LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. %p — ^^m^ 1^1 — Shelf .-..^.^7^'' UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. VERSES. ,BY KATE VANNAH. PHILADELPHIA: B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 1883. Ml"! Copyright, 1882, by J. B. LiPPINCOTT & Co. DEDICATED TO ADA V. BALL. » My friend, mho oft hast listened nnto me, — Who reached thy heart at first through Music's voice,- Hast lain for hours and lisfejted silently, Thou'st never known how her heart did rejoice Who oft thy troubled spirit rendered calm. Who oft brought solace to thy soul again, Some, days unto thy bruised spirit balm, Or quiet slumber after hotirs of pain. Wliate'er my changeful mood did yield to thee, ThotCdst murmur not, bttt give my heart its way ; So something tells me thou as kind wilt be Toward these simple verses which I lay. With thousands of kind wishes, in thy hands : Not for the world, but one — who wtderstands. CONTENTS. PAGE Looking Back 9 Refuge . .10 Full Recognition 11 A Flower's Name 12 To George Eliot 13 Foreboding 14 A Letter 15 "The Third the Charm ly" 16 Which? 17 Your Birthday . 18 Night by the Sea 19 A Dream 20 To . . . . 21 Two Wrecks 22 From Over the Sea .23 Pawns : A Ring 24 An Opera-Cloak 25 A FEAR 26 I* 5 6 CONTENTS. PAGE Estranged 28 A June Day in November' ... . , . .30 With Violets t^t, NORINE . . 35 A Prayer Answp:red 38 New Year's Eve 40 A Lament 41 Decision 44 After 46 A White Rose 47 GOOD-BY 49 Pearl-Dead . . . . . . . . -51 To . . . . . .■ . . . .53 Her Last Wish . .56 Sympathy 61 Discouraged . 63 Divine Reproach 64 A Magdalen . . . ... , . .66 Regret . . .68 Questioning 70 Disappointment 71 A Lullaby 73 In the Firelight 74 Dies Alba 76 Vrai jusqu'A la Mort 78 How She said it 80 CONTENTS. A Man Speaks To Easter Morn . In the Orchard Biding Judgment In a Convict's Cell Death in Life Failure . A Musical Rhyme First Message Song Turning a Leaf Sonnet Sonnet Sonnet Sonnet Sonnet Sonnet Sonnet Sonnet Good-Night 85 87 88 90 92 94 96 98 100 104 106 108 109 no III 112 "3 114 "5 116 LOOKING BACK. Far back as Memory's eyes can see to-night, Along the path that leads to womanhood, They can discern no day so fair and good As that on which your face dawned on my sight ! The added joys of years cannot delight My soul as did that hour's. You spoke, and, lo ! My heart was satisfied, nor cared to go Beyond your reach,' — never seemed life so bright. I look once more. Far as my blinded eyes Can reach, I see no day one-half so drear As when I called you, and you could not hear For distance and for waves that drowned my cries. If you should come, and call me thus in vain, Knowlthat my love grew stronger for that pain. 9 REFUGE. TO C. P. W. As in a storm, to some sweet chapel, calm, I hie from wild winds and the lightning's glare, And feel secure while bending there in prayer Low at the quiet altar, where no harm Can enter in to mar the spirit's balm, Where, hiding from the world, I weep, and dare My heart and soul beneath Christ's Face to bare. Till on their quivering strings Peace plays her psalm, So, friend of mine, when thorns have pierced my heart. And lava-tides of passion scorch my soul, In spirit do I hasten where thou art, And, 'neath thy gentle voice, regain control Of my wild heart. Ah ! shall the day dawn never When I may have thine actual presence ever? lo FULL RECOGNITION. Over my desk there hangs a picture old, Whose age precise to no man now is known. I only know 'tis greater than my own By years; for, as a little child, I'm told, I'd lie for hours and watch the twisted gold Of its rich frame. Then, when I'd older grown. My interest on the picture dwelt alone. Till now, of all my treasures, I do hold This picture as the rarest. So with thee : Though thou wert fair to me that summer day. When to a lonely heart thou cam'st to be Its blessing, oh, dear one, I cannot say How broad, how deep my need is of thee now; In my life's crown the rarest jewel thou ! n A FLOWER'S NAME. Down in the tender grasses 'neath my sill, ■ Where I lean forth each day to greet the dawn, And lean again when light from earth is gone To pray for thee, all of its own sweet will, A tiny flower has come, so fair and still And new to me I've given it thy name; And often do I marvel why it came The evening air with redolence to fill. The first time that I found it blooming there, At once I cried, "God answers thus the prayer Which every morn and every eve I say For my soul's friend, so far, so far away. He yields this sign that, after our long pain Of separation, we shall meet again." 12 TO GEORGE ELIOT. You tell of rapture felt by human hearts That wake when comes their hour of mutual love ; Your own has caught from the Great Heart above A sympathy and love divine. When starts The mourner's bitter tear, and when departs From the worn way a once all spotless dove, God-like, you follow on and give your love. Which must avail when fail all other arts. Regretfully we lay your books aside, Feeling as though some glorious symphony Which had ennobled life that moment died, Whose echo ne'er can die to memory. E'en as old masters' music hath defied Oblivion, so your words must lasting be ! 13 FOREBODING. Give me assurance that your love will stay, And be my benediction through the year, At whose approach I tremble with a fear, A terror, lest its hours should lead away One heart from which my own could never stray. I'm sad as death to-night, — come closer, dear,— My foolish heart is troubled ; let me hear And feel assurance, my sad fears allay. How could I face the cold New Year, and know I was not confident that you would go Far over ways that will be cold and drear Ere summer with her roses reappear ? I did not mean to doubt. There, now I know, — Come ! o'er the New Year's white paths let us go. New Year's Eve. 14 A LETTER. The words for weary weeks denied my heart, When't last they came, an aching void supplied With joy that seemed too great, until it tried To fill my eyes with crystal drops that start When long-missed hands a kind caress impart To one whose soul some tenderness in vain Has yearned by night and day to know again. In anguish past the reach of mortal art. I think if once thou couldst but see my face Glow, lit with gladness that your letters bring, Then see the crimson tide to joy give place, — Deep, quiet joy for such a simple thing As seems to thee the letter thou dost trace, — Each day thou'dst make the heart that loves thee sing. IS ''THE THIRD THE CHARM IS." The first day that your letter failed me, dear, I felt surprise, yet said, "She's occupied, And, save sweet thoughts, could spare me naught beside ; To-morrow morn her letter will be here." Morn came, no letter bringing, then a fear And — yes — a tear ; yet still I bravely tried To look at least as though you had not died ! But all that day my eyes were not quite clear. Another day, the third. " Now surely she My anxious heart will pacify to-day. And in her tender letter I shall see Regret for this unusual delay." But no. I knelt and prayed, oppressed with fear, And, rising from my knees, beheld you — here ! i6 WHICH? Or I am richer for the sight of thee, Which fortune late, in bounteous mood, bestowed, Or I was richer while within abode The cherished hope that I thy face might see. To think that we would meet was ecstasy; But, oh ! to know we met, to know we trod The self-same paths, — that, clasping hands, we rode Through purple shades, along nepenthean ways. To haunts of peace and tender fantasy, — That, drifting with the idly drifting days, We looked our souls into each others' eyes, And dreamed the blissful dreams of Paradise, — All this to know the richer maketh me. For what hath been than what I hoped would be. 2* 17 YOUR BIRTHDAY. TO M. G. H. As soon as I awoke on this dear day, I drew ray curtains hastily aside (No soul was near to hear me), and I cried '' My darling !" so intensely, though you lay Far from my side, a thousand miles away In dreams, you must have turned to me and sighed. The glorious sun was rising, and I tried To hide his face, as children, with one hand, And for a time was able, till he grew So powerful he ruled the entire land ; And wheresoe'er the king his glances threw A glory was.. A love I thus hid erst As gloriously on my life hath burst ! March 20. 18 NIGHT BY THE SEA. Beloved, my beloved, earth would be So sweet that heaven itself would be forgot If you and I might linger in this spot, Might live and die together by the sea, Where we have learned to love so deathlessly That, whatsoe'er the griefs Fate may allot, Not death itself from my glad soul can blot Remembrance of the joy you've yielded me. That little boat we watched an hour ago From darkness steal out to that silver path That seems to lead to heaven, we both do know Must pass through midnight shadows, now it hath So happy lingered in that light ; nor we Can heaven have now and in eternity ! 1-9 A DREAM. Alone I was, alone and tempest-tost ; The crescent billow did my boat invest, Within the hollow sky a voice unblest My shuddering soul appalled with cry of " Lost !" My barque had touched the splintering rock almost, When, lo ! with sight of Thee fell instant rest On earth and air and ocean's stormy breast, Nor threatened more the lately frowning coast. A dream it was, and yet not all a dream. For such the night that did encompass me, And such the storm that to my soul did seem To threaten shipwreck of eternity. When, lo ! unto my heart a heavenly gleam Revealed Thee, come to solace and redeem. 20 TO My own, I came so near to losing you ! I tremble when I think we might have met As thousands hourly meet, pass, and forget. Twice had I seen you, then between us two Came Sympathy and Music, and we grew To marvel how, twice meeting, eye to eye. We thus had, heedless, passed each other by ; We were old friends, I think, yet neither knew ! A moment more, that third time that we met, I could have said good-by without regret, But some voice begged you for a song ; I played, While you stood near. We left them all, and strayed Unto a realm which all may not explore. Blest be that song, " The days that are no more !" 1876. TWO WRECKS. In my secluded window-seat I lie Far back among my pillows, all alone ; My other heart doth sweetly sleep, but I — I cannot sleep, and, sad, I hear the moan Which through my soul goes echoing when wild waves Dash on yon cliff, as one night, years ago, When hundreds of poor souls found watery graves, And all the world seemed one dark waste of woe. I ever see one pallid, haunting face Among the many looking on the dead. I'd give a year of my sweet life for trace Of her, so young, so hopeless ! " Wrecked !" she said, " My life was wrecked a year this very night, But I — I cannot die; would God I might !" 22 FROM OVER THE SEA. "When do you think of me, and how?" Alway, Dear questioner, so far from home to-night ! "And, /(f//me, — to another I'd say write, — Oh ! tell me, docs remembrance from me stray ? And have I lost aught by this absence? Nay, It is not that I doubt you, but the light From these Italian skies, so wondrous, might Seem more like heaven's own, as fades the day, Had I your answer now." How think of thee ? If I could clasp that loyal heart of thine Close to my breast, and say no word, thou'dst see How leal to thee had been this heart of mine. It seems so cold to have to write thee this. When I could say all — more — in just one kiss ! 23 PAWNS. I. A RING. A HEAVY band of gold, within it set A diamond, whose every glance betrays Perfection, while I, fascinated, gaze. Proud princess among jewels ! doth regret Ne'er stir thy white heart's depths ? Canst thou forget The snowy hand tliou'st graced in other days. As night a tear-drop on the lily lays ? What tender, tremulous hopes thou didst beget In some fair woman's breast ! Ah, I believe Thy history, if known, would win a tear. O'er losing thee, it must be, two hearts grieve ; Surely 'twas poverty who dragged thee liere, — Estrangement, pride, nor death would ever show To careless eyes " My Darling" traced below. 24 PA WNS. II. AN OPERA-CLOAK. It might have been a queen's, this lovely thing, Of purple and soft, creamy satin made ; The breath of some luxurious beauty swayed This down, as white as any angel's wing. It may have been while she was suffering, And very weary of the part she played, Her heart away with her dead lover laid, While still she strove to lightly laugh and sing. I wonder if it ever has belonged To one who deemed herself too deeply wronged To rise again ? who may have felt a sting Beneath this down, because so like the wing Of some fair angel, — what she might have been. And what she may be now, — for all her sin ? 25 A FEAR. TO A. I. "Coming," you write, after three years again. Back to the nest you say you always miss; And I, in my presumption, dared complain That heaven seemed all too long in granting this. II. Coming — oh ! so eagerly to find me, So hopefully ! A fear creeps to my heart Lest you, beloved, should astonished be. For I am greatly changed — nay, do not start. — in. I changed in heart ? That change can never be. But outwardly, dear one; perhaps I've grown Old sooner than I should, because, you see, Since you went from my side three years have flown. 26 A FEAR. IV. Did I write " flown" ? Ah me ! I meant not so ; Perhaps, if they had flown in truth, not crept, I would not over-anxious feel, and grow Afraid to lift the eyes that have not slept V. As they were wont to sleep when you were here. Ah ! they are heavy grown in all this while, And yet they must grow bright when you draw near, And life will come to me with your first smile. VI. The flowers you loved are out to welcome you. All waiting for their friend to come again, ^- Chaste lilies, velvet-faces, shy-eyes, blue. Ah ! could a woman's eyes, like flowers, for rain VII, The brighter grow, the tears I've wept for you Had brought into the eyes you loved a grace That might have proved your old-time praises true ! Yet come, my heart has changed not like my face. 27 ESTRANGED. Do you think, dear love, if we had known That, ere another year had flown. We should have drifted far apart, We who for years claspt heart to heart, Do you think we had been more tender? II. Ah ! to think this is your natal day. And I so near, yet miles away ! Why, I could reach you in one short hour. Yet dare not send you even a flower. Not even forget-me-nots ! III. And I used to know your heart so well That I could look in your eyes and tell 28 ESTRANGED. 29 All that was there ; but now, to-day, If we should meet, you would turn away, Not letting me see your eyes. IV. Oh ! if you'd look just once again. What should I find there, hate or pain, Love or longing, or coldness, dear, Or— how my heart leaps to dream it — a tear Calling me back again ? A JUNE DAY IN NOVEMBER. TO M. H. The wondrous fairness of the day Is dying, sweet, for aye, for aye, — Dying, and we cannot keep it here For all your pleading look or tear. III. The glory fades from shore and river. And we grow still, your dear lips quiver; IV. As many thoughts as there'll be stars Are there behind the crimson bars, 30 A JUNE DA Y IN NO VEMBER. 31 V. Longing for words to set them free Ere darkness hides your face from me. VI. How strange that June should come again, And bring such joy, then leave such pain VII. Now as she dies, and bleak November Creeps back again. I shall remember VIII. As long as life with me shall stay The beauty of this summer day. IX. I oft shall see as I see now The fairness of your low, sweet brow, X. Your soulful eyes, your golden hair, — The dying sunlight lingering there, 32 A JUNE DAY IN NOVEMBER. XI, Making a halo 'round your head, — And, oh, your mouth so richly red ! XII. Your image in the water there Is going with the light ; the air XIII. Is chilly, sweet ; we cannot stay Dreaming forever, though one day XIV. Was fair, and sad, and sweet — all three- To you, my loved one, and to me. XV. The stars are up, the night comes fast ; Our day is dead, — forever past ! The Cove. WITH VIOLETS. TO A. C. The violets that I send to you Will close their blue eyes on your breast , I shall not be there, sweet, to see. Yet do I know my flowers will rest Within that chaste, white nest. little flowers, she'll welcome you So tenderly, so warmly ! Go ; 1 know where you will die to-night, But you can never, never know The bliss of dying so ! 33 34 WITH VIOLETS. III. If you could speak ! ' Yet she will know What made your faces wet, although I fain would follow you and tell her. There, go, and die, yet never know To what a heaven you go ! NORINE. Sob, then, poor one, if grief Wins a moment of relief In freeing long-pent waters of the heart ; Yet, had these tears been kept In your sad heart, and not wept, Your slanderers had known one triumph less I know 'tis true, Norine, That the world has only seen That one false step you made long years ago ; Never, now, till you are dead. Here on earth will it be said How kind you were to God's poor ones, Norine, - 35 36 NORINE. III. How you have made them glad, When your own face looked so sad ; It brought the tears to many a grateful eye. Ah, well, poor one, some day. When Norine is laid away, God will tell these friends you made amends to Him. IV. You were beautiful and young, Envy aimed those darts that stung Your discouraged soul when saw the world your fall, And I came to you too late To save you from their hate, But not too late to say, " Repent, Norine !" V. I know your friends are few, Yet, Norine, there's One that's true ; And, think ! the saints will be your friend in heaven. You will not regret the dearth You have had of friends on earth When you rest within the Sacred Heart forgiven. NORINE. VI. 37 Hush now, sob no more, Norine ; In the eyes of God all clean Grows the heart bathed by a Magdalen's sad tears ; When your soul is safe at last, It will fade, this dreary past, When you bathe God's feet with tears of joy, Norine. A PRAYER ANSWERED. Dear Lord, not for myself I plead, — I merit no regard of thine ; Scourge thou my nature till I bleed, But spare one life so linked with mine. So closely linked, although the chain That holds us ever heart to heart Reaches across the mighty main. Nor waves nor years the links can part. III. I am so strong, my friend so frail 1 (Am I too bold, dear Christ? Forgive !) It hurts to feel the fair face pale ; Transfer my strength, let her but live ! 38 A PRAYER ANSWERED. 39 IV. Hearts will be broken should she die, Whilst, were I taken, only she Would raise to heaven a heartfelt cry : " No one was half as true to me !" Yet not for me stands Death anear, But at the bedside of my All ; Jesu, my Jesu, only hear This prayer : " Thine angel Death recall !" O God ! I would I had not cried That Thou shouldst spare my then white dove ; To-night I would that she had died, — Forgive her in Thine infinite love ! NEW YEAR'S EVE. 1880. Reach out, my brave old year, to-night and take Whatever of the future hovers near ; I care not of her new joys to partake If thou, e'en cold and dead, wilt linger here. I've wandered through so many new-found ways Within the radiant realms disclosed by thee, I've known such infinitely happy days As ne'er can come again, and seem to be One-half as bright as have been thine to me. My dying friend, I will remember thee ' 40 A LAMENT. Spring again, and fair, calm skies, Pearl and blue, Yet in vain my aching eyes Search for you. II. From long dreamings wake again Spring's sweet flowers, In my soul an infinite pain Which the hours III. Nor the years can take away ; Only tears, Springing at the close of day, When one hears 4* 41 42 A LAMENT. IV. God's voice neai'er in the calms Twilight brings, Losing sight of day's alarms, " Bitter stings- Spring again ! The second-born Since that day God called you, and left forlorn Me for aye. VI. Were you watching? Do you know, Little one, Whose hand brushed away the snow (Winter gone) VII. From your grave a month ago, From the cross Mutely telling as years go Of my loss? A LAMENT. VIII, 43 Have you heard me when I've said Prayers for you ? Have you felt me when I've laid Flowers on you ? IX. Nevermore shall spring return With her flowers That I shall not for you yearn ; And when lowers Autumn, with its frosts that kill Summer's flowers, I shall want my darling still At all hours. 1879. DECISION. You will try hard to forget me ; Yes, you must, 'tis wiser so Though our parting was so bitter. It will soon from memory go. You may curse, but you will miss me ; Once, when love was at its best, Did you say as much, and hurt me, So close our hearts were prest. II, We will take the usual course, then, — Ours is not a new romance, — Shun all the haunts once dear to us, Give but a careless glance. 44 DECISION. 45 Just how far will the farce be carried I ask now, for we did not say ; I can only seem to remember Your face as you turned away. III. Ah ! the hours since last I saw you, Heard your strained voice, let you go. Have done the work of years for me, Pride in the dust lies low. I was wrong; shall I stretch my arms in vain ? See ! my heart stands open wide; Return and enter, and turn the key On all the world beside ! AFTER. " I'm sorry, and I hurried back To tell you so," a sweet voice said ; But I was wounded then, and pride Forbade me e'eii to turn my head. n. To-night I grieve and pray beside Her grave, yet cannot shed a tear ; Death parted us ere I could say The words which now she cannot hear. III. I know, I know she pardoned me, — She was so gentle with me ever, — Yet, all the same, wet, wistful eyes Do follow me, and will forever ! A WHITE ROSE. " I wore this rose at my throat last night." TO A. I. The white rose came, nor is it yet quite dead, But, oh ! so near. Its dying breath is rife With 'wildering fragrance; though you had not said Your lips had touched it, I had known its life Was thus prolonged by you. II. The rose was faithful, it has brought to me The sign of your remembrance from afar Before its death. If I might this night see The eyes this fair rose charmed, the lips that are Quivering to meet my own ! 47 A WHITE ROSE. III. But, as I cry out this, the morn steals near, Her blushes tinge the white face of my rose ; Is it from morn's eyes or my own the tear That scorches our poor dying rose ? God knows, And I, my little one ! GOOD-BY. All is still, the stars are fading From the early morning sky. I am kneeling here persuading My poor heart that our good-by Was not, after all, forever ; Distance, days, nor death can sever Soul from soul, though I may never See thy face again. II. I shall pass thy window, dearest. As I take my life's new way; I shall fancy that thou hearest All my aching heart would say, 5 49 50 GOOD- BY. As I hasten on and leave thee Lying there with naught to grieve thee, Though this heart would fain believe thee Moaning in thy dreams. III. No ! I cannot hurry on ; Just one moment I must stand In the snow there, ere the dawn Takes her rose-light from the land. Thou wilt hear my poor heart beating, Feel that I am there entreating God to guard thee till our meeting ; Now I rise and go ! PEARL-DEAD. There was a wondrous, dainty grace About her form, and then her face Was pure as new-born lilies are. Ere hands do gather them and mar Their purity. II. Always such gentleness in each tone (It broke my heart to hear her moan), And words from her were sweetly choice. Suiting this gentleness of voice To nicety. III. A longing look oft dimmed her eye When I (she trusted me) was by, 51 52 PEARL-DEAD. And wandering miles away, she'd dream Until the sweet blue eyes did seem Wet violets. - 1 cannot, cannot paint her face ; I never knew such perfect grace As God did vouchsafe to ray friend, Whom He unto my life did lend To make me blest ! TO White-winged and beautiful it came, The missive fraught with thy dear name, And sweet assurance that I claim Of thy fond heart (Else dedicate alone to Fame) A tiny part. II. A token this to me most dear, ■ Creating, by its advent here, A dies alba in the year Of mem'ry's life; A talisman to keep thee near In calm or strife. III. No longer may I dread the fall Of spirit night, and rush of all 5* 53 54 TO The phantoms that did erst appall My shuddering soul ; One thought of, thee, and I recall My lost control. IV. Now read I right the legend rare, Pygmalion's Bride. As lifeless were My soul's creations, and as fair; Thou cam'st, and, lo ! Each vision thrilled and leapt to share Thy spirit's glow ! I cannot think the time hath been When floods lethean rolled between Thy soul and mine, for well I ween Before the years They basked together in the sheen Of brighter spheres. TO . VI. Whate'er thy lot or weal or woe Thou "half of all my spirit,"* know My heart attends thee here below Unto the end; Thy hope be mine, thy foe my foe, And I thy friend. * Horace, 55 HER LAST WISH. Marie Duplessis, a woman, well throughout all Paris known, Marie Duplessis lies grieving in her sumptuous home alone. II. Save a famous grave-faced surgeon, save one maid whom she can trust,. No one stands within that chamber save one visitor august. HI. Death has come here ! death has found her ! death, the only one she fears, He has found her now, and horror chills her poor soul as he nears. ' 56 HER LAST WISH. IV, 57 Now and then in her delirium, meek as any little child, She will look up in their faces, and her own seems undefiled. V. Innocent, and, oh, how lovely ! all her wealth of yellow hair Falling 'round her as a glory, now no longer as a snare. VI. Now the carmine lips that tempted other souls till they were lost, Only part for moans, not kisses, — restlessly the head is tost. VII. Nothing they suggest desiring, wearily she moans and moans ; Ah ! that voice, that voice so famous for its rich and well-trained tones ! 58 HER LAST WISH. VIII. Sweet, sweet voice, now so pathetic that the eyes of man and maid Moisten as they stand and wonder whither now her mind has strayed. IX. Leaning o'er her now, the woman, loyal to her all these years, Hears her murmur indistinctly, sees her eyelids wet with tears. X. Suddenly the blue eyes open ! Reason has come back again. And the man of skill, perplexed, her great want to find is fain. XI. "Marie Duplessis, what is it? Name this hunger of the heart. For your wish's swift fulfilling I, if need be, will depart. HER LAST WISH. 59 XII. Tell me!" Slowly turned the great eyes that had lured men's souls away On the man, — "I want my mother, and she is so far away ; XIII. Far in one way. I chose rather all these years to give no sign That I lived, for, oh ! I could not let her white life come near mine ! XIV. Bring her here before delirium leads my mind away again ; Punishment for me, the sinner, will begin to see her pain." :Jc * * * * * * XV. Swift into the peaceful country sped a messenger away. Long indeed the sufferer deemed it until sunset the third day. 6o HER LAST WISH. XVI. When within that room' luxurious poured the sunlight on that day, Glided -in a little figure, — knelt the peasant mother to pray ; XVII. Kissed in the old way the white face, once, tvvice, thrice, then down beside Her poor wanderer knelt the mother, — knelt and prayed till Marie died. SYMPATHY. I. Yearneth thy heart for a sweet friend dead, Sigheth thy heart for a dear day fled ? I pity thee^ my friend. II. Hast known regret for a word unspoken, When a loving heart did await some token? My friend, God comfort thee. III. Has spoken ungently to one now gone. Hast lain on her grave and grieved alone ? I know God heard thy prayer. IV. Hast been harshly judged, misunderstood. By one to whom thou'st wished but good ? God understood thy heart. 6 6i 62 SYMPATHY. Has the friend of thy' heart and soul false proved, The friend of all the world best loved ? Christ pities thee, poor one ! DISCOURAGED. My arms to-night are aching With lifting my soul to God, My heart I feel is breaking, 'Twas so hard, that last blow of the rod ! II. The nerves of my soul are aching, They seem bared to that last stinging blow, And it trembled like one awaking At midnight alone in the snow. III. The faith I had garnered seems dying, My sensitive soul sighs for heaven, O Jesu ! the hours are flying. Haste ! my soul to despair will be given ! 63 DIVINE REPROACH. What have I done to-day, dear Lord, Which of my careless words have wounded Thee? Thy tender, piteous eyes do seem to say, " Desist, ray child, for thou art paining me !" 11. Rich golden sunbeams reach to kiss Thy face, A halo bright and glorious wreathes Thy head. Still, still the eyes within my soul can trace Within Thine own pure eyes a look of dread. III. Oh ! tell me, suffering One, am I the cause? Dost Thou detect some coming sin for me ? Then bid my blinded soul draw back and pause Before another wound is dealt to Thee. DIVINE REPROACH. IV. 65 Ah, stay ! perhaps I have not failed to-day In prayer to Thee ; but Thou may'st see Some of Thy children suffering far away; Let me but reach Thy feet and look with Thee ! Thine eyes, before so sad, are glowing now With radiant light, to lead me where they dwell ; Ah ! let me hear some eve when I come home From Thy pure lips, " 'Tis well, my child, 'tis well!' 6* A MAGDALEN. Dear Christ, I dare to bring my flowers Unto Thy sacred heart, I who have seen the golden hours With empty hands depart. II. I who have laid my flowers till now Upon an earthly shrine. My roses on a creature's brow, Not at Thy feet divine ! III. And not till Thou didst show to me How faithless human love, Did I for comfort turn to Thee, Lift my soul's eyes above. 66 A MAGDALEN. 67 IV. Who save my God would take at last A disappointed heart Unto His own, forget its past, And take an outcast's part? Sorrow has paled the roses fair, God-given when I was pure ; A weary woman, I hardly dare Count Thy forgiveness sure. VI. Only one gift I beg of Thee Ere I again depart. Give, O my Saviour, give to me My childhood's stainless heart. REGRET. Do you forgive now the impatient word, The ear that seemed heedless? Oh, never unheard Fell one tone, though like snow-flakes, as quiet, as pure. But found its way down into one heart, be sure. II. I loved you so, dear, that I never could show All the love in my heart ; but to-night you must know. Since the radiance of heaven has o'er your soul beamed, All there was in my heart, how of you it had dreamed. III. I wonder if heaven is too far away For your eyes to see mine, wet with tears night and day ? Does your heart hear the moaning of mine left below? Dear, I tliink you'd come back to me could you but know 68 REGRET. 69 IV. What the world is without you. You made it so bright That now, since God took you, a darkness like night Seems ever o'erhanging my desolate way. Which no new star can brighten to my dying day. I might have been oftener more tender with you, Oftener gladdened your kind heart, so noble, so true ; Oh ! forgive e'en the slight wounds I dealt ere you died, For, however it seemed, darling, God knows I tried ! QUESTIONING. My little Rosalind, — whom our tenderness names Rose, — With your young flushed face against mother's breast, Resting as anxious mothers never rest, How will life deal with you, child, who knows? II. Dear little angel-child, who each day grows Still lovelier in my eyes, whose queer, quaint words Please mother's ear as ne'er could warbling birds, Shall the hard world bruise the tender heart, — who knows ? III. Oh, little one, there is one ''Mystic Rose," Queen of the roses all in Paradise ; When my rose fades, shall the sweet soul rise To bloom forever 'neath her pure eyes? God knows. 70 DISAPPOINTMENT. How much I thought of meeting you again ! In watching for the joy that hour would bring I lost what grace the past year brought to me, And, save the lesson, gained not anything. My heart was warm wrapped in its love for you, My memory blind to every face save one ; I could not, had I died, more faithful been. The hour came and passed, — love's time is gone. III. So warm to one, and to all others cold, Selfish to all, yet generous unto you ; Saving my eyes, voice, lips as I had sworn, Only too proud to prove my love was true. 71 72 DISAPPOINTMENT. IV. Spring, erst so dear, brought violets in vain. "Spring will return," I said, and let them fade Ungathered for the first time in my life ; From one great hope not for an hour thought strayed. Fair June, rose-laden, raised her blushing face. And crept up to my very window-sill. While I, who loved her so in years agone. Forgot to smile down on her there until VI. Fierce suns had kissed the color from her lips. And thus my year went by, the year I thought Would be my brightest. ►Now 1 have no wish To know what the New Year for me has brought. A LULLABY. I. Falls the snow, falls the snow Softly at eventide, Just as the angels come and go, Silent and white when down beside Baby's bed they lean them low, Falls the snow, 'tis eventide. II. Snow-drop mine, snow-drop mine, Falling asleep like these flowers, — Mine, mine, my baby mine, — Safe while the chilly night lowers. Sleep till the smiles of the angels shine Into your eyes as the sun in the flowers'. ■ 7 73 IN THE FIRELIGHT. TO M- I. If I could have you once again Some time within the future's keeping, As I have you to-night, my pain Were less intense, my soul is weeping! II. That we've been happy who'll deny, In this dear room here, just together ? I hardly think that you or I Know if 'tis fair or cloudy weather. III. I say (here at your knees reclining), "I wonder if it rains to-night?" You marvel "if the moon is shining While we dream in the firelight." 74 IN THE FIRELIGHT. IV. Yet neither rises to look out, As haste the hours on to midnight ; Content are we to stay in doubt. And talk, low-voiced, here in the firelight. V. Oh, let me keep you here forever. For always stay, beloved, stay ! Alas ! a few more hours will sever Our hands — not hearts — for many a day. VI. Long as my lonely heart shall throb My memory will love this night. And in my ears will sound the sob You gave, and shrank back from the light. VII. Dear, think of me, and for me pray When dreaming in your firelight, For sadness with my soul must stay When once you pass beyond my sight ! 75 DIES ALBA. Love, it was God (I cannot call it Fate, Our love has proved too beautiful and true) Who bore my heart so far to find its mate. From Northern snows to Southern suns and you. Strange, strange and sweet, dear heart, 'twill ever seem How you, so honored and so worshipped there, Should have glanced down on only me, to deem My face (but glad and eager) passing fair. III. Strange how we met, and how our spirits clasped Warm hands ere you could come to seek for me, Of all that concourse, knowing I had grasped The meaning of each word and glance all perfectly. 76 DIES ALBA. IV. 77 They led me there, and all unconscious I So near to heaven my heedless feet did move, With lowered lids saw I none pass me by Up the sweet pathway leading to your love. Then, as a dreamer, lifted I mine eyes, Which erst as beauteous ones as yours had seen, But never^-sure as true love never dies — Will eyes say all yours said to mine, I ween ! VRAI JUSQU'A LA MORT. I. He was fair and fine, this lover of hers, With a chronic smile ; He had heard of guile, To hyperbole was not averse. II. He swore at the sea-shore in July, In sequestered nook. With impassioned look, That to win her he would die ! in. " Oh ! no such sacrifice," said she ; " I pray you live, And merely give That sapphire ring to me." 78 VJ^AI yUSQU'A LA MORT. 79 IV. " O love, not that !" (and he drooped his head) "I hope 'twill not grieve you, But, not to deceive you, 'Tis the gift of my poor third wife," he said. HOW SFIE SAID IT. You want to hear those three short words, But very hard are they ! Why not make love now like the birds, Who never a word need say ? II. A woman loves to hear them said, — Yes, and to say them, too ; But one's cheeks grow so very red Before one is half through ! III. Now, if I saw you come this way, Perhaps I'd run to meet you (Not going miles out of my way) With hands held forth to greet you ; 80 HOW SHE SAW IT. IV. But when, the hot sun glaring so, A great strong lover dares you To tell him something he must know Already, why it scares you. V. Will it not do to say,. I'm glad Whenever I am near you ; That, whether you are bright or sad Or stern, I do not fear you? VI. Though you could crush poor little me, My lover, strong and tall, As I could crush these flowers by me, I'm not afraid at all ! VII. You giants, when your hearts are found. The gentlest of mankind are. (My lady had been " looking 'round" Before he chanced to find her !) 82 BOW SHE SAID IT. VIII. Your quick, firm tread my ears do know From all that hurry past, And always, always I do go And watch you till the last. IX. When others praise you I grow still (Your name I rarely speak aloud), Yet at their praise my eyes do fill ; I listen, and feel very proud. X. " I never kissed you yet ?" Oh, no ; You did me once, against my will ; But some day I may even grow More lenient. Are you angry still ? XI. That was the night of your return ; You took me for your sister ; Now let your own cheeks flush and burn : She came — you never kissed lier ! HOW SHE SAID IT. 83 XII, You were confused that special night (You argue) by the gloaming; Next time a light shall aid your sight When you return from roaming ! XIII. A rose fell from my belt that night, But you were not aware ; I thought just such a trifle might That great, fair man ensnare ! XIV. O lover with the head of gold, And eyes so blue and true. Now, after all you have been told, I will not say "■ I love you !" A MAN SPEAKS. You will-o'-the-wisp of a woman, Most whimsical, sweetest under the sun, Who can love like mad while the fever lasts. Then hate like mad when the fever's done; Who can praise me, Please me. Tease me. Freeze me. All in a moment, if so you will; Though you've made me weep, Though you've banished sleep, Though you've stolen my heart, Which you're sure to keep, How you will laugh, shake your dainty head, Saying I'm foolish when I have said, "Be wayward, petulant, pouting, or gay. Audacious or penitent, either you may, I shall never forget I have had my day !" 84 TO Still wield your sceptre gracefully Over the many whom you sway, But in your great heart let there be A little place where I may stay ! Ciel ! how beautiful you are ! Men hold their breath when you appear Gloriously fair, like some lone star Which all may gaze on, not go near. in. Oh ! you were wondrous fair to-night. Both men and women felt your power ; What would they pay me for the right To sit at your feet thus for an hour? 8 85 86 TO . IV. Shall I sell my right, and a fortune gain, To last me, sweet, for many a year? I'd rather a beggar be, and in pain Lie moaning my life out, so you were near ! V. Love, let me be the little flower The queen doth single out as meet To lay on her breast in a quiet hour From all the flowers that fall at her feet ! VI, As the dew softly falls on the flower's heart. Let the dew of my great love fall on yours ; Laugh, sweet, with the others, but be it my part Some comfort to give you in sadder hours. VII. Still give them your rippling laugh, your smile. Still yield them your glances frank and bright ; But always rest on my heart awhile After your triumphs, like to-night. EASTER MORN. 'Tis just a year to-day since she, Always so thoughtful, sent to me- Knowing I loved her tenderly — This lovely Easter-card. A daintier gift there could not be, Her love designed it just for me, And this, '*in time and eternity Sweet peace and joy be yours !" III. These words from one who pitied me Followed quickly across the sea : " Scarce had she sent that wish to thee When her soul awoke in eternity." 87 IN THE ORCHARD. "It will not hurt me much," a woman said, Yet while she spoke unconsciously the head Was turned away, and cold, as were she dead. Became her smiling lips. II. " I give you back your freedom, since I know 'Tis honor that of late has held you, so In mercy I release you ; you may go, And my prayers follow you." III. Just as a child, this sweet spring morn, would steal The pinkest blossom bending there, nor feel Remorse, saying, "Oh! that wound with time will heal, And injure not the tree," IN THE ORCHARD. 89 IV, Men steal the color from a woman's face, And say, "Another season will replace I ler roses ; she has lost that faultless grace She had a year ago." 1 heard, and thought : the fruit shall missing be Where careless hands in glad May robbed the tree, And though the years should bring again to thee Thy roses, faith is dead ! 8* BIDING JUDGMENT. Thou hast not died, yet thou art dead to me, This dreariest of all truths in life I know ; There rolls between us no broad cruel sea, My eyes could quickly find thee would Pride go. The whole world dares approach to speak to thee (For thou art living, though so dead to me), And thou mak'st answer, yea, and smilingly, To those whose treachery thou dost not see. III. I am at peace some days, at night, oh, never ; Just when my soul and body need repose Thou com'st to me, and thou wilt come forever To part my wound, but ne'er its lips to close. 90 BIDING JUDGMENT. IV. For one small doubt you poisoned life and love, And for the rest of time let go my hand ; Then I grew proud. I wait now till above This lonely world before God we two stand ! IN A CONVICT'S CELL. The world is still as death ! are you asleep, My sole friend over there beyond wild waves, Or, though 'tis midnight, do you vigil keep With one who cannot cross to you for graves That intervene ? Is every saint in heaven shedding tears. That on this night the earth is drowned in rain ? Oh, think you not they pity us the years. The lonely, weary years we've lived in vain, Always apart ? III. Reach out your arms ere yet it be too late. And hold me, e'en in spirit, to your breast; 92 IN A CONVICT'S CELL. 93 One touch of your pure lips would compensate For all the nights I writhed here without rest And begged to die ! IV. The world is cold as death ; you do not sleep, You feel how I am shivering, how my breath Is failing. Not alone my watch I keep. Nor ever shall, till heaven shall send real death To break these chains ! DEATH IN LIFE. I DO not call what's left in her a heart : In whispering of a form howe'er once fair, An hour after death has entered there, We say, "It's cold," not "she," as we depart Half-hurriedly, while burning tears start. May we not call him murderer when one First teaches some young heart to worship him, Then turns and stabs it when the eyes are dim, Too dim with tears to let their owner run Beyond his reach before the deed is done? 94 DEATH IN LIFE. III. 95 This cleaving of the heart, if that were all, The heart might beat, yet bleed till life were o'er; But who in God's wide world can e'er restore The faith that young heart lost, though it should call For faith until it rest beneath the pall? FAILURE. Take down your hands, and let them not be wet With tears for me ; you must have no regret, And, for the love of God, no pity show ; Nor need you speak your answer, since I know Without a word ! Throw back your veil of beautiful gold hair,- I may not even touch you sitting there, — I see, just from the way you hide your face, My great love's fate : another has the place For which I'd die ! Ill, I fancy you're recalling (from your tears) My faithfulness to you in all these years. FAILURE. 97 When I have been outside your heart, yet thought I was enthroned therein, until I brought My own to you. IV. You must not fear for me, nor pity me ; My heart, being yours, a parting gift shall be ; Why shall I take it back because I find The door is barred ? My eyes were blind, Not yours the fault ! V. So let it lie outside, — you must not care, — In all the years you live let it watch there ; I dare to tell you, since to-night we part, It will be happier e'en outside your heart Than in another's ! A MUSICAL RHYME. Paul Pianissimo, gentle of voice, Sought the wide world through, yet made not a choice That pleased his fastidious fancy. II. Miss Gay Allegretto, so winsome and bright, Seemed too full of levity in Paulo's sight; "I'll seek one more pensive," sighed Paulo. III. Adora Andante, of voice sweet and low, Did seem to Sir Paulo a trifle too slow, "Yet," said he, "she approaches my fancy!" IV. Aurora Adagio solemnly glanced At the sweet Paulo as past her he pranced ; "Ugh ! too dismal, by all odds," quoth Paulo. A MUSICAL RHYME. py And thus, ere his eye was pleased, Paulo grew old ; No one would have him till one damsel bold Did take him to spite a lost lover. VI. Bravura Fortissimo's ear-rending voice Soon made Paulo repent he had not made a choice In the days when he might have had any one ; VII. For Madame Pianissimo, morning and night. Did shriek at poor Paulo till, in frenzied fright, He plunged into the vast Sea of Melody ! VIII, Miss Adagio, all dignity, Andante the mild, Allegretto, each one of these ladies, they smiled As they murmured, "He might have done better!" FIRST MESSAGE. TO M. M. W. Seven weary, lonely days, Elaine, Since Ave our heavy eyes did strain. Seeing death's pallor and its pain On either's face. II. And now, at dusk, when head and heart Are suffering so that tears start, Your message comes back to impart New life to me. III. In those dear days when we could say Aloud what feelings moved us, — nay, Could let our eyes meet in a way Each understood, — FIRST MESSAGE. ■ loi IV. I never dreamed when you'd have gone, Leaving me joyless here alone, That written words could so atone For eye and hand. V. I knew by heart an hour ago Each written word of yours, and, oh ! Forgive, forgive; but since I know You suffer so, VI. My heart aches less, and I am glad (Do I seem cruel?) to know how sad Life's face has looked, love, since you bade Farewell to me. VII. There hides within the words you sent Assurance of such sweet intent, I know your entire strength was lent To writing so ! 9* FIRST MESSAGE. VIII, I feel how here, just at this word, Your being in its depths was stirred ', I know now in that hour you heard My cry for you ! IX. All things so miss your presence here ! The house did never seem so drear, The stars up there that shine so clear But sadden me. X. Till now I have not dared to stand In our old place, where, hand in hand. We watched the sun resign command To dusky night ; XI. Here, where we stood in the weird light The moon shed till you looked so white I claspt you closer, lest you might Leave me alone. FIRST MESSAGE. xir. White as you looked then, ray Elaine, May your lily heart and soul remain, Forever free from the slightest stain, Is my soul's prayer ! 103 SONG Come, for the sun is going down, Evening without thee will be drear ; Sleepless, my eyes still watch for thee ; Can'st thou my lone heart's plaint not hear? Dead in ray bosom lie the flowers That you at parting gave to me ; They ne'er again, nor our dead hours, Can live but in our memory. Could I but know, ere twilight fades. Whether thy heart were light or sad, Then, though so far away from thee, I could, like thee, be sad or glad ; But darkness falls, I cannot see thee, Longing, I call on thee in vain, 104 SONG. 105 Not e'en to know, while night comes down, Whether we e'er shall meet again ; Oh ! when my life, like daylight, fades away. Must I, my darling, call for thee in vain ? TURNING A LEAF. She laughed when he threatened to turn o'er a leaf, He was so long in fulfilling, And cried, "Pray turn, this time, your dark^ page of grief; Be courageous, I'm e'en more than willing." The words were so cruel, his love was so strong. His courage came then : " Now or never !" And into her dangerous eyes he looked long Ere, with white lips, he left her forever. " He is jesting," she said; "he could never forsake Me; to-morrow will bring him again." No; the leaf has been turned, and the brave heart will break, While the woman's heart, too, shall know pain. io6 TURNING A LEAF. 107 So the story is ended, the volume closed tight; But who e'er forgot, though he tried, The pathos of certain books long lost to sight. When memory lay 'prisoned inside? SONNET. Low leans the lily to the wooing breeze, See how she trembles 'neath his warm caress, Yet, all unused to love, she strives to please. And, if she please, is filled with happiness. Far other is the mien of yonder rose, Yclad is she with scornful majesty ; Oh ! who shall dare his love to her disclose. Or haply keep unawed beneath her eye? E'en so 'tis vain to woo that heart of thine. E'en so 'tis vain to worship at its shrine. Where sits enthroned high thought of things above. Abstract, and noting not this verse of mine, Whose sober plaint must unavailing prove. E'en though it hide thy name as doth my heart thy love. io8 SONNET. TO S. M. I LOVED her voice ere I beheld her face, That night I first knelt in the chapel dim, And listened to the low, sweet vesper hymn That made a heaven of the quiet place. In one rich voice I fancied I could trace A tone of pathos, ere my glad eyes saw The face, — a tone the French call " larmes au voix^ I felt, then, that this voice of saddened grace. That hushed my homesick heart to rest that night, Rose from a woman's soul that had been tried By years of yearning for some clearer light. E'en while the world with joys for her seemed bright, Though paled were they by joys she found in flight, lo 109 SONNET. Dear one, who call'st my hands, my mind, my heart From every task which duty fain would set For their accomplishment, — who wilt not let Another creature in my thoughts have part This stormy night, — I wonder how thou art. The nights are lonelier now than when we met Each eventide ; we never knew regret Till destiny brought separation's smart, I ne'er shall look on thy dear face again : Thou canst not come, I cannot go to thee ; I know at this great distance there is pain And restless longing in thy soul for me ; Where'er thou art, I hunger to be there, Hunger and thirst, dear love, but do not dare. SONNET. As one who in the anguish of the year (When nature stricken lies, and self-confessed) Withdraws himself and all his heart's untest Apart from haunts of men, to wander near The reedy marge of some unruffled mere, And there uplifts his soul in prayerful quest Of Peace, whose after-coming makes him blest ; So, when emerging from their shades, I see ,The horrid shapes that prey upon my soul, On wings of instant thought I fly to thee. And in the shelter of thy sympathy Grow brave and strong to reassert control ; Then say, though actual presence be denied. What fate shall here our kindred souls divide? SONNET. While we stand in the gloaming, heart to heart, So close that I can count your every breath, — So close no power of earth's our souls can part, — Is it so strange, near heaven, to think of Death? Is it so strange to marvel at what hour He, august king, shall beckon one away, And leave the other drooping, as a flower Must droop and die beneath chill autumn's sway? Next cometh Doubt, like lightning, and I wonder If any other woman after this Could win your eyes from mine, dear heart, and sunder Our clinging hands, our lips, after that kiss ; Being a man, you think not of to-morrow, While I, e'en in your arms, from fear must borrow. SONNET. Like visions seen in amaranthine skies, Ere shades of gloaming fill the tranquil air, Thy tender fancies, touched by genius rare, In varying shapes of loveliness arise, The joy at once of memory and its prize. Immortal longings do thy soul upbear, And nerve as well to suffer as to dare. Know well we all each passing hour to thee Vocation is to yet more perfect life, And to that better life which is to be ; No tale of woe but wakes thy sympathy, No stricken heart but finds thee pity-rife, And, to the failing sight, when thou art near. However dark before, the way is clear ! lo* 113 SONNET. A WREATH of roses, O true heart, I send, A wreath of roses for thy natal day ; Nor do I fear a single bud's decay, Though sent from soul to soul so far away. Unlike the flowers of earth, time will but tend » Their loveliness to deepen. Lo ! I bend My knee and move ray lips, and at the sign, — Though coming from a soul defiled as mine, — Christ's mother, queen of heaven, will to thee send An angel with my ros'ry for thy soul. So precious in the eyes of God and in The eyes of her who greets thee from afar. O faithful friend ! beg God that I may be In heaven when thou art crowned eternally ! 114 SONNET. Oh ! never since that drear day we did part, My friend, have I borne half so sad a heart As in a dream I had of you last night, For you seemed lost to me, though still in sight. Some words I said that your sweet soul did wound So cruelly, that no words could be found For you to speak ; and into your dear eyes A look, heart-broken, stole of hurt surprise. A moment more, and round your form was shed That light we see about a saintly head. You were a saint, I thought, — a saint forever, — And I my soul's remorse could tell you never ! Ah ! never till that bright day when we meet Will I the morn with such great gladness greet. "5 GOOD-NIGHT. TO M. H. Good-night, dear heart, so far from mine, Good-night, fair face, for which I pine, O'er thy life's way forever shine God's radiant stars. O golden head ! O fair, proud face ! Unmatched in all the world for grace, How far thou art from thine own place Upon my heart ! Though miles and miles do intervene Thine eyes, dear one, and mine atween, From Morn's birth till the death of E'en Mine watch for thee. Ii6 GOOD-NIGHT. ny Good-night, dear lips and tender eyes, Sweeter are none 'neath any skies, Angels watch o'er thee till the dear eyes Unclose in heaven. Farewell, fond heart, so far away ; Oh ! for the power Thought owns, — to stay Near thee forever, by night, by day ; Sweetheart, good-night ! THE END.