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 A Bunch 
 
 »of« 
 
 Immortelles 
 
 And 
 • Other Poems « 
 
 By 
 Lila Frost Sprague 
 
 1900 
 
TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 
 
 Library c essfe 
 
 $1900 
 
 Register ef 
 
 5; ' 
 
 JAN 13 1SO0 
 
 Copyrighted 1899 
 
 by 
 
 Lila Frost Sprague. 
 
 All Rights 'Reserved. 
 
 
 \^ e 
 
 sfeco^D copy, 
 
 Tradesman Company, 
 
 Printers, 
 
 Grand Rapids, Mich, 
 
To Delia, 
 
The rains have ceased. 
 Softly the breezes blow, 
 Bringing the breath of violets. 
 The wild honey-suckle blooms, 
 And the peach buds swell 
 Along the forest path 
 Where we have walked together. 
 Pleasant is the song of birds, 
 And all the gentle sounds 
 Which nature makes 
 To waken up the earth. 
 
 I know it is the same to other eyes — 
 
 The sweet renewal of the miracle of life. 
 
 On other ears the melody of spring 
 
 Falls with no note of sadness. 
 
 But for me the beauty of the world is veiled. 
 
 The murmurs of the spring come sadly to my ears, 
 
 Longing for the music of thy voice. 
 
 The honey-suckles droop their heads, 
 
 The violets yield their incense up less gladly, 
 
 And there's a shadow on the sun, to-day, 
 
 Because I walk alone. 
 
Love, walking in green pastures, 
 
 Where still waters flow through banks of asphodel ! 
 
 1 would not have you less than blessed ; 
 But the questioning thought will cling, 
 
 If sometimes you listen for my coming feet ; 
 Will my voice make sweeter to your ear 
 The heavenly harmony and the angels' song? 
 You walk celestial paths with knowledge — 
 1 with faltering faith the ways of earth ; 
 And I would feel your love yearn earthward, 
 To strengthen when the time seems long. 
 
The wide, wide ocean and an hundred sails ; 
 
 The land, wild rose thickets and a breath of pine ; 
 
 God's spirit resting on the waters, 
 
 The Infinite Thought thrilling through the earth; 
 
 In human hearts a sense of joy, 
 
 A prayer of thankfulness, 
 
 A song of the fulness of life. 
 
 The sea and a roar of crested waves ; 
 
 A rising mist and hidden sails; 
 
 The shore, thorn thickets and the moaning 
 
 of the pines ; 
 A home, and the shadow of death drawing near, 
 A prayer for help, a cry of desolation ; 
 A swift memory of the brightness past, 
 A wail for the loneliness to come. 
 
 The peace that passeth understanding touching 
 
 a beloved face, 
 And then — God's healing love making alike the 
 
 brightness and the mist. 
 
Evening : 
 The distant beating of the sea upon the shore 
 Deep wooded hills; 
 
 Warm waves of air through spicy lanes ; 
 An odor of pine ; 
 A breath of wild rose ; 
 A nightingale's song : 
 
 A whisper of love. 
 
 Morning : 
 The sound of the ebbing tide ; 
 The stirring of the breeze upon the hills ; 
 A sighing through the pines ; 
 A breath of fallen petals ; 
 A gleam of new buds ; 
 The seabird's lonely cry; 
 A distant sail : 
 
 A memory forever. 
 
Grant this one prayer, O Death ! 
 
 As I pass with thee to the unknown land, 
 
 That I may cross the Lethean stream, 
 
 Nor taste its chilling waters. 
 
 My years have had their sorrows, 
 
 Sweet voices called to me 
 
 And passed into the silence, 
 
 Tender eyes smiled into mine, 
 
 Then closed to sleep beneath the flowers. 
 
 And I have known the scorching brand of sin, 
 
 I have walked lamely in the path of right. 
 
 But the fair earth has clothed herself in green, 
 
 Or folded on her snowy mantle before my happy 
 
 sight. 
 Love has led me where the birds were singing; 
 Together we have stood beside the pleasant sea 
 And watched the sinking sun pile up his golden 
 
 billows. 
 I have felt the touch of children's fingers in my 
 
 hair, 
 The pressure of their lips upon my breast, 
 The music of their voices filled my ears 
 Till all the world's sound seemed joyous. 
 Gladly I'll drink my tears, O Death! 
 I'll bear my scars through all eternity; 
 But let me keep the memory of my happy years. 
 
Sunset : 
 A crimson glory on sea and sky ; 
 A mellow tinge touching the distant hills ; 
 The bay, a stretch of opal light ; 
 A boat upon the placid waters ; 
 Love waiting on the other side. 
 
 Twilight: 
 The fading glow ; dark shadows on the hills ; 
 Black waters ; a sudden sweep of wind ; 
 A leaping of white spray ; 
 A cry from the shore ; 
 An answering cry from the sea ; 
 And then — only the sound of wind and waves 
 Filling the darkness. 
 
 Morning : 
 Glowing sky, and green hills rising above the mists ; 
 Peaceful waters, and an empty boat drifting with 
 
 the tide ; 
 Love still waiting on the shore, 
 And over all the infinite mystery of God. 
 
An acacia with its yellow bloom ; 
 A shimmer of olive leaves ; 
 The vineyard's purple gleam ; 
 Sunshine in the valley ; 
 A child's joyous laugh; 
 A mother's song. 
 
 Dropping leaves and fading bloom ; 
 
 Dust upon the olive leaves ; 
 
 The vineyard's falling fruit; 
 
 A cloud over the valley ; 
 
 A little grave ; 
 
 A mother's sob. 
 
 Fresh green upon the olive leaves ; 
 
 New fragrance in the acacia's bud; 
 
 The blossoming grape gleaming in the valley ; 
 
 Brown violets springing from the little grave ; 
 
 Revelation in the land ; 
 
 A mother's song of hope. 
 
Life wooed the earth. 
 
 Darkness covered the land, but fear was passed 
 
 away. 
 The air was full of tender feeling ; 
 There was a murmuring sound which was neither 
 
 the twittering of birds, 
 Nor the rippling of water, nor the rustling of leaves. 
 It was the voice of love answering the call of life. 
 
 The darkness deepened, 
 
 All sounds died away into an expectant hush, 
 
 The stillness thrilled as with the breath of an 
 
 awakening sleeper. 
 A tinge of gray light touched the east, a shaft of 
 
 red pierced the gray. 
 Dawn melted into morning, winter into spring. 
 
 Earth lay smiling in her bridal robes. 
 
 The grass was green, the wind flowers were bloom- 
 ing on the hills. 
 
 Pink buds were swelling everywhere ; 
 
 And everywhere a sound of harmony, a strain of 
 melody floating through space. 
 
 It was still not the singing of birds, nor the flowing 
 of water, 
 
 It was not the fanning of butterflies' wings, 
 
 Nor the stirring of roots in their earthy beds, 
 
 Nor the rushing of sap through young branches. 
 
 It was all of these mingling together in one divine 
 song of love and life. 
 
 O infinite transforming Mystery, touch thou our 
 
 lives 
 And renew thy spirit within us. 
 
Noontide : 
 A dead land wrapped in a brown shroud lying 
 
 under a burning sun ; 
 Drear gray mountains keeping watch ; 
 A cayote's cry from the desert ; 
 A cloud of dust in the air. 
 
 Midnight : 
 A mist floating in from the sea ; 
 A sense of coming life ; 
 A thrill in the darkness ; 
 A sound of softly falling rain ; 
 
 Morning dawning : 
 A veiled sun in the eastern sky; 
 A mantle of green folding a living valley ; 
 A gleam of emerald on the mountain side ; 
 The meadow lark's whistling song; 
 A breath of orange bloom upon the breeze ; 
 Light, sound, beauty, life. 
 
I saw a gleam of blue waters and a stretch of yel- 
 low sand ; 
 Wide daisy fields and drifts of orchard bloom. 
 I heard a child's laugh and a robin's song. 
 
 There came a ripple on the waters, 
 
 And a shadow fell across the sand ; 
 
 The daisies bowed their heads ; 
 
 A shower of orchard bloom dropped down ; 
 
 A sudden silence ; 
 
 The child no longer laughed, 
 
 The robin's song was hushed. 
 
 The angel of death was passing on his way ; 
 
 The sweet world knew, only I did not understand. 
 
Lethe 
 
 I had watched beside her many days. I had meant 
 to speak. I had longed to whisper some word of trust 
 and hope — to say, "His ways will be made plain." 
 Now the end had come, and the silence was unbroken 
 between us. 
 
 After all, although my own faith in the infinite ten- 
 derness had never failed, what meaning could my 
 assurances have for her? My children came at dusk, 
 and laid their sunny heads upon my breast. Those 
 whom she had clasped with the same thrill of mother- 
 love wandered somewhere in the world, in what outer 
 darkness she knew not ; and long ago she had ceased to 
 pray that God would lead them home. 
 
 My life was blessed with the love of one who 
 walked strong and helpful among his fellowmen. He 
 to whom she had looked with the same proud hope had 
 faltered and fallen; and, when he died, men spoke of 
 his years as of a list of failures. 
 
 She had loved him to the last. She had been faith- 
 ful and tender as her loyal nature told her a wife should 
 be. But in her heart she had never forgiven his weak- 
 ness. "I want no hereafter," she had once said in a 
 rare moment of confidence. ' ' There can be no place nor 
 condition of happiness without its possibility of pain. 
 Pain has always outweighed joy with me. I would 
 rather have no chances in a future where my experi- 
 ence might repeat itself." 
 
Perhaps it was as well that I had not spoken, that 
 no word had roused the bitter memories, no unwise 
 suggestion jarred the sensitive feelings into pain. 
 
 The sleep of life passed quietly into the sleep of 
 death. The autumn sunshine flooded the room as the 
 change came, and touched the sad face with a tender 
 radiance. I knelt for a moment beside her, although 
 no prayer came to my lips and no tears to my eyes. 
 She had suffered so much, tears would be selfish. She 
 had hoped only for 4 ' dust to dust, ' ' and I dared not 
 pray that her hope might be unfulfilled. 
 
 When I arose and moved softly out, the sun was in 
 the west. The light made a silver path across the 
 waters of the bay. The white clouds were breaking into 
 purple and gold. A sense of my own loss and the mys- 
 tery of our lot came over me as I sank down upon the 
 sand and looked out at the shifting colors of sea and 
 sky. 
 
 Worn with watching, I must have slept and 
 dreamed ; for the sea disappeared, although the sound 
 of softly flowing water was still in my ears. I saw a 
 river, white with lotus blooms, winding through banks 
 of mist. A boatman waited at his oars. 
 
 As I gazed, wondering, a woman passed through 
 the shadows near me, and paused at the water's edge. 
 The boatman stood up, and held out his hand to her. 
 
 "This is the river of forgetfulness, " he said. 
 "Will you stoop and drink before you cross?" 
 
 I could not see the woman's face ; but she bent for- 
 ward, and I could hear the touch of eagerness in her 
 
"I shall forget," she said, "that my hopes failed?" 
 
 "You will forget that you ever hoped," the boat- 
 man answered. 
 
 She bent nearer to the water. 
 
 "I shall forget that I could not forgive him?" she 
 said. 
 
 "You will forget that you ever loved him," he 
 answered. 
 
 The words seemed to stir some far-away memory, 
 for she started and stood up. Then she bent lower. 
 
 "I shall forget," she said, "that my little ones left 
 my arms. I shall forget how I have cried for them in 
 the darkness, when they did not come. I shall forget 
 that they lost the right way, and my voice could not 
 call them back." 
 
 "You will forget it all," the boatman said. "You 
 will forget that your arms ever held them. You will 
 forget the pressure of their lips upon your breast. You 
 will forget the touch of their dimpled hands in your 
 hair. You will forget—" 
 
 But she was not stooping now. She had raised 
 herself as he spoke, and was walking toward the boat. 
 She stepped in. 
 
 "Row me across," she said. "I will not drink." 
 
 I watched the boat glide in and out among the lotus 
 blooms. As it neared the other bank, the mists parted. 
 I caught a glimpse of sunny slopes and fair meadow- 
 lands, and one coming with a wistful look in his eyes 
 to meet the boat. The woman rose, and stretched out 
 her arms. The wistful look went out of his eyes in a 
 flash of joy as their hands met. He bowed his head as 
 
one who is forgiven. She lifted hers as if a weight was 
 gone, and the light fell upon her face. 
 
 Then they turned toward the sunny slopes, and the 
 mists rolled down. I heard the dip of the boatman's 
 oar and saw — the sea with the silver path across it, the 
 setting sun, and the purple clouds. 
 
 kJ 
 
Inland 
 
 The day has passed into the west, 
 
 The yellow fields have yielded up their sheaves. 
 
 I hear the evening song of reapers, 
 
 And the low of cattle gathering to the fold ; 
 
 The soft leaves rustle, and the night-birds call ; 
 
 And peace lies all across the land. 
 
 Father, I thank thee for it all — 
 For the yellow harvest and the twilight rest; 
 For these peaceful valleys where men dwell 
 As in the hollow of thine hand ! 
 
 But, oh, to feel thy breath within the ocean's 
 
 breeze ; 
 To feel the salt spray dash upon my face ; 
 To hear the sea-gulls' cry and the deep surf roar ; 
 To let my heart leap out with the rushing tide, 
 And my blood keep pace with the flowing wave ; 
 To know again life's fulness and its joy; 
 To stand once more above the Golden Gate ! 
 
Renewal 
 
 I heard the sound of trade, and my ear lost the in- 
 finite harmonies ; 
 
 I felt the grasp of greed, and forgot the touch of the 
 Father's hand. 
 
 I saw deformity and vice, and the vision of the 
 beautiful passed from me ; 
 
 I breathed suspicion and distrust, and the breath of 
 love left me unrefreshed. 
 
 I fled from among my fellowmen, and sought God 
 in the fields, but found him not ; 
 
 I called to him in the forest, but only my own voice 
 answered me ; 
 
 I was alone in the universe — my soul knew him not ; 
 
 I was afraid in the great loneliness. 
 
 I crept in with the cattle, and fell asleep upon the 
 straw ; 
 
 In my dreams I heard the Bethlehem mother sing- 
 ing to her babe ; 
 
 When I wakened, there was still a sound among the 
 rafters — 
 
 Was it only the cry of young swallows in their 
 nests? 
 
 The swift beat of the mother-bird's wing cut the 
 darkness, 
 
 The cry died away into a musical murmur; 
 
 It was like a prayer hushed into a whisper of 
 thanksgiving. 
 
1 no longer felt alone, the place was full of love. 
 
 I lay all night upon the straw, and was not afraid. 
 
 When the dawn came, I went into the fields, 
 
 I felt the Infinite Life thrilling all space. 
 
 I passed through the forest, and the presence of 
 
 God was with me. 
 I came once more among my fellowmen ; 
 I saw the marks of the divine sonship upon their 
 faces 
 
 
Inbound Sails 
 
 There are purple sails in the distant west, 
 And a gleam of gold on the smooth lake's face. 
 There's a whisper of winds in the voiceless trees 
 The white mists rise and the darkness falls ; 
 The gold is gone and the winds are still, 
 And the sails have passed from sight. 
 
 There's a crimson glow in the eastern sky, 
 And an opal flash on the rippling waves. 
 There's a song of birds among the leaves ; 
 The dawn has passed and the breezes blow ; 
 The sun is out and the mists are gone, 
 And the sails have come to port. 
 
 The sun was low when thy sails went out, 
 And the darkness fell as they passed from sight. 
 The night was long and the winds were chill. 
 The morning brightens, the gray dawn breaks ; 
 The sun glows warm, and the waters gleam ; 
 For thy sails come back to me. 
 
A Prayer 
 
 Lord, let me rest in thy deep silences ! 
 
 My soul sickens with the jar and strife ; 
 
 I am weary of the noise and fret of men. 
 
 Let me go where thy timid creatures dwell, 
 
 Where the rabbit hides and the wild thrush nests ; 
 
 Let me hear the grass grow and the pine leaves 
 
 fall; 
 Let me breathe the wild rose and the violet's 
 
 breath ; 
 Let me see the shadows creep among the trees, 
 And the still, sweet darkness coming down ; 
 Let me feel the fulness of thy love, unbound by 
 
 creed or form ; 
 Let my faith quicken and my soul grow strong with 
 
 knowledge of thy nearness ; 
 Lord, let me rest ! Renew thy life within me. 
 
Laus Deo 
 
 The November clouds hung low and gray. The 
 winds swept the brown leaves down. The bare branches 
 beat against the window-pane. I lay very still. I was 
 not suffering now, but pain had left me helpless in body 
 and weak in soul. Suddenly a peal of church bells 
 filled the air; the sound of many steps passed by; the 
 deep tones of an organ reached me, and I heard voices 
 singing praise. They wakened no echo within me. I 
 turned on my pillow, and wept for my lost joys. I lived 
 again through the days of my bitterness. I remembered 
 how the first blow had come, jarring our souls into a 
 consciousness of sorrow. I was with her in that sunny 
 room ; and the songs of birds, the spring breezes, and 
 the breath of wild honey-suckle seemed a part of our 
 pain. We did not speak, but the radiance in her eyes 
 deepened as the hours passed. When we knew that I 
 must go, she touched my hand, and whispered, "It is 
 for you and me to be strong." And I went, knowing 
 it was her strength that sent me. 
 
 I was with her again when the summer quiet rested 
 on wood and field. The eternal silence filled the room, 
 and the everlasting peace was on her brow. I did not 
 cry out against the divine order then ; for the look on 
 that still, sweet face forbade me. But when the living 
 sorrows came — when one I loved walked in a loneliness 
 which I might not share ; when another cried for help 
 in what was half a prayer to God and half a call to me, 
 and I could not answer ; when I knew a life that loved 
 
the sunshine was going out amid the shadows — then I 
 turned my face toward the darkness, and would not see 
 the light. 
 
 I do not know if I slept or if I entered that border- 
 land between life and death where the spiritual vision 
 is undimmed, and the soul catches some sound of the 
 divine harmonies ; for all at once I knew neither pain 
 nor time nor space. A sense of all enfolding love came 
 over me. The meaning of my sorrows seemed a part 
 of the luminous air. I saw one growing strong and 
 trustful in that loneliness over which I had mourned. I 
 heard my friend's voice still praying, "Thy will be 
 done." I saw that darkened life passing out of the 
 shadows into an infinite sea of light. All bitterness 
 melted from my heart. I tried to cry out, to utter my 
 thankfulness for my lost joys, to praise Him for the 
 things given and the things withheld ; but my lips 
 would not obey my will. Then I knew that I was in 
 my room; that the bonds of weakness still bound my 
 body, although the chains had fallen from my soul. 
 
 The winds were silent ; the bare branches rested 
 against the window-pane ; the gray clouds parted, the 
 sun shone through, and dropped behind the hills, leav- 
 ing a golden path across the sky. Through the falling 
 twilight the deep tones of the organ reached me, and 
 again I heard voices singing praise. I folded my 
 hands, and whispered a responsive Amen. Then I lay 
 very still in the darkness, and listened to the sound of 
 many footsteps passing home. 
 
Liberty 
 
 Poor brown brother, looking toward the west, 
 
 The questioning light of liberty dawning in thine 
 
 eyes ! 
 How have we answered this, thy mute appeal 
 For help to walk in freedom, that rugged path 
 Which most enlightened men have climbed with 
 
 toil! 
 We have not called thee toward the heights, 
 Nor stretched our hand to save thy stumbling feet ; 
 Nay, our battle smoke darkens thy quivering light ; 
 The swords of free men beat thee rudely back ; 
 The tramp of legions crushes out thy hope, 
 To thine undoing and to our eternal shame. 
 
Peace 
 
 The time draws near when Mary crooned her mother- 
 song 
 Above the babe of Bethlehem ; 
 And angels sang of peace on earth, 
 Good will to all mankind. 
 Men ceased their toil and left their flocks; 
 The silent stars looked down upon a world 
 New-wakened to the thought of brotherhood. 
 
 The time draws near to keep the festival of peace — 
 
 Listen, brothers! Is that Mary's cradle-song, 
 
 Or the wail of a brown mother weeping over home- 
 less babes? 
 
 Do I hear the angels singing, 
 
 Or the bugle's call to battle and the clash of arms? 
 
 I can not see the stars for flame and smoke. 
 
 Brothers, my heart is troubled ; tell me what it 
 means ! 
 
 The time draws near to sing the Christ-child's song, 
 To bear our offerings to the Prince of Peace ; 
 But every breeze brings sounds of war. 
 O, countrymen of mine, throw down your arms ! 
 Let the next sea-wind blow clear of battle smoke, 
 That we may lift our eyes to the guiding stars ; 
 Let them lead us to the Christ-child's feet. 
 
BkaBK 
 
 m