Class ?S 3^^ Book 'EfrfeTV GopyrightN I COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; The Poems of Leroy Titus Weeks — Spend in all things else, But of old friends be most miserly. — Lowell. LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE POEMS OF LEROT TITUS WEEKS ff? Published by L. T. Weeks Sabula, Iowa 1911 Copyright, 191 1, By L. T. Weeks Hfi.ol ©CI. A 2926 90 1 But soft ! sink low ! Soft ! let me just murmur, And do you wait a moment, you husky- noised sea, For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding to me. — Walt Whitman. Contents BIRD POEMS The Bobolink ....... I The Eagle .... The Cardinal Bird • 5 8 The Jay Bird . The Red-winged Blackbird 1 1 »4 The Chickadee 17 The Song of the Sickle . 20 In Bohemia . 22 Arcadee 2 4 Snowing Spring .... The Maiden Spring 26 28 3° DIALECT POEMS All 'at 's Out 's in Free 32 Mah LiT Snowball 35 God's Ol' Clothes . 38 God's Back Door . 4 1 Mother Earth 42 FRENCH FORMS I'll Paddle in Puddles No More .... 45 My Heart With the Swallows is On the Wing 4 8 The Mute Pipe When First We Met 50 52 Deep in the Wood . A Rondelet . • 53 54 The Critic 55 Sestina .... . 56 [vii] CONTENTS SONNETS The All-Engulfing Love . 58 Ego . 59 Sisyphus 60 The Coming of Sleep 61 To My Pipe . 62 My Ship Came In . 63 THREE SONNETS OF DARKNESS I. " And the Darkness Could be Felt" . . 64 II. Golgotha ..... 65 III. " The Cup that My Father Hath Given Me , Shal I Not Drink It ? " . 65 Be Bold 67 Eurydice 6S Hawthorne 69 Abraham Lincoln . 70 Shelley . 7' Alexander Hamilton 72 John Wesley . 73 Friendship 74 To My Mother 75 The Sacrifice . 76 The North Pole . 77 MISCELLANEOUS Rizpah .... The Tumalum 84 My Mountain Maid 87 The Mermaid's Song 89 Love and I 92 Molly Bawn . 94 Bimini . 97 Serenade 99 The Holly Bough . 101 Fairy Lullaby t 102 [ viii ] CONTENTS What Is It that Tugs at My Heart ? Transfiguration , Life Algomar .... I Go, I Go . Easter . O, Holy Spirit God-Kind .... Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men Trust ..... Unto God .... The Fountain Torch and Burden . Loss and Gain De Profundis The White Stag The Ballad of the Young Woodman To James Whitcomb Riley Faith and Doubt To My Friend Heartsease and Rue A Chigger on Goethe 104 107 1 10 ] 12 114 117 1 20 1 21 1 22 1 24 125 126 129 131 J 34 135 137 139 141 142 H3 144 SIX QUATRAINS The Vision of Dante Autumn Leaves Amrita . The Heart and the Brain The Price Fate H5 146 H7 148 149 150 CLUSTERING ABOUT MRS. WEEKS'S ILLNESS AND DEATH " Das Ewig Weibliche " It is Not Good for Man to be Alone Avalon . [ix] 151 152 '53 CONTENTS Prayer . . . . . . . . 1 54 O God, Be Bountiful to Me 156 The Angels of Life 158 September 1 1, 1910 J 59 Behold, I Will Deliver Thee 160 Ca Ira . 161 Near the Precipice . 163 Lovers' Lane . 165 The Heart Knoweth Its Own Bitterness 167 Despair 168 [x] Bird Poems 11 Whar de branch runs google an' de leaves is green." — Joel Chandler Harris. THE BOBOLINK "TT TINKLE-wankle-wonkle-winkle, V V Tee-a, tee-a, tumple- tinkle," So my tipsy bobolink'll Carol all the day. " Kinkle-rankle-rumple-rinkle," Until night with starry twinkle Stops his jingling lay. Sweet is thy music, O, wild little rover, Tumbling glee-drunk into billows of clover ; Merry as Bacchus and sweet as Apollo, Thy careless foot crumpling the lily's corolla. "Fink" "Fink." [«] THE POEMS OF " Inkle-ankle-onkle-kinkle," Teasing out the snarl and crinkle Of the toiler's brain ; From a flaunting rag- weed teeter, With intoxicating meter. Flows thy silver strain. Sweet bird, I slip the yoke of toil ! Though weeds may grow and crops may spoil, I hold the cares of life at bay To spend with thee this matchless day. Here in these meadows drowsed with bloom, Edged round with lace from spider's loom, I sink into the arms of June As tired hands unclasp at noon, And let my heart be glad and free, While bobolink pours over me The pearls he drank in drops of clew, While stars were out and morn was new. " Joy ! jollity ! jubilee ! Wirblety, warble, happy me ! Rest and dream, O, tired mortal ; See ! I push a secret portal, And let in a shining throng Piping many a happy song. [2] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Pinkle-pankle-punkle-pinkle, " So the broken warbles sprinkle O'er me till I catch the sweetness Of the season's rich completeness, — Till my soul escapes its keeper, Leaves the earth and soars to deeper Vasts of light, by wing unaided, Till earth sounds are hushed and faded, And upon my inner vision Breaks the glow of fields elysian, While from hosts of the Eternal Comes the symphony supernal, And the songs I lisped and stuttered Echo back divinely uttered. O, the bright transfiguration ! And the blest emancipation ! Then I sink back to the bird, And earth sounds again are heard. " Wifey, wifey, come and see What I've built for you and me : A bridal palace by a willow With sky roof and cloud-down pillow ; Sun-lace curtains at the door And grass carpets on the floor. [3] THE POEMS OF Dreamed it all and built it so With ad libs and tremolo Of love's hope and joyous glee ; — Sung it into life, you see. Whisper, whisper, went the breeze ; (Coaxed it with my symphonies,) Whisper, whisper, went the dew ; (Went because I sang of you) Whisper, whisper, went the light, — Whisper, whisper, all the night, Busy elves of earth and air, — Whisper, whisper, everywhere, Lips that breathe the breath of .life : Lo ! all earth in beauty rife With love-forms to pleasure you. Li nkle-lankle-linkle-linkle, Kimple-rimple-rumple-rinkle, Fink Fink." [4] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE EAGLE SEE him come like a bolt ! Hear his mighty wings rush, As he bursts through the cloud with a conquer- ing scream ! How my heart throbs with joy ! How my eager veins flush, As he flashes upon me, my own vital dream ! See him skee through the air with his wings never stirred, A thousand feet down, from his home on the crag; O, stout-hearted challenger ! mountain-nursed bird ! Fit emblem art thou for the Bonny blue Flag. I have seen thee at battle, and felt my own blood Arouse to thine action with wild billowings, At the splendid display of trained hardihood In a spasm of air and a whirlpool of wings. [5] THE POEMS OF O, bird of my country, On the cliff thou art sentry To welcome the morning and warn of the night. O, bird, how I love thee ! And how from above thee, About and below thee, I feel thee and know thee, — Baptized by one hand at the same font of light. Together we've drunk at the morning's fresh fountain ; Together we've fought out the storm on the mountain ; We've heard it far under With rock-rending thunder Bumping and butting away in its wrath, While lightnings have gleamed as from Vulcan's own forge, And the water-spout gored its way down to the gorge, Leaving the mountain scarred deep in its path. How like to a man art thou, — dauntless in danger ! The lord of the land and the sea and the air, [6] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I look in thine eye, O, thou sky-roving ranger - The spirit of distance is slumbering there. America mounts with thee, higher and higher, Proud emblem of victory, soaring afar ; Unto the same heights do thy people aspire, "Where vision unbounded and liberty are. [7] THE POEMS OF THE CARDINAL BIRD THE cardinal bird is a troubadour With a song for the young and the gay ; With crest aflame in a wild amour, From a bush at peep of day, He pipes to his mate in tones that lure : " First o' May, my dear, first o' May ! " The symbol of blossom and summer-time joy, He delights both the eye and the ear. Sweet Spring appoints him chief envoy, And he calls as he passes near, " Ahoy, Sir ! ahoy, Sir ! ahoy, Sir ! ahoy ! What cheer ? What cheer ? What cheer ? " Along about four on a summer morn, When the day begins to glow, And the dew glints on the knee-high corn, Then the birds strike up, ho, ho ! And Cardinal plays the leading horn, — " Key-note ; key-note ; . . . do, do, do!" [8] LEROY TITUS WEEKS He eyes me askance as I walk about His nest in the cedar tree ; Sometimes he'll sulk and seem to pout With a doleful sigh, " Ah, me ! " Or skip here and there with a saucy shout, — " Puccachee, you there ! puccachee ! " He romps through the trees with a loud guffaw, When the eggs begin to pip ; You'd think a star had broke in his craw, Or he'd been to the sun for a dip ; He bids all hands for a mad hurrah — " Three cheers ! hip, hip, hip ! " His greedy little youngsters gourmandize, Till their bills will hardly shut ; Grubs, and worms, and bugs, and flies, They gobble, and cram, and glut, Until you'll hear his chiding cries — " Ah, ah, children ! hut, tut, tut ! " "Hello, there, hello," he seems to call, " What makes mankind so poky ? When wood and stream and meadow made call, [9] THE POEMS OF The Lord himself played hookey. 1 There goes a squirrel along on the wall, Lookey ! lookey ! lookey ! " Thanks for the hint, my bonny, bonny bird ; I saunter off to the wood ; My heart with primal heat is stirred, — And if I understood What the old oaks say, in their secret word, I would join their brotherhood. 1 Mark vi. 31. [IO] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE JAY BIRD HO, there, gay marauder, Rummaging the wood ! Pompous self-applauder, Braggart and defrauder, Bold as Robin Hood. Saucy imp in white and blue, What's your title ? Tell me true. Comes the answer sharp, metallic : " Smart Aleck! Smart Aleck!" Impudent freebooter, Pirate of the grove, Scoffer and disputer, Harasser and looter, Everywhere you rove. But from out that noisy throat Often comes a liquid note : " Kickapoo, Peek-a-boo, Link-a-loo Inkle-poo ! " [»] THE POEMS OF Then again he'll whisper — Oh, but he is sly ! Like a happy vesper, You will hear the lisper, In the leaves near by, Crooning to his nesting mate Songs beyond me to translate : " Tear, Tee, Twink, Twee ! Eoom for two — just you and me ! " Here I lie a-soaking In the scented shade, While he goes a-poking All about and joking Like a jolly blade. Then he'll order round his wife, With her busy, busy life : "Fill the kittle! Fill the kittle ! Fill up the kittle ! Fill the tea-kittle ! " [12] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Once I watched a robin Plastering her nest. How she kept a-bobbin' In and out, and daubin', Shaping with her breast. Jay bird came a-dancing by, And the dwelling caught his eye Sucked the eggs and flew away ! " Jay ! Jay! Jay! Jay!" [ J 3] THE POEMS OF THE RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD ON a flaunting flag the red-wing swings, (" Onk-o-lee ! ") And he dips and sways and tilts his wings To the rollicking south wind as he sings, " Ka-lonk-o-lee ! One, two, three, Nestlings hid where none can see. Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " In a button-bush or a tussock deep, (" Konk-o-lee ! ") Is the sly little nest where his babies sleep, While sheltering reeds their vigils keep. " Ka-lonk-o-lee ! Blithe and free, With June and sunshine I agree. Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " Oh, the Blue is bluer when he comes, (" Lonk-a-lee ! ") The bee in the maple blossom hums, The field and the lark again are chums. [14] LEROY TITUS WEEKS " Ong-lilla-ree ! The waking lea Is sweet with the breath of Arcady. Ong-kulla-ree ! " The flags are aflame with his epaulet — (" Klong-kulla-ree ! ") That sparkle of red on a jacket of jet ; Oh, he is the summer-time's gay cadet ! " Ka-lonk-o-lee ! The spring's a-glee, From the Hudson down to the Oconee. Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " As sweet as the lover's sweetest theme (" Glong-go-lee ! ") Are the shadowy pools in the loitering stream, Or the pond where the water-lilies dream. " Ka-lonk-o-lee ! To Pan and me The reeds have willed their melody. Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " When they meet for a sing in the wooing-time, (" Jubilee ! ") 'Tis the gurgle of water in joyous rhyme, [*5] THE POEMS OF Or the golden peal of a tuneful chime — " Ka-lonk-o-lee ! "What a jamboree We're having up here in the sycamore-tree ! Ka-lonk-o-lee ! " [16] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE CHICKADEE (Triolets) THE chickadee tilts On a sycamore bough. In cute little kilts The chickadee tilts, Like a brownie on stilts Near his sweet little frau. The chickadee tilts On a sycamore bough. The chickadee wears A cunning black cap. In all his affairs The chickadee wears With genial airs, The dear little chap, — The chickadee wears A cunning black cap. [*7] THE POEMS OF The chickadee's song Is " Chickadee-dee." It is not very long, The chickadee's song ; Not much in a throng, But it satisfies me. The chickadee's song Is " Chickadee-dee." The chickadee dines On, — what do you think ? Not ices and wines ; The chickadee dines On lunches he finds In many a chink. The chickadee dines On, — what do you think ? The chickadee nests In a hole in a tree. The cats are not guests Where the chickadee nests ; No robber molests His little tepee. The chickadee nests In a hole in a tree. [18] LEROY TITUS WEEKS The chickadee stays All the year round. On cold winter days The chickadee stays ; The cat-bird delays Till daisies abound. The chickadee stays All the year round. ['9] T THE POEMS OF THE SONG OF THE SICKLE >ICKLE, tickle, tickle," Hums the mower's dewy sickle In the grass. Tickle-tops and timothy, Meadow-rue and clover, Feel a sudden tremor, Bow, and topple over, As they feel the tickle Of the mower's dewy sickle, Ever laughing through the meadows like a merry country lass. " Tickle, tickle, tickle," Where the lights and shadows trickle Through the green. Meadow-lark and bobolink Pouring molten beauty For an aureole to crown Homely toil and duty, While the glinting sickle, With its " tickle, tickle, tickle," Misses sundry little blossoms, where the bees will come and glean. [20] LEROY TITUS WEEKS " Tickle, tickle, tickle ; " Heats of summer throb and prickle, Full of life. Steady tramp the sturdy bays, — Gearing smoothly gliding ; Sleepy driver nods and dreams, From the endless riding ; And the glancing sickle, With a tickle, tickle, tickle, Sings a song of love and gladness to the farmer's listening wife. " Tickle, tickle, tickle ! " Oh ! the dreams of youth are fickle As a cloud. Changing as the changing stream, Or the changing shadows, Come and gone, and here and there, On the changing meadows, Till the " tickle, tickle, tickle," Of death's ever-busy sickle Lays us all away forever in a never-changing shroud. [21] THE POEMS OF IN BOHEMIA IN Bohemia, peaceful Bohemia, O, there are no clocks and watches ; Time is reckoned by the notches On a cloud, In Bohemia. In Bohemia, festive Bohemia, Lunch is spread on fragrant grasses, And a sunbeam laughs and passes O'er the plate, In Bohemia. In Bohemia, joyful Bohemia, Cups and spoons are purple clam-shells, Washed by dimpled, laughing damsels By a brook, In Bohemia. In Bohemia, dreamy Bohemia, Here and yon a happy loafer, — Ne'er a gold-clawed human gopher Piling dirt In Bohemia. [22] LEROY TITUS WEEKS In Bohemia, care-free Bohemia, Everywhere are jolly, vagrant Sybarites, who breathe the fragrant Breath of life, In Bohemia. [23] THE POEMS OF AECADEE 1WAS born in Arcadee ; And the leaves on every tree Have a secret word to say To my ear, where'er I stray. I was born in Arcadee, And I've stayed there, happy me. O, the world in Arcadee Is just like this world you see ; Only, there the native-born Are immune to care and scorn. Every discord is a glee To those born in Arcadee. They have storms in Arcadee — Summer, winter, by decree ; But the natives only know Just the treasures of the snow. Heart of light is plain to me In all storms of Arcadee. [24] LEROY TITUS WEEKS He that's born in Arcadee Holds the golden sesame ; In his footprint there is seen Crystal fount of Hippocrene. All the world shall bend the knee To those born in Arcadee. Better than to own the sea — Being born in Arcadee. To his Christ-anointed eyes Every vale is Paradise. I was born in Arcadee, And I've stayed there, — happy me. [25] THE POEMS OF SNOWING FEATHERING the willows, Drifting in the hedges, Piling downy pillows On the mountain ledges, — Bordering the streamlet Where the sedges shiver, Floating down a dreamlet To the drowsy river ; , Weaving shrouds of ermine For the perished roses, Soft as couch of merman When the deep reposes ; Speaking in a whisper Mystical and olden, Silver-throated lisper With a language golden ; [26] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Smoothing out the wrinkles In the cemetery, Laughing where the tinkles Of the bells are merry ; Dancing like a fairy, — Vanishing returning, Till the spirits airy Set the woods a-yearning. [27] THE POEMS OF SPUING THE bees are droning dreamily in pear and apple bloom ; The gossamers are drifting by like fluffy flakes of spume. O, lazy, hazy afternoon, replete with life and love ! O, dreamy, creamy clouds that make a perfect tent above ! O, gentle, opal April skies, just wide enough for soul, By feeling round the finite space, to guess the mighty whole ! I lean against the friendly bark of this benignant oak, That thrice has heard the century clock peal its solemn stroke. I feel its prophecy of life transfused into my blood ; And like the forces in its trunk that crowd in limb and bud, I sense the pent-up potencies demanding to be freed In color and aroma and the verities of deed. [28] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I answer to the climbing sap ; I heed the aching earth That travails since creation in the agonies of birth ; I put my hand unto the plow, and keep my eyes ahead ; I leave the dead to lag behind and put away their dead. I hear the bluebird's tirly-wirly, hear the flicker's trill ; I hear the insect in the grass, the heifer on the hill. The bass has picked a spawning place ; the snake is in the sun ; And everywhere the nimble feet of life begin to run; And everywhere I turn my eye — to sky, or stream, or sod, I read a poem ending with — The signature of God. [29] THE POEMS OF THE MAIDEN SPRING THE sweet, warm lips of early spring Come full upon my own ; They softly press and fondly cling, Like lips that I have known. Her garments touch me here and there, By wanton breezes stirred ; My forehead feels her rippling hair, Like wing of passing bird. Her budding breasts thrill all the dawn, Through vapors thinly laced ; And by the swelling curves of lawn Her amorous limbs are traced. The sun portrays her beaming face On every waking hill ; Her long hair curls a merry race With mosses in the rill. [3o] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I thought an oriole flew by ; — Her sash gleamed through the wood. " Ah ! there's the mocking-bird," cried I ; But soon I understood What 'twas deceived my tingling ear, — 'Twas she, the witching maid, Her merry laughter ringing clear With robins in the shade. All birds and blossoms by the way Are knights of her demesne, — The season's jubilant array To greet the sylvan queen. [3i] THE POEMS OF Dialect Poems ALL 'AT'S OUT 'S IN FREE ! HIDE an' seek," 'r " I spy ! " Good ol' game of long ago ! Keep your eye peeled like a cat ! Git caught ef you come pokin' slow. Creep behind a locus' tree, 'R in the wagon-box, 'r hide Under some ol' burdox clump, An' fin' a hen's nes' there ; 'r slide Down the tater-hole an' spile Your new jeans pants jes' made that day 'Member once, in tater time, I got a lickin' that-a-way. [32] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Change coats, mebby, — coats an' hats ; Then scrooch behin' the picket fence So's to show up jest enough To fool the baseman ; consequence, He hollers, " One, two, three, fer Tom ! " When it's me ; nen we yell, An' whoop it up till he gits hot. A lot o' fun, I want to tell. Makes my oP heart tickle yit To think how me an' John an' Wall Went into the stable once, An' took a plank up in the stall, An' crep' in under in the dark, Wheres nobody couldn't see, An' laid there till Al had to yell, " All 'at's out 's in free ! " Hair's as white now as the snow 'At piles up in an empty nest. Don't do nothin' any more But set out here an' dream an' rest ; [ S3] THE POEMS OF An' purty soon I'll slip away, An' hide fer good, where all is still, Under them big oaks 'at stan' Knee-deep in ferns on Folin's Hill. An' when the Jedgment Day comes by An' last one they can't fin' is me, I hope I'll hear ol' Gabrul say, " All 'at's out 's in free ! " [34] LEROY TITUS WEEKS MAH LI'L' SNOWBALL WHAT raek yo' hah so kinkety, MahliT Snowball? What mek yo' face so inkety ? — Now, honey, don' yo' squall ! Yo' kinky hah, yo' inky face, Yo' li'l' stracted nose — Yo' cotch 'em f 'm yo' daddy an' Yo' mammy, don' yo' s'pose ? Yo' daddy face ist lak a pot, An' mammy's blackah yit ; An' bof dey hah as kinkety As evah it kin git. Den how yo' s'pose yo' dinky face Done gwine to happen white ? I'll chuck you in de flou' ba'l, An' leab yo' dah all night ! [35] THE POEMS OF You want to be lak white folks ! Chile, Ise ashamed o' you ! I'll git a pillar, dat I will, An' beat yo' black an' blue ! "White folks' houses got de hants, Wid yurs lak ol' ba'n do' ; An' big red tongues des lollin' out, An' draggin' on de flo'. Dah now, dah now ! Hootsy-tootsy, tuckahoe, Possum fat an' pone ; Fiddle cuore de rh'umatiz — An' shake de rattle bone, Lak angels trompin' in de dew, Whah sweet-gum shadders fall. Sh ! mah pickaninny ; sleep, Mah li'P Snowball. Mockin'-bird a-singin' sweet, In de 'simmon tree. He say de angels gwine t' come, An' play wid yo' an' me. [36] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Magnolia blossoms dreamin' down, Sleepy, s-1-e-e-p-y, sleep ! Dahk a-comin' all aroun', Creepy, c-r-e-e-p-y, creep ! Oh, whah yo' is, mah honey, now ? Mah pickaninny, whah ? Is dat yo' eye a-shinin' yen ? — Dat liT winkin' stah ? I see yo' playin' on dat cloud ; Mah honey, don' yo' fall ! I wisht Ise wid you, playin' dah, Mah liT Snowball. [37] THE POEMS OF GOD'S OL' CLOTHES I COULDN'T never seem to see 'At God don't wear ol' clothes. Sometimes he comes to visit me In weeds an' things, an' those 01' leafy apurns Adam wore Clean back in Paradise. An' I jes' like 'im all the more, The more he never tries To strut into my tater patch, When I'm a-hoein' there, With kid gloves on, an' duds to match The rigs 'at princes wear. I'm not a-sayin' God is poor, An' hain't no royal robes ; Much less I'm sayin' he's a boor, An' likes a dress like Job's. [38] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I've seen him wear a sunset coat, With stars all down the front, — An' little ones about the throat, So fine you'd haf to hunt. I've seen him wear a morning gown All glorious like the sun, An' on his head a royal crown Of clouds an' star-beams spun. Such costly robes 'ould break all banks To pay the tailor bill ; An' yit he 'lows you, jes' fer thanks, To wear 'em ef you will. But, jes' the same, when he makes calls On Tom an' Dick an' Hal, He'll maybe hev on overalls, — An' yit poetical, Like some big oak in winter dress, With leaves all brown an' old ; A painter 'd hunt a year, I guess, For one so manifold. [39] THE POEMS OF You see, God's always jes' like this : He speaks in your own tongue ; You understand him like a kiss, Or some sweet song 'at's sung By thrush or lark ; or like amens, 'At all folks understand. An' then, his garments always blen's "With what is close at hand. O, him an' ms f We git along, — Especial in the woods, Where insect hum and wood-thrush song, An' all poetic moods Of leaf an' blossom, water sounds, An' silent spirit speech, An' shadders, — all expounds "What He intends to teach. Out there we're brothers, him an' I, Conversin' heart to heart : Our suits edzacly dentify ; You cain't tell us apart. [40] LEROY TITUS WEEKS GOD'S BACK DOOE GOD don't offer me no hand-out, When I tramp to his back door ; Nur he doesn't make me stand out While I eat it, furthermore. Asks me in, an' calls me brother ; Sets me down to bread an' wine ; Doesn't touch his own lips, nuther, Till he put§ the cup to mine. All the ills by man invented, Meant to crush, and crunch, an' cramp, They melt away, an' I'm contented, When God owns me, me a tramp. So, the rich may enter mounted, At the port cosheer before. As fer me, I'll jes' be counted As a tramp at God's back door. [4i] THE POEMS OF MOTHER EARTH 1JES' been layin' wake a spell, A-sympathizin' with the folks 'At swelters in close rooms, while here The night is gentle, an' the oaks Are breathin' cool breaths through their leaves, Like fairies strewin' poppies deep About my bed, an' soothin' me Jes' right fer droppin' off to sleep. I put my hand out on the grass ; Or lay a-lookin' at the moon, An' thinkin' of good times 'at's gone ; Or list'nin' to the night's soft croon, While off somewhere a mockin'-bird Is breakin' out in rills o' song ; — Jes' sprinklin' all the night with pearls, An' sowin' dream-seed all along. [42] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I'm glad they hev their nightingales Across the ocean, sky-larks too, 'At climbs the stairways o' the air, An' loose theirselves up in the Blue. You don't ketch me a-braggin' round Jes' cause I beat some other chap, An' hev a better house or barn, Or hoss or cow, or tater crap. One glory of the nightingale, Another glory of the lark ; But when the mockin'-bird pours out, Let other birds jes' stop an' hark. There's sort o' medicine, I low, 'At comes from layin' on the ground,- Like cuddlin' in your mother's lap, Where we all used to sleep so sound. So, on the ground's the place fer me, With some big oak a-sayin' then : " The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ Be with you evermore. Amen." [43] THE POEMS OF An' last I'll sleep here in the ground, Till that bright dawn, when time is done, I'll find Him tappin' at my door, An' say in' soft, "Wake up, my son." [44] LEROY TITUS WEEKS French Forms I'LL PADDLE IN PUDDLES NO MORE ( Virelai Nouveau) I 'LL paddle in puddles no more The ocean lies luring before. I leap to the boat and the oar ; I push from the shoal and the shore. Out there waits my ship of the line ; — O, welcome the roll and the roar ! And welcome the sea-birds that soar, The surge and the smell of the brine ! I'll paddle in puddles no more. Like draughts of a long-treasured wine, That tingles my frame to the core ; Like mountain air scented with pine, It kindles nry heart to explore, — [45] THE POEMS OP To knock, and unlock every door Where Wisdom and Beauty keep store. Like a smile of the Presence Divine, The ocean lies luring before. From foot-rope to spanker-sheet pour The seas with their gleaming phosphor ; I lean from the ropes in the fore, To waters where never prow tore The level floor's green crystalline. The dashing spray, fresh and saline, Drives home to my heart through each pore. I seek with the great Florentine The kingdom of Queen Proserpine. I chant from the primeval score, With my fathers, the vikings of yore. I brother with least colopore, With polyp and minutest spore ; For each is a perfect design, — Each bears immortality's sign. I'll paddle in puddles no more. With rapture I watch my prow gore Its way to the land where I swore To plant a victorious ensign. O, soul of me, never repine ! [46] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Be it north in the polar seas frore, Or where the hot tropic suns shine Ablaze perpendicular o'er, — The spirit of emprise be mine ! The ocean lies luring before ; I'll paddle in puddles no more. [47] THE POEMS OF MY HEAKT WITH THE SWALLOWS IS ON THE WING ( Tirelai Nouveau) M Y heart with the swallows is on the wing ! The meadows are blooming, and it is spring O, Nature is Queen and I am King, — The circle of life is the wedding ring. I love her for her royal heart, That's richer than all the wallowing Lords of wealth in the muggy mart. Our throne's in the fields, and there we fling Our wealth in roses and that sort o' thing. Fetch me a copy of Riley, and sling A cloud for a hammock ; be quick, and bring A gossamer cord by which to swing. This swaying branch shall help me start, And while birds rollick about I'll sing, " My heart with the swallows is on the wing ! " The breezes ! the breezes ! they kiss and cling, Wooing and cooing with artless art, Piercing me with immortality's sting, Teasing me into the forests apart, [48] LEROY TITUS WEEKS And playing their jigs on every string Of my throbbing heart, till I feel the smart Of budding life. And hark the " sping ! " Of departing bees, and the mellow ding- Dong of bells, and the ringlety-jing Of mowers and reapers and everything. The meadows are blooming, and it is spring ! From grassy lanes the " go-lang, go-ling," Of cow-bells comes, while woodlands ring With birds in their jolly jargoning. When Spring lays down her flowery chart, Like deer alert with limbs a-start, From the toiling town I quick depart. Let who will dig with the devil's dart, Where life lumbers on like a squeaky cart, I follow the midge with his tiny " ting ! " To the woods, where joy is dallying. The meadows are blooming, and it is spring ! My heart with the swallows is on the wing ! [49] THE POEMS OF THE MUTE PIPE ( Villanelle) IKANSACK the shores high and low To get me a reed for my tune, And I find not a pipe that will blow. There are harmonies in them I know, I hear them sometimes when they croon. I ransack the shores high and low. On other men's lips they bestow Their secrets in rhythmical rune — / find not a pipe that will blow. Wherever broad rivers may flow, Wherever reeds line a lagoon, I ransack the shores high and low. I leap upon Pegasus, — Whoa ! And I search all the stars and the moon, Yet find not a pipe that will blow. [50] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Then I turn to myself in my woe, And swear by the Great Horn Spoon, That I'll ransack my shores high and low Till I find me a pipe that will blow. t5i] THE POEMS OF WHEN FIRST WE MET (Roundel) WHEN first we met, an influence sweet, Like scent of rose with dewdrops wet, Breathed on my heart that quicker beat, When first we met. My hands I fill to pay my debt, With coin stamped in Love's furnace heat, And with Love's superscription set. And here, safe housed in love's retreat, I bless the unseen power yet, That stayed by thee my wandering feet, When first we met. [52] LEROY TITUS WEEKS DEEP IN THE WOOD (Rondeau) DEEP in the wood I love God best ; Here I am the distinguished guest. Here is the primal stamp of " Good," And here the elemental mood Wherein the soul finds every quest. I live full life, supremely blest ; No dissipating imps intrude Deep in the wood. The " open secret " manifest, Or through long vistas sweetly guessed, Glows forth from leaf or saw-log rude ; All things with loving eyes are viewed, From rotten stump to warbler's nest, Deep in the wood. [53] THE POEMS OF A A RONDELET RONDELET — The best of wine in purest gold. A rondelet, — A star-beam caught in music's net ; A crystal thought in beauty's mould ; Your eyes, my Love, deep in them hold A rondelet. [54] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE CRITIC I TWEEDLE-LEE-LEED, And I twoodle-loo-looed. The critics decreed, So I tweedle-lee-leed. They're a Lilliput breed, But they have to be wooed So I tweedle-lee-leed, And I twoodle-loo-looed. [55] THE POEMS OF SESTINA " The very acme of metrical ingenuity." — Johnson, " Forma of English Poetry. ' ' IN May all magnets point to Hope, And every throat will sing a song. There's not a soul can droop and mope, — Each has the broadest skies for scope, In which to try his pinions strong, That smother in the scrambling throng. "With bees and blooms the meadows throng ; The south wind sings a song of hope, That urges us with impulse strong To join in Nature's wonder-song, That has all realms of life for scope, Where never heart can pine or mope. All winter long the trees would mope ; But now, like some embattled throng, Their branches push to wider scope, And bourgeon in victorious hope, While nesting birds pour out their song In streams of rapture sweet and strong. [56] LEROY TITUS WEEKS The rivers swell with current strong, That erstwhile, bound with ice, did mope ; The rills join in the waking song ; The rain-clouds, all a happy throng, Are pouring down melodious hope Of summer days and sunlit scope. The pupa in its narrow scope Has felt the life-throb deep and strong, And struggles with a glowing hope No more, a worm, to creep and mope, But soon to join the soaring throng, A living dream of summer song. In May each heart will sing its song Of ampler vision, broader scope, Where all our loves and dreams shall throng, And Life's great ocean, full and strong, Shall drown all fiends that lag and mope, And every lip shall whisper — " Hope ! " O, white-winged Hope, with angel song ! Let sluggards mope, we crowd thy scope With pulses strong, a joyous throng. [57] THE POEMS OF Sonnets THE ALL-ENGULFING LOVE ONE time my father's farm was all of space. " As big as Father's farm ! " — there fancy curbed. But soon my little circles were disturbed ; — Horizons widened on and on apace, Till comets, yea, and light, lagged in the race, Yea, till creation's bounds at last reverbed "With crying of my soul, still urged, perturbed, To find an end to this horizon chase. The stars and suns are incidental motes, That float in the eternity's vast span That still shall be when they shall all remove. Eternity is but a word that floats Upon the ocean of the soul of Man, — And gulfing Man's soul is this woman-love. [58] LEROY TITUS WEEKS EGO WHY, stripped of joy and with my heart burned out, Do I still fare adown this dusty road ? Why not turn on the driver with his goad, And crash through walls that hedge me all with- out? I marvel that my soul doth pule and doubt, And falter, yea, and palter with the tomb, As though its chill, and damp, and gloom Could deepen pains that swathe me here about. I am somebody ! That explains the case. I'd rather be a star that's lost in space, That eye or telescope shall find no more, — To move forever by myself alone, Howe'er my wand'ring soul might writhe and moan, Than lose this conscious ego at the core. [59] THE POEMS OF SISYPHUS WHEN first I heaved this boulder up of old, I laughed whene'er it, baffling all my skill, Careened, escaped my clutch, and crashed down hill With echoing plunge. Aye unperturbed I rolled It up ugain. My heart was not yet cold ; My thews were young ; my hopes of iris sheen. I heaved and tugged in joy and faith serene That o'er the crest I yet would see it bowled. But yonder in the vale my boulder lies. My heart is under it ! Yet, once again I gird me for the goal ; my soul defies Defeat ; I drag my burden from the fen Of submerged hopes, and now once more I rise Anear the rim ; my boulder sways, and then — ! [60] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE COMING OF SLEEP I PUT the day aside ; prepare for sleep. I choose some book, and filled with its delight, I saunter toward the reaches of the night. I find no hint of slumber in the deep, Sweet silence, while the first faint shadows creep In ever denser folds ; a gentle sprite Is tangling all my thoughts in merry spite, While in sweet anodynes my senses steep. I find no hint, and yet, I know not when, Things blur before my melting mind, Till, like a ship on silent sea profound, I drift and drift, in blindfold chance, and then Some dream-web falls about me from behind — I sweetly sink away ; in sleep I'm drowned. [61] THE POEMS OF TO MY PIPE THE curling clouds, like friendly genii, Float dreamily in many a graceful fold, — Dispart, unite, make mountains, windy wold, Suggest still waterfalls, the sea, the sky, And misty dawns and eves, with thrushes nigh. Sweet reveries enwrap me ; stories old Of Red-man in his wigwam, cunning, bold, And Black-man singing where his loved ones lie. The fire burns low, and midnight adds its charm — A restful charm that Lethe- ward invites. Life is no more a garment rent and seamed ; A halo, like an angel's fending arm, Or like the shining shields of Arthur's Knights, Surrounds me here. Heigh-ho ! I slept and dreamed. [62] LEROY TITUS WEEKS MY SHIP CAME IN THE wharf I tramped for half a hundred years, In watching for my ship to climb the verge, And plow its way to me through roaring surge, With cargo rich to pay up all arrears, And rank me safe for aye among the peers. One sunset, lo ! a bark whose full sails urge Across those waves that purpling sunbeams purge — And straight to where I stand the pilot steers. I mount the plank with self-important stride, And wave to those on shore in deep content. I walk my deck ; exult, breathe victory's breath. Then, lo ! from fading shores behind, I ride To brightening shores whereon my eyes are bent. " Ho, Pilot ! say, what haven's this ? " — " 'Tis Death ! " [63] THE POEMS OF THREE SONNETS OF DARKNESS I " And the darkness could be felt." DOWNCAST I wandered one defeated day. Had I not worked, and prayed, and loved, and fought ? Had I not chased the gleam since dawning gray ? Had I the Muse not late and soon besought ? o Yea, that was life, when flesh could live on crusts ; I minded not when heart had blood to spare ; 'Tis life, and sweet, when back cares naught for gusts, And hope has towering castles everywhere. I scorned their gold, and they've heaped back my scorn. I laughed at hunger ; now my child wants bread ! The bugle sounds retreat ! I move forlorn, To vanish 'mong the shadows with the dead. And yet I was not blind and dumb. O God ! Where is that path I should have found and trod ? [64] LEROY TITUS WEEKS II " Golgotha." My burden drives my feet deep in the mire ! Life thrusts the stinging goad into my flesh ! In drops of bloody sweat my brows perspire, And more and more perplexities enmesh. Upon me shelterless fall chilling snows. I clench my teeth in silence ; make no moan ; And yet her heart that beats on my heart knows What skeletons along the way are strown. I am as one who fights and beats the air. Will this dark fen close over me at last ? Oh ! let me not, God, let me not despair ! Forsaken me, O God, my God, why hast ? Be with me when on cross my veins congeal ! Be with me in the tomb, and break the seal. Ill " The cup that my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" The cup is bitter ! Why should I tell lies ? If blistered lip were all its touch could bring, My heart might well such trifling pain despise, And lip might well afford to praise and sing. [65] THE POEMS OF But, blistered heart ! and blistered soul ! ah, me ! The springs of life embittered by the draught ! Then, heart, canst still through tears the heavens see, And pray, " God's will be done," while cup is quaffed ? Yea ! Let the night engulf me black and void ! Let my feet strike where'er Christ's feet have stepped. I dare to taste life's bitter unalloyed ! As brave souls aye have been, I shall be kept. All spears I'll quench at last in my good shield ; And we shall smile, Love, when these foes shall yield. [66] LEROY TITUS WEEKS BE BOLD "T3 E bold ! be b °ld ! and evermore be bold ! " -L* It is indeed " most strange that men should fear." Place lance in rest, and foes will disappear, When down the lists the thundering clouds are rolled From hoof of steed by dauntless heart controlled. Perdition waits the man whom fears deform, While heaven yields to him who takes by storm, Ere vast eternity's dread doom is tolled. Let who will people all the dark with ghosts,— Where'er I sleep the sky-built ladders rise. I scan the mountainside, and lo the hosts Of the Omnipotent break on my eyes. Be bold, my heart, and plague of fears will cease. Where bold heart is, there nests the dove of peace. [67] THE *>OEMS OF EUKYDICE WHERE art thou, O, my lost Eurydice ? "Without thee all the charms of earth are naught ; The soul-expanding space for thee was wrought ; The life-flushed hills and many-sounding sea Are merely settings to exhibit thee. My dumb, neglected shell lies there unstrung, And in my heart one mournful dirge is sung — " Eurydice ! my lost Eurydice ! " Thy garments blew against me from behind ; Thy step was close ; thy breath was on my hair ; I panted, fought to rule mine eyes, grew blind Of soul, forgot and turned, oh, mad despair ! To see the mists of Orcus gulfing thee, And with thee all but grief, Eurydice ! [68] LEROY TITUS WEEKS HAWTHORNE A LONELY soul, not of this day and race ; A dweller in the dim, unhappy past ; A dreamer of weird dreams whose phantoms cast Cold shadows overthwart the world's gray face ; A builder with a magic touch and grace, As delicate as frost-work ; unsurpassed In turning search-lights on the starless vast Of pain, — and setting all in time and space. Man's conscience was to him a bleating lamb ; Man's soul a wandering bird in bleakest storm. And yet, to keenest eye, there ever swam, In mystic dusk above, a heavenly form, That breathed aside life's painful sham, And showed the homing dove, safe, safe, and warm. [693 THE POEMS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN HOW beautiful upon the hills, thy feet, O, bringer of glad tidings to the slave ! Thy mighty soul transcends the blighting grave, And leads the ranks of all who found it sweet To burn their hearts out in life's furnace-heat To light their fellow men ; who dared to brave The batteries that boom, the mobs that rave, "When some path-finder leaves the ancient beat. How beautiful thy feet upon the hills, Thy feet that leave the rocky slopes aglow ! Beholding thee, the lowliest nature thrills, The loftiest feels, within, God's image grow ; — Beneath thee freedom's everlasting sills, And over thee the heaven-encircling bow. [7o] LEROY TITUS WEEKS SHELLEY THOU soul-entrancing orb of mystic birth, With heart of light that leaves a burning wake, — Who knows thy whence ? — the way thy soul doth take ? Parabola, whose course is guessed from earth, As men, astonished, glimpse thy glittering girth About the universe of thought and sense And feeling, flashing out to deeps intense And vastest sweep of love and joy and mirth. Thou poet of the bright immensities ! With room for comets trailing light, while stars That Alcor darkens to way-mark the skies With shining guides for him who leaps the bars, And dares, like thee, abysmal plunges broad Through chaos unto starlit peace with God. [7'] THE POEMS OF ALEXANDEK HAMILTON (July 12, 1904) THOU framer of the mighty laws of state, And builder of our commerce all abroad, A century has added only laud Unto thy teeming mind, that in debate Did conquer difficulties, kill, create ; Did meet and throw with toughest wrestling thews All foes of Federal Government, did fuse All forces ; made them move as under fate. To-day we lay a wreath upon thy tomb, And rank thee first of all who wrought in gloom To bring our country to this day of power, And send it spinning on each glorious hour, In those prophetic forms that in the womb Of thy gigantic brain took shape and flower. [72] LEROY TITUS WEEKS JOHN WESLEY " nr^HE world my parish is." Prophetic word ! A The map Napoleon carved on Europe's face, E'en now the student may no longer trace. All conquerors by vain ambition spurred Have merely proved their vaulting pride absurd ; But thou, great conqueror ! thy parish grows Until no corner of the earth but knows Thy name that's loved wherever it is heard. Great Wesley ! mighty man of mighty men ! We come to scribe our love upon the scroll That's writ by lauding continents, whose shores Are blest with churches dotting every glen — All bearing witness to thy kingly soul, That brightens through the everlasting doors. [73] THE POEMS OF FRIENDSHIP {To George Fox Cook) THERE lies before me here, embalmed in amber, A bright-winged hummer of some summer night. Our friendship, O my friend, has been a bright And joyous weaver of the air, since that Sep- tember When first we met. Oh ! well do I remember How each new day revealed some new delight ! And how the years have brought no frost to blight, No deleterious forces to dismember. In this my sonnet here I would imbed And save our friendship from the dust of years ; For in our friendship we have been the peers Of David and Jonathan. Oh, mighty dead On high Gilboa ! with you we dare to vie ; We've tasted friendship, too, my friend and I. [74] LEROY TITUS WEEKS TO MY MOTHER " r^HE hath done what she could," the angels say vZy Each night, and close the book whose pages shine With records of thy deeds, dear Mother mine. Your faith by works is shown each golden day ; And your rich life, not lived for cheap display, Shall move by silent force of peace and light, Unseen by earth's blind eyes ; by faith not sight Shall pass through life unto its source divine. One day a mother-bird had left her brood, And spread her wings for the eternal flight. You came and hovered them ; made them your own ; You taught them song and perch, and gave them food; You led them with the lark to fields of light, — With much more to be told before God's throne. [75] THE POEMS OF THE SACRIFICE I "WENT up to the mount with breaking heart To sacrifice my soul's one child, my love. " O, God ! " I cried ; I could not look above. " O, God ! " I prayed, and in my soul the smart Of rending roots that bled at every start ; Of rending web that Love's bright fingers wove. " O, God ! O, God ! " and evermore I strove To feel my will of his wise will a part. " O, God ! I sacrifice my only child ! It came from thee, and to thee shall return. My will with thy high will is reconciled." Within I felt Love's altar fires burn All self away ; and from the ashes came A deathless love, like heaven-transcending flame. [76] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE NOETH POLE ( Written April 6, 1909) SINCE Gaea sprang from Chaos, here alone I've watched and yearned, a diuturnity, Across the snow, across the ice-bound sea, Whose frigid lips, in dead'ning monotone, Repeat forevermore one dreary moan. I've watched till dynasties of gods grew old, Till hearts of burning stars were cinders cold, — Have yearned for Man to loose my virgin zone. At last he came ; no more am I forlorn ; His footprints are like kisses on my face ! This day shall stand alone, like that rare morn On which the great god Mercury was born. Let Time now drag till doom in weary pace ! This kiss eternity shall not erase. [77] THE POEMS OF Miscellaneous KIZPAH (2 Samuel xxi.) THERE is a depth of misery that still Outrivals Sheol. I am in that depth. Souls damned are conscious of a retribution Earned, which makes Gehenna's pain seem just. I have not sinned. I loved God with a love That mounted unto heaven's highest vault. I loved the very vipers that I feared, Because they came from God's creating hand. And Saul ! oh, mighty Saul ! whose arm was like The girdle Gabriel gave to Eve, — how I Loved Saul ! and God gave Saul ; therefore my love Encompassed God. And yet, back on these lips That sung his praise awake, and e'en in sleep Did move in dreams of praise, — back on these lips His hand smote harshly with a blighting curse. That hand should hold a shield before my breast ; [78] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Should fend the fiery darts that pierce my soul, And burn with mad'ning sting, until I hurl My bleating, broken life into the void, And pray that it may sink to darkest deep Of dark Oblivion, and cease to be. Go mad ? I could ; but who would guard my dead ? Oh ! I could curse until my breath would smite The oaks on glorious Carmel, where I walked One summer night, and heard the chanting sea, And knew the tides that rolled in my own heart Were vaster yet. I looked up to the wide Profound with twinkling way-marks set Along the shining path that Enoch went, And knew that my own love should live and shine, When God had thrust those wondrous worlds all back Into the void. No, no ! I have not cursed. The heart where love has dwelt shall never curse ; The lips that Love has sealed shall never curse. I stand here naked of all fending shields And take the rod. Death knows no wretch like me. The four winds strike whatever house holds love Of mine ; a Babel smites whatever lip Would comfort me. I am a harvest-field [79] THE POEMS OF With all my wealth of grain burned black by rain Of fire that fell from yonder sky. I am The Paradise smote by the curse of God, A Paradise where only love has dwelt. I do not understand the ways of God, But weaklings are not tossed and tested thus. I fold my torture close as sign that I Am counted worthy in the eyes of God. And O, my Saul ! my best beloved Saul ! Wherever God have set thy dwelling-place, My love shall press forever on that door. As waters lean their weight against some dyke That holds its thwarting arm across the way, Day in, day out, while countless ages drag Through weary time ; and yet no smallest wink Of time do all those waters fail to keep Their vigil, — pressing, silent, constant, sure, Until some weary prop give way, and drops Become a trickling rill, that, while men sleep, Gnaws silently, till all the stifled wrath, The thwarted passion of a hundred years, Comes sweeping through to be forever free ; So I, whene'er the barriers shall break That hide thy face from me, my waiting love [80] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Shall leap into the breach. Then let the blows, The crushing blows that shall annihilate All yon bright worlds, oh ! let them fall where'er They will, I'll keep fast hold of thee through all. I drain my cup, and gaze athwart its rim At something I see hidden in God's face ; And by some mystic sign my soul doth know That he is cleansing me so as by fire For some resplendent dawn of love and hope, — For some sweet lifting of this murky veil, Behind which hides his face and Saul's. O, babes Of mine ! 'tis this that nerves my weary arm ; 'Tis this that lifts me from the black abyss, And smites pain on the brow with fine contempt. I know that my Eedeemer liveth ; yea, Though worms destroy this body, yet shall I, In some vast life, behold Jehovah's face ; Shall meet you there, some time, my babes, and Saul. And I shall steep my famished soul in life. Just as the desert, parched through centuries, Can drink the rain as no oasis can, Because each grain of sand cries out for rain ; So shall my soul drink in more life than all [81] THE POEMS OF But One who yet shall die to give that life To men. 'Tis this that shelters me who stand Here shelterless through barley harvest till The autumn rains. 'Tis this that makes me brave To meet attacking eagles that would tear The sacred bodies of my babies here. See where the cruel claws of that she wolf Tore at the breast where lay my baby's face ; And where thy head has rested too, my Saul. Triumphant over all that pain can bring, From lowest depth to highest height, I mount, To light, and life, and love, and God, and thee. As some exhaustless fountain feeds the sun, Until it melts the frosts and drives away The storms of winter, filling Abib's lap With store of ripening corn ; so comes a wave, — A tide of sun through all the frozen vales Of my storm-beaten life, and from me falls The winter with its bitter sting of death. Lo ! in the East a glorious star ! My eyes Fill with its light. A spirit sweet exhales From sea, and sky, and earth, enwrapping me. O, holy Eastern Star ; it is thy light [82] LEROY TITUS WEEKS That soothes the torture in my aching heart. God's hand in smiting me smote still in love. His banner over me is love. I've kept My steadfast watch about my dead, until There's naught to lure the raven and the wolf ; The eagles trouble me no more. So, here, Where I have fought and conquered all that came, I'll lay me down and sleep. Did I not hear Young David sing before my Saul, one glorious Night, " He giveth his beloved sleep " ? [83] THE POEMS OF THE TUMALUM OYER me the maiden's bower Banks its cloud of curly balls On a thorn from whose leaf-twilight Comes a catbird's plaintive calls. O, delicious mountain breezes, Sweet with breath of fir and pine ! How you bathe my lungs and thrill me Like a draught of rare old wine ! And I take deep inspirations Till in sleep my senses numb By the purring of the waters Of the drowsy Tumalum. Work is good, and I'm companion To the reaper and the plow ; I've no quarrel with the Scripture On the sweating of the brow ; But on Sunday when the horses Are all resting in the shade, Then I slip off to the river, And I strip my feet and wade ; [84] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Or I stretch beneath the alders While I listen to the hum Of the restful, soothing ripples Of the drowsy Tumalum. Thou hast brought from yonder mountains, From those peaks of spotless white, Dreams that wrap themselves about me Like a robe of woven light ; And, like Ruth, I glean and bind them In a sheaf that is as sweet As the breath of this rare orchid In the leaf -mold at my feet. And I know that I shall garner On some blessed day to come All the richness of this dreaming By the drowsy Tumalum. Far away in hazy distance Of October's purple pall, Gathering the autumn to me With its fruitage and its fall, There I float, and trail my body As an anchor here below ; There I see what mortals see not, And know what immortals know ; [85] THE POEMS OF For I'm sleeping and I'm dreaming, Hushed to slumber by the hum Of the lazy, liquid laughter Of the drowsy Tumalum. [86] LEROY TITUS WEEKS MY MOUNTAIN MAID OMY sweetheart is a mountain maid , With a laugh like the lilt of a rippling rill, And a cheek like the lily that blooms in the shade Of the alders back of the old sawmill. Her eyes mind me of the luminous dark On June midnights when the moon is fair, — Alert as a deer to the hunter's hark, And deep as the wells of the Alcantare. Her bosom is like the sun-kissed snows ; Her voice is like the song of the thrush ; And all about her path there goes A peace like the peace of the twilight hush. When she meets me in the dewy dawn, Her footfall makes my heart beat glad, — As light as the breath of a listening fawn, Or the whispering feet of an Oread. [87] THE POEMS OF The harebells lean to touch her gown ; The humming-bird turns his burning throat ; And morning sets his glorious crown On her golden locks that ripple and float Like the long gold hair of a water nymph, Or the wimpling waves that braid the sun In a thousand vanishing forms of light a That dance on the pebbles and glance and run Over sands of beryl and tourmaline. The mountain loves her joyous song ; The sky bends down with a smile serene, And Nature attends her all day long. O, my sweetheart is a mountain maid, And we sit here on the canon's rim, While the purple petals of the daylight fade, And old Mount Hood grows far and dim. And love creeps up from the canon deep, And love yearns down from the peaks above, While all the little wings folding for sleep, Are whispering mystical words of love. [88] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE MERMAID'S SONG ' 'T^IS not the moon, JL I know, I know, That makes the ocean ebb and flow ; 'Tis not the moon, No, no! 'Tis love, 'tis love, I know, I know, That thrills the heart of the ocean so ; 'Tis yearning love, I know, — Triumphant love, and the undertow Is a woman's heart, I know, I know, — A happy heart, I know. 'Tis not the sun, I know, I know, That makes the rainbow come and go ; 'Tis not the sun, [89] THE POEMS OF No, no ! 'Tis love, 'tis love, I know, I know, That tints the spray with the iris glow ; 'Tis love's sweet kiss, I know, — Love's radiant kiss, and the luring bow Is love's bright crown, I know, I know, — Love's aureole, I know. 'Tis not the winds, Ah, wo ! ah, wo ! That thrash and trample the ocean so ; 'Tis not the wind, No, no ! 'Tis angry love, I know, I know, That beats the wave into spin-drift snow ; 'Tis angry love, Ah, wo ! — The wrath of love, and the shuddering throe [90] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Is a woman's heart, I know, I know, A maddened heart, I know. 'Tis not the boreal breath, Ah, me ! That freezes the heart of the polar sea ; Not wintry breath, Ah, me ! 'Tis injured love, (Ah, whisper low !) That chills the polar ocean so ; 'Tis wounded love, I know. 'Tis wounded love, and the icy floe Is a woman's heart I know, I know, — A broken heart, I know. [9i] THE POEMS OF LOYE AND I WE kept our happy watch together, Love and I, In all the golden, dreamy weather When June held in fee the sky. "We watched the rainbow in the Blue ; Armfuls of roses for us two ; — We knew our dreams would all come true, Love and I. We kept our steadfast watch together, Love and I, In sad October's mournful weather, When the winds went moaning by. Our eyelids strained against the sleet, But not an inch did we retreat ; We held at bay death and defeat, Love and I. [92] LEROY TITUS WEEKS We keep our cheerless watch together, Love and I, In all the dark and stormy weather Under winter's shuddering sky. A mound between us piled with snow, Ice in our hearts, yet we'll not go ; We'll keep our watch through darkest throe, Love and I. We'll keep our happy watch together, Love and I, In all the bright supernal weather Under heaven's eternal sky. We'll watch the dross turn into gold ; We'll watch horizons far unfold, And, oh ! each other's hands we'll hold, Love and I. [93] THE POEMS OF MOLLY BAWN OGKEEN the sedges grow beside > The pond in Pioneer, And greener grow the graves of those Who once were dwelling here. The mill was busy all the day With happy hum and whirl ; About the idle millstone now The ivies cling and curl. O, many a stilly afternoon, And many a summer dawn, The lilies waved to the old canoe Of me and Molly Bawn ; And many a night, when moon was full, And echoing hills and glades Eesounded with the joyous shouts Of merry men and maids, [94] LEROY TITUS WEEKS With hearts aglow like burning stars That filled the winter sky, We sped along through realms of love, Sweet Molly Bawn and I ; And Molly gave her promise there, Whose sweetness shall abide When every star has faded out And all but love has died. She slumbers now, sweet Molly Bawn, Beneath the linden shade, Where first the violets bloom in spring, And last the summers fade. All season long the wood-thrush sings, Deep in the grove withdrawn, The songs he sang so long ago To me and Molly Bawn ; And lovers fly along the ice, Or push the old canoe Among the water-lilies now, As we were wont to do. [95] THE POEMS OF But through their joy a gentle voice Is calling ever on To where my soul shall meet the soul Of angel Molly Bawn. [96] LEROY TITUS WEEKS BIMINI THE sleigh-bells, The May-bells, The sweet buds, Are mine ; The starlight, The far light In fond eyes, The wine ! Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! The fond eyes, The wine ! Osiris And Iris, The mermaid, The Queen Of Faery, So airy, The sweet Hippocrene ! Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! The sweet Hippocrene ! [97] THE POEMS OF The morning Adorning The East Calls me fair. O, jolly ! The holly— The holly I wear. Hillo-ho! hio-ho! The holly I wear. Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! O, youth is so sweet ! It thrills me, And fills me From crown to my feet ; Hillo-ho ! hio-ho ! My gay dancing feet ! Hillo ! hillo ! hio ! ho, ho ! ho, ho ! [98] LEROY TITUS WEEKS SERENADE SOFT stars shining, Clouds reclining On the lining Of the Blue. Roses feeling O'er them stealing, Softly o'er them, Mists of dew. O, sweet maiden, Slumber-laden Airs of Aidenn Bring thee dreams ! Come each fairy Light and airy, Come and tarry In her dreams. [99] THE POEMS OF Now she's sleeping ; O'er her creeping, In Love's keeping, Dream-wings light. Guard her Venus, While between us, Dark between us, Falls the night. [ ioo] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE HOLLY BOUGH HURRAH for the holly bough ! Old winter is jolly now ! We've waited all year, But Christmas is here, And joy on every brow. Adown the long slope they're sped,- The flying toboggan and sled ; While skaters twine, And the runners shine Like the stars that sparkle o'erhead. The jolly and jargoning bells ! Their tinkling in sweetness excels. The treasures of snow, And the laughter, O, With its musical, magical spells ! Hurrah for the holly bough ! The children are jolly now ; For winter is here With Christmas cheer, And joy on every brow. [ioi] THE POEMS OF FAIRY LULLABY LULLABY, O, lullaby ! Baby darling, close your eye, While the beautiful Queen Mab Swings you by a spider-web From a lily white and tall, Near some dream-land waterfall, Rocking with her tiny hand To a tune of By-lo-land. Lullaby, O, lullaby. Lullaby, O, lullaby. Stars are sleeping in the sky ; Birdie snuggles in the nest ; Baby, close to Mama's breast, Drifts away to land of sleep, Through the gates the angels keep, Gently rocked by Mama's hand On a cloud in By-lo-land. Lullaby, O, lullaby. [ 102] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Lullaby, O, lullaby. Baby darling, close your eye. Mama's love is sweet and warm ; Mama's breast keeps off the storm. Drowsy, drowsy, to and fro, Long eyelashes drooping low ; — Baby's little pink feet stand Deep in blooms of By-lo-land. Lullaby, O, lullaby. [103] THE POEMS OF WHAT IS IT THAT TUGS AT MY HEAET ? PERFECTION of earth in its October dress ; Perfection of sky in its gown of soft haze ; Far vistas that lure me to wonder and guess What landscapes eternal lie hid from my gaze. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? A valley lies skirted with woods on each side, The Valley of White Oak, the home of my youth ; The creek and the clear " Upper Spring " with its tide Of waters as sweet as the fountain of truth. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? My mem'iy, a river with margins of gold, Flows through that dear Yalley, and I a light boat Float there among lilies, where echoes are rolled As sweet as the song from the mocking-bird's throat. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? [ IQ 4] LEROY TITUS WEEKS " Boxelder," with windows swung wide to the night ; The moonlight streams in over forms that I love ; An unbroken home ! sleeping sound, sleeping light, And over them spread the white wings of a dove. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? I wander by Clear Creek with old willow rod, A chub and a shiner or two on my string, A greensward as soft as a mortal e'er trod, And a foot that is light as a young eagle's wing. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? I walk over fields where 'twas I led the charge : I feel the old itch of my hand for the sword,— My jeweled Excalibur, keen for the targe, When battles were on in behalf of my Lord. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? [105] THE POEMS OF I walk the rich moonlight again with my bride, While the earth like an opal burns under my feet. I feel the warm surges of life at high tide, And the touch of her hand is supernally sweet. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? I push a gate gently — alone with the dead ; The underground city so packed and so drear ! I stroke the grass softly ; I bow my gray head ; And I know that I too shall soon journey down here. The glory, the glory ! and yet, oh, the smart ! What is it that tugs at my heart ? [io6] LEROY TITUS WEEKS TRANSFIGURATION '""l^HE shadows deepen 1 On the hill ; I hear one lonely Whippoorwill. The purring leaves, The breathing herds, The hushing croon Of brooding birds, The drowsy hum Of insect flight, The downy footfall Of the night, Are murmuring secrets In my ear : They tell me that Morpheus is near ; [ 107] THE POEMS OF They tell me thou Art coming soon, With all thy train, O, summer moon. A dreamy peace Swims in my brain, Like breath of woodland After rain. My soul's at rest, Hushed on the sea Of undisturbed Tranquillity ; The knotty problems Of the day Melt into mist, And fade away. Time's roaring wheels ]STo longer jar ; I hear the dream-bells From afar. [108] LEROY TITUS WEEKS My eyelids droop ; All burdens lift ; My hands relax ; My soul's adrift. Dream crowds on dream, While Love and Hope Shift aye the bright Kaleidoscope. I lose my way And grope and guess In slumber's mazy Wilderness ; Or float on Lethe's Bosom deep, A wanderer in The land of sleep. [109] THE POEMS OF LIFE I HAVE lived the full life of the free ; I have not worn the yoke of the world ; I have tossed with the white-caps at sea, In the tornado's heart I have whirled. I've accepted myself and my load ; I have moved neither lag nor in haste ; I have gathered what grew by the road, And life has been sweet to my taste. I have not allowed God to compel ; For my heart has kept pace with his might. God sends every coward to hell ; So I have not cringed in his sight. To hell goes the soul without life ; So I drink at Life's springs, breathe Life's air I fight on her side in all strife ; Her badge and her password I bear. [no] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I have cast my soul's burdens on none ; I have called upon no man for aid ; From the stuff that God gave me I've spun The creed I have lived unafraid. And when the great Judge shall command Mankind and their deeds to be sieved, I'll advance with my lifted right hand, And answer Him, " Lord, I have lived." [in] THE POEMS OF In the following mystic song, I coined both words, Algomar and Balmoree. Later I saw the first in a poem by " Ironquill." In reply to my inquiry, he said he also coined the word many years ago. ALGOMAK OHAST thou e'er dreamed of Algomar, Sweet Algomar by the Balmoree ? Whose forests and fountains and palaces are All built in yon cloud, and are all for thee. The gardens all bloom with thy hopes and thy dreams ; The fountains sing ever the song of thy heart ; The palaces fair — each happy hall gleams "With likeness of thee, limned by thine art. The angels may wander with wondering eyes, And long to discover this mystical realm, That has a legation in Paradise, An ambassador under each oak and elm ; But never an angel knows Algomar, And never an angel the Balmoree ; The king of that realm is an avatar, And the kingdom is locked with a mystic key. [112] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Oh ! an unseen hand plays a zither sweet With the haunting thrills of a long-lost rune ; The words no mortal may repeat, But they weave the soul in a soft cocoon. By the Balmoree one waits thee there, — And yearning waits with a golden bowl To touch thy lips with Amrita rare — Supernal love for the thirsty soul. O, haste thee to find sweet Algomar — To meet one there by the Balmoree ; — The forests and fountains and palaces are Empty of all when empty of thee. ["3] THE POEMS OF I GO, I GO WHAT'S peace ? To emanate unvext. What's rest ? Unhindered to evolve. What's now irks not, but aye what's next ; The problem sought is one to solve. I dare not cast my eye to rear ; Before me fleets the luring bow ; To cease to move, my only fear ; To stand is death ; I go, I go. I seek for struggles cowards shun. What matter fame and clink of gold ? I'm girt for one unending run ; No siren song my course may hold. " Speed on ! aye on ! " I hear a cry. I heed ; and whether soft stars glow, Or ragged lightnings rend the sky, With face to front, I go, I go. ["4] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Empires are born and kings are crowned On battle-fields strewn thick with dead. My captain's voice is welcome sound. The rainbow bridge I may not tread ; Its radiant floor not for my feet ; "With Thor, I dare the gulfs below ; Like him to tread fair Asgard's street With conquering heart, I go, I go. I go to still expanding fields, To boundless skies and visions broad ; I go to break all bars and seals ; To span the Vast ; to fathom God. I go to ever younger youth, — To pierce, and solve, and see, and know. With gates of soul set wide to truth, And fear dethroned, I go, I go. I go from human to divine, From clouded eye to vision clear. I go to make all beauty mine, — From circle cramped to angel sphere. ["5] THE POEMS OF Farewell the worm ! Farewell the clod 1 However far, however slow, Along yon starry way to God, On lengthening wing, I go, I go. [116] LEROY TITUS WEEKS EASTER OH ! black was the night when my Lord was betrayed, And darker the day when he lay in the tomb ; — The legions of hell against heaven arrayed, The world plunged in chaos of horror and gloom. We trusted 'twas he whose right arm should re- deem Poor Israel, crouching in sackcloth and tears. We looked that the sword and the banner should gleam Victorious over Rome's insolent spears. We thought to have seen, as Gehazi of old, The hosts of Jehovah with chariots of fire, — A burning tornado relentlessly rolled Against every foe of fair Israel's desire. ["71 THE POEMS OF When my Lord on the cross gave that anguishing cry, A dart struck at life, as when sweet Eden fell ; A shudder ran cold through the earth and the sky ; There was sorrow in heaven and triumph in hell. Then a glad ray of light pierced down from the Throne, And an answering ray shot aloft from the grave, As back from the door angel hands rolled the stone, For Jesus triumphant and mighty to save. O, bright was the dawn when my Saviour arose ! O, Easter, glad Easter, and bright was thy day ! " Hosanna ! Hosanna ! He conquers his foes ! " There is triumph in heaven, in Sheol dismay. He is risen ! O, grave, where now is thy boast ? He is risen ! O, death, where now is thy sting ? Rejoicing we join with the heavenly host ; We shout with the angels till star-spaces ring. [118] LEROY TITUS WEEKS My Saviour, thy mission we misunderstood ; Thy kingdom is not of the scepter and spear. Thy realm is a kingdom of world brotherhood, And this is indeed the millennial year. O, glory to God in the highest. Amen ! As in the beginning, so aye let it be. . Hosanna ! till heaven shall echo again ; For Jesus is risen, and Man shall be free. ["9] THE POEMS OF O, HOLY SPIRIT OHOLY SPIRIT, vital calm, , That makes the Sabbath day so sweet ; It heals me with a heavenly balm, And draws me to the mercy-seat. O, Holy Spirit, Comforter, That speaks, and lo ! my sorrows cease ; With love my deepest senses stir, And all my life flows on in peace. O, Holy Spirit, breath of God, With incense filling all my soul ; That frees me from the clinging clod, And makes my broken spirit whole. O, Holy Spirit, power divine, That moves upon my life to-day ; Thy guiding light doth constant shine, And bless me with its heavenly ray. [ 120] LEEOY TITUS WEEKS w GOD-KIND E think thy thoughts, O, mighty God ! Thy thoughts that thrill through space afar — That hold in place each twinkling star, And permeate the teeming sod. We think thy thoughts, and live thy life ; Our souls are fathered by thine own, And high as is thy holy throne, So high Ave mount from sin and strife. We live thy life, and love thy love ; The tendrils of our souls entwine Our fellow men, as love divine Entwines and draws us all above. We think, and live, and love, and grow, Like Thee, in ever brightening ways. We are God-kind, and all our days Are in Thy hands who made us so. [121] THE POEMS OF PEACE ON EAETH, GOOD WILL TO MEN O BELLS, O, throbbing bells, O, joyous bells ! , Proclaim the peace of God through all the earth ! From out your million throats the anthem swells, And rolls from pole to pole to tell the birth Of Christ, the Son of God, the Morning Star,— Kedeemer of the world, and victor, He, O'er death and hell and all the sins that war Against the soul of man. Forever free ! O, send the rapturous peals of joy and peace To join the stars, to find their way To heart of earth, and thrill its plains and seas ; And, best of all, to hold eternal sway Within the human heart. O, peace ! O, boon Of heaven breathed down on man by angel lips, To stay with breath of life the fierce simoon Of sin ; to stop forevermore the Sun's eclipse, — [ I22 J LEROY TITUS WEEKS The Sun of Righteousness that hath at last Arisen with healing in his wings. Proclaim This joyful news, O, bells : God's armies massed For peace against the works of sin and shame. I hear it pulsing in the radiant sky : " Good will toward men ! " I hear the bells of all The world uniting in the glad reply : " Mankind redeemed forever from the Fall." O, join the anthem, all ye sons of God, Joint heirs with Christ to all God holds in store ; Crowned new this glorious Christmas morn ; new shod With peace ; the Christ made ours forevermore. [ I2 3] THE POEMS OF TRUST I LISTENED to the flowers That to the zephyrs nod ; Their sweet lips kept repeating, " We know there is a God." I saw their rain- wet faces Turned mournfully above ; But still they smiled and whispered, " We know that God is love." I saw their withered petals By autumn breezes blown, And thought to hear their lips Complaining like my own. But sweet reproof they gave me From lips low in the dust ; For still they smiled and whispered, " We know that God is just." [ ^4] LEROY TITUS WEEKS UNTO GOD EARTH has no useless blooms that grow Upon her sod ; Their beauties all and perfumes flow Back unto God. Earth has no loves that die and go Under the sod ; They keep their broken dreams and flow Back unto God. Earth has no graves that vainly roll Clod unto clod ; Through them proceeds the weary soul Back unto God. [125] THE POEMS OF THE FOUNTAIN A DROP At the top, A beautiful geni In the pearl diadem Of a nymph of the sea With her hah* wild and free Streaming back through the mist In a spangled and multiform twist O'er the white robe of rainbow-lit spray That encircles in magical beauty alway This dream-world of laughter and song. At last in the peace of the marble-edged pool, It dimples and dallies, deliciously cool, Where the sunbeams are broken and drowned in the wave, And the gold-fish and lilies in idleness lave, And the shadows dream all the day long. [126] LEROY TITUS WEEKS A drop At the top, That no higher can go For a strange undertow That sucks the drop back To be drowned in the black Labyrinth of confusion and vortex of night ; Hid from the manifold beauties of light ; Lost to the life of the fount on the lea, To wake in the larger, the life of the sea. This life is a flow With a strange undertow. O, the rainbow, the pearl, And the unending whirl Of laughter and tears That combine through the years The turmoil of the sea And the peace of the stars With the mountain rill's glee And the frenzy of wars ! Leaping from basin to pool, out of breath, To be sucked back at last into darkness and death. [ "7] THE POEMS OF But Death is not king : The chrysalid's wing, That the searcher may trace On the fine mummy-case, Is mortality's sign That immortal shall shine The soul that can pierce here the secret divine. So the spirit of Man with its heavenly thrills That were breathed down upon it on star-hovered hills, While leaping in cascades and mad cataracts, Though it reach the low valley and sink in the sod, Shall waken again in the likeness of God. [128] LEROY TITUS WEEKS TORCH AND BURDEN HERE, take my torch, young man so fleet ; I held it when you needed light ; I cheered you on from height to height ; Now comes your day, and comes my night. O, take my torch, young man so fleet. Here, take my burden, youth so strong. Once I could fly beneath its weight ; I was the eagle's tireless mate ; Now unto you I abdicate ; O, take my burden, youth so strong. Here, take my torch, young maid so sweet ! My torch I lit by morning star, — My torch of love that beams afar Like Arthur's gemmed Excalibar. O, take my torch, young maid so sweet. Here, take my burden, maid so fair, And share it with yon youth so fleet, Who walks the earth with air-like feet ; Ye twain shall conquer frost and heat ! O, take my burden, maiden fair. [ I2 9] THE POEMS OF Here, take my torch, ye lovers twain ! But why should I obstruct the road, And vex you with my weary load ? Nay ! I will keep the pack and goad ; Take ye my torch, O, lovers twain ! t 130] LEROY TITUS WEEKS LOSS AND GAIN I ONCE was rich, and all the poor Strewed blessings thick about ray door. The rich walked with me, arm in arm, And in my presence found a charm. My wealth was swept into the sea ; Then rich and poor deserted me. But I had learned to love and give : That grace I hold ; by that I live. Fame lifted up my name on high ; I rode on clouds ; I touched the sky. There came a blast that chilled my fame, And those who praised were wont to blame. But all the discipline, the skill, I won the while, I hold that still. While I was massing wealth I knew The wings on which wealth ever flew ; Was mindful that the only gain Is what we learn through peace, through pain ; [i3i] THE POEMS OF Was mindful that the only grace That blooms eternal in the face Is that sweet grace hid from the world "Within the bosom chastely furled, — A grace that wealth cannot supply, That lack of wealth cannot deny. The question is — While massing wealth Does business foster spirit's health ? When wealth has justice by her side, Her radiant face is deified. While fame was spreading sweetest sound, My ear was ever close to ground To catch the tramp of history's feet That pass on to the judgment-seat ; They hasten not when fame incites ; They dally not when wealth invites, But carry on into the gloom That chills the dark and voiceless tomb The records of this teeming life, Where myriad forces are at strife : Not — He was rich, or he was poor ; Not — He was famous, or obscure ; But, how he shriveled ; how he grew ; That he was false, or he was true ; [ 132] LEROY TITUS WEEKS In letters black as midnight murk, How he did grovel, cringe, and shirk ; Or else in characters of light, How he withstood the frost and blight. [133] THE POEMS OF DE PEOFUNDIS I DIG down into the dark. My soul needs a lesson not learned in the light, So I leap down into the gulfs of the night, Away from the sky and the lark. What though fanged serpents do crawl O'er my feet, and the air smell leprous and dead ? Till I find where the fountains of life are fed, I proceed, nor shrink from them all. I'm steeled to all danger and pain. What more can a mortal conceive of harm, When God's love motives his heart and arm ? Henceforth all torture is vain. I come here to search and to know. If I dig just below the last root of fear, To where all the forces of life cohere, Then evermore upward I grow. ['34] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE WHITE STAG (From Uhland) THREE hunters went thrashing about with their brag ; They were going (so said they) to hunt the white stag. But soon they lay down in the shade of a tree, And each had a dream, as you'll presently see. (The first) I dreamed I was bustling about in the brush, When, away went the stag through the woods with a rush. (The second) And as he flew by with the clash and the clang Of hounds, I let drive with my rifle — ker-bang ! (The third) When there on the turf the stag bleeding I saw, I dreamed that I tooted my horn, tra-ra ! [135] THE POEMS OF They scarcely had finished relating their dream, When the stag with his antlers went by like a gleam ! And ere the three dreamers aroused from the thrill, A white stag went vanishing over the hill, With a " rush," and a " bang," " tra-ra ! " [136] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE BALLAD OF THE YOUNG WOODMAN L ] " 1 ISTEN, dear Mother, what call do I hear ? " (Oh, the wind in the pine !) " It is nothing, Fair Alice, but the falls and the wier." (And the lamp it is low.) "Mother, what was it that flashed through the night ? " (Oh, the wind in the pine !) "It was nothing, Fair Alice, but the beacon so bright." (And the lamp it is low.) "What awful thing, Mother, lies stark at the door ? " (Oh, the wind in the pine !) " 'Tis the mantle, Fair Alice, the young Woodman wore." (And the lamp it is low.) [137] THE POEMS OF " What is it, dear Mother, they bear on the pall ? " (Oh, the wind in the pine !) " 'Tis the Woodman, Fair Alice, the young Wood- man tall." (And the lamp it is low.) She has knelt by the pall, and she's kissed where they shot. (Oh, the wind in the pine !) They chide and they call, but her lips answer not. (And the lamp it is low.) [U8] LEROY TITUS WEEKS TO JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY OPOET, to whom the sweet spirit of child- , hood Has whispered its secrets of pleasure and pain ; Who knows all the pathways of pasture and wild- wood ; Whose poems are fresh with the dew and the rain; I cannot refrain till the grass is green over thee To tell thee I love thee, and follow thee close Through orchard and meadow, while summer skies hover thee, — By brook, and through woods where the " pizen vine " grows. I lie down and sleep under trees of thy making ; I ride with Doc Siphers along country lanes ; At springs of thy spirit my thirst I am slaking ; I laugh with thy laughter and ache with thy pains. [ J 39 ] THE POEMS OF Let's wander by Deer Creek " knee-deep " in June weather ; Let's dream through the spring to the fall of the year; Let's "tromp" through the fields till our hearts grow together ; Let's hunt for each other below the veneer. O, perfect in speech of the deep, lying passions ! O, deft with the touch that is vital and warm ! "With a wit that is like a Damascus blade flashing, And a heart where all childhood is housed from the storm ! I'm sent by the heart of the People, whose portals Are open to thee. I dip in the wine My laurel, and crown thee among the immortals. Thy brows are right worthy ; the laurel is thine. [ Ho] LEROY TITUS WEEKS FAITH AND DOUBT FAITH and doubt— the two great millstones, Where the races have been ground Since time began. Faith the upper, doubt the lower, — And between them, round and round, The heart of Man. [Mi] THE POEMS OF TO MY FRIEND MY spirit give I unto thee, In double portion, O my friend ; And when the flames shall drink the sea, And God shall call time at an end, My spirit still shall be with thee In double portion, O my friend. [142] LEROY TITUS WEEKS HEARTSEASE AND RUE BECAUSE on days so long and sweet, Because on nights so starry bright, When life and love flowed round my feet With gifts exceeding thought and sight ; Because from blooming heartsease then I kissed the dew, I will not mar the memory now by plucking rue. [143] THE POEMS OF A A CHIGGEK ON GOETHE CHIGGER on Goethe, ah me ! A little red chigger, That, being no bigger, Can be just a chigger, par di ! Did Goethe break hearts ? ah me ! If that cuts a fig're, Let's ask the poor chigger, Did he break a heart ? poor he ! [ 144] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Six Quatrains THE VISION OF DANTE THE crystal sweets of many tears Sobbed through a heart by grief made pure ; As boulders ache a million years, Then break, and lo ! the Kohinoor. [M5] THE POEMS OF AUTUMN LEAVES YE are prophets of death, of the grave and its cold ; But ye whisper of peaceful sleep under the mould, Of sorrows forgotten in heaven's warm fold, And ye shower down on me God's love with your gold. [146] LEROY TITUS WEEKS AMRITA WHERE Laughter rollicks in the vat, Men drink, and call the draught divine But true Amrita only flows Where Sorrow's feet compel the wine. [147] THE POEMS OF THE HEAET AND THE BRAIN THE poet's heart, like ocean's heaving surge, Beats on the brain with its tumultuous roar ; The poet's brain, like ocean's rocky verge, Beats back the heart in music evermore. [148] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE PRICE IF you will sell me one small thing ; — If you will buy both place and pelf, And hear your name to welkin ring, Why, walk up quick ; the price is — self. [ J 49] THE POEMS OF FATE THE blind fates spin, year out year in. And yet, 'tis purpose clips the cord ; For he who stands and guides the hands, Within the shadow, is the Lord. [i5o] LEROY TITUS WEEKS Poems Written in the Dark Days "DAS EWIG WEIBLICHE" " T~"\ AS ewig Weibliche," that's you, Beloved. JL>/ Here Goethe swept the master chords of song, And poured a theme whose sweetest notes be- long Unto a realm from mortal ear removed. " Das ewig Weibliche," my lips repeat ; And yet I know my thought shall never mount Unto its whole significance, — the fount From which it draws its golden draught so sweet. " Das ewig Weibliche," — 'tis interknit With every thought that moves in mortal brain. All boats set sail for its enchanted shore ; All Rainbow Bridges do but cross to it ; It gave us Christ with all th' immortal train ; 'Tis this that we shall follow evermore. [I5i] THE POEMS OF IT IS NOT GOOD FOR MAN TO BE ALONE IT is not good for man to be alone. The clock will tick it off at dead of night ; 'Tis written on the noonday like a blight — It is not good for man to be alone. The weary minutes in their leaden flight Drag by me like some time-worn bitter crone, That mumbles in a dreary monotone, " It is not good for man to be alone." O, loved one, hear me while I pray a prayer. I pray that God may bring thee back to health. I pray thee, O Great God, I pray thee, spare My loved one to me, — pray thee, let us share Full many a year of love in all its wealth. I pray the angels all to aid this prayer. [152] LEROY TITUS WEEKS AVALON " I am going a long way To the island- valley of Avalon, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." — The Passing of Arthur. WITHOUT you, Dear, I lack one half my force ; In speed, a limb,— in work, an eye, an arm. Without you each delight doth lack a charm, — The sanction of a smile ; in sweet discourse, Appreciation of a thought. O, source Of that rare breath that makes me swarm With Hybla bees ! God save from this alarm, And bring you back again from Avalon's shores. " When we do meet again, why we shall smile," And chide in sweet rebuke all traitor fears. We'll wander back and go o'er, mile by mile, This riven road, and blot out all the tears. We'll taste unbroken comradeship a while — For years, please God, and then beyond the years. [153] THE POEMS OF PKAYEK I DRAW on the springs of Life, Lay hold on the roots of God ; To aid in my spirit's strife, All saints that life's path have trod Shall fall into line and bring To bear on Jehovah's throne Their prayers with mine, shall cling To Jehovah's skirts and groan With groans that cannot be expressed. I marshall the angels all, And they come at my behest To strengthen my spirit's c call. What cry dost thou hark, O Christ ? The cry of the thief on the Cross ? Has my need not sufficed To break a decree across ? [154] LEROY TITUS WEEKS I have left not a loving lip Whose prayer I've not bound unto mine ; I have fastened the ultimate grip Of prayer on the ear Divine. If heaven be taken by force, If Jehovah e'er yield to men, I enlist me without recourse, Yea, world without end. Amen. ['55] THE POEMS OF O GOD, BE BOUNTIFUL TO ME OGOD, be bountiful to me ! Be pitiful, I oft have prayed, In time of need have cried for aid ; But now I ask large things of thee — O God, be bountiful to me ! O God, be bountiful to me ! Why should I shame thy countless store By picking crumbs from off the floor ? As son, I ask my legacy. O God, be bountiful to me ! God, be bountiful to me ! As ravens cry for foulest flesh, Thy children cry for toys and trash ; 1 prove my vast belief in thee : O God, be bountiful to me ! [156] LEROY TITUS WEEKS O God, be bountiful to me ! Not as a slave I kneel and pray ; Not as a beggar by the way ; A kingdom here I ask of thee : God, be bountiful to me ! [157] THE POEMS OP THE ANGELS OF LIFE MY hands will tire When my pulse is low ; They lose their grip, Their hold will slip ; But angels of life, they stand by me And stay my hands while I pray for thee, And they never tire, no, no ! O, angels of life, They love thee so ! They dip their wings In healing springs, Then come and camp about thy bed, And fold their wings about thy head, And they never tire, no, no ! O, cling, Sweetheart ! You will I know, — Or rather, sink As a seed will sink To the life-giving bosom of the waiting soil ; — The angels will save thee all the toil, And they never tire, no, no ! [158] LEROY TITUS WEEKS SEPTEMBER 11, 1910 THERE'S something strange about the house It seems to hold its breath, As straining with some secret vast Of life, or, maybe, death, — A friendly bending of the walls, A striving to express Some prophecy they'd fain reveal — Some blessing in excess. Were I to trust my beating heart, — Guess what it's hinting of, I'd say the tides of life have turned To her I call my Love. [159] THE POEMS OF BEHOLD, I WILL DELIVER THEE THE jubilee ! the jubilee ! (The tides have told it to the sea) The jubilee ! the jubilee ! " Behold, I will deliver thee." The jubilee ! the jubilee ! (It sweeps the wood from tree to tree) The jubilee ! the jubilee ! " Behold, I will deliver thee." The jubilee ! the jubilee ! (The angels cymbal it to me) The jubilee ! the jubilee ! " Behold, I will deliver thee." [160] LEROY TITUS WEEKS QA IRA MY youth was a rose that drank the dew In a garden fair where heartsease grew ; But age has come, and youth has fled, And the bush is bare and the rose is dead ; But about me youth goes on and on, About me youth goes gaily on. My joy was like a meteor bright That gladdened the earth on a summer night. It burned its heart out spark by spark, And left me guessing in the dark ; But about me joy goes on and on, About me joy goes ever on. My love was like a radiant star That shed its light through the dark afar ; A cloud has closed about my love ; All starless is yon vault above ; But about me love goes on and on, About me love goes ever on. [161] THE POEMS OF And death — what a joke ! I laughed, ha, ha ! And tossed him a kiss with a gay " ta, ta ! " But Death has hung his scythe by mjr door, And my laugh is a cry, and my heart is sore ; But about me life goes on and on, Yes, life and love and youth go on. Then I look away from the grave-strewn earth, "Where requiems haunt every sound of mirth, And see up the way that ends in air An amaranth sweet in a garden fair, Where love, our love, goes on and on, — Through all eternity blooms on. [162] LEROY TITUS WEEKS NEAR THE PRECIPICE MY soul is walking near the precipice ; I parley with the voices from below. What agony can be surpassing this That gnaws and feeds, while still my vitals grow ? I lean and toy with life's uncertain brink, And feel that I might like the dizzy lunge. I run my hand along each narrow link That stays me from the dark Lethean plunge ; — I lean and listen down the dread abyss ; A Babel greets my straining eye and ear ; The ways fade out in tangled hit-and-miss ; No voice, no path, no beck'ning light, is clear. My aching heart is torn with murky fears ; Above, below, before, behind, is dark. I yearn for one sweet voice to greet my ears ; — For thy sweet voice, O Love, I strain and hark. [163] THE POEMS OF Keach down, O shadowy hand, and lead me home. O Love, come near and let me lean on thee ! I can't (Canst thou ?) pierce yon unyielding dome ! O Love, break through and reach a hand to me. Thou sendest back no answer to my cry ! Hast thou gone back to dust, O mighty soul ? O God ! give me some word, or else I die ! Must I delve on in dark, a sightless mole ? I'm certain of but one thing only— pain ! Is pain the flower that grows on love's sweet stem ? Is all the bloom that follows summer rain But Death's sly snare ? a flower-hid stratagem ? [164] LEROY TITUS WEEKS LOVERS' LANE O LOVERS' LANE with haunting charm, » "Where spring and summer wed ; Who comes here once will come again, While happy hours are sped. What shadowy forms with hint of wings ! What silvery laughter there ! What beckoning hands like fairy wands ! What fragrance in the air ! The wood-thrush pours his vesper song To ears that love attunes ; Their burning hearts are drunk with joy ; The earth beneath them swoons. At night the star-beams tangle there In happy drops of dew ; The moon in benediction beams To make the vows more true. [165] THE POEMS OF Long years in joy I walked the shades, Sweet shades, of Lovers' Lane ; But at the end I found a grave, And in my heart a pain. [166] LEROY TITUS WEEKS THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS (Prov. xiv. 10.) YEA, gall is sweet to what the heart In bitterest moment knows ; The rankling pain of poison dart Is laughter to its throes ; The best our nearest friend can do, Is but to dimly guess ; Heart's labyrinth is without clew, — It knoweth its own bitterness. [167] POEMS OF LEROY TITUS WEEKS s DESPAIR WEET night is a gift of gentleness, — A life-renewing spring. But this black weft entangling me Is a raven vast with dead'ning wing, And a croak like a troubled sea ; An eye that pierces the gloom, like the sting Of Mthhoggr, the tooth of death, That nicks the thread and stops the breath, — A dark and deadly thing. Oh ! what shall deliver my shrinking soul ? O, what shall pierce the pall Of the horrible wings that more and more Shroud in, while my senses crawl ? The black wings flap, as my lips implore ; (They shed the wormwood and the gall) I cry, and the hollow echoes drown My cry, and the empty laugh of a clown Mocks back from a vacuous hall. [168] JUL 12 1911 One copy del. to Cat. Div. JUL 24 !'* • IMI I 111