PS 3505 .072 U6 1906 Copy 1 Class^PS 3&Q5 Book JL.7&3L& Copyright N° /?#£ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. UNSEEN SAVE OF SOLITUDE BY ROBERT CARIVEAU BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER The Gorham Press 1906 Copyright 1906 by Robert Cariveau All Rights Reserved LIBRARY of CONGRESS Two Copies Received *PP 29 1907 / Copynetit Entry AkH. Mf%% LlJlSS A KXc,, No. COPY B.7 & ■ Printed at THE GORHAM PRESS Boston, U. S. A. To the American Muse of Poesy who will either acclaim or disclaim me, I affectionately inscribe this my first volume of verse. CONTENTS Page Unseen Save of Solitude 9 Odes II To Music ii To an Egyptian Mummy 13 On Ocean 14 To a Butterfly 17 To Winter 18 Abstract Grandeur 20 Summer's Farewell 22 To Flora, Goddess of Flowers 24 To Philomela 25 To America 27 To a Redbreast 28 On a Fading Wild Rose 30 To a Proud Belle 32 To Sombre Beauty 33 To Hope 35 Sonnets 37 After Re-Reading Rostand's Cyrano de Ber- gerac 37 Poetry 38 Ah! Dearest Love, Did I Lay Cold in Death. 38 Fort Snelling 39 To a Wood Thrush 40 In a Neighbor's Garden 40 At Minnehaha Falls, Minneapolis 41 Candlemas 41 At the Indian Mounds, St. Paul 42 On a Train Excursion to Forest Lake 42 Written on Top of Chuckanut 43 Independence Day 43 At Bellingham Beach 44 I Know a Hill 44 Life's Tide Hath Been at Ebb Full Many a Year 45 5 CONTENTS Page In the Cascades ; Triple-Peaked Index 45 In the Rockies ; Lake MacDonald 46 The Canadian Rockies and Selkirks 46 On Love 47 Summer of Autumn 47 A Thanksgiving Prayer 48 Christmas 48 New Year's 49 On the March Winds 49 Christmas Eve 50 Winter and Poetry 50 On the Eternal Theme 51 Early Autumn 5 l Nature 52 Seen at the Tivoli After the St. Paul Tornado 52 O How I Glory in Autumnal Days 53 Seasons of Day 53 Dawn 53 Noon 54 Sunset-Dusk 54 What a Sea Shell Says 55 Yankton, My Birthplace 55 The Poetry of Heaven is Earth's 56 The Music of Earth 56 On Fame and Fate 57 Lovely the Breezes That Have Blown Ere- while 57 At My Friend's Grave 58 If I Should Never Ope My Eyelids More. . . 58 What a Sparrow Chirped 59 On the Bird Murderers 59 To Solitude 60 Retrospection 60 On Certain Cavilers of Mr. Richard Mansfield 61 John Keats 61 6 CONTENTS Page On Whistler's Painting: "The Angry Sea".. 62 Songs 63 A Wild Rose 63 Thine Absence 63 Sleepless Dreamings 64 Let Us to the Deep-Wood Wander 65 May Day — 1 902 65 Autumnal Leaves 66 Soft Gleams 66 I Do Not Love Thee — I Adore 67 A Pansy for Thoughts 67 Three Seasons 68 Beauty's Garden 68 A December Idyl 69 Honor the Element of Mind 70 At the Full of the Moon 71 September 71 Autumnal Serenade 72 Hymn to Apollo 73 The Year is a Poet 74 Hymn to the Goddess Diana 74 Sir Valentine and Madeline 75 A Musketeer. Thanksgiving 76 The Sweetness of Wormwood 77 Quizzical Sensibility 78 Festival 79 A Fairy Song 80 Sleigh Bells 81 Elements, Elfins and Ethics 82 Sataness 86 Fragment — Genius 86 Mayflowering 87 Fragment — Life 88 At Sioux City: Perry Creek 88 November Song 89 7 CONTENTS Page An Elden Valentine 90 Celeste 91 Beauty 93 Sibyl Song 98 Romanticism 99 On Coming Across a Bluebell in a September Ramble 101 At the Death's-Head 102 The Months: Life's Calendar 102 Toast for Noel 103 Easter Villanelle 104 In Sooth — La 105 Greed 106 Of Childhood Reminiscent 107 Ye Days of Chivalry 108 Hallowe'en 109 To Misery 109 In Re Robin Hood 1 10 Hesperides : Resolve ill Two Fragments 112 The Fountain of Youth 112 To Hope 113 Sometimes in Dusk I Weep, I Know not Why 113 The Dragon Fly 113 While Moonbeams Float in Autumn Air 114 Love Verses 115 Sympathy 115 The Poet's Friends 116 A Picture 117 Stanzas 118 The Isle of Love 119 UNSEEN SAVE OF SOLITUDE Unseen save of Solitude, Unsought save in surmise Thro' a veil of Dreamings viewed, Unsaid, unsung, it lies Betwixt the golden gates Of Dawn and Day Where hold high siuay The Destinies, the Fates, The Faery clan, The shepherd Pan, Queen Mab and Oberon; IV here mists Auroraean Of purple and gold Protect from mortal gaze the mold Of Loveliness and Miracle. Knowest thou this scene Of sweet serene? 'Tis the realm of the Beautiful. ODES TO MUSIC What sole enchantress haunts thy magic strings? What Genii of imagery attend? What Magian betakes himself to wings? What heralds of spent ages deftly wend Here their spurred heels? Because my soul's dis- traught I crave thy sure response. I crave but aught Of courtesy. I crave that thou Mayst answer even now These surges turbulent of dreams unsought! II Whence issues this delicious harmony? What Dolphin-borne Arion ventures thus? What maelstrom of viewless melody With amorous strength incarnates Orpheus? Behold upon the treasure-wasteful seas The Buccaneer his flag flout to the breeze; And looms the form of Eric Red, And as of legions dead Time's erewhile baldrick, bright with mysteries. Ill Where is thy wand ? Who blooms this Pastoral scene ? Are these the famed dells of Arcady? The lowing flocks? The peaks of blue serene? The mountain snow-flowers? Ah, perhaps they be n The Alps Helvetian, or mayhap the sheen Of rustic visions of the fancy seen In vales near pleasant Gascony: The silent ecstacy Of evening cool adown the Dordogne-green. IV Oh, I could die on these soft symphonies, And float on Death's most argent pinions — To poignant sorrow making a surcease, One likewise to old Envy's minions, And rid be of Gloom's mitre: for of earth What mortal suffers not the troublous dearth Of Honor? Take your lusty lute O Orpheus lest mute And mundane Morbidness make mad my mirth! Music, sweet Music, breathe thy madrigals; — Of love, of passion, breathe; in sooth, what not? A stilly stream, a gushing silver falls, A world of foliage, a reposeful grot; Sing of the Saxon kings renowned of old, Of Spartan, Roman, knights and warriors bold; The Moors' Alhambra; ever serve The Artist; with reserve Sing all, breathe all, and more thou dost unfold ! 12 TO AN EGYPTIAN MUMMY Dedicated to the Egyptian mummy in the Public Library Museum, Minneapolis, bearing this inscrip- tion: "This mummy is that of a man, Amenhotsp, and dates from a time about the period of the Ptol- emic rule in Egypt, 328-30 B. C." Ages are on thy head thou heir of Time ! Thou dumb historian! Thou embalmed son Of realms Egyptian! If generations gone Shall nevermore bespeak thee, how can Rhyme, Rhyme, but a poet's garland for a day — Or Music, Painting, or the Phidian art Find ears and eyes for thee and throbbing heart While here the relique of an olden past ye lay, Immovable as unimpassioned clay? From out the Urn of the Dark Ages stalks Ashless yet bloodless, like a marble ghost Haunting old Grecian ruins, this, the boast Of crumbled dynasties ! O were thy walks Near pyramids? near sphinxes? near the Nile? And Loves, how many! on green, ancient eves Whispered the Tender Passion thro' rose-leaves? Perhaps thou even basked in Cleopatra's smile; — Yet where's one soul to tell our afterwhile Of thou or thine? or of the Ptolemy? Thou who in airy mirage saw arise Such scenes as mock'd description; did thine eyes Besides Saharan wastes or the Red Sea, Or Mediterranean, feast them hard upon Castles and unsubstantial ships? Didst thou Rest thee in oases? or guide a plow 13 Thou form! through fertile fields at Oriental dawn? To Palestine or Araby hadst gone? Where god Osiris kept his sovran See Whilst Memphian Priesthood offered sacrifice In temples gorgeous as was pagan vice — Wert thou a worshipper? When Mystery Shrouded with clouds, approach'd the sage, whose ken Straightway, bedreamed, caught Angels from the skies Sweet, beautifully so, — what human ties Were thine? What joys? What griefs? What hopes? — ye mortal men Must Art but fade like flow'rs Elysian ? Silence is deaf; thou art! both deaf for aye; But if thy brethren, who, with cassia, myrrh, And balsams, sought to save thy spirit, were Returned to question thee, shouldst thou not say: "Death is Art:" — Art, Deity? Like even thee (Tho' with a touch of Beauty) shall this verse Surviving — what? a hand within Time's hearse Become a silent voice, a Voice, Humanity That thou mayst heed when I no longer be. ON OCEAN I Ocean, how vast, how imperturbable Thy majesty! Nor anything withal Need cope with thee! Thou dost appall Conjecture! What thunderous anthems roll, Or pa?ans born of billows leap awry 14 Spurning all Air, and Lethargy, and Sight? Ocean, tumultuous, crowned with woven white Some mighty Titan, unsubmissively Seems in thy heart: One pauses wondrously At thine immensity! II Of hidden lore, dost thou untiring boast? Could not thy deeps most awful tales betray? Of maudlin riot? Willful mutiny? Most like, far und thy rock-bound coast Under the watery dungeons hollow delved A hoard exhaustless, lies: The pirate gold, Barbaric gems, and savage treasure old, Who fain might guess? Also the pageants shelved Of coral reef? And in thy depths at peace, What sundered Argosies? Ill UnrivaU'd ! Unconfined ! Uncontroll'd ! Where are the schooners, barks, and brigantines By potent storms, abused ? What purple wines Of juicy grape, in sinking Norman hold Have dyed thy flow? Embarking for this shore How many bold explorers braved thy might From isles Castilian; lands of pagan night? Thou canst not give reply for evermore, So solitary, I but weakly say Great Neptune, list my lay! IV Presumptuous vassal I full well do know Of hurricanes, of typhoons, thunderous 15 When went the great Armada, perilous To doom: For mediaeval legends blow Their golden clarions ! When, too, amain The Mayflow'rweathered the wroth waxing gale, Fostering sage Discov'ry: — When in mail The Rovers did infest the Spanish main: Of such thy archives speak. To whom, O Sea Yieldst thou supremacy? To One alone? each billow rolls reply? 'Twere well indeed, that just so it should be: Astounding miracle, no doubt, we see With human orb, shall woo the Spirit-eye. Thus are all things in our philosophy Most marvellous. Great ocean in thy will Occult to man, hast thou not monsters still? Or caverns dark with living mystery? Or lethal uplands grim with sorcery Left for Futurity? VI To Contemplation, whosoever makes A sweet recourse, shall see most sovran sights, Among which, Ocean, thou dost know the rites Of heritage. No wizard ever takes A surer hold than Fancy: O'er the waves The Sea Gull wings, and near the jutty crag The Cormorant seeks rest. Hard on a snag A vessel founders. Wild the brine-foam laves The Light-house strand ! Neptune, I vaguely see Thy awful empery! 16 TO A BUTTERFLY Angelic spirit of the air, Winged of softest elegance, Dress the fairest of the fair, Wisely wouldst thou lead me hence? Were I but a Butterfly Fluttering as thou on high, To a zone of famed Delight I'd fly, I'd fly, I'd fly With unencumbered might. Nor think of things that fleeted were For such oft bear a secret pain, But o'er the Honeysuckle stir And sip the luscious nectar, fain Would I : And on the Eglantine In rosy June I'd banquet fine And think: — but dost thou think, small elf While quaffing dewy wine, Ever, ever of thyself? Art thou unconscious of the curl Of Loveliness? or Vanity? If so, ye differ from the girl Whom Beauty pays her limpid fee, For she grown flippant, haughty, vain, Will pose the merest doll to gain Our admiration: Ah forbid Should lurk thy wings one stain The pardlike fawn amid ! On the Clover-head ye light Like the presence of a gnome Seen of soul, unseen of sight: Ethereal being, where's thy home? Abidest thou in the demesne Wherein Titania is the queen? Pretty creature, breathe ye well If indeed it is the green Domicile of Beautiful? Soft, O soft as Zephyrs float, Or Moonbeams filter dark ozone, Or Sunsets linger, thou remote Dost bend thy pinions. Goest lone To where all flowers sweetly wear The blush of Goddess Flora? Where A sunny everlasting band Make merry mirth? O may I dare To seek that much sought land? Off with thee, my gaze grows dim ; Thy fairy form I watch until Away, away, all visions swim — Beyond the distance blues the hill ; I hear a brook, I faintly see A hazy prospect: Ecstacy Intoxicates! Where hast thou flown? Thou leavest me, unhappily Alone, alone, alone. TO WINTER Thou Storm King o' the mailed crystal sheen Whose icy breath doth kill the latest flowers; Thou son of Devastation often seen Gloating in triumph o'er Autumn's dying hours; Thou conqueror of Fall, and of her showers, Hast thou returned? — Shakspere's aid I urge, Beethoven's, or be mine the Rembrandt brush, 18 So, Winter, might I dare While trees of leaves be bare Inspiredly! to poetize, or flush In paint, or harmonize, a tuneful dirge. A dirge? Wherefore the dirge? If he be true The Artist, whatsoe'er his landskip bold, Pays thee his whitest tribute. Canst thou view Wingheeled Mercuries, despite of cold, Swarming thy rinks, without a thrill of old ? Or, diamonded the trees nod dozily? Aeolus walk his rounds, a ghost confessed? Waxwing with thee, and Jay, And Goldfinch thine alway? The glorious Sun-god bloom the soundless West And halo thy horizon rosily? Who has not heard, or cannot oft discern While nestling prone beside the cozy grate Thy spirit as the glowing embers burn? Or dwelling, when the frosty hour is late, In Meditation's realm feels not, with Fate, A Winter'd hist'ry? — Norsemen as of old, The hardy Viking o'er the stormswept sea; The Merry Saint of Noel; Explorers and arctic Pole; And peopled chapters, breathing mystery Reanimate his brain, and brave the cold? Sometimes while treading the snowcapped wood A wear\' traveler encounters thee; Thy white locks shiver'd o'er, and hoary hood ; Thy mantle flapping to the wind, which free, Doth play a hectic music: Blustery Girt with thy flacons, he beholds thee still Throned of ice, shaking a sceptry hand — 19 Where Snowflakes, Chickadee, Nuthatch, and Crossbills be: Surveying with hauteur thy frostchilled land Thou reignest monarch with a mighty will! ABSTRACT GRANDEUR Deity Peerless! lend my spirit flight: I grope bewilder'd in a strange domain Of dusk intense, yet softly see the light Maia hath seen: permit that my soul gain Those heights by Daylight dimmed, unknown of Night, Where Elfins dance, high on a cloudy plain ; Those vales lethean, where is ever known The Rose sky-blown. II Say I among your Myrtles free of care May silent pause on the Autumnal sun; Say I may watch the fantasies of Air ; May bask in Twilight, when the day is done: — Ye shades of abstract Grandeur everywhere Attest my fervor when in spirit gone, Shall sink my form exhausted, as it were, In th' sepulchre! Ill Impossible to gainsay is thy song. Who would find flaws in heavenly diamond glows ? Or in the flow'r a petal set in wrong! Or liken 'passioned poetry to prose? 20 There be such men, and to their race belong Not Art's apostles: Foreign these to those, Who cavil with untiring venom'd breath Till cold in death! IV I seem to stand upon the quiescent breeze ; A world of green salutes the steadfast gaze: Far to the East, a grove of stately trees: And to the North, a windmill turns in haze: The West commends a waste of broken leas: A rill, from South, on mossy pebbles plays; Ah, what, by Glory, were most justly famed Than Earth untamed? Ye all who ever inspiration gave To pen of poet, listen drowsily When troubled beings shall have found the grave: Sing, sing, sweet-sadly, singest lustily To Dryads, Faun : yea to some simple slave Of Verse whose flaming brain sought hungerly To give to language a seductive tune: Grant thou this boon! 21 SUMMER'S FAREWELL A Pindaric Ode O Dorian theme! Attuned Aeolian Lyre! Be mine your glory born of ages long! O Homer, Milton, Chaucer, pray inspire, And velvet-throated Keats, unite thy song! Arise thou Muse of Delphi's golden fire And glisten pinions; thrill myself entire; Permit no vagrant fancy flee Away from me, But O Attend desires, while August's breezes blow! August? Ah see, she tarries in the gold Of sylvan temples! Summer is asleep, And Autumn's vanguard lingers in the fold Of orient meadows, lavish harvests deep In zones suburban ; now the distant mold Of Phoebus, strokes the plains with rosy gold ; Purples the maze-dim margin'd hills; Silvers the rills! Ah who Would not seek Beauty in her rendezvous? Go, quit the sordid world and visit her, E'en tho' for a brief period it be. 'Neath the blue clouds of Heaven O bestir Thyself with ease and lightness, buoyancy; Go walk with August, in the happy lair Where Asters, and belled meadow Lilies snare The heart, and crimson Poppies glow And Golden Rods debut, Proudly To wonted greenness, thither, thither flee. 22 Felicity, O canker not, nor cloy Wit^i fervid frenzy ! O I hear thy wings Melodious Muse! O happy Muse, my joy Like unto gurgling Heliconian Springs Gushes with soulfulness! Parnassus, high, I see your tenants Nine! O let me fly To thee; and mingle with the bards — A poet ; naught retards This thought Nor swooning soul, nor forehead flushed and hot ! August, I'll sing to thee another time; This first diversion wilt thou brook? I'll sing When youthfulness hath fled my latest rhyme. Sweetly with thee, the swallows are awing; The Redbreast carols: Sweet, O joyous time Hast thou no music? Aye thy sunny clime Hears hidden anthems, all thine own, In viewless voices blown Full soft From boughs remote, and idly echoing croft! August, alone with thee: am I ALONE? O langorous vision of a peaceful dream Who loves not Beauty, he had best atone To thee. The Pine-tree plaineth to the stream, And in the flow'r embroider'd wood is shown Wild Clematis, of cloddish souls unknown The light wind rustles weeds among, In ecstacies unsung; Now hath The drowsing spirit found its aftermath! 23 TO FLORA, GODDESS OF FLOWERS Flora! young goddess! Shade Aerial! Than whom no personage is lovelier In all the fabled Grecian progeny, Nor Daphne, Io, Ops, excepted are — Most exquisite, most fair, most beautiful, Observe how not ungallantly I kneel To Thee: Before thy shrine, or altar reared of flowers, To verse a victim, and to all thy powers A devotee: Indeed, thou lovely, lovely star of posies May I salute thy roses? May I salute thy lilies? May I dare? May I salute them? Yet, at least to me Not so sweet is your queen, June's fiancee, Not so sweet is your cloister's votary — The lily — as those wilding flowers rare: Spring's violet, summer's harebell, autumn's heir- The poppy — No ! for wilt thou, O Flora, not prefer Our simple flowers of nature; those that stir One's soul as sweetly As doth the bee, who, in sun-showers, chuckles Sipping lush honeysuckles? Atfican Saint: O spirit of sunrise — And of sundown — eternal fantasy! While clouds Aprilian, blue and sunny-beamed, Bloomed the mounds and tricklings meadowy; Ay, and from out a dove-cote, Drowsy Eyes Brooded aloft to Flora's floral skies It seemed To me a voice thus spake: "What's poetry? 24 The scent from thought's full flow'r,"and was it she (Or had I dreamed?) From whom a flower fell? O Star of Posies, 1 shall salute thy roses! TO PHILOMELA (To whom I listened last night in a glorious dream, and who, I thought, upon my approach, winged away.) "Most musical, most melancholy bird." — Milton. I By virtue of my never having seen, Or heard thy presence deep in underwood, A hesitant hath been my mood: Yet foreignly in leafy solitude Thou singest sweet a song of sad serene For other folk whose hearts were fain to melt, Or fainer still, perchance, to float away With thee to regions far beyond our day Or night: — Assuredly to Paradicean height Unfamed, unfound, unfelt! II Sad bird, and do I listen now thy song? Thy song replete with mournful minstrelsy? In truth, methinks it well might be As some sweet Siren known of only thee Had sobbed her gentle self the Sky along, And sighed asleep amidst most fragrant flowers, Her pillow but a Star, her gown Eve's shroud, 25 Her couch the Moon, her curtains naught save Cloud : — Ah! when Soft sleep had made a comma, was it then Exertest thou thy powers? Ill I venture to assert 'twere even thus, But be this as it may, I follow thee Wherever I am bade, Birdie — Far in the forest to that selfsame tree Whence issues such a strain circumfluous The very air seems now to undulate; Delicious eloquence great glooms rehearse; Nocturnal shadows sweep our universe: 'Tis meet Abroad I hearken to my heart's each beat While pulsing echoes wait. IV Sad, sweetly sad of singers, Philomel, Or Nightingale which name may suit thee best, Deeply of Dusking guessed I find thy haunt ; above with beauty dressed Thick leafiness would fresco Heaven well : Brain-gone in Delphic glory have I trod Through plashy meads and freshest flowers sweet To pause beside thy sylvan low retreat: Vain lot! Who comes too close avails himself of what I ask myself aloud ? 26 TO AMERICA "O Union strong and great!" Longfellow. I When soul of son and sire with transport welled A distant date beholding welcome soil Amidst the waste of waters, nor rebelled But docile grew the mutineers whose toil, Had thus attained the supreme result; When these rude men, knave, ruffian and dolt Loosed from dungeons dire by Isabelle, Found with the good Columbus golden ground By savage trod, by tent and wigwam crowned What pen may tell The joy, the exultation? — the profound Significance which History's page befell? II Columbia, with Phcenix-wings arose Unto a nation's stature. Let a king, That moth of Fame, be named among her foes She fears no dissolution. Freemen sing The praise of him whose patriotic aid Coupled with that of France substantial made Tri-colored liberty. Rebellious rolls A tide, henceforth, to rend the State; surely Such strife were vain : Celestial Liberty Born of red gules: Whose face is fair; whose heart is gray; Protect my native land: her rights: her rules! 27 Ill America, what lovelier land than thine? From Northern bounds, known of the midnight- sun To Southern scenes where luscious fruits design A California field or Floridan; From the Atlantic to Pacific strand What towns, what streams, what farms on either hand ? — Moreover haloed by the azure veil Of her whose statue, pray God, shall for aye On Bedloe Isle a flaming torch display While Braves prevail; While tyrants groan ; while traitors wince full wry ; And while the Eagles perch our standards hale ! TO A REDBREAST Thou usher of the vernal season, hear ! Thou whose voice shrilly greets this lovely Morn Which as a Rose hath oped of crimson cheer To in sheer fullness rest maturedly born ; What with thine easy treble caroling And that of the wild choralists ye lead On yonder Maple, singing songs for Spring Boasting the warmth, the fervor incident To Beauty where in seed she dormant lies : Thou sylvan Oread, what with spring's consent (Who, through my window, casts her sunny eyes) And every soothing sound my ear must need Give audience: small wonder if quite dumb 28 Of thee I ask Most pleasant task; An omen this of gentle days to come? II Where are thy haunts? The boughs have new leaves not; Early her premier for the Year it is To don of gowns perennial : yet sweet lot Is mine to wander thither where wings this Red-bosomed herald, be the season what It might provided winter 'cepted be: Abroad ! Abroad ! ere Nature shall allot With wilding flow'rs the wood, have hurried ye, The better to exult when is become Soft green the hills, and mossed the rill's cool edge; When balmy breezes waft the Bumble's hum From some fresh meadow, or lone marshy hedge, Or across clover lanes full odorous ; And choke-cherries Are on the trees; What are ye, all the while, but — glorious? Ill Such be thy mood dear Optimist, alway, Even as Autumn come, yet be thou so: Why otherwise of spirit? who will say? Awing with thee no bounds my fancies know: Away, nor linger; whither? hastening While tenderly live gales do sleep; or gush Through vines whose grapes in ripest clusters cling; To sandbars river-ward, and underbrush ; Thence to the trees ; and now when fades the day 29 Like to a Red Rose, pigeon crofts remote Answer the garden-sparrows; blissfully House wrens, and martins, with the lowing cote, Swell the full choir; and Robin's vocal strain Time and again Startles me, when A dreamy drowsiness embalms the brain! ON A FADING WILD ROSE Ah could this speak What might its rose-mouth tell? This rural Hummer's Love, whose sweets to seek Maidens red-lipped, svelt and young and gay May of a Summer day Be seen traversing woodlands prodigal. I know not whence Thou comest, Flow'r, nor why; Nor wherefore thy heart's breath, this sweet incense Converts the air: My ignorance forgive, I only know I live And wakeful watch Life's anguish ere I die! Oh latter word How magical thou art! Oft would I leave, of Humankind unheard, Oblivious of all save One whose ear Hears fall the unseen tear — (And mutely fade as thou, and so depart) This hapless realm Of Pain, of Care, of Teen, Where gaunt Grief seeks the while to overwhelm The heart! Where Joys amid dull Sorrows grope Were there no better hope: Hut ah, away sick thoughts; why intervene? 3Q A fading Rose! How irreparable Its petals fall ! Where now Apollo's pose Of gold ? Where now the blushful smiles that were Wont to soft eyes ensnare? What earthly Grandeur is imperishable? Sweet flow'r how oft Thy kindred symbol's Love; A lord his fiancee hath breathed soft: "Dearest, these roses do our nuptials bless," While in Love's loneliness Another sees a Rose wilt, shorn thereof ! Perhaps of thine Kings decked their palaces Full lovely as the fabled Delphic shrine In erewhile ages, when the Oracle Was much besought: withal As grand as Grecian glory in surmise. The poet deems Thyself his mace superne; Why not? when thro' those verdurous day-dreams Of visions indescribable his brain With ecstacy will gain Glimpses of thee at every happy turn? The Queen of blooms Art thou in Beauty's bower; Nor light this lovely title, when uplooms In mental haunts the Pink, and Posies pied: The Violet — Spring's pride, And dark-cheeked Pansies, vying all for power. 31 Incredible Is sadness, when it swims Unsought into the channels of our will — As bleeding beauty ! Like a man in throes Even the withered Rose Outbreathes its spirit as the color dims! Quite limp and dead My fingers gently hold A red Wild Rose: O whither, whither fled The odorous breath? Perhaps erelong Beauty with darkling tongue May ask : Where is the child I kissed of old ? Thy breath is gone Wherewith life is sustained; No more, alas, these futile features wan Shall show their beauty to the dews of Morn! Nor more wilt thou adorn Fair Flora's fane: with Twilight thou hast waned! TO A PROUD BELLE Ere yet proud Beauty, thou wert made Recipient of gifts which fade Perhaps an ugly child Wert thou. Perhaps Milady Vain The Destinies were best not deign To humor one — beguiled. O wherefore raise so haughtily The while you heave a languorous sigh Those dark and lustrous eyes That softer be and lovelier Than Butterfly's most downy fur Unseen save of surmise? 32 Why ape cold Winter's frozen heart Whilst thine, devoid of his fine art Perforce can never melt? Retrace, who can, the steps of Pride Or Vanity, when at Truth's side Time's wizened leers are felt? Divest thyself of sallow Pride; Permit thy beauty's texture bide Untrammell'd, free, unseared ; Nor let false-masked Presumption haunt, Nor jeopardize, by idle flaunt, Thy comely self endeared. TO SOMBRE BEAUTY "Mourning in thy robe of pride, Desolation deified." — Shelley. Which is more beautiful ; the silver Morn Holding aloft her dewy cup of gold, Ablution proffering to buds new-born — The while a million opals glister cold On ferns, on grasses, and on flowers, sworn True courtiers to Beauty? or sad Night Aloof in ebon splendour, so forlorn, So desolate, that Moon and Stars delight In daylight memories rather than adorn Her courts and galleries; canst thou infer Which is the lovelier? 33 II Depends it on the individual; There be some folks who relish empty bliss ; More to whose spirits Melody would pall; Others who shudder at the youthful kiss; Some few exist, whose voices Oracle Would have in verse all Pleasure, sans the Pain, Which same, half-bodied, do not see withal That wedded are the children, Bliss and Bane, Yet unto Selfishness, do these give all And mock the chronicler who dares devote A space such to denote. Ill Go you, whatever be your temperament Into the bow'r of Beauty. Pluck the Rose And watch it wilt, while merry is your bent ; Or feast upon the sweet unconscious pose Of giggling girlhood; or in joyance vent Your spite full on a Rainbow's gorgeous hues; Or, none appealing, under Even's tent Adore the grace divine when stars suffuse A river black with cold aggrandizement: Of sombre Beauty all; of Light and Love The Loveliness thereof. 34 TO HOPE A gentler word than gentle, ah by far, A softer word than soft I would employ; A sweeter word than sweet, dearer than dear, Were best to welcome thee, my pride and joy — Thee lovely seraph, thee of lucent eyes, Bright vestal virgin, sister from the skies, Frail, but yet how stout, Born of Despair and Doubt! II Out of the cavern of intensest gloom Thy beauteous presence hath regaled my sense; Sweet as the Rose's undefiled perfume, Art thou, or Tyrian shades of early Morn, Fair as a blissful moment languorous, Quiet as turtles snug in muddy moss, Or doves on gabled eaves, Or silk-worms munching leaves. Ill Oblivious grow we to all save zest; Naught but the halo of pervading light Round the high summits of a bleak unrest Hovers like Fairies on a Moonlit night, Whose little wings the glowing gloom enhance, Whose starry feet upon the heavens dance:- — To prove our souls unwon It were, I fear, ill done. 35 IV Pegasus, think not I enow am vain To seek to trespass Phoebus' hierarchy ; His sacred temple blushless to profane; — To scorn Euterpe or Terpsichore: No; by the pleasure Momus did invent, I swear my verse at least is reverent And tho' it weak may grope Leans on thy anchor, Hope! Lonely a time with Mid-eve anguishing Conscious I grew of other company I gazed around the silence lingering, No voice, no word, no marvel haunted me But two warm eyes were peering from the deep Invulnerable dark where Hope doth sleep: I straight made scrutiny And surely it was she! VI She, Hope! this soothing, most bewitching Fairy, This comforter to all humanity, Her purest glance was one of gladness very, From her tiara drooped a Peony, A brave Rose fell, merry of withering, A violet betokened vernal Spring; Of Grief she was half-won But Heartache knew she none. 36 SONNETS AFTER RE-READING ROSTAND'S CYRANO DE BERGERAC Seldom a golden book I lay aside Without a darling spright forevermore About my brain breathes legendary lore And love for them that be Apollo's pride; Many a day, or good or ill betide, This sometime soul-Elysian, known of yore As Psyche and whom Grecia's Gods adore, Hath sought her wings superne: alas and sighed: Like Bergerac, the boldest of the bold, She sighs; like him, who, true to the Rostand strain, High on the Gascon ramparts, sighed of old, Strong as the rock Gibraltar: With might and main Braved he the Storm, nor caught his death of coldj Alone with God prone on the Arras plain. 37 POETRY 'Tis the scentless perfume of the Flower of Thought: The Poppies rare that glow in sunset skies — The Bluebells fair that grow in girlish eyes — And pink Carnations, as if fairy wrought, Tinting some dimpled cheeks — all these are fraught With that soul-essence — Poetry; it lies Dormant in dusk — a nightshade; dawn — sunrise; In meltful music, grand sweets, it hath brought. If Poetry possess such subtle power In eyes, in cheeks — yea ! and in loving voices, In Morphean sleep, in Arcadean bower, What man is that whose spirit nor rejoices Nor takes in Faydom blissful, elfin choices? For him the scent is lost from Thought's full- flower. AH! DEAREST LOVE, DID I LAY COLD IN DEATH Ah ! Dearest Love, did I lay cold in death The flow'rs about my casket grave and grim Say, would you — could you — drop a tear for him Who loved you with his latest every breath? There is a dawn tho' daylight withereth. There is a sleep unguessed of by the dim, Shadowy speculation: there's a trim — Yes, — and a sable beauty — deathless Death. Ah! would you, darling! drop a heartfelt tear If, thro' the fresh and wreathy garlands lain Lovingly on my silent, bodeful bier There came the thought of days nor Joy nor Pain Nor Pity could restore? That all held dear Might this hand, nerveless, never greet again! 38 FORT SNELLING This site speaks volumes to the historied ! Of late when I upon its bridge was come That thought possessed me, as a soldier glum And battle-scarred I passed, unlaurelled. The scenery seemed asleep as tho' a dream Of mingled glory and fierce savagery Haunted the fort, the ground, the every tree; Even the clouds looked somberly agleam. Distinctly then I heard a bugle blare A martial medley of the long ago; Of ensigns ta'en in war — of bloody woe — Heart-break and fray — and above all an air Of rose-wreathes wilting on a hero's heart: Alas, when grandeur is of gloom a part! OUT BEYOND CONCORDIA COLLEGE, ST. PAUL Many the wild birds I this day have heard Beyond Concordia's campus and her green And many a living color have I seen Ere sang the Thrush, brown hermit, undeterred: The Catbird everything hath done but purred, The Pewee, constant to her sorrows keen Complains ; — of suns that bloom the blue serene The Oriole tells ; and Wrens the leaves have stirred : Sweet is the music of earth's poetry. Listen, ye worldlings, to the meadowlark And to the Grosbeak whistling merrily And to the gold-finch in the wildwood-park : Hear ye the burthen of the mystery? — Listen a pretty day from dawn till dark. 39 TO A WOOD THRUSH Scarce breathing have I walked the woodland wild This sacred Sabbath-day since Vesper-bell, And now, as daylight darkles, thou dost well To flute for him who loves thee — Dryad-child: Here from the wide world happily exiled Soothed I hear him to the wood-nymphs tell His pearliest beads of Nature, and of hell No word — but Heaven to Heaven is reconciled: O Wood-Thrush, bard of all the answering Thrushes Is thine an echo from the Hebrides? The Cranesbill — Robin's Plantain — and the rushes Through which I trod — the God — and every breeze That, with the sun, robs scent from wild-rose bushes Deliciously must hear thee in the trees! IN A NEIGHBOR'S GARDEN Sweet Peas all winged like departing souls; Pansies that flirt with Phoebus in the shade, — Blonde and brunette ; and as of earth afraid Nasturtiums ever seeking higher goals; Forget-me-nots, whose very name condoles Our stern bereavements; Mignonette as staid As scented nun, and roses for your maid ; These I do love, and these my love extols; But more I love the darling wilding flower, The Crocus, sweet misnomer, skyey-hued, And every spirit of the warm sun-shower All teary-eyed this heart of mine hath viewed ; The Violet, the Cowslip, — Virgin's Bower, The Primrose of the wayside solitude. AT MINNEHAHA FALLS, MINNEAPOLIS Hearken! thou wild and watery magnitude! Thou, in whose presence Nature half-forlorn, Half-listless, listens unto Triton's horn Wound from that god's verisimilitude; Hearken! thou apcr of old Ocean's mood — Thou parked Arethusa! — many a morn And many a moon, contemplative, footworn, Have I not shared thy woodland solitude? Hearken! There's thunder where no lightnings break — A rainbow where 'tis cloudless: such is Beauty — Indeed her very texture. For her sake Who goes abroad (and this is mortal duty) At such a time, his cognizance shall take Of Neptune's foamy phantom fresh from the sea! CANDLEMAS That beast prophetic of this many a year, The Groundhog, sees his shadow and departs For thrice a fortnight ere my Queen of Hearts All pied with mickle Violets is near; Flow'r-breath'd, bird-voiced, star-eyed, the beau- teous dear Pearls the green April moon ; such be her arts That her I'll love till struck by Pluto's darts Sinks my cold clay into Death's cavern drear: Times strange, O Candlemas, with friend and foe Have wrought alike — (sweetheart and lovesick thrall, Living and lost) — since first on Winter's snow Thy spirit sought his shadow, yet, for all, Other than thine no Mary shalt thou know Whose purification makes a festival. 41 AT THE INDIAN MOUNDS, ST. PAUL Nature is here a sculptor: — wise — discreet — Her plastic art seems much in evidence; A breathing spot these Indian mounds immense Where one may give one's eyes a very treat. Let those oppressed or with brain awhirl Here bend their footsteps of a day and greet This sculptor god: appeased shall they be. Whose handiwork? — ye ask; — what mystery! A pre-historic ghost with gnomy feet Stalks here about ; and where is hewn from pearl Huge clouds: from gold and floral ivory The skyey wainscot: from stars the river clear: The boding Presence looks as though to say: Pygmalion a rival hast thou here! ON A TRAIN EXCURSION TO FOREST LAKE Poppies as martial as the Red Cockade; Larkspur, to whom no Lark at Heaven's height Sings; Dog-fennel daisies, that by night Do droop their languid ears ; in sun and shade Bluebells warm winds have rung; from angry spade Cockles in hiding; Marguerites more white Than unseen day stars; such as these delight Not every man who whirls the rumbling grade: But I, Great God, a child that manhood mars Have but to gaze to be ecstatified; To think of wildflowers even by the cars Disclosed, fills me with as glorious pride As when, in Forest Lake, I once descried, Exalt, two lovers' souls against the stars. 42 WRITTEN ON TOP OF CHUCKANUT I stood with Silence one amid the stars; Happy the eve and Vesper, wide-awake — Bright darling — for eternally she'd shake Her little silvery wings across the bars Of Ocean's stilly sunset warmly golden — Lord ! — as beyond the heavens she would fly To fathom th' mystery: I swear that I By Heaven! to dearer scene was ne'er beholden; The orient clouds pre-sentinelling the sun — The trumpet honey-bloom fain to bequeathe Her sweets to the zealous bee; fagged out with fun A butterfly listening to Silence breathe: These, these for the nonce indulged me; these would wreathe My spirit wings, so might we both be one! INDEPENDENCE DAY Great is our country, great her valorous sires, Who formerly on many a sturdy field Admonished the haughty Briton ; made him yield Who crowned would quench the patriotic fires — Yet Freedom lives eternal, godlike child ! Asleep betimes she ever will awaken And from her fiery Phoenix-wings is shaken Thenceforth of bloody tears an anthem wild: — All hail America, my native land! Never I heard thy diviner spirit sigh At Valley Forge — at Concord — at dismanned Old Sumpter — No, or on the Fourth o' July Without, by Heaven's stars, on every hand All-glorious Liberty, I felt thee nigh! 43 AT BELLINGHAM BEACH Neptunus stirs about this soundless shore Unceasingly, and of the briny deep He speaks, and of the salt-sea dogs asleep Distant not many leagues that oft do roar; His is a yarn heard now and heretofore By stars, that fallen from sometime skyey seas Hold to these rocks, inconstant Pleiades — Boon-friends of shells and other wonders more: Hark ye! who ever love the billowy main! And ye who gasp at such immensity Spell-bound ! At low tide come ye, drowsed of brain, When fishers fly and gulls, and silently The songsters rest — then see ye Triton's reign, And hear of Silence her lost minstrelsy! I KNOW A HILL I know a hill whereon — felicity! — Strawberries grow, and where wild blackberries Hide amongst stumps as tho' pursued by fairies Perverse, whose tinkling pails sound humanly. With what exultant joy the honey bee Stirs hereabouts and on the foxglove tarries A lushy while, or how earth's spirit marries Sweet heaven's own, to tell 'tis far from me. O what a glory hath this earth of ours For him who fares lighthearted o'er the hills. Daisies and lillies, hold him, — Indian-flowers And Columbines; for him each blossom thrills With silent love, and he so feels these powers That soon the poet's light his utter being fills! 44 LIFE'S TIDE HATH BEEN AT EBB FULL MANY A YEAR Life's tide hath been at ebb full many a year — A score and four — since first these eyes of mine Gazed on Nature and her heart divine With scarce a feeling other than a tear. Two dozen Aprils have rained sweet Mayflowers; Two dozen Junes have lain on darling roses Like Angel's tears; millions of Autumn posies Have filled the clouds even in wintry hours; Ay — and since Nature is at one with life And I a part of Jove's eternal dreaming Why, Heavens! I'll haste me like that hummer rife With love of flowers that scarletly are gleaming; I'll haste, like him, afar from human strife: Like him I'll die and learn that life is seeming. IN THE CASCADES; TRIPLE-PEAKED INDEX Awed at thyself thou stand'st majestical! Serenity and stars abide thy zone, LIFE, DEATH, OBLIVION: thou art alone Beneath Jove's heavenly blue ethereal, The soul of three sublimities. Where fall Huge avalanches, and whither tree-nymphs moan Because Medusa changed thee to stone, There sittest thou, a Titan yet in thrall: Ye sagebrush wilds, ye minarets, ye towers, Ye mountainous haunts where beasts ferocious be- Hard fastnesses — ye blue and red-souled flowers, And thou O Earth ! when we no longer see Still shalt thou live, a heritage — great powers — To Man, an emblem of Eternity! 45 IN THE ROCKIES; LAKE MAC DONALD Where Silence sat listening to the Moon Aweary of Pan, and where the Trinity Bid Avalanche Basin see divinity There did I wish me late — thrice beauteous boon! Eve's lonesome child, singing a soundless tune, Venus, gave Heaven her virginity Whereat MacDonald's green vicinity Showed watery peaks their snowy heads in June: Henceforth the Rocky Mountains to appall Meseems is thy wet function ; and when years Like ghosts haunt Belton woods, and flowers recall Empyreal flakes, MacDonald! it appears As if for Man's transgressions, great and small, Our heavenly Father drops celestial tears. THE CANADIAN ROCKIES AND SELKIRKS The cloudy peaks, the roaring wild cascades, The dizzy glaciers, and the still ravines, The canyons; cirques; the gorges; — Alpine scenes Rock-bound, that gaze at Winter; piney glades Of perilous seeming; chasms in whose shades Swoop vapory Eagles; cataracts, — glens, — greens Fir-topped, and foot-hills stealing Skyey sheens: What power, O Nature, all these powers pervades? Thou answerest not, and yet thy voice is loud ! Ye rainbows round the celestial mountain-storm, Ye clouds that make for Earth's hot sun a shroud, Ye lightnings the thundery Heavens bid perform, Ye fair frost flowers o'er whom the wild bees swarm, To ye speaks Silence, Silence the God avowed! 411 ON LOVE As one who on the Moon too long has gazed Sees gossamer glooms encircling burning beams, My sight deceptive has my brain amazed, Discerning faces in the gilded gleams Of various design : a lovely Queen Mature in grace from Beauty's pure demesne, With hair like Dusk, complexion like the Morn, Abides in this, my heart of applique, Sweeter than Ruth amid the orient corn, Fairer than Flora on her festal day, She smiles upon my thrills, as on a Morn I trembled, flushing faint with Love's high bliss Enraptured at the chimera of a kiss, — Before the birth of that fell Titan, Scorn! SUMMER OF AUTUMN Fair is the feel of Summer — fadeless too ! Tho' the hard storm her early life enshrouds Yet beauteous flowers fill stern thunderclouds, And perilous lightnings purify anew That air which Flora breathes as humans do, Breathes, where upon her wild and pretty posies Fatigued she rests, and hears the while she dozes A Hopper winging to her hills of blue: Of thee, h? prophecies, thou sweet first born Of thee, like Dandelion, come to earth Immaculate. Oh, many's the eve forlorn After the Cricket in his woody berth Had sung the birds asleep — that, tho' forsworn, I yet have breathed a prayer, and heard of Song no dearth. 47 A THANKSGIVING PRAYER Lord God of Hosts, be with us once again Lest we forget the import of this day: Let not a personal Ego hold at bay Such prayers as bowed the landed Mayflower-men; Let not hard Greed hot from his wolfish den Plunder our poor, nor yet let Bigots slay Defenceless Humankind ; this, Lord, we pray On bended knees we folk American : Thankful this day are we for festive hours; Thankful are we that Patriots swell our ken; Thankful, moreover, that among the Pow'rs We stand who flourish neither sword nor pen ; But thankful most are we, Lord God, that ours Is of the common Heritage. Amen. CHRISTMAS White Blashfield angels ringing Christmas bells; The Christ from out this starriest of morns Risen triumphant high above our thorns, Blue-eyed, of human savors, heavenly spells; A bearded stranger down his moony dells Urging familiar reindeer; drums and horns Proclaiming Man's rebirth: — all this adorns That sense, Friends mine, wherein our Heaven dwells! Ring Blashfield bells, and sing thou Angels dumb! If I mistake not, yonder frosty moon Bears in her beams the spirit o' Kingdom-Come Who stays for music — a celestial tune, Nor know I if he be God's son — kind boon — Or Nicholas, dearest saint of Fairydom ! 48 NEW YEAR'S Youth's Jack o' Lantern through my window looks And almost I could think it Hallowe'en, Except that out of doors no grass is green, Nor lurking mischievous our prankish spooks; Low is my hearthstone and my spirit brooks No fellowship save that which stirs unseen; And when of sleighbells and night's starred se- rene The frozen silence sings, I shut my books; A happy New Year thou who back art bringing Our Family Circle; while thou ringest on I yet hear sister voices round me singing Such carols as illume white eves agone, And friends I hear, and thou above me winging O Mother Aline whose Day is still my Dawn! ON THE MARCH WINDS They voice Apollo's sweetest sentiments Who, reinforced thus sucks dry the pool Resultant from a thawing ice-mesh cool And snowy moisture; then they hasten hence So mirthfully, we of their mood partake, Over the meadow, hill and melting brook ; So very gentle that, except we look, Never ourselves might to their mission wake ; So very tender that indeed until Our eyes, half-languid on a day behold Spring wide-awake upon a Marigold We almost doubt; yet hark, the whippoorwill, To sing her even song she doth empower — As balmy as the breathing of a flower. 49 CHRISTMAS EVE The saints are stirring; it is Christmas eve! Listen! Ye household gods, can ye not hear Above the frosty sleighbells ever dear A starry anthem? and, by heaven's leave, Old granny's voice ? That ye may well deceive Suspicious youth she'll aid you, never fear, In your conspiracy! It doth appear She tells of Santa! Ay, and all believe! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year Ye grey haired boys and girls and ye who mingle With jocund musings ever tenderer: O like that child who hears, with veins a-tingle, Boreas' chant of reindeer from afar, So do I feel, and all the world's a-jingle! WINTER AND POETRY Even Winter hath his poetry — the snow. For crystals are, as fair as is the thought That freights a day-dream when a chimney drought, All frozenly, doth hark to Aquilo; While blue-eyed cinders, winking and aglow Spirit one whither wonders have been wrought Ho! what's diviner than to live unsought, Tales legendary, extant and ago? Surely is snow not Winter's poetry? Indeed lest it should fade at dead of night — ah! Jack Frost (sly elf!) is breathing roguishly Ghost stories to the storm sash ever brighter; So when we wake it seems that fearfully The stars had dropped their younglings never whit- er! 50 ON THE ETERNAL THEME Shrouded in mystery is Earth, Sea, Sky, The Elements, and else all things beside, And we are Mystics, even thou and I, WHAT, WHEN, and WHERE to know are we denied. Existence and Eternity, how strange Friends that ye are ye should be foes at heart ! One Cloudy Phantom do we worship all — A trinity of Truth, of Love, of Art; Yet never doubt, O Man, though creeds may change Divinity's mild visage till it pall With hateful thoughts of Torment, Fire, and Hell:— Beauty is but a Seed: thy self extol: A haven is where Purity must dwell For Flesh is but the death-mask of the SOUL. EARLY AUTUMN Full dearly do I love to gad a day To the Queen's taste in Autumn, redly golden ; Early, if so it please thee, friend, that olden Ideas sad from Life's far — far-away, May take fresh heart in stacks of new-mown hay ; A still small voice (it is the Cricket's) swelling Every now and then the breeze, is telling What harvest fields apprise a marveling Sun ; The little freshes where wee minnows play, — Sheep-sorrel patches, — bullfrogs full of fun Ducking in croaking puddles: — these, I say, These ! shall indulge us to our heart's content Until we quite forget through blandishment, The Locust, bent on mischievous foray! 51 NATURE Dame Nature hath her poetry — the flowers, Yet never hot house children, lily and Rose — Tho' these be beautiful — but rather those Wild unseen spirits of our sunny showers: Where whistle Meadowlarks, the larkspur flowers, Cranesbill beneath the Thrush's branches grows, Where Kingbirds scatter Bees isWildbrier-rose, — And red-winged Blackbirds stir the Blueflag bow- ers; Whoso loves Nature let him straightway fare To the wildwoods when the Midsummer Bee Sucks honeyed Trumpet-blooms; what time the air Sun-scented, dreams of Autumn: there shall he Indulge his spirit, feeling unaware That wilding flowers are Nature's poetry. SEEN AT THE TIVOLI AFTER THE ST. PAUL TORNADO I saw two ruins at the Tivoli — Immaculate and mortal: one, the first Was that which like a loathsome spectre burst From out the jumbled wreck: the next was she Whom I had known in Childhood's Arcady But scarce might recognize since vice accurst Had painted both her cheeks: — How Demon! durst Thou paint blood-red the cheeks of Chastity? I saw two ruins — Death ! and Souls awry : Bridge square lay drunken marveling at the moon — Darkly old Mississippi aped the sky Whiles from a concert hall a voice eftsoon Squalled of brighter days — to me that tune Savored, ye Gods, of Beauty dead, yet nigh! 52 O HOW I GLORY IN AUTUMNAL DAYS O how I glory in Autumnal days Autumnal dawns and red autumnal Eves! For Indian Summer stalks about the sheaves And counts her wild grapes thro' frosty haze; For in her sunburnt wreath there rests always Summer's sweet flowers, tho faded; ay and leaves At whose decease the very sky bereaves And droppeth tears, tears for departed Mays; O what a glory is in God's creation: — Life, Love and Loveliness, that trinity Engendered of the spirit bears relation Not merely to one dear Divinity Beyond the stars, but rather to our Nation And to all the world it holds affinity. SEASONS OF DAY DAWN Aurora, it is thine this hour of calm ! This hour beloved of the earliest muse. The morning star hath sung his fays a psalm ; And flowers find nectar in ethereal dews; Invisible beings shift celestial scenes; Eastwards the truant moon stares all aghast Whereto none else than star-eyed Beauty weans Phcebus from Dawn as Phosphor clears the vast. Blessed Aurora to thy joys belong Glory and Slumber and awaking Dreams; For thee the Cock crows loud his matin-song, As if himself thine own alarm he deems; For thee the Chuck- Will's Widow all night long Whistles and searches over moon-moth streams. 53 NOON Illumined Ariel of each predestined day Impassioned I have worshipped at thy shrine And in thy labyrinth have loved to stray Absorbed, rapt, be-dreamed, entirely thine — Oblivious to all save this, thine hour, That wet-browed Labor claims refreshfully, Wherever kettle sings and falls a shower Of blessings from the Household Gods that be: Be mine thy friendship, horny handed noon Since thou the friend of Ariel must be ; Beside my festive board I bid thee croon Jingles that touch the heart, and mightily, That mock the worldly miser's sordid goal Poor in the utter poverty of soul! SUNSET-DUSK As a Fire-Worshipper I stand and chant Thy benediction divine Eventide! The sun descending, like a martyr'd saint, In the West blazing regions ; Argus-eyed The stilly stars that fill Heaven's holy Grail ; The lights and shadows playing on the sward Whene'er the moon his cloudy head doth vail — And O the thrill of voices forestward! The sibilant twitterings of drowsy dells; The Nightingale whose foreign eloquence Bids our weird owl hoot not of haunted hells; These things speak more than aught of earthly sense ; — These speak the Gods and such immortal strains As once Endymion heard on Latmos plains. 54 WHAT A SEA SHELL SAYS Nor sun, nor moon, but man, hath stayed my reign In solitudes where awful Secrecy Holds state; where monsters subterranean Run riot. Of unrecked lineage I boast. Benighted cells profoundly hush Immure me well withal. Into mine ear Hath Neptune breathed his hollow precepts much; Nor do I lack for Beauty: no, not I: — The Dolphin round a coral cathedral swims With zest and zeal ; and unmolested lie Numberless jewels, that unstinted wealth, Cargoed and argosied, which went to wreck; And happy to record, sea-weed enwreathed Doth old Oceanus a crown provide. YANKTON, MY BIRTHPLACE. Yankton, My birthplace — well I love her streets, Her stores, her markets, ay, her very houses — On her, though far away, the memory browses When backward Time recognizance entreats ; The serious bee that sucks delicious sweets Hid in the perfume of the wildbrier-roses, Sucks not more Summer than in him reposes Whose heart with thine inseparably beats: For Yankton-on-the-Missouri, in thy spirit Childhood, the dream, is waking evermore; The Gift of Life and all it do inherit Sits, like a bald-pate prophet, at thy door And though of years am I a score and four I yet for toys could search the natal garret! 55 THE POETRY OF HEAVEN IS EARTH'S The poetry of Heaven is earth's in fact — Sweet zones are these where Beauty flower-girl is ; The maid-in-waiting, Love ; those present, viz. : Bards whose grand genius wonders does enact. As when alone I scan that wide compact Whereon is set the seal of Jove and Dis An awful spright enshades me: ever 'tis My charge for worse or better, mild of tact: — All-beauteous One, thou makest, as it were A flower-bed of my brain wherein I see Full many a bud that soon shall blossoms be O' the which my soul is gentle waterer — And this, my heart, thou makest, beauteous sir, Like to a light load of immortality. THE MUSIC OF EARTH Music hath Earth forever new and old, Music akin to Heaven's poetry; When Twilight dreams with Doves, and haylofts be Silent save for the cricket — when the fold Yet hears the pasture's bleat, and from her wold The lovelorn Whippoorwill confidingly Tells to the stars her tenderest misery Then hath our Earth a nocturne manifold; Who wide-awake in Slumber's soothy pillow The while doth Dawning hark to chaunticleers And young Favonius sings a song o' willow Hath heard no matins? For him Midas' ears Were fitter far: for him Apollo's thrill — O! Is not, nor is the music of the spheres. 56 ON FAME AND FATE Because I dreamt last night I wore a crown Of Goldenrod and Poppies intertwined My brain grew turbulent as billows blown In panting gulfs Magellan erst did find, And waking quite to circumnavigate Its zones, its boundaries, its girdles well Saw a Volcano rise with Vapors fell From depths chaotic; these were Fame and Fate; P'ame, that bold siren born of feverish blood, And Fate, those circling fumes of red and gold — Incentives high! — Beware ye young and old, The crater lies below, an awful flood — Beware, ye young and old: Fame's but a fad; What than a worthy name were better had ? LOVELY THE BREEZES THAT HAVE BLOWN EREWHILE Lovely the breezes that have blown erewhile O'er clovered lawns what time the swallows sung; Lovely the vesper bell, when loud its tongue To Echo spake: Lovely Milady's smile; Lovely the skies, for Dian to beguile Endymion with dreams hath softly sprung Far from her Moon: then back the stars among To quell them ! envious elves ! she frowns awhile ; But lovelier far those times, dear cousin May When thy sweet voice like to a rose of yore Breathed blandly of the happy, happy day That never shall return ; the anguish sore Felt for a heart at rest: — such thoughts as they Thy singing brought, and many others more. 57 AT MY FRIEND'S GRAVE Wherefore this pain, this heartache manifold? This intermittent illness of the soul; Dimly around me verdurous mounds enfold The Embryo phantoms. Sombre-sad do toll My heavy heart chimes. Grief is ever spry : Who has not seen her lurk within a flower? Or brush her locks in anguish from her eye; Or motionless like Silence tell the hour A mortal grew immortal? What a sigh Inherits Misery! As in a dream I contemplate, and isolated seem; I dare not look where tombs be cold and bare; I can but guess the Roses, and his name: Beauty is blurred, — imprisoned everywhere! IF I SHOULD NEVER OPE MY EYELIDS MORE If I should never ope my eyelids more As down I lay me to a night's repose What words, however feeling, might disclose That spirit which were present heretofore? Kinsfolk of mine ! ye whom I well adore How might I guess what utterance arose Deep from your parched throats? — Could ye sup- pose I viewed, O friends, Life's paradise of yore? Beloved, my best Beloved, what words were thine Didst thou, thou guardian angel of my heart, Resigned, near this wretched couch of mine Preside a Psyche? Thus from me apart I wonder might I, of thy love condign, Share aught with Death, Beloved as thou art. 58 WHAT A SPARROW CHIRPED Behold me on this maple-tree whose boughs Sparkle of ice-stalactites — even here I chirp perennial song — hear ye about Earth's snowy diamonding? 'tis of my song. Hear ye about the Year's fresh vernal dawn? And of its June? And of its wintry moon? What time the hiving Bee disports himself In Honeysuckle bells heard ye my song? Daily ye heard it, — heard it but to say Thou art despised in general of man: Yet even so dear is life unto a sparrow, To me, and to my birdling brood, as that Which He beyond the Moon and Sun and stars Conferred on ye, by trick of chance, born human. ON THE BIRD MURDERERS {After seeing a Kingfisher's plumage on a Lady's hat.) Accursed be the murderous hand that slew Thee, winged fisher of the lakeland stream, And such as thee. God grant he well may rue His deed, who, with an impious self esteem Kills living Nature and the Poet's dream; — Wretches, for mercy should ye sometime sue On bended knee, what souls ye taught to scream Shall plead for ye, and all your hated crew? No Egret, gunshot, or her perished young, No Halcyon like this untimely dead, No Carolina Paroquet, or tongue Of Bullfinch, or birds else, whose blood ye shed, Nor yet, foul murderers, for ye is sung By Vanity aught henceforth in their stead. 59 TO SOLITUDE Might I, O Solitude, thy lover be Not to Earth's dungeons gloomed, where Dis re- poses, Would I repair, but to the green Year's posies — Nature's repository. Thou with me Shouldst sit for long, sweet child of sorcery Where lilacs scent the moonlight — or wildroses At noon to June the perfumed sun discloses Honeyed with bees, — if so it pleased thee. Wide is thy universe O Solitude! Winter and Summer, Spring and Autumn hours Guard thee — and Sleep: hence, art thou to be wooed One needs with thee must seek the sweetest flow- ers — June's harebell, August's gentian, skyey-blued, April's Azalia, — and kindred powers. RETROSPECTION Spring's is a bubblesome bird-song — at the drink. The crazy geese quack in the watery pool; The boys are marbling to and from Time's school ; And in May's meadows, hark, the Bobolink Sings what green pebbly brooks would, as I think. — All-Fool's Day hath each truckled soul a fool; Out are the Northern Lights; — yet boggy-cool Easter's blue Pasques with glorious sun-gems wink; 'Tis the green hour of Youth and Love-in-shadows ! What heart alive but breathes the lover's tale? I hear Night whisp'ring to the weeping willows, And when the stars Earth's silvery scents exhale, I hear again what to his Nightingale Sang Adonais thiough the Kilbourn meadows. 60 ON CERTAIN CAVILERS OF MR. RICH- ARD MANSFIELD Mansfield, whose genius lifts the Mimetic Art Above itself, despite applause and rage Has come into his own ; nor to assauge The criticaster's grief shall he depart Our stage less than a master. Tho' Delsarte, Incarnate, fuss and fume ; tho' Fustian wage War on Minerva's temples, yet do sage And histrion applaud his mind and heart. What think ye, Crotchets, to your deathless shame, Ye'd war on Life, the multitudinous? The great good actor lives in deed and name A Protean ; dies deathlessly — and thus When in Time's wings waits the stage Proteus Where shall ye be whose folly is your fame? JOHN KEATS At florid Dawn, when incense borne aloft Presages to the blue Heavens Earth's green love, A fount I seek, whereby a beauteous Dove Cooeth, and listens to his distant croft; Of Helicon, to me, the sacred shrine Is mirrowed here, for in the watery glow Looks from my book a face whose only woe Is deathless Beauty's, youthful and benign: 'Tis Keats, Lorenzo of his Basil theme, The Porphyro of Eventide and Dawn. 'Tis Keats, Endymion of this, my dream — Eternal consort of Hyperion! Absorbed I stand as stood in days agone Narcissus gazing in the vacant stream. 61 ON WHISTLER'S PAINTING: "THE AN- GRY SEA" This tells me life's worth living after all. That tho' Greed sore oppress and Envy goad To quick retaliation the uncowed, The indomitable soul that is withal Most sensitive among the sons of men — Yet he in Art's Valhalla who can paint Like to this Master, leaves his very saint On the trembling temples of the Phidian : Oh, if ever I have felt Celestialcy — The true, the great, the ever handsome might Of human effort, it was while the story Of Genius, struggling like a Child for Light Hurled me upon the wild waves hoary-dight, Breathless, without a thought save that of Glory! 6* SONGS A WILD ROSE (Love Song.) Take it. A Wild Rose, dear, — from me, The darling ensign of a love; 'Tis Summer's gift, and tenderly It breathes of thee. Within its heart, a poem I see; Within each petal, dear thy face; Within its soul, unconsciously, Thy grace is free. But where art thou? — Not here with me? I do mistake, for me 'tis Fall — And Summer's dead. Oh, Misery; My visions flee! THINE ABSENCE I A Rose is dying, A Hope is crying, A Heart is sighing, Love for Thee! II The Rose is dead, The Hope hath fled, The Heart hath bled, For Thee. 63 Ill Oh, Heartless roaming! Oh, Soulless homing! Alone in gloaming / mourn thee! SLEEPLESS DREAMINGS Blow, gently blow- Sweet zepher of the night, And fan my throbbing heart While I in starry light, Dream, dream of love. Swell, music, swell, Thou melody of eve, And breathe into my soul Sad, plaintive songs which leave The brain in tears. Smile Stars, O smile, Ye peaceful elves above: Bestow a ray of Hope To nourish dying Love, And bid him live. Pale, Moonbeams, pale And lonely vigils keep ; Obscure the misty cloud While I in amorous sleep Dwell with my love! 64 LET US TO THE DEEP- WOOD WANDER Let us to the Deep-wood wander You and I, While vernal clouds hide sunbeams under, In the Sky. Ah my Dian don't stand and ponder Inert and shy, ( ) pry thee come, love grows the fonder Tho' we sigh. Away. I'll wreathe for you, dear maiden A coronal Of Bluets, speedwells, all inlayden With Bluebell ! MAY DAY— 1902 'Tis Spring. 'Tis Spring, The birds awing. Merrily, Verily Sing Of Spring. 'Tis Spring. 'Tis Spring, Flora's awing, Fairily Airily Doth she bring The flowers o' Spring! 65 AUTUMNAL LEAVES Autumnal Leaves, my Love, are sadly falling; Theirs the red splendour of a dying day — And Nature's soul, unites with mine, recalling A stifled love — a wilted flow'r of May. As through the shaded wood I slowly wander, A pensive spirit keeps my thoughts apart; Of leaves, my love, the desolated grandeur Lends sympathy unto my aching heart, And now of Nature's grief the very flower thou art! SOFT GLEAMS Soft gleams are drowsy this eve, The Moon nods roguishly, He peers from out his veil Rapturously. Soft gleams tint red the Dawn The horizon blushes; The Sun swoons gildingly O'er meadow rushes. Soft gleams faint on the Sea In feeble splendour The blue waves tremblingly Breathe music tender. 66 I DO NOT LOVE THEE— I ADORE! While golden morn is breaking While apple blooms are flaking, While rosy beams are shaking, I do not love Thee, Nay, but I adore! E'en tho' a Rose is fainting, E'en tho' the air 'tis tainting, E'en tho' red Grief 'tis painting, I love Thee not, No, No, but I adore! And when the Dusk is pending, And when the Moon 's attending, And when the Stars are bending I do not love Thee, I — well I adore! A PANSY FOR THOUGHTS The flower of my preferment, I hand thee ere we part; Exhaling in wilted fragrance, The breaking of a heart ! 'Tis the Pansy sweet, instilling A cheerless grief in me; And, AH, when it dies unwilling, 'Tis as my love for thee! My love which I fain would stifle, But which o'ermasters me I give, in the thoughtful Pansy; 'Tis as my love for thee! 67 THREE SEASONS With pensive sadness twined round my heart, I silent muse, within a songful bower, And fain would name Three Seasons of a love To liken each unto a kindred flower. First dawn of hope — the hawthorn I declare The Bitter-sweet for doubt; pale summer's guest; For fall, a withered astor, as despair — Which breathes the spirit of a fruitless quest ! A fruitless quest! BEAUTY'S GARDEN In Beauty's sunlit garden I ever see a Rose; Dazzlingly beautiful, Charmingly dutiful, It grows. My heart keeps green this garden, Nor suffers it to die. And often dreamily It conquers beamily A sigh! 68 A DECEMBER IDYL Full glorious the night; A flood of cold Moonlight Hovers on crusted snows; Gently a glad breeze blows Against My Lady's face: In manner, ah most meek Behold her rosy cheek Glows with a fairy grace Past all recording; Certes rewarding Who loves the lovely ever. Ah, dearest, who could sever His gaze from thine? Harte Mine! I see thy tresses raven, With a Moonlit softness paven! Silvery silver night! What ghosts of fled Delight Revivest thou? Fond sleigh Make once again your way Thro' wayward driven snows, Trackless save of the Moon, Blue-lipped and starry viewn; In picturesque repose Remote the dingle And shadows mingle With magic fullness lonely: Whither? I know not, only Wherever she Agree There may we speed and fleetly — With stars, snow, bells and sweetly! 69 HONOR THE ELEMENT OF MIND Painting. I stood by the side of a fairy-blown fountain Which trickled its waters on wild Roses red, While perfumed a spray seemed to float and descend on Cool mosses which slept in a warm, vernal bed. Music. And then came a strain of soft music entrancing From some hidden sources unknown save of rest, And saw I a vision of joyous maids dancing With her quite surrounded whom I love the best. Sculpture. O statues, cold figures of classical marble Ye next, with white Wisdom, came gently to view, And mute flitting phantoms of Genius did warble The harsh world's injustice: alas but too true! Poetry. And last tho' not leastwise, I saw a poor poet, Perhaps but a rhymster of slumbering verse ; Enough said, my burthen dear readers, ye know it, — A plea for the title of this poem terse. 70 AT THE FULL OF THE MOON At the full of the moon The dear, the dutiful Milady Beautiful I kissed in silver slumber: Those eyes of her's like Faun's, Her cheeks — Venetian dawns: Ah, could I kiss them, late or soon, Times without number! Her voice how silver still ! Her heart, it beats a ditty Heard but by me and Pity In silver slumber lying: Would, would, 'twere ever so! Those lips my Loveliest — O Against my own — I thrill! — They press, replying! Do, Silence eloquent Go breathe my prayer to her — My Heart's sweet slumberer: From silver sleep absent her: For I am weak and faint And thou art my Love's saint; Sweet Silence, from Heaven sent Be thou my mentor! SEPTEMBER I saw September in her sober bourne Of tangled grape-vines watching listlessly The Summer leaves, of living lustre shorn, And smiling as with mellow sovereignty Her soft influence turned all hues, forlorn, She symbol'd sorrow's mutability. 71 How sweetly sad the interwreathed gloom Pervades her chamber; as in sacredness, Each liege of Flora, they of Summer doom, Yield up their ghosts, and some be odorous. The Sunflower, Pickerel weed and other bloom Upon her altar, immolate their cause! Immaculate ruin. Enweaved with gold The foliage gleams. Aurora's silver light Fades to an afterglow. All uncontrolled The sense of Languor ebbs into the might Of Solitude, as may in flowery mould A Fay be gently lain from peevish sight. AN AUTUMNAL SERENADE Sweet Isabelle, I love thee, dearest, well. In the leafed brown of this Autumnal gloaming My heart at length will cancel its sad roaming, And thou above My head art smiling, Love, I see thy face; festooned, thy tresses flowing: All beautiful, my Empress, all unknowing, May I salute thy Roses, Dove? Brown, golden, red, Their loveliness unfled The dying leaves a sweet complaint are utt'ring- Now even so my weary heart is flutt'ring: Thro' tendrils green I do discern my Queen — Her hands upon the window sill soft-resting; The light of love unto my soul attesting Not vain a Poet's hope hath been. 72 All! Violin Tin tenderest tones begin: Lei old Romance tell pleasance to this Even; Mercurial the Moonlight hazes Heaven, ' )n earth the light Melts into darkling night: — Sweet Isnbelle. altho' thy name is other No name, to me, could so well hint another, For she's a bell of beauty quite. She is a belle, my heart's! — the lovely wight! HYMN TO APOLLO Magisterial God Didst thou not hearken well When mighty Homer's lyre Thrilled pinnacle and spire Of Genius? Prithee, tell! Didst thou not listen rapt When Milton, golden themed, Thundered sweetly? When First Shakespere's awful Pen Wrote blazing thought? When beamed The fostered Delphic shrine With luxuries up-piled — The which one Chaucer cast? Awoke thy soul aghast When Chatterton, sad child, From Bristol's hopeful bourne His homage tendered thee? As Shelley sang and Keats Performed lyric feats Apollo, hearkened ye? 73 Dear Delian Power, Fair Phoebus of the bow- Full oft have I beheld The Oracle, while welled Grecian dreams, Apollo: And now when I behold Atop the glowing hill Thy golden self the shade Of great God doth pervade My soul, and how I thrill ! THE YEAR IS A POET The Year is a poet, as I guess Various of guises; His calendar is, more or less, A bard's — of sweet surprises; The spring is his love-lyric, Birds sing its panegyric — His pastoral is Summer That Ruby-throated Hummer! Autumn, spite of minstrelsy Is his leaf-blown threnody; And Winter, else than epic, his Gloria in Excelsis. HYMN TO THE GODDESS DIANA All hail to thee Dian Loved of the Poet clan Unceasingly: O long may she Endure as ages hear Dearer and yet more dear A sweet succeeding minstrelsy. 74 Permit my young desires To reach thine cars tho' sires Of glorious verse Lengthly and terse From Grecian Isles and Rome Have sought thy skyey home, Wingless; whose works the stars rehearse. Goddess Imperial Hail to thy conched shell! Hail to thy crown Of starry down ! And to thee, heavenly One Lustrous as is the Sun, — Bright huntress of the starry chase. The might of mighty bards Palsies my pen — retards My dreams. I fail When Songsters pale From Britain's lyric land Sweet-voiced, and grave and grand, Re-sing — I stutter all — all hail! SIR VALENTINE AND MADELINE A Love Lyric 'O how often in the gloam Darling, have I thought of thee When the stars were all at home Round blue Heavens silverly; When Favonius fell asleep On some wilding flow'rs — ah me! Even Silence slumbered deep When I longed, O Madeline, 75 Did you smile alluringly To sign me, your — Sir Valentine!' Milady sleeps, poor tired soul! She sleepeth: Lo, how beautif'ly; Her graces who would not extol? She wakes! she wakes! half-drowsily Neath her casement, one may see White carnations on her brow; Pink carnations (sweet they be) In her cheeks — but woe betide! One awakens to find now On one's pillow tear drops dried ! A MUSKETEER THANKSGIVING At ye hostelry Straight dismount full merrily Musketeers of aspect fierce: Gascons, whose sharp swords have ears. Grouping proud the table round Jerkin-buffed, and battle-browned, These be men full brave I trow, More courageous live none now. Wine, Mine Host, fill full the cup. Wine, 'ma foi, J ere these men sup, Wine, the sparkling soul of grape, A thing of good, of evil shape. Drink ye all, and all partake Of game and cold fowl and of cake While the fireplace nothing slow Gives the room a roaring glow. 76 Fades the scene full faraway, Fades this scene that on a day At the tavern Graces Three, In Perigord, Gascony Hapt 1 ween in rich Romance; Happened an age most hence, Guardsmen whereso'er ye be Think ye yet on Chivalry? THE SWEETNESS OF WORMWOOD "Oh, the Sweetness of the Pain!" — Keats. What of Life, — and what of Death? What the last expiring breath? Drinking Beauty, 'spite the Bane — Ah, the bitter-sweet of Pain! Joy was born a healthful child, Sorrow, jealous, him beguiled; Hope is lined with Fear's alloy — Ah, the saddened heart of Joy! Anguish smiles, and Laughter weeps, Mirth is deaf, and Glory sleeps, Intermingling with the Tear Ah, the deadened hope of Fear! 77 QUIZZICAL SENSIBILITY Dost thou hear the Cricket soliloquize In his snug retreat, at Moonrise ? I wonder what he says; Canst thou enlighten me? I think it well may be: "I'm free! I'm free! I'm free! Always. I'm wiser far than Man! Of a delightful day I can Without a thought of gold, wander away!" In the swamp, O hearest thou the frog Croaking, whilst his shadowy bog Echoes right merrily? I wonder what his speech? If thou'rt aware, beseech I you, wise one, to teach It me At once, for weaklings we May ever learn that the Small Bee, Or Spider, Ant, or Cricket deftly may Broaden our mental zone; therefore 'tis wise For us the humble ne'er despise, But hearken very well To voice of every mite. Thus I suspect that quite A large degree of sight Shall tell More of God's mystery So vast, so unconfined! And we May profit much thereby, with soul unblind! 78 FESTIVAL Sad is my heart. Approach ye Muses Cheer me ; Come those classic faces ! Sing to me while Daylight loses Her identity. While mellow silver traces Of even hover in the Twilight ; While the Sun sinks beamily In the couch of flaming Night! Come bestow your melody. My soul would rest on Latmos Plains With Endymion and fair — Away dank vintage. Distilled drains Cannot cheer the brow of Care; Orpheus stroke thou thy lyre. Grant my uttermost desire Come, oh come, each welcome guest, Terpsichore, Calliope, Erato, and Aphrodite, Oh, companions, round me cluster, Let mine eye drink in Fame's lustre, And be Beauty blessed. Come ye Nymphs, ye Fauns, ye Dryads, Come ye Mermaids, and ye Naiads, Mingle in our melody. Speed ye Graces to our aid, Join ye Sylphs from dell and glade Join our minstrelsy! Sweetest Hebe toast each guest! Soothly I am thine confessed ! 79 A FAIRY SONG I held a Rose, And the sweet flow'r faded — Miserere, miserere! I watched it close Its petals vaded — Miserere, miserere; Why permit it, sweetest Fairy? I saw a bird ; Its poor wing broken — Miserere, miserere! I never heard A heart more spoken — Miserere, miserere! Some cruel boy Gave sore annoy This harmless creature, wretched boy ! Miserere, miserere! Why permit it, lovely Fairy? I loved a Love, Which Love she was naughty — Miserere, miserere! Lovely as dove, But as Juno haughty Miserere, miserere! Why permit it, pretty Fairy? The Rose died ; The Bird cried! But Love it is beautiful still! And wretch that am I, Through many a sigh, 80 At sweet, sombre beauty I thrill! Miserere, miserere! Dost thou blame me, dearest Fairy? SLEIGH BELLS Jolly, jingling sleigh bells, In the frosty air, I listen to your chiming Through the fields and dells, And wish that I in rhyming Might keep a kindred timing, While sweet my soul was climbing To pleasures anywhere. Bells of mirth and music, Bells of tuneful noise, Bells forever singing Praises to St. Nick; Bells on bob-sleds ringing, Merry coasters singing, While the nerves are springing Healthful, ye rejoice! How I love the burthen Flowing from your tongues; Hurrah for winter glory, Born of dreamings when Hearth, and twilight hoary Old of song and story, Mingle hues in glory, While ye vent your lungs! 81 ELEMENTS, ELFINS, AND ETHICS An Eclogue. A Rainbow, Ravonia. A Sunbeam, Beametta. A Cloud, Clouda. Rain. Thunder. Lightning. A Fairy Chorus. (Beametta and Clouda encounter one another in Elfland, situate in Etheria.) Clouda : Fairest Fairy, whither going ? Beametta : To the brooklet's silver flowing. Clouda: Wherefore make such rosy haste? Beametta : Roses plucked go fast to waste. Thro' thy robe of ebon frail Darts of brilliances prevail: Lightning threatens — Clouda: 'Tis afar, Never need thee — Beametta : In my car Or chariot of furbished gold Haste I must; tho' nothing told Fear is huge when shades appear, Autumn mists hide Winter sere, Lurk in ambush ruthless foes Known of none save salient Woes, 82 Lurks the Lightning's warning fell, So, kind fairy, a farewell. Clouda : Groundless fears Sighs and tears — Beametta: Clouda, I will see thee more On the sweet Ozonian shore Built of blossoms freely blown From Queen Flora's regal throne, We will breathe in flow'ry breaths, — Hope alone hath many deaths, Therefore it is best avoid Moody thoughts with Anguish cloyed; Fall these oft to mortal lot But immortals know them not. Farewell ! Clouda : (Embrace, and Beametta wings away.) O fervent spell Thou art broken — warm thy glance Fell on golden dalliance. Ah, I love, and what is love? Talisman intact above : Gentler than a cooing dove To the sense is soothing love: Words too soft these times belie, Fearful frowns the darksome sky: Away ! Away ! Nor seek to stay : Fates are rueing, Storms are brewing! (Flys away) Enter Thunder: With a crash and rugged roar Herald I the Stormking hoar, 83 Vulcan doth his anvil strike: (Clamor Jove must need belike,) Jupiter, a javelin Hurls into the awful din: Powerful we Sprites of Terror's minstrelsy! Lightning: \dd I wreckage to the blast, ; Rain h assed: < rerful we Sprites of Terror's minstrelsy! Rain: Discord wears a winsome smile, We seem harmless but in guile Work most direful revelry As the flood-tides well agree: Powerful we Sprites of Terror's minstrelsy! ( The Elements rage, and fleet before Ravonia and Fairy Chorus.) Ravonia : Hearken, lovely Elfins, hark. To Ozonia bends my arc, Luminous the path and clear Leads to Faydom, never fear; Purple, green, the way, and red By reason of the royal tread Of goodly Mab and Oberon: Footprints of the Fairy train Sinking in the Sun's gold wane And tracked thence my plains upon. Fairy Chorus: Thither, thither will we go Where leads this, thy beautied bow! Ravonia : Well done 84 Chorus: I -^wcar by crown of Oberon! All that Beauty may avow Straightway I shall show thee now. Follow, follow, where we're bade Fairies ne'er can be misled, Follow ^wift Ravonia dear, Flutt'ring thro' the heavenly air Nothing need we fear To dare, Love and Beauty's everywhere! Ravonia : Soothly, 'tis a fair response Off let's hasten us at once. (they vanish all; the hues fade) (Shades of Ethics' disciples arise.) Philosopher: Heard I not a rush of wings? A ripple from Satanic springs? Perforce 'twas but a Nightingale Winging thro' a lonely vale. Perforce it were an Angel's tear Dropping down from regions drear: Fact from Beauty is estranged When one is 'gainst the other ranged. Painter : Canvas take a fitting mold. Poet: My brain is burning — words are cold! Madly flow my soul in verse! Musician: Softened strains, my lyre, rehearse. Sculptor: Marble link with Fancy brown. 85 Fame: All I give a laurel crown. Thorns in life shall intertwine But dissolve when death is thine! SATANESS Tho' a wretch perchance I be, Born of mirth and misery When the stars for very shame Fled the night, who is to blame Demon! that thou hatest me? Love-sick I am still for thee. Supplications, vows, — travail, All had been without avail Didst thou not at set of moon To Love's lute thy passion tune: Then it was, that, flusht and pale I had died of love and ail. Come, and ope thy soul to me — Like the Evening Primrose be; Come and faint upon my breast As the Moon to Heaven is pressed: Come, my Sataness to me — Oh! I love thee utterly! FRAGMENT— GENIUS Genius? Who hath that sacred spark? The mortal soaring up like lark Through blue ethereal, Exploring skyey sites at will — The poet's province? Or that man Half crazed, who frets beneath the ban 86 Of Envy, Malice, Poverty; For what? That after-ages see A silver signet? Or is it The worldly wight, bereft of wit Who flatters fumblers? Where is bred This flame divine? Or in the head Or in the heart? What is the king? Or conqueror? or anything A sage or clown betwixt, when realms Shall sink? when chaos overwhelms The world : when nears to nothingness And night this planet? Who may guess? MAYFLOWERING Will we go Mayflowering After this warm showering Scents the foliage of spring? Answer Mabel mine. See, the sun is dowering Wood and hill, and bowering Many a bough are birds awing This day, indeed, how fine! In the sky a cloud is not, But a rainbow lingers — what Dear, prevents our holidaying? Soothly come, let's go a-Maying While the hollow of the hills With a magic glory thrills; Soothly never answer nay; Take a basket; we will gather In this fresh, delightful weather From the hill, the field, the pool, Flowers and ferns and grasses cool. 87 FRAGMENT LIFE What is life? Much of strife, Many tears — many toys, Many fears — many joys, Much of hope — In sun and lightning Much to grope. AT SIOUX CITY: PERRY CREEK. here near the creek At hide-and-seek 1 could tag my Youth in a green recess Where the blue-eyed Spring With her tenderest wing Reclothed the desolate wilderness. Upon the green shore I could linger more Till Summer fluttered out of a rose; Till waft-balls light Toward Heaven took flight — And here could I stay till the season's close. 88 NOVEMBER SONG The boughs are bare, And here and otherwhere Brown leaves lie dead, A mantle for the Ice King's tread, But brave and fair Do not despair For flowers will wed Another year. Done is the day In early deepest gray: Anon dull red The fiery Sun's great ghost is shed In skyey grey Now Nightfall may Blot out the red To cancel day. Ho, in the glare From the hearth's fitful fire Will cluster we While the wild wind moans ghostily From chimney-where: To listen there High deeds in the Pages of war. L'Envoi Ah, brave and fair, Do not despair For flowers will wed Another year. 89 AN ELDEN VALENTINE A Ballad When "dauntless Aella fray'd the Dacian foes" {Somewhat in the manner of Chatterton) One golde redde morne a daie of olde Whanne maydes were fayre and knyghts were bolde A lass a letter dydd receive Fromme her espoused, Lorde Grcneve, Whyche same she loste ne tyme to rede For urgente was thatte selfsame nede. (Therefore she onne the contents fedde) And gentle reder thys ytte sayde: "Ladye: Thys howre I do departe Fromme warre to clayme mie deare Sweet- hearte Fayre Clarimonde, soe tender true, Soe yonge, soe gracefulle, nobille too; Fromme bugle blastes and myckle woe To thee mie thoughts wyth ardour goe. The warre's ne moe, and soe I leave For thee, mie Swete — Thine, Lorde Greneve." Whyle whytest lillies rounde her grewe, And reddest roses, fragraunt too, A teare of joie felle fromme her eyne As she softe murmured: "Hearte myne!" 90 CELESTE Ballad An incident in the life of a certain clergyman Their Wedding Day ! How red it dawned ! How fair the groom, how blond the bride! Untrammel'd walked she at his side — Her joyance past profound! Of Summer eves, this self-same way In languishment they linger'd sweet, And read: then homeward bent their feet When Dusk had won the Day. Ah me! is ever joy ordain'd? Were ever grief impalpable? Many a love-tale did they tell, Of Vesper heard, while waned This lovely day, and thence repair The twain unto the cottage soon As hazy twilights of the Moon Bloomed blue an evening rare. Without the mansion, Summer flow'rs Resigned fragrance to the breeze; Within the murmurous ecstacies Told of young nuptial-hours! As in a wakeful dream he hears Her gentle voice, nor swerves his gaze From her's. He seems to hear in 'maze, The music of the spheres! 91 Would I might leave them haply so! But it were vain to hope such bliss Upon a planet cruel as this Where Joy, seen close, is woe. Oft is it proved, and proved full well The serpent hisses in the Rose, The red Sun hides the Cloud morose, The Ugly freights the beautiful! Ah, bride and groom so soon to be, Thy nuptial rites are still afar, They'll fade as Hesperus, sweet star Sinks in the skyey sea! "Where is the bride? Celeste my bride? My throat is parched, — cannot speak! A moment since at hide-and-seek She left! Where is the bride?" In consternation, faces 'ghast They pause, then institute a search And bright the Moon, celestial torch, Aids till the Night is past. With morn full wild the bride-groom haunts A dingy room, where is a chest: He calls her name: "Celeste! Celeste!" And fancies a response. Cold moonbeams sleep within the hall. He listens! Did she moan? or sigh? Is't but a fancy? O I'd die This anguish to forestall! 92 Of others, he betimes is sought — "'Twas but a chimera forlorn:" Anew they search till starless morn And find the lady not! Goeth the servant to convey The silver service to the chest: Draweth the lid: "O sweet Celeste! Woe! Woe! betide this day!" Quickly she summons searchers all, And there — O horrid to expound! — In chest, her bloodless body found : The groom seemed like to fall! Speechless as marble cold he stood Over the wretched iron-bound chest And in death's beauty, bridal drest, The hapless bride he view'd ! Pallid as ivory in thrall Absent he murmur'd half aloud : "Thus is the bridal gown her shroud! The bridal rose her pall!" BEAUTY Where was Beauty born, sweet Beauty? She was born of Love and Duty, Nor on earth, in Lark-a-Day, Elysium, nor Arcady — But a time when Sun and Moon Met at Jove's high court: 'twas noon. All the Fairies danced — the dears! — To the music of the spheres — The Three Graces, too, were present, 93 As was Cupid adolescent — Yea, the whole of Fairydom To that meeting-place was come Where the clouds shone clear as morn, Where sat daylight stars sun-scented, There was darling Beauty born: But a kiss of Love conceived her — Phoebus and Dian received her As their own — the Nymph consented. Such was her immortal birth, Yet on this, our pleasant earth, Like the spirit that she is Many births hath she: what bliss To discover them, each one — Sooth, 'twould take a Protean Half his days but to commence; There she is: the darling child! Her manner meek, a redolence Clinging to her tresses wild — O could shepherd Pan behold her All his flocks he would forget, All the Dryads, — every pet Might he neglect to once enfold her To his breathless heart: she's gone Even as a startled Faun : Follow to the wildwoods, follow! Culling flowers in the hollow — Like to Ceres' Prosperine At Enna — yes, but she'll not stay For any Pluto, be he fine As silk, to spirit her away! There she is: the darling child! Ever thoughtless! ever wild! 94 On her brow are Easter lilies, And Pansies that in Paradise Grow as wild as Daffodillies Do on earth — there ! in a trice She hath darted: follow, follow! Ride thee on the wings of Swallow, Or on those of Butterflies, Else that blue-eyed Beauty hies Far from thee and human ties — O follow! follow! follow! There she is: If thou hast flown In swift pursuit thou tarriest now At her bounds, a mighty zone That girdles Earth and Heaven, — How Beautiful is Beauty smiling! Every loveliness is here. Her time away each Sylph is whiling, Yet Time but fades to reappear — Here are rainbows beautier Than ever Science scattered afar; Here are sights that sages hoary Never dreamed of in all their glory: — Yet their texture intermingles With what Earth hath : twilight ingles, Bird-choirs hymning seasons three, The Ghost of winter ecstacy! St. Jacob's ladder on the Skies, And Milky Ways to Paradise, And St. John Evangelist's Seven gold candlesticks, and mists That heavenly be: all these and more: Shadows of sweet scents, the roar Of noiseless cataracts, — the boon Surpassing all, when Summer's moon Sings silver music to the stars — 95 Such-like is what Beauty brings Down from Heaven — wordless things! Such her texture is. When bars Skyey and dark drop sultry rains; When in twilight window panes Looks a sunset face; when sire And Household hug the drowsed fire; When the banked house is warm Listening to the frozen storm; Or, when Circus comes a day And Childhood wakes with Dawning grey- Then hath Beauty that sweet miss Lurked unseen, O there she is! Like as blown soap-bubbles burst, All their mirages dispersed — Like as th' iced frost-crystal fadeth When its pane Apollo raideth — Like as wilted flowers when their Souls have flown into the air — So is Beauty come and gone, Elusive, changeable as Dawn. Many times as by design Whether rain or whether shine, Tho' Autumn acorns lie around Fallen upon a frosty ground ; Tho' our earth be in a spell Where the sleety hailstones fell, Hath that Beauty, peerless miss! Lurked unseen, O there she is! There she is ; no birdy brogue Beside the Bluejay's, — pretty rogue, Shall she hear. — The Thrush hath flown Sometime since to a sunnier zone; 96 Oriole no more is heard, Nor Ruby-throated Hummingbird; Whistling Meadowlark is seen No more, nor on the evergreen Purple Grackles squeak: heigh ho Beauty is Thought, Thought flieth — O! Thrasher thrashes now no tail, Finch he stayeth not, and frail Summer Wren, she shaketh not; Sooty chimneys smoking hot Hide no Swifts; no Yellowhammer Digs in search of ants; the clamor Of English Sparrows fills the air, — Yet here's Beauty everywhere. Red-head-Woodpeck beaks no tree; Black-billed Cuckoo elsewhere cooeth; Chewink says no tow-hee-hee; Pewee plaineth not nor rueth; Vireo no longer wingeth Here, nor Vesper Sparrow singeth His evening vespers; Wild Canaries Would scorn these forked shrubs: none tarries. Tho' these birds they all have flown, Beauty never is alone. Redpolls, Juncos, Snowflakes she Loves, and the Blackcapped Chickadee. — Here she lingers — off she flies — Restless child — O there she lies Asleep in flowers! O, lovely, she Many a time hath come to me: Disguised once she broke my slumbers Whispering in mine ear such numbers As would weave a diadem For me, could I remember them! 97 "Thou art but a youth" says she, "I the Muse of Minstrelsy" — Said she'd teach me all of glory Did I listen to her story; Said — I waked — but lovely She When first I saw her I resolved That, whatsoever it involved, Soon a poet I should be. SIBYL SONG False-heartedly I Alluring lie In wait for victims many: I woo rare and sigh — They do, dare and die, For too well 'tis known that a sibyl I Have not of pity any. My kisses breed shame! My embrace the same! My passion engulfs the unwary: My love is a flame Devouring nor tame — The daughter true of Glory and Shame I am a demon fairy. How sweet is my smile! How subtle my wile — O often I goad men to madness And that which is vile I love all the while; Seductive am I of veriest guile Nor given much to sadness. 98 Tho' strange it may seem Awake in a Dream Some call me siren Circe — And other folk deem Me (while I scream Of caverns tawdry, of lightning agleam) La Belle Madame Sans Merci! ROMANTICISM Are those days forever fled? Of Romance the heralded? Shall we never see them more Gallantly as heretofore Echo non-complying? Gypsies in the brown yestreen Dancing to the tambourine: Echo un-replying? — Days of Outlawry if ever Ye pass current fright us never — For 'tis nothing but the name — Outlawry, and dear to Fame: Come, my friend the hearth-stone by Snugly, while a warmed die From the kindly coals attend us And the room in shadows send us On a voyage far away — Thou, too, Fancy, say me yea. Shift the scene to Sherwood old, Marian and Hood behold Indolencing like as when LOFC. 99 Quite surround by Morris Men They made merry one and all — Is Tradition but a pall? Shift the scene: knight errantry Buds and bursts in flower, — see The feudal castle: Lady Vain A 'kerchief flaunts — with might and main Two contestants, sword and shield, Battle wage: may Sir Knave yield! These bear bravely, but for all Is Tradition but a pall ? Shift the scene: in royal courts The Troubadour himself disports Wedding Music unto Verse — Is Tradition but a hearse? Ah! and darling Chatterton Dauntless antiquarian — Woe is me; my eyes grow dim How Tradition handles him! Shift the scene: D'Artagnan follows With the Guardsmen Three; and wallows In a bloody pool the Don — O that bullfights were all gone! — 'Mid a clash of ringing steel Feudal lords make woe and weal — Shift the scene: there's Cyrano 'Gainst a hundred men, or so — Glory! what a parlous sight! Old Tradition; where's your light? Archers, can ye bear your part Before old Richard Lion Heart ?- IOO Guelph and Ghibclline, adieu: Are there plenty more like you ? — Like Rob Roy? Like Roderick? Like Magregor — ye Scotch clique? Like "The Cid ?" — and Spanish henchmen? Like Villon and fellow Frenchmen? Like the lovers Rimini? Yes ! and tho' they needs must be Few perhaps and far between, Them Tradition's hand shall wean From the present for the morrow: Therefore let's not say with sorrow Days of Chivalry are flown Idyllic Brigandage (?) unknown Tho' the Crusades are past history And the Morris Men are mystery — But come, let's think full hard upon And discuss it pro and con: Echo un-replying? Echo non-complying. ON COMING ACROSS A BLUEBELL IN A SEPTEMBER RAMBLE Wherefore did Summer leave thee alone Brave Bluebell-flower unless it be That tho' to Flora she was flown She yet would hear thy constancy Ring out, albeit saddishly? Fame, like a star at noon is unseen But comes it late to glorious power. IOI Such is thy answer as I ween Thou pretty little gritty flower, Thou to whom Autumn shows her dower. AT THE DEATH'S-HEAD A Ballad At the Death's-head Beside old Cross-bone Inn — Where ghosts and spectres revel The livelong night with the devil, I drunk the Wine of Sin! At the Death's-head Ye Gods! what ghoulish glee, — One sat as still as ouzel Whiles madmen in carousal Shriekt love as hate may be! At the Death's-head Some daggers flasht o' moon — Lo! and behold! how bloody! Dark deeds and Passions ruddy Have happened long agoon! THE MONTHS: LIFE'S CALENDAR January is a jewel Sparkling on Milady Cruel; February, sweetheart mine, Is — dear me — a Valentine ! March as lion or as lamb Roars and bleats, a double sham; April, little Easter fool Primps and trots to Sunday-school; 102 May is a flower-girl — pretty May Often with her I've gone to play; June is a love-song, so I've read, June is a dove-song, mote be said; July 's a patriot, and a Polly Prating speeches full of folly; August — August what art thou? A plough-boy dreaming of the plow? September — ah, how can I miss you? Come, sweet bride, and let me kiss you. Old October runs his swale Drunken with brown October ale; November — she is naught save Death, And Dissolution — but December Is a Star who witnesseth And endeth this, our Calendar. TOAST FOR NOEL All hands around And to the sound O' crackling logs and clinking glasses We'll pledge your cause O Santa Claus! We lords and lasses. All hands around! And while from Sound Night's frozen wheels to Silence run, We'll say with him, Youth's Tiny Tim: God bless us, every one! 103 EASTER VILLANELLE Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white — Wilding lilies, lilies tame — Which shall you have for Easter night? Says the wilding lily: I come, a spright Weaned from a watery moon, sweet dame: — Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white. Says the lily tame: From Heaven's height On a martyr's pinions to earth I came: — Which shall you have for Easter night? Which shall you choose, and which shall you slight? The lily wild or the lily tame? Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white. Lilies from ponds all moony bright! Lilies from greenhouses fair of fame! Which shall you have for Easter night? Easter hath all but taken flight! Yet still I linger and more's the blame. Here are Lilies, Darling, yellow and white; I wreathe them together, and so — good night. A BLEAK WINTRY DAY (A Dirge) The North wind is sighing, And snow clouds are flying — Flying away; The sparrows are winging, 104 And drearily singing A noisy lay. The frost trees are weeping, As green buds are sleeping, All frozenly; Nature seems dreary, And soulfully weary — Weary, today. Across the white clearing, A weak Sun is peering In mockery, 'Tis like dull Hope, mourning, In heart which forlorning Thinks not of May. Ah, so let our pining In soul which resigning Greets misery — Choose yet a day clinging To sorrow, and bringing Melancholy. And in the white Gloaming While Fancy is roaming, Abroad with her doom On cold bleak Mooncresting We'll lay Grief a-resting; — Snowbound her Tomb! IN SOOTH— LA In sooth — la — In youth — ah! — I met the sweet Sadie. 105 Than Ruth — ah Or Leutha Was fairer this lady Or Petrarcha's Laura! But, like sweetest Flora, This lady was fadey And— ah! Since youth — la In sooth — ah! I miss my sweet Sadie. GREED He crawls coward in his hut And the rusty hinges shut A creaking door: Within he counts a store Of worldly usury; His form is gaunt, His cheeks are hollow, Stares he on vacancy With horrid ecstacy: And counts, as is his wont The scornings of Apollo! Not mental free is he, But grisly thoughts, rebellious to extol, Are vassals of his craven soul ! 1 06 OF CHILDHOOD REMINISCENT Glory and Gloom attends the man who wends across a field His footsteps reminiscent, whose heart is Youth's revealed. For him is life a labyrinth, and insofar as dreams Wing the immortal spirit, his soul like sunlight beams : But great the change that may be wrought within too few short years, And great the cold rejoicings, and great the truant tears ; Such inward satisfactions and such outward pangs are his! Such joyant recollections and such motley miseries! You scare grasshoppers at your feet, you startle gnats away. From your invasion flees the bee ; in quest of holiday The dragonfly betakes himself flicking a lucent wing, While in the airy blue treetops the guests of Sum- mer sing. The Indigo, the Vireo, and Purple Finches — red, Awake betimes, melodiously, the memories long since fled. Anon in an abstraction gone, you rest, and round your home Childhood is strange and sportive, and you a youth unknown. Unknown the school will stare at you; you pause before its gate ; Inside are growing on the lawn the flowers which you elate 107 In former days made customary. Bells are silent now; Silent the Chalk, silent the Slate, silent the Play- grounds — How Now, how now, thou trickster, Time, durst thou re- vivify Pale Deathless Youth, before Death's scythe? Who with a tearless eye Beholds thee and conjures? O Time where is that loving friend Who, in the dawning halycon, did this same school attend ? Roundly the sun is setting red behind an ebon cloud Whose edge is robed with garish gold — were even such my shroud ! A little of bright brilliance, a little of gross gloom, A little of sad sweetness may well become a tomb: Amen. The Swift his chimney seeks, the Night- hawk preys thro' all The skyey incandescences; — and Night is Twilight's pall. Homeward I wend my footsteps. O, a Youth, at Dusking's hour I'd grow insensate gradually, and die as dies a flow- er. YE DAYS OF CHIVALRY Now uplifts the baron old, Aloft the goblet done of gold, And withouten formal rites Toasteth he the gallant knights Famed high in heraldry: Now the halls ring revelry, Rises full a rugged shout, 1 08 Swells the room with noble rout: Shines on high the grape's ripe juice Held by him in Honor's truce; Happened this full long ago, Else my pen might never know. HALLOWE'EN A Triolet. I'll try a triolet On Hallowe'en, the grandam's plague, When spooks and goblins fret, I'll try a triolet When weird ghost children pet, (Your utmost leniency, I beg) I'll try a triolet On Hallowe'en, the grandam's plague. TO MISERY Wherefore tease me Misery? Come and sit upon my knee; We're friends indeed — And 'tis my meed To entertain thee, Misery. Ah tell to me Misery, Tales of Sorrow, merrily: A sad — sweet ditty Heard but by Pity When she listens, Misery! 109 Well I love thee, Misery, Never jealous need ye be: My heart is bleeding And only heeding Art thou now sweet Misery. Ah let me see Misery, Thy lips to my lips pressed be. Smile thro' thy tears, For it appears Tear drops are Grief's rosary ! IN RE ROBIN HOOD Where's romantic Robin Hood, The brave, the bold, the robber good ? Where's Maid Marian the fair, She of Amazonian air? Whither now, Romance, this twain? Ye have known their rise and wane, Known their haunts of rural glory Breathed oft in song and story; With them ye have supped and dined With them ye your pledge have signed That their prowess still may be When no more is yeomen ry ; Ye have drunk their old brown ale At the tavern table hale; When the smoking, viands glistened Then to daring deeds ye listened : — Yo ho ! for Robin Hood ! yo ho ! Let all Romantic bugles blow! And let every clarion Sing the praise of Marian ! Yoho! no Yo ho, for Sherwood forest green And red with Autumn skies serene; Yo ho, for all ye Merry Men In grene shaw and woody glen, Who made the Middle Ages dear To the heart of Romancer. Robin Hood! O, here's to you! To you Maid Marian and true. Here's to you, O Tuck the Friar And to your crackling kettly fire. Here's to you Alan-A-Dale And with the brown October ale! To you, Will Scarlet; Little John; To the Merry Morris clan; Nottingham and Durden Dame: (Sheriff? Gods defend the same!) Guy of Gisborne, here's to you! Ail I drain the dregs unto. Merry, Merry be for aye, Ever gladsome, ever gay Bugles, bugles, blow, blow, blow, Lives Romance in forests lorn Where is wound the mellow horn, Yoho! Yoho! Yoho! HESPERIDES: RESOLVE Ill-starred it might have been Had Hercules foreseen Its magnitude: Ourselves are much at fault In that o'er things occult We cause much feud, — Not so with Hercules, His path he knew Eventually led to The gold Hesperides. m TWO FRAGMENTS Death. Death, what are thou? What thy pang? When to die is but to wake The sunder'd spirit, and to slake The thirst for immortality? Hope. Ring-dove of dusking, warm, Murmur to me when anguishing I cannot see thy form, Or hear thy gentle wing. THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH Let us hence, I implore To the fountain of youth To drink evermore The elixir in truth! Ponce de Leon Of night or of dawn Full free from travail, Assuredly sooth, Or burthen or ail To the fountain of youth Let us hence, I implore To dwell evermore! 112 TO HOPE Come Hope, let's both go foolishing — A-foolishing say I For wise-men are as fools, And fools are as wise men — Ahem! Let's not consort with them, But we will both go foolishing: It's ho, for the merry eye! And it's ho for the merry nose. It's ho for the merry sigh, And it's ho for the merry toes — Come Hope, let's both go foolishing, A-foolishing, say I. SOMETIMES IN DUSK I WEEP, I KNOW NOT WHY Sometimes in dusk I weep, I know not why Like a dark Cloud beneath the frowning Sky Or a bright Rainbow dissipated all, Or as a Starbeam laid in twilight's pall; I weep, and would atone To thee, Great God, alone, For weaknesses and sin! THE DRAGON FLY Perseus of eld As I beheld A winging Dragon Fly This morning, I Bethought myself, I know not why (For 'tis a harmless elf) "3 Of the fierce Dragon-head Vanquished In mythologic tale When heroes hale Braved foe afield in coats of mail! But ah, light winged Fly Thou hast a mission high To feed on noxious prey Each sun or sunless day. WHILE MOONBEAMS FLOAT IN AU- TUMN AIR. A Rondeau. Adieu, Sweet Love, the hour grows late — Ere I have fled the garden gate I fear, I fear upon my soul We shall have misst the golden goal. Which golden goal ? Why that of Love Whose sweet insignia is the Dove. Excess makes vapid, I'll renew Another time this quest: adieu. Adieu, and hence me I shall fare While Moonbeams float in Autumn air, And waft September's zoning through The parched red leaves: Dear Heart, adieu. Adieu, Dear Heart, but ere I go Kiss this dear Clematis, and O Bathed by the winking gems of dew 'Twill be my Rosary, — adieu! 114 LOVE VERSES While away from thee I sigh my dear; Tho' thou afar mayst be Yet art thou near! As Moon is to night, As Sun to day, Unto my famished sight Thou art alway. If thou smil'st or no, Thine image seems To keep my heart aglow With divers dreams. Ah me, dear love, I Mingle with chimes: Adieu, wert thou but nigh Ere cooled my rhymes! SYMPATHY Why look so saddish, Sweetheart Mine? Why wipe away a Tear? Why seek an interview with Grief, When Joy is waiting near? Sadness is beauty, so they say, Sorrow, the rich heart's gold ; But Love, thou art so beautiful That Beauty's self seems cold. Do smile a little, Fairest One, Though Tears are blessed by thee, 115 A smile betokens restful Hope: The treasured memory! A Smile I'd call a message sweet Unto the heart of Love; A message writ in every beat; I swear it by the Dove! Each Tear of thine, awakens throbs, Responsive in my heart ; Each one, I fancy, is a Care Which holds a hidden Dart! Then subjugate those traitor Tears, And bid them, — bid them flee; Or if thou must in Sorrow, dwell, Oh, let me dwell with thee! THE POET'S FRIENDS Who are the Poet's friends; His friends inanimate? Are not the ocean glens — The flagged black birded fens — His friends? Are not the wild Spring flow'rs Dew-fed, upon the sward ; The Bee in cellful bow'rs; The Breeze, the warm sun showers Intimate powers? Are not the amorous Cloud ; The slumberous tinkling Dell; 116 Sweet Spring with May-blooms bowed; Mild Autumn in sober shroud — Companions proud? Are not the gold-faced Morn — The Moon with resplendent glance — The Stars which Dusk adorn — Dame Grief with smile forlorn — His comrades born? Answer me Muse, 'tis true; Lend me encouragement; Swear by the Sky's deep blue, Swear by the Rainbow's hue His friends aren't few! A PICTURE Not quite a rogue, nor yet a slave A youth was he whom Heaven prized. Nor harsh, nor stern his soul forgave Many a man his heart despised; Loving he was, yet no one knew His spirit. For renown he never crew Nor sought the Public ear With sayings insincere. 117 STANZAS A kiss? 'Tis a feast supernal — A banquet spread eternal By Eros' self. The kernel Of utter bliss; The flittered pure quota From honey-dew, and O the Light effervescent soda Compound of lusciousness ! A kiss? 'Tis the soul's excrescence — The heart's hid iridescence — The sight concealed, from whence All beauty is. The core of happiness, When mutual spirits bless True Love's sad wilderness, And sip the brimming chalice! A kiss ? 'Tis a Rose by gold Dusk tended, A cloud in Dawning's glow, suspended, A daisy by the dewdrop bended Felicitous ; Green foliage kissed Autumnal, Tree tops which the zephers thrill, The pale Moon silvering the rill, Exemplify the kiss. 118 THE ISLE OF LOVE Oh, let us float within a boat Upon a sea of kisses Our oars of speech; And in Love's reach A madrigal of blisses. To cyprian coves, where Amor roves Inclines our destination: On an isle of isles Erect of smiles Our castle, w'thout cessation! We'll eat of fruits, and fragrant roots Gathered in Cere's garden — And O the breeze The flow'rs, and trees Shall be our forest Arden! 119 APK *HH* j;i