P s 3539 EVERLEr DANDRroOE: TUCJIEB. iiiHiiMimilJii,iii'iiiiy Class JESiSAl. (xm^m^JiSi \ w CDEW?IGHT DEPOSm MY THREE LOVES My Three Loves The Poems of BEVERLEY DANDRIDGE TUCKER BisJiop Coadjutor of Southern Virginia New York and Washingtok THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 1910 \^ •\ Copyright, 1910, by THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY First published in December of 1910 CGI.A278764 A. M. W. T. Amans, Amahilis, Amatce I WOULD HAVE MY CHILDKEN" PKOUD^, NOT BE- CAUSE THEIR FATHER^ AS A BOY, WORE THE GREY AND DID HIS LOWLY PART. NAY_, I WOULD HAVE THEM PROUD OE THE FACT THAT THEIR MOTHER^ WHILST YET A LITTLE MAIDEN"^ DAUGHTER OF A KNIGHTLY SOLDIER WHO RODE BY THE SIDE OF ROBERT LEE AND GAVE TO THE SOUTH AS A FREE LIBATION THE BLOOD HE SHARED WITH "THE FATHER OF HIS country/'' CHEERED THE TROOPERS WHO FOLLOWED THE PLUME OP ASHBY, AND WAVED HER LITTLE HAND TO GREET THE CANNON- EERS OF PELHAM^ AND STOOD AT THE GATE OF HER HOME AND GAVE FOOD AND DRINK TO THE FOOT CAVALRY OF ^'STONEWALL^^ JACKSON, AS THE TIDE OF BATTLE EBBED AND FLOWED THROUGH THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY OF THE SHENANDOAH. CONTENTS m CAMP AND FIELD page Eobert E. Lee 13 Hampton Eoads 14 Gettysburg 15 Appomattox 16 Vincti Sed Victores 17 The Days When We Followed Eobert Lee 30 Compensation 23 Again 26 Deo Yindice 28 Dedication of the Monument to the Con- federate Dead at Portsmouth, Va, . 33 Unveiling of the Monument to the Con- federate Dead at Gloucester . . .35 Father Eyan 37 James Barron Hope 39 John E. Thompson 40 John Eandolph Tucker 45 The Beloved Physician . . . . . . 51 John Augustine Washington of Mount Vernon ......... 53 "En Dat Virginia Quintmn" .... 53 9 CONTENTS IN" LOVERS GAEDEN page The Ehone and the Arve 61 In the Land of Vand 68 Only Two 73 Ad Puerum 74 On Dit 75. Epithalamium 77 A Valentine 80 Innominata . 81 Close of Day 81 IF THE SANCTUARY Bethlehem 85 Consecration . . ' 86 Missions 88 "Lord, Increase Our Faith" .... 91 Old Saint Paul's 93 . Prayer for Old Saint Paul's .... 94 The Living Christ . . . . .~ . .95 Easter 98 Easter Dawn 100 Easter Hours 103 The Light of Eastertide . . . . . 104 Love Divine 105 10 IN CAMP AND FIELD IN CAMP AND FIELD Robert E. Lee Salutamus, Leader, long lost, And passed from our vision and ken, Tho' thine arms on thy bosom be crossed. We call us thy men. And we list for the word of command That leaped from the lips that are mute. Tho' it come not, yet loyal, we stand And give thee salute. Thou art passed. Commander, where ne^er Is heed of the praise and the blame. Yet resistless outrings the loud cheer At sound of thy name. Ah, the face and the form we knew well Are lost in the chasm of years ! But our love has a pow'r to dispel The mist of our tears. And thy glory shall lighten through time The vistas of duty, and then — We shall know that our hero sublime Still leadeth his men. 13 MY THREE LOVES Hampton Roads ^Twas the calm of the day And the enemy lay, Unheeding, at anchor in Hampton Bay, When a flag was unfurled And a cannon shot hurled. Which echoed until it awoke the world. Ah ! they recked not the grave l^OT the threatening wave, — Their hearts were as dauntless, as strong and brave, As was Kelson's of old, — And intrepid and bold. They fought for the love of the truth, not gold. And the foe bowed before The new banner they bore Who sailed on to many an alien shore, But the sea sings to rest Now the bravest and best. As babes fall asleep on the mother's breast. 14 IN CAMP AND FIELD Gettysburg A hill's embattled crest Which Titans could not wrest, Altho' they charge with strange heroic zest; And all about them fall The showers of shell and ball. But still the Southern Cross it waves thro' all. Ah me ! Ah me, the slain ! Borne down, as beats the rain The roses 'mid the mire and 'mid the stain; Yet Pickett's glorious men They charge and charge, as when The waves assault the rocks, then break again. It was in vain ! — Ah, well ; The world will stop to tell ! — Lo ! here the spot where knightly Armistead fell ; And this the sacred field Where heroes would not yield, But fell like Spartans each on stainless shield. 15 MY THREE LOVES Appomattox On Appomattox field A worn-out remnant yield, A nation's fate is there forever sealed; A sacred flag is furled, A final shot is hurled, — It echoes still and saddens Freedom's world ! Did Sparta blush for shame At Thermopylae's name. Or bury midst her dead their Meed of fame? Did England ere forget The Norman foe was met, — If Harold's sun in cloud and shadow set ? The might at last prevailed. The Southern legion failed, — The glory dearly bought has never paled ! The years may swiftly flee, The proudest boast shall be, "We failed, — ^but failed with Jackson and with Lee." 16 IN CAMP AND FIELD Vincti sed Victores In Memory of the Men whose Cause is Dead but whose Deeds Live on From hearts of men, from off the country's face. Whose beauty once the stains of blood did mar, Long years of peace have laboured to efface The cruel tracks and vestisres of war. Each spring has brought its tender wealth of green. To hide the gory battlements of earth, 'Till now the barren mounds — ^that once had been The place of death — to flow'rs and grass give birth. The dusty plains, once trampled by the feet Of angry hosts, whose battle-shout was heard Above the cannon's din, are fields of wheat. Or meadows, where we list the song of bird. On ships that sail the seas, in churches' aisles. In busy marts, in country, and in town. They meet and greet, with kindly words and smiles, Who once in battle faced, with warlike frown. To God be praise, for Passion yields her sway. And cloud no longer veils the sky above ; As storm to calm, and night to day give way, So war gives place to peace, and hate to love. 17 MY THREE LOVES Gone is the bitterness that once we knew, — If still the woe is traced in many eyes ; — Gone are the dreams of yore, and ended too The old heroic life of sacrifice. Gone, like a meteor thro' the cloudless skies. The hopes with which we sought the stubborn fray ; Gone, like the music when the singer dies, The fancies which beguiled us for a day. Gone, like a harvest swept by cruel hail. The hard won fruits of each victorious fight; . Aye, country, flag, and cause ! — gone, like a sail That dots the seas, then passes out of sight. Is this, then, all that's left, these many graves, Which, far and wide, are found in mount and plain, In valleys fair, and where the ocean waves Sing requiem, do these alone remain ? Nay, surely, nay ! — but like as Samson drew The honey from the lion he had slain. So, from our lion, war, we, comrades, too. May draw the strong and sweet, — ah, not in vain ! 'Twas not in vain that these undying men With Lee and Jackson charged thro' storms of lead ; A page they wrote, with sword more strong than pen. Which long shall teach in duty's path to tread, 18 IN CAMP AND FIELD ^Twas not in vain that these, in camp and field, And women brave as they, 'mid dark'ning skies. Endured and suffered, would not cringe, nor yield, But gave their all, and taught of sacrifice. More fair these fruits we gather from defeat Than some which grow on Vict'ry's highest tree, That duty's self, that sacrifice is sweet, — Ah, this to learn, is more than victory ! This much is left of all our fateful strife, — These names that shine in Honour's glorious sky. These dead to teach us how to live our life. Or show us how, if duty call, to die. And now, because they dying left this gift Of names untarnished and of mem'ries bright. Whose glory made in leaden skies a rift. And bathes fore'er our Southern land in light, — Because they gave us all they could, — we bring This tribute wrought of flow'rs, of verse, of tears. And vow to keep from dark Oblivion's wing Their names and deeds thro' all the changing years. 19 MY THREE LOVES The Days When We Followed Robert Lee Pickett-Buchanan Camp, January 19th By the old familiar light Of the camp-fire burning bright Let us gather here to-night, — Tell the tale, sing the well-remembered glee. Stir the embers fading fast, See the visions of the past. Hear again the bugle blast. As in days when we followed Eobert Lee, There is snow upon our hair. And the furrowed marks of care How they tell the wear and tear Of the years that have sped, — ^but let it be ! — We are boys, to-day, once more. And we're comrades, as of yore, When this flag we proudly bore In the days when we followed Robert Lee. "Eag of treason," men may call This old banner ; but, to all Who once loved it, 'tis the pall Of our dear Southern cause, and shall be. As a sacred lock we save. As a flower from Mother's grave, — Dear, as when we saw it wave, In the days when we followed Robert Lee. 20 IN CAMP AND FIELD For still our bosoms swell At the old Confederate yell, And we love to sit and tell Of the years when we struggled to be free,- Call US "rebels'^ — ^but the name It will bring no blush of shame, ^Twas the synon3an of fame In the days when we followed Robert Lee ! There was laughter well as tears, And the old Confederate hears. Across the waste of years, Its echo like the echo of the sea ; And the old rheumatic pain Will be vexing him in vain. For it makes him young again. As in days when we followed Eobert Lee. For as oft we sit and gaze In the warm and cheerful blaze, — Ah, the tricks our fancy plays. The visions which our memories make us see !- Once again the armies tramp Thro' the snow and rain and damp, Then the pleasures of the camp. As in days when we followed Robert Lee. Ah, the stained old haversack With the bacon and hardtack And that whiff of apple jack. And the coffee made of rye ! — they may be 21 MY THREE LOVES Not a dainty bill of fare, — But it must have been the air, For they tasted mighty fair In the days when we followed Eobert Lee. As the mem'ry dreams and whirls How it brings up all the girls. With the dancing eye and curls. And the laughter like the ripple of the sea ! 0, the tender, sweet farewell And the kiss remembered well, — But ^t would never do to tell How we loved when we followed Eobert Lee ! And the trumpet sounds once more As we fight our battles o'er, — Midst the rattle and the roar How we charged in our struggles to be free ! Ah, it was a glorious sight. For we struck with all our might. When we battled for the right. In the days when we followed Eobert Lee ! Like the wind among the pines, As he rides on down the lines. Whilst every bayonet shines. Sounds the cheer when his noble form we see, — Ah, the world shall never know All our trust in weal and woe. In that grand old long ago All our love, as we followed Eobert Lee! 22 IN CAMP AND FIELD But the vision will not stay. And the flag is furled away. For we fought and lost the day, — Ah, the forms which we never more shall see ! But they counted not the cost, — 'Twas a willing holocaust, — And the glory was not lost. In the days when we followed Eobert Lee ! Compensation In Commemoration of the Confederate Dead of the Uni- versity of Virginia Was it waste when the sons who were reared at thy side At the beat of the drum did not falter nor pause. But by duty were drawn, as the waves by the tide. Obedient to laws ? Was it waste when they struggled and suffered and died For flag and for cause ? Was it waste when they went from this Temple of Lore, In the prime of their youth, with its secrets un- learned. Like the guests of a banquet who vanish before The torches are burned? Was it waste that they left ere the lesson was o'er, The pages unturned ? 23 MY THREE LOVES Was it waste that they spent in the battle and strife All the gifts that were theirs and the treasures of youth ? Was it waste that they bartered the joyance of life For travail and ruth ? — That they gave of their best, when the struggle was rife. For honour and truth? Was it waste when the ointment was poured on the feet Of the Christ when the spices in linen were bound ? Was it waste when He died as the grain of the wheat That's cast on the ground? Did the world think it waste when, the harvest com- plete, Its glory was found? Was it waste when the Spartan returned on his shield ? Was it waste when Leonidas guarded the way? — Or when Harold lay dead with his knights on the field. At close of the day ? Was it waste when a Winkelried, rather than yield. Was slain in the fray ? Ah, the world has its praise for the men who prevail. For the victors who triumph by wrong and bj might; 24 IN CAMP AND FIELD But the heart has its love for the vanquished who fail Yet battle for right ! And their names they will shine, when the conquerors' pale. Like stars in the night ! For the laurels of triumph are lost like the wave. Like the foam of the billows that break on the shore ; But the laurels of love men cherish and save Whilst truth shall endure, — They shall garland the home, though the fallen and brave Have passed thro' the door. Was it waste ? Nay, thy sons but translated in deed All the truths of the books of the wisest and best; They were seekers of Honour, and chose but to heed Her royal behest. And the names of the dead are the pages we read To learn of the quest. 25 MY THREE LOVES Again ! Delivered in Norfolk on Memorial Day, Thursday, May 15th, 1903 Spring yet again her treasure trove discloses Her wealth of blossom, bud, and bloom. Leaves on the trees, and heavy clustered roses, — And we forget the winter's gloom ! Life everywhere, as sleeping Earth arouses To tender touch of sun and rain, Lillies and violets in leafy houses The redolence distil again. No secret lost, no hue, no scent forgotten. The Spring asserts her ancient powers. Forests that seemed decayed, and dead, and rotten. Are changed once more to shady bowers; Fields, by the winter clad in snow, she dresses In living green or golden grain, JSTature, so dormant, through her skill possesses Her ev'ry charm and grace again. Comes with the Spring the thought no years can banish Of those far days of lordly strife. Visions appear that seem to fade and vanish Amid the stir and whirl of life; 26 IN CAMP AND FIELD Mem'ry resumes her sway and Love her sceptre, But gone the bitterness and pain, — Prizing the glory which defeat has left her The Southland lives her past again. Backward, resistless, come the memories trooping, Of Jackson, Stuart, Hampton, Lee, Memories of men who took this banner drooping And gave it forth to breezes free ; Mem'ries of women, gentle, brave, and tender, Fair ministers to want and pain — Long be the day before our hearts surrender The right to dream this dream again ! Spring now her roses finds on branches perished In winter's stern relentless chill. We too in our heroic past and cherished Shall find the flowers of glory still. Dead tho' they sleep, yet must our hearts be loyal. Whilst honour, love, and truth remain. Faithful to those whose deeds so fair and royal Eemembrance wakes to life again ! Cold is the heart that beats not truer, faster, Beside this consecrated dust. Valour is valour though it meet disaster. And lost no cause will seem less just. Green be their graves and honoured still their story, And free their names from ev'ry stain, — These men who died, but whose unfading glory Will light the people's path again. 27 MY THREE LOVES Eing out and clearly ring a requiem splendid For all who sleep and wore the grey; Bring here the wreaths with love and honour blended, For none are wortliier love than they. Mem'ry returns and tears the veil asunder; The living comrade meets the slain. Almost it seems we hear the cannon thunder And are Confederates again ! Deo Vindice Dedication of the Monument of the Otey Batt«ry Ring out, ye Bugles, loud and clear ! We muster on this knoll, And let each comrade answer "Here V As Honour calls the roll. Between us and the days of strife Stretch many years afar, — The battles we have fought in life Out-number those of war. But still the mem'ry of those days Defies the fretting years, And still the fancy backward strays. With mingled smiles and tears. 28 IN CAMP AND FIELD Thro' varied scenes her pathwaj^ rims, But brings us all at last, To where we see our flashing guns. And hear the bugle's blast. And as we gaze with eager eyes Thro' mists of long ago. Familiar forms before us rise, And faces which we know. And when from out the distance dim The breeze is blowing clear. We — ^like a strain of childhood's hymn- Eemembered voices hear. Comrades, hark the bugle's sound !- Tho' fast the years have sped ; To-day on Mem'ry's neutral ground The living meet the dead. Let Glory sound the reveille. And then the dead will wake; So shall our ranks unbroken be. As here our camp we make. Comrades from the farther shore. Was yours the sadder fate. Who fell before the fight was o'er. Whilst Vict'ry held the gate ? — 29 MY THREE LOVES Who fell whilst yet the voice of Fame Was ringing in your ears. Who never saw your country's shame, Nor mourned her cause with tears? For you the vision never paled, The flag was never furled; Ye fell, whilst yet its stars prevailed To keep at bay the world. To-day that banner only waves Where fell the silent dew. To bless the flow'rs and grass of graves Which hide the brave and true. We lived to see how vain the trust, How vain the strife and toil; For that alone which holds your dust Eemains Confederate soil. We saw our armies forced to yield. Our visions fade away; But ye who fell on Honour's field Still wear Confederate grey. This stone shall now our Mizpah be. This spot our rallying place. Where they who fought for liberty Shall meet them face to face. 30 IN CAMP AND FIELD This shaft on which we carve no name Shall guide Virginia's youth, — A sign-post on the road to Fame, To Honour and to Truth. A silent sentry, it shall stand To guard, thro' coming time, Their graves who died for native land And duty most sublime. Comrades of the days of yore. If courage still inspire Like that which would not quail before The Crater's murd'rous fire. These mem'ries of the time afar Shall teach us how to wield Our weapons in the sterner war. On life's great battle-field, — The shaft, with which the hands of love 'Now mark this sacred sod. Shall point to clearing skies above And bid us hope in God, — Shall bid us seek life's nobler gain. Until our spirits feel The motto was not writ in vain On our Confederate seal. 31 MY THREE LOVES Dedication of the Monument to the Con- federate Dead at Portsmouth, Va. Where rolls the Nile its turbid stream And makes the valley laugh with corn, Where kingdoms pass, as though in dream. Which waxed and waned ere Greece was born, There stand, to-day, unworn by years. Which learn the languor of the clime. The stones inwrought with blood and tears That tyrants raised to challenge time. And man still sees with blush of shame On obelisk and pyramid Inscribed a crowned monster's name And all th' unmanly deeds he did. The tale of woe, of crime, of lust. Which JSTemesis will not erase, — We read it still, tho' there be dust On ev'ry sculptured Pharaoh's face! This stone which loving hands upraise Its story tells of blood and tears. But none shall blush who come to gaze — Tho' here it stand a thousand years. 32 IN CAMP AND FIELD 'Twas freeman's blood — not that of slaves — In freedom's cause most freely shed. And tears which fell on many graves From hearts that would not grudge the dead. And Glory here shall speak the name Of men unnamed in History's page. And claim for them a share of fame In ev'ry great heroic age. They came from valley, mount and glen, From where the ocean billows foam, A nation's strong, intrepid men. From cottage, hut, and stately home. One serried band — Manassas' plain With vict'ry wreathes the flag they bear — They charge and charge, and charge again, And only know that "Stonewall's" there ! bold and dauntless Southern host. Who dared to march at Jackson's side. Is this your country's proudest boast? — Or that ye marched when Jackson died ? men whose sabres kept the land. Who answered Ashby's ringing cheer, Who rode with knightly Stuart's band And only asked if foes were near, — 33 MY THREE LOVES cannoneers, who steadfast stood By Pelham with, the laughing eye. Who though your guns were drenched with blood, Ne^er failed to give the foe reply, — 0, seamen staunch, and brave, and true. Who manned our Southern ships and sailed Beneath the starry cross of blue. And fought as long as hope availed, — men who followed stately Lee, Nor faltered when disaster came, — The deeds ye wrought shall surely be Inscribed on lofty gates of Fame. So long as Glory lifts her head. And truth within her bosom springs. She'll deem our dear Confederate dead More worth than all of Egypt's kings ! city by the sounding sea. Be thine the ever sacred trust, — To guard their name from slander free. And teach the world their cause was just ! 34 IN CAMP AND FIELD Unveiling of the Monument to the Confed- erate Dead of Gloucester September 18, 1889 A stone from the spot where a hero fell,* In the midst of the April bloom. Come take it, Sculptor, and make it tell Of the men who encountered doom. Unheeding the shriek of the shot and shell. Unheeding the tomb ! Aye, give it a voice — ^like herald of yore. An echo that lingers and stays — To speak of the love and the faith they bore. As they fought in the grand old days. And charged 'mid the clamour and smoke and roar. Unmindful of praise ! Then make it as Memnon, — let music flow In the glow of the Southern sun. In strains which are tender, and soft and low, As they tell how the deeds were done By the men of our blood, 'till the world shall know The glory they won ! * Gen'l A. P. HiU. 35 MY THREE LOVES Emblazon the names of the true and tried. Engrave them with care in stone ! Onr children must feel that the dead have died For a cause that we deemed our own. And blush not for men we have marched beside In days that are flown ! On fields that are sacred to fame they fell, Let them sleep in a soldier's grave. By mountain and valley and lonely dell. In the plain, by the ocean wave, — The stone that we garland with flowers shall tell Our love for the brave ! Then shield it forever from time's decay, Let it shine as a beacon light And point to the fame of the men in grey Who surrendered their lives for Eight, — The bravest shall pause, as they pass this way, And thrill at the sight ! Virginia may call as she called of old, But she never shall call in vain, Whilst Gloucester has sons who are true and bold. Who have learned from her glorious slain. That duty is dearer by far than gold. And honour than gain ! 36 IN CAMP AND FIELD Father Ryan There was never a voice to utter The grief and the pain of the land, Til] his music awoke responsive To the tender touch of his hand. She bowed in her desolate silence. And mourned by the graves of her dead. And she longed for the consolation That comes when the tears are shed. Till his strains, as they fell, awakened In the soul that bent o'er the sod, iN'ew faith in the gracious designings, In the hidden purpose of God. He'd learned, as he knelt at his altars. To trust in Omnipotent Love, And his song had an inspiration Which echoed to music above. He took all our idle complainings. And lo ! in their stead, in one mouth. His song as a low supplication. Welled up from the heart of the South. 37 MY THREE LOVES His strains, full of pathos and glory. And heard of a listening world. Entwined, as a wreath of immortelles, The flag that we wearily furled. There is never a grave so humble, In all of the desolate land. But his verse has inscribed upon it An epitaph stately and grand. Once more — ^by the beds of the dying, In the homes of the pestilent West — His song, like a low miserere. Goes up from his pitying breast. A wail for the woe of his people, A plea that God's mercy would spare. And we take up its lowly burden. And change all our murmurs to prayer. Ah, the South is stricken and anguished ! But never a heart can forget The solace his music has brought us, — And its echo lingereth yet ! 38 IN CAMP AND FIELD James Barron Hope Troubadour, whose hand with equal skill Could wield a warrior's sword amidst the fray. Or sweep the slumbering chords of music till All hearts were willing captives to its sway, — knightly soul, gentle because so strong, kindly heart, tender because so brave, How shall we miss the solace of thy song. Where find the strength which thy mere presence Honour and Love, these words were written large On thy life's page, so spotless white and pure, — Thy name like some well-freighted treasure barge In memory's haven anchors now secure. Like those of whom the olden Scriptures tell. Who faltered not but went on dang'rous quest For one cool draught of water from the well With which to cheer their exiled monarch's breast. So thou, to add one single laurel more To our great chieftain's fame, — ^heedless of pain, — Didst gather up thy failing strength and pour Forth all thy soul in one last glorious strain. 39 MY THREE LOVES And "when the many pilgrims come to gaze Upon the sculptured form of mighty Lee, They'll not forget the bard who sang his praise With dying breath but deathless melody. For on the statue which a country rears, Tho' graven by no hand, we'll surely see, E'en tho' it be thro' blinding mists of tears. Thy name forever linked with that of Lee. John R. Thompson On the presentation of a portrait to the University of Virginia Lo! through the purple mists that veil the further shore, As through a cloud the light of some familiar star. There comes the dear remembered face, So full of mingled strength and grace, — The troubadour who sang Virginia's songs of yore. And gave one clarion note above the din of war Too frail of frame to wield the warrior's flashing blade. He could not share the tented field or soldier's dream. But strong of soul, heroic heart, He came to take the minstrel's part, And stirred the pulse of men until his music made The path of duty sweet, and danger winsome seem. 40 IN CAMP AND FIELD He wreathed in tender verse his garlands round the brow Of those who fell with glory's smile athwart the face, As when he laid with loving tear His laurel spray on Stuart's bier, — The singer by the knight, they sleep together now Where breaks the river through the rocks, — a holy place ! He knew the kindly art of touching hidden springs In human hearts, and saw the good in friend and foe. He made us pass the gates of war. And showed the vision fair tho' far, Of home again, and friends, of peace with healing wings. Of all that stays and cheers when strife and hatred go. His pen, like some enchanted wand, unloosed the chain That bound our thoughts, — forgot awhile were camp and fight, — A trustful guide he led along The sweet and pleasant lanes of song. And o'er romance's wide and wond'rous fair domain And where the breezes blow from great Parnassus' height. 41 MY THREE LOVES A man of many books, his friends the goodly band Of whom the thoughts and words enrich our Eng- lish, tongue ; For Chaucer's haunts he knew, the field Where Sydney fell with stainless shield. And oft he followed Spenser through his fairy land. Or roamed with Shakespeare all the Avon groves among. His ear was skilled to Milton's music, vast, sublime ; The polished shafts of Dryden, Pope's too honeyed line, — He knew them well, but still his heart Had room for humbler sons of art. And ever loved to hear the sweet melodious rhyme Of those on whom no golden rays of glory shine. He shared the genial mirth of Addison and Steele, And loved of Goldsmith's muse the pure and lim- pid stream, — He found among them all a place. Nor feared the frown on Johnson's face, — His many-sided nature taught him how to feel At home with those who laugh, and those who think — and dream. He knew the heart and lays of Scotia's peasant bard. Whom Genius proudly claimed as kinsman, — ^yea, as peer, — 42 IN CAMP AND FIELD The wooded lakes where Wordsworth dreamed And Coleridge thought — they almost seemed Familiar spots to one who could not find it hard To love the homes of song, but ever deemed them dear. He followed Byron through the sacred ways of Greece, And caught th^ ethereal note of Shelley's mystic strain ; He heard the prince's bugle blast That waked the great historic past. And brought to slumb'ring knights and ladies fair re- lease. And made them live and love, and act their parts again. With these immortal dead he ever loved to roam The twilight fields of thought and — fortune's happy choice! In life he knew, and called him friend Who taught the critic's page to blend His smiles with tears ; he shared the laureled hermit's home. And learned the poet's music through the poet's voice. He knew Virginia's Poe, the Christopher of song. Who sailed o'er rhythmic seas to men before un- known, 43 MY THREE LOVES And heard such strains and visions saw As filled the heart with sweetest awe. His soul the battlefield of warring right and wrong; The world its failures marked, its triumphs God alone. Our poet's mind, enriched by fellowship with these. He took the gifts God gave, the garnered fruits of lore. And, serving art alone, not self. Unheeding glory, fame, and pelf. He only sought his lov'd Virginia's heart to please With strains that linger though the singer sing no more. 0, Alma Mater, many sons have learned of thee. And brought their after laurels back thy brows to grace ! On fields of our heroic strife. In all the lofty ways of life, They play'd a worthy part, and dear their names shall be — give thy minstrel son a warm and tender place ! He loved thee well, and sang with open heart thy praise. Who taught him wisdom, truth and fair exalted dreams ; His each melodious verse, like Poe's, Is pure as blush on summer's rose, '] 44 IN CAMP AND FIELD Or maiden's cheek ; the southern wind that idly plays With fragile branch and lily bloom no gentler seems. His mirrored self we place on yonder classic wall, — Ah me, the form we knew so long ago, so long ! — His eyes shall light the sacred fire In other hearts, shall wake desire As pure as dream of Holy Grail, desire of all The minstrel taught when life vibrated forth in song. John Randolph Tucker At the Dedication of the Memorial Hall, Washington and Lee University Two lustrous names which linked together seem ■ As priceless jewels linked by virgin gold. Two stars that blend in one transcendent gleam To deck the firmament of fame and hold The torch to light the path which they must tread Who would unveiled the face of glory see, For high we find on scrolls of noblest dead Virginia's sons, her Washington and Lee. 45 MY THREE LOVES The academic halls, which classic make This valley hemmed by mountain ranges high, Fulfill the quiet dreams of one who brake The tyrant's power and hailed in freedom's sky A nation's natal sign, as pure as bright. Who midst the stir of war and toils of state Did pause to care for learning's sacred light. The hero whom the world has christened "Great." Here came a kindred soul, in after years, — His country's sun had set behind the cloud. His country's hopes were shrined in patriot's tears. His country's cause was wrapped in glory's shroud, — But nobler thus, he lived to show the world That human virtue seems, at least, the mate Of human chance, that though his flag were furled Its honor would outvie the stress of fate. On guard they stand, at learning's mystic door. Twin sentinels, to ask the countersign Of all who seek to cross the threshold o'er And enter where is truth's eternal shrine. Tho' rich the gifts the numbered years have brought To your collegiate home, surpassing dear Are these imperial mem'ries interwrought With ev'ry stbne of ev'ry structure here. 46 IN CAMP AND FIELD II Mother loved, thy many sons, In whom the blood of freedom runs. Have wandered far and wide ; But still they turn their thoughts to thee And still their home, where'er they be. Is near thy side, — Here where the mountains, one by one. Keep kindly watch o'er Lexington ! From ISTorth, from South, from East, from West, The children nurtured at thy breast Eeturn their love to tell. And give to thee with willing heart This stately hall the sculptor's art Has builded well, — Here where the moon, the stars and sun ^ Look kindly down on Lexington ! A school in which thy youth may trace The source of law, and face to face With vestal Justice stand. And learn to weigh the right and wrong In equal scales, for weak and strong. In all the land, — Here where the mountains, one by one. Keep kindly watch o'er Lexington! 47 MY THREE LOVES And thou shalt teach, with patient care, In this thy home — the very air Is surely freedom's breath — The sons who gather at thy side, To crave the boon of him who cried, "Or, give me death I" — Here where the moon, the stars, and sun Keep watch and ward o'er Lexington ! 0, tell thy sons, lest they forget. The tale of how their fathers met, On what is holy ground ! And claimed the right from kingly hands To live in Anglo-Saxon lands As men unbound, — tell it here as freedom's sun Looks kindly down on Lexington ! Ill The lordly walls that stand complete at last, Builded strong for coming time. Are linked with all the unforgotten past, Eich in memories sublime. We bring to-day the old traditions here, — Find for them, friends, a place, For art and wealth have nothing half so dear. Half so full of tender grace. 48 IN CAMP AND FIELD We bring the cherished thoughts of one whose name Honour stoops to carve in stone, Of one who knew no avarice of fame Seeking principle alone, — Who ever bowed subservient when he saw Truth and equity combine. Who felt the splendid majesty of law Sovereign by right divine. A thinker, keen of subtle mind but pure. True in thought as true in deed, A statesman strong, who never bent before Passion's gusts, nor altered creed, — Virginia's child, his heart did seldom roam Yond this vale, his native sod. The many loves were his, of friends, of home Love of country, love of God. His gift, the eloquence of speech that seems Souls, as winds the trees, to sway. To sweep conviction home, as mountain streams All that bars and stops the way. In courts, in halls of state he could command Mastery of thought and grace. Or gain the people when he came to stand Man with men and face to face. His gift, the gift of humor, mirth, and joy. Made his life perennial spring; The spirit which was his as child, as boy. Lingered when his youth took wing. 49 MY THREE LOVES He chose the sunny path, in good and ill, Stxiving other paths to bless ; He would not let the snow his gladness chill, Winter make his laughter less. His gifts, the gifts of faith, of hope, of love ; Christ and God were ever near. His soul had seen the visions fair above; Perfect love had cast out fear. His mind had wrestled with the problems deep. Whence and why of life and death; Yet, like a little child, he fell to sleep. Trusting still with latest breath, Alma Mater, keep before the youth Who shall seek this school of laws The kindly thought of one who loved the truth. Friend of every holy cause ! Here, where he brought the fruitage gleaned in life. Sharing mind and strength and fame With those he trained for service, trained for strife. Breathe, and gently breathe his name. 50 IN CAMP AND FIELD The Beloved Physician Fiftieth Anniversary of the ^practice of Dr. Herbert M. Nash, Surgeon, P. B. G. C. V. A century's half of honest toil. The record lies where all may read, The years so free from stain or soil So rich in noble work and deed. A century's half not spent for gain, But spent in ministries to man. Who heals the sick, who soothes the pain. Succeeds to work which Christ began. No greener laurels grace the brow Of soldier, hero, prince nor bard Than those with which we crown him now, Who deemed no path of duty hard. No fear of pestilence deterred, No dread of sword, of shell nor ball. He simply went where'er was heard Of human need and woe the call. The crescent years look down to-day On many valiant deeds of love. "Well done ! 0, kindly heart," we say, — '*Well done!" the Christ will say above. 51 MY THREE LOVES John Augustine Washington of Mount Vernon Lt.-Col. and Aide-de-Camp to General Robert Edward Lee, 0.8. A. Killed, Valley Mountain, 8ept. 18, 1861 No soldier of fortune, no seeker of pelf, Ifo lover of glory and fame, But simply a man who was true to himself. The home where he'd dwelt and his name. He rode far away at the call of the land. Unmindful of peril and fate, A smile on his face and a wave of his hand. For children Avho stood at the gate. He rode by the side of the kingliest knight, And deemed it a guerdon to share His tent and the march and the danger and fight. To kneel by his chieftain in prayer. He lay where he fell, with the light on his face. Untouched by dishonor and shame. Defeated, yet true to the pride of his race. The home where he'd dwelt and his name. The tears were like dew in the eyes of the chief. Who gazed on the form of his friend. And thought of the children at home and their grief, The blosgorn of life and its end. 52 IN CAMP AND FIELD He sent, all entwined with his pity and love, The flowers that grew where he fell, And angels, who walked on the ramparts above, Eepeated their call, "It is well." 'Tis well, if for years he has slept 'neath the sod, Uncrowned by the laurels of fame. And simply a man who was true to his God, The home where he'd dwelt and his name. *'En Dat Virginia Quintum" Virginia Day, Chicago, 1893 "En dat Virginia quintum" — So ran the legend that bore The shield of the Old Dominion Emblazoned in days of yore. And what did she give, England? Ay, what did she give to thee? — ■ A soil that was pure and virgin And rivers unfettered, free, Which filled all the land with gladness As they rushed to th' azure sea. 53 MY THREE LOVES II And skies that were blue and golden As those of the isles of Greece, And valleys as green and quiet As vales in the realms of peace. And fields that were fair and lavish To yield ev'ry kind of store. And woods that were vast, primeval, And mountains enriched with ore. And waters that brought new tribute Each tide to the shining shore. Ill To sons of a race stout-hearted. Whom God had designed to free. She gave a new home, where open The gates of the restless sea, A home where the English virtues Transplanted might seem as fair. In soil that was still uncrowded In pure and untainted air — And Liberty's seed long dormant Could blossom and bud and bare. IV "En dat Virginia quinium" — And what did she give to thee, Thou youngest and fairest nation. The land of the brave and free?— 54 IN CAMP AND FIELD A mother unsparing, tender, To children who nursed her breast, She gave a goodly portion, — A share of her golden West, — For whether ^tis blood or treasure. She ever will give her best. V Her heart was the first to worship The Christ as the Lord of Lands, And first from her shoulder to loosen The grasp of a monarch's hands. Her voice was the first to utter A cry in our Freedom's cause And claim for the sovereign people A share in the draft of laws, — To speak without fear or trembling. Or dread of the Lion's paws. VI "En dat Virginia quintum" — 0, what did she give at last. When, Freedom her bugle sounding, The die of her fate was cast? — The words of her dauntless Henry, Which called to the people's heart. Which scattered the old illusions. And tore all the veils apart, — Which pierced thro' the joints of tyrants. And smote with a rankling dart. 55 MY THREE LOVES VII She claimed thro' the voice of Mason, The life of a man is f ree^ And Liberty's prelude sounded, In silvery tones, thro' Lee. She gave to the field and council Her best and her foremost men. She drew out her sword, — ^her scabbard. She cast it aside, — and then Her name was inscribed with nations By Jefferson's matchless pen. VIII "En dat Virginia quinium" — She gave to thee — ^nay ! the world. When beacon fires were kindled. The flag of her birth unfurled. The man of all men whom Glory Has crowned with the name of Great, Who wrested the fruits of vict'ry From th' unwilling arms of Fate, And brought through the storm and tempest Our glorious Ship of State. IX She dowered thy land with greatness And wrote thy illustrious name With deeds of her peerless children On th' opening page of Fame ! 56 IN CAMP AND FIELD And, like the wind in its swiftness. She'll come to the nation's call. Wherever the fight is fiercest Or thickest the arrows fall, — She'll bring to thy aid and succour Her treasure and blood and all. X "En dat Virginia quintum" — No blush as she marks her past! She's followed the lead of duty And comes into port at last. She brings to the mart of nations Her riches of mine and field, — But poorer she'll be if ever She barter or sell or yield One jot of her stainless glory. One ray from her spotless shield. 57 IN LOVE'S GARDEN IN LOVE'S GARDEN The Rhone and the Arve or The Course of True Love The Rhone has for its source several springs, near the Glacier du Rhone, and flows through the Canton of the Valais, betiveen the parted Alps, until its current is lost in Lake Leman. On one side of the Savoy Alps rise precip- itously; on the other side slope the Jorat Hills, terraced %mth vineyards and cloven, here and there, by valleys and ravines, covered toith wild narcissus. At Geneva the Rhone rushes swiftly from the lake, uniting with the Arve a few miles below the town. The Arve rises in the valley of Chamouni, one of its sources gushing forth from the Sea of Ice at the base of Mount Blanc. It breaks through the valley at the Gorge de Serroz. When it joins the Rhone its snowy waters flow in the same channel with the clear blue waters of the latter, until at last, their colours mingling, they flow on together through the fields of France, to the Mediterranean. I Can they ever come together, Can they meet and kiss each other, The two rivers Fate has parted? — Winsome Rhone, who, like a maiden. In the Valais springs and bubbles. Like a maiden merry-hearted. Careless-footed, all unladen Of Life's troubles; — 61 MY THREE LOVES II Eager Arve, that stays and shivers, But a moment, ere he quivers. Ere he rushes thro' th' embrasure Of his icy, dreary prison. How he shouts in gleeful madness As he hastens from the glacier On to where the sun's uprisen In its gladness ! Ill Ah ! the Ehone, she swiftly passes, Down the crags and thro' crevasses, — None can stay nor follow after; — But she may not pass on over The grim Alps that gaze in wonder Tho' she cry, with merry laughter, "Let me by, for I've a lover Over yonder !" IV Then she turns, and softly sighing, Thro' the Valais swiftly hieing. Past the mountains, — silent wardens. By the valley kept asunder, — Flees unheeding clouds that hover. Thro' the fields and scented gardens, — And she whispers, "Over yonder I've a lover!" 63 IN LOVE'S GARDEN V Ah ! the Arve, — the King of mountains Can not chain his eager fountains With his snows and ice eternal, — On he hastens never heeding Avalanche nor roar of thunder Murm'ring, through the valley vernal, "To a river I am speeding, Over yonder I" VI And the Ehone is flowing faster In her quest to meet her master. Who shall help her seek the ocean, — On — by towns and hamlets turning. On — by village bridges under, On — with swift unbroken motion, — For the lover ever yearning Over yonder ! VII Ah ! the Ehone, the placid Leman, Like some fair and treach'rous demon. Like some fair, relentless ogress, — As the siren with Ulysses, By her jealous arts devining. Tries to bar and stay her progress. Tries to silence, hush with kisses Love's repining ! 63 MY THREE LOVES VIII And tlie Alps, whose peaks discover. On the other side her lover, — Grey, grim Alps, of love abhorrent ! — Try to keep the lovers parted; And the lake she's resting under With her magic stills her torrent. Till the Arve is broken-hearted. Over yonder ! IX But the Jorat, more unbending. To the lake-side slowly wending. Tells the river, '^ould you kiss us, You may surely pass on over. Where our vineyards part asunder. Thro' our vales of sweet narcissus." But she answers, "I've no lover Over yonder!" X And the Arve, he hastens ever. With a restless, strong endeavour. Thro' the valley mountain-bounded, — And he hammers, till he crushes Down his prison's last reliance, — Till, as when a stag is hounded. Thro' the rocky gorge he rushes In defiance ! 64 IN LOVE'S GARDEN XI And the tender, soft beguiling. Of the fragrant fields and smiling, And the bell, at matins ringing. Can not stay his eager flowing; And the Vesper bell unheeding. On he glances, lightly singing, "To my loved one I am going, I am speeding!'^ XII But the Ehone is bolder, bolder. For, at last, a something's told her. That tho' strong the walls that bound her. Yet the stream of her existence Is not spent, tho' scarcely moving, — So she looks and looks beyond her. With a maiden's fond persistence In her loving ! XIII As the fates her love embolden. She perceives a city olden. Where the mountains watch no longer. Then beneath the bridges darting, — Where the children gaze in wonder, — On she hastens, swifter, stronger. As she whispers, "There's no parting Over yonder !" 65 MY THREE LOVES XIV the rapture rare of meeting, the music sweet of greeting. When at last the barrier's broken ! Now (the weary sun descending) On the mountain heights in distance Is the purple flush, the token Of their Avrath as comes the ending Of resistance. XV And now close, — all partings ended, — In one channel still unblended. Are the Arve and Ehone together; Here the water grey and troubled With the battling fierce with mountains, But as crystal blue the other As when first it gushed and bubbled Sunny fountains. XVI But, at last their currents merging, After Love's impetuous urging. Flows the Eiver, — twain no longer ! — And the hand of fate can never Part the lovers thus united, — Gentler one, the other stronger. When their troth, for now and ever. They have plighted ! 66 IN LOVE'S GARDEN XVII On — ^thro' clover-scented meadows, On — in gloomy mountain shadows. Flow the wedded streams together; And they glide with quiet motion, — Or they speed with roar of thunder, Whisp'ring oft to one another. As they seek to reach the ocean, "Eest is yonder !" XVIII Now the current moves more slowly. With a requiem sad and lowly, Where the velvet mantle covers Weary forms in silence sleeping. Now, as sing and sail the maidens. In the barges near their lovers. On it courses, ever keeping Gentle cadence, XIX Till the Eiver, young no longer, Growing wider, deeper, stronger. Plays its part in Life's endeavour ! And by busy cities flowing, — On the bosoms Love has mated. On the bosoms none can sever, — Are the Vessels coming, going. Treasure-freighted. 67 MY THREE LOVES XX But, at last, the daylight dimmer, — Lo, the Moon begins to glimmer On the Ocean over yonder ! — And the streams that sought each other. In the valley fair and vernal. And the lovers none could sunder Find forever, find together Eest eternal ! In the Land of Vaud 'Tis the hour of all hours for lovers and poets, — And lovers and poets, I hold, Dear, are one, — When the dark virgin night refuses to show its Sad beauty unveiled to the amorous Sun. The soft spell of twilight, with hintings of quiet. Is over the scene now, so come to the crest Of the fair Jorat mount, no matter how high it May seem, you can climb it, and there let us rest ! And see, here you will find a cushion which, surely. All made of narcissus, is worthy a queen ! Let your mantle be closer, — Clierie, how purely You look like a part of the marvellous scene. 68 IN LOVE'S GARDEN the glory ! the beauty ! — ^never an artist Eevealed you one half of the charm it possessed ; Tho^ the contour is given, yet still the part missed, Eluding the brush and the skill, is the best. Over there, Dear, the Alps still blush for the kisses, — The roguish old Sun, he has gone to his rest ! — In a storm they look grander, — Surely tho' this is The scene for us lovers. OfE there in the West Is the King of them all, and Eosa o'er yonder, The needles and peaks, still enveloped in snow. In confusion arise. You gaze on and wonder If any can count them, or name them, — or know All the cliffs that the chamois timidly grazes. The crags where the eagle is monarch alone ! You may trace in the Valais, where Midi upraises His three marble domes, the thin trail of the Ehone. Oh ! the glory ! the splendor ! Dearest, there's stealing A shade of half sadness now over your brow ; To me, too, in twilight, there comes oft a feeling That fills me with pathos, I can not tell how. But ah ! Cherie, 'tis thus, whenever we gaze on The wonder beyond us, the mount or the skies. There is beauty above, and sadly it weighs on The soul that all vain is th' endeavour to rise. 69 MY THREE LOVES See the vineyards around, in terraces, wending Their way to the lake ; and the vendage is near, — For the scent of the wild narcissus is blending With scent of the grapes, — and, list ! borne on the ear, (As the vendangeurs seek, their day's work all over, Their homes in La Tour) is a quaint Vaudois air, — 'Tis a soft serenade as some peasant lover A maiden beguiles in the vines over there. See the lake at our feet, its bosom just heaving, — (ISTo wind yet is stirring) as though in its rest Eememb'ring the storm ! — And so sorrow goes leaving Its own after swell too in each human breast. Since they only possess the gift of consoling Whose selves have been torn by the tempest of woes. So this lake unto men, whose souls had been rolling And tossed to the whirlwind, has given repose. For here Eousseau would come, his genius all tainted With taint of the world and all wearied of men. It was pure as again he tenderly painted With skill of a lover, with magical pen All the haunts of his youth. Forgot was the warfare He waged with the human. He loved nature more Than he hated minkind, and soft as the star there The light on the page that he wrote by this shore. 70 IN LOVE'S GARDEN And here Byron, the slave and captive of passion. Here Byron, the lord and master of song. When he turned from the world, its foibles and fashion. Would whisper to Heaven confessions of wrong And with voice of a sister, softly reproving. The clear placid waters of Leman would speak, Till the God, Who sees all, may here have seen moving The tear of remorse on the penitent's cheek. In the distance we hear the horn of the pastor, Its echoes proclaiming the moment of prayer. And the roofs of Vevey, as night gathers faster. Are hidden from view — Ah me ! Fancy, say where Is the picture I painted, vision romantic Of mountain and lake? They are vanished and gone! Oh, the Jorat and Leman ! — Eestless Atlantic Is rolling between us — I sit here alone. 71 MY THREE LOVES Only Two An Optical Delusion The scene, a Canadian river ; The time was the hour of sunset ; The boat, just as fragile as ever Was floated, was named the Coquette. Think you, I can ever forget? To four^ I remember, amounted The whole of the little bark's crew; But, somehow, whenever I counted,— The reason I leave unto you, — It seemed to consist of but two. A while we all chatted together Of themes that are suited to four, — The scene and the news and the weather, Of trips we had taken before, — And friends we had left on the shore ; But, soon as the little boat bounded Along at a wonderful rate. The converse mysteriously sounded, — The reason I leave you to state, — To me, like a low tete-a-tete. 7» IN LOVE'S GARDEN And then, as the night was concealing The rocks on the shadowy shore, We sang with the tenderest feeling (In time with the splash of the oar) A song that was suited to four; And lo ! as the music resounded, — I knew we sang a quartette, — To me, for some reason, it sounded (What magic was in the Coquette'?) Like strains of a plaintive duet. But ah! when the voyage was over The boat at last grating the shore, How puzzled was I to discover The crew had consisted of four, — The number I'd counted before. Now tell me the reason, I pray you, — For see I've confided in you, — This viystery; come, what say youf — Was Cupidon one of the crew. That FOUK were thus changed into two ? 1,T MY THREE LOVES Ad Puerum The Dinner, after She Left! Nay, Waiter, I'm half broken-hearted, No carte all my troubles can bear, And, now that the fair has departed, What matters a good bill of fare? 'Twere mock'ry to serve me mock turtle,- E'en though supported by hock, — But wreathe me with cypress and myrtle. And let me encounter the shock. What care I, man, that your fish is The best that swims in the sea. Ah ! think you the rarest of dishes Can bring consolation to me? Each meat that you bring but unlooses The plentiful source of my grief. And not e'en the finest French juices Can bring me a moment's relief. Your duck. Sir, is only distressing When my duck, alas, is afar; The olives that serve as their dressing Are rather the emblems of war. You're poking fun at me, I see now. When you offer me pork, by Jove, Ah ! what's the bacon to me now, — Who bake on the "embers of love !" 74 IN LOVE'S GARDEN I care not for sherry a cent. Sir, — I call for my Cherie in vain, — My heart is with real pain rent. Sir, I scarcely have need of champagne. No fig would I give for a raisin, — Such reasons you only would waste,- The desert my sad heart now stays in Is dessert enough for my taste ! But lo ! as the ev'ning grows later. And the night is chasing the day, I'll order a pony, Waiter, And drive all my sorrows away. On Dit On dit that you hold me, Elaine, With cords there is nothing can sever; On dit that a mere silken chain Has bound me a captive forever; On dit that your voice has a charm To banish the traces of sorrow ; On dit that its magic can warm The heart it will chill on the morrow. On dit that you hold in your hand {On dit is so very malicious !) A wonderful fairy-like wand. To lead him wherever she wishes ; 75 MY THREE LOVES On dit that whenever my skies With clouds of depression are laden, It needs but a glance of your eyes To make even Hades an Aidenn. On dit that you boast of your power, And smile on the bud in the morning — At evening to wither the flower, It needs but a glance of your scorning ; On dit that your winning ways now The storms that are coming betoken; On dit, "Ah ! he little thinks how She'll laugh at the heart when 'tis broken," Je dis, as I hear them, Elaine, "Her magic is nothing but human; And what you imagine a chain. Is but the compassion of woman." Je dis that your voice has a tone The world it can never discover. So that when I hear it alone. My dreams of distraction are over Je dis that the wand which you wield Is a love you cherish unspoken ; Je dis that your heart as a shield Will guard its own honour unbroken. Je dis that those beautiful eyes Are gates which affection uncloses. To show me the soul as it lies Asleep on its cushion of roses. 76 IN LOVE'S GARDEN Je dis, "She is noble and true. And pure as the blush of the morning,"- My heart is entrusted to you Despite of the world and its warning. Je dis to that world, Elaine, As it threatens the stormy weather. If trouble e'er ruffle the main. We'll bound o'er the billows together. Epithalamium Since many strange antitheses Our lives comprise; Since there are no unruffled seas ISTor cloudless skies; Since, though at times bright oases Enchant the eyes. Life's pathway oft by Eate's decrees In deserts lies ; Since grief must follow pleasure's path As night the day ; Since life its bleak December hath As well as May; Since careless youth must change its ease For careful age ; Since we must pass through scenes like these Our pilgrimage ; — 77 MY THREE LOVES Since these tMngs are, 'twere vain that I, With foolish hope, Should cast in pure felicity Your horoscope ; But rather let my wish be this. And this my prajr'r : Since earth can give no perfect bliss, All free from care : May yours a nobler science be Than that of old. Which vainly sought the mystery Of making gold. May you in Love a charm possess Whose wondrous pow'r Shall change to very happiness Each mournful hour. May Love so true an ally prove In Life's great game. That it may check at every move Misfortune's aim. And when upon the pathless sea You start with fear. May Love a faultless compass be By which to steer. And when the storm with which you cope Your strength defies, May Love the radiant sign of hope Paint in the skies ! 78 IN LOVE'S GARDEN And when the changeless deserts burn Your weary feet. May Love's quick eye afar discern The waters sweet. May Love walk hand in hand with dole When pleasures end, 'Till grief shall seem unto the soul Almost a friend. May Love be like a violet From some far clime. Whose sweetness wiles us to forget The winter-time. And though it may not turn to gold The silver hair, Nor smooth from furrowed brows and old The marks of care; Yet may Love use the best, in truth. Of all its arts. And keep in bright perennial youth Your wedded hearts. 79 MY THREE LOVES A Valentine I midst the mountains, and you by the sea, The distance is stretching between, And shines alike now on you and on me The moon with its silvery sheen. It wraps the hills as with mantle of snow. And lightens the ocean for you, — Our thoughts are free, flying hither and fro, As carrier pigeons do. I midst the mountains, and you by the sea ! The vision of form and of face Is blurred, Dearest, for you and for me. Concealed by the curtains of space. Our thoughts will meet, for there's nothing can bar,- For nothing can hinder nor stay! — As earth is kissed by the light of a star A myriad miles away. I midst the mountains, and you by the sea, — And ah for the miles to be crost ! — The bird we heard it has flown from the tree. The sound of our voices is lost; There's sevrance, parting of lips and of hands; But thoughts, — they are bound to be free, As streams which break thro' the hampering bands, In search of the azure sea. 80 IN LOVE'S GARDEN Innominata No, no, not here, no strain of passing song Shall breathe her name, nor 'midst the crowding throng That sweeps the corridors of thought along Shall she be found. But where the busy mind Is lulled to rest; borne on the midnight wind. Her loved name comes, — comes like the weird toll Of phantom bells, — until my very soul Chimes with mem'ries ; until my spirit feels Her presence, until imagination steals Her image from the skies. And when once more These visions flee, — for ah ! they soon are o'er, — Then, peering through the star-lit realms of air. Upward, upward, on the wings of silent prayer, I send her name to greet her spirit there. Close of Day Tho' downward tends the slope The twilit skies above ! Yet all before is hope. For all behind is love. 81 IN THE SANCTUARY IN THE SANCTUARY Bethlehem Is this the spot to wMcb all paths have tended. The bourne of pilgrims through all time,— The end of dreams so lofty, vast and splendid They fired the soul with hopes sublime? Is this the Christ for whom the world has fainted. So many weary years and long, — Is this the vision which the prophets painted. The Monarch of the Psalmist^s song? Thro' all the dark and slowly moving ages The world has panted with desire ; Beyond the purple distance, kings and sages Have scanned to see the beacon fire; Have dreamed of One whose hand should break asunder The fetters which mankind has bound. Or lift the burdens they are bending under And cast all rivals to the ground. Have dreamed of pomp, of splendour — yea, of glory The world has never seen nor known ! — A King surpassing all the kings of story, His seat, a solitary throne. 85 MY THREE LOVES At last the light ! It shows a village lowly That nestles on the hillside slope, — Is this the place to which the prophets holy Have bid us bring our faith and hope ? All visions fade ; and lo ! instead, a dwelling Where cattle seek their nightly rest, Behold ! — and angels bend amazed in telling,- A Babe asleep on Mary^s breast ! Consecration I only know His spirit calleth And am content, I go in faith that what befalleth Is His intent. I will not doubting ask with Moses, 'Tjord, why should I ?" But wait until His word discloses His reason why. E'en tho' I know my mouth containeth No gift of speech Yet still, nor doubt nor fear remaineth, The Lord will teach. 86 IN THE SANCTUARY My tongue may lack ; but, since he sees us, I've confidence, — He makes the simple name of Jesus True eloquence. For thus it was in distant ages His Spirit wrought. The humblest were the teachers, — sages Among the taught. And thus Thou, Lord, Thy grace conferring. Shall be my guide. And I shall preach unto the erring Christ crucified. Yea, I will tell the weary spirit Of ended strife; The poor, of wealth they may inherit Beyond this life! And if, Lord, one hearer only Find peace and rest; If one sad soul before so lonely Smile on Thy breast; If when the day of work is ended, Great I Am, I lead unto Thy pastures splendid But one weak lamb;— ' 87 MY THREE LOVES Shall not the gates unbar before me And let ^me in. And Mercy's robe fall gently o'er me To hide my sin ? Wilt Thou not say, Judge of Heaven, "Thy task is o'er. Thou bringest with the talent given, One talent more." Missions As I look in the book that I treasure. As I read of the love that is there. Of mercy there's nothing can measure Of grace with which nought compare, — Tho' sweet are its sounds, yet with anguish My spirit within me is stirred, I think of the many who languish And hear not the comforting word. I dwell in the house of my Father, Protected and shielded from care, — In mercy permitted to gather The seed that is scatter'd there, - Yet think of the wand'ring and weary. Who find, as in deserts they roam, No light that may make it less dreary, No hand that may beckon them home. 88 IN THE SANCTUARY I kneel at the wonderful table, I eat of the heavenly bread ; I drink of the cup that is able To save all for whom it is shed; I think of the many who gladly Would take of the crumbs of my share. Who know not, tho^ hungering sadly. The bread is enough and to spare. As mercies come faster and faster. The gifts of a bountiful hand, — I recall the words of the Master, "Go forth into every land!" Go forth into highways and hedges. Till all of the burdened shall see The truth that the scripture alleges : Salvation and mercy are free. 89 MY THREE LOVES "Lord, Increase Our Faith" Lone is the hour And strong the tempest's pow'r ; Cause, Lord, my fears to cease. Scarce thro' the darkness and the storm Can I discern Thy gracious form, — 0, Lord, my faith increase ! Loud roars the blast, My courage faileth fast; Come, Lord, come, speaking peace ; Let me perceive Thy saving hand Stretched forth to lead me, safe to land, — 0, Lord, my faith increase ! When doubt again Doth bind me with its chain, 0, Lord, grant me release ; In trial, woe, when death is by Then let me see Thee watching nigh, — 0, Lord, my faith increase ! 90 IN THE SANCTUARY Old Saint Paul's Sunshine and cloud, and wintry winds and snows, And breezes warm with hawthorn breath and rose, And wealth of green and bows of elm all bare. Like yearning arms outstretched in ceaseless prayer. And nights of gloom, — and silent nights when falls The sheen of moon on ivied graves and walls, — Yet still the church, thro' all the shifting year. Thro' restless time, abides unchanging here. In days when those who sleep beneath the trees Still called it hoihe beyond the surging seas. When King and Church alike held equal sway, God's house was here, — and here it stands to-day. In days of clanging war, when shot and shell And fire were poured, — as though the gates of hell Prevailed, — yet still her battered walls uprose. In supplication mute against her foes. And dreary days when all was waste and bare. And birds their shelter made the House of Prayer, And days of joy when once again was heard The sacred strain, the reassuring word ; 91 MY THREE LOVES And many quiet, peaceful days and calm, Unbroken like the beat of chanted psalm. And pallid days when pestilence was rife. And, once again, the days of war and strife! And so, thro' all the change and chance of years. Thro' peace and war, thro' joys and hopes and fears, God's House has been a welcome port of rest To wand'ring souls and souls with care opprest. Confessions low and words that bring release The very walls have heard, and words of peace. And pleading words of prayer, and songs of praise And benedictions — through the passing days. And mothers here have brought their babes to Christ, And faithful lovers made their holy tryst And pledged their troth, — and weary sinners here Have laid their burden down and all their fear: And here the blessed Christ, in grace divine, Has cheered with Bread of Life and Sacred Wine The lowly souls who loved and knew Him best — And here the dead were brought and laid to rest ! In other lands the stately fanes arise With sculptured walls and towers that woo the skies. And jewelled shrines, and pure majestic dome And fretted aisles long drawn — ^but this is home ! 92 IN THE SANCTUARY So keep it. Lord, thro' changing years, a place Where souls may come and meet Thee face to face And bring us, Christ, at last in tender love. Thro' storm and cloud to cloudless skies above. Prayer for Old Saint Paul's God of our fathers, defend The place that we love; Let mercy and blessing descend Like dew from above: Eemember the faith which of old. For love of Thy ways. Here builded with silver and gold A house to Thy praise! Remember the work of the just — Tho' ivy entwine The tombs which now shelter their dust. Their spirits are Thine. Forget not the love that they bore The place of Thy Kame, Whose courage was strong to restore And save it from shame ! Forget not the faith that sufficed In war and distress; Remember, God and Christ, Their patience — and bless ! 93 MY THREE LOVES Remember, Ancient of Days, For sake of the dead. The worship, the prayer and the praise. The breakings of bread! Forget not their pleadings and plaints, Eemember the tears. The life and the love of Thy saints. The faith of the years ! And visit, God, as of yore, With mercy and grace. The house where we worship before Thy glorious Face ! Our prayers and petitions receive. Our praises accept ! Give faith, our God, to believe Thy promises kept. Our courage is feeble and faints. Our zeal waxes cold; God ! for the faith of Thy saints. Thy people of old. For grace to be trustful and true, Like those in the grave. To know that by many or few Thy mercy can save ! The sparrow hath found her a nest. Thine altars, God ! make, too, our shelter and rest The courts we have trod ! 94 IN THE SANCTUAKY As tendrils of ivy that cling And hang to its walls, Christ, be the love that we bring And give to St. Paul's ! The Living Christ "Now he is dead — far hence he lies In the lorn Syrian town — And on His grave with shining eyes The Syrian stars look down." "In vain men still, with hoping new, Eegard His death-place dumb. And say the stone is not yet to. And wait for words to come." 'Ohermann once more." — Matthew Arnold. Thus said the bard, but angels said. When morn had chased the gloom, "Why seek the living with the dead. Or kneel by empty tomb ?" Thus said the bard, but human eyes The Christ behold to-day, Not where beneath the Syrian skies God rolled the stone away, 95 MY THREE LOVES Nor where, in Syria's wasted town, The Word had life and breath, But Christ they seek with regal crown Beyond the reach of death. Or seek Him where, on earth below, He triumphs through His grace, When joy and peace have banished woe Prom some transfigured face. Not dead, the Christ men crucified, — Nor shall the sceptre cease Which broke the haughty Eoman's pride And changed the dreams of Greece ! The shadows rest on weary lands Which have not known His grace, Nor marked His dear uplifted hands Nor seen His blessed face. But where the loftier virtues dwell. And love and sunshine stay. It needs no planted cross to tell The Christ had passed this way! Ah ! blessed proof. He walks with men In all His power to save — The orient stars look down, but then They light an empty grave. 96 IN THE SANCTUARY On Jaman's peak I stood one day. Below the cloud was seen; But sunlight on the summit lay — God's face above, serene. Poet, thou canst speak once more, Beyond the world's despair. The Name which Wordsworth bowed before And Browning breathed in prayer! The doubt which held awhile and bowed Thy soul in pain and dread Is gone ; it was a passing cloud Which made the Christ as dead. The veil is drawn, and thou canst turn And see the earthly guide, Eememb'ring how the heart did burn What time He walked beside, No power of poet nor of sage. No trenchant critic's pen. Can blot His name from Hist'ry's page, Who died and lives for men! For human hearts will not resign That hope of Easter-Morn, Nor loose the clasp of hand divine. Nor deem their creed outworn. 97 MY THREE LOVES So long as human souls have need Of healing, love and grace, So long as human hearts shall bleed, The/U seek the Saviour's face. Men strive to take away our Lord, To turn us from our tryst. But give of hope no other word And show no other Christ. The only light which breaks the gloom Is light from Easter's Sun; No other guides beyond the tomb — 'Tis either Christ or none ! Easter As broke the dawn with promise rich of splendour. Surpassing all the days in all the years. The women came with bruised hearts and tender, With spices rare, with ointment, — yea, with tears. The flowers abloom, the birds, the morning gladness All told of joy, of hope, of bright'ning day, — And yet, they could not see nor hear for sadness. But questioned, "Who shall roll the stone away?" 98 IN THE SANCTUARY And then, they heard a message, — matchless won- der! — "N'ot here, but risen I" so the angel said. And like as when the mists are blown asunder The world was changed, the Christ no longer dead ! Oh! what a change to human hearts a- weary Of seeking after God, to know and love. For life itself is changed, no longer dreary If we can see the living Christ above ! Oh! what a change, when woe and sin appalling Our souls are bowed with tremor, chilled with fear. To hear a voice by name the sinner calling, To turn and see a risen Saviour near. "Not here, but risen I" When the ties are broken And human Love protests and strives in vain. The empty tomb of Christ is pledge and token The heart shall claim and have its own again. "]!^ot here, but risen ! 0, thou Christ ascended ! Eeveal Thyself to my expectant eyes And bring me, when the path of earth is ended. To see Thy glorious face beyond the skies ! "Not here, but risen V Now we hear the snatches Of music which angelic voices sing. And, here and there, a glimpse the spirit catches Of regions where the Christ alone is King! 99 MY THREE LOVES Easter Dawn Ah ! the night of sorrow lingers, And. the skies are dark above, For our sins have pierced and slain Him, They have slain the Prince of Love ! Yet our hearts they surely need Him, And we cry at break of day, "Who shall give us back our Saviour, — Who shall roll the stone away?" We are they who wait for morning. For our sins have made it night. And the tomb of our transgressions Has hid the Master from our sight. But our hearts they sue for pardon. And we cry at break of day, "Who shall give us back our Saviour, — Who shall roll the stone away?" When He moved and taught among us. Then our love was weak and cold. For He lavished all His treasures. And we paid Him dross for gold. But with gifts of love's atonement, Lo ! we come at break of day ; But our sins still hide Him from us Who shall roll the stone away. 100 IN THE SANCTUARY With the myrrh of faith's adoring, With the ointment rare of life. We would fain anoint His body. As for ns He bore the strife. We would wash the wounds of Jesus With our tears at break of day; But our sins have come between us, — Who shall roll the stone away? Ah ! the night of sorrow passes And the shadow dark of sin, Lo ! open wide His prison, We who loved are peering in. And our hearts are thrilled with gladness. As we kneel at break of day ; In the night of our despairing Lo ! the stone was rolled away, — And a voice, we surely know it, — Ah ! its sweetness seems the same As when first we heard its pleading. For it calls us each by name, — "Do not seek where sin has laid me, I arose at break of day. For your God has sent His angels, — They have rolled the stone away." Now the shade of sorrow passes And the mists of doubtings flee. We who loved may whisper boldly, "Jesus died and rose for me." 101 MY THREE LOVES ^Tis Thy tender voice, Eabboni ! That we hear at break of day, Lo ! 'tis calling, "Peace I give you !"- God hath rolled the stone away. Easter Hours Matins The night is still unbroken, And the soldiers are asleep, The stars alone, in token Of their love, a vigil keep ; When lo ! a vision splendid, Like the flashing of the day, — The night of sorrow's ended, — God hath rolled the stone away. Lauds The dawn begins to waken. But the lilies are asleep. The dewdrops still unshaken When the women come to weep. And lo! by sorrow's prison, The angelic voices say, — "The Christ you seek is risen. And the stone is rolled away.'' 102 IN THE SANCTUARY Prime The sun in glory shining, And the flowers their fragrance shed, A woman's heart repining, As in vain she seeks her dead. And lo ! He stands before her. And He hushes all her pain, The spell of peace is o'er her, — For the Christ is come again ! Vespers The day is dying, ending. As the shadows gather fast. The twain their way are wending And their hearts are overcast, With thoughts of dark disaster And of lofty visions fled. When lo! they know the Master As He breaks the blessed Bread. Compline The night is lit with glory. With the splendour overhead, And love repeats the story, "Is the Christ alive or dead?" When lo ! their eyes perceive Him, And the doubts and terrors cease, — hearts of men receive Him ! to hear His word of peace ! 103 MY THREE LOVES The Light of Eastertide Not here the Christ ! but still we linger In strange unf aith beside his grave, Or ask to touch with fleshly finger The wounds of Him who died to save ! The heart is restless, ever yearning To see the Christ with human eyes ; Or hear, as Mary heard — when turning Her soul was thrilled with glad surprise. we of little faith, our craving Is still to see, and touch, and hear. As though He'd have no pow'r of saving, Unless our eyes beheld him near ! slow of heart, in all our roaming. If Christ we love and Christ believe, He walks beside, — as through the gloaming He went with twain that blessed eve ! And still, what time the cloud is rifted. The hearts that deemed the Saviour dead, Shall see the wounded hands uplifted. And know the Christ who breaks the bread. 104 IN THE SANCTUARY It only needs a faith that wrestles With doubt, and then, whate'er betide, A love that near His bosom nestles. And breathes its one request, — "Abide!" Then shall we feel to-day, to-morrow. On fevered brow His cooling breath. And hear His "Peace !" — in storm and sorrow. In fear, in travail, care and death. foolish heart, to think that ever Can fade the light of Eastertide, That time, or space, or death can sever From Christ the sonl for whom He died ! Love Divine Shepherd love, that will not stay content ; He leaves in fold the many safe reclining. To seek the one lost sheep He knows is pining ! love that guides Him ^long the way it went ! Ah ! hard the path and drear the skies above. And sharp the cruel crags His way impeding, But still He seeks, though pierced His feet and bleeding, Until He find — and satisfy — His love! 105 MY THREE LOVES Spirit love, that will not heed the cost ! love no human thought can weigh nor measure. That will not count already gathered treasure If one poor coin be missing still and lost ! Tho' human hearts despond, and hope seems vain. He searcheth still in strange, unlikely places, That which He knows the soil of sin defaces. Until He find and make it bright again. Father love, so warm, and true, and strong ! — The day gives place to eve, but still He gazes For signs of him, who, lost amidst the mazes Of want and sin, hath wandered far and long. The night comes down, but when the morning fires Illume the Eastern skies, with love's persistence He stands, and peers and scans the purple dis- tance, — Until He find him whom His heart desires. 106 SI nm Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 Preservationlechnologies A WORLD LEADER IH COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Towriship, PA 1 6066 , One copy del. to Cat. Div. ^U- &i fg^Q