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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
NORDA AND OTHER POEMS 
 
NORDA 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 ABRAHAM H. BATES 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 MCMI 
 
THE LIBftARV OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 Two Copifca Received 
 
 JUL. 11 t901 
 
 Copyright entry 
 COJ-V J. 
 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY] 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGK 
 NORDA, 9 
 
 the: oriole;, 
 the; tumbi.e;r, 
 
 TO MISS C . 
 
 the; hammock, 
 
 I.OVE, 
 
 anacre;ontic, 
 
 RURAIv MAIDS, ^^ 
 
 48 
 
 ge;raIvD and e;the;i., *» 
 
 A be;autifuIv face, ^2 
 
 homeward, 57 
 
 THE DEATH OF MARCElvI/US, - - - - 59 
 
 THE BENEFICENT OCEAN, 61 
 
 MATTIE AND I, 63 
 
 64 
 
 THE UNWRITTEN, 67 
 
 OF MANY BOOKS, 69 
 
 WRANGIylNG PHII.OSOPHERS, 70 
 
 THE POET'S DREAM, - 71 
 
 TO I. A , 78 
 
 TO F , '" 
 
 TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY, ... - 79 
 
 TWO VOICES— A REVERIE, 81 
 
 HAPPINESS, - 86 
 
 I,INES TO SOUTHERN FRIENDS, - - - - 100 
 
 TO MAE, ^^2 
 
 MY MOTHER'S HAND, 104 
 
 A HYMN, 106 
 
8 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 NON IGNARA MAI^I MISERIS SUCCURRER^ DISCO— 
 
 Virgil, 107 
 
 TO JUIylA, 110 
 
 MEN LIKE STARS, Ill 
 
 GREATNESS, 112 
 
 TO MISS E A , 117 
 
 THE REFORMER, 119 
 
 THE SPECTRAI, GUARD, 124 
 
 DERElylCT, 128 
 
 GOD'S WORKS AND MAN'S WORKS COMPARED, - 129 
 
 MY MUSE, 131 
 
 COIvIvIER AND THE SAII^OR, 188 
 
 MANIIvA AND SANTIAGO, 136 
 
 GRUMBIvERS, 187 
 
 GivOBE TROTTERS, 138 
 
 A RECIPE, :- - - 139 
 
 DISCONTENT, 141 
 
 SHE TOLD ME HER I.OVE, 142 
 
 CRITO, ... - 143 
 
 VIA SACRA, 157 
 
 TO MAE, 163 
 
 MOUNT SAN ANTONIO,- 165 
 
 A RETROSPECT, .--.... 168 
 
 A STORY OF THE OAK, 175 
 
 TO A DEFEATED CANDIDATE, - - - - 180 
 
 TWO BROOKS, 183 
 
 THE CAVE OF MElvANCHOIvY, - - - - 186 
 
 DOCTOR TiMEivY, 190 
 
 ARION 200 
 
NORDA 
 
 Mid Fashion's narrow throng I felt 
 
 That fevered breath that is a blight ; 
 
 Where Fashion bent the knee I knelt. 
 
 Amid the glittering day of nighty 
 
 Where Custom, that bland tyrant dwelt, 
 
 I, still insatiate like the rest. 
 
 Dreamed of the time I would be blessed. 
 
 Fatigued I turned away from this 
 Depressing god, still let him choose 
 Who may the rounds of gaudy bliss. 
 For moths that worship glare have use. 
 Though some should die in flames they kiss; 
 I longed for wider realms as those 
 Whom gorgeous prison walls inclose. 
 
 Far in the Occident remote 
 I sought the rugged coast, and thence 
 Great Nature's own domain I note; 
 Her storms and scenic eloquence. 
 Where mount and sea together smote ; 
 Mid calm or storm, toward land or sea, 
 'Twas varied sublimity. 
 
 There storm with storm did seem to vie 
 In aid of the aggressive seas, 
 
10 NORDA 
 
 And here too many dangers lie 
 A sailor's cautious gaze to please; 
 But 'twould delight a Turner's eye, 
 Whose pencil still in vain I ween 
 Depicts the swiftly changeful scene. 
 
 The soul is nobly stirred : comes here 
 
 No curst and feverish unrest ; 
 
 The strife of elements severe 
 
 Inflame with holy rage the breast, 
 
 For in their clash you see and hear 
 
 The tug of mighty war as when 
 
 The strongest clash with strongest men. 
 
 And as the battle line sweeps high 
 
 Along the hissing ranks of rock, 
 
 Involving all the booming sky, 
 
 'Tis like the Heaven jarring shock 
 
 Of smiting cherubim that ply 
 
 Their strokes of white hot thunder well 
 
 And Heaven incensed casts out Hell. 
 
 Or if exhausted forces should 
 Proclaim a truce along the shore, 
 Then comes a wholesome lassitude, 
 As Heaven's armies knew of yore, 
 When ceasing from their warfare good 
 Beside life's stream they felt that rest, 
 That never will corrode the breast. 
 
NORDA II 
 
 II 
 
 Two mountains smiling stand apart 
 
 Atbow to let a river pass ; 
 
 A stream that with majestic art 
 
 Sweeps on through wood and mountain mass, 
 
 Now slow, now bounding like a hart, 
 
 Until the music of its score 
 
 Is drowned in oceans' mighty roar. 
 
 The light house keeper's dwelling near 
 Is guarded round by cedars old, 
 A tree of growth hard and severe. 
 Eked from a flinty breast and cold. 
 Yet living on for many a year, 
 A tree of rugged features wild, 
 Adversity's own wrinkled child. 
 
 Still westward is a granite head 
 Made bare by winter's torrents chill; 
 It s wind bent trees at top all dead, 
 Like vice's blasted fools who still. 
 Though dead, remain unburied; 
 A ghastly monitor that says. 
 Young man, beware of selfishness. 
 
 And further down, drenched by the spray 
 That upward bounds full many feet, 
 The rocks grotesque are worn and gray 
 And form a tortuous pave where meet, 
 
12 NORDA 
 
 When surfless and serene the day, 
 The flippered lions of the sea 
 That roar and play in horrid glee. 
 
 Sometimes I heard a simple tale 
 
 The light house keeper would recite 
 
 Of death or rescue in the gale ; 
 
 For each man lost there was a sprite 
 
 That haunts the shore or mountain vale; 
 
 To him these beings were as real 
 
 As white winged gull or cloud or seal. 
 
 Ill 
 
 One day, so the brief story went. 
 From north a passing brigantine 
 Dropped anchor, and with bad intent 
 Lets fall a boat the waves between 
 Wherein the crafty captain sent 
 Jerome, a seaman stout and brave 
 Who 'gan to battle with the wave, 
 
 And soon had drowned unless from land 
 
 There had been thrown to him a line. 
 
 And this he seized with iron hand 
 
 And was per force dragged through the brine; 
 
 No oar could such a surf withstand 
 
 Jerome well knew and undismayed 
 
 He seized upon the timely aid. 
 
NORDA 13 
 
 Just as half dead he gained the shore 
 His vessel spread her wings and flew 
 Along her course just as before, 
 But called to him aloud adieu 
 (Heard faint above the ocean's roar;) 
 As cranes bewail a wounded mate 
 And then abandon him to fate. 
 
 Revived right soon, from view he fled 
 Amid a desert solitude; 
 To Frisco far his footsteps led 
 But paused he near a cabin rude 
 Where horses on the mountain fed; 
 He knew no more of horses wild 
 Than does a Chinaman or a child. 
 
 He saw and for a half tamed steed 
 
 He paid the price. The horse was strong 
 
 And of an ancient Spanish breed. 
 
 Stout limbed, with shaggy mane and long, 
 
 A horse that men will buy in need, 
 
 Nor once dismount till death befall 
 
 Or they have reached their d^ined goal. 
 
 The lasso brings the beast at bay, 
 Bridle and saddle on him placed, 
 Jerome then mounts and is away 
 Like dazzling meteor that is traced 
 On skies lit by no other ray ; 
 O'er narrow m-ountain paths he fl.ew 
 Nor saw the dangers passed he through. 
 
14 NORDA 
 
 His horse is bathed with glistening sweat 
 
 With every vein in high relief, 
 
 His neck and side now foaming wet ; 
 
 His breathing loud and deep and brief 
 
 Affrights the wood and plain and yet 
 
 Is Frisco's noble bay before 
 
 Him ninety weary leagues or more. 
 
 As lash and spur are plied to speed, 
 His course around a cape of rock, 
 A hidden crevice tripped his steed ; 
 Rider and horse with deadly shock 
 Roll frightful down the crag, to feed 
 Those vultures that with distant eye 
 The dead and mangled can descry. 
 
 There chanced to pass a mountaineer ; 
 ''What mean those vultures there," he cries, 
 "No doubt some one has fallen here,'' 
 Then down the shelving rock he flies 
 And mightily, but not severe, 
 Upon his shoulders lifts Jerome 
 And bears him to his mountain home. 
 
 The mountaineer possessed a child, 
 She was the idol of his heart ; 
 On many city beaux she smiled ; 
 She knew the art of perfect art 
 And too she loved to frolic wild 
 Where mountains mingle with the skies, 
 For she was beautiful and wise. 
 
NORDA 15 
 
 Her name was Norda Lee. She spent 
 Her summer hours far from the crowd 
 Of ocean beach or town. She lent 
 A charm to every sphere. The proud 
 Patrician and the rustic bent 
 Before the majesty of grace 
 That glorified her form and face. 
 
 Her frown was like a queen's command, 
 Her voice, sweet as a dulcimer, 
 More dextrous than magicians wand 
 Could exorcise dun gloom and care, 
 And bid the wings of hope expand 
 To waft the soul with high delight 
 As some fair vision of the night. 
 
 TVas soon Jerome began to rise 
 Responsive to her ministry. 
 He knew her not. Though to his eyes 
 A stranger, yet not strange was she ; 
 Was she a friend in smart disguise? 
 From warring doubts to find relief 
 He told this story strange and brief : 
 
 'Twas eight years since before me flashed 
 
 A girl so like to thee, 
 And still through time and distance wide 
 
 Her wondrous form I see. 
 
 And when my fancy paints her face 
 From fairest ones I meet, 
 
I 6 NORDA 
 
 And each is wanting much you seem 
 The picture all complete. 
 
 I was a sailor like the rest ; 
 
 I watched for omens right, 
 The course of birds, the elements. 
 
 The voices of the night. 
 
 And still that image followed me 
 
 In crowds or solitude, 
 It floated mid each adverse storm 
 
 A bird of omen good. 
 
 My life beneath the northern wain 
 Was nearly whelmed with loss 
 
 And many storms did I escape 
 Beneath the southern cross. 
 
 Meanwhile my captain hated me 
 And planned my wreck and woe, 
 
 And yet he seemed so like a friend 
 His hate I did not know. 
 
 He left me once upon 
 
 The Fiji's savage coast. 
 And once among the Philippines - 
 
 He hoped that I was lost. 
 
 By chance or fate or Providence, 
 Each time I gained my bark, 
 
NORDA 17 
 
 And then my men would feast and play 
 And carol like a lark. 
 
 From rage of men and elements 
 
 I was so oft set free, 
 I knew no fear ; I even dared 
 
 The tiger of the sea. 
 
 And oft when sporting in the wave 
 
 My dagger drew his blood, 
 'Twas fine to see his struggles lash 
 
 The sea in to a flood. 
 
 Meanwhile I learned the cause of all 
 
 The captain's hate and blame, 
 'Twas she, the distant one I loved : 
 
 Her name's a sacred name. 
 
 And I his secret kept, but saw 
 
 His treachery and guile, 
 I saw beneath his friendship, hate. 
 
 And malice in his smile. 
 
 As if to learn about a port 
 
 He sent me singly down, 
 Again I made escape e'en while 
 
 He prayed for me to drown. 
 
 While yet I struggled with the waves, 
 Away his vessel flies, 
 
I 8 NORDA 
 
 For now that I am gone, he thinks 
 He'll win from me the prize. 
 
 No doubt he'll say I'm dead, or have 
 Deserted ship and crew; 
 But all his lies will not avail 
 For Norda's heart is true. 
 
 She heard, nor once did turn her face, 
 But with a woman's poise profound 
 Concealed her ecstacy with grace; 
 The dead was raised ; the lost was found 
 Could Norda now the meaning trace 
 Of all conflicting stories told 
 By the deceiving captain bold. 
 
 Meanwhile the captain bravely spread 
 His utmost canvas to the winds ; 
 His bending bark right onward sped 
 Till Frisco's port he safely finds ; 
 To Norda's side the captain fled 
 Then suddenly paled with mad despair 
 When told that Norda was not there. 
 
 She's on the mountain coast, they say, 
 Within a vale back from a port 
 That lies one hundred leagues away; 
 'Tis where her fancies oft resort 
 And with the mountain fairies play; 
 The captain cursed his own foul plot 
 That left Jerome so near this spot, 
 
NORDA 19 
 
 Who now restored, had learned whose skill 
 And love had raised him from the dead ; 
 Nor passed there many days until 
 The two auspiciously were wed ; 
 And many noble ones do still 
 Recall that wedding grand and fair, 
 And how the captain was not there. 
 
 The lighthouse keeper paused awhile 
 And gazed upon the wrinkled sea. 
 Then turned, his face lit with a smile, 
 And said : My name's Jerome, and she 
 That doth my weary hours beguile 
 Is Norda true. Our children dear 
 Upon the beach are playing near. 
 
 Two wintry months when storms arise 
 We take the lighthouse keeper's place ; 
 We love these scenes, these changing skies. 
 But most to aid the sailor race^ 
 And throw a light where danger lies ; 
 I, rescued here from out the main, 
 This light perpetually maintain. 
 
 With eyes more kindling than before 
 I gazed upon the sea and land; 
 The children playing on the shore ; 
 And then I gave the parting hand 
 And said : I may not see you more ; 
 Farewell. This is a sacred spot; 
 A place that must not be forgot. 
 
20 THE ORIOLE 
 
 THE ORIOLE 
 
 In olden times there was a king 
 
 Who had an only son, 
 Who loved as fair and true a maid 
 
 As ever valor won. 
 
 His father angry grew and said : 
 
 She's not of royal line ; 
 No peasant girl shall ever wed 
 
 A son and heir of mine. 
 
 The prince then plead that she was fair 
 
 As mortal eyes had seen; 
 Though humble born, yet still 'twas true 
 
 The maid was born a queen. 
 
 The angry king more angry grew 
 
 And in a castle high 
 Did place his only son, till he 
 
 Should change his mind or die. 
 
 Within his grim and guarded cell 
 
 The prince was glad to hear 
 That she, the one he loved, was placed 
 
 Within a prison near. 
 
THE ORIOI.E 21 
 
 Right soon they learned to know of this, 
 
 The place where each was hid, 
 For love, though blind, her way will find 
 
 Th ough gates and walls forbid. 
 
 And they resolved to make escape 
 
 With ropes of twisted strands, 
 And at a signal down they went 
 
 Held by their blistered hands. 
 
 Alas ! the guards espied them both, 
 
 Before they reached the ground. 
 But when they raised a cry and searched 
 
 They neither could be found. 
 
 For they were changed to orioles. 
 
 The first and happy pair ; 
 And ever since these golden birds 
 
 Do swing their nests in air. 
 
22 THK TUMBLER 
 
 THE TUMBLER 
 
 It was September fair; the year 
 Was growing mild and mellow; 
 
 The fields and highways dotted were 
 With flowers blue and yellow. 
 
 The twilight came on earlier 
 
 While crickets and cicadas drone 
 
 In melancholy monotone. 
 
 Long clouds of dust for days had hovered 
 O'er the lanes and all things covered, 
 Until a passing shower 
 Washed sky and tree and flower. 
 
 An aggregation called a fair 
 
 Was going on. Merchants, fakirs 
 And agriculturists were there, 
 And jockeys, too, in varied hue 
 And juggling money takers 
 Performing many a flimsy trick 
 That with applause is greeted. 
 For crowds, quite easily amused, 
 Will chuckle while they're cheated. 
 
 With trouble only in the choosing 
 There were ten thousand things to see, 
 
THE TUMBI.ER 23 
 
 Instructive most, and some amusing 
 Or humored curiosity. 
 Most pleased and pleasing of them all 
 Was man, the smiling animal. 
 
 II 
 
 Below the stand where crowds were dense 
 
 And anxiously awaiting, 
 The programme of the race events 
 
 There came a gymnast, stating 
 That he craved a moment's attention. 
 Or some such words, scarce worthy mention. 
 A carpet on the ground he spread. 
 Then threw his heels above his head 
 And walked with ease complete 
 Upon his hands; then tossed himself 
 And lit upon his feet, 
 And with a tumbler's supple skill 
 The waiting interval did fill. 
 
 A murmur rose among 
 The now admiring throng. 
 They said : "Fine fellow that 
 
 To be in such a mean pursuit," 
 But when he passed his hat 
 
 To catch some pennies as the fruit 
 Of acrobatic power. 
 There fell around a shower 
 Of coin — mostly of metal base, 
 
24 THE TUMBI.ER 
 
 (For a free show one meanly pays.) 
 Some thrown from high upon the stand, 
 Missing his hat, fell in the sand; 
 These picked he up from out the soil, 
 And thanked the donors with a smile. 
 
 There was a hand white and taper 
 Threw a coin wrapped up in paper ; 
 This omnious little white ball 
 He pocketed, paper and all. 
 
 Ill 
 
 But now preparing for the race 
 The well-groomed steeds with easy pace 
 Move to and fro in grand review ; 
 While jockeys green and red and blue 
 Stand in their stirrups pronely 
 On mane of steed as only 
 Jockeys can; so that one would think 
 Such curious forms, postures, faces. 
 Were the long lost missing link 
 Between man and the — the — races. 
 Which now arousing expectation keen 
 Drew all to view the thrilling scene. 
 
 Forsaking all besides, they crowd 
 The ampitheatre called grand; 
 The sage, the minister, the priest, 
 (On Sunday these rail at each other), 
 
THE TUMBLER 25 
 
 Now jolly jostle on the stand 
 As jovial as friend and brother. 
 
 Some filled with an admiring wonder 
 
 Evolve a homily no doubt, 
 
 And find a fitting text about 
 
 The horse, whose neck is clothed with thunder, 
 
 One thing commending steed^p 
 
 As worthier than creeds; 
 
 The creeds oft drive men asunder; 
 
 The horse, upon the other hand. 
 
 Brings all upon one common stand. 
 
 And some old sports ,who count their losses. 
 
 And owners, too, of steeds there are 
 
 Can quote in quaint vernacular ; 
 
 'Tis a vain thing to trust in horses. 
 
 Meanwhile Barry, the tumbler, rolls 
 His carpet in a knot and strolls 
 
 About until he finds 
 A little nook secluded 
 Where gaze can be eluded 
 
 And cautiously unbinds 
 The covered coin and reads : 
 "Forgiven!" — And joy his face o'er spread 
 As that transporting word he read. 
 
 IV 
 
 The gymnast, Barry Gray, 
 Was young, athletic, gay. 
 
26 THE TUMBLER 
 
 Adventurous, but not inclined 
 To be of wandering step or mind. 
 But he was stung to madness by 
 A bitter alienation 
 Which was like the tormenting fly- 
 That stung the daughter of Inachus. 
 From station on to station: 
 For thwarted love a madness is 
 And finds some cure in motion ! 
 Oft standing by the ocean 
 Where tempests fierce have lately blown, 
 And fancies in these elements 
 A strife coequal with his own ; 
 Or love will humor its distress 
 Within a crowd's dense wilderness. 
 
 This surging crowd to view 
 
 Mad Barry in distraction came 
 Nor knew that Clara, too. 
 
 Was there from motives just the same 
 Surprised and pleased was she 
 
 For reasons best to woman known. 
 And so the word "Forgiven'' 
 
 Was down to gymnast Barry thrown. 
 
 That very day did Clara say 
 To her resentment a good bye, 
 
 With Barry, then, she flew away 
 
 Swift as two homing doves would fly. 
 
THE TUMBLER 27 
 
 No rivars threat, no mad appeal, 
 No smoking gun, no click of steel, 
 Nor plot, intrigue, or dread suspense 
 To lash to life the lagging sense ; 
 
 No other sound I ask you hear 
 Than wedding bells merry and clear ; 
 No other voice your ear to great 
 Than that of 'gratulations sweet. 
 
28 TO MISS C. 
 
 TO MISS C. 
 
 I will forget thy name, I said, 
 
 And fill my heart with joy instead; 
 
 And so I hastened to the sea 
 
 And joined the rounds of gaity. 
 
 I hoped that mirth and music, too, 
 
 Would drown each thought and dream of you. 
 
 In murmurs deep by night and day 
 
 Some other name would ocean say. 
 
 Then on the sand thy name I traced. 
 
 Which the deep sea waves soon effaced; 
 
 ''Thus perish from my mind," I cried, 
 
 ''This name that melts before the tide." 
 
 O ! blest the tide of time that so 
 
 Can wash away my cause of woe. 
 
 Relieved I loked upon the main,, 
 But soon I heard thy name again. 
 For now transferred from off the sand 
 It ever speaks back to the land. 
 
 "I must away," I cried, "the sea 
 But heightens every thought of thes.*' 
 And so I climbed a mountain side 
 Where rest and quietness abide. 
 Where silence is unbroken all 
 Save by the rippling waterfall, 
 
TO MISS C. 29 
 
 Or chance some lonely mountain bird 
 Makes stillness yet more plainly heard. 
 
 I threw me on a mossy bank 
 And all the summer scene I drank; 
 Drank as a hunted, wounded deer 
 Drinks of the mountain waters clear, 
 There from annoyances to steal 
 Until the rankling wound shall heal. 
 
 I cried, "Welcome each sight and sound 
 That fills my heart and heals my wound ; 
 Welcome sweet nature's healing art 
 That takes this fever from my heart." 
 
 E'n now I feel the glowing zest 
 Of hope that thrills anew my breast, 
 And yon proud eagle, floating high, 
 How much alike are he and I. 
 And yet how little does he know 
 Of all he teaches men below ! 
 
 This royal mint that scents the air 
 
 With fragrance wholesome, sweet, and rare 
 
 Knows not the boon it can convey 
 
 And this is Nature's matchless way 
 
 Of teaching the unselfish plan 
 
 Of winning, helping every man. 
 
 But while I traced these homilies 
 There came a murmur through the trees. 
 
30 TO MISS C. 
 
 It was the sound of a cascade 
 Borne up through moss and dell and shade. 
 Now faint and now it louder swells 
 Sweet as a chime of silver bells. 
 
 let me listen with my heart 
 To notes surpassing human art ; 
 For this is Nature's masterpiece. 
 'Twill ^make my tribulations cease. 
 Soon as my heart the voice obeyed 
 
 1 found, alas ! I was betrayed, 
 For all I heard was thy dear name. 
 Oft and articulate it came 
 
 And filled my soul with deep unrest ; 
 
 And then I fled away distressed 
 
 And found a spot retired, remote, 
 
 Unvisited by any note 
 
 Of rushing waters wild. I heard, 
 
 Alas ! so soon, a warbling bird. 
 
 The feathered imp had learned thy name 
 
 And this he sang ever the same. 
 
 "I yield !" I yield !" I then did cry, 
 "Thee to forget no more I'll try. 
 My heart and thee have won the day 
 Whatever I could do or say. 
 I never can thy name forget ; 
 Deeper it speaks and deeper yet. 
 
 I thank you, ocean's surging crest, 
 That you to me that name expressed ; 
 
TO MISS C. • 31 
 
 Thanks to the mountain's wild cascade 
 For that fond name to me conveyed. 
 For sake of that dear bird's address 
 That found me in the wilderness, 
 And sang to me the name I love, 
 I'll prize each songster of the grove. 
 
32 THE HAMMOCK 
 
 THE HAMMOCK 
 
 There is beside an ancient wood, 
 Where forest, sky and meadow meet, 
 A lake that mirrors every mood 
 Of bank and waving grove 
 And changing skies above. 
 
 However fair may be the scene. 
 
 Of mount or vale or hill, 
 But add a silver lake or two 
 
 And all is fairer still. 
 
 As in a calm sweet face you see 
 Yourself without deformity 
 And feel the subtle flattery, 
 E'n so Dame Nature from her throne 
 Smiles sweet, the compliment to own. 
 When viewing from the lakelet's face 
 Her charms returned with added grace. 
 Long time ago ethreal sprites. 
 That jolly crew that make 
 Their noble deeds their chief delights, 
 Did choose this argent lake, 
 
 Whereon they oftimes sport 
 And hold their jovial court. 
 Dancing the wave or grassy earth, 
 Brushing the air with wing of mirth. 
 
THE HAMMOCK 33 
 
 Sometimes they make a confidant 
 
 Of him who haunts this bending shore 
 
 And will converse with him, for they 
 The race of man have known of yore. 
 
 But heavenly laws forbid a sprite 
 
 To speak with mortals face to face, 
 But they on trees and skies niay write. 
 
 And letters on the rocks may trace ; 
 Can make the clouds narrate a tale 
 
 That chosen friends may hear, 
 And launch a story on the gale 
 
 Meant for the favored ear, 
 Make silent oaks repeat each word 
 
 And willows warble like a bird. 
 And singers sing in music low 
 
 Far sweeter than the singers know, 
 Nor can these heavenly ones declare 
 
 Their nature in our earthly climes. 
 There's some who might such knowledge bear 
 
 And secrets with an angel share, 
 
 But very saints grow weak at times. 
 Such knowledge is a prize 
 To lure men to the skies. 
 Till then of Heavenly happiness 
 We can but make a reverent guess. 
 
 The bright sojourners of the skies 
 We deem to noble and too wise 
 To haunt the dwellings of the dead 
 Or limp through forests dark and dread 
 
34 THE HAMMOCK 
 
 To frighten fools, nor do they taint 
 
 The dreams of losel or of saint, 
 
 Nor condescend to aid 
 
 The necromancer's trade 
 
 In dim lit halls where dupes attend 
 
 And vagabonds preside. 
 Nor play small tricks in cabinets 
 \Yhere only rogues would hide. 
 Their sphere enjoins a nobler part 
 Than sick men's dreams or villain's art. 
 High as tke sage or saint can view 
 
 Is their employ sublime ; 
 The smallest deeds that they may do, 
 
 Nor painter could portray 
 Nor lofty words convey 
 
 iHprose or subtle rhyme. 
 But are such grand capacities 
 Bestowed on beings of the skies ? 
 Why not? If birds borne far away 
 In darkened cage and then set free 
 Have homeward like an arrow flown 
 Directed by a power unknown ; 
 If the dumb myriads of the sea 
 Of times and seasons learn, 
 Or moles that dig or worms that creep. 
 
 Or reptiles that we spurn 
 Untaught may know what man 
 Knows not and never can, 
 Could not the marvelous fields of space 
 Contain a wise and gifted race 
 That could o'ertake the fleetest star 
 
THE HAMMOCK 35 
 
 Upon lightning's flashing car, 
 Or sport upseen beside the wood 
 Or gaily dance upon the flood? 
 
 II 
 
 'Twas by a lake beneath a tree 
 Within his hammock swung 
 
 That Leon heard strange melody, 
 As if a song were sung 
 
 Afar within a house of prayer^ 
 
 And wafted slow on evening air, 
 
 A rythmic story to narrate 
 
 In tones clear and articulate. 
 
 'Twas ancient morn of long ago, 
 And yet unknown the western seas 
 To Norseman oar or Latin prow ; 
 'Twas ere Genoa's faithful son 
 Had quelled insurgent men and main 
 And given the hemisphere he won 
 To thankless mercenary Spain ; 
 There came upon the land a curse ; 
 'Twas not the sacred curse of gold, 
 For lands were then unbought, unsold, 
 But 'twas in form and feature worse 
 As curs and jackals meaner be 
 Than lordly lions of the plain. 
 'Twas woman's cursed slavery 
 That smote the land, and in the train 
 
36 THK HAMMOCK 
 
 Of this dire wrong there came the rest, 
 Hell's compjlement, grim war and pest. 
 In treachery of war stout braves 
 
 In stoic agony expire; 
 The fathers dug their childrens' graves 
 
 And none repair the sacred fire ; 
 War swept men down as autumn's breeze 
 Sweeps down the glory of the trees. 
 
 There was a tribe that perished all 
 
 Save a brave chief and Ponca fair, 
 
 And she his only child and heir, 
 
 The heir of lonely grief and care. 
 
 She, fighting by his side, 
 
 Held back the savage tide. 
 
 To give or to evade the blow 
 
 Or hurl the arrow from the bow, 
 
 And like the Parthians they flew 
 
 And arrows hurled as they withdrew 
 
 And still the foe increasing came, 
 
 Pursuing like a storm of flame. 
 
 Then to his child the chief did cry : 
 
 "Haste, now, and to the lake side fly 
 
 And in a hammock hide 
 
 And you will safe abide.' 
 
 When thus his child he had addressed 
 
 An arrow pierced his aged breast ; 
 
 But night did curtain Ponca round 
 
 With shadows drooping to the ground. 
 
 Swift through the wood with noiseless tread 
 
 Unto the lake lone Ponca fled. 
 
THE HAMMOCK 37 
 
 And on yon shelving bank where fall 
 Low drooping boughs and emerald wall, 
 She took a panther's tawny hide 
 And bough to bough she firmly tied 
 Until a hammock strong was made 
 Where she could swing, hid by the shade. 
 
 EVENING BOAT SONG 
 
 Our boat is on the wave 
 
 And as we glide along 
 Unto the fair and brave 
 
 We'll sing a merry song. 
 We'll row and sing and trill 
 With jolly whipporwill, la, la, ha, ha, etc. 
 
 The moon floats on the lake. 
 
 The stars are floating, too. 
 The owl is wide awake, 
 
 Inquiring who is who. 
 We'd rather sing and trill 
 With jolly whipporwill, la, la, ha, ha, etc. 
 
 The skies above our head 
 
 With violets are bound ; 
 The trees all green and red, 
 
 With brightest flowers are crowned. 
 And as the waves advance 
 They make the forest dance, la, la, ha, ha. 
 
38 THE HAMMOCK 
 
 III 
 
 When Ponca knew she was alone, 
 Her tribe and all her kindred gone, 
 Her sobs, her tears, her stifled wail 
 Unanswered fell upon the gale. 
 But soon new fancies seized her breast. 
 Her fruitless grief was soon suppressed. 
 Some spirit of the lake did seem 
 To make her life a trance, a dream. 
 
 Nor cruel brave, nor hungry bear. 
 Nor savage beast, nor bird of air, 
 Nor sacred terrors of the night, 
 Nor lightning's flash that brings to light 
 The forest bent beneath the gale, 
 Nor mingled thunder, rain, and hail. 
 Nor autumn's fires with wanton power 
 To mar what they cannot devour 
 Came near the maid or caused alarms 
 Beneath the oak's protecting arms. 
 She like a fawn all moveless lay 
 While bellowing dangers round play. 
 
 What could this forest maiden know 
 
 Of thought or calm philosophy, 
 
 Of art or grace or gaiety, 
 
 Taught only by the streams that flow 
 
 Or skies or woods, or winds that play 
 
 Or men more dumb and wild than they? 
 
 The mind of Ponca shone 
 
THE HAMMOCK 39 
 
 From brilliance all her own, 
 
 Not as the sparkling diamonds are : 
 
 Such gems reflect a borrowed light, 
 
 But as a lonely blazing star 
 
 Upon the mystic zone of night. 
 
 She saw the leaves that wove 
 
 A veil from eyes that rove ; 
 
 She saw the crouching flames divide 
 
 And harmless rage on either side. 
 
 Around herself could Ponca see 
 
 A circle of divinity. 
 
 She said 'twas for her sake 
 
 That Minnewauka's arm, 
 Great spirit of the lake, 
 
 Had shielded her from harm. 
 And when the waves or winds made noise 
 She said 'twas Minnewaukau's voice, 
 And dreams and visions wild 
 Possessed this forest child. 
 She saw a mighty throng 
 
 Of lauding subjects round her bent; 
 Herself a queen among 
 
 Proud peoples of the Orient; 
 A lover, too, she seems to greet, 
 
 A lover and a king, 
 He lays rich treasures at her feet 
 
 Which only he could bring. 
 And attar fills the air the while, 
 Her subjects bask them in her smile. 
 As rainbows arch the gems she wore, 
 They see, applaud, revere, adore. 
 
40 THE HAMMOCK 
 
 The vision goes and comes again 
 Like flowers revisiting the plain, 
 And yet no winter comes between 
 
 These summers of the heart ; 
 Fresh flowers blooming bright are seen 
 
 Before the first depart. 
 
 IV 
 
 In ancient times five nations joined 
 With mutual pipes and oaths to bind 
 
 A compact of security, 
 To which the weaker tribes would flee 
 As doves by hawKS pursued 
 Fly to the sheltering wood. 
 By war unscathed, unterrified 
 Their clans in rightful peace abide. 
 No honor could be bought or sold ; 
 A name outweighed the price of gold, 
 And they to woman were more true 
 As strong and valorous they grew. 
 'Tis man's esteem of woman kind 
 Becomes the index of his mind. 
 
 Among the Iroquois 
 
 There was a chieftain's son 
 Who when he was a boy 
 Great victories had won 
 Upon the fields of varied skill 
 That test the nerve, the arm, the will. 
 
THE HAMMOCK 4I 
 
 For they were taught from early youth 
 To draw the bow and speak the truth, 
 And cope with might in self defense 
 Or speak with grace and vehemence, 
 And when persuasion failed, then throw 
 The spear and bend the mighty bow. 
 
 Lone Eagle was the name he bore, 
 
 And eagle's feathers, too, he wore. 
 
 For none but heroes then could wear 
 
 The plumage of the King of Air. 
 
 Far from his tribe Lone Eagle fled 
 
 And with him two stout braves he led 
 
 Mid hostile woods and plains to go 
 
 'Ere fell the track betraying snow : 
 
 Each armed with quiver, bow, and spear. 
 
 And fibrous sinews of the deer. 
 
 But naught of food these young braves bear, 
 
 For food they trusted to their skill 
 
 The foe to spoil or deer to kill. 
 
 Now bending lowly to the ground 
 
 They'd catch the bison's trampling sound. 
 
 Loud through the air their arrows whirred 
 
 And pierced the leaders of the herd. 
 
 They feast and counsel as they rest. 
 
 Thence hurry onward to the West. 
 
 They swim the Wabash wide, whose flood 
 
 Is darkened by the lofty wood. 
 
 Still on and on till round them rolled 
 
 The prairies, awful to behold. 
 
 The view doth please th' ambitious eye 
 
42 THE HAMMOCK 
 
 That loves the distant to descry, 
 Where aught of life, or storm, or foe 
 The sweeping vision learns to know, 
 Exulting in a wide command 
 That cheers the brow and nerves the hand. 
 "Onward, right on," Lone Eagle cries, 
 "On where the golden sunset lies ; 
 The wind is right, the way is clear, 
 But if the armed foe appear 
 We'll clear the way. There's rest ahead 
 For victor's arms alive or dead." 
 Thus on for days ; and as they went 
 Their strength and courage grew. 
 Grew as the praries in extent, 
 Like conquerors who view 
 The realms that they subdue. 
 Where grove and prairie meet 
 
 Beside a bending river 
 They pause to rest their feet ; 
 
 Then from his ample quiver 
 Lone Eagle took an arrow true 
 And struck a fawn that straight way flew 
 Afar into the forest \^ide, 
 The arrow clinging to her side. 
 The crimson drops on leaf and blade 
 Lone Eagle marked through glen and glade 
 Until at length he found 
 His arrow on the ground. 
 He paused at once with strange amaze 
 And for a moment stood agaze, 
 There seemed a human presence near; 
 
THE HAMMOCK 43 
 
 He was surprised, but not with fear, 
 
 A maid with eyes of beauty rare 
 
 Gazed from her hammock swinging there. 
 
 Then did recall the brave young chief 
 
 A prophesy both strange and brief, 
 
 E'n of himself, by one who fed 
 
 The sacred fires. The prophet said : 
 
 A thousand steps his arrow flies. 
 
 His bride shall come down from the skies. 
 
 And then with gallant words and true 
 
 The startled Ponca did he woo. 
 
 She thought a man could not be found 
 
 So brave, so eloquent ; 
 Then from her hammock did she bound 
 
 And followed where he went. 
 Ivone Eagle and his comrades made 
 Around the bride a cavalcade, 
 As gallantly they journey through 
 A realm where foemen swift pursue. 
 For soon the word had spread around 
 That haughty men from #ar had found 
 And seized the maid, lonely and fair. 
 And dragged her from her swinging lair. 
 "Awake! Pursue!" each savage cries 
 And let the swiftest sieze the prize. 
 But fortune's favors still are there 
 To arm the brave and shield the fair. 
 To give the strength of hosts to one, 
 To show the path they each should shun. 
 Give strength to build the barricade, 
 To hurl the arrow or evade. 
 
44 ^HE HAMMOCK 
 
 At length when many days had fled 
 
 And they had been bewailed as dead, 
 
 (Imaginary ill 
 
 Makes grief more grievous still,) 
 
 They came in triumph with their prize, 
 
 The queenly bride come from the skies. 
 
 Lone Eagle round a glowing flame, 
 
 For all spread fish and choicest game. 
 
 The blaze illumes a circle wide ; 
 
 They feast, they dance with bounding stride. 
 
 Upon the leafy wall around 
 
 Their lofty shadows leap and bound. 
 
 They feast again, the pipe they share ; 
 
 Then suddenly they bound in air 
 
 And join the dance's jolly maze ; 
 
 Thus passed the time for joyous days 
 
 When came Lone Eagle from afar 
 
 Safe mid the poisoned shafts of war 
 
 When long ago a bride he bore, 
 
 From the fair lake's umbrageous shore, 
 
 Bright Ponca of the glorious eye. 
 
 Won from her hammock in the sky. 
 
RURAL MAIE)S 45 
 
 RURAL MAIDS 
 
 O, ye, that with a childHke trust 
 
 Dwell in the mountain vale, 
 To whom the world's grand nothingness 
 
 Doth seem a fairy tale, 
 Ye do not know what plagues dis tress 
 
 The gay and gorgeous world ; 
 Dream on secure, ye Rural Maids, 
 In bowers where no curse invades. 
 
 If few the wants ye have, your needs 
 Are few ; grand is your care ; 
 
 To choose which hat, or gown, or shoe 
 Is not your theme of prayer. 
 
 And you can as your neighbors do 
 Untaxed with mimicry; 
 
 While less of rivalry or hate 
 
 Consumes your peace or your estate. 
 
 I would not speak of coming woe, 
 And how you'll suffer wrong. 
 
 When highways bottomless and foul 
 Imprison you so long ; 
 
 When gnawed with hunger of the soul 
 For social joy and zest, 
 
 You oft have from your window gazed 
 
 Till with 3^our longing you are crazed. 
 
46 RURAI. MAIDS 
 
 Your booted men will wade the slime 
 
 _> 
 
 And reach their village set, 
 And there with gossip, pipe, and bowl 
 
 Will all their cares forget. 
 And with a mean, convivial soul 
 
 Think of themselves supreme 
 And woman's wrongs they will disdain 
 And all her agony of brain. 
 
 But I will draw the curtain down 
 
 Nor lurid scenes disclose, 
 I*d rather that my picture be 
 
 In colors of the rose; 
 So, now, Dear Maids, behold and see 
 
 Some consolation here 
 To smooth your brows and smooth my verse, 
 A city life would be still worse. 
 
 For you may daily thank your stars 
 
 That your pure eyes behold 
 No well-dressed rake upon the stage 
 
 With words as false as bold, 
 Commending vices of the age 
 
 And more to please the herd 
 All virtue scorns and ridicules, 
 Amid applause from sots and fools. 
 
 Fools ! yes, they like old gnarly trees 
 
 May be of some small use 
 To make the shapely ones more grand, 
 
 Bnt, O! I would not choose 
 
RURAL MAIDS 47 
 
 Whole groves made of knots and gnarls, and 
 
 Good Lord, deliver me 
 From, weak theatric throngs that cheer 
 Stale vice and at sweet virtue sneer. 
 
 Be glad, ye rural maids, for soon 
 
 Will come a better time; 
 No island home, your home shall be 
 
 Within a sea of slime ; 
 For highways smooth and hard and free 
 
 And mobiles swift and neat 
 Will all be yours; and these possessed, 
 Your stars will far outshine the rest. 
 
48 LOVE 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Is love a tyrant or a slave, 
 
 A mad or meek control? 
 A tiger or a cooing dove 
 
 Of fierce or gentle soul? 
 
 There's much depends upon the man — 
 
 The heart of good or ill, 
 The tiger fondling her whelps 
 
 Is just a tiger still. 
 
 Doth love impel the horrid deed, 
 
 The shame of human kind? 
 Nay! Nay! 'tis passion gross that rules 
 
 The base or cruel mind. 
 
 The thwarted lecher strikes a blow 
 
 And fills a felon's den; 
 The thwarted lover, great of soul, 
 
 Becomes the king of men. 
 
 Love is a holy principle 
 
 And grandly great and bold, 
 
 When passion's dross has burned away 
 And left the finest gold. 
 
GERALD AND ETHEL 49 
 
 GERALD AND ETHEL. 
 
 The snow on his cloak lay spangled and white 
 Though his heart beneath was fervent and 
 
 light. 
 He flew o'er the hills, he sped through the 
 
 vale 
 Where snow mist was blinding and day grew 
 
 pale. 
 The darkness is deeper, the winds wail loud, 
 The eddies are weaving for earth a shroud. 
 The spirit of winter moans through the trees, 
 Yet Ethel hears not the sigh of the breeze. 
 For love is stronger than tempest or cold ; 
 When all else is shrinking, love will be bold, 
 For now she was waiting, faithful she stood 
 Out in the storm by the dark waving wood. 
 On her wide winter cloak the snow drops lay, 
 Her soul as pure and spotless as they. 
 
 O ! hinder him not, ye darkness and snow ; 
 I hear him coming ! I see him ! O ! no. 
 What means this moaning that strikes like a 
 
 dart? 
 And O ! this coldness that steals to my heart ! 
 Shall I fly to my room, whence I have fled ? 
 Never! I'll seek Gerald living or dead. 
 
50 GERALD AND ETHEL 50 
 
 iVway went Ethel through the gloom of 
 
 night; 
 Love scattered the darkness, love winged her 
 
 flight. 
 She noted each shadow, she heard each moan, 
 And there 'neath the pines where gloom 
 
 reigned alone, 
 A place where fiends would dare the dark 
 
 deed, 
 She saw mid the blackness a waiting steed, 
 And there enwrapped in the robes of his 
 
 sleigh 
 Bleeding and dying her loved Gerald lay. 
 The truth through the darkness flashed on 
 
 her mind; 
 She seized the strong reins, she sped like the 
 
 wind. 
 'Twas plain a rival by jealousy led 
 Had struck Gerald down and left him for 
 
 dead. 
 
 But help was soon found; a surgeon's skill 
 Joined Ethel's fond care and loving good 
 
 will. 
 And life came back; light returned to his 
 
 eyes; 
 Love yet will triumph and win the grand 
 
 prize. 
 
GERALD AND ETHEL 5 1 
 
 Cold as the moon rose the sun in the air 
 
 O'er Ethel's loved home, but she was not 
 there. 
 
 Call Ethel! Why does she silent remain? 
 
 Cried her father, but cried only in vain. 
 
 They search far around, but no trace can dis- 
 close 
 
 Save only her tracks half hid by the snows; 
 
 But far to a cottage their way is led, 
 
 Where they find her bringing life to the dead. 
 
 No pleading is needed; parents relent, 
 And to the lovers a blessing is sent. 
 When winter no longer maddens the breeze 
 And blue birds and robins sing in the trees, 
 Gerald and Ethel were wedded one day 
 As happy birds that are nesting in May. 
 
52 A BEAUTIFUL FACE 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL FACE. 
 
 I am so charmed when'er I view 
 Upon a woman's face 
 Expression, form, and color, too, 
 
 A trinity of grace. 
 That I am forced in self-defense, 
 (To keep my mind controlled by sense) 
 
 That face to analyze 
 In light of calm philosophy, 
 
 As if within the skies 
 A wondrous group of stars I saw 
 To be resolved by Cosmic law 
 And mapped and measured out by me; 
 A starry realm not mine, yet mine, 
 
 Almighty, yet serene. 
 Material, and yet divine. 
 
 As clear and yet unseen. 
 So shy and yet so bold, 
 So warm and yet so cold; 
 And still I do survey 
 And note, divide and weigh; 
 As some hard botanist would take 
 A lily and should shred and break 
 And list each riven part 
 With speculative art, 
 And analyze the beautiful 
 For benefit of science cool. 
 
A BEAUTIFUL FACE 53 
 
 11. 
 
 Now, then, to my analysis: 
 A beauteous face resolved is this — 
 Expression, Form, and Color, too, 
 Harmonious blent to please the view. 
 
 FORM. 
 
 Fine form — or native or acquired, 
 Beloved by most, by all admired. 
 To every age doth seem to show 
 The friend and not the obtrusive foe. 
 Great nature doth smooth form approve 
 In spheres rotund that circling move, 
 In rain drops round, in brooks that curve 
 Around hard rocks that will not swerve; 
 In manners polished well that woo 
 Assent from mind and conscience too; 
 E'n villians oft, when smooth, prevail, 
 While honesty, when rough, will fail. 
 
 COLOR. 
 
 Fine color was by heaven designed 
 
 To feast the eye and please the mind. 
 
 In cheek or lip or blushing rose. 
 
 Or tints of morn or evening's close, 
 
 The notes we learn to know 
 
 Of Nature's Oratorio. 
 
 The topaz and the beryl's sheen. 
 
54 A BEAUTIFUL FACE 
 
 The turquois blend of blue and green, 
 The emerald and amethyst, 
 The opal's gay and gorgeous mist 
 Are tones that voice the heavenly mind 
 That in the urim was divined ; 
 While rocks that dark and formless be 
 Are discords in the symphony, 
 Repellant as a murky face 
 That is devoid of color's grace, 
 While flash of eye and hue of cheek 
 In wining notes of concord speak, 
 This to delight, that to repel, 
 A heaven this ; and that a hell. 
 
 EXPRESSION. 
 
 Of these, 'tis my belief 
 Expression is the chief 
 Component of a charming face; 
 All yield to her the honored place. 
 For by expresions skillful aid 
 Are love's most potent conquests made. 
 Fine form and color transient reign; 
 Expression conquers to retain. 
 Expression is the flash that tells 
 Where beauty's mighty spirit dwells, 
 With hidden forces and relays 
 That fill and yet elude the gaze. 
 
 O ! I have seen a wight that saw 
 His counterpart in some plain face, 
 
A BEAUTIFUL FACE 55 
 
 A face defiant of each law 
 
 Of color, form, or gentle grace, 
 
 And yet to his subjective sight 
 
 'Twas perfect beauty and delight. 
 
 Affinity of opposites 
 
 Oft ends in holy marriage rites. 
 
 Beware the charms concealed behind 
 
 The subtle masteries of mind ; 
 
 Well aimed and keen the shafts that be 
 
 Hurled from the masked battery. 
 
 But shall I tell you how to gain 
 The gift of beauty and retain? 
 
 Think not of charms that you would own 
 Nor to yourself your wish be known, 
 For Beauty is a maiden shy ^ 
 And from her wooers she will fly, 
 But will her liberal gifts convey 
 To those who look from her away. 
 If then to win her be your plan. 
 Strive first to be a perfect man, 
 Or perfect woman, sane and whole 
 In mind, in body and in soul. 
 
 And you must walk where few have gone, 
 And you must fly where few have flown. 
 And feel those joys that make life new, 
 Peculiar to the favored few. 
 
 And you must feast upon the rare 
 Ambrosia of angelic fare, 
 
56 A BEAUTIFUL FACE 
 
 And store the wealth that few possess 
 If you would own rare happiness, 
 And happiness can beautify 
 More than all else beneath the sky. 
 Not that you dare the polar zone, 
 Try seas afar, and ports unknown, 
 Or climb the Pyramids, or scale 
 The Alps or Rocky Mountain trail. 
 Or peep at mausoleum old, 
 And all art treasures should behold. 
 And wonders rare should gaze upon 
 Spread out from Ind to Albion. 
 
 Not these, for scores have seen and will 
 Remain ill-favored mortals still. 
 But rather let your curious eye 
 Search rarer regions nearer by; 
 Climb Fancy's Alps or Pyramid, 
 View scenes from common mortals hid. 
 And in the life of here and now 
 Find Beauty's gems to deck your brow: . 
 And may that beauty be in you 
 The lustre of the good and true. 
 
HOMEWARD 57 
 
 HOMEWARD. 
 
 A marvellous mocking bird 
 
 Some how had heard 
 
 That I was going on the morning train 
 
 And came at peep of day 
 
 And sang a medley gay 
 And sweetly begged me to remain. 
 
 Then changing his fashion 
 
 Into a passion, 
 
 From bough to bough skyward sang he; 
 
 Then wheeling round and round 
 
 From tree top to ground 
 With mighty pathos in his plea. 
 
 The skies of deepest blue, 
 
 The gales that woo, 
 
 The sound of the surf far away. 
 
 And gorgeous hue and bloom 
 
 And tropical perfume 
 In concert sang, "Stay awhile, stay. 
 
 Fond friends around me throng 
 
 With mirth and song 
 
 And subtle art and winning wile 
 By wood and sea and camp 
 And the parlor's bright lamp, 
 
 And craftily said, "Stay awhile." 
 
58 HOMEWARD 
 
 But they strive all in vain 
 
 Me to detain, 
 
 Though skillful and sincere they are; 
 In all this fair world round 
 No minstrehy can drown 
 
 The song of the loved home afar. 
 
THE DEATH OF MARCELLUS 59 
 
 THE DEATH OF MARCELLUS. 
 [Translated from Virgil.] 
 
 What handsome youth is that whose weapons 
 
 shine ? 
 He seems the son of an illustrous line! 
 Applause resounds, and pageants near him 
 
 tread, "" 
 
 But sable night is gathering round his head ; 
 Joyless he seems ; his eyes no lustre shed. 
 Ye gods! Rome's sons were more like gods 
 
 than men 
 Had your celestial gifts perpetual been. 
 And so the favored youth Marcellus dies, 
 Too great for earth when envied of the skies. 
 Thou Tiber dost behold an empire's woe 
 As near his tomb thou glidst in silent flow. 
 Bring blooming flowers, bring lilies wet with 
 
 dew, 
 These to the shade of brave Marcellus strew: 
 And ye of martial deeds that know no fear. 
 In battle groan and pour the manly tear, 
 For none on foot could meet his flashing 
 
 blade 
 And none his foaming courser could evade. 
 The Trojan line shall not excel his name. 
 Nor land of Romulus eclipse his fame. 
 
6o CONQUEST 
 
 CONQUEST. 
 
 Have you not seen some weary zone 
 With only rocks or brambles strewn, 
 And you have wished that trees were there 
 And gardens green and fruitage rare? 
 
 E'n so there is an arid waste 
 In every sphere where you are placed; 
 Some barren realm that you should seize^ 
 Reclaim and plant with heavenly trees. 
 
 That desert realm may be within, 
 So with yourself the work begin; 
 Plant seeds of truth where thorns abound, 
 Then clear and till the stubborn ground. 
 
 Thence like bold Colon seek where grand 
 And wider wastes invite your hand, 
 For he who can himself subdue 
 Can subjugate the savage too. 
 
THE BENEFICENT OCEAN 6 1 
 
 THE BENEFICENT OCEAN. 
 
 Some sing t;he ocean's sounding shore 
 
 And echo back her wail and roar, 
 
 Or paint her changing hue and mood, 
 
 Her melancholy solitude, 
 
 Her calm, severe or fitful reign 
 
 O'er her vast empire's old domain. 
 
 As on a magic screen they show 
 
 The calms that smile, the storms that blow. 
 
 Then hold a conch close to your ear 
 
 That you some murmurings should hear. 
 
 But, O! methinks 'tis vain for thee 
 
 To try to paint sublimity, 
 
 Or motion swift or roar sublime, 
 
 As if you'd set in words of rhyme 
 
 Lightning and tempest that the while 
 
 Belike stage thunder move a smile. 
 
 Much rather would I choose to sing 
 The Ocean's wide beneficence; 
 
 Her storms a joyous murmuring. 
 Her empire man's defense: 
 Her gales the chiding of a friend, 
 Her tempests only to defend 
 From greater harm; her mists and tides 
 A care that ceaselessly abides. 
 Had ancient seas, where sails unfurled 
 Wafted the commerce of a world, 
 
62 THE BENEFICENT OCEAN 
 
 (The classic world that first arose,) 
 Been peaks of supercilious snows, 
 Or plains swept b^ fierce gales of sands, 
 Dividing races, nations, lands, 
 Troy had inspired no singer's tongue 
 Nor Virgil echoed Homer's song. 
 Nor Solon sailed from shore to shore 
 Enriched by trade in law and lore, 
 For there had been no cities brave. 
 No isles to gem the storied wave. 
 
 Then hail ! Thou mighty friend ! no chain 
 Can bind, no gold thy high domain 
 Can buy; no hireling touch can mar 
 Thy charms or spoil thy wealth; no war 
 Can rob thee, or once can desecrate 
 Thy shrine or scatter thine estate. 
 
 Though man would spoil thee ,if he dare, 
 vStill thou dost make mankind thy care. 
 For man thou breathest health. Thy gales 
 To waft life and ten thousand sails 
 Bear clouds of fertile rain 
 To slake the thirsty plain, 
 Thou, colleague of the God of day 
 And partner of the moon's mild sway. 
 Thou, with thy globe-embracing arm 
 Art fiercely kind, sublime of charm. 
 
MATTIE AND I 63 
 
 MATTIE AND I. 
 
 Who thinks, and I am sure she knows, 
 That of all flowers the queenly rose 
 The fairest, loveliest flower that blows? 
 
 Mattie. 
 
 Who thinks the rose is not so fair 
 As Mattie's cheek and forehead are 
 Nor with her beauty can compare? 
 
 I do. 
 
 Who thinks the stars of summer night 
 Are wonderful in beauty bright 
 Forever seen with new delight? 
 
 Mattie. 
 
 Who thinks the star-lit tropic skies 
 Profoundly deep in midnight dyes 
 Less wonderful than Mattie's eyes? 
 
 I do. 
 
64 ANACREONTIC 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 The sun a struggle vain hath made, 
 
 With all his glowing might, 
 To hurl his shafts beneath the shade 
 
 And drive out dim twilight; 
 While saucy love with perfect ease 
 Wounds in the dark e'n whom he please. 
 And laughs to let his arrows fly 
 And hit the apple of the eye. 
 
 When healing springs of waters rare 
 
 By nature nicely brewed, 
 Where scenes of rugged beauty are 
 Fair Nature making mortals fair 
 
 Their charms by charms renewed, 
 Here liquid health bounds up to kiss 
 The lip of youth or glowing miss, 
 Yet kisses all in vain for love 
 Off to the springs will slyly rove 
 And plant confusion in the face 
 And fix the eye with sickly gaze. 
 Great Nature yields to Love's decree 
 And smiles upon her victory. 
 
 When all the glories of the land 
 
 Come forth to meet the sun, 
 When wood and sea extend the hand 
 
ANACREONTIC 65 
 
 To every tired one: 
 When children loudly call 
 
 Round fragrant stocks of wheat and hay, 
 Or over garden wall, 
 
 Or with white sands of sea shore play, 
 Then older heads try serious thought 
 'Neath solemn shade by science taught. 
 Right well 'tis called a summer school 
 For high instruction calm and cool. 
 But learned themes are half in vain. 
 For Love with his distracting train, 
 Within the tent secures a pass 
 To tx}ach his arts to every class. 
 Love then in satisfaction smiles 
 His pupils learn so many wiles. 
 
 Along a mountain's rugged way 
 
 Behold a chieftain ride: 
 A mighty enterprise is his : the day 
 Looks down on him with pride. 
 With foam his steed is spangled o'er 
 White as the waves upon the shore 
 
 When mightiest gales subside. 
 Dead falls the steed to rise no more; 
 No lingering here to weep distress; 
 He gives the beast a last caress, 
 Then up and on from rock to rock 
 He meets the gale; defies its shock: 
 Confronts the cougar's frenzied ire; 
 Her eyes of green and yellow fire 
 Seem but a glow worm's flame, as back 
 
66 ANACREONTIC 
 
 He hurls each desperate attack. 
 
 Encounters next wild robber men 
 
 Amid the cliffs that wall their den. 
 
 The rattling muskets crash 
 
 The polished Bowie's flash 
 
 Play on the mountain's furrowed ledge 
 
 Like lightning on the tempest's edge. 
 
 'Tis done! The brigands yield! The spoils 
 
 Are his; his were the dangerous toils. 
 
 Descending to the vale below 
 
 Love draws on him the fatal bow. 
 
 A pretty maid peeps from her bower 
 
 To see the hero of the hour. 
 
 Her glance is only Cupid's dart 
 
 With fatal wound to pierce his heart. 
 
 At once he yields to Love's sweet thrall; 
 
 Love conquering him, has conquered all. 
 
THE UNWRITTEN 67 
 
 THE UNWRITTEN. 
 
 There's many things unread 
 
 In books or words of teacher, 
 And songs ne'er sung or said 
 
 By minstrel, sage or preacher. 
 Though songs and books should multiply 
 'Neath every grove and dome and sky. 
 
 A word is but a guide 
 
 That points the index finger 
 Where brighter fancies bide: 
 
 O'er words then do not linger, 
 But onward fly to regions blest 
 Where thoughts are grandly unexpressed. 
 
 Two lovers wrapt in bliss. 
 
 When night falls softly sable, 
 Perchance will steal a kiss 
 
 While things unutterable 
 They feel : things that might well befit 
 The holy book of the unwrit. 
 
 A gazer in the night 
 
 Stands silent looking starward; 
 His face bespeaks delight 
 
 As fancy plunging forward 
 Roams joyous on from star to star; 
 O ! let no words his vision mar ! 
 
68 THE UNWRITTEN 
 
 A youth the future day 
 
 Explores in awe and wonder, 
 
 O! let him dream away 
 And rapturously ponder; 
 
 I would not dash his gorgeous dream, 
 
 Nor crush the flowers that only seem. 
 
 And in the varied sphere 
 
 Of man's religious dreaming, 
 
 Though some should hold most dear 
 The mystic and the seeming; 
 
 Seek not with frozen words to bind 
 
 The harmless freedom of the mind. 
 
 But hail great words that bear 
 
 The soul above its sorrow ; 
 That take the sting from care 
 
 And make today tomorrow. 
 Transforming clouds to genial skies 
 And rugged earth to Paradise. 
 
OF MANY BOOKS 69 
 
 OF MANY BOOKS. 
 
 There's many idle words and trivial things 
 The dreamer says and sings, 
 And you must winnow heaps of chaff to gain 
 Perchance one golden grain. 
 
 And books like countless locusts swarm and 
 
 fly 
 And swift as locusts die ; 
 These myriads winged cicadas of the press 
 'Tis vain to try suppress. 
 
 Is there not use for chaff and locusts all 
 And autumn leaves that fall? 
 For mark you how much seems to waste away 
 Created for decay. 
 
 What ocean's vast in genial light are tossed 
 Off from the sun and lost; 
 One ray in millions strike©, planet's face 
 The rest are drowned in space. 
 
 The leaves that dance awhile and lose their 
 
 hold 
 Will make a fertile mold ; 
 So mortal lives and works downed by the 
 
 blast 
 Enrich the world at last. 
 
70 WRANGUNG PHILOSOPHERS 
 
 WRANGLING PHILOSOPHERS. 
 
 You'd think philosophers superior to 
 
 Mist, moonshine or the wildest storms that 
 
 brew 
 In all terrestrial air ; for have they not 
 Deep anchored to the stars their heavenly- 
 thought, 
 E'n as a ship is anchored to a rock? 
 Why should they quiver, then, at the small 
 
 shock 
 Of zephyrs light? and flecks of foam? Why 
 
 sound 
 Alarm as though the deep were stirred pro- 
 found ? 
 'Tis this : Your high philosopher is made 
 Of chemic parts just as the sons of trade 
 And toil. But more than this, (the trope to 
 
 change) 
 His meditations take a narrow range. 
 And as he narrows, grows the more intense 
 With less and less of worldly wit and sense. 
 Impetuous, then, is he like torrents pent 
 In narow gorge where all their force is spent; 
 Which stream at times though noiseless 
 
 quite and dry 
 Is terrible when storms are passing by. 
 But, then, thank Heaven, less dangerous is 
 
 the full 
 Mad torrent than the wide and stagnant pool. 
 
THE POET'S REALM 7 1 
 
 THE POET'S REALM. 
 
 The poet's telescopic eye 
 
 Rmotest star realms can descry, 
 
 Then from the universal sphere 
 
 He turns to things minute and near. 
 
 Planets or plants he can survey, 
 
 To mice or monarchs tune his lay, 
 
 He dreams with saint and seer and sage. 
 
 Laughs with gay Comus of the stage. 
 
 Sings with the lark on field and moor. 
 
 Roars with the ocean's sounding shore, 
 
 He echoes war's most dread appeal 
 
 Or dances a plain country reel, 
 
 Or city waltz with whirling heel; 
 
 Weeps with the mourner by the tomb, 
 
 Smiles with the new made bride and groom; 
 
 Soldier or Senator is he. 
 
 Or sword or words his weapons be. 
 
 At home he views the tropic seas 
 
 And flies to either pole with ease. 
 
 Mid Arctic ice or balmy isles 
 
 Alike he plays or scolds or smiles, 
 
 All ages pass before his e3^e. 
 
 The near is far, the far is nigh. 
 
 The solid mount, the flowing stream, 
 Or lonelv walk or marts that teem. 
 
72 THE POET'S REALM 
 
 Or wintry peak or vale of spring, 
 Or stalwart oak or vines that cling — 
 And all contrasting scenes doth he 
 Attune to his smooth minstrelsy. 
 
 But cold philosophy severe, 
 The level, passionless and drear 
 He shuns ; and never yet his song 
 Has been in tune with tyrant wrong; 
 And if by chance he for awhile 
 Defend old wrong or bondage vile. 
 He sings a feeble, lisping rhyme, 
 Disc ordant, harsh and out of time. 
 Soon weary of an alien strain 
 He sings his native song again. 
 The mighty theme of liberty 
 And how to make men great and free 
 Now siezes him with high control, 
 Beats with his heart, breathes with his soul. 
 
 And yet what'er the poets theme. 
 Or dreadful strife or downy dream. 
 Sweet love is goddess of his day 
 The sun and monarch of his lay ; 
 'Tis love with vehemence divine 
 In every page and word will shine. 
 
TO L A 73 
 
 TO L- 
 
 If day or night I cannot tell 
 And yet do I remember well 
 
 That hour when last we met : 
 All trembling like a storm tossed tree 
 Shook by a tempest sure were we, 
 
 A blast of wild regret; 
 
 For love's sweet summer day had flown, 
 Its violets and roses gone; — 
 
 While only withered leaves 
 Remain tossed by the blinding blast 
 Reminding of the summer passed 
 
 And joy that only grieves. 
 
 But why this change ? As well 
 To ask why tempests fierce and fell 
 
 Sweep Porto Rico fair, 
 To devstate and crush and bend 
 And wound and wreck and twist and rend 
 
 All life and beauty there : 
 
 As well to urge the lightning's stroke 
 To smite the weeds and spare the oak. 
 
 Or beg the winter gale 
 On rocks and shrubs to vent its wrath 
 
74 "^o h A 
 
 Where leads the rugged mountain path 
 And spare the verdant vale. 
 
 Your hand in mine along we went 
 Where genial skies above us bent, — 
 
 And happy years were those, 
 Then blighting alienations came — 
 Or if 'twas you or I to blame 
 
 I seek not to disclose. 
 Let silence with a mantle white 
 Conceal your woes and mine from sight, 
 
 As snow conceals the grave ; 
 For the dead past the world weeps not, 
 But yearns for joy in hall or cot. 
 
 And triumphs of the brave. 
 
 And then if we to men about 
 The cup of hope and life hold out 
 
 They will not care to drain 
 The chalice of old bitterness. 
 Wrung from our dark and stale distress, 
 
 The very dregs of pain. 
 
 To him the world is harsh and rude 
 Who prates about ingratitude : 
 
 But there are smiles for those 
 Who bloom with joys that men can see, 
 Like May days' gorgeous apple tree. 
 
 Or fragrant ruby rose. 
 
TO h A 75 
 
 'Twas a barbarian belief 
 
 The bitten man was rogue or thief 
 
 Struck by avenging rod ; 
 But when they saw no harm was felt, 
 Before the bitten saint they knelt 
 
 And worshipped him as God. 
 
 The world to-day is just the same 
 In spite of creed or cloak or name : 
 
 It curses him who faints ; 
 So let us firmly keep our feet 
 And gladly breathe the incense sweet 
 That's burned before the saints. 
 
76 TO F- 
 
 TO F- 
 
 I wandered through a busy foreign street 
 Where now the ancient and the modern meet. 
 Cathedrals vast in reverend grandeur rose, 
 The sculptureii marbles speak, the canvas 
 
 glows. 
 While over all was thrown that glorious haze 
 That is transmitted down from ancient days. 
 
 But all these scenes to me are falsely shown, 
 For I, alas ! am wand' ring there alone ; 
 No one is near with kindred heart and eye 
 Each scene to share and each to beautify. 
 
 I thought that Ruben s^ canvas was too red, 
 On Turner's too much fog and haze were 
 
 spread ; 
 I thought that many a worthless marble piece 
 Had been exhumed from ruined Rome and 
 
 Greece. 
 While in this mood perplexed behold I meet 
 A friend, one whom it is a joy to greet. 
 And now I view all things with better eyes, 
 The lurid glare from Ruben s^ canvas flies, 
 And Turner's fogs are sun mists sure to 
 
 please, 
 Venus of Milo is a master piece. 
 
TO F 77 
 
 Just such a friend and more are you, I own ; 
 You came when I was harsh, a stranger lone ; 
 All things around were tinct in lurid dyes. 
 The earth was wrong, so were the skies : 
 Now aided by your genial eyes and mind, 
 Earth and Heaven change, and face of human 
 
 kind, 
 A golden glory paints the world anew 
 And gladdens every path that I pursue. 
 
 For when you say you love the rural 
 
 scene — 
 The vales, the wooded hills, the meadows 
 
 green, 
 The thoughtful silence of the solitude, 
 Or warblers of the orchard, field and wood 
 Then do I gaze upon the country fair 
 And charms behold I never thought were 
 
 there, 
 The woodland sings, the hills repeat the song. 
 The arching skies the melody prolong. 
 
 When F lisps her praise of ocean's 
 
 shore. 
 Or silent wonders when the billows roar. 
 Or daintily imprints the pearly sand 
 With feet that linger long upon the strand, 
 I love th'e sea shore then ; yes, all the time 
 I have declared the ocean was sublime 
 
78 TO F 
 
 And beautiful in every changing mood, 
 A realm of wonders not a solitude. 
 
 Should F then return unto the street 
 
 Most pleased familiar scenes and friends to 
 
 greet 
 Then on the city's frowning walls I read : 
 Here is the place for life and joy indeed, 
 Here minds with minds in emulation rise 
 And sparkling wit illumes the social skies. 
 
 Should F dear, amusive read the page 
 
 Of poet, saint, philosopher or sage, 
 
 'Tis then I vow I have such loving zest 
 
 For Plato, Homer, Ruskin and the rest, 
 
 I walk with Plato in the grove divine. 
 
 With armed Achilles break the Trojan line. 
 
 Or revel mid Venetian scenes anew, 
 
 Or wond'ring gaze on Alpine gentian blue. 
 
TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 79 
 
 TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 
 
 O ! Twentieth Century, thy fame 
 Shall be great ; thou wast born 
 
 Mid mighty welcomes that proclaim 
 A giant's natal morn. 
 
 More than Herculean labors thine, 
 
 A mighty task if not divine ; 
 
 To strangle beasts and serpents old 
 
 That feast on human flesh and gold; 
 
 To slay Stymphalian birds that feed 
 
 On dying men : to stay the greed 
 
 Of monstrous wealth and power ; e'n then 
 
 Thy mighty task will just begin. 
 
 For thou must bring with mighty hand 
 
 Apples of gold so long 
 Concealed in that dim fairy land 
 
 Of hope and airy song, 
 The visions of the seer and sage, 
 Hesperian dreams of every age, 
 And make this Century to be 
 The cycle of humanity; 
 And place the people on the throne 
 Where manhood rules and rules alone. 
 
 O! Hercules who shall command 
 Thee do this work? Shall Switzerland? 
 
8o TO THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 
 
 vShall bright New Zealand of the West * 
 Eurysthean Island of the blest? 
 Who shall direct this golden time, 
 Surpassing brightest hopes sublime? 
 
 America, thou once didst guide 
 Man's struggling race. Thou wast the pride 
 Of nations, for thou wast not then 
 The prey of mercenary men. 
 
 Awake my native land, before 
 Thy poor become abjectly poor ! 
 'Ere Pluto cast thy people down 
 And wear a tyrant's sword and crown. 
 
 America, 'tis not too late ; 
 
 Thou still hast youth and life ; 
 Thou art not yet degenerate. 
 
 And dead to noble strife. 
 To make all nations ,ereat and free 
 
 Go join the chosen few 
 Who in this mighty century 
 Shall make the world anew. 
 
 * Reference is here made to the Initiative and Referendum in 
 Switzerland and g-overnmeutal control of certain corporations in 
 New Zealand. These movements in the direction of popular gov- 
 ernment, when taken together with other reform^s, place these two 
 peoples in the forefront of modern progress and lead us to believe 
 that the Twentieth Century will see the whole world happily gov- 
 erned by the people for the people. 
 
TWO VOICES — A REVERIE 
 
 8l 
 
 TWO VOICES— A REVERIE 
 
 At that long season of the year 
 
 When leaf and grass are brown and sere, 
 
 And mournful music from the trees 
 
 Falls on the ear in minor keys, 
 
 A rugged voice doth call me forth 
 
 To meet and battle with the north, 
 
 And conquer storm and cold and place 
 
 The flush of vict'ry on my face. 
 
 So when within the hall I meet 
 
 My friends, a victor they will greet. 
 
 II 
 
 'Ere long another voice is heard to say; 
 
 From tyrant Winter haste thee, haste away. 
 Tis vain to battle with a senseless storm. 
 
 For cold means death, and winter is deform. 
 
 Haste to the land where blooming flowers ex- 
 hale 
 
 And genial life is wafted on the gale 
 
 Where every scene wears beauty's perfect 
 dress 
 
 And every passing gale is a caress. 
 
 Go rest thee by the shore of Southern seas 
 
 Where laughing waves respond to humming 
 bees, 
 
82 TWO VOICES — A REVERIE 
 
 There, free from the erosion of unrest, 
 Breathe deep and slow and for a while be 
 blest. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Then comes a voice in swift reply, 
 Declaring that the Southern sky 
 Will lull thee into mean repose 
 Such as the idle dreamer knows : 
 Thy life in ease will ebb away, 
 Ambition fall into decay; 
 The mind bound with a sensuous chain, 
 The meaner powers will rise and reign 
 As when a captain on the deep 
 Indulge in reverie or sleep 
 And then the crew, of baser mind, 
 Will sudden rise and sieze and bind 
 The captain and disgrace the sea 
 With lewd and lawless revelry; 
 Or anchor in some port of ease 
 Mid harpies of the land and seas ; 
 The master bound they mar the shore ; 
 The base grown baser than before. 
 
 IV 
 
 Then willing quite to hear the other side 
 I listened to the voice that soon replied : 
 
TWO VOICES — A REVERIE 83 
 
 If Southern gales should make the calm at 
 
 length, 
 'Tis but the calm of conscious right and 
 
 strength. 
 See from the warm Mediterranean shore, 
 How mighty men have ever gone before; 
 New thoughts, new lands, new worlds to bring 
 
 to light 
 To chase away the gloom of Northern night. 
 And with a calm yet proud and regal tread 
 The long procession of the nations lead. 
 Foundations first were laid in Southern clime 
 For number's Fane, symmetrical, sublime. 
 The Arabs then that temple did adorn 
 When Northern nations were as yet unborn. 
 Who equals Cadmus^ name or even can. 
 Whose art of arts embalmed the words of 
 
 man? 
 'Twas mid Aegean isles that song was first 
 Begun that through the world is now re- 
 hearsed. 
 
 Philosophy, born in the open air, 
 Attained immortal energy: 'twas where 
 The olive flourished and the fig was blue 
 The son of Sophroniscus from Heaven drew 
 Divine philosophy to m.ortal view: 
 And Moses meek, the Midian gentleman, 
 Lawgiver not* alone of race and clan 
 Perpetual, but king of nations he 
 
84 TWO VOICES — ^A REVERIE 
 
 To charm the flimty rock, divide the sea 
 And lead great peoples on as once he led 
 A band of freedmen clamoring for bread : 
 And other seers by time and space remote 
 Who yet that olden book in concert wrote : 
 An He of Galilee, the man divine 
 In whom all royal names in splendor shine, 
 Taught out of doors : by palm or sea his school 
 Where only breezy shades or seas were cool. 
 Art, science, law, were born 'neath sunny 
 
 skies ; 
 Religion, too, and all her mystf'ies. 
 Once westward was the son of Terah sent 
 And Yakyamuni to the Orient, 
 Where Zoroaster truth with error blent, 
 And Ormuszd bright proclaimed and Ahri- 
 
 man, 
 Whence the wise Parsees of the East began : 
 And he of Mecca in the South arose 
 When all the saints in crust divisions froze. 
 And scourged the church back into life ; 'Twas 
 
 he 
 Rebuked contention and idolatry 
 And left a race, a creed, a work behind. 
 The wonder, the enigma of mankind. 
 
 The voices ceased ; I answereci then ; 
 I'll choose both North and South and when 
 
TWO VOICES — A REVERIE 85 
 
 'Tis inconvenient for me 
 To loiter by a Southern sea 
 I'll stay at home mid heat or snow 
 And watch the seasons come and go : 
 Delighted with the circling view; 
 Dissolving scenes forever new; 
 A thousand changes here conveyed 
 Without my cost, without my aid ; 
 For it is not the balmy breeze 
 Nor yet the climes that chill and freeze 
 That make men wise or weak or great, 
 But 'tis the use of your estate. 
 There's health in all the gales that blow, 
 Or soft with balm or keen with snow; 
 Wonders in all lands, seas and skies, 
 Or clad in flowers or glinting ice, 
 And kindred souls can ever find 
 The genial heart, the aspiring mind. 
 
86 HAPPINESS 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 One summer day I had some neighbors mine 
 Come in and chat a social while and dine. 
 To make more pleasant the event 
 My invitations nice were only sent 
 To those unlike, for there's affinity 
 Of opposites — or so it seemed to me — 
 I asked the richest man around ; and, too. 
 The poorest man that was not worth a sou ; 
 The dreamer and the man of public strife, 
 And others from extremes of human life — 
 
 The pauper and the Croesuses indeed 
 Both came at once, as if agreed ; 
 Then dreaming Somniosus talking to 
 Himself and looking in the air to view 
 Some placid palace swinging there; all these 
 Did seem surprisingly at ease 
 And smiled to see themselves, a picture quite 
 Contrasting in his hues, its shade and light. 
 
 II 
 
 Now while for some the fragrant tea was 
 
 poured, 
 And viands plain went nimbly from the board. 
 
HAPPINESS 87 
 
 I ask each one that he in brief express 
 
 His views regarding human happiness. 
 
 And first I asked the poor man to relate 
 
 What he esteemed for man the happiest state. 
 
 And then Paupertas said : 'Tis wealth brings 
 ease 
 
 And elegance and they can always please. 
 
 The poor man owns a strenuous life oppressed, 
 
 The rich man can relax and grow and rest. 
 
 Ten thousand servants on you will attend; 
 
 You'll never stand in need of help or friend ; 
 
 All men that sail the sea or toil on land 
 
 Serve you without your care or your com- 
 mand. 
 
 Men will speak well of you before your face, 
 
 Your dog too fat, your horse too lean they'll 
 praise, 
 
 Your wrongs forgive and say, while they con- 
 done. 
 
 Were I but he, his faults would be my own. 
 
 All knowledge microscopic or sublime, 
 The gold saved from the grinding mill of 
 
 time, 
 The gifts of every age and land and sea 
 And wide earth's ever changing scenery 
 Are yours with ministry of joy immense 
 Should you but wisely use earth's opulence. 
 
 But if this wealth demand a labored quest 
 
88 HAPPINESS 
 
 You are prepaid in wholesome toil and zest 
 
 And I am not alone in giving this 
 
 Advice, for millions dream of fortunes bliss 
 
 And only spurn wealth's power, and joy and 
 pride, 
 
 When to themselves that wealth had been de- 
 nied 
 
 And e'n that church that most commends the 
 poor 
 
 Is opulent with alms, and grasps for more. 
 
 Ill 
 
 He said; and Croesus then replied severe 
 To chide the wrong and make the right way 
 
 clear. 
 With glances sharp at him who just sat down 
 He thus discoursed: If you would wear the 
 
 crown 
 Of happiness, O ! choose you not the weight 
 Of riches or the care of an estate : 
 No wealth to make men praise you to your 
 
 face 
 E'n while they plot your ruin or disgrace. 
 
 The rich assailed by every envious mind 
 Like mountain peaks exposed to every wind 
 Forbidding are and chill as mountain snow 
 While poverty, calm in the vale below, 
 Fervent, communicative and serene, 
 Laughs with his children sporting on the 
 
 green. 
 
HAPPINESS 89 
 
 Expansive as the clouds and mountains blue 
 His garden is the earth, the Heavens, too, 
 The Universe and God complete his store 
 Nor mortal man nor angel could have more 
 And all secure by title deed divine. 
 He can sublimely say, all things are mine. 
 No so the man who hold by human fee, 
 For oft he challenges his warranty. 
 Suspicious that, e'n while he yet may live 
 Capricious men can take what they can give. 
 
 Poor Dives is esteemed a happy man. 
 His riches serve him well as riches can. 
 And yet mistrusting men and fearing blame 
 He fears to let his generous nature blaze 
 xA.nd so he mopes and shuns the public gaze 
 And not with buoyant life he seems to glow 
 But as the dodder frail or mistletoe. 
 That vilely feeds upon another's life 
 And so reproved by poverty's wan strife 
 He buys a yacht and sails the ocean's tide, 
 Dives in the mountains — any where to hide. 
 Estranged from wholesome thought and toil. 
 
 his veins 
 With venom flow, his form is racked with 
 
 pains. 
 With ashen face from clime to clime he flies 
 Til scenes and climates fail, and then he dies, 
 And leaves his bags of gold beside the way 
 To guild some youthful scion's swift decay 
 
90 HAPPINESS 
 
 Or debts of old degenerate dukes to pay. 
 How fitting 'tis that gold to folly left 
 Perchance was won by fraud or lawful theft. 
 
 But should the rich cold and insensate be 
 To cries of need and wrongs of poverty, 
 All plethoric and adipose are they 
 Like the fat goose that is the fox's prey 
 While leaner ones will rise and fly away : 
 Or they, the figure changed, like rankest 
 
 wheat, 
 When tempests rise, fall by their useless 
 
 weight. 
 And still some foe is near the rich to seize 
 Or flattery, vice, fear or rank disease 
 Or titled fools that swarm across the seas ; 
 These crowd the rich man's path or lie in wait 
 And find access through some ungarded gate. 
 
 Such is the doom of those who gold adore, 
 vSuch is the fate of all their heavy store. 
 Beware gold's bright deceit and choose to be 
 The child of toil and decent poverty. 
 
 He said, then Somniosus rose 
 And this the theme and these the words he 
 chose : 
 'Tis neither wealth nor poverty can bring 
 The happiness of which the poets sing 
 And sages called chief good, the good su- 
 preme. 
 
HAPPINESS 91 
 
 And old philosophers oft made their theme; 
 And school men cogitated in their mind, 
 Themselves the blind conductors of the blind. 
 
 VVe need not seek afar the fortune blest, 
 'Tis near at hand and waits to be a guest. 
 They call me idle dreamer yet I know 
 A busy life is chiefest good below. 
 For rich or poor, the foolish or the wise 
 The happiness of all in action lies — 
 The sad is motionless e'n like a stone, 
 The joyous is to action ever prone. 
 See how the moping owls complain and stare 
 While swallows twitter joyous through in air • 
 The gurgling brook makes merry all the scene 
 While idle ponds enrobed in venom green 
 Repel the eye and envious send abroad '■ 
 
 Miasma, persecuting fly, and toad. 
 See how the idle rich mid viands pine 
 While toiling poor on vegetals will dine 
 And in each dish find flavor and delight 
 Unknown to idly pampered appetite. 
 
 O ! blest the rich who wisely seek and find 
 Brown toil — the toil that occupies the mind. 
 1 blest the poor who mid each varying ill 
 Can find some chosen occupation still. 
 The whys and wherefores T need not declare 
 It is enough to state things as they are.. 
 Thus spake the idle dreamer : Next I call 
 An active man, the busiest of all. 
 
92 HAPPINESS 
 
 Said he : 'A life of calm high thought is best, 
 But think you are, and you are happiest. 
 If you would drink of the Emperean spring 
 You first must gain its source on Fancy's 
 
 wing. 
 As active as a swallow, you will find 
 The actor has a swallow's trivial mind. 
 But thought and fancy move serene along, 
 Than time or subtle elements more strong. 
 The Fancy can, by swift volition led. 
 Illume a dungeon, glorify a shed ; 
 Can spurn the ills that rack the m.ind and frame 
 And say that agony is but a name. 
 Exultant smile mid blistering tongues of fire, 
 With rapture, not with burning to expire: 
 
 Can fly the prosy regions now and nigh 
 (If ought is prosy to a poet's eye,) 
 And join Archilles as he views the fall 
 Of Hector dragged around the Trojan wall. 
 With the relenting Greek is pleased again 
 As he to Priam sends the noble slain: 
 
 With Virgil laugh, as from the wave set free 
 Half drowned Menoetes vomits up the sea. 
 Immortal Fancy ! Vast is thy domain, 
 Sensation high is thine without its pain ; 
 Thou can'st enjoy all Croesus owns and more. 
 Nor feel the care of all his heavy store. 
 
HAPPINESS 93 
 
 And what is faith? — the faith that Ufts man- 
 kind; 
 Undying zeal ! 'Tis but a state of mind. 
 Faith, Fancy, contemplation high, these three 
 Are one in power and felicity; 
 So spoke Activus in a serious vein, 
 Contrasting with his life and love of gain. 
 
 Publius Spurius I next did call, 
 
 Who was the only villain of them all; 
 
 A knave most eminent was he, who by 
 
 His fawning friends was now promoted high 
 
 And feasted grand on public spoils each day ; 
 
 Stroking his beard he then began to say : 
 
 The happy life is in a quiet vale 
 Where cares are few and friendships never fail. 
 It makes me glad to think of such a life 
 Where honest toil is free from wrong and 
 
 strife. 
 Since he that in the rural quiet stays 
 Sees not those wrongs that shock the urban 
 
 gaze; 
 Beholds no beasts in bliss, no knaves on high, 
 Nor fashion's giddy whirl to daze the eye; 
 Sees not the poor plod to his toil afar. 
 While rogues loll in a coach or sumptuous car, 
 Or mix spiced gossip with their sparkling wine, 
 While half paid mothers shiver as they dine — 
 Where purseproud coarseness sets a scorching 
 
 pace 
 
94 HAPPINESS 
 
 And decent pride is distanced in the race — 
 "Hold! Hold," I cried, your arguments mean 
 
 this: 
 That in extremes of life resides no bliss — 
 The very poor declare the rich are blest, 
 The very rich think poverty is best. 
 The public man dotes on a private life. 
 While the obscure aspire to public strife. 
 The dreamer dreams of tempest riven seas. 
 While action longs for quiet port of ease; 
 We then concede, while erring man is prone 
 To reach extremes, he scarce can hope to own 
 The boon of earthly bliss, the happy prize 
 That as he fast pursues still faster flies : 
 Till only in his dreams his rapture lies. 
 The guests then did entreat m.e give my view 
 Of the most happy course that men pursue. 
 And this I did but begged them each to use 
 Discretion of his own before he choose. 
 
 II 
 
 Were man a beast 'twere easy quite to say 
 What were the blest, secure and happy way. 
 It were enough to eive men clothes and bread 
 E'n as the stolid ox that's housed and fed. 
 But see ! Man is complex. His various needs 
 Rise high above the beast that sleeps and feeds; 
 E'n as a harp depends on many strings 
 Each in accord, so life on many things 
 
9^-^ 
 
 HAPPINESS 
 
 Depends. Body and mind must be supplied, 
 No part too much, and yet no part denied. 
 Then much upon man's varying mood depends 
 And use of means to gain most happy ends. 
 Today may call for toil, tomorrow rest. 
 This day a feast, the next a fast is best. 
 Sharp action now, and contemplation next, 
 Now peace, now happiness is being vexed. 
 In self-love oft, now love for others had. 
 Now bliss in mirth, now bliss in being sad ; 
 In surging crowds, in solitude with age ; 
 In converse with a parrot or a sage, 
 Now rapture in the halls of art and pride. 
 Now all alone upon a mountain side. 
 In marts of trade to clash like steel gainst steel, 
 Now on a river's bank to wind the reel. 
 It is monotony of thought and view 
 That leads to mis'ry and the mad house, too. 
 Who then amid a thousand paths can say 
 This path and this alone is man's right way? 
 
 O ! powers Divine ! Ye spirits that preside 
 O'er destinies or man, to me confide 
 That word— that one brief word, if such there 
 
 be. 
 That is the sum of man's felicity ! 
 
 Methinks the highest good of man is this ; 
 Obedience, Obedience is bliss. 
 
HAPPINESS 95 
 
 If every source of misery we trace 
 Or pain, vice, poverty, disease, disgrace. 
 Some one has broken law or great or small 
 And on some head the penalty must fall. 
 Should happiness abound through wide extent 
 Some one some where has been obedient. 
 
 The laws of God and Nature sacred be 
 In origin, rewards and penalty. 
 The Delphic seer that for Appollo spoke. 
 Or the oracular Dodona Oak, 
 Or holy hue of Urim's varied flash. 
 Or law proclaimed on high mid thunder's crash 
 More sacred or more potent cannot be 
 Than common laws of health and decency. 
 And should these common laws be disobeyed 
 And men should be in fllth and vice arrayed 
 Mark how disease and wide distress prevail 
 And men to Heaven cry without avail — 
 Yes. cry in vain so long as disobendient 
 Though in cathedral vast the knee is bent. 
 
 Go mark the law of love. God ne'er designed 
 Him to beblest who will forget mankind. 
 For though he rule some Caprae's sensuous 
 
 isle 
 He like Tiberius grows sad as vile, 
 It is God's law writ everywhere that all 
 Shall suffer when the weakest err or fall ; 
 That liberty a partial boon shall be 
 Till all the nations of the earth are free; 
 And none shall be secure in health and ease 
 
HA'PPINESS 97 
 
 While one is wronged by tyrant or disease, 
 And plagues from alley up to avenue 
 Will steal, and over realms and oceans too. 
 Then from the mansion's gate mid gorgeous 
 
 gloom 
 The hearse proceeds with dark and nodding 
 
 plume. 
 And crepe full oft the palace door displays 
 And sumptuous cerements cloud the fairest 
 
 face; 
 Such are the sympathetic links that bind 
 The universal brotherhood — mankind. 
 
 Again, there is the law of labor and of rest ; 
 'Twas ne'er designed that idler should be blest, 
 Nor, that the toiler toil severe and long 
 Unvisited by rest and mirth and song. 
 
 That men be taught, and fed and clothed and 
 housed 
 Is not enough : Mankind must be amused ; 
 For tedium is bane for rich and poor ; 
 Men crave the jolly maze or Terpsichore 
 Or histrionic art in mimic fray, 
 The hippodrome, bull fight or Passion Play, 
 Street fairs, erotic tales, romantic grief, 
 Severe field sports, ten thousand things in brief. 
 That man from gnawing self may find relief : 
 For they are few who can philosophize 
 And with high thought dark phantoms exor- 
 cise. 
 
98 HAPPINESS 
 
 But as ascent is made in knowledge true 
 Sports, recreation, aims, are loftier too. 
 
 Thin savage and the gross blase (dull cad) 
 In cock pit or prize ring alike are glad. 
 Fat Nero and his slaves their plaudits blend 
 Where beasts and martyrs horribly contend, 
 While sports humane and blithesome oft en- 
 gage 
 Stout yeoman, manly saint or pallid sage. 
 
 Mark, then, how men obey some rule of life, 
 In civil walks or on the field of strife. 
 Some soar, some drag along the heavy plain 
 Or moved by right, or lust or hope of gain. 
 
 The Spaniard will obey his code and fight 
 Yet little seems to care if wrong or right. 
 His moral purpose being vague, e'n so 
 His aim is bad against his truth-armed foe. 
 His purpose, his amusements base, he'll own 
 His hero is a jockey or a clown, 
 Or he that goads the placid bull to rage, 
 ( Fit sport for Spain or a barbaric age. ) 
 In peace a helpless man with childish mind. 
 In war obed'ent, purposeless and blind ; • 
 On sea his vanquished ships are wreck and rust, 
 On land his sordid legions bite the dust, 
 And as his realm parts from his feeble hands 
 Earth laughs at his intrigue and weak de- 
 mands. 
 Thus men transform as they obedient be 
 To appetite or truth or liberty ; 
 
HAPPINESS 99 
 
 The loftier the code that they obey 
 The higher, nobler, stronger, happier they. 
 Men's happiness takes form, we must conclude 
 Just as their natures are refined or rude; 
 And so their pleasures from obedience spring, 
 Some with hyenas laugh and some with ser- 
 aphs sing. 
 
 L.of 
 
100 LINES TO SOUTHERN FRIENDS 
 
 LINES TO SOUTHERN FRIENDS 
 
 I've wandered far in sunny Southland 
 Where gleam the cotton and the cane, 
 
 Where mountains in their lordly grandeur 
 Look down upon the hill and plain, 
 
 Thence onward where the clear Wekiva 
 
 Goes ever warbling to the sea, 
 And by the bright shell tinted margin 
 
 Of Tampa and the Manatee. 
 
 And everywhere in all this region, 
 
 In cabin or in palace grand, 
 Or rudest cottage by the forest 
 
 I've ever grasped a welcome hand. 
 
 I've found the men were brave, the women 
 Both gentle, true, and bright and fair, 
 
 And if I met barbarian coarseness 
 I will not tell you when or where. 
 
 I will not name the coward villain 
 Who strove to rob me in the night ; 
 
 I will not name the boorish rustic 
 
 Who sanctioned base and brutal might. 
 
LINES TO SOUTHERN FRIENDS lOI 
 
 I let two foul names rot in silence 
 Where they with miscreants belong : 
 
 I'd sing the proud and worthy southron, 
 Fit theme for plastic art and song. 
 
 Mid violets and blooming roses 
 That everywhere my senses greet 
 
 I will not name the noxious fennel 
 That only once I chanced to meet. 
 
 To write a southern roll of honor 
 
 'T would fill a book eacH one to name, 
 
 But valor does not ask for mention, 
 Nor virtue plead for place and fame. 
 
 Then hail! thou glorious Southland, 
 Resurgent from war's wreck and strife ; 
 
 I glory in thy greater glory 
 
 And in thy new and mighty life. 
 
I02 TO MAE 
 
 TO MAE 
 
 When last, My Friend, I saw your face 
 
 Upon your features I could trace 
 
 Perplexity and pain. I could 
 
 Not understand why one so good 
 
 Should be disquieted: Then I 
 
 Did wish myself an angel sly 
 
 That I might warble in your ear 
 
 A soothing song of hope and cheer 
 
 That like a panacea blest 
 
 Would give you sure relief and rest — 
 
 I wished myself a bird that I 
 Could near your open window fly 
 And sit and sing low and sweet and gay 
 And charm each thought of gloom away. 
 
 O ! were I skilled in alchemy 
 rd dive down deep into the sea^ 
 Or dig the old hard mountains through 
 To find a remedy for you. 
 A thousand tomes I'd search to find 
 One thoughtful gem to cheer your mind : 
 I'd chase for you the sunbeams rare 
 And steal elixer from the air 
 And add the essence of a star. 
 These elements I would distil 
 And a nice vial I would fill 
 
TO MAE 103 
 
 To be for you a fitting cure, 
 A pleasant remedy and sure. 
 
 But says Hippocrates, the wise : 
 There is befitting exercise 
 To cure each ill that mortals bear 
 And smooth the knitted brow of care. 
 
 Ah ! then what labor could you find 
 Just suited to your frame and mind ? 
 With you each varied toil I'd test 
 Until we found the one that's best. 
 We'd walk the fields or ocean's shore. 
 Or trim the sail or ply the oar. 
 Or toss or strike the bounding ball, 
 Or loiter where the shadows fall, 
 Or speed on wheels with airy spring 
 vSwift as a bird on noiseless wing; 
 High Alpine realms we would explore ; 
 View Rome's most ancient treasures o'er ; 
 All toil for hand or mind or eye 
 In new and ancient worlds we'd try, 
 Till kindly Heaven at last reveals 
 The exercise that surely heals. 
 
 But if repose for you is best, 
 Then go ,My Friend, and calmly rest : 
 Go steal away and lightly doze 
 Within the dreamland of repose 
 While ministering angels place 
 The wreath of health upon your face. 
 
104 
 
 MY MOTHER'S HAND 
 
 No other fingers could impart 
 
 An unction like her own ; 
 Such anodyne for head or heart 
 
 Elsewhere was quite unknown. 
 
 Right in the apostolic line 
 
 Methinks my mother stood, 
 If human touch can be divine 
 
 Or mortals can be good. 
 
 And I was not alone for there 
 
 Were others not a few 
 Who equally with me did share 
 
 Her benediction too. 
 
 Though small my mother's shapely hand 
 'Twas strong with loving will ; 
 
 Superior to rules and usage grand 
 Was her maternal skill. 
 
 The weight of four score years could not 
 
 Impair affection's art, 
 And in life's evening hour she wrought 
 
 Nice tokens of her heart. 
 
MY MOTHER'S HAND 105 
 
 Her handiwork, since she is gone, 
 
 I reverent behold ; 
 A masterpiece is every one 
 
 Above the price of gold. 
 
 Still larger toils were hers than these. 
 
 And all performed full well ; 
 What lives she built, what destinies 
 
 Eternity will tell. 
 
I06 A HYMN 
 
 A HYMN 
 
 I do not ask that I shall bear 
 
 No trials on my road, 
 I only ask my God to share 
 
 The burden of my load ; 
 Then shall I find a joy in pain, 
 Each cross a crown, each loss a gain. 
 
 I do not ask on earth to live 
 
 'Neath suns of cloudless ray; 
 I only ask that God shall give 
 
 A light to guide my way ; 
 And then shall clouds be white as snow 
 And death's dark vale with brightness glow. 
 
 I'd only know of doctrines deep 
 
 Save as Thy will I do : 
 The riches thou for me dost keep 
 
 I ask not now to know ; 
 I'd learn, enjoy, obey, adore, 
 Nor man nor angel could do more. 
 
NON IGNARA MALI MISERIS SUCCURRERE IO7 
 DISCO — ^VIRGIL 
 
 NON IGNARA MALI MISERIS SUC- 
 CURRERE DISCO— VIRGIL 
 
 Mantua's gentle sage, 
 I thank you for this line 
 To brighten all this page : 
 And if a word of mine 
 Will seem not here profane, 
 I'll add: When'er I aid 
 The poor and the distressed ; 
 Bring hope to the dismayed, 
 Set free the ones oppressed ; 
 For every joy I give, 
 A greater I receive. 
 
I08 MY UFE 
 
 MY LIFE 
 
 My life has been about 
 As I have made it ; 
 
 Or good or bad or glad or sad 
 I know no other life 
 For which I'd trade it. 
 
 The world's old common cup 
 
 Of pain and pleasure 
 I take and drain, nor onoecomplain 
 
 Of quality or time 
 
 Or place or measure. 
 
 Full many hours I've spent 
 The crowd reviewing; 
 
 The balcony the place for me 
 
 To watch the crowd pass by, 
 Their fads pursuing. 
 
 Or with a book in hand 
 
 I watch the ages 
 Proceed along, a vivid throng 
 
 Of patriots, heroes, lords, 
 
 Plain men and sages. 
 
 And yet who are the dead ? 
 And who the living? 
 
MY UFE 109 
 
 Some lives are found in books well bound ; 
 The dead unburied prowl, 
 To self all giving. 
 
 Some live in noble deeds 
 
 That perish never; 
 And some prolong their lives in song ; 
 
 With living men I'd choose 
 
 To live forever. 
 
no TO JULIA 
 
 TO JULIA 
 
 I knew a message sure had tome 
 Some hundred miles away : 
 How could I tell 
 My Southern Belle 
 
 Would speak to me that day? 
 
 Through open window, porch and door, 
 Where oft I write and muse 
 A voice was heard 
 Like some sweet bird 
 
 That sang to me the news. 
 
 Beyond cold Reason's cumbrous realm, 
 What wonders round us be, 
 That Fancy's ear 
 Alone can hear 
 
 And Fancy's eye can see ! 
 
MEN LIKE STARS III 
 
 MEN LIKE STARS 
 
 Oft have I watched a planet wander far 
 And silent on through Heaven, knight errant 
 star; 
 
 Once I observed twelve years a globe of fire 
 Speeding the zodiacal course entire ; 
 
 'Twas Jupiter, that orb of flaming gold 
 That all who see with wonder still behold. 
 
 And then long time I saw another one 
 Complete his orbit round the central sun ; 
 
 'Twas he that journeys on mid glowing rings 
 Of flame, fit escort for celestial kings. 
 
 E'n so some men we note as on they move 
 Triumphant, brilliant like the course of Jove, 
 
 And others less intense and yet as true, 
 Like Saturn slowly move their orbit through 
 
 Yet still mid satellites and rings of friends 
 They journey ever 'till their journey ends. 
 
 For not all rings and satellites are wrong 
 Upon the earth, as heavenly orbs among; 
 
 And if my heart rejoiced that there should be 
 Such steadfastness and god-like certainty 
 
 Among the comic orbs so faint and far. 
 In whirling planet or in moveless star. 
 
 Not less the ecstacy of joy I knew 
 That men could be as lofty and as true ; 
 
 Like planets bright to lure the gaze of all, 
 Or local stars unnamed and twinkling small. 
 
112 GREATNESS 
 
 GREATNESS 
 
 There's many would esteem it great to be 
 Oft in the pubic gaze. To them 'tis fame 
 To stand upon some trifling eminence 
 Where eyes innumerable vaguely see : 
 As if some snarly oak seen on a hill 
 Should boast himself the greatest of the trees ; 
 Or clumsy marble bust within a hall 
 Grow vain where many pass and each bestows 
 A glance or crude remark while those who most 
 Impulsive are implant a kiss, or place 
 A crown upon the unresponsive brow, 
 The verdict of the injudicious throng. 
 
 It is enough for these to see a name 
 Enrolled as Honorable, this or that, 
 Or Senator or Judge or Duke or Count 
 Or millionaire, while all unmindful of 
 What coarseness, what rank rags, what leprosy 
 Oft hide beneath a tinsel title, both 
 In halls of state and in the social world. 
 
 But greatness is far more than name or fame, 
 The great is he who does some worthy deed. 
 Or speaks some helpful word in cheerful tone, 
 — A cordial to those in agony 
 Of woe, a cup for those athirst, or 'tis 
 The throwing of a cable o'er the sea, 
 Or girdling the arduous globe with steel 
 
GREATNESS II3 
 
 For the commodious car with lightning speed 
 To pass o'er mountains, plains and continents. 
 
 'Tis great to backward hurl your country's 
 foes, 
 Or if that foe be armed men or vice 
 And ignorance unarmed, the deadliest foes 
 Of all because the tools of villainy. 
 'Tis great to train the youthful mob for times 
 Severe. Or in the ministries of home 
 Forge, school and fireside all unsung, unknown 
 Where is no boom of cannon or the cheer 
 Of comradeship, or promise of reward. 
 
 The world remembers benefactors, though 
 
 Not all alike. For some are monuments 
 
 After a life amid tremendous cheers, 
 
 For some are curses, execrations deep ; ^ 
 
 For some a silent, reverent regard. 
 
 As for that old Athenian god unknown. 
 
 O ever did you wake at midnight on 
 The storm struck deep, when shrouds and rig- 
 ging sang 
 The song of death, and the deep trough between 
 The seas might instant be your grave, have you 
 Then thought of him who at the helm stood 
 
 brave 
 And calm mid hurricanes of death, and in 
 The morning you have hasted forth to take 
 
114 GREATNESS 
 
 The valiant seaman by the hand, when lo ! 
 Another held the wheel who calmly said : 
 The midnight pilot sleeps and takes his rest. 
 Such is the world. When mortals wake to cheer 
 Their benefactors, they are gone — perchance 
 To take an endless rest — Hail ! hail ! you man 
 Down deep within the hold of that swift bark, 
 Pride of the sea ; within your hot sphere you 
 Are great ; and you the midnight pilot true 
 Are great. And you, my worthy friends, who 
 
 in 
 The garden of the mind teach children how 
 To rule the world. You now are guiding great 
 Affairs. A million men there are in this 
 Broad land who could direct affairs of state. 
 And do direct such high concerns each day. 
 'Tis easier to rule a state than rule 
 A mob of boys and girls. 'Tis easier 
 To rule trained armies than to train them squad 
 By squad intractable of foot and eye. 
 
 Hail ! hail ! ye myraids who ready are 
 To do the noble deed ; for ye today 
 Without the stimulus of praise or gold 
 Are faithful in your calm but mighty sphere. 
 
 A Hobson wins applause and kisses too 
 For his bold deed, grand though imperfect still, 
 Yet be it known there were four thousand men 
 Who said : Send rne and my good comrades 
 
 here ; 
 We'll sink the Merrimac and bottle up 
 
GREATNESS 115 
 
 The Spaniard if you choose though shell fall 
 
 round 
 From Morro hurled as thick as summer rain. 
 
 Who then shall say that one alone was brave ? 
 And yet the crowd with wide expanded mouth 
 Pours inarticulate hussas for one 
 Alone ; and the pleibean lips come near 
 With noxious kiss and breath malodorous. 
 See then what dangers those four thousand 
 
 men 
 Escaped ! How blessed are the great unknown ! 
 And some will ask: Who was the greatest 
 
 man 
 Of that great century that has just gone? 
 Both vague and arduous the question is, 
 For there is none but God can tell who most 
 Upbuilt the age with masonry of thought 
 Or life. For mark you how some forces work 
 Below the surface like the coral mite 
 That silently upbuilds fair continents. 
 Go mark you how that great occasions rise 
 And lift to eminence small men just as 
 Upheaving mountains lift the hazel high 
 Above the mighty oak or towering pine, 
 
 Mark how a poet sings to fame the charge 
 Of a brigade, a noble charge, 'tis true, 
 And yet, alas ! by force and not by choice 
 They died in a Crimean strife as vain 
 And useless as the bickering brawls of fools, 
 For Balaklava did involve no high 
 
Il6 GREATNESS 
 
 And mighty principle of human weal — 
 
 No more do mortals know who are the great 
 Than know the working of the hand of God ; 
 The process that evolves eternal stars 
 To jewel fair the mystic brow of Heaven, 
 Or other orbs to roam in blackest night, 
 Eternally to see and yet unseen, 
 Dark worlds that hold bright hosts in even 
 
 scale. 
 The balance of power in God's empire vast. 
 And still do mortal men amuse their minds 
 Comparing star with star, as idly as 
 The children playing in the twilight hour 
 And greeting loud the foremost orbs of night. 
 
 So let it be ; 'Twill harmlessly amuse 
 Grown men and blinking age and childhood 
 too. 
 
TO MISS E — A, A SOUTHERN BELLE II7 
 
 TO MISS E— A, A SOUTHERN BELLE 
 
 With the great jolly world you've been 
 
 And also with the wits; 
 Their impress on your face is seen 
 
 For on your brow there sits 
 Intelligence as well as grace 
 
 To add full glory to your face. 
 But whence those native charms I see ? 
 My fancy dares the mystery; 
 'Tis this; you grow serene and gay 
 
 Like realms of flowers fair; 
 Mid avenues of blooming spray 
 
 You steal the sunshine there; 
 Then smilingly you oft behold 
 
 Pinks and carnations too. 
 And as a thief steals sums of gold 
 
 You steal each rosy hue. 
 This nice possession you dispose 
 Upon your cheeks of blushing rose, 
 Your fetching way doth place I know 
 The lily's whiteness on your brow. 
 
 Whence come you by those flashing eyes 
 
 Of mystery and light? 
 Ah yes ! you've watched the starry skies 
 
 And caught the flash of night. 
 
Il8 TO MISS E — A, A SOUTHERN BELLE 
 
 I know you oft have seen the long 
 
 Gray mosses and have walked among 
 
 Them as they curve to every breeze 
 
 In grace dependent from the trees ; 
 
 And there youVe caught that conq'ring sway 
 
 That bends, yet clings to lofty stay. 
 
 Unconscious imitatior?s stealth 
 
 Has brought you much of beauty's wealth, 
 
 And yet you consciously much more 
 
 Have added to vour wondrous store. 
 
THE REFORMER Il9 
 
 THE REFORMER 
 
 The world needs the Reformer, though 
 
 His enemies should hurl 
 At him the bat, or bind him to 
 
 The stake, where with the whirl 
 Of smoke and flame his spirit fljss 
 
 Abroad and lives and multiplies. 
 
 Full well the smooth hard tyrant knows 
 The rude reformer by his clothes, 
 Or voice pitched in a lofty key. 
 His trousers bagging at the knee. 
 His glistening coat of ancient date 
 Befitting nothing but his gait ; 
 His bristling hair to breezes spread 
 E'n like the thoughts within his head. 
 
 But should the bold reformer be 
 In linen white and purple fine. 
 
 His face a joy for all to see, 
 And know the worth of mine and thine. 
 His voice persuasive, sweet and low, 
 The tyrant still would hate him, though. 
 And picture him in crimson hue 
 Of hatred, fear and ridicule. 
 The hue that fires the common fool 
 
lao THE REFORMER 
 
 To persecutions gloomy war, 
 A hatred urged by men afar, 
 Who while they seemingly deplore 
 The strife — urge on to it the more. 
 
 The mitre and the gown. 
 
 The ermine and the crown 
 
 Will hail reform's auspicious day 
 
 When others have first smoothed the way. 
 
 The fearless prophet first must cry, 
 The valiant knight must strike or die, 
 The statesm?ui then with master mind 
 All into form must shape and bind; 
 When this achievement tyrants see 
 They smile and bend the supple knee. 
 
 Maizzini in the wilderness 
 Doth voice sad Italy's distress; 
 Fierce Garibaldi leads the van 
 Of mad Palermo's waiting clan, 
 A nation from her prison flies, 
 Fair Freedom lives, oppression dies, 
 While sage Cavour shapes all things then. 
 And crowned heads bow and say, Amen ! 
 
 But why proclaim a dread alarm 
 'Gainst seeming light and trivial harm, 
 Or hurl 'gainst mountain peaks of wrong 
 A fusilade of words and song? 
 
THE REFORMER 121 
 
 We know that mountains have been moved 
 And rivers been turned from their course 
 
 And oft the hght has heavy proved; 
 
 The trivial a mighty force, 
 And brave men will the past, exceed 
 However mighty was the deed — 
 And grander battles yet be won 
 Than Waterloo or Marathon. 
 
 All this can the Reformer see 
 
 By faith that grasps things yet to be. 
 
 But more than this, he also sees 
 
 Man's baser possibilities; 
 
 How men pursuing things that please, 
 
 Lust, opulence or fame or ease 
 
 Grow blind to wrongs and dangers near. 
 
 Alive to fortune dead to fear ; 
 
 As if through some wide jungle deep, 
 
 Where Cobras coil and vipers creep 
 
 One should pursue with ardent eye 
 
 A tiger or a butterfly 
 
 xA.nd so intent the quest should be 
 
 That naught of danger can he see, 
 
 So lest the Cobra slay him there. 
 
 There's need of one to cry, beware. 
 
 There's need of the Reformer in 
 The State. If there be greater sin 
 'ihan doing wrong, 'tis suff'ring wrong 
 Without a protest or a blow : 
 
122 THE REFORMER 
 
 A yielding to abuses long 
 
 And cringing to a tyrant low. 
 Sometimes the tyrant is a thing 
 In human form, a would-be king 
 Whom slaves permit awhile to reign 
 Until they rouse and with a chain 
 Bind fast his wrists and he is scourged 
 With rankling links himself had forged. 
 
 Or if that tyrant be 
 A cruel custom long- endured, 
 
 Where men are taught to see 
 No wrong in things not to be cured. 
 There's need that one arise, defy 
 And overthrow the wrong or die, 
 And with brave blood infect the air 
 To breed rebellion 'gainst despair. 
 
 There's mighty need the church within 
 That some rebuke abuse and sin 
 
 And designate the foe 
 That like malaria and moles 
 
 Moves brazen, dark or low 
 To hurt or ruin simple souls. 
 
 There's need that one no longer ring 
 
 The name of class or clan 
 But like the prophet to the king 
 
 Shall say, thou art the man. 
 There's need upon that glittering realm 
 
THE REFORMER 123 
 
 That's called society, 
 Where cowards often hold the helm 
 
 Upon a dangerous sea, 
 And fearing lest the waves should whelm 
 
 They run into a shallow bay 
 A useless thing to be. 
 All dead and rotting to decay ; 
 There's need of one to bravely steer 
 To wide, wide seas from breakers clear 
 To prosperous ports grandly to speed, 
 Enriching all and all to lead. 
 There is no class, nor age, nor race. 
 No favored nation, clime or place. 
 Nor fertile land unctuous and low. 
 Nor cold and thin breeze swept plateau 
 That does not need the warning cry: 
 Arouse, beware, resist or die. 
 
124 '^HE SPECTRAL GUARD 
 
 THE SPECTRAL GUARD 
 
 I heard of raki sh argosies 
 That robbed the Spanish main, 
 
 Then sank in war or hurricane 
 Never to rise again. 
 
 I heard of these until I dreamed 
 
 Of countless bags of gold 
 That useless lie down in the deep, 
 
 In many a vessel's hold. 
 
 What mighty things would I achieve 
 Should I these treasures raise; 
 
 What institutions would I build 
 To speak for aye my praise! 
 
 I dreamed I had a magic boat 
 
 To pierce the hidden wave, 
 And standing at the helm there was 
 
 A pilot wise and brave. 
 
 Away we launch, and soon we saw, 
 
 'Mid southern oceans fair, 
 Sweet mermaids with their combs of pearl 
 
 Smile as they combed their hair. 
 
THE SPECTRAL GUARD 1 25 
 
 And silently they beckoned us 
 
 Our journey to refrain, 
 But smiles and wiles and dangers dark 
 
 Alike on use were vain. 
 
 Still on and on we plunge far down 
 
 Where night and silence be; 
 Our lamps betrayed the dead that hide 
 
 In trenches of the sea. 
 
 No living forms we saw, for all 
 
 Was cold ; the very waves 
 All motionless and black as night 
 
 Were resting in their graes. 
 
 Huge monsters and primeval men 
 
 Their ancient forms display, 
 For countless years they are untouched 
 
 By process of decay. 
 
 In stout Phonecian armor some. 
 
 And others clad in fur. 
 In the rude boats in which they sank 
 
 Their aitless weapons were. 
 
 We saw the ancient galleons, 
 
 Of structure strange, antique. 
 Four decked and bulwarked like a fort 
 
 And castled at the beak. 
 
126 THE SPECTRAL GUARD 
 
 Within were men in armor clad, 
 
 Their clammy fingers hold 
 Old guns, machetes, rusty swords, 
 
 And some clutch bags of gold. 
 
 When forth my hand I thrust to take 
 
 These treasures of the dead, 
 A spectral form stood up in arms. 
 
 Let these alone, he said. 
 
 This wealth of ocean's darksome vault 
 
 Has done enough of wrong ; 
 Now let it plate the dreamer's dream 
 
 Or gild his airy song. 
 
 Leave gold, leave arms, and dead men too ; 
 
 They're harmless here with me ; 
 The world has now enough of each. 
 
 Nor needs to rob the sea. 
 
 I was a pirate once, and now 
 
 I'm doomed forever more 
 Mid rayless channels of the deep 
 
 To guard this sunken store. 
 
 Farewell! no more ye need to know; 
 
 Ye further seek in vain. 
 Nor dream nor magic art shall drag 
 
 These treasures from the main. 
 
THE SPECTRAL GUARD 12/ 
 
 Adieu! accursed soul, I cried, 
 
 Your task befits your d oom ; 
 Then swift our course we steer away 
 
 From gold's accursed tomb. 
 
 I cannot now believe, as some 
 
 Philosophers declare, 
 That things dissolve in ocean's wave 
 
 As snow in summer air. 
 
 I cannot now believe that all 
 
 Was fancy's idle scheme, 
 Nor that the Specter's words were false, 
 
 Deceiving as a dream. 
 
128 THE DERELICT 
 
 THE DERELICT 
 
 They christened her a dulcet name 
 
 With fragrant wine, 
 And launched her with a glad acclaim 
 
 Upon the brine; 
 A handsome craft, sea worthy too, 
 Swift winged, from sea to sea she flew, 
 The pride of all her jolly crew. 
 
 In that impassioned, tropic clime 
 
 Where storms arise, 
 Brewed in one awful moment's time 
 
 From cloudless skies 
 Her crew all went to sleep, and lo ! 
 The storm shook them awake, and now 
 Their unmanned ship drifts to and fro ; 
 
 The sport of every tide and gale, 
 
 Dark and alone. 
 The dread of all who seaward sail 
 
 The pride of none ; 
 I pause ; O, would you care to be, 
 A drifting, dreadful entity? 
 A derelict upon life's sea ? 
 
god's works and man's compared 129 
 
 GOD^S WORKS AND MAN'S COMPARED 
 I 
 
 *YoM capitol that lifts on high 
 Its dome to mingle with the sky ; 
 A work that fills the raptured gaze 
 With tears; the tears that homage pays 
 To genius : yet what is all compared 
 To Heaven's dome that God hath reared ; 
 By day lit with the sun, by night 
 Aflame with glorious stars of light ? 
 
 II 
 
 t Yon marble shaft that lonely stands, 
 The loftiest work of human hands, 
 His fair name to commemorate 
 Whose life was great to make men great, 
 A name like that shaft high and white, 
 And yet how mean this shaft in height 
 With peaks and cliffs that mock all time 
 And storm, God's masonry sublime ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 t Afar behold those roofethat shine 
 Above thought's Pantheon, arts' shrine. 
 
130 god's works and man's cx>mpared 
 
 To lure the mind and fix the gaze, 
 The masterpiece of modern days, 
 And yet how plain compared with all 
 This frame the universe we call, 
 Where this bright world is but a mote 
 Of dust in God's own house afloat. 
 
 IV 
 
 Yet all these works do praise the man 
 Who builds aloft the best he can ; 
 Dome, shaft and fane of lore and art 
 Applaud man's mind and hand and heart 
 Aspiring high above the clod 
 And building as a son of God, 
 And Heaven on achievement smiled, 
 The Father owns the worthy child. 
 
 * National Capitol. f Washington Monument. 
 
 X National Library. 
 
MY MUSE 131 
 
 MY MUSE 
 
 The world of wealth and honor came 
 
 To lure me from my muse, 
 And talked of pride and place and fame 
 
 With arguments profuse, 
 But to the world I made reply : 
 
 Let others take these toys 
 Whose hearts desire them more than I. 
 
 The church did offer vestments fair 
 
 And jeweled sickle bright 
 That I might reap a har\xst rare 
 
 When fields were waving white ; 
 But I replied — There's hundreds would 
 
 Delighted reap these fields 
 And I am willing that they should. 
 
 Nor wealth, nor ease nor halls of pride 
 Shall lure me from my muse ; 
 
 Far from this mortal strife Til bide 
 Retirement to choose, 
 
 E'n like that bird that only sings 
 Mid leafy boughs unseen 
 
 I'll strike my harps concordant strings. 
 
132 MY MUSE 
 
 Nor would I here escape all care; 
 
 I'd help mankind the more, 
 
 I would with greater skill prepare 
 
 For men a better store ; 
 Nor hope to find reward a present bliss, 
 
 For I must patient wait 
 For other times and scenes than this. 
 
THE COLLIER AND THE SAILOR. 1 33 
 
 THE COLLIER AND THE SAILOR. 
 
 See Stoops, the toiler under ground 
 Where smoke and dangers dense abound; 
 His lamp's small ray about him cast 
 Gives light enough to dig and blast ; 
 Within his workshop small and grim 
 The day and night are one to him, 
 Mid summer heat or winter's snows 
 One even clime his dark realm knows. 
 
 Yet Stoops, is quite content, nor would 
 Exchange his work shop if he could. 
 With co^i black face he walks the streets 
 Gay as the ogling crowd he meets, 
 For he by honest toil is made 
 A comrade in a useful trade. 
 
 Full many homes he lights and warms 
 And nerves with fire the nation's arms 
 He, freeing earth's long pent up fires, 
 The arteries of trade inspires. 
 The chemic ray with fervent glow 
 That shown a million years ago 
 Thrown from the youthful, ardent sun 
 Is crystalized in carbon dun 
 And now by Stoop's brave skill set free 
 
134 'THE COI<LIER AND THE SAILOR 
 
 Flames forth in blessed ministry, 
 Obscure his lamp deep in the mine 
 But far away its light doth shine. 
 
 But how unlike in every part 
 The sailor's realm, the sailors art ; 
 A lamp is not enough for him 
 But sun and moon and stars of glim; 
 No air conveyed by fan and shaft 
 But gales of every clime are quaffed; 
 And bright and active is his realm 
 As is the sea foam round his helm. 
 
 Free as a bird that sails the skies 
 
 From clime to clime the sailor flies, 
 
 He feels the iceberg's chilly breeze 
 
 Then spreads white wings for sunny seas; 
 
 Yet is Jack Tar a better man 
 
 Than Stoops with pick and powder can ? 
 
 Is Jack a finer man in port? 
 
 Is he more glad in toil or sport ? 
 
 Alas ! poor Jack inferior is 
 To many fortunes that are his, 
 While he that toils within the mine 
 Where light and hope but feebly shine, 
 By force of will or good intent 
 Improves his dark environment ; 
 Not fortunes sun can make a man 
 Nor darkness hide a noble plan. 
 
MANII.A AND SANTIAGO I35 
 
 MANILA AND SANTIAGO 
 
 If in these days the bard aspire 
 
 To sing the dread leviathan of war 
 
 With hide of steel and breath of fire 
 
 And enginry to hurl afar 
 
 The thunderbolt and earthquake dire 
 
 To whelm a nation in an hour 
 
 And sweep from seas near and remote 
 
 The curse of old Castilian power, 
 
 Well might the bard attune his note 
 
 To deeds sublime where valor led 
 
 To vic'try on Manila bay, 
 
 Or where brave Sampson's chosen men 
 
 By Santiago's lofty shore 
 
 Repeat Manila's marvelous day ; 
 
 But pause — There is no mortal pen 
 
 Could tell a tale so like the lore 
 
 Of wars celestial, fierce and fell 
 
 When angered Heaven cast out hell. 
 
 As if the rage of men who saw 
 Down trampled right and outraged law; 
 Rien zi's soul that seeming failed 
 And that of Lopez, Placido, 
 Toussaint, the brothers Maceo ; 
 
136 MANILA AND SANTIAGO 
 
 Those who in the Virginius sailed 
 
 And hosts with graves and names scarce known 
 
 From Yara's grimal martyr down; 
 
 These all had fiercely blent in one 
 
 As atoms kindred atoms own 
 
 And made a cloud that first was small 
 
 Then whirling formed a mad cyclone 
 
 That on Montejo's fleet did fall 
 
 To instant rend and wreck and blast 
 
 And make the nations stand aghast ; 
 
 — Then suddenly the storm in air 
 
 Did lift and to the eastward sped 
 
 Some thousand leagues and fell just where 
 
 'Twas fit that retribution red 
 
 Avenge the sons of liberty 
 
 Who on this self-same shore had bled 
 
 By Santiago's tropic sea "^ 
 
 Where furious vengeance pours the rain 
 
 Of thund'ring iron o'er the main ; 
 
 Cervera's fleet in ruin lies 
 
 A nation lives, oppression dies. 
 
 *Cervera's fleet was destroyed in sight of the 
 spot where had been murdered the patriotic 
 crew of the Virginius. 
 
GRUMBLERS I37 
 
 GRUMBLERS 
 
 I once did dream that grumblers all 
 Were banished to a storm swept isle, 
 
 Where they could hear the constant call 
 Of birds complaining all the while 
 
 And winds and waves that roar 
 
 And shriek and wail forever more. 
 
 There were no heroes there to blame, 
 No virtues there to move a sneer. 
 
 No good to call some other name, 
 No beauty chaste on which to leer, 
 
 No music to disdain, 
 
 No joyousness to give them pain. 
 
 And they did ever meet and pass 
 And scowl upon no genial face 
 
 But saw themselves as in a glass, 
 And felt such loathing of their race 
 
 They vainly sought to fly 
 
 And for relief they chose to die. 
 
 In hearing of the ceaseless surge 
 They stay in their unquiet graves ; 
 
 The birds complain their fitting dirge 
 Responsive to the winds and waves ; 
 
 'Tis just — So let them pass, 
 
 I woke. It was a dream, alas! 
 
138 GLOBE TROTTERS 
 
 GLOBE TROTTERS 
 
 They wander round and round the world 
 
 In vain pursuit, 
 Nor gather hke the bee the nectar of 
 
 True wisdom's fruit. 
 
 Slabtown, a wood, a desert bare 
 
 Are wise men's schools. 
 But all the realm's from Ind to Albion 
 
 Are blank to fools — 
 
 For what is art or landscape wide, 
 
 Or thoughts in ink 
 To eyes that roll too swift to see and minds 
 Too slow to think. 
 
 Oh wretched clan that ever flies 
 
 In rasping pace. 
 To sadden all save common carriers 
 
 And Boniface. 
 
 If you these well dressed vagabonds 
 
 Should chance to meet, 
 You'll vow as you have never vowed before 
 
 That home is sweet. 
 
A RECIPE 139 
 
 A RECIPE 
 
 Of books with startling incident and plot 
 
 We have a boundless feast. 
 And still man's mighty hunger ceases not 
 
 But only is increased. 
 
 This greed is an old, old disease ; its cure 
 
 Would kill the patient dead 
 And like some chronic parasite impure 
 
 The ailment must be fed. 
 
 So take a ghost, a wrong, a mystery, 
 A lust's unlawful flame, 
 A pessimistic view of things that be, 
 A town with pleasing name, 
 
 A girl, a lover by a rival vexed, 
 
 An insult and a blow, 
 A challenge and the click of steel, and next — 
 
 Suspense a day or two. 
 
 An earthquake dire, a pest, a thunder storm, 
 
 An ancient wooden chest, 
 The sea, the mountains dark, a hidden form 
 
 In midnight darkness dressed. 
 
140 A RECIPE 
 
 A freak, a fool, or a religious whim 
 
 (These always can be had,) 
 A smart disguise or a disaster grim, 
 
 A light and social "fad," 
 
 A struggle long in even balance, but 
 
 A perilous escape ; 
 Eccentric characters in hall or hut, 
 
 The rich or proud in crepe. 
 
 Place these and more within a box and when 
 
 You draw one from the lot 
 A chapter write on every one and then 
 
 Unite all with a plot. 
 
 But Fancy's touch of life all things must blend 
 
 And give a beating heart. 
 And over this unreal realm extend 
 
 The magic of her art. 
 
 For man is like a child and he doth need 
 
 The world that only seems ; 
 For many a life is hard and blank indeed 
 
 And finds relief in dreams. 
 
 One story done repeat the deal and tell 
 
 Another startling tale^-; 
 Such themes and combinations blended well . . 
 
 Are never known to fail. 
 
DISCONTENT 14I 
 
 DISCONTENT. 
 
 High on the shore one morn I stood 
 
 And looked across the sea ; 
 Glad danced the wide and silver tide, 
 
 While voices called to me : 
 
 Come out, come out, upon the wave 
 Where grand and fair are blent ; 
 The seaman's life is noble strife 
 His toil benefic ent. 
 
 At eve I walked the quarter deck 
 And saw the beauteous strand; 
 
 A palace fair, each dwelling there. 
 The hills were fairyland. 
 
 A voice then spoke just as before : 
 
 Fly from the cruel sea; 
 The tyrant wave will you enslave, 
 
 The land is only free. 
 
 Such is the life of restless man; 
 
 Some other sphere is best, 
 Not now nor here, but in some sphere 
 
 Remote must he be blest. 
 
142 SHE TOLD ME HER LOVE 
 
 SHE TOLD ME HER LOVE. 
 
 She told me her love with her eyes, 
 
 For speech is seeming; 
 She told me her love with her sighs, 
 
 While words were dreaming. 
 
 Frail is the Saxon or the Greek, 
 
 And French is weaker; 
 When my dear lady's eye and cheek 
 
 Become the speaker. 
 
CRITO 143 
 
 CRITO 
 
 When Crito had long known the strife 
 That comes along with public life 
 He gladly said : While I admit 
 That storm and struggle well befit^ 
 All those who on the wide seas sail 
 And find their fortune a gale ; 
 As for myself, I've had enough 
 Of sailing dangerous and rough ; 
 ril leave tempestuous affairs 
 And put in port for some repairs. 
 
 Then a snug harbor Crito chose, 
 A thousand acres, more or less ; 
 With iron walls did then enclose. 
 
 His fine suburban wilderness. 
 
 A swinging cot beneath a pine 
 Served as a resting place and shrine 
 Where he would read both books and news 
 And talk with friends or silent muse . 
 
 Sometimes to Heaven his prayers would rise 
 By way of mental exercise 
 And if there came some other good, 
 Crito was willing that there should. 
 
 Oft in his garden Crito found 
 
144 CRITO 
 
 While walking barefoot on the ground 
 Sweet rest and life renewing force 
 Since earth is life's electric source 
 And must be touched with the bare feet 
 To make the circuit all complete. 
 His mansion built of logs of wood 
 South of a sheltring forest stood, 
 From north winds guarded by the trees, 
 But welcoming the southern breeze. 
 
 Six rooms there were all in a line, 
 A porch in front of each where twine 
 The clematis and eglentine, 
 But dearer far than flowers could be 
 Were Crito's wife and children three. 
 
 Now Crito with a skill his own 
 Restored Queen Nature to her throne ; 
 Abroad unbounded roamed the deer, 
 Wild fowl and song bird nested near; 
 The reedy pond with flashing wing 
 They strike or in the grove they sing ; 
 Wild oxen from the western plains 
 Adorned his unsubdued domains ; 
 
 But these he kept so oft in view 
 They'd lick his outstretched hand. 
 
 But strangers they would swift pursue 
 Across the fleeing land; 
 Their bending horns, mighty and white, 
 Were signal quite enough for flight. 
 
CRITO 145 
 
 His family with joy had seen 
 How Crito grew fat and serene, 
 And so there came content 
 To banish banishment. 
 
 Some of his early friends now said ; 
 Poor Crito, once so live is dead 
 And buried far within a wood 
 Or ghostlike haunts the solitude. 
 
 Others declared it their belief 
 That stung by some unholy grief 
 Or guilt he'd sought man's gaze to shun 
 And so he chose to be alone. 
 
 So 'twas agreed that two 
 His bravest friends should go, 
 Henri and gallant Florian 
 And find the melancholy man . 
 
 'Twas dewy morn in early May 
 
 They hastened out, yet with delay 
 
 In getting through the lines 
 
 That marked his kingdom's sharp confines, 
 
 Where twelve barbed wires before them spread 
 
 A horrid wall bristling and dread. 
 
 How this was scaled their flight well shows 
 In bleeding hands and shredded clothes. 
 Just as they reach the meadow side, 
 An angry ox amazed they spied. 
 
146 CRITO 
 
 With horns advanced and pawing feet 
 
 He challenged them in war to meet ; 
 
 At once the challenge they declined 
 
 And sped them through the sheltring wood 
 
 With flying feet and angry mind, 
 
 Till by Dan Crito's door they stood. 
 
 CRITO. 
 
 Welcome ! Good Friends, welcome ! he said, 
 Yours are my wilderness and shed. 
 You are my friends, yes friends indeed, . 
 Dangers and toils you do not heed; 
 A wilderness you dare explore 
 That you may reach my rustic door ; 
 
 But what has torn your clothes ? Was it 
 The antlered fool that in a fit 
 Of humor oft his horns extends 
 To try the friendship of my friends ? 
 Perchance my herd that still retains 
 The spirit of the western plains 
 Has dared you meet in mortal strife 
 To break the monotone of life? 
 
 HENRI. 
 
 Not so. It was your savage fence 
 That like your humor and your sense 
 Is barbed, impales or rends. 
 To wound or kill your friends 
 
CRITO 147 
 
 Who dare explore these bogs and woods 
 Where prowl your kindred multitudes. 
 
 CRITO. 
 
 I'm glad an angry wind 
 Has stirred your foggy mind. 
 Soon will the dark mists clear away 
 And you will see the truth of day . 
 
 I've marked your dangerous career 
 In city marts as well as here ; 
 What hazards you have made 
 Upon the sea of trade, 
 Where pirates plundered you, 
 Yourself a pirate too, 
 And yet no doubt some ships sailed home 
 And profits vast to you have come, 
 And still you own a spirit rife 
 For enterprises new, and strife. 
 The dangers you have this day dared 
 Are only chaff with those compared. 
 'Tis here you stand on real ground, 
 'Tis friends, not flatterers you've found ; 
 No bonfires blaze at your defeat, 
 'Tis welcome and not jeers you meet. 
 
 O'er bristling walls you bravely go. 
 With skill you shun the antlered foe. 
 To nothing does your valor yield : 
 You are the masters of the field. 
 
148 CRITO 
 
 HENRI. 
 
 Upon the sea of trade 
 
 You once yourself W2.i known, -^''-^-' 
 
 Its Saragosa calms, 
 
 Its tempest and simoon 
 You dared, and fortune was your gain, 
 
 You pirate of the Spanish main. 
 
 Whence came you by these forests here, 
 These lakes of fowl, these parks of deer? 
 
 Not flatterers, but friends, come we 
 Our Crito's face once more to see. 
 
 CRITO. 
 
 Your coarse, hard frankness paves the way 
 For harder words that I may say. 
 
 You see yon murky wreath of smoke 
 That tarnishes the air 
 Above your city's fuming realm 
 
 Of virtue, vice and care ? 
 Just so will calumny arise 
 'Gainst men who live in loftier skies. 
 But smoke oft joins the clouds and forms 
 A wreath that breaks in fiercest storms. 
 And some are struck by bolts of fire 
 And some in whirling winds expire 
 
 But most a vantage gain 
 
 From storm-purged air and rain. 
 Your smudgy calumnies 
 
CRITO ^ 149 
 
 Return upon your head in wrath 
 And bolts will smite you sure, 
 Somewhere along the storm's wild path. 
 My roof is broad, but is not broad 
 
 Enough to shield a sland'rous word, 
 These wilds a refuge be, but not 
 
 For evil man or beast or bird. 
 
 Here Crito faithfully explained 
 
 How those who most by him had gained 
 
 Had most maligned and robbed him too. 
 
 This was his story told in few, 
 
 Nor need I now to tell it you. 
 
 And then he said : 'Tis noon; 
 
 To yonder shade let us repair 
 
 The simple midday meal 
 
 Beside the bubbling spring to share. 
 
 Now their discussion lighter grew 
 
 To give each dish a flavor new. 
 
 With merry talk and many a jest 
 
 They slowly eat with healthful zest ; 
 
 While Edith fair of form and face, 
 
 Presided with a queenly grace. 
 
 CRITO. 
 
 You see yon bird with ebon wings 
 And yellow form, that as it sings 
 In swift and undulating flight, 
 Seems like a golden shaft of light? 
 
150 CRITO 
 
 Who'll tell me why that bird displays 
 Such gorgeous hues in summer days, 
 While in dark winter's sombre reign 
 His dress is quite severe and plain? 
 
 FLORIAN. 
 
 The answer to your que ry I 
 
 Somehow, somewhere have heard; 
 
 Doubt me and I to you reply ; 
 'Twas told me by a bird. 
 
 A brave young man did once receive 
 
 A vest all barred with gold ; 
 A gift bestowed where more was owed 
 
 For courage true and bold. 
 
 The robe was bright with many pearls 
 And diamonds here and there, 
 
 And every fold showed threads of gold 
 Inwrought with skill and care. 
 
 But never would he wear his vest, 
 
 But kept it cautious hid : 
 Why' none could guess, perchance unless, 
 
 His modesty forbid. 
 
 Soon envy said he never wore 
 
 His gift a single day. 
 For he one morn its gems had shorn 
 
 And bartered them away. 
 
CRITO 151 
 
 And if he would but show his coat 
 
 They'd find it all disgraced, 
 With pearls of glass, and gems, alas! 
 
 All made of worthless paste. 
 
 He silent heard these envious tales 
 
 With deeply-aching pain, 
 And wondered why base men should lie 
 
 When none could gather gain. 
 
 So from its ward he took the coat, 
 
 The painful gift to view : 
 No gems bright shown, for they were gone 
 
 And now the tale seemed true. 
 
 And so distressed was he,Jie swore 
 
 Swift vengeance in his mind 
 And cautiously employed a spy, 
 
 The diamond thief to find. 
 
 Few days escaped when both the rogue 
 
 And diamonds too, were found, 
 And then the thief, in bitter grief, 
 
 Was in a prison bound. 
 
 This was the clue in this bad case, 
 
 (As rogues should careful note) 
 Thief was the man who first began 
 
 To lie about the coat. 
 
152 CRITO 
 
 And many told the villain's tale, 
 
 As if in half belief, 
 And thus became, th ough not in name, 
 
 The partners of the thief. 
 
 Now Edwin to the market went 
 
 With baskets large and fine, 
 And these filled he full as could be 
 
 With tongues and ears of swine. 
 
 With these he made a pudding large 
 That weighed the table down, 
 
 Then his behests brought in his guests 
 From country and from town. 
 
 The dish was seasoned strong and well 
 
 With gall and bitter rue, 
 So when each guest would take a taste 
 
 His look was bitter too. 
 
 Now all were silent and amazed 
 
 As much as guests dare be ; 
 First Edwin spake, silence to break 
 
 And cold and calm spake he: 
 
 Just now you claimed to be my friends ; 
 
 Your friendship is a cheat ; 
 Your willing ear false tales would hear, 
 
 Which you in turn repeat. 
 
CRITO 153 
 
 Behold how bitter is the dish this day 
 
 Your tongues have tasted well ; 
 More bitter still the tongue that will 
 
 An envious story tell. 
 
 Then they confused with shame retire 
 
 While each one trembling hears 
 Each whisper speak, and wild winds eke 
 
 Of bitter tongues and ears. 
 
 Then Edwin took his cause of pain 
 
 Unto the market square, 
 And when the throng that passed along 
 
 Had gathered round him there ; 
 
 He sternly cried : No foe of mine 
 
 Is worthy of this gown. 
 Nor would I see a friend to me 
 
 Wear sorrows like my own. 
 
 While hunting once some thieves laid wait 
 
 To rob and leave me dead : 
 I paused to hear a song bird near 
 
 Meanwhile the thieves had fled. 
 
 False friends did plot against my life 
 
 And ^eainst the name I bear; 
 A finch did save me from the grave, 
 
 The finch this vest shall wear. 
 
154 CRITO 
 
 In summer's gay and joyous time 
 
 This hue will suit him well : 
 My cause of pain shall be his gain 
 
 And of my rescue tell. 
 
 Then Edwin held aloft the vest ; 
 
 In air it melts away ; 
 And since that hour in summer bower 
 
 The finch dons vestments gay. 
 
 CRITO. 
 
 Your legend of the finch has quite 
 Brought all my story to the light. 
 The men who profited by me 
 Are they that sought my injury. 
 When envy lodges in the heart 
 Then grace and gratitude depart. 
 They saw my fortune swift advance 
 Where they had lost the golden chance 
 And then they darkly whispered round 
 (For words like poisoned arrows wound,) 
 That I by fraud had made my gains 
 And that my name was dark with stains. 
 All this they said without excuse 
 Or hope of profit, trust or use. 
 
 Come daughter Edith, sing a song 
 Of that brown bird whose trill 
 
 Delights the noon day hours long 
 When all beside are still. 
 
CRITO 155 
 
 Then Edith steps behind a screen 
 And like the thrush, she sings unseen. 
 When calls the early light 
 
 Bold robin first replies, 
 Yet cautiously and low sings he 
 And various notes he tries. 
 (Here Edith whistles the notes of the robin.) 
 The wood thrush now grows bold 
 
 And trills his early song; 
 There's none to me more dear than he 
 In all the tuneful throng. 
 (Here Edith mimics the cadence of the wood 
 thrush.) 
 When noon drives all to shade 
 
 One only song is heard; 
 With throbbing hush, you'll hear the 
 thrush 
 But cannot see the bird. 
 (Whistles again.) 
 
 At morn, at noon, at night 
 
 He sings still out of view ; 
 The reason why he is so shy 
 I never, never knew. 
 (Whistles again the notes of the wood thrush. V 
 
 The guests retire : their course they bend 
 Where woods are deep and streamlets wend 
 And soon the mighty city's roar 
 Grates deeper, harsher than before : 
 Again they feel the throbbing heart 
 
156 CRITO 
 
 Of jarring street and busy mart. 
 
 Above the crash by commerce made, 
 
 Above the mighty hum of trade, 
 
 Did Florian hear the wood thrush sing, 
 
 For contrasts in the soul will spring 
 
 Where love is. Inarticulate 
 
 Sounds, and nerve-racking disc ords grate 
 
 In vain. He heard that music still 
 
 As Edith hid from view would trill 
 
 Each pleasing note until they fill 
 
 The vancant chambers of his soul 
 
 With love's all conquering control. 
 
 And Florian brave to Edith seems 
 The bright fulfillment of her dreams. 
 And more than all her lovers he 
 
 Most manly seemed and nobly bold 
 (And many lovers gay had she,) 
 
 For in the story of the finch he told 
 His knowledge of the plan to lame 
 Her father's family and fame. 
 
 'Tis here the story ends. The rest 
 I leave by readers to be guessed. 
 
 For Love is greater than the great, 
 Than name, position, or estate. 
 Than death, than pride or pedigree, 
 And so what'er the drama be, 
 What'er the acts along the way, 
 Let love, great love conclude the play. 
 
VIA SACRA 157 
 
 VIA SACRA 
 
 In many types the truth portray? 
 
 Man's fallen state and erring ways. 
 
 'Tis said that man is lost and blind, 
 
 Of stony heart and fleshly mind, 
 
 A captive bound in chains and sold, 
 
 A wand'ring sheep far from the fold, 
 
 A prodigal with swine to feed, 
 
 A leper all unclean ; a reed 
 
 Bowed by the gale, a summer leaf, 
 
 A blade of grass as frail as brief, 
 
 A man diseased, sick and impure 
 
 Whom Heaven and Heaven alone can cure. 
 
 But can this picture all be true. 
 
 And does it not debase man's view? 
 
 The answer must dependent be 
 
 Upon your sense of poetry, 
 
 'Tis plain the sacred bards designed 
 
 To paint man's lost and ruined mind; 
 
 And then a restoration great. 
 
 From lowest depths to highest state. 
 
 To please poetic fancy true 
 
 In such a wide contrasting view. 
 
 As when the joyous spring 
 Succeeds a cold and wintry death. 
 
 The dumb begin to sing, 
 Where nature breathes life giving breath. 
 
158 VIA SACRA 
 
 E'n such the sacred song shall be, 
 The lost is found, the blind now see. 
 Gates are unbarred, the prisoners free; 
 The captive breaks like thread his chain, 
 The prodigal returns again; 
 Angelic hosts with holy mirth, 
 Re sponsive sing to choirs on earth ; 
 They sing of rescue from the shame. 
 Of ruined life and ruined name. 
 
 Not so the view to us unfurled 
 
 By all the gloomy heathen world 
 
 Where the dark scene that's pictured there 
 
 Is darker still with man's despair. 
 
 Sad is the song of Earth's dark host 
 
 When faith is dead and hope is lost, 
 
 There's one, Mantua's poet sage, 
 
 Sings not the sadness of his age. 
 
 But standing on the mountain peaks 
 
 Where inspiration soulful speaks, 
 
 Where prophecy is in the air, 
 
 He breathes the spirit that is there; 
 
 Sings with the seer of sacred Iky^e 
 
 The song of hope, the song divine. 
 
 Where peace shall reign triumphant o'er 
 
 A world where men learn war no more. 
 
 Where swords and shields and hurtling spears 
 
 Are beaten into plows and shears. 
 
 And thorns and briars sterile reign 
 
 Gives place to pines and fields of grain. 
 
VIA SACRA 159 
 
 Two pictures then address your eye, 
 One from below, one from on high; 
 One is disease by gauze concealed, 
 The more to knowing eyes revealed; 
 The other is disease laid bare. 
 But in the Great Physician's care. 
 One of a vessel tempest tossed. 
 On breakers fierce, where all are lost ; 
 Another makes a wreck appear 
 But with a life-boat hov'ring near; 
 Choose you the scene darksome, forlorn, 
 Or that of hope and life and morn. 
 Choose you yespair, sin, shame, distress. 
 Or choose you life, hope, holiness. 
 
 Thus have I writ: here will I pause; 
 
 Nor once explore that desert land 
 
 Where controversy's blasts overwhelm 
 
 With words like drifting sand. 
 
 And only barren forms you see. 
 
 The realm of venomed bigotry : 
 
 An Arizona's drear plateau 
 
 Where sun beams scorch and sand storms blow 
 
 And naught doth meet the weary eye 
 
 Save cactus sharp where serpents lie ; 
 
 I leave this realm to those who choose 
 
 The desolate, the parched, the chill, 
 
 And guided by a kindlier muse, 
 
 I ask: What is the Heavenly will? 
 
 'Tis this, and 'tis above all strife. 
 
 Religion is a mode of life, 
 
l60 VIA SACRA 
 
 A life begun in faith, hope, love, 
 
 And leading on to Heaven above; 
 
 Superior to all distress. 
 
 Through God grown strong in feebleness; 
 
 Content, active, alert and pure 
 
 In palace great or hut obscure ; 
 
 A life with some alloy of hate 
 
 Nor all negation nor debate, 
 
 Abhorring evil yet the more 
 To seek the good, the good adore. 
 Alas! what feuds, what deadly strife. 
 O'er forms, but not o'er modes of life; 
 Crude forms that guide the childish mind 
 .Which man, full grown, should leave behind; 
 Child gardens for the children all 
 To men ridiculously small. 
 
 What realms have felt the crushing tread 
 Of bigots armed! Behold the dead 
 Unburied lie! The once gay street 
 Is still or throbs with hostile feet. 
 The night once vocal with high glee. 
 Now echoes to the minstreky 
 Of wolves and dogs — Both hut and hall 
 And field and garden, ruined all, 
 Are waste and tenantless save that 
 The owl the viper and the bat 
 Contented reign as they survey 
 A wilderness of foul decay. 
 
VIA SACRA l6l 
 
 Mad alienations still divide 
 
 The Christian world, to crush or hide 
 
 Or weaken all; man's forces rent 
 
 By blind ambitions mad intent 
 
 Still the dogmatic fool declares; 
 
 O! if the world would say my prayers 
 
 And creed and wear my cut off dress 
 
 'Twould bring the world all happiness. 
 
 'Tis false! Your forms and words profuse 
 
 Are but a cloak for vice to use; 
 
 Yea, more; a pestilential fen 
 
 Whence come the deadliest foes of men. 
 
 Strive not for forms or name or clan 
 
 But let your only strife be this : 
 Who, who shall be the better man 
 And who possess the nobler bliss. 
 Be not content to drain your heart 
 Of wrong, but fill its every part 
 With beauteous things, the good and true, 
 While hands find worthy deeds to do. 
 'Tis not enough the marsh to drain 
 But plant its fertile soil with grain. 
 In old Selene's swamp by day 
 A horrid dragon hidden lay; 
 At night he viewless came and still 
 To frighten all, many to kill. 
 But fortunate there came a Knight 
 Who seized and dragged him to the light, 
 Bridled the monster with a thong 
 And led him through the streets along 
 And in the sight of all he slew 
 
1 62 VIA SACRA 
 
 The fiend. But what next did he do? 
 Would a brave Knight contented be 
 A pestilential fen to see 
 Where other monsters like the first 
 Would rise again with deeds as curst ? 
 Not so. The reeking swamp he drained, 
 Made gardens fair, where shades detained 
 The guest, while flowers and fruitage there 
 Regaled with taste or fragrance rare. 
 Such be thy life. The bad expel 
 By planting good and doing well 
 Then thou wilt have no empty soul 
 Where evil soon would gain control; 
 No rich neglected soil where spring 
 Rank weeds and every noxious thing. 
 In your own life let men behold 
 A beauteous garden's fruits of gold; 
 All things that please the taste and eye 
 The world to ble&s and beautify. 
 
TO MAE 163 
 
 TO MAE 
 
 Yes, I was angry when 
 Those words I wrote; 
 
 With an impetuous hand 
 I scrawled a note; 
 
 Alas! that lurid rage 
 
 Should stain the blameless page. 
 
 And every hurried word 
 
 Writ in the light 
 Of anger's smoking torch 
 
 rd blot from sight 
 If tears could wash away 
 Mistakes of yesterday. 
 
 Since tears have washed my eyes 
 
 1 clearly see, 
 For now you seem indeed 
 
 More dear to me, 
 And if I've wronged you sore 
 I prize you only more. 
 
 A hard and bitter strife 
 
 I've battled through life: 
 
 I must o'erlook some wrong, 
 And so must you; 
 
164 TO MAE 
 
 We are in practice sure 
 To pardon or endure. 
 
 O ! let us welcome back 
 
 The rosy hours, 
 Then will I strew your way 
 
 With thornless flowers; 
 And with you hand in hand 
 Make earth a fairy land. 
 
MT. SAN ANTONIO 1 65 
 
 * MT. SAN ANTONIO 
 
 Thou Monarch old, should misty seas en- 
 shroud 
 Thy breast, thou lookest down on realms of 
 
 cloud 
 That at thy word a rainy tribute pay : 
 The hills rejoice, the rivers madly play. 
 At thy command the clouds withdraw, and lo ! 
 Thou boldest aloft the treasures of the snow, 
 The sacred source whence fertile rivers flow. 
 The dwellers in the vale when hot winds burn 
 To thee as to a god enthroned will turn 
 As they thy swift and fruitful streams behold 
 More rich than river sands of yellow gold. 
 And thou wast born midst wars of primal 
 fire 
 When earth was wrinkled with contortions 
 
 dire. 
 And mighty strife arose twixt sea and land 
 To know who should obey and who com- 
 mand. 
 Imprisoned Fire, o'er whom the sea had 
 
 reigned 
 And held deep down below in bondage 
 chained, 
 
 * A mountain in Southern California. 
 
1 66 MT. SAN ANTONIO 
 
 Aweary grew and with the hills submerged 
 A compact made and bold rebellion urged. 
 
 Then Fire said : What valiant hill w'l 11 lead 
 Our forces on? Who'll be the first to heed 
 With action bold, the signal for the fray 
 That hurls the ocean back and ends his sway? 
 
 The signal given, San Antonio 
 Rose first and with resounding overthrow 
 He shook a world of water from his side 
 That round the earth swept with tumultuous 
 
 tide. 
 Alarming Ocean deep in all his caves 
 And brought in line a thousand leagues of 
 
 waves 
 That with augmenting force turn back to 
 
 throw 
 Their world of rage 'gainst San Antonio. 
 
 The rising mountains stagger at the shock, 
 But Fire, alert and fierce, hurls liquid rock 
 Along the thundering line of war. Hot spray 
 Tremendous screams and toward the moon 
 
 away 
 Shoots far, bedecked with lightning lurid 
 
 tide, 
 That wider grew, till passing worlds espied 
 And pangs of sympathy o'er cloud the sun 
 And many stars. Confounded meteors run 
 As quails by crakling smoke confused will fly 
 Swift through the flames on burning wing to 
 
 die. 
 
MT. SAN ANTONIO 1 67 
 
 E'n SO, dire meteors smite the air around 
 And flashing fall with loudest thunder sound. 
 Still, thou brave San Antonio, didst higher 
 Rise, and reinforced by scorching troops of 
 
 fire 
 Hurlst back mad Ocean to his own domain 
 And still dost thou thy victory maintain, 
 While Ocean ever and anon recalls 
 His old defeat and 'gainst his prison walls 
 Beats loud with clamor hoarse, but thou 
 
 meanwhile 
 Secure on adamantine throne dost smile. 
 
1 68 A RETROSPECT 
 
 A RETROSPECT 
 
 Ye that with retrospective eye 
 
 Behold our nation's birth, 
 Then see how ancient realms were born 
 
 No doubt are moved with mirth 
 
 As you have idly listened while 
 
 The mystic minstrels lay 
 Did mingle imps and demigods 
 
 With very common clay, 
 
 And how the legend they translate 
 
 To upper worlds afar, 
 To warble in the Heavenly spheres 
 
 Or twinkle in a star. 
 
 But those who built the western world 
 
 And her foundations laid 
 Wrought not with demigods, but God, 
 
 And with Almighty aid. 
 
 'Twas no inferior deities 
 
 Divide their toils or fame ; 
 Not twinkling stars, but suns and worlds 
 
 Their deeds and worth proclaim. 
 
A RETROSPECT 1 69 
 
 But some, alas! were sordid men, 
 
 With greed insanely blind 
 And taxed the powers of Heaven to thwart 
 
 The madness of their mind. 
 
 DE SOTO 
 
 Here would I sing his fate who first 
 
 Beheld that stream whose flow 
 Blends far Itaska with the sea 
 
 Of genial Mexico. 
 
 Hard through the forest and the brake, 
 
 The fen and the morass, 
 'Mid savage arrows and the brand 
 
 De Soto's legions pass. 
 
 And now they near a river's bank, 
 
 A lame and battered few 
 And halt a while in wild amaze 
 
 The mighty stream to view. 
 
 A tide so vast, so swift and deep 
 
 Must drain a continent; 
 Waked fancy now takes wings and flies 
 
 Afar in wonderment. 
 
 'Twere hard^ to tell what thought and hope 
 
 The Spaniard then possessed; 
 Song's theme does not accord with his 
 
 Cold, mercenary breast. 
 
170 A RETROSPECT 
 
 Verse does not choose to sing the love 
 
 Of conquest or of gold; 
 Those dark incitements that did make 
 
 The Spaniard madly bold. 
 
 A later day and near this spot 
 
 De Soto, broken, died; 
 His coffin was a hollow tree, 
 
 His grave the river's tide. 
 
 That this stream be his monument, 
 
 His race and deeds befit; 
 Here be his murky grave, and here 
 
 His epitaph he writ. 
 Deceptive, cold, remorseless stream! 
 
 So like the Spaniard dread. 
 Engulfing all and giving back 
 
 Naught but the drifting dead. 
 
 But hard men yet, through Heaven's hand, 
 
 May further human weal; 
 E'n as that river's dangerous tide 
 
 Transports the prosp'rous keel. 
 
 TH^ ERENCHMAN 
 
 Unlike the Spaniard was the Gaul 
 
 Who from the northern lake. 
 O'er sedgy stream or prairie wide 
 
 His way will singly take : 
 
A RETROSPECT 171 
 
 Eats venison or beaver fat 
 
 With Winnebago chief, 
 And with the tawny multitude 
 
 He smokes the fragrant leaf. 
 
 The Calumet and not the sword 
 
 Subdue the savage mood, 
 Canoes, and not the armored fleet, 
 
 Convoy him o'er the flood. 
 
 Enraptured with strange lands and tribes 
 
 And hopes of stranger still. 
 Men and the elements became 
 
 The servants of his will. 
 
 Inspiring all was love of fame 
 
 That gives her child a charm 
 Superior to wind and wave. 
 
 Or dread miasma's harm. 
 
 Fame of his own he would unite 
 
 With glory of fair France; 
 O'er all these realms and tribes he saw 
 
 Her tranquil star advance. 
 
 And ere my muse resign this theme ; 
 
 And sing another lay, 
 She would to dauntless de la Salle 
 
 An humble tribute pay. 
 
172 A RETROSPECT 
 
 IvA SAI.I.E 
 
 Across the ocean's wide and rough domain 
 
 Let Fancy oftimes go and come again, 
 
 Pursuing all the while a silent man 
 
 Who like the gods conceals each mighty plan; 
 
 And if what time you touch the western shore 
 
 You follow him a thousand leagues or more, 
 
 (For only Fancy could attend a course 
 
 So long sustained 'gainst man's and nature's 
 
 force) . 
 This is La Salle, accursed of men and fate, 
 But by the world is canonized of late. 
 
 Mark how he walks through icy waters 
 
 dread, 
 His scant munitions held above his head; 
 O'er inland seas tempestuous to glide 
 Now with and now against the river's tide. 
 As on he braves from north to southern plains 
 By torrid heat consumed or drenching rains, 
 Where plague and famine gaunt attend his 
 
 way 
 And treacherous men more cruel still than 
 
 they. 
 Forsaken oft by men, since all save he 
 Were unsustained by dreams of things to be, 
 He saw a nation from the desert rise 
 More vast than aught had been beneath the 
 
 skies. 
 Or if to Albion or France or Spain 
 Or to Columbia's new and fair domain 
 
A RETROSPECT 1 73 
 
 He could not tell, but like a raptured seer 
 
 He saw a realm magnificent appear, 
 
 And sought for France and Louis' fading 
 
 crown 
 This gem of untold brilliance and renown. 
 
 Too great and too far reaching his designs 
 To lie within the grasp of common minds, 
 And so he moved austere and occupied 
 And lived alone; alone he fell and died; 
 And if through life black harpies him pursue. 
 His corse unburied was the vulture's due. 
 
 But what is monument or sepulture 
 If but the fame of his designs endure? 
 Defeated by the perfidy of man 
 The world concedes the greatness of his plan 
 And reverences de la Salle the same 
 As if his dreamed of empire bore his name. 
 
 THE SAXON 
 
 Five mighty nations blend to form 
 
 The fabric of the West, 
 But the imperial Saxon leads 
 
 And fashions all the rest. 
 
 And every tribe and every tongue diverse 
 
 Whom our wide shores protect 
 Soon learn the Saxon's honest speech. 
 
 The freeman's dialect. 
 
174 A RETROSPECT 
 
 And freedom's notes from e^ery land 
 
 Here blend in unison, 
 As many dreams and hopes unite 
 
 In one name — Washington. 
 
 O! Saxon! thou hast struck a song 
 
 From rocks of history, 
 And writ an epic on the world 
 
 Surpassing poesy. 
 
 Thy works, inventions, freedom, arts. 
 
 And globe-encircling store 
 Surpass the golden prophesies 
 
 Of Plato and of More. 
 
 And consummation outruns hope, 
 
 Mankind has won the race 
 Since the new Saxon of the West 
 
 Sprang forth and set the pace. 
 
THE STORY OF THE OAK 1 75 
 
 THE STORY OF THE OAK 
 
 As through an ancient wood I pai\sed, 
 
 Upon a summer day, 
 I heard the trees sing in the breeze, 
 
 I saw them toss and sway. 
 
 A rugged oak was standing near. 
 
 The largest of them all, 
 There was no tree so large as he. 
 
 Though some were quite as tall. 
 
 And he had lived full many years 
 And many sights had seen 
 
 While looking down on winter's brown, 
 Or summer's joyous green. 
 
 How old are you, old Oak? I said; 
 
 Tell me your history! 
 And right away, without delay. 
 
 He whispered down to me: 
 
 I am three hundred years of age. 
 
 As near as I can tell, 
 And I can state that I of late 
 
 Am feeling very well. 
 
176 THE STORY OF THE OAK 
 
 All through so many winters cold 
 
 In slumber am I bound, 
 The winter quite seems short and light 
 
 Because I sleep so sound. 
 
 The touch of spring wakes me from sleep 
 
 And I begin to grow 
 Both stout and tall nor rest at all 
 
 Till autumn's breezes blow. 
 
 Two hundred years ago I had 
 
 A pain within my chest; 
 And I must say for many a day 
 
 My health was none the best. 
 
 And this is how it came about: 
 
 Some tribes of wild red men 
 Were fighting near, with club and spear — 
 
 I was a sapling then. 
 
 And while they dodged and sulked around 
 
 There was an Indian lad 
 Through war's alarms hid in my arms; 
 
 To shield him I was glad. 
 
 And while he nestled like a bird 
 
 There was a shaft went wild, 
 The poison dart struck near my heart 
 
 And so I saved the child. 
 
THE STORY OF THE OAK 1 77 
 
 And every May about this time 
 
 Sharp pains would me annoy; 
 I did not care such pain to bear, 
 
 For I had saved the boy. 
 
 Long time I suffered much because 
 
 The wound was slow to heal, 
 But when each year the lad came near 
 
 Less pain I seemed to feel. 
 
 For every spring time he would come, 
 
 When sings the forest lark, 
 And silent stand with folded hand 
 
 And lean against my bark. 
 
 I saw that Indian lad grow up 
 
 To be a rugged man; 
 And brave was he as man could be 
 
 Of any race or clan. 
 
 One summer day he brought his squaw 
 
 And her pappose so red. 
 Then standing nigh and pointing high, 
 
 With solemn voice he said : 
 
 "Here did we kill those dogs — the Sioux — 
 
 Upon that battle day; 
 There is the tree that sheltered me ; 
 
 This is enough to say.'' 
 
178 THE STORY OF THE OAK 
 
 Thus every spring sure as the sun 
 
 That chieftain kind and bold 
 Would visit me, his friendly tree, 
 
 Till he was growing old. 
 
 Then years passed by and I no more 
 
 Saw that brave Indian's face. 
 For white men came with sword and flame 
 
 And drove away his race. 
 
 Full record of his words and deeds 
 
 I never could supply, 
 But this I name, that here he came 
 
 To chant his dirge and die. 
 
 Far through the white man's realm he came. 
 
 His mission all unknown; 
 For none but I could tell you why 
 
 He came so far alone. 
 
 At last I saw him coming near 
 
 With slow and feeble tread. 
 And with a groan and trembling moan 
 
 These are the words he said: 
 
 "I've come to see my friend and die. 
 
 My visits now are o'er; 
 My race is run, my setting sun 
 
 Will rise again no more. 
 
THE STORY OF THE OAK 1 79 
 
 I cannot speak in counsel now, 
 
 Nor kill the coward foe, 
 Nor hurl the spear nor snare the deer, 
 
 Nor hunt the buffalo. 
 
 I am a dead and fallen tree — 
 
 And then he bowed his head : 
 There was a pause; I saw the cause — 
 
 The warrior chief was dead. 
 
 Then white men came with solemn air 
 
 And carried him away. 
 So ends the chief, it brings me grief, 
 
 I'll speak no more today. 
 
 Thus did the Oak his story tell, 
 
 Just as I now tell you. 
 It made me sad, it made me glad! 
 
 I wonder if its true? 
 
l8o TO A DEFEATED CANDIDATE 
 
 TO A DEFEATED CANDIDATE 
 
 Some full-rigged vessels sail 
 
 Like bubbles, light and free; 
 Like bubbles, too, they burst 
 
 And melt into the sea. 
 Awhile they dance along the main 
 And ports of wealth and ease they gain, 
 And then cajoled by fortune they 
 Sport fortune's golden chance away. 
 Such ships have wings and nothing more, 
 E'n like the gulls along the shore, 
 Yet many rustics of the land 
 
 And lubbers of the street 
 Will shout aloud: behold the grand, 
 
 The noblest of the fleet ! 
 There goes the ship for me. Her name 
 Shall shine upon the scroll of Fame ; 
 And then they climb the lofty shore 
 To cheer her on and see her more. 
 While gentle hands salute the brave, 
 The pride and master of the wave. 
 
 Alas! Deceived are they so to 
 Salute a false and empty show 
 That will soon melt like April snow. 
 
 II 
 
 Now let your fancy's vision mark 
 Far on the sea a bounding bark 
 
TO A DEFEATED CANDIDATE l8l 
 
 Where scarce a gull would venture bold, 
 But whistling gale 
 In shroud and sail 
 Is heard. The surging sea proclaims 
 No welcome to the kindling eye 
 
 And there is here no land, 
 
 Nor cliff, nor tower, nor strand 
 To lift the shouting crowds on high; 
 
 But, O! within that vessel's hold 
 
 Are merchandise and gems and gold : 
 Ceylon and Araby, the blest, 
 
 Luzon, the opulent. 
 
 Around whose isles are blent 
 The farthest east and farthest west, 
 These all pay tribute to that sail 
 That bends before the favoring gale 
 To scatter gear from zone to zone. 
 Unheralded, unsung, unknown. 
 How like these ships some mortals be! 
 
 One flaunts much canvas in the air. 
 But close along the shore sails he, 
 
 To watch if gazing crowds be there. 
 And listens for the cheer of those 
 Whose eyes in pageants find repose, 
 Who cheer a full-rigged bark, nor care 
 To ask if any worth she bear. 
 And there are men who heed 
 
 No plaudits of the throng. 
 But bravely onward speed, 
 
 Uncheered by lauding song, 
 
1 82 TO A DEFEATED CANDIDATE 
 
 On voyage far, severe and lone, 
 Mid Arctic ice or torrid zone. 
 'Tis he who in the stubborn soil, 
 Or mine or shop or school may toil; 
 Who gains no public place 
 
 Of famed emolument, 
 But in his sphere displays 
 
 Brave manhood and content, 
 Who loves his kindred and his cot, 
 Though delegations meet him not, 
 Nor shouts of multitudes resound. 
 Nor plumed cohorts shake the ground. 
 And yet he sits upon a throne 
 And is the monarch of his own, 
 And sees an empire round him grow 
 And wider still his power flow. 
 As real as the fevered hour 
 When realms the brow shall wreathe. 
 
 When Senates 'wildered by man*s power 
 Adjourn that they may breathe. 
 As when of old the rights of man 
 Were voiced by mighty Sheridan. 
 
 A tablet in God's Hall of Fame 
 Hath every man with worthy name. 
 
TWO BROOKS 183 
 
 TWO BROOKS 
 
 FIRST BROOK 
 
 Beside a shaded glen, 
 
 On a plateau, 
 There ran a crystal brook 
 
 In peaceful flow. 
 Reflecting earth and sky 
 
 So calm and clear; 
 And youths more beauteous seemed 
 
 When imaged there, 
 As by the brook they came 
 And sang its pleasing name. 
 
 And as it heard men speak 
 
 Its glowing praise. 
 It paused in calm content 
 
 And there it stays, 
 And soon its face reflects 
 
 No sky serene. 
 For o'er the* brook there falls 
 
 A mantle green; 
 Thy fate is only worse. 
 Once blest, but now a curse. 
 
 You once made men laugh, now 
 You make men sigh 
 
^^4 TWO BROOKS 
 
 O'er pestilential swarms 
 
 That from thee fly: 
 Insects that hum and sting, 
 
 Miasma's breath, 
 Thou insalubrious thing. 
 
 In league with death. 
 The eyes you once made bright 
 Are lustreless as night. 
 
 All round the valley side 
 
 Thou hast a train 
 Of fever, plague and pest, 
 
 Anguish and pain; 
 I will not sing thy name. 
 
 But turn away : 
 I will not see thy face 
 
 In taint's array; 
 Another stream I'll praise 
 And sing its gladsome ways. 
 
 SDCOND BROOK 
 
 O! happy stream that hastes 
 
 Unto the sea, 
 And like a robin sings 
 
 A song for me, 
 Or turns the mill that grinds 
 
 The golden grain, 
 Or bathes with liquid life 
 
 The emerald plain; 
 No flowers so happy look 
 As those beside the brook. 
 
« 
 
 TWO BROOKS 185 
 
 Its royal course now bears 
 
 The brave canoe, 
 And now the breathing boat 
 
 She transports too, 
 Yet onward moves; no pause 
 
 For praise or rest 
 Until it joins the gulf, 
 
 And on its breast 
 Bears ships with sails unfurled, 
 The commerce of a world. 
 
 But is the brook entombed 
 
 Within the sea? 
 No so. The sun god's kiss 
 
 Right royally 
 Exalts it to the sky 
 
 And o'er my head 
 On white winged clouds from south 
 
 The brook has sped — 
 The rainbows pearly track 
 Tells where the brook came back. 
 
 Then on its southern course 
 
 It speeds again, 
 From mount and valley to 
 
 The far-off main, 
 'Tis glad in making glad 
 
 All it goes by, 
 Until the sun god lift 
 
 It to the sky; 
 Such be your life and mine 
 On earth, or realms d\vine. 
 
1 86 THE CAVE OF MELANCHOLY 
 
 THE CAVE OF MELANCHOLY 
 
 There is a pestilential cave, 
 
 Darksome and chill, 
 And here mad Melancholy reigns, 
 
 And he doth fill 
 The minds of all his votaries 
 With partial truths, the Devil's lies. 
 
 He and his dejected train are 
 
 Never jolly; 
 The first law of their dominion is 
 
 Melancholy ; 
 And if a laugh should echo there, 
 'Tis the mad laughter of despair. 
 
 He lures with solemn arguments 
 
 Bewildered men, 
 And leads them far from light of day 
 
 Into his den, 
 And many stately shapes has he 
 And simulates e'n sanctity. 
 
 He holds before the eyes such scenes 
 
 Of midnight hue. 
 That all the chambers of the soul 
 
 Are tinct with blue, 
 And then with gloom infatuate, 
 They love the world of gloom and hate. 
 
THE CAVE OF MEI.ANCHOLY 1 87 
 
 Then forth toward his cave he leads 
 
 His slaves away 
 And there they sit them down to hear 
 
 The mournful lay 
 Of groans and deep suspiring breath, 
 And look on scenes of woe and death. 
 
 For on the walls are pictures drawn 
 
 In leaden hue. 
 Of men aslide down crags to hell, 
 
 And these they view 
 With smoking lamps that throw a light 
 More grewsome than the blackest night. 
 
 And then they move with awful step 
 
 Where scenes are writ 
 In desolation wide, profound, 
 
 Such as befit 
 A wreck mid Arctic ice and air, 
 Where hope dies grappling with despair. 
 
 Then to the portraits of disease 
 
 And death they come ; 
 Eczema, gnawing leprosy; 
 
 Delirium 
 Intense with maniacal air, 
 A lazar house is pictured there. 
 
 The portraits next of those who failed 
 In high design 
 
1 88 THE CAVE OF MELANCHOLY 
 
 For human weal; Rienzi bold, 
 
 Toussaint benign, 
 And all that host whose failure brought 
 High hoping realms to melancholy thought. 
 
 And a wide stage is built whereon 
 
 They act the part 
 Of virtue tried, condemned, while vice 
 
 With subtle art 
 Stalks gaily forth with honored name. 
 Exulting loud in Virtue's shame. 
 
 Then Melancholy high enthroned 
 
 Doth loud express 
 His mind: My friends, you here behold 
 
 The world's true dress: 
 No gloss deceives, no thin veneer. 
 The world laid barp is pictured here. 
 
 The lying world where you have been 
 
 Is tricked with paint; 
 And vice and falsehood there parade 
 
 In mask of saint: 
 Its light is phosphor or decay; 
 The real world you here survey. 
 
 He said and when applause had ceased 
 
 They all partook, 
 At separate boards a solemn feast. 
 
 There was no look 
 
THE CAVE OF MELANCHOLY 1 89 
 
 Or word of joy; then they resume 
 Each one his chosen path of gloom. 
 
 Ye melancholy slaves, fly this 
 
 Accursed spot: 
 The cheerful world above whence you 
 
 Have fled is not 
 So false as this noisome distress, 
 For gloom's more false than joyousness. 
 
 Should Melancholy seek again 
 
 To lead astray, 
 Turn ye and face the wretch, and cry: 
 
 Thou fiend, away! 
 The truth of joy I'll choose to see ; 
 The truth of gloom I'll spurn from me. 
 
190 DOCTOR TIMELY 
 
 - DOCTOR TIMELY 
 
 The Doctor's practice lucrative and large 
 Made Time his friend and life a pleasing 
 
 charge, 
 And oft he felt a generous thrill of zest 
 As many great and small to him confessed 
 The boundless debt they ever owed to him 
 For giving health or saving life or limb. 
 
 II 
 
 To please his broad and sympathetic mind 
 He would bestow a blesing on mankind 
 By searching out some powder, drop or pill 
 To be a panacea for each ill 
 That man is subject to ; and though he'd gain 
 Sure immortality and banish pain. 
 Could he but see the world in rosy health 
 'Twould be sufficient fame, sufficient wealth. 
 
 Ill 
 
 In harmony with this supreme intent 
 He took much time to make experiment, 
 And soon at night declined to make a call, 
 Next stubbornly refused to go at all: 
 
DOCTOR TIMELY 191 
 
 And SO his friends grew strange, his patrons 
 
 fled; 
 The Doctor is stark mad, the people said, 
 For see his staggering gait, his face is pale, 
 His voice once chegry as the nightingale 
 Is rasping as an eastern wind ; he sees 
 Alas ! his castles fall before the breeze. 
 He finds his various remedies had been 
 Tried oft, in vain, before by sons of men. 
 And his elixirs, panaceas sure. 
 Have no effect, or kill as oft as cure; 
 But still the fable of the spider's toil 
 He skept in mind, and burned the midnight 
 
 oil. 
 iVnd oft to Heavenly powers he muttering 
 
 prayed 
 And claimed that plans so good should have 
 
 their aid. 
 
 IV 
 
 A midnight storm raged round. The Doctor 
 
 lone 
 Bent o'er a corse: laid bare each nerve and 
 
 bone ; 
 Marked what the reeking viscera display 
 With eye as searching as a cathode ray — 
 But quick he lifts his head and bends his ear, 
 A plain yet mystic spirit voice to hear. 
 
192 DOCTOR TIMELY 
 
 SPIRIT : 
 
 O! wretched man, thus to forsake 
 The living for the dead! 
 Were justice now to strike — 
 
 DOCTOR : 
 
 — Beware ! 
 
 SPIRIT : 
 
 In vain you cry "Beware!" But why 
 Need I to waste a word or curse 
 On a departed thing like thee. 
 You once did live, but you are dead. 
 The eagle does not touch a corse, 
 And hence I leave you to foul birds 
 And worms. I go 
 
 DOCTOR : 
 
 A moment, stay — 
 
 SPIRIT : 
 
 Speak on. The time is short — 
 
 DOCTOR : 
 
 Thou art 
 A knowing sprite, but dost thou know 
 The mighty aim that chains my soul 
 And keeps me thus a slave to toil? 
 
DOCTOR TIMELY 1 93 
 
 SPIRIT : 
 
 I know your purpose well. Have I 
 Not seen your midnight watch and toil 
 And heard you call on powers divine? 
 And now I come to answer you — 
 You go too far in quest of things 
 If in your ardor you forsake 
 The sick who call to you for aid. 
 You cannot pluck the highest fruit 
 Save when you are uplifted by 
 The grateful ones that you have blessed. 
 
 And if you seek a remedy 
 For all the sickness of the world, 
 You need to go far far beyond 
 The realm of golden mortars mixed 
 With lion hands : And should you call 
 The aid of hypnotists and those 
 Called Holy Healers who deceive 
 The chronic multitude awhile, 
 You yet could find no remedy. 
 And if 'twere found, 'twould be a curse. 
 Now, as I go, I say "Beware!" 
 
 DOCTOR : 
 
 'Tis strange to hear these midnight spirits ! 
 My mind, once certain as the star 
 That guides on every northern sea. 
 Is growing wild; mine ears, once tuned 
 To notes of social harmony, 
 Now catch the hollow dialect 
 
194 DOCTOR TIMELY 
 
 Of Spirit goblins erratic; 
 
 My tongue that once communed with men 
 
 Beneath the honest noonday sun 
 
 Now jabbers in a dark seance, 
 
 The wierd vernacular of Hell. 
 
 O ! by my locks now white, but not 
 With time, and by these withered hands 
 Now tremulous, but not with age, 
 And by the holy essence of 
 All space and time, that can create 
 New worlds and recreate the old 
 I yet shall know the meaning of 
 This visit preternatural. 
 
 He said, then fell and lay twixt sleep and 
 death 
 Where life's frail tenure is a noiseless breath, 
 But even here remains a conquering power 
 That gives life victory within an hour. 
 
 IV 
 
 Above the clamor of the storm, a knock 
 Was heard that waked the Doctor as the 
 
 shock 
 Of thunder near that rends the flinty rock. 
 Then madly bounding to his feet, cries he : 
 Who comes at such an hour to summons 
 
 me? 
 Aha ! you answer not ! It is the hail ; 
 
DOCTOR TiMEIvY 1 95 
 
 Perchance some goblin of the stormy gale, 
 And yet a human spirit doth pervade 
 The room, and strikes me with an airy blade. 
 Then cautiously he moves along the floor, 
 And noiselessly and slow unlocks the door, 
 And there beheld a' dying prostrate form, 
 A victim of calamity and storm. 
 With all the will and strength he could com- 
 mand 
 He raised the groaning wretch with gentle 
 
 hand 
 And drew him in and gave him skillful care. 
 His life and all his senses to repair, 
 And as the dying man 'gan to revive 
 The Doctor, too, began anew to live. 
 He felt the joy of ministering to man 
 And once again his practice he began. 
 Again he proved in treatrrtent of disease 
 A worthy son of old Hippocrates. 
 His former friends and new ones by the score 
 With urgent calls besiege his open door: 
 Again he cooly takes his handsome fees 
 And from enslaving debts his fortune frees. 
 
 VI 
 
 Afar among the hills where boughs droop low 
 There is the sacred source whence rivers flow : 
 Perchance there is a spring that pours a tide 
 That by a deity is purified. 
 
196 DOCTOR TIMELY 
 
 For here there is a vast and hidden cave, 
 With sparkling walls and floor washed by the 
 
 wave. 
 Here pure white lamps a radiance diffuse 
 And gem the crystal dome with rainbow hues; 
 Millions of sparkling stones are studded there, 
 The diamond and every gem that's rare. 
 
 Hygeia here presides: she that is dear 
 To bright Appollo and imparts the cheer 
 Of rosy health. She and her train oft come 
 Through mazy labyrinths beneath this dome. 
 
 Hygeia takes a reed and plays a part; 
 Appollo sweeps the lyre with god-like art. 
 The dome with multitudinous refrain 
 Sends back the sound like showers of summer 
 
 rain; 
 The waters by the sound are purified 
 And from the cave in sparkling currents 
 
 glide : 
 Immaculate in touch they cleanse and heal 
 The body and dispel the woes men feel, 
 Ere yet the stream becomes tideless and vile 
 Or murky confluents its course defile, 
 So by this law the Doctor shaped his plan 
 That prime and unmixed truth is best for man 
 Ere yet the taint of base and erring mind 
 Or envy, faction, lust, ambition blind. 
 Pollute the stream along its winding way 
 With elements of death or foul decay. 
 
 The Doctor said : Diseases have their use 
 In warning men, and punishing abuse; 
 
DOCTOR TIMELY 1 97 
 
 But lest the race from earth be swept away 
 And fell despair should hasten man's decay- 
 Earth, air, and sea, humanity and skill 
 Relieve while not destroying human ill. 
 Should perfect skill the healing art attain, 
 Disease in threatening form must still remain, 
 So long as dupes to Mecca's shrine repair 
 And swarming myriads breathe polluted air, 
 So long as men to shun the scourge's wrath 
 Court superstition rather than the bath. 
 So long as appetite descends to greed. 
 Transforming men to worse than beasts that 
 
 feed; 
 And passion's fire burns into ashen lust 
 And brands upon the countenance disgust; 
 While misers hoard for profligate's to waste, 
 Some drowned in sweets, and some denied a 
 
 taste ; 
 Congestion reigning here, depletion there. 
 One to inflame, one chilling with despair; 
 So long as some are laggards on the course 
 And others bound ahead with rapid force. 
 While governments unequal burdens lay. 
 And grind the poor the nation's debts to pay, 
 And politicians in great pledges vie 
 And in fulfillment prove how they can lie; 
 And with the able-bodied profligate 
 Conspire to rob the treasury of state; 
 While men, the froth of vulgar praise to gain. 
 Right principle dethrone and false maintain, 
 
1 98 DOCTOR TIMEI.Y 
 
 While rites and creeds can riot in excess 
 And unrebuked parade as righteousness; 
 So long, indeed, as earth is cursed with vice. 
 So long diseases will the race chastise. 
 
 See then how wide, how arduous the plan 
 That would eradicate disease from man. 
 No lymph can sterilize the source of pain, 
 Nor simples gathered from the land or main; 
 And so to lessen man's severest ills 
 The Doctor uses powders, drops and pills, 
 Imagination, laughter's hale grimace. 
 Suggestion — anything that suits the case; 
 And some he heals by touching with his 
 
 hands, 
 As mid the waiting multitude he stands ; 
 This one he sends to ocean's tonic shore. 
 That one must climb the rugged mountains 
 
 o'er; 
 The losel and epicure must haste 
 Away and wander in some desert waste, 
 To drink the effervescent streams that glide 
 Hot from the crucible of God ; a tide 
 Remote, with healthful labor gained and 
 
 tried. 
 To this he says: Refrain from strenuous toil, 
 To that go dig the aromatic soil : 
 To all he says : Spurn vice and dirt and wrong 
 And by obedience to right grow strong. 
 
 The Doctor now consumes no hours to find 
 A single cure for ills of all mankind, 
 
DOCTOR TIMELY I 99 
 
 But in his daily rounds he is content 
 Some ills to mitigate and some prevent; 
 Adapts his remedies to each and all. 
 The sick his care, the world his hospital, 
 Mankind his aim, beneficence his rule. 
 The earth his book, the universe his school. 
 
200 ARION 
 
 ARION 
 
 There was a king with vast estate 
 
 In houses, lands and gold, 
 With servants, scribes and hangers on, 
 
 Too many to be told. 
 
 To men he said : Go bring bright pearls 
 From out the caverned sea; 
 
 Go search the earth for treasures rare 
 And bring them all to me; 
 
 And it was done quick as a dream, 
 
 For e'n his wish was law supreme. 
 
 Arion, his musician, loved 
 
 The King's fair daughter Prue, 
 And then the King resolved to crush 
 
 And kill Arion, too; 
 And said : Arion, go and bring 
 
 A prima donna fair, 
 Whom prima donnas all shall choose 
 
 As best beyond compare; 
 Let singers choose for my own stage 
 The finest tenor of the age; 
 Bring instruments of dulcet din. 
 The zither, banjo, mandolin, 
 Guitar and flute of soothing tone, 
 The picolo and xylophone. 
 
ARION 20 1 
 
 This varied aggregation I 
 Command you bring or else you die. 
 
 Arion went, but only threw 
 
 The fair ones in a rage; 
 Each prima donna thought herself 
 
 The greatest on the stage. 
 
 And he was grieved alike to find 
 The tenors of a jealous mind : 
 They could not all agree that one 
 Should be preeminent alone. 
 
 Arion hung his head in woe, 
 And while he pondered what to do 
 A dark magician to him came. 
 With curious box, with alien name. 
 Here take this little box from me, 
 
 The sly magician said; 
 'Twill please his majesty the King 
 
 And save Arion's head. 
 Right glad he went : then said the King : 
 Sir, did I not command you bring 
 Earth's only prima donna here, 
 
 The world's first tenor, too. 
 And every instrument that's made 
 
 With soothing sounds to woo 
 Repose or drive all gloom away? 
 Produce them or you die today. 
 Wait ! Wait ! O, King ! Arion cried ; 
 Within this magic box reside 
 
202 ARION 
 
 High tenors, prima donnas too, 
 And instruments that rouse or woo. 
 
 O ! King ! but name your royal choice 
 Of instrument or speech or voice. 
 'Twas done : In clear, sonorous tones 
 
 Of music, wit or sense, 
 The King hears the great graphophone's 
 
 Magnetic eloquence. 
 
 The King delighted and amazed, 
 With joy, surprise and rapture crazed, 
 Cried out: My daughter you may woo, 
 Take her and take my blessing too! 
 
JU 
 
 \l\ 
 
 18U1 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRFQq 
 
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