Class _.?S t^^LS - Book„ .._U(^Lrj_ Copyright N°_ (9^3 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. F RAG M E NT S PEN PICTURES AND MEMORABILIA BY ■/ S. J. M'M. H. COLUMBUS, OHIO |)ti61t£il)eli bj) tbc atttI)or 1903 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies Received MAR 21 '903 Copynght Entry CLASS CU XXc. No, COPY B. COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY SARAH J. HUNTINGTON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 'X ^^ SDetitcation Between the centuries my songs I lay Upon thy attars, dearest frietids of mine, The memorabitia of^oves divine, *\ ^ And lays of life, along lifers changeful way; 5 (S -f Imprinted on the page, in black array. Less fortunate, I fear, than line on line I tear, and to the cache-morceau consign, Or flames consume, and roll in smoke away. Yet heart-throbs will your kind hearts move, and may Invoke to pure intent to please. In fine, To hide ^neath rose-leaves and sweet eg- lantine. All faltering feet, and false rhymes run astray. Thy precious time and lenient thought, I pray. And thou art pleased, then, happy, I am thine. Contentjsf PACK Dedication iii Fragments 3 PEN PICTURES The Frost on the Panes .... 33 The Eglantine 36 The Faces in the Trees .... 40 Capri 48 In the Bleak Country 59 The Beechwood 62 Cloud-Land 65 Her Royal and Imperial Majesty on her Eightieth Birthday, May 24, 1899 . . 68 L'Envoi 71 Leto, Mother of the Morn. ... 72 Gratitude and Hope 74 The Old House 76 February •j'j April Flowers 78 Reveille ........ 79 May 81 YoKO 83 Gold to Gold 84 Disappointment 86 V Contents The Month to wed 87 A June Evening in London ... 90 June 92 The Birds 93 Night 94 The Olea 96 The Passing of All Things ... 97 The Deserted Mansion .... 99 Adieu 101 Frailty 102 The July Sun 103 The Summer Clouds 104 Silent the Night 197 October 108 Tell me, tell me, if you know . . .109 Away to the Sea no lo 113 Autumn Days 115 Winter Passing 117 The Thread of Life . . . . . 118 MEMORABILIA MAHONBURN 121 The Meadow Brook 122 The Beech by the Brook . . . .152 The Pines 154 vi Contentfi Rhea in "Fairy Fingers" . . . .157 Crab-Apple Blossoms and Honey Bees . 159 The Truants 162 The Morning breaks 168 The Old Man 169 The God of Day 174 Sweet Mignonette 176 Roses 177 Pastoral Verses 178 GOOD-BY 186 Mother 187 Invitation 189 Impromptu 192 Rose-Leaves 194 The Swan of Avon 196 Mrs. E. B. B 199 L'Envoi . . . . . . . . 202 Eliza 203 A Drop of Bitterness 206 To R. L. P. 208 In Memory of Mrs. E. B 211 Dear M. L 213 Deposed 215 Baby Helen 222 Paraphrase 224 The Sweetest Songs die on the Air . 225 vii Contents Mein Leedle Yacob 227 Rondeau 228 A Child's Faith and Fear . . . 229 Ye Good Peppermint 231 My Symphonies 233 True Charity 236 April 238 Sonnet 240 The Eternal City 243 The Lady Isabelle 245 The Portrait ...... 247 Sleep 249 The Wind 251 The Miser 255 The Sabbath 256 The Debutante's Ball 258 What shall be our National Flower? 260 Sweet Singing Birds 263 The Awakening 265 In Quest of Claytonias 267 Footprints 269 Her Ladyship's Luncheon . . . .271 After the Storm 273 Be Grateful for the Life that is . . 275 Carpe Diem 278 New Year's Eve 279 viii Contents The Critics . 281 October . . 284 Pan and Syrinx .... . 286 Illusions . 290 A Lady, Old, Infirm . • 294 Xmas, 1896 . . 298 The Debutante .... . 300 After a Summer Shower . . 302 Darkness broods .... • 304 Midnight between the Years . . . 306 What will become of Thee? . . 308 Brood not upon the past . • • 309 Ladies Only . 310 Fantasies . . 312 When night comes down . • 314 The Portent of Peace . • • 317 The Voices of the Night . . 318 A Feather of a Bird's Wing . . 321 The years that have flown . • 323 The War, July, 1898 . . . , • • 325 Bon Voyage • 330 On Mountain Heights . • • 338 Such eyes are they . • 339 The Robins have come . • • 341 fragmmtjS fragments NEVER valued much the com- mon clay, Or thought much of the varied forms it may Pass through, till Omar's Rubaiyat led me To thinking of the mouldings in my way. Now jugs, and jars, and vases, potter's ware. Are subjects of solicitude and care ; And each I sound, and listen to its tone. For who knows whose most precious clay is there ? To pots, and bowls, and pitchers, we may come. The plainest, and most beauteous, to the thrum 3 iFrafftnents Of trying fingers on their bulging sides, May answer cracked, or clear as sound- ing drum. Should potter make of clay of mine a vase And know I what I am, as what I was, Tap lightly ! If I am what I would be, By sweet soprano sound you shall know How many things are good that are de- cried By some fools, and by others deified ! The wine, for instance, in the Holy Writ, Is one with life's essentials classified. Who dares denounce it wholly, when, with oil. And milk, and flour of wheat, for which men toil, 4 iFraptente Salt, iron, honey, all for man's use named, To exclude the grape's blood is a foolish foil. What evil in the spirit of the vine ? Control false appetite, the fault is thine. Be temperate, eat, drink of what is good, Both mind and body are refreshed with wine. The muse of Teos had a single theme, Wine's apotheosis his song and dream ; So Petrarch was with Laura's love pos- sessed ; They either loved, or feigned a love ex- treme : For wine or beauty neither knew a mean, Khayyam with humor exquisite, you 've seen, 5 jFraffmcnts Could laud the wine and animate the clay, And lose himself in solemn thought be- tween. Khayyam thought being ended here ; who knows ? The truth the future only will disclose. Like him enjoy, and love the life that is ; As to the future let your mind repose. So many Holy Writs and creeds most strict, Each bigots have, and sticklers who con- flict; And they o'er whom the higher powers have sway Are censured that the creeds they inter- dict. Some egotists, who God commanding, say, iFrapwntfi Do this, do that, O Lord ! when they would pray, Come, bless us now ! demand imperative : Such men decide where we shall go, where they. I kissed a babe upon its damask lips, Felt on my face its fondling finger tips : An angelus divine ; but in life's race The human will divinity eclipse. The shore may add one grain more to its sand, The sea may swell when showers sweep the land ; So, child, as one 'mid myriads of men, Thy soul a short space waits on this world's strand. Short space, prophetic word. The infant died. 7 jFrag:OTtntfii As grain of sand, or drop on ocean's tide Swept from this life, the little cherub's clay To clay returned. Its soul to what allied ? They who most learned are, but least think so. Are lost to learn whence are we, whither go? But he who knows but little, this he knows, Nor cares he what the changing creeds disclose. For one, whose casket grown so frail and old The soul it could not longer safely hold, Within her kindly bosom her cold form This day I asked of Mother Earth to fold. 8 Jraffmentfi When moon and stars light night's celes- tial bowl, Then toward the silent spot turn, when you stroll ; A rose near her six feet of earth will blow ; Pluck it, and list to whisper of her soul. This soul once loved its tenement of clay, And of it took most precious care, and they About her cared for it, and what it housed, And would that here it animate might stay. Perhaps the great Rejuvenator may This re-incarnate at some future day. When it has passed through processes un- told And reached a state to fashion and re- mould. 9 iFraffmentfi But aeons many ere that time arrives, And many change of forms, and changing lives, Till trace of the old clay will disappear. Save sound responsive of burnt clay sur- I go one way, and others follow soon ; In youth, some in old age, some at life's noon, All go one way, and to the self-same end. Nor one, nor all conjoined can change the trend. Each spring new blossoms to the garden brings, The world-soul moving in the dust of things Puts life into the dormant elements. And beauty, bursting bonds, from black mould springs, JFrafftnentfii And bees and butterflies burst winter bands, And forth they fly, undaunted, in new lands, And drink sweet wine from out the flower cups, Nor question why or whither run life's sands. The grand procession of mankind must change. One passes out, another in the range Appears, whence, whither, or to nothing- ness None better than another knows. How strange ! Impelled by hidden force, relentless law. Or will, the mandate forth, with solemn awe The everlasting caravan moves on II jFrapicntB From dawn to night, mayhap from night to dawn. If life eternal is, 't is well, 't is well ! If only one escape that place called Hell; But, for the apple-tempted in the garden, Far better were annihilation's knell. If night eternal is, life blotted out, Alas ! in this, what have you been about ? Ah, haste to finish this with great eclat. Lest they, who wait, your memory shall flout. Let old things go ! Forget the past ca- rouse. The stupid sermons over which you drowse, Put by with parted years all thought of pain, 12 iFraffinents Cast off old clothes, and fly the old, old house. Suppress complaint, and stifle groans and gloom, O'ershadowing evil black as raven's plume ! Ignore thy age, and memories far back, And for fresh, new, and pleasing things make room. Thou brooding sage, thy past, instinct with life. With fruit of youtli, romance, and loves full rife. Will not return ! Embalm its dear re- mains, With its ennobling virtues, with its stains. But ere thou draw the pall o'er thy dead past, 13 jFtapiente Beside the bier weep once, that be the lastj Anoint the corse with nard, with unctuous balm Surround with incense from the censer cast. The tomb be lined with balsam leaves and bay, Ere comes the cortege, toward the close of day. To lay the corse beneath the cypress shade ; When, turn, wise sage, and go thy cheer- ful way. Be youthful, joyful, to the verge of time, Thy merry heart renew with rune and rhyme. Drink purest water, lave in perfumed bath. Eat moderately, so preserve thy prime, 14 iFraffmentfif When in your sanctum Sacred Writs you read, From them derive what formulates a creed, Belief in demigods, or gods, or God, With laws and morals and with Christ agreed, — Then science shows the tangle and the knots. Past ages' unearthed script your weak faith blots ; From things unknowable you turn to muse On potter's clay, on pitchers, bowls, and pots. With what imagined concepts Plato played, With One, and Other, Many, Some por- trayed, 15 jFtrag:ments And moral attributes personified ! As spinning spiders they one's brain invade. Now, minds take up those concepts, an- cient myths. And gather flotsam from the fiords and friths Of times remote; but what they find or fathom Of th' Infinite is but as broken withes. Leave myths the learned for the fool devise, That he by faith must follow, without eyes ; Leave falsehood, soul of mine; be not. de- ceived, But know that simple truth needs no dis- guise. Then He who made the worlds cannot condone i6 jFraffmentfi The curious Eve's small sin ! And she, alone, Unpaired, the curse of Arbiter must bear! Her sex must all for this one sin atone ! O daring muse that guides the pen, be- ware To question time's impressions, lest to snare The innocent, whose minds with myths imbued Shall with this sin its consequence com- pare. The structure, form, of the primordial cell None yet has known, nor origin can tell In which the protoplasmic life begins Evolving man, inherent sins, as well. 17 I Jrapientfi That sin with flesh and into flesh doth grow The so-called orthodox believe and know. E'en from the first faint wail when life wakes up, May follow joy oft more of sin and woe. Alas ! that morn should pass so soon to noon, And rose and violet should droop and swoon, That summer heat the verdure should con- sume, And fade and waste the beauty and per- fume. The cooler autumn will revive the rose. And richer dye each garden flower that blows ; i8 iFrapients The vines will creep along the wall and droop With purple grapes, that vintage full in- close. The autumn sun will deeper dye the rose ; Ere killing frost, each flower brighter grows. The season's sweets most luscious are at last. And mind should at life's verge ripe fruit disclose. In night and darkness coming to death's door One called for light the entrance to ex- plore, Nor thought of what he had but had not done, 19 iFtapients And longed to do ere time should be no more. But take away the thought of death, and then Give man a respite from the ills of men ; But take away the incubus of fate, Blot from life's lexicon the words, Too late ! Bid ghosts and ghouls and goblins all be lain, And thought of threats and terrors, times of pain ; Crush concepts of the curse beyond life's bourn ; The Dies Iras, blot it from the brain ! Blot things that stupefy and make inane, — The thought that God in wicked wrath doth reign 20 iFrapientfii And self exalt, to make more servile man ; — Blot these, then joy of life one might at- tain. The creeds and dogmas, — put them all aside ; Learn from the forest in its stately pride ; Be one with Nature, learn of her to know, And let man's whims and speculations go. A melancholy plaint or song of sadness Possesses one, and drives away all glad- ness ; A dreary dirge, funereal note, or sighs Escape, or pent-up muse would lead to madness. Perchance a spirit on the bleak shore lin- gers, 21 jFrafftnentfii Before it ventures on the Stygian stream ; And one may feel the pressure of cold fin- gers, And weight at heart, as waking from a dream. The cause may be the being's ill condi- tion. The veins are clogged ; the mind without volition Contends with dim vagaries, while deli- rium ' Divides the thoughts 'tween heaven and perdition. Ah, well ! these strange imaginings forego, This world is full of all one needs to know; Then take the daily manna as it falls. With thanks, whate'er the future may be- stow, 22 ifrapiente Some men do think it well to praise and laud, Extol and glorify the name of God. . Why, is there not a plane above man's praise ? The wisest mortals mutely gaze abroad. What worth is man's exultant breath, fan- fare, Except to cool his broth, or fan the air? E'en wisest men would have their works speak well, But they themselves for fame have little care. If God knows all things, even counts one 's hairs. Why persecute Him with long woeful prayers, 23 jFrafinentfi; And tell Him what one 's done and left undone, And wail and weep the woes of every one ? Some, plaudits gain of crowds that gape and gaze, Th' ephemeral glory of the people's praise, Extolling to the skies ; then down are crushed, Condemned to Sheol in an adverse craze. To love the world, that God to man hath given, Will surely not deprive him of the hea- ven ; He 's cognizant of what should him con- cern More than of things that he through faith must learn. 24 iFraffments This life, so precious, shall it surely end ? Is there no law that will this life defend ? Have all the ages past no power gained O'er death to cause him change this cer- tain trend ? When man, all buoyant, full of vital force, By some mischance is called to end his course. Or foreordained from virile life to pass, He feels that he must conquer death per- force. Thus the dying Prince : " To die ! this life to end, and know not where Or whether to begin again ! Death dare Cope with the strength of this right arm ! destroy This sense of sight and sound ! Monster, beware ! 25 jFrafftnpntB "This brain so clear, abounding rich in thought, A hoarded store from all the ages brought ; Surrender all to thee ! I thee defy ! Begone, O death ! Come not till thou art sought ! " Death replies : " Vain, vain, and puerile is thy human power ! The grim king laughs, I give thee but an hour. Make now thy peace, proud Prince and profligate ! With all thy bravery thou to me shalt cower ! " What numerous ways to shorten this short life, — By famine, flood, fire, fighting, foes, and strife ! 26 iFraffmentfi! Disease destroys the youth, such ills the old As prick of pin, or bruise, or slash of knife. Stanch ships sink in the sea, ingulfing scores ; Within the earth the gas explodes, and pours Destruction, ruin, through the mining depths ; And danger waits within, without our doors. Should one go hence, though much be- loved, bemoaned. And scenes be changed, and grief of friends condoned, — Should death then lose his hold, and life restore, 27 jFraptentfi Would one by friends be welcomed as be- fore ? We group about in a delirious dream, Intently searching for the things that seem Eluding us, the nearer we approach. While things unsought upon our way en- croach. The kindly earth receives her children's dust ; Both good and bad are in her bosom thrust. And if there is a Judgment Day, why, then Shall all arise, or only the most just? O night, and darkness, and dissolving creeds, 28 jFraffments What takes your place to satisfy man's needs ? What " wind of doctrine " will he follow now, To pay or punish him for his misdeeds ? How easy to destroy ; but to rebuild, Restore the fragments, strengthen and re- gild, To give the structure symmetry and form, Not so ; nor free from faults, the task ful- filled. 29 ^m ^ittmt^ m. €l)e f rojBft on tlfje ^mt^ OW the silver-pencil limner Filigrees the window panes, While the winter's wild-wind hymner Sings and whistles o'er the plains. Was there e'er so skilled a painter, Fashioning fountains, fields, and fanes. Fringing valleys, far and fainter, Forming hills and ferny lanes ? Fast are fairy flowers growing All along the waterway. And the water, downward flowing, Tosses high the silver spray. Far away o'er jeweled grasses Towers a castle in its pride, 33 CI)e JFroBt on tbt fjanes Where the stream the mountain passes On its rock-ribbed, rounded side. At its foot a boat is waiting For the lord, who lingers late ; He, still halting, hesitating. Something would communicate ; While King Sol, in state and glory. Strews his way with glistening gems, Flooding places frost and hoary, On the hillsides, in the glens ; Hanging all the trees with crystal. Covering all the pools with glass, Touching every thorn and thistle, Touching every blade of grass. See the trees with brilliants bending. And the shrubs spiked o'er with stars ! 34 C^e iFrofiit on t^e panes See the hillock-heaps unending And the silver-burnished bars ! And the boatmen still await him, While my lord makes last adieux. Pray, my lady, do berate him That he caused you lose these views. Haste, dear lover, with the story ; " Stand not on your going — go ! " Would you win while lasts this glory, Love the lady, tell her so ! Fast his majesty is drawing Lustrous gems within his train ; All the brooks and banks are thawing ; Beauty passeth from the pane. December, 1899. 35 OU know how sweet it is, the eglantine ? I never shall forget the fra- grance fine That through the open window came one morn, When dewdrops dotted every twig and thorn, When first the buds began in pink to shine All through the graceful tangle of the vine. I waked from restful sleep in country house. The cheerful call of robins early rouse From slumber, and the wooings in the pine And hummings, where the morning-glories twine. More witching, dreamful, make the waking hours 36 Cde (Efflantine Than quiet nights, with stars and dewy showers ; Entrancing to the senses when combine The dew, and sweetness of the eglantine. And when one fares far from the father- land And this same fragrance from the heath is fanned By gentle zephyr, somewhere 'long the line Of walk, or drive, one fain exclaims, How fine! How fine ! The odor that my senses greet Recalls attractions of that country seat. Its table, luscious viands and old wine. And witty guests and merry when they dine; And these fond memories add to the zest Of conversation with the foreign guest ; And sympathy, and similarity 37 C!)e (Efflantine Of taste, and love of like things are, you see, As magnet to the steel. So I divine The influence of the fragrant eglantine. The crimson rambler is a joy in June ; So brilliant, so prolific, gone too soon ; If thou wouldst make a lasting pleasure thine, Plant near the garden gate the eglantine, Or under windows, where it wooes to sleep, Or near porch pillars, where vines, scent- less, creep ; Against the lattice high train it to climb, Cut back the sprouts, and it becomes a vine, With this advantage, that the leaves retain Their subtile perfume when the flowers wane. The leaves so small and numerous incline To make a shade impervious, and at sign Of falling, thickly bristling thorns around 38 €\}t ^fflantine The leafless limbs for their defense are found. The symbol of the scented eglantine, " I wound to heal," is fittest to this vine That pricks with thorns and charms with luring scent. Be not intrusive, but with good intent Appreciate, admire, approach, enjoy. Attempt not too aggressively to toy With, grasp, and reckless wrench away its withes, Or for your pains, you'll pay with pain your tithes. The tiny humming bird is too discreet To light upon the branches with its feet ; It poises o'er the flower, fans with its wings. Inserts its bill, and forth sweet nectar brings. The rubiginosa, botanists define. Of genus Rosa is the Eglantine. 39 €fje futt^ in t^t €ree$f I HE queerest faces in the fir trees show, So fair and full and youth- ful, white in green, More varied than in other trees are seen ; And if by chance the wind should slightly blow, They bow and smile, and really speak, you know ; Intent, I listen, and their lips I 've seen To shape the words ; and reading, I have been Amused, and laughed outright, So-ho ! So-ho ! They seem to shout, so full of mirth they please ; 40 iFacee in tljt Crees You 've never seen the people in the trees ? Just lie quite still upon your couch and wait, — No matter be it morning, noon, or late, At even's redding glow, — look through the fir, The bacchanalian boys the branches stir. II More shaggy and big-headed dwarfs do shake Goat-bearded chins, and mow from out the pine, And preacher - like, to punctuate the line And dissertation, do telling gestures make. And try you, and condemn you to the stake, For your small sins, with their self- righteous whine, — 41 CI)e jFaces in t|)e Crees Though your bent twigs no worse than theirs incline, — And over you corrosive ashes rake. Those wicked, dwarfish elfins, there are they! With bulging cheeks, and faces red with wine. Had I the powers of the sacred Nine I still should fail to funny things portray, That I have watched them doing day by day When pours Apollo's torchlight through the pine. Ill I search the foliage of a maple tree, To find a creature clothed in tissue white, With flowing robes, and crowned in ra- diant light, 42 d)e iFaccs in ti)e QLxtts At noonday 'mong fine leaves she 's sure to be, With her grand pose as if awaiting me. Not Milo's Venus gives me more de- light, Than when the regal features greet my sight Of my own Juno, whom she deigns to be. She white-armed is, and not so statuesque As marble Milo, on my writing-desk ; — Her vivid beauty I have much pre- ferred. It graceful varies by the breezes stirred. Not faultless hues or placid face do please As life and love of people in the trees. IV Conservatory palms give hiding-places To giant grotesque heads, with grue- some eyes 43 C!)e faces in tl)e Crees That glare at one, as one unthinking lies, And looks by chance at their peculiar faces. The palm fiends are unlike the other races That dwell among the leaves, and us surprise With queer expressions of old men and wise, Whose sun-dried wrinkles leave the deep- est traces ; For great moon contours they eclipse the graces, They 've bushy brows, and gaping mouth that cries, Give water ! I am athirst ! The hot sun dries And burns to shreds the vine protective laces ; 44 Cl&e ifaccfi in tl)e Crees Pray give of water ere the old man dies ! He drinks, revives, and wrinkles lose their traces. V Could I but see the tropic trees again ! The beautiful Acacia is so fine, In it to look for only forms divine As mid Mimosa's shrinking leaves ; the Plane So spreading, sturdy, strong, that people fain Would search the one for sweets, and in the line Of Planes would see the giants, who combine Great size with strength, and they in these would reign. Sad, sombre figures through the Cypress train ; 45 )t jFaceg in tl)e Crecfii The dark, dense garb of Ilex trees would hide The robes diaphanous e'en of a bride ; Through their prim rows to peer would be in vain. Again I see these trees 't will be my pride To tell you truly who in them abide. VI This very morn Apollo's light revealed A glimpse of Daphne in a Laurel green ; Her leafy robe enfolded with its sheen Her beauteous form, which it but half-con- cealed, And at the Laurel's foot her lover kneeled ; Her flowing hair in her elusive flight Was still afloat and glinting in the light : To her compassion he in vain appealed. 46 Cf)e iFaces in t^t Crees Ah, Daphnes many, whose sweet lips are sealed, Who would not fettered be as some have been ; Responsive to a world of loves they 've seen A kind Peneus, to shelter and to shield, Grant every wish with love paternal keen : Such love denied, their hearts would be congealed. 47 €apn E rocky crags and cliffs, that proudly leap And grandly from the water's edge, so high And far beyond my power to mount, so steep, I fain would scale your peaks that near the sky, And far above yon fleecy cloud would greet A larger world than here lies at my feet. But no ; this mountain side shall satisfy, So fragrant with wild thyme and rose- mary, Where pretty vines and grasses cling and creep Above the rude, abrupt declivity, 48 Capri And make a couch so sweet and soft and dry, That I a long and restful watch will keep, To see the sun dip into Naples Bay and die ; Then all the heights will hide their heads and weep. II A small scull skims the water still and deep. And leaves a trail behind of liquid light ; A lover bends his head, as he would keep His eyes' fond secret from his sweet- heart's sight. And plies the oar with slow, uncertain sweep. As precious thoughts for utterance were too deep. The white trail lengthens through the dis- tance dim ; 49 Caprt In fleecy clouds, with spreading wings afloat, Are guarding angels keeping love and him And all their world within that little boat. As joys are sweeter interspersed with tears, And life will better weigh 'tween hopes and fears, I give you joy, and tears, and blessings, dears, Before your boat in shadow disappears. Ill With song and laughter while the hours away. Ye dark-eyed children of this sunny clime ; To human needs but little heed ye pay, Where life is full of sounds and scenes sublime, 5° Capri And ye exist soul full of what these teach, Of what the waves say when they wash the beach, Of what the caverns echo, keeping time, Of what the pictures are as far as eye can reach. Ye see the morn o'er distant waters break Effulgent, on the evanescing mist. Whose crystals all the jewel-colors take, And change their places, roll, and writhe, and twist Into fantastic shapes, each scene more grand. As they are shifted by the breezes bland ; IV As they did take the forms of rocky peaks, Reflect the color of the coral strand. Reveal the cavern depths, that darkness seeks, 51 Capti The winding pathways through the sil- ver sand ; Between the brilliant pyrotechnic streaks Show towers and turrets, where the ruins stand, The Bay of Napoli, cerulean creeks. Mirage illusive of the sea and land. By winged Hours Apollo's brow is fanned, As upward from the sea-wall flight they take ; High holds the god his gleaming cup in hand. And gathers in the mist, his thirst to slake, And all the crystal globes fall in the swim To fill his cup, to fill it to the brim. V The islanders bring coral from the sea. And grapes and olives from their vine- yards bring ; 52 Capri Distil delicious wine, the white Capri, Red wine, and fish, and shells, and oil: each thing Is current change, a sure commodity, With which to eke their bread. They dance and sing, And laugh, nor take they note of poverty ; Their joyous voices have a silver ring. When bleak the winds in other climes and cold, Here unobstructed shines the sun and warm. Reflected from the high rocks rude and bold That shelter when the sea is lashed in storm : In storm one hears the sad and plaintive lays That now and then a touching voice be- trays. 53 Capri VI The donkey- drivers on the rock-hewn road Up, up wind zigzag, Ana- Capri toward. But homeward bound the donkeys need no goad. As when they brought the travelers from the sea The patient, long-eared creatures slowly strode. They have my heart's sincerest sym- pathy, For, often smaller than their human load, They trudge on with their burthen wearily. Ascend Solaro, past the villa old, Or ancient palace by Tiberius built ; One of a dozen, thus, this tyrant bold The gods did honor, who condoned his guilt ; 54 Capri See Paestum, Ponza isles, and distant chain Of mountains bounding the Campanian plain. VII In coming from the hotel Quisisana, Along the pathway past the English church, A child calls softly, Signora ! Signora ! The sun-bronzed picture from her rocky perch Presents some fragrant wall-flowers, brown and gold, — What voice mellifluous, raven curls, and eyes! Child of the sun, that poverty makes bold! Content with centimes, she parts with the prize. 55 Capri The pleased possessors the sweet odors breathe. Pursuing still the rude path toward huge rocks That rise at sea, round which the waters seethe ; On which the white sea-gull and weary flocks Of migrant birds may find foothold and perch, The while with eager eyes for food to search. THE SUN AT CAPRI VIII The sun that penetrates the deep, dark places That else were desolate, the rocky rifts, That drapes their shelves and shrouds their rugged faces S6 Capri With blooming vines and broom and furze ; that lifts The tree, Arbutus, from the thing that creeps In colder climes and trails 'neath woody cover. And pushing through brown leaves its pink flower peeps, — Here, tall, it tops the purple heather over, The sun illuminates the grottos, white And green and azure, with a glorious light, And makes within the water all agleam, Lights star and jelly-fishes with his beam, And coral paints, and ruined Villa Jovis, — The sun this isle's best benefactor is. IX Enchanting, charming isle, O dear Capri ! The gods the ancients honored smile on thee : 57 Capri Heart-chords and vocal vibrate to thy praise, Since when the goats did on thy moun- tains graze, Since when each villa of Tiberius strove To grandly equal that he built to Jove. 58 ^n ti^c ^itak Countrp I E came upon a ruin, gray and bare, Whose crumbling roof, and wall's rough logs, and rude. Did forward lean, and doors, from des- uetude. On rusty hinges hung immobile, where The wall's weight bore. No vine with kindly care A cover stretched, to screen the struc- ture nude. And spread its leaves upon the rotted wood, Where wreck and desolation baldly stare. Deserted hut, where some poor soul h- ' birth, 59 STn t!)e ^lealt Countrp Perchance had lived, and loved, and happy been. Till proud ambition entered on the scene. Or knowledge of the outer things of earth Made inroads on the mind inept and dearth. And made the cabin walls seem low and mean. II The wind swept through with solitary moan A scraggy pine, storm-riven, red with rust; Here lopped, there limbs half dead it upward thrust. Stray birds had scattered seeds, from which had grown Gaunt saplings, near the old well's crude curb-stone. 60 3rn tfie ^leafe (JDottnttj) The sweep that once the bucket dipped, and just Above the curb upturned, succumb it must When boisterous boreal blasts again are blown. Where are they all, who here have dwelt apart So isolated from the haunts of man ? What led them from the place where life began, Where nature taught, the forest, and the stars ? Shall they be wiser when they learn of art What imitation feebly makes and mars ? 6i M "M H. M I LOVE the beechwood in my drawing-room ; No matter how the winter clouds may lower, Or howe'er sudden comes the summer shower, Or sombre all without, or gray the gloom, Here is a forest in eternal bloom ; I look into its depths, through leafy bower. And seem to scent the sweets of fern and flower, Of lilies on the slowly moving flume. Immortal art, that doth transfix a scene In nature mutable, but here hath been Some years the same, for ages yet will be. 62 )t -JSeecIjtDoolr While care and canvas last "t will pleasure give; For future generations it will live, And bear the same thought then as now to me. II The beeches lovers love, who seek at times To make their vows beneath their shel- tering arms, While on the bole they carve their name and rhymes, And wooing feel secure from all alarms ; Forever after sacred is the spot. And no true lover e'er such place forgot. 63 Hobe RUE love is oft maligned ; No sinister thief is he, Although a bleeding heart Proclaims him so to be. The love that is unselfish, Is of enduring kind, Is better far than passion That is to reason blind. 64 ETWEEN the trees, behind long lines of cloud, Up slowly rose the moon, not pale and white, But glowing clear above the bars, and proud. And round, reflecting still day's ruddy light. And on the balcony, in its full face, We musing sat, to watch the many changes That Nature's sceptre, swaying, in short space Of time controls, of vast and sweeping ranges. ^5 (tljitt^^ianli* A fleecy cloud flies lightly o'er her face ; Then grandly roll up crags and moun- tain peaks, And white wings wave, and figures fall apace And melt away to thin, ethereal streaks. An ocean opens 'neath fair Cynthia's feet, Broad sea of liquid lines and lurid light, And ships appear and cross, a great white fleet, Led onward by the spirits of the night. Now comes in state a giant form repos- ing On mountain ridge ; his pillow is a stone, And on his head a laurel crown, disclosing The poet on his monumental throne. Now higher still and smaller shrinks the moon, 66 ClDttH^lanU And. clear and whiter grows the light, and pale ; The stars show one by one, to stud and soon The pageant cover with a coat of mail. 67 ON HER EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY, MAY 24, 1899 STATELY ship sailed out upon the sea ; Small ships and sloops slipped out quite buoyantly ; But when the storm so sudden blew and beat, The lesser ships and crafts and clippers fleet, With straining sails, went up and down and under, Tossed in the sea-trough, wrecked and wrenched asunder. The great ship ploughed the rough waves gallantly, ^er Kopal anti ^m^tvml iHaiestp And bore its treasured freight trium- phantly, Secure in force conserved, and mastery — This ship is likened to her Majesty. Upon a plain small shrubs and tall trees grew ; On higher plain rose one tree 'bove the few; So sober, staunch, and firm this lonely tree, The sturdy saplings strove like staunch to be. Ambitious trees far-reaching arms did spread To dominate the saplings overhead. 'Mid verdure fresh, with sober, quiet mien. The gods designed the one for forest queen. And placed it high that all the world might see, — This tree is likened to her Majesty. ^tv Eopal anU Sfmpertal Jlajestp Along a mountain range, one lofty peak Deceives not those, who from the distance seek To catch a glimpse through bursting clouds, and bow Before its scarred and weather-beaten brow. It, washed and furrowed with the tem- pest's hail, Serenely stands and firm, though storms assail, Till all the lines and furrows form a crown, To catch the light, and cap the mountain brown. To Her, of like steadfastness, gloria ! Ave ! Imperial Victoria ! 70 HE British nation mourns ; all nations mourn The God-anointed in the purple borne, With heart-felt sorrow, to the halls of death ; All know no better sovereign e'er drew breath. Above all men, above all women placed, Her Majesty this high position graced ; Her potent will in wisdom was proclaimed. And after death the world her virtues named. January 22, 1901. 71 Eeto, 0^otl)er of t^t sr^om ETO, mother of the morn, Wakes the world and makes it warm, Drives the dreary and forlorn Frosted figures far from sight, Garbs them with her garments green, If they are not hidden quite. Nothing must be faded, old, When Apollo's car is seen Rolling up on rims of gold Through the clouds incarnadine. Leto, mother of the morn ! Winter flees from thee in scorn. Fairness, freshness, like a thorn Winter's withered flesh doth pierce. So with furtive glance and fierce. Hiding from the light, he seeks 72 Irto, 0.ai\ftv of tl)e ilarn Hollows where the mountain keeps Longer all the ice-cold heaps, Where the heights are capped with snow, Where the Borean horn doth blow. 73 4B>ratitutie anb i^ojie RATEFUL are we for the sun- light After days of rain and dark- ness, Gladly look we toward its rising, Breaking through the heavy foliage, Spreading o'er the hills and valleys, Painting them in varied green ; Tinting all the clouds above them, Warming all the space between. Stretching well contracted muscles. Stiffened joints, rheumatic limbs, Feeling now that supple motion Warmth and sunlight always bring; Feeling less the brain's oppression, Weighted less with trivial thoughts. Up from out the dearth and dampness, Light, elate, the spirits spring. 74 (^ratitttUe anU l^ope Bless the rain, the dark, the dampness ! Bless the ills they seem to bring ! For the best of blessings follow When the darkness lifts its wing. When, the mercury descending, Follows suit the ruby blood, Hold Hope closely to thy bosom ; Joy will soon thy being flood. 75 HE dear old house will echo to the fall Of sledge and hammer on its wailing wall, For here a window, there a door will be, Where hung for years the faded family tree. The straight, steep stair, where trooped the children's feet, Will change to easy steps for those less fleet; And where the joyous sound of youth was heard, By sober voices echoes will be stirred. 76 feftmarp ^raiLD February ends with clouds \^Hi H o'ercast, Chill dampness fills the air, Light showers fall at intervals, and fast Gray fog arises where The city's furnace flues their volumes pour, A seething, blackened mass, To mix with mist, and dredge with dark- ness o'er. Through which grim shadows pass. 77 ^pril f lohjerjGf HERE are the daffodils that bloomed the while Enticing April wore her sunny- smile ? And where the glow of dainty tulips, too, That looked so brightly toward the vaulted blue? On southern banks the beauties blinked their eyes, And in sequestered spots the violets rise ; Some, still, no doubt, remain to welcome May, That brings to bloom the apple-blossoms gay. 78 HE mist writhes upward from the summit's crown, The mountain sides are gray; A great cloud separates and shifts ; The sun shines through the opening rifts ; The little blossom's head uplifts, And smiling greets the day. The darkness from the lowland creeps away And hides in secret dens. Where day does never boon bestow ; But light on highest peak does throw, And sets the little hills aglow, And greens the vales and glens. 79 Eeijeille A single sentry bird first sounds reveille, A first sweet song of praise That rouses all its mates from sleep ; Their drooping lids ope, blink, and peep, Till ruby rays they see upleap, - Then one grand chorus raise. Alert the squirrel from its nest springs forth, The rabbit, listening, leaps ; The bleat of lambs, the crowing cocks, The cattle herds, the waking flocks, The wild things in the woody copse, And everything that creeps ; All, all the moving throng hail with delight The coming of the sun. As if the earth were newly made Each morning with the sun-god's aid, And Love awaked, whom slumber stayed. To welcome day begun. 80 low hypnotizing is the May-time here, So full of color and of fra- grant flowers ; Ah, Flora has exerted all her powers, And she, fair goddess, reigns supreme this year. The robin and the lark come with good cheer. And build and sing between the fre- quent showers, Their nests secure beneath lush, leafy bowers. O spring, and showers, and sun, and flow- ers, so dear ! Life is too short to have full joy of all: 8i We count the years ; but once in each the May, Fair-faced, with fairy fingers, /ares this way, To spread the leaves and swathe the som- bre wall, To sprout the sedge and emerald edge the streams. And soothe with subtle touch to sleep and dreams. 82 iofeo HAT of those Canes, man's most faithful friends ? Forsooth, one with his life man's life defends. Is there a heaven for man, and not for him, When heaven for man on happiness de- pends ? What joy to see our Yoko's beauteous eyes And welcome wag, should we find Para- adise ! Some other Canes we should hope to see, Nor should be happy were it otherwise. 83 4B>ofti to pointment TAKE from out my life the dream, The incubus whose leaden weight Hath pressed upon my brain, till late I willed it quenched in Lethe's stream. So real the semblance seemed, so true, So strong my faith, so pure my thought, That this so sudden change hath taught Me hopes and prayers and faith to rue. 86 €fte Sl^ontf) to Wti^ OW lovely is the month of June, With sweetest roses crowned, With all her music chords atune, Her heart quite full of rhyme and rune ; She breathes soft airs 'cross field and dune, And scatters fragrance round. Her emerald robes, with graceful trail. Touch lightly as they pass, And leave along the hill and dale. And wood and mountain side and vale. And in the dank and darkened swale, The tint of greening grass. The sun's warm rays come slanting down Through fluffy, tender leaves ; The birds chirp to their fledglings brown ; 87 iKontI) t0 Wtti One feeds them, plucks their feathery down, One, for more young her joy to crown, Her nest's new lining weaves. And others than the birds build nests. Hung with soft linings round. With tapestries and downy rests. And /aufeuil that the form invests, And beauty's duplicating tests On every side are found. As soft as sward beneath the feet The tufted velvets lie ; From niches deep come odors sweet. Where sun and flowers and moisture meet, And songsters choir, with joy complete, From trembling branches high. The lover's thought is for his bride, Who waiting for the hour iHontI) to WtH When the bridegroom comes, elate with pride, And stately standing by her side, The twain are one, let what betide. As one they to their bower. This is the month of all the year, The lovers' fragrant June, When many wed without the fear That stars, unlucky, will appear That May brings, and November drear, So lovers wed in June. I 89 ^ 3^une €ijemng in Eontion HE sombre buildings cannot hide the sky ; For since the rain has ceased up leaps the light That glows and gleams upon the clouds that lie Above the blackened roofs, that shut from sight The reddened rim of the departing day, While fog subdues and softens the last ray: Reflecting tints, from cumulative mist, That Turner caught in pictures that en- list Art-lover's warmest sympathy and praise. M. Turner's greatest forte is mist and fog, 90 a Stttie (Evening; in lontion The central point of import gleaming through ; The minor points may be a mire or bog, It matters not, he represents so true, Original, and strong, the thing he will. That one will look, and linger looking still. 2Fune UST as our hearts elate, and all attune With perfume, color, sounds and songs of June, And, dreaming, we but think the month begun. Behold, the dear, delicious days are done ; And all the hardy rose-trees have thrown down The fragile glory of their summer crown, And at their feet a tinted carpet lies, Fit for the fairies, ere the sweet month dies. 92 €]()e ^itti^ HE goldfinch's nest on the apple- tree bough Is full of finches now ; Heard you the blackbird singing in the pine, — The one with voice divine, The others' notes are but a croaking caw Governed by other law. They drive the doves and thrushes from their tree, And will not let them be. The robins gave them fight some y^ars ago; And ever since they know Enough to leave their nests and young to grow In pine-tree or hedge row. 93 mm GAIN the eve of night, — all over blue, And spiked with golden gems above, and dew Like rain beneath ; that shines and glows, A world of beauty in repose ; That quiet brings, and sleep and dreams, With slow, deep breathing, undisturbed by beams Of the pale moon, that 'neath a cloud re- cedes, — Insures forgetfulness of ills one needs Encounter, trifles that torment and tease, The thing that rasps, that leaves the dregs, the lees. Devoid of sweets, and to the fore with rude 94 Unkindly stings, of base ingratitude, With false aspersion, or with bitter hate ; Night soothes, and smooths, though sleep oft tarries late. 95 |HE gnarled Olive, Olea styled, Shrub from the Orient flora wild, With flowers small and creamy white ; Its perfume is my heart's delight. I want it always in my bower, This favorite, modest little flower, That hides in leaves of glossy green, And there it ever is unseen, Till by keen sense its odor caught, It is by lover eager sought. It afterward will help to grace Where rose and violet have place. 96 €^t ^a^^ing of all €l)ing^ HE passing of all things, Of childhood's faith and fears, That disillusion brings With the passing years, Past Pan with piping reeds, Dian with silver bow ; How can one say the creeds. And let these fancies go ? Ne'er will Poseidon roll Old ocean into foam, Nor Zeus the gods control That from Olympus roam ; Fancy, the poet's food, For prosy fact makes way ; Euterpe's Lyric brood, Alas ! where wander they ? And where is Aphrodite, Hephaestus' gift from Zeus, 97 C|)e ipafitsitns of all dimsfii And he, the fire-god mighty, From old romance cut loose ? No Dryad now upsprings From forest felled and waste, And Kronos ends all things With ruthless, undue haste ; Important aeons end With tolling of the bell — Time will no moment lend ; Old century, farewell. €fje SD0$ferteti a^anjefion HE stately mansion stands aloof, In dreariness and gloom ; 'Gainst winter blasts its walls are proof, And sombre as the tomb. The lilac hedge has dropped its leaves, The trees are bald and bare ; The birds, that built beneath the eaves, Have flown some other where. The lawn is littered with debris, The paths no footprints show ; The spiders spin from tree to tree, And threads of silver strew. The tropic palms the frost will singe, No care the flowers restore ; 99 W^t T>z&mtli iKansuJii On carriage drive no wheels impinge Or halt before the door. Alone, and silently, we pass Anear the ancient hall. And fain would enter, but alas ! Sad memories recall, — The gentle friend, who far did fare, A few short years ago, Who ne'er will cross the wide parterre, In passing to and fro ; Her pleasing presence, vivid yet, Though hushed her voice, we know ; We wonder if we shall forget, And apathetic grow. i DIEU, dear love ! I go to-day From sweetest joys prepared for me, Not of my will, nor far away. Nor to remain for long from thee j Should unforeseen event detain Me longer than I now suspect, Be sure I shall myself complain, My breast with rue, not rose bedecked. Be sure, I shall be restive till, From quest accomplished, I return Again to heaven, and thy sweet will ; Adieu ! till then my heart will burn ! Once more, dear love, thy lips I press, We cannot separated be ; I '11 clip this silken, shining tress : 'T will lead me ever back to thee. fraiftp LONG the weed -grown dusty road O'er bent with years an old man strode ; A life of care a web did trace Of wrinkles 'cross his aged face. An infant tottered by his side ; His feeble hand its steps did guide. Childhood and age, how like are they, At morn of life, at evening gray ! €{je S^ulp ^un ULY'S sun makes sweet and wholesome that which else were foul and waste ; Warms the blood and gives it color, drives it through the veins in haste ; Penetrates the pores of fruit, and makes it pleasant to the taste ; Pours through orchard, field, and garden, filling cells with juices fine ; Fruits that will grow rich, and ripe, and heavy hang on tree and vine, Till the autumn stores are garnered, and is pressed the luscious wine. July sun comes through the windows, with a health-infusing air. Making buoyant all the being, which the broad light makes more fair ; Makes the dullard less the dotard, makes the sullen debonair. 103 €{je J>ummer Clotm^ HE twilight lingers late to-night, Bright clouds the sky cerulean light, A cool breeze from the heat relieves, And from its languor one reprieves. The quiet in my garden seems To fit the place for ideal dreams, If pen or pencil were but here ; To fix the scenes that first appear. The birds, their heads between their wings, The robin, e'en, that latest sings. Now hushed are they, and housed beneath The leaves of trees, and hedge, and heath. So their sweet songs will not inspire My muse to tune her dormant lyre, 104 S)ummer ClottUs To wake the echoes with such thrills, Soft as the dew that heaven distills. O dews of heaven and songs divine 1 And life's elixir of new wine ! Expand my heart with love thereof To equal the expanse above. In the great dome appear in cloud A seraph, palms, and eagle proud ; A king, in royal robes and crown, Seems 'fore the seraph to bow down. Departing day sends back rose-tints, And 'gainst the blue it plainly prints The changing scene ; Now, quickly, seek! What holds the eagle in the beak ? The seraph's arm, as he would lead Her higher, where the lightnings breed, ®()e Summer (JDloutifi And from her hand one takes a pen, Moves slowly toward the king, and then The eagle's wings are far outspread. The seraph's wings wave overhead. Her garments float across the blue, The filmy robes, of rosy hue, 'Mid waving palms and cherub's wings, The great plumed pen one proudly brings ; Behold ! the pale king fades from sight, The pen alone reflects the light. We read the portents in the sky, — In changing clouds that soon pass by, — When kings and potentates have past The power of the pen shall last. 1 06 ILENT the night, Not a breeze Stirs the atmosphere Or the trees. Sound asleep On the hillside The flocks lie near, Breathing deep. The stars decline Toward the west, I to my rest. 107 IHE earth is shadowed o'er with shifting clouds, The sweet, soft, soothing air makes sleepy days ; The autumn's splendors are subdued in shrouds Of all-pervading, subjugating haze. 1 08 €eH me, tell me, if pou fenoiB I pOlELL me, tell me, if you know Uj^m Where the rarest blossoms grow ! ifl^iy For my love I '11 gather all Ere their dainty petals fall. I will wall her round with flowers, And imprison her for hours ; If she bears the bondage well, Shall I free her, who can tell ? II Tell me how to bind her so Chains nor chafe nor let her go ; How to rosy bands entwine To keep her ever, ever mine : So enwreathed, enwalled with me, I her willing slave will be : If she bears the bondage well, Shall I free her, who can tell ? 109 ^ttjap to tfje ^ea COPIOUS rain has caused the flowers to bloom, And washed the roofs and dusty streets all clean, And with the clouds have passed the days of gloom ; The trees cast shadows on the velvet green. The sun outlines them with its brilliant sheen, And soon will end the lovely month of June, Much prettier now than it before has been. Too soon has come the summer heat, too soon, When country air and salt sea breezes are a boon. no ^taiap to ti)e ^ea Our friends are going now good-by to you Who seek the island on the ocean line, Where sky and waves of opalescent hue Give wider range of vision than is mine, Though I, within my walls, have visions fine ; Though walls and trees about me hide the stars, The sweep of constellations will be thine, And nothing the ecliptic march debars. And nothing the expanse of water hides Such vast expanse of land and sea and sky Prepares the mind to estimate and rate Its native inland narrowness, apply The probe to pettiness, and stimulate' To acts of wider range, performance great. 9ltoap to tl)e ^ea How grand the storm when billows slash the dune, And breakers crash against the rocks, abate, Roll back, and gather force to throw their spume High over crags, while voicing a mysteri- ous rune. f« O — lo — o — o — lo, Down where the Yantic waters flow, Ah moo — ah moo — again, ah moo ! What is it you desire to do ? To call us where in clover deep The bright-eyed blossoms 'gin to peep ; Where golden buttercups still bloom, That soon the sun to fade will doom ? Sweet Yantic waters fresh and free, The sylvan shade of shrub and tree, The daisies on the banks you see Are dear to you, are dear to me. Ah moo — ah moo ! I soon will come — lo — lo — to bring you home. No Argus eyes will rest on you, Nor will the gadfly pester you ; "3 ^0 You will repay us for our care With foaming milk and butter rare. I come, I come, lo — lo — Down where the Yantic waters flow. 114 I Autumn 2Dapi3? WEET autumn days, with bril- liant sun, Whose slanting rays have just begun To purple haze the atmosphere, And woods and ways to make less clear ; To cloud the maze of falling leaves, And paint the grays of brushwood sheaves. To soften all the landscape's glow. And hide the pall of death below ! The master's hand holds now the brush, And all the land, with colors blush, And grave, and gay, doth alternate, As rich array of potentate. Oh for the hand that dares to paint Plain dunes of sand, or sky so faint ; To pigments spread, with lavish skill, atttumn ^aps On forest head, at foot of hill, On highest peak, and lowest plain. Till pictures speak that haunt the brain, As oft recurring, sad refrain Succeeds some stirring, tender strain ! If singer's song and painter's skill Our joys prolong, they have their will. i6 Winttt ^a^^mQ INTER, with its white snows and crystal sheen, With its bright fires and occu- pations rare. With its high sounding notes or mournful threne. Is passing, now, to Spring's emollient air, To Spring more warm, regenerate, fair. Should marvels, yearly wrought in nature's hold, That we, insensate, pass or slightly feel. Cease, and no springing mysteries unfold, No unseen force push on the motive wheel. What woe would shadow o'er our weal ! 117 €l&e €l)reati of %ih FEEBLE wail Begins the tale Of toil or play- On life's highway. A tinted sky, Two clouds roll by, Unite in one, Love at its dawn. Two cooing doves, And wedded loves ; With children, cares Come unawares. A fading light And brooding night, A stifled sigh, A sightless eye, A strangled breath — And this is death. j^emomtiilia !3r^aj)onIiunt H, Mahonburn, dear Mahon- burn ! Now April 's here our hearts do yearn To see her trail across the mead And wake to life the sleeping seed ; To see her green the sombre earth, And bid the buds to their new birth ; To press the sod with springing feet, And breathe the air, so sweet, so sweet ; To wake the morn with song and shout, The livelong day to voice about The joy of life, the fountain springs, Of April's fresh awakenings. O glad heart, sing ! Sing brook, sing birds ! Sing, glad world, sing, songs without words! Sing matin trills, soul full of praise, And vesper thrills for April days ! €l&e 0^eatiotD ^rooft ITH rippling laughter leaped the limpid brook, From springs among the hills, where it began And joined with other rills and down- ward ran. Its joyous way through marsh and mead it took, — A most eccentric, zigzag way, to look Beneath the brush and sedge that al- most span The straits it made itself, with no wise plan, — And eddied much at every turn and crook. It purled along, and plunged among the rushes ; The slender reeds rang out a symphony; The lilt of leaves, from overhanging bushes, d)c ^ealDto ^roolt Mellifluous mingled in the melody ; The borders beam with ox-eyed-daisy blushes, And hark ye to the trill of sweet-voiced thrushes ! The bluets bloom along the brooklet's bank, Below, the poisonous weeds grow strong and rank ; So beauty, near the beastly, you will find. Acquires charm and sympathy combined. The bluet's cups so modest are, you know. That you must search to see their azure glow. The dancing brook with greeting and ap- plause Received the lilies in its charmed caress, The while the lilies to its bosom press, And when their petals closed, slow, stole aside 123 C!)c iHeaioto iSroofe To pour libations, where the woods di- vide, To gods and nymphs who in their revels pause To greet the gracious brook, and gleeful sway Their shadowy forms in filmy folds of spray. The merry wanderer stopped not long to lave The elfins dallying in the liquid wave, But narrowed 'tween the hills and swathed their sides, And bathed the ferns that bend to flush- ing tides, And peeped into the haunts of hiding bats. And stirred the finnies, in their darkened holes. That skim the surface for the tempting trolls, 124 S:f)e ilteaUoto ^vaak And brightly shimmered on the spreading flats; A cottage passed, and pretty lawn, to float A truant urchin in his rustic boat, Strong built, in stolen hours, of bark and slats — He trustful here, safe from the birchen hides. Unmindful of his task, while fear divides With joy his heart's tumultuous pitta- pats — On flowed the brook 'tween gardens rich in bloom. The village neared, and filled the tanner's vat, Nor lingered, listening, to the rustic's chat, But threw the shuttle for the laboring loom. The spindle turned to stretch and twist the thread, 125 Cfje iWeaUoto ^roDfe To weave into the workmen's well-wrought web, The mill-wheel turned to grind the grain for bread ; And insects, birds, and beasts, both wild and tame. To slake their burning thirst at noontime came. To them all hallowed, and to heart of man, The blessed brook, that, unsuspecting, ran — As rippling rills, before, too late, had learned — Into the treacherous creek, and ne'er re- turned. Here by the brook I sit, no one is nigh. While from my heart, unconscious, steals a sigh, 126 8r|)e ;Pleatr0to ^ronfe When I remember this same gurgling sound Of water running o'er the pebbly ground ; And spreading wider, years ago, than now. When I sat listening from this hillock's brow. The brook too wildly ran in nature's course. And it was curbed, and caused to run, perforce. Outside the meadow, in straight line, till came The bend, at this green bank, and here the same Old way it takes, and widens as before. And murmurs now, quite as it did of yore. Why do I sigh at sounds recalling youth ? What have I done in all these years, for- sooth ? 127 C^e iWeaHoto ^rooli Of peace, content, and ease, I 've had full share, Nor know more favored mortals any- where j Then why regret the past, and wish for more And richer years to add to my lost store ? O youth so fair, so full of love, so sweet ! Couldst thou return again and wing my feet. Should I be willing simply to exist To keep with love a tryst, and die not missed ? To ever long to lead a useful life, And yet avoid the burthen, work, and strife, The retrospect ! A barren waste it seems. When death will end, and quench life's brightest dreams. Why ask more years, unless to leave be- hind 128 Jleatjoto ^roofe Some worthy work, to please and bless mankind ? Here is a mound with stone at either end : Beneath I know there lies our fine old friend And beautiful, the lady, Topsy Cook, Whose name is written in the blue-blood book. The fleet of foot, the proud, the high-bred mare With satin sheeny coat, and silken hair, And pretty pointed ears, and nostrils large, A picture for La Bonheur or La Farge. When down the grade she pranced with easy grace, Or leaped the gate, and ran with rapid pace, 129 EU ileaUoto ^roofe Her silken mane back floating from her face, Her every move betokened noble race Her dainty feet so lightly touched the grass That it upsprang, and smiled when she did pass. O pretty lady, sleeping by the brook, How sad I am on thy green grave to look; How many memories of the sweet, sweet past Come back with thine, and will forever last; How proudly thou, beside thy elder mate, Didst measure steps to suit her slower gate ! Light feet made music as they pattered down The asphalt pavements of the streets in town, 130 ;i|lleatioto ^roofe But when to country roads your heads were turned The soft earth flew, the wind my cheeks has burned. The mettle of your older mate revived, Both sniffed the air, and at the end arrived All white with foam, and snorting with the race, Then homeward turned and drove at easy pace. As tender lambs were never meant to brave The winter blast, or coarsest food to crave, Nor high-born beings meant to bear the rough And rugged treatment of the rude and bluff, So, gentle creature, thou wert never made To patient bear the lash or fierce tirade Of cruel man, who dared thy back to goad, 131 Cl^c iWeaUoto -Brooli When struggling overburdened with the load; Nor could, like sturdy Norman, strong and staid. Unflinching step on paves uneven laid ; But in the shaded park, on well kept drives. Thou wert, for us, one pleasure of our lives, And in the country on the soft, smooth earth. Thou wert the proudest beauty of the turf. By accident, one slender fore limb lame, With her good groom, to these fair fields she came Where oft before she 'd come, for ease and rest. She knew the place, and nearing faster pressed, Nor thought we then that all of life she 'd spend 132 C|)e iHcaUnto -JSronfe In pastures green, here at her journey's end. With freedom of the fields, she showed her pride When her fleet offspring cantered by her side, Still lame she leaped high o'er the gate and stole Into this lot to see her pretty foal. For love of her, the lady Isabelle, She maimed herself for life, sad tale to tell. Before this time, her lameness almost well, She came 'tween every one and lady Belle, But growing sadly ill, her eyes bespoke That care of her, that human hearts in- voke. With pained expression on her face, she sighed — With mournful look in her great eyes, she died. 133 €U iileaUDto ^roofe This place described to me, I knew the spot, The brooklet's edge, down in the meadow lot. While near its brooding mate the watchful quail. Surveying from the fence's topmost rail. Descries our Bobby, nosing close the ground, And running here and there, and round and round ; When, whist ! the sentry bird gives quick alarm, Decoys his foe, his mate escapes from harm; Assured he whistles, keeping Bob in sight, When he with sudden bound puts them to flight, 134 C^e iWeaUoto ^roofe Beyond his reach upon the fence they light. He 's learned, when on the public ways we drove, He must not chase the fowls that outside rove. In them, his eye a close resemblance sees To tame, almost domestic birds, like these. He hears their whistle, sounding like his name, And knows how quickly he could catch the game. He hesitates, for he is taught to mind, He ought not chase them, but he 's so in- clined ; Appeals to me, to see if I approve The late result of his adventurous move. Now turns this way, lest he should fright them more, 135 C|)e iHtaUoto ^roofe And they are silent as they were be- fore. Well I remember, it was long ago, From out the shrubs, here, where the brook is slow. Would partridge bevies, trustful, come and go; No hunter's gun to fright with murderous snap, Nor willing hand to set the cruel trap ; So tame, they 'd come almost within my reach, While I sat 'neath the shade of spreading beech. A stately wood was where these willows grow, And wider channel for the water's flow, — Wild roses bloomed below the little fall, And woodbine, repent, caught high over all. 136 S;!)c ilcaUoto ^roofe I walked this pebbled margin to and fro ; A darling prattler, with short step and slow, My finger held, and bent with wood-nymph grace To see in water-glass her dimpled face, Or ran before a floating leaf to chase. Fair Vida, then a lovely infant small, With toddling step pursued the partridge's call j Her sunny hair escaping from her hood. She clapped her hands, to fright the speckled brood. Claytonia's cups were not a softer pink Than baby's face, of which I love to think ; Nor fairer the anemone than now The comely maiden with reposeful brow. That radiant child, now gentle maiden grown. Seems two sweet sisters that I long have known, 137 Cf)e ;Pleat(oto -^Sroofe Distinctive each, one was my youthful care, The other solace present, yet so fair That light a radiance catches from her hair, From golden crown of glinting coils so rare. I 've often thought, securely walled around To th' water's edge, this eastward sloping mound A fitting place would be for burial ground. The murmuring brook would peaceful re- quiem sound, With granite vault above, where willows bend. And flowering vines, a cheerful air to lend. Secure and undisturbed the dead could wait 138 €\)t ileaUato iStDofe Their resurrection to a future state. Here from tlie crowded churchyard we could bring Our precious dead, while yet 't is early spring, And hither come to visit oft the place, Recall the spirit, and the hidden face, With naught upon the quiet to intrude, Naught to disturb the welcome solitude. The dread, the fear that all feel, e'en the wise, Will vanish somewhat, if, at our demise, By friends beloved, we know reserved is space For us, and pleasant scenes surround the place. When all the kin together here repose. And no one comes the gate to ope or close ; When strangers in the old home mansion live, 139 C!)e iEeaUoto ^roolt Who ne'er a careful thought to this place give, The brook alone will chant a mournful threne, Th' invaded home where purest joys have been, We judge the future, as we 've known the past, And think what has been, at our will, must last; Our thoughts o'er scenes familiar widely range, Behold them ! time has wrought bewilder- ing change. See that far crimson line, how still it lies ! As it were lasting picture in the skies. Yet it will change, before I turn my eyes ; It slowly moves, it now begins to rise, And change is everywhere, its order wise ; Although it separates, and severs ties, 140 iWeaUoto ^vook It still is for man's good. What do I see ? What mean those lines of stakes that cross toward me The neighboring field, and, by the way, this mound, The brook, and onward through the home- stead ground Up toward the village, through the mea- dow lot, Include, poor lady Cook, thy burial spot ? The iron-road will pass here where I stand, A culvert there, and bridge to the lopped land, — No chosen place but pushing man, or state, For greed of gain, will sometime dese- crate. Nothing so sacred, but the fiend of trade Will sacrifice, e'en private rights invade. 141 Ci)e iilealioto ^roofe The cemeteries open wide their graves, And yield their treasures, be they lords or slaves. The rumbling iron steed comes rushing by; To th' dust of ages resurrection 's nigh. O dust and death ! So grimy, grim ! I pray You take yourselves far from my thoughts away ! 'T is time enough, your gruesome selves to show, When darkness supersedes the sunset's glow. But now the sky, a bright, illumined sea, Sends back its brilliance to the heart of me. Exultingly, supported wave on wave, — As bathers lithe in limpid waters lave, And sportive rise, then fall, then smoothly float, 142 C|)e ifHealiniij ^raofe With rhythmic motion, in harmonious note — Away, through air elastic, gently stirred By sweeping wings, far o'er the freshened earth, Toward deeper azure floats a single bird. Rejoicing in its strength, and spring's new birth. Our spirits blithe upmount on unseen wings, When free from weight of sublunary things, And revel, as in dreams, where only fair And lovely creatures meet in upper air, Ethereal beings, who together there Exult in that the glad awakening brings. Few moments more of day ; a dense gray cloud 143 1 d)e iJleatoto ^roafe Breaks up, and billowy waves the sun en- shroud ; Beyond the gray are silver flecks and frills That edge the sapphire depths like run- ning rills. Now chariot wheels appear, and mounting, Day Assumes the reins, and slowly rolls away. Kaleidoscopic change ! What ruby glow, And orange yellow, incandescent, throw On all the landscape round their mingled light, Ere veiled in mist appears the sombre night ! Once more I wander 'long thy grassy slope, Where beauty hath rare charms and am- ple scope, 144 Cl^e ;peaUoto ^roofe And music reigns supreme in nature's nook, And listen to thy purling voice, dear brook. How soft the springing turf, how sweet the air, How in the shining waters mirrored fair Are greening banks and graceful swaying boughs. Where strolling herds on tender herbage browse, Or restful stand the ruminating cows. Whose slothfulness no stranger's step can rouse ! What scenes of loveliness thy whole course yields, As, southward, through the undulating fields, Thy limpid waters, plashing, thread their way, Till in the greedy creek they lose their sway. 145 ilHeaSDto ^roofe The lambent flames of parting day leap high Above the waving line along the sky, That forms by distant, gray, and leafless trees, 'Tween emerald wall and sky, a running frieze. The sunset flames are mirrored on thy face. Ere they to darkness and to night give place. Dear brook, so gently flowing at my feet. Your pleasant sounds my heart with wel- come greet. 'T is long since I sat here in solitude, On this green bank, surrounded by the wood, — The sweet, fresh wood, that since, with ruthless hand Was felled, to add more space to meadow land. 146 er^e iHeaioto ^vatsk The many changes, since that good old time, I fain would ring on words in pleasing rhyme, But, not well used to play the muse's part. My verse falls far behind my throbbing heart, — The birds are joyous, flitting here and there, And now the range is clear, to show us where The mansion windows glow like diamond panes. Behind the transient blaze a steady light remains, Reflected from one being's holy life ; The moon of home, the friend, long since the wife Of one whose reverend head lies 'neath the ground, 147 )e ;PUalioto ^roofe Whose word and work and worth made him renowned. His silver tongue, persuasive, led the way To holy church ; he 'd served till he was gray, And when he 'd lived th' allotted time of men, He laid aside his priestly robes, and then Sustained by faith he 'd preached for many years He looked beyond life's bourn, and had no fears. Can there be other place more dear on earth Than this where dwells the blessed who gave us birth. Who, full of years and wisdom's wealth, still reigns For us, behind those shining window panes ? 148 8ri)e ;plealiotD ^roofe How peaceful is her home, where trellised vines, And maples tall, and sweetest scented pines A background form, as I to eastward look, And talk to thee, responsive, sweet-voiced brook. What peaceful quiet in this place abounds ! I hear no noise save thy own gurgling sounds. Or chirp of passing bird that seeks its perch Near new-made nest, on limb of yonder birch. I '11 cross the stepping stones that bridge the pool ; The ground is damp, the air is growing cool. No longer dazzling gleams of orange light 149 ®!)e jHeati0to ^rooii O'er orchard gray reflect from cottage white, And twilight's sombre mist will soon en- shroud The range of northern hills, so high and proud, That loftily o'ertop this mansion here. As it o'erlooks the pretty village near. Now falls the setting sun quite out of sight. And hooting owls proclaim th' approach of night, Who slowly spreads her misty veil, and steps From hidden places, subterranean depths, To brood in darkness till the torchmen come To light the million lamps in heaven's dome. Good-by, dear, babbling brook ! I come no more, ISO C^c ^eaUoto ^rnoli Though I love thee, and all these scenes adore. Adieu ! adieu ! I go far, far, from thee, Though all these scenes so sweetly speak to me. 151 €|je 25eecf> lip tfje 2B»roofe HIS spreading beech, with strong and shapely bole, Presents a polished bark for carver's knife, And lovers, who along this brooklet stroll, Initials carve they would combine for life. Some here are carved that have united been — Who knows but by a Dryad hither drawn One seeks the other, when their names are seen, And love's fruition follows from love's dawn? The beech-nuts bursting from their bris- tling shells 152 i Cf)e iSeccf) bp tl)c ^roofe Enrich the earth with their delicious mast ; And wild things gather stores for winter cells, And, cheerful, chatter with the helpful blast. The squirrel holds a sweet-nut in his paws, And sits erect, with plumy tail uplift, And nibbles, hulls, and then the kernel gnaws. Then hides and hoards, with diligence and thrift. How merry, free, and joyous seem the lives Of all the creatures of the field and wood ! They feel no fear that fortune, that de- prives Mankind, will take from them their home and food. 153 E singing pines, that heaven- ward grow, And firs, with foliage ever green, Through summer's heat and winter's snow Good sentinels you 've ever been, To overtop the old house, so That from the distance first you 're seen. The maples strive, and elms, to reach Your grander height ; the blossomed trees, — The apricot, and pinkish peach, And fragrant apple, — such as these Make up in flower and fruit what each In grandeur lacks, in height to please. 154 I QLht IJinea Sweet breath of pines ! To come and go From where the stifling atmosphere Of dust and smoke unnerves, that so One longs for meadows, and the dear, Delicious scents the blooms bestow. The birds and singing pines to hear. Sweet song of birds ! Sweet scent of flow- ers ! O golden beam when sunset wanes ! Soft light that girds green, leafy bowers, That gilds the spires and village vanes, And glows where crest of hilltop towers. And bends the bow in gentle rains ! O calm twilight ! and trembling stars, And lulling sounds, that later cease. And moon behind the amber bars, And downy bed, and sleep of peace, — Deep, restful sleep, that nothing mars ; From thought of care, O blest release ! 155 Cf)e IJines O joy, to wake with no demand, — No strain of mind or thought of work, - To burden take with weary hand ! But only rest, till rest may irk. Till from the quiet stretch of land. And from the pretty, country kirk, The time arrives, away one goes ; But not till health and vigor come From perfect rest and sweet repose. Then when one hears the city's hum, From morning dawn to evening's close. The busy world seems less humdrum. 156 Mf^ta in "fairp fmscrjsf MOST charming, sylph -like creature ! Every motion, every feature. Is a poem in itself ; Starry eyes 'neath long-fringed lashes Scintillate with diamond flashes, Hearts become at once her pelf. Lips with sweetness quite unstinted, Like begonias coral tinted, Shaped like Cupid's graceful bow, Lips, — between them white pearls peep- ing, — O'er the tongue a strict watch keeping, Careful of its accents' flow ; Richest accents fond ears greeting, — That is loved most is most fleeting, 157 jai)ea in ** JFairp iFinsew Sweetest tones soon die away. Like a vision, sylph of beauty, Flitting through routine of duty ; Is her duty all mere play ? Does she find in life a meaning Deeper than the math and gleaning Garnered from behind footlights ? Does she long for home's dear pleasures, For its quiet and its treasures, Weary of the garish sights ? 158 ^M HOW delicious ! All my senses thrill ! Whence come such odors ? Only gods distill The nectar delicate, so rich, so rare, And only once a year, when spring is still But young, and her sweet breath steals everywhere, Through every motion of the perfumed air. II It is the incense of the crab-tree flowers. Buzz-z, buzz-z, buzz-z-z, as if the heavenly powers 159 Crab=^pple iSIossomd ant j^onep ^eee Made special odors sweet for honey- bees ; As they did know such nectar lasts few hours They come in swarms, and cover, flush, the trees, And sip, and sip, and carry on the breeze Their precious wine-store, leaving only lees. Ill Work ! work ! buzz ! buzz ! Ye busy winged things, The choicest honey hoard the season brings, Fill all your waxen cells, and others plan, Nor rest till every hive is full, and spring's Supplies to summer's yield ; for then the ban i6o Crafi=9lpple ^lofisomB anU ponep ^ees Of your worst woe, that selfish monster, man, Will rob you of your best, your winter store, And you must doubly toil, toil all the more, — 'Tween cool spring showers ? No, — through summer's heat, Through wasting heat, that on your hives will pour, And melt, and dry, and bitter make the sweet. No rest for weary wings, or tired feet. i6i €lje €ruant^ EAR Mary, gentle friend of schoolgirl days, I S^Sr^ Whom heaven long since hath claimed, Thy cheerful face I often see ; Thy gleaming eyes, so full of glee, Come sweetly smiling back at me. Thy old love truly named. Ah, when from books and class we truant stole, The fields were green in May ; Away, away, we wandered far, Nor cherished thought our peace to mar, To follow 'cross the rocky bar The river's rambling way. We waded where the water shallow spread, The shining fish to catch, 162 ©1)0 ertuante And, weary, on the high rock lay, And ate our frugal lunch that day With appetite that only they Who widely roam can match. Too wise were we, no doubt, in our con- ceit, Much wiser then than later ; How charmed with everything about us ! The world could not exist without us ; Important factors, none could doubt us. Not e'en our Alma Mater. That day of stolen sweetness nearly spent. The fairest of the spring, We toward the Hall turned footsteps staid. Expectant that our escapade Would ire evoke, and change of grade And reprimand would bring. 163 Cl^e Crttants So, subtly, we an offering brought to those Our welfare aimed to guide ; The violet, and creamy flower, The meadow beauties of the hour. Atonement, to avert looks sour. Make peace, preserve our pride. Effectual ruse ; all blame we did escape, And studied more to please : And pleasing others, happily, They gracious were, and glad were we, Nor cared again to truant be When no one it did tease. And memory recalls the lovely days When autumn-painted leaves Came rustling down about our feet. To gather, wade in, pile, and heap, While strains of songs we oft repeat In key the clear air cleaves. 164 CI)e Evmnta Those nutting days, when distance did not count ! At least, not in the outing, Till hunger warned of luncheon time ; A dozen girls, without a dime, To take a melon thought no crime. After the morning's scouting. Irate, the farmer came, with scowling brow; When Loura, to appease him. Gave promise in papa's good name. 'T was starve or steal, were we to blame ? He surely would condone the same, To pay the debt would please him. Dear Loura was so lissome, pretty, purr- ing, That out of every scrape She bravely brought us ; making faults Seem virtues, she would whirl a waltz i6s eClje Crttants Behind the man, with mock assaults, That made his good wife gape. She crusts and yellow butter kindly brought — " Her fresher bread was baking, The dear girls should not starve," she said. As through the cabin door she led, To her clean table, where of the spread We were soon partaking. I look where snow-clouds drift against the blue; One face I love to see. And in my mind sweet thoughts arise, — The old " Pierian Nine's " strong ties, "The Task," "Night Thoughts," and " Paradise," Come freshly back to me. i66 (2ri)e Crttantfi! Miss Agatha, the Marys, Lottie, Loura, Among the nine were they. In Telemaque, Racine, Corinne, One Mary did the honors win, — Her Greek and Latin helped her in A glib and wondrous way. In th' ethereal world and fields elysian ■ Sweet spirit, can you tell ? — As here, do simple things give joy ? Is life pure love without alloy ? Is there no evil to annoy ? Are all things with you well ? 167 €f)e jW:oming httah^ Y the lifting clouds of mist, Night is fleeing, night is whist ; By the flushing orient. Starry night will soon be spent. By the buoyancy of hearts, The elixir morn imparts ; By the sense of strength renewed With awakening morn imbued ; By the light on mountain crest, With the early morn impressed ; By the glint on silent lake, Truly, now, the morn doth break. By the songbird's cheerful notes, Full of glory, morn upfloats, By the hush of insects' hum, Morn is coming, morn hath come. 1 68 €i)e #Iti 0^an NCERTAIN, slow, the old man goes; A tear is trembling in his eye, The end is nearing, well he knows. His hundredth milestone is hard by. His head is bowed, his sight is dim, His ear has long been deaf to sound, All whom he loved have passed from him, A broken reed in marish ground. His children, weary with the weight Of man's allotted years, have died ; He, derelict, without estate. Hath on chance charity relied. 169 Cj)e ©IB iHan Now, feeble, once so firm his feet, Now weak, his arms were once of brawn. On wayside stone he takes a seat Thus musing on his manhood's dawn : " When this old, withered form was young And full of agile, leaping life, These lisping lips love's anthems sung, Were with light speech and laughter rife. " This broken voice rolled smooth or rough, In wooing strain or mocking mirth. That youth of passion, rude and bluff — Hath it in me renewed its birth ? " The thrill of bygone scenes I feel ! The boys ! old boys ! come one, come all! 170 C!)e ©la illan We '11 match our strength , see who sh all reel, And who shall on the other fall. " Come ! sport and wrestle as of yore, Ye brawny sons of sinewy sires, Come on, another bout before This mortal strength in me expires ! " Up from the stone he supple rose. Erect, his eye with light agleam, In attitude to grapple those Pale phantoms of his o'erwrought dream. He grasped at air with wondrous strength. Poor, aged, paralytic man ! And fell, to measure his full length Across the roadside's grassy span. He silent lay, as he were dead. All through that balmy June day long; 171 C^e ©15 ;Plan The kindly stone hid his gray head, Unnoticed by the passing throng. And when the twilight's gentle breeze Fell softly on his wrinkled face, A good Samaritan bent knees To see if life therein had trace ; Perceived a movement of the mouth, A murmur soft, and then a sigh ; The opening eyes turned to the south. With look expectant, toward the sky — A cloud-like form appears to rise, With arms outstretched and spread- ing wings, A trail of light sweeps o'er the skies, Anthems of praise the night wind brings. [72 C^e (Bla iHan A whisper ! " Wife ! My Mary's face A move, as if to press her head Against his breast, in its old place ; A moan ! a moment ! he is dead. 173 €|je ^an of ^bon OME centuries ago there was a birth Of an immortal being on this earth ; He came in poorest, humble, human guise, And looked with wonder into mortals' eyes. He stretched forth arms, instead of plumed wings, To walk the earth like other plodding things, He grew strong nether limbs and stronger trunk, Ate food, and from the cup of mortals drunk. 196 8r|)e ^toan of atjon He moved among his fellowmen as one Who from the self-same origin had sprung, He did the drudgery of common life, Made friends, made foes, made love, and took a wife. Beneath the roughest outer coat con- cealed Lay latent god-like strength, which time revealed. He saw with minute, microscopic gaze Through nature's plans, and wondrous winding ways. He saw atomic things, as one who peers At guiding stars, with knowledge of the seers ; Naught was o'erlooked, though mean, or weak, or small, — To his storehouse he gathered gems from all. 197 CI)e S)tDan at ^tbon He wrote of power, of wealth, of state, of grace, And painted pastorals time cannot efface ; He touched, and waked the chords of memory dear, And bared the thoughts of peasant, priest, and peer. He in unrivaled strains of pathos wrote, In merry humor, or with cheerful note, Of passions, hate, grief, joy, love, hope, and fear ; On every varied theme wrote great Shake- speare. What bard so living, dead, and dead, divine. Whose every page in golden letters shine, With jeweled thoughts that all men pause to hear ? No other than the peerless bard, Shake- speare. 198 . e. ^. ». HOU needst no marble for thy monument, There need no graven shaft be upward sent To hide the greening grass above thy grave, Nor loud-mouthed praise need to the air be lent. For thou hast left a record that will keep Thy memory green ; thy songs will never sleep, But wake a tender tremor in each breast. Sweet as ambrosia to a god's lip pressed. In foreign soil, 'neath starry flowers and skies, 199 fav6, e. ^. ^. Thy tomb is sought by friends with eager eyes, Regretful that alone thou there dost sleep, While in thy native land thy life's love lies. Celestial climes will wake thy tuneful lyre; But touch its chords, the charmed, cheru- bic choir Will list to finer strain than e'er before A tremolo upon the vibrant wire. The spirit that is fittest doth survive. All who have really lived are yet alive, The many disappear and leave no trace, Abortive beings, too inert to strive ; For whom time nor eternity have place ; For earth or heaven the unfit neither grace, iHrs, e. ^, -38. Are simply with life's struggle overcome, Nor find they room in intermediate space. If thou, sweet singer, in the highest sphere Art angel called, thou wert an angel here, A being of too fine a sort, too rare, To dwell in clay, so thou didst heaven- ward fare. O let some trace of thy suave spirit stray, Like Ariadne's thread our steps to sway, To elevate our muse to nobler height, To charm, and cheer, and calm our vary- ing way. i]N the spirit's sphere no sub- stance separates, No intervening bar divides love's mates, There thought transference, unobstructed, free. Will guide each soul to its affinity. Thus seeks our muse the realm unknow- able, To give to us a heaven, to others hell, To say what in the spirit world may be, While wasted hours in speculation swell. EAR mother of us all, again in- fold One whom we love, and in thy bosom hold Her mortal form, from whence the life has flown, — So beautiful, like marble, still and cold. O Mother Earth, again take back, I pray, To thy kind breast, this mould of finest clay That we have loved so well, the cherished form From which the sweetest spirit passed to-day. The fairest daughter of an honored house 203 Has parted from her life, her child, her spouse ; Unconsciously she went without adieu To e'en the loved and dearest whom she knew. To shroud her in fair, fragrant flowers, we seek The rose, the whilom color of her cheek, Blue violets, the color of her eyes, And line her tomb with pine from moun- tain peak. The willow will its sweeping branches trail. And boreal fingers sweep them in the gale ; A mournful threne will tremble on the air. And on her grave will fall the hail and rain. 204 But thou wilt hold her, mother, to thy breast, Preserve the clay that thou hast gently pressed ; Bid summer bring the asphodel to bloom Above her sacred place of perfect rest. January 8, 1900. 205 ^ 2Drop of ^ittttm^^ wo wedded hearts received their new-born babe, In tender arms the little one was laid, A marvel and a mystery it seemed, A gift more rare than they had ever dreamed. Each look, each motion was a sweet sur- prise, A promise of great things in their fond eyes, And when the tongue the first word lisped, O joy! More loved than ever was the darling boy. Dear angel of the mother's life and heart, How hard it is from him so soon to part, 206 a ^rop of bitterness To hear no more the merry childish voice ! O drop of bitterness ! there is no choice. The bitter drop was in the sweet cup stirred ; But such blessed memory will ne'er be blurred, — His little hand may hold the thread that leads Through labyrinthine ways and flowery meads. 207 €0 M. %. ^. jHAT time the memory may not efface, I will these farewell lines indite to thee ; Long parted from old friends, of kin, and race, The same earth now will cover them and thee; And those of stranger blood, till now thy friends, That knew thy better self and spirit true, To-day will gather where the last rite ends, In tears, fair flowers about thy corse to strew. From irony and sharp, satiric speech, — O'erbalancing thy wit of gentler strain, 208 Co E. 1, p. Repressing soft expression, that would reach Thy kindred's hearts, and sympathy re- tain, — Thou wert almost an alien, save in name, But since death's call, thy gifts of love have shown — As smouldering fires burst sometimes into flame — More heat at heart than thou hadst cared to own. The poor and lonely saw, through all dis- guise, That human thoughtfulness and tender love Were lent to guide them on the road that lies, The uncouth way of poverty, above, 2og Co E. i. p. Now thou art gone, I would I 'd known thee better, And helped to heap the pleasures of past years, That for kind words and deeds thou 'dst been my debtor, Then I should not for my neglect shed tears. SFn a^cmotp of sr^risf. €♦ 25* HE autumn touched the fading life of things, That, seared and singed with summer's burning sun, Awaked, and struggled for the life that springs Anew, more radiant than when first be- gun. More radiant, but more evanescent, too, The autumn bloom in dying glory flies. The passing beauties, tender passions woo. Till in the tomb the glory hidden lies. There one now lies who lived to bless, and blessed. To scatter her good dower along the way. f tt iftemorp of fHxs, e. -58. Her life with plenty crowned, its sweets she pressed For others, — sweets returned to her each day. Her useful life grew slowly to its close ; Friends, faithful, wait, who would the end delay ; She, peaceful, passed regretted to repose When sank the sun one loveliest autumn day. The place that knew will know her now no more, — Her presence will be missed in seat and aisle, By all at church, who worshiped there be- fore She parted for her honored, long exile. SDear ^. %. OW sad the news that chance hath brought to me, Of one I loved in youth, that she is dead ! When last I saw her, musingly she said, " We always were true friends, as friends should be ; And, strange to say, we always could agree ; We never quarreled, never had a dread Suspicion of each other, but the thread Of truth and trust bound closely you to me." My childhood friends are separated far, — Are fewer now, for some from earth have fared ; 213 Dear p. 1. New friends not quite the same, though pleasant, are, But from the nebula there shines one star ; For me its true and steady light is bared ; And blessed am I, that she for me hath cared. 214 OW eighty-nine to ninety yields the palm, And makes his exit with pro- found salaam ; The year at first passed slowly, then more fleet, All through the bitter mingling with the sweet ; More prosperous far than previous years a number. That shrouded brains, and bonds, in clouds of umber. Some noble lives this bore to blessed re- pose; Heaven hoards such souls as parted at its close. Where equatorial warmth its influence sways, 215 Intensifies the passions, buoys or preys On their possessors, there joy jocund flies. With wiles to wrench from woes the sting, till dies A people's hero, crushed by their lost cause ; Then latent love, through intervening pause Unconscious, wakes, — is startled to have . slept. A people's hero, brave, beloved, bewept, By higher summons called to rank once more, His gentle spirit heavenward angels bore. To render homage, all their vigils kept And through sun-land a grievous sorrow swept. — A period here to punctuate a pause, Then point an index to the coming clause, Of passing history, politic in part, 216 And pitiful, appealing to the heart. Republics new arise from thrones vacated, Imperial lives, made homeless, death un- mated. Dom Pedro knelt beside his wife beloved, Long knelt so dazed he neither spoke or moved. Deposed, exiled, in foreign land alone, His greatest grief was parting from his own Best partner of the past eventful years ; O'erwrought with woe, his eyes refuse their tears. The empress, lovely exile, longed to bless Her child, her friends, to give a last ca- ress ; But they were far beyond the billows' foam That spread a pall between her heart and home, — In that strange land, upon the ocean's main, 217 T)eposeti Of castles old, where wealth and power wane, She dying, lay ; no one in priestly guise, No friend to catch the light of her kind eyes. " Alas ! Brazil, Brazil ! I shall no more Return, O beauteous land, to thy fair shore." She said, and died, nor saw her liege the last. He, summoned, came, to find her life had passed To higher court, beyond celestial skies. Then in deep grief he closed and kissed her eyes. How pitiful that sorrow should have ended Her Highness' life, by husband unat- tended. Confessor, home, and friends and loves remote, 218 When cruel death her weary heart-chords smote. Her requiem sung, she was in silence laid, 'Neath Lisbon's old Pantheon's gloomy shade. A few more revolutions marking time — How grand the movements, regular, sub- lime ! — Abreast of them come incidents, events, To fix the dates for good or ill intents. The royal realm of thought hath lost its king, Deposed by that invulnerable thing Called death. Ah, happy he on whom shall fall The mantle genius dropped; when dropped the pall O'er Browning's bier, bereft is poesy Of her devout and noblest votary, Her true and forcible interpreter, 219 Who will continue songs and rhythms with her Who waits him in that wondrous, psychic sphere, Where rough-hewn thought is crystal cut and clear; Where myths, illumed and lucid, will un- fold The hidden things to mortals here un- told ; Where metre, measures, harmony extend Through rhythmic worlds, and song-words have no end. Sleep, gentle ashes ! rest, in peace repose ! Where sleep the ashes, in the temple's close. Of blest immortals, Chaucer, Cowley, those Song-souls to whom the world all honor owes. Midnight between the years ! Meridian past, 220 The chimes have changed to merry peal and fast. Joy of the new ! The old year is deposed, And all accounts with eighty-nine are closed. HE little one reposes Beneath the willow tree, And no white stone discloses Where it lies quietly. Beneath the snow, no one can know The spot so dear to me. The wee, white hands are fastened About a faded rose ;- My soul, so sorely chastened. Through all the darkness knows The spirit free will solace me Ere from the earth it goes. A face before me gleams, A rustle of white wings, — When I awake from dreams That peaceful slumber brings, ^aip ^elen The heavenly sphere seems now more near, And I to holy things. 223 ^arajpfjra^re OW quiet she, Tears in her eyes ! Upon her knee, There open lies A time-worn book, and gray, and old ; Some leaves a memory unfold. Some faded leaves Lie on the page, Like crumbling sheaves In withered age ; Now grandaunt bends her ancient head, And silent weeps, for one long dead. 224 €^t ^ixytett^t M>mQ^ Die on tlje I HE sweetest songs die on the air, The dearest loves find wings to fly. The brightest blooms are everywhere As transient as their scents that die. The fairest forms soon pass from sight, Their noblest graces fleeting fade, Divinest beauty yields to blight When they in transient tombs are laid. The precious friends whom we love well Pass one by one the blue Styx over, And sorrows that aggrieved hearts swell At last sink 'neath the pall's dark cover. 225 And Hope uplifts from out the gloom Of passing things, and desolation, And bears one buoyant 'bove the tomb Of death, to after exaltation. 226 J^ein %tMt iacoB EIN leedle Yacob goes to schleep, rocked in his cradle bed, Der angels come der vatch to keep, above his schone head. Und ven he vakens oop he '11 tell his mut- ter vot they said. Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fiinf, lashes fall, und eyes no longer peep, Sweet schmiles flit o'er dot papy face und make der timples teep. Now softly spread der towny cover, Yacob is aschleep. 227 ]liontieau HY voice, so silvery sweet, So rippling, rare, Comes from a heart full fraught with joy complete. Who hears it may with other sounds com- pare Thy voice so silvery sweet. To hear it and not see. One knows how fair. With such a heart and voice, thy face must be, Alight with eyes, a laughing, liquid pair — To hear it, and not see. 228 a Cfjilti'^ f aitft anti feat ]S a child, my doll I tended, Clothed in silks its form so supple, Saw its eyes on mine were bended, Shining 'bove its goffered ruffle. Surely, thought I, this so pretty. Pink-white babe is like my brother, Though it cries not, out of pity. For its little, doting mother. Oft I wished my doll were living, Prayed to God to start its breathing, Waited fearful, though believing ; Thought its breast began upheaving. 229 a €lilV6 jFait!) wcca iFear Which with nervous fear perceiving, Awe, the moment, love effacing, Brought my heart to sudden grieving, Dolly broken 'gainst the casing. 230 f onnet HE last warm rain has dropped from April skies ; Each tall, fine maple flaunts a plumed head Before my boudoir windows, that have shed Their dingy laces, veiling from my eyes Unfolding buds, that every glance sur- prise. The gaunt, bare limbs till now were gray and dead. Till April came in tears and, whisper- ing, said, I go, pray from your lethargy arise. The breezes through the tree-tops hotly chase 240 bonnet And stir the tender leaves ; the twigs they flail And gather germs to scatter in their race. Where will this April bide till th' next March wail Of winds gives way to her more winning airs, To beauty, and the bloom her white arm bears ? Time ! Time ! What hast thou done ? what changes wrought To pass so swiftly these eventful years And consummate so soon our direst fears ? Thou hast Death's unrelenting spirit caught. In foreign lands we health and pleasure sought ; 241 Sonnet New scenes and air the mental vision clear ; But absent thou didst sacrifice one dear, — For whom thou 'st taken both were dearly bought. Ah, Time, canst thou this Light of Home restore, Or, failing, us to her forevermore ? Then cease, ye silent, softly falling tears ; For oft this lesson she our childhood taught. When kneeling we our little sorrows brought And sobbed upon her knee and told our fears. 242 €jje (Eternal €itp ijTERNAL City ! memory brings to me The pomp and pageantry of festal days, The crowds that gather where the organ plays, And priests, and prelates of the Holy See, Who walk, and chant, and bless, and bend the knee. And censers swing, and incense from the blaze Ascends, and dense the smoke, and dim the rays Of candles in the dome's immensity, — A nebula of stars that, struggling through, Shows seas of heads in aisles, at altars too, 243 C|)e eternal Citp Some, bowing where the sacred relics stand, Are saying prayers with rosary in hand ; Pipes play, and flute, the shepherds' song they sing, And from the vaulted roof the echoes ring. 244 ^EAR little lady of the youthful heart, Preserved through triple scores of parted years, What arm averts the cause of sorrow's tears ? What power from human ills keeps her apart ? Alone with tropic trees, and plants that bring Fresh fruit and flowers to her feet, she hears The tonic melody of distant spheres And drinks deep draughts from the ^ge- rian spring. 245 C!)e laUj) fsabcUe So sweetly sing the songsters 'neath her eaves, So softly falls the fountain's sheeny spray, So gleam the gold-fish in the sunny ray That shimmers thro' the philodendron's leaves, So sweet the scene and symphony of sound That these create her world in crystal bound. 246 €|>e portrait HAT limner can, with daring hand, unfold Unequaled grace like thine, my lady fair ? What pencil trace the fineness of thy hair, Or give the proper glint to coils enrolled ? Thy mien majestic he indeed were bold To hope to represent in pigments there ; Though he may paint the raiment light as air. The poise of head is tense, as 't were a mould. There is a semblance, I admit, to thee. And therefore not unpleasant can it be ; 247 E^t |)0rtrait But little patience have I not to find The eyes irradiate from the force of mind, And lips expressive, firm, yet always sweet, That utter words euphonious when we meet. 248 Mtt^ HERE is a soft and gentle spirit who So silent steals upon one, that her train Low rustles, lulls, as patter of the rain ; Her fingers have a soothing touch, like to Swan's-down against the cheek, when one would woo Repose that follows quick relief from pain, That beats the brow, and throbs within the brain — Then balm on wounds the velvet fingers strew. Know you this visitor? Comes she to you ? Then pay her court, receive her in the way 249 She wills ; but once disdain her, then re- new Your suit in vain. On grateful heads will lay Her tender touch ; care to oblivion deep She dooms, bends o'er the couch, this an- gel. Sleep. 250 €f)e ^inti HE blust'ring wind comes after sunny skies, And chills one's blood to where the marrow lies. It husks the buds, and spreads the push- ing leaves. And brightens up the sober brushwood sheaves. It shakes the early nests, the birds inure To greater toil to build them more se- cure. They stick with mortar, bind with straw and hair, And chirp and sing the while, each tire- less pair. 251 ^It Win^ The wind, so merciless to weakly things, Unnumbered blessings to the stronger brings ; It sends the turbid blood along the veins On • rampage, waking stupid, sluggish brains. It sifts the air of all that would be foul, And stirs dull thought beneath the priestly cowl. II The wind gives woodmen work 'mong shattered limbs. It dries and kills the useless, upturned weed. And helps the sower scatter far the seed. It sweeps the hilltops, cuts its way and skims Through lowlands, city, country-ville. It trims 252 CI)e Winn Superfluous rubbish, gathers the un- sound And perishing enswathed upon the ground, And shows where strength is sacrificed to whims. We read a lesson in its path, and find How human frailty suffers by the wind. Hygeia, disregarded, raves and gains Her foolish proteges through racking pains. The careless keeper of the human frame Succumbs, as does the structure weak and lame. Although the ill of ill-winds ill begets. It does not follow that all wind is ill. The Father tempers it to lambkins still ; 253 C|)e Win'a The healthful bairns it buffets, beats, and frets. But strengthens limbs and freshened glow abets. We hear with fear and awe its rush and roar, Are lonely when it sighs about our door. And think of spirits paying life's last debts. It whips the withered leaves that still would cling, A brown unsightly mass, far into spring. It rocks the ship, and wrenches with its blast, And twists and warps the sail, and wrecks the mast Take heed and build for time, 'gainst wind and tide, — Build staunch and strong, then let the tempest ride. 254 €^t 0li^tt HY art thou like a toad so miserly, To keep thy jewels hid where none can see, To count thy gold, and gloat upon its sheen, And clothed in rusty rags, make life so mean? '■SB €|)e J^abbatfj HIS day we breathe young April's balmy airs, Auspicious day of healthful, hallowed peace, Of heavenly restfulness, and blest re- lease From thoughts tempestuous and from worldly snares ; From hurried steps, that track us un- awares. Would cross the threshold, but we bid them cease, And turn away, to take a longing lease Of holy Sabbath's sacredness and prayers. We hail the day with wisdom set apart Of seven the best, the acme, if you will, 256 C^e S^abbatl) When introspection, with insidious art, Impales each sin, the mind inspires, and heart, With stronger aims and firmer purpose still, To be, believe all good, to banish ill. 257 |0W fall the dainty feet where carpets yield To slightest pressure on their velvet field ; And like a flight of angels, young and fair, The sylphlike creatures flit adown the stair. While others from the out-world, white and cold, Emerge from furry robes and downy fold. Soft shake their plumes, and pat their fluffy curls, And float into the dance's mystic whirls. The lights are shaded to a softened blaze, And threading through the lancers' tan- gling maze, 258 Ci)e ^Ifitttattte'fii ^all White slippers chase the Houris' fleeting band. The wily arrow-god is close at hand, Where dart bright beams ; his swift return- ing dart Shies eye and rosy cheek and strikes the heart. 259 WW ^f)an Be our i^ational floiuer? I WEED prolific is the golden- rod, Its anthers, full of pollen, fill its flowers, The wind its summer gold-dust sifts in showers. And sows its seed in autumn on the sod. Tall spikes of tiny bloom to breezes spread ; All gold, with black and gauzy gown I 'd wear it ; But then I sneeze and sneeze till I for- swear it, And dash it to the ground and on it tread. 260 WW gj^all be out iSatianal jFIotocr ? Far better choose the laurel or the bay, Fit emblems each of this young na- tion's fame, That from small source has made a lasting name And place among the peoples that are gray And hoary with the ages that have passed ; The nations realize this fact at last. 'Mid long and glossy leaves the laurel blooms In charming clusters ; stamens stately stand Encircled by the petals' pinkish band ; Profuse it blooms in June, and this month dooms Its transient decoration ; then there looms The tree, with blossoms unadorned, leaves dark, 261 WHt 6!)aII be our JBattonal JFIotoer? Unfading green ; the bole with russet bark Is bound; nor leaf or flower yield per- fume. But of the two the better is the bay. The leaves are neither glossy, yellow, golden, Or gaudy ; but the bay, from good times olden, Has heroes, honors, homage emblemed ; aye, The noblest brows have borne it, — men of name, The gods and demigods, well known to fame. 262 WEET singing birds, your wings were made to soar Far toward the vault of hea- ven, thro' ether blue ; Your voices were to charm your short lives through. To ward off danger threatening evermore. In fearful forest silence you restore The hopeless sportsman's courage, wake anew Desire his course uncertain to pursue ; Out of the wood he hears your voice no more. At forest rim your song and beauty swoon ; For danger past, the hunter all too soon, 263 ^toeet ^inffins ^irUs With shot, will drop a trophy at his feet And hush within your throat the dying note That, to his listening ear was ere so sweet ; Your pretty plumes will his love's crown complete. 264 OW insects slowly stretch their gauzy wings, Unfold them, flap, and flutter forth to fly. The sun is warm, the air is still and dry, There is a stir among all sensuous things. The wriggling worm its winter wrapping flings. Unfettered, its new world and life to try. To pierce the earth, the seed-buds push and pry, And from the thawing mould the leaf up- springs. The sap is threading through the tree's void veins. Till, all a- throb, the twigs begin to grow, 265 Ci)e 3ltoafecmii5 The bole's loose bark is burst by winds and rains. Soon Daphne hides her where the green leaves glow. The drum of wings, and chirpings shrill and sharp, Play variations on the vernal harp. 266 5n (Bmgt of Claptoniajsf LITTLE brown bird built its tiny nest Where zephyrs play among the singing reeds, And not a path in that direction leads ; But for claytonias roaming, I in quest Unwary it approached, unwelcome guest, And, ruthless, stirred the overhanging weeds Where largest pink -cupped beauties drop their seeds ; Away ran brownie with a ruffled crest. Come, timid mistress, warm your four blue eggs, And master-mate, pursue your matin song. 267 ^Tn Attest of ClaptoniaB How whist is she, how shrill he chirps and begs ! I 'm sorry I affrighted you, dear things ; But trust me, I will never do you wrong ; I would not harm a feather of your wings. 268 5Foot}jrintjsf AN leaves footprints along life's changeful way. Here one is slight, but touch of toe and heel ; Another fiat, all parts the pressure feel; One toward the centre takes a downward sway. To him of light foot, all the months are May; His soul is on the wing and, false or real. He takes things as they come, for woe or weal, And never stops the good or bad to weigh. 269 jFootprmtfi Now flat-foot is more glum ; things must be square, And values weighed and measured to the hair, And not a penny either way to spare. The third is heavy, sluggish, slow of wit ; With duty dallies — stops within his lair And shirks, while fleet-foot hath accom- plished it. 270 i^er iy:atip^|)ij»*^ Huncjeon IS not that I above another sate Where one should honored be, or not, I own, A sense of simple pride at preference shown To me, more than to many, who of equal state Might think, with reason, they should higher rate As friends of longer standing, longer known, To this most gracious lady, grandly grown In elegance, and manner, and estate. 'T is not the cause that through my head a rune 271 ^tv laHps^p'fi Lttnc^eon And happy rhythm have set themselves attune, And almost shaped in words the quivering thrills Of happiness that loiter when one wills. I doff my hat, and slowly my last glove, And think the while 't is love for me, 't is love. 272 %(ttt tfje ^tutm HERE, up and out, I went at early morn, To hear the cheerful hum of birds and bees. The lyrics coming from the leafy trees, And chirping nestlings in the waving corn. And never have I felt, since I was born, More grateful for the freshened sum- mer breeze. The rain had fallen in torrents, swelled to seas The rivulets that through their banks had torn. The turbid waters broke their bounds and down The meadow grass bore 'neath the rub- bish brown. 273 mttv t|)e g)t0rm The hot uplands had drunk their fill and more, And sent their surplus to the flats to store. Thus bathed, perfumed, enrobed anew, all o'er Kind earth her sweets upon her bosom bore. 274 25e grateful for tjje %itt tjat t^ I AN mortifies the flesh, abstemi- our lives, And thinks thereby his God his sins will shrive ; Is sure of entrance when he shall ar- rive At heaven's gate, nor thought to the pre- sent gives ; Scorns worldly things and for the future strives, Nor dreams, one moment, that he may be hurled Back from the heights, to try a hotter world For this one greatest sin of narrow lives. 275 ^e ffrateful for tlje life tl^at is With eye and ear alert seek truth, be wise, Let not the tongue be mute ; but to im- part The knowledge that will surely come, when sought, Be ready. Gems concealed in roughest guise Would ne'er emit a ray but for man's art. And gems of truth are never dearly bought. II Be grateful, thankful, for this gift of life. For this, the best world you have ever known ; Enrich existence ; let the seed be sown To yield abundance when the harvest rife Is by the reaper laid. The struggle, strife, Ends with the garnered grain, the fal- low field ; 276 ^e ffrateftil for t|)c life t&at in The proof of time well spent shows in the yield ; And conscience clear fears not the mon- ster's scythe. For all that in them is, use God's best gifts ; Make most and best of them, nor idle time Which, well filled, ne'er will heavy hang or drag, But rather fail of hours enough to climb The heights where diligence will lead, nor fag We e'en ; for joy in noble deeds the heart uplifts. 277 €atpt SDiem ASTE not this life in brooding o'er the past. The full fruition of the pre- sent know. Live now. The richest wine of life comes last, Elixir that should not unstinted flow. 278 l^ehJ ieat'^ €be HE last year dying, this but just begun, I had not thought of being far from home, Across the ocean here in ancient Rome, To watch this out and wait for Ninety- one, The Hours' sands so strangely, swiftly run. But here am I, where I have longed to be. Enchanted with the world encircling me, So full of story from the ages won. I left the ball, and to my aerie lone — As steals to solitude a wildwood gnome Who loves the place that he may call his own — 279 jQeto pear's ©De Where hours ago, day parting from the panes, Left bars of light behind St. Peter's dome. Now, damp and chill are allies, streets, and lanes. 280 €(je €titxt0 I ll/^ Bfc^lHIS spotless sheet does tempt V^M t^ii ^^ ^'~' ^^ write, [ ^^ I^H ^ That I will take my pen and dash away, And pray the muse not let it run astray, But help it a few verses to indite. My mind is not with inspiration quite Up to its normal standard this dark day; Though at the best, no doubt, it would display More instances of verse not recondite. But if my lines should ever find their way Into the world where critics have their sway, 281 C()e Critics And they should tear, and twist, and turn, and say, From this and that precursor I this lay Or that do imitate, and proof cite they. Why, then, they call me thief, and tears to pay. II Concede the critics partly right ; my rhyme. My theme, my choice of English, and I claim My right to make and sing my songs the same. In metre, limping measure, or in time ; But say they more than this, they me ma- lign. So far I plagiarize, more would I scorn ; E'en bread to earn, and not to borrow born. Would I assume another's verse were mine ? 282 C^e €xitit6 III I think my conscience would accursed be Did I attempt a theft to thought com- bine Of cleverer brain with weaker thought of mine, Unless to clearly write a parody. And if to other's verses semblance mine Shall bear, may they in beauty be divine. 283 O^ctoBetr ESIDE the meadow brook the autumn leaves — Contrasting with the water's silver sheen — A brilliant carpet make gray rocks be- tween. Its shining web the spider deftly weaves, Nor from its toils poor prisoner he re- prieves ; Flings filmy hangings, for the huntress queen, O'er brake and bush, to hide their faded green, And bind the shaggy briers into sheaves. As silently a stray leaf falls and gleams Adown in waving line, detached and free — 284 (Bttobtv As love seeks love, and sympathy in dreams — Comes Dian with her dogs and golden quiver, Her shaft to send the spider threads to shiver, And trail where dies the game upon the lea. 285 I CROSS the field a summer morn I flew, — Apollo's rose-light rapidly re- cedes, — Drawn by sweet music where the rushes threw Their shadows o'er the pool the runlet feeds. Where, just beyond, a velvet mullein grew, I looked, and there saw Pan among the reeds, A.nd then from whence the sweet strains came I knew, And lingered, listening, hidden by the weeds. 286 |3an mCa ^prinv The. god consoled himself for Syrinx fled 'Neath water lilies on the surface spread, And plaintive he anear the place did pipe To charm her back. The harebell's seeds were ripe, Upon the bank where he with her would wed. And make the fragrant turf their nuptial bed. But Syrinx hated Pan, nor would be wooed ; She loved her freedom and the forest wild, And followed Dian, of the chase be- guiled, And loved the baying hounds and wild bird's brood. To hear sweet Echo from the dark, green wood j 287 |Jan anU ^prinp She loved the things of sense, pure, un- defiled, And sank beneath, like an affrighted child, To find the water nymphs, and Pan elude. He sought soft strains to tell his love more truly, But all in vain; fair Syrinx, swift as thought. By nymphs was spirited to distant Thule ; Nor was the disappointed god dis- traught. For he another goddess soon did find, And piped to Echo and the changing wind. Ill Poor Pan ! in pity poets say ; not I ! As if the gods must win where'er they woo ! 288 IJati mca ^prtnp They think sweet Syrinx treacherous, not true, And goddesses condemn with loud outcry Who say them nay, and thither willful fly. And let poor lover pine or them pur- sue, When he, perchance, may find a Fair more new, And quite as pleased, her with his pipings ply. Some poets say. Poor Pan ! Poor Syrinx, I ! But oh, the plodding world the gods decry. And cherish not the fleeting, old ro- mance That sweetens life and all its joys en- hance ! The wood is only wood, no Dryads there. Of charmed imaginings beware, beware ! 289 gflJu^iott^ WAS in the silence of a shaded grove, An afternoon in sultry sum- mer time, A pretty maid, ethereal, pure, and prime, Against lethargic influence vainly strove, That dimmed the light romance her fan- cies wove. And filled her brain with merry song and rhyme. Till waking thoughts succumbed to dreams sublime, That bore her to the palace court of Jove. The god's stern brow relaxed ; with kindly mien 290 Snusione He looked upon the young intruder there, As he would welcome mortal so serene And make her goddess 'mong the others fair ; But Juno's threatening white arm thrust between, Fierce, drove her back, as tigress from her lair. II The rapture of romance that held be- fore, Enthralled, her being, in earth's para- dise. Had passed, and passed the glamour from her eyes. The things that had enchanted would no more. Each vestige, ruthless, from her heart she tore j 291 ^Ilu6iaxis The threaded mesh that wily Cupid plies, A filmy veil, in shredded tatters lies ; All earthly blandishments she did ignore. For glimpse of the immortals she would soar, And wait upon the threshold of the skies, Perchance, till Juno on some errand flies. Great Jove will, more propitious than be- fore, Her make the queen of love and god- dess wise ; For now no mortal love will her suffice. Ill Ambition's ban misleads the fooHsh maid ; For, blinded to the real, canst thou di- vine 292 ^Unrnna What disappointment will be surely thine ? How many ghosts of loves wilt thou see laid, How many jealousies thy heart will raid, E'en shouldst thou reach the pinnacle. Aline, Where sits the favored of the " Sacred Nine," Who muse together in Pierian shade. If favored of the gods, oh, then beware ! Although as true, and as an angel pure. Soft, timid, light of heart, and debonair, Thy smiling sisters, sly, will spread a snare, A web of honeyed wiles, t' entrap and lure. Or crush with word, t' make thee more demure. 293 I A lady, old, infirm, sat musing lone, In easy chair, beside the blazing fire. All day the snow had fallen, while a lyre. Wrought of the wind, had played in plain- tive tone. Now sharp and shrill, then slow, with mournful moan ; And her past life, a panoramic pyre, Was piled, event upon event, entire, To fall as embers dead fall on the stone. Her penitential prayers her sins atone. Each was as clear, as each did just tran- spire : A lack of charity in deed or word, 294 a laUp, (BVa, 2fnf irm Or, heedless, passing mendicant un- heard, Or unkind thought of one who strove alone j Each crept across the heart, its chords to tire. Still, silently she sat ; the fire burnt low As peaceful visions of the past flit by, Sweet smiles upon her pale lips softly lie, As friend communed with friend of long ago. The fire flamed up once more with lurid glow. The wind did beat against the panes and sigh, As fiends, their skill to wreck, were forth to try. At last it spent its force. The fire burnt low. 295 a latip, ©IB, Srnfiritt Before a footprint on the walk was made The gray old servant had the breakfast laid. With scarce a sound she crossed the polished floor, And opened cautiously her mistress' door ; She saw the smile that on her lips re- mained, She touched her hand, and knew that life had waned. The rosy light of morn shone through the pane And passing glow gave to the pallid face ; A heavenly peace pervaded all the place, As if the spirit had returned again. And kind friends smoothed her robe, and felt the pain 296 a laUp, ©lU, Sfnfirm Of parting less, to see that placid face, On which no sorrow left a shadow's trace, And unrepented sin had left no stain. When ripe in years, and wise with age, and staid, This lady's semblance, spiritless, was laid Within the sombre tomb's protecting wall; And monument and epitaph recall Her birth and death, and good deeds are portrayed As, ended all, as all were thus essayed. 297 1 l^ma^, 1896 HE storm, so pitiless, drives on the place This Christmas Day, where she the loved doth lie ; We do not understand, we know not why She left us for that narrow house, that space So small, where others sleep of ancient race, 'Neath ivy green and grasses sered and dry. That cling as man to life, when death stalks by ; So cling their withered shreds to life's embrace. She left the scenes that she was wont to grace, 298 ^mas, 1896 Left not another the void place to fill ; Passed silently from active works that still Call for her, and her ever cheerful face Lies white and cold upon the pillow lace, While her sweet spirit lingers with us still. 299 €|je 2DeButante IE gladly greet the early buds of spring, Their flush, their tender leaves, their fragrance new, Their coming forth, all moist with morn- ing dew, As they had come from fairyland to bring Some music sweet in mortal's ears to ring; A song sans words, with trills, that thrill one through. And make one wish to be a rosebud too. Or other feathery, less substantial thing. Ah, fairy friend, this sonnet is to you ! I would your wand should charm all beasts away, 300 C^e ^ebtttantc And at your feet the richest blessings lay; That Beauty's choicest gifts, and garlands too, May make your life as sweet as it is true, A gladsome, happy song from day to day. 301 ^htt a Summer ^IjotDer EFRESHING breath of rain- washed atmosphere, Reviving drooping spirits like old wine, Into my boudoir come where I re- cline, O'ercome with heat that hath for days ruled here. Oh, joy ! to see the big drops patter down, And mark the dusty window ledge with dots, And drive both man and beast to shel- tered spots. Then pour a great flood o'er the parched town ! 302 lifter a ^ttmmer ^liotocr Along the gutters muddy waters meet, And swell, and spread about the sewer drops, Half choked with flotsam from the littered street ; Now there the footman either wades or stops. The storm has ceased and brooding clouds disperse, And I am through my mood, so end this verse. 303 O lamps, I pray you, yet ; day's colors fade, And darkness, in a circle, spreads and broods ; A bat, swift winged, disturbs my silent moods, And darting low, too near my face in- trudes ; The robins call, most cheerful voice of bird. Are late to seek their perch and latest heard, — The while the blackbirds nestling, have not stirred, — Seek they their nests, with little light to aid. A far fire lifts and looms in flashes bright, 304 ^atfenegfif irootis Some cottager will lose his cot to-night ; Gone up in flame and smoke his roof and things, The shelter prized that meed of comfort brings ; When wearing work he leaves as day de- clines, The loss of humble home will seem hard lines. 305 1892-1893 HE week, the month, the year, all end to-night ; The clock ticks to the passing moment's flight ; Tick, tick, tick, tick, — how brief the mo- ments are ! I listen, breathless, for the funeral car. Led by the hour, to bear time's ghosts away — Maybe to future nothingness. These gray, Past periods such stars ^ have blotted out From the celestial cincture girt about Our earthly fane, that no more effluent light 1 The poets Lord Tennyson, Whittier, Whit- man, Proctor. 306 ;|HiSnta;l&t iettocen tfte pears From them will emanate anew ; no sight Of written word, no song the ear to guide, Or tender touch to sympathy allied ; But yet the lustre of their glory past The scroll of the dead years will long outlast. 307 Wl^at bain Become of €f)ee? OME, Muse of March, I have a plaint to write, Of mighty loss of precious little mite, That sang so sweetly all the spring days thro' And was my tiny friend, so trustful, true. By sad mishap this morn, in his wild glee. He flew through open window far and free. The clouds collect, the nights so cold chill us j What will become of thee, St. Andreus ? 308 ^rooti not ujton tf^t ^a^t ROOD not so much upon thy former days, Unmindful of the things that in these lie. Then youth and love were found in plea- sant ways, — You part with youth ; oh, keep love till you die ! 309 |0W the gay throng at the Has- tings' assemble ; The day is propitious, though cold, bright and clear, The greetings and gossip a chaos resem- ble Of numerous voices aroused by good cheer. So high and higher as each new arrival Adds volume and zest to vocalization, Till, like music's medigeval revival. The sounds surge and swell as the voice of a nation. As waves gather waves in bounding old ocean, 310 lalies ©nip And rumble, and ripple, and rollick, and roar As t' make a grand sound were Neptune's one notion, To silence all else with their break on the shore, — So each lady's voice rises high and higher, And is lost and absorbed in the general roar, Till weary, and worn, and about to expire, She will, till the next one, such parties ignore. 31J fantasies? SEE the faces in the trees And figures that my fancy please, I looked not long, nor looked in vain, This e'en, when through the window pane A pretty maid of modest mien Was waiting there, as she had been To give a graceful greeting when I came to look for her again. Her eyes were large and parted far, And lustrous as the evening star, Or like the eyes of gentle kine ; No other creature's are so fine. Unless, may be, those of the deer. So shy one cannot see them near, But eyes of kine appeal to me. The breeze is not more gentle, free. This fair June eve, with fragrance fraught, 312 iFautastefi Than is the form, so deftly wrought, In part of sky, part leafy tree. Her sheeny hair floats to her knee, And robe of filmy, flowing lace My Daphne's form does not efface. Some other faces, eyes, I see, But none more pleasing, more complete In contour and expression sweet. Or so enchantingly haunt me. The webbed recesses of my brain I search to see if they retain Impress of features I have known. Oh, when, oh, where, would they but own ! But no, my search is all in vain. Metempsychosis may explain. Dear Daphne, speak and tell me true: In earlier age, or in the new, Saw I your face where no leaves were ? Reveal yourself and tell me where. 313 ^]{jm nigjjt corned tiohjn HEN night comes down, and stars shine one by one, I count them o'er, a courtly company, And think of Love, so far remote that none Save starry worlds can look on her and me, When night comes down. Two days have passed with mind much occupied. From busy plans and thoughts no mo- ment free ; With things accomplished I am satisfied. But leisure brings its loneliness to me, When night comes down. 314 Wfitn ntff^t (omefii Uotott The world becomes a blank, and near friends naught ; A heavy, dreary sadness falls on me ; I count the stars, recount them, till the thought Repeats itself : How wide and deep the seal When night comes down. How awful, vast, and dark the dreadful deep. That bears its precious freight so far from me ! Its minions glare at me and fright my sleep, White faces gleam upon the treacherous sea, When night comes down. Eternal God ! — I cry — wilt Thou not roll 315 W^tn niffljt cnmes Uoton Smooth back the gulfs of threatening mystery, And spread them, like an unoffending scroll. To print the stars that smile their thanks to Thee, When night comes down ? O Thou Eternal One ! I pray Thee keep Her in thy care. Bid harm and danger flee, Protect the travelers on the awful deep, And let her ship sail on a placid sea, When night comes down. 316 €f)e ^ottent of ^eace pVE doves in my garden alighted, Their presence presaging my peace ; Perturbed my spirits, affrighted. At portent of sorrow's increase. Five spirits anear us have parted. From life full of promise till late ; So sudden their call that it started A frenzy and fear of their fate In others j who, warned, have awaited With awe their swift summons away, And wonder why time is belated, Not dreaming the cause of delay. Five doves in my garden are cooing ; A soothing sensation of peace, From turbulent thought has come wooing, With portent of sorrow's surcease. 317 €]&e l^oice^ of tt^t l^igftt ENEATH a leafy bower of climb- ing rose, I lingered long within the gar- den's close, Secluded by the wall from vulgar sight, To listen to the voices of the night. Fair Cynthia more than half her face re- revealed At times, behind the mottled clouds con- cealed. Till all the clouds dispersed ; then she out- shone The stars, and satisfied, retired alone. From ups and downs and tumbles I have learned, 318 Cl^e mitts of tl^e Ms^t Our neighbors from their outings have re- turned. The children practicing on wheels and stilts Made merry music, hushed now 'neath the quilts. The cricket's chirp, a cheerful, homely sound, From dusky coverts peeping, near the ground, The shrill cicala, quite too near and late, Begins his concert with his shriller mate. Unpleasing, harsh, the chorus is to ears That love the sweeter solos of the spheres ; It drowns the undertones and softer notes That singing wind on chords ^olian floats. The forests felled, the streams will disap- pear, 319 Voices of t^t JBiff^t Conditions woodmen will not understand Till, drouth and desolation here, They find that arid land And want go hand in hand. 320 ^ ftatf^tt of a ^itW Wm LITTLE feather of a bird's wing lay Between the pages of a pon- derous book ; I opened it to seek a truth one day, And in my hand the pretty plume I took. Since this gray thing has been in upper air, Where spirits meet when first from earth they float, It now perchance may write what they up there Would send — a message or a music note. And when I held it lightly it began : " Pursue the truth and find it, hold it fast; 321 SI iFeatl^er of a dirt's Wins 'T is plain, 't is simple, 't is not far from man In cloud, in sky, and at his feet at last. " Pursue with patience ! Roots of things you seek Upturn when least suspected they are near." A sense of something ! Softly ! It will speak. The spirit brings the truth you long to hear. The little plume, lost from a songster's wing, Has helped the mind dispel the doubt it bore. The spirit sent it to this lesson bring. And plain is now what seemed a myth before. 322 I HE years that have flown and are over, That now would be precious to me — More precious than ever to me, — Have changed like the plumes of the plo- ver, But were ever more sunny than drear ; Each one I remember a rover That in storm, as in sunshine, was dear ; Ere hoary December was over Came my crystalline, welcome new year. But since I have learned to look deeper For treasures in life's hidden ways, T' unravel life's manifold ways, 323 ^^t pears t|)at |)at)e floton My soul has been sadly a sleeper, An oblivious dreamer before ; Now better my themes and my metre, Had I learned this in the days of the yore,— Had I known this ere years that are fleeter Neared the ultimate verge of my store. 324 €Jje Wat JULY, 1898 HE war has come and thousands will be slain, And Cuba may be wrested soon from Spain. Our lands are broad enough and space to spare, — An island more, what signifies the gain ? To queen and emperors we make appeal, To rulers who desire the whole world's weal, To gather greatest minds from every nation To frame such laws as each will sign and seal. A council wise, with noble end in view, — Fraternity and fellowship, in lieu 325 C^e Wnx Of sword and slaughter, for the settlement Of points of difference that must accrue. A council international, supreme, A court to arbitrate in case extreme. Let rulers and crowned heads be of this court ; Such power and law the nations would esteem. The age has come for mind to rule the earth ; The wise must haste to bring about the birth Of law and rule, that swords to plough- shares turn ; Of beastly carnage there will be a dearth. Were I a soldier boy to go to war, I would be brave, when from the battle far. 326 dTde l^ar At smell of powder, boom of mauser gun, I 'd buckle breastplate on my back and run. If into mountain fastness I were driven, Like noble Spartans — till th' foe's ranks were riven — I too would tiger-like the death-blow give, Were there no chance to run away and live. If I a mountain pass were sent to hold, Behind a peak I would be lion-bold, And make a hole through which to point my gun, And sight the foe as it came on the run ; Then pick my men as they approached the gap, And down they 'd drop, and on each other lap. 327 €ht W&v My country served ! Ten thousand slain by one ! Let history say how I did load my gun. I sing no song of war, its loss, its recom- pense ; Mine are for arbitration, peace, and com- mon sense. Why train brave men like beasts and sav- ages to fight .'' Has mind no greater force than in the ages' night ? Good men have fought for love of coun- try, love of fame. Allured by those whom fortune favors by the name That follows great achievements, great success, to yield Their short lives, fighting bravely on the battlefield. 328 C[)e W^v Among the thousands to return to mother earth, Alas, to have lost life, lost name, and note of birth ! And numbers only mark the mounds grown o'er with grass, That only yearly are remembered by the mass. 329 55on l^opage O last year's nests the birds have bid adieu, The chill of night has pierced beneath their down ; 'Tween naked limbs the owl's great eyes look through, To fright the little birds, the gray and brown. They flutter all and shake their feathery wings. They twitter, chirp, and quickly fly away; 'Mid barren limbs and owl's eyes, ugly things With horrid hoot, they will not longer ^ stay. 330 iSott laapaffe They flit about and gather up the stray, The old encourage and the weak up- lift; The busy elders help their young this way, Great flocks appear, unite, then thither drift. They meet in counsel, wisely plan together To soon set sail upon the sea of air. And voyage make while yet the autumn weather Will speed their sails to climes remote and fair. A sorry sight these skeletons of bowers, Where purple grapes in luscious clus- ters hung, The bare, ambitious vine on treetop tow- ers. Its weeping withes are to the breezes flung. 331 ^on ©opaffe How rich is mother earth, prolific here ! Her giant forest trees their roots deep thrust Into her ample bosom, yet they fear To tempest's rage their high, proud heads to trust, And spread long gnarled and twisted roots 'neath stone, And tangled tufts and shrubs beneath her crust ; Here step with care, or trip and be o'er- thrown ; A foe in ambush makes one bite the dust. 'Gainst boreal buffets, when the storm fiends roar. They doubly fortify their lofty heads, Earth's nourishment absorb by every pore, The deep-drawn draught through every fibre threads. 332 ^ott ?9opag;e They separate with greed what each likes best From her abundant stores, for all enough ; Courage and prowess gain, and strength to test Marauding foes and cool their force rebuff. The colored leaves come rustling down in showers. Talking the while of summer and the sun; They nestle close to cover up the flowers. And bare the branches are where they had hung. The trees, stripped of their robes, up- stretch their limbs, And bravely challenge blasts that threat to come. 333 ^011 ^opap Strong armed and high, they dauntless voice new hymns, More weird than raven's croak or muf- fled drum. They sing of wars with Boreas waged long past, With scorn of stealthy foes that un- seen creep Into their camp to wrench, uproot, and blast, To take them unawares with one fell sweep ; Of struggles fierce, that tore the heart of things, That bowed their oldest warrior's hoary head, Their youth bore down ; but youth elastic springs Against the foe, with sinewy arms out- spread. 334 ^on ©opap These trees old warriors all have been. They sing Of struggles with the tempests, hail, and rain ; The woodman's axe has girdled many a ring About their boles, and the fierce hurri- cane Destroyed what life remained ; or, by slow death, Existence, sapless, was by blight cut off ; But here are trees that stem the blast as breath Of summer airs, nor deign their plumes to doff. The old red oak now smote his mighty chest, And bowed his plumed head. Through all the camp 335 ^on ©oj)a5e There rolled the thunder, throbbing to- ward the west ; The cloudcaps burst, forth shone day's flaming lamp. Then silence reigned. Again the monarch old Bowed to his stalwart youths and sap- ling braves. They changed to sober threne, from war- song bold. And sighed and soughed o'er fallen heroes' graves. And last of all the trees, one aged oak. Regardless of the self-defensive thorns. The fastenings of his gorgeous mantle broke. And dropped it down to cover his a-corns. 33^ ^on ©opaffc While yet the camp 's astir and revels hold, The dead lamented, and new wars pro- claimed. The fleet of birds, from Boreas' regions cold, And from the east and west, except the maimed, All speeding sailed. Speed on, you airy things ! To fairer lands, where flowers forever bloom, Where storms are tempered to your flut- tering wings, Where wars have ceased, and strife has met its doom. 337 <©n ^mountain i^eigljtjef HE fairest flowers bloom abun- dantly Far, far above the level of the sea, Above the clouds on heights one seldom seeks, Upon the lofty mountain's snow-capped peaks. They creep along and cling to granite ledges, And line the crevices, the storm-fiend dredges ; They have a dainty brilliance all their own That few, at such great height, can look upon. 338 ^ucf) epe^ are ti^ep INCE Petrarch, Laura's eyes have had a rest. No poet dares, with modern eyes, to test The language, rhymes, and measures all exhaust j To speak of Laura's eyes the poet's lost. But now a Laura comes, the last and best ; Should you seek her, her eyes would pay the quest. They would you lead to follow her behest, And you would sing her praise at any cost. Such eyes are they. They are not blue, they are not black, but lest 339 ^ttcK) epes are t^cp The color you should think not manifest, I '11 say they 're large, and liquid, and not crossed. And shine like stars upon a sea-wave tossed, And answer true, direct, when she 's ad- dressed, Such eyes are they. 340 €f)e iloBiiiiSf fjabe come |HE lawn looks brighter now the robin 's here. He says the spring will sooner come this year ; He 's making preparations for his nest. How sweet his voice ! His mate is wait- ing near. We whistle for him ; very soon he comes, Remembers where, last year, he found the crumbs, Also that Yoko may contest his right. Poor can is ! dead and buried out of sight. The storm may catch you, robin, make you shiver. The rain rush down your tree, a rapid river, 341 W^t Eobinfi jjaDe come Your nest destroy, and scatter all the straws ; You still will sing, without a qualm or quiver. A plumed philosopher, from whom we take The lesson of submission, when at stake, Inevitable, our best interests are. Content ourselves, we others happy make. 342 MAR 21 1903 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS illliilillllilllililillill 015 939 288 ■«:Ni