LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. "PSdl UNITE!) STATES OF AMEBIC A. I) ROSES AND RUE . * . BEING THE THIRD VOLUME OF THE LOTUS SERIES . ' . PRINTED BY THE PRESS OF CHARLES WELLS MOULTON IN THE CITY OF BUFFALO. MDCCCXCIV. HThis book is issued in a limited edition of six-hundred copies of which this IS NO *£ / A ovrd, y*«e» Roses and Rue i W. A. TAYLOR £TS*7~ % ' BUFFALO CHARLES WELLS MOULTON f ^3 Copyright, 1894, By W. A. TAYLOR. f*HE bud of the rose, ere it wakens, Is steeped in the essence of rue; The lips of the blossom are sweetened, When kissed by the sunlight and dew; And our lives are a strange commingling, A blending of roses and rue. Love 's Labor of Life Is to live and let live; Lifers Labor of Love To forget and forgive. CONTENTS. JANET: In the Clover . • 9 After Ten Years .... 10 After Twenty Years . . ii FIVE FAIR WOMEN: Cleopatra: Eve Before Actium .... 13 After Actium . • H Cressida: At the Gates of Love 16 At the Gates of Troy . . 18 In the Grecian Camp .... t 9 Juliet: In the Garden Balcony of Capulet . . 21 Viola: In Olivia's Garden .... 24 Perdita: At the Sheep-Shearing . • 30 In the Palace of Leontes . 35 Macgahan ...... • 37 Something to Tell .... 42 Garfield . . . ... . 44 Chanson ...... 47 An Autumn Dream . • 53 Love's Vicissitudes .... 55 Truth and Labor .... • 57 The Harvest Moon .... 59 The Welcome ..... . 62 viii CONTENTS. The Shadow on the Wall .... 65 Waiting for the Ships . . . . .67 Promise ...... .70 The Return . . . . . . .72 The King's Highway ..... 74 Why It Is . . . . . . .76 JANET. FULL tide was the sweet June weather, When we roamed the fields together, Through the purpling of the clover, My coy Janet and I. She was young and she was slender, Brown her eyes, and soft, and tender, And the sunshine lent its splendor To the glory of her hair. We were sweetheart, then, and lover, And we dreamed the old dreams over, As we wandered in the clover, My sweet Janet and I. Paradise spread out before us, With the blue sky bending o'er us, And the birds and bees in chorus, Sang us of the By-and-By. 9 10 JANET. O, sweet birds, and bees, and clover, Happy sweetheart, happy lover, Still you linger and grow brighter As the happy years go by. AFTER TEN YEARS. There are milestones ten in the road, Janet — The road of the years that runneth down From the chancel-rail of the church, Janet — The quiet church in the quiet town, Where we met and plighted our vows, and looked Far out on the sheen of life's broad sea, Where our beauteous ship at anchor lay, Its white sails beckoning you and me. There were tears in your eyes that night, Janet, Your voice was choked, and your cheeks were pale, And your white hand trembled in mine, Janet, As I held it there at the chancel-rail; For you knew that our ship was outward bound, Its untried sails on an unknown sea, With Love at the helm and Hope aloft, Its haven the far-off Yet-to-Be. Oh, bright were your eyes that night, Janet, Through your shimm'ring veil and falling tears! But purer and brighter they shine, Janet, Like the midsummer sun of the joyful years; JANET. Ir For those tears are gone, like the mist of morn, Your smiles are sweeter with lapse of time, And the hopes of our youth are interwove With the threads of a glorifying rhyme. And our ship has sailed on the sea, Janet, Where islands slope to a shining strand; We live in the breath of flowers, Janet, That bloom forever in Love's own land. The hopes of our youth are crowned with gold, The harvest ripened through storm and shine; Not a dream was broken in all the years, Because of that deathless love of thine. There are milestones ten on the road, Janet — The road of the years that runneth down From the chancel-rail of the church, Janet — The quiet church in the quiet town, Where our vows were plighted, our lives made one; Whence we tried the waves of Life's wide sea, And we found in the land of Love and Song The blessed haven that was to be. AFTER TWENTY YEARS. Twenty years have passed us over, And among the fields of clover, We still walk and dream together, My own Janet and I. 12 JANET. She's no longer young and slender, But her eyes are soft and tender, And the sunshine in its splendor Finds no silver in her hair. We are sweetheart, still, and lover, As we wander in the clover, And we dream our young dreams over, My own Janet and I. 'Mong the birds and bees and clover — A new sweetheart, a new lover, Walk beside us and dream over All the happy By-and-By. O, sweet birds, and bees, and clover, Happy sweetheart, happy lover, May your dreams, like ours, grow brighter As the changing years go by. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. CLEOPATRA. EVE BEFORE ACTIUM. I • • O OME lurking devil seems to curse this spot, O Hide 'mong the trees and poison ail my flowers — i Or am I jealous? When the moon last night ! Turned into jasper all my marble walls, ' And the broad Nilus, like a silver flood, J Went pulsing by as softly as the sleep j Of some young maiden, April like and coy, (All fancy, reveling in half bridal dreams — j My Roman soldier shook the odorous boughs, And flung the milk-white blossoms at my feet — My Roman soldier, my Marc Antony, My god, my hero, whose strong-sinewed arm, In brooding battle ne'er was impotent; Whose deep toned voice fell softly on my ear, Sweet as the music of the amorous lute, Or anklets tinkling o'er the velvet floor — My Antony — not the pale Octavia's — Pale as a lily, passionless as snow. 13 14 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. "Mad with the poisoned chalice of my love, All bitterness with absence, but as sweet As twice ten thousand odor- bearing gales When he is near me; how my pulsing heart Throbs like a timbrel to my jealousy, Until he comes, still trampling the flowers As he trode down the nations of the world. Friend of my first god-lover, he who made Dead Caesar speak with wondrous eloquence; My idol, whom I worship like the sun, What drug robbed thy fond mem'ry of its tryst, Here at my beryl fountains at the gates ? Wake, my sweet Iras, shake your silken curls As golden as the sunshine of the Ind; Melt the smooth honey of your tuneful throat, And sing, till he shall hear you, brushing through The musky blossoms of the scented ground." AFTER ACTIUM. "Charmian, my robe bring hither, Bring my diadem and pearls, I will die in regal splendor, Scoffing at the Roman churls; I'll meet the proud Octavius As becomes brave Egypt's queen; He shall grace my greatest triumph, Greater than his own hath been. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 15 Iras, Charmian, my maidens, Deck me for the audience day, Strew my brow with pearls and diamonds — Rubies of the rich Cathay — Deck me with my lover's offerings Out of all the empires drawn, Rich enough to buy my ransom, Or take a kingdom out of pawn. It is fitting that the temple Should out shine the starry night, When the tenant soul, immortal, Goeth hence in upward flight. Kiss me, Charmain and Iras, Take the aspic from my lip, 'Tis the purest of elixir — Life immortal — that you sip. Thus ! Now let the proud Octavius Look upon me stark and dead; Let him take the clay-cold casket With the richest jewel fled: Let him chain it to his chariot, Drag it through the streets of Rome, With the heartless rabble shouting To the victors marching home. Kiss me, Charmian and Iras — Queen triumphant to the last ! There ! I hear the Roman legions In their armor clanging past. l6 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. Husband, by the gods encircled, My Marc Antony, I come; Ope the gates that bar my entrance, And command the gods make room!" CRESSIDA. AT THE GATES OF LOVE. " O glorious temple of supreme delight, Sun-crowned Elysium, doubly steeped in joy, Richer than Priam's palace looking down Upon the martial streets of warlike Troy; Of thee I dreamed, while looking on the sea Where Grecian shallops flitted in the wind, Whence Helen came a willing captive borne From him who planned avenging war behind. O golden palace, girt about with flowers, Where nectar from the marble fountains flows, Beneath whose shadows joys supernal thrive, Where every thorn bursts in a double rose. O priest and god in one, Troilus, bend Thy warlike ear while blushing beauty pays Her homage at the world's great, central shrine, Confession mingled with deep- hearted praise. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. jj When from the field your dinted armor rang, My heart lay on the stones beneath your feet — Blushing I loved thee — blushing I confess — Hiding my heart from its own truth so sweet, King and confessor, deity in one, I woo you warmer than you ask my love; Open the temple and unveil the shrine, While all the gods look smiling from above. Here no Cassandra need forecast the years, They speak with sweeter breath than Phrygia blows From isles of spice 'yond Darden's tented plain Where warlike Greece the gage of battle throws. Now Troy seems glorious, bathed in sweeter light Than streams by Tenedos at early morn, — And Helen's love was but the infant bud From which my own more perfect love was born. Nay doubt not, my sweet lord, it ne'er shall be That I'll look back on love clasped vows defiled, Here grows the flower of perfect happiness, That Love to being in a moment smiled. Here at the altar be the prophet- priest To whom I swear my heart's own inner truth- Write it upon the eternal field of heaven, A guide or warning to all unborn youth: l8 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. When I am false, Truth shall go clad in shame, Love seek the thorns and shun the garden ground, Maidens hate beauty, flowers the light of morn, And the sweet moon cease in her nightly round: When I am false, let Memory set the hour In monumental brass, and make that day The mountain of all Time, whereon to write: 1 Falsehood was born with the fair Cressida.' " AT THE GATES OF TROY. 2 "This ends the day: Here is the door of doom: Troilus, Love, Hope, Troy and Life, farewell, I leave my hopes behind me rent and torn, Like Proserpina at the gates of Hell. I go a captive from my heart's own shrine, — Unblest with Love's enticing, joyous light, While he behind me, at the temple door, Stands like the prophet of the starless night. I go to weep my soul away; to dream Of Troy and my own soverign, noble lord, To hate the barbarous Greek, and lock my love Against the onslaught of a single word. Farewell, Troilus, till you come again, My heart is hermit in its secret cell, Nor Greece could break the barrier, or take The treasure clasped in that one word— Farewell. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 19 Farewell! Six-gated Troy, you lock without More sorrow than you lock within. The heart Of Cressid carrying all of woman's grief, From out your portals weeping must depart. Farewell, Troilus, till you come again, Through Grecian ranks a reaper crowned with grain, I shall await you feeding Love's bright fire With Memory there on Darden's martial plain." IN THE GRECIAN CAMP. " Love and distance are at variance, And no half-way priest can hold To severed lips the nectared chalice- Carved in porphyry and gold. Troy, at best, is but a memory, The pale reflex of a day, That vanished like a sunbeam While my heart was still at play. Woman's wisdom follows wooing, And she treads the busy marts, While she learns the art of loving In the gallant quest of hearts. 20 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. Diomed outbids Troilus, Shall I weep my eyes away, Waiting for an absent lover Who dared not bid me stay ? Woman's wisdom follows wooing As the sunlight follows dawn, And the princely lover present Hides the princely lover gone. Memory? An idle pageant ! Faith ? A prude that tortures youth ! Truth ? 'Tis but the foundling Falsehood ! Falsehood ? But the child of Truth ! Woman's heart is in the market — This the lesson I have learned — True or false, 'tis still an incense, To man's changeful passions burned." 4 True woman's love is not in words, That any tuneful lips may say; In her soul's depths it silent lies, And like a diamond shines alway. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. JULIET. IN THE GARDEN BALCONY OF CAPULET. The shirred gold Summer of her hair, The wistful pose of rounded form, The deep drawn sigh, the pulsing warm Of her fond heart that flutters there, Are less a dream than poets make Their visions sweet and fair; The sweet Italian Summer blows Across the star-strewn sky, and steals The odors, till it nods and reels From ruby lip to paler rose, From bloom to bud, until the East Breaks, and the day reveals; The cheek's glow in the silent night, Flushing the marble of her hands On which it leans, the far green lands, With here and there a glim' ring light— The hush that waits on wak'ning Love And stays Time's falling sands; The rustle of the feath'ry spray, The drowse that hangs upon the dawn, The nameless tremor interdrawn 22 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. Into the heart of Love's young day, Were there where stately Capulet Cast shadows on the lawn. "With Love's light wings I'd scale the wall;" " Hush, timorous prattler, Death would seal Thy life and manhood — 'gainst the steel Of ancient feuds and ancient brawl Love's armor would be gossamer, And Death encompass all." " Look on me, I am trebly armed;" "Alack ! I would not they should see Thee here, go softly hence, to me Death would come twice to see thee harmed, Better a single, crushing pang, Better I die love charmed. " Who turned thy feet to wander here? How found you out my garden path ?" " Love has more eyes than Argus hath, A keener sense, a finer ear, He waits not till the harvest falls To glean the after-math." " Ask you my love ? 'Tis freely thine, — Sweet night, that masks my maiden cheek, Hide thou my blushes, while I speak, — FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 2 $ You ask; the worthless gift is thine, Thine, thine, all thine, brave Montague, A thousand times 'tis thine. 11 'Tis thine, and yet I would recall My love to give it thee again, And give, and give, as falls the rain, So much, so little, yet my all, As the sea boundless, infinite, So great and yet so small." "Good night." "A thousand times good night." How all the gliding years do ring With that sweet sadness — poets sing, And lovers kiss and kill the light With that prophetic, sad, sweet word, When it means everything. In Capel's garden not alone — Not in Verona grows the yew Above the sleeping Montague, Shrouding the silent ducal throne — Where the fair rose of Capulet In splendor should have grown. Down all the years the blight has been, The hand that crosses Love's bright way, And caste blots out the light of day, 24 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. And ancient hate steps in between The hopes of youth, repeating there Verona's tragic sin. Far as the sun looks forth the blue, Far as the sea spreads by the shore- As Time has told the seasons o'er, Juliet hath died, cypress and yew Have draped the murdered Capulet, The murdered Montague. VIOLA. IN OLIVIA'S GARDEN. " Dream of my soul — it dies forever, Here in the message I bear; Hope of my heart — forever it falls At her jeweled feet, and there My life goes out like a vision — As a ship goeth down at sea, My hope is under the water, And the stars are dead to me. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. " O God, who guarded the ocean, And brought me safe to the land, 'Twere sweeter to die forgotten, And sleep in the drifting sand; 'Twere better to join a brother And drift in the soulless deep, Than bear my heart as a censer, And smile when I fain would weep. ill. ' ' A priest who comes to Love's altar, A prophet who smiles and lies, The oracle dumb, but speaking, And hating her soulful eyes. A priest who comes to Love's altar, With a rote of tuneful lies, Neither priest nor prophet — I am A lamb for the sacrifice. IV. " I con it; 'O fairest maiden, Of the world the lov'liest one, I bear thee a true heart laden With love that is thine alone, I pray you take it.' O falsehood, It blisters my soul to speak The lie with which I am laden; So heavy, while I am weak. 25 26 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. "O bright are your eyes, cold beauty, Your icicle smile is sweet, I woo you in place of your lover — I'd strike you dead at my feet. Your lips are red, and the blossom Of youth in your cheek appears— I'd plant in your eyes the crow-feet That mark the track of the years. VI. " O sweetest of all, my master, Is a slave at your bright shrine, Unbend, O statue of splendor, Relent, O vision divine — A curse on your cold, cold beauty, A curse on the spell you hold, That keeps my love in the shadow And covers with dross the gold. VII. " It is love unblemished I bear you, Sweet mistress that rules the State, I pray you accept the treasure, Or seal the giver's sad fate. Ah take it! — my soul forever Would be armed in pitiless war, While the sun came out of the ocean, And the night revealed a star. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. 27 VIII. " O poison of Love, that racks me, I'd die at his feet, and say I was happy, if he would give me The jewels she flings away; If a tithe that he sends her greeting Were poured in my ear that waits At the pillars of the Elysium, I'd open the splendid gates. "The grass at my feet, the flowers, The trees that are over head, The winds that came from the ocean To tell me about my dead, The voice of the air that fans me, Are demons that mock and jeer; My heart is there with Orsino, My burden of lies is here. x. " There at the window she waits me, Her cheek like a flower aflame, Her eyes that are glancing downward, As Love was at war with Shame. What a welcome, ye gods forbid it, That yesterday's words I spoke, Have touched her heart, made it tender, Till't bows to the lordly yoke. 2 8 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. " O vision of womanly beauty, If you knew a tithe of the truth, And you were a woman, loving The joy of untainted youth; You would cast the gifts I bear you At the feet of she who begs, Whose lips are athirst with fever When the wine is at the dregs. XII. " If you knew how my heart panted For what you scorned y ester e'en — How the sands of the waste would blossom, And the desert be clothed in green; If mine were but half the burden I bore to your palace door, You'd give what I gave and make me Slave of thy wish evermore. XIII. God, whoguarded the ocean, And brought me safe to the land, There are things in life the wisest Of men can not understand. 1 bear to the feet of another The treasure I dare not give Nor keep — I know at the parting That I would no longer live. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. The drift of young Love is no riddle, Though his arrows oft fly in the dark, The archer is blind and the feathers May sometimes fly far wide of the mark. 2. When sun comes after the darkness, And the blossoms come after the rain, The sky is more blue when the lightning Has burned fierce over heaven's wide plain. Each gloom has a happy hereafter After midnight the full-lighted day, And Love that lies dead in the morning At the evening is joyous with play. The cold, unrelenting Olivias Oft are sweeter than even they know, And many grief-laden Violas, Reap the harvests they thoughtlessly sow. 29 30 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. PERDITA. AT THE SHEEP-SHEARING. Bohemia's Summer coy and sweet Was in her cheek — and in her eye The far depths of Sicilia's sky, Where violet and azure meet, And Love gives Love his kisses sweet As he flies lightly laughing by. Her tiring women bowing low, And rustic lovers in the road, The hawker with his motley load, Swart shearers moving to and fro, A dial's shadow rounding slow, And cattle wincing 'neath the goad; in. The clash of tongues, the songs afar, Soft shimmer of mid-Summer trees, The toying kisses of the breeze, A flitting dream of distant war, Like the pale reflex of a star, The quip of those, the gibe of these, FIVE FAIR WOMEN. IV. 31 Touched not her heart, that softly beat To music dumb to other ears — She saw the glitter of the shears, And heard the tread of many feet; She saw the courtly courtiers meet, And heard the jangle of their spurs; And yet she heard not — in a spell She saw the whole world go and pass, Till in the shadow of the glass She saw the eyes of Florizel, And read — the story 'twas — ah well — The whisper running through the grass, VI. The white clouds in the shining blue, The songsters in among the leaves, The crickets hiding in the sheaves, Had told the story when 'twas new, And Love her whole soul to him drew, As deftly as the weaver weaves. VII. Ah ! day of Love's ecstatic bliss — " A queen among the gods," he said; " Fie, your extremes !" with drooping head, 32 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. " Why flatter me with words like this, Fair lordling, stooping with a kiss To woo a lowly shepherd maid?" VIII. " Nay, but I rise to greet thy face, Sweet goddess of the rustic wold; Nor castles shining girt with gold, Hold aught so full of love and grace — No priceless jewel— out of place — Like you, their miser coffers hold," IX. " My lord, thy words are fair and sweet, But 'gainst the mandate of the king, Even Love is but a worthless thing, A flower crushed under iron feet — Than any dream more frail and fleet — Lighter than any song we sing. x. " Fair live Perdita's love, but I Hope not, lest grief my hope enthrall, Lest the fierce cloud of wrath should fall Out of the hidden, sullen sky, And as the fierce wind hurries by Death grimly comes and claims it all," FIVE FAIR WOMEN. " Nay, sweetest, in Time's changeful flight, He makes the cycle all complete; The ages one by one repeat The stars that shine 'cross ancient night; The long lines meet in points of light, And prophecy grows ever sweet. XII. " As wooed the gods, I woo thee here, In guise that hides nor yet conceals; That shrouds the truth, and yet reveals The growing promise of the year, The golden promise and the cheer That decks Time's gaily flying wheels." XIII. " But for the manly truth that glows In all thy words, I fain would say You wooed me the deceitful way, Poisoning the over-trusting rose — I trust thee, though a thousand woes Come to me in my wakening day." XIV. " Sweet trust; your love outbids your fear: The dance ! Let doubt fly with the wind! Love is before, all doubt behind; 33 34 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. The hour dawns to the perfect year, There was the bud, the bloom is here, Let Love be brave as he is blind." xv. Stronger than Faith or mouldering Time Is woman's love — the stars that glow In heaven, will sooner fade and go, Or innocence espouse a crime, And music break her plight with rhyme, Than woman's lamp of love burn low. XVI. Love, Faith, Hope, Happiness are one When woman loves; the perfect whole Rounds out the fullness of the soul, And shapes the courses of the sun And stars that through Truth's heaven run, True to the magnet and the pole. xvn. Bohemia's Summer coy and sweet Shed softer luster on her hair, And Love grew in the Summer air, And bloomed about her dainty feet; And in her cheek where blushes meet, Joy set his shining signet there. FIVE FAIR WOMEN. XVIII. 35 Sweet dream! Fair vision unredeemed, False mirage of the heart's fond hope, Ah! what delusive joys but ope To close again— the fire that streamed Across Love's altar, crisped, and seemed To sweep the whole world in its scope. IN THE PALACE OF LEONTES. Sicilian summer at its tide Aflush with bud and bloom, Sat smiling like a new-made bride Clothed from a magic loom. On all the lawns cool fountains play, From windows banners flare, Caste triumphs, yet Love wins the day, And sits a victor there. The shepherd maid looks down to see The whole world at her feet — She hears the music from the sea Sweep in upon the street. The crown of Love, the marriage bell Rings from the belfry clear, Bohemia's hope, Sicilian spell Of joy, rounds out the sphere, 36 FIVE FAIR WOMEN. Love triumphs; smiling over all, The Knight in tourney crowned— For him each beauty from the wall Casts flowers on the ground. Sicilian Summer smiling sweet, On twice a princess shone, Royal that Nature's graces meet In womanhood alone. Ah! higher than her pride of birth, Than place and power and name, — Her rustic grace, her modest worth, Her blush of maiden shame. Sweet Princess of the sylvan wild, 'Mong flowers and honey bees, The praise you won, as Nature's child, Ere courtiers bent their knees, Was homage to thy soul's true worth The meed of Nature's truth, The one sweet flower that sets the earth In garb of endless youth. MACGAHAN. HERO, JOURNALIST, LIBERATOR. I. NOT stately verse, nor trumpets blowing fame; Not praise from lips of matchless eloquence; Not monumental piles nor epitaphs; Funereal pomp, nor all combined, can make Man other then he fashions for himself Out of the warp and woof of Circumstance. A man lies here whose hand ennobled Time, And wrote a deathless page of history; Up from these hills our hero made his way — A western star that shone across the East, Moved forward by the hand of Destiny. Here, knee-deep in the purple clover bloom, He drank life's springtime bubbling at the fount— A school-girl's tenderness about his eyes — Less'ning a loving mother's daily toil, Content, yet all his soul unsatisfied. Out of such gentle stuff are heroes made — And he who wept a fallen butterfly, Rode like a storm-cloud down the long plateaus, Defying Girghis, Turk and Turcoman — Across the Oxus, knocking at the gates Of far, mysterious Khiva, in a realm 37 38 MACGAHAN. That filled his boyish dreams of Wonderland: Kings, khans and caliphs passed him in review — The proud voluptuary and the cringing slave — Seraglios, palaces and minarets Revealed their secrets, till the world amazed, Rose and reached forth a succoring hand to man. Bulgaria in the wine press of the Turk, Gave blood and tears and groaned upon the rack, Until his mighty thunders 'gainst the wrong Rocked Europe to its base, unloosed the slave And set the sun of freedom o'er the hills Where serfs had groped through ages of eclipse. And then, where Stamboul, standing by the sea Looks through the spicy gateways of the East — Youth on his brow and summer on his lips, Crowned more than conqueror and more than king- Dreaming of these green hills, a mother's love, Of wife and babe and kindred's loving touch, With all the world before him, his great soul Ascended to the Infinite, and mankind Are better for this hero having lived. II. Here where the green hills turn to gray Under the warm Autumnal sun, We lay him, with his honors won, Where first his eyes looked on the day, His work well done. MACGAHAN. There where proud Stamboul by the sea Looks through the Orient's purple gate, He met the Apostle's common fate, But ere he died, Bulgaria free Arose in state. His was God's sword in Gideon's field, That reaped like sheaves the souls of men, Justice, not blood, imbued his pen, And his strong truth became the shield And buckler then. And his the ennobling part to dare — The Apostle's glory in the thralls — Whose triumph, when the body falls, Like a broad sun of radiance rare Lights up the walls. With him who holds the truth in awe — Nor recks what bitter storms are poured — "The pen is mightier than the sword," And his strong armor without flaw Keeps perfect guard. O, green hills sloping east and west. To purple eve and crimson day, He comes along the martyr's way, His work with Freedom's paens blessed — He comes to-day. 39 4o MACGAHAN. Here o'er the dust of him whose name Grew from these green hills, far away Into the Orient's warmer day, Bright'ning the gilded scroll of Fame, Fair Truth can say: " His hand bore not a hireling blade — His soul was trained to noble deeds, From out the grain he plucked the weeds, And in the battle, undismayed, Struck down false creeds. " Fair youth, among the quiet lanes, Came there a vision of the years Before you, telling of the tears, The struggles, triumphs and the pains, The hopes and fears ? And watching as you went afield, Barefoot, to drive the lowing herd, Saw you the dim, far Orient stirred Its dark crimes and its secrets yield At thy stern word ? Did Hesperus at eve proclaim That you at Islam's mystic gate Should change the drifting tide of fate And blow upon the trump of Fame With breath elate ? MACGAHAN. 41 That he who drove his father's kine Beneath the northern moon should be The Liberator, and set free The bondsman with the touch divine Of liberty? Not where fair Stamboul's minarets Look down upon Marmora's sea, But in the glad soil of the free, We lay him down without regrets, While Time shall be. There sleep, O brother of the pen, Till the archangel's trump shall say The night ends in the eternal day, And Truth shall judge who have been men, Who went astary. SOMETHING TO TELL. I'VE something to tell you, blue-eyed one! Come with me down to the swinging gate; The rest might hear it — I would that none Should hear it but you, my blue- eyed one; Then come with me down to the swinging gate. I've something to say in your soft pink ear, Down there where the blossoms are fresh and red; And the blossoms ne'er whisper the things they hear; But treasure them deep in their petals, my dear, Or sigh them away to the stars overhead. I've something to breathe in your wealth of curls, Down there where the brook is a thing of glee, And the waters go by in eddying whirls, Like the merry laughter of romping girls — Will you listen, my love, while I breathe it thee ? I've something to speak that I can not keep Forever and aye in my heart's warm shrine; It's musicial, low, and warm, and deep, As the dreamy music that pulses our sleep, And as true as the sweetest stars that shine. 42 SOMETHING TO TELL. I've something to ask as I hold your hand, And press you close to my own warm heart; While our lips are touching, the golden sand In the glass of Time shall surcease and stand, And you'll answer me ere our lips can part! I've something to ask you, under the blue, While the moon is stooping to kiss the sea, That of all the world I would ask but you, And ask till you answer me warm and true — For the truth of your love is warm to me. I've something to ask you — never again Shall the question be spoken by lips of mine, If you answer me fondly, my pulses then Will throb with the highest hopes of men, And beat in eternal thrill to thine. I've something to ask you! Nay, no one is here But the fairies who list in the flowers for thee; Then listen, my sweet! I would win thee here — Ah! why did I waver so long, my dear? For your kisses are sweeter than Eden to me! 43 GARFIELD. ILLUSTRIOUS dead! O glorious light, 1 That wraps the soldier-statesman's dust! O broken scepter, keen but just, That cleft the day out of the night! Thou art no pillar fallen prone, No wreck upon Time's wreck-strewn shore, Thy name shall grow from more to more, For all thy work was nobly done. This was thy greatest; when you fell Before the greedy spoilsman's rage, You solved the problem of the age And after history will tell, How the Republic rose and spoiled The spoilsman in his mad career, And wrought within this sacred year, All that for which the nation toiled. O noble offering on the shrine Of purer things and loftier days, Up from the darkness of the ways Shall come the effulgent light divine. 44 GARFIELD. Shall come the alembic that will burn The greed for power, the lust for spoil, Crowning the worthy sons of toil, And shed its brightness on thy urn. Here grief hath not one dark regret, Sorrow no bitterness of woe, And on thy turf the tears that flow, Are gems in strong affection set. Proud heart that quailed not at the cry Of harpies in their quest for blood, Brave lion, falling where you stood, Thy great achievements can not die. O baptism red ! O sacrifice Of greatness for the righteous cause, Truth, justice, better, purer laws — Thy glorious monument shall rise. In thy dead face we faintly see God's purpose of the after years, And, watered by the nation's tears, The harvest of the Yet-to-be. O comrade, tried oh fields of fire, And true amid the battle's shock, Thy purpose firmer than a rock Shall grow the nation's one desire, Till thy dead face shall rise and glow Like Arcturus in yon blue sky, A quenchless beacon shining high, To point to us the path to go. 45 46 GARFIELD. For her — God help her in her need — Who buckled on thy battle gear, And sent thee forth with smile and tear — For her each soldier's heart will bleed. For her — God help her while she weeps Who crowned thee with life's proudest bays, When Peace came with the shining days — Each soldier's heart a vigil keeps. Sleep on, O comrade of the sword, O civic hero, nobly crowned, Sleep till the last reveille sound, While Fame and History stand guard. CHANSON. THE NORTHWEST TERRITORY I7S8 — 1< HERE Freedom young and brave and strong Unfurled her banner, set her feet Upon the virgin soil, and turned The Star of Destiny to greet. 11. Her's was an empire reaching out Unto the doorways of the night Where darkness brooded; in her hand She bore the torch of Truth and Right. hi. Before her lay the unconquered waste, Behind her, smiling by the sea, Her virgin mother, proud and chaste, Chanted the hymn of Liberty. 47 48 CHANSON. IV. A song of triumph ringing through The solemn pines, the mountain pass, Until the future came and shone As shines a picture in the glass. v. Here Progress took the form of Law, Here Government arose and led The onward march by hill and plain, And oft the road was rough and red. But harvests blossomed from the graves Where e'er the echoing bugle blew — Each was a king, no cringing slave Marched where proud Freedom's banner flew. Here Freedom's sacred muniments Were dedicated to mankind, Here Sword and Balance, Peace and War, Were in a common mission joined. VIII. Faith saw beyond the horizon's rim A newer nation rising strong — The battle and the harvest hymn Were blended in the phophet's song. CHANSON. 49 IX. There shone a promise in the sky, Sweet sang the summer winds that broke Into the river's lullaby, And stirred the acer and the oak. The strokes of Labor, true and strong, From hill and valley, wood and brake, Were but the words of prophecy Through which the mighty angel spake. XI. Beneath our feet dead empires lie, Above us shines the newer star; Here some proud Memphis mocked the sky, Then broke upon the crest of war. XII. O genial soil, with life instinct, Whence warriors sprang and statesman grew, - You gave their blood the imperial tinct That shines the whole world through and through. XIII. Here opened out a splendid page, Here grew a grander race of men Than any since the Golden Age, Great with the sword, the plow, the pen. 5o CHANSON. XIV. Fresh from the Revolution's fire They came to hew the empire's wav Through trackless wastes, and to inspire The sunlight of young Freedom's day. xv. " With Truth's keen scythe they cut a swath Through Wrong and Falsehood to Reform; We reap the glorious aftermath, Free from the peltings of the storm. Here fell the civic seed which grew To blade and sheaf, and spreading far Fed all the hungry pilgrims through Long periods of waste and war. XVII. Here rose an empire, here the march Of civil government began; Here Law put on the robe of Power, And Might became the friend of Man. And going hence, with hands outspread, One on the plow, one on the hilt — The new-born standing for the dead — An hundred splendid cities built. CHANSON. 51 XIX. They grew to sovereigns proud and fair, From out this garden, now behold They come, long lines of pilgrims, here Where Freedom timed their march of old. xx. They come, five queens, proud sisterhood, With teeming millions all elate; Five States with common hopes and blood, Part of one great and perfect State. xxi. Here to this shrine, where Freedom set Her banner in red Danger's van, And smote the wilderness and cried: "Make way before the march of man! XXII. They come when full the century rounds, Proud pilgrims offering np their deeds Upon the altar, trumpet sounds Proclaim that: " Virtue still succeeds.' XXIII. They come from fields whose summer glow Like yellow Ormus shames the sun; From purple meadows bending low When east the fragrant Zephyrs run; 52 CHANSON. XXIV. From cities where long flags of fire Flash in the sky from dark to dawn, Where o'er the endless lines of steel The modern Cyclops rushes on; xxv. From lakes whose waters cold and clear Reflect the stars in heaven's dome: From rivers singing like a seer, Of mightier triumphs yet to come. AN AUTUMN DREAM. FAR off the white ships come and go, Slipping between the dusk and light Into the purple veil of night, With Autumn's heavens all aglow- Above the evening stars grow bright. Here flame the asters by the road, Long, ridging waves of lightest gold, And velvet meadows soft unrolled Unto my feet— oh, weary load, The clinging, bitter grief of old; There, purpling on their vines, the grapes Grow rich in lustre, change in hue, With wealth of sunlight, star and dew: At twilight come familiar shapes That slant the long lanes through and through To me, the old years come again— Our parting by the shell-strewn shore; The bitter when the sweet was o'er; That farewell, like a sad refrain, That died amid the breakers' roar. Oh, years of life beyond the sea ! 53 54 AN AUTUMN DREAM. The weary quest for fleeting peace, The sorrow that had no surcease, The mocking dreams that came to me — The bitter thrall without release ! Why did we part ? Ah, cruel lies, You did your work too well, and drew The sunlight of the whole world through Your poisoned fangs and stony eyes, And left us only death's cold dew ! Here, where the waves for love complain, Beneath the Autumn's sunset glow, With yon moon in the twilight low Kissing the aster-bordered plain, I stand because I love her so. The long lane shines with softer light, The asters change to richer gold, And she — the glorious dream of old — Comes smiling through the veil of night, With wealth of beauty still untold. Far off, the white ships come and go, Like dreams between the dusk and light. One touch, and all the heavens are bright, O'erhead, the stars of long ago Shine soft with Love's own perfect light. LOVE'S VICISSITUDES. THE DEATH. <