Book— f T S..5 
 
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 NEVER LOANED. 
 
 tJ^ »f d i t»T g >f u d^TCL^if^ iJ!> i t>f^ o e»ift4^^ e»Tg=^a#i^ 
 
•? 
 
THE 
 
 SKELETON SND THE ROSE, 
 
 U{^^ 'f^K tri^ Y/«L{5ipl(. 
 
 BY 
 
 HEHRY FRAHK. 
 
 BRENTANO BROS. 
 
 CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK. 
 
 1886. 
 
f 7 ^ ^ 
 
 Copyrighted, 188.") 
 
 BV 
 
 Henky Frank. 
 
 ^^e, 
 
 T^ 
 
 /o 
 
 (Press of .J. L. Regan & Co., Chicago.) 
 
TO 
 
 A. R. F., 
 
 ONE OF THE MUSES' KICHLY GIFTED DATJGHTERS, 
 
 FRIEND, HOPE, INSPIRATION, 
 
 I DEDICATE, 
 
 WITH HIGH REGARD AND WARM AFFECTION, 
 
 THESE BREATHINGS OF MY 
 
 HEART. 
 
retelopy tjofd. 
 
 T IKE a frail bark upon an untried sea ; like a fear- 
 ful pilgrim in an unknown land; like a bird, 
 with trembling wings, buffeting the stormy air ; such 
 is the book of an unknown author launched upon 
 the literary sea to sail, it may be, proudly, or, per- 
 chance, to founder in a single day. 
 
 The author of this little book lays no claim to 
 literary merit ; — his only apology for publishing his 
 efforts is the desire to gratify the oft repeated re- 
 quests of his friends, coupled with the hope that 
 possibly the strains, though crudely cast, may prove 
 to other hearts a consolation and a comfort, as they 
 oft have to his own. 
 
 Written in the wanderings of a varied pilgrim- 
 age by rivers' banks; on mountain heights; in 
 
 (5) 
 
6 PREFATOKY NOTE. 
 
 golden orange-groves ; where bend the graceful palm 
 and willow or tower the stately pine ; by the rocking 
 sea-wave's shore; in the shadows of dark and 
 awful canyons; each line associated with some me- 
 mento culled from almost every state and territory of 
 our Great Republic; these "breathings of a pensive 
 heart" are sent afloat with tremblings and misgiv- 
 ings, pleading only leniency in damning, if praise 
 can not be granted. 
 
 A few of the poems herein appearing have been 
 already published by different journals and maga- 
 zines in the course of the last two years ; but most of 
 them are made public for the first time between 
 
 these two lids. 
 
 Henry Frank. 
 
 Chicago, III., Nov. 19, 1885. 
 

 
 r)f(2<r)fv5. 
 
 INVOCATION 9 
 
 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE 11 
 
 POEMS OF LOVE: 
 
 Love's Dream 25 
 
 Plighted 27 
 
 Love's Coquetry 31 
 
 Ode 33 
 
 To Roberta 37 
 
 Written in Sand 40 
 
 POEMS OF MEDITATION: 
 
 Woman 44 
 
 Euthanasia 48 
 
 Moods 52 
 
 A Mother on Viewing the Portrait of Her 
 
 Lost Child 59 
 
 To THE San Miguel Bell 64 
 
 Harmony 72 
 
 (7) 
 
» CONTENTS. 
 
 POEMS OF FANCY AND IMAGINATION: page. 
 
 Adkienne 76 
 
 Youth's Dream 80 
 
 The Romance of a Rose . 84 
 
 Betbayed 86 
 
 The Hunter AND THE BrRD 89 
 
 Hope 92 
 
 Santa Barbara, Cal. 95 
 
 HYMNS: 
 
 "ToTheeOIGod" 101 
 
 A Prayer 103 
 
 POEMS OF NATURE: 
 
 A Spring Song 108 
 
 Spring in theNorth 112 
 
 Summer IN the South 114 
 
 Song OF the Waters 115 
 
 Snow 120 
 
 Autumn Scene 122 
 
 Song op the Stars 124 
 
 "Winter Nights 127 
 
 In the Spring 128 
 
 POEMS OF PATHOS : 
 
 Young Life Adrift 133 
 
 A Dirge 137 
 
 InMemoriamH. E. W 141 
 
 The Dying Chieftain . 14G 
 
 Mourn for the Living Lost : 152 
 
InvocnWon. 
 
 r\ ! MUSE awake my secret powers 
 
 With mellow suns or chilling showers ! 
 
 Or smoothest seas or storms are best, 
 
 Thou knowest — in thy will I rest. 
 
 Come strokes of woe upon my soul, 
 
 Enchanting music forth shall roll: — 
 
 The jewel smitten by the rod 
 
 Casts richer hues upon the sod. 
 
 Should sad affliction dim my eyes, 
 
 Then through their mists, as o'er the skies 
 
 The light beyond spreads radiant bow, 
 
 Thv liofht within shall radiance throw. 
 
 To thee who weavest hope and pain 
 
 In common woof of peace again, 
 
 Where'er thou liid'st, O! Muse sublime. 
 
 In worlds eterne, or spheres of time ; 
 (9) 
 
10 INVOCATION. 
 
 lu Cynthia's silver wings of light, 
 Or shades of dark Cimmerian night ; 
 In sea-waves' monotone of woe; 
 In zephyrs, kissing worlds below. 
 Wafting from the mystic lands. 
 Whither beckon unseen hands ; — ■ 
 To thee alone my song shall be, 
 From flowered earth and moon-lit sea! 
 O ! Muse benign, my soul inspire. 
 Attune to joy my languid lyre! 
 And from my heart's repentant echo 
 Give comfort to the slaves of woe, 
 That lispings of a feeble soul 
 Charmed anthems o'er a world may roll! 
 
 
Tm ^k^Ufan «npi ifi^ K^^l 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 I called on dreams and visions to disclose. 
 
 That wliich is veUed from waking thought; 
 
 ***** And life was put 
 
 To inquisitions long and profitless, 
 
 By pain of heart, — now checked and now impelled, 
 
 The Intellectnal Power through wf)rds and things 
 
 Went sounding on a dim and perilous way! 
 
 WoacswoKTH. 
 
 TN a southern clime on a sultry night, 
 ^ O'er my books as I bent and in revery read, 
 While the world liquid lay, in the lambent light 
 0£ departing day, and but breath of the dead 
 Seemed the stirless air, unswept with the sound 
 Of breeze, or the rustle of leaf on the ground; 
 
 'Twas on such an eve, while the legends I read 
 Of time-honored saints, and of warriors grand, 
 
 (11) 
 
12 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Their soul-searchings traced, and foilowed their 
 
 tread, 
 Or on field, or in book, or that mystical strand, 
 Whose fore-glimpse is caught by the soul's piercing 
 
 glance : — 
 While so reading — a vision held my senses in 
 
 trance. 
 
 Sudden seemed the room overcast with deep dark. 
 
 And e'en as I looked from the dark to evolve 
 
 A strange figure, whose outline, though dim, seemed 
 
 to mark 
 A shape human ! — Startled : yet the puzzle to solve 
 Most determined, I seemed dragged toward the form. 
 Where lo ! hung a skeleton like cloud torn in 
 
 storm ! 
 
 Trembling, I paused, made speechless with fright. — 
 No need for a word: for the grinning intruder. 
 His jaws 'gan to open, and with voice like a sprite 
 Thin and piping, but with speeches of wisdom far 
 
 shrewder, 
 My soul overpowered, my senses enthralled. 
 Till listening, I lay at his feet uuappalled. 
 
THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 13 
 
 II. 
 
 The Skeleton's Story, or the Skeptic's 
 Chant. 
 
 Son of man, oil, idle-born, list, oh, list to what 
 
 I say: 
 Sad and sorrowful my theme, dirgeful is my minstrel 
 
 lay! 
 
 Born was I, like all men else, with flesh and blood 
 
 and hope and song; 
 Eoamed the streets and filled the marts, sailed the 
 
 seas and massed the throng. 
 
 'Round the whole world wandered I, on ocean's 
 bosom sought the east, 
 
 And from the east to west returned, all things seek- 
 ing e'en the least. 
 
 Studied charts of stars and globes, seeking every- 
 where for truth, 
 
 As truth in God alone is found: God of manhood 
 and of youth! 
 
14 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Sciences long studied I; the outer mould of earth 
 
 incleaving ; 
 Tlie bowels of its inmost caves, its mines, and vulcan 
 
 forces heaving 
 
 Giant forms of naked rocks, the hollow midst of 
 
 earth revealing; 
 These studied I: from quartz or ore or fossil mould 
 
 their secrets stealing. 
 
 Worlds wandering in seas of space 'round labyrinth 
 
 orbits well defined, 
 And other worlds still onward rolling 'round vaster 
 
 worlds still undivined: 
 
 These too I studied: their birth, their light and 
 present source of preservation ; 
 
 And studying, wondered "Where could be the won- 
 drous Lord of such creation?" 
 
 E'en sought the lore of wisdom past, from Roman, 
 
 Greek or orient Persian; 
 Traced their myths and classic song; severed truth 
 
 from false assertion. 
 
THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 15 
 
 Learned Zend' Vesta's dual powers, and Aristotle's 
 
 logic forms: 
 Weapons strong for every warrior in the world's 
 
 polemic storms. 
 
 Zeno taught me stoic rigor, self denial, manly- 
 strength ; — 
 
 Plato taught me God to see, so manifest in breadth 
 and length 
 
 Of all created worlds around : yet how this Over Soul 
 
 to grasp. 
 And, separate from space and time, his spirit in my 
 
 own enclasp; 
 
 This taught he not: nor Seneca that sage supreme 
 
 of ancient Borne, 
 Though he taught well of Truth and Honor, of Virtue 
 
 and of Home. 
 
 Though pained with search and weary grown, still 
 
 panting for the Truth sublime; 
 Though thin and wan and fainting 'most, from 
 
 height to height sought still to climb. 
 
16 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 
 
 I traced the lore of mystic Ind, and all the 
 
 wisdom of that land, 
 Where Buddha sang and Vishnu reigns and millions 
 
 bend 'neath Brahma's hand. 
 
 Gautama sang of woe and death, and comfort spake 
 
 to suffering souls: 
 And sweet his song of solace flows as water o'er a 
 
 banklet rolls. — - 
 
 Yet God to him no power gave to know Him from 
 
 the vast of worlds ; 
 No more to him is God above than cloud that in the 
 
 storm-wind swirls: 
 
 No more than flower that breathes and speaks, than 
 lightning's glare, or thunder's voice; 
 
 In each his God he equal finds with calm and philo- 
 sophic choice ! 
 
 So tireless sought I heights and depths, the worlds 
 
 agone and still to come, 
 Till breathless, frantic, crazed, the highlands sought, 
 
 forsook my home, 
 
THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 17 
 
 And like the beasts and birds of air, from Nature 
 
 strove my pearl to earn; 
 From juice of herb and smell of flower the secret of 
 
 her Lord to learn! 
 
 I begged the trees their secret tell, and flowing 
 
 waters whose sweet song, 
 Like voices of the long lost past, recalled my friends 
 
 in thickening throng! 
 
 I called the stars my witness be, who nightly down 
 
 upon me gazed, 
 As eyes of wandering spirits lost, when glued with 
 
 fright aghast, amazed, 
 
 Stare wildly at some phantom sight: so stared they 
 
 on me, still I cried 
 Their secret to my soul to tell: how God supreme 
 
 might be espied! 
 
 And then beside the Ocean knelt and heard the storm 
 
 and sough of waves, 
 Whose sobbing cry through tearful voice like mine 
 
 for aye a blessing craves. 
 
18 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 
 
 'O ! Ocean old and wondrous wise whose bosom count- 
 less throngs have borne, 
 
 Who holdest in thy crystal heart the cause of reck- 
 less lives forlorn: 
 
 Who wast when earth and sky were one, and heard' st 
 
 the voice of Him above 
 Declare them separate, and thyself in pit confined 
 
 no more to rove: 
 
 O! Father Ocean, grimly wise, who hast the scenes 
 
 of worlds o'er gazed, 
 Whom now we praise with wondering hearts, as 
 
 voices of the past have praised: 
 
 Whose world mysterious, unrevealed, conceal the 
 
 works of Him I seek, 
 Oh, at thy feet while still I list, speak, relieve my 
 
 heart and speak!' 
 
 But swish, and slush, and heaving sough, their lazy 
 
 monotone proclaim. 
 And sound not from their vasty deep the echo of his 
 
 solemn name! 
 
THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 19 
 
 So wandered I creation o'er till wasting flesh and 
 
 blood decayed ; 
 Still thirsting and insatiate still this God to find I 
 
 still essayed! 
 
 But over all the worlds I've roved through stars and 
 suns and endless spheres, 
 
 Still seeking Him I found not yet and still am seek- 
 ing through the years ! " 
 
 And while he yet spake and his voice trembled 
 
 low, 
 Dissolving the figure seemed passing from sight; 
 Yet e'en where it stood, most distinctly but slow, 
 The shadows were changing and the shades turning 
 
 light; 
 But as lighter it grew seemed a form to arise, 
 Overclad with such beauty an angel might prize. 
 
 Stood awhile looking sweet, then its veil threw 
 
 aside, 
 And its breath sent it forth, so deliciously pure. 
 
20 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 
 
 Seemed zephyr from paradise ; when gazing I 
 
 spied 
 'Twas a flower abloom, by some charm held secure 
 In that spot where but now the skeleton hung: 
 Then with voice like a seraph's enchantingly sung: 
 
 III. 
 
 The Song of the Rose, or the Yoice of 
 Faith. 
 
 My story is simple it need not be long, 
 Flows like a waterfall, ripples like song! 
 
 I was born a rose-bud and unfolded in bloom, 
 
 For I sought not the darkness nor moulded in gloom. 
 
 But a sun-beam flew over my soul one day, 
 Sang love to my heart in a sweet minstrel lay: — 
 
 The sun-beam I kissed and my bosom unbared, 
 
 So his light is my shield, and his arrows unspared 
 
 Palisade and defend me in life or in death: — 
 For his life is my life and his spirit my breath! 
 
THE SKELETON AND THE HOSE. 21 
 
 My heart I just opened and the sun-beam flew in, 
 Painted my colors and his fragrance blew in ! 
 
 No burden have I but my bosom to bare, 
 
 For my sun-love, my joy relieves from all care. 
 
 He weaves me my raiment and outlines my form ; 
 Shields me with leaves 'gainst the wild sweeping 
 storm ; 
 
 Stamps his own hues on my morning-flushed face, 
 And each lace-like vein his bright fingers trace! 
 
 So, wherever I am, my sun-light is there, 
 The world to illumine, refresh the foul air. 
 
 My fragrance is his, his sweetness is mine, 
 
 And we too are but one locked in love-life divine. 
 
 So, at last, when my petals fade and fall to the 
 
 ground. 
 Absorbed in my love, without noise or a sound, 
 
22 THE SKELETON AND THE ROSE. 
 
 On the wings of his light, uncoffined, unseen, 
 
 I am borne to the home of his kingdom, his Queen! 
 
 IV. 
 
 So speaking she vanished in a cloud of light lying, 
 With a liutteriug sound as if angels wei'e flying, — 
 Ah ! how simple the lesson I have learned in my dream. 
 For truth of times stranger than fiction may seem ; 
 And as problems arise to abuse my repose, 
 "Which is best," ask I now, "the Skeleton or Kose?" 
 
J^V?:?<^%?:>' 
 
 e.rns a 
 
 -^ 
 
 t Jjave, 
 
 ii^sJt^'^^iVt^ 
 
All thoughts, all passions, all delights 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
 All are but ministers of love, 
 And feed his sacred fiame. 
 
 —Coleridge. 
 
 Wait, and Love himself will bring 
 The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit 
 Of wisdom. —Tennyson. 
 
h^V{^ J}r{nv[\- 
 
 /^LOUDS afloat, clouds afloat, 
 ^ Adrift o'er the azure sea: 
 So floats my pensive soul to-day, 
 Adrift, adream on thee. 
 
 Like white foam flakes, 
 
 Aswirl in the lakes, 
 With moon-beams silvered over, 
 
 So float my thoughts, 
 
 Like silver spots, 
 On the river of love forever. 
 
 I hear the sound of singing streams 
 
 A.dripping on the rocks : — 
 A lovely maiden becks to me 
 With moon-beams in her locks! 
 The boat is there, 
 As light as air, 
 
 (26) 
 
26 love's dream. 
 
 And the ocean blue as the sky: 
 
 We sail away, 
 
 O'er the misty spray, 
 Like birds through the azure fly! 
 
 The ocean of love is a billovvless bourne, 
 Whose bosom we rudderless ride; 
 
 But deep as its depths and vast as its leagues 
 Is my love for the Queen of my Pride! 
 
 O! treacherous sea, 
 
 The story we three 
 Alone of the whole world know: — 
 
 How the maelstrom swirled, 
 
 And my Love-Queen whirled 
 From my arms to the deeps below! 
 
 ^^^i^f^^^-'i^ 
 
^wm^. 
 
 T^WO mountains rear their bald, gray heads, 
 
 And pierce the haloing sky. 
 Two streamlets wind their silvery threads 
 O'er rocky beds on high. 
 
 The purling streams are glad and free 
 
 As deer on native heights; 
 Tlieir songs are full of liberty: 
 
 They flash with radiant lights. 
 
 Their dauntless spirits brave the steeps, 
 
 And spurn the rocky dell ; 
 Tliey smile to yon sweet sky that peeps 
 
 'Tween canyons where they dwell. 
 
 Hmw echo all the mountain heights, 
 Che pines with whispering sounds, 
 
 (27) 
 
28 PLIGHTED. 
 
 With joyance of their wanton flights, 
 As each with rapture bounds! 
 
 What thought have they, what burden born 
 
 Of terror, hope, or love ? 
 The rocks the storms have swept and torn, 
 
 And ages yet shall prove, 
 
 With mocking glance they scout and scorn, 
 
 And sing their reckless joy; 
 Each storm-cleft boulder, left forlorn, 
 
 They hail a welcome toy! 
 
 Unknown to each, each onward bounds 
 
 Down rocky gorge and dell. 
 O'er heights there mingle echoing sounds, 
 
 That soon their fate shall tell. 
 
 "Hark," says each streamlet, "whence that son| 
 
 Afloat from some far sphere? 
 Oh, come again, sweet strain, prolong 
 
 And thrill my listening ear! " 
 
PLIGHTED. 29 
 
 The leaping cascades bound and rush, 
 
 And, 'tween the opening rocks. 
 Behold with love's first thrilling flush, 
 
 The fate their future mocks! 
 
 Nor rock, nor steep, nor sullen fate 
 Can thwart th" embracing streams: — 
 
 With love's first thrill intoxicate, 
 Their course securer seems! 
 
 "Behold, 'tis fierce, aud dark, and deep. 
 
 Where wends yon canyon wild; — 
 Together there we'll plunge and leap: — 
 
 Dost tremble my fair child?" 
 
 " Through many a gorge and many a ledge, 
 
 Bold shall we urge our way; — 
 Love's amulet — this one pure pledge — 
 
 S^jill hold us lest we stray." 
 
 So spake the elder, — " See afar, 
 Where furious falls yon stream 
 
30 PLIGHTED. 
 
 With maddened foam o'er hindering bar, 
 With frenzied glow agleam ; — 
 
 " Once like to thee, my own fond child, 
 'Twas free, and young, and fair. 
 
 And wantonly the uplands wild 
 Roamed void of every care," 
 
 "Ah yes" — the fainter voice replied, 
 " Behold where roams the stream, 
 
 Just now a bow of peace I spied. 
 Where fell a vagrant beam !" 
 
 "Fond promise, spanning all the years 
 
 Of trials unknown before; 
 Thus blent in one our mutual tears 
 
 Shall mutual hope restore ! " 
 
 The canyon's widening jaws still yawn, 
 — How dark its deep abyss ! — 
 
 Their hope is fixed on love's fair dawn, 
 Their pledge is love's sweet kiss! 
 
TTEAVY weighs my soul to-day, 
 
 Pilling with departing day, 
 Bending with the wind-swayed tree-top, 
 Weeping with the falling dew-drop. 
 
 Ah, Love, know'st why? 
 And dost not sigh ? 
 Heigho ! 
 
 Stars are glittering in the sky: — 
 But the winds beneath them siofh. 
 Blooms the rose-bush briorht and sweet:- 
 But a brooklet, sobbing, bathes its feet! 
 
 Ah, Love, know'st why? 
 
 And dost not sigh? 
 
 Heigho ! 
 
 (31) 
 
32 love's coquetry. 
 
 The nightingale sings its tuneful woe: 
 While the owlet hoots in the bough below: 
 Timidly swaying in light of the moon, 
 Pales a bright star withering soon. 
 
 Ah, Love, know'st why? 
 
 And wilt not sigh ? 
 
 Heigho! 
 
 But the caged bird sings behind the burs ; 
 The eaglet, motherless, soars to the stars: 
 The calm-coursed river scorns the rocks, 
 And o'er them roaring the whole earth shocks! 
 
 Ah, Love, know'st why? 
 
 What! dost thou sigh? 
 
 And hear'st my cry! 
 
 Hey! Ho! 
 
 No more sigh I! 
 
flpl( u]\ ]u^V{. 
 
 OINCE fabled Cupid erst strung his bow, 
 
 And shot his arrow 
 Of piercing passion this base workl through, 
 We've sung of love! 
 And still they say 'tis in the world. 
 But what is love? 
 
 A maddened brain, a heart all whirled 
 With quenchless flame? 
 
 Is't love to bend above the rose, 
 
 Enjoy its fragrance 
 
 But because it rests not in repose 
 
 Upon your breast, 
 
 To curse and trample it in dust, 
 
 And wreak revenge? 
 
 Is't love to sate with soulless lust 
 
 The heated blood, 
 
 2 (33) 
 
34 ODE ON LOVE. 
 
 Till passion so embrutes the man, 
 'Most beast is he ? 
 
 Is't love to pine till, thin and wan, 
 
 One dies. 
 
 Mourned by a feeling few, who wonder 
 
 Why stout souls. 
 
 Embarrassed by such trials, surrender, 
 
 Yet brave the cannon 
 
 In battle's dread and bloody charge? 
 
 What then is love? 
 
 To dream till lambent skies enlarge 
 
 Their milky paths. 
 
 And all the stars together swim 
 
 In liquid eyes, 
 
 That sadly gaze fast fixed on him 
 
 Whom none else see? 
 
 To love is not to fight or slay: — 
 It is to die\ 
 
 On bleeding bosoms there to lay 
 The mortal life, 
 
ODE ON LOVE. 35 
 
 That from immortal sacrifice, 
 Inspiriting incense 
 Shall from duty's altars rise, 
 Thefall'n to save! 
 
 True love seeks not reward for self; 
 
 But free from greed 
 
 And avarice, as saint from pelf. 
 
 Unselfish lies 
 
 Inwoven in another's soul. 
 
 Like sun to flower 
 
 The unseen force that shapes the whole: 
 
 Motive divine! 
 
 As songs ascending in the air 
 
 Enchant our souls, 
 
 And lift to higher worlds and fair ; 
 
 Though disembodied, 
 
 Yet how or why we cannot tell : — 
 
 So love new makes us, 
 
 Mellows all the soul with swell 4^ 
 
 Of sweet affection, 
 
36 ODE ON LOVE. 
 
 As when Autumn's purple haze, 
 Like a sea of peace, 
 The harsh contour of earth enswathes, 
 O'er mellowing all! 
 
 Sordid, selfish love is not 
 
 The strongest passion 
 
 That rings the heart to change our lot 
 
 From grief to joy. 
 
 Ah no! But sacrificial love, 
 
 Whose flames expire, 
 
 Only when its strength we prove 
 
 To save another! 
 
 The burning stars, expiring, light 
 
 A world o'er-nighted: — 
 
 The dying rose emits in flight 
 
 Its soothing fragrance: — 
 
 So love, self-slain and dying, spills 
 
 Its royal blood, 
 
 And baser hearts of earth enthrills 
 
 With life its own! 
 
To K°h(rt«-- 
 
 A BIED hung in the swinging trees 
 ^^"^ Singing, singing, singing, 
 And all the vibratory breeze 
 
 Einging, ringing, ringing, 
 Made answer to its cheery call, 
 And bird and breeze and boughs and all 
 
 Were crying Roberta. 
 
 And violet banks of fragrant hue 
 
 Blowing, blowing, blowing. 
 Dipped to the edge of the waters blue, 
 
 Flowing, flowing, flowing: 
 And river and flowers together sang, 
 And all the echoing woodlands rang 
 
 In chorus, Boberia. 
 
 And fast the silver sounding-streams, 
 Dripping, dripping, dripping, 
 
 (37) 
 
38 TO ROBERTA. 
 
 Leaped the rocks with circling gleams, 
 
 Tripping, tripj^ing, tripping: 
 And pebbles, rocks, and fountains clear, 
 
 Thrilled with joy my listening ear, 
 
 Still trebling Roberta. 
 
 And the eyes of Night, in the ball of blue, 
 Twinkling, twinkling, twinkling. 
 
 Their scattering beams of brilliant hue. 
 Sprinkling, sprinkling, sprinkling, 
 
 Called each to each through the vacuous air. 
 
 And star to star and sky so fair 
 All echoed Roberta] 
 
 And the racket of trade in the busy bazaars, 
 
 Pushing, pushing, pushing. 
 And the roll of the whe*fels on the lumbering cars 
 
 Rushing, rushing, rushing, 
 Sang only in chorus of bass and strong, 
 Above the racket and jargon and throng, 
 
 The fair name RobertaX 
 
TO ROBERTA. 39 
 
 And the tear on my cheek that burned its way, 
 Throbbing, throbbing, throbbing. 
 
 And the voice in my heart that could not pray, 
 Sobbing, sobbing, sobbing, 
 
 Spake to my soul with imploring appeals: — 
 
 And like voice and the tear my heart now feels 
 I love thee Roberta! 
 
 
 ;^*«x^ 
 
Writr^n in ^wnd. 
 
 'npWAS long ago. 
 
 We two were on tlie beach alone :— 
 
 We loved. 
 I stooped and wrote a name unknown, 
 Save only to two hearts alone: — 
 
 'Twas in the sand. 
 
 But the wild waves came, 
 And washed that name in the sand away, 
 
 That I wrote. 
 Ah, little we dreamed, that distant day, 
 That name was foolishly written alway, 
 
 Only in sand. 
 
 Though vanished forever 
 
 From the beach, where once with my finger 'twas 
 
 written 
 
 In sand: — 
 
 (40) 
 
WRITTEN IN SAND. 41 
 
 On the beach of my memory, with sorrow-waves 
 
 smitten, 
 That name with a rod of misery is written, 
 Forever in sand! 
 
 
/ " icd-if (Zttior). 
 
The subtlest thought that finds its goal 
 Far, far beyond the horizon's verge, — 
 Oh! shoot it forth on arrows bold 
 The thoughts of men on, on to urge. 
 
 -C.S, 
 
 Ever a current of sadness deep 
 
 Through the streams of thy triumph is heard to sweep. 
 
 — Hemans. 
 
T7OEM and figure are not solely, 
 
 What we love in woman wholly ; 
 But the charm of matchless grace, 
 Not in folds of fleecy lace 
 Which her satin robes may trace, 
 But in thought, in deed, in heart. 
 Which sweetness to her years impart. 
 
 I love to see some carved image, 
 The pride of every clime and age. 
 Whose each lin'ament force foretells, 
 And carnal passions calmly quells, 
 While all my soul with rapture swells. 
 As lost in dreaming, love, and hope. 
 My spirits with past years elope. 
 
 Sometimes woman can so charm me, 
 And with thousand thrills alarm me, 
 
 (44) 
 
WOMAN. 45 
 
 As o'er my humble path she flits, 
 Like when suu, some wavelet hits, 
 And scatters sparkling diamond bits 
 All before my dazzled eyes, 
 Then sweetly smiling from me flies. 
 
 Some eyes as deep and beaming are 
 
 As the evening's radiant star; 
 
 Whose liquid light my soul absorbs 
 
 Like the sun the lesser orbs ; 
 
 And oft my heart of hearts disturbs, 
 
 Till days and nights, and nights and days. 
 
 Confusion whirls my brain always. 
 
 But beauty, charming elf of day, 
 Yanishing at night away: 
 Rainbow cast in morning mist, 
 Sheen on lake by sun-beam kissed. 
 Let me all thy glories list. 
 What art thou but moulded clay, 
 Shattered in a single day ? 
 
46 WOMAN. 
 
 But lovely woman, whose great heart 
 
 Heals the blight of sorrow's smart, 
 
 Smooths the brow o£ ruffled care, 
 
 Shuts the eyes that wildly stare 
 
 O'er life's past with madful glare, 
 
 Evermore thy praise we sing, 
 
 Whose echo through the years shall ring. 
 
 What's to me a flower's smell, 
 
 If my pain it cannot quell? 
 
 What's to me the gloried visage 
 
 Of some long time-honored image. 
 
 Though crowned with praise of every age, 
 
 If it shows not some deep feeling 
 
 For my sorrow o'er it stealing? 
 
 Not the eyes that beam the brightest, 
 Not the feet that dance the lightest. 
 Not the lips that sweetest smile 
 And faint hearts the most beguile. 
 Wasting priceless pearls the while : — 
 
"WOMAN. 47 
 
 Tliiuk not that tliese charms cau hohl us, 
 When life's chilling waves enfold us. 
 
 A hand far reaching on th3 waves, 
 The sinking soul devoutly craves, 
 A steady placid face above, 
 Beaming with its lights of love: — 
 The heart's devotion best to prove. 
 When sun is sunk and storms are hiofh. 
 And echoes 'round death's hollow sigh. 
 
 God be praised for hearts not eyes. 
 For suns and not for painted skies ! 
 Praise woman for her hands of love 
 That help the woes of life remove, 
 And bring to us from heaven above 
 The soothing peace our soul embalms, 
 And life's tumultuous ocean calms. 
 
£ut}lHnC:(<5iR. 
 
 T T seemed to me good one day to die, 
 
 And cast tliis mortal coil aside ; 
 In sweet nnconscious bliss to lie 
 Embosomed in death's sable tide. 
 Forever free from madding care, 
 And endless shame, and strife and woe, 
 Dissolved again to dust and air. 
 No more the ills of life to know. 
 O ! hail, I cried, thou silent night, 
 Eternal rest of wearied souls, 
 Thy starless depths to me are bright, 
 Tliy caverns where no echo rolls! 
 Why linger here where pinching want 
 The 'Avildered brain doth craze, and hearts 
 Are crushed by pale-cheeked woes, that haunt 
 The soul, pierced deep with misery's darts ? 
 
 (48) 
 
EUTHANASIA. 49 
 
 O ! sing not dirgeful songs for me, 
 All wrapped in death's embalming sleep; 
 My spirit from all misery free 
 Asks not that thou shoukVst sigh nor weep. 
 Not chill and damp is death's embrace, 
 Nor cold and rude his withering hand; 
 He smooths the wrinkles from my face, 
 And summons angels near me stand; 
 And all the strains of rapturous song. 
 That angel-choirs in heaven may sing, 
 He renders deep, divine, and long. 
 While still to life I feebly cling. 
 
 Ah, from out yon tomb, a voice 
 
 Calls my name, divinely sweet, 
 
 And bids me in my lot rejoice. 
 
 And haste with joyous hopeful feet. 
 
 Ah maid, thou maid of chastest form, 
 
 All ensconced Avithin tliat tomb, 
 
 My love, my hope, my pride, my charm, 
 
 I love thee still within thy gloom! 
 
50 EUTHANASIA. 
 
 With thee, I fain alway would live, 
 Where love, no more with bitter fangs, 
 Deep pain and sting the lieart can give. 
 And waste dear life with wanton pangs. 
 Away, away in endless peace. 
 Where not the thrill of nameless joy. 
 In all the winding years shall cease, 
 Nor 23ride of earth our bliss destroy! 
 O! endless life, immortal hope. 
 Better far than these dull years. 
 Where endless death with life doth cope, 
 And ever burst the painful tears ! 
 
 Then down in my tomb 
 Slowly lower my frame. 
 Shrink not from the gloom: 
 Fear nothing but shame! 
 Let the organ peal low, 
 And the bell slowly toll. 
 
EUTHANASIA. 51 
 
 While the strains softly flow 
 O'er my vanishing soul: 
 
 " Farewell, farewell " 
 Sounds the sweet voiced bell. 
 
 " Welcome here, welcome here:" — 
 
 Strange voices are near. 
 
 'Tis done, shut my eyes, 
 
 Let me waft to the skies ! 
 
 Sing a hymn, not a dirge, 
 
 I am free from life's surge! 
 
 MESa^ti^ 
 
MddpI^. 
 
 OOMEHOW I am thinking thy spirit is sad, 
 
 Borne down with the tide of some woe, 
 And, tangled in misery's meshes, is mad 
 With this life, slipping fast with the years' onward 
 flow. 
 
 The dreams of thy youth have faded to naught, 
 Thy once fervid passions to ashes have burned; 
 The crown thou hast jeweled and in fierce conflict 
 
 sought, 
 Fell scattered to fragments by the world coldly 
 
 spurned. 
 
 The tears that were shed in the joy of thy hope. 
 When the first flush of triumph was lighting thy eye 
 Are forgotten long since, for now thou must cope 
 With tears that are bitter, and the oft-choking sigh ! 
 
 (52) 
 
MOODS. 
 
 53 
 
 How oft in the sober, sad moods of one's life, 
 When the battle eblis low and the din is suppressed, 
 Come again the grim scenes of the long bloodless 
 
 strife, 
 Not an armistice granting, till the last dreamless 
 
 rest ! 
 
 When we stand by the shore t)f the deep heaving 
 
 sea, 
 And its waves roar like monsters anhungered for 
 
 prey. 
 While the winds ghastly sigh, how sad then are we 
 As the moon spreads her pallor o'er the shore-drip- 
 
 ping spray 
 
 Come ever such moods to the hearts of great men, 
 Whose names gird the earth like electrical wires, 
 And all ages have shaped with sword or with pen. 
 Whose memory mankind with hope still inspires? 
 
 Visit their tombs in the night's silent hour. 
 And bend thy keen ear to the heart of the past, 
 
54 MOODS. 
 
 List to their spirits and bending still lower, 
 Thou shalt hear through their joy a sad wail to the 
 last! 
 
 The rising of genius through the soul's drifting 
 
 moods, 
 As the moon's often is through the clouds of the 
 
 night. 
 But a glimmer at first, then, with rapturous floods, 
 O'er the spirit and mind casts effulgence of light. 
 
 Our fancied Hesperides lie over the sea. 
 
 Though our faint dreaming souls may scarcely know 
 
 where ; 
 But lured by our hope, we leave the roof -tree 
 And plunge o'er the deep with a wild restless glare. 
 
 How often the sheen of the fair golden fruit 
 Seems agleam just across some small arm of the sea; 
 We shout with wild joy and push on the pursuit: — 
 We have seized it! — -'Tis ours! — Nay 'tis gone — it is 
 free! 
 
MOODS. 55 
 
 Th' ignus fatuus glows for awhile then is gone, 
 And mirages erst sate us, then so quickly deceive: 
 So has nature our genius awaking oft done, 
 By a flash, by a hint, our dull sense to relieve. 
 
 But how painful the qualms of the birth of this 
 power. 
 
 As nature bursts forth through the crust of oppres- 
 sion ! 
 
 Some alas! are too weak for the shock of this hour, 
 
 And baffled and trampled run wild of their mission. 
 
 Man crushes the fruit to sip the rich wine, 
 
 And crumples the rose its fond fragrance to breathe: 
 
 So affliction has thrumbed from some hearts songs 
 
 divine, 
 As a crisis-called hero swings his sword from its 
 
 sheath. 
 
 In Dante's doomed spirit oft breathed divine art, 
 While youth's curly locks still hung on his brow; 
 
56 MOODS. 
 
 But 'twas sorrow's rude hand swept the chords of 
 
 his heart, 
 When he sang till gods listened like mortals below! 
 
 In Murillo's faint heart how oft glowed the fires, 
 While he mused o'er the embers or dreamed of his 
 
 fate; 
 What wonder some god his spirit inspires 
 To outvie his proud master and forestall his estate ! 
 
 And thou, Angelo, from the ages of night, 
 Resplendently rising like the moon's lambent orb, 
 Furrowing through clouds thy plowshare of light, 
 Till the gloom in thy glory thou dost wholly absorb : 
 
 Never hung o'er thy radiant splendor a shade, 
 
 Beglooming thy spirit within and without, 
 
 As over the sun in his pageant parade. 
 
 Their dull scudding hues the clouds at times flout? 
 
 And Milton, was thy spirit jewel-laden each day. 
 Reflecting its thousand-fold beams through each 
 thought ; 
 
MOODS. 57 
 
 And was it not gloomed at times in life's fray, 
 Like the proud soaring eagle with the clouds it had 
 sought ? 
 
 And when on thy eyeballs fell night's endless dark. 
 Was not thy soul dimmed with gloom sympathetic ? 
 Though, lit on thy way with thy soul's single spark. 
 Swelled thy song like thy spirit profoundly pathetic! 
 
 I have oft seen the moon, slipping through silver 
 
 skies, 
 Turn the clouds that opposed her to islands of light! 
 Swift rivers their beauty never show till they rise 
 Over rocks and jewel the air in their flight! 
 
 Through the slime of lake-beds the lilies upshoot, 
 Oversprinkling the waters like stars oi the day. 
 In the dungeon of earth each flower takes root ; 
 And diamonds flash forth from the forest's decay! 
 
 In the moon, in the river, in jewels and flowers 
 Fond poesy sings the story of life: — 
 
58 MOODS. 
 
 " Our weakness is strength, and what are our powers, 
 If a wound or a gash drive us back in the strife ! 
 
 "Our tears shall be pearls in hope's mystic retort, 
 And anthems our groans sweeping over life's chords, 
 If in battle's thick heat we defend the last fort, 
 And retreat not a step but hold firm to our swords!" 
 
 "mm 
 
f[ lAo\}i{r on Viewing ^Vi J^artrRitaf fl(r 
 
 A NGEL from thy heavenly sphere 
 Sweetly smiling on me here, 
 Gone thy visage from our vision 
 Ever more to fields Elysian, 
 Where no more thy gentle lids 
 Droop to sleep, when evening bids, 
 On thy mother's swelling bosom 
 Like a dew-bathed sleeping blossom ! 
 
 O ! my darling, art thou gone 
 Beyond the worlds, beyond the sun ? 
 Yet thy sweet face, my baby-beauty, 
 Wakes within each sense of duty. 
 As from out the past thou risest. 
 Like a dream my soul surprisest, 
 
 (59) 
 
60 POKTRAIT OF HER LOST CHILD. 
 
 And thy gentle hand doth lead me 
 Back to baby-land with thee. 
 But on the canvas there thou art, 
 Brought back to life by magic art ; 
 Thine eyes, as if with rare delight. 
 Spread wide their orbs with wonder bright. 
 And arched again thy tender lips 
 Where cupid hid his arrow-tips. 
 Smile with ancient sweetness on me 
 As I dream serenely of thee! 
 O ! that round, and peach-like face, 
 Thy very own with every grace 
 That bewitched me with its smiles. 
 When with lamb-like, wanton wiles, 
 Thou didst trick thy mother's heart 
 With pure and inoffensive art. 
 
 Smile upon me, radiant beam 
 Incarnate vision of my dream! 
 Long, oh, long, I've sought to see thee. 
 From my vague thoughts oft to free thee : — 
 
POETKAIT OF HER LOST CHILD. fil 
 
 And at last thou'st come to bless me ; — 
 
 O! that I again might press thee 
 
 To my beating bosom now, 
 
 And all the joys again might know • 
 
 Of a mother's living love 
 
 For a child, not yet above, 
 
 But still with tripping feet the earth 
 
 Treading with unhindered mirth. 
 
 Now I knoAV thou art not dead ; — 
 
 Nor more, with grim and haunting dread, 
 
 Do I mind the days gone by, 
 
 When, Avith one long death ful sigh, 
 
 I kissed thy cold and rigid broAv, 
 
 White and pure as winter's snow. 
 
 Thou art gone, and gone forever 
 
 Beyond the dark lethean river: 
 
 And yet not gone ; — for lo ! thy face 
 
 Here smiles with each bewitching grace ; — 
 
 And I know in yonder sphere 
 
 More graceful e'en art thou than here. 
 
62 PORTRAIT OF HER LOST CHILD. 
 
 Restful solace of my soul, 
 Soft as evening's vesper toll, — 
 The painted image of ray cliild — 
 Image — yet as meek and mild 
 As herself was wont to be. 
 With living smiles encircling me, 
 A morning hymn, an evening prayer 
 On my soul bent low with care: — 
 A fragrance blown from paradise, 
 Wafting from delicious skies :■ — 
 A drifting note from anthem borne, 
 Echoing in my heart forlorn : — 
 Such art thou, thou child of art. 
 To my love-lorn, aching heart. 
 
 Methinks thy angel form is near, 
 Hovering o'er thy portrait here, 
 Diffusing beams of heavenly light 
 O'er those eyes, seraphic-bright. 
 O! artist's cherub, spirit's angel. 
 Thrilling me with blest evangel 
 
PORTRAIT OF HER LOST CHILD. 63 
 
 Of Hope and Joy, once dimly grown, 
 Of Faith, in seeds of sorrow sown ! 
 Before me thou hast cleaved the skies, 
 Whither I shall too uprise, 
 When the measure of my days, 
 Ended with the fading rays 
 Of the last dull, setting sun, 
 Warns me that my course is run. 
 
 Ah that I, like thou, my child, 
 Might leave a fragrance rare and mild, 
 To mellow all the chilly airs 
 That enswathe our life of cares. 
 And might breathe a blissful prayer. 
 On each soul down-prest with care. 
 As my spirit wings to thee, 
 Beyond the eastern, pearl-tint sea ! 
 
A NCIENT bell with naught of beauty, 
 Forever minding man of duty, 
 From the early peep of day, 
 Till rays of light have passed away; 
 Through every age, in every weather, 
 Thy tones riug soft o'er time-mown heather, 
 And ever clear as clarion note, 
 O'er hill and woodland vale afloat, 
 Call mournfully each soul to mass, 
 Both saint and sinner as they pass! 
 
 Touching are thy tones of sweetness, 
 Reverent, pure, with sacred meetness 
 
 *In the old adobe San MLgu'>l Mission at Santa Fe, N. M., there still hangs 
 an ancient bell. Its age is almost equal with that of the church, which is 
 said to be 300 years. The bell shows signs of frequent breaks which, hav- 
 ing been soldered, look like so many scar-ribs along its sides. 
 
 (64) 
 
ODE TO THE SAN MIGUEL BELL. 65 
 
 Rising, falling, gently swelling, 
 All the baser passions quelling; 
 Echoing down the lonely aisles, 
 ^Mong the rafters and the piles 
 Of the chnrch, and my sad soul, 
 As clearly rolls thy mournful toll! 
 
 Changed is all the world about thee, 
 Since erst thy tones rang clear and free, 
 On this arid mid-sea desert, 
 With rocky mount and pine begirt. 
 Changed the forms and thoughts of time ; 
 Out of tune thy wonted chime 
 With newer sounds that earth now fill. 
 Which once thy monotone did thrill. 
 Mighty thrones to dust have crumbled, 
 Bastions and towers tumbled. 
 Emperors, kings and proud estates, 
 Alike have met their dismal fates ; 
 And monuments, time-honored, old, 
 Which patriarch lips have oft retold, 
 
66 ODE TO THE SAN MIGUEL BELL. 
 
 Lie shattered long by vandal hands, 
 Whose ravages molest all lands. 
 And mind, for ages doomed to dust. 
 Though gathered long its slavish rust, 
 Since burst its bands Avith freedom's blows, 
 Its sheen of burnished shaft far throws 
 Back o'er the midnight of the past, 
 And silver angles dares to cast 
 Far forth on cycles yet unborn. 
 Prophetic dawn of each age-morn. 
 Since, feudal forms and ancient lore 
 Are mingled with the myths of yore, 
 And bounding impulse whelms the age, 
 To challenge each historic page. 
 And read anew the deeds of time. 
 From sea to sea and clime to clime. 
 
 And hast thou not, O! ancient bell, 
 These innovations sought to quell, 
 As clamorously thy paals have rung. 
 With eloquence of iron tongue ? 
 
ODE TO THE SAN MIGUEL BELL. 67 
 
 And on each century and age, 
 
 Hast tliou not sung thy quaint adage: 
 
 " Beware, beware, forget the old, 
 
 And youth, impetuous and bold, 
 
 O'er-vaults itself and outdoes hope. 
 
 And false is cast the horoscope ?" 
 
 Yet spite thy peal and mellow tone. 
 
 The age to strife and change is prone, 
 
 And creeds and faiths that once were food 
 
 For noble souls, and time-sung good. 
 
 Savants with bitter scorn repel, 
 
 And tear down heaven at once with hell! 
 
 But thou unchanged art still the same, 
 Like that Faith thy peals proclaim; — 
 Dull, insipid, lost in sleep. 
 The ages ever o'er it sweep: 
 Yet as the mountains grimly stand, 
 Unchanged with age, sublimely grand. 
 So stands that ancient creed alone, 
 Muttering ever the self-same tone. 
 
i ODE TO THE SAN MIGUEL BELL. 
 
 Thou plead' st with us, O! Ancient Bell, 
 And rightly seek'st our pride to quell, 
 In this age of skeptic-sneer. 
 When prayers divine, and thought sincere, 
 Are banished from our shrines and homes ; 
 And chantries and cathedral domes 
 Re-echo with the mocking sound. 
 Of cowled skeptic's speech profound. 
 
 When civic states await with fear, 
 
 The rebel hands to shreds shall tear 
 
 The age-formed fabric of their glory. 
 
 And streams shall run red-hued and gory.— 
 
 When truths which crystallized to creeds, 
 
 As groves have sprung from virgin seeds, 
 
 Are shattered with the wanton blow 
 
 Of simple faith's wax-visaged foe! 
 
 When hoary locks have lost their prestige, 
 
 And beardless youth proclaims the presage, 
 
 And rash forecasts the horoscope 
 
 Of the age's cult and hope! 
 
ODE TO THE RAN MIGUEL BET-L. 69 
 
 Eing, sacred relic, sternly dwell 
 Oil all our bitter feuds may quell ; 
 Eing quiet on the age's strife; 
 Eing peace into our restless life! 
 Not for greed and glory given 
 These few years with sorrow riven. 
 Not to chase the sun-beams ever, 
 
 Gliding o'er some wanton river; 
 
 Nor to foist some weired chimeras 
 
 On an age devoid of heroes; 
 
 Not to rend the earth with thunder, 
 
 When some fable is torn asunder ; 
 
 Nor o'er worlds unknown to range 
 
 Eager for but one end — change! 
 
 Oldest things are still the best: — 
 Keep mother earth and give the rest. 
 The skies are old, the stars the same 
 As erst bespoke our curse or fame. 
 The flowers, that year by year unfold, 
 Tell o'er again a tale oft told. 
 
70 ODE TO THE SAN MIGUEL BELL. 
 
 The river o'er yon banklet rolling, 
 Rippling to our listless strolling, 
 Sang music to our childish ears, 
 Not lost through all the wandering years, 
 Tiie old roof -tree bent low with age. 
 Whence first was seen life's far-off sta^e, 
 Not yet, in manhood's vaster vision. 
 Gives cause for shame or cold derision 
 
 Ah, teach us better paths of progress 
 Than through turmoil and distress! 
 Best shuttles not so quickly flew, 
 And finer spun the toilsome few. 
 Better more sun-light, sky, and air, 
 Less selfish gain, less gambler's share! 
 Better a faith, though false, with peace, 
 Than doubt's heartache without surcease! 
 
 Thou antique bell, still let thy tone 
 Thine age-cursed, bitter fate bemoan. 
 Thy scar-ribbed sides of battles tell 
 Throughout the long unbroken spell, 
 
ODE TO THE SAN MIGUEL BELL. 71 
 
 When in thy "dobe" belfry hung, 
 Thou gloomily for ages swung, 
 And heard the echo of each tone 
 Ring down the desert wastes alone. 
 
 Thou voice sepulchral from the past, 
 Still eloquent with faith steadfast, 
 Speak out, we bid thee, clear and strong, 
 Against each time-embosomed wrong, 
 Till age-millennial of love 
 Shall golden-throated bells above 
 The din and turmoil softly ring. 
 And heaven's angelic host shall swing 
 Their silver-lighted robes of Peace 
 O'er all the earth, and bring surcease 
 Of wrong, and rack, and woe, and death, 
 And swathe the world with heavenly breath. 
 
 >^ >i* ^ 
 
H 
 
 arniDtiM. 
 
 r\ ! HAEMONY of worlds on high, 
 
 Of worlds beneath, around: 
 From au', from water, sky, and star, 
 From that same God who seems afar, 
 Thrills all my soul with voices nigh, 
 Blent sweetly in one soothing sound 
 Of Harmony. 
 
 One language speaks each variant form, 
 
 Embossed on nature's bosom; 
 Each vibratory atom wild 
 Is thrilled in passion's fusing storm, 
 And echoes from each star to blossom— 
 The song, on radiant sun-beam mild, 
 Of Harmony. 
 
 (72) 
 
HARMONY. 73 
 
 As floating, vapory atom seeks 
 
 The upbound cloiids beyond ; 
 As birdlings, in their anxious nest, 
 Motherward uplift their beaks : 
 As wavelet sighs by fern and frond. 
 And swells at last in ocean-crest, 
 O! Harmony, 
 
 So seeks the listening soul, for aye. 
 
 Through sounds inchoate, wild; 
 And finds in consciousness divine. 
 Within itself, through endless day, 
 One Voice that guards the straying child, 
 One Love, one Virtue, all benign, 
 Of Harmony! 
 
 HK 
 
^^^:5<^\5$i 
 
 rfeetncy and iir)(2tefir)(ali0r). 
 
 b^:^^^'?>^;i^ 
 
 (W 
 
Break, Fantasy, from thy cave of cloud. 
 
 And spread thy purple wings, 
 
 Now all thy figures are allowed, 
 
 And various shapes of things; 
 
 Create of airy forms a stream 
 
 It must have blood and naught of phlegm. 
 
 And though it be a waking dream, 
 
 Yet let it like an odor rise 
 
 To all the senses here, 
 
 And fall like sleep upon their eyes. 
 
 Or music in their ear. 
 
 — Ben Jonson. 
 
 (75) 
 
i^plri^nn^- 
 
 r\ ! LAUGHING, sprightly Adrienne, 
 
 Sweet thy smiles and coquetry, 
 Like purling pools, in glade and glen, 
 Shining, smiling, me beguiling, 
 'Bound knolls awhirl and hillocks by, 
 Flying as the spring birds fly. 
 All aflush with morning hues, 
 As flash the rays in diamond dews, 
 Away thy youthful moments whiling, 
 O ! Adrienne with witchful smiling. 
 
 O! Adrienne, with flaxen tresses. 
 Deep blue eyes, and marble skin 
 Gently flushed with faint rose-tints. 
 Like the first faint ray the morning hints ; 
 What transport found in thy caresses, 
 
 (76) 
 
ADRIENNE. 77 
 
 With thee away in woodland strolls, 
 By streamlet's banks and mossy knolls, 
 Whose sheep-shorn grass all silken lies, 
 Brocaded by the summer skies. 
 As o'er our heads a song bird flies. 
 
 O! Adrienne, what cares are thine, 
 Thou happy bird with songs divine ? 
 Whence thy notes of silver-treble 
 Sweet as brooklets o'er the pebble ? 
 O ! thou bird of paradise, 
 Light and airy as the down 
 On the misty mountains blown. 
 Swift and radiant as a river. 
 Flitting o'er my pathway ever — 
 Thrilling me with wild surprise. 
 
 Yet giddy, gaysome Adrienne, «» 
 
 Flying ever, ill at rest. 
 
 Like sun-lit butterfly in morn 
 
 'Round flower and reed,'round rose and thorn : — 
 
 I would chase thee now and then, 
 
78 ADRIENNE. 
 
 Like the doe the fleeing roe,- — • 
 But thy love doth o'er me floAv, — 
 Till drops mj heart from out my breast, 
 And from my spirit fails my breath, 
 And I swooning sink in death, 
 
 O ! Adrienne, thou frisky elf 
 I would study arts of pelf. 
 If thy heart I could purloin. 
 I would mint my blood to coin, 
 If I knew thy love 'twould buy ! 
 But when I mention love to thee, 
 With all thy lieart thou mockest me, 
 And with a laugh dost greet my sigh : — 
 Laughing, laughing, laughing ever, 
 Thoughtless as a running river. 
 
 Like a rose thy fragrance breathing. 
 All thy smiles with rapture wreathing ; 
 O ! thou winsome, gaysome maiden, 
 Fluttering all thy wings of joy, 
 
ADEIENNE. 79 
 
 With every hue of beauty laden ; 
 Puzzle of my veiy being: — 
 Strange, illusive, shy, and coy — 
 Breeze-blown mist before me fleeing- 
 Art thou noiv as thou'dst be ihe)} — 
 Wife wert thou O ! Adrienne ? 
 
Yo^tll''! I^nw^- 
 
 T SAT by the sea one summer night, 
 
 And heard the moan of its waves. 
 At my feet lay the long, white, sandy beach, 
 
 Hard by the age-hollowed caves. 
 And the waves beat high, and the waves beat low. 
 
 And never their fury ceased: 
 And the old caves groaned and the sand-beach 
 sobbed, 
 
 As the mad sea-waves increased. 
 
 And the silvery moon with her horn half -filled, 
 O'er the sky spread her shimmer of mist, 
 
 And far from the shore, with her white trembling 
 lips, 
 The sea- waves she timidly kissed. 
 
 (80) 
 
youth's dream. 81 
 
 And the moon wooed the sea; but the sea mocked 
 the moon, 
 
 For nothing of love knew he : — 
 But aAvaj and away rolled his rough, rocking waves, 
 
 Ne'er heeding the moon nor me. 
 
 And so in my youth I sat on the beach 
 
 Of the ocean of years to be ; 
 Saw the dim dawn of life, like the pale light of moons, 
 
 Glide and gleam o'er the dark, distant sea. 
 And from vessels far off, like dim shadows afloat, 
 
 I heard sounds as of battles to come: 
 And my heart swelled with hope, as my soul sailed 
 away, 
 
 Far away from myself and my home. 
 
 And 1 thought 'twere but cowards could dread such 
 Inviting to hottest pursuit: 
 
82 youth's dream. 
 
 Where each league is o'er-strewu with jewels of 
 wealth, 
 
 As orchards with ripe golden fruit. 
 And I builded ray boat and unfurled the full sails, 
 
 And dauntless the deepest seas sought, 
 And chased all the fleets and vanquished the crews 
 
 As the bravest have never yet fought. 
 
 And I urged o'er the sea through the acts of my life, 
 
 Till the evening dusk dimmed its faint light: — 
 Till the bright glowing sun of my mid-day of years 
 
 Sank blushing and purpling from sight. 
 And I thought the whole world lay subdued at my 
 feet. 
 
 The tiara of triumph my crown ; 
 And far away ages still bowed at my name, 
 
 For the stars echoed back my renown. 
 
 But the moon was not silver that shone on the 
 sea, 
 Though it gleamed like a clean-polished shaft: 
 
youth's dream. 83 
 
 Nor was wine of my Hope, which I drank in those 
 dreams, 
 From the chalice of life ever quaffed. — 
 But as moon wooed the sea,-^though the sea mocked 
 the moon, 
 For nothing of love knew he ; — 
 So my years whirled away, and swept swift from my 
 sky 
 Botli the Moon of my Promise and Me! 
 
 e|9 
 
Tm fiomm^ of « Ko<;^. 
 
 /^NCE a rose, red-flusliecl and flaming, 
 
 Chanced its life in an unhappy framing 
 Of the issues of love. 
 With wavering wings it flew 
 To the lap of a maiden true; 
 And its red lips redder grew, 
 As she kissed their ruby hue : — 
 Looking vaguely above. 
 Kissed, too, a missive the rose had brought, 
 And through misty eyes its mystical meaning 
 sought. 
 
 And she passionately kisses the rose ; 
 But the mystical message close 
 To her feverish lips 
 She presses, baptized in her tears. — 
 
 (84) 
 
THE ROMANCE OF A ROSE, 85 
 
 Since, o'er ber path swift years 
 Have flown, with ominous fears. 
 But ever cloth the chalice of tears 
 Her vague hopes eclipse ; 
 
 And she wanders a victim of love disappointed, 
 A Priestess of Woe, with the unction of sorrow 
 anointed. 
 
 But the rose forgotten and lorn, 
 And wasted, and withered, and worn, 
 I found to-day, 
 'Twixt leaves of a volume old, 
 Pressed colorless, thin, and cold. 
 To my eyes a romance of old 
 This ghost of a rose re-told. 
 In the book where it lay: — 
 Ah love, ah death, can ye so mar a rose ? — 
 Yet a maiden's wan heart this rose doth but dimly 
 disclose. 
 
^(frBK^pl. 
 
 'Twas in the evening of years, 
 While the dew was asleep on the fields and the 
 
 flowers, 
 And the dusky mist hung o'er the blossoming 
 
 bowers : 
 And she wandered alone in the valley of tears, 
 Like a phantom of woe affrighted with fears, 
 Watching the hours 
 Glide into years. 
 
 She recalled the Avhisper of love, 
 Like the breath of the morn on the blossoming 
 
 heather, 
 Or a breeze flower-freighted in the warm summer 
 
 weather ; 
 Like a chant of the stars from the heavens above, 
 
 (86) 
 
BETRAYED. 87 
 
 Driving onward her spirit, like the wind-driven 
 dove, 
 
 Or a billow-borne feather, 
 O'er the ocean of love. 
 
 She saw, through the mist of her tears, 
 A boat like a shadow adrift o'er tlie main, 
 And two figures within as in dreams rose again; 
 And the sun broke again through the storm of her 
 
 years, 
 And bedecked like a rainbow the dew of lier tears; 
 But alas, not again 
 To restore the lost years! 
 
 And back from the island of love, 
 Like a phantom, she saw her doomed spirit float. 
 Afloat, afloat, without sail or a boat: 
 Drifting back all alone from the island of love. 
 Drifting back o'er the main, like a storm-smitten 
 dove, 
 
 All alone and afloat. 
 
 O'er the ocean of love. 
 
00 BETRAYED. 
 
 Thus on the bosom of love, 
 The true and the false sail ever together 
 As clouds meet the blue in the fair summer weather ; — 
 And trusting in vain to the false plight of love, 
 Float deathward the true, like an arrow-pierced dove, 
 
 Hither and thither, 
 
 O'er the ocean of love. 
 
Tm H^^^^r Riipi fli^ ^irpl. 
 
 T\EATH"S in thine arrow 
 
 For the free-flying sparrow, 
 O ! feelingless hunter for prey. 
 
 O ! see how it gleams, 
 
 And the blue air seams, 
 
 As it frightens the birds far away! 
 
 Ah, fierce-flying arrow. 
 
 Thou hast shot the poor sparrow. 
 
 And it flutters and falls to tlie ground ; 
 
 And clean through its heart 
 Pierced thy murderous dart, 
 Which so swiftly its victim liath found! 
 
 (89) 
 
90 THE HUNTER AND THE BIRD. 
 
 Ah, arrow-pierced bird, 
 
 All my soul thou'st bestirred 
 
 With feelings of strangest emotion : — 
 
 For I have seen hearts, 
 
 So pierced as with darts, 
 
 Hang drooping with tearful commotion. 
 
 And hunters I've seen, 
 
 With huntsman's sense keen, 
 
 Track their prey like a hound in the field: 
 
 Till Envy's sly arrow 
 
 Hath pierced to the marrow. 
 
 And the victim hath staggered and reeled. 
 
 Or Friendship's false guise 
 
 Hath broke with surprise, 
 
 Great hearts too true for revenge; — 
 
 Till their strength was so shorn, 
 
 By such bitter fate torn. 
 
 To cowards they basely could cringe. 
 
THE HUNTER AND THE BIRD. 91 
 
 Yet some, with deep pain 
 
 At their hearts,- like death's strain — 
 
 Have long buffeted tides of ill-fate: — 
 
 To these hearts clings the arrow. 
 As to thine, drooping sparrow: — 
 Sad symbol of mourner's sad state. 
 
 O ! faint bleeding hearts, 
 
 Pierced with misery's darts, 
 
 Take hope — there is healing at last ! 
 
 Though the noblest have bent 
 
 To death's arrow — swift sent, — 
 
 By the hands of base underlings cast; — 
 
 Still their darts shall be broken, 
 
 And stout hearts shall betoken — 
 
 They ihat suffer shall rejoice at the last! 
 
^oH 
 
 HTHE dull, dark skies are bending low, 
 
 My barque is skipping fleet ; 
 
 The gulls swirl wild and leeward go, 
 
 'Mid clouds o£ spray and sleet. 
 
 The thunders crack, the lightnings flare, 
 
 My barque is quivering through ; 
 
 My eyes, red balls of fire aglare, 
 
 On phantoms fiercely glue. 
 
 The deck is swept with troops of waves, 
 
 My sail is flung in shreds; 
 
 My cry, the wild winds piercing, craves 
 
 The help its shriek forbids. 
 
 For hope is gone: 
 
 Despair is king. 
 
 The waves have none 
 
 But agony's ring. 
 
 (92^ 
 
HOPE. 93 
 
 Sink, sink, my shivered barque, 
 Give o'er my fevered soul : — 
 The day is done, the niglit is dark 
 And death's waves o'er me roll. 
 
 II. 
 
 But lo ! in the night, 
 
 A wavering light, 
 
 Agleam from the shadowy shore ! — 
 
 The flickering beams lie faint before 
 
 My trembling barque alone. 
 
 Now, one by one. 
 
 The great waves swoon, 
 
 Beneath my sturdy blows ; 
 
 The storm is spent, the night is noon, 
 
 The beacon gently glows. — 
 
 Like a star of hope, 
 
 It faintly shows 
 
 My horoscope, 
 
 Beyond. 
 
94 HOPE. 
 
 III. 
 
 When sea-waves roll 
 
 O'er sorrowed soul, 
 
 And death's pit opens wide, 
 
 If Faith prevail and Hope preside, 
 
 In all my soul's large scope, 
 
 My barque shall ride, 
 
 O'er storm and tide, 
 
 Till peace abide 
 
 My rescued soul, 
 
 Beyond! 
 
Fair maiden asleep in thy bowers of love, 
 Where rosy-hued mists drift lightly above ; 
 
 And their fleecy brocades waft o'er thee forever, 
 Dreamily soothing as the song of a river ; 
 
 Where thy feet the sea bathes with calm, placid 
 
 motion, 
 And thine eyes gaze forever on the far-rolling 
 
 ocean ; — 
 
 And beyond thee the islands, like nymphs of the sea, 
 Their golden and silvery sheen, in their glee, 
 
 Wave backward and forward, while their laughter, 
 
 as clear 
 As the clashing of pearls, thrills the mild evening 
 
 air: — 
 
 (95) 
 
96 ' SANTA BARBARA, CAL. 
 
 There I found thee, fair maiden, asleep in thy 
 
 bowers, 
 Where the skies bathe thy temples with radiant 
 showers ; 
 
 With thy face rose-dimpled with smiles of the spring, 
 Where brooklets are murmurous and birds ever sing. 
 
 Swinging half asleep in thy hammock of peace. 
 All listless of aught that life's sorrows increase: 
 
 Swinging and sleeping "mid the rumble and rustle 
 Of brooklets and woodlands, and the merry birds' 
 bustle : 
 
 Sleeping and dreaming in thy hammock of love, — 
 And kissed by the zephyrs, that wantonly rove 
 
 'Mong the soft languid airs, and the poly-hued 
 
 flowers, 
 Abloom on the hillsides, in gardens and bowers. 
 
SANTA BARBAKA, GAL. 97 
 
 Fair Siren, asleep on the far- western shore, 
 In thy bosom of green let me lie evermore : — 
 
 Where vineyards and hills, in delicious soft airs, 
 Lure me away from my dull, carking cares. 
 
 Asleep in thy beauty, never wake to the sin 
 That cankers the heart of this world we are in. 
 
 Never wake to the lust, and the pride, and the 
 
 shame, 
 That pales thy proud sisters of loftier fame: 
 
 Never let the coarse thrift of the world's blighting 
 
 commerce 
 Grimace thy fair face or thy pure hopes disperse : — 
 
 But pure as thy flowers that breathe on the air. 
 Be thy spirit forever as gentle and rare. 
 
 Rival not the great marts, where the false show of 
 wealth 
 
98 SANTA BARBAKA, CAL. 
 
 Hath the cheek of youth hollowed, and blighted its 
 health. 
 
 Where the heart is soon hardened to the flint and 
 
 the steel, 
 And man crushes man 'neath his hard iron heel. 
 
 Where Charity is cursed and Forgiveness forgot, 
 And the Poor are forever accursed in their lot ! 
 
 Rather thou, let Repose and the slumber of Love 
 Embosom thee ever, as the soft airs above. 
 
 Breathe ever on all thy fair Benediction, 
 
 Till Comfort shall crown the brow of Affliction ! 
 
 ^^^^^f^^-^^ 
 
i7^9 
 
 s. 
 
Holy worship never dies. 
 In thy house where we adore. 
 
 —Sir Philip Sidney. 
 
 Wherefore, Most Sacred Spirit, I here present 
 For me and all my fellows Praise to Thee! 
 
 — Hekbebt. 
 
 My heart is pained; nor can it be 
 At rest till it finds rest in Thee ! 
 
 —John Wesley. 
 
 (100) 
 
"Td Tmc. 13 1 God." 
 
 '^pO Thee, O! Gotl, my soul awakes, 
 
 E'er morniug light my slumber breaks; 
 In dreams my fancies trace Thy course, 
 O'er-lit with beams from lieaA^enly source. 
 
 Of Thee, I think, when shadows fall. 
 And twilight wooes to sweet repose, 
 When purpling clouds in daytime's close. 
 To hallowed thoughts my soul recall 
 
 When heavy weight of care oppresses. 
 And sinks my heart with sad despair : 
 To Thee ascends my soothful prayer. 
 And all my soul Thy love caresses. 
 
 To Thee, ascend my tears of woe, 
 As vapors to the sun ascend, 
 
 (101) 
 
102 "TO THEE, O! GOD." 
 
 And lost in Thee, like pearls depend 
 And span mj sky with peaceful bow. 
 
 When joys ecstatic thrill my heart, 
 And notes, from chords divine adrift, 
 My very being to the skies uplift; 
 Entranced in Thee all sins depart. 
 
 O ! Thou, my song of Hope, my Joy ; 
 My Life of life, my spirit's Power; 
 O! vanquished soul's divine Restorer, 
 Be Thee to serve my life's employ! 
 
^ f^mn^r. 
 
 r\ I GOD receive my heart, 
 
 ^^ And give me power t' impart 
 
 Thy joy divine, 
 To every mortal dying, 
 From human woe outcrying 
 
 To Thee benign. 
 
 Once lost I wandered lorn. 
 My swollen breast uptorn 
 
 With sin and shame, — 
 When the world was dark to me: 
 A deep and deathful sea, — • 
 
 To Thee I came. 
 
 O! cold and ruthless life: 
 A piercing, rankling knife 
 Of creeping death ! 
 
 (103) 
 
104 A PEAYER. 
 
 Farewell, farewell forever, 
 May God my soul deliver 
 From tliy dank breath. 
 
 Come, glorious light of love, 
 Down-streaming from above, 
 
 On my glad soul! 
 Still lift me higher, higher. 
 To God's own bosom nigher, 
 
 And heaven's goal! 
 
 As sun, the ether through, 
 O'ercasts his mists of blue, 
 
 Each atom mingling; 
 So love drifts through my heart, 
 And fuses part with part. 
 
 Each fiber tingling. 
 
 And evermore rush through me, 
 O! flooding, fiery sea 
 Of love divine. 
 And kindle every thought, 
 
A PEAYER. 105 
 
 Till uo more hapless lot 
 Make me repine. 
 
 Accept my service, Lord, 
 
 To Thee each thought and word 
 
 I would ordain. 
 From every luring pleasure, 
 From every sinful treasure, 
 
 Help me refrain. 
 
 Then shall my mortal frame, 
 Not languishing in shame 
 
 Of human sin, 
 At last, transfigured be. 
 An image like to Thee, 
 
 And glory win. 
 
 Then hear my humble prayer. 
 Cut off the weights of care. 
 
 And free my wings! 
 I soar, I soar to Thee, 
 My soul, forever free, 
 
 Hosanna sings! 
 
(Ztlupe. 
 
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bowers. 
 Of April, May, of June and July-flowers. 
 
 — Hebkick. 
 
 Pleased we remember our august abodes. 
 And murmur as the ocean murmurs there. 
 
 -Landor. 
 
 To him who, in the love of Nature, 
 Holds communion with her visible forms 
 She speaks a various language. 
 
 — Bbyant. 
 
 (107) 
 
j\ ^l^ring ^ang. 
 
 ''PHEEE'S a voice in the bough, and a tongue I trow , 
 
 In the leaflets bending low, 
 Like the voice of my love from the heavens above, 
 To my faint heart here below. 
 And it sings, and it sings. 
 And the whole air rings 
 With the ring of the resonant spring: — 
 Chipper-ip, ch-wee, 
 
 Ch-wee, ch-wee, 
 Fills the air with melody. 
 
 And a form in the skies when the sun-beams arise, 
 
 Coloring the cloudlets of morn. 
 Bids my wearisome heart from its sorrows depart, 
 And smile in the calm and the storm. 
 And it sings, and it sings, 
 And the whole air rings 
 
 (108) 
 
A SPRING SONG. 109 
 
 With the ring of the resonant spring ; 
 And " 'Tis well, all is well," 
 Like a mellow-voiced bell, 
 Its rhythmical melodies swell! 
 
 And the skies kiss the sea where they bend to the lea, 
 
 As the waves come tripping and rocking, 
 And gaysome gulls whirl where the merry Avaves 
 swirl, — 
 My foolish fears wantonly mocking: — 
 And they sing, and they sing, 
 And make the air ring 
 With the ring of the resonant spring: 
 And the gaysome gulls whirl, 
 Where the merry waves swirl, 
 And the sun-colored spray-foams curl! 
 
 And sounds sharp and shrill like melodious trill, 
 
 From the urchins and children at play ; 
 With the dogs cheery bark and the caroling larkj 
 Blend to music in the dying of day. 
 
110 A SPRING SONG. 
 
 And they shout, and they sing, 
 And their loud laughters ring 
 With the ring of the resonant spring, 
 While the birds' cli-wee, 
 
 Cli-wee, cli-wee, 
 Fills the air with melody ! 
 
 And the newly leafed boughs, when the morning 
 winds rouse. 
 Swing aloft their foliage plumes ; 
 And flowerets of blue and many a hue. 
 
 Tinge the earth with their gorgeous blooms ! 
 And they rustle, and flutter. 
 And murmur and mutter. 
 While the birds in the tree-tops sing, 
 Whose chirrup, ch-wee. 
 
 Chipper, ch-wee. 
 Fills the air with melody! 
 
 And the clear liquid note of a flute-song afloat. 
 Glides on where the moon-beams quiver ; 
 
A SPRING SONG. Ill 
 
 And the soft eyes of love, like the moon-beams above, 
 Their pensive looks cast on the river ! 
 
 Then the cooing of doves, 
 
 "With the whisp'ring of loves, 
 Commingle with birds of the spring. 
 
 And the merry ch-wee, 
 
 Chipperee, ch-wee, 
 
 Fills the air with melody! 
 
 4^- 
 
/^ ! MAGIC marvel of this land, 
 
 When burst from winter's icy hold, 
 As by wizard's mystic wand 
 Thy vernal beauties manifold: — 
 The rich, green down of waving trees 
 Bending to the kissing lakelets, 
 Whose bright sheen, the balmy breeze 
 Varies with a thousand wavelets. 
 The new-born violets and flowers, 
 Countless as the stars in heaven, 
 Ope each day to catch the showers, 
 From the soft skies mildly driven. 
 And that mellow velvet sheen 
 Of the rich sward's matchless gloss, — 
 Endless sea of endless green — 
 All the brown earth doth emboss! 
 
 (U2) 
 
SPRING IN THE NORTH. 113 
 
 The vapory fog still drooping low, — 
 
 As maid, lier lover though she shuns, 
 
 Still seeks a kiss e'er she will go; — 
 
 So kissed by fair Aurora's lips, 
 
 Like flame-fringed smoke suspending. 
 
 The rills and rippling riv'lets skips, 
 
 The lakes and skies with rare mists blending! 
 
 -^1^ 
 
T T EBE wave the soft palmetto leaves, 
 
 And all year bloom the roseate hues, 
 And languid sun in soft mist weaves 
 Faint vapors from the rains and dews, 
 Which hang all year in lambent haze, 
 Till man grows dull and vain with ease, 
 Intoxicate with sylvan lays. 
 And sighing winds and fragrant trees ! 
 
 
 (114) 
 
T SIT by the river's bank;— 
 
 Sweet is tlie sound of its voice. 
 Its purling waters, rank 
 And rife, 'round the rocks rejoice. 
 
 Swift as the sweep of the wind, 
 Over steep banklets they roll. — 
 In the song of these waters, I find 
 Solace for my sorrowing soul. 
 
 Onward they course forever, 
 Unmindful of rock or beam ; 
 On, in th' embosoming river, 
 Where wanders the vagrant stream. 
 
 Were it not for rude obstacles there, 
 That lie in the path of the river, 
 
 (115) 
 
116 THE SONG OF THE WATERS. 
 
 The music of song so fair, 
 Were dead to my ear forever. 
 
 Nevermore would the clear waters glisten, 
 Like jewels in the lingering beams, 
 Nor the spirits of fond lovers listen, 
 To the soothful music of streams. 
 
 Nor would colorless pebbles delight 
 Their vary-hued bosoms to show. 
 False-faced in the rivulets flight, 
 'Neath the wavelet's glimmering glow. 
 
 The waters are never so rare, 
 Their music so soothful and sweet. 
 As when they cleave the free air. 
 O'er a precipice roaring and fleet. 
 
 'Tween unpebbled narrowing banks. 
 O'er amber-hued sand-beds flowing. 
 Forgetful of wild mountain pranks. 
 Of the winds that are lustily blowing, 
 
THE SONG OF THE WATERS. 117 
 
 Each wavelet is listless and dull, 
 And yields to a mantling slumber; 
 Nor are echoing woodlands full 
 Of the voices of musical number. 
 
 When they roar and rush from yon heights, 
 And sparkle, and feather, and jewel. 
 What heart so dull but delights 
 In a fate that seems so cruel? 
 
 Like a weird harp thrown in the hand 
 Of the bride of the rude mountain range. 
 Which some spirit with mystical wand 
 Sweeps with melodious change! 
 
 And the sim to the marriage hath come 
 And flung his coronal of love 
 O'er the feet of the waters that hum 
 'Neath the brow of the mountains above. 
 
 And cascades dainty and timid, 
 Like children too mindful of fear, 
 
118 THE SONG OF THE WATERS. 
 
 O'er tlie mossy rocks, crystal and limpid, 
 Creep slowly ; but their voices are clear, 
 
 As tliey call with soft silver-treble, 
 To the venturesome streamlets ahead; 
 While again, from each eddy-swept pebble, 
 The streamlet re-echoes its dread! 
 
 O! ever, forever, and ever, 
 
 As they flow o'er the rocks and the beams, 
 
 Blent voices in melody quiver, 
 
 And sing to the harp of the streams! 
 
 O! river-gods, Avhere do ye wander 
 To find such mellifluous tunes? 
 Must ye study and sorrow and ponder, 
 To create your rhythmical runes? 
 
 Ye ripple, and rimple, and rumble. 
 
 Ye rush with tempestuous roar: — 
 
 In unfathomed canyons ye mumble. 
 
 From yon heights your proud torrents pour ! 
 
THE SONG OF THE WATERS. 119 
 
 111 broad ocean's bosoms ye slumber. 
 Or heaven's deck sweep with your wiives; 
 Or storm the white beach without number 
 Of troups,^ — your billowy slaves! 
 
 Ye gleam in the silvery light 
 Of the moon, as she glides from the skies; 
 Or pour in the thundersome night, 
 When the Death- Angel frightfully flies! 
 
 Yet ever and ever, wherever 
 In earth, or the skies, or seas, 
 Your waters do tremble and quiver. 
 Their music our rude hearts please. 
 
 Then flow on and sing on forever, 
 And teach us our lives may be 
 Sweet as a musical river, 
 Vast as a fathomless sea! 
 
^ 
 
 riDw. 
 
 r\\ thou gentle star-formed flake, 
 Softer falling than soft wool 
 On the faded flower, the lake, 
 In autumn's airs — erst chill and cool! 
 Harmless as the fluttering feather. 
 Gentle as an angel's kiss; 
 Yet how fiercely, when together 
 Myriad-banded, thou dost hiss: — 
 Like the roaring whirlwind ever 
 From the clouds of blasting blackness, 
 — Blinding, swirling sand-storms never 
 Sought the deserts with less slackness — 
 Sleeting, twisting, swelling, winding, 
 'Round and 'round in forms appalling, 
 Howling, billowing, crunching, grinding, 
 Destruction's final woe forestalling! 
 
 (120) 
 
SNOW. 
 
 121 
 
 But all ! at last when calm thou liest, 
 
 Over field and main and lake, 
 
 And no longer madly fliest, 
 
 As if death were in each flake ; 
 
 O ! mantle of the chastest hue, 
 
 Softened are our spirits then ! — 
 
 Never seemed the sky so blue. 
 
 Treading thy white breast again, 
 
 When autumn mists their gold have lost, 
 
 In the dreary northern lands. 
 
 Where the snows have swiftly crossed. 
 
 Swift as hordes of Scythian bands. 
 
 And tramped the fields and woodlands down. 
 
 With their soft, white, tender feet, 
 
 Weaving fast a spotless gown, 
 
 Jeweled o'er with glistening sleet! 
 
 ^-^-^^^^"^ 
 
i^MJumn ^c{n{. 
 
 K 
 
 E^ER artist drooping veil unflung 
 From picture more divinely fair, 
 Than o'er the hills and woodlands hung, 
 All bathed within the- balmy air. 
 O'erbending all the expectant earth. 
 The mellow skies with rapture hung, 
 And forestalling winter's dearth, 
 Praises from the woodlands rung : 
 A thousand leaflets all bedecked 
 With splendors of a thousand suns. 
 With gold and red and brown o'er-checked, 
 While here and there a wild vine runs. 
 Now yelloAV flush of molten gold 
 O'er-floods the view from maple boughs, 
 While oaks red-flaming leaves uphold 
 Against the sun's fast fading glows. 
 
 (122) 
 
AUTUMN SCENE. 123 
 
 Hills and ravines are all agleam 
 
 With liazel of yellow and sumach red, 
 
 An endless blaze of billowy flame, 
 
 As far, as far as the heavens spread. 
 
 And 'mong the boughs and leaflets peeping, 
 
 The bright blue gleam of a lake is seen, 
 
 Down by the rushes sweetly sleeping, 
 
 Where wild ducks skim her beautiful sheen. 
 
^□ng of ifi^ ^tnr?. 
 
 T^OKEVEPt aud ever, far over the main, 
 
 Far as the blue of the ether may reign. 
 We sail, we sail in our vessels of light. 
 E'er trailing the path of the moon in her flight; 
 And up from the rim of the round horizons. 
 We are singing and singing our fond orisons! 
 
 E'er since, on that far away morning of light, 
 Swift swirled the Creator our globes, fair and bright, 
 Far o'er the blue-bending walls of the night, — 
 We are singing His Majesty, Glory and Might! 
 And mourning the death of the glare-golden day. 
 In solemn procession we chant and pray. 
 
 Not alone, not alone in the night, do we 
 
 Far furrow the fields of the sapphire sea ; 
 
 But glinting and glowing, cloud-hidden and soaring, 
 
 (124) 
 
SONG OF THE 8TAES. 125 
 
 O'er the pearl-pink bosom of morning outpouring 
 Splendors invisible, jewel-banked beams, 
 Outdazzled with glow of Aurora's red streams. 
 
 Chide not, we flee not the triumphs of noous. 
 Embracing the bosoms of soft, timid moons; 
 But aflash and agleam in the high tide of light, 
 Unveiling our brows, though invisibly bright, 
 On paths, where once Erebus reigned eterne. 
 We uplift the free torch of a new-flaming urn ! 
 
 Hear ye, oh, hear ye:^ — the voice of the Morn 
 Through the long lost cycles we have happily borne, 
 Since the chorus angelic of Heavenly Throng, 
 Far-flinging the strains of the echoing song. 
 Creation's loud praises triumphantly sung. 
 O'er the far azure fields where we joyously hung! 
 
 We tickle the breasts of the sweet, sleeping streams, 
 And laugh them to life with our fair, dimpling beams ; 
 We poise on the mountains like lorn isles of light, 
 
126 SONG OF THE STABS. 
 
 And dance down tlie skies like fairies of night! 
 We are emblems of joy: — we are love's amulets; 
 And yonr fortunes foretell with our flickering jets. 
 
 We guide mariners far o'er the billowy main; 
 
 We peep through the clouds of the thunderous rain ; 
 
 We are rulers of night, and undaunted by day 
 
 We sail, we sail o'er the far azure bay, 
 
 And alone, all alone, the soft whispers we hear 
 
 Of love's fairy bowers, that woo us anear! 
 
 IS 
 m 
 
Y/inHr lliglif^. 
 
 T LOVE those clear and frosty nights, 
 
 When from blue skies silvery moons 
 Cast o'er the snow purpurea! lights, 
 Soft as the sound of heavenly tunes ! 
 When all the air seems sifted through 
 With silvery germs of myriad worlds, 
 Soft tinted with faint hints of blue, 
 Adrift from Cynthia's wanton curls! 
 
 -•^^4^ 
 
 (127) 
 
In i\'\{ ^l^ring. 
 
 'T^HE shadows a-sway in the sway of the lights, 
 
 Now rise and deepen and lighten ; 
 The frost-hood of winter, the song bird affrights. 
 Drips in dew as the misty beams brighten; 
 And the bud on the bough puffs its innocent lips, 
 Ailush with the hues of the morn: — 
 And my love, which was born 
 In the early spring morn, 
 The storms of a winter shall never eclipse! 
 
 When birds are a-wing in the boughs of the trees. 
 And the blooms are ablaze in the air, 
 
 Who shall say what the bird, and the bloom, and 
 the breeze, 
 May do in the daylight fair? 
 
 (128) 
 
IN THE SPEING. 129 
 
 For my heart is aleap to tlie brim of my lips, 
 
 When the spring and the sparrow are born : — 
 
 And in early spring morn, 
 
 My young love was born. 
 Which no storm of a winter shall ever eclipse ! 
 
 Then the hum and the sigh of the busy bees' wing 
 
 Chant a hymn to my waking soul. 
 And what do the waters, with silver-drip ring, 
 
 To the pebbles repeat as they roll? 
 O ! never the secret shall break from their lips, 
 Till springs shall cease to be born. 
 And when spring was in morn. 
 Was my young love born. 
 Which the storms of all winters shall never eclipse! 
 
 But the spring-hues fade on the breast of the bird. 
 When the brief spring-tide is past : — 
 
 And what have the flowers and rivulets heard 
 Of the loitering breeze as he past ? 
 
 For their pulses are slow, and the hues of their lips 
 
130 IN THE SPRING. 
 
 Are dull in the early morn: 
 All, love that was born, 
 When the spring was in morn, — 
 Shall the storm of some winter thine ardor eclipse ? 
 
if^ 
 
 0:ir)0S. 
 
 (131) 
 
Hail, th&u Goddess, sage and holy 
 Hail divinest Melancholy. 
 
 -Milton. 
 
 With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 
 Pale Melancholy sate retired; 
 And from her wild sequestered seat. 
 In notes by distance made more sweet, 
 Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul. 
 —Collins. 
 
 Hence all your vain delights 
 As short as are the nights 
 Wherein you spend your folly! 
 There's naught in this life sweet. 
 If man were wise to see it. 
 But only Melancholy. 
 
 — Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 (132) 
 
Young Ui{ M'^i"^. 
 
 QOLD to-day, lier spirit for aye, 
 ^ Sold for the price of her love:— 
 In the leash of false hope her spirits elope, 
 Like the flight of a wounded dove! 
 A young life adrift. 
 On the high tide of Time, 
 Rocking and runing in rhyme; 
 O! heaven uplift 
 Her spirit, bereft 
 Of the long silent sound of a chime! 
 
 Once, like a star, her fair hope afar 
 
 Twinkled in twilight gloam. 
 And the angel of life, hinted nothing of strife 
 To her heart in her beautiful home. 
 O! young life adrift. 
 On the high tide of Time, 
 
 (133) 
 
134 YOUNG LIFE ADEIFT. 
 
 Rocking and runing in rhyme, 
 May heaven nplift 
 Thy spirit, bereft 
 Of the long silent sound of that chime! 
 
 Does ever a sound through the silence profound 
 
 Echo back from the morning of life : — 
 Does its sweet benediction soothe the heart's keen 
 affliction. 
 Or its pangs embitter the strife ? 
 Young life adrift, 
 On the high tide of Time, 
 Rocking and runing in rhyme, 
 Pray heaven uplift 
 Thy spirit, bereft 
 Of the long silent sound of that chime! 
 
 O! clang of the clamor, and ring of the hammer, 
 On the anvils of hardship and toil, 
 
 Still sweeter thy chime than the chorus of rhyme, 
 When sin lures to sorrow and soil I 
 O ! young life adrift, 
 
YOUNG LIFE ADEirT. 135 
 
 On the high tide of Time, 
 Rocking and riming in rhyme, 
 Soon a torrent flood swift, 
 Will drown out the drift 
 Of the sounds of that long silent chime! 
 
 Drifting away, yes drifting away, 
 
 Alway, away to her doom, 
 On to the swirl of the maelstrom's whirl, 
 Till lost in her watery doom! 
 O ! frail heart adrift. 
 On the high tide of Time, 
 Rocking and runing in rhyme, 
 May heaven uplift 
 Thy spirit, bereft 
 Of the charms of that solacing chime! 
 
 In the spray of the waves, where the sun-beam laves. 
 There's a garland of flowers aglow. 
 
 But the rush and tlie roar of the surge on the shore 
 Are, too, where the water-blooms blow! 
 O! maiden adrift 
 
136 YOUNG LIFE ADRIFT. 
 
 On the high tide of Time, 
 Rocking and runing in rhyme, 
 There's a ray, in the rift 
 Of the dark cloud adrift, 
 Marks a sound from that long silent chime! 
 
 M^-m'^' 
 
 
51 jJm- 
 
 QEA of woes, oh, sea of woes, 
 
 Billowed with the thousand throes 
 
 Of anguish, and defeat of those 
 Who stem the tides of trial! 
 
 How oft upon the waves is cast 
 
 A broken corpse of life at last, 
 
 Whose shadow slow, and flickering fast, 
 
 Falls faintly on time's dial! 
 
 A life curse-sown, curse-sown with weeds, 
 Swift shooting from the scattering seeds 
 Of heedless, heartless, deathful deeds. 
 
 Oft done in hapless hours! 
 On and on, far floating, floating, 
 Fate and fortune never noting, 
 But on earthly pleasure doting, 
 
 Till seized by conquering powers! 
 (137) 
 
138 A DIRGE. 
 
 Tearless eyes, oh, tearless eyes; 
 Unmindful of the mellowing skies, 
 Where whilom wild, and wanton cries 
 
 Of boyhood's days were heard! 
 Where now those eyes, those eyes of blue, 
 All innocent, divine, and true. 
 Now with hideous, hateful hue 
 
 Of bold corruption blurred ? 
 
 O ! man, my brother, friend of friend. 
 
 Hast thou no higher, holier end 
 
 To seek, where all those wild w^ays wend 
 
 To luckless life and lot? 
 Hast thou forgot thy weeping brother, 
 Bending o'er thy dying mother, 
 Gasping that he save another 
 
 From slough of sin self -sought? 
 
 O! man sense-slaved, insatiate. 
 Earth-born, earth-bound, with self irate, 
 Whose love is curse, and only hate 
 Holds sway supreme, intense! 
 
A DIRGE. 139 
 
 Hast tliou forgot thy soul divine, 
 Whose hopes unfathomed once were thine, 
 Whose soothing peace serene, benign, 
 Curst lust drave hapless hence ? 
 
 Life astray, O! life astray. 
 Wanton, waste, adrift for aye; 
 Far o'er the lea, far, far away, 
 
 AAvay o'er the deathful sea! 
 'Tis lost, 'tis lost! O! ring the bell, 
 And boom the cannon o'er! O! tell 
 The sorrowing world 'tis well 
 
 There's death of liberty! 
 
 't(^-^^>^^^^ 
 
In Hi 
 
 marmrn. 
 
 H. E. W. 
 
 T ET all the world be still! 
 
 Behold a new young star is crushed ! 
 A fragrant morning zephyr hushed ! 
 A fair fond flower brusquely brushed 
 By sweeping winds, and rudely rushed 
 
 To cruel fate and chill ! 
 
 Let all the world bemoan 
 A young life blighted in the bud; 
 A frail bark swept upon the flood; 
 A broken column, where once stood 
 A Memnian monument of good. 
 
 Now echoing a groan ! 
 
 O! close the darksome portals! 
 Not there in that scant house of clay, 
 
 (140) 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 All soundless as the death of day, 
 Would you our loved one dare to lay, 
 Unvisited by one warm ray, 
 
 Still spared to sinful mortals? 
 
 O ! say, is this the end ? 
 O! grave, is this thy victory? 
 And this, the hope of liberty — 
 Which once upon that sweet young tree, 
 Its shooting stems so fair and free, 
 
 Did fondly wave and bend ? 
 
 And ended is that song. 
 Whose lisping chimes seem'd just begun; 
 But vied with cheer each rising sun: 
 Who, even when his course was run, 
 Still heard her, when the day was done. 
 
 Her melodies prolong? 
 
 Then let the curtain fall 
 On this sad drama of a soul ! 
 One act! 'Tis brief! 'Tis all! The scroll 
 
 141 
 
142 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Of that young life is written ! Roll 
 Thy moans, O ! echoing bells, and toll 
 '"Tis ended, and 'tis all!" 
 
 'Tis ended, and 'tis all? 
 Nay! nay! no flower was born to die; 
 Nor floating germs that heedless fly, 
 Nor merry sound, nor mournful sigh ; 
 Nor aught of all, in earth or sky, 
 
 That wing, or creep, or crawl! 
 
 All these in turn survive 
 Time's crumbling wrecks and doomed debris! 
 For death's a chrysalis, whence free 
 And winging natures upward flee 
 To newer worlds, where once to be 
 
 Forever is to live! 
 
 'Tis true of animate. 
 Inanimate, The mother stream 
 May wed some wooing, vagrant beam 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 143 
 
 Whence vapory offspring floating seem 
 Never to return, or dream 
 
 Of their transforming fate! 
 
 Dead leaves the dank earth cushion ; 
 But secret germs of life remain, 
 Which mother earth employs again, 
 For some new forms without a stain, 
 Soon blooming o'er her wide domain. 
 While steeds of death rush on. 
 
 In truth, THERE IS no death 
 In air, or earth, or seas, or skies! 
 From shattered worlds, new worlds arise ; 
 The force, that in the hammer dies, 
 Anew within the spark that flies, 
 
 Leaps from the anvil's sheath. 
 
 The night preludes the morn. 
 The sun to feed the day expires, 
 And, far and wide, his living fires 
 
144 A DIRGE. 
 
 Transmute to dust of funeral pyres, 
 Some new-made life his force inspires, 
 While the mask of death is worn. 
 
 The pulse has ceased to beat! 
 And shall we say, because no more. 
 Her feet trip merrily o'er tl:e floor. 
 Nor now, her laughing eyes look o'er. 
 Sweet scenes that tell of childish lore. 
 
 Conned oft in moments fleet ; 
 
 Because a voice is silent. 
 Whose charm still echoes from each sound ; 
 And arms are leaden that once were wound 
 With warm affection,' round and'round 
 Each loving form, till hearts were bound 
 
 To yield and not repent? 
 
 Say you 'tis therefore ended ? 
 This beauteous life whose hopes were won 
 Ere the race of her years had fairly begun; 
 Her powers still fresh as dew in the sun, 
 
IN MEMOKIAM. 145 
 
 Or a rose in the morn ere his course is run, 
 Or his beams with mists have blended? 
 
 All yes, 'tis ended at last: 
 
 The gauze and disguise of earth's masquerade, 
 The tinsel and show of the painful parade, 
 The hollow pretense that false wealth hath made ! 
 Ended for shame, and sin's sullen shade 
 O'er a fallen race gloomily cast! 
 
 Ended ? Ah, just begun ; 
 Away, far away o'er a pearl -tinted sea, 
 Where the voyagers sail all fearless and free ! 
 Away, far aAvay, w^here the mystical tree 
 Its perennial fruit on the evergreen lea. 
 Displays 'neath th' unsetting sun! 
 
 And listen! A prayer is heard: 
 
 Like nightingale's song in the silence of night. 
 Or sweet last sound of the swan in his flight ; 
 Like music of stars in the morning of light! 
 For thee! — Let angels with thee delight; — 
 For thee — her last fond word 1 
 
TM pK'^g dli^ffni^. 
 
 T TE is dying! He is dying! 
 
 Softly toll the loud-tongued bells! 
 No more let their clamorous paeans 
 Eend the air with resonant swells! 
 For a people bows with sighing 
 At their chieftain's bedside dying:— 
 
 Dying, slowly dying: 
 While the April winds are crying 
 For release from winter's hold! 
 
 ♦Written in the early days of the month of April, 1885, when the nation and 
 the world were watcliing with mournful gaze beside the bed of Gen. Grant, 
 daily, hourly expecting his departure. 
 
 (146) 
 
THE DYING CHIEFTAIN. 147 
 
 II. 
 
 Warrior lielmeted with crown 
 
 Of a people's Praise and Glory: — 
 
 Clad with armor of renown, 
 
 Once in battle stained and gory, 
 
 Washed and furbished with the tears 
 
 Of the myriad, grateful eyes 
 
 Of a nation sighing, sighing, 
 For its honored chieftain dying. 
 
 Dying, slowly dying, 
 While the April winds are crying 
 For release from winter's hold! 
 
 III. 
 
 Faded now his flashing eye, 
 Hope of Friend and fright of Foe ! 
 And his iron-muscled arm. 
 Whose resistless, sword-thrust blow 
 Eecalled the people from alarm, 
 
148 THE DYING CHIEFTAIN. 
 
 And hurled the foe repulsed and reeling, 
 Backward, backward in defeat, 
 Till the whole world heard the cry 
 Of the shouting columns wheeling 
 
 On the columns in retreat! 
 But the hero now is lying 
 At Death's door, meekly dying. 
 Dying, slowly dying. 
 While the April winds are sighing 
 For release from winter's hold! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And tear of Friend with tear of Foe 
 Mingling, at his bedside bending 
 North and South, once more united, 
 Kiss the old war-flag suspending 
 O'er the hero's dying couch; — 
 Kiss the flag and kiss the hero, 
 Melting all at nature's touch, 
 As he lifts the trembling flag 
 
THE DYING CHIEFTAIN. 149 
 
 To his faltering lips and eyes, 
 And waves it feebly, feebly sighing: — 
 " If I'm dying, truly dying, 
 Let the People's shout arise 
 From sea to sea, and crag to crag, 
 Fov ''iis not the Nation dying, 
 'Tis the old Chief only dying: — 
 God saved the Union," — crying — 
 ''God Ixcep the Union f'' — sighing — 
 
 Dying— ah yes— dying! 
 While the April winds are crying 
 For release from winter's hold! 
 
 V. 
 
 A Southern soldier sends a wreath 
 T' entwine with blossoms on his bier, 
 Bearing on its fragrant breath 
 The gentle peace-offering and tear ! 
 He, who fought him fierce at Shiloh 
 Once, to rend the land in twain. 
 
150 THE DYING CHIEFTAIN. 
 
 Now beside the dying hero, 
 Swears allegiance once again ! 
 O ! greatest triumph, conquering hero 
 Thine to win whilst thou are dying! 
 
 Dying! Alas, dying! 
 "While the April winds are sighing 
 For release from winter's hold! 
 
 VI. 
 
 A statue to our Great Ulysses, 
 A United People soon shall raise, 
 To send his name o'er isles and seas, 
 And tell the suffering lands afar, 
 How he rendered bondmen Freemen, 
 By the triumphal trial of War, 
 While now the Union shouts " amen! " 
 He washed the blot from our scutcheon's glory. 
 And stemmed the severing thrust of death ! 
 O ! let the statue tell the story, 
 Festooned with the fadeless wreath 
 
THE DYING CHIEFTAIN. 151 
 
 Of a People's loud acclaim, 
 Shouting "Glory to his name!" 
 For friend and foe rejoice the same: — 
 "Glory! Praise and Glory! " crying, 
 O'er the chieftain's bedside, dying: — 
 Ah! speak softly! Yes, he's dying. 
 Dying, slowly dying, 
 'Dying, 
 While the April winds are sighing 
 For release from winter's hold! 
 
}Aourn far ifi^ Ixiving h^^^l 
 
 f^\\ MOURNER crowned Avitli wosome weed, 
 Thy ills are sad, and scant thy meed 
 Of human comfort given! 
 For thee the night with doleful gloom, — 
 — Chill shadow — shrouds a stainless tomb, 
 Beneath a star-lit heaven. 
 
 Ah ! weep, and let thy burning tears 
 Still tell, that through the trying years, 
 
 Thy love was true to love ! 
 And every tear, a jewel laden 
 On the casket of the lifeless maiden, 
 
 Shall shine a star above! 
 
 Her life was pure, her name an honor; 
 Coarse calumny could cast upon her 
 No stain of venomous tongue ! 
 
 (152) 
 
MOURN FOR THE LIVING LOST. 153 
 
 Her cheek's fair blush was innoceut; 
 Her soft eyes spoke the sweet content 
 She oft in joyance sung. 
 
 Nor hung your veiled heads low with shame, 
 When death's shrill voice her queenly name, 
 
 Back-shouted through the dark ! 
 Your tears burn not upon your face, 
 Like heated irons of disgrace, 
 
 And brand a masqueless mark! 
 
 Your fate is sad: — we mourn with thee. — 
 And yet, within this dark, dead sea 
 
 Of human life, there's woe 
 Upcasts its slime from deeper depths, 
 And winds its green and circling breadths 
 
 'Round mortals here below. 
 
 O ! Lover, dost thou mourn thy loss ? 
 And yet, thy gold turned not to dross, 
 When fused with passion's fires! 
 
154 MOURN FOR THE LIVING LOST. 
 
 Thou still liast hope that thy fair one, 
 Beyond yon moon and golden sun, 
 To spotless life aspires! 
 
 O! sister the wild night-wind replies 
 In ghastly echoes to thy cries, 
 
 Above thy brother's grave! 
 Yet some for brothers mourn and weep, 
 Who wear not on their crowns asleep 
 
 The signet of the brave I 
 
 And fair young bride, thy palsied heart 
 Is weighted with a widow's part, 
 
 In wedlock's roseate morn ; 
 But oh! how oft a pale wife clings 
 To a corpse alive, who basely wrings 
 
 Her frail heart anguish-worn! 
 
 O! mourn the living lost! — For those 
 Who lie at peace in death's repose, 
 
 O'er sin their triumphs gained, 
 Rejoice! — ay, weep for those no more, 
 
MOUKN FOR THE LIVING LOST. 155 
 
 Who Avalk the radiant, stainless shore, 
 With freedom unrestrained! 
 
 Mourn for the living lost: whose life 
 Is but an endless death, and rife 
 
 With rank and writhing woes ; 
 Whose visions of receding years, 
 A dark and misty past appears, 
 
 Where myrtles tAvine the rose! 
 
 O ! death is not the worst of woes. 
 In this world's wild and fitful throes 
 
 Of fate's vicissitudes. 
 'Tis worse, far worse, when vilefal sin 
 Despoils the heart, and smites within 
 
 The soul, its blight includes ! 
 
 -^h 
 
(.■ \, 35 v:\o