 
 Slumber Song 132 
 
 Song (by Oscar Laighton) 95 
 
 Songs : — 
 
 " A bird upon a rosy bough " 229 
 
 " Above in her chamber her voice I hear " . . . 165 
 
 " A rushing of wings in the dawn " . . . . 127 
 
 " Hark, how sweet the thrushes sing " . . . . 135 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 265 
 
 " I wore your roses yesterday " 162 
 
 " Love, art thou weary with the sultry day ? " . . 159 
 
 " Oh the fragrance of the air " 107 
 
 "OLove, Love, Love!" Ill 
 
 " O swallow, sailing lightly " 123 
 
 " Past the point and by the beach " . . . .227 
 
 " Rolls the long breaker in splendor, and glances " . 145 
 
 " We sail toward evening's lonely star " ... 44 
 
 "Sing, little bird, oh sing" 105 
 
 " What good gift can I bring thee, thou dearest " . 139 
 Sonnets : — 
 
 " As happy dwellers by the seaside hear " . . . 165 
 
 " Back from life's coasts the ebbing tide had drawn " 224 
 
 " K I do speak your praise, forgive me, Sweet ! " . 250 
 
 " Not so ! You stand as long ago a king " . . . 108 
 
 Song-Sparrow, The 57 
 
 Song of Hope, A 218 
 
 Sorrow 39 
 
 Spaniards' Graves, The 24 
 
 Spring Again 162 
 
 Starlight 132 
 
 Submission .......... 160 
 
 Summer Day, A 29 
 
 "Sunrise never failed us yet, The" 142 
 
 Sunset Song 176 
 
 SwaUow, The 20 
 
 Thanksgiving, A 11 
 
 Thora 128 
 
 To a Violin 149 
 
 ToJ. G. W 192 
 
 Transition 146 
 
 Trust 120 
 
 Tryst, A 45 
 
 Tuscany, In .......•• • 193 
 
 TwiHght 19 
 
 Two 220 
 
 Two Sonnets 108 
 
 Tyre and Sidon 244 
 
S66 INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 Under the Eayes . 212 
 
 Valentine, A 238 
 
 Vesper Song 114 
 
 Violin, To a 149 
 
 Wait 116 
 
 Watch of Boon Island, The 67 
 
 Watching 25 
 
 West-Wind 197 
 
 Wherefore 64 
 
 White Rover, The 95 
 
 With the Tide 140 
 
 Within and Without 239 
 
 Wreck of the Pocahontas, The 6 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 A baby girl not two years old, 255. 
 
 A bird upon a rosy bough, 229. 
 
 About your window's happy height, 173. 
 
 Above in her chamber her voice I hear, 165. 
 
 A clash of human tongues within, 146. 
 
 Across the narrow beach we flit, 18. 
 
 Ah me, my scarlet hoUyhock, 247. 
 
 All about the gable tall swift the swallows flit, 130. 
 
 Already the dandelions, 170. 
 
 And was it thus the master looked, think you, 71. 
 
 A pansy on his breast she laid, 63. 
 
 Are the roses fallen, dear my child, 116. 
 
 A rushing of wings in the dawn, 127. 
 
 As happy dwellers by the seaside hear, 165. 
 
 As when one wears a fragrant rose, 209. 
 
 A strong sweet tide toward the lonely shore, 225. 
 
 At daybreak in the fresh light, joyfuUy, 29. 
 
 At her low quaint wheel she sits to spin, 117. 
 
 At the open window I lean, 73. 
 
 Back from life's coasts the ebbing tide had drawn, 224. 
 
 Because I hold it sinfid to despond, 41. 
 
 Be thou ashamed, O Sidon, saith the sea, 244. 
 
 Betwixt the bleak rock and the barren shore, 148. 
 
 Black lie the hills ; swiftly doth daylight flee, 1. 
 
 Black sea, black sky ! A ponderous steamship driving, 64 
 
 Buttercup nodded and said good-by, 228. 
 
 By cottage walls the lilacs blow, 200. 
 
268 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 Calm is the close of the day, 74. 
 Calm of the autumn night, 253. 
 Come out and hear the birds sing ! Oh, wherefore sit yon there, 
 
 135. 
 Come under my cloak, my darling, 128. 
 Cricket, why wilt thou crush me with thy cry, 166. 
 Crushing the scarlet strawberries in the grass, 59. 
 
 Deft hands called Chopin's music from the keys, 122. 
 Down San Miniato in the afternoon, 193. 
 Dropped the warm rain from the brooding sky, 37. 
 
 Early this morning waking, 235. 
 
 Fain would I hold my lamp of life aloft, 234. 
 Far off against the solemn sky, 176. 
 Fragrant and soft the summer wind doth blow, 43. 
 From out the desolation of the North, 45. 
 
 Good-by, sweet day, good-by, 195. 
 Graceful, tossing plume of glowing gold, 92. 
 
 Hark, how sweet the thrushes sing, 135. 
 
 Here bring your purple and gold, 186. 
 
 High on the ledge the wind blows the bayberry bright, 11, 
 
 How long it seems since that mild April night, 14. 
 
 I lit the lamps in the lighthouse tower, 6. 
 
 I stood on the height in the stillness, 162. 
 
 I stood within the little cove, 12. 
 
 I wondered what power possessed the place, 236. 
 
 I wore your roses yesterday, 162. 
 
 If God speaks anywhere, in any voice, 139. 
 
 K I do speak your praise, forgive me, sweet, 250. 
 
 H, some day, I should seek those eyes, 50. 
 
 In childhood's season fair, 25. 
 
 In Ipswich town, not far from the sea, 54. 
 
 In that new world toward which our feet are set, 222. 
 
 In the morning twilight, while the household yet, 109. 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 269 
 
 In tWs sweet, tranquil afternoon of spring, 57. 
 It blossomed by the summer sea, 205. 
 
 Joy breathes in the sweet airs of spring, 224. 
 
 Last night I stole away alone, to find, 22. 
 
 Lazily, through the warm gray afternoon, 80. 
 
 Leaping from the boat, through the lazy sparkling surf, 210. 
 
 Lies the sunset splendor far and wide, 114. 
 
 Lightly she lifts the large, pure luminous shell, 48. 
 
 Like huge waves, petrified, against the sky, 143. 
 
 Like scattered flowers blown all about the bay, 106. 
 
 Love, art thou weary with the sultry day, 159. 
 
 Medrick, waving wide wings low over the breeze-rippled bight, 
 
 152. 
 Most beautiful among the helpers thou, 72. 
 My life has grown so dear to me, 185. 
 My little granddaughter, who fain would know, 100. 
 My little grandson, three years old, 257. 
 
 Nanette! 232. 
 
 Nay, comrade, 'tis a weary path we tread, 167. 
 Nay, wherefore should I seek thy patient ear, 254. 
 Not so ! You stand as long ago a king, 108. 
 
 O Lily, dropped upon the gray sea-sand, 83. 
 
 O Love, he whispered low. Eternal Love, 208. 
 
 O Love, Love, Love, 111. 
 
 O mirror, whence her lovely face, 202. 
 
 O Pilgrim, comes the night so fast, 177. 
 
 O Poverty ! till now I never knew, 78. 
 
 O sailors, did sweet eyes look after you, 24. 
 
 O Sorrow, go thy way and leave me, 232. 
 
 O sovereign Master ! stem and splendid power, 70. 
 
 O stateliest ! who shaU speak thy praise, who find, 71. 
 
 swallow, sailing lightly. 123. 
 
 Oh heaven bless you, heaven keep you, sweet, 250. 
 
 Oh tell me not of heavenly halls, 230. 
 
270 IKDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 Oh the fragrance of the air, 107. 
 
 Oh the sweet, sweet lapsing of the tide, 53. 
 
 Oh what saw you, gathering flowers so early this May morn, 90. 
 
 Only to follow you, dearest, only to find you, 199. 
 
 Past the point and by the beach, 227. 
 Peace smiles over hamlet and city, 219. 
 Pleasant above the city's din, 212. 
 
 Rock, little boat, beneath the quiet sky, 2. 
 
 Rolls the long breaker in splendor, and glances, 145. 
 
 Round and round the garden rushed a sudden blast, 158. 
 
 Sadly the quails in the comland pipe, 190. 
 
 See how the wind is hauling point by point to the south, 120. 
 
 September's slender crescent grows again, 19. 
 
 She is so fair, I thought, so dear and fair, 66. 
 
 She passes up and down life's various ways, 190. 
 
 She turned the letter's rustling page ; her smile, 220. 
 
 She walks beside the silent shore, 75. 
 
 Sing, little bird, oh sing, 105. 
 
 Skeleton schooner, looming strange on the far horizon's rim, 188. 
 
 So bleak these shores, wind-swept and all the year, 15. 
 
 So soon the end must come, 150. 
 
 Softly Death touched her, and she passed away, 32. 
 
 Softly the flickering firelight comes and goes, 240. 
 
 Southward still the sun is slanting day by day, 156. 
 
 Stands Hjelma at her lady's chair, 245. 
 
 Sunflower tall and hollyhock, that wave in the wind together, 171. 
 
 Swift o'er the water my light yacht dances, 140. 
 
 Tears in those eyes of blue, 187. 
 Tell us a story of these isles, they said, 124. 
 That was a curlew calling overhead, 27. 
 The aster by the brook is dead, 196. 
 The barley bows from the west, 197. 
 The blossoms blush on the bough, 226. 
 The childish voice rose to my ear, 258. 
 The children wandered up and down, 177. 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES 271 
 
 The chiU, sad evening wind of winter blows, 132. 
 
 The clover blossoms kiss her feet, 95. 
 
 The crimson sunset faded into gray, 174. 
 
 The day is bitter. Through the hoUow sky, 99. 
 
 The keen north wind pipes loud, 93. 
 
 The lilies clustered fair and tall, 153. 
 
 The long black ledges are white with gulls, 114. 
 
 The morning breaks, the storm is past. I ehold, 218. 
 
 The quiet room, the flowers, the perfumed calm, 184. 
 
 The sparrow sits and sings, and sings, 160. 
 
 The steadfast planet spins through space, 242. 
 
 The summer day was spoiled with fitful storm, 112. 
 
 The swaUow twitters about the eaves, 20. 
 
 The tide flows up, the tide flows down, 239. 
 
 The white reflection of the sloop's great sail, 154. 
 
 The wide, still, moonlit water miles away, 51. 
 
 The wild rose blooms for the sun of June, 175. 
 
 The wind blows from the stormy quarter and the moon is old, 204 
 
 There is no day so dark, 168. 
 
 There is no wind at all to-night, 41. 
 
 They called the little schooner the White Rover, 95. 
 
 They crossed the lonely and lamenting sea, 67. 
 
 This grassy gorge, as daylight failed last night, 34. 
 
 Thou little child, with tender, clinging arms, 132. 
 
 Through the storm, through the wind and the rain, 251. 
 
 Through the wide sky thy north wind's thunder roars, 61. 
 
 Throughout the lonely house the whole day long, 4. 
 
 Thy own wish wish I thee in every place, 203. 
 
 Upon my lips she laid her touch divine, 39. 
 Upon the sadness of the sea, 142. 
 
 Warm, wild, rainy wind, blowing fitfully, 84. 
 
 Wo launch our boat upon the sparkling sea, 138. 
 
 We sail toward evening's lonely star, 44. 
 
 What dost thou here, young wife, by the water-side, 86. 
 
 What good gift can I bring thee, thou dearest, 139. 
 
 What is the whole world worth. Dear, 238. 
 
 What is there left, I wonder, 192. 
 
272 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 
 
 What wondrous power from heaven upon thee wrought, 149. 
 When the darkness drew away at the dawning- of the day, 103. 
 White as a blossom is the kerchief quaint, 231. 
 Whither departs the perfume of the rose, 217. 
 Why art thou colored like the evening sky, 119. 
 With clamor the wild southwester, 214. 
 
DEO 
 
 ibi)y 
 
LiH-i 
 
_0 016 165 856 A