LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, ^°S3//f — gijap Cnpnrigfii ^a Shelf ...:Jf..S7 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. r* >* vvvv V v( \*iXX J$ * 4M y FROM HEART TO HEART. FROM HEART TO HEART. / BY KATE VANNAH, AUTHOR OF "VERSES." There are four or Jive who hi passing this place While they live will name me yet ; And when I am gone will think on my face, And feel a kind of regret. Jean Ingelow. WI TH FOR TRAIT. / EOST( J. G. CUPPLES COMPANY, 250 Boylston Street. A 37 Copyright, 1893. Bv Kate Vannah. All rights reserved. Dedicated to CHARLOTTE FREDRIKA KENNAN. How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use ? A hope, to sing by gladly ? or a fine, Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse ? A shade, in which to sing — of palm, or pine ? A grave, on which to rest from singing ? Choose. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. CONTENTS Sonnet? . Fame Betrothed First Love Last Love By the Sea Compensated Hurt Ox the Chasm's Brink A Jacqueminot With Thee Again . In a Cathedral PAGE. I ■ 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1 1 12 !3 VI CONTENTS. Wedded Helen Hunt Jackson, Harriet Beecher Stowe, A Snowless December Day ai 1 the North Good Friday . • Reconciled • Fronting Eternity • " The Third the Charm is " . Wedded Lovers . Love's Miracle . In the Lonely Night • His Confession • Looking Back . PAGE. 15 l6 18 J 9 20 21 22 23 24 2 5 26 27 28 29 3° 31 3* CONTEXTS. vu Full Recognition A Flower's Name To George Eliot Forbidding A Letter Which ? . Your Birthday Night by the Sea Pawns : A Ring An Opera-Cloak A Little Letter Sonnet Sonnet forgiyeness Estranged A June Day in Xoyember With Violets A Lament After A White Rose 34 55 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 *5 46 47 49 5 2 56 53 viii CONTENTS. PAGE. Good-By • . 60 Her Last Wish • . 62 Sympathy . . . 67 Disappointment • • 69 A Lullaby . • 71 Song • 72 My Lovers • . 74 Her Expiation • • 77 Waste • . . 78 A Prayer • • 79 Compensation • . 80 In Meditation • . . 82 The Looking-Gl. ASSES . ■ • 83 To Thee • • < • . . 84 Her Voice • • • a . 86 Reyond Reach . • . . 87 An Invalid . • • . 88 A Modern Philosopher . . 89 Indian Summer • • . 90 Quatrains . . • 9 2 CONTENTS. IX The Surface and the Depths u Once, and Only Once, and for One Only *' Inspiration ...-••• A Man's Last Cry from the Verge Le Printemps Pleading Prescience At the End of Exile Heart's Own . Repletion Relinquishment Too Late Good-Night l'AC.E. 9 + 95 95 96 98 99 100 1 ci 102 104 i°5 106 107 FROM H EART TO HEART. SOXXETS. i. " Can I make white enough my thought for thee, Or wash mv words in liarht ? "' Love, lower thine eves. Thev are too reverent. Sink Me to the lowest level thou can'st find In thy deep nature. That will seem more kind To both. Some day thou'lt thank me. Learn to think Of me a beggar, fit not e'en to drink The love upon thy lips. Thou art so blind To his unworthiness whom thou dost bind Each hour closer by some golden link Forged in thy woman's nature. Rather learn To look down on me as in babyhood 1 SONNETS. My mother looked upon me ; all a-yearn, And prayerful that I might grow noble, good. Sometimes e'en she, whose body and soul gave strength to me, Now leans on him whose steps she watched so tremu- lously. (*) II. FAME. R. B. and E. B. B. " There dwelt he happy ; there that minstrel queen. Who shared his poet crown, but gladdened more To hold, unshared, her poet's manly heart." Aubrey De Vere. My heart's Beloved ! To-night they talked of Fame. One cried, with gaze on me — " Say what it means ; For when thou singest a whole world loving leans To list thy heart's pulse in thy verse. No blame Can touch thee now. Who would not change the name Of king for thine ? " I was 'mid quiet scenes Alone with thee, from whom my man's heart gleans Perpetual inspiration. O'er me came A sudden shyness 'neath their waiting eyes, And I was dumb. I have come home — to thee. I kneel beside thy couch while my soul cries For gladness to be here : " Enough for me That one heart for my coming ever longs, That one low, tender voice sings my poor song (3) III. BETROTHED. " This new joy — half pain." I bear my dear joy with unquiet heart In these first hours, Beloved. Give me space To still these leaping pulses — hide my face Until my lips be firmer. How I start And flush from hand to brow, and swiftly dart A frightened glance around, if from thy place Thou look'st my way, or, with that flexile grace None other hath, thou risest to depart, To leave me lonelier in a crowded room Than hunted exile 'mid the forest's gloom. It is too soon to realize thou art mine — Though I so long, Beloved, have been thine. Last night an envied rose lay on thy breast Where soon, so soon, my happy head may rest. (4) IV. FIRST LOVE. " For God in cursing gives us better gifts Than men in benediction." Aurora Leigh. A human friend was granted unto me, And I, bewildered by my sweet, strange love, With eyes on earth, forgot that from above My blessing came. Blinded, I would not see God's image in my friend. Each came to be The other's god. Nor future, nor the past We heeded. We forgot that death came last. Men call this Love : 'tis but idolatry. My lover looked within my eyes and swore, " Xo power on earth, nor yet in heaven should take My love from him. If I at first the shore Of dread eternity should gain, he'd break God's law, and take his life to share my fate." One heard, Who mercifully changed our love to hate. (5) V. LAST LOVE. -' I take you, and thank God ! " R. B. Lo ! here I stand all trembling and dismayed Within the still, sweet garden of thy heart. O Love ! all is so white, I feel afraid To stir, or speak, or breathe. Xo more to part In life or death. ... I dare to lift my eyes, And feast them on the fragrant flowers here. Pure as thou art, within me wakes surprise That in this hour immortal should appear Xo vivid blooms ; though blushes come and go Upon thy face, — while, 'neath thy half-closed lids, Flash changing lights, — the red lips tremble so ; Fain thou would'st speak, yet sweet confusion bids Thy voice be silent. . . God ! this is the goal Next heaven. Let me not cast Sin's shadow o'er this soul. (6) VI. BY THE SEA. Last year I knew naught of thee save thy name, Of love my life seemed full as it could hold. Not by one word of warning was I told Thy royal advent. Life's face looked the same As it had looked for years, when swift there came Her King. Cor Cordium ! how was I to know A rich red rose would leap forth from the snow- To startle, and to blind me with the flame Of its wild beauty ? See, the white gull dips Her breast unto the ocean's murmuring lips ; And see upon its bosom the great ships : They only know the surface of the sea Not dreaming of its depths. Love, none knew me- I did not know myself 'till I loved thee. (7) VII. COMPENSATED. Were God to strike me blind until the day My lids unclose to show my trembling soul Beneath His Eyes — Beloved, I would say : " I was content to stumble to the goal Through darkened years, once having seen a face That glowed, a lamp eternal, at the end Of Life's dark corridor." With a like grace, Submissive to His will, so would I bend My soul in mute acceptance should I miss All sense of sound, once having heard a voice That fed my spirit's hearing with a bliss Perpetual : e'en as the shells rejoice, Leagues inland borne, to murmur of the sea Whose voice lives in their depths eternally. (8) VIII. HURT. Dear God ! The friend whom I love best, to-day — (The best of all), such cruel words did say That I at first felt all benumbed — then sore, — Then hopeless grew my heart lest nevermore Its pain should cease. Our day had just begun. The earth laughed in Thy light, — when swift, the sun Did fail to warm me. Oh ! When I am dead Will death be colder than the words he said In bitterness, in scorn, e'en unbelief Of me who loved him ? Stricken mute by Grief I stole away. No eyes have seen my face Till now. I'm kneeling here to beg the grace Of penitence for sins that give Thee pain Like this. Christ, let me wound Thee ne'er again ! (9) IX. ON THE CHASM'S BRINK. I lie along this rocky bed, and peer Into the chasm deep where waters rush And rage with hungry roar which God could hush With just a thought. I cannot even hear Thy matchless voice, for all thou art so near ; Yet I may have thine eyes, and the soft touch Of thy firm hands that mean to me as much As others' speech. And in thine eyes so clear E'en is enough to satisfy my sight. Some one has leaped across to that smooth stone Out there — mid-torrent, — scornful he of fright — To carve upon its face his name alone : Dost thou remember, Love, my daring leap To write upon thy heart one name so deep ? (10) X. A JACQUEMINOT. I single from rich clusters one great rose And give it one long kiss. A thing more fair In all the world there is not save the rare Rose in thy bosom beating ! See, it grows Impatient for thine eyes although it knows With what a dangerous rival 't must compare. Its petals part, its fragrant heart lies bare To die in rapture on thine own held close. I kiss it now. The pleasance and the pain, The ecstasy thy love hath brought to me ; The hunger for thy heart to rest again On mine through time — yea — through Eternity. The loneliness of life because I miss Thee, Love — are all concentred in this kiss. XI. WITH THEE AGAIX. " The silence of life more pathetic than death's ! " E. B. B. Was it then Pride that all this lonely year Did hold my lips from any speech with thee ? And was it Pride that would not let me see That face that I so loved, nor let me hear Thy voice that last fell coldly on mine ear? (This memory alone is agony). Love had so often made me bend my knee When blameless for thy pardon ; that a fear Which seemed to melt my courage all away, Did seize and haunt me, lest thou should'st one day Lose thy respect for one less strong than thee. So, Dear, we parted. We ! and cruelly. Now do I know 'twas Pride did make me wait. Not blameless, once again, Dear Heart, I kneel — too late. (12) XII. IN A CATHEDRAL. To-night, at sunset hour, I stole away, And wandered to the vast Cathedral's door, Entering which, I thought : The soiled hand of the poor, E'en as the hand of proud patrician, may Swing the great doors. Here all may come to pray. The beggar's naked feet may tread the floor By jeweled robes of king or queen swept o'er. Believers, doubters, outcasts — murderers — lay Their souls' most deadly secrets open here Behind those crimson folds, and know not fear. Under the lamp a beggar knelt in prayer. The sinking sun looked through a window rare, And painted rags in colors of royalty : E'en so thy great love glorifieth me ! (■3) XIII. "WEDDED." (By Sir Frederic Leighton.) Counting the world for love well lost, apart From every soul they stand. Heart known to heart, As yet they feel no need to speak one word. Onlv the great Sea's solemn voice is heard In war eternal with those massive walls. Adown her lifted face the sunlight falls — Less blinding than the light in his dear eyes She so doth love ; that with delight, surprise, And joy too keen, her lover, leonine, Shivers to think, " till death — yea ! after — mine." His eyes are closed. Her left hand's finger-tips Are reverently pressed against his lips That move at last. And see ! the woman's life Stands still to listen while he breathes, " My wife ! " (14) XIV. HELEN HUNT JACKSON, HARRIET BEECHER STOWE, AND JULIA WARD HOWE. One in her lonely mountain-grave lies sleeping Where silvery waters lausjh through all the vear, As if in joyaunce ever to sing near Her who so loved them while her soul was weeping O'er wrongs whose righting God gave to her keeping. Another, with a heart that knew not fear, Dealt Slavery's chain a blow so loud and clear, That millions heard its music with hearts leaping : As millions bless the day she saw the light, So millions must lament her when she dies The third but lifts her gentle voice, and hies The thinking world to wonder at the might Of masculine mind close-wed to woman's heart. She has her throne above our womankind — apart. 1885. (15) XV. A SNOWLESS DECEMBER DAY AT THE NORTH. Enchanted, here I linger on the hill, And look across the river at my feet. The king o' the White Heart hath deemed it meet Not to assume his ermine robes until He bids farewell to Autumn, to him still A queen, though crownless ! He would fain entreat One smile ere burying her in snow and sleet. His captive late so fair, he grieves to kill. Down in the glen I see a bit of green — A fern that would be leal unto the queen. Winter meant well, I doubt not, when he blew Last night one freezing breath across the river, And made a mirror, clear, for her to view Her faded face — no worse blow could he give her ! (16) XVI. GOOD FRIDAY. (3 °" c ) Christ ! see me. hear me in this awful hour ! Face-down, upon the altar steps I lie. The lamp is out, no living creature nigh. Soul-sick at being so long within the power Of Sin ; I leap from his embrace to cower Here, at Thv wounded feet. Oh ! hear my cry — " In this, the hour Thou'st died, let me, too, die ! " Perfect repentance, only, is my dower. Tired of trying to gain omniscience over Poor human hearts that chancre from dav to dav : Sick of the fickle worldling for a lover — Here, at Thv feet, forever let me stav. Let my great love like healing ointment cover Thy wounds from which my eyes no more shall stray. .'7) ' XVII. RECONCILED. In no more fitting place could we have met, At no more fitting time, a wailing night. We. who for years have shunned each other's sight, Who strove to bury Love beyond Regret, Who begged of God the power to forget Each other's eyes, voice, lips ; — who did so blight And bruise each other's hearts with all Pride's might. Just the dead body of our friend — warm yet — Divides us. . . We could feel each other's breath Should one lean low to scan the patient face Of her who pleaded so before her death For us to be at peace. . . . See, Love ! I place My hand near yours You clasp, and hold it fast ! Such tears as wet her dead face drown our past. (iS) XVIII. TWICE PARTED. " And thou, clock, striking the hour's pulses on, Chime in the day that ends these parting days ! " E. B. B. Once, in the storm, we said good-bye. I stayed And watched you sail beneath a sullen sky. Quivering with pain, I moaned : " Beloved, good-bye ! " You could not hear, but you looked long, and laid Your hands against your lips and heart. Afraid I only was whilst parted you might die, And not beside me in the same grave lie. But God returned you. . . . Not to me. You strayed Since then beyond my reach while yet in sight. With eyes upon my face you see me not. Oh ! had you sunk into the sea that night — Then ! when you loved me, ere you had forgot — Then ! when of all God's world you loved but me, Widowed my life — your love mine for Eternity ! (19) XIX. PRESENTIMENT. " Oh, clasp we to our hearts for deathless dower, This close-companioned, inarticulate hour ! " Dante Rossetti. Hold close my trembling hands against thy heart Oh, thou, my Life ! whom yearning did compel To come again in thrilling voice to tell So much of love as poor words may impart. And 'gainst mine lay thy face. Until we part Let me be near thee. Speak or silent be. The love of my whole waiting life to thee I give — and would give more. Quick tears do start 'Mid rapture, e'en to think how cruelly brief Is bliss like this — how long the after grief. A half year since, that nest now filled with snow Brimmed o'er with love and music. This will go — ■ Our wondrous moment. Close enfold thou me — When nests are warm again one heart may frozen be. (20) XX. FRONTING ETERNITY. " How could I let thee stray Into the vale of death, thy torch unlit, And mine ablaze that might have kindled it ? Oh, what befell thee on that fearsome way ? And oh, what greeting would be thine to me Could thy voice reach me from eternity ? " K. E. C. Oxe whispers : " He will die now, soon." Straightway My whole life's volume meets my dying gaze — Just for an instant — ere flesh turns to clay. Across one page a blinding white light plays To show me where I grievously did sin Against a woman's soul, as white and pure As lilies in God's garden. I to win Her heart was not content, and I did lure Her soul away from Thee, my God ! from Thee. Long years ago that soul went to receive Its final judgment. Does she now for me Forgiveness plead ? Was she denied reprieve — She who repented so ? Is she in heaven ? What if at last, through her, I be forgiven ! (2!) XXI. " THE THIRD THE CHARM IS." The first day that your letter failed me, Dear, I felt surprise, yet said, " She's occupied, And, save sweet thoughts, could spare me naught bes'ide ; To-morrow morn her letter will be here. " Morn came, no letter bringing, then a fear And — yes — a tear ; yet still I bravely tried To look at least as though you had not died ! But all that day my eyes were not quite clear Another day, the third. " Now surely she My anxious heart will pacify to-day, And in her tender letter I shall see Regret for this unusual delay." But no. I knelt and prayed, oppressed by fear, And, rising from my knees, beheld you — here ! (22) XXII. WEDDED LOVERS. " When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed, And love called love." Five years to-night, my Life's Own, since thy face My glad eyes found, to love as soon as seen. But briefly 'tween our spirits stood that screen We raise to hide from stranger eves all trace Of what most sacred is within that place Close-sentineled from curious eyes and keen : The soul's still sanctuary, — oft closed e'en To those whose presence lends a tender grace Unto our daily lives. I heard thy voice, And trembled to its diapason tone. Like very children how did we rejoice That first day that we fled the world, alone. The joy, ineffable, comes back to me I felt when thy dear lips met mine so tenderly. (23) XXIII. DEVOTION. Thou who art far from me, Beloved, hear My deepest thought. I wish that it might be That thou could'st open wide my heart and see In one immortal glance, swift, deep, and clear, How I own nothing there ; nor smile, nor tear, Nor wish, nor thought have separate from thee. The yearning years, O Love, are long to me. Her little one no mother holds more dear Than I my life since thou hast called me thine ; Guards not her eyes more faithfully than mine Are guarded. Love ! God's angels all might know My thoughts by night and day the while I go My watchful way, as on my breast were sleeping A little child left to my tender keeping. (24) XXIV. LOVES MIRACLE. " Our hands would touch for all the mountain-bars." E. B. B. I have you in the heart of me for aye. I hold you here. A thousand leagues away, You move through scenes that I shall never know — ■ Save that you carry me where'er you go. All that delights you sinks into your heart Where I await you 'till the rest depart. Oh ! mystery of mutual love. I hold You fast within my heart. When we enfold Each other, Love, some happy hour now far Away as gleams to-night the farthest star, I shall not have you nearer. Yonder stands The organ, silent. It but waits my hands To wake its voice, and kiss the silence deep — So love doth wait your coming, in my heart, asleep. XXV. IN THE LONELY NIGHT. " I say with sobbing breath the old fond prayer."' " God bless thee, my Beloved, and good-night " . . With thee so far away, more fervently E'en than of old I breathe the prayer for thee ; More humbly now than when I had the light Of actual presence, and the happy right To lean and kiss thy face. Then thou to me ; While on thy forehead, pure, all reverently I traced a sign that gives to weakness might, That banishes all evil thoughts, and brings The peace of God. Sign of the sufferings Immortal, that were Christ's : sign of His cross. Dear sign ! that after loneliness and loss, We yet shall walk together in God's sight — " God bless thee, my Beloved, and good-night ! " 06) XXVI. .MUTATION. Heigho ! the moods you have been in to-day Would put to shame mad March or April weather. One moment you would take my breath away, Ineffably enchanting me. Together We scarce had been an hour bv the Sea J (As high above it as the eagle's nest ■ Hangs o'er men's heads) ; you had tormented me A score of times, until my aching breast Heaved like the Sea. Then seeing what discontent, What pain and restlessness you could evoke ; With blinding fascination swift you leant Above me, low and lower— and you spoke, Three words so musically that all sorrow Vanished (She speaks) — "I'll bring it back to-morrow ! " (27) XXVI T. SELF-CONQUERED. Go, if thou wilt, Beloved, far from me, What way soever Pleasure beckons thee, But make this heart thy refuge still, alway. The key is thine — no other's — stray or stay. When thou art wearied, in that chamber rest. When thou art grieved, and deemest quiet best ; When thou art sad, or glad, my tenderness Shall shield thy moods of silence. None shall guess Thy presence there. Alas ! what breaks my voice ? Three times I tried to say : " E'en bring thy choice Of one alone whose presence is most sweet, And I that friend with gracious word will greet." Forgive, Love ! that I faltered . . . . " Yea ! " I cry " Bring e'en that friend thou lovest — though I die ! " (28) XXVTTT. SONNET. HIS CONFESSION. I CANNOT die, and not confess to thee — Loved still — how once I shamed Love's loyalty. True love is love in truth forever, though She craves years to recover from the blow- Desertion deals. It was in those first days. When Love's too sorely bruised. Love often says In her delirium things she could not mean. L'pon my knees I prayed (I must not screen One fault in this last message), I did pray Through many a lonely night, and lonely day, That : long and bitter as each hour to me ; So long, so hard, each year might be to th Now, ever in the lonelv nieht I cry : " God ! let me bear her sufferings 'till I die ! " (^9) XXIX. SOXXET. CHALLENGED. Nay, nay, — thy doubt offends Love's majesty — Strikes at the very root of Peace and Joy. A dagger in my heart where, yesterday, Peace crooned, and sang in bliss, without alloy. Look back, adown the dangerful, steep ways "We climbed to gain these cool, still, beauteous heights. E'en with her past unveiled, Love ne'er betrays Her chosen One, whom she alone invites Unto the highest realms she may attain This side of heaven. . . . Here, fling my head far back, — Thy palm against my forehead — so. Xow strain Thy sight its uttermost along the track My soul, my heart, my thoughts have coursed for years. Be not afraid : Truth, smiling, waits behind these tears. (3°) XXX. LOOKING BACK. Far back as Memory's eyes can see to-night, Along the path that leads to womanhood, They can discern no day so fair and good As that on which your face dawned on my sight. The added joys of years cannot delight My soul as did that hour's. You spoke, and, lo ! My heart was satisfied, nor cared to go Beyond your reach, — never seemed life so bright. I look once more. Far as my blinded eyes Can reach, I see no day one-half so drear As when I called you, and you could not hear For distance and for waves that drowned my cries : If you should come, and call me thus in vain, Know that my love grew stronger for that pain. (31) XXXI. REFUGE. As in a storm, to some sweet chapel, calm, I hie from wild winds and the lightning's glare, And feel secure while bending there in prayer Low at the quiet altar, where no harm Can enter in to mar the spirit's balm, Where, hiding from the world, I weep, and dare My heart and soul beneath Christ's Face to bare, Till on their quivering strings Peace plays her psalm ; So, friend of mine, when thorns have pierced my heart, And lava-tides of passion scorch my soul, In spirit do I hasten where thou art, And, 'neath thy gentle voice, regain control Of my wild heart. Ah ! shall the day dawn never When I may have thine actual presence ever ? (32) XXXII. FULL RECOGNITION. Above my desk there hangs a picture old, Whose age precise to no man now is known. I only know 'tis greater than my own By years ; for, as a little child, I'm told, I'd lie for hours and watch the twisted gold Of its rich frame. Then, when I'd older grown, My interest on the picture dwelt alone, Till now, of all my treasures, I do hold This picture as the rarest. So with thee : Though thou wert fair to me that summer day, When to a lonely heart thou cam'st to be Its blessing ; oh, Dear One, I cannot say How broad, how deep my need is of thee now. In my life's crown the rarest jewel thou ! (33) XXXIII. A FLOWER'S NAME. Down in the tender grasses 'neath my sill, Where I lean forth each day to greet the dawn. And lean again when light from earth is gone To pray for thee ; all of its own sweet will, A tiny flower has come, so fair and still, And new to me, I've given it thy name. So often do I marvel why it came The evening air with redolence to fill. The first time that I found it blooming there, At once I cried, " God answers thus the prayer Which every morn and every eve I say For my soul's friend, so far, so far away. He yields this sign that, after our long pain Of separation, we shall meet again." (34) XXXIV. TO GEORGE ELIOT. You tell of rapture felt by human hearts That wake when comes their hour of mutual love ; Your own has caught from the Great Heart above A sympathy and love divine. When starts The mourner's bitter tear, and when departs From the worn way a once all spotless dove, God-like, you follow on and give your love, Which must avail when fail all other arts. Resretfullv we lay vour books aside, Feeling as though some glorious symphony Which had ennobled life that moment died, Whose echo ne'er can die to memory. E'en as old masters' music hath defied Oblivion, so your words must lasting be ! 1880 (35) XXXV. FOREBODING. Give me assurance that your love will stay, And be my benediction through the year, At whose approach I tremble with a fear, A terror, lest its hours should lead away One heart from which my own could never stray. I'm sad as death to-night, — come closer, Dear,- My foolish heart is troubled ; let me hear And feel assurance, my sad fears allay. How could I face the cold New Year, and know I was not confident that you would go Far over ways that will be cold and drear Ere summer with her roses reappear ? I did not mean to doubt. There, now I know, — Come ! o'er the New Year's white paths let us go. New Year's Eve. (36) XXXVI. A LETTER. The words for weary weeks denied my heart, When 't last they came, an aching void supplied With joy that seemed too great, until it tried To fill my eyes with crystal drops that start When long-missed hands a kind caress impart To one whose soul some tenderness in vain Has yearned by night and day to know again, In anguish past the reach of mortal art. I think if once thou could'st but see my face Glow, lit with gladness that your letters bring, Then see the crimson tide to joy give place, — Deep, quiet joy for such a simple thing As seems to thee the letter thou dost trace, — Each day thou'dst make the heart that loves thee sing. (37) XXXVII. WHICH ? Or I am richer for the sight of thee, Which Fortune late, in bounteous mood, bestowed, Or I was richer while within abode The cherished hope that I thy face might see. To think that we would meet was ecstasy ; But, oh ! to know we met, to know we trod The self-same paths, — that, clasping hands, we rode Through purple shades, along nepenthean ways, To haunts of peace and tender fantasy, — That, drifting with the idly drifting days, We looked our souls into each other's eyes, And dreamed the blissful dreams of Paradise,— All this to know the richer maketh me, For what hath been than what I hoped would be. (38) XXXVIII. YOUR BIRTHDAY. As soon as I unclosed my eyes to-day, I drew my curtains hastily aside — Xo one was near to hear me — and I cried, " My darling ! " so intensely, though you lay Far from my side, a thousand miles away. In dreams, you must have turned to me and sighed. The glorious sun was rising, and I tried To watch him fringe with gold Dawn's robe of gray ; I hid his face, as children, with one hand, And for a while was able, till he grew So powerful he ruled the entire land ; And wheresoe'er the king his glances threw, A idorv was. A love I thus hid, erst, As gloriously on my life hath burst ! (39) XXXIX. NIGHT BY THE SEA. Beloved, my Beloved, earth would be So sweet that heaven itself would be forgot If you and I might linger in this spot, Might live and die together by the sea, Where we have learned to love so deathlessly ; That, whatsoe'er the griefs Fate may allot. Not death itself from my glad soul can blot Remembrance of the joy you've yielded me. That little boat we watched an hour ago - From darkness steal out to that silver path That seems to lead to heaven, we both do know Must pass through midnight shadows, now it hath So happy lingered in that light : nor we Can heaven have now and in eternity ! (40) XL. PAWNS, i. A RING. A heavy band of gold, within it set A diamond, whose every glance betrays Perfection, while I, fascinated, gaze. Proud princess among jewels ! doth regret Ne'er stir thy white heart's depths ? Canst thou forget The snowy hand thou'st graced in other days, As Night a tear-drop on the lily lays ? What tender, tremulous hopes thou didst beget In some fair woman's breast ! Ah, I believe Thy history, if known, would win a tear. O'er losing thee, it must be, two hearts grieve ; Surely 'twas Poverty who dragged thee here, — Estrangement, Pride, nor Death would ever show To careless eyes : " My Darling " traced below. (41) XLI. PAWNS. n. AN OPERA-CLOAK. It might have been a queen's, this lovely thing, Of purple and soft, creamy satin made. The breath of some luxurious beauty swayed This down, as white as any angel's wing. It may have been while she was suffering, And very weary of the part she played, Her heart away with her dead lover laid, While still she strove to lightly laugh and sing. . . I wonder if it ever has belonged To one who deemed herself too deeply wronged To rise again ? who may have felt a sting Beneath this down, because so like the wing Of some fair angel, — what she might have been, And what she may be now, — for all her sin ? (42) XLII. A LITTLE LETTER. Love ! how the lone hours drag when you are far ! Life rushes onward so when vou are near ! The face of Pleasure now is blanched by Fear Since I can never know just how you are. Oh ! I should be more grateful that no bar More cruel than an ocean parts us, Dear, For am I not with you ? and you are here — I have you as the evening has her star. This is a lonely night, and all the day Was lonely, Love ! I tried for your dear sake To hide from vou how hard my heart did ache. Yet — were you sorrowing I would have you say Only the truth — 'twould make my sad heart light. God bless you, guide you, guard you. Love — good- night. (43) XLIII. SONNET. Low leans the lily to the wooing breeze, See how she trembles 'neath his warm caress, Yet, all unused to love, she strives to please, And, if she please, is filled with happiness. Far other is the mien of yonder rose, Yclad is she with scornful majesty ; Oh ! who shall dare his love to her disclose, Or haply keep unawed beneath her eye ? E'en so 'tis vain to woo that heart of thine, E'en so 'tis vain to worship at its shrine, Where sits enthroned high thought of things above, Abstract, and noting not this verse of mine, Whose sober plaint must unavailing prove, E'en though it hide thy name as doth my heart thy love. (44) XLIV. SONNET. As one who in the anguish of the year (When nature stricken lies, and self-confessed) Withdraws himself and all his heart's unrest Apart from haunts of men, to wander near The reedy marge of some unruffled mere, And there uplifts his soul in prayerful quest Of Peace, whose after-coming makes him blest ; So, when emerging from their shades, I see The horrid shapes that prey upon my soul, On wings of instant thought I fly to thee, And in the shelter of thy sympathy Grow brave and strong to reassert control : Then say, though actual presence be denied, What fate shall here our kindred souls divide ? (45) XLV. FORGIVENESS. Not of thine own sweet nature could it be That thou should'st thus betray me ! Let me think Thy dear lips, unaware, did careless drink From some spring poisoned by mine enemy ; Whilst thou, thy senses dulled by lethargy, Dreamed not the draught would straightway make me sink So deep down in Despair's grave that the link 'Tween Death and Life were quickly snapped in me. With prayer unceasing will I beg of God To lift from off thy soul that cruel clod The hand of Jealousy did place thereon. To me — 'tis death : this massive rock upon A heart too stunned and bruised to feel again Aught in thy once too tender touch save pain. (46) ESTRANGED. Do you think, dear Love, if we had known That, ere another year had flown, We should have drifted far apart, We who for years claspt heart to heart. Do you think we had been more tender ? ii. Ah ! to think this is your natal day, And I so near, yet miles away ! Why, I could reach you in one short hour, Yet dare not send you even a flower, ■ Not even forget-me-nots ! in. And I used to know your heart so well That I could look in your eyes and tell (47) 48 ESTRANGED. All that was there ; but now, to-day, If we should meet, you would turn away, Nor let me see your eyes. IV. Oh ! if you'd look just once again, What should I find there, hate or pain, Love or longing, or coldness, Dear, Or — how my heart leaps to dream it — a tear Calling me back again ? A JUNE DAY IN NOVEMBER. The wondrous fairness of the day Is dying, Sweet, for aye, for aye, — ii. Dying, and we cannot keep it here For all your pleading look or tear. in. The glory fades from shore and river, And we grow still. Your dear lips quiver ; IV. As many thoughts as there'll be stars Are there behind the crimson bars, (49) 5 O A JUNE DAY IX XO I EMBER. V. Longing for words to set them free Ere darkness hides vour face from me. VI. How strange that June should come again, And bring such joy, then leave such pain VII. Now as she dies, and bleak November Creeps back again. I shall remember VIII. As long as life with me shall stay The beauty of this summer day. IX. I oft shall see as I see now The fairness of your low, sweet brow, A JUNE DA Y IN NOVEMBER. 51 X. Your soulful eyes, your golden hair, — The dying sunlight lingering there, XI. Making a halo 'round your head, — And, oh, your mouth so richly red ! XII. Your image in the water there Is going with the light ; the air XIII. Is chilly, Sweet ; we cannot stay Dreaming forever, though our day XIV. Was fair, and sad, and sweet — all three — To you, my Loved One and to me. xv. The stars are up, the night comes fast. Our day is dead, — forever past ! WITH VIOLETS. i. The violets that I send to you Will close their blue eyes on your breast. I shall not be there, Sweet, to see, Yet do I know my flowers will rest Within that chaste, white nest. ii. little flowers, she'll welcome you So tenderly, so warmly ! Go : 1 know where you will die to-nis;ht, But you can never, never know The bliss of dying so ! in. If you could speak ! Yet she will know What made your faces wet, although I fain would follow you and tell her. There, go. and die, yet never know To what a heaven you 2:0 ! A LAMENT. " Sleep sweetly, Tender Heart, in peace." Tennyson. I. Spring again, and fair, calm skies, Pearl and blue, Yet in vain my aching eyes Search for you. II. From long dreamings wake again Spring's sweet flowers, In my soul an infinite pain Which the hours in. Xor the years can take away ; Only tears, Springing at the close of day ; When one hears (S3) 54 A LAMENT. IV. God's voice nearer in the calms Twilight brings, Losing sight of day's alarms, Bitter stings. v. Spring again ! The second born Since that day God called you, and left forlorn Me for aye. VI. Were you watching ? Do you know, Little One, Whose hand brushed away the snow (Winter gone) VII. From your grave a month ago, From the cross Mutely telling as years go Of my loss ? ./ LAM EXT. 55 VIII. Have you heard me when I've said Pravers for you ? Have you felt me "when I've laid Flowers on you ? IX, Nevermore shall spring return With her flowers, That I shall not for you yearn ; And when lowers x. Autumn, with its frosts that kill Summer's flowers, I shall want my Darling still At all hours. March 13th, 1879. AFTER. " Love's too precious to be lost, A little grain shall not be spilt." In Memoriam. I. I'm sorry, and I hurried back To tell you so," a sweet voice said ; But I was wounded then, and pride Forbade me e'en to turn my head. ii. To-night I grieve and pray beside Her grave, yet cannot shed a tear ; Death parted us ere I could say The words which now she cannot hear. (56) AFTER. 57 III. I know, I know she pardoned rae,- She was so gentle with me ever,- Yet, all the same, wet, wistful eyes Do follow me, and will forever ! A WHITE ROSE. " I wore this rose at my throat last night." The white rose came, nor is it yet quite dead, But, oh ! so near. Its dying breath is rife With 'wildering fragrance ; though you had not said Your lips had touched it, I had known its life Was thus prolonged by you. ii. The rose was faithful, it has brought to me The sign of your remembrance from afar Before its death. If I might this night see The eyes this fair rose charmed, the lips that are Quivering to meet my own ! (58) A WHITE ROSE. III. 59 But, as I cry out this, the Morn steals near, Her blushes tinge the white face of my rose ; Is it from Morn's eyes or my own the tear That scorches our poor dying rose ? God knows. And I, O dearest Heart. GOOD-BY. i. All is still, the 3tars are fading From the early morning sky. I am kneeling here persuading My poor heart that our good-by Was not, after all, forever ; Distance, days, nor death can sever Soul from soul, though I may never See thy face again. ii. I shall pass thy window, Dearest, As I take my life's new way ; I shall fancy that thou hearest All my aching heart would say, As I hasten on and leave thee Lying there with naught to grieve thee, Though this heart would fain believe thee Moaning in thy dreams. (60) GOOD-BY. 6 1 III. No ! I cannot hurry on ; Just one moment I must stand In the snow there, ere the Dawn Takes her rose-light from the land. Thou wilt hear my poor heart beating, Feel that I am there entreating God to guard thee till our meeting ; ■ Now I rise and go ! HER LAST WISH. Camille. i. Marie Duplessis, a woman, well throughout all Paris known. Marie Duplessis lies grieving in her sumptuous home alone. n. Save a famous grave-faced surgeon, save one maid whom she can trust, Xo one stands within that chamber save one visitor august. in. Death has come here ! Death has found her ! Death, the only one she fears, He has found her now, and horror chills her poor soul as he nears. (62) HER LAST WISH. 63 IV. Now and then in her delirium, meek as any little child, She will look up in their faces, and her own seems unde- filed, v. Innocent, and, oh, how lovely ! all her wealth of yellow hair Falling 'round her as a glory, now no longer as a snare. VI. Now the carmine lips, that tempted other souls till they were lost, Only part for moans, not kisses, — restlessly the head is tost. VII. Nothing they suggest desiring, wearily she moans and moans ; Ah ! that voice, that voice so famous for its rich and well- trained tones ! 64 HER LAST WlSIf. VIII. Sweet, sweet voice, now so pathetic that the eyes of man and maid Moisten as they stand and wonder whither now her mind has strayed. IX. Leaning o'er her now, the woman, loyal to her all these years, Hears her murmur indistinctly, sees her eyelids wet with tears. x. Suddenly the blue eyes open ! Reason has come back again, And the man of skill, perplexed, her great want to find is fain. XL " Marie Duplessis, what is it ? Xame this hunger of the heart, For your wish's swift fulfilling I. if need be, will depart. HER LAST WISH. 65 XII. " Tell me ! " Slowly turned the great eyes that had lured men's souls away On the man, — " I want my mother, and she is so far away. XIII. " Far in one way. I chose rather all these years to give no sign That I lived, for, oh ! I could not let her white life come near mine ! XIV. " Bring her here before delirium leads my mind away again ; Punishment for me, the sinner, will begin to see her pain.'* # * # # # # * xv. Swift into the peaceful country sped a messenger away, Long indeed the sufferer deemed it until sunset the third day. 5 66 HER LAST WISH. XVI. When within that room, luxurious, poured the sunlight on that day, Glided in a little figure, — knelt the peasant mother to pray. XVII. Kissed in the old way the white, face, once, twice, thrice — then down beside Her poor wanderer knelt the mother, — sobbed, and prayed 'till Marie died. SYMPATHY. i. Yearneth thy heart for a sweet friend dead, Sigheth thy heart for a dear day fled ? I pity thee, my friend. ii. Hast known regret for a word unspoken, When a loving heart did await some token ? My friend, God comfort thee. in. Hast spoken ungently to one now gone, Hast lain on her grave and grieved alone ? I know God heard thy prayer. (67) 68 SYMPATHY. IV. Hast been harshly judged, misunderstood, By one to whom thou'st wished but good ? God understood thy heart. v. Has the friend of thy heart and soul false proved, The friend of all the world best loved ? Christ pities thee/poor one ! DISAPPOINTMENT. " My heart and life flowed onward — deathward — Through this dream of thee." E. B. B. I. How much I thought of meeting you again ! In watching for the joy that hour would bring I lost what grace the past year brought to me, And, save the lesson, gained not anything. ii. My heart was warm wrapped in its love for you, My memory blind to every face save one ; I could not, had I died, more faithful been. The hour came and passed, — Love's time is gone. in. So warm to one, and to all others cold, Selfish to all, yet generous unto you ; Saving my eyes, voice, lips, as I had sworn, Only too proud to prove my love was true. (6 9 ) 70 DISAPPOINTMENT. IV. Spring, erst so dear, brought violets in vain. " Spring will return," I said, and let them fade Ungathered, for the first time in my life ; From one great hope not for an hour thought strayed. v. Fair June, rose-laden, raised her blushing face, And crept up to my very window-sill, While I, who loved her so in years agone, Forgot to smile down on her there until VI. Fierce suns had kissed the color from her lips. And thus my year went by, the year I thought Would be my brightest. Now I have no wish To know what this New Year for me has brought. A LULLABY. i. Falls the snow, falls the snow, Softly at eventide, Just as the angels come and go, Silent and white when down beside Baby's bed they lean them low, Falls the snow, 'tis eventide. ii. Snowdrop mine, snowdrop mine, Falling asleep like the flowers, — Mine, mine, my baby, mine, — Safe while the chilly night lowers. Sleep till the smiles of the angels shine Into your eyes as the sun in the flowers'. (70 SONG. i. Come, for the sun is going down, Evening without thee will be drear ; Sleepless, my eyes still watch for thee ; Can'st thou my lone heart's plaint not hear ? Dead in my bosom lie the flowers That you at parting gave to me ; They ne'er again, nor our dead hours, Can live but in our memory. ii. Could I but know, ere twilight fades, Whether thy heart were light or sad, Then, though so far away from thee, I could, like thee, be sad or glad. But darkness falls, I cannot see thee, (7^) SONG. 73 Longing, I call on thee in vain, Not e'en to know, while night comes down, Whether we e'er shall meet again ; Oh ! when my life, like daylight, fades away, Must I, my Darling, call for thee in vain ? MY LOVERS. '• The loneliness of life Because I miss thee, Love ! " I. Next to the children in the green square, And their innocent laughter on the air, Is the loveliness of my neighbor's face, And her womanly, winsome, ineffable grace As she leans to list for her lover. ii. And next to all this is her Lover brave, Who cannot look stern, e'en his life to save, From the moment he rushes, that corner around, Till he reaches his Sweetheart's door with abound- When I miss her fair face from the window, (74) MY LOVERS. 75 III. That Lover is no more afraid to show His great heart in his eyes, and to let the world know, Than a baby to turn to his Mother, and call Her dear names, and to kiss her : and this, after all, Is the very best kind of a Lover ! IV. I could tell you, exactly, the steps that he takes From the corner there ; how — meanwhile — he makes A nice calculation how long it will be. How he flings back his bonny brave head to see If she's watching for him at her casement ! v. When I see them together, an aching regret, Never envy — God knows — makes me Ions: to torsret. . . . Why ! They look as if nothing — no one — save Death — ■ Could dare now to part them. They blend like the breath Of my violets here, and my sweet mignonette. 76 MY LOVERS. VI. Last night I was restless. 'Twas lonely up here In this room, solitary ... A voice brave and clear, In the moonlight was singing a tender love-song. 'Twas the voice of this Lover. Oh ! how I did long " For the sound of a voice that is still." VII. They told me that little song died years ago — " A dead failure," they wrote me. A failure ? Ah, no. If it drew these two closer, then not all in vain Was it written, thank God, — and though late comes my gain, It means far more than money to me. VIII. Sometimes when I watch them I have a good cry. I long for the courage to say ere I die : " It was I, in my happy past, I wrote that song Which you sing with such meaning, that some nights I long To come in, for a moment. I've wished you both knew How, each night of my life — loveless — I pray for you." HER EXPIATION. " And lay the gift where nothing hindereth. E. B. B. The hungry years can never be forgotten, — Those' starved, long, lonely years apart from thee Who wert rav breath, mv life, mv onlv heaven. To-night, at last, I have crept back to see Where they have laid all that is left of me, — For I am buried here. In my despair, I lie upon thy grave. God cannot care That I at last have sought thee. I am Prayer Incarnate, else, O Love ! I would not dare Here at thy feet my weary head to rest, Nor lay this drenched, white lily on thy breast. (77) WASTE. To one he sent his strong man's heart laid bare, Quivering with hope and fear. A cruel hand Seemed pressing hard upon a hot, torn nerve. Unto another faithless, — to her, true — Nothing he kept, not even his fierce pride : Complete surrender of his heart and life. The second letter was indifferent — Save for an old-time name he knew she loved. He snatched a fading flower from his coat, And crushed its purple blood against the words, That she might know — for all his city life — He still recalled her love for violets. The one to whom he wrote with lashes wet — His pleading was so strong and passionate — Read, with fine scorn, his letter — flung it by, And, later, answered — in a mocking tone The other died. Upon her broken heart Was found a locket with his face inside, A tender name cut from a letter, and a violet. (78) A PRAYER. Teach me to sing when my heart is aching, When my flesh is wounded, then let me laugh ; Send me to comfort hearts that are breaking, Make me smile bravely when gall I quaff. Send me with faith to souls that doubt Thee, Earnestness, deep, to the careless heart ; Unto proud souls that have lived without Thee, Let me humility's grace impart. Let me awaken those that slumber, Teach them to watch with fidelity ; Place in my pathway thorns without number So I may lead but one soul unto Thee ! Let me be heedless of human praises, Let me be calm when dangers arise. Let me gaze coldly where Passion blazes, Let me walk chastely, with lowered eyes. (79) A PRAYER. Let me depart from my best and my dearest, If by my staying I cloud a white thought : Oft soul to the soul it loves best is nearest, When lives, divided, with pain are fraught ! COMPENSATION. " Let the 'world go by. Thou laoest me. n " He cannot see." A kind voice said it low. But, swiftly, one who led him closer leaned, As though with life itself she would have screened Her Lover's heart from e'en so light a blow. He cannot see. But oh ! he feels her hand, Charged with the love that fills her to the brim. Her touch is sight and warmth and voice to him 5 And his glad heart that light that ne'er on land Nor yet upon the sea was ever seen — (It hides in happy lover-hearts I ween") — Is flooding now ! (81) IN MEDITATION. " Who hides a sin is like a hunter who Once warmed a frozen adder with his breath, And when he placed it next his heart it flew With poisoned fangs and stung that heart to death! 1 '' J. B. O'R. Between the pages of this ancient missal rare, A leaf was shut to mark a favorite passage there. That one small leaf the priceless page did all corrode As years rolled on, — 'twas left forgotten there : sad bode Of how one secret sin may eat the priceless soul, And then — eternal dole ! (82) THE " LOOKING-GLASSES." i. Three death-still pools in a lonely vale. Still ! and so deep, so runneth the tale — No man hath been able their depths to sound, No mortal in all the fair country around — God's secret are they, I ween. ii. And up on the hill, not far away, The dead are lying, still as they ; The dead — whose bodies are in the ground, Whose souls are in deeps we may not sound 'Till the sea gives up her dead. in. The sun shines warm on the gravestones white This fair June morning. Look ! the light Lends to the black pools' surface a grace : Like a happy smile on a dead man's face, Whose soul may be lost forever ! Belgradk. (83) TO THEE. " My heart is lighted at thine eyes ! "' I. Thy face is as the face of one Expectant — ready — if the morrow Should summon thee henceforth to lie Within the arms of Sorrow. n. Thine eyes are listening when they're gray, Thou smilest — they are blue ; And lo ! they are forget-me-nots That are agleam with dew ! in. Thy voice ! It is as though thou wert Thy life's sole lover leaving — A harp, whose strings the west winds kiss, And leave, at twilight, grieving. (34) TO THEE. 85 IV. A mouth so sweet and tremulous Mine eyes have never seen; A tender word from thee must be Sweeter than Music's voice, I ween. HER VOICE. " And can' st thou think, and bear To let thy music drop here unaware In folds of golden fulness at my door ? " E. B. B„ Soft as to earth the snowflakes' fall, Tender as names young mothers say ; Sweet as the secrets lovers recall ; Earnest as prayers the angels pray For souls astray. Mournful as winds that wail at night Around lone, ruined castle halls ; Sad as the voice when lips are white That vainly on its dear dead calls When twilight falls. Tearful as eyes just losing sight Of Love, estranged forever. (86) BEYOND REACH. M A woman poor or rich, Despised or honored, is a human soul : And what her soul is, — that, she is herself, Although she should be spit upon of 7?ien As is the pavement of the churches here, Still good enough to pray in." Aurora Leigh, You know naught of the beauteous opal colors Which Dawn and Sunset paint far on the summit Of white-crowned heights no mortal e'er shall scale ; You know not what the ocean may conceal Far down beyond the reach of any plummet. That woman whom you speak of with no mercy, 'Whose spirit for your vision soars too high, In deeps of silence hides such charities, That God must fathom them — not you — not I. (87) AN INVALID. Hers was the saddest face I e'er had seen. Disease had gnawed her fair life to its core — Nor yet fierce Pain could win sweet Patience o'er. Just once I caught her radiant, rare smile : • A blush-rose blooming by a lone tomb door ! (m A MODERN PHILOSOPHER. " Far better in its place the lowliest bird Should sing aright to Him the lowliest song, Than that a Seraph strayed should take the word And sing His glory wrong ! " Jean Ingelow. He was a king to the adoring crowd That, wondering, hung upon his lightest word. With human adulation he grew proud, And cried aloud — e'en little children heard — 11 There is no God, no Heaven, and no Hell ! " The eyes of innocent listeners opened wide. Scandal to them ! That was the swift death-knell Of his fine mind — its powers all misapplied. The words like wild-fire ran throughout the land : They never were recalled — it was too late. That maniac there who bites his keeper's hand, And glares upon us through the iron gate — Is he. (89) INDIAN SUMMER. We saw the happy robins build their nests, We watched the apple-blossoms bloom and fall, Together knelt and searched for violets ; Counted the petals of the marguerite, Kissed each a rose, then wore it on his heart Always together, each the other's world. Sweet Summer flung herself on Autumn's breast, Tired and flushed, her cheeks incarnadined, At thought of having all unrobed to stand Before a world, while Winter wove a shroud For her — who never could come back to us, For her — who brought such gifts to you and me. With tenderness we said good-by to her — Then heard the sweeping, equinoctial winds, Singing, three days and nights, her requiem. (9°) INDIAN SUMMER. 9 1 O Love ! that wail was not for Summer, dead, But for us two who unclasped hands that night, Who said such bitter words ere we did part, That Summer, who remembered, left her grave, And showed her face, as perfect as of yore, Against the blackness of bleak Autumn's breast : Like golden, amber beads that glow against An ebon rosary in the hands of Death. QUATRAINS : After the Storm. All night a giant wind did rage with awful power. Morning uplifts her lustrous lamp. Lo, I discern A mighty, granite fortress with a shattered tower, And, nodding in the breeze, unharmed, a baby fern. Two Actors. He who evoked our heartfelt sympathy and sighs, The coppers from his benefactor's eyes did borrow. He who could laugh the tears from even Grief's own eyes, Scarce ever raised his own sad face from breast of Sorrow. Two Kings. The great king's jester said one word too much, The finite king his foolish head did sever. One who for years blasphemed an infinite King, Was doomed at last in hell to burn forever. (92) QUA TRAINS. 93 Wisdom versus Weakness. " This scientist has roused the entire world Bv his discovery ! " Reading which, I smiled, Remembering how, a day or two before, He was confounded by his lisping child. THE SURFACE AND THE DEPTHS. Nestling in rocks, high on a rugged mountain, I found a tender fern, just half uncurled : A grave, stern face that I had thought forbidding; Flashed me the sunniest smile in all the world ! (94) " ONCE, AND ONLY ONCE, AND FOR ONE ONLY." Browning. With fervor they all cried : " We envy you The gift of making such a perfect song ! " It saddened him. His lonely heart did long For praise — not of the world — not of the few — Of onlv One. INSPIRATION. " Kings have commanded nations for a little time ; Artists command the ages.'' Balzac. A little child with eager, rosy face, Sprang forward, flower-laden, raised her head. Poised thus, a question in her lovely eyes, Sculpture an instant saw her ere she fled, And gave us — " Hope." (95) A MAN'S LAST CRY FROM THE VERGE. If we had parted that first night, Indifferent — light-hearted ; Had I but fled your presence bright That first time that I started, Then lingered so, Dreading to go ; Had not returned to try with you That last waltz, and to vie with you In Avar of words — Both had been saved ! If we had spared each other then ! We dared each other, you and I, Meeting as would have met two men, Each having sworn the other shall die For storied wrong Which each has long (96) A MAN'S LAST CRY FROM THE VERGE. 97 Sworn to avenge for his dead sire — Sworn by his faith, though little ire Feels either, now they have met ! But parting now, Love ! Parting now. Never to know, yet wondering whether (E'en though each shall keep his vow), We two e'er shall stand together Ere we die, Love, You and I, Love, Bound bv a thousand tender ties — "Who have seen ourselves in each other y s eyes. Why — 'tis tragedy Xow to part. Yet would love perish Did we not cherish Honor and Loyalty. Now it will live — God will forgive. Pray for me, Love 1 LE PRINTEMPS. Singing to leaning ferns, I hear a brook Way down in mossy reaches out of sight : I seem to catch the low laugh, not the look — - Of some fair nun behind her veil so white Hiding her face. (98") PLEADING. My friend — so loved, — estranged from me to-night, Estranged from me whose lonely heart is beating For God and thee alone, — come, bless my sight ! Over the hills and waves hear me entreating God's peace between us two ere dawns the light Of that immortal day whereon Christ came To heal all wounds. It is not that I miss so much the light E'en of thy blessed presence. Dear, my grief Springs from a deeper source : that thou should'st fight Temptation, woe, and doubt that kills belief, And disappointment's sorrows that do blight The hopes of heart and soul — When I could shield thee, In my arms enfold Thee, wounded, as of old. Come thou to me — Else call me unto thee ! (99) PRESCIENCE. i. Two angry lovers — loving still each other — Her cheeks aflame, white — e'en as death — his face. One keen-edged word has clashed against another 'Till softly one departs. The time of grace Is past. Down on her knees she sobs : " Dear God ! Too late." ii. White sails are set. Soft summer winds are sighing. Light laughter clashes with the low farewell. A sea of lifted faces. He is trying Never to see one face he loves too well. Into her eyes, intense, her soul has leaped — too late. in. All days, all nights thereafter deepen sadness. Tired her fevered brain forever thinking Upon two broken lines. One night comes Madness. That hour a strong man sobs while he is sinking Into his deep-sea grave : " Dear God ! am I too late ? " (100) AT THE END OF EXILE. " I found happiness in wedding tJiy sufferings.'''' Of all the world, Beloved, to think thou art not here — ■ Now, I am dying. Not thine the fault, I know — Dear Heart. Take my last thought : all pain I've known for our love's sake, Was joy, whose like the whole wide world could not impart ! (101) HEART'S OWN. " Dear one, — whose name I name not lest some tongue Pronounce it roughly." — H. H. I. I know a singer : And when she stands before them all, Smiles, and then sings, — in her sweet thrall The great crowd sways. None there may say " She sings to me ! " One — far away — Vibrates to every thrilling tone, And she is his, and his alone. II. I know a painter : Around him crowd great beauties rare, With whom the World would ne'er compare His Love — the loveliest of them all. Her picture hangs not on his wall. Within his soul "tis veiled, and there Uncovered, only with a prayer. (102) HEART'S OWN. 103 III. I know a poet : Out of his solitude and pain, Spring songs whose sweetness brings a rain Of tears from e'en the cold World's eyes. He knows but one Love 'neath the skies. And she, for long, sad years has lain — Within her grave. She feels the rain — That wild, sweet rain — her joy, her pain : Her Lover's tears. REPLETION. " Heaven bless thee. Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on." That face of thine, that face of thine, And all thy lovely self, Dear One, When first thy dear eyes answered mine Seemed perfect. " Oh ! what have I done," (I asked God humbly) " that to me Thou givest this human blessing rare ? " " My perfect flower ! " I breathed o'er thee, " God never fashioned flower more fair." Then, when between thy dear lips stole Thy voice in song — like lark's on wing — - I whispered to my happy soul : " It is as though a rose should sing ! " (104) RELINQUISHMENT. And yet because I love thee, I obtain From that same love this vindicating grace I To live on still in love, and yet in vain — To bless thee, yet renounce thee to thy face. E. B. B. If but to have thee near me in a dream, Doth thrill me 'till Joy breaks the spell of Sleep, Doth so ineffably my spirit steep In deep delight, that waking pleasures seem As naught compared with that which is supreme : If I am satisfied the while I keep Just near thee in a dream, and, waking, weep ; Then to arise, and see thy face, I deem, Were happiness too great for me to bear. And so, 'twas kinder that thou wast not there. Dear ! If the dream proved true I would not care To ever leave thee ; nor could I say nay To thy pathetic pleading 'till the clay My soul were summoned hence, — Life flung away ! («s) TOO LATE. i. What now are laurels to me, oh, ray lost Heart, — ■ Nay, never lost — only waiting somewhere, What do I care for the wreath on my brow, Love, Too late to lay it on thy waving hair. ii. Oh ! how we watched for the coming of Fame, Love, Always thy cheek laid to mine while we waited ; Always thy firm little hand warm in mine, Love, How, when she neared, thy sweet face grew elated in. Honors come late to thy Lover. Thy hero, Losing that guidance, no longer is brave; Stifled all yearnings for Fame's lonely heights, Love, This is my resting-place, this little grave. (106) GOOD-NIGHT. Good-night, dear heart, so far from mine Good-night, fair face, for which I pine, O'er thy life's way forever shine God's radiant stars. O golden head ! O fair, proud face ! Unmatched in all the world for grace, How far thou art from thine own place Upon my heart ! Though miles and miles do intervene, Thine eyes, Dear One, and mine atween, From Morn's birth till the death of E'en Mine watch for thee. Good-night, dear lips and tender eyes, Sweeter are none 'neath any skies, Angels watch o'er thee 'till the dear eyes Unclose in heaven. (107) io8 GOOD-XIGHT. Farewell, fond heart, so far away ; Oh ! for the power Thought owns, — to stay Near thee forever, by night, by day ; Sweetheart, good-night I THE ENT3.