8EC0N } COPY, 
 18^9. 
 
 t''m9i-'\m^} 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ^nap. Copyright Ko 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
''Let him rejoice who has a loaf of bread, 
 A little nest wherein to lay his head, 
 
 Is slave to none, and no man slaves for him, 
 In truth his lot is wondrous well bestead. 
 
 ''Sooner with half a loaf contented be, 
 And w^uter from a broken crock, like mc. 
 
 Than lord it over one poor fellow-man, 
 Or to another bow the vassal knee.'' 
 

 ^AlADEENE 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 
 
AALA DEENE 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 RALCY HUSTED BELL, M. D., F. A. G. S. 
 
 BUFFALO: 
 
 CHARLES WELLS MOULTON, 
 
 1899. 
 

 -^0540 
 
 Copyright 1899 by 
 RALCY HiJSTED BELL. 
 
 TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 
 
 
 
TO 
 
 COLONEL ROBERT G. INGERSOLL- 
 
 A MASTER 
 
 POET, PHILOSOPHER, ORATOR, 
 FRIEND. 
 
Contents 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Plea of Flesh 
 
 9 
 
 A Plea of the Soul . 
 
 13 
 
 My Choice .... 
 
 15 
 
 In Her Dawn-Grey Eyes 
 
 17 
 
 Breast to Bosom 
 
 19 
 
 Doom 
 
 21 
 
 Aala Deene 
 
 22 
 
 The Waltz 
 
 68 
 
 Col. Eobert G. Ingersoll, The Master 
 
 70 
 
 The Birds on Grady's Statue 
 
 75 
 
 Junius A. George 
 
 77 
 
 A Love-Dream 
 
 79 
 
 Immortality .... 
 
 81 
 
 My Country .... 
 
 82 
 
 Lost Leaves .... 
 
 84 
 
 I Went to Her at Even-tide 
 
 85 
 
 My Lady's Glove . . . . 
 
 87 
 
 The Keapers .... 
 
 88 
 
 Shadow Shoals 
 
 90 
 
VIU 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Rain Echoes 
 
 92 
 
 Accept, Soul 
 
 04 
 
 To Florence 
 
 95 
 
 In Klondyke Snow . . . . 
 
 96 
 
 Dread 
 
 97 
 
 If I Were the Sun and You Were the 
 
 
 Dew .... 
 
 98 
 
 The Master 
 
 99 
 
 Marian ..... 
 
 100 
 
 Into the Woods 
 
 101 
 
 Faults which i^'low and Flow wliiel 
 
 
 Falters .... 
 
 lo:) 
 
 My Ship 
 
 109 
 
 The Singer .... 
 
 no 
 
 Detianco 
 
 111 
 
 My Letter of Acceptance . 
 
 112 
 
 Though I Knew that the Daylight AVas 
 
 
 Done .... 
 
 117 
 
 OSun! 
 
 118 
 
 A Day with John J. Ingalls 
 
 120 
 
 Eugene V. Debs 
 
 121 
 
 Days of the Unborn 
 
 123 
 
 By the Arms of the Mystical Sea 
 
 125 
 
 Answering Voice . 
 
 127 
 
 He Did Not Understand . 
 
 128 
 
 And God Is Dead or Deaf to Things 
 
 132 
 
AALA DEENE; 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 gl ^Im of $Xt^lx. 
 
 ®<r\EAR FLORENCE, as I fondly dream 
 
 ^-^ of you, 
 A thousand flitting fancies haunt my brain — 
 I see the summer dome serene and blue — 
 I feel the chilling touch of autumn rain. 
 
 I know not what at last may be the best. 
 I only know that life and love be much — 
 AVith you alone my weary lieart fuuls rest — 
 My soul is joyous with your faintest touch. 
 
 And yet perhaps this chomic sun and clay. 
 So passionate and pompous, is poorly snuiU 
 
 and vain — 
 And all our longings for a larger day 
 But futile Fancy's gift of cruel pain. 
 
 (0) 
 
10 AALA DEEJ^E 
 
 Perchance the shadow-pictures painted here 
 In whispered wooings, tlirills and even this 
 Swarming somewhat ahnost kin to tears, 
 Are winged things a world would hardly miss. 
 
 And you, dear love, beauteous as the birth 
 Of perfect love, and fairer than the day, 
 May in a little while return to earth 
 Like me, and mingle close with common clay. 
 
 I know how brief must be my little race — 
 How short the span from sweet to grief and 
 
 gall- 
 How soon the moon will light my lifeless face 
 With sweet unconscious smiles soft flooding all. 
 
 I plead no selfish cause — I hold the light 
 To guide your dainty darling feet aright. 
 I tell no simple tale ; my eager might 
 Would snatch some scattered gleams from 
 gulfs of night. 
 
 You speak of duty's fashions and forget the 
 
 flowers 
 That a million »ons have bloomed within the 
 
 heart. 
 With wanton waste you kill the happy hours 
 To please a worthless world, and act a part. 
 
AN"D OTHER POEMS. 11 
 
 You bid me court the Soul, even as they 
 Who claim 'tis just and right and good to be 
 Forgetful of the flesh — to spurn the clay — 
 Buy future trust for present misery. 
 
 But false, or fools are they who fain would 
 
 speak 
 Their silly nonsense thus to you or me ! 
 There is no virtue alone in being weak, 
 Nor is it greater sin to be wholly free. 
 
 They spurn the flesh, these nasty sacred saints. 
 And speak of "earth" as "earthy" with their 
 
 foggy breath. 
 Do they know all? wherefrom the soul drinks 
 
 taint 
 Disease, which lingers after puny death? 
 
 They know not what they say — not what they 
 
 say- 
 That speak of Soul in shameless gabble, long 
 Denouncing that of flesh, "unclean" and 
 
 "clay," 
 And undistinguishing the singer from the 
 
 song. 
 
 I swear to you, the soul can be no more 
 Divine than where it grows — its wondrous 
 sod — 
 
12 AALA DEENB 
 
 Go taste the deep-sea brine at the stubborn 
 
 shore, 
 And know that man was never less than God ! 
 
 ! live not for a world that falsely cries 
 Against the elements so native to its breast! 
 Its under-robes speak loud of hidden lies — 
 And flesh by flesh has been — will be — caressed. 
 
 A dream — a fond illusion lives and dies — 
 And this makes up our world — a world of lies. 
 For all our aimless joys and fairest skies 
 Are lost and gone when Death seals Fancy's 
 eyes. 
 
 All save the amorous wooings of the Sun 
 And ever pregnant Earth but seem to be — 
 If thro' the years a stainless purpose runs, 
 It lives in flesh — it lives in you and me ! 
 
 Your large illumined eyes should never feel 
 The fantom touch of fear nor heat of tears. 
 Nor suffer wizard hands from graves to seal 
 Their freer look beyond the foam of years. 
 
AND OTHEK POEMS. 13 
 
 31 |tlra ^f tire ^ottl. 
 
 i^^II LOVE, oil love, oh lover detidly dear! 
 ^-^ Come hold my hand, as you hold my 
 
 heart to-night ! 
 Oh, come my love, before the morning light 
 To yon deep cliff that hopeless holds me near ! 
 
 Oh love, dear love, my lover deadly pale ! 
 What makes your brow so damp my dearest 
 
 dear? 
 Oh heart, beat not so loud ! there is no fear 
 Where shadows sleep within a tearless vale. 
 
 You bade me give my flesh — unsacred clay — 
 To basest use — Oh, ever kindly IMight, 
 Speed out my Soul! unushered back to light. 
 Or else, oh God! I know not what I say! 
 
 You did not mean it, dear ! my noble lad ! 
 My bonnie boy ! You joked your little girl ! 
 There — now — my pot — oh, pretty curls! 
 Oh curls that frame a face so pale and sad ! 
 
14 AALA DEENE 
 
 I know, the soil that grows a soul — the sod — 
 Divine must be, and pure as stars — 
 Yet lawless are the waves above the bars — 
 Sing on and on, "both soil and soul are Cod!" 
 
 Oh, sacred sin! the pretty rose leaf fell, 
 Damp with the dews of love, down in the 
 
 dust — 
 And the heart of a woman, by the luring liand 
 
 of lust, 
 Was wantonly slain, and cruelly sent to Hell. 
 
 But I think if ever the truth and the all be 
 
 told; 
 When a fragile form was dashed on the rocks 
 
 below, 
 A saintly perfume 'rose, and I think he knows 
 An exchange was made — his soul for her flesh 
 
 Avas sold. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 15 
 
 ^/TY CTTOICE, you ask? well yes, I have a 
 ■^^ V^^ choice 
 
 In human flesh. Like other barbarous men 
 Who feed on life I have my fancy too. 
 
 Sometimes I think the Yankee girl is best, 
 And when the spell is on me quite at ease 
 And satisfied. Again I choose a change 
 For change's sake, seeking other blood and 
 
 fire 
 Of magnetism — seek otlier types and hues 
 "VVherefrom 1 weave rich webs — make woven 
 
 dreams — 
 Grotesque perhaps, and colored bright and 
 
 deep — 
 But pure as God. 
 
 I have no prejudice 
 'Mongst womankind of race or skin or creed. 
 A noble squaw is Cod personified. 
 The same I say of Creole, wench and Jap, 
 Excluding none because of color, caste. 
 Or creed. And yet, as now the spell of choice 
 
10 A ALA DEENE 
 
 Hroods 'or my luiiid, soft hatching out my 
 
 tlioughts 
 In foathorod fancies, must confess to wing 
 My way straight toward the noble race of 
 
 Jews. 
 
 Dear ^Nature hath been kind to those whom 
 man 
 I lath sought to harm and meanly persecute. 
 
 A thousand tlamning curses would I heap 
 I'pon the head of him who wrongs a Jew 
 lu'can.^c a Jew! a thousatui blessings o\\ 
 'Die soul of Ingersoll, defender of 
 The just and good, the helpless and maligned. 
 
 dust now I say: Dear Jewess come to me I 
 Your veins are rich and full of noble blood 
 Made royal by the Ilerod-hand of Hate, 
 Which like some homely yeast ferments ami 
 
 works 
 And purities the vintage of the gods. 
 (^ fetch to me your rosy rounded form 
 That I may worship it and tind therein 
 A worthy god — your beauty, chaste and sweet. 
 smile on me thou lustrous Jewess eye I 
 heave for me thou drifted, melting breast, 
 Snow-white and perfect as the panting stars. 
 
AND OTIIKR I'OKMS. 17 
 
 ])iii(l nio fiiat witli ivory links of nrms 
 And [)iisli your soul so ovor iiiiiio that I 
 May liiul socludod perfect rest and in 
 Your glorious porsoiialii.y may die! 
 
 A* 
 
 r Pi'lX^llKl) my tout in a forest lonely 
 ^ With the dark trees overhead 
 vVt the hush of the day when the pulsing 
 Of the world seemed tired and dead. 
 
 And wed to my soul was the memory 
 or my heart's one passion that bled, 
 
 As my life in tiie darkness lay ebbing — 
 (Joing down to the night of tlu^ dead. 
 
 And a dread of the morning oppressed me 
 With the fear of new life, and vain 
 
 With the tumult of living and lovinc: 
 That eonld olTer no eas(i to my pai!i. 
 
 II cart-slain, I longed for some stillness, 
 S()m(5 hush, as enfolding mo then — 
 
 A slumber supreme ami eteriuil, 
 
 Undisturbed by th(^ daughters of men. 
 
18 AALA DEEKE 
 
 And when, in my agony weeping 
 And mourning the loss of my years, 
 
 Tliere came with the spirit of grieving 
 And heart-easing flow of my tears, 
 
 And the fears that had fantomed the morning, 
 
 A form drawing silently near, 
 Caressing my soul with the sweetness 
 
 Of a long lost smile and a tear. 
 
 And the bier of my dead hope blossomed 
 At the glow of her lustrous eyes. 
 
 And the stars of unnumbered silence 
 Clustered and peopled the skies. 
 
 And the prize of requited devotion 
 
 With the blossom and fruit of its cliarms. 
 
 Came back in the presence of Florence 
 With our star-child safe in her arms. 
 
 In her arms once more and our rapture 
 Completion and loving were wed. 
 
 And the fautoms I feared in the morning 
 I knew were departed and dead. 
 
 We pressed and caressed and triumphant 
 Our passion empurpled the skies, 
 
 And the glory and good of my living 
 I found in the light of her eyes. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 19 
 
 g5x*cit$t to ^i^^mn* 
 
 /^OME, my winsome little woman with your 
 ^^^^ passion strangely human, 
 
 And your wealth of smiles and hair — 
 We shall go to — sanely sober; soft, enchant- 
 ing, sear October 
 
 With our love and longing bare — 
 Bare, the gleam on gleam enfolding — 
 Breast to bosom closer holding 
 
 Than the tight glove to your hand. 
 
 Give the wine to others older, others calmer, 
 
 coarser, colder — 
 Those who need the cheer of fire — 
 Let our love burn to the ember, gray and cold 
 
 as bleak December — 
 
 All-in-all is our desire 
 All in all the dream enfolding — 
 Breasc to bosom closer holding 
 
 'Julian the tight glove to your hand. 
 
30 aala"deen"e 
 
 Throw the curtains wide and wider! let the 
 light stream strongly on us! 
 Lose your laces ! dolf and dare ! 
 We will go to — sanely sober ; soft, enchanting, 
 sear October 
 With our want and wishes bare. 
 Bare, the gleam on tresses falling — 
 Breast to bosom presses, calling, 
 
 Closer than your glove to hand. 
 
 We shall drink to drunk Desire — drunk as 
 Love on passion's fire, 
 And your wealth of smile and hair ! 
 Leave the wine for vintage older! leave the 
 wine to natures colder! 
 Ours is love and longing bare ! 
 Bare the wish ! I want it barer ! 
 Bare, the naked Soul is fairer — 
 
 Bare I strip your little hand ! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 21 
 
 VJER'S was the passionate, fond embrace 
 
 V^ C)f a love that lived thro' tears; 
 And her's was the patient richness of face 
 Of a soul unwrecked by years. 
 
 But she held me away with a woman's power, 
 And the strength of unwilling pain ; 
 
 And she decked her love and my love with 
 the dower 
 Of her blossoms that bloomed in vain. 
 
 Dropping my head on her bosom white, 
 Where the blue veins coursed at will, 
 
 I sighed me a silent prayer to the night 
 For her strength— "0 Heart, be still!" 
 
22 AALA DEEKE 
 
 ^^ There's much that hath no merit but its truth, 
 And no excuse but nature.'' 
 
 71 VERDANT valley wandering down be- 
 -*^V^ tween 
 
 Two mountain ranges; tliro' it flows a stream, 
 And falling down a rocky place it weaves 
 The misty place called falls. Below the falls, 
 And nestled in among the pine-clad hills, 
 An ancient village. 
 
 Ivy hides with leaf 
 And vine a mouldered mill wall, grand and 
 
 gray, 
 Owl-haunted, lonesome, thickly populous 
 With shadows. Northward a path climbs a 
 
 hill 
 That overlooks the village gables, brown 
 AYith moss. A cup-like crescent sleeps the 
 
 town. 
 
 Here in this quaint old Holland-gabled town 
 Below the falls, not manyjyears ago, 
 
a:n^d other poems. 23 
 
 A baby girl was christened Aala Deene — 
 A tot with wide and wondrous eyes and such 
 As angels born of dreams are wont to have — 
 Deep-hazel eyes (for I must tell of them) 
 Expressive, soft with a priori dreams 
 Of love, wherein the elements and shades 
 Of sadness lingered longingly to leave — 
 Full clear deep tranquil lakes that never knew 
 A storm — pure dewy eyes at times bedimmed 
 With morning mists awakened by the dawn, 
 And rising up condense in jewel-tears 
 Upon the leaves of thick long lashes dark — 
 Frank eyes that mirror inward thoughts and 
 moods. 
 
 This child with strange component passions 
 —all 
 Mere integrals of life — whose soul outgrew 
 Her body, rudely orphaned by a fell 
 Disease, was left to grow — unconscious bud — 
 A rose neglected in a lonesome spot — 
 A charge too frail and fair for an aged aunt. 
 
 So, when the drowsy prattle of the babe 
 No longer echos thro' the rosy morn 
 Of dreams, and childhood scampers from the 
 nest, 
 
24 AALA DEEI^E 
 
 Two children play beneath the garden boughs, 
 
 For Freddy B , a neighbor's son, doth talk 
 
 To pretty little Aala Deene, his love. 
 
 Thus childhood grew apace — new warmth 
 
 was felt 
 By either as the shadows shortened from 
 The east. Then came long walks in early 
 
 spring, 
 Thro' meadows rich with daisy's silver and 
 The dandelion's gold and blooming fresh 
 On cither's cheek, the fairer flowers of youth. 
 
 Then in summer time scarce day-break when 
 The birds were calling up their mates from tree 
 And bower, Fred would go, guitar in hand. 
 Beneath her window softly playing airs 
 He knew she liked the best — his love a bird 
 On wings of song flew gently to its mate. 
 
 *'0 wake, wake, wake love, and ope thy lattice 
 wide! 
 
 The dawn is breaking on the world, the lone- 
 some night has diod ; 
 
 The owl has fled to dark retreats, the night- 
 bat roams no more, 
 
 come from out thy dreaming place and ope 
 thy lattice door. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 25 
 
 '*0 wake, wake, wake love! the sun half o'er 
 
 the hill 
 Is gilding all the mountain tops and paints 
 
 your window sill. 
 The dew is on the clover bloom, the wild 
 
 flowers scent the air — 
 The morn is rich, the morn is fresh, but thou 
 
 alone art fair. 
 
 *'0 wake, wake, wake love, and see the day- 
 god rise, 
 
 For not a star in all the skies dare look thee in 
 thine eyes. 
 
 come from out thy dreaming place and walk 
 awhile with me 
 
 Up yonder hill to look upon the dawn's broad 
 bosomed sea. 
 
 "So wake, wake, wake love, and ope thy lattice 
 
 wide! 
 Breathe deep the morning's fragrant breath 
 
 and be the morning's bride. 
 The dew is on the clover bloom, the wild 
 
 flowers scent the air, 
 The morn is rich, the morn is fresh, but thou 
 
 alone art fair!" 
 
26 AALA DEENE 
 
 In silence long had Freddy loved this bud, 
 Now bursting fresh and full into the flower, 
 Divinely fair, of perfect womanhood. 
 Ideal form — voluptuous breast and full 
 Of hip with happy mean of waist, and limbs 
 Wherein combined the wealth and skill and all 
 The grace proportional of sculptor's art. 
 And flesh, rose tinted; every amorous dent 
 And dimple giving forth soft airs distilled 
 From virgin health — the prettiest maid of all, 
 With pearl white even teeth, and breath as soft 
 And sweet as dreaming flowers have in June. 
 And full red lips, a sensitive perfect mouth, 
 Madonna nose and dark rich nut-brown hair. 
 
 At last Fred's heart with manly love o'er- 
 
 full. 
 And held by timorous silence firm and fast 
 Since childhood's dawn, broke loose and swept 
 
 away 
 Impediments to speech. Then burst the tide 
 Of pent up love in hungry fury down 
 The avenue of language, pouring forth 
 In volume all his dreams of love and hope 
 As some vast river breaks away the dam 
 And floods the world with torrents white with 
 
 foam. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 27 
 
 With timid glances bent upon the ground 
 The girl replied : "Dear Fred, I do not love 
 You well enough to be your wife. I know 
 How good and true and pure your heart is, 
 
 Fred, 
 And long have known how deeply flows your 
 
 love — 
 I read it in your glances, from your acts, 
 Tho' ne'er encouraged you, nor gave you 
 
 hope." 
 
 The gold of autumn sunset lay upon 
 The hills and painted woods, upon the stouts 
 Of corn, and made a splendor of the sky; 
 And down the valley lowing herds not housed 
 Yet for the winter, solemnly paced home. 
 The farm boy from the cornfield gladly took 
 The last small load of remnants to the barn. 
 Fresh autumn winds were blowing from the 
 
 west 
 And stopped to toss the raven curls that graced 
 A dome of brow which seemed as white and cold 
 As marble — faultless features! large brown 
 
 eyes 
 Afire with love but glassy with despair. 
 And proud knees shook beneath their weight 
 
 of woe ; 
 
28 AALA DEENE 
 
 The knees that ne'er before had pressed the 
 
 dust, 
 In humbleness now bent and bowed to Love. 
 And curving lips that never framed a word 
 Of supplication, begged now hard for life, 
 And pleaded long for mercy at her hand: 
 *'0 love! angel of my life and dreams! 
 My first, my only love ! love ! love ! love ! 
 The only woman worth a thought in all 
 This lone wide world to me ! my Aala ! 
 
 my- 
 
 The heart sometimes grows over-full for 
 "Words — then too he read within her solemn 
 
 eyes 
 His doom, and Resignation's hand fell hard 
 Upon his soul. The fury of the storm, 
 Had passed; and ever after, deep and calm. 
 His love flowed down the channel of his life. 
 
 Then changes bore upon his wounded soul 
 And wrought a change in him ; no longer had 
 The world a need to him, and Nature whom 
 He loved so well and held communion with 
 So oft in other days had lost her charm 
 And spring and summer dreary deserts were — 
 Two seasons only seemed accord with him : 
 The autumn dying, winter shrouded white. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 29 
 
 A paleness spread in sad and hopeless hues 
 
 Upon his wasting features caused alarm 
 
 To all his friends, the' none quite guessed the 
 
 cause, 
 Deep hid beneath the fragments of his heart. 
 
 The shadows deepened into night wherein 
 No stars were set to light his life with hope ; 
 And from the frozen north of love-lost fate 
 The dreary winds were blowing fraught with 
 
 moans. 
 His life a desert waste engulfed in night 
 Thro' which his stricken soul did wander ill 
 At ease and aimlessly, surrounded by 
 The phantom-forms of Fancy's vanished 
 hopes. 
 
 God! Hope is wild as eagle-flight above 
 A sunken grave, and airier than the stars. 
 And dreamy, floats in high up ether, hued, 
 Perfumed and lured by distant prophesy — 
 But naught of hope had he, bereft and sad. 
 And suitors for his idol's hand there came 
 In numbers, and from distant towns — young 
 
 men 
 With wealth of gold and mind. Yet Aala loved 
 Them not. Full souled and sensitive to worth, 
 She knew that Fred was, all in all, a man. 
 
30 AALA DEEl^E 
 
 Xor better ever lived ; but she, she did 
 Not love him. Loyal she to nature's self, 
 High minded just and good, nor found 
 Among her many lovers one to suit 
 Her better. 
 
 Once while visiting with friends 
 She met the man she wed, and wed. to hate — 
 A beast who proved to be the devil hid 
 Beneath a human guise or mask or form. 
 And small of stature tho' colossal in 
 Deceit's wide scope of vice or being foul; 
 And dark of face and heavy nosed and vain ; 
 Too fond of show, since show is little more 
 Than seeming and is but the shadow of 
 The real that chance or fate let fall on some 
 Who lack intrinsic worth, yet pass for such — 
 A counterfeit of man — a base alloy. 
 
 And thus for years she knew no joy. Re- 
 gret's 
 Pale finger pointed to her brow, and bad 
 Seemed multiplied by worse to fill her cup 
 With sorrow's bitter lees, until at last 
 A pistol shot fired by the dog, in form 
 Belied of man, that laid her low for months. 
 Did prove the final stroke that changed her 
 life. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 31 
 
 Thro' most lier married hell of troubled 
 years. 
 Her many sorrows, pains and burning tears, 
 Poor Fred, who suffered quite as much as she. 
 Did hover near her, tho' she knew it not. 
 
 Eecovering from the pistol wound, once 
 more 
 She sought the home of her old aunt — a small 
 White cosy cottage sweet and clean, and of 
 A tired dreamy town set in the curve 
 Made crescent by a winding river's mood. 
 
 Ere this had Freddy died — and as his life 
 Went out a word of love for her took wings 
 And flew across his livid lips and from 
 The darkness to the light. His mother told 
 The parting word to Aal thro' mingled tears. 
 
 This very time, far down the moody stream 
 (The spreading valley richer grows and wide) 
 A dreamy boy with golden curls and eyes 
 Of bluest blue, was playing 'mong the flowers. 
 And by a strange process of fairy facts 
 Fred's death was life to him. Diffusion less 
 Than conservation of the flame seemed thus 
 To enter him, whom we shall know not by 
 A name, but hear his tale retold again 
 
32 AALA DEEKE 
 
 As lie hath often told on stormy nights 
 
 To old-time classmates when strong pipes and 
 
 wine 
 Made mellow hearts, and coniidential chords. 
 
 "My boyhood days were spent in Nature's 
 school — 
 My letters learned of her ; my music from 
 The throats of birds and babblings of the 
 
 brook. 
 Cared not for childish mates, but sought and 
 
 found 
 Companionship Avith all there is between 
 Successive dawns. My thoughts were shap- 
 ed by fact 
 Of stream and path, and broadened by the 
 
 change 
 Of seasons — cycles of the suns. I learned 
 My secrets from the flowers, my mysteries from 
 The snow, and 'All there is of leaf and bud, 
 Of flower and fruit, of painted insect life, 
 And all the winged and happy children of 
 The air that Summer holds beneath her dome 
 Of blue' were known and loved by me as well. 
 1 wandered much and strayed about, along 
 The hillside pastures sown with happy flowers 
 That murmur soft of sun-kissed holiday ; 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 33 
 
 Where parent rocks embrace the bones of 
 
 Time, 
 All stormed about with thoughts that change 
 
 and change. 
 E'en as a schoolboy in the district school, 
 With naked feet, long hair and sunburnt face, 
 I had grave thoughts which ill became my 
 
 looks. 
 For 1, a laughing merry lad, of tricks 
 More full than most boys, still was sad within. 
 My life was blended much with wretchedness 
 And recklessness, twin sisters, who sometimes 
 Sustain a life but oftener lure to death. 
 
 I seemed to get best gospels from the 
 
 world — 
 From worldly men and women — from their 
 acts 
 Far better than the church, and with much 
 
 less 
 Formality, that is to say, alloy. 
 
 Then while my schoolmates slept, or older 
 
 grown. 
 Did revel out the night in senseless sport. 
 Or courting still more senseless girls, or in 
 Some rural bar-room foul with smoke and 
 
 stench 
 
34 AALA DEEKE 
 
 Of sickening vnin, or at some party I'or 
 
 Some l)o<^g'aroil cliurch — sonic })ious thief in 
 
 black — 
 I spent my time with books and solitnde, 
 And wrestled with my thoui^'hts until my brain 
 AVas furrowed o'er with lightning strokes oi' care 
 Long gathering in the clouds of toil and want, 
 Uprooting old ideas and nu>ntal weeils, 
 And lot>sening up the soil for seeds of trutli 
 And liner thoughts — since thoughts refined 
 
 are wealth 
 Of current value in all higher life. 
 So much indeed I gave to thought and dreams 
 And tasks and problems of the working mind 
 That sleep received but few mean paltry hours 
 Of tossing on my straw made bed at night. 
 
 (Inspiring night! with tliee the purest 
 thought is shed ! 
 By thine own magic, stars and moon give life 
 With light, and pale aurora moistens up 
 The fevered brain with cool sweet tears of 
 dew.) 
 
 Thus boyhood ripened into manhood's dawn, 
 And tliro' my veins the fiery flood I felt 
 Yet ne'er had loved ; not e'en a school girl shy 
 Could claim the lirst faint blush of love from 
 me. 
 
AN^D OTHER POEMS. 36 
 
 It seemed I had a love that 1 should meet — 
 1 dreamed her name was Aala, mused on it. 
 And now with retrospective glance half know 
 The dark haired lover dead was quick again, 
 That I was he, for when I met my love 
 I knew my fate. 'Twas on a winter day ; 
 I met her in the cottage small and white 
 And of a dreamy town set in the curve 
 Made crescent by a winding river's mood. 
 And should I live a thousand centuries long 
 Could ne'er forget her eyes, her hair, her 
 
 form — 
 Could ne'er 'forget the gown she wore, her 
 
 words. 
 Her eyes were large — I love a generous eye — 
 They were well capable of fire and flame. 
 But fire of pride more than the flame — desire. 
 For when she spake, thro' their soft sweet 
 
 disguise. 
 Their dreamy light more soothed the soul than 
 
 lured 
 To phantasy and wild mad thought's red coals. 
 J fer hair was glossy as her brow was smooth 
 And fair, and arching like the rainbow's curve, 
 Was with intelligence most eloquent. 
 ILer soft pink cheeks took on the glow of youth 
 As lightning currents passed her full rich 
 
 veins, 
 
36 AALA DEEliTE 
 
 And slic was perfect grace personified — 
 Scarce on the hither side of ripened life. 
 I do confess I loved her body much — 
 Her soul no less — but loved them both and 
 
 hold 
 They are co-equal, both divine and pure. 
 
 Then while my life was yet in bud and bloom, 
 The time when first we met, my blood was 
 
 stirred 
 With palpitating and transporting beat. 
 And I could satisfy myself and feast 
 My soul interminably long in kissing her. 
 My love was such I more desired her than 
 The Lapland crone desires her flame of oil. 
 Nor was my love for her the kind men have 
 To lend just for a moment's usury 
 That takes a woman's honor oft to pay. 
 For mine was such as marred not e'en the red 
 Eeserve that modesty doth paint upon 
 The fairest female brow. And she? her love 
 As pure as heaven's eyes shone thro' my soul 
 And left no place for lurking vice to creep 
 Within — to fetch and hide unchaste desires. 
 Had she been suckled by the Muses all 
 Her build of mind and ample heart of hearts 
 Could not been more complete, perfection's 
 
 self. 
 
anj:> other poems. 37 
 
 For she WHS native of a generous clime 
 Where gracious acts blow thro' clear elements 
 Absorbing perfumed passion from the air. 
 
 Then ere the gleaming sickle of the month 
 Became the fuUfaced moon, we met again. 
 That meeting Fate had fraught with destiny. 
 A smile spread o'er her face like some smooth 
 
 wave 
 Upon a velvet sea. The hour had come. 
 
 As flowers burst 'neath kisses of the sun 
 So bloomed my love beneath her tropic glance, 
 And oped my heart to her in words and acts. 
 
 All fresh and full her rounded cheeks, her 
 
 eyes 
 A happy dream in twilight, pure as dawn : — 
 (For eyes most all grow dark when love grows 
 
 bright.) 
 Iler wine-red wrapper loose with grace reposed 
 About her luxurious form, and half unclosed 
 Her shapely rose-white throat smiled thro' ; 
 
 the folds 
 Revealed her breast in perfect curve and 
 
 mould, 
 And spake in molten love of all the rest. 
 
38 AALA DEENE 
 
 Her life thus far had been a night, since day 
 Comes nowhere save there's love; but now a 
 
 dawn 
 Was broke — a slanting beam fell forward in 
 A fruitful land — her soul began to glow. 
 
 Yet ere her day had perfect grown, a cloud 
 Called Death obscured the hearth and claimed 
 
 her aunt 
 So 'tis! old Death goes out, young Love 
 comes in! 
 
 So close we grew, so fond our love, so true 
 And sweet, our hearts were as two chords that 
 
 trilled 
 Alike to every separate note of life. 
 And I so wrapped in her, so lost beside, 
 I thought sometimes my brain-hull empty was 
 Of all the store that thought had filled it with. 
 And closer ties than ours there could not be — 
 For ivy never clung to oak more near 
 Nor soul to soul in ecstacy more dear 
 Than she in heart and soul and love to me. 
 
 I loved but one and therefore truly loved 
 And thus I lived a true and well filled life — 
 Our life was twinned and twinned our happy 
 hearts, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 39 
 
 I felt the unseen world's deep mysticism 
 Enfold my soul and nourish its desires 
 Occult. By God ! I saw the smiling nymphs 
 Of dawn that unborn babies see, ere light 
 Ilatli dimmed their sight, and which they 
 
 catch a glimpse 
 Of in their dreams while at their mother's 
 
 breast. 
 Enraptured softness swelling out my veins 
 I felt a kinship with the world at large. 
 
 So hand in hand thro' love's own land 
 
 We went my love and I, 
 And reveled there beside the fire — 
 Our hearts were twinned beside the fire 
 
 As winter snows dravo by. 
 
 So when the evening hearth-stone glows. 
 
 And when the air is cold. 
 And when pale Winter's falling snows 
 
 Half choke the moaning wind that blows, 
 
 Our hearts the closer hold. 
 
 And we were wed beside her fire ; 
 
 No formal vows we took — 
 AVe loved each other — that was all — 
 And joined our hearts without the thrall, 
 
 Without the holy book. 
 
40 AALA DEENE 
 
 To consumate our wedding pledge I used 
 No force but argument; persuasion soft 
 And gentle as a cooing dove broke down 
 Her iron will and oped her tropic heart— 
 (Since love and nature stronger are than 
 
 codes.) 
 Then fiery passion leapt from lip to lip 
 From soul to soul, both throbbing thro' with 
 love. 
 
 She set her siren womanhood to me 
 Like soft sweet music to the tenderest words, 
 While she did reverence me as I did her — 
 Then slipt into her bosom, lost in sleep. 
 Thus over-active joy dissolved into 
 A passive trance, by soothing bliss prepared. 
 
 But morning dawned— she thought what 
 
 she had done — 
 Her mind was yet some warped by hollow 
 
 creeds 
 Whose shadows fell athwart her waking soul. 
 These shadows I dispelled — replaced with 
 
 hope. 
 Then half in love's own humor, half remorse, 
 A shaded smile took wings and flew across 
 The summer bloom of her ripe parting lips. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 41 
 
 Night came again ; beside the glowing grate 
 Where mellow fire light fills the room with 
 
 dreams, 
 And weaves a thousand fairy forms and 
 
 sylphs — 
 The weft of Fancy's rosy coloured joys 
 That swarm the brain of lovers — came again 
 The pranks and tales that Love, long years 
 
 ago. 
 Did weave to snare and kill the monster — 
 
 Time. 
 Thus by the winter fire we murdered him 
 Until I felt myself the shadow of 
 Love's gracious dream in which so much I 
 
 lived. 
 
 Our courtship was unceasing — step by step 
 We grew to court each other more and more 
 As brighter, deeper, burned the holy flame. 
 And oft and oft again we read, re-read 
 Each other's soul — and found each time new 
 gems. 
 
 Indeed she loved me much, or else she would 
 Not yielded up to me her blushing self. 
 I called her perfect — true, in tenderness 
 And pure in holy charm of womanhood 
 So clothed with instincts of the just and good. 
 
42 AALA DEENE 
 
 Of her I learned my faith in woman-kind. 
 Of her I got my trust in noble deeds. 
 She grew to be my Muse, my goddess — lute — 
 For music came from every curve she wore. 
 Thus when she spake I heard the meadow 
 
 brooks 
 Sing thro' the tangled grass in June, the hum 
 Of bees and all the voices of the year. 
 
 Nor yielded she the path of virtue for 
 Deception's thorny glade, nor passion's flame 
 And tumult ; only did she do what all 
 Must do when thrilled with tremulous, joyful 
 
 love 
 The tide and time lead on to gates ajar. 
 
 We lived together happy weeks and months 
 Concealed; for well wo knew the gossips' 
 
 tongue. 
 I once was taken sick — she nursed me back — 
 And when I tossed upon my fevered bed 
 She soothed my illness down to pleasant 
 
 dreams. 
 In our seclusion soft she sang me songs 
 And played me sweetest strains on her guitar. 
 
 (Now, thro' the turmoil of the day — 
 The chafing clatter of the throng — 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 43 
 
 A gentle voice — a love-toned lay — 
 Again brings back her evening song.) 
 
 Since I somewhat was given to verse and 
 rhyme, 
 I told some happy songs she sang and gave 
 The soul of music to — and we were like 
 Two children learning first of living love. 
 
 Then muffled well 'mid furry billo\7S warm 
 We took glad sleigh-rides over Country roads. 
 
 Then came the spring and walks in field 
 
 and wood — 
 And filled and thrilled with love and light of 
 
 step 
 Upon the green she tapt her shapely foot. 
 We watched the birds and list unto their song 
 Of love among the dew-wet trees at dawn. 
 Then carriage drives we often took, and lived 
 AVe thus a century since both believe, 
 *It matters not how long you live but how.' 
 To live one hour of joy — a rose — to blush 
 And die forever, better than a life 
 Long filled with lily-paleness, frail and cold. 
 
 Sometimes in boyishness I teased her much 
 But ere I left she'd heal my conscience with 
 Some gentle word, forgiving all my tricks. 
 
44 AALA DEENE 
 
 And time fell on — electric hell, and doom 
 Of swiftly moving sun and shade — a trance 
 Filled full of flitting dreams and songs, thro' 
 
 which 
 These human souls, like butter-flies, do sport 
 And play on crazy wing, that weary, falls. 
 
 Then swarmed the sins of vice and empti- 
 ness. 
 And hissed the forked tongue of gossip, bred 
 Within the sewer sloughs of low mean minds. 
 And she who never 'sinned' nor fell nor had 
 The poisoned tongue of gossip, foul with smut. 
 E'er wagging at her spotless name, was now 
 Sweet prey to heartless woman's vulgar lore. 
 Then 'churchf oiks' turned a wintry eye on 
 
 her. 
 But she was brave and heeded not the look. 
 Yet womanlike she felt the sting and w^ept — 
 And oft upon her midnight sobbing I 
 AVould steal, and change her grief to joy and 
 
 chase 
 From her sad dewy eyes the circled shade 
 Of pain and rain my kisses on her face. 
 
 Since for her love I could not pay her with 
 The common coin men give to women, her's 
 Was love for love, heart for heart, soul for 
 soul. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 45 
 
 When absent, thoughts of her would swarm 
 as bees 
 About their queen — so perfect was her soul. 
 
 To visit her I grew at last compelled 
 To tiger-foot it thro' the town, hid by 
 A moonless night or friendly fog or storm. 
 
 Then too, an aggravation fell upon 
 Discomfiture of oars; her mother came 
 To live with her ; a spry old dame, of ears 
 And eyes, and scruples sanctimonious. 
 
 I came unto Aal's window late one night 
 And gently rapping on the casement there 
 With our own secret taps, she flew to let 
 Me in as soft as flitting shadows move. 
 And oft when spending but a single night, 
 With fearful lack of light, in her embrace 
 And all the whispered doings of ourselves, 
 And daylight found me elsewhere, 'mong the 
 
 throng 
 Or sad and lone, the raptured night half seemed 
 A tropic dream where licensed Love was king. 
 
 Then on my half-wake spirits came a cloud 
 Of melancholy longing — sad as sweet. 
 The years sped on, each ^moment jeweled with 
 
46 A ALA DEEKE 
 
 A joy' — e'en tears and grief by Love were 
 
 blessed. 
 And often thro' white winter's breath and snow 
 I walked to her thro' the night till the dawn 
 
 was gray. 
 
 And happy, I, who filled her heart with joy, 
 And bloomed her full red curving lips with 
 
 smiles. 
 And poured my glances in her luminous eyes ! 
 
 Then off for three long years apart from her. 
 Her love, my love and consience held me true, 
 
 Once back again, her open arms received 
 Me to her open heart, and on the couch, 
 Made pure by stainless love, we breathed the 
 
 sweet 
 Glad breath once more. When calmer grown — 
 My head upon her perfect breast — the gold 
 Upon the irised white — we drank from out 
 The common font of memory and dreams. 
 The gathering night held rapturous charms 
 for us 
 Since we no more could meet and love by day. 
 * * * 
 
 We builded our hopes in a beautiful land. 
 And builded them pure and strong — 
 
AN'D OTHER POEMS. 47 
 
 She planted the seeds with her own fair hand 
 Which have blossomed my soul with song. 
 
 ^Ye builded our hopes and builded them well, 
 And breathed our love on a world of light ; 
 And the dear deep words from her sweet lips 
 
 fell 
 As fresh on my heart as the dews of night. 
 
 And we made the land where our castle stood 
 From the dreams God used for the flowers ; 
 
 And surrounded our world with a fairly wood, 
 Unpeopled by Time's wolfish hours. 
 
 And the waterways spread thro' that happy 
 ground 
 Only mirrored the skies of June ; 
 And the murmuring tree was the soft low 
 sound 
 That should keep our pulse in tune. 
 
 And we dreamed that life was a holy thing. 
 And scorned the world of strife and care ; 
 
 And jeweled with joy and painted the wing 
 Of the rose-pink cherub with gold in his hair. 
 
 And we thought that the numbered days that 
 were spun 
 Around each one of the human race 
 
48 A ALA DEEI^E 
 
 Were but whims of the shade and tricks of 
 the sun, 
 And we laughed old Time in the face. 
 
 And we prayed with a heart that was full of 
 prayer. 
 
 And lived our love as few people could. 
 But where is the castle wo built of air 
 
 That stood in the fairy wood? 
 
 Now all is past. But pictured dreams remain 
 Since darkness came to shroud my being deep 
 AVith melancholy. Still I hope that light 
 May follow every night. It must be so. 
 Light is the password of the universe, 
 The melody of stars, the life of worlds, 
 And immortality but lengthening 
 Decay of grains selected from the shoal 
 Of time — dissolving points that come and go 
 Throughout the little circle of our lives. 
 
 And yet our hearts were blent — one being held 
 The soul of both — I gazed within her eyes 
 Of thought and speech and saw her inmost soul. 
 
 II. 
 So years passed on — and each of us where 
 Love 
 Forgets dragged on our life. That is to say: 
 Both died. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 49 
 
 Pale Death's dark robes do come so oft 
 In divers cuts and makes, that human eyes 
 With passive ox-like look cannot detect 
 The sable cloth, nor recognize a corpse. 
 And she in loytilty to self and sex — 
 Pursuant to the feel and fibre of 
 A woman's heart — gave up her life for love. 
 
 My death was not so dark a change as her's, 
 For my belief was of a different kind. 
 Denying it I lost my soul in doubt, 
 And scorned to call it matter form or thing, 
 Nor anght nor else than ceaseless trend, the 
 
 push 
 And pull of atoms, mystic, manifest; 
 And undulations' thrill or throe, and felt 
 As one law feels another — simply facts 
 Apposed which might resolve themselves into 
 The Absolute or something back of all, 
 Like some rare synthesis in chemistry 
 Where all the elements were thought to be 
 But parts and shadows of the real and true, 
 Back into which they blend to form the One. 
 
 Like many others of my race and kind 
 Whose span is made to seem of Chance and 
 Fate 
 
50 AALA DRENE 
 
 Too great a part, I fell to brewing up 
 
 Dire storms of hate aimed at my fellow men. 
 
 Thus where Love was now sat enthroned my 
 
 Hate — 
 A dark and dangerous cynic, bold and bad. 
 Indeed I do not all deny I loved 
 Some fairer natures than mine own, but not 
 Because I willed to love. A rebel heart 
 Fought e'en against his love. But yet some 
 
 law 
 Beguiled me on to love; for which I claim 
 No favor. I, like every other fact, 
 Found out there lives some greater one beyond 
 The pale of self. My love therefore no more 
 Than force of gravity Avas born of me 
 Nor I of it. 
 
 Not so with her! to her 
 All light and life and love were one, the which 
 Gone out did leave but darksome death. 
 
 That's why 
 I left the haunts where memory mixed with 
 
 pain 
 Too much to dwell among familiar sights. 
 I roamed, and like a speck by rude winds 
 
 tossed. 
 
AN'D OTHER POEMS. 51 
 
 I fell before the chapel of an old 
 Moth-eaten school where Orthodoxy hung 
 Her cobwebs thick in almost every hall. 
 More generous than the rest, the part which 
 
 taught 
 The 'healing art' I chose at once. 
 
 But vowed 
 I would go back to her and happy life. 
 Yet ere that vow had crossed the threshold of 
 My thought, on faltering wing fell down to 
 
 death. 
 My wishes too were caged birds and I 
 Their palsied keeper, prone to cruel deeds. 
 
 The wild beast of a savage ancestry 
 From small aad harmless nursling first, had 
 
 grown 
 To be a monstrous master full of power. 
 And restless, ill at ease and eager for 
 Its dainty food : the broken bleeding heart. 
 It led me forth in quest of tender prey. 
 
 The woods were full of sweetest game and I 
 AVas full of savage life. The game was wild, 
 But I was sly, aware of all their ways. 
 
 But once again upon untrodden ground 
 Where fair fresh innocence was never flushed, 
 
52 AALA DEENE 
 
 there it was I got my fatal blow 
 
 From out the depths of deep dark eyes of 
 
 brown. 
 Ah me! a forest nymph had shot mo thro' 
 And thro' with deadly siren-looks of love. 
 Her virgin tints and dents and dimples came 
 In showers npon my stricken mind and mood. 
 
 1 fain would try to shako them off and lly— 
 Not so ! then Avith my other self communed : 
 
 thou impalpable gases of the air 
 That sweep and sway God's linger from the 
 
 pole ! 
 Am I surprised when airy bubbles break 
 My course? tliese momentary lesions still may be 
 But backward breaking down of cells — the end 
 At last the same. 
 
 No, No! No, No! No, No! 
 Not lust, not any thing but love! no dream 
 Of power, no greed of gain, no hungry pride 
 Attracts my soul to movement and to her. 
 
 My heart has long been tilled for this rich 
 
 crop 
 Of love ; sweet tears have rained upon it ; grief 
 Has plowed it o'er and o'er. Of higher 
 
 thought 
 
AN^D OTHER POEMS. 53 
 
 Small seeds were dropped by mystic winds 
 And focussed rays from many flames have 
 
 kept 
 Them all alive and warm. 
 
 now there broods 
 Upon my many acts a purer dream, 
 And thro' the mists of dawn a splendid sun 
 Drives golden lances down till every blade 
 Of thought is pierced and holds a sparkle fresh 
 From God. now I see what darkness hid 
 Or kept 'neath shadows indistinct. life 
 Is good, for Truth and Love go hand in hand! 
 now I better feel what sight confirms — 
 
 Light and Love ! Love and Light ! 
 
 Thou art so much the same. 
 loving Light! Love is light, 
 
 And light is but the name. 
 
 she was fair and noble-browed and proud. 
 
 No need hath she of praise from me, yet I 
 
 Cannot resist the strong appeal to praise. 
 
 The sunlight smote the dark with trembling 
 love — 
 
 New light to life ! fresh hope to heart ! foul 
 Hate 
 
 Had fled. Again the dawn with Soul en- 
 throned ! 
 
54 A A LA DEENE 
 
 Hail Sonl! 
 
 Tliou art the only divino luonarcli ! 
 
 For tliou wort onthronod as iniu'li l\y all the 
 
 universe as by this little world of ours. 
 The past with all its multitudinous populace of 
 
 folks and facts wore and will forever be 
 
 thy subjects. 
 From the mother-sense — the Touch — to her 
 
 yonng'est dauii:hter — Intuition — all have 
 
 been loyal aiul diligent contributors to 
 
 thee. 
 
 Love is more than life and more than 
 death ! 
 tie that binds to all that is! bond 
 Of union, links occult! when Love comes home 
 The past disintegrates and from its ruins 
 It resurrects, repooples day Avith joy, 
 And sows fair TTeavon's jewels thick in vaults 
 Of night. Love is all and more than all! 
 
 KIKSr OK T11K SKVKNIMI MON I'll. 
 
 Hill and oak tree. 
 And beneath the tree the shade 
 And beyond anil thro' the valley and up the 
 farther siile, iunuuun-able trees and patches 
 of clearetl land with ancient stone fences. 
 
AND OTIIKIl I'OKMS. 66 
 
 Ami Ciirtlier, ii groat ridge ol' bluu liilln, 
 
 And boyond, lino after lino, peak after peak, 
 
 of tli(^ great White Mountains, and above 
 
 them the soft (douds, and beyond the 
 
 clouds — the sky. 
 A butter-eu}) nodding at my feed — sky about 
 
 my head. 
 Springs ilowing from beneath nxd^s and joy- 
 ously leaping (U)vvn the hillsiihs 
 And calmer strc^ams winding thro' the valley — 
 Infinite variety, anuizing similarity, beneath 
 
 tiu^ sam(^ garb! 
 And here and there (hi])pling the farther slope 
 
 are homes of N^ew England farmers. 
 And near me cattle graze, 
 And drowsy shee[) rest 'lu'ath lurighboring 
 
 trees, while the solemn (yoinundicuit Hows 
 
 gloomily on. 
 Thus here in Vcu-mont, ^'ature yieldeth to 
 
 me this day her riidn^st estate. 
 
 I sit in the lecture room — my (dass-nuites are 
 about nu); 
 
 I look at the professor — 0, he is a most com- 
 plete num, his mind so rounded out he 
 seems the sabbath of all sanencss. 
 
 I listen to his words. 
 
56 AALA DEEKE 
 
 These surroundings impress me, and I wonder 
 if accouched time is more than a dream, 
 and the things about me impalpable vis- 
 ions of the mind. 
 How strange it is that men have ears ! an eye 
 Seems like a Jewel set beneath the brow 
 To beautify the face. But ears protrude — 
 Some speak loud of kindship with the brutes, 
 While some, enriched with grace divine and 
 
 sweet, 
 Give music such as Art hath not produced. 
 I think how strange it is that men have ears! 
 
 How insignificant is human life! 
 
 A leaf selected from a single tree, 
 
 The tree obscure in endless boundless wood, 
 
 And not at all unlike a million more. 
 
 Yet after all — may not man be a sign, 
 
 A symbol standing for all scopeless things 
 
 And numbers vast as all suns conceived 
 
 And lost in Time's untrodden desert wilds — 
 
 An ornament upon the arch sublime 
 
 And blue where starry worlds do count no more 
 
 Than dew drops on the humblest grass thiit 
 
 grows — 
 A destiny perhaps to equal gods? 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 57 
 
 Man's love and hope the hands upon the clock 
 Of time which measure out his dawns and 
 
 dusks — 
 This many-sided growth wherein alone 
 The sunset comes without a dawn and snows 
 Of winter fall ere spring hath spread her green. 
 
 I go forth in the streets. 
 The climax of my life is love. 
 I am exultant and happy. 
 Mistakes and misdeeds are forgotten or readily 
 excused. 
 
 I sing: 
 Come bud and bloom ere ripened fruit can 
 
 bear! 
 Come sun and rain ere fields can be most fair! 
 Come sturdy youth to all thy follies wed ! 
 Come nobler manhood with thy follies dead ! 
 
 Even dead grief yields sweet perfume. 
 I sing : 
 Without sorrow joy would fly — 
 Without a tear, without a sigh 
 The listless moments would drag by 
 And in monotonous numbers — die. 
 
58 AALA DEENE 
 
 I see the life of a city street 
 With its narrow strip of sky — 
 The wearily plodding on of feet 
 As the endless crowd goes by, 
 And as tenderly think of that teeming 
 
 throng 
 As a mother thinks of her babe. 
 
 CATALYTIC. 
 
 ''^Her corpse they deposit miclaimed, it lies on 
 
 the damp Irich pavement^ 
 The divine tvoman^ her body, I see the body, I 
 
 look on it alone, 
 That house once full of passio?i attd beauty, all 
 
 else I notice not. 
 Nor stilhiess so cold, nor ru7ini7ig luater from 
 
 the faucet, nor odors morbific impress me, 
 But the house alone — that wo7idrous house — 
 
 that delicate fair house — that ruin, * * * 
 Fair, fearful ivreclc — tene^nent of a soul — itself 
 
 a soul.'*^ 
 
 IN THE DISSECTING ROOM. 
 
 *I wish I could see all that eye has seen,' 
 said Lib, holding up the eyeball of his 
 subject. 
 
 'What for?' said Bill. 
 
 *So I'd know more,' said Lib. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 59 
 
 To cut, to tear, diesect and dig a corpse — 
 To search that marvelous field — the human 
 
 dead — 
 The sight and smell of death and fast decay — 
 Tlie drip and ooze from dead men's open 
 
 mouths. 
 And eyeballs dangling out from cloven skulls — 
 The severed hands and arms and legs of babes 
 And mothers gray from sacred cares of life — 
 The hawkeyed 'demonstrator's' hungry look 
 With nose scarce half a foot above the wreck — 
 Irreverent 'medic's' laugh and vulgar jokes — 
 All these assail the softer sense of self 
 And weave benumbing webs about the brain. 
 And needful ones, but webs which soon dis- 
 solve. 
 
 Anatomy! Histology! Chemistry! Physi- 
 ology! 
 how great and good is the doctor's art! his 
 
 science too is exact. 
 He is the real minister. 
 
 Suffer then to dig and delve in the anatomi- 
 cal earth! 
 the pleasure of it, and all the mysterious 
 beauties beneath the lens! 
 
60 AALA DEEI^E 
 
 Communities of individuals — what a world! 
 
 a universe ! 
 what caverns and abysses! what heights! 
 
 what immeasurable spaces! 
 what a nation of individuals is the human 
 
 body! 
 How wonderfully developed and differentiated 
 
 and specialized are the various units and 
 
 families of this people. 
 And then that multitudinous executive of all, 
 
 with a network of silvery wires — that 
 
 complex cabinet, the brain ! 
 the municipalities in a tissue and the tissues 
 
 in an organ and the organs in an organ- 
 ism! 
 How ideal the federation ! how beautiful the 
 
 government! how loyal each individual 
 
 cell, how satisfied with his station, how 
 
 faithful in function ! 
 The magic architects — the divine mechanics! 
 green and gold, 
 chlorophyll riding a sunbeam ! 
 
 distillation of death ! font of life ! 
 freedom! perfect freedom until caught 
 again in the net and web of life. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 61 
 
 the playful atoms, frolicsome, free, never 
 
 nnitecl. 
 molecules rolling and tumbling in laughter, 
 
 singing to each other and to us if we 
 
 could but hear you. 
 you playful things! joyously building your 
 
 little houses and tearing them down again 
 
 with the mirth of boys. 
 you mimic warriors ! 
 And you mighty builders ! 
 Builders of towers of strength with green 
 
 domes — 
 Builders of fair domes — glistening domes to 
 
 roof and house the thoughts of men. 
 Builders on ladders of sunlight — 
 bridge from star to star! 
 Gleesome builders, blithesome, lithesome 
 
 builders, logical builders — 
 Architects, divine moulders, makers of new 
 
 patterns — 
 Never at rest, ceaseless, endless, immortal — 
 beautiful cells of mysterious metabolism — 
 Breaking down in thought and emotion — in 
 
 dreams. 
 course, pretty course along the line of 
 the least resistance. 
 
62 AALA DEENE 
 
 that accounts for all, for day dreams and 
 
 night-dreams. 
 God, how beautiful is death — death in life 
 
 — and all the changes of death — this 
 
 sound sleep, this change, this distillation, 
 
 this life in death. 
 
 How little we know of distance, of magnitude 
 
 and power. 
 Comparison is beneath all, and symbols stand 
 
 for all. unthinkable finite and elusive 
 
 infinite! 
 And Time is stationary — the queerest old 
 
 spinx of all. 
 How small an ocean is beside a cell ! 
 What gigantic changes go on within a cell of 
 
 life— 
 What mysterious tides, what surges, what pro- 
 found, what awful darkness! 
 What brilliancy of refracted light and life and 
 
 what shadow-sounds with all! 
 
 to look back across the dreary phylogony of 
 
 a corpse! 
 to look back into the early nesting-spots — 
 
 the ontogeny of time ! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 63 
 
 God! God! can this be Aala Deene? 
 A subject to dissect? It cannot be! 
 
 1 shall go crazy! there's a something in 
 My mind that doth disarm my courage and 
 My heart grows sick as faint disease. me! 
 Her teeth! her teeth! oh let me see her teeth! 
 Pearl white and even teeth— yes Aala Deene 
 Had teeth that death not e'en could mar; I'd 
 
 know 
 Those teeth in. . . • shapely hands! oh 
 
 poor dear hands ! 
 hands that soothed my aching brow so oft 
 And ministered unto my happy hours— 
 And those arms— those magic ivory chains 
 That once did bind so close a willing slave 
 Unto her throbbing heart. The heart is cold 
 Now too ! can this be the Aala Deene 
 Of old? 
 
 A dream, a nightmare rides my brain! 
 Those livid lips, those slimy shrunken lips. 
 Are those the rosy lips I pressed agone? 
 These leaden eyes the lustrous orbs of her 
 I loved? That sunken silent breast was once 
 So warm and billowed with the hills of love 
 That Nature chose it for an Eden fair. 
 
64 AALA DEEN-E 
 
 It must not be ! I will compose myself ! 
 Will hasten home ; will see my nameless love. 
 
 she will tell me that I dreamed ! they — 
 The ... to whom go we when days are dark 
 For light of love and sympathy. Yes I 
 
 Will seek her breast and warm embrace and beg 
 Her tell me that I dreamed. But womanlike 
 May ask my dream? that will never do ! 
 
 1 could not tell her that. It might arouse 
 The slumbering flame of jealousy within 
 
 Her heart and pain and burn her stainless 
 
 breast. 
 me ! But I shall bear the brunt of my 
 Misdeeds! now I see how futile is 
 Escape from debt for sake of self imposed. 
 What real folks mistakes may come to be! 
 How thick the air is peopled by our acts — 
 They are results which like our shadows run 
 Before us long as life. They stare us in 
 The face so pitilessly, cruelly cold. 
 that we might foresee such evil pangs 
 Or run away from facts which face and front ! 
 
 Now comes the night, the fearful grewsome 
 night — 
 How thick my brain does swarm with things 
 of past ! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 65 
 
 How keen the torture of my soul and heart ! 
 How faint and sick I feel! with trembling knee 
 I seek my bed for rest — forgetful sleep — 
 But sleep ! did ever a soul find sleep in Hell? 
 I'm living over all my painful life 
 Again. 
 
 I seek the arms of her beside 
 Me like a frightened babe its mother's breast. 
 
 God! Death! welcome death, come 
 
 take 
 Me from this living hell — these coals of 
 thought. 
 
 1 press the soft full lips of her I love — 
 
 I shudder — turn away. They seem so like 
 
 The dead cold shrunken lips — the livid lips 
 
 Of all that's left of Aala Deene I see. 
 
 is there never a limit found in hell? 
 
 The human brain can bear so much — no more. 
 
 she beside me now is fast asleep — 
 The ghostly clock strikes two — I steal out in 
 The night — I seek the slab where Aala 
 
 sleeps — 
 No keen-edged knife divides her sacred flesh ! 
 No vulgar jokes assail her listless ear! 
 Irreverent eyes no more shall look upon 
 Her form. 
 
66 AALA DEEN'E 
 
 I clasp again dear Aala Deene — 
 I look to see the crimson current flood 
 Her cheek as oft before. 
 
 'Twas never she 
 Who sinned — 'twas I. But yet she paid the 
 
 price. 
 It seems so strange that ever since the world 
 Began to weep, frail innocence should pay- 
 To lose, and loving bear the tears of grief. 
 
 The solemn old river is gloomy and still — 
 
 Her secrets are not to be told. 
 Her murky old breast shall keep them until 
 
 The sands of the grave-yard are gold. 
 
 One subject less for the dissecting-class — 
 
 One more in time for the sea — 
 One mile-post less for those to pass 
 
 On the road to hell with me. 
 
 Thro' the world of living men 
 
 A dead man walks alone. 
 His voice is mute as loveless tears 
 
 His heart is cold as stone. 
 He has no care for those who care, 
 
 No thought for those who weep, 
 And life is heavy on his hands, 
 
 And all his walks are steep — 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 67 
 
 All his ways are steep and deep, 
 
 And every footstep to despair — 
 Cold and dead, but death is fair 
 
 To her and soft as sleep. 
 
 And I have seen what slumber sees 
 Walk naked in the light of day — 
 
 Known sights and sounds that kill and freeze 
 The groping spirit stooped to pray." 
 
 'Ati^ a mail 'c must go with a woman, as you 
 could not understand.'''' 
 
68 AALA DEENE 
 
 ®lt^ Strait?* 
 
 KISS to thee— I throw it! 
 
 Thou art not — and yet — 
 woman ! or bloom of a spirit, 
 Wouldst thou forget ? 
 
 A^ 
 
 Flitting thro' the lighted halls 
 
 Heedst thou not a care? 
 Thou fantom my flaming heart calls, 
 Couldst thou yet dare ? 
 
 joy, fairbodied and craven! 
 
 I long to ensnare 
 Thy steps with strands that are raven — 
 Night of thy hair ! 
 
 molten the golden mist-mazes! 
 
 And winged are thy feet. 
 My thoughts are shadows and hazes — 
 Sweet of my sweet ! 
 
 Unseen like a star in the daylight, 
 
 I feel and I know 
 The heave of thy breast and the soft delight 
 Of thy bosoms of snow. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 69 
 
 The rain of the beams of the moonlight 
 
 Rippled your hair as I felt, 
 And thou wert a queen of my dreams that night 
 On the sward as I knelt. 
 
 So limpid-low the breezes blow : 
 Out there the moon is bright, 
 And all the boughs do beckon so — 
 Fly to the night ! 
 
 For thou the whirling twirling streams — 
 
 For me the lost delight. 
 The hallowed spot I knelt in dreams 
 Out in the night. 
 
 Farewell to thee ! I know it ! 
 
 Thou art not — and yet — 
 woman ' or bloom of a spirit. 
 Would I forget ? 
 
70 AALA DEENE 
 
 TMPERIOUS mind! the Master stands, 
 ■^ Surveys the fields of soul and sense — 
 With majesty of look commands 
 
 The ghosts to go — Faith's foul pretense! 
 
 We hail him king and hold him higher 
 With flawless love more pure and whole 
 
 Than ever built an alter-fire — 
 
 A peerless Prince of heart and soul ! 
 
 The love of man his blood and breath — 
 Heroic, strong in hope and years. 
 
 The councilor of Life and Death — 
 His eyes weep only human tears. 
 
 His brooding love a beaming star 
 
 That changeless floods the fields of night, 
 
 And decks forgotten graves afar 
 With jeweled tears of joy and light. 
 
 Free born of chemic sun and dew. 
 Sweet-mothered by the Earth below — 
 
AND OTIIKlt I'OEMS. 71 
 
 lie blcrisod a weiiry world juiow, 
 
 Aiul WMllvtul Iho piillis oC light wo know. 
 
 He planted in tlio soil and dust 
 
 The pansiiul Lliou<:;hts of lIo[)(^ and S})ring, 
 And lillod tli(^ lu^art of iiian vvitli trust, 
 
 And taught tlu^ huuuin soul to sing. 
 
 lie tanght divinost doubts of good — 
 1^'orgave the crimes that must and wiU^ 
 
 And knows that even bane of blood 
 Shall s<)iu(!tiine losii tiio taint of ill. 
 
 Hut hark! I spoak of him as thougli 
 My words could tell liis utter worth — 
 
 Attompt is vain! and yet I know 
 
 Ijovo's language is not wholly (hearth. 
 
 nuistor mind! wondrous Soul! 
 
 Ages still shall sing Thy worth — 
 When love aiul light shall blend the whole 
 
 l]mpeo[)l(Ml /oiu's around th(^ earth. 
 
 When canin(i tcHith in mouths of men, 
 
 Used no longer, mcilt away. 
 The mating briuith of love; shall th(;n 
 
 Rospeak Thy words, remould 'IMiy clay. 
 
72 AALA DEENE 
 
 Thy words shall live! their touch and 
 stroke 
 
 Give to babes unborn the spell 
 Of perfect freedom from the yoke 
 
 Of Dogma, Devil, God and Hell. 
 
 We call Thee Master — happy thought ! 
 
 Winged Wisdom plumes Thy fame- 
 More flowers of truth bloomed where Thou 
 taught 
 
 Than e'er again shall trail a name. 
 
 Thy Soul holds more than sons of men 
 Have dreamed thro' all the flight of time 
 
 Or ever will be dreamed again 
 Until the happy stars shall chime. 
 
 Thy time on earth gave hallowed days — 
 Blending all our noons and eves, 
 
 Enriching thought's enraptured ways 
 Like softened tones on autumn leaves. 
 
 The varied seasons of the year. 
 
 Fact and Fancy wed to woo, 
 Unlost to Your responsive cheer — 
 
 Is all a God could give or do. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 73 
 
 'Mid facts, Thy life, erect,at ease, 
 Eobed in Splendor's perfect grace, 
 
 Like towering pine 'mong lesser trees 
 Gives strongest beauty to Thy face. 
 
 I see in babes, two moves away, 
 
 Love's own heritage of Yon, 
 And trace throughout their careless play 
 
 Thy trend of soul, aplomb and true. 
 
 In ''daughter's babes" (I weep for joy!) 
 
 Lives the image of Thy face ; 
 My heart enshrines the rosy boy 
 
 That wears Thy winsome gift and grace. 
 
 Thy very flesh is sacred stuff! 
 
 Blooming flowers o' sumptuous truth — 
 And never Christian lies enough 
 
 Could steal away the tints of youth! 
 
 The kindly light of knowing eyes 
 
 Beaming through Thy haloed breath, 
 
 Makes Thee eternal as the skies — 
 Thy name triumphant over Death. 
 
 Of Thee, for us no bitter hour 
 
 Creeping cloud-like over life ! 
 For well we know that death's grim power 
 
 Is weak and wingless in the strife. 
 
74 AALA DEENE 
 
 The countless facts of earth and sun 
 Perfect union found in Thee, 
 
 And made Thy grand ensemble one 
 More great than all, more truly free. 
 
 Thy wealth of brain, a brilliant sphere, 
 Shoots the shafts of wit and mirth 
 
 That rive a million minds of fear. 
 
 And warm the seeds of sense on earth. 
 
 sane and sacred Ingeesoll ! 
 Manliest man of all our race ! 
 
 Thy fame knows not of spring nor fall- 
 Eternal lives Thy love and grace ! 
 
 Then marvel not our scopeless love ! 
 
 Leaping praise would woo Thy name. 
 And never burning star above 
 
 Shall live beyond Thy boundless fame. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 75 
 
 Dedicated to Grady's friend, Col. W. A. Hemphill, 
 a great-hearted Georgian. 
 
 AR down the shadowy vale of tears 
 
 We watched his passing into night, 
 Where faintly ebb the vanished years 
 And all is lost to mortal sight. 
 
 Our eyes were dim, our hearts were sore. 
 We could Qot think that loss was gain ; 
 
 But felt the pangs of grief the more 
 We thought to free our hearts from pain. 
 
 Dear hills of Georgia, Grady's pride! 
 Your sunny slopes are wet with tears ; 
 
 And all our flowery meadows wide 
 Will mourn their loss for years and years. 
 
 We cannot choose but love him more 
 As on and on thro' time we move, 
 
 For Truth hath said it o'er and o'er, 
 He healed a nation's heart with love. 
 
76 AALA DEENE 
 
 Dear birds ! ye things of breath and dew, 
 Of sleeping flowers and molten sun, 
 
 Ye bringeth back our hopes anew. 
 And faith from him, the Southland's son. 
 
 Sweet symbols ! free from earth and all 
 The rubbish pile of weary life. 
 
 Inspire our patient souls and call 
 One truer name for less of strife. 
 
 Ye come with songs from fairy lands, 
 And music fresh from Georgia's bowers, 
 
 To bless the spot where loving hands 
 Have placed a wreath of Northern flowers.* 
 
 Ye come like hope on airy wing 
 With notes of love and songs of cheer. 
 
 And resting on his statue sing 
 The psalms of life now doubly dear. 
 
 The psalms of life and songs to move 
 Our stricken heart to faith as wide 
 
 As this fair land of Henry's love, 
 From South to North, from tide to tide. 
 
 *A wreath of flowers placed at the foot of the 
 statue by Northern admirers during the Cotton States 
 Exposition, 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 77 
 
 /*\N the hillside, in the quiet, from the 
 ^*^ world apart, 
 
 Resting in the av\^ful silent shadows after life; 
 Sleeping in the solemn memories made from 
 
 weary strife, 
 We have left him as we laid him, with a wreath 
 
 above his heart. 
 
 All the trees had hushed their murmurs in 
 the graveyard where they stood. 
 
 All the grasses, like sweet children under sor- 
 row's early blow. 
 
 Joined the silence of the mourners, drooping 
 sadly, seemed to know. 
 
 What the leaves lost in the forest, and the 
 weeping of the wood. 
 
 We were children there beside him and tlie 
 oldest of us felt 
 Helpless in the darkness there, tho' highest 
 stood the sun ; 
 
78 AALA DEEKE 
 
 And we marvelled at his stillness — that his ac- 
 tive life was done — 
 
 And the mystery of this manner rose triumph- 
 ant as we knelt. 
 
 On the hillside, in the quiet, at a peaceful 
 
 place, 
 Eesting in the awful silent shadows after life ; 
 Sleeping in the solemn memories made from 
 
 weary strife. 
 We have left him as we laid him, with a smile 
 
 upon his face. 
 
A]S"D OTHER POEMS. 79 
 
 T LOOK across the hill-tops 
 -*- Where the ships sail out at sea, 
 And float with them in fancy, 
 And dream of all to be. 
 
 I am out on the deck at moonlight, 
 And feel the swell of the tide. 
 
 Where the waters whisper something 
 That the deep sea cannot hide. 
 
 When the ocean is regnant with starlight, 
 And pregnant with beams of the moon. 
 
 There comes to my soul with her presence 
 The sweetness of love, and the swoon. 
 
 And Florence is mine, and the present 
 Knows not of her past or of tears — 
 
 No questions of pain that are jealous 
 Of joys that delighted her years! 
 
 But there in the fullness of dreaming, 
 And the splendor of throb and the beat 
 
80 AALA DEEKE 
 
 Our passion brooks not of the morrow- 
 I faint and fall at her feet. 
 
 I look across the hilltops, 
 Where the ships sail out at sea ; 
 
 In sublime and tender anguish 
 I beckon them back to me. 
 
 I moan to the swell of the ocean 
 And plead with the tide of the sea ; 
 
 And I pray to the winds of the water 
 To bring her back to me. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 81 
 
 kAIR Hope was wed to Passion — 
 A lover bold and strong — 
 And Hope was rich in beauty, 
 And Passion rich in song. 
 
 They met and loved at morning; 
 
 They loved and wed at noon, 
 For the joys they sought are fleeting. 
 
 And night comes all too soon. 
 
 They made them a bed of roses, 
 And hid beneath their bloom ; 
 
 And bathed themselves in dewdrops 
 And in a rose perfume. 
 
 For Hope was coy and bashful, 
 'Neath blushes hid her face ; 
 
 While Passion, bold and eager. 
 Clasped Hope in his embrace. 
 
 They fed on dreams of rapture, 
 On transports fierce and wild. 
 
 And Immortality was 
 
 To them their first-born child. 
 
82 AALA DEENE 
 
 Pl^ Ql0xxxtivv; 
 
 The 
 
 HE world is my paradise ; I love to roam it. 
 I love other vagabonds. 
 
 I love the hearty, happy well-fed, well- 
 groomed drummers. 
 
 I love to mix and mingle with humanity — 
 on the swift moving coaches , in the smok- 
 ing car where the curling wreaths of blue 
 crown democracy, in the boudoir, in the 
 baggage car, in the general coach watch- 
 ing the faces and actions of men, women 
 and children — studying age and youth, 
 studying thought and character, viewing 
 mysterious cities, villages, and scatterred 
 country cots in dissolving landscapes. 
 
 I like to sit in hotel offices, in rural bar-rooms, 
 
 in the country store at night. 
 I inhabit every place 1 see, every secluded 
 
 nook and glen, every hill, every vale, every 
 
 city, village and country crossroads — every 
 
 street. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 83 
 
 I live with every person I see — hating some, 
 loving others. Every woman I meet I 
 love or hate, marry or divovce. 
 
 I like to meet men at their place of business, 
 at their homes. 
 
 I like to linger in the large and fashionable 
 bazaars where endless throngs of women 
 come. 
 
 I like to go into the little shoe-maker shop and 
 chat while he at the bench taps my shoes. 
 
 I love the life and atmosphere of home "with 
 the fair chamber, wherein faint dreams, 
 like cool and shadowy vales divide the bil- 
 lowed hours of love." 
 
84 AALA DEEi^E 
 
 Y poems fall like leaves 
 
 Beneath a city's tread — 
 Like wind-voice of the eaves, 
 Or last words of the dead. 
 
 MI 
 
 Long fed on fluent sap 
 
 Of me, on love and light, 
 I see them fall i' the lap 
 
 Of long and lonesome night. 
 
 As longing voices sigh 
 
 Past casement eaves at night 
 
 They moan to her and die. 
 
 Unanswered by her smile of light. 
 
 We wander, my poems and I, 
 
 Like the voice of a speaker dead — 
 
 Clasped ha ads with a moan and a sigh 
 When hope from the heart is fled. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 85 
 
 I 
 
 gL xt^eni to Jt^tr at &v^n-ixde. 
 
 WENT to her at even-tide— 
 
 So long the shadows had lain 
 Athwart my heart of weariness, 
 They had grown to the scars of pain. 
 
 The way was long, but I found Her out — 
 I was tired of thorns and stones — 
 
 My years of famine had left me faint, 
 And the world had bruised my bones. 
 
 the dreams of my hope, unutterably sweet 
 Were the beams and gleams in my night. 
 
 As I strove for the goal with the strength of 
 my soul — 
 For all gifts should be mine in Her sight. 
 
 Silent and sad, down deep in the west, 
 
 My sun had gone to its sleep ; 
 Where the curtains of purple drawn softly 
 aside 
 
 Were the shadows that crawl and creep. 
 
86 AALA DEEN^E 
 
 But the terrors of night never turned my sight 
 From the gleams and dreams of my soul ; 
 
 When the light of Her eyes should paint me 
 new skies 
 For the land of my love and my goal. 
 
 Her fingers as cool as the young morn's breath 
 
 Should soothe my lids to sleep; 
 And Her bosoms of snow never more should 
 know 
 
 The warmth of a love so deep. 
 
 I knelt at Her side at even-tide — 
 
 God (that She never felt) , 
 Such looks from Her eyes, what her warm lips 
 said, 
 
 When I died at Her side as I knelt. 
 
AKD OTHEE POEMS. 87 
 
 T N my pocket I found a dainty glove, 
 •^ And all that blissful day 
 
 Visions as rare as my Florence is fair 
 
 Blessed my enraptured way — 
 And I said as I breathed the empurpled air, 
 
 This is enough, / love! I love! 
 
 In my pocket I found her dainty glove. 
 And the gleams of that glorious day. 
 
 The gold threads spun with the beams of the 
 sun. 
 Soft carpeting, fell on my way — 
 
 And I said to my soul, Tho' life be done. 
 This is enough / love! I love! 
 
 Ah ! Love is love, and a glove is a glove, 
 But there are tilings ivitliout names as tvell^ 
 
 So ril keep her glove, and love her with love 
 That should Mess the cursed demo7is of Hell, 
 
88 AALA DEEKE 
 
 (To EUGENE V. DEBS.) 
 
 T have dreamed the dreams of the lowly, 
 ^ And garnered the scattering grain 
 
 AVhere the reapers have toiled before me- 
 My harvest was tares and pain. 
 
 But I said : Tomorrow season 
 
 Will ripen the unshorn field ; 
 I will girdle my loins in the morning 
 
 And gather the dew-fresh yield. 
 
 And the season brought forth its reapers 
 Who garnered the golden grain 
 
 While the dew was fresh on the grasses — 
 And the dew was my tears of pain. 
 
 But I smothered my sorrow within me — 
 
 Awaiting the season again, 
 The reapers I saw in the meadows — 
 
 And the toilers were sowing the grain. 
 
AND OTHEE POEMS. 89 
 
 And I swore to my soul : Not the morrow, 
 
 But today, unmindful of yield, 
 I will sow the grain I would gather 
 
 Tho' I get not an ear from the field. 
 
 And lo ! from my broadcast sowing 
 On the bounteous breast of the field, 
 
 Amazing rich was the harvest — 
 
 And children were fed from the yield. 
 
 And I cared not to garner, while others 
 
 Know only to harvest and reap. 
 For mine is the reaimig of solving 
 
 Till, the spirit of rest gives me sleep. 
 
90 A ALA DEENE 
 
 O 
 
 Sunset soft and evening sky, 
 
 And Twilight, herald of the ni^ht- 
 And Eastern Star with steady eye, 
 where is Dan, poor Dan, to-night? 
 
 I know the spot, the dreamy place, 
 
 AVhere rests his mouldering image now — 
 
 But the light of love has left his face. 
 And reason fled his noble brow. 
 
 sleep of death ! have you no dawn 
 Where waking Hope may greet the light? 
 
 Or has my lover's future gone 
 
 Back to the shoals of endless night? 
 
 1 know the spots we used to roam — 
 Dear hills made holy by his tread ! 
 
 But grey are the ashes on the hearth of home, 
 And cold his heart — and still — and dead. 
 
 cruel Silence shun the grave ! 
 
 One word, a sound ! from the shadow shoals 
 
AALA DEENE 91 
 
 AVith foam of promise cap one wave ! 
 One breath of love from departed souls I 
 
 Not one, not one — and the sun is set — 
 And the stars are far, so far away — 
 
 The stars and the earth, they seem to forget 
 That a soul can feel — dead lost day ! 
 
 Sunset wide and evening sky, 
 
 And Twilight, herald of the night — 
 
 And Eastern Star with steady eye, 
 
 Tell me, dear hearts, of Dan tonight ! . 
 
 T KISSED the twinned perfection of her 
 sculptured pride of breast. 
 And felt the tide of passion swell where 
 whirlpool currents tosst — 
 And knew that I could never know the port 
 of harbor rest 
 Unless her arms should rescue me from seas 
 where souls are lost. 
 
92 A-iHD OTHER POEMS. 
 
 TpROM dripping eaves the voice of tears 
 ^ Speaks sad and soft of her dear eyes — 
 Beyond the dismal wood she hears 
 The croaking frogs and fancied sighs. 
 
 The day has smiled itself to sleep, 
 
 And anguished clouds weep woman's tears. 
 
 For arms unclasped and could not keep 
 What heart had sought thro' serried years. 
 
 One happy hour of day was thrilled 
 
 With loveful notes from some glad bird. 
 
 A marsh with crimson cannas filled 
 
 Breathed long of love with leaves unstirred. 
 
 And drowsy dews met scarlet lips — 
 Enraptured looks drank deep of eyes, 
 
 And sense of soul in red eclipse 
 Wooed purple modesty of skies. 
 
 infant lips upon her breast ! 
 
 dimpled hands 'mid laces there! 
 
 1 press you close as love has pressed, 
 And kiss the mother's more than hair! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 93 
 
 song of bird, and babe asleep! 
 
 And crimson cannas leaves unstirred — 
 My love was mine for me to keep 
 
 As sleep of babe, as song of bird. 
 
 The day has smiled itself to sleep, 
 And dripping eaves fetch echo tears. 
 
 For she was mine, but not to keep 
 As I would keep thro' years of years. 
 
94 AALA DEENE 
 
 T SEE through every night a perfect star 
 ■ Whose beams blend love with hope, 
 
 adorably fine ; 
 I breathe its light, transmute it, call it 
 mine, 
 Still knowing that it blesses worlds afar. 
 I even long for night — my splendid star 
 
 Outshines the glare of day where babbling 
 
 kine 
 Puke ferment-words, and call themselves 
 divine, 
 And shock the soul with noisome gab and jar. 
 
 Accept, Soul, the night of pain and death 
 If only in the farthest rim of skies 
 
 My heart beholds the dearest pair of eyes 
 That ever haloed spicey human breath ! 
 
 Invoke, ye demons of the darkest creeds. 
 
 Most devilish pain! ye nightdogs 'mong the 
 reeds! 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 95 
 
 ^0 ^lovi^ncie* 
 
 ^^"75 ECAUSE we cannot see afar 
 
 ■*-^ The things without nor all within— 
 
 Because most holy thoughts are slain 
 Ere burgeonings of truth begin — 
 
 I will not count my love as lost 
 
 Because my love lives not with me— 
 
 Nor slay the hope nor kill the flight 
 Of all that passion dreams to be. 
 
 Because the soaring soul is blind — 
 Yet eagle-instinct thrills the wing ; 
 
 And heart lifts up as heart weighs down — 
 More sacred still the wish to sing. 
 
 I sing to her and hope and hope — 
 
 I know that I shall never know. 
 I love, and love needs nothing more, 
 
 And less perchance as love may grow. 
 
 A million million years must roll 
 
 And change on change more perfect grow, 
 Incorporate the sentient soul — 
 
 And then perhaps the soul may know. 
 
96 AALA BEEKE 
 
 'Jhj 
 
 gin ^lond^Ue ^notv^ 
 
 HE stars look down on a frozen land — 
 
 The pale moon thrills the lonesome 
 deep — 
 fair young face, and bare white hand 
 Of her lover fast asleep. 
 
 Cold, cold he lies in Klondyke snow — 
 
 The stars shed gleams and the cold moon 
 beams — 
 
 The harsh wind whistles soft and low. 
 And laughs at the gold of his dreams. 
 
 But the gold of his dreams like the gold of his 
 hair 
 
 Was touched by frost — the frost was death — 
 And his pale young brow made doubly fair 
 
 By the frost of his frozen breath. 
 
 Where skies are deep as her own dark eyes — 
 Afar to the southward, under the sun. 
 
 She laughs and sings, nor dreams that he lies 
 So cold with his gold unwon. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 97 
 
 Cold, cold he lies half under the snow, 
 
 His fair face turned toward southern skies — 
 
 And it is best that she does not know 
 That death has kissed his eyes. 
 
 I 
 
 HEARD the wind sough thro' the north- 
 ern pines 
 Of a deep interminable wood 
 In the dead of winter, while leafless vines 
 
 Entwined me where I stood 
 With moon-shadows serpent-wise. 
 
 Silent voices of the night 
 Impressed me. From the glittering skies 
 
 Star-pictures on my sight 
 Fell cold and chill as dew that falls 
 
 From the pale brow of death. 
 Lo ! from the distance came the calls 
 
 Of wood-dogs ; and my breath 
 Mating their wiatry howls grew fierce and 
 quick — 
 Vague shadows crossed my brain — 
 Nameless fears fell on my heart, sick 
 With unutterable pain. 
 
98 AALA DEENE 
 
 TF I were the sun and you were the dew — 
 ^ Each morn as the world lay asleep — 
 Now can't you guess what I would do 
 If I were the sun and you were the dew, 
 And the old world half asleep? 
 
 I'd draw you away from the arms of day 
 
 And take you along with me, 
 And hold you warm and hold you tight. 
 
 And set you down on the shores of night, 
 And put you to sleep hy a somhre sea — 
 
 Watched by the eyes of the starry skies : 
 Kissed by the breezes soft and low. 
 
 Kissed and kept till the morning glow 
 Should give you back to me. 
 
 So if I were the sun and you were the dew — 
 Each morn as the world lay asleep — 
 Now can't you guess what I would do 
 If I were the sun and you were the dew 
 And the old world half asleep? 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 99 
 
 (To Col. Robert G. Ingersoll.) 
 
 ^hMTE came like the spell of morning, after 
 *^V^ night 
 
 Of weary waiting, watching thro' 
 our tears 
 Of troubled longing, tremulous with uncer- 
 tain fears 
 The dawn-hour drowns to glorify our sight. 
 Our whole round world of loving knows no light 
 Save Robert, by whom we reckon up our 
 
 years — 
 Computing worth and good by cost of tears 
 And count each moment jeweled in his sight. 
 
 How could our heart be less than grievous 
 sore 
 When wafted kisses spoke his time to go? 
 And we who love him so, how could we 
 
 know 
 That we should see his hallowed face once 
 more? 
 Yet parting, thrills the nerves of love anew ! 
 It may be best! and so, dear heart, adieu! 
 
100 AALA DEEi^E 
 
 Y\ ^ ^I'lct the dawn, we kissed the noon 
 We sped the day of peace depart — 
 No smile of star nor quiet moon 
 Came fathom-deep to thrill the dark 
 
 With love or sleep. 
 But I would not care had her black hair 
 Not left a shadow on my heart. 
 
 The full vase fell of roses red, 
 
 And hell shook all the shattered leaves. 
 On lips lust-red strange pallor spread, 
 And feet tread there what brow should 
 wear — 
 
 Our love was dead. 
 But I should not care had her black hair 
 Not left a shadow on my heart. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 101 
 
 HE trees were mute with love to her, 
 The grasses bowed in sweet content- 
 The wind was hushed in sighs to her 
 When into the woods my darling went. 
 
 I went with her and sweet content ; 
 
 I held her arm, I kissed her hand — 
 When with my love to the woods I went 
 
 Our world was all one leafy land. 
 
 The singing stream half sung its song, 
 For drowsy ferns draped pebbly bed — 
 
 Her trust was mine and troth is long — 
 And western skies were streaming red. 
 
 AVhen into the woods my darling went 
 She spoke w^ith words as soft as sighs. 
 
 And mated birds in dream-content 
 Were undisturbed as her deep eyes. 
 
 The leaves were kind as love to her. 
 And twilight-banner softly flung, 
 
102 AALA DEENE 
 
 Politely bent all boughs to her — 
 For she was love and love was young. 
 
 When from the woods I came alone 
 The cruel winds had come to blow. 
 
 Where once was grass now all was stone- 
 And yet we loved — I loved her so ! 
 
 I see no grass, no stream, no wood — 
 I know that I must live alone — 
 
 And twinned with death yet life is good. 
 And bruised feet press welcome stone. 
 
 For once the trees were good to her, 
 The gentle grass, the wind was kind — 
 
 I love them yet, and still for her 
 
 Shall love them all tho' heart be blind. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 103 
 
 T AYOULD hush the murmuring music, 
 
 ^ I would stem the tide within me, 
 
 I would stop the outflow from me, 
 
 I would cease my careless singing 
 
 If I knew my songs were sought out — 
 
 All my idle songs and singing. 
 
 If my outflow, ebbing inward, 
 Filled some other soul with longing- — 
 With my bitter hopeless longing — 
 Filled some spirit full as mine is 
 With the pain of over fulness, 
 With the memories of the lost days 
 And the pangs which bind us to them — 
 Bind us fast with chains more flawless 
 Than the coils and chains of life are — 
 I would stem the tide within me, 
 I would hush the murmuring music, 
 I would stop the echo in me. 
 Smother it with sounds discordant. 
 I would kill the echo drifting — 
 
104 AALA DEENE 
 
 Softly sounding thro' my day-dreams, 
 Flowing, filtering thro' my life acts 
 Filled with immemorial sadness — 
 Calling for before-time gladness, 
 Speaking of my past-time madness — 
 Could I blot the bitter moments 
 Out of being, from my sight now. 
 
 But alas! too true the saying! 
 Hard, too hard the fearful fact is. 
 That our acts are living people 
 Turning up at every corner ; — 
 And our thoughts are birds of passage 
 That precede us ere our going. 
 
 Could I cast the shell of vice off 
 As the lobster casts his shell off — 
 Traits for ages trailing downward. 
 And hereiditary weakness — 
 Cruel shadows chasing after 
 Culprit me thro' endless ages ; 
 Could I stop the trees from budding, 
 Keep the grass still in the spring time ; 
 Turn again to sovereign childhood — 
 To the sovereign age of childhood ! 
 Mark the path for wind and water. 
 Map and govern starry courses. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 105 
 
 Kesurrect from graves the dead ones — 
 
 Loved ones sleeping in the graveyard ; 
 
 Back again beside my lover, 
 
 Mating, matching with him over, 
 
 In the world of Fancy's freedom — 
 
 In the visionary vineyard 
 
 Of our hopes and homely longings ; 
 
 Could I feel again the winter's 
 
 Wild and wayward pranks around me 
 
 As he kissed my cheeks in childhood — 
 
 Feel his icy clasp unloosen 
 
 With the first faint blush of bud-time — 
 
 Nay ! but could I turn the pages 
 
 Of life's book and read it backwards, 
 
 I could seal my lips with ceasing, 
 
 And refrain from all my singing. 
 
 Could I stop the moonlight falling — 
 Moonlight streaming, flood of splendor ! 
 Moonlight, starlight sleeping softer, 
 Breathing heart-beats on the water, — 
 I might change my course of action 
 In my songs and other measures ; 
 In my faults and ways with women — 
 In my frenzied flush and fulness. 
 In the fulness of my passion, 
 
106 AALA DEENE 
 
 I might change my selfish seeking — 
 All my selfishness of getting 
 Pleasure for the pleasure having — 
 Food of flesh and fevered blood, for 
 Calmer feeding, cool, aesthetic. 
 
 Could I rend the ties that bind me — 
 
 Cords of blood to my mother's belly — 
 
 And reverse the flow of ages — 
 
 Faults which flow and flow which falters, 
 
 Pauses now in me, and after 
 
 Pauses in my children's children. 
 
 Just as it has done before me 
 
 Thro' the wild unmeasured ages — 
 
 I might change my course of action 
 
 In my songs and other measures, 
 
 In the frailties of my loving — 
 
 In my frenzied flush and fulness, 
 
 In the fulness of my passion. 
 
 Mine my sins are ! none to blame for ! 
 
 Coward blame I have no room for. 
 
 Have no care for, have no fear of ! 
 
 Will not say : for lack of teaching — 
 
 Will not have it so ! deny it ! — 
 
 For the lack of other teaching 
 
 I am all that you may call me, 
 
 And my songs are what you find them. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 107 
 
 For tho' I am chained by nature, 
 
 Chained as you are — what you call me, 
 
 And my songs are what you find them — 
 
 Far above your sight I listen, 
 
 Pause and listen most serenely 
 
 To the singing of immortals, 
 
 To an everlasting music, 
 
 And a flood of splendid dreaming 
 
 Arches all the dome of heaven 
 
 With the sweeter notes the heart knows — 
 
 Symphonies the soul enchanting ! 
 
 So my songs are simple echoes. 
 Wild and wayward, wandering maybe, 
 Crude translations, torn and scattered. 
 Lacking — having and withholding 
 From the coarser critic's cunning, 
 Strains that sting to action, angels — 
 Songs which soothe the dead to sleeping ; 
 Strangers to the art of turning 
 Eaveled rags and musty rhyming 
 Back to newer colored weaving. 
 
 I have gazed in nature's visage ; 
 I have read the lines of thought there. 
 And have seen her (like a maiden 
 In her bedroom) stark and bare, 
 
108 AALA DEEi^E 
 
 I have watched her dress and undress, 
 
 And have felt of all her clothing — 
 
 Of her naked form reposing. 
 
 Know as well her moods and motions 
 
 As her varied hues and blushes ; 
 
 I have seen them — I have felt them ! 
 
 T have eaten of her odors, 
 
 And have drunk her choicest nectar : 
 
 I have sipped it from her red lips ; 
 
 I have bathed me in her breathing. 
 
 So my songs are just as she is, 
 Unto each the same as each is. 
 
 I have looked at all the races, 
 
 Clans and tribes of human fellows — 
 
 I have seen the vast procession 
 
 Of amazing things pass by me. 
 
 I have learned the mighty lessons, 
 
 Written by the hand of labor. 
 
 On the page of land and water. 
 
 I have used the soul's perspective 
 
 On this sovereign age of action, 
 
 And have spelled the word of progress 
 
 In ten thousand different ciphers. 
 
 Thus my singing may be wayward 
 And of one brief moment, mortal — 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 109 
 
 Yet for all the wealth of ages 
 That have gone or may come after, 
 Would not change my song or singing 
 Of the fatal bonds of union 
 That connect all things and peoples, 
 That make one all facts and fancies — 
 Brothers of all living creatures. 
 
 I 
 
 PJ0 ^^rp* 
 
 Am my ship. 
 
 And my ship is me — 
 
 All else is the measureless sea. 
 
 And I sail my ship 
 
 The best I know ; 
 
 And reef not a sail 
 
 For wind or gale, 
 
 Nor tides as they ebb and flow. 
 
110 AALA DEEN12 
 
 Ten thousand ills of life and day 
 
 Like untamed demons of the air, 
 Or bullets biting scornfully 
 Assailed his soul with barbed despair. 
 
 He knew not what was joy to him, 
 He only felt the aches and stings ; 
 
 He felt all pangs of grief and flesh — 
 The burthen of the soul that sings. 
 
 The midnight watches waned nor paled — 
 All mortal sorrow swelled his grief, 
 
 And praying patience pained him so 
 Not even God could give relief. 
 
 He bowed his head and angel wings 
 Fanned soft as mother-touch the air, 
 
 To kiBS his temples cool with peace. 
 
 Though frost should silver thick his hair. 
 
 And^lo ! a strain of music came 
 
 Divinely clear of divers notes, 
 Enchanting grief to flight as from 
 
 A heavenly bird-choirs' thousand throats. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. Ill 
 
 The sphinx had found the speech of heart 
 And wondering man her riddle read. 
 
 Parturient Love bore blessings when 
 The singer softly bowed his head. 
 
 "V^HAT care I if the world goes wrong, 
 
 If joy be short and grief be long! 
 I haye a heart and my heart hath a song 
 And the light of her eyes to me belong. 
 
 What care I if grief hath tears ! 
 
 What care I if love hath fears ! 
 I have a love and we have years, 
 
 And m} softest sigh my darling hears. 
 
 What care I for sunny skies, 
 
 For gloomy days and dark replies ! 
 
 Mine is the soul that swims and dies, 
 And is born again in my darling's eyes. 
 
 Lives our love be it right or wrong, 
 
 All joys of love to us belong, — 
 For each hath a heart and our heart hath a song, 
 
 And tho' life be short, our love was long. 
 
112 A ALA DEEN'E 
 
 |tt0 S^iUv 0f^ccpinnce. 
 
 T AM the justifier of all things ! 
 
 ^ I am the impartial acceptor! 
 
 And I had rather be remembered by those two 
 
 lines than by all the rest of the literature 
 
 of the world. 
 
 I am in favor of religion in every form from 
 
 the lowest to the highest — 
 And I am in favor of everything anti-religious. 
 
 I am in favor of government from the most 
 despotic to the most democratic. 
 
 I am in favor of learning and in favor of ignor- 
 ance. 
 
 I am in favor of virtue and in favor of vice. 
 And I think Prostitution in her gaudy dress 
 balances the Church in her tinsel robes. 
 
 I am in favor of the rich and in favor of the 
 poor. 
 
AN^D OTHER POEMS. Il3 
 
 I am in favor of marriage and divorce. 
 
 I am in favor of one woman for one man and 
 
 one man for one woman. 
 And I am in favor of more than one woman for 
 
 one man and more than one man for one 
 
 woman. 
 
 I am in favor of patriotism and rebellion and 
 
 socialism, anarchism and nihilism. 
 I am in favor of all the philosophies and the 
 
 ever broadening soul. 
 And in favor of everything and anything that 
 
 is human and humane. 
 For I see in all things an immortal drifting — a 
 
 help and progress toward the better. 
 And I believe everything is needful — one in 
 
 one way, one in another. 
 I believe the lobster's last year's shell was as 
 
 necessary to the lobster as the new shell he 
 
 puts on today. 
 I believe dark colors are indispensible to art. 
 
 So with all my soul I accept all things as they 
 
 are and everything that is. 
 And with all my soul I hope for better things 
 
 to come — each in its season. 
 And with all my soul I believe they will come ; 
 
114 AALA DEEi^E 
 
 And I need nothing more than an almanac to 
 build my faith on. 
 
 For I don't think God ever made a holier 
 book than an almanac. 
 
 And I don't think there ever were truer 
 phrophets than astronomers and almanac- 
 makers. 
 
 And I don't think phenomena and science were 
 ever outdone by miracles. 
 
 And I don't think there is anything holier 
 than Love. 
 
 Or anything more beautiful than true mar- 
 riage, 
 
 Or anything sweeter than a happy home, 
 
 Or anything prouder than patriotism. 
 
 And I don't believe there were ever before half 
 the heroes in the world there are today. 
 
 And I don't believe History ever before had 
 half as much to record as she has today ; 
 
 For I don't believe there were ever greater 
 events than those which happen daily, 
 
 And I don't believe New York, Chicago, Lon- 
 don, Paris were ever eclipsed. 
 
 And I don't believe there is anything more 
 classic or romantic than Hudson, Missis- 
 sippi, Connecticut. 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 115 
 
 I believe tliis is the greatest era this world has 
 
 ever seen. 
 I believe the greatest actors are on the stage 
 
 (though some being weary are sleeping). 
 
 I am proud of my country and equally proud 
 of every other country, and Spain is a rare 
 spice to my soul. 
 
 I am glad to live in this age ; 
 
 And I walk about through its amazing machin- 
 ery, thinking: 
 
 How wonderful! and feeling elated, puffed 
 up, maybe, at being part of it. 
 
 And I walk among the great characters and 
 forces of this age feeling proud of them 
 and loving them and tenderly caressing 
 them and not loath to criticise them, but 
 with undiminished love. 
 
 And I am as sure of the future as of the pres- 
 ent and past, 
 
 And my faith is full and bubbling over and 
 running out to meet the future — 
 
 And up the stream of my outpouring faith 
 come sounds, strains and currents doubly 
 assuring. 
 
 And I am jubilant, mirthful, ecstatic, over- 
 flowing — as contented as the stars. 
 
116 AALA^DEENE 
 
 Aud thus in the deep and earnest conviction 
 
 of me 
 I am serene and at my ease 
 And happy as a mating bird, 
 And would that all the children of men were 
 
 happy the same. 
 
AJTD OTHER POEMS. 117 
 
 Ii0jtt SUta^ ^xi^n^* 
 
 YAST night as the Sun was low setting 
 J-x^S) And sinking o'er Bedford-shire-hill, 
 Imperially clothed in God's purple, 
 And the twilight crept westward and still — 
 Ere the splendid old day-god had vanished, 
 Ere the twilight had ushered a star. 
 On my heart had fallen good glory. 
 And my soul had returned from afar — 
 Come back like the herald of a dawning 
 Though I knew that the daylight was done. 
 And the jewel of my life — my heart's hoping — 
 Must sink with the setting of Sun; 
 Yet the spell of a faery fell on me. 
 And the light of new hope filled the sky 
 Like the dreamy sweet visions God weaves us 
 At last when we lay down to die — 
 And the spirit of Love to me whispered : 
 "Dear Heart you dream not in vain 
 For the fond-spell of her though she goeth 
 ^hall return to your heart's heart again," 
 
118 AALA DEENE 
 
 AM I religious? 
 ^ Yes! 
 
 Believe in God? 
 I do if God means good. What is my Church? 
 Mankind : That is to say, the universe, 
 In which I have a pew — the pew is me. 
 The pulpit is in front of me — where'er 
 A heart is — man and woman, love and hope — 
 There stands the pulpit whence the preaching 
 
 comes 
 And by it I am benefitted in 
 Proportion to my capacity — for I must feel. 
 Must see and hear to get the good of it — 
 All erring ones do lack these senses much 
 Or little, else a crime could never be. 
 
 J have an idol too, it is the sun. 
 
 Like any other plant I reach for him 
 
 And feel the throb and thrill of life and 
 
 growth. 
 I thank him too for what he's done for me — 
 For what he made it possible for me 
 To do for me and other plants I love. 
 
AIS-D OTHER POEMS. 119 
 
 And for the chance to worship God in man, 
 In woman, tender babes and gray -haired folks, 
 And patient parents, loving children. 
 
 All 
 The blessings of my sight, sun, I owe 
 To thee and thou hast made me wide of kin ! 
 
120 AALA DEENE 
 
 31 ^aij Stt^itli ^0lxn g. ^n0all0. 
 
 O then each breath tasted sweeter, and all that day 
 my food nourished me more, and the beautiful 
 day passed well. 
 
 Walt Whitman. 
 
 HE sun had kissed the fields of snow 
 And loosed the ice-clasp of the rills — 
 I heard Spring's joyous laughter flow 
 To Southward 'mong New Hampshire hills. 
 
 I felt the breeze with tempered sun 
 And odorous breath of mystic pines 
 Soft fan my cheek, and thro' me run 
 The blessed impulse of the pines. 
 
 And all life's music which one feels — ■ 
 The first fresh fullness of the year 
 Washing the heart with a balm which heals — 
 Making a million dew-drops out of a tear — 
 
 With an inborn quickening of the pregnant 
 
 soul — 
 Fell on my life that glorious day 
 Like the dream-won spell of a hoped-for-goal 
 Wrought by some fanciful favorite Fay. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 121 
 
 May 28th, 2098. 
 
 TpROM realms unthinkable, vast, unknown, 
 ^ As some bright star is born to light 
 From vaulted blue wherein thick-sown 
 All magnitude of gems crown night. 
 
 His splendid soul burst forth to give 
 A guidance, flush with beacon rays. 
 
 That toiling men might love to live 
 And living break through better days. 
 
 A star 'mong many stars, there shone 
 His soul of light and love to men. 
 
 The ^orld was touched, and hearts of stone 
 Turned back to life and throbbed again. 
 
 But far — so far away, he seems, 
 
 That once did throb and thrill so near 
 
 That sons of toil unused to dreams 
 Did touch his radiant garments here. 
 
122 AALA DEEIJ^E 
 
 We know not if his soul is set, 
 
 Or lingering memory grateful keeps 
 
 Some straggling beams lest we forget 
 O'er burthened love unselfish sleeps. 
 
 We cannot know — we cannot know 
 The season's sweep or change of soul — 
 
 We hope that from a shroud of snow 
 A spring-like love may still unroll. 
 
 With wooing warp shoot winged space 
 And weave the woof thro' time and tide 
 
 And trace the love-light of his face 
 Where veiling vastness cannot hide. 
 
AKL> OTHER POEMS. 123 
 
 OTO live in this remote antiquity — 
 to know we have passed midnight in the 
 great struggles of Soul and Reason to 
 be free. 
 
 the privilege to live now —to sweep the fan- 
 tastic fields of sight and touch, of sound 
 and sovereign sense. 
 
 to look back over the past. 
 
 To look outward now. 
 
 To look forward and upward over the future. 
 
 this is reward enough for the living and 
 enough for the dead. 
 
 this companionship of the unborn and the 
 familiarity with the dead ! 
 
 you unborn and dead, how real you are ! 
 
 you millions and millions of souls magnifi- 
 cently real and living. 
 
 you unborn! 
 
 Let me call you forth ! 
 
 Let me speak to you — multitudinous life to be; 
 
 Canst tell me you are not because you have not 
 crossed the transitory line, of birth? 
 
124 AALA DEENE 
 
 how you urge us forward, you unborn — 
 What other incentive have we to do and dare ! 
 Who would plant a tree, sing a song, or build 
 
 a fortune but for the love of you? 
 God, you are the best people ! 
 Souls gone are not better than you — 
 comrades of those far off better days — days 
 
 of the unborn. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS. 125 
 
 IN THE bloom and blossom of life and love 
 My love was a flower to see — 
 I loved my love with a holy love, 
 And I know my love loved me. 
 
 My love and T parted one night — 
 
 We parted to meet no more. 
 For my love was drowned in its own fierce light, 
 
 And its corpse cast up on the shore. 
 
 love in life is a wondrous thing 
 
 As strange as strange can be ! 
 But life and light no more can bring 
 
 My dead love back to me. 
 
 We parted by the shore of a mystical sea, 
 My love and my life and my light. 
 
 Our love, like the waves, beat mad and free — 
 In abandon we loved on the brink of night. 
 
126 AALA DEEKE 
 
 The stars came out in a mighty host, 
 And darkness fell thick on the shore — 
 
 Then my tortured soul with our dead love's 
 ghost, 
 Was doomed to walk evermore. 
 
 And the dying days sing only of pain 
 
 Since that awful hour to me 
 When the love of my life was cruelly slain 
 
 By the arms of the mystical sea. 
 
AI^D OTHER POEMS. 1^7 
 
 Tell me, voices everywliere, 
 Nor friend nor foe 
 
 Ye come and go, 
 Happy children of the air, 
 
 Tell me, tell me, let me know 
 
 Just one secret of the snow. 
 
 Tell me, breath of waking flower — 
 Speak, oh sparkle of the dew — 
 
 Just one secret of your power, 
 fellow mortals 'neath the blue ! 
 
 Tell me, tell me, human thought. 
 Wondrous worker, why so fleet? 
 
 Tell me, comrade, how you wrought 
 This spell of life so strangely sweet. 
 
 Weft and web and woof and loom. 
 And shuttle moving swiftly thro'. 
 
 Comes there no answer from the tomb, 
 No word nor wail— no song from you? 
 
 Only this, we widely scatter : 
 Motion, motion, soul of matter. ^^ 
 
128 AALA DEENE 
 
 g^ ^x& |lot ^ndi^v^t'an&* 
 
 *{^ 
 
 E: COME, let us feast together sweet 
 
 and long! 
 
 At first our sips of gentleness shall be 
 Unlike the hungry fury of the flesh, 
 But touched and toned by all there is of joy 
 Where softly languish half-wake flowers, fresh 
 Beneath the jewels of the dew, distilled 
 From loveliness of lazy odors ; where 
 The latent passion sleeps in folded bloom 
 And all unconscious waits the touch of lip, 
 The dreamy light of eye, the whispered breath, 
 The velvet stroke of hand, the wondrous words 
 And warmth of love, until the billowed breast 
 With deep-sea swell contends with curving hip 
 And works a passive spell where sensuous love. 
 First lapping at the shores, but gathers strength 
 To pour the storm of passion deep within. 
 come, my large-eyed love, my splendid 
 Queen! 
 Go to and clothe thyself in daintiness 
 Of native tint of flesh and luring curve, 
 Wherein thy ample beauty needs no woof 
 
AND OTHEB POEMS. 129 
 
 The silkworm spins; for all the gods have 
 
 made 
 Thee fairer than these other fairy growths. 
 A living sheen enrobes and ripens you. 
 The light of summer's softest touch is on 
 Your brow and cheek and reddened lip, and 
 
 falls 
 In golden splendor on your hair, and floods 
 A form by Nature's kisses dimpled deep 
 In which her dreamy coy-like shadows sleep — 
 I'll chase these shaded tints, the deepest lie . 
 Not deeper than my daring goes. With all 
 My fondest wishes loose, not one shall miss 
 The fleetness of my tongue and touch and kiss — 
 Not one shall hide wherein I dare not go ! 
 
 SHE: Speak not, audacious boy ! you wrong us 
 
 both! 
 Speak not I say, nor think of sensuous love ! 
 All men speak thus, so prone to prey upon 
 The fleeting charms of flesh — think more of 
 
 soul, 
 And love me for my highest self, and know 
 The fairest flower that (iod's breath made to 
 
 blow 
 Came not of flesh — divinest form of clay 
 
130 AALA DEENE 
 
 Is less than earth, except the light of day 
 Brings never blush of shame to stain the cheek. 
 'Tis not I fear the scorn of world and man 
 That holds me back — my law of self is safe 
 Until unto my woman's self it fails, 
 For then, oh God ! but utter woe assails ! 
 
 HE: Not so, dear love, my own love wondrous 
 
 fair! 
 No harm can come from kisses on the hair. 
 A brow caressed wears still the haloed crown; 
 And red lips warmly pressed need know no 
 
 shame — 
 So, kisses grow less harmful drooping down. 
 And love knows love, tho' love have not a name, 
 And flesh knows flesh when love knows love 
 
 and blessed 
 Are both, and pure as ever God caressed! 
 
 SHE: Ah, yes! you reason well! your argument 
 Lends gloss to grossest acts and fain would 
 
 cheat 
 The Soul of light by luring Passion on 
 To utter ruin, where there is no stop. 
 No turn, no upward look, no hop©, no faith 
 In God, and less in man. This buxom self 
 Would then be neither thine nor mine — these 
 
 cords 
 Of feeling, riot-run, would bind me fast — 
 
AKD OTHER POEMS. 131 
 
 From pain of passion, honest Nature's first 
 Sharp thrust to quick, adown degenerate deeps ; 
 From love of boys, fair skinned and rosy hued, 
 To lust of men strong limbed with hairy 
 
 breasts, 
 Of rude fierce stroke, and tyrant power— and 
 
 then 
 To dallying maids, well steeped in all the lore 
 Perverted Love hath learned, and then ! . . 
 
 and then 
 To monstrous things misshapen by this curse. 
 The very same you seek to graft on me. 
 Unconscious tho' it be, as selfishness 
 By nature ever is. And then, dear boy !— 
 
 HE: Why this is madness, dear, insane as sin, 
 And puerile as the Christian's faith and 
 
 "scheme!" 
 Why follow out the hideous devious steps 
 That foul untutored vice hath left within 
 The jungle-wilds ; Why weep when smiles so beg 
 For birth? by what philosophy do you, 
 The fairest creature of the dawn and dew, 
 Attempt these sullen dreary depths of gloom 
 When I would point the pleasant paths to you? 
 
 SHE: PhilosojjJiy of tuo7na7i's 7iative trust, 
 Innate as life, antithesis to lust. 
 
132 AALA DEEl^E 
 
 
 HE going out of a life and the changing 
 
 forever of things — 
 The fading breath of a song just sung where 
 lingering melody clings — 
 The close of a day — the end of a lay — these 
 are the poignant things — 
 Ah ! This is the pathos that asketh, Why? 
 and this — the fruit Joj brings. 
 The little path where Love hath lead 'long 
 shore of the mystic wood, 
 And the patient path where Honor tread, or 
 the painful tracks where Virtue stood — 
 These are the things that cry and cry — Voice 
 of the night that asketh, Why? 
 Oh ! these are the things — the wail of harp- 
 strings that sing of a God on high. 
 The going out of a life and the changing for- 
 ever of things — 
 The fading breath of a song just sung where 
 lingering melody clings — 
 The close of a day — the end of a lay — these are 
 the poignant stings. 
 Ah! This is the pathos tliat asketh, Why? — 
 And God is dead or deaf to things! 
 
'rn 2^1899 
 
" "'6 211 570 4