ELS 
 
 CLINTON 
 SCOLLARD 
 
Class yS 2.7^2. 
 
 Book -BS 
 
 Cop}Tiglit N°_ 
 
 ['^.ay 
 
 COPl'RIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Of this Edition <?/ Blank Verse Pastels 
 One Hundred and Twenty-Five Copies have 
 been printed. This Copy is Number JTT- 
 
 yo(^*^4,^''^^h€CiAc^, 
 
Blank Verse 
 Pastels 
 
 Clinton Scollard 
 
 Clinton, New York 
 
 George William Browning 
 1907 
 
3 5- 
 
 CopyrighUd, 1907, by Clinton Scollard. ' ' f 
 
 UiHARYflf CONGRESS 
 Two Otttii RsGilviid 
 
 SEP 4 «90/ 
 copy B/ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 BEAUTY 7 
 
 SLEEP, THE ALMONER 8 
 
 THE WIND BY THE SEA .... 9 
 
 A NIGHT ETCHING 11 
 
 LONELINESS 12 
 
 VAGRANT WIND OF AUTUMN ... 13 
 
 NIGHT VOICES . 15 
 
 AT KENILWORTH 17 
 
 CARDINAL FLOWERS 20 
 
 TWO MEN 21 
 
 CRICKET 25 
 
 AN ATHENIAN NIGHT 26 
 
 A HARMONY 28 
 
 AN EDINBURGH TWILIGHT . , . . 29 
 
 A MOSLEM ROSARY 33 
 
 ABU ABAS 35 
 
 VALENTINE AND ASTERIUS .... 36 
 
 THE ROSE OF HELL 41 
 
 A SPRING AFTERNOON 42 
 
 THE ANCHORITE 44 
 
 A SEA SHELL 48 
 
CONTENTS (Continued) 
 
 A GEODE 49 
 
 THE HOUSE AT HEBRON .... 50 
 
 A LUTE SPEAKS 51 
 
 OUT OF THE HEART OF WINTER . . 52 
 
 THE MAPLE . 54 
 
 BY ELISHAS FOUNTAIN 56 
 
 MOODS OF THE MARSHES .... 59 
 
 AGATHA ........ 61 
 
 DAISIES 65 
 
 AT ROXMOR 67 
 
If four blank walls be miney and every wind 
 That goes careening through the vasts of sky 
 Makes free with my shrunk casement y and my hearth 
 Shows but a feeble flame, and the bare floor 
 Has but the dust for carpet y am I poor ? 
 Nayy I am very Crcesus ! that — and more! 
 For no swart Mede can rob me of my dreams 
 Wherewith I hang a rapt madonna therey — 
 A face Murillo paintedy — drape rich folds 
 Of gold-shot damask round yon oriel y 
 And heap about me rugs of velvet pile 
 Deft-wrought upon the looms of Kermanshah ! 
 Poor! Is he poor who has God's gift of dreams ? 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 BEAUTY 
 We are thy ceaseless worshipers, O thou, 
 Changing yet ever fadeless ! Old, yet young 
 As day's matutinal rapture, or the spring's 
 Glad thrill of bourgeoning ! E'en when the earth 
 Loses its fair, luxuriant livery. 
 Thou sett'st thy seal of glory on the robe 
 Of ermine that investitures the hills. 
 Nor time nor place can blur the unminted gold 
 Of the poised sun at noon-tide, nor the white 
 Sequestered purity of the midnight stars, 
 Nor the miraculous pageantries of dawn; — 
 All thine, all thine, O spirit multiform ! 
 If youth immortal be, lo, thou art one 
 With immortality and innocence ! 
 So, kneeling at thy shrine, we can but draw. 
 Through clear gradations, closer unto God ! 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 SLEEP, THE ALMONER 
 Adown the voids and vastnesses of night 
 Haste thou to me, O almoner of Rest ! 
 Come with thy fardel full of fairest dreams, 
 And strew them round about me, as the spring 
 Scatters the cloistral wake-robins in May ; 
 For I am over-weary, and would dwell 
 Only with fantasy ; would droop and drowse 
 Lulled as with lutes ; would lie on blossom-beds 
 Scented with savors of oblivion ; 
 Down paradisal streams would glide 'neath sails 
 Tinted like golden gonfalons ; would taste 
 Honeys more luscious than are those that ooze 
 From the bruised cells of Hymettean combs ! 
 All this for gift is thine, O almoner ; 
 Then speed thee on thy pinions snow-fall soft 
 Adown the voids and vastnesses of night ! 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 THE WIND BY THE SEA 
 All day the wind blew in-shore off the sea ; 
 All day the reefs raged, and the flying spume, 
 Like multitudinous snow-flakes, flecked the sand. 
 Above, athwart a heaven cobalt-blue. 
 Like squadrons of white horsemen, charged 
 
 the scud. 
 Then the light failed, a sudden sunset made 
 The wide wan west a momentary rose. 
 And the night came companioned by one star. 
 And still the wind blew in-shore off the sea 
 Plangent, and still the insatiable reefs 
 Mouthed, and made mock of music, and men's 
 
 sleep 
 Was haunted by bewilderment of dreams, — 
 Unfathomable visions of the waste 
 Where Ocean, sole, majestic and supreme, 
 Weltered, with swirl of waters, evermore. 
 
10 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 Ships and their sundered masts, and rent white 
 
 sails. 
 And cordage coils, and bodies of stark men. 
 And women's faces with fear-fixed eyes, — 
 These formed the weird dream-fabric; then 
 
 the dawn 
 Broke bleak and pallid and inscrutable. 
 And still the wind, coeval with hoar Time, 
 The nomad wind, blew in-shore off the sea. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels U 
 
 A NIGHT ETCHING 
 A world of groping shadows vast and vague ; 
 Above, the vault unstudded by a star, 
 A mighty and mysterious gulf of gloom. 
 A low wind moaning like a restless soul ; 
 Save this no sound, but everywhere a sense 
 Of stealthy presences, forms of the void 
 As immaterial as the shapes of dream. 
 Then suddenly a stabbing shaft of gold 
 Piercing the blackness, and the hurried throb 
 Of human footsteps ; then a woman's voice 
 Vibrant with joy, and from a wide-flung door, 
 Unhesitant, the outstretched arms of Love ! 
 
12 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 LONELINESS 
 I have known loneliness ; — the mountain peak 
 Scarred by the lightnings, and communicant 
 With searing suns and the pale lips of stars ; 
 The gaping canyon riven deep in earth 
 As with titanic cleavage ; the gray sea. 
 Sunless and sad, unswept by any sail ; 
 The desert, void from marge to shimmering 
 
 marge. 
 Only a vulture veering in the vault; 
 The roaring street, its jostling myriads. 
 And yet no face the fond face of a friend ; 
 But none of these so poignandy has pierced 
 My heart, as has one small deserted room 
 Where she was wont to sit within whose eyes 
 Love was perpetual guest, — the little room 
 ( O blinding tears ! ) whereto she comes no more. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 13 
 
 VAGRANT WIND OF AUTUMN 
 Came a subtile, vagrant wind of autumn 
 Whispering, murmuring, calling at my case- 
 ment; 
 ^^O arise!" it said, ^^ arise, and follow!" 
 Straightway I obeyed ; arose, and followed. 
 Through the autumn silences it led me. 
 Through the amber mysteries of autumn. 
 Till I reached the portal of a woodland. 
 There my love ( O ecstasy ! ) awaited, 
 In her eyes the olden magic rapture. 
 On her lips the olden magic laughter. 
 Wide I oped my arms, but, lo, she faded 
 As a vision at the touch of morning ! 
 Then the flood-tide of the years about me 
 Surged . . . once more was I engulfed in sorrow. 
 
14 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 Pitiless and poignant wind of autumn, 
 To thine empty lure I bar my casement, 
 Yet in vain, my heart still hears thee calling 
 Calling .... calling .... 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 15 
 
 NIGHT VOICES 
 I love the varied voices of the Night, 
 Whether they be the obedient slaves of man. 
 Or be of nature's soul interpreters. 
 Day's over-arching amplitudes distract 
 With changing lights ; the subtleties of sound 
 Touch not the inner ear ; but when the blue 
 Purples, or blackens, and the pale stars flow^er. 
 Then every tone rings masterful. The bell. 
 Pealing its resonant clamor from the spire. 
 Peoples my mind with fancies. I grow strong 
 Hearing the pulses of great engines throb. 
 I journey down far pathways when the wind 
 Calls at the casement invitations rude. 
 The rain-beat is my surf upon the shore ; 
 The cricket's chirp my tremulous tettix-note 
 From Argive meadows sloping to the sea ; 
 The night-bird's trill my Syrian nightingale 
 
16 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 In dim Damascus gardens. But no voice 
 Falls from the innumerable lips of Night 
 Like the rapt voice of Silence, bidding man 
 Reach up, responsive to the Infinite. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 17 
 
 AT KENILWORTH 
 When summer's brightest gold was on the grain. 
 One morn we loitered in the court that lies 
 Between the massive, jutting Norman tower 
 And Leicester's toppling tower at Kenilworth. 
 Around the windows of the banquet-hall 
 The ivy wove its emerald festoons ; 
 Within, the wind alone was roisterer. 
 White clouds flung sleepy shadows. A blue dove 
 Perched in a vacant niche. The wild-brier rose. 
 And tufts innumerable of flowering grass. 
 From riven wall and crumbling turret waved, — 
 The casde's only bravery. 
 
 "Turn back,'' 
 We cried, " upon thy course, O Time ! 
 Give us one hour of thy rich-storied past, 
 And people it with such rare pageantry 
 
18 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 As England's Virgin Queen here looked upon ! 
 From resurrected heights let streamers flaunt, 
 And men-at-arms troop by, and mailed knights. 
 And steeds that prance to trumpets pealing loud ! 
 While clear within yon eastern oriel set 
 The lovely, death-o'ershadowed face of her 
 Whose name the wind forever round these 
 
 towers 
 Dirges night-long, howe'er so gay the year ! '' 
 
 In vain, in vain ! — no wizard hand gave heed, 
 Waving a wand, and bidding dead years rise ; 
 But down the breeze low echo-wraiths were 
 
 borne. 
 Vague as the whispers of the poplar leaf 
 What time it silvers 'neath the midnight moon ; 
 And through arched door and ivied window- 
 space 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 19 
 
 And jagged breach, where fell the flood-light 
 
 warm, 
 Thronged shadow-forms that fancy gave the 
 
 guise 
 Of mortals animate. 
 
 Hark ! — was that a bell ? 
 Broad noon, and dreaming, — what an hour for 
 
 dreams ! 
 But who dreams not at haunted Kenilworth ? 
 
20 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 CARDINAL FLOWERS 
 Where melancholy marshes meet and merge 
 In darkling aisleways of luxuriant green, 
 The cardinal flaunts its crimson flame, and 
 
 streaks 
 The emerald glooms. In far, forgotten years, 
 A many-tined monarch of the wood, 
 Pierced by a savage shaft, in death-flight blind 
 Plunged past, and sprinkled the receptive mould 
 With ruddy life-drops. When the year again 
 Kindled with August heats, here burst in bloom 
 These tapering torch-flowers that light autumn 
 
 down 
 The pilgrim path that summer's feet have 
 
 pressed. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 21 
 
 TWO MEN 
 One was a portly man of place, who wore 
 An emerald turban, for his eyes had seen 
 The Kaaba, and his reverent knees had pressed 
 The sacred Mount of Light. Fat flocks were 
 
 his 
 Of sheep and goats upon the grassy hills; 
 And his were packed bazars, — rich webs and 
 
 rare 
 From Bagdad looms, and from far Daghestan ; 
 His lips breathed prayer at each muezzin call ; 
 His hand gave alms upon the public ways ; 
 His neighbors held him sure of Paradise. 
 
 The other was a houseless wanderer, one 
 Who owned nor flocks nor store of fabrics fair. 
 But only the coarse raiment on his back. 
 Never his lips with prayer were prodigal ; 
 
22 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 His hand bestowed small alms, for gold and he 
 Had little fellowship. Yet those who heard 
 The tales he spun, sitting beneath the shade 
 Of drowsing walnuts in the heart of noon, 
 Or in the tent's door, or in fountained court, 
 When evening airs wooed forth the nightingale, 
 Declared some grace from Allah dwelt with him. 
 
 One morn it chanced from opposite highways 
 
 came 
 These twain unto a space before a mosque 
 Wherein a throng had gathered round a man 
 Gaunt-eyed and lean. '' A thief ! '' the shout 
 
 went up ; 
 At this they both approached, and, seeing him 
 Who wore the emerald turban, loudly cried 
 The culprit's captor ; '' Mark, O sir, this knave 
 That pleads for mercy, having stolen but now 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 23 
 
 Three wheaten loaves fresh from the baking. 
 
 Speak, 
 Thou cringing cur, thou art before thy judge ! " 
 Then he that was accused straightway set forth 
 A pity-moving tale of want and woe. 
 " He hath a cunning tongue, '' one listener said. 
 Another, ''Nay, his story bears truth's mint! 
 Why should we deem a coin base counterfeit 
 That rings so fairly ? " And the captor cried, 
 A trifle tempered in his mood of wrath, 
 '' Had I some scanty payment for my loss 
 The man might go. " But stern of voice broke in 
 He that was hailed as judge. '' Shall subtle speech 
 Make mock of justice, though offense be slight ? 
 Too credulous by far are ye, who know 
 That lies and breath on many lips are one. " 
 Thereat a murmur rose, and prison-ward 
 
24 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 The hapless recreant would have swift been 
 
 haled, 
 Had not the wanderer with imperious word 
 Stayed every step. Within his hand he held 
 A tattered purse, and plucking forth therefrom 
 His all, he said to him that lost the loaves, 
 ^' Mercy and justice may be sometimes kin ; 
 Behold thy recompense ! release the man ! " 
 
 Passed the rich judge into the mosque to pray; 
 The wanderer sought the city's distant gate. 
 Brother, which, think you, was the nearer Allah ? 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 25 
 
 CRICKET 
 Cricket, chirring in the autumn twilight, 
 Little kinsman, 
 
 I, like you, the unknown path must follow 
 Into darkness , — 
 One day into darkness. 
 
 Would I might, with your ecstatic buoyance. 
 Fare forth singing ! 
 
26 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 AN ATHENIAN NIGHT 
 You recall our ramble in the moonlight, — 
 In the flood-tide of Athenian moonlight, — 
 Where above us, like a beetling bastion. 
 Like a massy, cyclopean bulwark. 
 The acropolis stood looming darkly ? 
 You recall the night-sounds, — the blithe chorus 
 Of the boon companions of the cafes 
 Sipping the divine Zantean vintage ; 
 The belated note of the cicada. 
 Dreaming still of the hot pulse of sunset ; 
 The low-v^hispering breeze amid the lime-trees. 
 Soft as are the vov^s of loitering lovers 
 Loath to part ? I know that you recall it, — 
 All the golden radiance of the heavens. 
 All the wondrous witchery that engirt us. 
 Every foot of earth tradition-hallowed. 
 Every sound a strophe Sophoclean, 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 27 
 
 Every stone or shard a treasure classic ! 
 Vain are words in voicing such a vision ! 
 Beauty, — 'tis a figment that eludes us ! 
 Yet, ah, yet, that ramble in the moonlight, — 
 In the full flood of Athenian moonlight, — 
 How it ever holds me, ever haunts me ! 
 
28 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 A HARMONY 
 All of the waves were a blending of azure and 
 
 beryl ; 
 All of the heaven was turquoise from sea-rim 
 
 to zenith ; 
 Just the faint fleck of a cloud o'er the westerly 
 
 pine-tops ; 
 Glinted the gold of the sun on the wing of an 
 
 osprey, — 
 On the white throat of an osprey. The deli- 
 cate glamour 
 Brought you to mind, and I brooded on how it 
 
 would touch you, 
 Thrill you, — the harmony wrought out of 
 
 morning's impalpable beauty. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 29 
 
 AN EDINBURGH TWILIGHT 
 The west was veined with amethyst. The 
 
 towers, 
 The grim gray towers that pierced the chill 
 
 gray air, 
 Throbbed on a sudden with a pulse of bells 
 That underneath a kindlier apse of heaven 
 Had seemed miraculous with melody 
 Serene and silvery ; but now their tongues 
 Smote cold and melancholy, as is the chime 
 At midnight from a headland where the sea 
 Surges with broken sobbings. Through the 
 
 peal, 
 In mirthful treble from the thronged park. 
 Sounded the children's voices as they played, — 
 The voices of the children of the poor. 
 Seeing them roll and romp upon the grass 
 Around the fountain, flinging bursts of shout 
 
30 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 As buoyant as the opal jets of mist 
 Tossed feathery from a score of gushing mouths. 
 Heavy upon the boding heart there fell 
 The irrevocable sadness of the years, 
 The pathos of the ever-hasting days. 
 Not bigger v^ith the burden of their gloom 
 Were the bleak, bristling bastions high above, — 
 The castle with its memories of red wars, — 
 Than the on-coming, over-frowning years. 
 Joy hung its transient halo round the heads 
 Of those that frolicked. Haply one of them. 
 Scaling the iron bounds of circumstance. 
 Would win the walled rose-gardens of the rich ; 
 But, ah, the others ! To their bed of birth 
 No gracious fairy came with happy gifts. 
 But that grim trinity. Toil, Want and Woe, 
 Who bore for guerdon, - — anguish of the flesh 
 And spirit-numbing travail of the soul, 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 31 
 
 With but a tiny candle-flame of love 
 
 To light the vista to the darkening end. 
 
 And even this to many an one denied. 
 
 Up through the deepening violet of the dusk 
 
 Still rang the childish voices. 
 
 To the ear 
 Of one intent upon the volumed sound 
 Of grand orchestral music, from the mesh 
 Of chords harmonious will sometimes leap 
 A single strain, and thrill the being's core. 
 And burn the brain like fire, or soothe like 
 
 prayer. 
 So from the blended mirth-shouts soared a note 
 That distance, or the foolish, freaksome wind, 
 Warped to a plaint of such tense misery 
 That tearful fancy fitted it to words. 
 Thus did it seem from out the mouths of babes, 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 Unguessing yet the heirdom of their birth. 
 This supplication quavered up to God, — 
 "" O pity Thou the children of the poor! " 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 33 
 
 A MOSLEM ROSARY 
 From a slim-boled tree 
 ( Fragrant sandalwood ) 
 Were these polished beads 
 Deftly wrought. 
 
 Some swart Mussulman 
 Told them o'er and o'er 
 Ere through chance they knew 
 Alien hands. 
 
 What his lifted prayers ? 
 Doubtless much as ours ; — 
 Spare us and protect 
 And forgive ! 
 
34 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 Who or how or where, — 
 Sooth, what matters it. 
 If the thought rise pure 
 From the heart ! 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 35 
 
 ABU ABAS 
 Poor Abu Abas trod the thorns of earth 
 From birth to death, and never plucked the rose. 
 When he passed out on paracUsal paths 
 Men hailed him saint, for from his holy lips 
 Had praise unfaltering fallen, and no boon 
 From Allah had he craved. 
 
 ^ Pilgrim, if thou. 
 Beside the rain-worn granite of his tomb, 
 Shouldst lift thy voice in reverential prayer, 
 Fear not to ask thy heart's most dear desire ! 
 For Abu Abas' sake w^ill Allah hear. 
 
36 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 VALENTINE AND ASTERIUS 
 High on his throne the laureled Caesar sat, 
 Knitting his brows, and muttering under breath, 
 ^^ I must not hearken further lest I yield, 
 And join my voice in worship with this man. 
 And be the jest of every banquet board. 
 And know my name is bandied at the baths, 
 * The emperor bows to Christ ! ' That mock- 
 ing sound 
 Would bear too keen a sting. It must not be. '^ 
 He raised an arm wherefrom the purple robe 
 Falling revealed a disc of hammered gold. 
 Where one sunk ruby shot a sunset ray. 
 A guard approached ; his face was like a mask 
 Whereon there shone no breathing sign of 
 
 aught 
 Save dumb obedience. ^^ Thy charge, '' said he 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 37 
 
 Who held all Rome within his hollow palm 
 As so much water to be spilled at will, 
 ^^ Unto the righteous judge, Asterius, goes; 
 His it shall be to chasten. ^' From the place 
 The prisoner passed, and, lo, a sudden cloud 
 Obscured the sun ! 
 
 Before the justest man 
 That meted out the ancient laws of Rome 
 Stood Valentinus, and upraised his voice 
 In fearless praises of the Son of God. 
 ^^Hear thou, O judge,'' this dauntless Christian 
 
 cried, 
 " He whom I worship is the living Light, 
 Dispelling darkness, scattering the shades 
 Of doubt and error, bringing radiance 
 To those that sit in shadow ! " 
 
38 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 '' Say'st thou so, '' 
 Asterius asked, ^^ and in the face of death ? '' 
 ^^ Aye, '' quoth the intrepid one, " and had this 
 
 trunk 
 Thrice three necks for thy headsman still my 
 
 tongue 
 Should cry, as each was severed, hailing Him 
 Who bled on Golgotha the living Light ! " 
 When meet two valiant, trial-tested men, 
 Knowing true bravery for more than breath, — 
 For more than words tossed, wisp-like, on the 
 
 wind, — 
 Though lips be dumb each owns the other kin. 
 Asterius was moved ; such fixed faith 
 Eclipsed the pole-star. Could the elder gods. 
 Supreme on far Olympus, fire the soul 
 With such divine devotion ? Nay, not they ! 
 An eager thought had birth within the brain 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 39 
 
 Of him, the wisest, justest judge in Rome ; 
 For in his home there bode a foster child, 
 A loving little maid, whose dark, deep eyes 
 Had never looked with fondness on a flower. 
 Nor any beauty of the glad green earth. 
 Nor any glory of the changeful sky. 
 This Light, this living Light! Might not a 
 
 beam 
 Shatter the gloom that shrouded her young life ? 
 A word was spoken and the maiden brought ; 
 Then turned he on the prisoner : 
 
 ^^ Thou hast said, 
 O Christian, that thy Christ sheds living light. 
 If on the veiled eyes of this dear child 
 He will let fall an earth-revealing ray, 
 Then shalt thou call me brother, for thy Christ 
 Shall be forevermore both thine and mine ! '^ 
 
40 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 One hand toward heaven did Valentinus lift, 
 And with the other touched the trembling lids 
 Of her whose night had never known a dawn, 
 While like an inspiration soared his prayer. 
 Then — saith the legend — was the shadow rent. 
 And on his knees the justest judge in Rome 
 Fell, with a sob of joy, confessing Christ. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 41 
 
 THE ROSE OF HELL 
 Through the potence of the earth-creator. 
 By the crater of a grim volcano, 
 Braving fire and ashen avalanches, 
 Springs a blossom. 
 
 Pallid are its petals, sapless, scentless ; 
 Yet 'tis haunted by the spell of beauty ; 
 Rose of Hell, through some incongruous fancy 
 Men have named it. 
 
 What the lesson of this strange fruition. 
 Born of seeming death and desolation. 
 Save that Loveliness — the rose — should hallow 
 All life's pathv^ays ! 
 
42 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 A SPRING AFTERNOON 
 We sat above the swiftly-winding Wye 
 And looked on Tintern. Slender hyacinths 
 Around us swayed their peerless purple bells ; 
 Soft set in emerald showed the wild-plum 
 
 bloom ; 
 Young birch leaves silvered round embattled 
 
 crags, 
 And skies were flawless. Perfume-laden airs 
 Blew drowsily, and, as the golden day 
 Waned, and the sallow visage of the moon 
 Peered from the deepening sapphire, arch on arch 
 The abbey grew in grandeur. Radiant rays 
 Illumed the nave, and paved the cloister walks ; 
 The vacant windows flamed with sunset fires 
 In transitory splendor. Girt by peace, — 
 The peace that broods o'er vernal Monmouth- 
 shire, — 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 43 
 
 We lingered till the timid nightingales 
 Took up their burden on the edge of eve ; 
 Then, garland-laden, loath we loitered down. 
 Through silent dew-fall and fast-purpling dusk. 
 
44 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 THE ANCHORITE 
 
 [ According to Cheshire tradition, the last Saxon king of England, Harold, did not die on the 
 field of Hastings, but lived to a green old age at Chester in an anchorite's cell, revealing his 
 identity only on his death-bed. ] 
 
 A cell in Chester^ A man clad like a hermit lying upon a cot. 
 A confessor. The former speaks, 
 
 I, father, am that king that men deem dead, 
 Harold the Saxon. All these dragging years. 
 Since round me fell on Hastings' fatal field 
 (Where Norman arrows rained like blighting 
 
 hail) 
 Kinsmen and liegemen, in this narrow cell 
 Have I in solemn meditation dwelt. 
 After the magic healment of my wound. 
 Compassed by one who wore a palmer's weeds, 
 Hither I came. My guide was he who 
 
 wrought 
 The wondrous cure. To him and him alone 
 Was I the king. To others what I seemed 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 45 
 
 I was, — forsooth, a holy anchorite, 
 One bent on heavenly things, to earth forsworn. 
 My grave preserver, a mysterious man. 
 Learned in strange lore, blest with the gift of 
 
 tongues, 
 Passed from my presence here, and ne'er again 
 From that dim hour have I beheld his face. 
 But this I know, — if still his footsteps fall 
 On mortal paths, no secret-spreading word 
 Of me has dropped, nor will, from off his lips. 
 'Tis better so. I that am quick am dead. 
 To all intent, beneath six feet of clay 
 My form that soon shall rest already lies. 
 I felt the struggle vain from that first hour 
 When, raven-like, the bodeful tidings came 
 That Norman William's vessels were a-wing. 
 High-fallen from power, I had no heart to scale 
 Again the dizzy heights of eminence. 
 
46 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 No weal my resurrection could have wrought. 
 But added woe, else had I leaped to life. 
 Here have I let the surging tides of men 
 Sweep past me, working such smaU deeds of 
 
 good 
 As opportunity has made possible. 
 My conqueror's sudden ending have I known 
 And gloried not therein, for bitterness. 
 Fed by regret, dwells not within my heart. 
 'Tis true I would the heavy hand of power 
 Lay lighter on the poor, and when the years 
 Have many times re-circled, this may be. 
 Now must I meet that hoUow-visaged one 
 Who unto most men shows but once his face. 
 Yet twice to me. Upon the clouds of war 
 Before he rode, a demon terrible ; 
 Now comes he softiy, girt about with peace, 
 A welcome guest. 
 
/ Blank Verse Pastels 47 
 
 Place thou within my hands 
 Thy sacred crucifix, and fling apart 
 Yon shrouded casement, that day's golden 
 
 beams 
 May light my pathway unto Paradise. 
 
48 
 
 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 A SEA SHELL 
 It has been given unto me to know 
 The secrets of the sea, — its multiform 
 Magic and mystery. Though I may not reach 
 The clear, communicable speech of man, 
 Unfoldings fathomless have I to tell 
 Of things miraculous, and still must strive 
 To break the spell that girds me. Hence do I 
 Make ceaseless murmur, and could one translate 
 My inarticulate voice, his lips w^ould hold 
 The vrorld-old revelations of the sea. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 49 
 
 A GEODE 
 You see this ugly cincture of dull stone ? — 
 This strange globe-shapen something grimed 
 
 and scarred ? 
 Smite it asunder, and you will behold 
 Irradiant beauty. 
 
 It is duty's type, 
 Showing a gnarled shell ! yet pierce its heart. 
 And lo, what diamond lustres emanate ! 
 
50 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 THE HOUSE AT HEBRON 
 As in dusty desert guise I wandered 
 Through the ancient tortuous lanes of Hebron, 
 From the dimness of an open doorway 
 Rose and fell a rune of eerie wailing, 
 Merging with the cry of the muezzin 
 Summoning the faithful from the mosque-tower. 
 From the tower above the tomb of Joseph. 
 Near the doorway stood a tattered dervish. 
 Leaning on his staff of knotted olive. 
 Pondering, methought, some puzzling problem. 
 Gravely giving him a salutation, — 
 " Brother, with you be the peace of Allah ! 
 Read,'' I begged, "the rune that seems your 
 
 riddle!'' 
 "Aye," cried he, — "why Death, the gaunt 
 
 black camel. 
 One day kneels at every pilgrim's doorway ! " 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 51 
 
 A LUTE SPEAKS 
 Though you may winnow by your tender touch 
 Rich meed of harmony from my taut strings, 
 *Tis not love's highest rapture such as bides 
 Within my heart, there waiting yearningly 
 The rhythmic birth-hour. But let her slim hand, 
 ( She who is Beauty's bright embodiment ) 
 Light as a bird's wing float from fret to fret, 
 And spheric melody shall know a voice. 
 Do not your soul-chords passionately respond 
 To the caressing radiance of her eyes ? 
 Think, then, how mine would vibrate could 
 
 her clasp 
 A moment fold me ! All the gamut's range, 
 Consuming blisses and despairs divine 
 Would throb and thrill along the entranced air, 
 And swoon in very ecstasy. 
 
52 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 OUT OF THE HEART OF WINTER 
 Out of the heart of winter hear my cry, 
 O vernal goddess of the violet eyes ! 
 Loosen a little these frost-forged bonds 
 With hope's warm sunlight, so that I may bear, 
 Soul-steadfast, the succession of the days 
 Until thy coming ! Would that now thy feet, 
 Sandaled with green, pressed soft upon the hills ! 
 Would that the low persuasion of thy voice 
 Were winning back the leaf upon the bough, 
 And the shy, sweet forerunners of the rose ! 
 Hark, the wind-spirits of the gracious South 
 Across the solemn snow-leagues bring me 
 
 word ! — 
 ^^ O Spring's most constant lover, '^ they entreat, 
 " Forsake thou not her altars, for the hour 
 That shall reveal her glory wings apace, 
 A boon, a blessing, a beatitude ! " 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 53 
 
 Thus speak her herald-harbingers, and I, 
 Who ever am enamored of the Spring, 
 Possess my soul in peace, and wait for her. 
 
54 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 THE MAPLE 
 Wandering down a slope of windless woodland^ 
 In the hot and hazy heart of August, 
 On my vision burst a scarlet maple. 
 Like a torch it lit the forest twilight, 
 Flamed and glowed as does a matchless ruby 
 Deeply set within an emerald circlet. 
 All the sounds and scents were those of 
 
 summer, — 
 Cricket chirr and rasp of the cicada. 
 Wood-balm attar and the dry aroma 
 Sun-distilled from out the boughs of balsams, — 
 Yet behold this lambent sign, this token 
 Of the nearing footfalls of the autumn ! 
 Out of waning and decay this marvel ! 
 Miracle were scarce too much to call it, — 
 Radiant beauty born of dissolution ! 
 As we journey toward life's days autumnal. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 55 
 
 For a stay unto the soul, — a solace, — 
 Hope's low whispering to ear of mortals 
 Echoes, — ^^ Beauty born of dissolution ! " 
 
56 
 
 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 BY ELISHA'S FOUNTAIN 
 O my desert brother, 
 O my comrade Musil, 
 Does your heart remember 
 That enamored twilight 
 By Elisha's Fountain ? 
 How the moon o'er Moab 
 To the song of bulbuls 
 Rose, a targe of amber 
 Wrought by djinn or genii ? 
 How from out the thicket, — 
 Laurel, thorn and ilex, — 
 Glided forth the dancers, 
 Bedouin men and maidens ? 
 How a chant impassioned 
 Swelled from blended voices. 
 While a one-stringed viol 
 And a drum of goat's hide 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 57 
 
 Made barbaric music ? 
 Then the dizzy measure 
 Of the lissome dancers ! — 
 How they threaded through it, 
 Glided, crouched and bounded. 
 Spun, advanced, retreated, 
 Tossing fold and streamer, — 
 Phantasmal, fantastic ! 
 'Twas as though Aladdin 
 Out of space abysmal 
 Sudden had evoked them. 
 And as sudden bade them 
 In the void to vanish. 
 There where they had footed, — 
 Swirl of gauze and shimmer 
 Of curved blades uplifted, — 
 Naught now save the bulbul 
 Severing the silence 
 
58 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 With his golden cadence, 
 And the moon o'er Moab ! 
 (Ah, the moon o'er Moab ! ) 
 
 O my desert brother, 
 O my comrade Musil, 
 Does your heart remember ? 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 59 
 
 MOODS OF THE MARSHES 
 MORNING 
 
 A sudden splendor of ethereal gold 
 Transmuting every swaying beryl reed 
 Into a lance of amber, changing pools 
 Of delicate chrysolite to topaz deep 
 As the sun's heart, and the horizon line 
 Into a palpitating mist of fire. 
 
 NOON 
 
 A swoon of burnt-out blue, and the dry drone 
 Of insect violins innumerous, keyed 
 To tense staccato ; orient fragrances, 
 Cloying as musk, lulling as poppied dreams 
 Of Shiraz garden-closes lush with bloom. 
 
60 
 
 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 EVENING 
 
 Purples and amethysts and violets, 
 And streaks of hyacinth and flecks of mauve ; 
 The swoop of swallow wings, and the pale moth 
 Poised o'er the gem-like chalice of a flower, 
 A-thirst for its first honey-draught of dusk. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 61 
 
 AGATHA 
 Upon the morning when the Seamew sailed 
 ( The vast void vault like lapis-lazuli ) 
 She climbed Hope Headland, and there watched 
 
 the ship 
 Unfold its wide white wings to catch the wind. 
 Her stalwart lover from the fading deck 
 Flung back his fond farewells till distance made 
 His form a waving manikin, — then naught ; 
 And she beheld the green arms of the sea 
 Enfold the craft that bore him, and the waste 
 Was as a field unfurrowed by a plow. 
 'Twas spring at earliest flush ; arbutus buds 
 Showed virginal between the dead oak leaves 
 Along the inland wood-ways. Morn by morn 
 She scaled the narrow path, and let her gaze 
 Sweep o'er the empty reaches of the brine 
 Until the violet, rose and foxglove flower 
 
62 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 In turn had faded, and the yellowed year 
 Grew miserly of its fast-slipping gold. 
 Then the mad master of the Hounds of Storm 
 Let slip from leash his pack, and though they 
 
 mouthed 
 Insistent their loud menace in her ears, 
 Hope lured her to its Headland. Then a day. 
 When the white arctic welter whelmed the 
 
 world, 
 Dawned like a pallid dream ; the hours dragged on 
 In moaning travail, but, ere dusk, a lull 
 Lay on the blurred blank ridges of the land. 
 ^^ You will not go ? " they softly plead, but she, — 
 ^' I must be there to greet him if he comes ; 
 I promised." And nor lifted hand nor voice 
 Restrained her, for there shone upon her face 
 Resolve, as radiant as a halo hung 
 Round a madonna's head. 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 63 
 
 As toward the crest 
 She toiled (Hope Headland grim above the 
 
 main ), 
 She heard the sound as of a myriad tongues 
 In simultaneous clamor, seemed to feel 
 The shock of sledges multitudinous 
 Smiting the ribbed foundations of the rock. 
 And as her eyes through blown spindrift and 
 
 spume 
 Pierced the abyss, lo, what was once a barque 
 Deep-wallowing in the trough ! A titan surge 
 Lifted the shattered hulk, and hurled it sheer 
 From out the seething element, and she saw 
 One last lone figure lashed upon a spar. 
 And knew the livid face. 
 
 They found her there 
 In the gray twilight watches, her pale lips 
 Forever sealed by silence. With the dawn 
 
64 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 The yawning maw of the insatiate sea 
 
 Gave up its prey. 'Tis Hope Headland no more. 
 
 Nay, but the Hill of Heartbreak ! 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 65 
 
 DAISIES 
 Ox-eyed daisies in the grass, 
 How the fond wind wooes them ! 
 Do you wonder. 
 Do you marvel 
 ( Ah, the bonnie bevy ! ) 
 That he plays the lover ? 
 
 Ox-eyed daisies in the grass 
 Sway and nod in answer ; 
 Were not maidens 
 Lipped with laughter, 
 ( Ah, the brood beguiling ! ) 
 An' it did not please them. 
 
66 Blank Verse Pastels 
 
 Ox-eyed daisies in the grass, 
 Fie, the bold coquetting ! 
 'Tis the sunlight, — 
 Passionate sunlight, — 
 They are pledged and vowed to. 
 All the golden sweetings ! 
 
Blank Verse Pastels 67 
 
 AT ROXMOR 
 We saw the shadows deepen round the Dome 
 In majesty of purple ; not a sail 
 Voyaged o'er the vault, but one cloud-galleon, 
 Moored in the golden harbors of the west, 
 Flushed like the parted petals of a rose. 
 From slope to slope, at mellow intervals, 
 Floated the tenuous flute-note of the thrush ; 
 Out of the hpllow haunts of Panther Kill 
 Hooted an owl, until o'er Wittenburg, 
 Grim monarch of the mountains, a lone star 
 Burned, a fire-opal on the breast of Night. 
 
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