I||]«# , mm* . IjJt^W" "■'"•" A fc. AMOF. REDIYIVUS C' OTHER POEMS JUd^ EDV9VRD 07\AN SHORT PS 3537 .H975 P5 1905 Copy 1 r Book .\W1SA5_ CopATlgllt N^ COHYRKIHT DKPOSIT. AMOR REDIVIVUS AND OTHER POEMS AMOR REDIVIVUS AND OTHER POEMS BY EDWARD LYMAN SHORT ROBERT GRIER COOKE NEW YORK. MDCDV. Copyright, 1905. by ROBERT GRIER COOKE LIBR/SRYofCONQReSS On«0opy ftecelvfd DEC 18 »905 Coyynjfnt tntry CLASS Ol X)U:. No Robert Crier Cooke, New York THIS little book of poems, the product of idle summer hours in his youth, it had recently been the intention of the Author to send forth in the circle of his friends, but death withheld from him the completion of this purpose, which is now fulfilled in loving memory by his wife. Contents AMOR REDIVIVUS LOVE AND TIME CAN CURE HEARTS DESIRE . LA FILLE DE JOIE THOUGH THOU WERT FICKLE AS THE RESTLESS SEA. STILL SHOULD 1 LOVE THEE" . LOVE'S SADNESS . LOVE DESPONDENT THE CHANGED WOMAN LOVE'S HOPE BENEATH EGYPT'S MOON L'AMOUR CUPID AT TENNIS 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 28 AMOR REDIVIVUS AND OTHER POEMS AMOR REDIVIVUS There is no winter, but the snow-flake comes To hide the scars that naked nature shows, Nor lifts The spotless veil, until those scars are lost In swelling beauties new. There's scarce a cooling e*er of love, but peace In silence softly clads the chilly heart. Until Sweet passion's pains revive, then peace will leave That heart alone with love. St, Moritz, [15] LOVE AND TIME CAN CURE There's many a sea-girt rock, Washed by the fickle sea Whose sides and hue are servile to Each touch of its Master free. The crowded clouds give battle fierce, With weapons of hail and rain. Provoke the sea to hurl its foam, * Gainst the rock in the angry main. The storm has passed, and left the rock. Scathed as *twas ne*er before; With sides so worn, and hue so changed, Though with stanchness the storm it bore. The soft seas woo and lap the rock. With kisses they linger and brood; They'd wipe away the seams so deep, Made in their fearful mood. Deep anguish of sorrow may deepen Sad thoughts in the stoutest soul. But in time as the waves grow weary, So painless the years may roll. Love's joys divinely can draw A tracery over the heart, To soften and hide from its owner Deep wounds that may cease to smart. Bia.rritz* [i6] HEART^S DESIRE Let that love which is bitter, sweet bitter to me, Be killed out my heart, let my heart while it beat Be the rock that is frosted by winter's cold sea. Be a tree standing leafless tho' summer winds greet. Let the breeze as it sighs as it moans from the wood Be to me as the smile of a babe to its mother. Be to me the soft music that wakens love's mood. Be to me as the kiss that on pure lips may hover. Let the love that is restless, that finds not its home. Be buried 'neath ocean that gave to it life ; Let the wave as it dies, as it breaks into foam. Be the shroud that shall cover at end of its strife. Yet within us dwells hope, wintry night has its mom. There shall rise such a vision of love for my heart, I shall need its dead love, and entreat thee the boon To give it back richer life, love's life ne'er to part. Mt. Desert. [17] LA FILLE DE JOIE My infant soul, for measureless its years To come, a little voice, a tender voice. Swayed as it willed ; not fear but gladsome choice Enslaved me thus, a captive free from tears. '* Thou shalt not ** — and my willing foot would tread The hidden path, as needle to its pole. Rich womanhood companioned soon my soul. The siren voice of hollow pleasure, we alone entranced, " Thou shalt not '* — Awhile, O God, and I hear Awhile? Alas, awhile was but the verge Of desert wild and bare, and as each step 1 make Now far across that dismal plain and drear, My soul deep-wrapped in funeral serge. Thirsty and eager cries, Stilled Voice Awake ! P^ris, [i8) "THOUGH THOU WERT FICKLE AS THE RESTLESS SEA, STILL SHOULD I LOVE THEE" Away in the summer together, A face, hardly more, I should say. Yet witching enough to draw towards her, A look that can ne*er turn away. Face to face in the dory together. With dimples that come but to go As sunbeams that dance on the water, Or bubbles in tide's ebb and flow, We were out in the moonlight together ; Her throat lying bare as the night. Like the crest of the breaking breakers. Shone soft with its moonlit white. Lost is the throat and the dimples, Lost is the face once so near. Left to the heart lonely throbbings. Left to the man, woman's tear. Sleepless, my heart in its throbbing Is made but more wakeful by thee, Dreary its night is now passing. Come, richness of morning to me ! Quiberon. [19] LOVE'S SADNESS My love is like the sighing wind That moans from out some pine tree's wood ; Whose voice awakes within my heart Deep-sleeping thoughts, a tear-stained brood. Odde, [20] LOVE DESPONDENT Keen was thy arrow, of arrows the keenest. Lost yet each arrow in which thou believest ; Weary thou, Eros, o*er lake and the mountain, O droop now thy wings for dry is Love's fountain. CsLdenabbiiL. 21.1 THE CHANGED WOMAN Upon a lonely rocky shore, I chanced upon a lute, Such dreamy, sweetly languid notes Ne*er quivering strings came o*er. The harp did seem to have a soul Whose tremors wakened mine, And the mingling of their music Revealed a life divine. Upon a busy peopled coast I found it soon again, A foreign hand had tuned its strings Its soul to me was lost. Its notes were those of every harp, Its soul it hid away With beauty wrought upon the shore Without response it lay. Yet still rd touch each magic string, In hope to wake again Those thrilling tones within my soul One harp alone can bring. lona.. [22] LOVE'S HOPE Sleep softly kisses on your pillow soft, A bit of hand before which pales The dying wave, when glistening foam Lies shroud-like, or wind-tossed floats aloft. I laid them there to re^, those kisses sweet, For all the features of her face Were outlets fair of love within. That drew my lips her cloud-like hand to greet. O tired soul, from woman's love apart! O whitest queen, whose king was I! O tyrant queen, to martyr love! O buoyant soul, then dead and tortured heart. Each slumbering kiss my lips would wake again. Yet not where homage oft is paid, But where deep love her secret joy Obtains, where richest voice with sweetest strain. [23] BENEATH EGYPT'S MOON The glare of the noonday lessens, Each triumph the sun has won, May be lost in the coming darkness, Is their like for ever gone? Only when moonless the even. Only when starless the night. For the sky that lies back of a crescent Hangs over a world that is light. Oh, the heart as it loves its passion. Its strife and its leaping in vain. May sicken at thought of the future, Though a rest midst weariness gain. But as often the light of a night Hovers o*er a world that is dim. So the soft light of a love that is late. Steals o'er a heart that beats but for him. PhiU. [24] L'AMOUR She, Good-bye ! Our hands have lingered closely twined, Till equal warmth bids them and us to part. He, Good-bye ! When breaks the dawn of love, Why always comes the cloud ? She. My day's been strange and left me not at peace, The ebbing waves in ocean's bosom lost, The dried up beach with many a boat v^de strewn, Were mirrored in my hopeful eye this morn ; And like a snowy dove perched on a leafless Tree, that takes the eye. One small white skiff lay couched upon the sand ; The sun-warmed sea rose high, and bathed each bow In richest flood ; oft times some sturdy arm Would rattle out of sight a floating boat. High up the white skiff lay, and though each wave Tossed it in its arms, as though for joy To hold so fair a burden, yet it staid As one by one its fellows disappeared. The little boat tugged at the weight below, Impatient thus to stay. Behold the tide is at the flood ; e'en now The curved lines of wetted pebbles mark That it recedes, and yet the skiff is there. I know not why, but weird companionship Is here for me. He, Sweet love ! why falls the lace-like lid To shut me from thine eye ? She. A smile breaks o'er my lips and light my heart [25] To think of love and thee. Yet dies the smile on lips unkissed by thine. He. The dewy rose bends not more quick than they. The proudest head that longs its lips to bury In her fragrance soft, Nor summer cloud, that peeps above yon round Sea-line, is w^hiter than the God-made breast That's pure as Eve*s. She. Stay, thouVt speaking to a girl, not now Imagining to thyself. And we are two, nor ever may be one. He. Forgive me God (and thou), dwell I in thought Upon them other than as works of His That may be joy to us. I know upon the surface of thy heart Love lies yet like some icicle that melts Beneath the sun, within there's cold. She. Thou wrongest me there. He. I do. She. Can*st thou not solve my day before I go? He. Warm womanhood that*s bathed in love has crept Upon thee, till thou*st rich in it. Less favored one thou seest borne hence From loneliness away to live in love Mysterious, and yet the man comes not Into the life of whom thou care*st to sink Thine own, and be at rest, for like The skiff upon the flood, thou waitest on. The day is long, the tide Of youthful love must ebb. [26] She. Who owns the skiff? He, He whom thou lovest not. She, The even's come, and peace with it, The peace from natures heart to mine, And bids me hope. Thee must I leave, more slowly now Than e*er before. He, I look not where she goes lest I pursue The ever-deepening beauty of her angel face, The warmth of her sweet presence gone, not strange The air is chill. The setting sun has carried all my cares With it, and one by one soft memories rise And shine upon my darkened soul its stars. The black sea bears me on, until at last One light above all lights of God Starts from the evening gloom, and bright the black. No longer moonless sea. The memories fade, for one obscures them all. They but as attendants are, while she, the queen Amongst them, moves, and o*er my lonely heart Her beams do brood and I am still. The stillness of a perfect love. Amalfi, [27] CUPID AT TENNIS Fifteen love, and she the service Tossed my heart, but she returned it; Fifteen all, a woman seeks me. Meets me, but alas don't trust her ; Thirty love, again she fiees me, Leaves me, where*s my heart, IVe lost it. Deuce, hurrah! her beauty, mine is Now the vantage, by the racket, And the net and balls. Til have it. my heart so weary batted. Warm she takes it, coldly sends it Back to me, all torn and wasted. Vantage mine, her lips they quiver, Mercy now, her eyes are pleading Weakly, fondly, now we're even, Deuce once more, the mercy's given. Then she takes the ball so gently 1 would fain believe she loves me. Vantage hers, again she has me, Cruel now she shows no mercy, With a white arm and a rosy Face all glowing now as victor. Game! she cries, and lost forever Hand and heart ! — 'tis only summer. Vernier Cru [28] DEC IS »9G5i ''■■ it" ^?.. '■■ *Pi;^";.;#w 0^15 930 1023''''"'*