Class 'Fv^ .3 51^ fapyrightF 1 ^3.0 COFXRIGKT DEKJSm THE FOURTH WATCH THE FOURTH WATCH A Book of Poems ROY IVAN JOHNSON THE CORNHILL COMPANY BOSTON MAS». Copyright, 1920 THE CORNHILL COMPANY JUL -2 !b20 ©CI.A570653 To L. M. S. J. CONTENTS Reconstruction 3 The Fourth Watch 5 Thanksgiving after War 6 The Wounds 7 The Road of Night 8 The Altar of Soul 9 The Secret Door 10 The Refuge of Dreams 12 The Harbor of the Heart 13 Their Gifts... 15 Lures 17 My Soul 18 The Orbit of Desire 19 Moon Tryst 20 My Stars 21 Dusk-winds 22 Cloud Fantasies 24 Dusk and Dawn 26 A Walk in the Spring Rain 28 A Song of the Road 29 Romantic Youth 31 The Memory of a Night in Youth 33 The Moth-man 34 CONTENTS— {Continued) Blight 35 Francis Joseph 36 The Kingly Way 38 "Homeward Bound" 43 Home from the City Streets 44 Three Lights 46 Baby Wisdom 47 If I Were a Flower 49 Love's Memory 52 Dream-song 53 The Song of the Average Man 54 The Spirit of Music 56 The Storm-king 57 Sky-pictures 59 The Conquest of the Sea 62 Will-o'-the-wisp 66 House-awakening 69 A Downtown Alley 70 The Street Car 12 The City Cosmic 74 Night-Lessons 78 The Race Phantom 80 Polyphemus 82 Trophaea Luna 83 THE FOURTH WATCH RECONSTRUCTION Slow dawn Comes on: Cloud-strewn It creeps along the east — Cloud-strewn, Or trailing hearsed hopes, It gropes Its way, Dull gray, Across an eastern dune. Cold dawn Comes on: Ice-hued, Its fingers touch the sky; Ice-hued, It chills the naked beach And lays its hand Upon the hills that stand Like earth's breasts round and nude. Gray dawn Comes on: Can Day Go clad in monkish gray? 3 THE FOURTH WATCH Can Day, That boasts a warming sun, Have spun Out of the Hght Of a storm-riven night A cloak of gray And dun? Slow, cold, and gray. The dawn Comes on: Earth, drugged with hope against the cold, Awaits the turn of the gray to gold. The same sun rides beyond the mist; Already the Hps of the east are kissed: The dawn Comes on — Slow .... Cold .... And gray .... But Dawn! THE FOURTH WATCH THE FOURTH WATCH The moon hangs o'er the river Like a silk-and-silver flame ; And the breathing willows quiver With a fear they cannot name. Like a steel-cold sabre lying Along the valley wide, Dropped by the red-star, flying In the waUs of day to hide, Is the sluggish, shding river Against the valley's breast, While Earth, the Mother-giver, Rocks the night to rest. No red-beamed star ascendant In the waiting hours of morn! But peace, like a shining pendant, Doth the throat of the Dawn adorn. THE FOURTH WATCH THANKSGIVING AFTER WAR Men whose strength has felt the strain of war's de- mands, Men who did the nation's work with wiUing hands, Men of every race, of every creed, of all the lands. Thank God for Peace! Women, you whose steadfast hearts a nation cheers, You who steeped your souls in prayer — but not in tears. You who hid with smiles of courage all your fears. Thank God for Peace! Children, you who felt the hand and heel of war. Children of the nations, you who will not mar That dawn which breaks across the world with hope- filled star. Thank God for Peace! THE FOURTH WATCH THE WOUNDS On France the sunlight falls again With healing glow, — But scars of Flanders seam her heart With hidden woe. From windows stream the flags of peace And victory, — But Sorrow sits beside the roads Of Picardy. A nation shouts for joy, — but oh, The bleeding pain That lies along the ruined fields Of fair Champagne! THE FOURTH WATCH THE ROAD OF NIGHT Life travels the road of night where Grief, Grim-cowled in gray, Like a ghost on the tomb of a lost belief, Stands in the way. Over the world and the soul of things. Prone and stark, Stretching its shadow-dropping wings, Hovers the dark. Dawn lifts her head from the shoulder of night: Sorrow is past. There in the path of life, a light Trembles at last ! THE FOURTH WATCH THE ALTAR OF SOUL Oh, I am the priest at the Altar of Soul I And the life-spun curtains drawn About my heart swing slowly apart For the birth of each new dawn. And brightens the fire on the Altar of Soul As the new light enters in, The fast-burning fire of worthy desire Consuming the fruitage of sin. In my heart as I stand by the Altar of Soul, Athrill with a vision new, Is enkindled a spark that shall glow in the dark When the curtains of life swing to. Yes, I am the priest at the Altar of Soul By life's time-old decree, — And the fires that I light shall keep it as bright As when it was given to me. 10 THE FOURTH WATCH THE SECRET DOOR All the sighs of silent strife, All the deepest thoughts of life, All the far-off goals of hope Toward which the spirit dared to grope, Fancies fair and manifold, And all the dreams that went untold Are secret-locked and set apart Within the chambers of the heart. Light of visions still unborn, Light of future-dawning morn, Things the secret soul doth own But dare confess to God alone, All the hard world never knew, Seeds of hope that never grew. Ages hence shaU flash and start From the ashes of the heart. From out the chambers of the soul — God's refining furnace bowl — Shall one day pour the store of gold For which the world its palm doth hold. And though your soul may be the first In which the vision splendid burst, It may be it began to glow In hearts an age or more ago. THE FOURTH WATCH n So tread the path with feet unshod Nor seek to sound the wells of God, For in an age of iron and stone Seeds for an age of love were sown. And treasure well that hidden ore Behind that smooth unpaneled door, Until, refined, the gold shall start From the smelting furnace of the heart. THE FOURTH WATCH THE REFUGE OF DREAMS In my heart 1 heard a whisper Like the sigh of a star at dawn, Like the stir of a leaf in autumn When the chill of the night comes on — A whisper that said, "0 whither Have the bright- winged fancies fled That homed with thy soul in April When Beauty and Youth were wed?" And I answered, "The star that is paling Will abide in the deeps of the sky, And the leaf quiver downward in autumn In the bosom of earth to lie. For the star must go out at the dawning And the leaf must make way for the frost, But we know in our hearts that neither The star nor the leaf is lost: "The star will come forth in the evening; The leaf will return with the spring: And I shall discover the refuge Of my dreams that have taken wing, When the gates of the dusk are closing And my soul with song is rife, When the light of a nearer Heaven Has melted the snow of life." THE FOURTH WATCH 13 THE HARBOR OF THE HEART the ships that sail from out The harbor of the heart To horizon lines of doubt With hope their only chart! Ships in search of treasure hoards Adventure on the main : Not the wealth that earth affords Can bring them back again. Ships there ai^e whose star of power Ascendant in the sky Tempts ambition, in the flower, A daring cruise to try. the thousand, thousand ships For honor, gold, or gain The heart sends out to greet the lips Of Fortune on the main! But safe within a sheltered cove Beside the circling shore Where enemy shall never rove Or pkate strike an oar, 14 THE FOURTH WATCH Lies the bark of rarest worth, Cherished by the heart More than all the stores of earth, Waiting to depart, — Waiting till some promised star Shall in the sky abide, To sail across the harbor bar Outward with the tide. Compassless, but heaven-starred, The ships of love go out, — A hope to guide, a prayer to guard, A God-speed parting shout. Whate'er the course the love-ships take. To cold or torrid zone, Whate'er the ports the love-ships make, They go to seek their own. Ships come in and ships depart, But laden love-ships found Within the harbor of the heart Are always outward bound. THE FOURTH WATCH 15 THEIR GIFTS Their lives they wrought into steel and iron ; Their souls in the mould they cast; And it ribbons the prairies of the West And bridges chasms vast: For their lives were the lives of engineers Who the pulse of progress feel, And whose spirits live in the gifts they give And in dreams that outlast the steel. I had a friend (as you have had) And the thoughts that my friend instilled In the deeps of my heart in our days of love Are thoughts that can never be killed; When forgotten his tomb and unhonored his bones And his name is a memory dim, He shall start from his grave in the love that he gave, For that was the essence of him. A poet framed his thought in words; And the years, on the gallery wall Of the Temple of Art, shall treasure the gift Long after the funeral pall Has enwrapped the clay that housed his soul; And his beauty-fed spirit shall Uft 16 THE FOURTH WATCH An offering to Time in the thought-cups of rhyme And the poet shall live in his gift. Whether Song, or Love, or Steel be our dream, If we pour this clay-cup dry In our matrix of deeds, a star shall be cast — A star to be set in the sky — And its light shall be fed by the oil of our souls Exhaustless as ether; and we, In the glow of the star, shall outgrow what we are And conquer mortality. THE FOURTH WATCH 17 LURES Across my pilgrim path one day A gladsome golden shower Of transient sunlight came to play And while away the hour. "Oh, stay!" my soul in gladness cried, "So far thy feet have trod!"— A Voice in low reproach replied: "And make the world thy god?" 18 THE FOURTH V/ATCH MY SOUL What is my soul? The sages say A thousand different things: I know it came by the rainbow- way Flashing its rainbow wings. What is my soul? I can not know All of the essence of me: I merely feel the currents flow In from a tideless sea. What is my soul? Perhaps a song When the galaxies were young That the earth-star caught from an angel throng When the praise of God was sung. What is my soul? Immortal Youth Swayed by a magic rod: An atom in the sphere of truth That tips the wand of God, THE FOURTH WATCH 19 THE ORBIT OF DESIRE Across the waves of may-be My swift desires flee : They tread with magic sandals Imagination's sea. What need of ships to carry? What need of chart or sign? What need of log and compass? Of latitude or line? They travel God-directed; No resting place they know Save that from which they travel, The port from which they go. But o'er the waves of may-be The distant siren sings: Away again they wander, On venture-seeking wings, Till all the soul's horizon Is touched with magic jQre And round the seas of fancy Flames the orbit of desire. 20 THE FOURTH WATCH MOON TRYST The moon came out of the east TraiHng her silver gown Through the dust of dawn-stained clouds Violet-gray and brown. Her blush was as deep as the rose In the sun-kissed cheeks of May — Could it be that the morning star Looked in on her tryst with day? THE FOURTH WATCH 21 MY STARS An angel slept beneath my roses And breathed her beauty's spell : An angel slept beneath my roses The night the petals fell. Snowy-white upon her tresses They slowly settled down And lay like soft and clinging kisses — A rose-spun velvet crown! She woke to meet the smile of Morning And left my garden bare — But the saintly sweetness of the roses Is still upon the air. She passed through mystic glow and gloaming And was crowned with a crown of light: Across the floor of heaven drifted The gleaming petals white. So now the sky with soul-strewn roses All beautified I see, For since an angel blessed my garden The white stars shine for me. 22 THE FOURTH WATCH DUSK-WINDS Softly the night winds pass That trail in the wake of day And breathe to the shadowy grass Still Evening's lay. Dusk-things quiver and pant In the hush of twilight dim, Athrill at the vibrant chant Of the vesper hymn. Dreamily, quietly drops The bodiless form of the breeze Through the murmuring, swaying tops Of worshipping trees. Down in the valley deep The willows, weeping, bend. And, sighing, are soothed to sleep On the breast of the wind. Benedictions rest On dusk-red roses fair With perfumed lips caressed By the ghosts of air. THE FOURTH WATCH 23 Deepens the dusk and pales The last faint western ray, As the whispering night wind trails In the wake of day. 24 THE FOURTH WATCH CLOUD FANTASIES Wonder-eyed I view The moving, melting mass As across a field of blue The cloud-creations pass; Cloud-shapes form and fade And throng in changing crowds: My mammoth, miracle-made Menagerie of clouds. Over the rim of the sky, With wings spread out and out Great white eagles fly. And their pinions curve about, Till the soaring cloud-shape breaks And slowly drifts in two, And one a camel makes And one a kangaroo. But ere one wonder's born The masses change again: The camel boasts a horn. The kangaroo a fin. Then tigers, horses, whales. Come floating on apace; As one creation pales Another takes its place. THE FOURTH WATCH 25 Across the circus ring Of the zephyr-dusted sky In proud parade they swing — Those cloud-shapes — while I lie In showers of summer shade A-hiding from the sun, And watch the cloud-parade And count them one by one. At early morn or night You see the prison beirs, Like golden ribs of light. Through which the sun and stars Peer, wonder-bound, to see On fields of trodden blue My cloud menagerie. My sky-imprisoned zoo. 26 THE FOURTH WATCH DUSK AND DAWN A crimson flow in the western sky From the death- wound of the day And shafts of Hght hke sword-blades bright Thrust fiercely through by the hand of night, As slow on the low horizon gray The day sinks down to die! But the grave-pit made for the dying day When the pall of the dusk came down And over the prostrate evening lay, Contains not always its vanquished prey: Though, grim, for a time the night holds sway, New time shall the eastern morning crown With dawn's reviving ray. So sinks the soul thi'ough the night of doubt When the light of a flaming sun Withers the nested creeds of our heart, When the dusk- winds blow from an unknown mart And hurricane-tumble our theories apart, When the day of dull credence is darkened and done And the Hght of tradition gone out. THE FOURTH WATCH 27 And so wanes the night when the day is gone In the heart-sore, hungry soul. Though the ether of doubt dull the sense of the mind, Though the wings of the spirit the fear-shadows bind,' That sun-seeking atom of lost human kind Shall discover an East where, marking the goal, Truth flames in renascent dawn. 28 THE FOURTH WATCH A WALK IN THE SPRING RAIN It rains ; and the world is living : Nature is buoyant and strong: Like the thrill that is felt from giving, Or the throb of a soul-glowing song, Is the joy-fraught flood that rushes Into each thirsting vein And mantles my cheek in blushes Soft-kissed by the cooling rain. To walk in the vernal shower Through the water-wet weeds of the mead, That are left from last year's dower To cover the waiting seed — To feel in my face the renewing Of the patter of pouring rain Is joy of Nature's brewing. It is pleasure purged of pain. With wide-open arms my spirit Embraces life's joys anew And drinks of the happiness near it Like a bee of its honey-dew. The coolness of raindrops clinging Conquers the thoughts of strife And a Voice in my heart is singing, "You — you are the Raindrop of Life." THE FOURTH WATCH z9 A SONG OF THE ROAD I'm the royal tramp of springtime, And to boast I've ample reason, For it's springtime, wingtime, kingtime: It's the migratory season. I'm the care-free king of the gravel, For the world is at my feet ; Come travel the ways I travel, And feel earth's pulses beat. In the moonlit noon of a June night I glean my hoard of riches From a silver mine of moonlight Thronged by a thousand witches. I am one with the wind and weather: In this college of Stars-and-Dew The fee I pay is the leather I wear from the sole of my shoe. 30 THE FOURTH WATCH I am king of the growing season, My palace, the world I roam ; And work is the only treason, A road my only home. I'm the royal tramp of springtime, And to roam I've ample reason: It's Nature's wandering-wing time, Her migratory season. THE FOURTH WATCH 31 ROMANTIC YOUTH Living through the wear of winters, Dancing daily in our dreams, Like the sunlight soft and silent Silvering the sluggish streams, Is the fairy touch of fancy Folded in a maiden's hair. And the picture left unpainted Of the fairest of the fair. 'Tis the glint of raven blackness Or the sunlit hair of gold. That revives the glow romantic Of a story never told ; While the dreamy blue of heaven, Or the black of midnight skies Starts the ghost of recollection Where our morning fancy lies. the romance of our morning, When our learning fancies rove And the spirit seeks its kindred, Yielding to the touch of love! Then, perhaps, a voice in tremor, In the days when hearts are young, Sets athrill the chords of music That shall ever be unsung. 32 THE FOURTH WATCH Though the picture be unpainted, Never can the colors fade; Though the tale was unrelated, Something of the story stayed; And the song unsung is singing Of a maiden, more than fair. Who, to shrive our souls and save us, Set the star of Beauty there. THE FOURTH WATCH 33 THE MEMORY OF A NIGHT IN YOUTH The night bird uttered a far-off cry And the sound sank down through the forest bare; O'er the towering tops of the Kstening trees It melted away in the vibrant air ; And the spreading darkness, deep and still, Seemed all at once the more intense, While the quivering starlight over the hill Was the breath of a new and a strange incense. By the side of the wood ran a little brook. And the tall grass stood in a happy dream As (listening soft to the brooklet's laugh) It was kissed to sleep by the amorous stream. The fragrant meadow, wide and still, To the lightest touch of the night-air bent, And, whispering low, its secrets told To the wooing breeze as it came and went. Its secrets were told to the evening air, Caressingly breathed to the hstening tree, And Nature, willing her secrets to share. Whispered them softly again to me. And the trees' tall tops against the sky (The white stars jeweled their limbs with light) Stretched up like organ pipes, awry, For the soft-breathed symphony of Night. 34 THE FOURTH WATCH THE MOTH-MAN Along the crimson pleasure path he took his way ; And through the fatal fields of death his journey lay, Where mouldering heaps of corpses cold — corrupted clay- Reveal on faces deadly wan the crimson ray. On every side the fallen lie! The dying groans Unto the traveler's ears are borne — and muffled moans Of wretched pilgrims perishing. Instead of stones To mark the crimson course are piles of bleaching bones. But just ahead are gleaming hghts, like scarlet wines, That tempt the traveler where the Bauble brightest shines, And draw him like a filing in the magnet's lines Of force, — in spite of counsel wise, or warning signs. From brain to brainless after all is but a span. And passion runs today where eons since it ran. The dull, unbrained moth has, since the world began, Its own destruction wrought in flame — and so has man. THE FOURTH WATCH 35 BLIGHT The flower that feels upon it The frost where the dew has been Has a chiil in its heart forever And is never the same again. The page, when its ivory whiteness Has been marred by the stroke of a pen With a stain that will cling forever, Can ne'er be the same again. And a soul, though as pure as the starlight, If dimmed by the shadow of sin, May forfeit its lustre forever And be never the same again. 36 THE FOURTH WATCH FRANCIS JOSEPH "I am tired" were the emperor's last words. . . . In his hands he held the silver and pearl Rosary. . . . There was a leaden sky. — Vienna News Dispatch. "I am tired: The weight of empire bears my shoulders down ; The throne, the robe, the sceptre, and the crown Become a cross, Borne willingly, but wearily: And I am tired. "Austria, Three score and eight my years of empire are ; And through those years thy name hath been my star, Thy grief my tears, Thy wounds the wounds of me, Austria! "Weary years, And prayers, and toils, that end in empire's woe! Is this the goal toward which all nations grow? With many fears 1 view the leaden sky and mourn My weary years. THE FOURTH WATCH 37 "Not in vain, — Not all in vain the pearl and silver beads, Not wholly lost my love-inspked deeds; Though battle frown And hide the sunset glory now, — Tis not in vain. "I am tired: My eyes are tired of seeing — tired of sight ; My soul is tired of sceptres — tired of might. Death lifts the crown: I close my eyes — to rest — to rest, For I am tired." 38 THE FOURTH WATCH THE KINGLY WAY (Suggested by the foreword of Chapter H in "The Quest of Happiness," by Newell D wight Hillis.) The king in troubled dreams one night And worn with restlessness Held converse with the Angel bright Of Pleasure and Success. "I'll bring rich gifts unto thy son," The smiling angel said, "And ere his princely race is run Success shall crown his head." The king, whose reign was good and kind, One question much did brood : 'Twas for the prince he bore in mind Such deep solicitude. "A goodly son," he told himself; Though so he was indeed. The king had fears lest royal pelf Should turn his thoughts to greed. THE FOURTH WATCH 39 For when from monarchs' minds and hearts The sense of duty strays, No pomp that selfishness imparts Can win a people's praise. And so in fear the king had said, "A goodly son he seems," And tossing, troubled, on his bed, He dreamed these two strange dreams : Unto the king the angel told Her promise in his sleep : "Give me thy son and earth shall hold No cause to make him weep. "In him Success her king shall meet, And I will crush him wine From purple vines of pleasure sweet That o'er his door shall twine. "The path he treads with me shall be A kingly path indeed, A path where he shall never see The shadow of a need. "While friends unnumbered bow the knee And shout his princely fame, Shall every martial foeman flee And tremble at his name. 40 THE FOURTH WATCH "Their fruits shall wealth and fame combine, And mine shall be the deed His stately coffers deep to line With glory's golden meed. "To him shall courts of ease belong Through which shall hourly ring The sweetest strains of Pleasure's song. Give me thy son, King!" The angel spoke her promise fair; The monarch's brow was clear : If Fortune's robes the prince should wear, What further need of fear.^ Of glory, honor, fame, success. Did not the angel speak? If these his princely lot should bless. What more remained to seek.^^ If Pleasure and Success would guide The prince upon his way, And no ill fortune could abide The issue of a day, 'Twere well her presence to invoke And prove her promise true — But ere reply he made he woke — Then slept to dream anew. THE FOURTH WATCH 41 But like a wizard's magic ring Our visions mould and melt: And now in tears before the king, The Angel, Sorrow, knelt. In sombre robes and simply wrought, With modest head inclined, She rose and stood Hke one who sought The Peri's boon to find. "I, too, an angel am, King." She raised her tender eyes. " Give me thy son and I shall bring Him truth instead of hes," Through tears a smile of kindness gleamed Like Eden in her face; And the monarch muttered, as he dreamed, A half-forgotten grace. "Vain Pleasure offers wealth and fame: To live by such as these Is making selfishness your aim And idleness your ease. "Where Pleasure promises success, I promise patient toil— For humble labors always bless, While riches often soil. 42 THE FOURTH WATCH "I'll touch his heart with bitter pains And give him tears to shed; I'll turn to dross the gold he gains And make him want for bread. "Yea, more than this the prince shall learn, Ere I my task have done: His dearest friends to foes I'll turn — Because I love thy son. "Affliction's wine for him shall flow: The prince must sorrow share, That he another's grief may know, Another's burden bear. "Let not ambition deign to think No starless nights to know : The kings of men are those who drink Another's cup of woe. "Then give thy son, King, to me, For I am Sorrow's sprite; A burden-bearer he shall be The people's wrongs to right." The king spoke out: "The truth you say Is truth of God above ; Teach thou my son the kingly way To win a people's love." THE FOURTH WATCH 43 "HOMEWARD BOUND" From smiling, nodding wayside flower, Or beating rhythm of the shower, The racing pulse imbibes new power And shouts the fast approaching hour When you'll be "Homeward bound!" The hills and valleys talk to you; Invoke the sky of gray or blue; Consult the stars, the dusk, the dew: They all in unison renew The chant of "Homeward bound!" "Homeward, homeward, homeward bound!" Nowhere else such joy is found That binds the beating heart around As that when fancy forms the sound, "Homeward, homewai^d bound!" THE FOURTH WATCH HOME FROM THE CITY STREETS I hear all day the thud of feet That walk the busy city street And carry surging through the heat A human tide. Those stately buildings, Argus-eyed, Watch above the surging tide And Une that course of commerce wide, — The city street. I feel the great world's pulses beat As traffic rolls from street to street; I feel the truth, the rank deceit, And all the wrong That moves within that human throng Which goes with eager steps along And kills the weak to crown the strong With praise unmeet. Here thousands may with thousands meet, Nor one of all the number greet: Alone and in myself complete, I go my way. THE FOURTH WATCH 45 When evening marks the close of day, How sweet to take the homeward way While whirring car- wheels faintly play My homing dreams ! And every field that fleeting gleams A new-born breath of nature seems And nearer marks my land of dreams — ■ The Land of Home. 'Tis part of life to cease to roam ; 'Tis healing for the heart to come Back from the strife and struggle, home — Home from the city streets. 46 THE FOURTH WATCH THREE LIGHTS Out of my window I look and sigh, When the twihght shadows glow, Watching the Hghts of the night so nigh That burn in the town below, — Watching the glimmering glow of the lights, Like spear points glancing down Against the sable college heights That rise beyond the town. And look! Like triple starbeams bright, Where the sky-dark shadows flow, Against the blackened scroll of night Three Lights — that gleam in a row! Lights — three hghts that gleam in a row From the hilltop's lonely crest. Like stars of love through the dusk of woe Or memories, soul-caressed. Three! and together — shining — ^bright! Redeeming the evening gloam! My heart, like the night, shall be flooded with light When Sweetheart and Baby are home. THE FOURTH WATCH 47 BABY WISDOM Baby dear, tell me true : Would you laugh and kick and coo, Would you dimple as you do If you knew What the world we've brought you to Would in its turn bring to you? Would you — if you knew, Baby dear? In your baby eyes of blue Thousand fairy fancies throng, Fancies old as they are new, Fancies strange but fancies true, That to babyhood belong. Maybe ghosts of bygone dreams Hover in those mystic springs Where the life-light softly gleams Like a drop from Lethean streams Ere forgetfulness it brings. In your baby eyes of blue Age-old mists and shadows glow, Shrouding deep that wisdom true, Wisdom old as it is new, Like the rosebuds ere they blow. 48 THE FOURTH WATCH Baby dear, whisper low While you laugh and dimple so: Tell me if you truly know All the woe That may meet you as you go Through this world of shine and snow. Do you — ^^do you know, Baby dear? THE FOURTH WATCH 49 IF I WERE A FLOWER I Purple If I were a flower, the purple of power My chosen hue should be, And, though tiny and small, I should publish to all My floral majesty, That people might know as they go to and fro In search of the thing of worth That the power of the great is of humble estate And springs from the bosom of earth. I should joy to know that, in purple aglow, The hearts of men I should probe With a thought that would bide long after had died The hues of my royal robe. II White If the dust of the tomb should climb into bloom After mouldering ages of night, The petals, I hope, o'er my grave, when they ope, May be spotless— and stainlessly white. 50 THE FOURTH WATCH Whate'er it may be that shall bloom over me— Whether violet, lily, or rose — Through purity's eye I shall smile at the sky When the tender, white petals unclose. And of purity sweet the truth I'll repeat Each day to the passer-by As, with consummate grace, I stand, with my face Turned up to the laughing sky. HI Gold If I were a flower, I should choose me a dower From the gold of the sundown's blaze And bathe all my buds in the shining fire-floods Of the noonday's molten rays. Then to those who behold my garment of gold Should this lesson of life be taught: That the thing of most worth in this treasure-mad earth Is a treasure that cannot be bought. For my gold-circled eyes that look up to the skies Drew their wealth from the golden sun : And Heaven lets fall her treasure on all Who look upward when labor is done. THE FOURTH WATCH 51 IV Blue Sweet flower by the way, I should earnestly pray (If I could change places with you) That the sky might descend and over me bend And paint me a beautiful blue. And then I should say, as I smiled by the way, To all of the passers-by : "I have nothing to fear in dwelling down here, For my heart has been touched by the sky. "And so, in the span of the life of a man, In meeting the problem of sin, There's never a harm that can give you alarm If you and the heavens are kin." 52 THE FOURTH WATCH LOVE'S MEMORY I dreamed that I held in my hand A flower of briUiant hue, And I watched its petals expand Beautiful, strange, and new. It stood for a moment, displayed Like a queen in her rich array. When its petals began to fade And slowly to drop away. The withering stem was then Of its beauty quite bereft, And at last where the flower had been But an atom of dust was left. But hanging upon the air, When the flower had faded and gone, Was a perfume sweet and rare That thriUed like the breath of dawn. THE FOURTH WATCH 53 DREAM-SONG Every drop of morning dew Is Nature's magic £u:t And shrines for every lover true The mistress of his heart. Noonday's brightest skies of blue That arch the heavens above Are pale beside the gorgeous hue Of rainbow skies of love. Every sunset flashing through, The thoughts of you arise, And silent night but brings to view The stars that hght your eyes. Morning, noon, and night renew Love's dreams of joy — unknown: My dreams of Hfe are dreams of you- Dreams, but dreams alone I 54 THE FOURTH WATCH THE SONG OF THE AVERAGE MAN I sing not the hymn of the plutocrat Nor drone the chant of the slave; I do not recite any ballad of might Nor the battle-song of the brave ; I sing not the ways of the One Great One — Let sages interpret, who can, The voice of the Lord. Be it mine to record The song of the average man : "I hear you have called me the king of the earth- A kingship established of old — But I very well see that my royalty Has been stripped of its purple and gold. So the dignified title but adds to my woe And serves my discomfort to fan: Can a meaningless name, a spectre-like flame, Cheer the lot of the average man? "A spectre-like flame! By its light I can see Myself as the spectre-king : My torn, faded robe is the garment of Job, The mantle of suffering ! For my kingdom is woe, and sorrow, and pain — 'Tis a part of the Infinite Plan — So behold, all alone, on an ash-heap throne, His Highness, The Average Man! THE FOURTH WATCH 55 "My burdens I bear and my kingship is sure. My theories of life are concrete: If I but give heed to my imminent need, My circle of hfe is complete. What dealings have I with the Doctrines of Things.^ New theories I scruple to scan. So onward I plod toward a parent-proved God, For — I am the average man." 56 THE FOURTH WATCH THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC Oh, I am the Spirit of Music, The child of the swinging s'pheres ! I was bathed in the light of a vision Encircling the cradle of years. My win^s are of downy feather, They were smoothed by the Angel of Dreams As I slept by the pools of pleasure That are fed by the Lethean streams. I garnered the sweeping lashes I wear from an errant star, And the glances that gleam from beneath them The shining Apollo's are, For I came through the dome of the heavens Ere my journey to earth was run And into the heart of my being Came the magnetic force of the sun. Yes, I am the Spirit of Music ; I throb with the pulse of the world ; I dwell on the mountains of morning, Or in palaces lachryma-pearled. I am old as the tottering ages, Eternal as star and sun, And my voice shall bring order from chaos When the march of the planets is done. THE FOURTH WATCH 57 THE STORM-KING Out of the regions of nowhere, Out of the caves of storm, Glides with the speed of a spectre A fast-flying, phantom-hke form; Mounting the steeds of the whirlwind. And pointing the hurricane's lance, He races abreast with the tempest Or spins the tornado dance. the wreckage wrought by the Storm-king! He moves in a thousand shapes: He whirls the sands of the desert, Or tumbles the sea at the capes— For the phantom-hke form of the Storm-king May one or a miUion be, And the hosts that sweep the mainland Are the same that lash the sea. Over the fields of winter The Storm-king's spectres fare, And the traveler turns in terror At the touch of their barbed hair; And the blasts that are breathed from the nostrils Of the Storm-king's steeds as they pass Cut keen as the blades of battle Or pierce like the points of glass. 58 THE FOURTH WATCH Over the summer harvest Hastens the heralding wind And the giant boughs of the forest Like flame before it bend; And the cloud-imprisoned thunder That sits in the Storm-king's hand Is lost in the rush of the torrent That drenches a thirsting land. Forth to the regions of nowhere Passes the phantom form, Fanning the face of the tempest, Bulging the cheeks of the storm, Till across the dome of the heavens Is beaten the iris path And the Storm-king gallops under The arch of his passing wrath. THE FOURTH WATCH 59 SKY-PICTURES Star-gathering Morn To whose rich vestments cling The flaming fingers of the day Is here, And, as from hidden mere Of trembhng, Hquid light. Doth leap to sight Of the watching eye, An elf-like sprite, In roses dight Dripping with crimson dew, — So, forth from the brightening eyes of Morn, Athwart the star-bare sky In whose far corners lie Night's waning ghosts of gray, Flash the dancing fire-sprites of the day Wrapped in rosebud hue, And blush the paling shadows, torn, Into beds of gold and blue. But more than Morn, in truth, I saw in the sky of the young, new day : I beheld glad, glorious, gay, Star-gathering youth. 60 THE FOURTH WATCH The zenith hour, Before whose glare the shadows crouch, Has come. Day rules at heaven's height Upon his azure couch Of burnished steel ; And fields and flowers feel The fierce, compelling might Of the impassioned King of Light, Whose warm, intense caresses burn The upturned hps of Earth, And Earth's responding children turn To the source of their sun-filled mirth. But more than the zenith hour I read in the blazing noonday sky : Manhood's might, mature — and I sigh For full-blown power. Star-crowned eve. From whose soft dusk the shadows weave A purple robe of majesty And drape it fold on fold About the dying day, Sits in the western sky Upon a sunset throne of gold, — King of the riches there that lie In the palace of Day, grown old, — Riches of wisdom garnered from Time, THE FOURTH WATCH 61 Riches of sundown's glory sublime, Riches that never die, That live again in the star-hung sky, The crown of the even-time. And gracing the vanishing page Of day with sunset colors rife, Lo! Throned on the riches of life, Star-crownld age! 62 THE FOURTH WATCH THE CONQUEST OF THE SEA The waters of earth, how mighty and great, That lie earth's sea-beds in And rage with the winds, or when tempests abate Lie calm in the deeps that isolate The wave-washed homes of men! On the heaving breast of ocean wide The rocking billows sleep Till out of the wastes where the storms abide In the track of the fearless tempest ride The raging powers of the deep. And many a fearful deed hath been By the sea king's mighty host In ravage wrought on the sons of men Who braved the roaring tempest's din With futile and fatal boast. O the dream of conquest-loving man Is a dream of victory ! Since first the dawn of days began His daring dream has been to span The watery gap of the sea. THE FOURTH WATCH 63 To master, to conquer, command, subdue, To gain imperial sway Is the spring of our dreams and the deeds we do, Is the secret of life that the poets knew And the bards of the olden day. When first in hollowed trunk did float (Or hulk of bounden staves) A half-clad man whose savage throat Proclaimed his new dug-out a boat, 'Twas a victory o'er the waves. And then his seaward course to bend He taught himself to form The huge ship-mast whose sail-hung end Caught up and harnessed the very wind That lashed the sea to storm. But now the Titan vessels rich. With steel-plate, armored side, Round which the foam-capped billows pitch, Convert the element in which They, sea-defying, ride To mighty motor power that drives The coursing, countless scores Of ocean-daring human hives Thronged with the freight of a thousand lives Ship-bound for distant shores. 64 THE FOURTH WATCH So the mind of man and the strength of steam Have blazed an ocean path. But that was never the end of the dream : There were sea-drowned lands in the north to redeem From the ravaging ocean's wrath. The dream of dominion is never complete : Like a will-o'-the-wisp, its gleam, Forever advancing, outraces the feet; Although the deed and the dream never meet, There is joy in pursuit of the dream. The countless wrecks upon the deep. The sea-god's angry deed. Lay fathom-locked in watery sleep, And the arms of ocean strove to keep Her stolen fruits of greed. But the armored diver sounds the main, And ocean's treasury Conceals her hidden stores in vain,— - And in the deeps doth man remain The master of the sea. At last across the basin wide, Drawn through the slime and mire, Beneath the moon-enamoured tide. Through phosphorous caves where the drowned abide, Is the coast-connecting wire. THE FOURTH WATCH 65 Of all achievements that have been, The cable-message wrought The greatest victory for men When weeks were clipped to seconds in The passage of a thought. And then the dreaded war-machine That habits with the sharks Plies its course the coasts between: And the transatlantic submarine A new achievement marks. New goals the questing mind attains But the quest is never done; To-day above the ocean lanes Like sea-birds race the aeroplanes In a winged Marathon. We cannot know in our wisdom's dearth The things that are yet to be, — But, to whatever wonders the future gives birth, To-day down the ocean-filled hollows of earth Comes the cry of a conquered sea. And so through the years we cannot behold, Through the centuries yet to run, Man's mind shall accomplish, his dreams shall unfold, — And to distant descendants the story be told Of victories yet to be won. 66 THE FOURTH WATCH WILL-O'-THE-WISP Will-o'-the-wisp, thy winding way ! Take it, thou elf of deceitful day! For why not believe that night is morn? Why not believe thee a star of light Come down to earth to guide us aright? If life has proved bare, If its kingdom is care, And the sun has gone down on the fruitful and fair, why not believe that night is morn? why not be sure In thy fanciful lure That the thistle's a rose — instead of a thorn! Will-p'-the-wisp ! Will-o'-the-wisp ! Down through the ages of fog and of mist Thy fairy lights glimmer, Now brighter, now dimmer, And over men's souls thou has cast a faint shimmer Of roseate light That has tricked them to thinking That help is at hand when they know they are sinking- And that night is star-bright When it's leaden! 0, the ears that re-list And the fires that re-redden THE FOURTH WATCH 67 As thy light is shot down through the ages of mist! the empty star-dust left on the hps that thou hast kissed! But why not pursue, though never attain? Why calmly abide in the deserts of life And in deserts forever remain? will-o'-the-wisp, thy winding way ! Take it, thou elf of deceitful day! For what can enhven the hope to attain, Rekindle the fire . . Inspire the desire .... .... To reach to a higher . . . And lovelier plane, But the roseate hght of beauty uncaught And the romance glamor of battles unfought — But the thought that there's something to gain At the crest of the next high hill? So why not invite The night-light bright , Though the gleam be false that it lends, And climb to a height With roses dight Though they fade at the touch of the winds? will-o'-the-wisp, lead on at thy will, Thou elf of deceitful day I Lead on and lead on, Though thou come to no dawn And the darkness pales never to gray; 68 THE FOURTH WATCH Lead on and make bright The path of our night And play us the pranks you may, For men will at sight Follow visions of light — Though it be by a winding way! THE FOURTH WATCH 69 HOUSE-AWAKENING (On taking an early morning walk through the residence streets of a city and watching the houses respond to the growing and gradual brightness of a new day.) The city street is a streak of dawn, A stream of melting light Dissolving into silver-gray The sediment of night. The houses on their terrace-beds Drowse in dreaming rows And greet the morn with heavy eyes Curtained in repose. They rouse to life at sound of feet Breaking the restful dawn ; And lazily each porch-mouthed house Wakes with a sleepy yawn. They doff their gray night-caps of fog (That evening mist has spun) And bathe their faces dripping-bright In the rain of level sun. 70 THE FOURTH WATCH A DOWNTOWN ALLEY This dingy, high-walled alley, This gorge-like sunken valley, Down which at noontime only steals the sun, Is not a thing of beauty: It is shadowy and sooty And is rather commonplace, as alleys run. Always straight and long and smoky, Through an atmosphere that's choky. Like the grimy path of sloth the alley crawls, Through lengths of tangled wiring And refuse uninspiring. Till into one the distance blends its walls. But I work and watch above it And I learn to know and love it, For I like its back-door type of honesty ; And I have a kind of feeling That the alley is revealing What eyes, unglassed, prose-focused, may not see. Here I gain the city's greeting; Here I sense its true heart-beating As I watch each intersecting avenue: THE FOURTH WATCH 71 I can see the traffic going, Feel the rhythm of its flowing, Where a dozen channels cross my walled-in view. Vivisectionists seraphic, As they sought the heart of traffic, Have cut with shaip, thin blade, keen-edged as air, And this muscle-deep incision To their secret-seeking vision Has a dozen throbbing arteries laid bare. No, it's not a thing of beauty; It is shadowy and sooty, And it's just as commonplace as it can be; But Fve worked and watched above it Till Fve learned to know and love it, For I like its back-door type of honesty. 72 THE FOURTH WATCH THE STREET CAR Every night I watch the street=car Out of sight, As it crawls along Like a worm of light And grumbles its song To the curbstones white; And the trolley spar Like a floating star Or meteor bright Dangles above its noisy flight. Moments fleet Dreamily by; Drowsily sweet The minutes fly, While quietly I With half-closed eye Watch the car Go up the street; And I hear its rattling pulses beat, Till the whirring song Of the motors strong Begins to die In the distance far. THE FOURTH WATCH 73 Then I watch the mouth of a chimney nigh Towering high Against the sky As it gapes for a smoky star. 74 THE FOURTH WATCH THE CITY COSMIC This morning The lure of the street Entangled my feet And I walked . . . and walked . . . and walked . . . I turned into the narrowest streets, I breathed the smoke of the factories, I smelled the reek and rot of the tenements ; I passed by ancient spacious lawns and piles of masonry century-old, the pride of the city fathers; I walked through parks and down the singing boule- vards. . , . And I discovered what a cosmic thing a city is. Dirt. ... Congestion. . . . A heap of rubbish. . . . Blocks and stones and buildings ; White granitoid, smoked gray, like second^day collars of respectability ; Whistle-topped, grim-eyed factories ; The air, heavy with the aroma of coal-tar gas and the packing-house; A network of wires and rails ; Bill-boards, the sign of the dollar ; THE FOURTH WATCH 75 Squares of artificial landscape called parks and gardens; A sea of roofs and chimneys. . . . Houses . . . and houses . . . and houses. . . . Time's driftwood packed together by the force of the tide! And that is the city: A huge mass of Material, Looped and bound by the oily-black ribbon of the boulevards green-selvedged in the spring. The people Are not the city. They infest the city, as rats and roaches the drift- wood left high on the bank, — Or they build the city, as a beaver builds its dam, bit by bit. Yet, the people and the city are very much alike. They are like two mirrors, each reflecting the other, For those who do not make the city are made by the city. At dusk The smoky-bright, Soft-calling night Led me again through streets . . . and streets . . . and streets. ... I mingled with late-shopping crowds, I rubbed against the clay-crusted garments of laborers, I watched the rush for chnging-space on a Main Street car; 76 THE FOURTH WATCH I heard the drone of the beggar in the doorway with his pencils and shoestrings, I met women in brilHant coats — with painted cheeks ghost-white, I caught the innocent laugh of whirling youth from a flashing car; T noted the unblinking eyes of the hypnotized throng of cinema- worshippers pouring in and out past the shrieking posters flaming red and yellow; I listened to the incessant colloquy of the city's vic- tims and creators rising like the shrill hum of a steel-cutting wheel; \ passed into the quieter and poorer streets and saw the ill-clad mothers of children, born and unborn, taking the early spring air of a front doorstep overlooking the pavement, and as I passed they looked at me with eyes unf earing and curious; I glimpsed half-way down a dim deserted street a figure that slunk, thief-like, into the mouth of an alley; I walked upon the boulevard and saw through the windows of the rich the luxury of wealth; I turned into the park — and there was love, twin- souled, ecstatic, gripping with twining fingers the edge of Passion; THE FOURTH WATCH 77 And I sat upon a smooth-worn bench and gazed with new understanding at the evening star. . . . And I thought what a cosmic thing the population of a city is. Souls. . . . Souls that harbor ignorance and are cramped in the cage their ignorance has built; Helpless souls, That sit on doorsteps and breathe the smell of refuse ; Dust-dwelling souls, Whose wings have atrophied; Striving, struggling, suffering souls, Toiling in the net; Strong, soaring souls, That seek the sunlight in the open ; Souls that murmur, and tired-eyed souls that are mute; Souls of youth, wild-flowered, tossing their wind- tangled hair! And that is the population of a city: Souls. . . . souls. . . . House-huddled souls. . . . Bound to the earth by soiled pink ropes of clay. . . . Bound by earth to earth .... Bound. . . . bound. ... 78 THE FOURTH WATCH NIGHT-LESSONS I felt the handkerchief of Night — Whose name was Need — Bound, pain-tight, across my eyes. And its ends were wrought into such a knot as only circumstances can tie. And my fingers became nailless with the unceasing ejfforts to pluck off that blinding bandage of need. But in due time the night passed, the morning came : And I had learned to work. I heard the voluptuous night-sounds, the sounds of silence from the throat of darkness; I heard the harmony of stars ; And through the Night — Whose name was Sorrow — Stole softly the music of moonlight. The million- voiced melody of the heart: And I had learned to sing. Bare-bosomed Night — Whose name was Beauty — Her unloosed tresses caught in a tiara of stars, Stretched out her naked arms and smiled. . . . Potent with revelation . . . . . . The Morning Star raced up the road of dawn, But I had learned to love. THE FOURTH WATCH 79 And when Night had taught me work and song and love, Behold! I found myself, like a fixed and glowing star, in the heart of another Night — Whose name was Life — For I had learned to live! 80 THE FOURTH WATCH THE RACE PHANTOM Earth was sleeping under the silver-knotted coverlid of night stretched upon the Wyoming mountain- tops, When a silvery-shadowy phantom clothed in the breath of the stars Stalked to the quiet lakeside And, with arms outstretched like message-carrying cables toward the West, Said: "Yonder . . . yonder have they gone; But where does that west-path lead?" The pines inclined their heads, and the stars stooped down for the answer ; The smooth lake panted in Hstening silence. Then, with head flung back, the phantom lips breathed forth three sighs: "Into the Sunset! Into the Night! Into Death!" The waves rolled up and kissed the phantom's feet; The mountains with their breezes touched his brow; And Nature nodded a salute of welcome to the Ghost of the Aboriginal American. Then in the east loomed the blue shadow of dawn, Pouring a fusillade of fire against the mountain tops; THE FOURTH WATCH 81 And with back-turned face the phantom fled Into the West . . . . . . Into the Night ... Out of sight. A ghost — the trembHng ghost of a vanquished nation Fleeing in terror before the irresistible approach of its enemy, The Fires of the East, The Light Of Civilization! 82 THE FOURTH WATCH POLYPHEMUS Under the distant bridge that splices the horizon, Suddenly burns an eye of light: Over it rises a purple veil that blends into the coloring mists of morning : And the train slides slowly down the grade like a black, jewel-headed pencil erasing before it the stains of night. Then over the fulcrum-top of an eastern hill The Day pushes his fire-tipped lever To pry up the vale-clinging shadows that lie low- bedded against the earth; And then, Ulysses-like, He sears with his flaming spike The glaring Polyphemus-eye to a smoky blackness. With a scream of pain the train comes on, And groans to a sudden stop — A bUnd Cyclops of traffic clinging to the guiding rails. THE FOURTH WATCH 83 TROPHAEA LUNA Green-and-blue And gorgeous-winged, It came to me — Out of a May night's spring-bright gloom, Out of the twilight into my room, A wonder new! And as if in quest Of mind-mined lore-gems bright, This winged drop of color-light Planed to a rest On a page smooth- white And shadowed the Hues I read. Out of the night gloom's Twihght gray, Like a delicate wing-petaled bloom Of May, To me it came. And I said, "I must know the name Of this wonder new. Of this green-and-blue and beautiful thing, Of this color-flame With the gorgeous wing." So I built a paper prison-house About my night-sent guest, 84 THE FOURTH WATCH And it bruised its wings against the walls As I carried it down to the science halls In quest Of the Man Who Knew. And he replied: "Trophaea luna! Look, Here are its picture and name in a book." But I saw not the book with its pictures and things; I saw my moth with its ragged wings. "But it is— it is dead!" I cried. "Yes," he said, "It is Beauty — which you wanted classified." LIBRARY OF CONGRESS lillllllliiilliiii 01^ 235 216 7 C