Class / ^VS'^ r^S' Book /' S ^ ""^/ U Cop>iiglit>s'". ^^/7 COPyRiGHT DEPOSm VERSES BY CHARLOTTE LEECH Oft Ube Iknicfierbocfter press NEW YORK 1917 Copyright, 1917 BY MARY LEECH BLAKE 141317 ©GI,A477546 ^ ■ rr, -^ ^^/2^<£^ . i F DeDfcatlon TO W. E. L. Whoever finds this book in after days, Whether he read to mock, or smile, or praise, We shall not care, it was not writ for him Nor for the many with their hourly whim; But made — witness m}^ hand — for You alone. Heedless if there were other Reader none. If this he'll neither comprehend nor brook: — The world is wide, there's many another Book. FOREWORD May it be said, by way of explanation, that the intimate or family Verses, svhich appear in the latter pages of this book, were never in- tended for publication, nor would they see the light now were it not that this collection is intended strictly for private distribution. A number of the miscellaneous poems have appeared in The Century, The Atlantic, The Independent, The Critic, The Era, The Christian Register, Life, and Puck. A few have never been in print before. The Dedication would make it appear that a collection of these Verses, in book form, was at one time contemplated by the author, but such an idea was never for a moment enter- tained. The Dedication was written for her private Scrap Book, in which she had gathered together such of her Verses as had appeared in print, and from which this little volume has been pre- pared, '' In Memoriam." Mary Leech Blake. Harriet W. R. Leech. Brooklyn, N. Y. June, 1917. CONTENTS All Saints' Day . . The House . . . . Home Thoughts Out of the Depths . To One in Heaven Serenade ..... Easter ..... Angel of Silence Daffodils .... Paraphrase of the Ninetieth Psalm In Autumn .... A Christmas Letter . Sweetness and Light The Road to Emmaus My Creed . . . "Whom will ye that I Release unto Love and Conscience "Ye Did it unto me." Home ..... Creeds ..... Failure . . . . vii YOU? PAGE I 2 4 5 7 8 9 10 II 12 14 15 16 18 19 20 21 22 24 25 26 viii CONTENTS PAGE Use and Wont . 27 God's Fool • ••••« 29 The Reformer . 30 Belief . 31 By the Sea . 32 Pandora . . 33 A Little Grave . . 35 Jessie Leigh of Perth .... 36 The Chrysanth] 3MUM. . . . . 42 Resignation . 43 The Sisters . 44 Recompense . 49 A Mood . . 50 The Scapegoat . 51 Paraphrase of i HE One Hundred and Thirtieti i Psalm . 53 The Burial . 55 Bereft . 56 Then and Now . 57 The Daughter ( DF THE Mayflower . 58 The Fire-Fly . 60 A Question . 62 Salutatory . . 64 Farewell . . 65 The Seventies . . 68 Golden Jubilee Song .... ■ 69 CONTENTS ix PAGE Song, 1873 71 A New Offertory Hymn . . . . . 72 Renunciation 73 The Pulpit and the Pews . . . . 74 " It IS Expedient " . . . . . . 86 Friar Benedict's Prayer . . . . . 87 An Etching ...... 91 The Ebbing Tide ...... 92 The Might of Mirth .... 94 MULTUM IN PaRVO ..... 96 Saint Philip Neri ..... 97 " I Read my Books in Woman's Looks " 100 The Impecunious Tutor . . . 102 To Jane Austen ...... 105 On an Old Volume of "Punch, " Containing Johi »^'" Leech's Pictures .... 107 The Brontes * . 108 To George Eliot . . . . 109 Burns ....... no Jane Welsh Carlyle .... III Boswell 112 Saint Bridget's Day .... • 113 Emerson . 114 Richard Watson Gilder .... . 115 On a Late Victorian .... . 116 Under the Wizard's Spell • 117 X CONTENTS m mn PAGE Destiny .118 A City Sonnet .... 119 A Lullaby 120 August, 1878 . . . . 121 Mine Own People 122 My Vanished Youth 123 To-day . . . . 124 "I HAVE Loved and been Loved" . 126 To Young America ... . 127 Hymn 128 GOLDENROD ON StAR IsLAND. 129 Religion . . . . 131 Moonlight .... 132 "Within You" 133 Rest 134 I Loved Thee Once . 136 Brooklyn Town 137 Annie Laurie .... 139 Environment .... . 141 Holy Innocents . 142 The Return .... ■ 143 A Woman's Litany . . 145 Retrospect .... 146 Tragedy 147 "Complire" .... 148 CONTENTS xi PAGE My Epitaph ...... . 150 After Heine ...... 151 To A Reclaimed Sofa 152 A Birthday Wish 154 A Duke's a Duke for a' that . . 155 The American Girl's Appeal . 156 At the Door ...... . 158 An Epitaph ...... 159 In the Lane ...... 160 The Three Graces ..... 161 Questionings (After Wordsworth) . 162 The Retort Courteous .... 164 The London " Times " .... . 165 The Wishing Gate Visited 166 A Socialist ..... . 168 The Thistle 169 A Song ....... . 171 A Valentine ...... . 172 Through Life ...... . 173 Bliss ....... . 174 "B" or no ''B"— That's the Question! . . 176 Jack Writes to his Brother . 177 An Epitaph ...... . 179 The Cat and the Fiddle — Likewise the Bow 180 The Retort Positive . , . . . 183 Xll CONTENTS Reckoning Tommy Sees a Meteor The Sermon . . ? A "Revised" Nursery Rhyme In Church True .... High Life . . . To Bob — A Leap-Year Valentine Lines on an Authoress St. Valentine's Eve (In Imitation of Keats) An Imaginary Epistle to Landor The Reason ...... At the Sign of the Three Balls Grandfather and Child ... Whip-poor-Will and Katy-Did . The Truth about Polly .... The Higher Education of Women As TO Joseph Chamberlain The Reckoning Candle." "The Game Isn't Worth the A Grandmother's Story . . . To Gordon Pryor Rice : with a Copy of the RUBAIYAT . . . . . K. C. of C. C To M. H. B. : with a Copy of Mrs. Pryor's Reminiscences ...... PAGE 184 186 188 189 191 192 196 198 200 201 203 204 207 208 209 210 211 214 219 CONTENTS xiii PAGE Before the Burial — To M. H. B. . . .217 In Memoriam — M. H. B. . . . . .219 To Hilda . . . . . . . . 220 The Leader — E. B. M 221 To Dellie for her Album . . . . 222 To Henry R. Jones, Esq. : with a Candlestick . 223 To H. R. Jones, Esq're: with a New England Primer ....... 224 Ichabod. L'Envoi. ToA. J. C 225 To M. G. L. . . . . . . . 227 The Living Christ. To M. L. B. . . .229 To M. G. L 231 The Christening. To Charlotte . . . 232 To Elsie ........ 233 To Charlotte on her Fourth Birthday . . 235 To "Brownie". ...... ^36 My Charlotte . . . . . . . 237 Daisy and Buttercup ..... 238 To Charlotte . . . . ... 240 Elsie's Party: Welcome . . . . .241 Elsie's Party: Finale . . . . . 242 To Charlotte . . . . . . 243 What Would You Do? . . . . . 244 To Charlotte: with a Copy of "Pilgrim's Progress" . . . . . . 245 To Elsie : A Valentine . . . . • 246 XIV CONTENTS To Charlotte: with a Box of Marshmallows To "Brownie" . . . . \ The Japanese Fan. To "Brownie" . To Charlotte . To Charlotte . Easter. To Elsie To Charlotte: Eighteen Easter. To "Brownie" To Charlotte in Europe Easter. To Elsie and "Brownie' To Charlotte : at the Time of the Canonization OF Joan of Arc . To Elsie: with a Copy of William Morris Poems. ...... To "Brownie": with a Bunch of Violets "Dinna Forget": to Charlotte with a Copy of "Gems of Scottish Song" . To Elsie: A Sonnet .... To Charlotte : with a Ring To Charlotte . . . . To Charlotte: with a "Book of Verses" To Elsie: with A Sofa Pillow . To Charlotte, with a Copy of Collected Poems BY Austin Dobson To Charlotte: with a Copy of the Victorian Anthology When Charlotte Plays PAGE 247 248 249 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 CONTENTS XV PAGE R. L. S. Once IVIore. To Louise . . . 270 A Birthday Prayer FOR Charlotte . . .271 To Charlotte . . . . . . .273 Charlotte at the Piano . . . . .274 To Louise 275 In Town. To Charlotte .... 276 Motherhood. To H. W. R. L. . . . . 277 Night and Morning. To Robin . . . 278 Spencer . . . . . . . . 280 Good-Morning. To Harry . . . .281 Good-Night. To Harry . . . . . 282 To Malcolm ...... 283 Easter, 1902. To Bessie .... 284 To Elsie 285 To Little Elsie : A Cradle Song . . . 286 "Now I Lay Me" (Revised). To Little Elsie . 287 The Party. To Little Elsie . . . . 288 The Baby's Curl. To Little Elsie . . . 289 Elsie Blake King ...... 290 ALL SAINTS' DAY Music by Gounod: The Radiant Morn. OUR saints who sometime with us trod. The earthly way our feet still roam, Have found their perfect rest in God, In Him their home. Their joy we never may attain Nor, white-robed, look upon God's face Till up the beetling hills of pain Their way we trace. Lord, Christ, the Cross of Calvary Marked for our saints the journey's lengtli We follow where they followed Thee Be Thou our strength. 1^ THE HOUSE WHAT does he view, the passer-by? By every human sign A goodly habitation, but I see a shrine. He marks what may be bartered, sold, Or changed, as are men's wares— I see a tabernacle and God's altar stairs. With angels going up and down. The loved and unforgot, The dwelling, like the Patriarch's stone, But marks the spot. He notes the fragrant, grassy space, A bright and heartsome sight — I see a field whereon was fought A mortal fight. The goings out and comings in Are seen of passers-by — The doors close on the conflict, and The tragedy. THE HOUSE The inmates, like a rosary Held by the slender thread Of lineage — what vows they have vowed What prayers have said ! Hearken, dear God, unite them in Thy fair and far-off lands Forevermore in Love's Wide House Not made with hands. HOME THOUGHTS THE fire glows upon the hearth to-night At my old home, But on new faces shines its radiant light While far I roam. I may not envy them that spot so fair, I seek my own ; The names of those who once were gathered there Are graved on stone. Could I but lay me down to-night and pray That sleep might come, From which, when angels roll the stone away, We wake at Home ! OUT OF THE DEPTHS W. E.L. WITH empty hands lifted in empty air, Mother of Consolation, hear my prayer ; For since 'tis said, '*it has pleased God to give, And then to take away, '' To Him I cannot pray And hold belief that such is my belief. Mother of Christ, to thee Alone I make my plea : Oh, dear and sacred heart, but yestereven, As paled the west, there went one into heaven Whom God had hurt beyond the mete of men. Let him, I pray, sink down before thee, then Lay hot and throbbing head upon thy knee, And take thy hand, — for so he used with me, Placing it on his forehead, where the pain burnt through, Oh, stroke his dear hair, Mother of all woe. How can I ever doubt Thou knowest to smooth the furrows out One after one, plowed there. By anguish of despair ! 5 OUT OF THE DEPTHS What need, what need has he Of Him who was, is, and shall ever be Clothed in the praises of eternity? Upon a sapphire throne Sun, moon, and stars His own — The rather he has need only of thee, Mother of Peace. If such a thing might be, Soft in thy garment's hem Fold him and let him sleep The sleep God gives to them He calls His own beloved, Holy, serene, and deep. There may he rest unmoved Till One shall seek him out And cry to him, ''Come forth" — the same that bade Lazarus arise, — and take him by the hand — Immortal moment ! he will understand. No more in mad And blinding doubt, Mother of Christ, with tear-cleansed eyes, may I, Like Mary and like Martha, stand near by. TO ONE IN HEAVEN DOES it seem long to you, in heaven Until I come, 'Til seven years ? To me 'tis seventy times seven At our old home Counted in tears. SERENADE OH ! softly, softly evening breeze, • |l While stars their watch are keeping ; Breathe softly through the swaying trees, My lady dear is sleeping. Oh tenderly, sweet nightingale, While Love's own moon is beaming, Breathe tenderly thy plaintive wail. My lady dear is dreaming. All gentle things keep watch with me. Till golden morn is breaking, For day on land, and sky and sea. Comes with my lady's waking. EASTER YE would see Jesus? Nay, fond hearts, not here, If it be true ye seek a Hving Christ — So spake the radiant presence at the Tomb— Ye must go otherwhere to keep your tryst. Not here, but on the long and weary road Where there are wounds to bind or woes to share. And ye shall feel your hearts within your burn For ye shall find the living Jesus there. ANGEL OF SILENCE ANGEL of Silence ! lay thy finger wSoft Athwart my woman's lips, that I may stand Steadfastly mute, tho' I must see full oft, On summer nights, go wandering hand in hand Brave men and maidens sweet, in love's first heaven; I hear dear children shout from morn till even, Loud boys and timid little girls at pla}^ Whom other women bore, while my arms ache For emptiness, and hunger gnaws my heart. Poor useless thing, which yet will never break, As I look on at Life and take no part — Steadfastly silent, while for me, O Lord, O'er Eden's gate there hangs the flaming sword! lO DAFFODILS IN all the dells, on all the hills, They come, they come, the Daffodils; Flinging their banners in the air, A burst of glory everywhere. Soft as the shadows in a dream, Their forms, are mirrored in the stream, * Upon whose quiet banks I lie Alone, the Daffodils and I. Dear Flowers by Poet loved and sung. When England's Muse was fresh and young. Ere she had drunken to the lees, Or learned to toy with mysteries, He thought no shame of Thee to learn. Ah ! blessed he who can discern Truth, though it thrill but for an hour The golden heart of a little flower. II I PARAPHRASE OF THE NINETIETH PSALM CREATOR of all time and space, Maker and Lord of man, Lo, Thou hast been our dwelling-place Since time and space began. Or ever Thou hadvSt formed the earth, Or curbed the wayward sea. Before the morning stars had birth, Thou wert eternally. The countless ages in Thy sight As snowflakes melt away, Or as the watches of the night, Fly at the break of day. And how regardest Thou man's years? Eternal God and Lord, But as a tale that's writ in tears, And ceases at Thy word. Yet deep in human hearts doth lurk The hope Thou wilt see fit To 'stablish Thy frail creature's work. Yea, Lord, establish it. 12 THE NINETIETH PSALM That we through all eternity, As in the mortal past, May find our toil and wage in Thee, In Thee, our rest at last. 13 IN AUTUMN THE royal grape is on the vine, The trees are flaming red, The year is ripe with corn and wine, 'Tis time that we were wed. Together we have watched the showers, Fall on the hopes of spring, Together seen those hopes turned flowers- What shall the autumn bring ? Fruition on each bough and limb, Faith realized, fear fled. The year's wine frothing at the brim, 'Tis time that we were wed. 'Tis time, 'tis time, my own, I yearn To call thee mine, all mine, Oh, Son of Mary, for us turn Life's waters into wine. 14 A CHRISTMAS LETTER IT is the time of glad goodwill That marks love's humble holy birth When all the world grown strangely still Lists to the song of peace on earth. No fitter time, O tried and true No fitter, sweeter time than this For me to give my ''yes*' to you And seal it with Love's very kiss. 15 SWEETNESS AND LIGHT THE race not always to the swift Nor victory to the strong ? Then why the goal before us lift? Why raise the battle song ? If feet that wait not by the way, If hearts that fight the wrong, Must fall behind, must lose the day, Why then be swift or strong ? Take heed ! the mightiest man of old Was blinded and made weak. That so to caviling hearts and bold He might with knowledge speak. Sweetness is better far than strength — Light doeth more than speed — All failing, sweetness comes at length , Light unto God doth lead. Out of the strong let sweetness flow, Out of the blinded, Light, — Live thou these words and thou shalt know Manoah's son was right. i6 SWEETNESS AND LIGHT Who Light and Sweetness on his way, Gives PhiHstine and friend, Finds strength and swiftness for his day And God's goal at the end. 17 f THE ROAD TO EMMAUS WHERE have they laid Him? Nay, He is not dead, Behold Him where He walketh with HivS own, Oh, loving, lo3^al hearts be comforted Forevermore has rolled away the stone ! Abide with us, abide with us, oh Lord, Deep in our hearts abide Thou living Word, Thou didst put on our frail humanit}^ So may we wear Thine immortality. i8 I MY CREED I DO not know how other women love, I only know that when I wake each day And lift my heart to the great Heart above, It is for thee — for thee alone — I pray. How other women love, I cannot know, I only feel if joy from thee has fled, 'Tis midnight, tho' a thousand suns should glow; If thine — 'tis noonday, tho' all suns were dead. How other women love is not my ken , I only know death has no fears for me, Alone one moment in the dark, and then — We two, with God, in His eternity. 19 ''WHOM WILL YE THAT I RELEASE UNTO YOU?" AH, had the mob but *' Jesus" cried, He had not then been crucified, And we through teachings manifold Had rightly learned how to grow old. 20 LOVE AND CONSCIENCE WHO would not rather live the mad moth's life One glowing kiss, then in the living flame, Consumed of his desire, crowned with his aim, Die, glorified, while happiness was life, Than when through endless time, ensphered far. far Above all human joys and loves and fears, Passions, desires, longings and warm tears, True to its destiny — a midnight star ! But Conscience then, — back in a weary land, How godlike, 'tis the needle to the north. Ocean to moon — and yet I'd be the moth — The God who made me He can understand. 21 "YE DID IT UNTO ME" ONE stood where earth and heaven meet And heard the voice of Love: — ''My son With the great gift of Hf e I gave Freely to thee, what hast thou done?" He, answering: ''Lord, I held the creed - In every clause inviolate, And I was eloquent in prayer And edifying in debate." Then Love: "When I was lone and sick, Shorn and unsheltered among men. Lone and in prison languishing Make known, what didst thou for me then?" "When Thou didst lie in prison, Lord, At hirst and hungering, alas, One held Thou wert of mortal birth And vowed Thy follower he was. "But when he taught that in the flesh The dead shall never rise again I scourged him from Th}^ Temple pure, And strove to seal his lips profane." 22 ''YE DID IT UNTO ME" **My son! 'Twas he who visited My prison, bringing oil and wine; Ere his own wounds were closed he came And laid a healing touch on mine." ''Dear Lord": — he bowed him to the earth And hid his face in contrite shame, Then heard once more the still, small voice- ''Arise, go thou and do the vSame." 23 HOME WHEN Mary shall have learned the art Of making love and service one, And Martha learned the better part That lies in some things left undone, Then not as Guest, shall Jesus come But with us shall abide — at Home. 24 CREEDS WHICH is the healing plant And which the noxious leaf? Why question, from the accursed tree Heaven hails a Christ — and Thief! 25 FAILURE TAKE my defeat, O Lord, for offering: 'Tis all I have to bring; But in thy name, and not my own, I wrou]:;bt Can it have been for naught ? 26 m USE AND WONT "The cloak that I left at Troas with Carpus, when thou comest, bring with thee, and the books, but especially the parchments." 2 Timothy iv., 13. THE books, the parchments, and the cloak":— Illustrious Boy on whom did fall, If only while the morning broke. The mantle of the Apostle Paul. The books — but more especially I would I might have borne to him The parchments for his eyes to see Ere time and tears had made them dim. Oh, the divinity — Heaven's seal — In human things, though unto them We may not bow ourselves, nor kneel. Yet do they fringe His garment's hem. Nay, He who conquered Death for all His immortality unveils Through no supernal miracle, But by the stigma of the nails. ■ 27 USE AND WONT All things are human, all divine, The earth is His, and sea, — Lord, through Thy gifts of Bread and Wine Do we remember Thee. 38 GOD'S FOOL THE King turned from the men of state, And to his Fool said he, — "If thou wert Arbiter of Fate, Whose should the Victory be?'' "The 'Victory?' Nay, there is but one, One only, other there is none, — Gained once on Calvary, And by a Thief, mark ye!" The erstwhile Jester said, And meek obeisance made : "Thou Fool!" the King cried. "Have a care ! Of such blaspheming words beware!" 29 M THE REFORMER OCKED as a runner, furthest from the goal, « Foiled, but pursuing, as the sea the moon, Trembling, but true as needle to the pole, Treading the winepress in the glare of noon, To cry in agony, at last, ''I thirst!" Behold the Man! Follow him if thou durst, And men shall plait for thee of thorns a crown. Yet follow — and the future is thine own. f 30 BELIEF THOU earnest to a world of stress and tears To bring, Lord Christ, glad tidings of relief; But our chief gain in these two thousand years — Forgive our unbelief — is this belief. 31 « I BY THE SEA ART Thou, O God in that far space, Where sky and ocean seem to meet, Where a poor wear}^ conquered world. Falls sobbing at high heaven's feet? Thy way is in the deep, and yet. Thou lea vest there no trace whereby, The o'ertasked souls of men, may find The path, whose ending is the sky! Great God! 'tis not for us to say. Which way our Hfe's frail bark shall tend, We move by faith and not by sight, And Thou indeed art at the end. Where'er it be, there is the port, II Where all must enter at the last, Where all must furl the tattered sail, And make the time-worn anchor fast. I venture on the Sea of Thought, Unless Thy strong arm stretches out, To save as once on Galilee, I sink in unbelief and doubt. 32 PANDORA KNOW ye the story of dainty Pandora ? And Epimetheus, her spouse and the Box, How he protests not, so does he adore her, While she the fatal hasp madly unlocks. Lovely to look at and happily wedded One would have thought that her cup was quite full Nay, needle-eye shall with camel be threaded Ere the desire of woman shall lull. Eve's curiosity ruined her progeny, Sheer curiosity wrought the despair Of Epimetheus, and by misogyny. Made him henceforward to fervently swear. "Open the Box, " cried the naughty Pandora, "Nay, nay," said her husband, "that may I not do," "Infirm of purpose, then I will" — deplore her Rash act, O ye mortals, for therefrom there flew 3 33 PANDORA Horrors ! Each evil that poor flesh is heir to, Dismay and disaster were given full scope, But — acme of irony — how could they bear to — The gods let the woman shut down upon Hope ! Better for us had it out with the others, Forth from the casket incontinent flown — For undisappointed, at least, O, my brothers ' Were we, had we never Hope's flattery known. 34 _ A LITTLE GRAVE WHERE think you I beheld her last, Dear "Bouncing Bet?" Beside the green grave of a child All dewy wet. The little children's jocund flower Who placed her there Forever to keep watch and ward In white robes, where Sunbeams slant downward through the trees And soft rains drip, Dear ''Bouncing Bef grown strangely still, Finger on lip ! 35 JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH A grandmother's story {True) A FAIRER or a nobler lass Of high or humble birth Ne'er drew the breath of life, my bairns, Than Jessie Leigh of Perth. "Aunt Jess," whom only yestermorn Beneath the rowan tree, We laid to rest in her last sleep I would it had been me. But I must tell you e'er I die, Lest from another tongue. You hear the story of her life • In words that might be wrong. For we were aye a silent folk (Least said the less to rue) Telling the truth, nought but the truth. But never all we knew. 36 i Ji, JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH Well then — before the days of steam, There sailed from Glasgow town, One summer eve, a goodly ship, Just as the sun went down. When that same sun rose up, next morn, Her rough but kindly crew Heard from a hidden coil of rope What seemed a kitten's *'miew, " And there they found a little lass Fast in the grip of fear — ''God bless my soul, " the Captain said, ''What are you doing here?" ''I want my Granny, please," she said, ** And Granny dear, wants me, " ''But what's your Granny's name and yours? "I'm Jess and 'Granny,' she." The Captain was a Yankee man In goodness richly sown ; He made the ship the lassie's home And loved her as his own. But all the time they sailed the sea, Nought could he learn nor guess From that wee lassie's artless talk. But just the fact, "I'm Jess," 37 JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH Excepting for one other, that Her ''Mother Uved in Heaven, " But where her father Uved, she knew Nought, nor his name even. The Captain on his backward voyage, Took the poor child along, But never found the lassie's folk Though hard he wrought and long. Then to the high authorities, Of ancient Glasgow town. He vowed: ''I'll take her back with me And keep her like my own." That did he, giving Jessie to His sister never wed, Who took her to her empty arms, Loved her and clothed and fed. Her home was in a college town, Whither the Captain's son Went all his schoolboy holidays And to the college on. Oh, but it was a blithesome sight As one would ask to see, That lover and his Perthshire lass, Under the great elm tree. 38 i r JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH But e'er the time for them to wed There came from far-off Perth, A lawyer sent to take our Jess Back to her place of birth. He told how after weary search, Her father died of grief. And how there died in Glasgow town The base, kidnapping thief. But 'twas not all remorse, my bairns. Made her mother's folk agree To find the little stowaway For there was property. They formed a compact, 'twixt themselves, By the shrewd terms of which . They'd wed her to her cousin, Keith, Who'd thereby be made rich. Oh, bairns, beware of greed of gold. It shrivels up the soul ; It sends a man a darksome road And his best parts pay toll ! The lawyer tracked Jess to her home Of piety and worth, And told her all the gold and lands That waited her at Perth. 39 JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH Her foster mother's heart stood still Unused to such alarms; She rose and tottered and then fell Into her darling's arms. **Nay, never heed his words, " cried Jess, **Who is he to remind me, Of Glasgow, sir, please understand Fve burnt my ships behind me, " *'But if you'll come to-morrow morn, ril have my pastor here, And he will speak my mind for me Quite plainly, never fear/' Oh, God be praised for such as she; They live in every land Where He is loved, their Shepherd He Still feeds them from His hand. The gallant lass got word to him In yonder college hall ; With her dear hand held fast in his She trembhng told him all. Then laughed as any little brook. As silvery and as sweet, And swift made clear her morning's plan- How he and she should meet, 40 I; JESSIE LEIGH OF PERTH In presence of his kinswoman, And the unrighteous Scot, While her beloved minister Should tie the sacred knot. *' And where 3^ou go, " she cried, '' I go, " (She knew her Bible fine) ''Your people shall my people be, Your country shall be mine ! ' ' Next morn the holy man was there And all was as she said, The foster mother and the Scot — And there they two were wed 1 My half-brother her father was, Dear bairns, she was a Leigh, And oh, but they know how to love, Whate'er their fortune be. And when you've joined a Yankee man With a lassie out of Perth, Thefe's not a nobler union Mind you, upon the earth. 41 THE CHRYSANTHEMUM THE trees are leafless and the air is dumb, The skies are leaden and the grass is gray, And bleak November holds its deadening sway O'er all save thee, thou brave Chrysanthemum. When not for me the summer's ripening breath, Gladdens to joy each fiber of the heart. Nor evermore sharp winter's angry smart. Goads the mad soul to face or life or death — Ah, when Monotony my soul doth numb, And dullness marks each uneventful day When I have heart to neither work nor pray, Teach me I still may grow, Chrysanthemum. 42 RESIGNATION OGOD, 'tis Thine alone to give 'Tis Thine alone to take, 'Tis Thine to grant the vSpirit that Bears all things for Thy sake. Nor know we ever what is great, Nor know we what is small. But we shall learn, if we but wait, That Thou art All in All. 43 THE SISTERS THUS Mary unto Martha: ''Sister mine, It sometimes seemeth me that all shall dwell, In everlastingness. Can any tell?" ''Ah no, refine Men may the gold, earth of the very earth Even as we, until a kingly crown It shines forevermore, but at each birth Corruption doth its hateful seed implant, And at the last, when shuddering flesh lays down The galling load, it doth its triumphs vaunt — Lord God ! the dead that doth a day but lie Who would for such ask immortality!** "I speak not of the flesh as without end. My thought thou dost not rightly comprehend. Nor hardly can I seem to make it heard Unto myself, but a dear patience lend To my still musings, and the spoken word Shall give them to the winds if they be chaff,— 44 jj THE SISTERS What is it can revive the banished years, That hves to-day in all that went before? Cringing anew at recollected fears, And harking back to joys that are no more, That hears again a brother's childish laugh And brook's voice, as they babbled each to each? What is this endlessness, can any teach?" *' 'Tis Memory, dear one, Seek not out the things Too high for thee. Nor give thy vain thought wings." "Yet life is shaped by hope and memory, The thing that has been makes the thing to be. Bethink thee, Martha, how the grape is bruised Down trodden in the press by him who flings Unto pollution what he will, but loosed From out the fruit, behold a shape Poised at the brim ! And yet the cup doth hold Not that which is but that which was the grape— That is my meaning told : May Death not crush and bruise That only to set loose Which makes of Martha, thee, And Mary makes of me, Dost comprehend My thoughts' far end?" 45 THE SISTERS ''I comprehend, That if thou speakest truth, There is no room for ruth, Thy dream doth make it plain, All should then live again ! A malefactor on the cross His being spent and cursed, might toss Into the wine-press (which in parable) Thou likest unto death. It is not well To see but visions, and to live in dreams, To trim the starry lamps we are not bid. Nor are we set to gild the morning beams, The holy things of God are ever hid — " '' Yet to the meek are mysteries revealed That to the wise and prudent still are sealed. What if turn given me, My being's Self to see When death has brought my being to an end, Communing with an ever-living Friend, E'en Love who with us sometimes comes to sup That were indeed the wine within the cup! And yet I cannot fathom deep my mind Nor learn what is this Self in me I find. Oh, if thou knowest, Martha, tell it me For dreamer of dreams I am: — " ''Yea, verily, But I am of the da}^ And love all near familiar things, 46 k THE SISTERS E'en the recurring disarray One duty to another brings, And while God gives the needful grain, 'Tis we must make the bread men eat. To smooth rough places plain For aching feet Is woman's task, Nor may I ask Aught else of God the Lord Than this, to spread the couch and lay the board I know not of the worlds that lie Beyond the blueness of the sky Nor am I quelled to suppliant awe Save by the Tablets of the Law Whereon I learn God steadies with the smart Of the compelling duty, woman's heart." ''Beloved, bear with me. Is there not that in thee Which thou canst never name ? That values its own praise or blame, And can behold itself, yet peer Beyond the verge of things, a seer? I know not why, but ever in my ears I hear the murmur of unending years Like an immortal sea on mortal shore, Where tides of being rise forevermore Above and yet above, 47 THE SISTERS Drawn by the Orb of Love In luminous access. So may we live in everlastingness, If else, would I had died e'er He came by, Nay! Having seen Him who can ever die! *' These were the Sisters twain Of Lazarus, whom Jesus loved And raised up from the dead again. aS f| i RECOMPENSE WHAT is the guerdon of patience? " I ask the tranquil sky ; And the steadfast stars make answer, "More patience by and by." 49 A MOOD AH God, to hunger where there is no food, To thirst where never water may be found. To yearn for harmony where is no sound, To know but ill and yet to crave the good. Doing the wrong, and not the thing I would. To see Sin triumph. Right brought to the ground Lies going up and down the earth, Truth bound, This, this it is that makes my present niood : Dear God, to waken thus from Youth's sweet dream I could not know, and none foretold my fate! To live to see Truth's robe without a seam Parted and torn by Sham and Cant and Hate ! If growing old be finding nothing true I would that I had died when life was new. 50 THE SCAPEGOAT ALIEN from God and man, Neath every creature's ban, Nay, tell me now What meanest Thou ' Men gave Thee to the Lord to bless, Then drove Thee to the Wilderness,- Laden with sin His grace to win. Into the desert vast, And shelterless and waste. With never a stark Tree Set on a Calvary — Alas, what boots it Thou shouldst be Hallowed for such a destiny. The Voice of one deep in the wild Yet with no cry To freely give Thy life for men. Yet not to die ! — And may the life begun in prayer End in perdition of despair. Or that which God blessed at the first Be by the world's offenses cursed? My Soul, heed thee! 51 THE SCAPEGOAT Why dost thou rage And beat the air, — Serve thou thine age Accept thy lot, Thou canst not be Where He is not. On, onward fare — God in the Wilderness alway Is fire by night and cloud by day, The House of Bondage is His own. And in the contrite heart, His Throne, PARAPHRASE OF THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTIETH PSALM IF Thou be author, Lord, Of my adversity, Out of the depths I Hft my voice, In bhnding fear to Thee. E'en as a woman's heart Is tuned her child to hear Above the storm. Oh, patient God, To me incHne Thine ear. With Thee forgiveness is, Yet there is none may know Why Thou shouldst cast Thy servant down And let the scoffer go. Nay, wait my soul on God, Thy hope shall not be vain , Wait thou, as one who vigil keeps Beside the bed of pain. Still, stijl let Israel trust Though eyes be made to weep, The Love that watches over us, Slumbereth not nor sleeps. 53 THE 130TH PSALM Out of the depths I call, Love will attend my crjs For close upon the vale of woe, The hills of God do he. 54 1 THE BURIAL LORD Christ in heaven, look down and mark This httle grave new-made, The broken hearts low bending here Anguished and sore divSmayed. That looking up they may behold In the black clouds that span The sky above their heads, a form Like to the Son of Man. Lift Thou their eyes Compassionate From falling clod on clod. Thou art the Resurrection And the Life, Thou Son of God. But dust to dust and earth to earth, We cannot choose but see. Since Life to Life, O, risen Christ Is hid in God, with Thee — Nay, death must be, if we would rise Beyond all mortal ken, Into Thine Everlastingness, Soul of our souls — Amen. 55 BEREFT THE spring has come again, dear Heart Dear Heart, the spring has come! He does not stir, though echoes start, To hear the news from home. The hving tide, not born of seas, The mystic tide of sap, Is at the full in all the trees, And daisies climb earth's lap. What boots it, since he does not know ' The clod lies heavily Upon his pulseless heart; and, oh, There is no spring for me ! 56 Ji THEN AND NOW O HAPPY radiant hours when we were young, When every passing day, bright and more bright, A gem upon hfe's slender thread was strung. That flashed resplendent in the morning light. Our days, now we are old, are dim dull beads, Seen through our tears and in the waning sun, Making a rosary for evening's needs, Whereon we'll tell our prayers till life be done. 57 THE DAUGHTER OF THE MAYFLOWER HER name, if "Mindwell" or "Submit," Was far less farcical than fit ; For, mark you, she lived up to it, And that sublimely. To serve her spouse, her only art. He to her tombstone would impart Praises, that might have warmed her heart, Had they been timely. She lay down late and early rose; Her manners had not that repose Blue blood confers, one must suppose. Yet own her merit. At sweet saints rapturous in a niche, She'd rail and turn her nose up, which Fixed there, mayhap, the vocal pitch Her sons inherit. Through pioneer vicissitude She scrimped and scraped and baked and brewed With unremitting fortitude, That shames the sages. 58 DAUGHTER OF THE MAYFLOWER Scripture she read, and almanac, With nought beside, unless, alack, And as it were, behind her back, ''Hudibras'" pages. But all things come to those who wait. Such an arch satirist is fate Aiming its arrows, soon or late . No marksman bolder The Puritanic dame, ah me ! Surviving in her progeny As flower of our plutocracy To-day behold her ! 59 THE FIREFLY WHAT art thou, gleam of light That evening brings, Art insect, soul, or sprite, On lucid wings ? Art thou a beacon clear Lighting the poles Of atoms struggling near While matter rolls ! Art thou a shaft of fire Burning to guide Fugitives from the ire Of force defied ? Thou hast no need of sun Nor moon's sheer light Thou self -illumined one Una wed of night. Thou art a nether star Thy firmament Earth, vet it cannot mar Thy sweet content, 60 THE FIREFLY Art like a Poet strong Soothing the night With sweetest, grandest song Whose theme is — Light ! Teach me thy radiant art, I too would sing. Out of a glowing heart My song would bring. And would in times of blight, Darkness and din, Be led by living light Fed from within. 6l A QUESTION: PACKER '69 Music : Laufiger Hor alius TIS a point I long to know, Oft it causes anxious thought, Shall I graduate or no? Shall I get through or shall I not? Happy me, O happy me If in June next I'm set free; Happy me, O happy me If in June next I'm set free. Butler fills my soul with dread, Havens, Perkins, Draper, too, Ye of mighty intellect, Tell me was it so with you ? Happy me, O happy me If in June next I'm set free, Happy me, O happy me If in June next I'm set free. May I but a sheepskin grasp, Weak and trembling though I am. May the wind be tempered to Every shorn and sorry lamb ! 62 A QUEvSTION: PACKER ^69 Happy me, O happy me If in June next I'm set free, Happy me, O happy me If in June next I'm set free. 63 SALUTATORY THE spring's bright days have come and gone And summer flowers are springing Beneath our feet and summer birds Their sweetest songs are singing. Once more as in times past, we take Our old accustomed places Before the same kind audience, The same familiar faces. Welcome, thrice welcome to you all, To you our friends and neighbors, Whose blessings and whose wishes kind Have lightened all our labors. And to our teachers tried and true Our grateful hearts shall ever Cherish their lessons, and our love Nor time nor death shall sever. 64 J FAREWELL ONE more glad year has sunk to rest And now round Alma Mater rises Another class to call her blest And at her feet to lay her prizes. Are we all here? Yes, all are here, — Because one's gone we're not divided. 'Trocul Adeste" she is near. Is with us by the angels guided. Back from the old world to the new, From new scenes back to old hearts dearer. Thank God what Science cannot do Love can, it need but say ''come nearer." So now, an undivided band. We'll sing our happy school dsivs over, And here this hour as with one hand Write down "The End" and close the cover. Farewell — and farewell to that band Who on dear old Packer's good intent Have joined in mind and heart and hand And farewell to our President. And let us thank him for the lesson taught Only the useful life's with pleasure fraught. ^ s 65 FAREWELL Farewell to him who for so long Has at the helm stood steadfast, ready Guiding with skillful hand and strong Each new class' bark howe'er unsteady. To all our guides we'll farewell say, Theirs is the blessing rich that hovers O'er them that first have trod the way Then turned to show it unto others. We're poor in words, have naught to give But love to you, — are words love's token? Vain empty words ? — may we all live To prove what here cannot be spoken. You who as Seniors soon shall stand — There, don't shrink back, we won't address ii you — No, no dear 'Seventy, ' give your hand, We'll only say — good-bye, God bless you. Such love as ours, old Sixty-nine, Can land or ocean broad dissever? Is ours the friendship, yours and mine. That must walk hand in hand forever? But then for the love in the eyes — The voice — no we cannot dissemble The grief that in our hearts will rise. The tears that neath our lids will tremble. 66 FAREWELL But we are selfish, weak and fond, We onlv think of our to-morrow; Forgetting all that lies beyond These partings in this world of sorrow. We thank Thee, Lord, for these blest days That tell old Sixty-nine's life story — Amen, Amen, Thine be the praise As Thine the Power and the Glory. 67 THE vSEVENTIES OH, life was sweet in the Seventies, Were ever such peerless girls, Were ever dissolved in the cup of joy, Before or since, such pearls! Oh, the ideals and the day-dreams, Were lofty as rainbows are In the hearts of those whose nursery-rhymes Had been the songs of "The War." Life was greatest in the Seventies; — Ah no, 'tis as great to-day. Youth, youth is the pearl in life's chalice Be the decade what it may. 68 GOLDEN JUBILEE SONG: MAY 15, 1903 Tunes: The Son of God — Dundee. ALMA MATER THY daughters of the yester-year, Thy daughters of to-day, We come, we come, O Mater dear, Our homage meet to pay. Though we may wander far and wide, — • Love knows nor here nor there, — Wherever borne by time and tide Thy name and seal we bear. The brilHance of the morning born May to the cloud give place; Thy laurel for an hour worn May fade and leave no trace. But thou, O Mater, dost impart An immemorial gleam : Thy palm is for the true of heart Unto the heavenly dream. We bring the homage of our love. And all our loyalty; We lift one hallowed prayer above, Learned at thy parent-knee : 69 GOLDEN JUBILEE SONG ''O God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come. Be thou our guide while life shall last. And our eternal home.'' Amen. I i 70 SONG, 1873 1 WANDER alone in the gloaming, Where we wandered, we two on the shore, The wild waves have ceased their sad moaning, A hush broods o'er all as of yore. In the silence I listen — and listen. For a voice that was music to me — The last rays upon the waves glisten, And the sun sinks to rest in the sea. So the light of my life has departed, I shall see it again nevermore, Alone, love, alone broken-hearted, I wander at night on the shore. Yet I know as I linger at even. By the tryst, love, and yearning for thee. That thou too art waiting in heaven. On the shores of the Jasper sea! 71 I A NEW OFFERTORY HYMN Tune: Greenwood ALL things, dear God, are Thine; We would give back to Thee The tithe Thou didst of old exact, That men our works may see. May all our alms and deeds Rise up before Thy sight. In memory of Him who turned Our darkness into light ! 72 :. RENUNCIATION IF to be saved from self, If to be Christian be thine aim, Cut off thine hand, if it offend. Pluck out thine eye, if its glance tend Toward selfish ease or greed or shame ; Thou canst not thus thy spirit maim; At last complete, it shall ascend, Thou ownest it dross, if fearful friend, To fling thy metal in the flame ! 73 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS • WHETHER asleep or waking, who shall say ? Not T, for one, but, be that as it may. The aged organist avows he heard What here shall be related, word for word. A man devout he was and true, who mused Much on eternal things, and wide diffused Through old St. Calvin's arches high and dim The echo of the heavenly seraphim. On Sundays and at wedding festivals. At costly christenings and at funerals, — 1 1 But I digress; that which he told to me Must be set down without more parley. He Affirms it happened on a Sunday night At service close, if I remember right, Somewhere about the early part of June. The last strain of a dear familiar tune ■ I Throbs in the organ's mighty heart, while he, The player, holds the chord caressingly. The bustling sexton hurries here and there Extinguishing the lights, the sexes pair, Until at last the stragglers all are gone And in the church the dreamer is alone. 74 < THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS He knows not, if he slept, when he awoke; But certifies to this: the Pulpit spoke. The Pulpit I long have meant to speak a word, dear Pews, Upon a theme on which I fear your views Are sadly lax. About this subject vext And ramified, were I to preach, my text You'd in Ecclesiastes find, writ plain, So plain no wayfarer may read in vain. But better an informal talk I deem With what the preacher speaketh as a theme. In chapter seventh, verse the sixth, is this: ''Like crackling thorns beneath a pot, so is The laughter of a fool" — which personage, Undoubtedly, dear friends, the ancient sage Meant should personify the skeptic, he Whose outbursts of denial prove to be As fatuous as crackling thorns that burn To dust and ashes for all men to spurn. Or, if you like, agnostic we shall call Him who believes he can send to the wall With sneering laughter the ineffable Until all tests are found infallible. Which cachinnation as innocuous is As is the burning branches' fitful hiss. . Third Pew If this, dear Pulpit, be a colloquy, I'd like to ask a question. 75 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS The Pulpit Certainly. Third Pew If so the crackling thorn is laugh of fools, As to the pot's contents, how teach the schools? Is it the seething caldron of theology In this our day? Kindl}^ enlighten me. I'd like the ''solid contents, " as it were, Of that same pot. The Pulpit Precisely I aver The ' ' solid contents ' ' a known point to be Of mathematics, not theology. Which sort of ''point," as scientists conclude, ' ' Position " has , but never ' ' magnitude . " And hence we see as at a single glance Your question's utter insignificance ! Said I not, brethren, that ye all are lax, E'en now see Science rear her head and tax The Word for revenue of fact. Now I Am one that holds, as all can testify, That Science in no fearful jeopardy Places our holy Faith, but rather she Becomes more like a little child each day With pebbles by the sea of Truth at play. The vessel and its contents matter not, The import of the metaphor. 76 J THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS Fifth Pew The pot Is metaphor. Like crackHng of the thorns Beneath, the laughter of the fool that scorns — Your pardon, but I'd like much to inquire If a similitude you hold the fire. The Pulpit Aha! Dear friends, I beg of you, to mark That we are never left quite in the dark As to essentials in the written Word, Or to the ''points," ''Five Points" as you have heard. Fifth Pew Which being all unmathematical It surelv cannot be heretical To hold that Calvin's "points" have magnitude But no position, or as I conclude. None that at this late date is tenable, Nor, sir, to reason quite amenable ! First Pew Brother, you do forget yourself to speak Thus in the Pulpit's presence. Where the meek Receive the earth, you never need aspire! — But we are speaking, I believe, of fire. 77 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS The Pulpit We were, dear brethren ; please to mark this well, In Holy Writ it symbolizes Hell } Invariably. And please to notice next, - The fool, who is the subject of our text, Will find at last that which he held before As highly colored Hebrew metaphor To be a veritable lake of fire Fed by an angry God's eternal ire, Which shall devour, without consuming, all To whom he never willed effectual call. Hence, friends, and finally, observe I pray, Since he who laughs best, laughs the last, how they Who hold the doctrines from expediency, If from no higher cause, at last shall be Found at the Right Hand with the blessed sheep. While fools and scoffers gnash their teeth and weep. Galleries {singing) ''Lead Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see The distant scene, one step enough for me." 78 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS Ninth Pew You can't alarm me with a sulphurous smell; I don't believe in it. 'Tis very well To frighten boys with, whom you chance to see Purloining apples from your favorite tree. They will disgorge and run, but, all the same, I find the present cane, than threat of flame, Far more persuasive, in such cases. Then We are not told that our first parents, when Caught in a like offense (and I must say If ever there were sinners it was they) , Were threatened with the fire that quenches not, But dealt with most summarily on the spot. Why was no mention made of endless Hell In that stupendous moment, please to tell? Last Pew brother, don't you know? That story, now, Is held an allegory, and I vow That squelches every theory for me Of doom before or after, don't you see! There's quite enough to set my soul aflame Right here in church where I would save the same. One thing is what the Psalmist calls the scorn Of those that are at ease night, noon, and morn. Of course St. Calvin, rich and prosperous. Is not intended for the like of us. 79 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS The Pulpit You shame its teachings, brother, speaking so; Is not salvation free, I'd Hke to know? Last Pew | It used to be and may be so again, And in a sense it is so now, but then, While free to millionaires and such, the crumbs Are flung to mission chapels in the slums. I've been there, at a chapel where a youth Sprouted a pair of whiskers with the truth, And told us if we all were poor and low It was because the Father loved us so. . ; But if we'd every evil habit cast, : And be real good, that we might go at last To great St. Calvin and be rich, you know. )| \\ Ninth Pew Aha, my brother, you don't have to go To mission chapels only, to be told That righteousness Is worth its weight in gold ! Nor to behold, held up before your eyes, , For spiritual effort, worldl}^ prize. The Pulpit And with authority the Psalmist says. Who loves Jerusalem and all her ways Shall prosper largely here and evermore. But never they who in her seek a sore — 80 11 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS Bear that in mind, you carping cavilers, Time was the Pulpit silenced swaggerers ! Camp Chair {in aisle) Sirs, for my brother I've a remedy, — - I, too, have felt the scorner's scorn as he, — Perhaps I have no right to take the floor, As I'm no pew-holder, but a furor Ecclesiastical, my friends, finds me All there, — as on a flower's breast, the bee! But that's not to the point. Plebians mine, For Indigence you need no longer whine. Thank God that libraries are now quite free. Take out a favorite volume, come with me Beyond the city's din, the churches frown, Beside some little hymning brook sit down Beneath a tree and open wide your heart. Likewise your book; 'twill always take your part. 'Twill never ask you if you wear a ring Or purple and fine linen, never sting With side-long glance, and the great company, Apostles, heroes, martyrs, saints, shall be Who fold their wings and straightway come to meet E'en me the staggering make-shift of a seat! Middle Pew 'Tis Emerson, I think, who says he likes A church, a priest, and all the rest, that strikes Right home. 6 8i THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS The Pulpit Ah, you would lend your patronage To Christ's own Temple, where himself in rage Scourged the blasphemers ! Camp Chair Now, then, Brother Pew! The reverend gentleman cannot mean you By ''blasphemers." Come, let us have your view. Middle Pew Just one word more, please, I'm so tired out By business all the week, and bile and doubt, That when the Sunday comes I only know I love to steal a while away and go Into the Tabernacle with the blest. And feel that one day we shall be at rest Where that for which all things on earth are sold Our feet shall tread on, for the streets are gold ! Fifth Pew I hold with you, my brother. So I love God's Temple, image of the house above Not made with hands. I love the Sacred Word And, too, the voiceless prayers, heard of the Lord No less than those on winged words that rise Like incense from the place of sacrifice. 82 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS Where in His name are gathered two or three Has He not promised there Himself to be ? It is not good for man to be alone; And books, my friends, have offered me a stone When I have hungered. But whene'er I sought The very Presence in His earthly court, I have drunk quenching waters and been fed At His own table with a living bread. * Ninth Pew And I — I am a wanderer from the fold. I fall an easy prey to greed of gold And worldly temptings, but I feel within As here I muse a hatred of the sin That drags me earthward and prevents my soul That longs to press on to the heavenly goal, Free from the bonds that bind, the aims that ban, To run the race that worthy is a man. Side Pew It is not thus with me. The agony Upon my prostrate soul lies heavily Of this discordant world. To me it wears A woman's look in pain, who hardly dares To lift her eyes upon the thing she bears. Such monsters she has borne of sin and shame That her fair offspring blush to own her name. The needless woe, the torture undeserved. The good man stricken down, the bad preserved 83 THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS The rude awakening from Youth's bright dream; The witnessing Truth's robe without a seam Parted and torn by shame, and cant and hate; Disaster whose repair comes late, too late; The growing old and finding little true. The wishing we had died when life was new, — These sights and sounds unutterabh^ sad Bid my soul seek a balm in Gilead. Fifth Pew Turn hither ward the foot that well-nigh slips, And God shall put a new song on your lips. Come, friends, with me. I love her every part, Christ's church on earth for which His lonely heart Bled on the cross. I hear the preacher's call The reading of the Word, but more than all I love the hymns : for they bring back to me Old memories ; and pictures dear I see Of faces all exultant, sad or shy. Of lips that white and trembling said good- bye. Of eyes that shone once, and only once, bright With an effulgent glory from the white Throne of God, then closed forevermore. I seem to stand upon the very shore And watch the sunrise of that endless day Wherein, if naught else, tears are wiped away. 84 ji THE PULPIT AND THE PEWS Galleries (singing) ''So long thy power hath led me, sure it still Will lead me on, O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone. ' Then" with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since but lost awhile." Just here the organist was made aware That from the keyboard fell his fingers, where They all this time had held in cloudland aw^ed The ''Lux Benigna's" last triumphant chord. 85 "IT IS EXPEDIENT" O WISDOM, not of Earth and deep as Heaven, Thyself a Substitute, a good but lent, Not more to Thee than to us all, was given, Thou, too, sought refuge in expedient. The Infant, from its home in soft caresses, Cries for the moon, but is at last appeased, In tiny palms the shining coin it presses, Accepts the loving subterfuge well pleased, To men and women in the cot and palace, Whose youth prized nought but Love and Truth and Fame Drinking Life's waters from a brimming chalice, Make shift to quaff dark Lethe from the same. The soul sighs doubly for its native Heaven, Its home, its Father, and its element. But learns to wait, accepts the mandate given, — And Life itself is an expedient , 86 FRIAR BENEDICT'S PRAYER FRIAR BENEDICT, a just man and good Most loved and cherished by the brother- hood Of saints, lay on his dying bed. As the sands of life ran out one by one And the radiant beams of the morning sun Through the iron bars of the window fell On the cold stone wall of the friar's cell The sick man started and faintly said : ''My work, thank God, is o'er! I shall never hunger more, But to my home andThee Father, my soul shall rise And eat of life's fair tree In the midst of Paradise." At dawn the friars met and sadly said Their masses round the friar's dying bed. And as they prayed, did rays of sunlight fall Upon the friar's dismal cold stone wall, Whereon was writ, as each monk plainly read, These words, ' ' Give us this day our daily bread . ' ' This was the holy friar's daily prayer With great exactness and with pious care 87 FRIAR BENEDICT'vS PRAYER He wrote it, where the morning's first bright ray Would it illumine, so that through each day He might take with him the image glorified And with the image the prayer sanctified. Upon the Monastery's moss-grown side An ivy clung and thus at matintide The sunlight streaming through the window fell On the prayer- writ wall of the friar's cell. Casting the shadow of the ivy where The holy man had cut in stone his prayer, Making illumination richly fraught With beauty, such as man's hand never wrought. Think not the holy man prayed but for bread Wherewith the earthly body might be fed, No, he had learned through sorrow, toil and care The utmost meaning of that blessed prayer, Therefore he called around his dying bed The friars of the brotherhood and said: ' ' O, brothers, when your hearts are faint and worn When the great burdens that so long you've borne Grow each day heavier; when you'd dash the cup From off your lips, and give the labor up — O, then throw down your beads and foolish arts And take your hungry longing tired hearts Unto your Saviour, and with bowed head, Pray thus : — '' Give us this day our daily bread, * ' Then go your way and God will show it thee, You'll find it in all deeds of charity, 88 n FRIAR BENEDICT'S PRAYER You'll find it in the flowers, the grass, the trees, You'll know it in the gentle morning breeze. You'll find it in the sunset sky at even, You'll see it in the star-besprinkled heaven, For these are tokens of the boundless love Of the Almighty one who rules above. Which if we'd take but as our spirit's food We should be drawn each hour nearer God." The friar ceased to speak and faintly sighed, — ''Rest at last, brothers, rest at last" — then died. And as they bore him to his final rest Surcharged with sorrow was each stern monk's breast. For Death had chosen from the brotherhood The best beloved — Old Benedict the good. They laid him down to sleep among the blest Who long since went from earth to heavenly rest ; Then as upon the air with soothing fell The soft sweet music of the vesper bell, Slowly the friars wound their way- Back to the Monastery, as the day Was sinking into night. But Michael, one Of the good brotherhood when all were gone, Felldown upon the new-made grave and wept. He, buried deeply in his heart had kept His sorrow until now, and now had come That in his anguish he might be alone. When all that makes life dear and blessed, goes Into the grave and we are left alone— 89 FRIAR BENEDICT'S PRAYER For Benedict had loved him with a love Passing the love of woman, and above All others, had chosen to call him ''Friend." And now that blest companionship must end. *' God knows We need thee, Benedict, " he cried '' If Christ had been with us, thou hadst not died, With thee, we lose our guide, our prop, our stay. And there is now for us no one to pray." ''Thy prayers, O Benedict, were always heard. For thou didst live so near unto thy God, And when the fever came and drought, we might Have told our beads from morning until night And Heaven not heard one cry, but thou didst pray And wasting drought and fever passed away." "But now thou'lt care no more for our complaints. Thrice blessed with the Father, Son, and Saints — " "O, Benedict, my brother, thou art gone God, give me patience to live on alone, Alone, alone" — then as he ceased to speak He heard a voice within him saying, ''Take The good around thee as thy spirit's food And thou each hour shalt be drawn near God." Then Michael cried, "Blest Lord then not alone, But near to Thee, and to the dear one gone." And the voice answered him within his soul, "Go thou thy way, thy faith hath made thee whole." 90 AN ETCHING A STRIP of land Upon its edge At either hand — Stiff v/ith the brine — A fringe of sedge. A single hne That scarce divides The sky and sea, And running free A ship that rides Out from the lands Whereon there stands A girl — Ah, me — Who wrings her hands; The day is done The sinking sun Drops out of sight 'Twill soon the night There in the west, I hear a cry * ' Good-bye, good-bye ' '- God knows the rest. 91 THE EBBING TIDE TWILL cost Hugh a penny o' money, To put me under the ground, But I shall not hear his grumbling words, I shall be sleeping so sound ; And in springtime the dandelions Will cover my bed with gold. And none to rail at the ''wicked waste" Of the little spendthrifts bold. Jim's wife will come to the funeral, She always knows what is right, I shall not wince at her stare, for once My hands will be nice and white; I never did mind her upstart ways, I only thought of poor Jim, I never let on I saw, for fear She would take it out of him. And the girls will come with their husbands And cry a little and fret, And think I might have done this and that And then go home and forget — But there's one is with me always, he Who died, not a half-year old, I keep on dreaming, dreaming o' him The one lost lamb of the fold. 92 THE EBBING TIDE I used to think when I came to die (I hoped 'twould be in the spring) That rd have no other thought but God, And I'd hear the angels sing. But it's really not like that at all, I go over night and day The things of earth I have longed for so — A piano for Nell to play, A sewing-machine and a kitchen range, But they never came my way. And now I have only one desire, — Just to be quit o' the pain, — How I dream I hear the baby cry, Hark, there it is again; Poor dear wee Lambie, yes 'tis he. Calling as hard as he can — Then, Mother is coming quick, there, there, To her hungry little man ! He never was weaned away from me Like Jim and Nell and the rest,- — Mother is coming! — I feel again His happy lips at my breast — And oh, his eyes! — Star answers star — They smile back God's own smile, — In that pure light I see it all — Life, life made worth the while. 93 THE MIGHT OF MIRTH \ THE sick and sorry gathered near, The muezzin, at noon, to hear, But none, not one, was comforted Which seeing, the sad mufti led His steps to where the fountain rose On wings of spray; in perfect pose And guise of agony superb ij He sat him down beside the curb ; 'i With folded hands and bowed head The Hundred Sacred Names, he said, Adding: — ''Words light on tongue, like clods Lie in the balance which is God's." And as he mumbles, weeps, and wails, Comes one, the "Teller" called, "of Tales," Who lifted up his voice and cried, — "Ye faithful hear! Once did betide This happening, a King who took A city, straightway brought to book All those that dwelt therein, he made His direful purpose known and bade Each carry off his dearest prize Or see it burn before his eyes. 94 THE MIGHT OF MIRTH Some carried gold, some food, alack, But one retreated with a sack To whom the King spake; — ''By life's span, What hast thou?" ''Laughter," said the man, " My bag is full of Mirth." "A thing I had forgot, " replied the King, "Divide with me." Whereat the clown Opened his sack and set it down, " 'Tis Allah teacheth Charity, Take freely what thou wilt, " said he. And the King vanquished, cried aloud; — "Thy deed shall save the city" — Bowed The ' ' Teller of Good Tales "and mirth Gladdened the group, as sun the earth. But the sad mufti heavenward glanced — * 'When Death shall claim thy being, canst Thou then, bold jester, carry off A sack of laughter, wherefore scoff? " "I know not. Sire, but this I know 'Tis Allah sends both mirth and woe, Thou sayest, 'They laugh who win,' 'tis chaff; They win, say I, they win who laugh!'* 95 MULTUM IN PARVO THE morning-glory tremulous with rain, Its purple chalice full to overflowing, Looks on the long-lived rose without a pain Nor grudges it the bliss of further knowing. Its cup is full, though mxOrning brief and bright Suffices for its life of royal splendor. Canst teach it of the dew, the rain, the light? It knoweth all — has Earth aught else to render ? No, no, I grudge thee not the coming years, The noonday's vulgar glare, the evening's fading. Viewing thy bliss with eyes undimmed b}^ tears Thy wedded happiness without upbraiding ! Canst tell me, glowing Woman, what is Love Nay, I have known it to such perfect measure — Though brief as nave's poise, ere its pearls dissolve — That Death I crave, to seal my own, the Treasure. 96 SAINT PHILIP NERI FLORENCE, A. D. 15 15-1595 AS a wave pauses ere its pearls dissolve, Then plunges once more in the living tide, Sobbing but obedient, may I resolve In common ways with Love still to abide : — Eternal Wayfarer, dear Love, I would arise and follow Thee, The badge of my discipleship, The dropped net by the alluring sea. I pray Thee hold unto my lips The Sacrificial Cup, remove It not until is slaked Thy mortal thirst, For Thou wert fevered on the Cross accurst. For others, be the prize, the goal well won, I would upon Thy lowliest errands run In shadowy places where at morn, They cry, ''Would God 'twere night, " At night, ''Would God 'twere morn, " Mad from the pain of life and blight That yet must needs be borne. The hearts that with God's awful patience have Impatient grown, let me forbid to rave, 7 97 SAINT PHILIP NERI Teaching our times are in His tireless hand To Whom the centuries are grains of sand, Within an hour-glass So swift they pass, His thoughts are not as our thoughts, for we are His thoughts, and never one of us shall mar The perfect whole When He hath writ the scroll. Unto the Atoning Harmony oblate May I inspire the wings of song that wait In all men's hearts to waft themselves to Heaven In antiphons of prayer, at noon and even. For Very Voice of Very God outrang What time the morning stars together sang And Choired Angels raptured to prolong The primal note, proclaimed Love's birth in song. While Mary, from the lips that deigned to dim The blossom of her girl-breast, learned to h^^mn A Woman's only victory Half anguish and half ecstasy. Let me see dull eyes glow when I draw near, - ^ Let me bring happy tasks and harmless cheer To little boys and girls, for Thou didst take Into Thine arms young children, not Thine own, And pray God's pity on them for Thy sake That wentest through life alone, Alone through death Even by God forsook at Thy last breath. 98 SAINT PHILIP NERI Unsearchable, I lose in Thee all loss, I fall at Thy impassioned, mystic Cross To clasp Thy dear, dead feet and cry: — Oh, Crucified, since Thou didst will to die A seeming Failure — even so would I. 99 'I READ MY BOOKS IN WOMAN^S LOOKS" AH, Marianna seemeth me, Like nothing else so much to be As a rare volume, richly bound, In which, when opened, there is found No knowledge, sense, nor sentiment, But litter unintelligent. While Isabelle is like a book Made for the uses of a cook, Which may be handled carelessly As never other tome should be, Within discover her bead-roll. Collects for body, not for soul. And Araminta is a tract ' . With wordy controversy packed, Not with the things of mild report Informed, but full of smart retort. Gad ! while a true man knows himself, Such will be left upon the shelf. But Daphne doth the heart delight Like volume bound in vellum white, 100 I MY BOOKS IN WOMAN'S LOOKS Wherein may all men plainly see Sweet wit and dainty poesy, Wide thought of human joys and woes And wisdom such as love bestows. lOI ^ THE IMPECUNIOUS TUTOR HE haunts the purHeus of the Square, An Impecunious Tutor, At morning, noon, and night he's there, — An unrequitted suitor ? Ah no, he couldn't if he would, For quite another reason He loiters in the neighborhood Both in and out of season. For in the Square, a man named Brooks, A Scotchman, lately landed. Sells, cheap for cash, no end of books. Shop-worn and second-handed. Hence you may see the Tutor tall, ' With linen frayed and flabby. Spending his money at the stall And going very shabby. I hesitate to tell, in truth. What wit and wisdom He there At Brooks, in nuggets, lest forsooth The world should quickly hie there, 102 f THE IMPECUNIOUS TUTOR And buy him out and leave my friend, The Tutor all distraught there, For wanting books, his life would end, But listen what he bought there. One day, against the chimney jamb, — A treasure, worth the finding, — He saw, complete, the works of Lamb, Half-price in half -calf binding ! Again he bought for fifty cents, Spencer on ''Education," Perfect, save for two little rents, A lode in his vocation. O joy, O bliss, O glad surprise. His heart went like a knocker^ The ''London Lyrics" met his eyes A very Frederic Locker ! O, miracle of luck, again His choice was none of Hobson's, He saw without a spot or stain, "Vignettes in Rhyme, " of Dobson's. He found one glorious Saturday , And not so very battered, "The Newcomes!" and IVe heard him say, The "Adsum" page is spattered 103 THE IMPECUNIOUS TUTOR With yellow stains, he swears are tears, He loves the unknown owner, Of course 'twas" not a man, he sneers, If he had only known her ! Pray is it any wonder then, The Tutor, of few pleasures, Should prowl about the Scotchman's den In search of further treasures ? Possessing which, the dingy wing He hires from the souter, A palace is, himself a king, The Impecunious Tutor! 104 i TO JANE AUSTEN ■ YOU were a wondrous child, And your praises ran as wild In those days As when you graced the halls Of the gentry, with their balls And their plays. But ril whisper, lady dear, That you seem a trifle queer, (S'il vous plait) To the woman novelist And the lady suffragist Of to-day. You've a pretty little prattle. And a petty tittle-tattle, Yet again. For a child you know too much And you've just a worldly touch That gives pain. You're a gossip and wiseacre, A little town dressmaker. And a wit. 105 TO JANE AUSTEN With your mouth quite full of pins, You fasten neighbors' sins 'Till they fit. If you chronicled small beer, It really would appear, Would it not? That you'd nothing else to show, And you surely are, you know, Unforgot ! io6 ON AN OLD VOLUME OF "PUNCH" CONTAINING JOHN LEECH'S PICTURES WAS ever there another did prescribe Balm for the thorns of Hfe in quip and jest and gibe Like the kind Leech, whose pencil yet could draw Moral and text and tears in all he saw : — Witness the ''Blighted Being, *' in his teens, The Clown's Girl-wife, dying behind the scenes, ''Pater familias" duly bending o'er "Cold raeats," that have been duly "blessed before," "The Furriner, " at whom the British Nation No longer 'Eaves a 'arf brick's detestation; The Braggart Sportsman challenging his doom, The puny Crossing-Sweeper with his broom. His little lordship envying him the job — Of Brothers all ! Is it to laugh or sob ? — Ecclesiasticus without the sneer La Manchas Knight with love-tipped sword and spear. 107 THE BRONTES THREE violets, growing on the waste obscure, Three stars alone upon a midnight sky, Three nightingales that never learned to fly, Three broken hea;rts, wild, passionate, and pure, Misunderstood, unschooled save to endure — How lowly were their lives, their thoughts how high; Their works so dauntless, and themselves so shy, In consciousness of right alone secure, With knowledge only how to love and pra}^ ! Did ever any from such scanty store Gather so large a hoard, meet and unmeet ? Did ever lives so write themselves away. Or ever any woman hands before Pour such a bitter ointment at Love's feet? io8 TO^GEORGE ELIOT ORARE grand woman from whose lion's strength Comes forth a sweetness garnered in all fields Where Thought its richest, purest honey yields, O mind of man and woman's heart at length. Joined by God's hand in union, perfect, true, Whose fruit is Wisdom, like a Father's grave And Love, surpassing any Mother's, brave; Our Age unlovely counts of such but few. , O watcher on the Tower who usherest in The better day which ''martyred men" foresaw When sacred Truth shall her good reign begin And all shall own her swa}^ and heed her law, — Thou knowest it not, but thou hast been to me. One of the Choir unseen, thou prayest to be! 109 BURNS REMEMBER little town of Ayr, That he who all your luster wrought, Sped through your streets in mad despair And for the Philistines made sport. no ii i JANE WELSH CARLYLE IF you could live your life again, Despite all pain You'd choose to be his wife again, Wouldn't you, Jane? Ill BOSWELL WHAT would our Johnsons be Without such fellows? Mute as an organ, sure, Wanting the bellows. 11 112 SAINT BRIDGET'S DAY A SISTER'S days were sweet at Rydal Mount, Yet had I given them for just one other : — A rare and cloudless day at Mackery End, With the incomparable Brother. 113 EMERSON AH, how they hung upon his lips, Those lofty country-folk, Above the dripping tallow dips Great light shone as he spoke. 114 RICHARD WATSON GILDER A PATRIOT, lover of the poor, not power, He kept the New Commandment of the Law, A Watchman, singing as he paced the tower, — God grant we catch a ghmpse of what he saw. 115 ON A LATE VICTORIAN THINGS seen from "A College Window, " Have cloyed in a few stern years, — Of those viewed from the South Sea House When still read, through their tears ! ii6 UNDER THE WIZARD'S SPELL SUCH an aggravating boy ! Knotted shoe string, broken toy, Playmates striving to decoy Yet he nothing heeds. Unlearned task, neglected work, What cares he, the little shirk, While pursued through mire and murk The MacGregor speeds ! Pales the light of common da^^ As he reads, and far away Life grows great, or grave, or gay; This wise runs the tale : — Right comes ever by its own, Evil shall be overthrown, Heroes by their deeds are known. Only cowards fail. Dream, dream while you may, dear boy. Nor let prosy facts annoy : For you, as for bold Rob Roy, Foes are lurking near; You shall wake to meet them, pray That high faith you hold to-day Yours may be, and in the fray Nought can make you fear. 117 DESTINY 1789 OF noble lineage and name, Of fine old English stock she came , .A high-bred, gracious, placid dame, Stately and tall. With measured step and pirouette She danced the solemn minuet In General Washington's own set At that first ball. 1889 Alas, what blows are dealt by fate! When the great day we celebrate Shall her descendants, with the great, Dance and make merry ? Alack! But one is to the fore. Her grandson's son, who lords it o'er The village school, a mile or more From Dobbs, his ferry ! 118 A CITY SONNET BROOKLYN BRIDGE ATHWART the sky it stretches, hke a bow Of promise seemingly, since night and day,— While to the sea the river feels its way, — Men press in expectation, to and fro, As if they thought to find with hopes aglow. The treasure-trove, which the child-minded say Lies at the rainbow's either end — stay, st y There is a City whither all shall go Where no one ever seeketh e'en his own, Nor ever an\^ hearken to the cry *"Tis nought, 'tis nought," for barter is un- known, Where gates of light swing open for a sigh,- And that for which all things on earth are sold, Is trod on, for the Citv's streets are gold! 119 A LULLABY OLIFE, life, life! Thou art fair but to the child To man, thou art toil and strife, Sorrow thou art to the wife, To youth, th'art chaos wild! O days, days, days ! Ye are not what ye seem, Ye are not for Poet's lays. Ye are not for Lover's praise — Sleep, sleep, my child, and dream ! O night, night, night! My darling, 'tis the best ! 'Tis calmness after the fight 'Tis sweetness after the light, 'Tis rest, my child, 'tis rest! 120 AUGUST, 1878 1SEE the bloom upon the distant hills, Divinely blue, immeasurably deep, A sudden rapture all my being fills, For very gladness, darling, I could weep. So in their purple depths were thy rare eyes Inscrutably divine, divinely true When first we met, where peaks and peaks arise To meet the ether's poorer, paler blue. I look again; the bloom is lost in mist, That came I know not whence I know not when. Anon, by Heaven's own glorious sunlight kissed And now bedimmed by fog from out the fen. So in their hot wild tears were thy grand eyes. When last we parted on the mountain's brow. Blinded by passion's heat and grief's surprise, But then, all radiance, all cloud-crowned now. 121 MINE OWN PEOPLE ACALVINISTIC training for a far-oflf Heaven , A disregard for this world where we live and move, A weight of melancholy and of mirth a leaven A knowledge of but little else than how to love . 122 i MY VANISHED YOUTH I SAW thee last upon the mountain top Viewing the world which seemed thy very own, When I went wandering down the steep hillside, In the sweet morning-time, unknown, alone. And thee wert shading with thy hand, thine eyes, Watching the sun rise in the kindling east. At noon, I could not see thee, for the glare Nor hear thee, for thy matin hymn had ceased. Just when thy vision faded from my sight, I do not know, I cannot tell just where, A sudden glory, from the setting sun, Lights up the mountain-top — thou art not there ! And now 'tis eventide and I have borne The Day's hard burden, and its burning heat, 'Twill soon be night. Death's night is near at hand, Ah, my lost Youth, next morning shall we meet ? 123 TO-DAY THE youth thinks he holds the world's scepter, Thinks Time and Space are his own, Till years prove his wine to be water, His hardly earned bread, a stone. He'll get used, he will, to disaster. And by and by to defeat. And be willing to own the world ''master/' To kiss its old tyrannous feet. He'll see till 'he ceases to wonder, The spectacle cease to appal, The brass and the tinkling cymbal Drive Charity to the wall. For Love means the cross as much to-day As it did in the davs of old, And Truth means the rack as alway, And Fame means hunger and cold. The world has grown old in its struggle. Is stooped and wrinkled and gray. And sin and sorrow and care have aged — The only new thing is — To-day. 124 i TO-DAY Yes, To-day is King over all, my boy, To-day is King over all ; Own its sway, do its work, heed its call, boy, And down at its mighty feet fall. 125 I HAVE LOVED AND BEEN LOVED I HAVE loved and been loved; What more can earth give — To love is to live. I have gained and have lost- Passed power to save — To love is to have. I don't comprehend God But He comprehends me- By and by I may see. Was it really worth while — One moment of youth In a lifetime of ruth? Such night and such storm For one lightning's gleam To shatter our dream ! 126 I TO YOUNG AMERICA OH, Scion of a more than Queen, Throned 'twixt her warder seas, A mother is a mother still E'en when with tottering knees She drains the brazen, blinding cup Of folly, to the lees. Such largess earth has yielded her As who shall count or say. But greed of more, and more, and more Has ground her heart away. Her hands lay hold on landmarks, and There's none to say her nay. Oh, with the cloak of charity Walk backward and enfold Her mad, bedizzened, graceless form Her wild dishevelled gold Forevermore, and let to-day Be as a tale that's told. 127 HYMN GLORY be to God on high! Peace on earth, good will from Heaven ! Unto you a child is born ! Unto you a Son is given. Thus the holy angels sang, Heaven with the choral rang. While a lone star onward guides, Where God's Christmas gift abides. Shepherds heard that hymn of love Sounding from the depths above. Wondering saw the gleam afar Of that holy, pilgrim star. Guided by its rays divine, Sages to the manger bring. With the treasures of the mine, Worship's sweeter offering.. Ah, that star has never set, But it shines in glory yet Ever guarding, guiding still Patient hearts that do His will. Light of Lights, shine on our way, Gift of Gifts, be ours alway, ..." So when toils and tears shall cease, Christ may be indeed our Peace. 128 I GOLDENROD ON STAR ISLAND LIKE a seared conscience turned to stone, Or anguish shaped in rock, Or petrified the ocean's moan, Caught up by storm and shock — They lie heaped high on ocean's breast, The awful Isles of Shoals, Black neath the sky, while east and west, The sea untiring rolls. And green things hardly dare to wake Out of that stony bed, Choked like the words the preacher spoke That fruitless fell and bled. But there it was that summer dav. Deep at the rock's black base, The Goldenrod on graceful spray Lifting its shining face ! In vain the siren sea beguiled. In vain the storm assailed, It grew — and on it Heaven smiled , 'Twas girded, armed, and mailed. 9 129 GOLDENROD ON STAR ISLAND It only saw a strip of sky, It only heard the sea, And yet it opened wide its eye In brave simplicity. Dear Flower, let me learn of thee, I too for one brief hour. Fixed on a reef in Time's wide sea Live neath an unseen Power ! And glimpses of the sky, I see, And O, forevermore, The music of Eternity, Floats from the unknown shore. Pray God, my soul, thou too, mayst rest Through blinding storm and shock, Unmoved on Time's unquiet breast, In the shadow of the Rock. 130 RELIGION TIS soundness of the heart, 'Tis saneness of the mind, 'Tis Naaman in Rimmon's house The living God to find. 131 MOONLIGHT 1 NEVER asked to lay a weary head, Upon his breast, Only to feel his shoulder 'neath the load, Ah, that was rest. Only to have my fears cried down the wind. By his brave laugh, The flail's rude blow on blow softened and soothed By his dear chaff ! And ray possessions all things beautiful Were ever made, Sun, moon, and stars, still streams and pastures green Never to fade. 132 "WITHIN YOU" WHY am I taught to pray, ''Be done on earth, Thy will, And in the selfsame breath to say, ''Deliver us from ill, " Unless it be I come to see. Day after day, from morn till even. That I am all there is of earth And all there is of Heaven. 133 REST 1 WONDER where it is, the spot of earth, Where I shall lay me down at last to sleep, Where sound of industry or strife or mirth, Or music, or the sight of those that weep. Shall reach my ears no more. Shall it be here under my native skies ? Heaven grant it, for I think I could not rest Neath alien stars, strange sunset and sunrise, Away from those that knpw and love me best. Upon another shore. I cannot know, it may be far away, Where even now, mankind pass to and fro, Conquered or conquering, listless or at bay, Or in some lonely hamlet heaped with snow. In sound of ocean's roar.- Why need I care, siunmer shall follow spring. Winter the auttnnn; though I know it not Each season shall its fitting mantle fling Dead leaves, or snow, or blossoms on the spot* And all is as before. 134 REvST I shall be satisfied, while life shall last, If only ye who love me here awhile,. Will know and understand, I love you past All feeble sign of word or deed or smile. Dear God, I ask no more. 135 1 I LOVED THEE ONCE I LOVED thee once, long years ago, • As something more than human, I love thee now for what thou art — So grand, so good a woman, That he who should dare to call thee *'mine'' Must be less human than divine ! 136 J BROOKLYN TOWN DEAR Home for thee I yearn, My eyes toward thee I turn, Old Brooklyn Town. Thy sunsets from the ''Heights, " Thy bridges, starry nights, Thy glittering harbor-lights, Old Brooklyn Town! Guarded by ''Liberty," The Island at thy knee, Old Brooklyn Town, Through radiant beauty sweeps, To where the Beacon keeps Safe watch and ward, nor sleeps, Old Brooklyn Town. Beside thee — softly tread, The City of the Dead, Old Brooklyn Town, Lies very, very still. And tears like dews distill Upon each glade and hill. Old Brooklyn Town. 137 BROOKLYN TOWN The ocean is thy toy, Mid-stimmer's rampant joy, Old Brooklyn Town — Give back my youth to me, I lent it all to thee. Oh, City by the Sea, Old Brooklyn Town. 13^ ANNIE LAURIE AT evening time I dreamt I died, And went where all the loves are biding, Of kindred, friend, bridegroom, and bride, And entered without need of guiding. Strangely I felt myself at home. Familiar were both scene and setting ; Or could I have been there before, I kept remembering and forgetting. It seemed Love's very self was there. But as effulgence, not as being, Not like to those of Patmos Isle, The revelations of my seeing. There were no gates on every side, Nor candlesticks with branches seven. Nor on a pallid horse was Death, Yet I was sure I was in Heaven. I saw the essence of a smile, And dear eyes newly grown immortal. When soft, as by a miracle, Was opened song's eternal portal. 139 ANNIE LAURIE And lo, I heard, or seemed to hear, Was ever Uke in human story, One singing far beyond the stars, One singing to me, ''Annie Laurie!" 140 ENVIRONMENT A PANSY blossom, in a field of grain, Which yielded to the eater daily bread And the young ravens stilled and comforted, Gave seed unto the sower on the plain, And in the market-place laid gain to gain, Yet while the hungry soil and men were fed, The heart of the wild pansy blossom bled And agonized and died, alas, in vain; — A purple splendor circled round and round With flesh and toil and avarice and greed, Heart of Gold, all self-consumed at last, 1 cannot tell thee why thou here art found ; I cannot tell why hunger is and need, The lot, I know, it is not ours to cast. 141 HOLY INNOCENTS 'T^IS finished, the enraptured breezes stir 1 With hovering angels, while each swaying bough A censer seems, with frankincense and m^^rrh Soothing the night. The Orient Kings but now. Forewarned of God, return another way : In the deep hollow of His hand all things, Grown strangely still, await the Heaven-born day Of peace on earth — when lo, a cry! that stings The brooding silences like thrust of steel, A Voice, God! in Rama. Even so That all might be fulfilled; — One woman's weal Is ever purchased with another's woe. 142 THE RETURN NAY, but I will arise and go Unto my Father, and will say, Father, in the endless realm Of Books, I went astray. My days in reading riotous 1 passed, and fain had filled my head With the last word of science. Lord, No matter wheresoe'er it led. To quench my still increasing thirst. To ever- widening streams I went. Tracing their source, I lost my way. Night came apace, my faith was spent : And it was my inheritance. In breast milk it was yielded me. For it this blood now in my veins Leaped to be spilled in ecstasy. I am not worthy of a place. Father, in Thy house. Now I know Obedience to be its base And pinnacle; and, though I go From earth to sky, from seed to star, From drop of dew to central sun, There art Thou, in this primal law, — God is where'er His will is done. 143 THE RETURN - Hence, my Father, unto me, A famished prodigal, assign Even an hireling's place until Thy will is mine, and I am Thine. At home in Thy wide universe, My fire by night, my cloud by day, This fiat, — in obedience Find thou the truth, the life, the way. i 144 A WOMAN'S LITANY GOD, the Father, name Supreme, Guard young maidens while they dream Lest, awaking, they blaspheme. Hear us Holy Father. God, the Son, of Mary born. Teach all women, tra vail- worn , Love's true symbol is a thorn. Hear us, Holy Jesu. Holy Ghost, that increate, Didst brood upon the waters great, Like Thee, may we only — ^wait. Hear us. Holy Spirit. Ever blessed Trinity, Three in One, and One in Three, Maid, and wife, and matron, we Pray Thee, hear our Litany. 10 145 RETROSPECT 1AM strong now and sane, Was it less than inane To consume candle flame At so sorry a game? We reap what was sown And we sow the unknown — How wise we have grown With our hearts turned to stone. Never heed, by and by We shall both of us die ^ And our secret shall pass - ^ Into daisies and grass. The 'vyhite slab shall tell How " God doeth all well, " And to none 'twill appear That we perished last year ! 'j 146 TRAGEDY A THISTLE purple, passionate Wooed a Daisy delicate, A girl tore her petals, one by one And he went white from sun to sun! 147 " COMPLIRE " THE blurred horizon rim Grows dimmer and more dim Till blotted out. Alack, The floor of Heaven is black. Yet when the day went right I loved thee, listening Night, — Thy stillness and thy stars, Thy dews and fragranc}^ Our Lady of the Moon Her pilgrim tides that soon Or late, are lost at sea ; The wistful murmuring of the trees The wonder of the Pleiades All were my simple fee A radiant time that was But never more can be. A cloud no bigger than his hand Has hidden sea and sky and land My love has fled and left me but the dark, The aching dark that to my heart shall hark O Night, I know the eclipsing hour Our passion flower Began to pale, — 'Twas at his first cold glance When with a mind askance He hastened to depart 148 "COMPLIRE" A student friend did ail, Oh, let me not recall Each subterfuge and art, His failures at the sunset tryst For ''duty*' his new-forged regard His feigned despair of ''worthiness" His counterfeited gloom and stress — So far, so deep he had to fall My temple's veil to rive And Oh, desire dies hard So long it took to teach my heart Men may be traitors and yet live, Nay, thrive in the impartial sun That warms a Judas and a Christ And punishes not one. 'Till now what had been space and time to me But Love's environ and Love's opportunity^ What need have I of either, wanting Love And what, I ask, of a child's God above, With : — Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my eyes to keep From tears, for Jesus' sake — ■ To whom then shall I make My cry? The heavens spin and I reel. Dear God, another God reveal To whom, Oh teach me how to pray Prayers I need never more unsay — Kind Shepherd Night, a stricken sheep Begs entrance to the fold of Sleep. 149 MY EPITAPH EARTH asked for bread of me, alone, I fled, and left with it, this stone. Or this: The daisies once were neath my feet, And now they are above my head, Read in their faces brave and sweet. Better than grave-stone evqr said. 150 AFTER HEINE THOU'RT like unto a lily So pure thou art and fair, I look on thee with yearning Then bow my heart in prayer, Beseeching God who made thee So like a flower to be, So like a flower to keep thee, To all eternity. 151 II TO A RECLAIMED SOFA LATE an old and tattered thing It would seem you'd had your fling, But not so ; YouVe embraced our family For full a century And I know ! Not couch of gentle fame Sung for the Olney Dame Was more staid Mi Than you of lion paw ^^ Adorned with wing and claw Nobly made. A Covenanting branch Of the church, my people stanch, With regret A superfluity Of knottiness I see In them yet. Still they've softened since the time, A Papist in his prime And "His Grace" 152 TO A RECLAIMED SOFA Asked a kirk-born lass to be His wife, when promptly she Marred his face — A Grandmama of mine, She wedded a divine ! Her great-great Of bold and girded loin Intrepid at the Boyne Met his fate. But Sabbaths long and schisms And Shorter Catechisms And the Law Have ceased to terrorize, What do they symbolize Wing and claw ? That the lion and the dove, Shall lie down and wondrous love Fill the air When war no more is learned And by no man, no man spurned Anywhere. What ! Clawf oot preaching peace With strife and hate's surcease Near and far ! When my grandsires' sermons strong (Not so broad as they were long) Were all War ! 153 A BIRTHDAY WISH HOWEVER fond, however dear, True friends address you, No wish, I know, is more sincere Than my "God bless you." 154 A DUKE'S A DUKE FOR A' THAT KEEP watch and ward, McAllister, O'er thine unbroken line, For Marlborough deducted one Which left then ninety-nine, But Sutherland is on our shores. The awful gap to fill Pro tern; take heart, the country's safe We'll have four hundred still. 155 THE AMERICAN GIRL'S APPEAL AM I ^Triscilla, " of the bard, For *' Miles" pursued? Or apple-paring ''Huldah, " who By ''Zeke" was wooed? Or the intrepid warrior maid, With fire-arms More thoroughly acquainted, than With hymns and psalms ? Am I the poor and petty thing That Howells makes me, The stone that sharpens up the wit Of him that takes me ? j Or am I Mary Wilkins' kind. Bilious, inane, All conscience and self -consciousness, Never quite sane? Am I the Anglo-Yankee prig Of Mrs. Ward? Does she or does she not portray Quite by the card? H Tell me I'm each or all of these; - My faults unfurl To every breeze; but am I, pray, The Gibson girl? 156 « i J THE AMERICAN GIRL^S APPEAL Am I the worldling he depicts, The *' up-to-date,'' Self-seeking, mercenary, shrewd, A thing to hate? My sweet girl cousins 'cross the sea Du Maurier drew, And every one adores, while I — What can I do? 'Tis Punch's dowager gets off The naughtiness, But I am made to voice it. Oh, Have I redress? What knight will to the rescue, who Will speak me fair. And on his heart and pencil my True colors wear? 157 AT THE DOOR TELL me before you go — You really do not know? He. I really don't. She. Absurd! He. I don't, upon my word! She. We've been engaged a week — No, no, please let me speak. He. But, dear, I take it back. She. You interrupt me. Jack. We've been engaged a week — Don't try to look so meek — And you really cannot say If my eyes are black or gray? He. Love, my land of promise lies In the rainbow of your eyes ! They're red, dear, when you weep Beneath their lashes' sweep, And blue as summer seas, When all goes as you please; And tawny when you're vexed, And violet when perplexed, And I've seen them green, you know, when^ — She. Good night, sir, you may go! 158 i I ii AN EPITAPH DEAD in the churchyard, where 'twas born, doth lie My Calvinistic creed. Mark, passer-by, That it came home to die. Nor brief nor barren was its earthly day. The Lord gave, and — are we not taught to say? — The Lord hath taken away. 159 \ IN THE LANE WHAT is so fair as a lane in June, A leaf}^ mystic, lovely lane, When the joyous birds are all atune And dreamy shadows wax and wane ? But all of beauty was not there Until she wandered down alone — A gleam of sun aslant her hair — My best girl, but not yet my own. In the leafy shade that afternoon 1 ; I breathed my humble heartfelt prayer. What is so dark as a lane in June When *'No" is softly answered there? 1 60 THE THREE GRACES FAITH is a budding maiden, Ecstatic, cloistered, wan. Hope is an ancient spinster That still believes in man ; But Charity's a mother. And all her geese are swan ! II i6i QUESTIONINGS AFTER WORDSWORTH 1MET a little cottage girl Eighteen years old, she said, Her brain was tired with the whirl Of questions in her head. She asked me: ' * What's an ' optimist ' ? ' ''Good luck made flesh!" I cried. ''And what, then, is a pessimist?" "Bad luck personified ! ' ' With that she asked me to explain A Christian scientist. Said I: "He's one who cures a pain That doesn't quite exist." "And what is an agnostic, pray?" "Sweetheart, 'I do not know.' " She turned her pretty head away — "To Vassar I must go!" "Please don't, until you've answered me One question — you've asked four" — "My little wife, dear, will you be? I ask for love, not lore!" 162 QUESTIONINGS Five years ago to-night, my eyes! I hear a sweet voice croon A lullaby, while Tommy cries, *'But what is in the moon?'' 163 THE RETORT COURTEOUS ONCE on the mart, proud Poverty Met strutting Affluence, And bowed him to the very ground In mocking deference. ''Why dost thou bow so low, " sneered Wealth, ' ' Thy head is at thy feet ''] ''From force of habit, " Want replied; " I strive to make ends meet." 164 JL _ THE LONDON TIMES OH, red rag to the Irish bull, Great thunderer, How came you to be such a dull Old blunderer? None but the donkey, daft and droll, Feeds on thistles , None other would have swallowed whole Those epistles! 165 THE WISHING GATE VISITED BY A PESSIMIST 1 OFTEN wish my ancestors Had died while they were teething, Or that they hadn't given themselves The trouble of bequeathing The gift of life to me, for which I own I hardly thank them, Nor 'mong the benefactors of Their race can scarcely rank them. I often wish I had remained In the heaven of the poet, Which **lies around" our infancy, t Tho' only Words worths know it. ^ I often wish that I were now | Safe in the Heaven of Heavens, -? The ''Choir Invisible, '' as sung | By Mrs. Marion Evans. { I often wish I had been born An ignorant Zulu, Or in some sweet and dreamy land A Khan in Xanadu. i66 THE WISHING GATE VISITED I often wish I didn't wish As often as I do, I wish and wish, and wish and wish, I wish the whole day through. If only wishes horses were, Oh, what a stud I'd keep! With steeds of morn to prance upon, And nightmares in my sleep. But I should die of ennui then, 'Tis my fee and my entail, Oh, when shall I be satisfied? When shall desire fail? 167 f II A SOCIALIST SHE sews for a mantua-maker, A little hump-backed maid, Day in, day out, she is overworked And grievously underpaid. But she knows there's a God in heaven For proof is at no loss : — He marred His own handiwork, in her. And gave His Son to the Cross. Could she but meet with the wounded Christ When the glare of day grows dim. How she would pray His pity on her And pour her pity on Him. i68 II THE THISTLE THE man's prodigious vanities Surpassed the ancient Pharisee's Supremest notch. He summed up in a single word His benefits, and thanked the Lord That made him Scotch. A bitter controversiahst, His gall-dipped arrows never missed Or foe, or friend. He loved dispute, courted a schism, And had the Shorter Catechism At his tongue's end. He, for the love of God, could hate With a revenge insatiate, And found deep peace In thinking of the woes reserved For those who from the ''doctrine" swerved, When time should cease. Thus was he in his youth, untried: To-day so is he typified, — Though old and sere — 169 1 THE THISTLE By that ''burr blossom*' keen, then bland, The symbol of his native land, The '' thistle dear." The thistle, bristling in the spring, Unlovely, rough and harsh, a thing To shun and fear; In vSummer, purple, passionate, Hurting remorselessly as fate, Holding none near. But mark the flower when its race Is closing, miracle of grace ! An aureole, Self-luminous and sweet, behold From out that tenement unfold The thistle's soul. E'en so my old-time worthy friend Has stacked his guns, as near its end Draws the sad strife. Faith means no more theology ; Nor hope, self-love; and charity Rules all his life. His silver locks are like a crown Of thorns changed into thistle-down. A tender grace, Like moonlight on a tranquil sea, w Whose storms have long since ceased to be. Shines in his face. 170 A SONG A DAY seems like a month, my boy The month a year, I ween, Gin ye be waitin' on the joy O' wedding thy sweet queen. Sae lang, sae lang, ye ha' to earn. But, man, ye needna' rue. Ye ha' the longer time to learn How to be leal and true. The years will soon gae swift and ill, O, wait na till they're few And ye be gangin' down the hill To then be leal and true. 171 A VALENTINE THE day is coming, Favorite mine When I may choose a Valentine, And all to you, to you alone Sub rosa, I shall make it known, Just what I want in mind and heart. To play that role, act out that part, And just to meet thy heart's dear plan. He must be just — a gentleman, Nor more nor less in his soul's soul, If he'd stand first in my bead role; And he must have a wit like wine Intoxicating, sweet, and fine. And he must sing in such a tone. Shall make each loving heart his own ; Then he must read the best of books And sermons see in stones and brooks, And he must grave or pla^^ful be, As suited, to my mood, you see! Nor rich nor poor in pounds and pence, But have a goodly competence. Be proud and generous and true. In fine, he must be just like You. 172 THROUGH LIFE WHAT is it softens down the flail's rude blow? The lightsome chaff. What is it helps the sad, sad, world to go? The joyous laugh. 173 BLISS HE was a little Negro And sat upon the fence, He hadn't any father Nor any mother, hence He was a little orphan And hadn't any sense. He thought the earth a circle. But flat as any floor; Was sure it scarce extended Beyond the river shore. And thought the stream the Jordan Which Israel passed o'er. He knew the sun at twilight Just put himself to bed Underneath a coverlet Of purple, blue, and red; Except on stormy evenings When he used black instead. He b'lieved the stars in heaven Were blessed angels' eyes 174 J BLIvSS ''A peepin* froo the openings Ter see who steals the pies" — At least, so said his auntie, And she was very wise. And then he thought his conscience The throbbing 'neath his ribs That beat so fast and loudly Whenever he told fibs, Which was often, each one prefaced By "True as eber yer libs ! " And he was sure Elijah Would come for him some night , And take him in a chariot All glorious with light. To a sweet and happy country Where everyone was white ! He was a little Negro And sunned him on the fence, He hadn't any knowledge . Nor any money, hence He was supremely happy — Each has his recompense ! 175 B " OR NO "B"— THAT'S THE QUESTION I REALLY think my sister May Is stupider than me; Because she said the other day There wasn't any ''b" In honey-comb, and spelt it just "C-doubleo-m-e!" Of course she's wrong. I told her so; There's got to be a ''bee" Somewhere in honey-comb, because He makes it, don't you see! 176 Ji JACK WRITES TO HIS BROTHER T HASTEN to inform you, Will, 1 The fact may not be true — next week, That I'm engaged to Bessie. Still I'm not quite certain; so to speak We're harnessed — if we ever go Is quite another thing, you know! We're all riglit up to date, old chap; But Bess is such a summer sky All sunshine or all thunder clap, I never know but each good-b}^ May be the last. There's many a miss Between the mustache and the kiss. I wonder if all girls are so. Did Mother act like that, egad! And if she did, I only know 'Twas a great pity of poor Dad, He must have been a world more meek In those days than he is — this week ! I think I never lived before; She is my conscience and my creed, 12 177 JACK WRITES TO HIS BROTHER And she is mine to still adore As I am hers in word and deed — If not all up when you get back You'll be my best man, won't you? Jack, 178 AN EPITAPH ASLEEP upon the breast of earth This Httle headstone under, Lies one who scarce survived his birth Nine days, his name was Wonder! 179 THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE— LIKEWISE THE BOW TWAS only a Darkey's Fiddle Only a Darkey's Bow, But that isn't any reason Why they should fight, you know. Perhaps a Stradivarius Or an Amati could Show vastly better manners But I question if they would — *'It is I that makes the music, " The Violin declares, **Bear that in mind, you silly Bow And don't put on such airs!" "Oh, it's you that makes the music, " Cries the indignant Bow, *'It's you, you empty-headed flat, I Since when, I'd like to know." *' Since when? Good gracious! from the first, 'Twas all that you could do i To scrape a living by my aid, ; You hair-brained booby, you!" j i8o "^ ' THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE Matters from this grew worse and worse, From words to blows they fell, And what the upshot might have been Is very hard to tell. Had not the Cat, who'd heard it all, Leaped to the mantel piece To separate the irate pair And bid their brawlings cease. 'Twas quite the other way around, She angered them the more, And soon the Fiddle, Cat, and Bow Lay sprav/ling on the floor! Lay sprawling on the floor (but that Has been remarked before) All broken up, even the Cat To speak in metaphor — With this did Pomp, that good old man. Come home as was his w^ay When, as Gray says, ''The curfew tolled The knell of parting day.'* He saw! and cried, ''This yere's de Cat, The triflin' nigger Sneak," Then stooped to gather up the chips While tears ran down his cheek. i8i THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE Never — as Wordsworth says — ''did he Pick up a single stone" To hurl at the retreating Cat But added with a moan: **I never ain't had any fun And dere ain't none ahead. Glad folks am dem that am asleep — Dis chile will go to bed/' Moral This Fable teaches several things : When wretched get to sleep, Keep out of family quarrelings, And look before you leap ! 182 _!_ J THE RETORT POSITIVE THE voice of one crying from Maine , ''Trusts are private affairs, I maintain But the people said, ''So Is the ballot, you know, A private affair, Mister Blaine," 183 RECKONING ''le jeu n'en vaut pas la chandelle." BUT who has the game, if you please! Ned throws over Maude for EUse But dies ere he ever is wed (Of heart compUcations, 'tis said). Maude marries, but starves on a flat; Ehse Uves alone with her cat, And the candle is spent — all the same; Will you tell me, please, who has the game? 184 TOMMY SEES A METEOR GOD threw a star away, last night, Yes, I saw Him do it, For I was lying wide awake The minute that He threw it. It went like lightning 'cross the sky. The singular est thing, And looked, it did, exactly like 'Twas fired from a sling. I jumped right up and called to Ted To come and see it fall, But he is such a sleepy-he^d, He didn't care, at alL I really wonder where it went ; Why, just as like as not, 'Way to the end of the Rainbow And fell into the Pot ! 1^5 H I THE SERMON |! FAITH was the subject matter and ! [^ The hero Abraham, How he had offered up his son As sacrificial lamb But for the timely presence of An inoffensive ram. All were enjoined to have such faith As Father Abraham had : To gather sticks and lay the fire And even to be glad To hold and bind for sacrifice Some sinless little lad. For lo ! — and such dramatic verve — Caught in the thicket, see The scapegoat in sheep's covering, There through no jugglery But doomed, pre-doomed since time began « A sufferer to be. f ^ Follows the peroration fine — God will Himself repay, i86 THE SERMON Himself provide the victim, and The murdered — ''Let us pray." The benediction spoken, each Went on his homeward way. The preacher was a Calvinist And Abraham was a Jew, The Hsteners were Orthodox In every shade and hue, But the ram was an Agnostic — As I had been, or you. 187 A "REVISED" NURSERY RHYxME DING, dong, bell, Baby's out of H-11 Who put him in? John Cal-vin. What took him out? The D. D.'s doubt. II 1 88 IN CHURCH 1 WATCH the worshippers who come And softly take their places And only bury in their hands Their grave and humble faces. I see the sunlight streaming through The panes, where meekly turning Their eyes to heaven, the pictured saints The martyr's crown are earning. I hear the preacher's solemn voice, The organ's sweet vibration, The words of psalmist and of sage, I offer my oblation. And then I hear the hymn, O God! They cry as they were stranded Upon the Rock of Ages, not As they were safely landed . And all schemes seem inadequate And all prayers unavailing To meet the need of hearts that break Into such hopeless wailing. 189 IN CHURCH It sounds an echo, far above The empty words that follow, And makes the preacher's soft low voice Seem meaningless and hollow. And long he talks in worn-out phrase Of old religious platitude, And for that he and his are *' saved, " Is filled with deepest gratitude — Great God in Heaven! I'd rather plunge Down in the deep of bitterest fountain For some forgotten soul, than land "Saved, " Noah-like, on highest mountain, I worship not their God, my soul Breaks through their creeds' poor tissue, Nor cowers in servile craven fear, But waits with God the issue. Deep under all, high over all I only hear the Master — *'Come unto me" — in joy or pain In victory or disaster, "Come unto me"— To Thee, Christ, To neither church nor preacher. Set up Thy Temple in my heart, Be Thou my only Teacher! 190 1 TRUE THERE always will be pretty girls In every age and every clime With raven eye and auburn curls All powerful — for a time ! There alwa^^s will be foolish boys Of ever>" land and every tongue Who'll love and love the pretty toys To madness — while they're young ! There always will be broken hearts And lovers' moans and shattered ties- Till girls are made with other arts, And boys with other eyes ! 191 HIGH LIFE SHE gave an announcement parly 'Twas nothing if not bizarre, Congratulations were hearty, The supper was by Pinard, The decorations by Kendee, The directoire frock by Worth — I say is it any wonder A girl should ask for the earth After that from her intended? She did and then came the cra^h The brilliant engagement ended As it began — in a mash ! 192 TO BOB A LEAP-YEAR VALENTINE ROBERT, wealthiest friend of mine, My soul doth crave no gold but thine, So by the following list, I pray Thou'lt swear thy very heart away. O unto me thine ear incline And yield thee with a will supine To be — oh ! be my Valentine ! By th}^ patent leather's shine. By thy crush hat's br older ed sign, By thy pretty pendant fob, By thy ample foot so knob. By thy waltzing so divine, By thy lisp and drawl and whine, B-o-b, my Valentine! By thy long ancestral line So long thine enemies and mine — Say 'tis endless, swaying still A clothes-line from a window-sill. By that labored wit of thine Broader at the point than fine, B-o-b, my Valentine! 13 193 TO BOB By the many hearts that pine For that catholic love of thine, That worships at each Virgin's shrine B-o-b, my Valentine! 194 LINES ON AN AUTHORESS THERE was a young lady of letters, Who got far more fame than her betters; For every one read "The Quick and the Dead " By this cyclonic lady of letters. 195 ST. VALENTINE'S EVE (in imitation of keats) ST. VALENTINE'S Eve— A chilly night ! Yet did the brave young Mortimer get left No more than Keats 's doughty Porphyro, Who bolts and bars and gates asunder cleft ; For Mortimer was mashed on one whose name Was also Madeline, tho' easier game! St. Valentine's Eve he called on her, Full of sweet glee was lovely Madeline, For she had found, where long it had lain hid In an old vase, a little valentine Sent by her now bald-headed, dear papa In childhood to her beautiful mama. They linger in an ecstasy of mirth Upon its quaint and rare emblazonry, Hearts gules there were, and flying arrows d'or, And, underneath, this legend bold they see : The Rose is red, is red, the Violet blue, Sugar is sweet, is sweet, and so are you! 196 ST. VALENTINE'S EVE Next day, oh, dearest in the calendar! Did Mortimer to lovely Madeline Send box de luxe of Huyler's delicates, The candied leaves of rose and violet fine, With this: The Rose is red, the Violet blue; Sugar is sweet, is sweet, and so are You ! And underneath, writ with a trembling hand, These words : In after years, Gentle Maid ! If you should find this little valentine Hid in some vase of porphyry or jade, And to your husband show it, in sweet glee — Whisper your answer. Love — may I be he ? 197 AN IMAGINARY EPISTLE TO LANDOR " Wordsworth has now written a poem ('Laodamia') which might be fitly read in Elysium, and the gods and heroes gather round to listen." Walter Savage Landor. '' \ X 7ITH sacrifice (of sleep) till rising morn" V V Could I, dear Landor, by your words inspired, "Laodamia, " — To the shades forlorn To *'Gods and Heroes" let it be retired! Why Hamlet isn't in it for a fact, His father's ghost, at least, remained intact! Fancy a widow in her mourning clad, Forth springing her dear husband's wraith to clasp, ''When insubstantial form eludes her grasp. " But fancy how she must have gone half mad To see, as often as she would embrace ''The phantom part but part to reunite And reassume its place before her sight!" Small marvel that — she shrieked and hid her face And on the palace floor fell down quite flat, Ghosts shouldn't take themselves apart like that ! 198 IMAGINARY EPISTLE TO LANDOR And note Protesilaus, the old prig: *'I am not sent to scare thee or deceive" — How could he talk so in that ghastly rig? How could he, laughing in his phantom sleeve, Declare that also to his worth was due The *'boon" of this distracting interview? And mark Laodamia's slang, dear Wat. It's really not aufait, you know, for one, A Lady and a Classic and what not, To say, *'Come, 'blooming* hero, sit thee down/' Waving the deed's impossibility, The epithet it is that startles me ! Still, I don't hold too closely by the book, ^ But spectres shouldn't poach in quick preserves. And theft osculatory in a spook That self-dissecting gets upon the nerves; Heroes and Gods may like such bric-a-brac. But living lips for me. Yours truly, Jack. 199 THE REASON ' * /^^ H ! I know now ' ' — 'twas Tommy spoke- ^^^ * ' Why Lady's Slippers grow ; Because sometimes the Brownie folk Are naughty, don't you know? " 200 AT THE SIGN OF THE THREE BALLS AH, what a hostelry is this, And what a cheerless Boniface ! No bluff and hearty welcome his Who enters here. But every guest departing hence, No matter where he goes, or whence He came, must leave as recompense Some souvenir. But stranger even than the place, Quitting and entering apace, Behold the pilgrims, mark each face, A motley throng. Footsore and travel-stained, they wear Abandon of a mad despair, Or stigma of excess, or air Of shame and wrong. But what refreshment may there be. For him who enters ? How may he Here slake his thirst? — Ah, we shall see. Mine host appears. 201 AT THE SIGN OF THE THREE BALLS Alas, methinks that sorrow's bread, Sinking into the soul like lead, Is the sad food with which he's fed; His drink is tears! 202 1 GRANDFATHER AND CHILD Child *'\\ That are the wild waves saying, V V Grandpa, the whole day long, That ever amid our playing I hear but their wild, wild song?" Grandfather ''Oh, child, I hear no singing, 'Tis but the distant roar That sounds from the bargain counter Of our benefactor's store." Child "No, no, it is something greater That speaks to the heart alone; The voice of the Wanamaker Sounds in their money-tone." 203 WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID T WONDER what did Willy do 1 That he should be chastised, That he got Katy in it too Tm not at all surprised. For Willys have a winning way And Katys' hearts are kind And rather plastic, I must say, And spoony as you'll find. Birds of a plumage, it is said, Will always flock together, And Kate and Will, Fm much afraid, Were really of one feather. The birds and insects know it all, And nightly in the trees — Especially in early fall — They watch such flirts as these. Of course, they know it all, for woods Are very favorite spots For boys and girls in lover-moods For vows and sighs and knots. 204 WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID Not knots in wood but wooed, my Love, Excuse the parallaxing — One for asking is undone The other for the axings ! Did Willy come a handsome flirt And play the lover's part And did Kate listen to the hurt Of her poor little heart ? Or was she sure a naughty girl And did she lead him on With her soft hand only to hurl To him, with Tom and John, And Gus and Fred, her little mit? *'She didn't," many say, Which gives her then the benefit Of doubt unto this day. And yet they say poor Will, which shows He was not all to blame, Altho' his fault should merit blows. Publicity, and shame. Was it the first time Willy slipped ? — He'll never do it again, Kate was so sweet, let him be whipped With a big sugar cane. 205 WHIP-POOR-WILL AND KATY-DID But if he was a veteran flirt That came all tall and dashing Poor Katy's maiden heart to hurt, Then give him a sound thrashing . Until he learn, in direst need, To conjugate aright, *' Imperfect" plighting can but lead Into the '* present" plight. 206 THE TRUTH ABOUT POLLY IT'S "Polly, put the kettle on, " 1 And "Polly, close the door,'* And "Polly, wash the dishes up," And "Polly, sweep the floor." And " Polly "—till Tm sick of it, I'm almost never done, And folks think all IVe got to do Is "put the kettle on." And Miss Kate Greenaway who made The pretty picture books Dressed me up quaint and queer, but it's The feelin's not "de luxe!" For things ain't any different, Since I've had my likeness took. For I'm scapegoat in the kitchen If I'm landscape in the book, So I dare say I'll continue, Drawing endless cups of tea, While eyes are made for seeing Only what they want to see ! 207 THE HIGHER EDUCATION OF WOMEN **More young women went to college from the city of Brooklyn during the year last past than young men."- Educational Statistics, ''W THERE are you going, my pretty maid ? " V V *' Tm going to Vassar, sir, " she said. *'May I go with you, my pretty maid? I never have been at college, '' he said. Then I can't marry you, I'm afraid." Nobody asked you, Miss," he said. 208 AS TO JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN HE never came an angling, But to settle up a wrangling And depart; But one of Salem's daughters, Like the angel, stirred the waters Of his heart. Who would not be a lover, A millionaire twice over, And M. P.? But as fair as of his choosing Are the fish that still are musing In the sea. 14 209 THE RECKONING */the game isn't worth the candle SHE is old and wrinkled and thin, Gray and. as blind as a bat, All bent like the crookedest pin, Poor and a spinster at that, But each night when she goes to rest In her room beneath the eaves. She tenderly opens a chest. And tearfully turns the leaves Of love letters yellow and old. But love letters all the same. That will never, never grow cold While she can kiss the dear name Writ bold at the end, by a hand. That could let hers go, to play With another, more nice planned, — But who has the game? I say. The candle, see, burns to a dot. He died in a brawl in the street. The other girl married a sot — And who has the game? I repeat. 2IO A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY GOD bless this great America, In basket and in store, But you've your native heath, my bairns, Upon another shore. And not in princely palaces Your people had their birth. But in the straw-thatched cottages On the green slopes of Perth. 'Twas there that Knox, the Thunderer, Made his great doctrine known ; That the right of private judgment Means man's right to hold his own. But forth came one in priestly garb Upon the stirring scene, To say the masses of his church With sanction of the queen. He set his altar in the kirk, His images and dips. When from the sacred edifice A little laddie slips. 211 A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY And hurls a stone with all hi^ might And sure aim at the priest, Crying, ''Awa' with idols vain; Awa' with idols, beast!" Then fell the papist hireling Upon that thoughtless child; . The fight was on, the factions met, The little town went wild. You'll read in all your history books The rioting at Perth, Set on by that wee Protestant From whom you have your birth. They called him David, bairnies mine, Like his namesake of old ; His only weapon was a stone, 'Gainst error mad and bold. Aye mind from him we have our line. We in this far-oflf land, But every ground is sacred ground Whereon the faithful stand. And when you say your prayers at night, Ask at the Throne of Grace "God of our fathers be the God Of their succeeding race." 212 A GRANDMOTHER'S STORY And bless His name for this our day, When creeds no stone may cast, Nor any claim the only way That leads to Him at last, God bless your great America, In basket and in store ; Your comings in and goings out . My bairns, forever more. 213 TO GORDON PRYOR RICE: WITH A COPY OF THE RUBAIYAT THE pleasures of the vine, alas ! But sung with such consummate art, That clergy and girl graduate . Have got the deathless song by heart. 214 M K.C. OF C.C. Y dear one when she was alive with the rest I held her the dearest and loved her the best, " But now that each morning and evening breeze stirs O'er her grave, thou art mine, love, because thou wert hers, — My Kate! 215 TO M. H. B.— : WITH A COPY OF MRS. PRYOR'S "REMINISCENCES." THESE will serve to recall it, Our life's happy morn, When for you and for me, dear, A friendship was born So noble, and steadfast And tender and true. That to tell the whole story Would take volume two ! 2X6 N BEFORE THE BURIAL TO M. H. B. W that thy days have saddened to an end , How did I love thee, O my friend, my friend ? I loved thee as thirst loves the water brooks , Or as the midnight student loves his books . Or as the patriot his native soil. Or poet the rhymed guerdon of his toil. I loved thee as the cloud the rainbow arc, Or as the listening morning loves the lark. Or as the cloistered nun her rosary, I joyed to count thy kindnesses to me. I loved thy faith when mine was shrouded o'er, Thy courage when mine ebbed at every pore . I loved thy footsteps coming up the stair That ever seemed like answer to a prayer. Thy laughter and thy tears were dear to me — Now there is neither mirth nor pain with thee. 217 BEFORE THE BURIAL Where hast thou wandered in a vast amaze, Since yester-noon, when parted all our ways? How often have I left thee at the gate — Nay, but I will once more, the morn — ^then wait. For we shall meet again, O friend, my friend. And love as we have loved, world without end. 218 IN ME MORI AM M. H. B. SHE loved to lighten up a shadowy spot, vShrinking from praise as others shrink from blame, But He who watches Israel, sltmibering not, Shall when His morning breaks tell her dear name. 219 TO HILDA AN old Home, an old Friend, an old Book, an old Shoe, Pray in all the worid is there anything better, Excepting young Love, yet that ever is new, Ever paying its debts, yet ever a debtor! — Since that can't be between us, and it can't forsooth, Here's my old, old, old Friendship , Sweetheart of my Youth ! 220 THE LEADER E. B. M. ON Pisgah's crowning summit Art thou content to stand For one supernal moment And view the Promised Land? Then hear that awful fiat — * ' Though thou hast fought and won, Unflinchingly, another Shall lead this people on." Willing? Then art thou worthy To guide. At Love's behest Where two or three are gathered Love's self makes good the rest. From that divine communion No Leader can depart, Even though dead he speaketh Cheer, to each loyal heart. 221 TO DELLIE FOR HER ALBUM 1L0VE thee well, my little girl, And more than this, I cannot tell. Perhaps there is no more, my Pearl, — My, that's enough then! f are-thee-well ! 222 TO HENRY R. JONES, ESQ.: WITH A CANDLESTICK WHO is my neighbor? Who but he That spills the wine of mirth And oil of gladness when the world Observes Love's humble birth. I sent a little candlestick At the sweet Christmas time Not dreaming that like Aaron's rod 'Twould blossom into rhyme ! But Love still stirs the fire, in The embers of the past And the dear words the Poet sang Shall last while I shall last. 223 TO H. R. JONES, ESQ'RE: WITH A NEW ENGLAND PRIMER THE breaking waves dashed high Upon the rocks and stones When a band of exiles moored their bark 0*er haunts of Davy Jones. Had Davy called them down, Where would the world now be? Without a *' Primer" in its hand To learn its A B C! Then rise good men and true To sing the praise of Jones, Who spared those exiles, when he might E 'en now possess their bones, And likewise sing the praise Of that brave Pilgrim band Who straightway scattered A B C's B roadcast upon the land. 224 ICHABOD. L'ENVOI TO A. J. C. WHERE art Thou fled, beloved Guest, That used erstwhile to visit me With rich reward and high bequest, For my poor hospitality. And yet it seemed not poor, when Thou — Compassionate, august, benign, A radiant nimbus round thy brow — Didst by acceptance make it fine. I know Thee not, I could not call Thy name, if name indeed Thou hast, I know not if Thou art at all, Or where it chanced I saw Thee last. Perhaps Thou art the Mus^, indeed, Whom Poets of an olden time. Were wont to call on in their need When thought refused to flow in rhyme. Perhaps Thou art the high Ideal, That with those happy da^^s, has flown When unrealities were real, And Life's realities unknown. 15 225 ICHABOD. L'ENVOI Where Thou art, Thou comest no more, If deed of mine has driven Thee Away in sorrow from my door, Say that Thou hast forgiven me — And turn to look on me again, With those deep, Hmpid lover's eyes That thrilled me with ecstatic pain, My all suffering, only prize — And, Muse or Ideal of my Youth, I will arise and follow Thee, Nay, then perhaps Thou art the Truth, ril write my poems in my deeds. 226 TO M. G. L. O WONDERFUL, O Counsellor! If Thou in Galilee, Didst live a Man, — yet without sin. Marvellous Mystery, — Thou knowest what is human life. Its care and pain and grief. Thou knowest it all. Lord, I believe. Help Thou mine unbelief! Counsel Thou me, O Wonderful, Teach me of Thy pure Love, Does it on waiting hearts descend From Heaven, a Holy Dove ? Does it to stranded souls bring back The olive leaf of peace ? Enduring all things, hoping all, Till life's loud noises cease? Lord, I believe it hath such power. Help Thou mine unbelief ! make it mine from this good hour, Come Thou to my relief. 22-] TO M. G. L. Earth's soil is on my garments, Christ, Earth's discords in my praise. Marred and unreal the work I do, Feeble the hands I raise. Human approval pleases me, •When I should crave but Thine, I prize, past telling, human love. Shrine me. Thou Love Divine. I labor looking for reward, And when none doth appear, I cry, *'Thy counsels cheated me,'' Self -blinded heart and sere ! But Love can gather harvests, where The Tempter's hand has sown, Can turn life's waters into wine, To bread the harvest stone. heaven- descended ! Wonderful! baptism of Love! The atmosphere of Thy pure house Breathe on my soul, O Dove! For I have buffeted the waves. Wrestled with sin and grief. From my dear Ararat I cry, Christ, send me back the leaf! O Wonderful, O Counsellor, O mighty Prince of Peace, The least of all Thy subjects prays — Bid all my passions cease ! 228 THE LIVING CHRIST TO M. L. B. I HAVE found Judas, with his money bags, Bartering away Love's very self for gold; And Thomas, with a tardy faith that lags Till it can find a fact to have and hold ; And Peter, who has learned a sorry knack Of owning Christ on Sundays, 'mid his sheep, But fhrough the week, upon the world's sharp rack, Denying him without the time to weep. But Jesus, — they have taken Him away, And buried Him alas! I know not where. Weary and heavy laden, day by day I make my quest and lift my heart in prayer. But, oh, I find Him not, I find Him not ! Only the grave-clothes that He left behind, Only His garments, where they cast the lot, Only the scourge, the thorns, the cross, I find. 229 THE LIVING CHRIST Where have they laid Him ? Will none hear my cry ? Night is far spent: I seek a living Christ. He said that He would rise again, and I Must hasten at the dawn to keep my tryst. Nay, what if it might be He lives again In hearts that bear the scourge, the thorns, the cross ! Arise, my soul! It shall not be in vain. Thy quest where sorrow bides, and hurt and loss. 230 TOM.G. L. THERE in the upper room she lay, So still and safe I thought she slept, Come, come away, To me they said, And softly wept For she is dead. A shadow in the upper roo m I move 'mid sn^dows, as they loom What is it seems to whisper me — From all earth's myriad sounds apart — And do I speak, or is it she, ''Nay, which of us has died, dear Heart?'' 231 THE CHRISTENING TO CHARLOTTE THEY call thee what they will, dear, 'Twere joy enough for me, If on thy heart of hearts, dear, My name might graven be. But that is not for me, dear, Such place I may not claim, I take what thou wilt give, dear. Wilt thou accept my name ? God knoweth all the rest, dear, Whatever there may be In all the years to come, dear, Of joy or pain to thee. But we are His, are His, dear, Whatever the future hide, Through generations all, dear. His mercies shall abide. And on the threshold now, dear. Be this my only prayer: — No word or thought of mine, dear, May dim the Name we share. 232 J TO ELSIE 1AM in love, Deep down in love, And Elsie is the lass That brought me to this pass. In her pure eyes A heaven lies And all her soulful air Is holy like a prayer. She little knows That when she goes, I lead a life of praise Until she comes again. She little dreams Her coming seems The dawn that tells the day Is on its upward way. Should I reveal The love I feel She'd think it was all chaff And laugh a rippling laugh . 233 TO ELSIE Like a brook's sound In stony ground And like a brook at play- She, too, would run away. Oh, Lassie fleet Run on to meet The love that like a sea Waits even now for thee Not mine, not mine This joy divine. But for some chevalier Without reproach or fear . You see I can't, I'm Elsie's Aunt; Besides 'twould never do For she is only two ! 234 TO CHARLOTTE ON HER FOURT BIRTHDAY AND has the day come round again ? Dear Child, it seems to me So very brief a time ago That you were only three ! And scarcely further seems the day That made you two years old, Or one year — see upon my hand The sum of them is told ! And yet it is a better world For your four little years : They make more precious all our hopes, Less bitter all our tears. Stay with us to make glad our lives, May not a shadow pass Across the sunshine of your own — ■ God bless you, little Lass ! 235 I TO "BROWNIE" WANT you for my Valentine, Brownie mine, Through all my life and thine. Brownie mine, E'en though some day a Lover fine. Shall whisper, *'Be my Valentine'' Still, still I'll call you. Brownie mine. My Valentine ! 236 MY CHARLOTTE WHO never had a little Niece, Who never was an Aunt, Can he tell what day is To-day ? Why no, of course he can't! Who never loved a little Lass, And shared with her a name, Which, thro' all chance and change of life, Will still remain the same, How can he know the joy that fills — Pressed down and running o'er — My happ}^ heart, for it has come. The natal day, once more. Then here's a health, my little Girl, — May each and every year Come in new laden with new joys, But keep the old hearts dear ! 237 DAISY AND BUTTERCUP This story is told for the sweet, sweet sake Of Aunt Lottie's DarHng, Elsie Blake ONE day a little Daisy flower And yellow Buttercup Were sitting by the road-side hedge, When a big shower came up, The rain just loved to spatter down On the poor little things. Oh, dear, oh, dear, what shall they do? If only they had wings. Or a green silk vunbrella, Or if some little feller Would lend them his and rubbers too — What ever shall they do? Will no one come along And take them in? it's very wrong To leave them there alone. All dripping wet. And cold as stone, They moan and groan And groan and moan. Where ever shall they get ? 238 DAISY AND BUTTERCUP At last a kind old gentleman Came walking down the road, And saw the poor dear little flowers — ''Too bad, upon my word, " He said, ''that you should get so wet; ril take you home with me, my dears, To my own little Pet, Shell make you dearies in a trice All glad and snug and warm and nice. Oh come, come, dry your tears!" He stooped down gently, and he took Each dripping little flower, And placed it softly in his book Safe from the angry shower. And then he put the book away In a pocket on his breast ; The little darlings went to sleep So glad to be at rest. When they were wide awake again. Their little leaves in curl, Why ! where do you think they found themselves ? In the hands of a little Girl ! So happy they were when they looked up The Daisy and the Buttercup. 239 'W™ TO CHARLOTTE HERE are 3^ou going, my pretty maid?*' To post a valentine," she said. '* Whom is it to, my pretty maid?" ''That I can't tell you, I'm afraid." '' But what if I look at the envelope?" ''You wouldn't be so rude, I hope!" " Perhaps it's to me, my pretty maid?' ' ** You'll have to guess again," she said. " I beg your pardon, but I see The address, plain as plain can be. " It's to 'Papa,' my. little maid." "Well, don't I love him best?" she said. 240 ELSIE'S PARTY: WELCOME SWEET April has come back again With sunshine and with gentle rain, To soften hard old winter's heart And bid the flowers and grasses start. To whisper to the birds — *'Fly home, The time for building nests has come." To make the earth each day more fair Shedding a glory everywhere ! And our glad hearts are all in tune To welcome you this afternoon With song and speech from little elves — Who'll— stay and see what for yourselves! i6 241 ELSIE'S PARTY: FINALE OUR little play is over, No more the prompter calls, The lights grow dim and dimmer, The final curtain falls. The Juvenile Peak Sisters From Pike his Peak out west To give you entertainment Have done their very best. And for your kind attention And generous applause For which, dear friends and neighbors, We tried to give you cause, We now before we leave you Our hearty thanks would speak In our own kind and fashion Which is — Peak Sisters Peak ! 242 ii TO CHARLOTTE OH, if I were a gallant knight And rode a prancing steed I'd spur him on, this Saint's dear day, And to your window speed. ''Give me, " I'd cry, *' a ribbon. Love, Or just a finger ring. Or precious lock of shining hair, Nay — any trifling thing!" And I should place it next my heart, And proudly ride and fleet. To fight for love and truth and right Which means for you, my sweet ! If blameless, then I'd hie me back Tho' barriers should combine, And whisper softly — ''Lady, may I be your Valentine?" 243 WHAT WOULD YOU DO "brownie" N OW what would you do please, if you were a kitten? CHARLOTTE I'd play with the ball of a half-finished mitten. "brownie'' I wouldn't, I'd just go all over the house, To find a live plaything and that is a mouse. CHARLOTTE I'd rather curl up in some little girl's lap. Or in some dear Grandma's when taking her nap. ''brownie" Oh, pleasanter far a fine morning in spring To gather some catnip, I'm fond of the thing. BOTH, HOLDING HANDS I know what we'd both do — if kittens— and that's Just grow in a very short time to be cats ! 244 1 TO CHARLOTTE: WITH A COPY OF "PILGRIM'S PROGRESS." OH, little Pilgrim entering Upon the Heavenly road, Oh, little heart unburdened, As yet, by any load, Only by stillest waters Where greenest pastures be, God lead thee till His city Thy happy eyes shall see. 245* TO ELSIE: A VALENTINE I^LL choose me now a Valentine, — A jewel that shall never tine — She must be fair and sweet and true And pure as springtime's morning dew, With eyes that hold a world of love, And a calm brow those eyes above Whereon whoever looks must feel That Truth has set its perfect seal. Her smile must have the radiant power To glorify the darkest hour, Her Voice come melting from her throat Soft as the ring-dove's plaintive note — Where shall I find this Valentine, This jewel that shall never tine? Nay, search your own heart, little Girl, And you will find this priceless Pearl. 2^6 TO CHARLOTTE: WITH' A BOX OF MARSHMALLOWS MARSHMALLOW IT hears the birds at their matins, It sees the dome of the sky, And watches the dreamy shadows, That low on the marshes he. Pink as a sea shell's lining, Glad as a lamb at play. It gathers into its bosom The entire light of day. Its root in the shifting marshlands, It raises its heart above, And distils its hidden sweetness For the Lady of my Love ! 247 TO "BROWNIE" OCOME, my little nut-brown maid, And sit thee down by me While I recount the different ways In which thou'rt dear to me. Thou'rt dear to me because thine eyes Are deeply brown and true And filled with happy sunshine, Sometimes with tears, like dew. Thou'rt dear to me because thy hair Is like a pony's mane That restless tosses up and down And down and up again. Thou'rt dear to me because thy mouth Is like a rosebud sweet. The tender home of gentle words Where mirth and goodness meet . But thou art dearest, dear to me Because thy heart is true And full of little kindnesses, Sweet nut-brown maid, adieu. 248 i THE '7APANEvSE FAN TO " BROWNIE " THERE was a small maiden That came from Japan, And she Hved quite alone On one side of a fan. She wore a big sash, And had skewers in her hair, And, braced upon nothing. She sat in the air. How she managed to do it I really can't say, Unless in Japan things Are queered in that way. She hadn't the semblance Of even a cloud To support her, puzzling It must be allowed. I pitied her so Sitting always like that That I thought I would draw A chair where she sat. 249 THE JAPAN EvSE FAN But then to myself I Said, ''What if you please Would the chair rest upon You'd provide for her ease? ' "Oh! I have it," I cried My pencil in air, ''The soft waning moon She shall have for a chair. " My pencil I used, and As snug as a coon In a tree cuddled up Lolls the girl in the moon. I can look at her now And my back doesn't ache And my neck isn't stiff And my knee joints don't quake I can now take my comfort Night, morning, and noon, My feet on the fender. My Girl in the moon. 250 TO CHARLOTTE DEAR child, I ask not what I woul i For who can pray aright ? Denied desires may work for good , And granted mar and bHght. Therefore I make this only prayer, Sweet woman child, for thee, — As guide and stay may Love be there Where'er thy pathway be. 251 TO CHARLOTTE ONLY a child but y ester year, But time will have its way — ^Ah me ! And now her eager feet draw near To where the streamlet meets the sea. Forever on, and tarry not Love like an ocean deep and wide Awaits thy coming, maiden fleet, Yield thee — and thine are time and tide. On errands it will carry thee Of sacrifice or high emprise, Until thy longing eyes shall see The day-dawn of the ''Happy Isles." 252 I I EASTER TO ELSIE THO' death itself had coldly sealed The lips that spoke, See Mary at the Master's tomb When morning broke. Obedient to the living word Of the Lord Christ, In perfect trust and unafraid She kept her tryst. And lo, without the vacant tomb Her name she heard, — '' Mary ! " She turned herself and saith : "Rabboni!" "Lordly- Great conqueror of life and death I turn to Thee. Tho' long the night, when morning breaks Oh, call Thou me! 253 TO CHARLOTTE: EIGHTEEN LOVE may not be overtaken Upon the great highway, With barter and requital And in the glare of day; Nay, Lass, the rather hide thee In dreamland cloisters dim Where thou mayst safely bide thee Till one seek thee, and to him — God grant the happy day — Give, give thy heart away ! 254 ji EASTER TO BROWNIE M AH, may the risen Lord to-day For us have sweet surprise, And as we question, by the way, Unseal our holden eyes, - That we with new and burning hearts May look into His face, And hear the wondrous words He speaks If only for a space, How Love alone, is Conqueror, And there is none beside. In heaven or earth, — Christ in our hearts Still may this truth abide. 255 TO CHARLOTTE: IN EUROPE THERE'S a little Lass over the water, The dearest of lassies to me, And I wish she might for one moment Come back again over the sea. But why do Lutter vagaries When such a thing never could be? Nay, he of the vision of Patmos Has told how in Heaven above There shall be no more sea, blessed Homeland! Then what can irapossible prove To the hearts that in unity traverse The ineffable Heaven of Love? So I walk and I talk with my Lassie Whenever in fancy I roam. And dream of the time of her coming Across the great highway of foam From far lands of song and of story Back, back to the old folks at Home ! 256 EASTER TO ELSIE AND ''bROWNIE" THE Lord is risen, the angels tell, Behold the awful miracle: The stone rolled by the tomb unsealed. The power of the Christ revealed. Oh, wondering souls, is this the test On which your hopes of Heaven ye rest Nay, Christ is risen each hour for you That sees you patient, brave, and true. And every day is Easter Day Whene'er the angels roll away From off your souls their burdening load And ye have glimpses of your God. 257 TO CHARLOTTE : AT THE TIME OF THE CANONIZATION OF JOAN OF ARC JOAN OF ARC OH, peasant girl of Orleans, In the skies of our worldly day Are seen no Heavenly visions. Is heard no call to obey. The mystic, inner whisperings, yet The story of your fears. Your triumphs and your martyrdom , Blinds all our eyes with tears. For you held your country's banner At the head of a conquering host, Then saw it rent by scorn and hate. With all it stood for — lost. But there came the final glory, The stake and the martyr flame Unquenchable, to aureole Forevermore your name : Be the story an evangel To us, and may God impart, Even now, some Heavenly vision To each obedient heart. 258 TO ELSIE: WITH A COPY OF WILLIAM MORRIS'S POEMS THE Singer, not the song is new, The Prophet, not the theme, The Rose-leaf, not the drop of dew, The Dreamer, not the dream. The morning stars together sang Love's song of old, — It shall be sung when like a scroll The heavens are rolled: 259 TO ^'BROWNIE": WITH A BUNCH OF VIOLETS THE Violets tell each other, In the early summer time, How long ago some man or boy Made up a little rhyme About them for a Valentine. It went like this, line after line: ''The Rose is red, the Violet blue, Sugar is sweet, and so are you!" And so I send these Violets To you, my Valentine, And let me say the rhyme again Adding one little line : It's just as true as true can be As every one can plainly see — ''The Rose is red, the Violet blue, Sugar is sweet," and Brownie too! 260 "DINNA FORGET" TO charlotte: with a copy of "gems of SCOTTISH song" OH, when the fire is on the hearth, And winter's storms have come, Sit down beside me. Lassie mine, And sing the songs of home ! The songs of sweetheart and of wife. Of husband leal and true. The songs of country and of king And border bonnets blue . *'My Love is like a red, red Rose" • And ''Annie Laurie," sing, And ' ' Are 3''ou sure the news is true ? ' ' Then make the echoes ring, With "Scots wha' ha' wi' Wallace bled" And Royal Charlie's line — Then hand-in-hand, my bonnie Lass, We'll sing dear ''Auld Lang Syne." 261 TO ELSIE: A SONNET 1 WOULD not have thy hair a tint more brown, I would not want thine eyes a shade more blue, For dear, my Girl, you would not then be you ! And I must forfeit the sweet lore I own : For thou hast taught me hair like thine's a crown. And sea-blue eyes are sweet and brave and true And pure as morning-glories wet with dew. Where'er I see them meekly looking down ! Nor would I have thee wiser, better. Girl, For then thou wouldst be canonized outright, And I must wed a woman, not a saint. Be but thy simple, very self, my Pearl — A creature of the Springtime and the Light — And I shall never utter a complaint ! 262 •i. TO CHARLOTTE: WITH A RING ONLY a little circle of gold And a crystallized drop of dew That left their home in the deep, dark earth To shine evermore for you. For the Birthday has come round again, And the circle of gold I send As symbol of my love, dear child, Without beginning or end. For it had birth in the bosom of God Through all our race, you see And shall never, never have ending Through all His eternity. Therefore I send the drop of dew And the little circle of gold, And lift a thankful heart to God For the wee Lamb of the fold. 263 TO CHARLOTTE A HUMBLE and a lowly thing is Love, Yet when it draweth nigh The heavenly gates are lifted up above Into the utmost sky, For King of kings and Lord of lords is Love, Yet will it enter in To hearts that lowliest and humblest prove, For Love is — Love ! 264 TO CHARLOTTE: WITH "A BOOK OF VERSES" ** A BOOK of Verses underneath the Bough, I\ A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!" So sang the poet of an earlier day ''The Wild were Paradise " enough ! — I say Had he but known My Lady, his fond heart, Methinks, had taught him in this wise to pray: With Book of Verses underneath the Tree I ask for neither Wine nor Bread — with Thee Beside me singing in the Wilderness The Wilderness were Heaven itself to me ! 265 TO ELSIE: WITH A SOFA PILLOW LOVE send you day-dreams from the sky, — The Pillow's from a mortal — May shadow of his coming lie Athwart the New Year's portal. 266 TO CHARLOTTE : WITH A COPY OF COL- LECTED POEMS BY AUSTIN DOBSON OH, listen while the poet sings Of quaint and curious old-world things We no more know: The harpsichord and minuet, The powder, paste, and pirouette Of long ago. What makes the difference year by year — Waistcoats and bodices, my dear, Fashion and art? — Changeless neath homespun newly made As erst beneath the stiff brocade Beats the true Heart. 267 TO CHARLOTTE : WITH A COPY OF THE VICTORIAN ANTHOLOGY POESY AN added delight when things go right, A solace when things go wrong, When the race is not to the swift of pace. Nor the battle to the strong; A gleam of light in the dourest night, A shade in the glare of day, An echo sweet from the soul's retreat, A fount by the dusty way. One need but will and the poets spill Their treasure of golden song, That yet shall bide, though the world be wide, The day be never so long. 268 J A WHEN CHARLOTTE PLAYS T morning time it seemeth me The world is made of harmony When Charlotte Plays. While at the tender gloaming hour I fear no more that clouds may lower When Charlotte Plays. And when the stars fill all the sky The very birds wake to reply When Charlotte Plays. What marvel that I seem to hear Those far-off Voices pure and clear When Charlotte Plays. Of that unseen, immortal throng That sings each heart Love's deathless song, When Charlotte Plays. 269 R. L. S. ONCE MORE TO LOUISE ONE has called you a "Theologist;' Another a ''Romanticist," You've been dubbed a *' Sentimentalist, Again a ''Shorter Catechist/' But Fiction's self has claimed you And Poetry far-famed you And little children love you Holding no friend above you, Wishing they too might see you pass Kind " Leary, " lighting up the gas ! How have you cheered the night for us, Lamp-lighter, dear and sedulous, Despite your own dark hours of pain !— We shall not see your like again. 270 A BIRTHDAY PRAYER FOR CHARLOTTE THOUGH all may cry ^'Lo here, lo there !'^ Marking the way for me, To Thee I make this only prayer, Lord Christ, of Calvary: Thou art not a science, not a creed, All other names above, We give Thee in our time of need, And lo ! That name is Love ! Shall I pick up the crumbs that fall From liturgy or tome, When to the feast of Life, we all Are called, who will may come. And very Love will sup with us. When living waters burst. Or drain Life's bitterest cup with us, With us cry out— '' I thirst ! " I need no Daysman me to lead ''Into the truth." Ah no. He guides me, from His hand I feed, He knows the way I go. 271 A BIRTHDAY PRAYER Light of the world, enough for me, To know that Thou art mine, Were there in Hfe no mystery. That Light need never shine. Were there no pain in Ufe for me, Calvary had never' been; I conquer by that sign of Thee, Oh, Love, dear Love, Amen! 272 ji_i LAKE GEORGE TO CHARLOTTE A BLESSED calm beyond all comprehending, Like God's own peace unto His loved ones sent, And joy that knows no earthly apprehending Dwell in thy bosom, Lake St. Sacrament. Clear as the river of the saints' beholding, Blue as the tears an angel might have shed; Meet home for virgin lilies' sweet unfolding, In quietude each lifts its shining head. Such peace, dear God, as deep and as abiding, Fill all her life, for whom to-day we pray. We cannot know, alone in Thee confiding. We beg, be Love the Light, the Truth, the Way. i8 273 CHARLOTTE AT THE PIANO WHEN her dear hands the keys caress Are to my soul revealed Old longings for the hidden things Earth has not power to yield : The love of hearts tried in the fire, The faith in what is true, The yearning for the mountain top The Vision to renew. What witchery is in her touch ! I hear the morning's song, The twilight's wistful whisperings, The sea's beat wild and strong. Soft cadences I cannot name, Like stars with stars that rhyme, As if their rapture we might share For our brief point of tim.e. And paltry values of the world Dwindle to nothingness : — All this is when her woman hands The throbbing keys caress. 274 TO LOUISE DEAR Lass, in times of joy or ease, All dainty, sweet, and sure to please; But when the shadows grow, at length A tent-prop, a tall tower of strength ! Sweet Louise. Her girlish laughter fills the air, She loves a world without a care. But when it comes, as come it may, Behold her, when the skies are gray! Brave Louise. A girl, and 3^et a woman too, She nothing knows but to be true, Though having learned in the short years That loyal hearts may break in tears I True Louise. We who are wearied and depressed Find in her strength a grateful rest ; May we not lean too heavily, Oh, Joy of all our days, on thee! Dear Louise. 275 IN, TOWN TO CHARLOTTE A SUMMER in town Has joys of its own, Ladv fair. Still sounds the old sea In infinite glee Or deep minor key Past compare! The same silvery moon Beams softly upon The still street Where lovers speak low — What surely they know — That come weal or woe Life is sweet. But not all seek sleep, For lonely hearts keep Vigil here. What is it that we So yearn for?— ah, me! Come back and you'll see, Lady dear. 276 MOTHERHOOD TO H. W. R. L. IN the new world we entered, he and I, What time in sight of angels and of men We were made man and wife forever, when Unbarred, unbanned, the gates were lifted high Of holy Eden, as our souls drew nigh. So strange it seemed, so very strange, and then It was as we had ne'er been else; again We cried, *' Ah, who shall guide? '' — lo ! the reply : Into the valley of the shade of death I entered, and my hands laid hold upon Thy garment's hem, O God forever blest! Then at my breast I felt the soft new breath, The lips' warm pressure of our son, our son! ''A little child shall lead them." Let me rest. -^n NIGHT AND MORNING TO ROBIN WITH garters and strings And buttons and things, It's hard work undressing at night ; Teeth cleaning, besides, When Ted always hides My brush, and we get in a fight. Not a real fight, you know. But a pillow fight, though It sometimes gets real, sure enough; Then the pillow case tears, And we both say our prayers — Mamma should get heavier stuff. A scrimmage about, The light putting out — It's usually I that does that. I pop into bed ; Ted stands on his head, Just like a real show acrobat. 278 NIGHT AND MORNING He*s too droll by half — We laugh and we laugh Till we hear Papa's voice down below : ''Less noise there, boys, boys! Do you hear me ? less noise ! ' ' And for fear there'll be trouble, you- know, We lie very still. And know nothing till Dear Mamma wakes us up with a kiss. More buttons and strings And garters and things — Will there always be bother like this? 279 SPENCER WHO puts the ancients in the shade With questions he himself has made ? "Spen." Who is it knows we're in a muff When we reply with arrant bluff? "Spen." Who is it can be what he will From motor-man to '^ack" or "Jill"? "Spen." Who happy as the day is long Rejoices in a rousing song? "Span." Who is it, an incarnate joy Holds the whole universe his toy? "Spen." Who is it shames our petty ways, Our narrow aims, and empty days? "Spen." Who rouses thoughts beyond our speech That only unto God can reach ? "Spen." 280 GOOD-MORNING TO HARRY GET up, get up, my boys and girls, The birds are calling you, The flowers had their faces washed Long, long ago with dew. The sun is very much surprised To see you not at pla}^ . Get up, get up, my boys and girls, Thank God for a new dav. 281 GOOD-NIGHT TO HARRY COME, come, my little boys and girls, 'Tis time to go to bed, The flowers are dreaming sweetest dreams, Each bird has hid its head. The sun has kissed the world good-night, God's stillness fills the air, Good-night, good-night, my boys and girls, Heaven have us in its care. 282. TO MALCOLM WHEN King Malcolm reigned in Scotland Centuries ago, Where were you, his little namesake, I should like to know? Where your Mother, where your Daddy, Where Elizabeth, Where, in fact, was any one who Draws to-day life's breath? Where the *' Motor-car '* and *' Movies,'' Where the '' Wireless," Where the '' Telephone" and ''Air-ships," Who can ever guess ? But you waited to be born, till Time these things should bring; Old Malcolm was a King— but then He didn't know a thing ! 283 EASTER, 1902 TO BESSIE OH, no, it is a waste of breath. The schoolmen ne'er can make it plain. The mystery of life in death, It is enough, He lives again. Behold o'er all the vernal earth. Afar and near, the tidings spread ; In quickened clod and violets' birth; He lives again, Love is not dead. The withered forest shall we see. Or frondless bracken of the fen. New clothed in immortality, And not the longing hearts of men. Faint not, my soul, Love will retrieve Life, e'en in wasted stem and leaf. There is no death. Lord, I believe, Help Thou my craven unbehef . 284 TO ELSIE THE day is drawing near, my Lass, When you and he shall wed, When his ring shall bind your finger, And all the vows be said. Kindred and friends shall gather round, Coming from far and wide, To pray God's blessing on the Day, The Bridegroom, and the Bride. And the dear Lord God will listen To this, our one request : That Mary's Son, Immortal Love, May be the unseen Guest That shall, as once at Cana's feast, Turn, with a touch divine. Through all the years to come, for you. Life's waters into wine. 285 TO LITTLE ELSIE: A CRADLE SONG OH, baby, 'tis thy mother's arms Enfold thee — she who soothes thy cry, Chanting thee one of God's dear Psalms For lullaby. The Lord, wee lamb, thy Shepherd is, In pastures green, by waters sweet, The paths of right thou cans't not miss: He guides thy feet. For thee He doth Himself prepare The very Bread of Life; and lo, The Cup of Love doth everywhere For thee o'erflow. His goodness and His mercy wide Through all thy days shall follow thee, And thou in His own House shalt bide Eternally. 286 "NOW I LAY ME— "(REVISED) TO LITTLE ELSIE NOW I lay me down to sleep , I give myself to God to keep , With all I love, and when we wake, Still keep us. Lord, for Jesus' sake. Amen. 287 THE PARTY TO LITTLE ELSIE T TS Hi ! for the Party and it^s Ho ! for the Party, 1 And who'll to the Party with me? There are joys at the Party, And toys at the Party, And a birthday cake for tea ! There are girls at the Party, With curls, at the Party, And dancing one, two, three; There are boys at the Party, And there's noise at the Party, And laughter, songs, and glee. It's *^ good-night" to the Party At twilight, when the Party Is over and done the play ; To the birthday, '* good-night, " To the grown-ups, *' good-night" — God bless us all, we pray. 288 THE BABY'S CURL TO LITTLE ELSIE OUT from the letter's close embrace The Baby's tress unrolled As from some mystic, ageless loom Shot through with threads of gold. Its warp and woof, like molten bronze, Around my finger curled — The wonder of the deathless hair In a sad mortal world ! It seemed a link in that vast chain, Dear Child, that leads from earth, Unto God's altar stairs, whereon She treads, who gave thee birth. Radiant, she works with God for thee. Nor knows our wild alarms — When born again thou enter'st Heaven Thou shalt fall in her arms ! 19 289 ELSIE BLAKE KING The news of the sudden death of Elsie Blake King at her home in White Plains, on the twenty-fifth of January, 191 1, came with a shock that carried dismay to the hearts of her people, her classmates, and her wide circle of friends. To us all, it was as if most lovely music had unexpectedly ceased, since we were to hear no more that incomparable voice. So vivid was the impression she everywhere made, so diffusive her e very-day gladness, so keen her zest of life, that it will be long before we can make it true to our hearts that her earthly task is finished. And in what a high and exultant mood she took her task upon her, holding out both hands to welcome each day whatever it might bring; every experience came to her charged with real significance, effort was the breath of her life and its own exceeding great reward. A gladder heart never beat, and the brief, radiant life rounded to completion before ever the shadows closed in, or the days grew long. In the hearts that loved her is immortalized a presence which, in dissemination, must forever 290 ELSIE BLAKE KING grow from strength to strength and from grace to grace: it will be felt in a fresh uplift of the whole tone of the School which she loved, and live on in classroom, hall, and sacred chapel. The quality of the scholarship of Elsie Blake King reflects a distinction upon the Institute, for it was a giving back to her Alma Mater of that which she first received from her: there she learned those enduring lessons that are far and away beyond the mere enlightenment imparted by the text-book in the teacher's hand, and imbibed not only the ''love of knowledge, but the knowledge of love." Like a shepherd the true teacher knows his own, and his own know his voice : listening, she heard with both mind and heart. Such a pupil is to the devoted instructor the supreme reward, and makes of his, or .her, vocation not alone the finest of fine arts, but a veritable ''high calling." An irreparable loss has fallen upon the Class of 1903; that community of interests which is the life of every class, never wholly ceases however separated its members may be after graduation. What memories they hold in common! how thoroughly they know each other! The love of the Class of 1903 for Elsie Blake King was born of beautiful intimacy. An inspiration she was in the class-room and in those memorable 291 ELSIE BLAKE KING '* good-times" when the social graces— which were so eminentty hers— are called in play, a gracious presence and an inestimable influence. Well may her classmates cry out : ''In the hour of our need, Like an angel appear Radiant with ardor divine, Strengthen the wavering line, Stablish, continue our march On to the bound of the waste, On to the city of God." For the Alumnae, both those who are novices in the Sisterhood, and those who sit beside the weary road to hear the angel's sing, there is a new, young, triumphant voice in that ''Choir Invisible, whose music is the gladness of the world." Testing our lives by the discipleship of our loved one, we are inclined to look upon high and endearing qualities not as attainments, but as gifts conferred by the immanent hand of the Creator; but so to consider is to miss the lesson : her many-sidedness, exquisite courtesy, lovely personality, and even the rare music of her voice were the flowering of an intense moral earnestness that formed the base of her char- acter. Gifted she assuredly was, but as the stem is dowered with the blossom. 292 ELSIE BLAKE KING To love her was more than a liberal education : it was a lifting of one's spirit into the things of God to which she had attained; of a generation that is in very real danger of mistaking ethics for religion and altruism for sympathy, she yet walked in quiet obedience to the Heavenly Vision, heeding always the divine instruction: ** Little children, love one another." Her great heart enfolded not only her people, her class- mates, and her countless friends, it embraced with a Christlike compassion the neglected, miserable children of the tenements; these she loved, not theoretically, not experimentally, but by making her own the hopeless drav/backs and meager pleasures of their pitiable little lives. Was there ever any heart that could so nobly rejoice with those that rejoice, or so tenderly weep with those that weep! The New Commandment was the law of her life: for love she lived, for love's sake she laid down her life. The pure white flame lit up the little spark and then aspired to God. 293 i a