:^ % c" -^ ' -- '-^ ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 .^^ 
 
 
 M O 
 
 ..^^ 
 
 
 , 1 • aO ^. 
 
 
 '. '^. ..^ /^1 
 

CHRISTMRS EVE 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 C. MAURICE STEBBINS 
 
 ^^WftJW>^3^ 
 
 „ ( 
 
 SALT LAKE CITY 
 
 Kelly & Company 
 
 1894 
 
T 
 
 ] % ^f 4"" 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1894, 
 BY 
 C. MAURICE STEBBINS. 
 
TO 
 
 ^Jxt ^uttu of Wnx gom« 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 H^^se ^Sznps are Ls«vir)al^ le)eaicatea. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 HAGE. 
 
 Christmas Eve, 3 
 
 Evening on the Ohio, 17 
 
 In City Creek Canyon 20 
 
 The Sky seems Desolate 25 
 
 Could I but Sing, 27 
 
 In Harvest Time 29 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes 31 
 
 Autumn Notes 33 
 
 Song of Autumn, 36 
 
 Sown 39 
 
 Love Lies A-cold 42 
 
 At Even-tide, 48 
 
 Pegno D'Affetto. 50 
 
 Time 51 
 
 The Poet's Prayer 52 
 
 Sonnet . . 53 
 
 Expectation 54 
 
CHRISTMES EVE 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE; 
 
 THE ALPINE SHEPHERD. 
 
 I. 
 
 There was a youth, a nursling of the mountains, 
 Untutored in the ways of congregated men. 
 His knowledge he had quaffed from the pure foun- 
 tains, 
 And the morning streams, and flowery glen 
 Wherein his sheep he folded safe in pen 
 At eve; from the near heavens, and the light 
 Of day, the music of the jay and wren. 
 And else he knew not: neither how to write 
 Nor read; but in the life he lived he found delight. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE 
 
 II. 
 
 No mother ever watched with quickening breath 
 The varying struggles of his infancy: 
 To her the gates of Hfe were gates of death; 
 No sister's sweet companionship had he 
 To temper and attune his childish glee. 
 A father's was the only care he knew; 
 A father's untrained knee the only knee 
 To which he came for knowledge. And his view 
 Was narrow as the narrow valley where he grew. 
 
 III. 
 
 When spring first touched the mountains into green, 
 The warm sun resting on their southern side; 
 And birds winged lightly to a northward scene, 
 He, with his aged father as his guide, 
 Would leave the sheltered valley and abide 
 Thro' summer in the mountains, feeding there 
 The 'oleating sheep until late autumn-tide 
 Re-led them to their narrow vale to wear 
 Away the winter on austere and scanty fare. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And thus tar from the never-ending strite 
 Of tho't; far from the eddying ebb and flow 
 Of peace and misery, of death and Hfe; 
 Far from the human calm and joy that grow 
 From friendship; and the hopes and fears that strow 
 The pachs of men, his spirit formed its view; 
 Untrained by ought less pure than the first glow 
 Of dawn, the water of the brook, or dew 
 Of evening, and the summer sky's untarnished blue. 
 
 V. 
 
 And many a day he wandered forth alone, 
 Beyond the limits of the meadow land, 
 And gained the topmost peak, the first bright throne 
 Of day, seeking in love to understand 
 The things around him, and to find a hand 
 Of fellowship in each least thing he saw. 
 And thus his simple spirit did expand 
 Until he felt spring up a natural awe 
 Toward these, his kindred, knowing not their law. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And hour by hour he stood beneath the shaggy rocks 
 That rise in measured rows up to the sky 
 That seems to softly rest its fleecy flocks 
 Upon them; and forgot the sensual tie 
 That bound him to the earth; for to his eye 
 Appeared more than the visil:)le shape of things; 
 More than the tho't of great or small, or high 
 Or low. Faint echoes of retreating wings 
 Were these; sudden to disappear as whisperings. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To move or speak the power was not his own. 
 He might have prayed had he e'er heard of prayer; 
 Yet did his spirit worship, and the throne 
 At which it knelt rose thro' the trembling air; 
 And in this usurpation all was fair. 
 Loving and lovable; transcendent power 
 Breathed in the least of creatures everywhere. 
 Here littleness lived not; and every flower 
 That breathed added a greatness to the passing hour. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 7 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Upraised to adoration of a Power, 
 Whose name is unfamiliar to his lips, 
 He lives, reflecting on the natural dower 
 Of things about him. And the autumn slips 
 To spring, and spring to autumn; time strips 
 The mountains turn by turn of green and white, 
 As drop by measured drop the water drips. 
 The youth turned homeward on an autumn night 
 To find a frosty form: its spirit taken flight. 
 
 IX. 
 Too deep the wound for words or flow of tears! 
 There like a stony statue did he stand, 
 Whose cold impassive face defies the years 
 To work an equal change, or with the brand 
 Of dissolution mar its mien. No hand 
 Were sensitive enough to thaw the frost 
 That bound his spirit more than to command 
 That to return whence it had fled; life lost 
 Her power; a death in life that death could not ex- 
 haust. 
 
8 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 X. 
 
 Calm was the night; the moon fair on the hills; 
 But calmer was despair, until daj' broke 
 At last, and melted up the frozen rills 
 Of life; and then, and not till then, he spoke, 
 Seeking his questionings in words to cloak: 
 "What is this, father, holds thy dear lips dumb? 
 And is this death, whose swift and fatal stroke 
 1 ne'er have seen, save as it erst has come 
 And led away a wandering lamb to martyrdom? 
 
 XI. 
 
 "What is it that is gone, that thou canst speak 
 No more? that thy fond eyes are cold and still? 
 Which e'er as I came home, were wont to seek 
 My face. Where gone thy smile that used to fill 
 My heart with rapture as I, warm or chill. 
 Led homeward from the pastures; where the smile 
 That taught me all I know of good and ill 
 And love; that I bore with me many a mile, 
 Hid in my heart, thro' mountain-meadow and defile? 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 9 
 
 XII. 
 "I tho't I loved thee well; but now I feel 
 I only loved thee half; canst thou be near! 
 Where is that other self of thee, the real? 
 For 'tis not thou I see in this severe 
 And rigid form; only a vision leer! 
 But where the something that I cannot name: 
 The vision that I see no more, nor hear? 
 That sparkle in thine eyes ihat went and came, 
 That force and warmth of love that thrilled thy frame? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 "Is that, too, dead? Can Life be lost in Death? 
 And what is life and what is Death? And where 
 Is He that made them? He that fused the breath 
 Into these lips? I tho't, or dreamed the air, 
 One day, upon its pulsing wings did bear 
 Insinuations of a Power too deep 
 To be ought less than everlasting heir 
 To all that is or has been: strong to keep 
 Eternal watch o'er all that wakes or is asleep. 
 
10 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "I tho't — and could it be only a dream? 
 I tho't the mountains and the air and sky, 
 The trees, the birds among the trees, the stream, 
 All breathed a song of ecstacy on high. 
 I heard: it melted into me till I 
 Became transformed; within me as without 
 Was something more than human; ear and eye 
 Alone performed their functions; then, a shout, 
 A chorus of a million voices seemed to wrap me about. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "My heart leapt in me. Bliss and mystery! 
 I loved! And felt that I was loved and more. 
 My soul grew boundless as the swelling sea. 
 Encompassing the earth; I did adore! 
 And grander than my own, broad as the floor 
 Of heaven, streamed Love of all things — infinite! 
 And seemed it must be so for evermore. 
 It was about me; I was lost in it. 
 And must it like a dream into the darkness flit? 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE 11 
 
 XVI. 
 
 "If this be so, then must all creatures weep: 
 Be there no power of Love between the earth 
 And man, and man and sky, then must ye keep 
 With me continual mourning; and no mirth 
 Forever know; but an eternal dearth 
 Of joy shall be your portion, oh, ye hills. 
 Ye fountains, and sweet fields and birds! and birth 
 A mimic mocker>. Then must the rills 
 
 Of heaven open wide and weep for her own ills." 
 
 XVIL 
 
 He ceased; and the sad sound of his own words 
 Struck maddening terror to his stricken heart. 
 A spirit led him forth; and where the herds 
 Had fed for many a summer day, the smart 
 Of his fresh wound choking his breath, the dart 
 Firm in his side, he flees by winding ways 
 Familiar to his feet. Yet does he start 
 And, like some guileless, timid thing that strays. 
 His stealthy steps at his more stealthy shadow stays. 
 
12 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 Thro' winding dells whose silence is disturbed 
 Alone by the swift echoes of his feet; 
 Or, by the bank of torrents whose uncurbed 
 And fitful fury to his ear seems sweet 
 As rest and shadow from the noon-day heat 
 Of summer sun, he goes; and in his brain 
 The fever keeps apace with the quick beat 
 Of his wild steps, A hissing hurricane 
 Of tho't drags him on in the turmoil of its train. 
 
 XIX. 
 Evening came on; and thro' the solemn aisles 
 Of a deep wood he wandered; all the trees 
 Were bare; and thro' the long winding files 
 Of rocks and gnarled boughs the plaintive breeze 
 Moaned sadly, like those calm and piteous seas 
 That break forever on a barren strand. 
 Remote the wan moon rises by degrees 
 And sheds its cold light on the lonely land, 
 And on the shepherd's burning brow and chilling 
 hand. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 13 
 
 XX. 
 
 The covetous hours run on — dayh'ght and dark — 
 Until upon an eve the growing gloom 
 Slackened the fury of his pain; the spark 
 That lent strength to his languid limbs gave room 
 To weakness — and he swooned. And like a tomb 
 The night-wind built with the sere leaves 
 A couch for him. He sleeps; and on the loom 
 Of dreams, young memory with fancy weaves 
 About his heart her woof till it forgets to grieve. 
 
 XXL 
 
 His father stood, of radiant face and form, 
 With consolation on his lips, and bade 
 Him leave the uncultured wild and seek a place 
 Among the haunts of men; then did he fade 
 And the first light of day faintly arrayed 
 The wood and mountains in reviving hope; 
 And daintily upon his leaf-bed played. 
 He rose and, in the waters that elope 
 From fountains, bathed his brow; then followed down 
 the slope. 
 
14 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 In many a narrow vale and deep ravine 
 The slumbering echoes at his steps awoke; 
 And many a timid hare, scared at a mien 
 More innocent than her own, the frail grass broke 
 Beneath her anxious feet. Of leaves of oak 
 Or sycamore with tender hands he made 
 His bed at eve; and oftentimes he spoke 
 To his own questionings. At last he strayed 
 To a broad stream that yielded to a sinuous glade. 
 
 XXIII. 
 He finds an unmoored shallop by the shore, 
 Whose chinked and withered sides can scarce 
 
 sustam 
 The weight of their decay; the fragile oar 
 He takes and glides out o'er the rippling plain. 
 Swift flows the stream; the night-wind blows amain; 
 The boat, like spirit-craft before the sweep 
 Of spirit-wind, drives on; in the blue main 
 Above, alternately, the sun and wan stars keep 
 Continual watch, beacons of an eternal deep. 
 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 15 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It chanced upon the holy Christmas eve: 
 He sought the shelter of a lone chalet. 
 A father and a maiden fair receive 
 The way-worn guest. In good old fashioned way 
 The eve is kept with rites unto the day 
 To come, in memory of the Christmas morn 
 Long centuries ago; a sacred lay 
 The maiden sang, and in the shepherd's lorn 
 And wasted heart, as the old man prayed, a hope was 
 
 born. 
 
 XXV. 
 The ecstacy that he had learned from streams 
 And mountains, and the sun's warm light, 
 The expectation of his skyward dreams 
 Were realized: to her sublimest height 
 His spirit rose, and by a mystic flight 
 He stood once more before a sky-crowned peak. 
 Again loving and lovable and bright. 
 The cloud-caps drifting thro' the blue bespeak 
 That Love; in it commune all creatures, strong or 
 
 weak. 
 
16 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And was it strange he prayed that night to die? 
 And was it strange the prayer, his first, was heard? 
 That Christmas morn rose in a cheerful sky; 
 Among the leafless boughs the slight wind stirred; 
 The morning piping of the last sweet bird 
 Greeted the day; a peace was in the air, 
 And joy o'er all; but never voice could word 
 The unsung joy those smiling lips declare, 
 Free from all touch of earth, fair as the heavens are 
 fair. 
 
EVENING ON THE OHIO. 
 
 The slow sun sinks beneath the edge 
 Of day, where earth and sky He locked 
 In fond embrace; from peak and ledge 
 The last light leaps; a silent throng, 
 The shadows gathering steal along 
 In dark procession up the hills 
 On the Kentucky shore, and rocked 
 Upon a sea of waving green 
 They glide still on and up to flee 
 And mingle with the far unseen; 
 A fragment of infinity. 
 
 The silent river drops from rills 
 That lie concealed beyond the veil 
 
18 EVENING ON THE OHIO. 
 
 Of mystery that twilight weaves 
 
 Athwart the lessening intervale 
 
 From earth to heaven, and flows in peace 
 
 More gentle than the wave of leaves 
 
 Awhile the winds for respit cease. 
 
 And now a bark majestic rides 
 
 Out of the mist; its steady light 
 
 Streams on before appareling 
 
 The waters in a calm delight. 
 
 Astern a little tremor glides 
 
 Along the surface, altering 
 
 The stillness of its placid mien. 
 
 Calmly imposing and serene 
 
 The craft unswerving passes down 
 
 Beyond the grove and harbor-bar, 
 
 The shrouded wharf and silent town, 
 
 And in the distance faints away 
 
 As faints the morning star 
 
 Or spirit to eternity. 
 
EVENING ON THE OHIO. 19 
 
 A sacred peace reigns over all 
 
 The scene, and through the stillness come 
 
 The throbbings of the Nature-heart 
 
 With magic power to purge away 
 
 The dross of life until there fall 
 
 The fleshy curtains from the soul, 
 
 And it, released and dumb, 
 
 Forgetting how to pray, 
 
 Yet stands in adoration 
 
 Of the Power that made it. 
 
IN CITY CREEK CANYON. 
 
 Childlike I lie upon the springing grass 
 
 'J'hat rims the road along the canyon slope, 
 
 And watch the silver-tolded cloud-caps pass 
 
 In silent majesty across a sea 
 
 Of half- transparent blue: a purity 
 
 So pure that its reflection makes the earth 
 
 More free from all but truth and love, 
 
 And turns my wandering thoughts 
 
 Back to the happy day that gave me birth: 
 
 For so I count the hour that brought the dove 
 
 Of life and fused into my limbs a length 
 
 Of days sufficient to behold this hour. 
 
 To contemplate these symbols of the Power 
 
 That raised to form these ever-ancient hills 
 
IN CITY CREEK CANYON. 21 
 
 And all with purpose and with pleasure fills, 
 Were a sufficient prize for living. 
 
 Softly the green turf melts away 
 
 To the low edge that hems the stream. 
 
 The sprightly waters stealing in and out 
 
 Among the many windings, splash and spray 
 
 The leaves that overhang in mid-day dream; 
 
 O'erspread the stones with silken softness, shout 
 
 And sing an ever-varied melody, 
 
 And of their singing never weary; gay 
 
 And noisy in their unremitting glee 
 
 They wander on as they have done forever. 
 
 The grape of Oregon, about the spot. 
 
 Raise modestly their amorous yellow heads; 
 
 And blushing for its own deep loveliness 
 
 Amidst the grass the wild sweet William sheds 
 
 Its tender beauty, or the wild sweet pea, 
 
 The buttercup or frail forget- me not. 
 
 The wind relenting hovers with the bee 
 
22 IX CITY CREEK CANYON. 
 
 For one short moment, bending to caress 
 Their dainty lips, and drunk with love of them 
 Loses itself amidst their fragrant fragileness. 
 Until a thrill vibrate each lithesome stem. 
 
 Beyond the stream a giant mass of rock 
 Rises far as the eye can skim the air, 
 And pillars up with many a massive block 
 Of ancient stone the vaulted arch of heaven. 
 Silent and stern its wrinkled mien doth stare 
 fJard down upon im like a Roman god; 
 Across its furrowed features coldly run 
 The characters of ages, characters 
 Revealing deep how Nature's works are done 
 By her unnumbered ministers, 
 That were ere day was made a name 
 And fashioned from the night; ere life became 
 On land and in the air and ageless seas; 
 The awful characters of Time's mysterious 
 And measured march through centuries; 
 
IN CITY CREEK CANYON. 23 
 
 Strange symbols that foretell the future 
 From the past, the story of eternity. 
 
 Calmly the day is dying, and a peace 
 That lives with nature only, everywhere 
 Is breathed by the unseen spirits of the air; 
 The low blue sky enriched with many a fleece 
 Of snowy whiteness settles round the peaks 
 A little closer, that with jagged arms 
 Support it; hushed, too, are the trembling leaves 
 Of aged tree and wanton weed, fit charms 
 For noon-day bee and evening whip-poor-will; 
 The flowers bend their daint)' heads with cheeks 
 Aflush to bid farewell to the faint day; 
 A while the old sun smiles upon the grass 
 That rims the narrow marge with mellow ray, 
 Clambers the rocky steepness to the edge 
 That is the first to greet the seething dawn, 
 There hovers for a moment and is gone. 
 
24 IN CITY CREEK CANYON. 
 
 No voice of bird charms the entranced air, 
 And yet the very stillness seems to chant 
 An unheard requiem to the day, and there 
 Are strains more sweet by far than ever wind 
 Hath wafted to the ear from harp or lyre 
 Touched by a human, hand; a visitant 
 Unseen bears them upon her trembling wings 
 Straight from the ethereal lute of Silence, shrined 
 In twilight shades of wooded aisle and spire; 
 And audible to the inward ear alone, 
 She breathes her deep mute music, and the end 
 And the beginning into one strain blend: 
 Which is life, love and immortality. 
 
THE SKY SEEMS DESOLATE. 
 
 The sky seems desolate to-day; 
 The birds that fly across the grey 
 An evil portent seem to bring 
 To me, with heavy-flapping wing; 
 The piping of the wren is wrought 
 With melancholy; winds have caught 
 The plaintive pulsings of the sea; 
 Even the overbrimming glee 
 Of brook and spring is blent 
 With murmurings of discontent; 
 The sun, the old untiring sun, 
 Seems weary of the task begun 
 This morn, and toils across the sky 
 As if his pathway were too high, 
 
2f> THE SKY SEEMS DESOLATE. 
 
 Or he had lost a friend, 
 
 Or sought a too far-distant end. 
 
 Yet Sergius sings with keen dehght; 
 
 To him the day is pure and bright 
 
 As ever day might be; 
 
 A gaysome minstrelsy 
 
 Reigns over all; the very streets 
 
 Are redolent with flowery sweets, 
 
 Like fields in May. 
 
 A happy chance befell 
 
 Him yesterday; 
 
 I bade a hope farewell. 
 
 * 
 
COULD I BUT SING. 
 
 Could I but sing as the old earth has sung 
 
 For centuries; could I but catch among 
 
 Her wild ethereal melodies one note 
 
 Of minor chord, of those that ceaseless float 
 
 Thro' forest-aisle and evening-tinctured sky, 
 
 Or feel the pathos of a wave's deep sigh, 
 
 Or reach one wonder of a cloudlet's fold, 
 
 One wonder of the tiny waves of gold 
 
 That float above the far horizon's rim 
 
 And fill the world up to its shelving brim, 
 
 One growing wonder of the smallest flower 
 
 That e'er lent fragrance to a summer bower; 
 
 Could I but catch one woodland strain 
 
 From the wild wind that wanders thro' the plain. 
 
28 COULD I BUT SING. 
 
 With sweetest music for a lover's ear, 
 From dawning till the closing year, 
 Or tell one beauty of the leaf of grass 
 That bends to hear the mountain waters pass; 
 Thro' time the liquidy should roll along 
 And teach mankind the potency of song. 
 
IN HARVEST TIME. 
 
 It was a day in harvest-time, 
 
 And as I wandered thro' the fields 
 
 Of yellow grain, some softly waved 
 
 Beneath the mild caresses of the wind; 
 
 Some was in fresh lain swathes; 
 
 And some lay bound in mellow sheaves- 
 
 Oh, the mysterious work of time! 
 
 Oh, the creative Love in sun! 
 
 Oh, the enlivening Power in rain! 
 
 Only a few short months ago 
 
 The seeds were scattered on the ground; 
 
 The little blades sprang to the light 
 
 And grew, perfected in the ear; 
 
 And now the harvest fully ripe! 
 
:M) in harvest time. 
 
 I tho't and wandered on once more, 
 
 And found stretched out to rest 
 
 Upon the prostrate grain, his scythe close by, 
 
 The mower spent with heat and toil. 
 
 His face was thin and wrinkled much. 
 
 Grey were his hair and beard with age. 
 
 Weary with age and toil, I tho't, 
 
 And at the tho't my heart grew sad. 
 
 "To live on this fair earth is sweet, 
 
 And youth is full of happiness. 
 
 Then why must wc each one grow old?" 
 
 Into the far-off skies I cried. 
 
 My eyes fell on the ripened grain, 
 
 And read reply: because the harvest 
 
 Is better than the growing grain. 
 
 # 
 
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 "Leaving thine outgrovvii shell by life's unresting sea.'' 
 — Chamlered Nautilus. 
 
 Weep, weep! yet wherefore should we weep? 
 
 Why weep that yonder bark be quit? 
 
 For such a voyager unfit, 
 
 To bear him longer o'er the deep. 
 
 Why weep that with a sturdy oar 
 A long successful voyage is past, 
 And he has beached his boat at last 
 Beyond the breakers, safe on shore. 
 
 Mid storm or calm, no flood-tide swells 
 Upon the farther shore of life 
 But into port, with deathless strife, 
 Some wandering voyager impels. 
 
 With steady arm and eye serene, 
 
 Not every sailor steers his bark, 
 
 With one clear star to quell the dark 
 
 And guide him through the strange demesne. 
 
32 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 With tattered sail or splintered mast 
 Or with a piece of broken oar, 
 Some struggling in the waves gain shore. 
 With pain; but all put in at last. 
 
 Then cease lament, for nought has failed: 
 He lives beyond the reach of fate; 
 And nought lies lone and desolate 
 Save the frail craft in which he sailed. 
 
AUTUMN NOTES. 
 
 Oh fair, oh sweet, uh lovely autumn-time ! 
 To clothe thy beauties in a fitting rhyme 
 Were not so frail a task: for never spring 
 With all the mirth that birds and bushes bring 
 Was half so fair in dress, or form, or tho't as thee: 
 In love or minstrelsy. 
 
 No fragile buds are bursting in the copse, 
 No green clothes the rough mountain tops; 
 But crowned with might and majesty they rise 
 In fellowship with closer bending skies. 
 The sun, no longer fierce, shines with a mellow ray, 
 More friendly than in May. 
 
34 AUTUMN NOTES. 
 
 The life they live more deeply to be seen 
 Than when 'tis mantled in deceptive green, 
 That thrills from barren peak to flowery glen, 
 Reveals relationship 'twixt them and men: 
 A bond to bind us to the earth that we have trod, 
 And lift us unto God. 
 
 The brook runs purer o'er its rocky bed. 
 Past the wild coverts whence the birds have fled; 
 And calmly its contented chatter steals 
 More faint and far, in sweeter, swifter peals, 
 Unmixed with ought impure, and sinks into the soul. 
 Fleet as the waters roll. 
 
 No sullen visions of a wasted life, 
 No plaintive whisperings of a fruitless strife. 
 As one has lately muttered in my ear, 
 And no insinuations of a fear 
 Thftt life may ever end in death my heart receives 
 From the discolored leaves. 
 
AUTUMN NOTES. 35 
 
 All things breathe faith in immortality; 
 In Love that ever was and ever is to be. 
 It flows from every song or sound that brakes, 
 And fruitful melodies that silence wakes; 
 And life and death, and tho't, and sound and silence 
 blend 
 
 In one eternal trend. 
 
SONG OF AUTUMN. 
 
 1 come on the wings of the South-wind; 
 
 On the wings of the South and East; 
 I tarry in forest and meadow, 
 
 And spread out my harvest-feast. 
 
 I am Life, I am Death, and Harvest, 
 The Soul of the Summer and Sprmg, 
 
 The end of their budding and blooming, 
 Of the Months and the Years 1 am King. 
 
 My coffers are full; I give freely 
 To the strong and the weak as well: 
 
 To man, and the birds of the meadow, 
 The squirrel and fox in the dell. 
 
SONG OF AUTUMN. 
 
 For mine are the barley and wheat fields, 
 The apples of red and green, 
 
 The chestnuts of brown on the hilltops, 
 7'he fields of corn between. 
 
 For me grapes in purple clusters 
 Hang low on the rustic vine; 
 
 And orchards of pears and peaches 
 Their garlanded heads incline. 
 
 I bring unto all a blessing 
 
 From inland lake to the sea; 
 I strew the highlands with plenty, 
 
 The valleys I fill with glee. 
 
 No dingle may lie so hidden 
 
 That / do not spy it out, 
 And fill with the wealih of my treasures 
 
 Each distant and secret redoubt. 
 
3S SONG OF AUTUMN. 
 
 For all countries are my dominionSj 
 From pole to equator and pole; 
 
 And my coursers are swift as the light'nings 
 To bear me from goal to goal. 
 
 My thanks are often but curses, 
 
 Yet still do I wander on; 
 And gladly bestow my bounties 
 
 Till my wealth is vanished and gone; 
 
 Then I flee on the wings of the North-wind, 
 On the wings of the North and West; 
 
 And leave to the keeping of Winter 
 The lands that I have blest. ' 
 
SOWN. 
 
 The fruit-laden winds of the autumn blew 
 And two small seeds to a flower-plot threw, 
 Then buried them deep on the lifeless ground 
 With all the dead leaves and stems to be found. 
 
 Then the hoar-frost came and the sleet and snow, 
 And over the garden did reveling go; 
 But the seeds slept on in their rose-leaf bed 
 Until the winter was up and fled, 
 
 And then they sprang forth in the morning light, 
 
 And drank their fill from the tears of night, 
 
 Till their young leaves swelled with the breath of 
 
 spring 
 As it filled the world in its wandering. 
 
40 SOWN. 
 
 One of them grew enriched with the dower 
 And promise of being a perfect flower, 
 Enjoying the blessings it each day won 
 From the gentle rain and the patient sun. 
 
 The petals blew open at last to the air 
 Laying its beautiful breast all bare, 
 Upholding its love to each panting breeze 
 That lingered to whisper its tender pleas. 
 
 Not a soul ever passed the flower by 
 But felt the joy of its presence nigh. 
 .\nd the bees that lodged on its slender tips 
 Instilled the dew from its lovely lips. 
 
 f3ut there entered the garden a hand one day, 
 And plucked the blossoms and bore them away 
 To cheer with their beauty and sweet perfume 
 The weary hours of a sick child's room. 
 
SOWN. 41 
 
 But others sprang up in the vacant place 
 And filled it full with their radiant grace; 
 Yet the plant gave cheerfully all it had 
 To make the heart of the young child glad. 
 
 A blessing to earth was this little flower, 
 So pure and so gentle, so great in its power, 
 As long as the summer gave to it breath, 
 And then it folded its leaves in death. 
 
 But, alas, the other and comlier seed 
 Developed to be but an ugly weedj 
 All cumbrous and dank and worthless and tall,. 
 It thrust out its branches unloved of all. 
 
 It drank up the rain and the morning dew, 
 And the sunshine out of the heavens blue; 
 Yet it only cumbered the ground where it stood, 
 lU-shapen and poisonous, void of all good. 
 
LOVE LIES A-COLD. 
 
 In the cool garden closes, 
 Where summer and care 
 Have wrought beauty so rare; 
 
 Where the perfume of roses 
 Is spent on the air; 
 With a reticent glare, 
 
 The soft sunshine reposes 
 On the bright-blown flowers 
 For hours upon hours. 
 
 Not a breath stirs the willows, 
 That border the stream, 
 From their mid-day dream; 
 
 And the slow swelling billows 
 
LOVE LIES A-COLD. 43 
 
 Are gathering each beam 
 From the sun, with a gleam 
 On the sea as it pillows 
 The shallops and skiffs 
 Beyond the clear cliffs. 
 
 But the day shall shiver 
 
 And die ere a sound 
 
 Stir a leaf from the ground, 
 Or a voice wake a quiver 
 
 From the park to the mound, 
 
 Save the baying hound 
 Or the tremulous river; 
 
 For Love lies a-cold 
 
 In the castle old. 
 
 From the night till the morning, 
 
 From morning till night. 
 
 When the last lonesome light 
 Fills the sky with its warning 
 
44 LOVE LIES A-COLI). 
 
 Of day's damask flight, 
 Neither lady nor knight, 
 The frail flowers scorning, 
 Shall pluck a red rose 
 From the garden's close. 
 
 And the bright breath of summer 
 Shall pass into fall; 
 And the confident call 
 
 Of the busy-winged hummer 
 Shall cease from the wall 
 Where the woodbines crawl; 
 
 Nor the steps of the comer 
 Of the now dead days 
 Shall quicken the ways. 
 
 The grey gates shall crumble 
 
 And turn into sand, 
 
 But never a hand 
 Or a finger shall humble 
 
LOVE LIES A-COLD. 45 
 
 Itself to withstand 
 The decay, till it brand 
 All the walls, and they tumble 
 And turn into clay. 
 For year and for day. 
 
 And the flowers, forsaken, 
 
 May wither and die: 
 
 For the wind shall sigh, 
 And the branches be shaken; 
 
 But never a cry. 
 
 Or a tear to the eye, 
 Shall it startle or waken: 
 
 For Love lies a-cold 
 
 In the castle old. 
 
 So the years shall wither 
 
 By months and by days, 
 
 From Mays unto Mays; 
 And the sails flee thither, 
 
46 LOVE LIES A-COLD. 
 
 O'er the watery ways, 
 From yonder bleak bays, 
 Where the moon and with her 
 The timid stars shme 
 On the barren sea-brine; 
 
 And from father this story 
 Of love to the son 
 Shall descend; and none 
 
 Shall forget the old glory, 
 Till the sand be run 
 From his glass; or the sun 
 
 And the stars grow hoary, 
 And be not the lights 
 Of the days and nights. 
 
 But the castle and garden 
 Of days then long dead, 
 Awhile love was shed 
 
 O'er the walls that guard on 
 
LOVE LIES A-COLD. 47 
 
 The west, shall be wed 
 To waste, and each bed 
 To a stone shall harden: 
 For Love lies a- cold 
 In the castle old. 
 
AT EVEN-TIDE. 
 
 The western sky in crimson dyed 
 
 Sinks softly o'er the earth's dark breast, 
 Shedding abroad a Hngering rest, 
 At even-tide. 
 
 The shadows climb the mountainside 
 One after one with solemn pace, 
 As if aspiring into space, 
 
 At even-tide. 
 
 How listlesi.ly the light boats glide 
 Reflected in the gleaming mere, 
 While the lone heron hovers near, 
 At even-tide. 
 
AT EVEN-TIDE. 49 
 
 And ere the vesper chimes have died 
 
 The monk's low hymn, the chant, the prayer, 
 Rise trembling on the darkening air, 
 At even-tide. 
 
 The sated flocks lie down beside 
 
 The fold, and their meek spirits blend 
 With nature in the day's mild end, 
 At even-tide. 
 
 The brown bright thrushes sing and hide; 
 A sigh is echoed from the hill; 
 A star shines out and all is still. 
 At even-tide. 
 
PEGNO D'AFFETTO. 
 
 I lay these roses at thy feet, love, 
 
 Content to lay them there 
 If only you may breathe their sweet, love, 
 
 Or place one in your hair. 
 
 But crush and bruise them if you will, love, 
 
 Their fragrance is more sweet, 
 And bruised and broken they will still, love. 
 
 Lie pleading at thy feet. 
 
 And so I freely lay chis heart, love, 
 
 A suppliant at thy feet, 
 But if to crush it be your part, love, 
 
 'Twill only plead more sweet. 
 
TIME. 
 
 The clock of time has sounded 
 From the belfry-tower of space: 
 
 Its silent echoes falling, 
 
 Steal on with a mystic pace. 
 
 The clock ticks on, on ever 
 
 The same quaint tick as before, 
 
 And the leaves of the future rustle 
 As they have done of yore. 
 
 The future is but the present, 
 The present is but the past. 
 
 And that lies in the boundless 
 Always to live and last. 
 
THE POET'S PRAYER. 
 
 O kindly Nature, thou who sovereign art 
 And kindred of my being, bend to resign 
 One jealous-guarded mystery of thine; 
 
 One simple token of thy favor dart 
 
 Amidst the longings of a wistful heart; 
 O let me worship at thy inmost shrine 
 Until I feel thy holy life is mine 
 
 And find in thee a glorious counterpart: 
 
 Then shall ray minstrelsy be ever free. 
 And all unheard I'll sing in solitude 
 
 The rural music of simplicity, 
 
 And mingle my faint pipings with the stream 
 That chatters by, content if understood 
 
 By thee and thine, unenvious of esteem. 
 
SONNET. 
 
 Over this brink the waters ever pour 
 
 From healthy morn unto thoughtful eve, 
 
 And through the lingering night till daybreak weave 
 
 Again the sun-light on the grassy shore, 
 
 In many a daring stream of swollen store, 
 Where a small lake bounds eager to receive 
 Them to its breast; and still without reprieve 
 
 It whispers, and the caverns echo: more. 
 
 So, tender Nature, do I long for thee; 
 
 Although a thousand varied streams of truth 
 I ever drank of thee from my first youth, 
 
 From brook and cliff, from cloud and cerul sea, 
 Still is my thirst too deep to satisfy 
 And, thus, too deep it shall be till I die. 
 
EXPECTATION. 
 
 Sometimes I've seen from some far-distant hill, 
 Appareled in the glory of the dawn 
 When first she smiles upon the dripping lawn, 
 
 A little stream drop down with many a rill 
 
 Of such delicious sparkle that a thrill 
 
 Transfixed my benig, and ere the spell had gone 
 Bound out beneath my feet and on where yawn 
 
 The mighty deeps that nought can drain or fill. 
 
 So I have dreamed ethereal dreams 
 Ot what should be upon a distant day, 
 
 The future lending color to the schemes, 
 But soon, too soon, the visions died away — 
 
 A present unfulfilled, and then, at last, 
 
 Faint murmurs on the ocean of the past. 
 
 XI 07 
 

 
 
 '•^^^^^ 
 
 
 
 ^-^^-.^ ^0 
 
 o •>* , 
 
 tV •■ '^i^ Oeacidified using the Bookkeeper proces 
 
 ^*\p. *" V Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 
 -• Treatment Date: ,- •-- ■ •■ ,., 
 
 ^ ^HIIBbbm^eeper 
 
 Cp PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES. LP 
 
 \/ ) 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
 
 > "x* Cranberrv Townshio. PA 1 6066 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 <> *'..s* ,G 
 
 
 //i:^.% 
 
 
 
 ^* ^^"^ \ '^y^^^^.* v "^ 
 
 
 "^:^^^°- /^'^iX ^°^^B>%"- /^^ 
 
 
 
 
 '*>, 
 
 ^^0^ 
 
 '^oV 
 
 
 bookbino*nj6 
 
 Sept— Oc -1,985