Glass _^fi5:&5151^' Book— ^X£/<5'5^ Copyright ]^«_ /^/^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT: SUN-WAYS OF SONG BY ALONZO L. RICE WITH AX INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES MAJOR AN EPILOGUE BY FRANK L. STANTON BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1910 Copyright, 1910 Sherman, French & Company (gCU3688-35 Xntroduction Does Nature, manifest in forests and mead- ows, in squirrels and sunshine, in clouds and rain, throw off a poetic effluvium infectious to those who keep her company? Is she the cause of the poet's love for her, or is the poetic tem- perament the source of that affection? I cannot answer these questions, but this I know : that the sweetest singers of our language, who tenderly touch our hearts and send our blood dancing through our veins in floods of de- Light, are those whose souls are in touch with Nature's silent melodies — silent to most of us. Nature's symphonies may be lost to a tone- deaf ear, but to her ardent lover she gently breathes her melodious strains and teaches him to sing them to the world. Alonzo L. Rice has spent his life listening to the chorus of the birds ; and few poets have caught more accurately the harmony and mel- ody of that simple yet marvelous song. Not only has he caught Nature's rarest tones, but she has told him the secret of her voice, and has taught him to sing her highest praise in imita- tion. The fortunate reader of this volume will need no word from me to make clear his rendering. The exquisite beauty in "The Dead Bee," "The Introduction other Life," "When Baby Died," and "Come, Go a Piece," needs no analysis to make it per- ceptible. Like all great beauty, it is so simple that a child can understand. He who interprets Nature's song to those of us who cannot hear her low sweet voice takes us closer to the glories of the infinite and fits us better for the worries of the finite. "Sun-ways of Song" brings love and light and simple faith. It soothes us like a mild nar- cotic ; and Hstening to its gentle strains we, too, catch whispers of the mother-voice, and the clouds of our work-a-day life are swept away, while we dream that we also can sing. CHARLES MAJOR. Contente Page THE MULBERRY TREE . 1 THE MAGNET .... 4 THE FOUR GRACES 4 THE STORM .... 5 WHEN BABY DIED 6 GRIEF ..... 7 THE OPTIMIST .... 8 ON SUCH A NIGHT, AT SUCH AN HOUR" 8 AT EVENTIDE .... 9 SUMMER ..... 11 WHO BIDES HIS TIME 11 A DREAM OF LONG AGO . 12 FAIR MEADOWS .... 13 LOVE'S HOUSE .... 13 A LOVE SONG .... 14 JUSTICE ..... 14 FOR LOVE OF YOU 15 MILKWEEDS .... 15 THE OTHER LIFE . ' . 16 IN A ROSE'S LIFE 18 COME, GO A PIECE "... 20 THE SEEKER .... 22 A WOODLAND TRAGEDY . 22 THE MIGHTY GODS 23 THE KING'S SWORD . . . . 23 THOSE WHO GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS" 24 OUR DAILY WORK . . . . 25 WANDERLUST . . . . . 26 SUCCESS . . . . . 28 A HOUSE UPON THE HILLSIDE " 28 NIGHT ...... 29 Page CONTENTMENT ..... 29 WELCOME OF THE WOODS 30 THE OVERCOMERS JOY 31 DROUGHT 31 SONG OF CHILDHOOD DAYS 33 A DEW-DROP'S MONOLOGUE 34 BALLADE OF MILKING TIME 34 LOVE CAN NEVER PROVE UNKIND 36 THE HIGHER FAITH 3T WHEN LILACS BLOOM 38 FROM GRAY TO GOLD 38 INDIAN SUMMER 39 AT DAWN 39 ASLEEP AT POST 40 THE ROSE'S RIVAL 40 THE OLD WATERMILL 41 THE GIFT 43 THE STARS 44 GYPSIES 45 IN THE AUTUMN 46 NOW THAT WE PART 47 WHEN MOTHER DIED 48 THE ROSE AND THE BIRD 49 THE TRULY BRAVE 49 THE PATHWAY 50 GREENWOOD CHAPELRY 50 APPLE BLOSSOMS 51 BROKEN SHRINES 52 SERENADE 52 A WISH 53 TWO MOODS 53 ENDEAVOR 54 AN AUTUMN SCENE 65 IN THE GARDEN 56 SONG'S MISSION 57 A DEAD BEE 58 Page THE MEETING .... 58 THE SEARCHER 59 THE SIBYLLINE BOOKS 59 THE ICONOCLAST 60 A DREAM MOOD 60 THE INDOMITABLE WILL " 61 THE STATUE .... 61 THE PLAIN BOW 62 MIRACLE OF THE CORN 62 THE MOTH AND THE SONG 63 THE OWL .... 64 THAT LOVE IS DEAD 65 LOVE'S BIRTH .... 66 BALLADE OF BLUE EYES AND CHERRY LIPS 66 THE FLIGHT .... 68 ACCEPTABILITY 68 BECALMED .... 69 FRIENDSHIP .... 69 AN EXILE'S DREAM 70 ONE YEAR AGO .... 73 LETTERS OF GOLD 73 WHIPS OF SCORN "... 73 DOWN COUNTRY WAYS . 74 A WINTER TWILIGHT 75 LETTING DOWN THE BARS 76 AZALEAS .... 76 BEFORE THE FIGHT 77 CREATION .... 77 THE OLD COUNTRY ROAD 78 THE POET .... 79 THE SURRENDER 79 HARBOR OF DREAMS 80 A SONG ..... 81 THE ROSE OF DAWN 82 CURFEW ..... 82 QUANDARY OF THE GODS 83 Page MOONLIGHT .... 83 OLD HAMPSHIRE 84 AN AUTUMN DAY 86 A HEART AND A SOUL 86 MEN SAID MY DAYS WERE WASTED " . 87 A PRAYER .... 88 AT EVENTIDE .... 89 A GRAY DAY .... 89 DIEU VOUS GARDE 90 ENGLAND .... 90 STORM AT SEA .... 91 RETROSPECTION .... 92 LOVE THE CONQUEROR 92 LOVE'S LOYALTY 93 DEAD ! MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN " 94 GLEANERS OF THE PONTINE MARSHES 94 DOUBT ..... 95 IF I SHOULD FAINT" 96 PASTORAL DAYS 96 LOVE'S ROSE . . . . . 97 INFATUATION . . . . . 98 AN EVENING PRAYER . . . . 98 ]^ote To the proprietors and editors of Lippin- cott's. Life, The Reader, Leslie's Weekly, Bo- hemian, Boston Transcript, Judge, Youth's Companion, Success, Cosmopolitan, Munsey's, Brooklyn Life, Sunday School Times, Christian Endeavor World, Smart Set, and The Indian- apolis News, the author desires to express his thanks for the courtesy extended in granting him permission to reprint his verses previously appearing in their pubHcations. The author's thanks are also due Messrs. Silver and Burdett for permission to use "Come, Go a Piece," from "Poets and Poetry of Indi- ana;" also to the Harmsworth Publishing Co., of London, England, publishers of The Red Magazine, for similar favors. A. L. R. THE MULBERRY TREE The mulberry stands on the side of the hill With the fleecy clouds over it, lazy and still ; A silkworm of fancy now spins from its leaves A thread of gold tinsel while memory weaves A fabric as fine as those looms of the East, In hues like the ones of the gay Flower Feast. Near by it, the river with azure-veined arm Enfolds the fair landscape with many a charm ; The low-bending willows that trail in the tide, And the smooth silvery sycamores rising in pride : The meadow, the comland, cloud-shadows at play. In pursuit — up the hill, down the vale — and away! In the leaf-dotted shadow the honey bees sing, While a sweet invitation the lily bells ring To remain for a moment and rest, but for me The charm that abides is — the mulberry tree! For years, all the wonders its covert possessed, From the velvety leaves to the well-rounded nest Of the robin, that poised on a sentinel limb. Would sing at the nightfall a wonderful hymn ; Far excelling the songs of the siren of yore. 8un-^ay9 of Song That caused brave Ulysses to pause by the shore. (This Homer relates in his "mighty-mouthed" verse ; But the themes of the countryside let me re- hearse : With baby's pleased face pressing close to the pane, And the worn reapers thanking the robin for rain!) The woodpeckers throng where the ripe berries drip With a liquid far sweeter than moistened the lip Of the fond devotee where the tall lilies grow And the drops of rich Burgundy sparkle and flow; But no revels of midnight have dazzled the head That peeps from the green leaves in turban of red! (What a feast to the gods, do the berries bestow : To the bird on the bough; to the poet below!) There, the little sapsucker, with many a dot. Has circled the trunk, and in each hidden spot, A berry has dropped by the same mystic speU, As the manna that once in the wilderness fell ! Sun-CClays of Song Tiptoeing, a limb we could reach with one hand, With a boost from a friend we could easily land Where we shinned up the mossy old trunk at our ease By clasping it close with our hands and our knees! Then, thick fell the shower of fruit, pit-a-pat, Into Chloe's spread apron or Strephon's straw hat! (Had Py ramus elsewhere sought Thisbe that night, The fruit of the mulberry would have been white. ) Like a palm in the desert, its green branches rise In the noon of the day when the sun blinds my eyes; Then, so gladly I turn as the sand bums my feet, — Like a pilgrim his Mecca, its wide boughs I greet ! Gracious refuge of shadow! There often I seem To behold that fair city John saw in his dream ! I recline by the fountain that flows by its root, And drink the clear water and eat the ripe fruit ; While the deep-shadowed silence that falls over me, Recalls the sweet peace that crowned glad Gali- lee! Sun-CClays of Song THE MAGNET From Eastern lands where dark-eyed Houris dwell, From where the Southern sweet magnolias blow, And Western climes where strains of Zephyrus swell, The needle turns to Norland's ice and snow ! THE FOUR GRACES A BLUE sky, a red rose, a tress of gold, a song, These make beautiful the earth and banish thoughts of wrong Until the hill, the vale and rill, to my glad vis- ion, seem Arrayed in all the beauty of a peri's fairest dream. When fervid shines the heat of day amid the crowded throng, A blue sky, a red rose, a tress of gold, a song. Dispel the thousand little doubts, each shadow of a care. And gazing on the heavens I can see that hope is there ! 8un-CClay8 of Song When longing for a something that is better than I've known, A knowledge that my weary feet are coming to my own, A blue sky, a red rose, a tress of gold, a song, Are staffs for my infirmity and make me brave and strong! A health to you, good friend of mine! A plenty to you all! May each one be at his home when Fortune makes her call! With sweetest wine to lips of mine I pledge both deep and long, A blue sky, a red rose, a tress of gold, a song. THE STORM A FEARFUL storm made havoc through the night : The giant oaks lie overturned; the bay Strown with dismantled vessels shows the might From which the sailors strove to get away! A world at peace with songsters in the trees. The golden beams of morning now disclose; How gently rocked by this caressing breeze, The hammocked infant of yon crimson rose! 6 Sun-days of Song WHEN BABY DIED How brief the stay, as beautiful as fleeting, The time that baby came with us to dwell ; Just long enough to give a happy greeting. Just long enough to bid us all farewell. Death travels down the thickly-settled highway, At shining marks they say he loves to aim; How did he find far down our lonely by-way. Our little girl who died without a name? She seemed so like a tender bird whose winglets Are broken by the stress of rain and storm, With loving care we pressed the golden ringlets. And wondered could there be so fair a form; For death had chiseled without pause or falter Each feature that the sunny tresses frame ; No change of scene nor length of time can alter Our httle girl who died without a name. We do not know the fond endearment spoKen To which she listened when she fell asleep. And so, beside a column that was broken, We laid her to her slumber calm and deep; We traced upon the stone with loving fingers These simple words, affection's tear to claim: "In dreams, beyond all earthly sorrow, lingers Our little girl who died without a name." Sun-CCJays of Song Close folded there within the Bible hidden, A flower fades that withered on her breast; Upon the page where such as she are bidden To seek the circle of His arms for rest. "Of such the kingdom," comes to us so sweetly, Those little ones without a touch of blame; We know He shelters in His love completely, Our little girl who died without a name. She sleeps serene where fragrant mossy willows In sweet and wordless tunes forever wave. And summer seas in long and grassy billows Break into bloom around her lonely grave. In memory's hall how many heroes slumber, We gild their deeds upon the scroll of fame ; We treasure far above this mighty number. Our little girl who died without a name. GRIEF His love, to-night, the Wind has lost. And over barren pasture-lands. How wildly are the dead leaves tossed By his grief -stricken hands! I know, for 'tis the selfsame sound That swept across my soul the eve I scattered rose-buds, dewy-crowned. Above lost Genevieve. Sun-Cdays of Song THE OPTIMIST Dear gazer on the brighter half Of this prosaic world of ours, Who always thinks it best to laugh And pluck sweet flowers ; The kind influence of your hand And voice will ever lead us on And upward till at last we stand On heights of dawn! "ON SUCH A NIGHT, AT SUCH AN HOUR" I LOOK abroad, and cannot help but think On such a night, at such an hour as this. Love was awakened by Hope's gentle kiss ; For just above dim cloudland's purple brink The moon rides high, and kisses rose and pink On this broad terrace; from yon dark abyss Fire beetles seem like drowsy eyes, I wis, That close to sleep's dominion idly wink. I hear, somewhere behind a leafy screen, A cricket sing his song of vain regrets, And with deft touches strike his tambourine; Across the lawn there come the mignonette's Sweet odors, while from balconies of green. White lilies bend like stately JuHets. Sun-Cdays of Song AT EVENTIDE How fair at eventide Shine out the early stars ; within their beams, Peace and contentment reign, and there abide, Ref resiling, soothing dreams. And as they softly shine. What fond emotions fill the throbbing breast ; While countless tender fancies lightly twine A crown of peace and rest. Appearing when the blaze Of sunset gilds the clouds with hectic flush. Amid the sounds of night their kindling rays Invite a solemn hush. From unseen rippling rills, A chorus swells unheard through busy day; From reedy vales and forest-mantled hills. There comes a plaintive lay. Their gentle glances bring To mortal kind the blissful hour of rest ; The weary bird, on wide-exploring wing. Now seeks its woodland nest. 10 8uti-^ays of 8ong Foldward, by dewy lea, The shepherd slowly tends his straying flocks; The fishing skiffs that fleck the sunset sea, Turn to the vine-clad rocks. Now fade the twilight hues That made fair oriflammes of dusky trees. While like a benediction fall the dews As ebbs the dying breeze. So comes the hour of prayer. When mortals at the altar lowly bend; And like an incense through the quiet air. The wants of earth ascend. And now amid the gray Uncertain shades and the fast-fleeting light, I ask that truth and honor lead my way That I may walk aright. Thus when the last low sand Is faintly twinkling in life's faithful glass. May I like this fair day, from this fair land. As sweetly, gently pass. And through the gates ajar, May love's bright beacon lead me to His side Where skies are ever bright as they now are When falls the eventide. Sun-Cdays of Song 11 SUMMER The sun throned far in brightly gleaming skies, Sends down his splendor where fair Summer lies; Broad breadths of blue, now softly bend to kiss The green-clad Earth, in sweet, enchanted bliss. WHO BIDES HIS TIME It looked like beauty wasted; through the night. The spotless snow its ermine robes unfurled On bare, brown hills ; it seemed as sad a sight As goodness scattered through a heedless world. Day dawned at last. Beneath a cloudless sun, Hill, valley lay in robes of hght serene; Our hearts by that mute eloquence were won. And dwelt enraptured on the fairy scene! And, thus we came to know that each good deed Will shine like snow on midnight hills for- lorn ; The shadows past, our patient eyes may read Love's deathless message on some smiling morn! 12 Sun-^ays of Song A DREAM OF LONG AGO Full many happy days have dawned along the path of Hfe, When the heavens bright and cloudless bent to kiss The crimson blooming meadows where the honey-bees were rife, And the butterflies were floating in their bliss ! In fancy I can see again the roses as they cling Round the window rosy red with dying day ; The robin's repertoire I hear — what worlds of rapture ring — And I kneel again by mother's knee to pray ! I wander now as Jacob did, my pillow is a stone, I miss my mother's voice at evening's close; The bees that wooed the flowers, and the butter- flies have flown To the vale where blooms the summer's fade- less rose ! And in the night, like Jacob, I can hear the mystic lore That tells of rest beyond the troubled way ; I know I shall be happy then as in the days of yore, When I knelt beside my mother's knee to pray! Sun-Cdays of Song 13 FAIR MEADOWS Fair meadows, ever soft to youthful feet ! And here, the waves of traffic never beat ; Like Isaac, now I stray at eve's calm tide, With peace, like fond Rebecca, at my side! LOVE'S HOUSE When you confessed a love that equalled mine, I built a lordly house that could not fall, And peopled it with joys to bide my call: Stained windows, frescoed panels, seats with wine In curtained alcoves ; statues of gods benign In shadowed niches stood; along each wall Old masters ranged; 'mid luminous lilies tall A perfumed fountain broke in a love song fine! How well love builded let long years attest. Its stately turrets still are seen afar, But down its halls the spiders heedless spin : Dethroned, the rapturous gods lie prone; the West Falls red through broken panes, on blight and scar. And fountain hushed and lilies drowned therein. 14 Sun-CClays of Song A LOVE SONG To-day the smoke curls downward, And a mist clothes hill and lea; My lover's smile turns frownward, And the day is dark for me. Ah! never such summer weather Will scent the greenwood lane, As when we two roamed together And sang love's sweet refrain! Sweet chimes far bells are ringing Somewhere down yonder vale; Near my pathway a robin is singing Love's ever disconsolate tale. And I wait here in the gloaming. But I know all the tides of the sea And all of the world's wide roaming, Will never bring you to me ! JUSTICE The pair of scales she holds aloft will turn At smallest fragment in the balance thrown; With bandaged brow how can she well discern, Or how distinguish with her eyes of stone? Sun-Cdays of Song 15 FOR LOVE OF YOU For love of you, the morning rises fair; The skies are always tinged with deeper blue, And flowers dispense a thousand odors rare, For love of you. And gladly all the birds their songs renew, Without one note of discord or of care; Nor do the gardens grow one sprig of rue. The raiment of sweet peace all things do wear; One chord of joy is gayly pulsing through The land to-day ; and hope's gay feast I share. For love of you. MILKWEEDS "Like subjects of an eastern clime The milkweeds stand," I said one day. In Autumn's bright and golden time. When fleecy clouds were out to play. The Sultan Wind's command, then loud Rang out, and it had scarcely done, When, rank on rank, they softly bowed. And doffed their turbans, every one! 16 8uti-^a>>s of Song THE OTHER LIFE I CANNOT help but think how richer far Are you, my friend, who paid long years ago The debt that I as mortal, too, must pay. I never think of you as gone, but changed, Transmuted from the dust to earth-born things By wondrous crucible within the earth. And clear alembic of meandering streams. Air claims a part of your sweet presence; buds That open by the wayside and the rills. Or star the azure fields ; your beauty bides In delicate draperies wherein the moon Enfolds herself, when, over Latmus' hill. She looks down on her fair Endymion, Who bears like me the mortal thrall of life. And you are with me everywhere I turn ; In clouds that brighten in the upper air, Or blush when the long day goes out at last; The snow's white sanctity, the crystal dew, And mists that curl from altars of the morn. And when the rain has gone, and clouds repose In fair and pleasing visions in the east, The sun comes out and over hill and vale, From raindrops and the vapor of the sky, Sun-Clays of Song 17 He weaves the arch that spans the world with hght; And there I see your presence shining still Within the rainbow's splendor, seven-fold. And myriad ministrations yet will come, And kindly offices that never cease, As still the years pursue their endless course. The beauty of the blossoms that bedeck The bride and load the breeze with odors rare. Is yours. The waxen flowers that are held Within the senseless hand of him that's dead Speak of a resurrection soon his own. I hear your voice at nightfall in the pure Vernacular of the communing leaves That whisper lullabies to my sad soul. And charm me with their old-time melodies. The lapse of waves along the wooded shore When I sit down at eve to watch the stars Entrance the dusk with countless white resolves, Is still the sound that pleased me long ago ! I bide my time till interfused and mixed. The elements that know corruption here Shall put off dull mortality, and sleep Forever in a clasped and close embrace. And be companions to the stars, and run Through all the generations of the flowers! 18 Sun-CClays of Song IN A ROSE'S LIFE We stood within a flowered close One April eve as twilight fell; The world was wrapped in deep repose, My heart in love's fond spell. The answer I should have that night, A little while she would delay; Who felt duress of love's sweet might, Could nothing but obey ! Love's calendar evoked my praise, And made delay seem less unkind; She searched a rose-tree's clustered sprays, The smallest bud to find. The night it blooms, your answer then." In fear I said, "How shall I know This rose from sister roses, when The garden's all a-blow?" For answer then a tress of hair She took and bound with touches light The bud, its mission to declare. And turned and said, "Good night." Sun-Cdays of Song 19 Time's current seemed a sluggish tide, The dial felt some sunless thrall; All other gardens," once I cried, "Have not a bud so small!" It seemed the miracle of Spring Whose touches woke each sleeping eye, This bud's fulfillment could not bring. Or else had passed it by! The pulses of the May-time found Each tiny thing of leaf and blade; And that wee bud her tresses bound. How fair was it arrayed! To-night within a curtained room I gazed upon her slumber sweet; The garden slept in bowers of bloom, Restless my wild heart beat; I placed the rose, full-blown and fair. Still bound with tresses golden-bright, Above her heart, with love's fond care. And murmured low, "Good night!" 20 Sun-CClays of Song "COME, GO A PIECE" How sweet are the sounds of the earliest words We whispered in days long since gone by, When the bells of cattle and songs of birds Grew fainter beneath the sunset sky ; When we grasped the hand of a little friend. And gazed away down the shadowy lane To the dark, deep woods at the other end. And softly whispered the old refrain, "Come, go a piece." When the wind came over the meadow wide With its burden of perfume fine and sweet. With a childish fear one stood by my side. With pink sunbonnet and bare brown feet ; Somehow, I could always understand The soft persuasion of smile and tear. Before she said, as she took my hand And whispered, close to my listening ear, "Come, go a piece." We were the happiest of children then ; We gathered flowers and swung on the gate: It seemed I was free for a lad of ten ; The rose in her cheek was red for eight. We never thought through the passing years How shadows lengthened with each day's sun ; Her pleasures were mingled with passing tears. And she always said, when the day was done, "Come, go a piece." Sun-days of Song 21 And the years passed on. One Autumn came With a twitter of birds in the fading skies; On youth's fair altar love lit a flame, And I read the secret in downcast eyes. When I questioned her to know if she Would journey along where my pathway led, She looked away, in her innocent glee, And these were the only words she said, "Come, go a piece." We soon were wed, and the joy bells rang And the May-day beauty fiUed the air; The birds in their green cathedrals sang. And lanes were filled with a perfume rare. A white stone marks that a fine holiday. And I wrote on the beech tree's mossy rind, Like the gayest of youths, in childish play. The words that were ever in my mind, "Come, go a piece." At last, like the rest of the golden dreams That have cheered my way, the time drew near When we had to part — and to me it seems That my life has forever lost its cheer. The light burns low in the ashen cloud, The rose in the garden's in death's eclipse; And I hear once more, as when I bowed My head for the message of dying lips, "Come, go a piece." 22 8un-^ay9 of Song The flowers she gave me are withered now, And the song she sang has slipped my mind; A thick mist blots out the page, somehow, The tokens I look for I cannot find ; And it seems to me when the lights are low. And the moon is hid, and the crickets still. Sweet tones drift back from the long ago. Trailing up and away from earthly ill, "Come, go a piece." THE SEEKER The lilies of repentance grow within a pool of tears ; The roses of remembrance bloom upon an un- known grave; The wine of true forgetfulness just for a mo- ment cheers ; The pearl I seek is buried in the sea's unfath- omed wave. A WOODLAND TRAGEDY A robin's feather! Blood drops steep The drifted leaves and forest mold; Ah ! here was staged a tragedy as deep As any of which Shakespeare told. Sun-^ays of Song 23 THE MIGHTY GODS The air it seems is full of cloudy shapes Of mighty gods arrived on earth to dwell, Who deftly weave around their magic spell, Or deep within the valley press the grape's Empurpled globes, or from sea-looking capes. With flying garments, strike the airy shell; But here, close in the covert of this dell, Where day is mellowed by the vine that drapes The cavern's mouth, I watch and wait. It seems Brimmed beakers that I drain will not allure Their steps this way; that in a land of dreams, They have foresworn and henceforth will ab- jure The comradeship of man who dwells by streams The cloudy heavens with dark shades obscure. THE KING'S SWORD "The blade's too short," the craven guard re- plied. The king's son started forward, bold and bluff; "No sword's too short for one who's brave," he cried ; "Advance one step, 'twill then be long enough !" 24 Sun-dl^yQ of Song "THOSE WHO GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS" When the young leaves on the willows are green and the wind is fresh from the South, It is then I feel again your kisses warm on my mouth ! But the stormy day You sailed away Brought sorrow to my door, And it seems to me that the hand of hope can be lifted never more ! When I hear the ocean murmur, and the wind is hoarse with pain, When this long, lone stretch of land is gray with mist and rain. Then I look and long For your boat and song To bring sweet peace to me. As I wait with heart as restless as the restless waves of the sea ! Ah! those who go down to the sea in ships, to the cruel, treacherous sea, They take all the sunshine with them who bide the waves' decree! The star that you steered by Is never seen by the eye Sun-CD[ay8 of 8ong 25 That shone when you looked at me With love's own fond reflection ! (Oh, the deso- late days to be!) Oh ! for a dream of the golden past, to drop this ceaseless pain, To wander again with you by the hedgerows down the lane; To feel again the Spring, With the birds upon the wing; The sea as blue as your eye, And never a sign of cloud-rack above in the cloudless sky! It seems I am wedded to my grief! But the lonely curlew's call. The seaweed and the dulse that with the surges rise and fall, Tell of the passing day. And a boat to sail away Beyond this sad sea wall To a far-off haven secure with a blue sky over all. OUR DAILY WORK Not by remembrance of past service, will The world's regard be evermore maintained; A constant tribute it demands, and still With ceaseless effort is the summit gained. 26 Bun-CClays of Song WANDERLUST The spirit of the rover was God's heritage to me, Who finds no true abiding place upon the land or sea! The Hours are my servitors to plume my wings for flight, Nor inglenook or hospice calls in vale or on the height. I worship in no temple far withdrawn from sight of man, My altar fills the star-sown space and knows not any ban ; And home to which the weary turn, I only seek awhile. Till in the sea of fancy I can sight some mystic isle! In Barcan wilds, and then by blue Sicilian waves I pause, Or lean with Juliet to hear fond Romeo's heart cause ; In garden-grounds, the nightingale I hear with pensive Keats, Or listen to the story that the dark-eyed Ruth repeats. 8un->8 of 8ong WHEN LILACS BLOOM When lilacs bloom their purple sprays With subtle scent the airs perfume; What splendor fills the summer days, When lilacs bloom ! And flitting through the fragrant gloom, The humming bird with breast ablaze, Threads shuttle-wise the Summer's loom! My loved one then with taste arrays Her golden locks, while I assume A lover's guise, and seek old ways, When lilacs bloom. FROM GRAY TO GOLD From gray to gold the clouds that rise In eastern heavens dim and cold. Are turning now in sweet surprise From gray to gold. Where shadows stretch across the wold, A wakened songster softly tries What charm the drowsy echoes hold. With Titan sweep and gorgeous dyes The dawn, with master touches bold. Transmutes the earth, the seas, the skies. From gray to gold. Sun-Cdays of Song 39 INDIAN SUMMER The days are rich with sweetest perfume float- ing From forest aisles and drifting autumn leaves ; Of piping quail, amid the sun-browned sheaves ; Fair water-lilies, on the clear streams boating; From stake-and-ridered fence, the crystal not- ing Of meadow-lark is heard; the wind oft grieves, And chirpings come from swallow-haunted eaves, With bees the red hush to their thrift devoting. How fair the beauty crowning hills and vales Of Indian Summer, where the far, faint call Of children thrids the dreaming atmosphere; Bright over wooded crests, as daylight pales, The new moon curves against the western wall. And dreams repeat the songs we love to hear. AT DAWN Although to-night I drift in moonless narrows. And not a ripple stirs, nor any breeze; The tide and wind will rise soon, and to-mor- row's Unclouded dawn will find me on high seas! 40 dun-^ays of Song ASLEEP AT POST " Asleep at post ! " the guard had said. This was the sentence that was read, While to his comrades a dozen guns Were handed: six were empty ones, The others charged with balls of lead. He marched to death with firmest tread! With all-kind care we pillowed his head Close where the Rappahannock runs. Asleep at post. I knew how night by night he had sped To watch by a wounded comrade's bed, With a hand as tender as any nun's ; I carved, "The bravest of our sons Is tenting here, where watch is fled. Asleep at post." THE ROSE'S RIVAL Reaching to pluck a rose, her sleeve Displayed her lovely arm; I gazed entranced, and still believe It had the greater charm. Sun-Cdays of Song 41 THE OLD WATERMILL 'Neath shadows of yon vine-clad ledge, The old-time watermill, aloof From dreary wastes of sand and sedge, Leans, with its broken roof. The barren rafters lift on high Their signals of distress, and dark They gleam against the summer sky, Lone, featureless and stark. In circling flight the pigeon's wing Cleaves with a flash the tideless air; The bats in nooks and crannies cling. Shunning the noonday glare. Above where worn and broken eaves Filter the sunshine and the rain. In tireless mood, the spider weaves His radiating skein. Scarcely the eye can mark the flight Of lizards on the crumbling walls. So quick they vanish from the sight When alien footstep falls. The leaves of many Autumns sleep. Winnowed about the dusty floor; Winds of each wild November reap And garner to the store. 42 dun-^ays of Bong The race that lent the full supply Of water to the busy wheel, Is but a pool where rushes sigh, And frogs their chorus peal. Tall trees their glossy banners flaunt Above the channel long run dry. And there the rain-crows hide and haunt, Sounding their boding cry. On yonder mossy, grass-grown height, The miller takes his sweet repose; The stone that marks his grave is white As were his dusty clothes. His time in deeds that bless and cheer He made sweet service to employ; Gladly each day and month and year Gave him its toll of joy! And while he watched the dropping meal, And soaring swallows circling near. His cheerful song and whirring wheel Made music sweet to hear. The happy voice at last grew low; And where the softest zephyr sighs, His rest, by fairest flowers that blow. The Summer sanctifies. Sun-days of Song 43 No more the whirring water-wheel's Insistent music greets the ear; No song nor laughter upward steals, When early stars appear. But often comes to fancy's sight, At twilight, by the open door. The miller in his vesture white, A moment — and no more ! THE GIFT The ship of dawn comes up the eastern sky ! Each sail is big with promise; in her hold, Are treasure-troves ; Bokhara's finest gold. Tankards of wine, with robes of Tyrian dye Perfumed with Khoten musk; no Sybarite's eye Like splendor saw by Nemi's shores of old. Nor could Aladdin's lamp such wealth un- fold; Alburz and Kaf these gems could not supply. And each receives his gift with words of praise, For from such largess there are gifts for all ; I bide the last of all this countless throng. And then turn homeward down the crowded ways. With happy heart ; pressing, lest I let fall The priceless boon I crave, the gift of song! 44 Sun-Cdays of Bong THE STARS I SAW the sunlight cease to shine In gloomy clouds along the West; I likened then its fate to mine, And dark forebodings filled my breast. To think its bright and golden reign, That gave the rose and lily birth. Would pass away, and naught remain, In token of its fame and worth. Then from the daylight's dying flame, I saw the evening star stoop down And light his torch, and then he came A victor laureled with his crown. And there, as in the ancient play, Performers gliding to and fro Would pass a lighted torch, its ray Soon set the heavens all aglow. In reverence I raised my head, And that fair pageantry I viewed; The soul's survival then I read, Within the star's similtude. Immortal songs I seemed to hear. No longer cheerless seemed the earth; And far within that glowing sphere. The lily and the rose had birth ! 8un-CClay8 of Song 45 GYPSIES The gypsies camped last night by Goodman's ford: The sun just touched the forest when they made Their merry camp, and soon the laggards strayed And begged some fragment from each farmer's hoard ; They soon returned with baskets heaped and stored, And spread the feast ; ere long the dusky glade Was lighted by their fire; the watch-dogs bayed. While strains of music down the twilight poured. Their camp is shown us by the close-cropped grass, And fading wreaths of smoke that upward tend; For heedless of the cardinal points they roam ; Sad waifs, blown by the winds of time they pass Down thoroughfares that have no visible end, Uncheered by blazing hearth or welcome home. 46 Sun-CCla>>8 of Song IN THE AUTUMN Wings of gnats are burning tapers In the sun's bright golden vapors ; Somber shadows bent and tangled, Stretch across the weedy land; Quails begin their evening whistle, While the sparrow quits the thistle; Lines of crows all wrecked and wrangled, Darken down the forest-land. Frosted boughs are sharply etching Barren twigs against the stretching, Golden clouds, up-piled in wonder. In the Summer's far retreat ; While, above the burning clearing. Flocks of geese are swiftly steering Southward, with their snowy under- Wings aglow with fiery heat. High above, amid the gloaming. Flights of pigeons now are homing, Where the weather-vane gleams amber. Pointing to the dusky South; Wheeling round the hay-stacks, anchored Down with rails, o'er meadows cankered, Where the dying vines still clamber. Fading 'neath the blighting drought. 8un-CClay9 of Song 47 Lilacs beat their chilly fingers On the pane; one rosebud lingers, Still rebellious, vainly waiting For the breeze that long has fled ; Broken in the frosted thickets, Are the redbirds' flutes ; the crickets Their gay songs are alternating With a strain for pleasures dead. Overhead, the moon is globing. Daylight, for departure robing ; Largess of the golden weather Seeking out a sunny clime; Now, I take these withered flowers, From the faded, pillaged bowers, Tributes, tying them together With this broken cord of rhyme. NOW THAT WE PART Now that we part, I send you back the rhjmae On lovers made. Across this broken heart, I write, "Snows hush the lily's golden chime. Now that we part." The crimson dawn will lose its pleasing art Of song and mist ; and, for their sunny clime, To come no more, the swallows will depart. The rose, fair herald of the summer's prime, In garden depths to brighter life will start, To shed its splendor long before its time. Now that we part. 48 Sun-Cdays of Song WHEN MOTHER DIED They told me in the night that she was dead, And then I knew from out my hfe had fled All beauty; that thenceforth my pathway led In lonely lands ; that I should miss the red Of woodland roses and the morning's glow. For she was my best friend! The words she said In prayer each night beside my trundle bed, I still recall ; the pillow that she spread With such a touch that I no more can know! She sought the smoothest ways for me to go. Her sweetest faith brought all the mountains low! The seeds of kindness that she planted grow, Are blooming now unharmed by frost or snow. By crystal dews of heaven nightly fed. And when I dwell upon the long ago. Her smile to me is bright as was the bow To those upon the flood ! I miss it so Now when the winds unbridled wildly blow. And rains descend on my defenseless head! Sun-Cniays of Song 49 THE ROSE AND THE BIRD The wind and the rain, in the garden last night, Brought hfe to a rose that was drooping its head; Its beautiful tints were a charm to the sight, And its odor around me was shed. I thought what a blessing to flowers that yearned For the kiss of the rain was the shower, when I found Near the pathway, a dainty, wee nest over- turned. And a bird lying dead on the ground. When the days of the Summer grow sunny and fair. Shall I be the gainer or loser, I said; Which charm would have pleased most, the odor so rare. Or the song of the bird that is dead.^* THE TRULY BRAVE Rose-petals shrink before the storm and sleet. But oak-leaves closer in the tempest cling; Faint hearts despair; others where surges beat, Hold to the drifting wreck and sweetly sing! 50 Sun-Cdays of Bong THE PATHWAY Wherewith shall I be clothed in future years, If now I place from sight with little care The garment of your love you bid me wear? How the keen wind of the chill Autumn sears And sweeps the valley where no more appears The Summer's herald with its welcome fair; And whither for love's comfort then repair? Where seek for shelter when the Winter nears? Dear heart, let me abide ! I ask no more Than just the circle of your arms and this, Your love's enfolding presence, dim and sweet ; Now let me learn the pathway to your door, So that its flowered close I may not miss. And learn love's lesson sitting at your feet ! GREENWOOD CHAPELRY Oh! greenwood chapelry, fair down your dim And cloistered aisles the early stars appear; The winds, like Druids, at their vesper hymn, Along the Gothic arches whisper clear. The day, like Desdemona, sinks to sleep Within the crimson curtains of the west; And night, like dark Othello, soon will weep Above her peaceful and unending rest. Sun-Cdays of Song 51 APPLE BLOSSOMS The Alpine peaks with crystal hoods of snow, The ruins crowning heights along the Rhine, Are views both beautiful and grand, I know ; But there's another closer home — and mine! 'Tis where a brown old homestead nestles soft Against a hill where meadows stretch away, And in the wind-swept branches, high aloft. The robin gives to all his sweetest lay; The scene is one of rapture and of bliss. When breezes of the early summer blow, And the red lips of the apple blossoms kiss The blue eyes of the violets below! Let others fare to far-off distant climes. Enraptured by each castle, crag and scaur. The wonders of the olden, vanished times. Of sunny scenes that sleep in isles afar; Home-biding, let me wander here where swell The flowered fields whose scented billows roll With white caps of the daisies; winds that tell The secret of the rose whose heart they stole; That I, for just one season, may not miss The beauties of the scene I cherish so ; When the red lips of the apple blossoms kiss The blue eyes of the violets below I 52 Sun-Cdays of Song BROKEN SHRINES I ONE time owned an ornament of gold, A fragile little thing some skilful hand Had fashioned like a heart; at each demand Of careless touch 'twould bend; this manifold And constant stress it bore, till lo ! behold. The delicate design could not withstand Another touch, and broke! In all the land Can naught restore it, perfect as of old. I had a friend whose heart as pure and true As beaten gold, I ofttimes wilful bent By careless act or word unkindly spoken; Till like the ornament of gold I knew, And by some deed that I so little meant. Beyond all remedy it now lies broken! SERENADE Now, that the stars begin to wreathe Their bright and silver sprays on high, I pray the lightest winds that breathe, Around your casement's ledge to sigh. Love, I would have you sweetly sleep, With heart unknown to cares or aches ; Though mine, as here my watch I keep, Beneath your window nightly breaks ! And still in fondest dreams repeat The song I love to sing you. Sweet. Bun-CClays of Song 53 A WISH Why should I linger on When night is round my way, And not a star to guide My weary feet? Far distant is the dawn With crimson tide, That speeds the ship of day To ports less sweet. That chariot of flame Elijah once possessed, I pray the Lord of Hosts Were mine to-night ; That when the morning came, Old earth's dim coasts Could only be half -guessed From Heaven's height. TWO MOODS A FINE musician is the wind. A small. Unnoticed crevice in my window-pane Admits the tiny lisper; there through all The summer day he sings a sweet refrain. A grand musician is the wind. He lays His mighty hand upon the ocean waves; While distant worlds of tumult, in amaze Attendant, listen to the thundrous staves ! 54 Sun-Cdays of Song ENDEAVOR Up ! and be onward farcing, The race has just begun; The laurel worth the wearing Is worthy to be won ! The farther up, the fairer Unfolds the scene below; Then upward, banner-bearer, And brave the heights of snow. The stars there closer cluster. The skies are nearer bowed; All shine with brighter luster, Undimmed by any cloud. Not half way up the mountain, The crystal waters drop ; Your thirst slake at the fountain That gushes from the top. No flag of truce upraising. Nor brook a moment's stay ; But upward still be gazing. And find or make a way ! With foosteps waiting eager To-morrow's golden round; What foeman can beleaguer Such soul to triumph bound? Sun-Cdays of Song 55 Heed not the lips confessing Rare visions of delight ; But onward still be pressing, And keep the goal in sight. (Endymion lies sleeping Beside the Latmus hill, With brave old Atlas keeping The world from wreck and ill.) Through hindrances that cumber, The race will yet be won; And sweet will be the slumber That follows work well done! AN AUTUMN SCENE As from the fingers of a sleeping child. The loosened toys so gently slip and fall He has no knowledge of their loss at all; So by the thickets, with song gushes wild, Reclines the peaceful Autumn, reconciled To early loss ; for fairer dreams forestall The goldenrod and milkweed's airy ball; The far-off, brooding splendor of the mild And sober afternoons. On southern walls. The grapes begin to purple; peaches turn In blushing beauty to the light that falls Subdued and soft ; the drowsy crickets learn A song of sorrow, and the partridge calls In sadder strains as sunsets fainter burn. 56 Sun-Cdays of Song IN THE GARDEN There is a little garden spot Wherein my sorrows are forgot! It lies upon a southern slope ; Full to the sun does blue-eyed Hope Blossom sweet ; bees throng to kiss Perennial feasts of nectared bliss ; With largess of leaf and bud it blows, Nor ever feels the weight of snows! Of tare, no single stalk appears ; But golden grain the land endears ! When sorrow presses closely, there I find relief from carking care ; For when the latch clicks, far behind Is left all turbulence of mind. Inside, I seek the quiet bower Where dusk and odor sweet are blent. And my heart then like the flower Knows of nothing but content. Upon the velvet turf reclined. Do fairy dreams possess my mind. The necklace of bright Pleiades Is hung upon the mossy trees. And bits of enamel on the grass Glitter as roaming breezes pass ; Sun-CClays of Song 57 Golden skies of promise spread, Rest on the hilltop far ahead, And glory of remembered days Melts behind me in the haze. Rich shareholder now am I In the Unachieved, while free To harbors of high purpose blown Are my full sails whitely sown On the dark waves of the sea, Bounded only by the sky ! Now my faith to vision turns, And conj ecture, into fact ; And the hero's heart I lacked, Wakens and for action yearns ! SONG'S MISSION Sweet bird, above the river-side. That ushers in the rising dawn; Does neither grief nor pain abide. Where you keep singing on? Or is the art of yours like mine, That oft a page with rhyme adorns; A wreath of song would gladly twine, To hide the piercing thorn ! 58 Sun-CClays of Song A DEAD BEE Within the golden lily's scented bell The bold freebooter lies. No royal king Has couch more splendid. Folded is his wing From further conquest down the sunny dell. His shining shield, beside him where he fell, Reflects no more the glint of tourneying; No more among the roses will he sing, Nor in the meadow lands at noontide dwell. He's dead — this is the only thing we say — And profitless his busy summer task; A million others fill the sun's fair ray; Although he's dead, we do not stop to ask. So when I, too, have toiled and passed away, Will Nature smile behind her tearless mask. THE MEETING We met but once, in public ways, Along the city's crowded street; But ever since then through the days My heart for you has fondly beat. We met and passed, you spoke no word. But scarcely could the siren's song Be sweet as that the silence stirred; And still it echoes all day long! 8un-CCla>>9 of Bong 59 THE SEARCHER The wonders of that snow-clad realm afar, That soul will know which danger cannot tame; Who hopes to know the secret of the star, Must ask the firefly with its heart aflame! THE SIBYLLINE BOOKS Tarquin the Proud, from Sibyl thought to buy The Sibylline volumes — nine of them all told; But reasoned a moment, for the price was high, And he was loth to give his precious gold. While bargaining thus, quickly into the fire Three books she cast, and when again he sought To cheapen further, roused was her valorous ire. Which to such fervent heat was hastily wrought. Three other volumes followed the first ; and then Nought could he do but pay the original price For the three remaining! Act! Oh, wisest of men; Heed Wisdom's call; she may not summom twice. 60 Sun-^ays of Song THE ICONOCLAST A TALE is told about an ancient king Who worshipped idols with a love sincere; When he embraced the Christian faith a tear Stole down his cheek, for could he ever bring His mind to think so marvellous a thing As leaving them? But yet it does appear That he repented, and his idols dear He crushed — and then, beyond imagining! Within each image, swarthy, savage-faced, Fond votaries had stored their gems and gold And at his feet the diamonds that had graced Fine coronets in shining splendor rolled; And he, who left his idols, now was placed In opulence whose bounds could not be told! A DREAM MOOD The world of song is stilled to-day. There is no bird in bush or tree; On mountain top, the mist is gray. And gray the mist on hill and lea. My life is like a stream that glides With sails in snowy beauty furled ; It mirrors deep, in tranquil tides. The picture of this quiet world. Sun-Cdays of Song 61 "THE INDOMITABLE WILL" Here on the height is reared my last redoubt, With flag unfurled in mute defiance ; foes In awful tumult soon will round it close, And there will rise the far-resounding shout Of thronging victors ; but through utter rout Of fondest hopes, a heart that never knows Aught of alarm will anticipate their blows. And death with ready hand will measure out. And when the foremost foe will scale the wall (For I must fail against such frightful odds) I will not shrink, but meet the blows that fall With heart undaunted. Not the mighty gods Can make me play a coward's part, though all Are fully armed with thunder-smiting rods ! THE STATUE A PERFECT statue, all could say. No slight defect could any tell; But, ah! its feet were made of clay, And as we praised it, lo! it fell. Now, what avails its golden crown. The sceptre that it proudly bore.? Oh, hands that strive to win renown. The silent lips are wise with lore ! 62 Sun-Cdays of Song THE PLAIN BOW An archer once possessed a wondrous bow, Its fame extended all the country round; The owner prized it, for its arrows so Unerringly the mark had ever found. In hope to buy it, some one went each day. Yes, he would sell it rather than endure The pangs of poverty, but sought some way That still a better price he might procure. The bow was plain. He sought a carver out. And then to him his heart's desire he spoke; Ere long fine figures graced it round about, But, when the archer bent it, lo ! it broke. MIRACLE OF THE CORN The Son of Man, from the city of Bethlehem Departing, passed some sowers by the way ; Herod pursued. The Virgin wished of them. Should any ask when He had passed, to say To them, " At sowing of the corn." Behold ! When rosy dawn unbarred the gates of day, Ripened it stood; the sowers no more feared; And when the king and his followers appeared, Demanding when He passed there, he was told. No longer he pursued, dismissed his band; For bent the harvest to the reaper's hand. Sun-Cdays of Song 63 THE MOTH AND THE SONG Impeisoned in the curtain's fold, A moth, gay-painted, lustre-eyed. Beat on the lace its gauze of gold. To gain the other side. I thought to free it with the dawn ; Then came a vision fair as those Bright-tressed Aurora paints upon The dew-impearled rose! The moth still fluttered, vainly beat With filmy wing the tinsel strands ; The dream reigned in dominion sweet, As those of eastern lands. Once more I thought to free its wing To seek the vale in careless flight, Then write the song some maid will sing Before the fall of night. When morning came, the moth had ceased Its struggle, to commence no more; Nor all the famed Magii of the East, Could my lost dream restore! For this delay, the moth will spread No more its wings in happy flight ; Yon maid will go with downcast head. And songless lips to-night! 64 Suti-^ays of Song THE OWL When trail the purple shades of eventide And songsters of the sunny hours are still, The owl's refrain drifts from the forest wide, Across the oak-crowned hill: Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo ! Amid the wildwood's intermingled bowers, All through the golden glowing reign of day, He dreaming sat, awaiting twilight hours To tune his pensive lay: Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo! Beyond the hill, the sunset embers fade, And tranquil night her mantle wraps around ; Down forest aisle and deep-embowered glade. His mournful cries resound: Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo ! The stars peer forth in heaven's pavilion high, Sweet Zephyrus above the woodland floats; Amid the dreaming leaves he wakes a sigh That mingles with the notes: Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo ! The moon shines full above the eastern hill. Her beauty floods the valley and the plain; And, as her beams the dusky woodland fill. There comes this soft refrain: Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo! Sun-days of Bong 65 His gloomy eyes in ceaseless rapture stare As bright she climbs the heaven's ebon steep ; His praise to her the roaming breezes bear In accents lone and deep: Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo ! A woodland hermit, here he dwells serene, Unvexed by turmoil or the cares of day ; A silent prospect round his lone demesne. And there he chants his lay : Tu whoo, tu whoo, tu whoo-whoo-whoo! THAT LOVE IS DEAD That love is dead, I know not who to name For censure now. I sometimes think, instead Of my own self, you are the one to blame That love is dead. The rose for me will never bloom as red Now that we separate; no more the same The pomp of Summer on the hills be spread. And grief above enjoyment now will claim The noon of night, when dimmer overhead The silver crescent hides in mist for shame That love is dead. 66 Sun-Cdays of Bong LOVE'S BIRTH Now, when you love me, dear, You must love me truly ; Let your faith be full, sincere, Now, when you love me, dear. Then earth will bright appear ; So I inform you duly, Now, when you love me, dear, You must love me truly. Then, once more on earth Will the gods assemble ; Cupid's deep-dimpled mirth Then, once more on earth Sweetly will have its birth, And love's paean tremble ; Then, once more on earth, Will the gods assemble. BALLADE OF BLUE EYES AND CHERRY LIPS The flowers bend low to kiss the feet Of Marjorie down the country lanes; The Fauns half-way her coming greet, While charmed Silenus slyly drains A pledge to her; in happy strains, Sun-^DClays of Song 67 Old Goat-foot sings, and gayly trips In honor of the sylph who reigns With sea-blue eyes and cherry lips. And then, the maiden moon discreet. In sunset's court and golden fanes, On snow-white hand, with gems replete, Will raise her head until she gains A view of hills and fair champaigns, Then hides her face in mute eclipse ; Enraptured now are all the swains. With sea-blue eyes and cherry lips. Her dainty footsteps, firm and neat. With jealous zeal the dust retains; (Crusoe would kneel!) and I entreat Noble knight-errant, such as Spain's Most gallant Don, to ward from trains Of ills, and guard the golden crypts Of her who sweet control maintains With sea-blue eyes and cherry lips. l'envoi Prince, there in her serene domains. Neglect is still the frost that nips ; My life she rules, commands, ordains. With sea-blue eyes and cherry lips! 68 Sun-CClays of Song THE FLIGHT The sun swings low his orb in southern skies ; Across the fallow fields and woodland ways, But dimly shine his weak and clouded rays Where the west wind a tireless courier flies ; Now from old furrowed lands and meads arise The birds that often through the sunny days Lent sweet enchantment with their airy lays, And Southward hasten, uttering plaintive cries. From swaying branches as they take their flight, The last red leaves are gathered up and flung Wildly to earth by the wind that never rests ; With them departs sweet Summer's dear de- light, Save a faint, fleeting fragrance, or among The bare, brown boughs the desolated nests. ACCEPTABILITY " Two stanzas for the bottom of this page ! Have we a little poem that will fit ? " He tried the diff^erent stanzas with a gauge. I quivered quite a bit! But not with fright ! I knew I had no strength Nor aught to recommend ; but it is clear My author made me just the proper length. And that is why I'm here! 8uii-CClay8 of Song 6» BECALMED To-day, each Muse within its woodland cell Or cavern cool, by shady fountain brink, Is wooed by slumber; not a single chink Admits throughout the forest's woven spell One ray of light; in drowsy mood they dwell And darkness yet unbroken, till I think Beyond my beck they lie and fancy's link Or fond endearment that they loved so well. Oblations to those listless gods, the grape Would offer from its chalice crystal clear; But none descends, beside the feast to shape His lips' soft curve to sip the ruddy cheer. And with turned prows, by yonder lonely cape, Ulysses bids his sailors sea-ward steer ! FRIENDSHIP I JOURNEYED once across a wind-swept plain, To mountains lifting high their summits grand ; And Love accompanied, singing a sweet refrain ; And Friendship, holding out a helping hand. Love's song, to-night in memory lives alone; But Friendship's hand grows firmer still in mine As bleaker barriers are before me thrown, To where aloft the stars unchallenged shine! 70 8un-QIa>>9 of 8ong AN EXILE'S DREAM I SEE once more (or do I dream?) Sorrento as in days of old; How fair arrayed in sunset's gleam Of molten, umbery gold! Around, stretch bending orangeries, While from the terraced herbaries Odors of clove pinks drift across The waters as they leap and toss. As in the old Theocritan days, Pan-like, a goatherd idly there Beneath a holm oak softly plays A quaint, melodious air. By Falernus, the shepherd takes His sheep to crop the broomy brakes ; On rustic flute, some simple air He plays, and tends his fleecy care. StiU dreaming, stands Posilipo (Sacred to Adriana's lay) ; Sweet fancies of the long ago. Thronging the air alway! The worn vinedressers ever croon. Returning late beneath the moon, While echo-like to their refrain, Fishermen sing across the main. 8iin-glay9 of Bong 71 still from the cool pergolas rise Echoes of that departed day; Or where the felucca rocking lies, Or drifts by Caraf a. The cittern and pandoura sound, The pyrric dances float around; Be-ribboned tambourines invite To tarentellas, joyous, light! Sweet from the Pholegrean Fields, The odor of pomegranate fine; While every passing moment yields Dream fancies, half -divine! Here Summer makes her eternal throne, And claims the prospect as her own ; Perpetual green clothes every tree Toward the delightful Tyrrhene seal Where lifts Vesuvius on high, The rising moon begins to glow; And mounting, fills the dusky sky And purple vales below. Within the hedges, fireflies glance. Weaving the air in lambent dance; While silver cressets, tossing free. Tell of the fishing boats at sea! 72 8un-^ay8 of Song Where the Phoenician galleys sped And caravels of that far day, The lateen-sails are thickly spread On the opalescent bay. Gone are the pleasant scenes of yore, That once enthralled by Capri's shore, Vanished, beyond our beck and call ; Hushed all the glorious littoral ! ONE YEAR AGO One year ago, beneath the sky, We stood together, you and I; It was the balmy prime of June: A thin, pale crescent of a moon. And chimes from ivyed turrets high. We did not question how or why. Nor heed the moments passing by; Unmindful they would fade so soon, One year ago. Tonight the breezes wail and sigh Among the grasses, brown and dry; My harp unstrung and out of tune, Would ask but only this one boon, To sing those songs that never die. One year ago. Sun-CClays of Bong 73 LETTERS OF GOLD When you see aught that is good in a friend, Write it in letters of gold; Something or other your heart can commend, As on your journey you daily may wend, That the dear import remain to the end. Write it in letters of gold. Hear the glad greetings as onward you fare. Write it in letters of gold ; Publish it wide on the mountains so bare. Over old fields of the thorn and the tare, " Ye cannot wander outside of my care," Write it in letters of gold. There is the message to one gone astray. Write it in letters of gold; How wide is His mercy, enduring for aye. Guiding the others that might lose the way. Treasure the meaning for yourself, and stay! Write it in letters of gold. " WHIPS OF SCORN " Not all who die still dwell amongst the dead ; The yesterdays that I thought long had fled, From fields of promise, now of fruitage shorn. Oft reach me yet with stinging whips of scorn! 74 Sun-CClays of Song DOWN COUNTRY WAYS Green grassy plots, an orchard red, under a blue sky, Unite to form a picture that is pleasing to the eye; I do not wander, brush in hand, in quest of color schemes, This sweetest revelation daily dawns upon my dreams. The dweller down the city ways would give his gold to buy Green grassy plots, an orchard red, under a blue sky ; This rapture brightly rises nightly drenched in crystal dews. As fair to me as are the scenes the Orient traveler views. And without money, without price! I stem no stormy seas For fruit as fair and golden as graced glad Hesperides ; Green grassy plots, an orchard red, under a blue sky. The Golden Fleece or Cloth of Gold with them can never vie. 8un-CClay9 of Song 75 A glad wind runs in riot down the quiet clover fields, Then with a breath of Araby from out the orchard steals; Oh, pleasures! measures of delight! The sad soul can but cry, " Green grassy plots, an orchard red, under a blue sky ! " A WINTER TWILIGHT Across the winter fields, the daylight dies; Wrapped in their white investiture of snow, The heights retain a while the parting glow, Then fade as ebbs the splendor from the skies; In dream-like mood, all nature dormant lies, While timid tribes of furry folk bide low ; The pulses of the trees such respite know Till Spring in old-time beauty shall arise. " He giveth snow like wool," one sang of old ; And, in fulfillment of the Psalmist's word, Behold the white flakes silently descending: Beside the hearth let charming tales be told. Of those trouveres that sang like any bird. Or Ruth amid the sheaves at twilight wend- ing. 76 Bun-glays of Song LETTING DOWN THE BARS Beyond the oak-crowned hills the sun now dips His burning disk; where unseen runnels flow, Rise soothing lullabies, while to and fro, Around yon fold, the sportive lambkin skips. Soft as a song from some fond mother's lips, The strain Favonius whispers, faintly low; The sleepy flowers serenely bend, and blow A good-night kiss from perfumed finger-tips. High in the purple haze, the young moon hangs Her silver sickle, while in home-bound bands, The crows are winging under brightening stars; One, two, three, four, five far-resounding clangs Wake from their dreams the drowsy meadow lands, And homeward pass the cattle through the bars. AZALEAS Her pitcher lightly poised, she seeks the spring. From some old love-song singing random bars; While down the foot-path fair azaleas swing Their pink lamps, answering the early stars. Siin-Cdays of Song 77 BEFORE THE FIGHT No COMRADE can forget that night in camp Before the wary foe that lay intrenched ; The rain descended in a flood that drenched Our tents and blankets; just one broken lamp We marked at times, amid the mist and damp, And darkness deepened after it was quenched ; It was a night of dread; the bravest blenched And longed for home. We heard the ceaseless tramp Of guards upon their rounds ; one moaning tree Made shelter on that stormy night for foes, Till misty winds, blowing from off the sea. Through ragged gaps of sunrise softly rose And quivered beneath the far-heard reveille, Bringing a day of sterner dreads and woes. CREATION " Six days," 'twas said, "creation occupied." The poet mused. He saw a rosebud furled, And others parting in their crimson pride, And wondered, " Is it yet a finished world.'' " 78 8un-C[la>»8 of Song THE OLD COUNTRY ROAD With crook and turn the country road Winds up the hill and down the dale; The settlers here their toil bestowed, To mark the blazed-out trail. The white-topped wagons came in view On the horizon's darkened rim, And passed in search of regions new Beyond the mountains dim. Here change has never set its seal; And squirrels as in days of yore, Along the worm-fence panels steal, To find their winter store. From thickets close beside the way. The whistle of the redbird comes; And farther still, in shadows gray, The partridge loudly drums. Unlike the ways that led to Rome Where kings received in royal state, Here peeps the white roof of the home Where true hearts congregate. No regal coach with prancing steeds Whirls by with equipage so grand ; But here the farm boy gently leads The colt he raised by hand. Sun-Slays of Song 79 THE POET He died. Rich heritage of faith and hope He left to him who tills the barren slope. All wealth was his ; for silver cressets lit His way through life, and fancy fashioned it. The heart's true goodness, his abiding wealth; No one could filch it in light-fingered stealth, Nor moth nor rust corrupt ; dying, he be- queathes His riches, bright with amaranthine wreathes. The brightest stars, new-minted by the night. Shine on his rest, close by a gentle height. The sighing winds, the leafy branches wave In tender requiems round his lonely grave. The springing grass no change of season heeds ; There dewy diamonds write his loving deeds! THE SURRENDER I PRAY for time in which to bury my dead. And though defeated, let me from the field Withdraw my forces ; let it seem instead I triumph ; it were easier thus to yield ! 80 Sun-^ays of Song HARBOR OF DREAMS Day with all its care and fret With the night I shall forget; Putting by all earthly schemes, In the harbor of sweet dreams. Here each one may take his ease 'Mid the tall and stately trees ; Truce to toil the day redeems, In the harbor of sweet dreams. Jaques undoubtedly could find Peace here suited to his mind; For no tide of turmoil streams In the harbor of sweet dreams. Lovers here forget their woes, Foemen's hands complacent close; Meet and mingle life's extremes In the harbor of sweet dreams. Furl the sail, the voyage's done. Sinks the anchor with the sun; For we bide till daylight beams In the harbor of sweet dreams ! Sun-Cdays of Song 81 A SONG The fairest path at last, Somewhere must find an end; Sweet scenes be overpast, And sun with shadow blend. We leave this happy clime, Together, you and I ; Not good-night, love, this time. But good-bye. The moon and starry host, Fair vales and rivers clear. The scenes that we loved most, To others will seem dear; Who will not say, when chime The bells in turrets high. Not good-night, love, this time. But good-bye. The scene will soon be far With its enchanted spell; But I shall see the star That lights its bosky dell ; And hear again the rhyme You uttered with a sigh. Not good-night, love, this time. But good-bye. 82 8un-CClays of Song THE ROSE OF DAWN Above yon mist-empurpled height, The golden gates of dawn unclose; While on the vesture of the night, The morning pins a crimson rose ! CURFEW The sunset reddens down the dusky West, The robin softly pipes his vesper lay ; And from the dell, beyond the wooded crest, "The curfew tolls the knell of parting day." Beneath the glances of the evening star. Is heard the hum of honey-laden bee; The milkmaid carols sweetly, while afar "The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea." The crows in noisy clamor bend their flight To woods that deepen in the twilight ray ; And from the field, as darker falls the night, "The plowman homeward plods his weary way." On hill and plain descends the hour of rest To weary natures from all toil set free; The moon's pale horn drops down the purple West, "And leaves the world to darkness and to me." 8un-CCla>>6 of Song 83 QUANDARY OF THE GODS A DOG, no earth-born creature could outrun, The gods once made. They never gave a thought About the wondrous deed that they had done, And made a hare that never could be caught. They saw the ceaseless strife, the endless race, And that their error might be never known. Each creature there in his unyielding place, With magic touch they quickly turned to stone ! MOONLIGHT To-NiGHT, the maiden moon in modest fear. Across her forehead draws a cloudy veil. Treading the heaven's hallway, dimly pale. With great misgivings lest her smiles appear Too fair for some fond worshipper down clear Arcades of star-sown skies. In yonder dale, The light lies dead; even the faintest gale Rolls up the mist that rides the atmosphere. Here, it would seem, in such a solitude, Was silence born, and there was placed a rose On his pale lips and softest fingers strewed White poppy leaves about his sweet repose; His deathless spirit survives and has imbued This silent scene of desert-stricken snows. 84 Bun-^ays of Song OLD HAMPSHIRE There's a hamlet in old Hampshire where the change of time comes not, Where the rush and roar of life is never heard ; And the shepherd on the breezy down of benefits forgot Is heedless, knowing not of hopes deferred. I see the ancient stone church and the flocks of homesteads there, With the crowded fold of those that sleep close by ; And oft a chime of deep-voiced bells floats out upon the air, To mingle with the south wind's gentle sigh. The flowers in box-bordered beds are fragrant in the Spring, When the Seven Sister rose-buds sweetly blow In clusters on the blooming limbs ; rich scents the breezes bring From the honeysuckles swinging to and fro. Hedge-roses bloom beside the lane, and rooks their converse hold High in the leafy coverts of the trees ; Sun-dlays of Song 85 And there at twilight when the sheep are going to the fold, What music floats across the grassy leas ! How softly on the roof of thatch the rain-drops patter down, Or splash upon the little diamond panes ! A king might well forego his robe, his sceptre and his crown, For such a night in Hampshire when it rain? ! The partridge dusting in the road, the timid hare near by, The merry call of children from afar; The woodland hanging on the hill and dark against the sky, The glimmer of the eventide's first star. This is the story of the past and written on my mind In characters as bright as living gold ; I long to see again the haunts for long 3ears left behind, And drive the sheep at evening to the fold ! 86 Sun-days of Song AN AUTUMN DAY In deowsy convolutions, the fair butterfly Slips through the hazy air; the russet bloom Along the way grows paler, and the gloom Of Autumn deepens ; breezes wail and sigh, And far down in the crimson woodland die In echoes deep, successive; swallows plume Their pinions for the South ; and when the loom Of sunset weaves its woof, the robin high On leafless boughs sings sadly ; 'mid the sedge That lines the river, water-fowls alight And scream and chatter o'er the sunny pledge Ionian; while, often in the deeper night Is heard the scream of wild-geese as they wedge Far to the rippling lakes their laboring flight. A HEART AND A SOUL I DREAMED I heard a woman's Heart and Soul In conversation ; thus the Soul held sway : "I shall live through Eternity: you stray, A light-winged moth, seeking a flaming goal, To perish with the winning, while the whole Succeeding ages will be mine ; you stay, A transient traveler tarrying but a day. To come no more as changing seasons roll. Thus, holding comradeship with you a while 8un-CClay9 of Song 87 Secure in mj white convent, oft I hear A sound of laughter, and I know you smile; And then comes sobbing, and I know a tear Has dimmed your day that fewer joys beguile The closing scenes of your eventful year." And then I listened to the Heart's reply. For she made answer: "Though alive to-day And dead to-morrow, yet shall my short stay Exceed your ceaseless round of time ; for I Shall live and love, and as the years go by. Shall sit in many festal throngs and say, 'Whatever debt is mine, the Soul must pay; For me, there is no judgment when I die!' You will grow weary of the unclouded light That varies not ; but from my dust a rose Will spring to scent the Summer and invite Wayfarers to a sweet though brief repose; To say to them, 'Beyond all pain and blight, A Heart now lies and no more sorrow knows!'" "MEN SAID MY DAYS WERE WASTED" Men said my days were wasted, and, indeed. It seemed I went with empty hands, nor now Is there recalled one furrow that my plow Then made across the broad and fertile mead; 88 Sun-Cdays of Song And further, I could reap not, if the seed Was never planted; nor lithe branches bow With autumn fruitage: could they but allow Such days at last to scanty want would lead! But He who clothes the lilies of the field And hears the hungry ravens when they cry, Has led me safely down the ways that shield From bitter blasts, beneath a cloudless sky; And song is mine ; still passing moments yield That peace the gold of Ophir cannot buy ! A PRAYER The way grows steep and stony, Father! Night Is veiling hill and valley ; many a cloud Fleets darkly over heaven; a misty shroud Blots out the feeble stars ; no welcome light Gleams for a moment's space to guide aright My faltering footsteps ; on I wander, bowed And oft amiss, while echoing far and loud The storm is breaking on the mountain height. Bend downward closer, Father! Take my hand With firmer clasp in thine; along the way Lead me aright, for 'mid the gloom I stand Doubtful and sore afraid; I can but stray Without thee, Father ; guide me to that land Bright with the sunshine of eternal day! Sun-Cdays of 8oiig 89 AT EVENTIDE At eventide, when twilight shadows fall And birds are nesting in the forest wide, Some thoughts of you I often still recall At eventide. The world grows calm then; like a sleepy bride The moon looks down from heaven's azure wall, And light-winged elves across the darkness glide. And while soft skies are bending over all, The friends of childhood with me then abide, And with fond looks my fancies they enthrall, At eventide. A GRAY DAY A SKY, with rainy gleams, A little mist of doubt; A broken path, it seems, I can no more find out. Along dim vales I grope, Ever with dull despair ; Still on, without a hope Inspiriting my prayer. I know where life was sweet And joy was at my soul, The thorns are at my feet That seek a joyless goal. 90 Sun-CClays of Song DIEU VOUS GARDE. Good-night, and may God bless you is my prayer. The moon goes down. May guardian angels keep Their watch and ward above you as you sleep ; May light-winged fairies of good fortune fare In ceaseless quest around you as they bear The boon for which so many wake and weep ; For I would not have any tears to steep The roses that your cheeks at parting wear ! May no rude storms assail. May softest wings Of faring doves against your casement beat, With tidings fond. I pray the wind that springs From tropic climes, and filled with odors sweet. To visit you with dreams its balsam brings. Good-night, and may God bless you, I repeat ! ENGLAND In nearly pristine state, old England keeps Her woods entire: there Chiselhurst survey; Nearer the Addington hills in coppice gay; The manor of Croydon from its leafage peeps Bun-Cdays of Bong 91 Near see of Canterbury, while yonder sweeps The sylvan plain of Windsor; and here sway The trees of Banstead commons ; in fair array The range of North Downs in yon forest sleeps. Here sing the songsters, either soon or late: The bird that caroled to the pensive Keats, Its kindred still enchants us with its lay; At morn when rooks in wind-swept elms debate, Faint echo then fair Juliet's words repeats, As Shelley's lark, blithe spirit, heralds day. STORM AT SEA The far-off heavens seem a burnished scroll Where the Storm Spirit with a trembling hand Now writes his wrath ; upon the waste of sand The foam-capped billows of the ocean roll. And 'mid the rocks along the outward shoal The tiny vessels toil; the wave is scanned By earnest watchers on the distant strand. Who beckon them to seek some peaceful goal. The little lapse of silence that precedes The storm is on the land; the willows bow. And giants of the forest bend like reeds; The fisherman to shelter turns his prow, While overhead the scavenger that feeds On ocean's stormy harvest circles now! 92 Sun-Cdays of Song RETROSPECTION The moon is wrecked in cloudy skies, The lily shakes its petals down ; And, where the dusky woodland lies, The river wears a frown. You went your way ; I turned to go : The journey promised to be long; Now, faith is sweeter; for I know That you were right and I was wrong. The stars are hidden in their urns That show but dimly in the skies ; And from the shore, the drowsy turns Of night, the owlet cries. Thus, waiting for the morn to come, I cheer the watches with a song; And so will sing till lips are dumb, That you were right and I was wrong. LOVE THE CONQUEROR Dark around the waves were flowing 'Neath a sullen, stormy sky ; Gulls their underwings were showing. Wheeling near with eerie cry. How the bitter truth oppressed me. That with daylight's risen beams, In your arms, I should not rest me. Waking; from the sweetest dreams. Sun-CClays of Song 93 Came ere long fond recollections, As the cloud-rack rolled away; Fairest were the bright reflections Mirrored in the peaceful bay ; While across the sunlit distance, Homing sails were gaily spread; Over winds' and waves' resistance. Love, the sea gives up its dead! LOVE'S LOYALTY Sweet empress, lo ! your Royal liege draws near; Behold the tributes of earth's richest kings; From fair purlieus he fetches finest things. His sovereign's throne thus sweetly to endear; The snowdrop, timorous firstling of the year. The rose, the sweetest of all earthly things. The lily's bell whose crystal clearly rings. With bay leaves for a fadeless wreath sincere. And fairings he has brought from other lands; The beauty of the seas and mountain- heights. Fair stones as lustrous as the stars above; Ere he goes forth once more with empty hands, In fealty subscribed by those old knights. Behold, he kneels to you ! Is not that love ? 94 8un-^Clay9 of Song "DEAD ! MY LORDS AND GENTLEMEN" " Dead ! my lords and gentlemen." Lost! the charm of voice and pen, To the world in starless night, Lacking now this guiding light. From the hillside and the glen, " Dead ! my lords and gentlemen," Floats along the mournful air. Filling all with mute despair. Quick to come at sorrow's call, Brother to us, great and small; " Dead ! my lords and gentlemen," Passed beyond our earthly ken. Sore afraid, we doubting stand. While across the mournful land. Sad-hearted Echo grieves again, " Dead ! my lords and gentlemen." GLEANERS OF THE PONTINE MARSHES Across the Pontine marshes, brightly shines The sunset splendor ; eye may search in vain For tree or hillock; down the dreary plain Throng the poor gleaners from the Apennines; Bun-CHays of Song 95 They mark the desert with their fading lines, Pitching their tents along the waving grain; Rude structures of the bulrush and the cane, Sketched dark on crimson skies as day declines. The harvest past they leave, for none can brook The thought of biding on the cheerless waste, Watching in dread each desolate day go by ; "How do you live here?" With a troubled look, They gather up their garments as in haste. Scanning the pestilent level, "Sir, we die." DOUBT Oh ! who could deem Love else but fickle, when Her birthplace was the sea that varies stiU Each moment at the moon's unstable will.'' Impermanence declared her mission then ; Inconstant as the gleam that lights the fen. She is but steadfast in her sovereign skill To vacillate ; the gamut of good and ill She runs in fitful moods to foil all men! So when I stand beside the refluent sea, Its surges rising at the beck and call Of that belated orb in changeful skies; Small wonder then is mine that far from me Down alien ways she wandered, taking all The world's delight for which my spirit cries ! 96 8un-^ay8 of Song "IF I SHOULD FAINT" If I should faint beside the way, When thinking of me, kindly say, "The daily task, before him set. Was too much for his doings, yet Hopeful, he faced the dawning day! The world was better for his stay. Inspiring men." Will you not pay To olden times this little debt, If I should faint? Assured, encouraged by your "Yea, We shall remember," now the gray Of coming night holds no regret ; I know that you will not forget This promise when you kneel to pray, If I should faint. PASTORAL DAYS Oh ! FOR a dream beneath Arcadian trees ; To sit with shepherds, sharing snowy curd And oaten cakes ; to pass, perhaps, a word, Philosophize with those who roam at ease. And hear Pan pipe upon the flowered leas; To see the leafy curtains softly stirred By fleeing nymph or wing of passing bird. Lulled by sweet murmurs of the Hyblaean bees ; Bun-Cdays of Song 97 To see the moon, high over the leafy hill, Her silver sickle curve in western skies, While in low cadence sings the rippling rill, Till the red sunset from the heaven dies, And the clear fountains of the night distil The peaceful balm that falls on weary eyes. LOVE'S ROSE One message why repeat? You know I love you ; The grass beneath your feet, The sky above you ; And, ever understand. One sea past sounding; The beauty of one land That has no bounding! No matter then which way We stroll together From dawn till set of day, With fairest weather, There he this sea and land Beyond our knowing, Save that for your fond hand, Love's rose is blowing! 98 Sun-^ays of Song INFATUATION I SOMETIMES wonder if you really are The all of sweet perfection that I deem, Or gazing in a crystal bowl I dream And fashion it by some deceptive star! Did fancy shape the shrine I seek from far And wrapped in rainbows that illusive beam, The fragile, shifting sphere that I esteem, And which possession's lightest touch would mar? I do not seek to know, since wisdom brings So hard a penance. I should rather be Deceived and happy kneeling at your throne ! What though my god be wood or brass? There rings The chime of truth in these old words for me, " Joined to his idols, cease, let him alone." AN EVENING PRAYER Before I lay me down to sleep. This fervent prayer I always make. That God's high host will kindly keep Bun-Cdays of Song 99 Your heart from every tearful ache; I pray the softest breeze that blows Across your window-sill, with care To scarcely stir the crimson rose That stands a faithful sentry there. Once more this prayer I then repeat For your own sake, dear Marguerite. I look amid the fearful storms, When light from out my sky has fled, To see God's promise as it forms Its varied arch above your head ; Along my darkened way I grope, If but this message I may read. And have within my heart the hope That you with peace are blest, indeed! For I would have no storms to beat Around your pathway, Marguerite ! No thorns to wound, no hills to climb, But I would have your pathway sown With flowers in endless summer-time. Each bud with fragrance overblown; I could content me with the height. And dwell amid eternal snows, To see against your bosom white The fadeless beauty of a rose! Love's bird I loose on pinions fleet. With this fond message. Marguerite. Epilogue To the meadowy slopes where the white daisies throng, The Singer — ^his song. To the Light and the Night where the Storm sweeps along, The Singer — his song. The Night shall behold him. The Light shall enfold him, God's whisper hath told him The sun-way of song. To the fields where the Right dares the wrath of the Wrong, The Singer — his song. To the Love that is deathless, the Faith that is strong. The Singer — his song. With soul shriven white, To the litanies bright Of the Light ! of the Light Of the glory of Song! FRANK L. STANTON. \nnio 1910 One copy del. to Cat. Div. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 909 913 1