'^■' ,^ >S 3513 R494 7 916 opy 1 FRom Avj n "CO eve rCKHAM GReeNWOOD •y^ Class jt^c^^^^sIT^ Boo^Mm^^ PZ y^ FROM DAWN TO EVE BY JULIA WICKHAM GREENWOOD ii BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS 1916 Copyright, 1916, by Julia Wicb:ham Greenwood All Rights Reserved 4H^ SEP 18 1916 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. ©CU438406 TO THOSE I LOVE PRELUDE This slender sheaf of verse. Gleaned from Time's sickle. My dreams and hopes rehearse In large and little. It tells of many a tear. Of many a sigh. Of many a tender fear. Many attempts to fly: With sudden smiles it takes Vengeance on melancholy. Admitting lovers mistakes Are hut a heavenly foUy! Yes, love's mistakes, what though They drift, they fail, they fall. Still come (do we not know? ) From Heaven, after all! CONTENTS PAGE Dawn 13 A Poet to His Book 15 To AN Hour 17 The Young Maid's Song 18 Well-Doers 19 My City Garden 20 An Illusion 21 The Listener in "Children's Street" . . 23 The Only Way 25 What of the Night? 27 My Boy 29 Reply to the "Song of Hate" .... 31 The Foe 33 Truth 39 The Failure 4-0 Time to Man 41 The Children 43 ABC 44 Christmas Wishes 46 Unison 47 The Poet's Child 48 The Silent Child 49 My Children 51 The Great Lover 53 The Song-Child 55 The Poor Child 56 A Garden Song 57 7 PAGE A Question 60 Secrets 61 The Sword 63 After the Battle 65 Nature 66 The Awakening 67 Youth's Question 68 Never More 69 A Farewell 70 The Fly Catcher 71 A Ballad 72 My Fancy 74 The Spanish Main 77 A Dream 79 I Have! Said Nothing Yet 81 When We Wake 82 The Bridge 83 Evanescence 84 Song at Twilight 85 I Dare not Praise You 86 The Arrival 87 The RosU and the Gardener 88 Yours 89 The Island 90 Happiness 91 Remembrance 92 The Rose 93 The Handsi I Love 94 8 As I Kneel at Your Feet 96 Time's Distress 97 Patience 98 The Precious Burden 99 Love and Song 100 Back from the Wilderness 101 Long Ago 102 Dreams 103 The Dream Is Past 104 When I'm Alone 105 Words of Love 106 When I Come Home 107 In the Summer 108 The Lost Heart 109 On Loving 110 The Love That Can Forgive Ill The Law of Life 113 Man's Love and Woman's Compared . . 114 To THE Poets 115 Bid Me to Trust Il6 The Poet's Song 117 A Wish 118 Talking 119 ? ??? 120 The Spirit Lady 121 A Prayer 125 The Poison 127 Love's Failure *. 129 9 PAGK Remembrance 131 Compensation 132 Undefeated 134 In Days to Come 136 With Some Verses 137 Beaten? 138 Let Me Sleep 139 The Spring 140 Morning and Evening 141 10 DAWN DAWN What tall, pure lilies ! Ships, like white-winged dreams, Are floating — whither? How the ocean gleams Far down below my garden; skimming by O'er land and water, filmy shadows fly. Their airy feet walk on the mountain heights And tread the golden mists and rosy lights ; The mountains glimmer, spiritually fair, Like visions melting in the upper air. When the young morning, lit with sununer flame, Across the azure silence sparkling came And gently touched my eyes, I scarce could dream She wakened somewhere to the piercing scream Of hurtling shells, and that the blinding glare Of battle blazed about her dawning, there. What has she seen? who comes with buds and scents. Binding her shining locks with dewy filaments. What has she seen ? What has she touched and heard Beside the flower, the stream, the awakening bird? 13 The burning crops, the broken cities thrown In rubbish heaps of rotten flesh and stone, The weltering nations, — life destroying life — To the earth's ends. Earth's carrion fields of strife, In a world cyclone the world fabric caught. Time's golden gains to bloody refuse brought. And yet this Psyche-morning, child of light. Risen from the womb of the despairing night, Has filled my soul with hope; where dying men Hailed her she passed and brought them glory ; when She flew her rosy pennants from the masts Of the tall ships and shot across the vasts Of wave and ether, then the great release Seemed near and she Heaven's messenger of Peace. U A POET TO HIS BOOK My B^ook! Behold the lettering — neat and fair, Prim and in order — seems aware That it exhales a beauty rare, Like Madam's dainty garments when She comes to town: — Each word moves with a perfect grace, Each has a loveliness of face, Like ribbons in a vital place, They take the eye — and then I turn the leaves with joy and find The dear devices of my mind Are all set down In the clear print, like jewels bright Or mellow laces, foaming light On my love's gown. Like honey, golden in the sun, The liquid lyrics laugh and run. Their happiness seems just begun. Careless and gay; Yet pearls that slowly grew for years Within my heart and washed by tears Are they. 15 My book! Its fragile binding is to me An emblem of eternity! I find a whole infinity Between the leaves and the white page With stars seems strewn, No longer comet-wanderers driven Through space, from nebulous Heavens riven, To stray alone from age to age, But in their constellations given Rhythm and tune. My songs — like infants brought to birth In Heaven's own country, then to Earth Suddenly sent — Had wandered o'er her rugged ways Without or sympathy or praise Where e'er they went. Like friends who from my soul were torn. Like my old friends whose loss I mourn, Like friends, who suddenly return. The dear songs look: From your sweet pages forth they start, My love, my child, core of my heart. My Book! 16 TO AN HOUR Go not away, Ah, longer stay, Sweet hour, Or, if that may not be, Grant then thy memory For my sole dower! A moment's sway Of ecstasy Like this. Repays in worth All that's on earth Amiss ! Canst thou not stay? Then haste away Till Time enfolds thee, He will declare Thee grown more fair When he beholds thee ! 17 THE YOUNG MAID'S SONG I HAVE a garden, fair In shade and sun, I may not take you there — Or any one, The flowers would fade with shame If other mortals came. The birds are wild and shy. Hiding when men are nigh. Yet here I love to stay And tend my flowers. Sing with the birds and play For hours and hours, I feel the immortals pass, Swiftly, above the grass, I hie from paths of man And hark the pipes of Pan. Here I must come alone For none may be Into this fairy zone Wafted with me, Outside the mystic gates I think a lover waits. Outside the world goes by, Lost to the world am I. 18 WELL-DOERS One poured his whole soul's treasure, Without or stint or measure, Before a pagan shrine, Mistaken for divine; He built, he sacrificed, early and late. Unto the hidden God, whose presence was not proved : Dost think that he did ill? One worked with no tool lent. Without encouragement ; One loved with small concern What others would return; One sang, nor stopped to wait The world's applause — to sing was what he loved : Dost think that these did ill? Nay, friend, it seems to me It matters not what the reward will be. That — if we do but spend Our strength until the end — God will be with us still. 19 MY CITY GARDEN You are my drooping violet, Who hid from me, who did not dare To raise your eyes, but only breathed To let me know that you were there. You are the lily of my dreams — Aye, lily pure you sure must be — Cool to the touch as lily leaves I feel your smooth hands touching me. You are my stately, royal rose. But, oh, just now your cheek was wet With tears, beloved, with tender tears, When in the deep of eve we met. You are the garden of my thoughts. Where every bud that comes to birth Has sap of blood and spirit dew. Is fairer than the flowers of earth. The toil, the dust, the heat are gone, The carrion city disappears ! I feel your gentle hands again, I breathe your breath, I drink your tears. W AN ILLUSION Her fair young skin was smooth as silk and delicately fine, Her cheek was like a niilk-white rose through which faint flushes shine, Her form was light and slender, she walked as if she sang, The happy curls upon her head laughed while they danced and sprang. And, as she tripped beside me, her delicious voice I heard As clear and gay and cheerful as the twit- tering of a bird; She raised her sweet, soft eyes to mine, I saw that they could send A glance so gentle and so warm, it claimed me as a friend: She charmed the path before me, and all the air seemed sweet. As if the scent of blossoming fields was drift- ing down the street. While I felt her little fingers lightly clinging to my arm I was her knight, and glad to die to keep her safe from harm! 21 I forgot that it was raining, that the air was sharp and cold, That my heart had long been lonely and that I was growing old: I forgot, just for a moment, for as she walked with me I went as one enchanted, in a happy reverie : The winter changed to summer and the sun- shine round me played. And I turned my footsteps homeward while still with me she stayed, But when I reached my dwelling she left me at the door. And I entered colder, sadder and more lonely than before. 22 THE LISTENER IN "CHILDREN'S STREET" A CHILD was born in Summer-land, — With Hope and Love on either hand, In a winged castle of the air, — Sweet thoughts, fair dreams were masters there. And I — from torturing grief set free — Felt her rich beauty calling me! I heard the music of her feet Playing in "Little Children's Street." A dweller in the House of Pain — With timid, faltering steps, I came — Hearing her lyric laughter rise, Losing it, as it neared the skies. The song of many dancing feet Goes up to God from "Children's Street, And He bids aching hearts draw near That in His pleasure they may share. No shadow of the lengthening day Fell on the radiant child at play; The girl was sunshine's twin, the place Where Heaven touches Earth — her face. 23 J5 And now, what though I pass again Into the darkened House of Pain, I still shall hear her laughter rise. Remember Heaven in her eyes. S4 THE ONLY WAY *'A lost thing could I never find. Nor a broken thing mend. And I fear I shall be all alone When I get toward the end J" —H. Belloc. He who cannot find a thing that is lost, Or a thing that is broken mend, I am very sure he will be alone When he cometh toward his end ; And of all sad things that raise in the heart A mute, unutterable moan. The saddest of all sad things, I trow. Is to come to your end alone. For what is the life of each of us — Of lover, or husband, or friend. But a constant search for the things we have lost, And of care with the things which we mend? And what would my life be worth to me. Or, my Beloved, to you, If I had not searched for the things I had lost. Or tried to make old things new? 25 Ah, life is made up of the things we have lost, And which we have found again, And Love and Faith renew themselves At the touch of the angel of Pain; Many a fragile thing is cracked From which I would never part. And the broken thing which I mend and love I keep it to hold my heart. S6 WHAT OF THE NIGHT? What of the night? Silent, between the bolts that fall — As shrieking flames break through her wall — The night lies frozen, stark and black, The smoke streams in a gloomy rack, A fierce despair hangs over all! The night is a thing accursed! What of the night? Skies of Hell, the shrapnel shock. The blood-red air, the flying rock. The things that burst — and then The broken flesh and bones of men ! The ringing ears, the flashing pain. The twisted torture, the maddened brain, The breath that sobs with raging thirst — The shout, the crash as more shells burst. Then — slow, dim hours and sinking earth. What is life and what is it worth? The night is a thing accursed! What of my love? Of him — so stalwart and so strong — Whose glance was fire, whose voice was song. Whose smile a halo for my head? My soul shook did he touch my gown, Did he but speak my heart knelt down To hear the words he said. What of my love? What of my love? At the Pit's edge — where all things die- Hope and joy and earth and sky, Where golden dawns flare up in vain Upon the pallid leagues of pain. Where only hate and love remain, — They hold the desperate battle line: Does he lie there among the slain, If he be dead, this love of mine. Then love is a thing accursed! What of my love? What of the night? What of the day? What of all love? Ah, Jesu, say Were ever women tortured so? Nay — ages have no wrong to show Like this ! O Christ ! appeal again To God above, Lest men say Thou hast died in vain, Lest men deny that God is love! And life be a thing accursed! 28 MY BOY He was so young, My boy his country called upon to die, He was so gay, The joy of childhood still shone in his eye And from his lips the golden laughter rung From golden morn to golden set of day. He was so young! He was so strong That he made all our burdens his at length. He was so kind That nothing seemed a trouble to his strength, For happiness grew in his heart like song And hopes sprang up like flowers in his mind. He was so strong! He was so fair, Sad hearts were comforted, seeing his face. His glance was warm As sudden summer in a frozen place. The darkest hour grew bright if he were there, His smile, like sunshine, put to flight the storm. He was so fair ! He was so brave, I watched him when the regiment marched past, 29 As he went by The sun grew dark for ever and a blast Of winter struck me from his distant grave ; Mj boy whose country called on him to die, Who was so brave ! 30 REPLY TO THE "SONG OF HATE" If French and Russian matter not, If you love them not and hate them not, Giving blow for blow and shot for shot. And sing to England your song of hate. Look to the Weichsel and Vosges' gate! The strength of hate is the strength of Hell, By pride and hatred Lucifer fell ! [all. You are known to us all, you are known to us You crouch behind a dark red flood Of envy, of rage, of craft, of gall. The waves of your hate are thicker than blood, Germany ! Come, let us stand at the Judgment place, England and Germany, face to face. We will swear to an oath that no winds can shake. An oath for our sons and their sons to take: Come hear the word, repeat the word. Through Earth, through Heaven let it be heard : We will ever defy your hate. We hate your hate, we scorn your hate. Risen against you we stand as one Till your might is broken, your hate undone, Germany ! 31 In the Captain's mess, in the banquet hall, E'er we take the field, for a toast I call! — Let true men pledge it, one and all, — To "The day" when the allies wait At the gates of the land of hate ! To "The day" when they stem the flood Of rank destruction and streaming blood. To "The day" of the world's release, To "The day" w'hen you sue for Peace, Germany ! Take you the liars of Earth in pay, With bars of gold your ramparts lay, Hide in the ocean and, blow on blow Strike at the world, as you war below: If French and Russian matter not, Giving blow for blow and shot for shot. If you hate us yet with a lasting hate. Though you never forego your hate. Hate by water and hate by land. Hate of the head and hate of the hand. Hate of the hammer and hate of the crown, Hate that your millions have all choked down, We stand against it, we stand as one. Till your pride is broken, your hate undone Germany ! 32 THE FOE* You bloody nation, steeped in murder slime As hogs are steeped in filth ! Minotaur race ! The world is sick with loathing and her cup Brims with your hot, reeking iniquities. Are men but cattle, for your gorging slain, That you have made the sphere your slaughter house? Is there a land which Earth's sad homes may seek And find them safe from your devouring jaws? The cities of the strong are crumbling down And the gaunt wilderness cries to mankind: "I cannot hide you !" Everywhere is death ; — The very winds of Heaven poison men — There are no seas on which you do not strike — No lives too innocent for you to take; — Nothing is sacred? Not God's temples — not His little children, — not a solemn pledge — Nothing that men possess — nothing they love. You crush and crush, and — like a primal force Whirled up ere cosmos from the yawning gulfs Of time and chaos — wreck the centuries. The nations of the Earth were unprepared. Could they conceive that, in this shining day, — * Written just after the sinking of the Lusitania. 33 When man's triumphant mind raced with the sun To bring to hght the wonders of the Heavens — This day, when science wrought of air and space Wings and a voice circling the vasty globe — Could they conceive that you would ride the waves Of the pure ether to your murder trysts? — The waves invisible man taught to bear His messages across the perilous deep That so might life be saved — could men believe That these would pinion doom? Could they conceive [a power That you — who taught the world — possessed Of vast construction and a teeming brain Of wonderful, complex machinery — Forgetful of your poets, dreamers, seers — Led by the HohenzoUern, — would become The butcher of the nations? Could they dream — While human love and human mercy strove To better all the future of the race — You would, anon, be footpad to the world, Crouching — a fierce and hideous criminal — Clutching at all with your foul streaming hands, 34 springing at purses and at throats of men? Men could not so conceive, therefore, behold. The peoples of the Earth were unprepared. The peoples of the Earth have seen your deeds, They gather up their forces and collect Their yet ungarnered strength to meet your strength. To quell the riot of your monster limbs. To halt your bloody stride across the globe. In every soul a voice cries out: "Resist!" The broken hearts of women sob: "Resist!" And the warm blood of children, as it streams, Shrieks to their fathers from the soaking earth. O'er the wild seas the moaning of the drowned Sweeps till the wind becomes articulate. The roaring of the flames goes up to Heaven In deafening tempest. Shall not men resist.'' When the sweet face of nature is restored By healing years, your scarlet infamies Laid in the grave ; when none are left on Earth Who shed their tears or blood; still will the Earth Be branded with your shame. Where you have stamped Your iron heels the works of Man and Time — Grown beautiful together — have gone down To drift, like desert dust, before the winds. 35 Genius of man can not bring back these works, Or God's high hand return them to our race, For they belong to other days than ours : — Then men traced out the glory of their dreams In stone and marble ; day by day they toiled,. And year by year, as son from father caught The inspiration : — mighty thoughts that soared Upward — until the glorious vision stood Triumphant, tangible, world wonderful! The lands are waste, the cities, too, are waste. The fanes, the temples and the palaces. Genius of man can not bring back these works, Or God's high hand restore them to the race! Man shrivels on the Earth ! Heaven lend him strength To hold the destroyer and to wrest from him His weapons and to fling them down in scorn Among forbidden things, in scorn and rage And hate unutterable ; — to build new laws On justice and on kindness to all men. The tree of knowledge is a wondrous growth. But not for all men's use, as Adam learned. Knowledge of Evil is the motor-power Of German strength, knowledge of sciences By which they may tear down, usurp, possess : They know no law but force, a naked force, 36 Their utmost force, unchecked and uncon- trolled : — It is as if the wild beasts of the Earth Developed reason yet remained wild beasts. Nations of Earth, unite, save, save yourselves, Unite, unite against the ghastly foe ! Behold! his many millions march; he drags Subservient allies at his thunder- wheels. His poisonous vapours — like the breath of Hell- Sweep down our armies, in the fields of death, In writhing tortures never faced before. Resist him ! Fling him back from whence he came; Free the brave, martyr-nation he has bound And bind him with like thongs ; divide his state, Cut it in little pieces ; never more Accept his menace to the human race ! Then, in the days to come, the stars may look On holy nights again, on sleeping homes. On solemn fields wrapped in sweet silences: And then the sun may rise on happiness Instead of violent death, and women look About them and be glad, and smile once more Because the world is fair and they are loved, Because love is no longer — agony. Nations of Earth, resist to the last man ! 37 Has not this people stormed all liberties? The world shook yesterday when Paris shook, Shall she not save the city that she loves ? When shall the foe bestride the narrow seas And march on London? When shall Venice sink Beneath her azure floor? When shall they tear The Eternal city down? I ask all men? Oh, subtle, strange and world-presumptuous ones — Who claim that wrath of God brothers your hate — You worship a strange God! one who bends down And lends his back to meet your vaulting will, We know him not! God does not Captain you! The stars sweep in their courses, orderly. The world will roll far from these hours of death Into new life, be beautiful again. The race of man will live in clearer days A better life, a stronger race than ours. Although your deeds darken the Earth awhile — Even as the sun is darkened by the Eclipse; — Yet evil is predoomed, while truth and right Are seeds that God sows in Eternity. 38 TRUTH When the brave hopes of youth at last lie dead, When love has cheated us, we cry instead For Truth, we stretch our hands toward the God- Naked, austere, sublime, with lightning shod. Lo ! while we strain our eyes there swims in sight A form chaotic, rushing like the night Of an eclipse, vast, terrible, uncouth ! And with cold lips we whisper: "This is Truth." 39 THE FAILURE It seemed to him that he had worked so hard without success, And loved so much, yet had no power to bless. He sometimes felt discouraged for a day, His step grew weak along the unfriendly way; But then he plucked up courage for he knew That work is glorious, love is glorious, too ; Obscure, unloved, he laid him down at length, Glad to have used his soul and used his strength. 40 TIME TO MAN Oh, Toiler! working ever to build the world to be, Sad servant of To-morrow, what guerdon shall you see? Why do you still endeavor? you sow but I must reap, Your fairest inspiration I have no power to keep. Eternity is aimless, through countless eons driven The starry hosts are tracing the open paths of Heaven. What though your heart be weary, the lash still drives you on, While all the ages lengthen your helpless sense of wrong: Cease toiling, life-bound mortal! labour no more in vain. Time calls on you and bids you rest, in pity of your pain. Marl's Answer My span is but a moment, my life is but a breath 41 Drawn in the astonished waking between the death and death: Enough — my mind is powerful to speed more swift and far And through sublimer heavens than the most glorious star: Time, do you bid me waste my hour of life at your decree? For this brief hour the world is mine — and you shall work for me ! 42 THE CHILDREN We have all been happy, we, the mothers Who have held our children on our knees ; We were blessed, ah! blessed beyond all others. Glorified and consecrated, set apart For the holiest raptures of the heart. Oh! our children have a beauty rarer Than the beauty of the blossoming trees, Fair are flowers and sunshine, they are fairer. Hark the music of their voices ! To our own Feel the hearts of children nestling come. Would that we could hold them in our keeping Safe and good, in happiness and ease. Would — but can you hear the mothers weep- ing? "In the morning they were ours, they might not roam — But the evening finds the children far from home." 43 ABC The task that you have set me Lies heavy on my heart, I try to learn my lesson, To understand in part, But I am like a little child Learning the a b c, And many of these curious signs Seem strange and hard to me. I have my favorite letters Which I have learned indeed Because they are so simple That any dunce may read : L stands for love and F for faith And T for trust and truth And J for joy and H for hope And Y it stands for youth ; But now come some that when I see I never recognize; There's W for instance, 'Tis hard and stands for wise; And here are stranger letters still You wish me to begin, P stands for pain and S for shame For sorrow and for sin. I want to know my lesson, I tried to learn my task, (For I have always striven to do Whatever you might ask:) 'Twas just in fun when I began My letters ; now indeed I'm like a weary child, and weep That I must learn to read. 45 CHRISTMAS WISHES All, the cruel things, All the useless things, That grip and hold and trip us on our way, That soil our joys for us, And spoil our Hves for us. And take our hopes from us. And break our hearts for us, It does no harm that friends may wish them far from us, And that the gates of hope may stand ajar for us, On Christmas day. All the happiness. All the joys that bless — Which, when one grasps them, seem to slip away — May they come soon to you. And stay and live with you. And bring the best to you. And cling and rest with you! It is no harm that friends may wish these near to you, May wish good will befall all who are dear to you, On Christmas day. 46 UNISON Between my little babe and me There is established so much love, So deep the source whence its springs move — If any sought those depths to prove — No gage, no measure could there be; But warm and close my heart lies spanned, So great, yet held in his wee hand. He smiles at me, I smile at him. And he puts out his dimpled arm And pats my face, — Oh, healing balm For any wound, for any harm! Within a halo our smiles swim: — And soft and rosy flushed he lies And loves me with his starry eyes. The happiest babe alive is he, His gladness seems too pure for earth, And all the sources of his mirth In unknown lands have had their birth. And yet — he gives it all to me, I take and give it back anew, Such love there is betwixt us too. 47 THE POET'S CHILD Oh ! Heavenly being, with glad eyes Radiant and pure, in sweet surprise You look on all that round you lies, My baby dear ! My little bird! When my voice drops will your voice rise- Mellow, and floating to the skies — When my song falls, when my song dies? Oh! child, sing grandly, stir the crowd To noble rapture, chant aloud Until the sons of men are proud, Child of my heart Reveal your soul ! As breaks the sunshine through a cloud Your golden song will pierce my shroud. Your song, with all my love endowed. 48 THE SILENT CHILD The little tongue that does not speak, The little ears that do not hear, The tiny, confidential hand Which grasps my own, to draw me near. I gather you within my arms, My heart is sick ! yet it may be That, with your cheek against my cheek, Your tender form will comfort me. Those cloudless eyes, so pure and soft, Can I look in them and despair. When so much gentle happiness And innocence are shining there.? No prattle sounds within the house — Though wandering through the house you play- There is no childish laughter here; The shadows dim the light of day. Last night I seemed to wake from sleep, — The silence gripped and held me fast — Then — through the night, across the dark — I dreamed I heard you speak — at last! 49 A voice came, faint, uncertainly, In lisping accents, sweet and low, Far off, yet near, it seemed to be. It was your little voice I know ! It waked me, and within the room The silence pressed upon my pain, I had to rise and go to you To hear if you would speak again ! I leaned above the shadowy bed. Where peacefully you lay and slept, And the long night I stayed with you, I watched by you and wept. 50 MY CHILDREN I CANNOT strengthen them with my strength- My hopes are dragged by fears — How shall I save them from sorrowing? How shield them through the years? They beg of me for sweets, for toys, They cluster round my knee, Their eyes are bright as stars at night. Watching me earnestly. Till sometimes, choked with bitter thoughts Ungentle — harsh with pain — I fling them rough and hasty words. Which they fling back again. Yet, in a breaking anguish broods My weary heart and bleeds To think how little I can give When they have larger needs. So I chide them, through wretchedness. Am angry — save with one — For only gentle words I give My little, youngest son. For he has tender, tender ways Of being good to me ; 51 I gaze into his loving eyes Till mine no longer see. I look into his heaven-sweet eyes Till mine with tears are dim, Then my forebodings melt in peace And praise to God for him. 52 THE GREAT LOVER In Joy Lover of all the world am I, Of the good brown earth and the far blue sky, Of the swart, rough earth that gives generously Of the lusty earth that gives palpably. Of the far, pure Heaven that showers sud- denly, — Silent as radium, invisibly — The soul of God on the Universe; This heart of mine — like a babe at nurse — Draws all the currents hungrily: Lover of all and babe am I, Fed by the earth and blessed by the sky. From Unrest to Rest The city's gaze has no dear ways — Like a girl in my arms held tight — But a brazen hussy she struts and sways. As a brazen baggage she kisses and plays In the glare of electric light: Oh, my vexed thoughts shall arise and flee Through the solitudes of the night. Till the strong soul of the great, great sea In one vast billow sweeps over me, 6S While the swift stars swing silently Through the high skies of the night. From the B&gmnmg to the End The cruel rods that lashed me had not sprouted Or spread in flower about, — There were so many things which I had doubted While others did not doubt. Because His spirit could not reach me, waking, It caught me in my sleep Like the clean wind, it searched me, washed me, breaking Swiftly, out of the deep; Then, something in me I did not discover Beneath the heavy rods, Was satisfied, the soul of the great lover. My soul, alone with God's. 54 THE SONG-CHILD Bright is the sun on the meadow. Light is the sail on the sea, Glad as the birds that wing thro' the air The thoughts that awake in me. Joy of the green springtide they chant, Promise of leaf and flower, Beauty and wonder that burst into bloom From hour to infinite hour. Thick are the buds on the lily, New-born the lambs in the grass, Sweet, shrill voices amid the leaves Twitter and trill as I pass. They seem to sing of a child of mine, Who will live and take a part In the joy of the world, in the love of the world, The song-child of my heart. 55 THE POOR CHILD I READ a poem of Rupert Brook's — it was About a tiny coffin for a child Borne by archangels, and he wondered how God could have bidden a child turn from the light To be shut up within that lonely shell — And suddenly the thought came back to me Of a child's face this evening in the street: — We stopped and bought papers from two small boys Who seemed like great companions, little chaps, And later, passed a tiny, tiny boy — With large, sad eyes and features delicate And sweet and plaintive — six years old, per- haps. No more than six years old! — Yet sometimes children of the poor are small Because they always have lacked many things : — I saw the child, I glanced at him and then I think he spoke, I think he meant to beg A little alms of me; — he was sent out To beg, no doubt — helpless and small and sad ; A child and sad! a child sent out to beg! I gave him nothing ! I scarce thought of him — 56 We hurried with the crowd that thronged the street — I who have little children of my own, At school in England, little sons of mine! But when I read the poem of the child's Small, dingy coffin borne by archangels The face of that poor child that would have begged Of me but that I passed him, flashed so swift Before my eyes it stabbed me to the heart More cruelly than this world-war of ours. New York, Dec. 2nd, 1915. 57 A GARDEN SONG What shall I sing to-day? Fain would I sing, Yet my voice dies away — More garlands bring, Yes, bring the heaped up perfume of the rose And in my verse a garden I'll disclose. What shall I sing? the birds Pipe without choice. They need no help of words When they rejoice; And yet sweet words are sweeter than the song Which swells the throats of all the feathered throng. How can I hope to write Of all the flowers That sparkle in the light Of fresh spring hours? See, every little bud is closely set With beads of dew spread like a crystal net. The yellow butterflies Keep drifting past. Against the blue they rise 58 And circle fast, Then softly fall, a palpitating shower, A golden mist that floats from flower to flower. To write the histories Of this green ground. Of birds and laden bees, Of scent and sound. Would make the pen to sing, the page to bloom With faint heard warblings and with rich per- fume. To teU the pleasant ways The young leaves grow And perfectly to praise All sweets that blow Would take as many words and many pages As all the bards have traced through all the ajges. But here's my baby girl, With apple cheeks And many a flying curl; — With frolic freaks She breaks into the middle of my song And quickly ends it e'er it grows too long. 59 A QUESTION Of Earth's sweet pictures, her renewing beau- ty— _ When she has hidden her loveliest away — Of all the flowers that only blossom fairer Because of other fair things that decay — Is any human life the counterpart — With all its lavish blossoms of the heart? The joys we lose, ah, where shall we revive them — The hopes that bud to wither on the vine ? Are our dreams led to glorious culmination While we are swept to absolute decline? Are our souls fanes of everlasting day. Yet our works dust on the unending way? The grand old ocean is Earth's floating gar- ment — To grace her ruthless will, to hide her slain. Our burning hearts are candles in her guest- halls. Our crumbling empires do but wax and wane ; The will of man must vanish in the past. The will of God — shall it be known, at last? 60 SECRETS We do not know the secrets of the forest, Of those slight echoes woodland breezes bear, Dying, we feel, in sounds — too faint for hear- ing— Which only palpitate the quiet air. The fresh sap is rising in the branches, The roots are striking deeper in the earth, We cannot see the workers, the life builders. Or know the eternal mysteries at their birth : The new leaves are swelling and unfolding. The young spring is budding in the dew; — While new love is trembling and awaking. The old love is weeping for the new. — Ah, who shall hear the song-bird's sweetest rapture ? Ah, who shall see the fairest flowerlets blow? And, oh, what thoughts lie deep beyond re- vealing ; What joys we dreamed of but will never know! The vanished hope, remembered, is the sweetest. The good intentions, unfulfilled, the best; The lost love, that never blessed, the dearest. The hearts most weary furthest from their rest. 61 Oh, listen, listen in the secret forest. For those faint sounds the woodland breezes bring — Where the leaves tremble and the green is thickest The shy bird waits till you have gone to sing. 62 THE SWORD.* Speak ! Sword of war, sing to the wind, Go tell the world and those who fear thy might Thou art not all unkind, cruel and blind; Out of the darkness thou shalt bring the Hght. Men who must fight know they are men. Women who pray, women who wait, Learn to be women then, strength groweth when Love makes its gift perforce to fate. Envy and Hate, can it be said For you the nations sacrifice their brave? We all must earn our bread, where lie the dead There the grain springeth, hard won, from the grave. We dare not save the blood that flows As, one by one, each nation buys its place. And so, through countless woes, forever foes. The armies of the Earth stand face to face. Measure the space, the final girth Of races by their strength for sacrifice, *Written after the South African War. 63 Each, from the hour of birth, must prove its worth, And so the greatest pays the highest price. Could love entice the world to peace How many heroes would have lived in vain! Though joy may not increase nor sorrow cease, Men grow more noble who are schooled by pain. Then, Sword, again strike up thy song. Two nations meet who do not fear thy might, For one is brave and young, one tried and strong ; Out of the darkness thou shalt bring the hght. 64 AFTER THE BATTLE The gliding twilight wandered Across the heat of day And hid the lifeblood squandered, A broken battery keeping Dim watch above the sleeping, The darkness shut away, There was no movement by the murmuring tide; Low cries of pain and sorrow Were hushed before the morrow; The sweet night spread oblivion far and wide. A little breeze came flying Across the silent land And set the grasses sighing; — The insects all were resting, The tiny field birds nesting, Peace breathed on every hand ; The stars had one by one been lit on high, A slender voice seemed winging Its way to Heaven and singing Until some distant spirit reached the sky. 65 NATURE I LIVE with nature for she spends Her beauty far and wide, and she Makes light the heart, makes glad the sight Sweetens our sorrows, silently. Oh, golden green! oh, fresh young showers! You raise my soul to height on height, Till, like a bird, it springs in air And soars in rapid flight. You bring me dreams, how woman soft! You bring me thoughts, how poet strong The scent of earth, the dew of Heaven, The rose's blood, the breath of song. With all your glowing harmonies You do my wondering eyes accost. You sing to me and oh! your song Brings back the love I lost! 66 THE AWAKENING Through our forest, through our grove, Eros comes to chant of love ; All our flowers are blossoming, All our nymphs are revelling. Shy, wild things, that hid away, Come out and sport in the full day. Now the sap no longer sleeps. But, a magic ichor leaps, And the trees in these green hours Are fairer than the fairest flowers, Now new joys, new hopes arise And beam within new lover's eyes. Hark your pulse's whisperings ! List! the fluttering of wings Drawing near. Now, upon a flood of song. What young rapture sweeps along ! He is here ! 67 YOUTH'S QUESTION With plumage of the Summer, And wealth of living heat, All glowing and triumphant I pass, with rosy feet. I skim the shining fields, and loud I raise my happy din, I speed my songs to the gates of Heaven And the kind Gods let them in ! Men tell me that the winter Will sear and gash the land, And kill my birds and flowers and me, But I cannot understand: They say where palsied age shall creep I may not come again That I must die that he may bring Sorrow and pain to men. But, see, I am here! and Earth shines fair To her utmost distant rim! How can it be, being made for me. She shall ever be given to him? 68 NEVER MORE Is there no oblivion where the meadows Raise their tranquil praises to the sky? Where the happy grass and flowers whisper Summer secrets as the bees brush by? Let me lay my head amid the poppies, I will rest, forgetful and at ease, Lulled by summer sounds and summer beauty. Soothed and sun-warmed, drowsy with the breeze. Oh! what useless thoughts, can I forget you Lapped by nature? Dream dear dreams again ? Never! though the sunny fields around me Smile a myriad blossoms on my pain. Never more! Ah, never! with the echo Of the weary word my life is stale, What is left to pray for? past hopes mock me. Flowers of Eden, withered and grown pale. Longing for you, as a dying warrior, — Weary of his weakness — longs for rest My strength fails me, and the words I utter Flow like blood up-welling from my breast. 69 A FAREWELL Oh, you who leave this heart of mine- Not empty, but with narrower scope — Take all my glowing pride of youth, My confidence, my trust, my hope; Take all I was, leave what remains, — By patient pain, by grief unseen. By fiery anguish — purified, And take, too, what I might have been. Leave me forever and forget — At your own time, in your own way — The golden mornings that were ours. The nights still fairer than the day. Oh, leave me but the widowed thoughts. The memories, wonderful and sweet, That travel up and down the roads Where you and I no longer meet. Take, take from me my joyful strength, All the Gods gave, all life could give. Oh! let me weep my eyes away! But let me love you while I live ! 70 THE FLY CATCHER The heart, alack! o' Sovereign man Is made sae little stout The faster love is poured therein It faster trickles out; 'Tis as a spendthrift's purse, the more You fill it up, the less his store: An', yet the whole o' woman-kind, To entice the love o' man, Frae dawn to dusk, frae dusk to dawn, Are strivin' a' they can; Both Strang an' saft is aye her heart, — It 'minds me o' a flower Which we ha'e named the " fly- catcher, "- Ye canna' doubt her power To seize the insect flutterin' by — Though muckle licht he be — To trap a lover comes too nigh, And ne'er to set him free. 71 A BALLAD Oh ! saw ye na' my bonnie luve Cam riding thro' the toun ; Wi coat o' steel, in harness dight Frae bonnet peak to shoon. Oh! saw ye na' my bonnie luve Cam riding thro' the toun; Wi een mair blue than summer skies, And bricht hair curling doun? I loe sae weel his cap and gluve, And weel I loe his shoon ; But mair his gay young een I loe And his dear curls sae broun. Oh! gin ye saw my bonnie luve Ride back into the toun! Bluid, bluid was streaming on his coat! The bluid burst thro' his shoon. The red bluid bhnded his blue een, Dreeped sairly doun his hair. As frae his horse he slipped, I ween Never to ride him mair. Oh! I may keep his coat and shoon And a' his curls sae fair: But oh ! alas ! his bonnie een Will ne'r laugh 'til me mair. Gae sing, gae sing, ye wanton birds, That flit frae bough to bough! Gae weep, gae weep, unhappy maid, Ye'll aye be maiden now! 73 MY FANCY Where the tender moonlight beams Silver gleams Through the mellow tropic night, Where the orange bends the branch until it breaks, And awakes The green lizard as he sleeps upon the tree; Where the roses faintly flush in the light, Where rich perfumes are astray Far away. And flower spirits wander free On the balmy wings of night. Wafted on the wings of night — What a flight Through the groves of delight Fancy takes. Where the slender palm trees stand On the sand. Where the swelling sea-curves rise. Where the sapphire breaker hangs, with hol- low walls, TiU it falls In a thousand drops of light upon the shore, In a thousand sparks of flame upon the shore, 74 Where the curved conk shell lies And replies, With a music faint and low, To the flow Of the sea that laughs and sighs Ever more, Of the sea that calls and calls From her far off "ocean halls," My fancy floats and sweeps. There it hovers, there it dies In the deeps. Where the oleanders blow. Pink and snow. Where the fluttering jessamine plays. Where the blood-red lily sways. Where the flowering air plant spreads its bloom and clings With its wings. And the dusky sapadilloes thickly grow, The umber sapadilloes ripely grow. Where, throned above the town. Cannon frown. And low on wind-swept sands The fort stands. Crumbling down ; 75 There my fancy reached the shore, — Messenger from hopes of yore, Wanderer of the moon's lost beams, Ghost long 'gulfed in tideless streams- There her spirit sank to weep On your heart, through the dreams Of your sleep. 76 THE SPANISH MAIN Oh ! blue, so blue, is the Spanish Main, A jewel vast and bright, A sapphire, washed from shore to shore In depths of flame and light. The snowy foam leaps high and falls. Blushing a rosy hue. To dip once more its fairy wings Within that burning blue. And side by side the tides divide. And green-white floods are seen Where ocean nears the coral isles The radiant seas between. Ah ! brighter than the fields of Heaven, O'er which the light clouds fly — The starry depths of magic sea Where pearl-girt islands lie. Like flocks of sun-warmed birds they drowse In deep heat of the day. The dream breath from their orange groves Floats, light and sweet, away. 77 But here — our ports are fields of ice, The land is harsh and cold, The frozen gashes in the earth Are livid, deep and old. Then let me dream, once more, once more! Dream of that glowing sea. It brings the warmth, it brings the light Back from the past to me. 78 A DREAM I DREAMED wc stood upon the road that leads To Warwick, where the quaint old alms- house is Raised by the Earl of Leicester's charity — That he might count, perhaps, a sin forgiven. Or, 'tis more likely, buy with it the leave Of men and Heaven to sin a little more. — Hard by the castle turrets decked the glade, And pleasant waters trebbled round the stones, While high enskied St. Mary's spire looked down — I can remember well, when I was small, So tall and grand it seemed, I could not gaze Upward without a dizzy thought that I Was falling backward, borne down by its height, (I dreamed, and saw these things as in a dream). Close to the entrance of the town the street Climbs up, across it strides an arch Bearing an ancient, stone-hewn chapel, starred With jewelled windows, rich and weather set. (I dreamed, and saw these things as in a dream). That storied town, the vigorous English air, 79 The generous promise of the country side, All these I felt, and breathed, within my sleep, The calm, abundant beauty of the scene; While you stood by me, you who have been gone For many years, how many aching years ! And so I, knowing it was but a dream. Turned round toward you, stole my hand in yours, And spoke no word. Then, in the mists of sleep. The town, the spire, the summer fields dis- solved. But, till the last, I felt your hand on mine. 80 I HAVE SAID NOTHING YET I HAVE said nothing yet, I have no part Among the singers ; all unknown I stand Listing, intent, the beatings of my heart To hear if it can sing. Ah! if, some day, A little song should rise and wing its way But a short distance out into the land. Then yours would be the song and yours the glory. As yours have been my heart and my life's story ! Whatever I shall be — if I be aught — Is yours, all yours, for, like the blind, I wait To catch the whispers of heart-spoken thought : Echoes of harmonies unsought by those Who champion the world and strike her blows, I am yours only, so it is my fate To sing what you have taught me — love and beauty. It is my happiest thought and sweetest duty ! 81 WHEN WE WAKE Love comes on wings, we feel them sweep Across us as we lie asleep, And then we wake — and wake to weep; Among our heart-strings, wandering, We feel his tender fingers creep. And they make music while we sleep, The Orphic music of the spring, And the Dawn's fair imagining — But when we wake — we wake to weep ! 82 THE BRIDGE I BUILT a bridge of jewels to the sky That you might follow in your thoughts, my love, And stand with me where birds and spirits fly Far from the little earth they sing above. High on the mighty arch I waited there Far in the lonely heavens I prayed in vain; Until my radiant bridge of jewels fair Sank slowly with me to the earth again. 83 EVANESCENCE Love is a gift to mortals given Which makes the earth more dear than Heaven. To you, to me, it seems to be Stable as land, deep as the sea. Love's like the air, 'tis everywhere! How could we live were it not here? But yet so soon its hour is past Each breath it draws may be the last. Tho' it be bright as the sunlight It soon must fade into the night. For like the rose, it buds, it blows. It blooms a day and then it goes. 84 SONG AT TWILIGHT Do you watch the darkening waters Still, beloved, and feel the charm Of the warm, pulsating twilight Wrap you like a tender arm? Do you see the shadows deepening As of old, and feel them lay Cooling hands upon your spirit Wearied with the heat of day? Could you find me yet beside you Would you turn to me and rest, Silent as a floating shadow That had fallen on my breast? 85 I DARE NOT PRAISE YOU Were there a power in love words could reveal, A strength to triumph over pain and raise Eternal echoes of the things we feel, Then, Glory's self should envy you my praise ! Alas ! I dare not praise you, dare not speak Of all the infinite things you are to me; I must be silent, I am small and weak. While song and love are boundless as the sea. 86 THE ARRIVAL Breeze on the meadow, rose on the lea, Rose on the sail that drifts o'er the sea, Song, in the twilight, wafted to me. Hark! 'tis the keel, as it grates on the sand, Fresh is the touch of her delicate hand. Cool as the breath of the night o'er the land. Riot of spring-time when summer is near ! Love of the spring-time, at last you are here! Musical silence and exquisite fear! 87 THE ROSE AND THE GARDENER A STAR was gleaming, a rose lay dreaming And poured out her perfume to reach the star, Till the gardener swooned where the rose beds are. In languor lying, the rose was dying Her essence was scattered near and far, But how could this carry her love to the star? Oh! faint flower maiden, with fragrance laden, Though you cannot float to the star-lit skies, Your sweet leaves fall where the gardener lies ! 88 YOURS My light, my breath, my pulse of life are you, I want no love, no duty not your due ; No home save yours, no kindred and no friend, I make you my beginning and my end ! The soul is happy that for love may live, Yet happy, too, its life for love to give, My soul is yours — you cannot pass it by. You shall command and I will live or die ! 89 THE ISLAND I DREAMED I reached an isle in which I lay and slumbered long, The silence wrapped me round with perfect peace, sweeter than song! I waked and knew that it was but a dream, wild music swept About me, and the tempest wailed long and the wind wept. Though in the storm my soul has found her voice, my songs take wing, Fain would she find that quiet isle where peace and slumber cling. 90 HAPPINESS / Just a child I used to be, / Just a child, a child ! Laid my head upon your knee And looked up and smiled. Just a girl you used to meet — Happy girl, she seemed — Loved to sink down at your feet Where she sat and dreamed. Many years have passed away, Yet, beloved, I feel Often that I fain would stay At your feet to kneel. Like that child and girl, I deem It brings peace to me. Still to rest my head and dream, Propped against your knee. 91 REMEMBRANCE You swore you would never forget me In the happy by-gone days, A thousand times you swore it In a hundred thousand ways ! Like a child that its mother rouses No answering word I spake, I only smiled, as I listened. Like a child that is half awake. Long since have you forgotten Our love of by-gone hours ; In my heart it lives and blossoms In a hundred thousand flowers ! 92 THE ROSE Once, in a happy hour We pressed a little flower: Women and flowers fade, Yet both for joy were made — Though it grew pale and wan Its scent lived on, And still you threw away That rose to-day. Oh, shadows of the past ! Oh, tender things outcast! Have you still power to bless. Ye ghosts of happiness? You swore that rose to keep When I was fair. Now — you can see me weep And never care ! 93 THE HANDS I LOVE Dear hands I loved beside a distant sea When first thej caught my own, and held them fast, Strong hands that filled life's cup of joy for me Through many blessed moments of the past, Hands that have made of "home, sweet home," indeed Oh! take mine now — your touch I need. Hands that have clung to me in hours of pain, Held mine till dawn, companioned all the day, I turned to feel your clasp on mine again. You would not send me lonely on my way ! Have you grown weak to teach, to heal, to know? You never shall have leave to go ! 3 Dear hands I loved through all the passing years. Familiar as the sunshine and the air, 94 You taught me happy laughter, sacred tears, Beneath your gentle touch my soul lay bare. Then, though the Sirens call and call, I know, That I shall hold you, that you cannot go ! 95 AS I KNEEL AT YOUR FEET There is a silence warm and sweet In which my soul becomes complete, As I kneel at your feet. The back shall fit the burden sent, No past mistakes can mar content. As I kneel at your feet. None of your little faults can smart, Or my old wounds disturb my heart. As I kneel at your feet. For still while at your feet I kneel, Peace, perfect peace is all I feel. 96 TIME'S DISTRESS The hand that pens this song Has grown less fair, The eyes which guide the trembling words along Are not so clear and bright as once they were. The cheek I long to press Against your cheek Is pale, and worn, alas! by time's distress; My hopes but gasp — and die e'er they can speak. The heart alone remains, Just as of yore — As warm, as fresh, as full of tender pains — But, now, you do not want it any more! 97 PATIENCE Mine is the love which long lay at your feet Learning to wait, to be more kind and sweet; Mine is the love — though cherished still apart — Which laid no form of claim upon your heart, But only sought to be itself complete. Mine is the love that strives to cast out fear. And dreams of joy when pain and grief are here: Mine is the love that watches at the gate For your returning heart, early and late. Mine is the love that still may draw you near. 98 THE PRECIOUS BURDEN All the daylight lies a sorrow Sleeping in my breast, But it wakes when night is coming, To destroy my rest. Day by day drags and the night time Passes sleepless by; I am weary in the evening Fain by mom to die. If you asked: "What is this burden, Heavy and forlorn ?" I would answer : " 'Tis the sorrow Hardest to be borne." Yet if angels came to lift it Gently from my heart, I would pray them : "Take not from me Even the smallest part." 99 LOVE AND SONG Birds do not always sing Or young lambs play, They sleep in nest and fold At close of day. But day and night to you My love is told, More song lies in my heart Than it can hold. 100 BACK FROM THE WILDERNESS When your wild spirit cries, Go where your longing hies, Go where your pleasure lies. Follow and roam ! Where Fancy dips and flies, Whirling before your eyes. Lighter than foam. I will not love you less For your unworthiness When, from the wilderness, You struggle home : You will not love me less For pitying your distress. Dear, when you come. 101 LONG AGO Long ago by happy waters burning with the tropic blue, You told me "the old, old story" that is ever sweet and new. Oh ! you swore to love me always, to remember evermore, And renewed again the promise pledged a hun- dred times before. But no answering word I uttered and no prom- ise dared I speak, — Closer and closer to you pressing, — all my words seemed vain and weak! Long ago have you forgotten all you prom- ised — far apart — In my fancy, I am clinging, still in silence, to your heart. 102 DREAMS I HAVE no hope that I shall see The splendor of mj dreams fulfilled ; I have no hope that love will be The spring of joy my thought has willed, Yet joy that is beyond my reach, A happiness I may not see, A love that I have never known. Still in my sleep whisper to me. 103 THE DREAM IS PAST The dream is past for me ; I wish to leave you free, And so will step aside ; I know you well and see You clearly; yet I will not love you less Because of aught in you I deem to be Un worthiness. Nor will I love you less because you love me less ; Would not that be in me unworthiness ? Ah, love, you cannot understand my heart! Go where your fancy flies, flutter and sip and guess, I wait apart. Go where your longing lies, and I will keep The fire at home and rock the babe to sleep: My love shall never hint its grief aloud — I'll smile to see you pass, wait till you're gone to weep, I am so proud. 104 WHEN I'M ALONE When I'm alone I feel you come so near, love, When no one's by your hand takes up my hand; I almost feel your breath upon my cheek, love. Stealing my senses from my own command; When I'm alone. When I'm alone I feel your lips are close, love; They almost touch my lips ; the kiss that we Have never kissed — it comes — it comes so near, love; We could not help but kiss, were you with me. But — I'm alone. 105 WORDS OF LOVE To-night all the loving words I would say Like tired birds, that have sung all day, Have folded their wings and in silence stay. Soon you will hear their rapture again; Like birds that soar over meadow and plain They will come warbling about you again. 106 WHEN I COME HOME When I come home, will you be glad To look into my eyes once more; To hear my voice repeat your name; To feel my fingers — still the same — And my smiles, happy, as of yore? When I come home again, my lad. Give me a welcome warm and sweet ! Till then — I try to live content Without my heart, for it is sent Forward to wait the hour we meet. 107 IN THE SUMMER Oh ! how happy is the Summer When the bee is on the wing; Wanton birds swing in the branches While they tune their throats to sing. Little children in the meadow Lie upon the scented grass, Suck the honey-sweetened clover, Watch the lazy clouds that pass. In the balmy, golden twilight When the day sleeps into night, Once I wandered with my dear one Saw the pale stars gleam in sight. Could we, now, alone together — Linked by love in joy and pain — Spend one little hour of Summer, I would "take new heart" again. Never more shall I behold him. There's no answer to my prayer; And the stars, they mock me, saying, "Tears are water, sighs are air." 108 THE LOST HEART Where is the love that I gave jou? — Would you but ask me again, It would rush upward to meet you, Out of its darkness and pain: — Love that was strong as a giant — Weak as an infant to-day — Wounded, despairing and dying, Wearing away ! Oh! had your spirit been noble, Oh! had your soul but been great, I could have worshiped you ever — I had been queen of my fate, — Or, had you sinned and clung to me, I would have taken your part; Only the heart that is narrow Loses a heart! 109 ON LOVING Oh ! love is sent in punishment Of all our earthly sins, But when we see that this must be Then love's reward begins, For half we seized upon as joy we still must keep as pain, Which, if we bear it patiently, may turn to joy again. 110 THE LOVE THAT CAN FORGIVE I AM weary of my sorrow, I am longing to forget, And to trust you as I trusted you before ; My soul is sick with grieving, and my heart is wrung with pain. And the very bone and marrow of me sore! If I let you sway me always — when it helped to your desire, — I was bitter, I was wounded — if my pride Left you free — I ate my heart out, late and early ; I was grieving, night and morning, by your side. Till I wearied of my sorrow, till I hungered to forget ! — How can I be ungenerous, dear, to you? — The love that can forgive is the only love can live, The only love that waits and struggles through. So perhaps a day is coming when this pain will leave my heart — 111 Like an illness, like a fever that is spent, — Then, very weak and weary I shall creep within your arms, And lie upon your breast and be content. llg THE LAW OF LIFE Once on a time I was fresh, once I was fair — The rose lay on my lip, the gold shone in my hair, And, oh, how young was my heart when first you came; Alas ! that the years cannot leave the heart the same. I could see my beauty fade and bear to see, If only our love might live to eternity. But this is the law of life — snow on the gold. Pallor on cheek and lip, a heart grown cold. I waked in the dead of night, and knew the law Lay betwixt you and me forever more! 113 MAN'S LOVE AND WOMAN'S COMPARED * For man, perhaps, love should be fortunate; It breaks his strength to feel that his heart bleeds : To be unhappie is but woman's fate, And woman's strength is love that not suc- ceeds ; She tastes a piercing sweet in fond despare, Her thoughts grow holier and her soul more fair. * Imitation of Elizabethean poets. 114 TO THE POETS Your sweetest, freshest fancies Transplanted to my heart, Like vines around a ruined um, Bind up each broken part. But, fancy sick, I close the book, Ah me ! the blossom dies, As if a hand cut down the vines. Shattered the frail vase lies. 115 BID ME TO TRUST Bid me to trust you, I will trust Forever and a day; Deceive, forsake, forget me quite, I still will trust alway. Bid me to leave you, I will go — Bid me return anon, I will come proudly, like a queen New crowned, her state to don. Bid me to praise you, I will write Until my pen shall raise A monument of deathless song In honour of your days. Bid me to love you, I will love While I have strength to last, Till, having spent my life for you, I will live o'er the past. 116 THE POET'S SONG The poet's song once breathed in air, I know goes on and on, somewhere; Mounts, like a bird, through currents new, Beneath the endless dome of blue; While its last echoes cease to float To the World's ear. Perchance the Gods may list the note. When men no longer hear. Though buried aeons deep he lies The poet's rapture never dies ! In ages past the poet's song Had wings to bear his thoughts along. His vocal passion and its fire Compassed the sky. And then men said the Orphic lyre Was set on high. 117 A WISH I ONLY want a friend who cares to stay When all the rest have gone away; I only want some one with whom to ride Afar, where all the woods and ways divide: I only want a hand my hand to hold While you count ten, and then To let it go again! I would not have a lover be too bold! I only want some one to take my part, I only want to find a loyal heart, I only want a friend to stand by me — It is so cold to agree to disagree — I only want a hand my hand to hold — While you count twenty Indeed is plenty — I would not have a lover be too bold! I only want some one who loves me well — But this I want more than I care to tell — I want a kindly will of large design To keep, to lead this wayward heart of mine; I only want a heart my heart to hold, To guide, yet seem to be Guided by me — I would not have a lover he too bold ! 118 TALKING There are lots of tiresome people, whom you never want to meet (Though you always run across them as you're hurrying down the street) ; They are so fond of talking that you can't get in a word; No matter how you raLse your voice, you know you won't be heard ! I hate a woman who talks much — she makes herself a bore — I always head her off with: "Yes, I knew all that before." Though I must say I like to talk myself, those people who Keep talking when you want to talk I can't abide, can you? Well, we've talked so much of talking that I'm sure I've quite forgot What I was just about to say, a pity, is it not? And so you're in a hurry, too, but I'll remem- ber when I can remember what it Was, to stop and tell you then. 119 Do you know this love — So wrong to feel, so dear to tell, so hard to prove — Ah! do you know this mad-cap love? It came in an instant, it lived but a day, Yet it lay in a heart where my true love should stay. Though the heart was ashamed that it found him away. Do you know this love — So sweet to feel (I need not tell, there's naught to prove) — Oh ! do you know this wicked love ? It died in an instant, it lived but a day For my true love came back and I turned it away. And he knows not my heart has been glad of its stay. 120 THE SPIRIT LADY Every husband, in a dwelling which no wife could ever share, Hidden close for secret comfort, cherishes a lady fair. Varied charms and kindly virtues, loving hearts and hair of gold. If pertaining to their spouses, often leave our husbands cold. In their secret thoughts a woman, more ador- ing, cleverer too. Worships them and understands them, and ap- proves all that they do. In his secret thoughts your husband, unim- aginative wife. Is a wonderfully fine fellow, — ^he has known it all his life. If the dull world has not seen it, there is one he longs to meet Who will rapturously proclaim it, and his heart is at her feet. 121 Oft, in blessed dreams, she seeks him, comes, as Egypt's queen of old Came to Caesar, in her passion — splendidly, su- perbly bold. Shadowy tresses sweep his pillow, and a glow- ing warmth there slips Through his dreaming veins, creating phan- tom kisses on his lips. Delicate alchemy of fancy, this new queen can come, it seems. Ever young and ever maiden, to this sacrament of dreams. In the crucible mysterious, burning through the passing years. Something more than gold is sought for, some- thing more than gold appears. If you are a virtuous husband, or a bachelor with — friends. You need some one for your sorrows, frequently, to make amends. 122 Though the woman you have married still is fair and gentle too, None the less your fancy wanders, ever seeking something new: Till you find your "spirit-lady" many an earthly form can take, Not in dreams alone she meets you, she will come when you're awake : You may often run across her in another fel- low's wife. You will find her, you will lose her, sure to do so, all your life. When you lose her — though so lonely, sick of all things — yet, plod on, She will meet you in a moment, she was never really gone. For her charm is, though she leaves you for a little time in pain. That, whatever else eludes you, she is sure to come again. 123 Tell me, fair ones, are you jealous of the lady whom I sing? Why ! she is but froth and fancy, only a fragile, gossamer thing: Only an essence, only a spirit, only a hope and an ideal, Only a pretty, fond illusion, only anything save real! lU A PRAYER I PASSED from the toil of the city And wandered alone once more Where the track lay dim behind me And the moon led on before. Through fresh and fragrant meadows, 'Mid sleeping flowers I came, And I rested my weary spirit And soothed my grief and shame. The silence lay deep around me, Sweet as the dew on the night, Till I came where the sea was shining And bathed myself in the light. I washed my soul and my body I dipped them in the sea, Until they were clean and ready For your soul to visit me. And now my thoughts are waiting — I am pure as a little child — My spirit leans to your spirit And our hearts are reconciled. 125 I shall be evil to-morrow, Yet to-night I pray you come, Come ere the torture takes me And my lips again are dumb. Oh! come to me from Heaven, Oh, pity me! draw me near! Let me believe you have saved me! Let me pretend you are here! 126 THE POISON You put a poison in my blood, A poison in my mind, Till all my hours were bitter hours — Even when you were kind. And aching, aching in my heart A wicked thought is laid, A thought hot as a mortal wound Made by an evil blade. My soul bleeds deep and I am faint, 'Tis late, — I long for rest, — I long to lay my weary head Awhile upon your breast. Still, take me, take me in your arms, For fain, fain would I be Nearer you, though I fear that pain May pass to you from me. Still, take me, take me in your arms, I am too tired to sleep. Too hopeless to be comforted, Too broken even to weep. 127 This hour, which should have been so sweet, To me it comes in vain; Alas! mj faith, my happy pride Will never come again! 128 LOVE'S FAILURE Love came to me on a shaft of light That fell in a silent glade, And his wings swept us from the ground, Where the sun poured through the shade. But somewhere in the airy heights He cried to me, in pain, "I have flown too fast!" and so we sank Till we touched the earth again. And now, alas ! Love cannot fly. We wander a twilight land. And he is afraid, and so am I, Though he leads me by the hand. Through the thick mists he guides me on, Though m}'^ soul in terror pleads ; I go with faltering steps, but still I follow where he leads. For sometimes he will let me lay My head upon his breast Then — with smooth fingers close my eyes — And bid me sleep and rest. 129 There, like a weary child, I lie, Who, weeping, falls asleep: I dream and smile, and, when I wake, Forget a while to weep 1 130 REMEMBRANCE 'Though to remember suffering wrings the heart, Who would forget? What generous lover ever grudged the smart Of true love yet? Though our hopes fade away, sweet memories Enshrine above The disillusions of our daily life Our holiest love; The shrine atones for all we failed in, all We sought in vain. We kneel before it and we find Joy even in pain. 131 COMPENSATION Though not for me success shall wait, And though I stand outside the gate Flung wide for conquerors of fate — It makes me proud to see a man succeed ! Through all my blood a stalwart deed, A noble word, kindles a flame, — That deed, that word seem glories lent To my own soul — and heaven-sent; — Glad am I to be watcher of the game And see upon the shining lists of fame Another splendid name. Though less and less my beauty grows, And passes like the scent, the colour of the rose. It is a joy to see fresh beauty blows. Fair cheeks and sunny hair and radiant eyes Pass by to teach me beauty never dies. Though love is not all I dreamed love would be, I know the fault is not in love, but me. For still my fancy paints what love should be ! I, who alas, have never reached my aim. Seen love and beauty fade and others win the game. May surely still rejoice to breathe the air 132 That heroes breathe, to watch the rose lay bare Her fair and glowing breast beneath the sun, To know high hearts still beat, glory may still be won! 133 UNDEFEATED They come once more, the sweet, familiar mus- ings. Fresh with new life, like flowers more fair from rain. Sparkling and springing! My blind eyes were aching, A touch has healed them and I see again. They come once more, the old, the deep en- chantments. The strength that grows and the lost song's refrain ; My thoughts were listless and my hopes were sleeping, A word has waked them and power comes again. They come once more — ^love and it's fond out- pouring. Abounding trust, patience in bearing pain, My helm was broken and my barque was drift- ing But now it bounds beneath my hand again. 134 Fallen to rise, dragged backward and urged forward, Toward the glorious light ! Ah, not in vain The spirit in me ever struggles upward, Until it soars toward the sun again. 135 IN DAYS TO COME Rondeau In days to come, when I shall lie With earth between me and the sky, Love will pass by beneath the blue, Sorrow will come, and pass me too, Peace will my tears indemnify. The anguish that hopes glorify, Beliefs that tests must crucify — I shall not heed when they pursue. In days to come. I shall not seek to justify My love, my tears, then, no, or try To prop a crumbling faith anew; — But now, dear, let me trust in you! There's time to put the folly by In days to come. 136 WITH SOME VERSES The verses penned by a dead hand May one day seem to you ^lore sweet and sacred than the work My living hand can do. But still, despite the fact they then Might gain in value, I Still hope that they may touch your heart Sometime before I die. 137 BEATEN? Broken and beaten and stumbling — I struggle to hold in view The splendid and beautiful things that I always meant to do; — Though it be proved at last to the hilt, and hammered into me, That the things I set my heart upon are the things that can never be. As long as the game is going on I can't stand out and rest; I've never felt the love of the game grow cold within my breast. For the game is worth the playing just for the sake of the fight — Whether you win or lose it — if you play it with all your might. And what indeed does it matter, if only we do not shirk The work we take in hand to do, what we are paid for the work? 138 LET ME SLEEP I AM tired of all the dreary present, Weary of my weakness and my pain, Yet they never leave me, I forever Weary of my weariness in vain ! I am tired of thinking of the future, I am sick of hopes that are deferred. If there still is hope for me to cling to In my soul its breathing is not heard. Though the past was happy for a moment Which for years I dreamed of, yet, at last. Without present joy or future promise I am tired of thinking of the past. Shut the gates of silence in the darkness, — There are no more tears that I can weep. But the night is sweet and cool the pillow; I am very weary, let me sleep ! 139 THE SPRING I HEAR the rippling voice of the young Spring, To me she calls and calls, Her blossoms seem almost upon the wing. Her golden greens flutter and dance and sway, Her freshness is so exquisitely gay. Innumerable birds trill forth her madrigals! While I grow old she comes and comes again — Always more fair is she — She lifts my heart, she charms away my pain. She will not let me mourn what has gone by; Lost dreams, past joys, beliefs that I saw die, She takes them m her hands and brings them back to me. Thanks be to God, who deals me care and grief. Each year He sends His Spring to my relief. 140 MORNING AND EVENING The thoughts of youth are like the dawn, Which floods the sky with light, The thoughts of age are comforted with stars And silence of the night ; The deeds of youth are lusty as the morn And noisy as the day, Men cease from doing when the sun has gone, When all the world turns grey ; Awhile the West is spread with golden bars Across a violet way: Unto the coming day the thoughts of youth are drawn, But thoughts of age kneel in the dusk and pray. 141 ■I 015 905 591 7