7f Class I 3 3 ,5^ Book 65^^ CopyrigM]^^. CiJBTRIGHT DEPOSm HORIZON SONGS BY GRACE DUFFIELD GOODWIN *' South as the heart cries; North as the blood sings; West as the dead go; East as the light comes." BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1912 COPYBIGHT, 1912 SheemaNj French 6* CoMPAirr CCi,A330776 TO AN IMPERISHABLE MEMORY Thanks are due the following maga- zines and religious papers for permis- sion to reprint : The Century, Scribner^s, Harper^ s Bazaar, Lippincotfs, The Sinart Set, Congregationalist, Independent, Sun- day School Times, etc., etc. CONTENTS NATURE PAGE THOU REMEMBEREST 3 "THE EVENING AND THE MORNING" . . 5 DAWN 6 FOR THE SEA 7 >WHENCE COMETH MY HELP 8 SURPASSED . 10 THE HARBOR-MOTHER ........ 11 EARTH-LOVE 12 A SONNET OF OBLIVION 13 ORCHARD AND HILL 14 THE SONG-BIRD 15 REMEMBERED MUSIC 16 THE WILD BIRD 17 DAWN 18 AN EARLY SONG 19 SEA-GULLS 20 "LIKE A QUIET NUN" 21 ANTICIPATION 23 THE SOUND OF STREAMS 24> AFTER THE SHOWER 25 KIN 26 WITH THE STREAM 27 THE TRIUMPH 28 WINTER DAFFODILS 29 FROM THE WOODS 30 PILGRIM BROOK 31 THE AUTUMN STORM 32 THE SPIRIT OF RAIN 33 THE GATES OF PAN 35 CONTENTS PAGE THE POET'S MONTH 36 "I KNOW A LANE" 38 CHILDHOOD AT BETHLEHEM 41 THE GOLDEN KINGS 42f THE SHEPHERDS' WAKING 44 EMMANUEL— GOD WITH US 45 IN THE GARDEN .46 A CHILD IN THE GARDEN 48 MOTHER- ANGELS 49 A CHILD'S HYMN 50 THE LITTLE WHITE LAMB 51 DREAM-DEPTHS .... 52 THE BRAVE HEART 53 BLESSING 54 HER ANGEL 55 MEMORY 56 MOTHERS 57 LOVE LOVE SPEAKS 61 A SONNET OF LOVERS . . . . . . . .62 SNOW SUMMITS 63 FOR HELEN 64 A SONG FOR HELEN 65 MY LADY'S SONG 66 CAPTIVE CONTENT . 67 LOVE .68 MESSENGERS . 69 THE SINGER 70 MID-SEA 71 THE UNDESIRED 72 BONDS 73 WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG 74 AUCASSIN ET NICOLETE 75 CONTENTS PAGE IN SILENCE 77 FOR NELL . 78 ON Y VOIT L'AMOUB 79 THE BEE 80 ONE DAY 81 AFTER ^ .... 83 BEYOND RECALL 83 WITH WINGS 85 SEA SOUL 86 THE FOOL'S SONG 87 HELOISE TO ABELARD 88 HELOISE TO GOD 89 THE LIE 90 -WOMAN'S LOVE 91 THAT WHICH ABIDES 92 LIFE CLOISTERED 95 UPHELD QQ SINCE EDEN .97 UPWARD 98 OUTCAST 99 SERVICE 100 CHOICE 103 YOKEFELLOWS 103 THE UNREALIZED . . . 104 MAKING THE BEST OF IT 105 GRATITUDE 106 MASTERY 107 THE THANKFUL HEART .108 PRAYER 109 RECREANT . 110 CROWNS Ill THE HOUSE OF GOD 113 ^CREED 113 FROM THE SHRINE 114 CONTENTS PAGE THALATTA 115 SYMPATHY 116 PROGRESS IIT NIGHT AND NOON 118 CONVALESCENT 119 FREEDOM 120 FUTILITY 191 CAGES 122 CATHEDRALS 123 THE REMEMBERED LAND 124 DEATH GREATER GRIEF 127 LAZARUS 128 JUDGMENT 129 GUARDIANS 130 CONFIDENCE 131 LOSS 132 TO MY FATHER 133 TO MY FATHER 134 BETWEEN THE HARBOR AND THE HILL . 135 -ASHES 137 TO MY FATHER 138 HER HANDS 140 PAX V0BI8CUM 141 TO MY FATHER 143 MOTHER-HUNGER 144 A SONG FOR REMEMBRANCE . . . . . 146 THE LEGEND OF ISHTAR .147 THE MINORITY 149 THE LAST STAND 150 NORTHLAND . . .151 THIS HOUR 152 ULTIMATUM 153 NATURE THOU REMEMBEREST "Thou rememberest that we are dust." "He remembered that they were wind." God of the Universe, what dost Thou ask Of a handful of dust.? Is there no gauging of strength to the task When the master is just.^^ 'Neath the terrible wheels we have cried, we have striven When o'er the King's highway His chariots are driven. Who, hearing, shall pity.^^ Who, seeing, shall care ? We are dust on the air. God of the Worlds, dost Thou heed from afar When the wind on the sea Forgot of the wave, and unheard of the star Cries, wailing, to Thee.^^ The black of the midnight enfoldeth alone The voice of our grieving, the plaint of our moan; What fiat of destiny framed us to be Winds lost on the sea? [3] Great Worker, Great Dreamer, love smote Thee to lean Down the spaces of splendor that lightened be- tween ; To touch this dull earth till each clod was athrill And write in its dust the plain word of Thj will; To breathe in the winds on the dark of the sea The breath of Thy spirit — a challenge from Thee. O great the remembrance, and mighty the trust ! Thou knowest, O God, we are wind, we are dust ! [4] "THE EVENING AND THE MORNING" Dusk — and a star! The great gloom gathers slowly on the trees. Thrusts out remorseless from the crevices The lingering light that flies into the West To die on drowning sunset's submerged breast ; The world is cast adrift upon the wide Swift current of the dark's engulfing tide, No haven and no anchorage, until far, Lightens — a star! Dawn — and a bird ! The vague, prophetic splendor of the day Spreads its dim garment on the untrod way; The earth lies on the dreaming edge of sleep. And over all expectant tremors creep. Touched with a sweetness that grows poignant pain, Then shivers back to ecstasy again; And through the tensity of dawn deferred. Wakens — a bird! [5] DAWN When the dawn-star whitens In the flushing east, When the young birds' clamor Suddenly has ceased, When the breeze is breathless On the upland way, — In that one tense moment. Silence — Tremor — Day. Life's pale stars are slipping From the hand of night; Heavenly hills in shadow Catch the growing light; Love and Faith that, faltering. Through the gloom have trod, Know in Death's dawn-moment Silence — ^Rapture — God ! [6] FOR THE SEA How am I pent, that hunger for the sea, In close, green prison of a narrow vale. Where sobbing breath is choked and seems to fail, With panting for the wind to set it free! The smooth skies bend above the smoother green ; Trees crowd upon me; flowers flaunt and flare; The heavy, heated, perfume-laden air From dawn to dusk lies motionless, serene. Star-friended through mysterious ways of night, My soul into thy solitude would flee. And gladly, orphaned of the world, lay claim, Strong Mother of the hearts of men, to thee. [7] WHENCE COMETH MY HELP Strong hills, unreproachful, unchanging, For souls that would worship as I — Who am restless, inconstant, and weary. But true to the hills and the sky, — Bend near me, And hear me. Though answerless still to my cry. As a pagan can pray, self-deceiving, To gods that are dumb, So my soul can adore thee, calm hill-tops. When to thee I come. And thy curves lining soft against heaven Are answer that strength will be given. Flowing free Into me. There's a world of my fellows behind me, And fretting, and pain; Deep incomprehension, as wide as The measureless main. Is our portion together, for them and for me. Yet I love them. But now — I am free, I am free. Thy vassal, thy pupil to be. [8] Then take me, Ye hill-tops, and make me Breathe deep of your uppermost air; Let the gracious gold tints of the morning Be psalm and be prayer; For the soul gaining strength from your uplift Braves noontime and care. But tell me, ye merciful hill-tops. To whom do ye pray? Who gives you your might and your meekness. The calm of your day. That ye have free for sparing To all who come caring To bow and obey? The God of the hills in His heart bears The strength of the world. From the might of the mountains to slenderest Force there impearled In the dewdrop. The gold of the morn is His smile. Slow we learn. God is waiting the while Till our hearts shall reach high as the hills, And we see That all strength and all calm and all beauty Is He. [9] SURPASSED The urgent gull strives down the sweeping wind; The lark, aspiring, sings in viewless sky; Yet I, who have so hoped and dreamed and loved — How less than these am I! O radiant gull, thy calm of tireless flight, Unresting peace, be mine ; And thou. Familiar of the skies, teach me An ecstasy like thine! [10] THE HARBOR-MOTHER The little boats from the ocean glide, Hurrying home with the eventide For shelter and rest To the peaceful breast Of the harbor-mother, whose arms stretch wide. As she quiets each quivering, weary wing, This is the song that I hear her sing, While the stars hang low. And the night-winds blow. And strong and silent the slow tides swing; "Rest, little boats, through the deepening night — Rest till the smile of the sun is bright; Then away and away Through the long, fair day; Nothing shall hinder your eager flight. "Sleep now, and rest; For that is best. And calm and safe is the harbor-breast." [11] EARTH-LOVE I THINK that I shall hear, when I am dead, If even a sparrow twitters overhead; When June has come, and the wild roses blow, I shall not stir, majhap, but I shall know. i No sudden shower may touch my lowly place Without a tear, responsive, on my face; Each wind that wakes the fragrance of the fir. Shall whisper, passing, "Hush, I call to her." And if a star gleam down through purple night. Straight on the snow that lies upon me light. Perhaps as I shall draw one joyous breath, The old-time rapture may imperil death. [12] A SONNET OF OBLIVION The earth hath holy places, unadorned With sculpture or commemorative brass; Across whose ways unheeding footsteps pass, Whose memories by forgetfulness are scorned. Well were it if some solemn voice had warned, "Tread softly; in this dewy, velvet grass The daisy grew that Chaucer plucked. Alas, Such blossoms spring no more, and few have mourned." Nature's true heart alone doth now enfold The tree where Herrick carved his Julia's name ; Keats' "little hill" — forgotten long ago. Yet would that we could bind in grateful gold The bank of thyme that shares in Shake- speare's fame. The path Vittoria trod with Angelo. [13] ORCHARD AND HILL No push of buds, no breath of bloom, No dream of new leaves soon to be; No dear communion, bough to bough, In orchard sympathy. O sad Pine Tree, Not these for thee. But all them, at will, for me. A solitude of friendless green ; Winds that have swept a bitter sea ; Wide wastes of midnight sky between The distant, heedless stars and thee. Night, silence, wind and stars and sea! O blest Pine Tree, Close, close by thee, I pray thee make a place for me ! [14] THE SONG-BIRD A BAREEN stretch of sunless land, No tree, no flower; Bleak, sullen desolation spanned By skies that lower. And far above, from earth remote, Where clouds belong, A tiny bird with happy note Burst into song. Hearken, sad soul! There is for thee A lesson hidden ; Though all thy life a desert be. And bloom forbidden. Remember, though thy fate be sad, No joyance bringing. The darkest day will seem more glad If birds be singing. [15] REMEMBERED MUSIC IN MEMOEY OF A POET. One song is hushed in the wood, One strong little throat is stilled, And the branches are quiet which once To the melody thrilled, — While the small cold nest That the warm wings pressed Hangs — at rest. The forest choir sings on Its glad, triumphant strain, But yet for the silent voice. One tree feels a nameless pain. And the sorrowing stream Shows the wing's ruddy gleam In its dream. The poet whose words rang so bravely Through darkness and pain, Has ceased from her singing, and sorrowful We who remain Miss the voice that, aspiring, Unfaltering, untiring. Sent forth the clear strain. [16] THE WILD BIRD The soul's wild bird on urgent wing Seeks the wide reaches of the upper air; Its eager flight that owns no lesser thing Soars swift as prayer. Enthralled, beset, in piteous plight The faltering pinions flutter on the sod; Poor bird, strive on, still may'st thou win the right To nest within the waiting heart of God. [17] DAWN The dewdrop stars, expiring, shine Where the gossamer mist on the hill lies gray ; And the black moth Night lifts quivering wings From the unblown rose of Day. [18] AN EARLY SONG The Spring has come, you say? Spring never goes ; Spring is not that which comes before the rose, — Not that alone, — the far, deep heart of things Is vital with innumerable springs. In depth of winter comes a smell of earth. And pale arbutus flushes 'neath the snow, — Deep down the life-blood pulses ; Spring is here, — Brave Spring, sweet Spring, that comes, but does not go ! [19] SEA-GULLS The white gulls follow the flying ship Afar and afar o'er the solemn deep ; Tho' beating wings may wearily dip, And battle the wind or the fierce wave-lip, Yet onward they follow, nor rest, nor sleep. My soul like a ship has sailed away From the quiet harbor it loved the best ; Out from the widening, darkening bay To the far mid-ocean's strong unrest ; — But on and on in the vessel's track The white-winged memories turn not back. [20] "LIKE A QUIET NUN" Like a quiet nun with her holy dreaming The mist-veiled river glides slowly by, Silent and peaceful and prayer-enfolded With guardian angels in wind and sky. At last by the mountain that strong and silent Hinders her feet on her patient way, She pauses, and bends in her supplication : "Absolve me, Father; I come to pray." Onward, forgiven, the humble river Free from the touch of soil or stain, With gentle murmur is praying, praying, Telling her beads in the drops of rain. [21] ANTICIPATION Gray wings, brown wings, a-flutter in the pine, What dream of nests has brought you to this winter-land of mine? The snow lies over all the fields, the sky is sun- less gray What prescience of the leafing- time has touched your flight to-day? ♦ Gray wings, brown wings, that hover and that rest. There is no place on icy boughs for any feath- ered breast ; There is no bud on any twig that now fore- tells the shade That wavers in the sunlight when the summer nest is made. Gray wings, brown wings, a-flutter in the pine, There is no song for singing in this winter- land of mine. No Inn of Birds with a welcome for an all too early guest ; No song, no bloom, no breeze of spring, no shelter for a nest. [22] Gray wings, brown wings, ye soar in fearless glee; Brave little denizens of air, ye are more wise than we; Once more we were too dull to hear the message that ye bring: " 'Tis not the Spring that sends the birds, but birds that bear the Spring." [23] THE SOUND OF STREAMS Through twilight woods I wandered, doubt- ing, worn, One with the night that settled chill and slow; Hearing the wind through trees all tempest- torn. Wailing like souls that bear an endless woe; Yet, to niij listening ear a sound was borne Of small streams singing in the dark below. Then, timid, weary heart, with pain oppressed, Wand'ring where all unfriended thou must go, Heed not the wind's tumultuous unrest; For thus, in silence waiting, thou shalt know There is a sound, of all sweet sounds the best, — The small streams singing in the dark below. [£4] AFTER THE SHOWER T'piE clouds have parted; the burnished blue Of the sunset sky bends, smiling, over The dripping meadows, whose jewels shine On the lordly heads of the purple clover; And the warm sun kisses, at day's bright close The rain-wet cheek of the sweetbrier rose. [25] KIN The silken-skirted breeze across the lawn Tosses the petals of a yester-rose, O'erbends the grateful garden, and is gone, Leaving the breathless night to dead repose. Out from the caverns of the Northern sea, The tempest-hag, disheveled and forlorn, Flings wide defiance, crying, "Room for me! Of the same mother-wind we two were born." [26] WITH THE STREAM I HAVE been but a leaf on the stream, Carried beyond my will In the sweep and the whirl and the rush Of a life that is never still. I have watched the banks by day, Where the frailest flowers that grow Are calm and safe, with their roots knit deep In the quiet earth below. I ha,ve watched the stars at night. Serene, unmoved, and high; Nothing they know of the dark below Where a river is hurrying by. I am worn with the fret and the rush, With this fierce, mad haste to be; And yet, though a leaf, I have lived — I have lived, — And the air grows salt with the sea ! [27] THE TRIUMPH The small blue heralds of the grass, With noiseless note of welcoming, Stand ready near the tented fern To greet my Lady Spring. She passes down the woody ways Whose lazy brooks awake and shout. And smiles when sudden daffodils Fling loyal banners out. The cool brown earth beneath her tread Grows warm with hope of suns to be, And opens dim long-dreaming eyes, Drowsy with mystery. And bound in chains that never fret. Among her cheerful captives move All human hearts that once again Pledge truth to Spring and Love. [28] WINTER DAPFODILS Hinting subtle scents of Springtime, Perfumed damp of new brown mold, True to Nature's changeless instinct. Breathe the hothouse blooms I hold. Souls like these there are that struggle Through the warp of their intent, Still to show that deep within them Yearns that life that heaven meant. [29] FROM THE WOODS Here in the deep wood's green content I would be free of the sleepless town. Deaf to the tramp of those many feet That plod so patiently up and down. Free of the noise, the strife, the heat, Free of the voices of human woe; Here in this cloistered and cool retreat, Free of the toilers who come and go. Here in the green wood's shadowy peace, Lord, grant me courage and calm again The better to lighten with loyal heart The load of the sorrowful world of men. [30] PILGRIM BROOK BuowN-cowiiED among the cloistered trees Where no untutored eye may look, I found, intent on mysteries, A serious pilgrim brook. His rosary of pebbles bright Slipped o'er the sunshine's linked chain ; He told his beads from dawning light Till dusk drew on again. His patient feet, unhurried, trod Beneath the arches of the fern; He gave an alms to thirsty sod For blessings in return. Only the guardian stars above That watch o'er those who fare as he. Know how he seeks with eager love The green shrines of the sea. [31] THE AUTUMN STORM The somber afternoon has darkened down To one low-level plain of threatening cloud, Among whose masses the slow thunder stirs. Soon scant, infrequent drops make heavy sound Among the leafage, tossed by rising wind. Then, sheeted rain drives by — diaphanous. The tremulous lightning strikes athwart the drops And turns them all to hurtling amethyst ; Then flickers like the slender, half-hid flame Of some frail light held forth by one who stands In sweeping wind, and shields it with the folds Of swirling garments ; now it tears the sky From zenith to horizon with a rent Of purple splendor, fading ere 'tis done. The night draws swiftly on, and all the heaven Is silent, flameless, while the storm, appeased, Calms in persistent graciousness of rain. [3£] THE SPIRIT OF RAIN In the first greening and veiling of Spring Lo, a new, wondrous thing! Buds of the apple-tree, reddened and round, Grew breathless a space, nor with gladness unwound Their crurled petals to perish and fall. The pine, stern and tall, From its self-chosen place of command, Uplifted in air its dark hand; "Be ye still: Let the willow at foot of the hill Cease her love for the ripples that pass. Let the violets hid in the grass, Bend them low: Where the soft, hooded heads of the ferns push and grow, None must know. Have patience, have prayer. For the joy of the earth is your care. Now afar o'er the hill I can see Clouds gathering; motionless be. Till soft on ye all Rain shall faU. Then gladly arise. And grow fair for the eyes Of the Rain, who is Lady of May, and whose touch [33] Makes the quick-striving' pulse to rejoice over much : Then the willow shall fling Her bride-garments of Spring; And the brook that has grown To a river shall own She is fair, and be glad With a joy grown exultant and mad. While in happy surprise Let the low ranks of violets rise, Their faint censers of perfume a-swing. Tiny priests, purple-garbed like a king. And the buds that impatient are pausing, Over-wrought with the joy they are causing, Shall declare. Wide in air. The perfection of fragrance and bloom In Nature's uncrowded, great room; For all shall grow radiant, — plain, At the touch of the Spirit of Rain," [84] THE GATES OF PAN Open the gates to me, — lo, I am knocking, Open the gates to me, Pan of the Hills ! Now in the frost-benumbed darkness enfolded. Give me the dream and the life which it fills. I have come over the highways of Winter, Followed the flight of the cloud and the wing; Open the gates to me; give, for I famish Starved in the primal love-hungers of Spring. Tears for you, dreams for you, choked breath that stifles Soul-sense and heart-sense with joy of de- sire, — These be oblation at Spring's darkened altars, Reddening with ravished Promethean fire. Open the gates to me ! See, they are parting Wide to the flood of the gold and the blue. Who is the god of these green shrines of si- lence ? Pan of the Dawn, it is you — it is you! [35] THE POET'S MONTH Month of the poet's year, Earnest of summer-blue, Globed in thy dawn-dim dew Rainbows of promise appear. Chaucer hath sung of the dawn, The dew and the daisies of May; Joyfully forth he hath gone Ere the first blush of the day, Eager for spring-blossoms wan. Glad his devotion to pay, — Thrilling with May. Month of the Poet's year. We are captives of spring — thou art here! The singer of Scotland who drove His plow through the fresh-smelling fur- row, Guarded each field- creature's burrow. Full of his great-hearted love; His was the spirit that strove Humbly, as worshipers pray. To sing of the daisy — and May. Month of the poet's year. Claim of thine own, thou art here! * [36] Keats with the vow on his lips Sworn at his mistress's shrine, Knight-errant of Beauty, now sips To May in a nectar divine; Singing of "buds and of bells," Intimate secrets he tells Of blossom, of leaf and of vine. Month of the poet's year, Freed from the frost-forged chain, At last thou art here, thou art here! Thou weepest in odorous rain. For joy in thy freedom again. [87] "I KNOW A LANE" I KNOW a lane where twilight greens do cheat The envious sunshine, where the dew-tears cling Till mid-morn dries them with a mother's kiss. There you may hear, tho' noon be high in heaven. Small wings a-flutter, and the soft dawn-calls Of husj birds that build their nests low down, Careless who looks therein, — for none come here Save those whose hearts are tuned to tender- ness. No brooks there are, but one untroubled rill Draws close the weeds above its hidden bed, And sings, as one half -wakened, slumbrously. There would I be, in that remembered spot. Which, last of all God's handiwork, did know His touch. His smile, His verdict, — "It is good." [38] CHILDHOOD AT BETHLEHEM Unheeded on that night gone by, The Magi watched a Star on high; The wondering shepherds left their sheep, A mother waked her child to keep ; And none beheld, with quickened sight, A darkened world roll into light. Strength to enforce God's great commands Was folded in those baby hands ; Grace to behold a world of sin Dwelt those pure baby eyes within; And all the love God could impart Beat in a Child's all-loving heart. Across the far Judean hill The voice of angels soundeth still; Upon the slopes of Olivet The breath of prayer ariseth yet ; And cometh now to you and me Healing and love from Galilee. Gethsemane's appalling hour Awakes anew our failing power; We bow the head and bend the knee In gratitude for Calvary; But heaven came closest down to them Who watched in love at Bethlehem. [41] THE GOLDEN KINGS Three Kings went seeking the manger-bed; Dark was the night and the way was far; And ever they sang, for their hearts were led By the hope of the Holy Star. Dim was the mom in the cattle-cave; Dim was the light in a mother's eyes ; The Kings were troubled, their minds mis- gave, And were full of a sad surprise. They laid their gifts where the oxen trod; Israel's Savior, — can this be He, This child in the manger the Son of God With a message of liberty? Casper knelt by the Baby's side, (Love not alwaj^s may understand) And the gaze of the Child was sweet and wide As He touched the King's great hand. Melchior, — deeply his spirit saw — Raised not his face that was wet with tears ; His heart was stricken with love and awe And the vision of coming years. [42] Balthasar, feeling the pressure still Of childish arms that were far away, Pressed tender lips with a reverent thrill To a little foot in the hay. The years sped on ; with faith and prayer Casper had struggled to understand, And those whom he succored proclaimed him there The King of the Golden Hand. Melchior, stripped of his kingly pride, Bore with his people a brother's part; "Behold how he loves us," they gladly cried, "Our King with the Golden Heart." Balthasar's lips were swift to speak The message of gladness to old and young; For the love of the Child he had gone to seek Gave words to the Golden Tongue. O Golden Hand, O Golden Heart, O Tongue of Gold, — this bliss unbought, This joy in which the world bears part, Jesus, the Child, hath wrought. [43] THE SHEPHERDS' WAKING If The night wind swept the lonely fields, Where weary shepherds silent lay, Dreaming of toil with heavy brain. Watching for laggard day. One turned him in his restless sleep, Raised drowsy eyes to seek the sky ; "Fair days to come," he slowly spake. "Shepherds, the dawn is nigh." A blinding vision filled the air, Too pure, too bright for mortal ken. "Glory to God," an angel sang, "Peace and good will to men." As those who rouse and grope in dark With purpose of remembered light. The shepherds sought the Child whose face Made the poor shelter bright. O Lord, we wake, and watch, and grope; Unvisioned ways our feet have trod; Lead us, as they, o'er plains of night, To find the Christ of God! [M] EMMANUEL— GOD WITH US Sleeping in the manger rude King without a diadem, All His throne His mother's arms — - Jesus Christ of Bethehem. Earnest at His daily task Heeding what the father saith, Just a boy with thoughtful eyes, Jesus Christ of Nazareth. In a strong man's bitter pain Pleading in an agony, All the world upon His soul, Jesus of Gethsemane. Suffering, dying — praying still. There upon the cruel tree. Kingly, crowned with stinging thorn, Christ, the Christ of Calvary. [45] IN THE GARDEN There's a tender Eastern legend, In a volume old and rare, Of the Christ-child in his garden Walking with the children there. And it tells, this strange, sweet story ,- (True or false, ah, who shall say?) How a bird with broken pinion Dead within the garden lay. And the children, childish cruel. Lifted it by shattered wing. Shouting, "Make us merry music, — Sing, you lazy fellow, sing." But the Christ-child bent above it. Took it in his gentle hand. Full of pity for the suffering. He alone could understand. Whispered to it, — Oh, so softly! Laid his lips upon its throat. And the song-life, swift returning. Sounded out in one glad note. [46] Then away, on wings unwearied, Joyously it sang and soared, And the little children kneeling, Called the Christ-child, "Master— Lord." [47] A CHILD IN THE GARDEN Tell me the reason, tender Moss, Why soft thy cushions be? "Upon the rocks that once I clad The Lord Christ bent his knee, And now I carpet all the earth For those who pray as He." What meanest thou, O little Bird, That singest all the day, By stilling, as the night draws nigh, Thy loving, cheerful lay? "It is because at eventide Our Lord Christ knelt to pray." Now tell me why, thou little Flower, Thy petals shut are laid? When in the garden darkness falls Do blossoms feel afraid? "Ah no ! But once we bent our heads When our Lord Jesus prayed." Why is it, stately Cedar-tree, Thy branches incense bear? "Beneath my boughs the Lord of Life Has often knelt in prayer. To guard that sweet love-laden breath This was the Cedar's care." [48] MOTHER-ANGELS When a little child must go Out from love and warmth and home Where the winds of winter blow O'er the trackless dark below, Must it lost and lonely roam? No — ah no! Some mother-angel Tall and gracious, tender-eyed, Takes the little frightened hand, Guides across the Lonely Land Keeping ever close beside. Mother-angel, when they missed you From the choiring hosts of light Well they knew that you were waiting At the boundaries of night. And the Heavenly Father smiled — "She hath gone to meet a child !" [49] A CHILD'S HYMN How can little children Serve a glorious King? What have they to offer, What have they to bring? Willing hands for service, Eager feet to run On His mighty errands, Till the set of sun. Will He hear our praying. Will He stoop to bless? Does He bend above us In our helplessness? Yes, He answers always When the children cry, Guiding all their footsteps With a Father's eye. Little hands enfolding By His mighty power, He who formed the Heavens Careth for a flower. He who rules the nations Shelters in His arm All the little children, Safe from every harm. [50] THE LITTLE WHITE LAMB Green are the pastures of Sleepy-Land, Fresh are the fields and fair ; Wide are the ways to its Wonder-Fold, And my little lamb is there. Blue are the skies of Sleepy-Land ; Clear are the brooks and bright ; With a Shepherd-Dream to the Slumber Gate Went my little lamb last night. O tall Dream-Shepherd, I pray you, hear! Fair tho' your pastures be. Let down the bars, and bring once more My little white lamb to me. [51] DREAM-DEPTHS Far below ocean's roar and foam, In the gray-green dusk of the soundless deep, Delicate mosses cling and grow, Dreaming in tremulous, broken sleep. Below life's striving, its beat and stress, Its storm of sorrow, its rain of tears. Our childhood memories cling and sleep In the dim, cool depths of our silent years. [52] THE BRAVE HEART A PRAYER FOR MOTHERS Strengthen my heart, O God, For the strain of another day, When work begins and the toilful hours Leave never a space to pray. Quiet my heart, O God, Though the fever and fret increase, To know in its deepest solitude The springs of an inner peace. Lighten my heart, O God, To sing on a weary road. That some may listen and smile beneath The crush of the whelming load. Strength and courage and peace, I ask them, Lord, of Thee, For these are the angels set to guide O'er the way that I cannot see. [63] BLESSING The orchard tree, that loves the distant stars, Bends low to bless, Content to friend the people of the grass In watchfulness. And let a grateful bird, for home secure, Its praise confess. Wise mother-heart, to whom is much denied. Do thou no less ; Small, clinging arms restrain, and trivial tasks Thy days oppress ; Learn the dear teaching of the orchard trees. That bend, — to bless. [54] HER ANGEL Tell the Father, little angel, Of my baby's joy; How the earth-child gives in gladness Laughter for a toy. Tell the Father, little angel, Of my baby's tears ; I, her mother, stoop to kiss them, Bend to still her fears. Little angel, pause in silence; This is not thy care. The great God himself will listen To my baby's prayer. [55] MEMORY I START and listen as of old, In watching hours at night, To hear a little wailing voice That cries aloud for fright. The silence is alive with sound; Across a waste of years, I bend my face to touch her cheek. And kiss my baby's tears. [56] MOTHERS A DUSKY figure clasping to her heart A small, warm body, makes her pleading wild To an insensate stone ; the mother cry — "Have mercy, O have mercy on the child!" Before the Man of Galilee, whose arm Supports a little smiling, drowsy head. There kneels a woman; this her world-old prayer : "Rabboni, bless him, — I am comforted." [57] LOVE LOVE SPEAKS At the revel of the world Sat the strong kings, Greed and Power, While a pilgrim paused without In the midnight hour. "Wealth is here for all," they said. (Is that gold that gleams so red? Skies are bending black above). "Tears be wealth," quoth Love. At the revel of the world Laughed the great lords. Lust and Fame, While the night-wind sighing low Breathed the pilgrim's name. "Crowns are here for all," they said. (Are those gems that glow so red? Never star shines out above). "Thorns be crowns," quoth Love, [61] A SONNET OF LOVERS Men have loved women after many ways : Purely, as Dante, making love a prayer For Beatrice ; in a wild despair, As Petrarch loved, who san^ for Laura's praise ; With strong desire that stained with crime their days. As Antony, or Abelard, to dare Caesar^ — ^or God; or as that one who bare His Argive Helen Ilium's towers to raze. Kingdoms and states, honor and faith, have stood Unshaken till some fatal moment when A woman's smile, alluring, shone above, O'er-dazzling fame or valor, wealth or good. Priest, scholar, warrior, — so they be men, In every age they sell their souls for love. [62] SNOW SUMMITS Love is not all the valley and the rose ; Love is the Alpine peak, that, lone and cold, Rests uncomplaining in the steady hold Of Honor's stainless and eternal snows. Across renunciation's height there glows The light of stars that bring all Heaven near ; Who strives to this hath nothing more to fear; Love is not all the valley and the rose. [63] FOR HELEN My thoughts are like the little birds. Your heart is like the nest; They rove the sky on fearless wings. To you they come for rest, Well-knowing, though the world be fair, Your tender love is best. My songs are like the little streams. Your heart is like the sea; Though through the woods they wander on So careless, glad, and free. They seek at last the silent deep — They come at last to thee. [64] A SONG FOR HELEN Good-night, Sweetheart, how often times like this Have I looked long into your tender eyes, Full of a love too sweet to know disguise. And said, with lips the purer for your kiss, "Good-night, Sweetheart." Good-night, Sweetheart, tho' now so far away That I can see you only in my dreams. Still, as I kiss the pictured lips it seems That I can hold you close again, and say, "Good-night, Sweetheart." [65] MY LADY'S SONG i She mindeth me of little blooms, So frail and faint and shy, That grow where, thro' the shady nooks, A laggard brook slips by; Of all things sweet and fair and free, She mindeth me — she mindeth me! She mindeth me of woodland pools. Transparent, brown, and deep, In whose pellucid, amber depths Long days of sunshine sleep. Of all things strong and deep and free. She mindeth me — she mindeth me! [66] CAPTIVE CONTENT Love's caged bird am I, Captive content to be; I have no world beyond the bars, I seek no liberty. Such food as Love provides For hunger's sake I eat; The birds that dwell 'neath open sky Find better drink and meat. What use have I for wings Whose flight is but a span.^^ I cannot even build a nest As God's free creatures can. Love sent me forth one day With mocking and disdain; In fright and loneliness I sought My prison-house again. And yet withal I sing Who may no further rove; My cage is widest world to me, Captive content of Love. [67] LOVE Master of men, no merry child art thou That girt with playtime weapons in the sun Dost lilt and laugh through light heart hours that run, With trivial blossoms o'er a careless brow. Not at such errant feet strong hearts shall bow With penitence for loyalties undone, With offerings by faith and valor won, Or heart-break stricken dumb of easy vow. Thou grave-eyed god, thy temple is the steep Rough crag of Honor; silent and apart Thy presence foldeth dark that inner shrine. Where life's still mysteries, trembling out of sleep. Unveiled rise before the pure in heart Whose holy passion glows akin to thine. [68] MESSENGERS The tender thoughts you think of me Flutter like wings against my breast, As birds for which my heart shall be The waiting nest. I feel them in the air above Like the soft touch of living wings ; And one that bears your deepest love Alights and sings. O Birds, my Birds, I go my way But by your flood of soundless song, Through the long spaces of the day My soul grows strong. [69] THE SINGER The rough world takes me fiercely by the throat : — "Sing thou, and earn thy bread. Thou canst make music, give us now a song Ere day is sped." "We pay thee well — now tell us of thy pain In fluent verses strong; For thou hast suffered. Sing us as we wait Some mournful song." My heart and brain were silent all the day ; My very soul was numb. I had no songs. For gladness or for pain My lips were dumb. Love waked me in the night when stars were high. When winds were blowing free: — "Canst thou not fashion from thy deepest soul A song for me.?" Then falling like the blossoms of the spring, So thick they came and fast. Songs drifted white and fragrant on my soul; I sang at last. [70] MID-SEA Love is the sunlight on the spray, A rainbow gleam of bliss and tears, While life's mid-ocean, far away Darkens with surging fears. This is the solemn undertone Of that unguessed, eternal strife; Each soul must breast the seas alone; Love is not all of life. [71] THE UNDESIRED They wrong thee, Love, who prate of joy; Few are the blisses thou dost bring. The year holds bitter storm and dark For one dear day of Spring. Heavy the crosses thou dost build And bid us fainting bear ; Thorny the crowns thy pale hands weave For paler brows to wear. Gray Memory tendeth graves for thee, Filling her heart with tears ; And weareth rue and rosemary Through numb and laggard years. Is there no place where thou art not? No spot where we are free? Yet, vanished — for one look I'd fling My soul itself to thee. [72] BONDS When Dark hath set the vexed soul From chain and drudging free, Mj thoughts, released, in eager course Unswerving haste to thee. When Dawn, with manacles agape. Their jailer comes to be, They crowd more close, reluctant gaze. And turn, wet-eyed, from thee. Chide not their sullen, captive hour; Thou hast not known them free; For then they run, they leap, they soar,- To be again with thee! [78] WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG Love is bending^ above the stream, And his childish face is merry, As with joy unbounded and hope supreme, Among the ripples that dance and gleam, He launches a roseleaf wherry. Down by the willows the stream grows wide. On to the river sweeping; And the roseleaf boat, in its dainty pride, Is torn and muddy and tossed aside. While Love on the bank is weeping. Though Love grows older, though now the lips Are graver that once were merry. Though across the sea sail his great white ships, Yet I know that still, as each strong bow dips, He sighs for the roseleaf wherry. [74] AUCASSIN ET NICOLETE Sweet his lady, fair of face, From the turret to the ground In a moment's breathless space Glad escape has found. Swift she takes her wilful way Past the blossoms drenched in dew, (What if Aucassin were I — Nicolete were you !) Fair white daisies 'gainst her feet Show less white, less pure than they; Through the shadowy, moonlit street Love has found a way. To the dungeon deep and chill Comes she where her lover lies, And the air is all athrill With his passion-cries. Sharp and bright her dagger gleams, As she cuts her yellow hair; Throws it him who oft in dreams Kissed and called it fair; [75] Whispers, ere she turns to fly, All the old words, dear and true ; (Ah, that Aucassin were I — Nicolete were you!) What is left to us to-day From that simple, elder time? Just the half-forgotten way Of a captive's rhyme. Yet it breathes of courage high. Strong Love, swift to dare and do; (Ah, that Aucassin were I! Nicolete were you!) [76] IN SILENCE I THINK of you in the silence, Away from the busy throng; And every dream is a blessing, And every thought is a song. And yet, when I move with others Through the cares of a toilful day, There's a sound in my heart of singing That lightens the weary way. Oh, Love, that I love through the tumult, Through tossing and surge and strife, It is then that I hold you closely Down in the deeps of life. But, Love, that I love in the stillness. When hearts are attuned to rest. It is then that I love you only. It is then that I love you best. [77] FOR NELL When my sweete girle dothe touche herre lippes Untoe ye cuppe his rimme, You'll sweetnesse at ye bottome finde, And sweetness at ye brimme. And he who of ye sugar then Withe fulle contentment sippes, Is only one who never knew Ye sweetnesse of herre lippes. [78] ON Y VOIT V AM OUR I SEE upon the yellowed page A purple stain; The book is worn with use and age, Its thoughts are deep, its words are sage. It would disdain So light a thing as love, I fear, And yet a lover's hand left here. With loving pain. The little flower that shows so clear Its purple stain. [79] THE BEE HoNEY-DUENCHED in the soul of a flower, Unsated with sweet, Plucked forth, trampled down 'neath the power Of alien feet. Still a-thrill with the warmth of the hour When the blossom-heart beat, — Thus he lies, torn of wing. Crushed, stunned, with an impotent sting Thrusting rose-leaves that storm through the air; Only that to hold life from despair. So merciless Fate Bade me go ; From the fragrance and warmth of thy breast Swept me low. And the pitying world in an hour Hath forgotten the bee and the flower. [80] ONE DAY In fields close gilt with buttercups I found a violet; Its tiny petals half-unclosed With early dew were wet. happy field of buttercups, O dearer violet! In all the years of rich content Whereof you never knew, 1 found one little fragrant hour Impearled with memory's dew. happy years of deep content, dearer day with you! [81] AFTER When the gray boats shiver and bend and flee, When a salt wind drives from the open sea, When the strong gull knoweth a storm for a heart. We two must part. For the unforgettable gold and blue Is dead in the grave of the sun with you; Joy of my joy, — ah, my grasp was vain: Thou art changed to pain! [82] BEYOND RECALL I HAVE shut the door of my heart, And locked it with keys of doubt. I am lonely enough within, And you are alone without. There's a feel of storm in the air. Poor child, you will fear it, too ; You cannot come to my arms again, 'Twill be lonely enough for you. You will lose your way in the dark; My love was your guiding light. And now you are all alone In the storm and the coming night. It is safe and warm within, (But the door is bolted fast,) I am restless and full of pain. And I wish that the storm were past. I almost wish that again My arms could be opened wide, And you would come, as of old. For shelter and love inside. [83] You will lose your way in the dark; I almost wish you could see The light that I hold ; but its flame burns low, 'Tis scarcely enough for me. I wish, oh! I wish it quite, I long with exceeding pain. To hold you again, to forgive you again, To love you with might and main. Come in — I unbolt the door; Come back — for I throw it wide; You are lonely, so lonely, I know, without. And I am alone inside. Again and again I call. Why do you make me wait? The fire is burning, and love is here, And the hour is growing late. You will never come back again? Is that what the silence saith? I have shut you out — I have shut you out To loneliness, dark, and death! [84] WITH WINGS He sang of lands of warmth and sun, Engirt by orient colors rare, Where slumbered one with passion's heart And midnight in her hair. Yet he who sang lacked daily bread, And dwelt beneath a sky unkind. Forgotten of the careless world, — Unloved and old and blind. [85] SEA SOUL The sullen sea lies cold and gray And huddled far below Are the newly dead of yesterday And the dead of long ago. Yet once within the sun's embrace, The blue wave thrilled with bliss, And Aphrodite's laughing face Was that incarnate kiss. O Love, O Death — each soul's dark sea Holds thy dread secrets well; Untaught, we sound the mystery Of Heaven and of Hell. [86] THE FOOL'S SONG Some day, mj masters, I shall love no more, — I who have laughed for love and sung my song; Time's cool, gray hands shall turn my hot heart o'er. Disdainful, as a wine cup filled too long. But even as the last red drop is poured. My lute shall whisper — "Love — not Death — is Lord." [87] HELOISE TO ABELARD You have been grief to me, and blinding pain; You have been sorrow of an old despair; Yours was the voice of all things lost and vain; You bound me burdens that were sore to bear. You have been joy to me, and catching breath Of ecstasy that bade my pulses cease ; You have been freedom from the fear of death, You have been calm of conflict's hard-won peace. Your hands have wrung the last red vital drop Of bliss and woe from my surrendered heart. Now — life and time and heaven must fail and stop. Because, forever, thou and I must part. [88] HELOISE TO GOD God, send an angel! I am sorely pressed In struggle with Love's naked, unarmed might ; Each particle of power I possessed I dragged to conflict in the unequal fight. And I have fought and failed upon his breast Once more to-night. How can the little quivering form of Prayer Stand long between my soul and passion's power? She needs must flee to some diviner air Where dwell those hearts without such earthly dower Of life and longing, rapture and despair. As fill this hour. God, send an angel ! Of Thy sovereign will Bid Michael bring the hosts of Heaven to aid One human soul, lest Love should strike to kill. And none should guess how as I strove I prayed. Knowing if I be smitten stark and still 'Twas God delayed ! [89] THE LIE How brave the lie was as she flung it out ! — Woman's poor shelter in her hour of need; Blackening her lips with laughter none might doubt, To keep her soul unspotted from the deed. Not low enough nor mean enough to pay Truth's awful price — lives twined within her own; Oh, easier far, denying day by day Her soul's high gods that thundered from the throne ! And when her time comes to be judged for this, By Him who sees life truly, sees it whole, — For His eye clean, and bare of earthly bliss, Stands one who dared to lie to save her soul. [90] WOMAN'S LOVE Life was a nun all garbed in gray, Who walked alone, apart, With smileless lips that moved to pray. And meek hands on her heart. Love was a king who chanced to pass On lightsome quest intent ; He followed o'er the untrod grass The quiet way she went. His warm eyes held her for an hour In that dear garden plot; The kiss, the token and the flower^ — Only the king forgot ! [91] THAT WHICH ABIDES Death has robbed me, Life has robbed me; Only Love has proven true — Love that flies above the tempest, Lost in blue; Love that wears your smile, your gesture, Eyes of you! Thus have I, from Time's strange salvage, More than Death can take away; More than Life can hurt or squander In its day; Love remains, and smiles upon me Your old way! [92] LIFE CLOISTERED The holy cloisters of the inmost Soul Are full of gray- robed thoughts that silently, Head bowed on bosom, tell, with trembling hands, The well-worn rosary of our daily fears. What do we ask for them? Peace to be free — To wander unmolested, safe from speech Or question from the friend who knows us best. Ours is the right to bar the outer doors ; To let them pray and weep in darkened halls As we and they shall deem our life hath need. The friends outside shall sit them in the sun Where gay-hued gardens gladden in the wind. To draw their hearts from lingering round the door. Closed, barred, and locked from their too- kindly eyes. [96] UPHELD Love holds me in the hollow of his hand And bids me try To pierce the dark that he alone hath spanned, And reach the sky. Love holds me in the hollow of his hand And bids me sing, While chanting stars and rushing worlds with- stand My murmuring. Love bids me, in the hollow of his hand. At peace to be ; Content that what I fail to understand Is best for me. I sing my song, I struggle hope, or rest; He bends above: My frail wings own for their unshaken nest Almighty love. [96] SINCE EDEN The Tree of Life, in chaos rooted deep, Rises through evil mists, whose glooming hides Truth's struggling beams. Its thick-grown branches bear Leafage of human peril, passion, pain, Whose density adds shade to shadow still. Yet in the stormless upper realm it spreads, To perfect in eternity's wide air The wonder-bloom of immortality. [97] UPWARD I KNOW, O World, thou art a place of sin, — The sordid story of thy shame I read; Lies sound without; strange fires bum fierce within And many a face is stamped with lust and greed. These things are so, and yet, beyond all this. Poor sorrowing World, thou hold'st an up- ward way. Childhood and Love and Prayer and Hope are thine, And on the far horizon lieth day. [98] OUTCAST I SAW a beggar at a palace gate, Who wrapped him in his rags, and stood alone, Gazing within, where light and beauty shone, And where the merry revel lingered late. I saw him stand, and still in patience wait Till every guest was gone; but not a moan Escaped his lips. He stood as carved in stone. And all his heart was filled with bitter hate. Then I drew near, and looked upon those halls, So strange-familiar. Waked as from a dream, I felt a wave of anguish o'er me roll ; I knew at last this outcast by the walls, And in his wretched eyes I saw a gleam, "This is thy Life," he said ; "I am thy soul." [99] SERVICE The slave of dreams goes smiling by, Turning a song for all who list; He has almost forgot to hide The fetter on his wrist. The slave of dreams sleeps soft and deep, And wakes with day-long joy endued ; He scarce remembers now the fret Of golden servitude. And I have watchings, fastings, prayer; Desire with stern denial wrung. The loudest song within my heart Dies on my lips unsung. And I have tears for daily bread And days of longing, nights of pain, With endless toiling up the steeps Whose summits none may gain. Think you that I despair for this? Across the night-enshrouded peaks The splendor from the face of Truth Illumes the soul that seeks. [100] What though the vision fade and pass, The dark anew encumbereth me? My joy is still to serve the Truth, Erect, aspiring, — free! [101] CHOICE What is the cargo, Soul? The merchandise of kings, The spoils and gems of lands afar. Or a freight of trivial things? Where is the voyage. Soul? To shores that are steeped in sun? Or the barren islands of Brief Desire That shelter when day is done? The breezes are fair and soft While the mooring holds in sight. But his is the guerdon who dares to sail Where the world is rimmed with light. [102] YOKEFELLOWS Love faints, o'erburdened ; joy is dead: How shall I drag my load alone? Hope walks apart with downcast head, Nor heeds the moan, "Is none to help and none to heed A soul oppressed with direst need?" Stern Duty answers to the call: "When all are gone I come to thee ; The burdens 'neath which others fall Grow light with me ; For I will help and I will heed ; My strength alone shall serve thy need." [103] THE UNREALIZED In the press of the city's fierce restraint Where the high walls glare on the heated street, Where the breath of heaven is thick and faint, And sound is lost in the rush of feet, Can you believe, can you feel with me, That somewhere is shadow and wind and sea? You cannot? Nor I. My thought with pain Drags heavily over the hours just fled. And moves in the heat and the sound again That surge unquieted through my head. I shall know there is shadow and wind and sea, Only when I am unfettered — free. O God, it is so with our dreams of heaven; It is even so with our thought of Thee, All that seems true is the life that's given To care of our restless mortality. And yet — when we are at peace and free. How blessedly true will Thy heaven be! [ 104 ] MAKING THE BEST OF IT A FOOT of sky thro' a dusty pane, Yellow with sun, or gray with rain ; Yet you never need look for the sky in vain. The sad little pain-tossed watcher sees. If he patiently kneel on his small, tired knees, A glimpse of the greening tops of trees. His vision at night is a rosy bar Of the sunrise splendor, so fair and far; The hope of his day is an evening star. But the dream of dreams, and it once came true, Was a tiny cloud in the patch of blue, A cloud, and the bird that across it flew. Sunset skies thro' a dusty pane. Stars and clouds and the morn again, — Yet you never need look for the sky in vain. [lOS] GRATITUDE I THANK Thee, Lord, at break of day When all the East is red with sun, For health and hope and heart to say, "I would be part of any way In which the will of God is done." I thank Thee, at the time of rest, For strength that held the long day through ; Footsore and worn, yet peace-possessed, I know the honest toil is best Of him who strives Thy will to do. And though the task that I have sought Transcends my hands' unaided skill, I thank Thee for this mighty thought — That all the wonders to be wrought Lie hidden in Thy perfect will. [106] MASTERY I WILL front my life in the hush and pause Since the last blow fell ; I will ask it now With truth between, and the challenge down, "Which of us two shall bow?" Shall I rule my life, or shall it rule me? Am I lord, or slave? Shall I bend me still In dull submission to force too strong For a weakened human will? No. I am master; tho' wounded sore, A thrall of dreams, or a fool of chance, Tho' bound in an ancient servitude By fetters of circumstance. Yet, face me, Life that is known as mine! Thou art the slave. I will wrest from thee The lash and the chain ; I will know myself Ruler at last — and free! [ 107 ] THE THANKFUL HEART I THANK thee, Lord, for simple good; Full well I know it comes from thee; Its gifts of gladness understood, O'erbrim the thankful heart of me. For health and home and human love, — So great are these, so half divine, Lord, I would cavil not, nor rove. Content to call these blessings mine. I thank thee. Lord, yea, even for this — The ache of sorrow and the smart, For comfort deep as grieving is Comes from thy touch upon my heart. Before thee. Lord, I would upraise These treasures which are soul of me; Lo, with such broken words of praise I lift a thankful heart to thee. [108] PRAYER Tonight I lay the burden by, As one who rests beside the road. And from his wearied back unbinds The whelming load. I kneel by hidden pools of prayer. Still waters fraught with healing power ; In God's green pastures I abide This longed-for hour. I know that day must bid me face Courageously my task again. Serving with steady hand and heart My fellow men. To hold my sorrow in the dark. To fight my fear, to hide my pain. And never for an hour to dream The toil is vain ; — This be tomorrow; now, tonight, Great pitying Father, I would be Forgiven, uplifted, loved, renewed, Alone with Thee. [109] RECREANT Lord, hearken! What am I To dare to seek thy face, When beaten in the fight. And laggard in the race? What I have done is done. I did not pray In doubt and darkness for a guiding ray — The light shone full upon the field that day I cast my sword away. Why tempt the onslaught? Who would miss me there When distant coward paths showed falsely fair? There is no plea upon his lips who chose To flee before his foes ! This, this I would implore — Not pardon. Lord, — Only, another chance — another sword! [110] CROWNS O Christ, thej name thee greatest man of men, Thy purity, thy patience they avow; The Teacher come from God — they hold thee thus. And bind proud wreaths of laurel on thy brow. And we, who know thee as the eye knows light. Almighty love in human semblance borne, Own sway of pierced hands ; Oh, God's great heart. Hast thou forgiveness for a crown of thorn? [Ill] THE HOUSE OF GOD O HOUSE of God, thy memoried walls, Dearer with every year that flies, Speak of the faith of those who wrought With prayer and sacrifice. Beneath the silence broods a sound Of holy voices, unforgot; The brave and patient dead once more Are in this hallowed spot. The heritage of love is ours, A father's zeal, a mother's prayer, The touch of far-off little hands, — All these are there. Ours is the grief of those who wept; The joy of their success is ours; Out of the seed in darkness sown Behold the flowers ! God of our fathers, hear the prayer We offer humbly unto Thee; More worthy of the saints in light May this Thy people be. [112] CREED Thou brooding shadow that enfoldest earth, In whose protecting name dark deeds are done, Between us and the high, full-risen sun Thou stand'st, forbidding that the light have birth. This is thine excellence, this all thy worth. That thou hast guarded with thy shade, that none Be overcome by stress of heat, nor won To leave thy shelter in the time of dearth. Yet now, remove, for we are men and grown; Strong that we flinch not at the fiercer ray That strikes where we so long in gloom have trod. In the new splendor we shall stand and own A faith revived, a Life, a Truth, a Way. Outworn and vain, withdraw, — and show us God! [113] FROM THE SHRINE Oh, Best of all good things ! Oh, highest joy Of dreamful days, of deep, envisioned nights, Heart of all shadows, blaze of sun-delights, Sweetness that cannot satiate, cannot cloy! Art of the poet, I have knelt before The shrine I sought to in the tuneless days ; My silent soul has paused in wordless praise. Waiting one iridescent gleam the more ; That gleam — a violet word; a golden thought; An azure heaven revealed ; the woods' green name; The crimson tide of passion, hope or fame, — The pure perfection of my peace has wrought. The sullenness of heavy times that go Slow footed, thick of brain and dull of heart, These hold no pain for me, no smallest smart, If through the dark thine altar-tapers glow. [ 114 ] THALATTA i Across the scorching stretch of desert sand, Where noon glares pitilessly on the waste, A caravan, toil-worn, yet still in haste Is pressing on. Tho' scarce they can withstand Their strong fatigue, yet not on either hand Seek they repose. The tempting spring they taste. Impatient to be gone — for they are faced Toward that dim line that marks the ocean strand. O sea of Truth! whose distant waters shine So faint and far that hardly we discern The gleam that guides us, Hope and Faith can see Those vast, untrammeled, wind-swept deeps of thine, And there are many who, unfaltering, turn Expectant eyes, and struggle on to thee. [115] SYMPATHY If we should be so quick of heart, So keen of sight, That we could feel each shadow's gloom, Each blossom's blight, The fairest of earth's blue-gold days Would turn to night. If we should grow so swift to feel Each human pain That for each aching human heart Ours ached again. Life were all weariness, and joy Grown poor and vain. Some sounds are lost in silence, though We reverent hark; Some sights are shut from anxious eyes By pitying dark. The limit of the soul's out-gift Has finite mark. [116] PROGRESS When I've thought the deepest I can, The strongest, the wisest, the best, And hfe's large, excellent plan Out-widens my narrower breast, When I'm dead, I say. They will find the way. When I've sung my defective songs, That touch the soul's outermost edge. When I've gazed at the world's wall of wrongs. And with labor have entered my wedge, I shall die at last And work be past. But some day those yet unborn Shall take my unfinished thought, This work that has eaten and worn; Then toil did not go for nought. But what will they do? If I only knew! They will write, they will paint, (and well,) Thought, color, that we have dreamed; They will plan, sing, struggle, and tell Of the past, how imperfect it seemed — When we who are dead. Are forgot overhead! [ 11^ ] NIGHT AND NOON The gloom of night is dense and deep ; Rough is the path as we grope along; Courage, Heart, as the shadows creep, This is the matin-song: After the night is noon; After the journey, rest; The world will waken in gladness soon And the heart that sings is blest. The glare of the sun is hard and hot. The road is dusty, the way is long; Shift your burden and heed it not — This is the even-song: After the noon is night ; After the journey, rest; For the wind will wake and the stars be bright And the heart that sings is blest, [118] CONVALESCENT Day darkened from the dawn, and softened round With silences that spare the nerves of life; Day, slipping sleepily toward dusk, that soon Deepens to night, and like a drowsing tide Lazily washes the new shores of mom. This, endlessly, until the past becomes A uniform gray haze ; the future grows Blank and illimitable nothingness. A little shiver of expectancy; A window open to the curious sun ; A thin, sweet gust of air across the bed; A robin's single note; the wafted sound Of steps that echo through the quiet street. Then, swift into the sluggish blood there glides Hope's stinging ichor. Life's new, subtle sense Of power resurgent from the deeps of death. [119] FREEDOM Slave souls would flee in terror to escape Life's bloodhound jaws, Love's lash and toil and chain, And brave a thousand deaths no more to know The unyielding, iron mastery of Pain. Buy thou thy freedom ; lay thy patient hoard Of daily duty, daily strife, and prayer. To count thy soul's release, — true freedman now, Erect and fearless, thou who daredst not dare! [120] FUTILITY My unknown enemy and I Faced each to each with struggle spent, Till coward Self gave woeful cry; "Have mercy, I repent!" Before those eyes, deep-seeing, stern, For terror would I cringe and flee ; On chilling fear fall words that burn; "I am thy Soul. Why lie to me?" [m] CAGES Once in Florence sat a toiler, weaving cages light and strong, And a Poet, meditative, watched his busy fingers fly; "Friend, what dost thou? Making prisons That perchance will hold a song." Quick upon him smiled the Poet : "Friend, God speed thee! Thus do I." [ 122 ], CATHEDRALS Old England turned its dreams to stone, Bound aspiration to a tower ; Found room for hope where swallows own The brief contentment of an hour. New England built of heart and brain, With strife and victory inwrought Her better walls of prayer and pain, Imperishable domes of thought. [1^3] THE REMEMBERED LAND ''And he wept, remembering his father and the Land of Lyonesse." They come to me in deeps of night, They haunt my steps by day, Those lost and fair and dreaming years So far — so far away ! And I who know both sin and pain Am clean as souls that pray. The unforgot, the visioned years Are far and far away; And all the flowering hills of morn Are touched with twilight gray. Distant and dear the sunlit path That leads from yesterday! For all the noon-day world is wide, And some are worn and gray, But deathless dwells the golden dream Of Love and Yesterday! Oh, Youth's lost land of Lyonesse, How far thou art away! [124] DEATH GREATER GRIEF If Death should turn thy smile to stone, And bind thy heart in iron frost, Scarce would I pause to weep alone, To mourn thee lost. Since Life makes lips more feverish-gay, And old love pales in new delight, 'Twould grieve me less if one should say, "She died to-night." [127] LAZARUS Beneath the leaden eyelid steals The grayness of a lesser night, And in the heavy brain there wakes A sense presaging sight. The sluggish blood renews with pain Its tide in icy rigor pent; And pulsing life with struggle breaks Death's listless, cold content. With agonized, exultant pang The soul resumes its hindering clay; The inert frame reluctant owns The old familiar sway. Out, out into the sunshine, free As the first man that ere drew breath,- He grasps those loving human hands That were too strong for death! [ 128 ] JUDGMENT When she lay dead, The many looked upon her face, and said, "The life is gone, so filled with shining deeds. So full of ministry to human needs ; And we who loved her are bereft: What have we left?" When she lay dead, A man looked sternly on her face, and said, "Thank God, the evil of her life is past ; What I have known the world would know at last. Now all is silence, peace : for me, I shall be free !" When she lay dead. The great God looked from his wide heaven, and said, "Only the One who made it knows the whole Of strength and weakness in a human soul. Cease, then, thy wonder ; peace ; let be : Leave her to me." [129] GUARDIANS Death, while thou'rt guarding those I love, Bid me keep level pace with thee, Wear Memory's garment, and a crown Of rosemary. My wise and strong ones ! Bid me now Draw near for guidance as of old; Behold, Love's altar-fires a-glow. Untouched of cold. Life, thou too keepest those I prize. Though Death walk ever near and free; And living hands and loving eyes Keep faith with me. My days are joyous, dream-beset. Buoyant with Love's untroubled breath ; I run my happy course and trust Both Life and Death. [130] CONFIDENCE I KNOW not where the Blessed wait, Within what glory-girdled lands, Nor on what hill of God, elate. Redemption's city stands. Mine eyes are blind because of tears. My feet move slow on Sorrow's ways. And loneliness of earthly years Bedims the heavenly days. Yet even when nearest to despair, (God give me grace to suffer then), I know, I know, sometime, somewhere, We find our own again. [131] LOSS Awhile I had forgot him and had drawn Free breath from pain for just a moment's space, But when the night had lifted into dawn Against the sunrise I beheld his face. He drew his hand impatient o'er his brow In the old careless, unforgotten way. I never guessed my sorrow until now — I never tasted grief until to-day ! [ 132] TO MY FATHER A LOST COMRADE Spring came and went ; I did not see Her footsteps on the grass ; I missed the tender minstrelsy Of birds that watched her pass. Spring came and went ; I did not hear Her filmy garments stir; I only felt that she was near, And grieved because of her. For you and I have followed Spring Far as her feet can stray ; And now — what matters anything Since you have gone away.? [133] TO MY FATHER A SONG OF GRIEF The bird that sings my dead to me From that far dawn of day, Is just a common robin In the weary month of May. Oh, that month of May was weary With its drift of apple-bloom. And the touch of alien sunshine On the long night of the room! — On the room's long night of struggle. And the endless grip of pain — I wish that I might never hear A robin sing again. I wish that I might never see That bloom across the way. The heart of Springtime breaks for me Whenever it is May. [134] BETWEEN THE HARBOR AND THE HILL Between the harbor and the hill The dead folk lie, serene and still; Wise with the wonder of the sea, They fearless face Eternity. Beneath the sunset and the star Where naught but peace and silence are, They lie who make no haste to go From this good earth that loved them so; Full well content they seem to be Within the calling of the sea. Above their dreaming falls the dew. Across their sleep strong, faring wings Wake the old gladness that they knew In days of far adventurings. Nor Heaven itself shall teach them yet That those are blessed who forget. Between the harbor and the hill. The earth that bore them holds them stiU; The memoried sea draws closer yet, Until each grave with mist is wet. Beneath whose silver sheltering fold Lies the long year's unreckoned gold. [135] Peace, soul that weeps — you could be still Between the harbor and the hill; Peace, soul that strives — you could be free Below the hill, beside the sea. No softer grave, no deeper tomb — O fisher-folk, make room — make room ! [136] ASHES What hath the gray ash at the last? Only a past; Still memories of new leaves that hung Where nestlings swung; Dim thoughts of sunlight, breaking through Where blossoms grew; Dreams of the faint, awakened spark That challenged dark; Bright hopes in splendor upward rolled From smoke's dun fold, When all of life, of love, of fame Burst into flame. This hath the gray ash at the last: A memoried past. [1S7] TO MY FATHER HERITAGE Father, who left me long ago, My soul is kin unto your own, The dreams and strivings of my days, Those you have known. My every turn and trick of phrase Is borne unknowing in my blood ; My tiny boats ride down some deep Ancestral flood. The women of my line were pure. The men were brave — what credit then Shall come to me whose pulse-beats stir Their deeds again? There was a saint in far-oif time Who meekly bore unhallowed days; If I a little patience win. Is mine the praise? There was a man who loved the right. And fought God's battle with a sword; What merit mine if in the strife, I serve my Lord? [138] My soul plants footsteps in their own, And they were brave of heart and high ! Father, is aught of worthiness? It is not I! [139] HER HANDS Her hands lay quiet, cold and still, By other than her will. For they were turned to gray Insensate clay. Those hands so full of gracious curves. Hands that so gently fell to rest, Hurried by love in waking hours, Clasped softly on her sleeping breast, — Those hands that spoke a language quick. With swift, insistent meaning plain, That fluttered with her speech or moved Before her laughter's light disdain — All this has passed away ; Hardest of all to-day. In this death-sundered hour. To miss the brave hand's power. Lord, when I meet her in that far-off land, First, first of all, grant me to touch her hand! [ 140 ] PAX VOBISCUM When I die, shall I dream Of mj radiant hopes all agleam, Of the sunlight that touched the brown depths of my stream? When I die, shall I grieve For the dear, bending faces I leave, For the close-tangling meshes of love that they weave? Ah, not so. Let them go — Hope, joy, even love that I know! Best of all the calm feeling Of rest that is stealing Thro' soul-fibres strained with the burdens we bear. Just to be very still, Void of will; Just to lie like a stone, Hours alone; With no knowledge of Heaven, no thought and no prayer. [141] With this blessed new freedom from being, From willing and doing and seeing, From loving and hoping and sighing; Done even the last act of dying; Of all things bereft; Nothing left — Not even the need to draw breath, — This, this is the resting of Death. [142] TO MY FATHER THE UNSPOKEN Long years ! And I have lived since you were gone, Not all content — yet, for the most part, so ; Seeing with joy a new day rise and grow, Leaving without regret a yester-dawn. There has been beauty in the budding trees, Recurrent spring stirred still the old delight. Yet not for you the fragrance of the night ; — Alone I knew the sweeping of the breeze. Long years of duty, well or illy done, Ungladdened by your quick, approving smile ; And yet the task itself has seemed the while A noble struggle, worthy to be won. The world is good ; its burdens to be borne May bravely rest on souls erect and high. Yet, all the strength I knew when you were by Has vanished, and has left the courage worn. Whether for others' blessing or my own Not witting have I shirked the joy or pain; Rut just to-night it all seems poor and vain ; Come back, come back ! I have been long alone. [ 143 ] MOTHER-HUNGER If only I could find her, for the mother-hun- ger's on me; I want to see and touch her, to know her close beside ; I want to put my head in the hollow of her shoulder, I want to feel her love me as she did before she died! In all the world is nothing, love of husband or of children, In all the world is nothing that can soothe me or can stir, Like the memory of her fragile hand from which the ring was slipping — The hand that wakes my longing at the very thought of her. The window in the sunshine and the empty chair beside it, The loneliness that mocks me as I find the sacred place — O Mother, is there naught in the unerring speech of silence To let me know your presence, tho' I cannot see your face? [144] Thank God that I have had you ; that we held each other closer As women and as sisters and as souls that claimed their own Than any tie of blood could bind ! and now my heart is bleeding, My heart is bleeding, Mother, and yours is turned to stone. Oh, no, I've not forgotten the triumph and the glory — I would not bring you back again to strug- gle and to pain; This hour will pass ; but oh, just now, the Mother-hunger's on me^ — And I would give my soul to-night to kiss your hair again! [145] A SONG FOR REMEMBRANCE She was a girl of the Spring; Blue were her eyes as the sea ; April had nothing to bring Fairer and freer than she. Heart of a rose did she bear Or ever June breathed on the way; Winds of the South were aware One danced as lightly as they. Love stayed his hand as he twined Jasmine and roses and rue, Whispering "Ne'er shall I bind My garland of sorrow for you." Death stood apart in the shade, Till, wearied of joyance and quest, Untroubled, unharmed, unafraid. She turned like a child to his breast. [146] THE LEGEND OF ISHTAR FOR C. E. L. IsHTAR goes seeking the lost, On through the cold and the heat, Listening by night and by day For the sound of his feet. Queenly, gold-girdled and proud, She sues who was wont to command ; Through the storm and the darkness she seeks For the touch of his hand. Gray grows the gloom of the dawn, Where the night lingers starless and wild, And her longing is fiercer than thirst For the lips of the child. At the sullen, shut portals of Death, In the black Halls of Silence and Pain, For the price of the crown that she wears She would clasp him again. Is it days, is it hours, is it years Since he left her to wander alone? Just to bend down her face on his hair She would barter her throne. [147] Her jewels she flings at the gate; Her girdle, her sandals she gives, Her garment of gold, her gold hair, Just to know that he lives. One moment the portals unclose ; One moment she sees him in bliss ! O, Ishtar, each mother on earth Would be beggared for this ! [148] THE MINORITY "Duchdtel, being ill, had himself carried to the conr vention on his bed, and, dying, voted the King's life." Hugo. God! How the air grows thick! There, raise me up! Leave me one breath to speak for him, and die. There's gloom on every brow; on every lip The sentence trembles. Well I know the end. Death — death — the King must die! They sit there, strong In vigorous manhood — muscles, nerves and flesh Full-lived, and then — they cast a life away! The King, the tyrant, dies ; their emphasis Falls hard on "tyrant" — "King" — but not on "dies." Think you that as I strangle here for breath I'll ask another living man to stand Where I do now, and feel this chilling dread Of nothingness creep over every sense.'* Were Louis Seize thrice tyrant that he is, No tyranny is great enough for death. The deepest dungeon and the darkest cell. Exile, imprisonment, compressed in one, — All these ; I vote for life — for life ! He will at least feel blood within his veins. Breathe, move, and know there is intensest joy In telling light from dark and heat from cold. For me — take this. Spare Louis — Spare the King! [149] THE LAST STAND What is all the fame you strove for Now you come to die? All that walked within the sunshine 'Neath the shadows lie. All that climbed the steeps of power, Dizzy, nigh to fall. Loosed their hand-grip in that peril That confronts us all. Nothing counts you, nothing helps you, When you leave the sun, But the love that you have given, And the love you've won. Death, I meet thee fearless-fronted; This my bribe to thee: All my living was in loving — Deal thou tenderly! [150] NORTHLAND As desolate as arctic night That drags the chain of tardy dawn, Are those far wastes, devoid of light, Whereinto thou art gone. For Sorrow's North hath icy ways. Where pallid groups, without a plea, Endure the burden of the days In bitter company. 'Midst grief's grim solitudes they bide ; Forgetfulness the goal they seek; While Memory, keeping close beside. Strides strong when they are weak. Thank God if, in this land of dole, Too sad for tears, too dark for dreams, At last upon thy night-bound soul Hope's wide aurora streams. [151] THIS HOUR Lord, make me meet to master common things. Strong for the strife renewed each opening day. Teach me that worthy victory may be won On fields obscure, by souls too spent to pray. Bid me to know the moments as they rise Full-fraught with meanings of the life divine ; Teach me the lesson of the present power, That present calm and conquest may be mine. Loose me from all that hinders in the Past, Nor let me fear the Future's frowning brow. To use the utmost gifts of grace and love There is no moment for my soul but Now. [152] ULTIMATUM Poor Earth, sown thick with graves ! Blest Heaven, engirt with stars ! As when a race of slaves Comes conquering from the wars, So all the sorrow on the earth long pent Sees o'er it victory's proud firmament. [153] JAN 22 1913