PS 1734 
 .G3 T8 
 Copy 1 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 %p iaptirigi^t :f a 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
TLhc ITreasures of 
 IRurium » B?ieiien 
 
 {Vi, lb. (3ate0 
 
 j)CfC6-CUi 
 
 flew Kocft an& ILonOon 
 (5. p. Putnam's Sons 
 
 1895 
 
 — ^^^ 
 
-b*^ 
 
 ^^^^:<i 
 
 c.^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 189s 
 BY 
 
 ELLEN M. H. GATES 
 
 Ube Iknfcfierbocltet press, t^cw l^orft 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 *' The Treasures of Kurium " 3 
 
 " Through a Glass, Darkly " 6 
 
 The Prayers g 
 
 Haunted lo 
 
 On Christmas Day t2 
 
 " I Am Old," said the Earth 14 
 
 A Story 16 
 
 My Child ig 
 
 My Mother's Picture 22 
 
 The Children's Country 25 
 
 Sleep Sweet ! 28 
 
 At Noonday 29 
 
 A Storm at Night 32 
 
 The Butterflies 34 
 
 " Is Life Worth Living ? " 36 
 
 Your Mission . 38 
 
 My Shadow 41 
 
 September Thirtieth 44 
 
 iii 
 
iv Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Annuals and Acorns 48 
 
 Sunset 51 
 
 '• Whatever Tears Mine Eyes Shall Weep " . .53 
 
 "Others" 54 
 
 Unsatisfied 55 
 
 A Statue 57 
 
 The Grapes of Eschol 59 
 
 For Weal or Woe 62 
 
 We Love But Few 64 
 
 Idleness 66 
 
 A Voice From Father's Chair 69 
 
 Beautiful Hands 71 
 
 The Last Meeting 73 
 
 Two Dreams 75 
 
 The Potter and the Clay 77 
 
 Two Writers 80 
 
 After the Storm 81 
 
 The Yellow Rose 83 
 
 Loneliness 84 
 
 " Lincoln HAS Fallen ! " 86 
 
 Is Your Lamp Burning? 90 
 
 A Little Love 92 
 
 This Only 94 
 
 Dear Hope of Mine 95 
 
 A New Guest 96 
 
 The Peacemakers 98 
 
 A Lie loi 
 
 O Helen, Helen Dear ! 103 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Out of the Depths io6 
 
 The Funeral Day io8 
 
 Eternity iii 
 
 " Somebody 's Working FOR Somebody " . . .113 
 
 Personality 115 
 
 White Robes 117 
 
 •' The Mistletoe Bough " 118 
 
 Come, Sweetheart, Come 120 
 
 '• Lest Ye Be Judged" 122 
 
 *' Trace Thou THE Path" 123 
 
 Joy 125 
 
 In Darkened House . , 126 
 
 A New Prayer 128 
 
THE TREASURES OF KURIUM 
 
THE TREASURES OF KURIUM 
 OME, look at the treasures of Kurium 
 
 c 
 
 ^^ spread 
 
 In the light of the sun. From the dust of the 
 
 dead 
 They are lifted at last, and they blaze as of old, 
 These vials and vases and trinkets of gold. 
 
 They are parts of the stories of temple and tomb, 
 And they bided their time in the silence and 
 
 gloom ; 
 While flesh that was mortal would moulder 
 
 away. 
 They flashed in defiance of time and decay. 
 3 
 
4 The Treasures of Kurium 
 
 These rubies are priceless, and red as the blood 
 Of women who wore them when life was at 
 
 flood; 
 O maidens of Cyprus, and daughters of Kings ; 
 What secrets are these that are traced in the 
 
 rings? 
 
 What soft, slender throat did this necklace 
 adorn ? 
 
 Was it love's trembling gift in the world's early- 
 morn ? 
 
 Speak low in this place, for they do not forget ; 
 
 Some love that could die not may cling to it yet. 
 
 Thou ** King Etevander," with story untold ; 
 Didst offer Astarte these armlets of gold ? 
 O'er-wearied with splendor, a boon didst thou 
 
 crave ? 
 Was it peace on the earth ? Was it rest in the 
 
 grave ? 
 
The Treasures of Kurium e 
 
 What strange fire was lit in these vases of glass ? 
 It burns unconsuming as centuries pass ; 
 What rainbows were melted and poured in the 
 
 mold? 
 What flash of auroras ? What sunsets of gold ? 
 
 These tear-bottles here which are dry as the 
 
 dust, 
 Were once overflowing, their owners, we trust 
 Behold them with wonder, and smile as they 
 
 say, 
 Were they ours? Did we weep when so brief 
 
 was our stay ? 
 
 Rich wreckage is this, which has come on the 
 
 crest 
 Of billows that roll from the east to the west ; 
 With hints of old sorrow, and splendor, and 
 
 pride. 
 It is linking the souls which the ages divide. 
 
^'THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY" 
 
 T TOW many times, within the glass, 
 ^ ^ I see a figure pause, and pass ; 
 As like myself as it can be. 
 And yet it scarcely looks at me. 
 
 The painted portraits on the wall, 
 That do not move or speak at all, 
 Look on me with as kind a glance, 
 As this impassive countenance. 
 
 But one day, one, before the glass 
 I paused, and did not dare to pass ; 
 For there, by some foreknowledge lit, 
 A face looked out — I looked at it. 
 6 
 
" Through a Glass ^ Darkly " 7 
 
 The sad eyes pierced me through and through, 
 From the set lips a challenge flew ; 
 As it had passed through searching flame, 
 A voice, imperious, called my name. 
 
 Before some clear, inshining light. 
 My earthly atoms fled from sight ; 
 As that which evermore would be. 
 My soul itself confronted me. 
 
 I looked at it, ashamed, dismayed ; 
 It wore a crown, I was afraid ; 
 As one who might, it made demands 
 Of blood and brain, of heart and hands. 
 
 It questioned me, it whispered clear, 
 Great secrets that I ought to hear ; 
 It bade me keep, in solemn trust. 
 Its royal purple from the dust. 
 
" Through a Glass, Darkly " 
 
 The tryst was ended — I could see 
 A veil drop down 'twixt it and me ; 
 I had no questions more to ask 
 Of Life or Death — I knew my task. 
 
THE PRAYERS 
 
 TF we listen, we can hear 
 
 Through all sounds that earth is making, 
 Through its music, sweet and clear. 
 
 Through its moan when hearts are breaking, 
 A low murmur, as of streams, 
 Flowing through a land of dreams. 
 
 'T is the ceaseless sound of prayer. 
 Men and women, sobbing, pleading. 
 With more pain than they can bear. 
 For God's pity interceding 
 
 All together — each alone. 
 
 Beat the prayers against the throne. 
 
HAUNTED 
 
 TT comes once more! I turn and flee, 
 ^ And wave it backward, all in vain ; 
 It knows my pathways, — woe is me ! 
 
 On, on, across the fields I strain ; 
 And through the forests, where the trees 
 
 Lock all their branches, but I hear 
 A whisper on the wandering breeze. 
 
 And know the haunting shape is near. 
 
 Within the city's crowded street, 
 I strive to hide me from my foe ; 
 
 Where many hearts so gaily beat, 
 I surely may with courage go. 
 
 5 
 
 lO 
 
Haunted 
 
 II 
 
 I should be glad, the sun is high ; 
 
 I would not harm the slightest thing, 
 And God himself is in the sky, 
 
 And all His angels on the wing. 
 
 I do not know, sometimes I think 
 
 A friend may come in strange disguise, 
 With some clear draught for me to drink, 
 
 As life's most wonderful surprise ; 
 That in some near or distant day, 
 
 The thing I fear may take my hand. 
 And draw me close, and smile, and say, 
 
 '' At last, at last, you understand ! " 
 
ON CHRISTMAS DAY 
 
 \\THAT can I give you on this day, 
 
 ' ' My dear, dear friend of many years ? 
 Your love, as steadfast as the sun, 
 Along my lengthening life has run, 
 Nor failed me once, nor made delay. 
 
 Nor laughed to scorn my hopes and fears. 
 
 When I am weakest, still your hand 
 Is stretched to touch me in my place. 
 
 Whatever comes, I smile serene, 
 
 To think my soul on yours can lean, 
 
 For you are sure to understand, 
 
 And peace and strength are in your face. 
 
 12 
 
On Christ7?ias Day i^ 
 
 O lightly, lightly, to and fro, 
 
 The gifts on Christmas day are passed. 
 Our hands are weary as they hold 
 The tiresome trinkets bought with gold ; 
 A while they please us with their glow, 
 
 But back to dust they fall at last. 
 
 Alas ! my friend, how poor I am ! 
 
 No gift I bring you on this day. 
 No filmy web from Indian loom, 
 Nor gem, nor flower, nor rare perfume, 
 Nor spices fine, nor costly balm, 
 
 Before your feet my hands may lay. 
 
 And yet I love you, love you, dear. 
 And love a deathless thing must be. 
 
 Mine shall enfold you, when your face 
 
 Makes happier still some heavenly place, 
 
 And no revolving earthly year 
 
 Brings tears or pain to you and me. 
 
^'I AM OLD," SAID THE EARTH 
 
 T A]\ 
 i I 
 
 AM old," said the earth, '' I am old, 
 I am wearied in all my frame ; 
 I am stiff with the northern cold ; 
 
 I am seared by the southern flame ; 
 I am worn with the ways of men ; 
 
 Death reaps them down, like corn. 
 They are hid in my breast, and then. 
 
 Straightway, new men are born. 
 And their laughter is all in vain. 
 
 For they count the days and years ; 
 And they babble of loss and gain. 
 
 And they drench me with their tears. 
 Is there never an end of all ? 
 
 Can a great world never die, 
 u 
 
"/ Am Old,'' said the Earth 15 
 
 And rest, like a mighty ball, 
 
 In the depth of the awful sky ; 
 Or, some day, feel, through sea and sod, 
 
 New, quick'ning touch, from the hand of 
 God?" 
 
A STORY 
 
 nPELL a story, tell a story, 
 
 -'■ Tell it to the old and young; 
 Let it be of love or glory. 
 
 Tell it with a silver tongue. 
 Tell it till our eyes shall glisten, — 
 
 What a motley crowd are we ; 
 Some are weeping as they listen, 
 
 Some are smiling tenderly. 
 
 Tell a story, tell a story. 
 
 Tell it when the days are drear. 
 When the cedar trees are hoary, 
 
 In the old age of the year. 
 2 i6 
 
A Story jy 
 
 Weave us then your finest fancies; 
 
 Show us signs in earth and sky, 
 That the crowned truth advances, 
 
 And the roots of evil die. 
 
 Tell a story, tell a story, 
 
 Some of us are old and gray ; 
 Over pleasures transitory 
 
 We have mourned for many a day. 
 Beaten backward and mistaken, 
 
 We have looked at Love's alloy, 
 Let your words to life awaken 
 
 Many a dream of hope and joy. 
 
 Tell a story, tell a story. 
 
 Some of us are young and gay ; 
 
 Give us glimpses of the glory 
 That shall gild the coming day. 
 
 You can set our pulses flying, 
 You can mould us as you please; 
 
1 8 A Story 
 
 See us laughing, trembling, crying, 
 As we gather at your knees — ! 
 
 Tell a story, tell a story. 
 
 Dip your pen in golden foam, 
 Weave for us a web of glory. 
 
 Round the blessed hearth of home. 
 With the fire-light in our faces. 
 
 Make us see that. East or West, 
 Through all time and in all places, 
 
 Love is first, and last, and best — ! 
 
MY CHILD 
 
 /^ THOU great world! so full of lights 
 ^-^ and shadows, 
 
 Of doubts and fears, of hopes that wax and 
 wane, 
 Of lonely deserts and of green oases, 
 
 Of mirth and music, bitter tears and pain ; 
 I look far off adown thy tangled mazes. 
 
 But mists are floating and the clouds are 
 piled. 
 And I can stand upon no mount of vision, 
 
 To trace the pathway of my little child. 
 
 I pray thee. World, deal kindly with her ever, 
 Oh, do not fright her in her tender years ! 
 19 
 
20 My Child 
 
 Hold back thy storms, let them not beat upon 
 her ; 
 Dim not too soon these soulful eyes with 
 tears. 
 If far away among the dim to-morrows, 
 
 Dead leaves are rustling where her feet must 
 tread, 
 Let all thy breezes prophesy of summer, 
 And all thy birds sing joyful overhead. 
 
 Angels of God, pitch your white tents above 
 her! 
 Oh, let her feel, whate'er the future brings, 
 That all the air is throbbing with your presence, 
 And when the evening o'er her pathway 
 flings 
 Shade after shade, still walking close beside 
 her, 
 Let your " Praise God ! " ring out so loud and 
 clear, — 
 A hymn of Heaven among the earthly noises, — 
 That all her soul shall hush itself to hear. 
 
My Child 21 
 
 Thou Sword of Truth, flash night and day 
 before her ! 
 Should falsehood weave its meshes for her 
 feet, 
 Should poison fruitage hang alluring o'er her, 
 
 And lying voices bid her pluck and eat, 
 Then thou good Sword, flash swift through all 
 disguises. 
 Point out the place where error lies concealed. 
 And oh, to win the soul's immortal prizes. 
 Strike thou for her on life's great battle-field ! 
 
 Thou King of kings, Jesus, Thou son of Mary! 
 
 As once of old, Judean mothers came. 
 Bringing their children, praying Thee to bless 
 them. 
 
 So come I now, my errand is the same ; 
 In arms of faith I hold her up before Thee, 
 
 The world, O Lord ! how wide it is and wild ! 
 What can she do ? How can she live without 
 Thee? 
 
 With all Thy blessings, bless my little child ! 
 
MY MOTHER'S PICTURE 
 
 TTOW many times, as through the room I 
 hasten, 
 
 Without a thought of other days at all, 
 I lift my eyes, and straightway I am standing 
 
 Before her picture, hanging on the wall. 
 
 Almost it seems her pleasant voice is calling. 
 And I am fain to answer, " Yes, I hear, 
 
 All earthly sounds shall be to me as silence. 
 If you will speak, O mother, mother dear! " 
 
 No answer comes, I hush my breath to listen, 
 But still the eyes with patient, steadfast gaze 
 
 22 
 
My Mother s Picture 23 
 
 Look into mine ; they pierce through flesh and 
 spirit. 
 I bow my head and blush beneath their rays. 
 
 For she is wise with wisdom that appalls me, 
 The solemn secrets of the grave she knows 
 
 And high o'er me, by God's own hand uplifted. 
 Through wondrous ways of His own Heaven 
 she goes. 
 
 Beyond all change, and safe from time's mu- 
 tation. 
 And grieved no more by earth's forlorn 
 complaints, 
 Thou pictured face, dim semblance of my 
 mother. 
 How dost thou look among the crowned 
 saints ? 
 
 So far! so far! once if I faintly called you, 
 Or laughed, or wept, you were so quick to 
 know ; 
 
24 My Mother s Picture 
 
 All else might fail, my mother's love was cer- 
 tain, 
 Now, dying e'en, your touch I must forego. 
 
 Thou there, I here, and I know not what spaces 
 Beyond the grave's green width, divide us 
 two ; 
 
 Nor of the times, uncounted and unnumbered, 
 That must go o'er me, ere I look on you. 
 
 But I am coming, I shall find you, mother ! 
 Sometime, somewhere, when His great will 
 is done. 
 And I am fit to stand once more beside you, 
 To your high place I shall have leave to 
 come ! 
 
THE CHILDREN'S COUNTRY 
 
 O HE is sitting very silent in her little crimson 
 chair, 
 
 With the flicker of the firelight on her shining 
 
 golden hair, 
 And all pleasant things surround her, but her 
 
 thoughts are otherwhere. 
 
 For the little lads and lasses have a country of 
 
 their own. 
 Where, without the older people, they can 
 
 wander off alone. 
 Into dim and distant regions, that were never 
 
 named or known. 
 
 25 
 
26 The Children's Country 
 
 They are weaned with the questions and the 
 
 running to and fro, 
 For some one is always saying, "you must 
 
 come" or ''you must go," 
 "■ You must read and write correctly, walking, 
 
 talking, thus and so." 
 
 • 
 They can turn at any moment from the figures 
 
 on their slates. 
 And the names of all the islands and the oceans 
 
 and the states, 
 Disappear and are forgotten, when they see the 
 
 shining gates 
 
 Of their own delightful country, where they 
 
 wander as they please, 
 On the great enchanted mountains, and among 
 
 the fadeless trees, 
 With a thousand other children, all entirely at 
 
 their ease. 
 
The Children s Country 27 
 
 O the happy, happy children ! do they wish for 
 
 anything? 
 Book or boat or bird or picture, silken dress or 
 
 golden ring? 
 Lo ! a little page will hasten and the treasure 
 
 straight will bring. 
 
 It is strange, the older people cannot find this 
 
 land at all. 
 If they ever knew its language, it is lost beyond 
 
 recall, 
 And they only, in their dreamings, hear its 
 
 music rise and fall. 
 
 O the riches of the children, with this country 
 
 for their own. 
 All the splendor of its castles, every flower and 
 
 shining stone. 
 Until time itself is ended, and the worlds are 
 
 overthrown ! 
 
SLEEP SWEET 
 
 OLEEP sweet within this quiet room, 
 ^^ O thou ! whoe'er thou art ; 
 And let no mournful yesterday, 
 
 Disturb thy peaceful heart. 
 Nor let to-morrow scare thy rest, 
 
 With dreams of coming ill ; 
 Thy Maker is thy changeless Friend, 
 
 His love surrounds thee still. 
 Forget thyself and all the world ; 
 
 Put out each feverish light ; 
 The stars are watching overhead ; 
 
 Sleep sweet, — good night ! good night ! 
 
 28 
 
AT NOONDAY 
 
 /^^ FRIENDS, dear friends ! what mean these 
 ^^ sober faces ? 
 
 The children dance around us, free as air, 
 But more and more, there comes into our faces 
 
 A wearied look, and we are grown aware 
 Of solemn changes that are stealing o'er us, 
 
 For O the years ! they make their stern 
 demands. 
 What can we do ? — the way is short before us. 
 
 And closer, closer, we are clasping hands. 
 
 We scarcely knew when the sweet morn de- 
 parted, 
 A wondrous light was over earth and sky, 
 
 29 
 
30 At Noonday 
 
 And on we sped, careless and happy-hearted, 
 Nor answer made to her "good-bye, good- 
 bye." 
 We miss her now, the changeful years endear 
 her, 
 Through golden mists we watch her where 
 she stands ; 
 She looks and smiles, but never will come 
 nearer. 
 Then closer, closer, let us clasp our hands. 
 
 We thought the sun was standing still above us, 
 
 A changeless thing, safe anchored in the sky ; 
 It moves at last, and now, if any love us. 
 
 We call to them '* Noon too, is passing by ! '* 
 Along the grasses do our shadows lengthen. 
 
 The winds blow fresh from undiscovered 
 lands; 
 Now, now indeed, all tender ties should 
 strengthen, 
 
 And closer, closer, we are clasping hands. 
 
At Noonday 31 
 
 The song of birds is sweet and sweeter growing, 
 
 The rainbows bend more brightly in the sky ; 
 We slowly walk, but we are surely going 
 
 Through wider gateways, as the years go by. 
 O little children ! dance and sing around us, 
 
 Not one of you our story understands ; 
 We have borne crosses, many crowns have 
 crowned us ; 
 
 And closer, closer we are clasping hands. 
 
 Our ranks are broken, but we follow, follow. 
 
 Along the paths that every foot must tread ; 
 The Heavens are near when earth is ringing 
 hollow. 
 Why should we mourn or be disquieted ? 
 O friends, dear friends, come nearer still and 
 nearer, 
 Love wears her crown and strengthens all 
 her bands; 
 Your faces glow, your names are growing dearer, 
 And closer, closer let us clasp our hands. 
 
A STORM AT NIGHT 
 
 'T^HE gas-lights flicker in the rain, 
 ^ The wind comes roaring down the street, 
 And wrestling with the storm amain, 
 The door-yard trees, like souls in pain, 
 Our human sympathies entreat. 
 
 The sky is black with warring clouds, 
 And all His thunders mutter low. 
 
 While here and there, like fiery brands, 
 
 From the Almighty's open hands, 
 The leaping lightnings go. 
 
 'Mid such an awful storm at night, 
 While all creation groans around, 
 
 32 
 
A Storm at Night ^-^ 
 
 How earth and time sink out of sight ; 
 While thought on thought, in solemn flight, 
 Goes yearning up the dim profound. 
 
 How hushed are all our passions now ; 
 
 Ambition's fever dies away, 
 Strength takes the helmet from her brow, 
 And sitting in the ashes low, 
 
 Pride blushes over yesterday. 
 
 We look across the vague expanse, 
 And stir our chain, and try our wings. 
 
 And often catch a fleeting glance, 
 
 Of our safe-kept inheritance, 
 Among the everlasting things. 
 
THE BUTTERFLIES 
 
 ¥ OOK at the butterflies! purposeless things, 
 How idly they float on their gossamer 
 wings, 
 Over the poppies and over the grass, 
 Swift as the down of a thistle they pass. 
 
 Where are they going, and why are they here 
 In the heat of the day and the noon of the 
 
 year? 
 They flutter awhile in the brightness, and then 
 They are gone from our sight, and they come 
 
 not again. 
 
 And we — we are wearied with fever and frost ; 
 Whatever we do, it must be at a cost ; 
 
 34 
 
The Butterflies 35 
 
 We hear as we journey, the dropping of tears; 
 We bear on our foreheads the stamp of the 
 years. 
 
 But look at the butterflies ! beautiful things, 
 Before us and over us flashing their wings ; 
 It may be, the Maker who fashioned them thus, 
 Has sent the gay creatures on errands to us. 
 
 Perhaps we go slowly when we should be swift 
 To follow the scent of the roses, that drift 
 Their pink snow about us, more oft we might 
 
 play 
 And yet finish our tasks by the end of the day. 
 
 O blest are the eyes that are clear to behold 
 The wonderful glow of the butterflies* gold, 
 With leisure to follow their flight as they pass 
 Silently, gracefully, over the grass ! 
 
"IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?" 
 
 \7"ES, yes, we say, our lives are worth 
 ^ All that they cost, whate'er befall, 
 And if the round, unresting earth 
 
 And these poor, mortal days were all ; 
 Faced all the time by pain and death, 
 *T is worth our while to draw our breath. 
 
 If only once we saw the sun 
 March, like a god across the sky, 
 
 And only once, when day was done, 
 We watched the fires of sunset die ; 
 
 These hints of other worlds would be 
 
 Worth all the years to you and me. 
 36 
 
'' Is Life Worth Living ? " 37 
 
 But once to see the stars at night, 
 And once the roses by the door; 
 
 To see but once the oceans smite 
 
 With awful strength the quiv'ring shore — 
 
 These, these alone would make our breath 
 
 Worth all the pangs of birth and death. 
 
 Is life worth living ? Dearest eyes. 
 That look to ours in weal or woe, 
 
 How would ye flash in pained surprise 
 If false to you we answered *' No " — 
 
 By all that we can know or guess 
 
 Of earth or heaven, we answer — Yes. 
 
YOUR MISSION 
 
 TF you cannot on the ocean 
 
 Sail among the swiftest fleet, 
 Rocking on the highest billows, 
 
 Laughing at the storms you meet ; 
 You can stand among the sailors, 
 
 Anchored yet within the bay. 
 You can lend a hand to help them. 
 
 As they launch their boats away. 
 
 If you are too weak to journey 
 Up the mountain, steep and high. 
 
 You can stand within the valley, 
 While the multitudes go by ; 
 
 You can chant in happy measure, 
 
 38 
 
Your Mission 39 
 
 As they slowly pass along, — 
 Though they may forget the singer, 
 They will not forget the song. 
 
 If you have not gold and silver. 
 
 Ever ready at command ; 
 If you cannot toward the needy, 
 
 Reach an ever open hand ; 
 You can visit the afflicted, 
 
 O'er the erring you can weep. 
 With the Savior's true disciples, 
 
 You a tireless watch may keep. 
 
 If you cannot in the harvest. 
 
 Garner up the richest sheaves. 
 Many a grain, both ripe and golden, 
 
 Oft the careless reaper leaves ; 
 Go and glean among the briars 
 
 Growing rank against the wall, 
 For it may be that their shadow 
 
 Hides the heaviest wheat of all ! 
 
40 You?' Mission 
 
 If you cannot in the conflict 
 
 Prove yourself a soldier true, 
 If, where fire and smoke are thickest, 
 
 There 's no work for you to do ; 
 When the battle-field is silent, 
 
 You can go with careful tread ; 
 You can bear away the wounded. 
 
 You can cover up the dead. 
 
 Do not then stand idly waiting 
 
 For some greater work to do, 
 Fortune is a lazy goddess, 
 
 She will never come to you ; 
 Go and toil in any vineyard, 
 
 Do not fear to do and dare. 
 If you want a field of labor. 
 
 You can find it anywhere. 
 
MY SHADOW 
 
 TIP and down it follows, follows, 
 
 I can never quite escape ; 
 On the hills and in the hollows. 
 
 This familiar, silent shape 
 Still is with me, tireless ever ; 
 
 Friend or foe — whoe'er I meet, 
 This companion leaves me never. 
 
 Keeping step with soundless feet. 
 
 Looking at it, I am lonely, 
 For a stranger still it seems ; 
 
 Tho' it follows me — me only. 
 
 Yet, as something seen in dreams, 
 
 I behold it. Oft I wonder 
 41 
 
42 My Shadow 
 
 Whither all its steps do tend ; 
 All its features hidden under 
 
 Veils no changeful winds can rend. 
 
 Can nor pain nor passion move thee, 
 
 O my comrade ? I am tossed 
 By the tempests sent to prove me — 
 
 On thy calm their wrath is lost. 
 Come thou near, my patient lover, 
 
 Let me whisper that I see — 
 What no other may discover — 
 
 Change at last has come to thee ! 
 
 Once thy feet were swift beside me. 
 
 Not a hill too high to climb ; 
 From the heat thou didst not hide thee> 
 
 Naught to thee were space and time ; 
 Light as air, I saw thee dancing 
 
 Down the pathway where I strayed — 
 Dost thou see the night advancing? 
 
 Art thou of the dark afraid ? 
 
My Shado7u 4^ 
 
 Canst thou hear me, lover, stranger? 
 
 Silent shape, I tell thee now, 
 I, thro' safety and thro' danger. 
 
 Am become as changed as thou ; 
 Yet my heart leaps on before me, 
 
 New stars burn within the sky ; 
 Courage! courage ! I implore thee — 
 
 O my comrade, faster fly! 
 
SEPTEMBER THIRTIETH 
 
 IT is true, my heart is heavy, for the summer 
 * days are flying. 
 The frost has touched the roses and they 
 wither on the stem ; 
 Pinks, pansies and forget-me-nots, they all are 
 dead or dying, 
 I hear the cruel north-wind go sweeping over 
 them. 
 
 And my precious morning-glories, in their 
 purple splendor growing, 
 Looking through their leafy lattice, all the 
 world was fresh and fair, 
 44 
 
September Thirtieth 45 
 
 And I loved to stand beside them when the 
 eastern sky was glowing, 
 For they cheered me like an anthem, and they 
 calmed me like a prayer. 
 
 But to-day I look upon them and behold their 
 glory waning, 
 The cold rains beat upon them, they are 
 shaken to and fro ; 
 They seem to me like human souls in awful 
 strait complaining. 
 As low they cry " good-bye ! good-bye ! into 
 the dust we go." 
 
 Good-bye ! good-bye ! I answer them, my sum- 
 mer too is fleeting. 
 I miss the glow and glamour that the spring- 
 time only knows, 
 
 Across my pathway I can see the autumn 
 shadows creeping, 
 
46 September Thirtieth 
 
 And though a thousand years to come may- 
 bud and bloom the rose, 
 
 And all the flowers may come and go, a gay 
 procession, bringing 
 The freshness of the younger years, the 
 grasses wet with dew. 
 The pink blooms on the apple trees with birds 
 among them singing, 
 And fleecy clouds, like angel wings, soft float- 
 ing through the blue ; 
 
 Yet I may be so far away beyond the earth's 
 dim border ; 
 So thick a vail may hang between these 
 mortal days and me, 
 How do I know if I shall mark the seasons in 
 their order. 
 Or gladden when the winds blow warm across 
 the land and sea? 
 
Septeinber Thirtieth 47 
 
 And though within the wondrous world to 
 which my soul is going, 
 Are lips forever smiling sweet, and hearts 
 forever young, 
 And in the gracious atmosphere fair blossoms 
 always blowing, 
 And "■ glory, glory, glory," is the song forever 
 sung. 
 
 Yet I cannot help but sorrow when the summer 
 days are going, 
 I seek the sunny places, and I love them more 
 and more, 
 And dear and dearer still to me these simple 
 things are growing, 
 The vines that shade the windows and the 
 flowers beside the door. 
 
ANNUALS AND ACORNS 
 
 TJE plants an annual, you plant an acorn, 
 ^ ^ Both will be beautiful, by-and-by ; 
 Sealed in their sepulchres, veiled from your 
 vision. 
 
 Alike for a little while they lie. 
 Softly the sunlight will fall where they slumber, 
 
 On them will filter the rain and the dew ; 
 Standing together, you look where you laid 
 
 them ; 
 Counting the moons as the Indians do. 
 
 A brief waiting only, the brown earth will open, 
 
 Up from its grave will the annual rise ; 
 He who is standing so patient beside you, 
 
 48 
 
Annuals and Acorns 49 
 
 Will look at his treasure with Joy in his 
 eyes. 
 He '11 pluck a gay blossom to wear in his bosom, 
 Its beauty and fragrance will please him an 
 hour ; 
 The seed that he planted has come to per- 
 fection, 
 Not long did he wait for his fair little flower. 
 
 Now what will yoii do ? for your acorn grows 
 slowly, 
 So slow that its growth must be counted by 
 years ; 
 There 's no one to praise it, and more and more 
 lowly 
 You grow, as you water the plant with your 
 tears ; 
 You know that its roots are in league with the 
 granite, 
 You know that its branches will seek for the 
 sky; 
 
50 Annuals and Acorns 
 
 But O, the long strain on your faith and your 
 patience ! 
 Your hair is like silver, the years hurry by. 
 
 At last you lie down in your life's western 
 chamber, 
 All watching is over, your hope has come 
 true; 
 And smiling you look at the mighty oak 
 branches, 
 Now waving between the red sunset and you. 
 Oh, what was the waiting, and what was the 
 weeping. 
 Now, now that the day of your crowning has 
 come, 
 For in the near Heaven are many tongues cry- 
 ing, 
 " Thou planter of acorns, well done and well 
 done!" 
 
SUNSET 
 
 'T'HE birds were all a-singing, 
 
 The morning skies were red, 
 And sweet was our communion, 
 
 And pleasant words we said ; 
 How close we kept together, 
 
 With never once a frown, — 
 But look, I pray you, brother, 
 
 The sun is going down ! 
 
 Our path, that at the morning, 
 
 Was as a rosy line. 
 Through greenest meadows winding, 
 
 Grows shorter all the time ; 
 And now my eyes are brimming, 
 51 
 
5 2 Sunset 
 
 To see the shadows fall, 
 For you and I are walking, 
 With no kind words at all. 
 
 O Sun, stand still in Heaven ! 
 
 Be not so swift to go 
 Adown your path of glory ; 
 
 This friend that loved me so, 
 Must smile once more upon me, 
 
 And I once more on him, 
 Before the darkness gathers, 
 
 And all the day is dim. 
 
 No matter whose the blame was; 
 
 So fast the shadows fall. 
 There 's no time left for talking, 
 
 I '11 gladly take it all ; 
 For all the pride and anger. 
 
 Die out within my breast. 
 Now while the sun is sinking. 
 
 So low adown the west. 
 
" WHATEVER TEARS MINE EYES 
 SHALL WEEP " 
 
 T ^ /"HATEVER tears mine eyes must weep, 
 One precious thing I still may keep, 
 
 'Till earth and time shall end ; 
 
 I think it will be mine in Heaven, 
 This perfect gift that God has given, — 
 
 It is your love, my friend. 
 
 53 
 
''OTHERS" 
 
 OTHERS " are doing the wonderful things, 
 Theirs are the fingers that touch the 
 strings 
 That sound so long 'ere the music dies ; 
 Darhngs and pets of their time, they hear 
 Praises of multitudes, far and near, 
 And ever their fame before them flies. 
 
 Alas ! for the " others," how lonely they stand. 
 Far and apart on the hill-tops grand. 
 
 We see them plainly against the sky. 
 God's pity upon them !— there 's no retreat 
 From the world's bold stare, and the sun's fierce 
 heat 
 For the gifted ones who have passed us by. 
 54 
 
UNSATISFIED 
 
 "[3 E still for a moment, thou weariful world ! 
 ■*-^ Thy wheels they go faster and faster ; 
 I have bowed to thy will, I have followed thy 
 
 beck, 
 I have worn, uncomplaining, thy yoke on my 
 
 neck, 
 But I will not acknowledge thee, master. 
 
 Thy beautiful trinkets I hold in my hands ; 
 
 I cannot but smile at thy story ; 
 The lily-bells ring and the birds fly in flocks, 
 The vines and the mosses creep over the rocks, 
 
 The clouds are as banners of glory. 
 
 3 
 
 55 
 
56 U7isatisfied 
 
 Like blossoms the butterflies flit here and there, 
 
 And birds in the branches are singing ; 
 The children are mocking at sorrow and care, 
 There 's music and laughter afloat in the air, 
 And flowers in the meadows are springing. 
 
 A wonderful pageant ! I see it go by ; 
 
 And beauty and ashes are blended ; 
 Keeping step with the others, I march to and 
 
 fro, 
 But I feel all the time like a child at a show. 
 
 That he knows, in an hour, will be ended. 
 
 And somehow, the stars that were near to me 
 once. 
 Are further and further receding ; 
 They draw my heart after them unto their 
 
 place ; 
 To catch their deep meaning, I lift up my face, 
 As one for his heritage pleading. 
 
A STATUE 
 
 'W'OU who love to look on statues, 
 And the rarest would not miss, 
 Speak in whispers, and step softly. 
 
 When you come to look at this. 
 Was there ever whiter marble? 
 
 Not a hint of color there. 
 Save — or is it light from Heaven? — 
 
 Golden glints upon the hair. 
 
 They who look upon this statue, 
 Must come quickly. Ere the dawn 
 
 Of another day shall brighten. 
 Heavy curtains will be drawn 
 
 O'er the niche that must receive it ; 
 57 
 
58 A Statue 
 
 There, in silence consecrate, 
 Where no mortal eye can see it, 
 Through the ages it will wait. 
 
 Do you say, as you stand weeping, 
 
 By its awful power oppressed. 
 That its place is in the sunlight ? 
 
 Nay : the statue's name is Rest. 
 Nothing may disturb its quiet ; 
 
 Shade on shade will wrap it round ; 
 Peace will guard the heavy portal 
 
 Of its temple underground. 
 
 " Cruel, cruel ! " you make answer: 
 
 " All it lacks is blood and breath ! " 
 Hush! two sculptors wrought this statue, 
 
 And their names are Life and Death. 
 Comes a day when earth and Heaven 
 
 Shall be shaken ; then, ah ! then. 
 This white creature shall be lifted 
 
 To the sight of God and men. 
 
THE GRAPES OF ESCHOL 
 
 A MONG the tribes, the weary tribes, we 
 '**' wander ; 
 
 The way is long, complainings fill the air; 
 With God so near, we fear the kings of Edom, 
 
 By smitten rocks we yield us to despair. 
 The seas gape wide and make for us a pathway, 
 
 We hear the cry of Pharaoh's drowning host, 
 But mists roll up, there 's discord and confusion, 
 
 And far away is Canaan's peaceful coast. 
 
 Then do we see that walking close beside us, 
 
 With steady step, and eyes that onward look, 
 Are those who went before us to that country. 
 And brought us grapes from Eschol's won- 
 drous brook ; 
 
 59 
 
6o The Grapes of Eschol 
 
 Their faces shine, their lips are always singing, 
 The winds of Canaan have their foreheads 
 fanned, 
 Alike to them are sunrise and sunsetting, 
 
 Their feet make haste, they have beheld the 
 land. 
 
 O thanks and thanks, a thousand times re- 
 peated ! 
 We know your names, ye valiant, faithful 
 few ; 
 Your lowest words are like a song from Heaven, 
 Ye searched the land out better than ye knew. 
 When through the camp there rings a cry for 
 " Egypt," 
 And all the tribes sway backward in despair. 
 We turn to you who bear the purple clusters, 
 For still ye say " Surely the land is fair." 
 
 We pray you, friends, walk closer still beside us ; 
 Talk to us often of the way ye took. 
 
The Grapes of Eschol 6i 
 
 When ye beheld the figs and pomegranates, 
 And plucked the grapes that grew by Eschol's 
 brook. 
 When doubts, like evil birds, fly on before us. 
 And clouds obscure the path that must be 
 trod, 
 Speak low to us of Sinai and its thunder. 
 Repeat the name of Israel's mighty God. 
 
 Ages have passed since IMiriam's song was 
 ended ; 
 The wondrous brothers lead the hosts no 
 more ; 
 Still do we hear the whisperings of Jordan, 
 
 And see, afar, our Canaan's peaceful shore. 
 With undimmed splendor shines the star of 
 Jacob; 
 Safe, safe for aye, our title-deed doth stand ; 
 Our lips shall taste the purple grapes of Eschol, 
 Forevermore we shall possess the land ! 
 
FOR WEAL OR WOE 
 
 'T'HEY clasped their hands for weal or woe, 
 "■• And went together down the road, 
 The road that led, they knew not whither, 
 They did not know what winds would blow, 
 
 Nor where the shining rivers flowed, 
 Nor where the sweetest flowers would wither. 
 
 Their hands were clasped for weal or woe, 
 For love's dear sake their hearts were brave. 
 
 And years went onward, slowly creeping, 
 
 Joy was their friend. With face aglow, 
 She often came to them, and gave 
 
 Some priceless pearl into their keeping. 
 62 
 
For Weal or Woe 63 
 
 Their hands were clasped for weal or woe ; 
 
 Together they outwatched the moon, 
 In many a solemn tryst with sorrow. 
 By wayside graves their tears would flow, 
 
 And crossing many a lonesome dune, 
 They, each from each, some hope would borrow. 
 
 Their hands were clasped for weal or woe, 
 And faith was strong, and could not fail, 
 
 Though doubts, like evil birds, were flying, 
 
 ** Our love shall last," they whispered low ; 
 And bent their heads to meet the gale, 
 
 Which left its wrecks around them lying. 
 
 Their hands were clasped for weal or woe, 
 More tender grew their words and ways, 
 
 Their fingers now were feebly clinging ; 
 
 They journeyed slowly and more slow. 
 For strange, new stars began to blaze, 
 
 And all the evening bells were ringing. 
 
WE LOVE BUT FEW 
 
 /^^ YES, we mean all kind words that we say 
 ^-^ To old friends, and to new ; 
 Yet doth this truth grow clearer day by day, 
 We love but few. 
 
 We love ! we love ! what easy words to say, 
 
 And sweet to hear. 
 When sunrise splendor brightens all the way, 
 
 And far and near, 
 
 Is breath of flowers, and carolling of birds, 
 
 And bells that chime, — 
 Our hearts are light, we do not weigh our words 
 
 At morning time. 
 
 64 
 
We Love Bzd Few 
 
 65 
 
 But when the matin-music all is hushed, 
 
 And life's great load 
 Doth weigh us down, and thick with dust 
 
 Doth grow the road. 
 
 Then do we say less often that we love, 
 
 The words have grown, — 
 With pleading eyes we look to Christ above, 
 
 And clasp our own. 
 
 Their lives are bound to ours with mighty 
 bands ; 
 
 No mortal strait, 
 Nor Death himself, with his prevailing hands, 
 
 Can separate. 
 
 The world is wide, and many names are dear. 
 
 And friendships true. 
 Yet do these words read plainer year by year, 
 
 We love but few. 
 
IDLENESS 
 
 A LL around you, everywhere, 
 -'*' Men and women do and dare, 
 With a purpose all alive. 
 In the swarming human hive. 
 
 Up and down, and to and fro. 
 On the endless round they go ; 
 Patiently they bear their lot. 
 Life and death they question not. 
 
 Through the darkness, o'er the waste, 
 Voices call them, and they haste ; 
 To the wind their fear they fling, 
 All their best they gladly bring. 
 66 
 
Idleness 67 
 
 If the wind blow east, or west, 
 They can neither play nor rest ; 
 So much work beneath the sky, 
 They can scarcely stop to die. 
 
 You are idle, and you stand. 
 Just a dreamer in the land ; 
 Having neither name nor place, 
 With the runners in the race. 
 
 Are you made of finer clay ? 
 Have you redder blood than they? 
 Must they always lay the meat 
 Which they strive for, at your feet? 
 
 Must they always, first and last. 
 Stand between you and the blast ? 
 Are you God's peculiar care ? 
 Has He favorites anywhere ? 
 
68 Idleness 
 
 It were best that you should feel 
 Force of tempest, touch of steel ; 
 Best to let your fancies fine, 
 Quicken into flames divine. 
 
 Men and women, with their loads, 
 Toil along the endless roads ; 
 Overtake them, help them lift, 
 And no longer dream and drift. 
 
A VOICE FROM FATHER'S CHAIR 
 
 I HEARD them say that, 'Isaac's wife 
 
 ^ Had sent to get the chair," 
 
 And at the sound of Isaac's name 
 
 I shook through all my ancient frame, 
 
 For I had wondered where 
 The boy had gone, the little boy, 
 That was his father's pride and joy. 
 
 And when they said that I must go. 
 
 Must start without delay, 
 I grew as glad as any child. 
 And though the wintry winds were wild, 
 
 I started on my way, 
 69 
 
yo A Voice From Father s Chair 
 
 For I was sure as I could be, 
 
 That Isaac's heart would welcome me. 
 
 So here I am within your home, 
 
 A plain old-fashioned thing, 
 But all my hickory splints rejoice 
 To hear the once familiar voice 
 
 That keeps its joyful ring ; 
 For still your eyes with hope are bright, 
 And still you keep the Heavens in sight. 
 
 Oh, long and long ago your feet 
 
 Passed from the farm-house door ! 
 You 're somewhat gray and travel-worn, 
 For many a burden you have borne, 
 
 And youth returns no more ; 
 But you have tried to do your best. 
 Sit down in father's chair and rest ! 
 
BEAUTIFUL HANDS 
 
 SUCH beautiful, beautiful hands! 
 They *re neither white nor small, 
 And you, I know, would scarcely think 
 
 That they were fair at all. 
 I 've looked on hands, whose form and hue 
 
 A sculptor's dream might be ; 
 Yet are these aged, wrinkled hands, 
 Most beautiful to me. 
 
 Such beautiful, beautiful hands! 
 
 Though heart were weary and sad. 
 These patient hands kept toiling on, 
 
 That the children might be glad. 
 I almost weep, as looking back 
 71 
 
72 Beautiful Hands 
 
 To childhood's distant day, 
 I think how these hands rested not, 
 When mine were at their play. 
 
 Such beautiful, beautiful hands ! 
 
 They 're growing feeble now. 
 For time and pain have left their mark, 
 
 On hand and heart and brow. 
 Alas ! alas ! the nearing time, 
 
 And the sad, sad day to me, 
 When 'neath the daisies, out of sight. 
 
 These hands will folded be. 
 
 But Oh, beyond this shadow land, 
 
 Where all is bright and fair, 
 I know full well, these dear old hands 
 
 Will palms of victory bear ! 
 Where crystal streams, through endless years, 
 
 Flow over golden sands. 
 And where the old are young again, 
 
 I '11 clasp my mother's hands ! 
 
THE LAST MEETING 
 
 TF I had known, if I had known, 
 
 That day we met upon the street. 
 That nevermore, in any zone 
 
 Of earth's wide spaces, we should meet ; 
 What different greeting had been mine ! 
 What different farewell had been thine ! 
 
 If we had known or dimly guessed, 
 That close to you were waving wings ; 
 
 If some low voice within your breast. 
 Had whispered of eternal things. 
 
 What solemn message, high and deep, 
 
 You would have given me to keep ! 
 
 73 
 
74 The Last Meetifi, 
 
 I now recall — how strange it seems! — 
 You spoke of '' writing," ah ! my friend, 
 
 From that far land beyond my dreams, 
 What wondrous letter would you send ! 
 
 Here in my silent room I sit, 
 
 And hush my breath to think of it. 
 
 If I had known ! if I had known ! 
 
 Still to myself the words I say, 
 As o'er your grave the snows are blown, 
 
 For surely it was yesterday, 
 When, for a moment's little space. 
 You stood there, smiling in my face. 
 
 I did not know, I could not know ; 
 
 The angels keep their secrets well. 
 But as from earth to Heaven they go, 
 
 I think some kindly one will tell. 
 That in remembrance of that hour, 
 I lift to you this little flower. 
 
TWO DREAMS 
 
 '\ 71 THAT awful sounds were in the air, 
 
 With tears and torment everywhere ! 
 My feet were on the sinking sands, 
 They drew me down ; I wrung my hands, 
 And creatures whom I could not see, 
 With cruel laughter mocked at me ; 
 I could not breathe, I could not die, 
 And all the time, within the sky, 
 Were soldiers fighting. Black and red 
 Their banners waved above my head. 
 But suddenly a low voice spoke : 
 '' Good-morning, dear." I heard and woke, 
 And with a glad, exultant scream, 
 I cried — " It was a dream ! a dream ! " 
 75 
 
76 Two Dreains 
 
 But yesterday I saw a face 
 Grow white and still within its place, 
 And over eyes that long had wept, 
 A blessed darkness slowly crept. 
 
 friend beloved, all pain was passed. 
 And you were sound asleep at last. 
 
 1 smiled to think you were so safe 
 
 From words and deeds that grieve and chafe ; 
 
 That Sorrow's self, in garments gray, 
 
 Like wavering mist, had fled away; 
 
 I thought you heard, as music clear, 
 
 New voices say, '' Good-morning, dear." 
 
 And waking where the glory streamed. 
 
 You joyful cried — "- I dreamed ! I dreamed ! ** 
 
THE POTTER AND THE CLAY 
 
 T^HOU, thou art the Potter, and we are the 
 ^ Clay, 
 And morning and evening, and day after day. 
 Thou turnest thy wheel, and our substance is 
 
 wrought 
 Into form of thy will, into shape of thy thought. 
 
 Thou, thou art the Potter, the wheel turns 
 
 around, 
 Thine eyes do not leave it. Our atoms were 
 
 ground 
 Fine, fine in thy mills. O the pain and the 
 
 cost ! 
 
 77 
 
78 The Potter and the Clay 
 
 Thou knowest their number; not one shall be 
 lost. 
 
 Should Clay to the Potter make answer and say^ 
 " Now what dost thou fashioa? " thy hand 
 
 would not stay, 
 Untiring, resistless, without any sound. 
 True, true to its Master, the wheel would go 
 
 round. 
 
 How plastic are we as we lie in thy hands, 
 Who, who as the Potter the Clay understands? 
 Thy ways are a wonder, but oft, as a spark. 
 Some hint of thy meaning shines out in the 
 dark. 
 
 What portion is this for the sensitive clay ! 
 To be beaten and moulded from day unto day, 
 To answer not, question not, just to be still. 
 And know thou art shaping us unto thy will. 
 
The Potter and the Clay 79 
 
 This, this may we plead with thee, workman 
 
 divine. 
 Press deep in our substance some symbol of 
 
 thine. 
 Thy name or thy image, and let it be shown 
 That thou wilt acknowledge the work as thine 
 
 own. 
 
TWO WRITERS 
 
 "T^ AY after day, and side by side, they write ; 
 '•"^ The pen of one is like a sword, to smite ; 
 Before its power the evil backward reels, 
 Truth stands elate, down fall the old Bastiles ! 
 
 The other writes. — Dark shapes are here and 
 
 there, 
 A sickening incense poisons all the air, 
 Strong men grow faint, and hell, beneath, is 
 
 stirred, 
 And hears, well pleased, each soft, insidious 
 
 word. 
 
 80 
 
AFTER THE STORM 
 
 T AST night a storm was on the sea ; 
 ^'^ The wreckage drifts ashore ; 
 Come walk along the beach with me, 
 And hear the breakers roar. 
 
 What soul their sorrow understands? 
 
 What eye can trace their path ? 
 They fling themselves upon the sands, 
 
 And foam with fear or wrath. 
 
 The shore receives them, patient, dumb, 
 
 Nor trembles at their shocks ; 
 But lifts to meet them, as they come. 
 
 Its great, insensate rocks. 
 
 6 
 
 8i 
 
82 After the Storm 
 
 I look across the troubled sea, 
 
 And seem an atom, tost 
 To wandering winds, and what to me 
 
 Is joy, if kept or lost ? 
 
 And what if wearied on the way, 
 
 I faint and fall and die ; 
 Would any miss, till judgment-day, 
 
 So small a thing as I ? 
 
THE YELLOW ROSE 
 
 "f X /"ITHIN a book, unopened long, 
 
 * ' I find a faded yellow rose, 
 It lies across a poet's song, 
 That tells of love and cruel wrong, 
 And on the margin of the page. 
 Are two initials, dim with age. 
 The song I read, the book I close. 
 And fling away the yellow rose. 
 No matter, always, East and West, 
 Will yellow roses still be pressed. 
 
 83 
 
LONELINESS 
 
 T TP ! Up and onward ! Cast thy loads 
 ^-^ Behind thee, as thou speedest on ; 
 To shining summits, stretch the roads, 
 
 Which many rain storms beat upon. 
 If boulders from the awful height 
 
 Come crashing down, look not at them ; 
 A hand unseen will guide their flight. 
 
 They may not touch thy garment's hem. 
 
 Since thou didst leave the vales below, 
 
 Where smooth, green paths for thee were 
 made ; 
 Since thou didst say thy feet should go 
 Up the great mountains, un-afraid, 
 84 
 
Loneliness 85 
 
 Make now thy words of boasting good, 
 Unto the void thy terrors toss ; 
 
 Vex not thy chosen soHtude, 
 
 With words of loneliness and loss. 
 
''LINCOLN HAS FALLEN!" 
 
 Lincoln has fallen ! 
 Toll it, ye bells, over valleys and mountains ; 
 
 Wail it, ye winds, as ye sweep on your way ; 
 Moan it in sadness, lakes, rivers, and fountains; 
 And all ye blue waves, on the beaches at play, 
 Bear it over the sea — a most terrible burden ; 
 
 Oh, never before such a tale did ye tell ; 
 The tempest was spent, and at hand was the 
 guerdon. 
 When out of a clear sky, this thunderbolt 
 fell! 
 
 Lincoln has fallen ! 
 With his hand on the wheel, while the wild 
 storm was beating, 
 
 86 
 
" Lincoln has Fallen / " 87 
 
 How firmly he stood,with his calm, patient face 
 Lifted up to the sky, as if ever entreating 
 The Lord of the tempest, to lend him His 
 grace. 
 All around him the leaden hail rattled, and 
 loudly 
 And wild, o'er the deck, swept the breath 
 of the gale ; 
 And we looked on our pilot so gladly and 
 proudly. 
 But see ! here he lies to-day, helpless and 
 pale. 
 
 Lincoln has fallen ! 
 For the old flag he died : we will wrap it around 
 him ! 
 He died for the truth, deeply traced on his 
 soul 
 Was the law of the Lord, and He surely will 
 crown him 
 A Kijigy while the years of eternity roll. 
 
8S " Lincoln has Fallen ! 
 
 O " People that prayed for him," tenderly take 
 him ; 
 O "state that he loved," let him sleep on 
 your breast ; 
 Though hearts break within us, we cannot 
 awake him ; 
 Tread lightly, speak low — let the President 
 rest! 
 
 God of our fathers ! 
 To thy throne still unshaken, our hands are 
 uplifted ; 
 To its pillars we cling in our desperate dread ; 
 Bruised, bleeding, and weeping, like wheat we 
 are sifted. 
 All thy waves and thy billows go over our 
 heads. 
 Our idols of clay have been dashed down and 
 
 broken ; 
 Arms of flesh have been palsied, and suddenly 
 hushed 
 
Lincobi has Fallen ! " 89 
 
 Is the voice of our Leader. Be thou our 
 
 Commander, 
 And help us to lift up our heads from the 
 
 dust ! 
 
 April, 15, 1S65. 
 
IS YOUR LAMP BURNING? 
 
 SAY, is your lamp burning, my brother ? 
 I pray you, look quickly and see ; 
 For if it were burning, then surely, 
 
 Some beam would fall bright over me. 
 There are many and many around you. 
 
 Who follow wherever you go ; 
 If you knew that they walked in the shadow. 
 Your lamp would burn brighter, I know. 
 
 Upon the dark mountains they stumble ; 
 
 They are bruised on the rocks, and they lie 
 With white, pleading faces, turned upward, 
 
 To the stars in the pitiful sky. 
 90 
 
Is your Lamp Burning? 91 
 
 There is many a lamp that is Hghted, 
 We behold them anear and afar, 
 
 But not many among them, my brother, 
 Shine steadily on, like a star. 
 
 If once all the lamps that are lighted. 
 
 Should steadily blaze in a line, 
 Wide over the land and the ocean. 
 
 What a girdle of glory would shine ! 
 The darkest of places would brighten ; 
 
 The mists would roll up and away, 
 And Earth would laugh out in her gladness, 
 
 To hail the millennial day ! 
 
A LITTLE LOVE 
 
 y^^ IVE them just a little love, 
 
 ^-^ These poor creatures, with no traces 
 
 Of the lovely in their faces. 
 
 Though they take your gift with scorning, 
 
 Though they grieve you night and morning. 
 
 In the name of God above. 
 
 Give them just a little love. 
 
 Give them just a little love. 
 Touch their hands in friendly fashion, 
 Speak to them in kind compassion, 
 Tell them of the Heavenly City, 
 With its everlasting pity. 
 In the name of God above, 
 Give them just a little love. 
 92 
 
A Little Love 93 
 
 Give them just a little love, 
 
 These poor creatures. On their faces 
 
 Sin and shame have left their traces. 
 
 Do not judge them. Kindly leave them 
 
 To the Christ who may receive them. 
 
 In the name of God above, 
 
 Give them just a little love. 
 
THIS ONLY 
 
 "TNEAR little, weary, wasted hand, 
 "■-^ That from the valley lonely 
 Waved long farewell, and left to us, 
 This golden circlet only ! 
 
 94 
 
DEAR HOPE OF MINE 
 
 F^ EAR Hope of mine, struck down in strength, 
 ^^^ As you were upward flying ; 
 Lie still ! lie still ! for you, at length, 
 
 Healed, helped, all foes defying ; 
 Shall cleave again the star-lit track, 
 No wind that blows may beat you back ; 
 
 You are not dead^ or dying ! 
 
 95 
 
A NEW GUEST 
 
 "X XT' HAT, Sorrow! have you come at last? 
 
 ' ' And are you now my guest to be ? 
 So many times my door you passed, 
 
 As one who had forgotten me. 
 
 Well, well, come in ! Beside my hearth 
 Sit down, as many a friend has done. 
 
 When all my house was filled with mirth. 
 And hearts were glad from sun to sun. 
 
 For you I spread no banquet fine. 
 Nor call my neighbors in to see 
 
 Your pale, sad face, strange guest of mine, 
 Yet I a courteous host will be. 
 96 
 
A New Guest 
 
 97 
 
 I will not strive with you at all, 
 I will not frown and bid you go, 
 
 If Joy has gone beyond recall, 
 You are her sister dear, I know. 
 
 You did not chance to walk my way ; 
 
 With orders signed and sealed you came ; 
 You followed where my pathway lay ; 
 
 And knew my number and my name. 
 
 7 
 
THE PEACEMAKERS 
 
 T THOUGHT I saw, upon the shining coast, 
 
 A mighty host. 
 Their eyes were luminous with joy and peace, 
 
 That would not cease. 
 Somehow they seemed more royal and more 
 blest 
 
 Than all the rest. 
 Yet ever did they wonder that their names 
 
 Met loud acclaims ; 
 And that such honor unto them was given, 
 
 In highest heaven. 
 They had not borne the banners, in the strife 
 
 Of mortal life. 
 
The PeaceMakers 99 
 
 Their foreheads had not felt the touch of 
 wreaths, 
 
 Which fame bequeaths 
 To conquering heroes, as they homeward march, 
 
 Through Victory's arch. 
 These were the souls that when the strife was 
 high. 
 
 Made soft reply. 
 The men and women, who could patient stand, 
 
 And make demand 
 For peace, peace only, though their pride was 
 crost. 
 
 Their dear hopes lost. 
 Oft had they caught, with soft and naked 
 hands. 
 
 The flaming brands 
 Which anger hurled, and quenched, before it fell, 
 
 Some fire of Hell. 
 They did not dream how great their souls had 
 grown ; 
 
 No sculptured stone 
 
lOo The Peace Makers 
 
 Was piled above their ashes when they slept ; 
 
 But God had kept 
 Their faces in his sight ; He knew the cost, 
 
 When passion-tost, 
 And sorely hurt, they patient came and went, 
 
 On peace intent. 
 Now they are *' blessed " evermore, and lo ! 
 
 Where'er they go, 
 The angels look on them, and smile and say, 
 
 " God's children, they ! " 
 
A LIE 
 
 OHE told a lie, a little lie— 
 ^^ It was so small and white, 
 She said, *' It cannot help but die 
 
 Before another night." 
 And then she laughed to see it go, 
 And thought it was as white as snow. 
 
 But oh, the lie ! it larger grew, 
 Nor paused by night or day, 
 
 And many watched it as it flew. 
 And, if it made delay. 
 
 Like something that was near to death, 
 
 They blew it onward with their breath. 
 
 101 
 
102 A Lie 
 
 And on its track the mildew fell, 
 
 And tears of grief and shame, 
 And many a spotless lily-bell 
 
 Was shrivelled as with flame. 
 The wings that were so small and white, 
 Were large, and strong, and black as night. 
 
 One day a woman stood aghast, 
 
 And trembled in her place. 
 For something, flying far and fast. 
 
 Had smote her in the face — 
 Something that cried in thunder tone, 
 " I come ! I come ! Take back your own ! " 
 
O HELEN, HELEN DEAR! 
 
 TJOW lightly up the winding stair 
 
 We ran together, she and I ; 
 And still I see her lovely face 
 Look downward from the landing-place ; 
 For she outsped me. Through the gloom 
 Of the great hall, into her room, 
 She led me on that summer day, 
 In years that fled too quickly by. 
 
 I pray you, if you ever pass 
 This sunken grave, within the grass, 
 Touch tenderly the crumbling stone, 
 And say, for me, in undertone — 
 ''O Helen, Helen dear!" 
 103 
 
104 ^ Helen J Helen Dear / 
 
 How fair she was, how straight and tall, 
 My Helen in that far off-day ! 
 Like living things that longed to go, 
 The curtains fluttered to and fro, 
 As up and down the room we walked, 
 Perhaps of love and lovers talked, 
 As girls have always done, and will. 
 And nothing whispered *'yea" or '* nay." 
 
 I pray you, if you ever pass 
 This sunken grave, within the grass. 
 Touch tenderly the crumbling stone. 
 And say, for me, in undertone — 
 *'0 Helen, Helen dear!" 
 
 What trifling things the heart will keep ! 
 They seem too simple to be told. 
 That day she lifted from its place, 
 A dainty thing of flowers and lace. 
 And held it up that I might see. 
 O little bonnet, plain to me. 
 
O Helen, Heleti Dear / 105 
 
 Your ribbon streams across the mist, 
 A shadowy streak of palest gold ! 
 
 I pray you, if you ever pass 
 This sunken grave, within the grass. 
 Touch tenderly the crumbling stone, 
 And say, for me, in undertone — 
 "O Helen, Helen dear!" 
 
OUT OF THE DEPTHS 
 
 " r^ OD ! God ! O God ! " Across the dark, 
 ^-^ And throughthe void, rings out theory^ 
 
 And souls before Him, standing stark, 
 Are listening for a clear reply ; 
 
 Some signal flashed from distant spheres, 
 
 To tell them that He sees and hears. 
 
 " God ! God ! O God ! " Forevermore 
 His name rolls upward ; where is He? 
 
 Along what unimagined shore. 
 Across what undiscovered sea, 
 
 Must we fare forth ? What wondrous road 
 
 Will lead us to the Kind's abode ? 
 
 io6 
 
Out of the Depths 107 
 
 "■ God ! God ! O God ! " We grow more bold ; 
 
 More love we crave as years increase ; 
 More shelters from the heat and cold ; 
 
 More of Thy pity and Thy peace. 
 Hold fast Thine own ! from Thee we came, 
 As deathless sparks from central flame. 
 
THE FUNERAL DAY 
 
 *' FARING out your dead! bring out your 
 
 ^ dead!" 
 
 A great bell tolled and tolled ; 
 And over sea and over land, 
 
 The dread commandment rolled. 
 " Bring out your dead from hut and hall ; 
 
 One funeral let there be ; 
 Come, pile them on this mountain top. 
 
 That all the world may see ! " 
 
 Through all the nations rang the cry, 
 
 And far, o'er hill and plain, 
 
 The long procession slowly formed. 
 
 While tears dropt like the rain. 
 1 08 
 
The Fimeral Day 109 
 
 All heads were bowed in speechless shame, 
 
 No songs were sung or said ; 
 As upward, upward, step by step, 
 
 They bore the dishonored dead. 
 
 The dead ! the dead ! the sun that shone 
 
 Through thrice a thousand years, 
 Had never looked upon a scene 
 
 So fit for groans and tears. 
 The winds blew wild across the world ; 
 
 Earth shook through all her zones ; 
 For O, what dear, dead hopes would lie 
 
 Among those whitening bones ! 
 
 Pale mothers brought their precious boys, 
 
 Alas, they weighed like lead ; 
 Sad wives their awful burdens bore, 
 
 And loud bewailed their dead. 
 Fond lovers struggled up the slope, 
 
 Their tears fell where they trod ; 
 
no The Ftcneral Day 
 
 They bore their dear ones in their arms, 
 What weights were these, O God ! 
 
 " Tell me," I cried, '' O Earth and Time, 
 
 Whence came these pallid hosts? 
 Why does the great bell toll and toll. 
 
 As touched by hands of ghosts? " 
 Slow, slow, the answer floated back ; 
 
 It smote through heart and brain : 
 " These countless dead are Passion's slaves, 
 
 They who themselves have slain." 
 
ETERNITY 
 
 /^^ THE clanging bells of time ! 
 
 Night and day they never cease; 
 We are wearied with their chime, 
 
 For they do not bring us peace. 
 And we hush our breath to hear, 
 
 And we strain our eyes to see. 
 If thy shores are drawing near ; 
 
 Eternity ! Eternity ! 
 
 O the clanging bells of time ! 
 
 How their changes rise and fall ; 
 But in undertone sublime ; 
 
 Sounding clearly through them all, 
 Is a voice that must be heard. 
 
112 
 
 Eternity 
 
 As our moments onward flee, 
 And it speaketh aye one word ; 
 Eternity ! Eternity ! 
 
 O the clanging bells of time ! 
 
 To their voices, loud and low, 
 In a long, unresting line, 
 
 We are marching to and fro ; 
 And we yearn for sight or sound, 
 
 Of the life that is to be. 
 For thy breath doth wrap us round ; 
 
 Eternity ! Eternity ! 
 
 O the clanging bells of time ! 
 
 Soon their notes will all be dumb, 
 And in joy and peace sublime, 
 
 We shall feel the silence come. 
 And our souls their thirst will slake, 
 
 And our eyes the King will see, 
 When thy glorious morn shall break, 
 
 Eternity ! Eternity ! 
 
"SOMEBODY'S WORKING FOR SOME 
 BODY " 
 
 nPHE times are hard, the world is cold, 
 
 There 's lust for power, there 's greed for 
 gold. 
 And hearts are bought, and hearts are sold — 
 But Somebody *s working for Somebody. 
 
 In lonely places, far and near. 
 The tangled paths to smooth and clear, 
 Unthanked, unnoticed, year by year, 
 Somebody 's working for Somebody. 
 
 And eyes may weep, and arms may ache, 
 And hopes may die, and hearts may break, 
 "3 
 
114 " Sofnebody 's Working for Somebody " 
 
 But still, for Love's unfailing sake, 
 Somebody 's working for Somebody. 
 
 I pray you say these plain words o'er, 
 Repeat them oft from door to door, 
 By night and day, on sea and shore — 
 Somebody *s working for Somebody. 
 
PERSONALITY 
 
 T^HOU, helpless babe, whose days went by, 
 
 -*■ As dim as dreams, as soon forgot, 
 Wert thou myself ? nay, nay, for I 
 
 Could see thy face, and know thee not. 
 
 Dear child with hair like shining flax. 
 Who sat'st beside my Mother's knee, 
 
 Time's shifting sand has hid thy tracks ; 
 What had my life to do with thee ? 
 
 And yon tall girl that looks afar, 
 
 And questions earth and air and sea, 
 
 And follows fast her guiding star, — 
 Dear God, how far she is from me ! 
 
 115 
 
1 16 Personality 
 
 In noon's strong light a woman stands, 
 With life's full pressure on her laid ; 
 
 Its curious webs are in her hands, 
 And flushed with joy, yet half afraid, 
 
 She turns her wondering eyes on me ; 
 
 And claims me yet ; I felt her needs ;- 
 Up roll the mists from land and sea, 
 
 I onward press — her form recedes ! 
 
 Am I responsible for these ? 
 
 Far off, in some great judgment-hall ; 
 Beyond these earthly, storm-swept seas, 
 
 Must I make answer for them all ? 
 
''WHITE ROBES" 
 
 WHO shall wear the raiment white, 
 When purple robes of Tyre, 
 And costly webs from Indian looms 
 
 Shall shrivel in the fire ? 
 Beyond these transient glories. 
 
 Beyond this tinsel show, 
 Who will stand before the Lord, 
 In raiment white as snow ? 
 
 117 
 
-THE MISTLETOE BOUGH" 
 
 FAR back among the misty years, 
 I heard the sweet old song ; 
 I was a careless, happy child. 
 
 Scarce knowing right from wrong ; 
 But O the tender, mournful words, 
 That through the twilight rang ; 
 And O the lady, fair and tall, 
 Who sat alone and sang ! 
 
 She charmed me with her lovely voice ; 
 
 Her hair was backward blown ; 
 She sat upon a doorstep low, 
 
 And it was near our own ; 
 But there were whisperings in the air, 
 
" The Mistletoe Bough " 119 
 
 She was not " wise " or '' good," — 
 No little child might speak to her 
 In that fair neighborhood ! 
 
 How strange it was ! I looked at her, 
 
 I could not understand ; 
 I felt so far apart from her, 
 
 Yet longed to take her hand. 
 I would have asked about the song ; 
 
 Where was the " Castle Hall " ? 
 And what the '* Holly Branch," that shone 
 
 Against the " old, oak wall " ? 
 
 Where is she now, — that lady fair, 
 
 In whom no child might trust? — 
 I think her very grave, to-day, 
 
 Is levelled in the dust. 
 I wish that I had gone to her, — 
 
 Not knowing right or wrong ; 
 And laid my hands on hers, and said, 
 
 " I thank you for the song." 
 
COME SWEETHEART COME 
 
 /^■^OME, sweetheart, come ! across the road 
 ^^ Are the great rocks that all must pass ; 
 You may not lay aside your load, 
 
 And though you cry, ** Alas, alas ! " 
 No hand may help you in this hour ; 
 
 We stand aside, you make your moan, 
 But this is your allotted dower, 
 
 This pain must be your very own. 
 
 The rocks are there, so cold and gray ; 
 
 Your feet are tender, they will bleed ; 
 O sweetheart, must you go this way ? 
 
 Our hearts cry out, "What need? What 
 
 need?" 
 
 1 20 
 
Co7?ie Sweetheart Come 121 
 
 But come ! make haste ! your name is called ; 
 
 It seems in love and not in wrath, 
 Smile now on us, and unappalled, 
 
 Go slowly up the narrowing path ! 
 
 Now, sweetheart, turn your peaceful eyes, 
 
 The cold, gray rocks you crossed alone, 
 Are gleaming fair beneath the skies, 
 
 By vines and mosses overgrown. 
 Repeat the tale so often told ; 
 
 Just in the darkest, loneliest place, 
 Your path became as burnished gold. 
 
 And angels met you face to face. 
 
"LEST YE BE JUDGED" 
 
 'T'HEY thought, with tottering human feet, 
 "*• Themselves could climb to the judgment- 
 seat ; 
 And their steps were upward bent. 
 But a strange light flashed from a flying cloud, 
 And a voice dropped down, and the heavens 
 were bowed. 
 And they knew what judgment meant ! 
 
 122 
 
''TRACE THOU THE PATH" 
 
 TRACE thou the path which the eagle took. 
 The first-formed, glorious one ; 
 Which, from its birthplace on the rock, 
 Went soaring toward thesun. 
 
 And seek and see if ye cannot find 
 
 On the ancient eastern shore ; 
 One priceless gem from the glitt'ring crown. 
 
 Which the Queen of Sheba wore, 
 
 And a chord from the harp that David smote ; 
 
 And a shred of Tyrian stain ; 
 123 
 
124 ''Trace Thou the Path " 
 
 And a leaf from the palms whose boughs were 
 wet, 
 By the first bright drops of rain. 
 
 The earth and the air closed over them ; 
 
 They are fled with the human hosts ; 
 They returned again to the formless void ; 
 
 They are less than the dreams of ghosts. 
 
JOY 
 
 I 1ST ! her feet are at your door; 
 
 ■'— ' Her sandals shine with evening dew; 
 
 How late she is ! but now, once more, 
 
 She turns her radiant eyes on you. 
 For long delay she makes amend ; 
 
 Rare scarlet blooms around you fall, 
 And glad new songs to Heaven ascend, 
 
 For earth is glorious, after all ! 
 
 125 
 
IN DARKENED HOUSE 
 
 IN darkened house of common clay, 
 The brain, imperial, dwells alone ; 
 None say to it or yea or nay, 
 
 Or ask its right to crown and throne. 
 The dull, gray substance sleeps and wakes, 
 
 And wonders why and whence it came ; 
 With sense of self it throbs and aches ; 
 
 A heaving force, a prisoned flame. 
 By law unwrit or sacred sign, 
 
 It holds its power, — a right divine. 
 
 Behold the king! — how lone his state! 
 But countless couriers round him stand ; 
 126 
 
In Darke7ied House 127 
 
 They do his bidding while they wait ; 
 
 Or outward haste at his command. 
 Viewless and soundless, up the height, 
 
 While radiant suns beneath them glow ; 
 With wings made swift by sheer delight, 
 
 Where mightiest angels only go ; 
 They speed their flight, — what worlds unfold ! 
 
 They find what kings, in dreams, behold ! 
 
 What power is here? What master grand? 
 
 In darkness bound, of lowly birth ; 
 Yet made to think, and feel, and stand, 
 
 As God's own Viceroy on the Earth. 
 The beasts before him cringe and creep ; 
 
 The ancient mountains bow them low ; 
 As still as death, through oceans deep. 
 
 The swift, obedient lightnings go. 
 Thou brain of man ! — awake — asleep — 
 
 Still art thou King, — thy kingdom keep ! 
 
A NEW PRAYER 
 
 I\ yi EN and women, long defeated, 
 ^ " ■*■ Pray a new prayer on your knees; 
 Ask no more for love or riches. 
 
 Ask no more for fame or ease. 
 Lift your empty hands to Heaven, 
 
 Pray for wisdom, that alone, 
 Though He watches worlds in motion, 
 
 He will hear your faintest tone. 
 Angels will descend to help you. 
 
 Stone by stone shall yet be set, 
 Slow, persistent, without clamor, 
 Without sound of workman's hammer, 
 
 You shall build your temple yet ! 
 
 128