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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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 ©|aii - Gopi?rig]^l|n 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
BONNIEBELL 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS, 
 
 EDWAED S. GEEGOHY 
 
 ^^ 
 
 " For the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the open air, where it 
 comeB and goes, like the warbling ot music."— Lokd Bacon. 
 
 .../^>$3 4.^.7)- 
 
 :'^S 
 
 LYNCHBURG 
 J. P. BELL & CO., Publishers 
 
 1880. 
 
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 G^^^ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, 
 
 Br EDWARD S. GREGORY, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 
 
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 
 TO 
 
 MY MOTHER, 
 
 WHOSE LOVE WILL GILD MY WORST ERRORS, 
 
 AS IT HAS OFTEN MANTLED 
 
 MY WORST FAULTS ; 
 
 AND TO 
 
 MY WIFE, 
 
 WHOSE GRACIOUS SYMPATHY HAS FAITHFULLY 
 
 SUSTAINED ME IN THIS AS IN 
 
 EVERY labor; 
 
 AND WHOSE INSPIRATION HAS BEEN WORTHY 
 
 OF A NOBLER STRAIN. 
 
i:n"id:kix 
 
 BONNIEBELL. page. 
 
 Part 1 11 
 
 Part II 31 
 
 Ketrospect 58 
 
 Alice 68 
 
 A BOOK OF SONNETS. 
 
 Dedicatory 75 
 
 Vis- A- Vis 76 
 
 Die Shoensten Augen 77 
 
 ''Golden — only Golden." 78 
 
 A Confederate Watch-Fire 79 
 
 ToujouRS ; 80 
 
 This Cruel War 81 
 
 In the Theatre 82 
 
 Elsewhither 83 
 
 Coronation 84 
 
 A New Coronation 85 
 
 En Eoute 8Q 
 
 September the Ninth 87 
 
 Lux IN Tenebris -. 88 
 
 Mark xiv: 31 89 
 
 "The Lady or my Life." 90 
 
 Varsovienne 91 
 
6 INDEX. 
 
 THEEE LINKED SONNETS. page. 
 
 I. Mirage 92 
 
 IT. Morning 93 
 
 III. The Street 94 
 
 Elect — Precious 95 
 
 The Queen of Sheba 96 
 
 BlSMILLAH , 97 
 
 Vox Clamantis 98 
 
 Eve 99 
 
 De Profundis 100 
 
 Eeconciliation 101 
 
 Bride-Cake 102 
 
 An Invitation 103 
 
 LATER SONNETS. 
 
 Gr a mercie 1 04 
 
 May the Seventeenth 105 
 
 A Christmas Sonnet lOG 
 
 Convalescence 107 
 
 Birth-day 108 
 
 Twilight 109 
 
 The Caliph of Bagdad 110 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The Southern Heart ; 113 
 
 Love's Light 118 
 
 The Sword of Lee 121 
 
 The Brook's Voice 124 
 
 In Pace 129 
 
INDEX. 7 
 
 MrSCELLA^^EOUS POEMS, Continued. page. 
 
 Dickens at Prayeh 131 
 
 To a Voice 135 
 
 To MY Wife on her birtii-day 139 
 
 A Lily of Florence 146 
 
 Jamais— ToujouRs 149 
 
 The Dead PIope '. .' 152 
 
 Immortelle 156 
 
 The Two Swords 159 
 
 The Parting Hour 103 
 
 En Eoute 167 
 
 After Long Years 170 
 
 In PIeaven 173 
 
 The Eddy 176 
 
 A Doctor's Valentine ' 179 
 
 A Wife's Valentine ] 82 
 
 Cross and Crown 186 
 
 Ebb-Tide 191 
 
 Lux Eedux 195 
 
 A Christmas Hymn 197 
 
 A Year in IIeaa^en 200 
 
 Heart of Gold 204 
 
 Heart's Ease 207 
 
 The Forget-Me-Not 208 
 
 In Memoriam ac Amorem 210 
 
 The Grave of Lee 216 
 
 The Engine 218 
 
8 INDEX. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, Continued. tage. 
 
 Hieroglyphic 222 
 
 Hieroglyphic— Another Version 227 
 
 Cradle Song 232 
 
 The Cid 234 
 
 Ars Amoris 237 
 
 The Samaritan 239 
 
 TEANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 
 
 The Cloud 241 
 
 A Zephyr Song 244 
 
 Paraphrase from Horace 246 
 
 Thine is my Heart 247 
 
 The Burning of the Ships 248 
 
 POEMS OF ALLEGED HUMOR. 
 
 Fan'Fancies 254 
 
 Her Eed Pvigolette 256 
 
 A Memory 259 
 
 Gate of Pearl 263 
 
 The Blue Danube 265 
 
 L'ENVOL 
 
 Valete AC Plaudite 267 
 
 Guerdon 268 
 
BONNIEBELL; 
 
 THE ROMAUNT OF A ROSE. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 
 
 PART THE FIRST 
 
 Sacli sweetness and such stateliness in Bonniebell were 
 
 mingled ; 
 
 Her gentleness so full of charm — her pride so high 
 
 was seen"; 
 
 That if, in her submissive mood, my young blood lit and 
 
 tingled, 
 
 As oft I saw, with sinking heart, she took the crown 
 
 of Queen ! 
 
 11 
 
12 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 With sinking heart, because, alas, when Bonniebell was 
 royal, 
 Not mine alone the heart in which she seem'd to rule 
 and reign ; 
 For she was queen of many loves, and though my love 
 was loyal, 
 To lift its eyes to such a height appear'd presumption 
 vain. 
 
 Not mine the task to paint her charms — she seem'd so 
 high above me, 
 That all my worship pour'd itself in voiceless course 
 along ; 
 I never dar'd to ask or hope that Bonniebell would love 
 me, 
 And only nurs'd a secret dream that fill'd my soul 
 with song. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 13 
 
 Sometimes the song would sing itself a brief space to 
 her hearina; 
 But hid its passion lest her pride both song and singer 
 spurn ; 
 Sha only heard that I could sing, and gave me words of 
 cheering, 
 But never saw the trembling fire, that made the music 
 burn. 
 
 Or, if she saw, she did not speak, or only spoke in 
 kindness, 
 And dainty praise of skill and power which she was 
 pleas'd to know; 
 She thought my poems would one day be famous; so, in 
 blindness, 
 She flung away the flowers which wore for her their 
 brightest glow. 
 
14 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 But love, though humble, yet will thrive on even less 
 than praises. 
 And mine, a poet's, clung to all that might prolong 
 its hope ; 
 And, as the sunlight in the Spring the dewy buds 
 upraises, 
 Her smile enlarg'd my fainting heart with newer 
 strength and scope. 
 
 What eye may mark the growth of flowers, or watch the 
 
 leaves unfolding, 
 • Or say what time the bud takes on the larger grace 
 
 of bloom ; 
 Or by what gradual change the East, while yet the 
 
 dawn w^ithholJing, 
 Assumes the delicate tints that first succeed its silent 
 
 gloom ? 
 
BONNIEBELL. 15 
 
 So love, from silence and from night, takes on its orient 
 splendor ; 
 Not all at once it knows the strength that makes it 
 brave and fain ; 
 And first with quicken'd breath it feels the impulse 
 soft and tender, 
 That' grows into the power which sways the subject 
 heart and brain. 
 
 So too by gradual change love makes its self-unknown 
 confession ; 
 Long pent in faithful heart at last the secret light 
 will shine ; 
 And reverence, friendshij:), all at once, assume their true 
 expression, 
 And stand bereft of borrow'd plumes in love's own 
 form divine ! 
 
16 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 And then, when all the truth is blown, what arts the 
 modest lover 
 Invokes to keep the treasure hid that shines with 
 open ray, 
 And hopes by careful carelessness and studious ease 
 to cover. 
 The crescent mystery of the love, which fills his 
 world with day I 
 
 Long time in secret thought I kept my bosom's pangs 
 and blisses, 
 And nurs'd the flame that thrill'd and charm'd what 
 time it bit and burn'd, 
 And lay in the luxurious trance that love, the vampyre, 
 kisses. 
 Where, weak in will and strong in hope, the passion 
 dream'd and yearn'd. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 17 
 
 And so the vision, "bright and brief, at last had met its 
 ending. 
 Except that once a song I sang the fatal warmth 
 expos'd, 
 And Bonniebell could not but see the fire with friend- 
 ship blending, 
 That all her past familiar praise and kindly freedom 
 clos'd. 
 
 SONG— ASTARTE. 
 
 White moon, mid-heaven sailing, 
 
 Proud, passionless, alone ; 
 Dost hear the tides bewailing 
 
 To reach the Queen they own, 
 With murmurous moan ? 
 
 Dost hear their plaintive voices, 
 
 Lapping in restless roar ; 
 Dim, inarticulate noises, 
 
 That wail and wander o'er 
 The desolate shore ? 
 
 When back the tide-wave surges, 
 
 And thou art wan'd and dim. 
 Dost hear, white moon, the dirges 
 
 That rise in solemn hymn, 
 From the sea's rim ? 
 
 Love, dost thou know the pvlses 
 
 'That at thy beauty wake. 
 Or caie, if one convulses. 
 
 When ihefrei heart-strings break 
 For thy sweet sake ? 
 
18 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Brief space elaps'd e'er I before proud Bonniebell was 
 bidden, 
 To fmd her sitting sair and reft of all her crested 
 crown ; 
 More by her look than any words my guilty heart was 
 chidden, 
 And sometimes by the sudden tear that cours'd her 
 cheek adown. 
 
 For I had done her peace, she said, a Wi'ong beyond 
 undoing; 
 Her hope had been to know in me one faithful friend 
 and fast; 
 She turn'd away from those who came for wedlock and 
 for wooing, 
 And thought true union of the soul her prayer had 
 found at last. 
 
BONNIEBELL, 19 
 
 She had been happy, too, to F^ee the flow'r of soDg 
 expanding; 
 The light of genius spreading wide its gracious rays 
 and pure ; 
 And thought, by kindly ministry, the growing gift 
 attending. 
 To grant a blessed boon to men and my own hopes 
 secure. 
 
 She gave no room to selfish love; though she was but a 
 woman, 
 She lov'd the freedom of her life that gave her being 
 scope ; 
 And she would yield her maiden heart and unlink'd 
 hand to no man, 
 Nor drown in dull routine the dreams of bright and 
 boundless hope. 
 
20 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Her life, she thought, might well be given to nobler 
 ends and uses. 
 Than nursing any bliss within the narrow walls of 
 home ; 
 And sometimes fate to wedded lives the boon of bliss 
 refuses. 
 And what is earthly bliss at best but flying cloud 
 and foam ! 
 
 No, she was set apart to work a wider, higher mis- 
 sion, 
 And wealth itself, she said, was lent in sacred trust 
 for God ; 
 Her hope had been that I would help her dreams to 
 their fruition, 
 And be content to tread the paths wherein s/z6 patient 
 trod. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 21 
 
 And even yet, she slowly said, if I renounc'd the 
 vision, 
 Which rose to lead the heart astray and ring fair 
 friendship's knell, 
 I might be comrade in her work ; I had her sad decis- 
 ion, 
 And if I hugg'd the dream of love, she came to say 
 farewell. 
 
 She ceas'd nn answer 'd, and at first the silence seem'd 
 a prison, 
 Wherefrom my desolate ears could hear hope's funeral 
 bells that broke; 
 I saw the sunshine die adown the far and dark hori- 
 zon. 
 And then the cry of desperate hurt irom all my 
 being woke. 
 
22 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 And I refus'd to be no more than helper in her mis- 
 sion ; 
 I gave God-speed to all her plans to bless the sorrow- 
 ing earth ; 
 And pray'd her gracious work to raise the suffering 
 world's condition, 
 Might wear a crown of praise and power to match its 
 noble worth. 
 
 •"But, love, I love you," sore I cried; "with neither 
 right nor reason, 
 My poor heart flutters at your feet, and bleeds in 
 cureless pain ; 
 And if I said I lov'd you not, 'twould be but coward 
 treason. 
 And better that I died than raarr'd my life's one good 
 and gain. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 2a 
 
 "This fadeless llow'r, dear heart," I said; "this rare 
 aiid ladiant blossom, 
 I may not crush although the bribe should be your 
 presence dear ; 
 And I will bear both rose and thorn together in rny 
 bosom, 
 And though the wide w^orld stretch between, my love 
 shall bring you near ! 
 
 "And so I may not stay to see my pure and precious 
 treasure 
 Reft from me by the tedious days, and ever grown 
 more far ; 
 I may find peace in other lands, though never hope nor 
 pleasure, 
 And you, through all the wandering ways, shall be 
 my guardian star ! 
 
24 BONNIEBELL 
 
 "And if, lost Bonniebell, my name and face should ever 
 visit 
 Your thought in coming years, I ask that for the 
 past's sweet sake, 
 You will not scorn me ; Hope is dead, and they are dead 
 who miss it, 
 And all their faults should die with them, while all 
 dear memories wake." 
 
 Now, as I turn'd on Bonniebell in desperate lover's 
 fashion, 
 I saw her face so white and wan ; her eyes so stain'd 
 w^ith tears, 
 That all the selfishness and sin of my unreasoning pas- 
 sion, 
 Came o'er me, and I knelt to ask her pardon an 1 her 
 prayers. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 25 
 
 And when her gracious accents came, I heard — with 
 what emotion ! — 
 Her low confession : " Do not think that I have known 
 unmov'd 
 The story of your passion ; dear to me is that devo- 
 tion, 
 Which sometimes makes me think I love as even 
 I am lov'd," .... 
 
 At which she chok'd; and white and rose swept swiftly 
 in succession 
 Across the glorious face that bent to bear its shame 
 alone; 
 And all her state was ray'd around with grace beyond 
 expression, 
 And all the Queen was lost whileas the woman rose 
 and shone. 
 
26 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Yet soon, and ere my hand conl<l claim the keeping of 
 the treasure, 
 The melting mood of Bonniebell a royal tone as- 
 sum'd. 
 And when again she spoke her voice \Yas set to statelier 
 measure, 
 And check'd the tide which love w^ould pour, if still 
 her favor bloom'd. 
 
 And thus she said, "0 friend most dear, too much my 
 weakness yielded. 
 And fast beyond my calmer thought, the quick con- 
 fession flew, 
 And now I claim by your own love and honor to be 
 shielded, 
 To make my answer worthier, sir, alike of me and 
 you. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 27 
 
 "I will not take the comfort back, if such my words 
 afforded, 
 That yon, best heart, alone of all, my maiden thonght 
 have mov'd, 
 For love is too divine and high for hearts to be de- 
 frauded, 
 But love may not repine to have its depth and duty 
 prov'd. 
 
 "Let time, friend, and absence try the truth of the 
 emotion — 
 Your love for me and what I yield of favoring thought 
 for you ; 
 Let one year pass while broad between there rolls the 
 severing ocean. 
 And then come back if yet your heart its old fond 
 dream pursue. 
 
28 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 "And you shall find me here at home, beneath the 
 shadowing larches, 
 And here the answer shall be given if thence our lives 
 be one; 
 Or if our footsteps must be made in wide and wandering 
 marches, 
 To meet no more, as we have met, beneath the cir- 
 cling sun. 
 
 "Yet since I may not trust my tongue to either bless 
 or banish, 
 — If that my love should yet appear a blessing in your 
 eyes — 
 And if my image in your heart shall neither change nor 
 vanish. 
 And you may take both heart and hand as your true 
 lover's prize — 
 
BONNIEBELL. 29 
 
 "This sign shall bear my message, dear, as though the 
 word were spoken, 
 If still you love, and still I feel that I am fated 
 too; 
 
 A ROSE-BUD IN MY HAIR .SHALL BE THE PROMISE AND 
 THE TOKEN, 
 
 And one bright heavenward path henceforth will 
 hold our footsteps true. 
 
 "And until then, farewell," she said: "the Lord who 
 keeps and blesses 
 Forever lift His face on you. Amen!" And then 
 her hand, 
 And then her lips, for one swift flash, bestow'd their soft 
 caresses. 
 And as she pass'd a shadow seem'd to drop athwart 
 the land. 
 
30 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Yet was the shadow shot with shine ; for Bonniebell had 
 granted, 
 Far more of favor than I hop'd, and more of hope to 
 come, 
 And I was high, though sad, of heart as down the sun- 
 set slanted. 
 And in the twilight, musing deep, I wander'd from 
 her home. 
 
BONNIEBELL 
 
 PART THE SECOND 
 
 When first the year began its course of tedious days- 
 and duties, 
 They brought me but the constant sense of dull im- 
 patient pain ; 
 For me the sky was void of stars, and earth of blooms 
 and beauties, 
 And while fair hope still lighted life, my present joj 
 
 was slain. 
 
 31 
 
32 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 For I was doom'd, for one long year, to dwell apart and 
 banish'd, 
 From her, whose presence now had grown my very 
 breath of life; 
 So though hope shone on distant heights, the light 
 around had vanish'd, 
 And in my bosom stirr'd the shapes of easeless pain 
 and strife. 
 
 How should I bear the doom she spoke; where spend 
 the drear probation ; 
 What labor should I find to while the flagging brain 
 and hand ? 
 How should I live when light and love withheld their 
 consolation, 
 And all the flooded sunshine died away from sky 
 and land ? 
 
BONNIEBELL. - 33 
 
 For where she did. not dwell became a hooded place of 
 shadows, 
 And as she walk'd the roses woke, and dawn was 
 instant day ; 
 When she had pass'd, the gloaming fell on all the woods 
 and meadows. 
 But where she pass'd the silent glooms receiv'd a 
 kindling ray. 
 
 But these, I felt were pangs of thought unworthy of the 
 earnest 
 Which love already had conferral before its perfect 
 bliss; 
 "Save thou, hot heart," I said, "of faith the patient 
 lesson learnest, 
 Thy want of strength and want of worth the promis'd 
 prize may miss ! " 
 
34 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 "Save thou, weak heart," again I said, " canst bear the 
 destin'd burden, 
 And willing wait and silent strive until thy goal is 
 gain'd, 
 Thy pain will never know surcease, thy toil achieve no 
 guerdon, 
 And passion lose wdiat love had sure by steadfast 
 faith attain 'd. 
 
 "And she," I cried, "is worth the all of my life's conse- 
 cration. 
 And toil and waiting well her smile at last will grace 
 and pay ; 
 I may not murmur at the word which is my just proba- 
 tion. 
 To prove my spirit once may soar where dwells her 
 thought alway ! " 
 
BONNIEBELL. 35 
 
 Now in this calmer mood my mind at once began to 
 ponder, 
 How I might win the prize which hung on faith of 
 future gain ; 
 And deep I thought in what new path my hast'ning feet 
 should wander, 
 And v/hat should be the waiting work for willing hand 
 and brain.' 
 
 For Bonniebell, though naught she reck'd of sordid gains 
 and losses, 
 Was not content that I should be mere dreamer or 
 mere bard ; 
 She long'd to see me fight the fight and bear the common 
 crosses. 
 And win the heights where loyal love at last is 
 crown'd and sta-rr'd. 
 
36 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Now if my darling could but think that even as a 
 poet 
 I brought the world my meed of help and bore my 
 duty's task, 
 And tried to pay the race of man what all the earth- 
 born owe it, 
 Though poor the service, this, I knew, w\as all her 
 love would ask. 
 
 And j)oor indeed I felt would be the service and its 
 guerdon. 
 Yet all the more I knew the need to do my patient 
 best ; 
 Though only I should prove my strength to bear the 
 bitter burden, 
 'Twere manlier far to lose than ne'er to make the 
 venturous quest! 
 
BONNIEBELL. 37 
 
 And now, metliouglit, there waits for me success in some 
 far city, 
 Higli-spir'd, broad-streeted, blown wnth airs to give my 
 spirit scope; 
 I seem'd to hear, like Whittington, the bells that clash'd 
 in ditty, 
 To hail me with the echoing peals of joy and fame- 
 and hope. • 
 
 Now, when in sober guise I came anear the glimmering 
 city, 
 There rang no peals and rose no voice to bid me wel- 
 come home ; 
 I saw no face and heard no tone of greeting or of 
 pity, 
 And felt the lengthening coil of chains w^hich they 
 must drag who roam. 
 
38 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 What need to tell the piteous tale of long and anxious 
 waiting, 
 Of ho|)e deferr'd and sickening heart and all the weary- 
 wrong ; 
 Of labor wrought with patient skill, which had no market 
 rating, 
 And failure's growing sense of shame amidst the piti- 
 less throng ! 
 
 Eor soon, alas! I learn'd what seem'd a lesson strange 
 and cruel, 
 That I was all unfit to work where I had waited 
 fame ; 
 I had no lack of bookish lore, but this was only- 
 fuel, 
 Whereto the practic'd hand at last must touch the 
 wakening flame. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 39 
 
 Nor do I blame the world because I could not win its 
 hearing ; 
 The tongue I spoke was stiff and quaint and cast in 
 anticjue niould ; 
 I could not touch the public taste, so various and so 
 veering, 
 That e'en prefers the tinsel tag to glamour of true 
 gold. 
 
 When first I came and tempted fate in lists of urban 
 tourney, 
 I gave my poems to the world, and sat, with beating 
 heart, 
 And thought that this alone would bring the largesse of 
 my journey, 
 And prove how glorious-sweet the prize that crowns 
 the brows of art. 
 
40 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 And sweet some leaves of praise did smell; but they 
 were few and fragile ; 
 They bore the breath of echoing hearts, of friends 
 elect and dear ; 
 Eut glory if she came anear, with pinions bright and 
 agile, 
 Soon left me darkling in the depths of doubt, distress 
 and fear. 
 
 So neither fame nor fortune came in answer to ambi- 
 tion, 
 For fame and fortune both are chill'd when looks the 
 world askance, 
 And frozen in the frost was hope of love's supreme frui- 
 tion, 
 And all the stake seem'd lost, and gone the last, wild, 
 lingering chance ! 
 
BONNIEBELL. 41 
 
 I dar'd not even claim, with France, that all was lost 
 but Honor; 
 For what of honor still remain'd with me, the weak 
 and vain? 
 If now I stood with Bonniebell, I scarce might look 
 upon her, 
 So cross"d were all the tides of life that might her 
 presence gain. 
 
 And yet, I kept me at the mill, like Samson, blind and 
 captive. 
 And walk'd on lower labor-planes with crescent craft 
 of pen; 
 And after many days again Hope waken'd, the decep- 
 tive. 
 To sing that Bonniebell was yet within love's con- 
 quering ken. 
 
42 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 And so, ambition's dream dispell'd, I enter'd as appren- 
 tice 
 The letter'd life which once I thought a laurell'd kind 
 of ease; 
 But thougli therein, with all its toils full many a pleas- 
 ure blent is, 
 Its cares and crosses wore and tore my soul without 
 surcease. 
 
 Faithful I strove, my voiceless pangs relieved at times 
 by golden 
 And happy spots of peace and praise whicli fill'd my 
 sky with cheer ; 
 And even those who gave me work would oft my heart 
 embolden, 
 By kindly speech of growth in skill, and of promo- 
 tion near. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 43 
 
 Now if my frame had but been train'd to bear this 
 drudging labor, 
 I might by slow and gradual steps have won the 
 meed at length ; 
 But soothly is the hackney pen more mighty than the 
 sabre, 
 For sooner doth it drain the blood and sap the vital 
 strength. 
 
 For once, when I would write on — "Teade" (my Pe- 
 gasus in harness!) 
 I found I could not think of trade and e'en of noth- 
 ing long; 
 My eyes were shot with blood, my head was fiery as a 
 furnace, 
 And speech was but a tangled skein of dissonant ends 
 of song. 
 
44 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 And so "Trade" went its ways, and I, when I had 
 soil'd much paper, 
 In vain attempts to wed aright a subject and its 
 verb. 
 Began to feel my senses real as in some poisonous 
 vapor, 
 And then with fever'd frenzy rose, which rescuing 
 hands must curb. 
 
 Blind, blind and vex'd the days that came in long and 
 dead disorder, 
 And fierce the fight for life was wag'd, and light the 
 chance was pois'd, 
 Long time it seem'd I must obey the call of the ma- 
 rauder, 
 And hope, when last it doubting came, was faint and 
 feebly voic'd. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 45 
 
 Of m}^ own mind I do not know the least word that 
 I utter'd, 
 Nor any single thing I wrought or sought, in desper- 
 ate state ; 
 That whole dark chamber of the past is closely barr'd 
 and shutter'd, 
 And all the light that lightens it, though waiting 
 friends came late. 
 
 I may not pierce the veil that hangs in mystery and 
 silence 
 Around that crisis, strange and sad, where life's 
 strong current broke ; 
 As on some shimmering stream there lie the shadows 
 of dark islands, 
 It lies, a grave, where long I slept, and whence but 
 late I woke. 
 
4G BONNIEBELL. 
 
 When liealth came halting home at last, my comfort 
 had its springing 
 In knowledge that the friends at home had never 
 known my state; 
 What time I lay at door of death the balmy weeks 
 were winging 
 Their flight above my love's dear head, and cast no 
 shade of fate. 
 
 Then knew I too that in the fierce, Zahara course of 
 fever. 
 Her name was breath'd on bleeding lips, a thousand 
 times in prayer; 
 And e'en through wildest dreams her face ran radiant 
 as a river, 
 And that she beam'cl above my arms, was still my 
 sorest care. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 47 
 
 Now when I wak'd to sense and tliouglit, my heart was 
 so far mellow'd, 
 And so far, too, my eyes Vv'ere op'd to all the present 
 change. 
 That well I felt the leaves of life were now forever 
 yellow'd, 
 And that the past, with all its lights, must now gloom 
 cold and strange. 
 
 This was the lesson, hard at first, I winnow'd from 
 my trial, 
 That love and I should henceforth v^^alk in vrander- 
 ing ways apart ; 
 I even had a joy, at last, to practice the de- 
 nial, 
 And strangely thrill'd to see hope's nest gape vacant 
 in my heart. 
 
48 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 And so when first my hand could hold a pen for an 
 epistle, 
 All this I wrote to Bonniebell, as cool and calm as 
 Sphinx ; 
 The missive sped, my heart was light as any beard of 
 thistle, 
 And cheerly dwelt amid the past nor wept its wresled 
 links. 
 
 Soon on this forc'd content there fell the shadow of the 
 exile. 
 And as it deepen'd, small the zest I had of tedious 
 breath, 
 But God has made the human heart so patient and so 
 flexile 
 That still it pulses, brave and safe, through deeper 
 depths than death. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 49 
 
 Work, AYork and work was still the drug I grasp'd to 
 ease my anguish, 
 — I sought no worse recourse through all the dark 
 and dismal test; 
 AVhile still ray utmost strength was strainVl, the pain 
 at heart would languish, 
 And when my flagging senses fail'd, I knew my only 
 rest. 
 
 Of course this could not last, and though the spirit 
 fought its weakness, 
 And though the flesh made desperate strife to bear 
 its doubled yoke; 
 The truce of Nature came at last, though in no mood 
 of meekness. 
 And that which would not bend itself, the hand of 
 Heaven broke! 
 
50 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Then I becnuie more helpless child, alike in llesh and 
 S})irifc, 
 And had no will to strive against the growing lapse 
 of will ; 
 My mind was equally content, whate'er it might in- 
 herit, 
 And lay, a stagnant pool which all the storms left 
 stagnant stdl. 
 
 What time had llown I did not know; but now the 
 perilous tissue. 
 In which my grand crusade had flower'd had reach'd 
 the ears of home ; 
 And kinsmen came and bore me off before its direful 
 issue, 
 And cold as Percy's lay the spur that urg'd me on 
 to roam. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 51 
 
 And there, near stately Bonniebell's, though little then 
 I reck'd it, 
 There laps'd another hard, sore strife with madness 
 and despair; 
 I had no wish to live; and death, so long did I expect 
 it, 
 Lost all his grizzy guise and grew a friendly shape 
 and fair. 
 
 Anon was work the cordial true that health and bal- 
 ance brought me; 
 It serv'd me now, no longer drug, but more as sleep 
 and food ; 
 From misery's black and noisome pit the Median mer- 
 chants bought me, 
 And "trade" — Vvdiich erst I left abrupt, — my steady- 
 ing hands pursued. 
 
52 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 That then my face was turn'd against her walls, I could 
 not question, 
 But lightly car'd, while yet I w^alk'd the w^ay where 
 duty shone ; 
 A lotus-langour flll'd my soul, (l gained, too, in digestion,) 
 And health and respite took the place whence song 
 and fame had flown. 
 
 Though love of fame came never back, the old lost gift 
 of singing 
 Once more, and only once, return'd, and that in 
 curious wise ; 
 The spot around which memories dear and faded dreams 
 w^ere clinging 
 Arose, as once I loiter'd late, before my wondering 
 eyes. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 5a 
 
 A train of tender thouglits and forms now bore my foot- 
 steps onward ; 
 Till lost I sat beneath the trees which knew our 
 parting words; 
 And, now as then, the West was red, where look'd its- 
 borders sunward, 
 And, now as then, the 'aisles were sweet with songs- 
 of nested birds. 
 
 Now, as I look'd around, still calm, but full of tears- 
 and pity, 
 A thousand thronging thoughts arose and pass'd in 
 tireless train ; 
 Fond memories of the trysting-place, and spectres of 
 the city, 
 And all the withering, wither 'd past, pour'd through, 
 my soul and brain. 
 
5-i BONNIE BELL. 
 
 Yet had I grace — my God be lov'd — in e'en this deso- 
 lation, 
 To waste no moan because that hope had such fell 
 shipwreck made: 
 "The will of Heaven be done," I said, in sad self- 
 consecration ; 
 And look'd into my heart and sang, what time I 
 prais'd and pray'd. 
 
 SONG— EEJ^ UNCI ATION. 
 
 Dear heart, I win thee and thy love in losing, 
 And therein find my own true self at last ; 
 
 For me remains not any place of choosing, 
 
 Nor any room for taking or refusing ; 
 And all bright hope is huried in the past. 
 
 Best heart, though now I know thee past the winning, 
 And now no more may love aspire to gain ; 
 
 Through all the past of sufi'oring and sinning. 
 
 And aimless effort and of vain beginning, 
 1 see thy figure shining, without pain. 
 
 Noblest and purest, now know I 'tis better 
 
 That what I fondly dream'd should never be ; 
 Love's spirit is more glorious than love's letter. 
 And thine hath bless'd me fully, without fetter, 
 And I possess thee all, yet leave thee free ! 
 
 Farewell, and yet I leave not, nor shall leave thee, 
 
 And where tiiou. art my better self shall bide; 
 IVly self, unselfish now, shall so receive thee 
 That neither change may shame nor absence grieve thee ; 
 So Shalt thou dvvell forever at my side. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 55 
 
 Tears rusli'd into my eyes when now the silence was 
 unbroken ; 
 I sat, w4th sunken head and hands, in lix'd and stony 
 stare ; 
 Once, as I gaz'd, methought I heard my own name 
 softly spoken. 
 But did not stir from out the deep, still stupor of 
 despair. 
 
 Some spell lay on me still, I felt, and as the sense grew 
 urgent, 
 I look'd across the leafy screen, and there in radiant 
 room. 
 Stood Bonniebell, the lov'd and lost, from bowery bloom 
 resurgent, 
 With beauty brilliant as the flowers, but lips as dumb 
 as doom. 
 
56 BONNIEBELL. 
 
 Her pure eyes look'd me straight and brave, while yet 
 no speech she utter 'd, 
 Yet 'round her roseate mouth there lurk'd an arch 
 and dimpled smile; 
 So high she seem'd, yet I could see the gentle bosom 
 flutter'd, 
 And that the gathering tear would soon her lily 
 cheek defile. 
 
 Now, as she came, she sought to speak, but fast her tears 
 were rushing, 
 And swift the roseate lips were purs'd in sharp and 
 passionate moan ; 
 And quick the eager cheeks were stain'd with hot and 
 feverish flushing, 
 And all the Queen was lost, whenas the woman soar'd 
 and shone. 
 
BONNIEBELL. 57 
 
 I could but take her hand and stroke her dear and 
 drooping tresses, 
 And softly speak and cheerly strive her roses to 
 renew ; 
 And while, with tender touch we sat, and fed love on 
 caresses, 
 I ask'd, to make her smile again, if still her heart 
 was true. 
 
 As one who hears a sound and turns to question what 
 thereat is, 
 She rose and cross'd the bowery screen, and when her 
 step return 'd, 
 I look'd, and in the woven braids — her soft hair's litten 
 lattice, — 
 With aech and modest skill half hid, a radiant 
 
 ROSEBUD BURN'd I 
 
RETROSPECT. 
 
 Down darkening vistas of the past, 
 Throngli wHcli fond memories yanisti fast, 
 To leave tlie lonely lieart aghast, 
 
 My eager vision pierces keen, 
 
 And catches groups of islands green, 
 
 And eddying waters dark between. 
 
 With many a confluent crow and cry, 
 
 Like April's blent and varying sky, 
 
 Childhood, on toddling steps, goes by. 
 58 
 
RETROSrECT. 59 
 
 Youth's crown of braided green and gold, 
 
 Flashes beyond the years of old, 
 
 And burns 'mid gathering age and cold. 
 
 And youth's high note of charm and cheer 
 O'er all the tract of time rings clear. 
 And dwells in memory fresh and dear. 
 
 Till on the scene love's lights descend-, 
 And on the ear love's accents blend. 
 And youth's mere idle raptures end. 
 
 And other raptures, blent with pain, 
 
 The anxious bosom fill amain, 
 
 With shade of loss and sheen of gain. 
 
 And now no more the zephyr wooes 
 The flowers of myriad-mingled hues. 
 Whose cups w^ere fill'd with perfum'd dews, 
 
60 RETROSPECT. 
 
 And all the pictur'd domes and spires 
 O'er which burn'd hope's delusive fires, 
 Vanish like fading funeral pyres. 
 
 Still fades not all of life's delight, 
 
 When youth's fair phantoms take their flight, 
 
 And dreams Elysian melt from sight. 
 
 For love, though love's experience hold. 
 With hours of sunshine, hours of cold. 
 Yet makes the inmost heart unfold ; 
 
 Till nature, pass'd from childish thought, 
 With deep and nobler feeling fraught. 
 In still ascending forms is wrought ; 
 
 And love the chord of self doth break. 
 And each best impulse touch and wake, 
 And life's harmonious music make. 
 
RETROSPECT. 61 
 
 Yet, though the scene be bright and clear, 
 
 It is the autumn of the year. 
 
 And flow'rs are chill'd and snows are near. 
 
 Though autumn's front be plum'd and bold, 
 And royal all his robes with gold, 
 His breath is keen with crescent cold. 
 
 Wherefore, sad heart, this twilit sky. 
 Since love is crown'd and faith is high, 
 Though Spring is dead and Winter nigh? 
 
 II. 
 
 My heart, thus echoing, made reply : 
 "It is because the night is nigh, 
 And darkness closes o'er the sky ; 
 
 " So faint at first you hardly know. 
 That earth hath lest its earlier glow. 
 And that the Westering. sun is low ; 
 
62 RETROSPECT. 
 
 " Till, line on line, the glory dies, 
 And twilight, o'er the silent skies, 
 Looks out with gray, pathetic eyes, 
 
 "And one by one the stars shine clear; 
 The sinking sun-rays disappear ; 
 The sun is set, and night is near! " 
 
 To which I answer'd, "Yet, heart, 
 Although the autumn sun depart, 
 And stars now dot the heavenly chart; 
 
 Though flow'rs be kiss'd by Judas-frost, 
 And earth with lacing shadows cross'd, 
 The soul's true comfort is not lost. 
 
 " The life which haply makes or mars 
 The soul's enjoyment, bursts the bars 
 That close these circling suns and stars. 
 
RETROSPECT. 63 
 
 "And there, where dwell the leal in light, 
 The flow'rs are fadeless and the night 
 Can ne'er with shadowy forms affright 
 
 "For all is sunshine; and the day, 
 That keeps the winter blast at bay, 
 Is ripe in warmth and rich in ray ; 
 
 "And all is beauty ; all its forms. 
 
 That broke beneath earth's waves and storms, 
 
 The Eden glory wakes and warms ; 
 
 "And all is love ; for God is love, 
 And ever broods the spirit dove 
 Each beatific soul above ; 
 
 "And all is changeless; there, at last, 
 Decay and doom and death aghast, 
 Are overpower'd and overpast." 
 
64 RETROSPECT. 
 
 III. 
 Then soul and heart together woke, 
 To front the dreary winter-stroke, 
 That vainly fell and idly broke. 
 
 They saw both flow'r and fruit decay. 
 They watch'd the dying of the day, 
 And felt the evening air grow gray. 
 
 But spectres of the falling night, 
 
 And wintry phantoms, vague and v/hite, 
 
 Had power no longer to affright. 
 
 Steadfast they stood ; my soul and heart, 
 
 Never again they stood apart, 
 
 And felt life's lingering signs depa,rt. 
 
 Their hands were lock'd ; their lips were press'd. 
 Their eyes no more made earthly quest, 
 They look'd beyond, to heavenly rest. 
 
RETROSPECT. 65 
 
 And as the stream of death they trod, 
 They walk'd as on their own home sod, 
 And so pass'd o'er, and were with God. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My heart and soul ; my love and life, 
 My self and better self, my wife. 
 Pray so to pass from mortal strife. 
 
 That as we struggled, side by side. 
 
 And hand in hand, went wandering wide, 
 
 We so may breast the final tide. 
 
 Ere yet the river rolls anear, 
 
 With echoes keen and pictures clear. 
 
 The Past attracts mine eye and ear ; 
 
 And memory dwells with fond regret 
 On days that shine with pleasure yet, 
 And friends whose hastening suns have set. 
 
66 RETROSPECT. 
 
 And all youth's bright and boon career 
 And all love's raptures, sweet and dear, 
 And manhood's pride, are drawn anear. 
 
 The fields once more are. starr'd with blooms, 
 There fall from heaven no wintry glooms, 
 And sunshine all the air illumes. 
 
 Blest is the heavenly hope, at last. 
 When rolls the river near and fast, 
 To find, beyond the river pass'd, 
 
 The blooms of youth forever bright, 
 And love still deathless as the light 
 That shines through all the ages' flight. 
 
 love incarnate, grant the prayer, 
 That earthly love, refin'd and rare, 
 Mav find a hallow'd entrance there. 
 
RETROSPECT, 
 
 67 
 
 \ 
 
 \And that Thy spirit, breath'd above, 
 
 ^.nd brooding as the Holy Dove, 
 
 l^ay join our palms and link our love! 
 
ALICE. 
 'Koiind the fairy form of Alice, 
 As about a stately palace, 
 Lingers a resistless grace, 
 As a smile upon a face, 
 Or old memories of a place. 
 
 As you see the lights that flare. 
 
 From the windows high in air; 
 
 As you hear the dancers' tread 
 
 Fall in cadence overhead ; 
 
 So, from out the laughing eye. 
 
 Light love glances flit and fly 
 
 And within their depths you^ee 
 
 Pure thoughts moving fast fid free. 
 
 All in musical harmony ! 
 68 
 
ALICE. 69 
 
 Litten eye that lightly tells 
 What beneath the surface dwells; 
 'Tis no foolish dream of love, 
 Faded flower or cherish'd glove, 
 But the joy, serene and deep, 
 Pure as innocence asleep. 
 Youth is privileg'd to keep ! 
 
 Love sits light on lissome Alice; 
 As upon a stately palace. 
 Swallows touch and pass with fleet 
 Waving wings and darting feet; 
 So, among the dainty nooks 
 Of her feeling, love but looks, 
 Shines and sings a little space, 
 Darts across her blooming face. 
 And with flash of butterflies, 
 Vanishes before her eyes ! 
 But the heart of winsome Alice, 
 Void of mercy as of malice, 
 
ALICE. 
 
 Lets the song-bird come at will, 
 Langlis to hear his music thrill; 
 Is not wretched wdien he flees, 
 Thinks. not if she pain or please. 
 And when lovers kneel to pray, 
 Turns with merry gest away. 
 Hardly knowing what they say ! 
 
 
 But the time is coming, Alice, 
 When love's sweet and bitter chalice, 
 Which you press on others' taste, 
 With such gay and heedless haste — 
 This same goblet, coming back. 
 Will not spare you in its track. 
 Late, my Alice, you but laugh'd, 
 When you saw the potion quaff 'd, 
 But the potent spell at length 
 Proves the equal of your strength. 
 Then the charm will win you, Alice, 
 
AL[CE. 
 
 Thougii yon bide in lint or palace, 
 Like the piper without pity, 
 In the pcreed of Hamehi's city. 
 You must march, where love may lead, 
 Though the feet and heart should bleed: 
 Though the shies be dimm'd and drear. 
 And the way be wrapp'd in fear. 
 You wdll hardly hnow, indeed, 
 Why the heart should burn or bleed ; 
 Love would not be love but treason, 
 If it listed voice of reason. 
 Be its worship ne'er so earthy, 
 Love will deem the duty worthy, 
 And will make a golden god 
 Out of common soil and sod, 
 Whereunto, on bended knee. 
 Love will lift its offering free, 
 Praying "Love, I love but thee." 
 
72 ALICE. 
 
 
 Far from thee and every woman 
 Be the imag-e and the omen ! 
 
 o 
 
 May thy lot, laugliing Alice, 
 Prove to quaff a clearer chalice. 
 In whose pureness thou may'st see, 
 Mirror'd, thine own purity. 
 May thy earthly love be crown'd 
 As the love of Heav'n is found, 
 So that when thine eyes at last 
 Look along the darkening past, 
 And when heaven, with sun and star, 
 Lights thee through the gates ajar. 
 Thou may'st know, that thou and thine 
 There, in changeless love, shall shine, 
 At thy home, within God's palace. 
 In the greenest of His valleys, 
 Thou and all of thine, dead Alice! 
 
A BOOK OF SONNETS. 
 
 ■ Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, 
 '• Half an idea in ttie profuundest sonnet." 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 But this is now, you may depend upon it, 
 Stable, opaque, immortal, all by dint 
 Of the dear names that lie conceal'd within 't. 
 
 —Edgar A. Foe. 
 
Most of the following sonnete were composed during the war, and 
 are therefore almost entitled to be called juvenile productions. They 
 are reproduced without alteration, except a few verbal corrections. 
 
DEDICATORY. 
 
 To her who can unriddle all the mystery 
 
 "Which lies beneath my verses, and has known 
 The W'hole of that experience and history, 
 
 To \vhich they owe their interest alone ; 
 Whose kindly eyes have softened to my suffering, 
 
 And bitter pain of unrequited love, 
 I tender this poor, unsufScient offering, 
 
 As saints may make their offerings above. 
 With a deep sense of all its unw-orthiness, 
 
 And with the memory of her peerless worth, 
 I pray her take it in its utter earthiness, 
 
 Though holding things pertaining not to earth — 
 
 Not as approaching her, except as fire 
 
 Winds star-ward from the earth, in impotent desire ! 
 75 
 
76 SONNETS. 
 
 VIS-A-VIS. 
 
 A sudden light broke o'er lier eager face, 
 
 Through which her eyes shone like the tropic stars. 
 
 In the soft light, broke by the diamond bars, 
 Iler form seem'd rob'd in such unearthly grace, 
 I deem'd some spirit occupied the place. 
 
 A low wind bent the flow'rs, and wav'd the leaves 
 Which rustled as the unseen wings of angels; 
 
 And in the moon-sheen shone the golden sheaves. 
 Like haloes 'round the heads of the Evangels. 
 
 And all my heart swell'd with unspoken passion, 
 And yet I could not speak, for she appear'd 
 
 So little of our human mould and fashion, 
 I dar'd not break the spell by any word 
 Whereby her lifted thought and holy calm were stirr'd. 
 
SONNETS. 77 
 
 DIE SCHOENSTEN AUGEN. 
 
 The brightest eyes not ever are the orbs 
 Where passion slumbers as a storm at rest, 
 
 Whose searching gaze each mystery absorbs 
 Of love or enmity from every breast : 
 Some eyes are brilliant as the diamond's crest, 
 
 Whose light is knowledge, and the wit of Eld: — 
 By some a wondrous magic is possess'd, 
 
 To win the wealth of worship that is held, 
 
 In ev'ry heart, though arduously qiiell'd. 
 Sometimes the waning of life's sun imparts 
 
 A glance by which the Future is impell'd 
 To tell the tracing of her unseen charts; 
 
 But brighter than the angels' eyes above, 
 
 And saints' or sinners' here, are those of her I love 
 
78 SONyETS. 
 
 "GOLDEN— ONLY GOLDEN." 
 
 " And a kindly hlood sends glances up her princely eye to trouble, 
 And the slVadow of a monarch's crown is soltcned in her hair." 
 
 — Mrs. Bkownino. 
 
 Nay, golden, only golden, is the liair, 
 
 Wliieli frames the glowing pi(3ture of her face; 
 Its glance in sunshine answers to the grace 
 
 Of thoughts which move her features, as the air 
 
 Awakes fresh fragrance in the uplands fair. 
 
 No words may paint the richness of its gleam — 
 
 No sunshine with its splendor may compare — 
 No star-light, (though its tender beauty seem 
 To worn ni^ht- watchers as the blessed beam, 
 
 Of angel-eyes that pity them above) — 
 Nor yet the airy glory of a dream. 
 
 Gay lit with visions of perfected love; 
 
 Yet, since it is my wealth, I call it gold, 
 
 And since its sheen may buy what store of love I hold! 
 
sonn?:ts. 79 
 
 BY A CONFEDERATE WATCH-FIRE. 
 
 Cold stars above; around a cheerless world, 
 
 Save where the carnp-fire .sheds its ruddy light — 
 A little sparkle in the space of night. 
 
 A thin blue wreath above the flame is curl'd, 
 
 As lightly as a tinsel flag unfiirl'd. 
 Upon its folds I curiously trace — 
 
 A glancing surface, as a shell impearhd — 
 Quick-shifting pictures of her fairy face, 
 Whose ev'ry motion shows some newer grace 
 
 Of tender beauty, glorious and alluring. — 
 A vague, wierd shadow in an airy space, 
 
 Whose splendor is too bright to be enduring; 
 
 For when I grasp, no sight rewards my love. 
 
 Save only cheerless earth, and the chill stars above, 
 Petersburg, 1864. 
 
80 SONNETS. 
 
 TOUJOURS. 
 
 To me have all things undergone a change, 
 The earth no longer seems a shining scene ; 
 The vroods no more delight with robes of green 
 
 The beauty of the sky is wierd and strange. 
 
 All objects, where my listless eyes may range, 
 Possess not now the zest of long ago. 
 
 So some lono; absent wi2;ht, to whom the f^^ranf^e, 
 The leas and trees are alter'd, cannot know 
 The scenes of childhood's gambols — so, I trow, 
 
 Are my green spots of memory eras'd. 
 One face alone as erst appears to glow ; 
 
 One treasur'd page alone is not defac'd ; 
 
 That face, thy dear, sweet lineaments of beauty ; 
 
 That page, my vows of well-remember'd duty. 
 
SONNETS. 81 
 
 "WHEN THIS CRUEL WAR IS OVER." 
 
 I pray that when this cruel war is o'er 
 My duty's guerdon may be rest at home, 
 Where I may linger with no need to roam, 
 
 As shatter'd barks, upon some friendly shore, 
 
 Lie safe from wind and wave forevermore. 
 How sweet the remnant of my days to spend 
 
 With one to teach me love's delicious lore — 
 A some one dearer than the dearest friend, 
 W^hose sunny smile and laughter would amend 
 
 All change of fortune till the dream was past! 
 Wh?t tho' too swift and surely came the end? 
 
 Her touch and tones would cheer me to the last, 
 
 And nerve my spirit — in this hope sufHc'cl — 
 
 To meet and greet her home beneath the smile of Christ ! 
 
 1864. 
 
82 SONNETS. 
 
 IN THE THEATRE. 
 
 A wliite, silk fillet lies upon her brow : 
 
 The band is sprinkled with a host of stars, 
 Which glitter like the leaves of nenuphars 
 
 On the still bosom of a lake. I trow 
 
 There's no such star above us or below, 
 
 As those dark eyes, rich w^ith a mystic meaning, 
 
 Whose wealth of feelinci; is for him to know 
 Who wins her. We enjoy a scanty gleaning 
 Of those ripe, golden fields that lie a-sheening, 
 
 Waiting the sickle and the harvest home. 
 
 What pen may tell the grace of her demeaning. 
 
 Or paint the stars that fleck her brow like foam — 
 
 Or sing — ah, harder (askl-^her solemn eyes, 
 
 And all the unspoken thought that in their stillness lies? 
 
SONNETS. 83 
 
 ELSEWHITHER. 
 
 Erect and dignified she movetli stately, 
 Like a rich vessel on the shining sea, 
 Whose silken sails the wind wafts proud and free 
 
 To some far clime. We watch her, praying greatly 
 
 Her prow may seek the shore, upon which lately 
 Full many a flag has flutter'd to invite her; 
 
 Yet moves the beacon 'd argosy sedately 
 
 Elsewhither, as the wanton winds incite her, 
 And growing as she fades unto us brighter, 
 
 Lacking the sight for which our eyes have yearn'd. 
 rosy sea, let ev'ry wave kiss lighter! 
 
 stars, for her let all your lamps be burn'd ! 
 
 haven, which she seeks, let all your splendor, 
 
 And all your wealth of joy and welcoming attend her! 
 
84 SONNETS. 
 
 CORONATION. 
 
 Her head is liallow'd by my passion's clirism, 
 And she is ever sacred in my sight — 
 My heart's high Empress by that holy rite, 
 
 And Love the prophet of that soul-baptism. 
 
 Now were it worse than heresy or schism, 
 If from my sov'reign I withheld my all, 
 
 Or sufFer'd my unstable fancy's prism 
 To part the rays, which, like a halo, fall 
 To gird her temples in their airy thrall. 
 
 Lo ! Queen, thy palace is my life's whole scope! 
 Thy pictur'd face is graven on each wall — 
 
 Thy name's the star which burns upon its cope ; 
 
 An humble home, but furnish'd rich and rare. 
 
 For that thy name and face adorn it ev'rywhere 
 
SO^^NETS. 85 
 
 A NEW CORONATION. 
 
 My queen is crowned with her own gold hair, 
 
 And hallow'd with the oil of my affection: 
 
 To her I kneel in loyal genuflection, 
 And pray her take whatever rich or rare, 
 My lip may utter, or my hand prepare. 
 
 She will not deign to aught that I bestow — 
 She lends no ear to all that I declare, 
 
 But moves so stately in her beauty's glow, 
 
 That I am dazzled as by sun-lit snow. 
 And drunken as by perfume in her sight. 
 
 Yet would I all of Avorldly gain forego, 
 For but one promise, whisper'd low and light; 
 And all my Nature, quicken'd by her smile, 
 Would burst in fruit and flow'rs like gardens by the Nile. 
 
86 SONyETS. 
 
 EN ROUTE. 
 
 I know her eyes are following ray form 
 In fancy thro' the dangers that I pass, 
 AVhich, darkly pictur'd in that shadowy glass, 
 
 Seem greater than they are. Thro' shine and storm 
 
 I feel her prayers are with me, true and warm, 
 To gird me as a shield from danger's tonch. 
 
 Naught do I dread of any hurt or harm, 
 My faith in their efficiency is such — 
 
 So f^reat, I fear I trust them over-much, 
 
 And spare my own to the good Lord to send. 
 
 Well, such as mine would be a broken crutch, 
 And hers to hear all angels will attend. 
 
 Dear Lord, wy prayer is that I yet may be 
 
 But half so dear to her as she appears to me. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 SEPTEMBEIi TPIE NINTH. 
 
 Sweet-heart! Do you remember how this night, 
 
 Rich only in my love, I off'er'd this 
 
 To purchase the dear boon and perfect bliss 
 To hear you say, "So also in my sight 
 Are you in love's habiliments bedight — 
 
 Call'd, chosen, and, I trust, forever true''? 
 But so you said not. 'As a friend you might 
 
 Esteem me dear, but never could endue 
 My form with that devotion I gave you!' 
 Years, tears, and change and chance have sped since then, 
 
 And in them old loves, given away to new. 
 Are clean eras'd from out the minds of men. 
 Only myself, to-night, do feel some touch 
 Of that fair, faded dream I cherish'd then so much! 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 LUX IN TENEBRIS. 
 
 You tliink in this dull form tliore is no love ; 
 
 I know there's no love-light within my eyes, 
 
 And in ray look no melting softness lies; 
 And in my voice no magic pow'r to move — 
 But if, dear heart, you wish the depth to prove, 
 And fervor of the worship I jM-ofess, 
 
 Look closer: — there are other proofs above 
 What claims the outward presence may possess. 
 The stars in glory press thro' night opaque — 
 
 Beneath dark clouds the hidden flash is sleeping — 
 Thro' "the rough kex the starr'd mosaics break" — 
 
 Within ice-ribs the restless flood is leaping ; 
 And e'en in me, dull as I am, oh Circe, 
 Much store of love may spring, if you but smile in mercy! 
 
SOXNETS. 89 
 
 MARK XIV: 31. 
 
 Not passionate, but soberly, I say 
 
 The world may leave thee or entreat thee ill, 
 And friends deceive, and foes of cruel will 
 
 Pursue in bitterness thy thorny way: — 
 
 Yet will not I deny thee, nor decay 
 
 In aught of tenderness, or true devotion; 
 
 Nor slacken in my warmth, nor fall away, 
 Like the unstable courses of the ocean, 
 In all too violent but changeful motion. 
 
 Dear heart, on thee my constant heart is fix'd, 
 And whatsoe'er may be thy earthly potion, 
 
 Therein, I trust, my own is also mix'd. 
 
 If in the chalice there be aught of pain, 
 
 I count it favor high with thee its dregs to drain ! 
 
90 SONNETS. 
 
 " THE LADY OF MY LIFE." 
 
 " The lady of my life, whose lovely eyes 
 
 Waking or dreaming lure me — I should know her 
 By beauty's blossom in the grass below^ her, 
 
 And love's own planet o'er her in the skies."'^' 
 
 What bloom of beauty 'neath her footstep lies? 
 What star of splendor shines above her head? 
 
 Kose-buds and lilies, scented bells should rise, 
 Like incense from the earth beneath her tread, 
 Or perfum'd censers o'er the sainted dead. 
 
 Her smile may loose the soft, sw^eet influence 
 Of Pleiades, or fairer light may shed 
 
 To ravish w^ith its lustre soul and sense. 
 
 What need of flow^'r on earth, or star in sky. 
 
 Since she is flow'r of earth, and will be star on high? 
 *0"WBN Meredith. 
 
SONNETS. 91 
 
 VARSOVIENNE. 
 
 " Qualis in Evroice ripis, avf, per jvga (Jynitd^ 
 Exercet Diana chojos.''''—YmGn^. 
 
 She moves so stately through the dainty dance, 
 And treads its measures with such smiling grace, 
 That, though I love the beauty of her face, 
 
 Sometimes her twinkling feet attract my glance, 
 
 Beyond all beauty in the world's expanse. 
 Such flexile motion, such a lightsome tread, 
 
 Might well fix fairies in a silent trance, 
 Whose moonlit minuets, I oft have read, 
 Are stepp'd so deftly o'er the flow^ers' head 
 
 That scarce a violet is trodden down. 
 
 In such a maze, the moving stars are led ; 
 
 With such a grace the lily bends its crown. 
 Queen, incline thy regal steps to me ! 
 smile, enlarge my heart, and set its sorrow freel J 
 
92 sonnii:ts. 
 
 THREE LINKED SONNETS. 
 I. MIEAGE. 
 
 " Such mocke of dreams do leave but bitter paiue.''— Sir Thomas Wtatt. 
 As in the desert, unto dimming eyes, 
 
 Tall palms and lifted minarets afar 
 
 Shine like the lonc^-sonirht beacon of a star, 
 Yet be but mocking pictures in the skies; 
 So, lost and dying, unto me arise 
 
 Bright visions of a life which she shall bless. 
 And crown forever as a victor's prize. 
 
 But when I strive the phantom to caress, 
 
 To ease my sjDirit of its heaviness, 
 Her cold, calm smile the witchery dispels, 
 
 And all my baseless hope grows less and less. 
 Like failincr echoes caught from distant bells. 
 
 So, stripp'd of strength, I can no longer move. 
 
 But perish in the waste of life without her loYe ! 
 
SONNETS. 93 
 
 II. MORNING. 
 
 Waiting and watcliing tliroiigh the long-drawn night, 
 In fever of desire for Her who lingers, 
 And praying that the sun with rosy fingers 
 May soon imfarl the curtains of his light, 
 And all these bat-like sorrows take their flight. 
 Yet, when the delicate pencils trace the sky 
 In silver lines which touch tiie darkling height. 
 She conies not Vv^ith the morning, and I lie 
 Still reft of joyance, though the light on high . 
 Awakes all Nature into bloom and song. 
 
 Dear heart, I perish ! — do not let me die — 
 The Spring is coming — thou hast linger'd long, 
 And I grown sick of waiting for the dawn. 
 Which only thou canst bring unto my lieait forlorn! 
 
U SONNETS. 
 
 III. THE STREET. 
 
 I walk the city wLere she ns'd to dwell; 
 
 A sabbath stillness hangs upon the air, 
 
 Yet breaks the spring-time morning fresh and fair, 
 And from the steeples many a minster bell 
 
 Seeks by its singing worldly cares to quell. 
 And so my pain is charm'd by that soft chime 
 
 Which yet recalls her image. Ah ! " they tell 
 How many a tale of youth, and that sweet time," 
 Wherein we liv'd, fed by a hope sublime, 
 Now dead and buiied by cold hearted duty. 
 
 I have no solace left me, save in rhyme, 
 Where I embalm the record of her beauty — 
 Tho', like the slave who delves for diamond stone, 
 I labor, sick and spent, to call no gem mine own. 
 
SONNETS. 95 
 
 "ELECT— PRECIOUS." 
 
 All that my lieart hath of the best and rarest, 
 
 I offer at her feet, and give as free 
 
 As birds and poets utter minstrelsy. 
 So, shining river, on thy breast thou bearest 
 Rich freight of wine and merchandise; and wearest 
 
 These burthens as if gems — yet not for thee — 
 
 Thyself and them thou yieldest to the sea, 
 Which takes unthankingly thy best and dearest. 
 
 So, Love, do t/ou accept my heart's emotion — 
 The songs I sing, the tender words I say — 
 
 The Past's true record, proofs of pure devotion, 
 And all sweet vows and frequent prayers I pray, 
 
 As the stream's wealth is swallow'cl by the ocean, 
 Without one smile my bounty to repay. 
 
96 SONNETS. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF SHEBA. 
 
 From out the flaming Orient she came, 
 Laden with myrrh and jewels to the king, 
 Whose throne w^as at Jerusalem, to bring 
 
 Her tribute to the honor of his name. . 
 
 Dust-gilt the camels halted in the street, 
 
 High-pillar'd with the temples he had rear'd 
 In honor of the holy Name he fear'd. 
 
 And echoed anthems, pealing far and sweet, 
 
 Gave sound of worship in the sacred place. 
 
 Discrown'd and stateless in his meek confession, 
 Lowly in mien and humble in expression, 
 
 He owns his sins, and asks his Maker's grace; 
 
 Lo, Queen ! the wisdom that thou cam'^t to find, 
 
 Is in that prostrate form, and in that humbled mind. 
 
SONNETS. 97 
 
 " BISMILLAH." 
 
 " In the name of God" we will pull down the strong 
 
 Who w^ork iniquity, and plague the meek. 
 
 The Lord is King, and He will hear the w^eak 
 Who call upon His name in faith. Not long 
 Shall they succeed, whose hands accomplish wrong; 
 
 Whose feet tread down the righteous in his way. 
 Lord ! all unmeriting, thy saints among, 
 
 We stand afar, and for thy succor pray; 
 
 For our vain strength is weakness and decay, 
 And all our wit is foolishness beside. 
 Beat down, Lord, the hireling slave, and slay 
 
 The oppressor in his wickedness; and guide 
 Thy people thro' this darkness to the land 
 Where Peace, white-rob'd, shall sit with Freedom hand 
 in hand. 
 
 ViEGIKIA, 1865. 
 
98 SONNETS. 
 
 VOX CLAMANTIS IN DESERTO. 
 
 Crying, passionate heart, be still and strong, 
 Waiting in faith the good time of the Lord, 
 And trusting to the promise of His Word, 
 
 That they who suffer patiently thro' wrong 
 
 His arm shall succor and redress ere long, 
 And crown with palms of triumph evermore. 
 
 So shall they stand, and glorify in song 
 
 The hand that brought them to the shining shore, 
 Thro' ruth and trial, sorrowing full sore, 
 
 And darken'd seasons of distrust and doubt. 
 
 Know, fainting heart, out of his mercy's store 
 Thy wail may yet be chang'd to song and shout, 
 
 And thy rent sack-cloth, litten by his grace. 
 
 Shine like the light that shone on Christ's transfigur'd 
 face. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 EVE. 
 
 God spake, and light was flung across the space 
 That erst had lain in immemorial night, 
 And flow'rs and forms of beauty in the light, 
 
 Awoke like music on earth's lordly face, 
 
 To mingle in its stateliness their grace. 
 
 Last, like the star whose dewy softness breaks, 
 
 At even-tide in loveliness apace ; 
 
 As sweet as songs that echo over lakes. 
 
 As fair as wreaths the snow a-drifting makes — 
 
 She rose — our mother — in her perfect mould. 
 
 Such chasten'd splendor from her deep eyes flakes. 
 As trembles in the varied glance of gold — 
 
 Yet, wells of prayer, they plead for us in vain, 
 
 Tho' full of vast regret and worlds of future pain. 
 
300 SONNETS. 
 
 DE PROFUNDIS. 
 
 Out of the depths my cry ascends to Thee — 
 Save or I perish! I have smote in vain 
 The waves that compass me ahout and gain 
 
 Upon me in the darkness on the sea. 
 
 Long since the last light died away: I flee 
 From roaring seas that do my sonl affright, 
 Yet know not where mine anchorage may be. 
 
 And steer all starless thro' the storm and night. 
 
 My heart not yet despairs of succor quite; 
 Since Thou can'st still the waters, and sujiply 
 
 New strength, fresh hope, a sure and steady ligfet, 
 And havens where the mariner may hie. 
 
 And find in Thee such warmth, and light, and life. 
 
 As quite rejD-ay his heart for all its pain and strife. 
 
SONNETS, 101 
 
 RECONCILIATION. 
 
 " If, after ev'ry tempest came eiicli calms, 
 Let the winds blow till ttiey have waken'd death." 
 
 —Othello. 
 
 If ev'ry cross I bear on earth be crown'd 
 
 With so much pleasure at the end, I'm willing 
 Each day some bitter tear should be distilling, 
 
 If all in such a shining sea be drown'd. 
 
 A shining sea, for all the sky around 
 Is cloven with innumerable stars; 
 
 In each a beacon of my hopes is/found, 
 And like the happy light about the spars, 
 And shrouds of ancient ships in fabled wars, 
 
 My bark reflects the glory of the night. 
 No more distrust the perfect light debars. 
 
 Wherewith of yore my joyous youth was bright, 
 
 And all its pristine splendor is renew'd, 
 
 In that about her face the dear old welcomes brood. 
 
102 SONXETS. 
 
 BRIDE-CAKE. 
 
 Bland sleep, the balm of tired Nature, takes 
 
 Our weary lieads into her soothing arms, 
 
 Kisses away our tears, and kindly charms 
 Our senses into slumber. 0, she makes 
 Rare witchery in dreaming brains — deep lakes, 
 
 Clos'd by blue hills, and lock'd from rude alarms; 
 
 Air-castles, fair as sunlight, nodding palms, 
 And royal domes through which sweet music breaks. 
 Yet is the picture empty, like as Aidenn 
 
 Was still a sighing waste, " till woman smil'd," 
 And all these dreams like summer clouds, unladen 
 
 With largesse-rain to bless the thirsting wild. 
 Until this talisman invoked a maiden, 
 
 Whose song and smile the weary heart beguil'd. 
 
SONNETS. • 103 
 
 AN IxWITATION. 
 
 Dearest ! within tlie mansion of my heart, - 
 
 Are many chambers, where my lov'd ones dwell 
 For some, an hnmble nook ; for others swell 
 
 Groin'd roof, and architrave, and frescoes start 
 
 Out of the walls; so live they all apart, 
 According to their various degrees. 
 
 For you I have no dainty forms of art, 
 
 Nor silken textures, S'lfter than the breeze, 
 That only crisps the curls of summer seas : 
 
 Yea, nothing which is worthy of thy home. 
 Yet will I deck a chamber, if you please 
 
 To enter, with rare tapestry ; a blown dome 
 
 Of fairy work above it— floors of stars. 
 
 And low spice winds to waft love-strains through 
 lattice-bars. 
 
104 SONNETS. 
 
 LATER SONNETS. 
 "GRAMERCIE." 
 
 A SONNET OF THANKS. 
 
 I)ear heart, this recent favor at thy hands, 
 
 For which I send these poor and faltering thanks. 
 With all thy past, remember'd kindness ranks. 
 
 And links the 770VJ and then with golden bands. 
 
 Between their shores, as between distant lands. 
 
 There speed fond thoughts and faithful memories o'er 
 
 The gulf that parts us now, as fate commands. 
 
 Yet to the heart, awaken'd, as of yore. 
 
 To all the burden of regret it bore, 
 
 And all the wealth which hope but gain'd to lose, 
 
 The old, old love is young forevermore, 
 
 Made but more sacred now by years and use. 
 
 And so, along the chain thy favor gives. 
 
 Flashes the magic spark by which the dead past lives. 
 
SONNETS. 105 
 
 MAY THE SEVENTEENTH. 
 
 Slowly and sweetly, all first forms of Spring, 
 
 All daintier tones and softer songs it breathes 
 
 The delicate verdare that her chaplet wreathes. 
 And tenderer hues of dawn and evening, — 
 Fade from us, and from out of these take wing 
 
 The riper hopes of life's advancing year. 
 
 The twitter hushes, but the full throats sing ; 
 
 The baby buds in maiden bloom appear. 
 With matron fruit in promise ; and the clear 
 
 Full splendor widens of the waken'd earth. 
 So grows our wedded bliss, true and dear, 
 
 Blooming this birth-day in new wealth and worth, 
 While round love's central fruit, our darling boy. 
 Shine happier flow'rs of hope and later lights of joy ! 
 
106 SONNETS. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SONNET. 
 
 Dearest, amidst all faces that the heart 
 Calls to fond memory from the past afar, 
 With special lustre, like the Christmas star, 
 
 Thy beauty shines peculiar and apart, 
 
 Brigliter than all best forms and dreams of art. 
 Nor yet thy beauty only ; on the ear 
 
 Of wistful memory from the past there start 
 The voices of affection, true and dear, 
 Like Christmas music, sounding sweet and clear, 
 
 To wake all blissful echoes of the soul. 
 In this the sacred Sabbath of the year, 
 
 'Midst all its lights that flash and bells that roll. 
 
 Above all voices of most silvery tone. 
 
 Swell chiefly sweet, dear heart, the accents of thine own ! 
 
SONNETS, lOY 
 
 CONVALESCENCE. 
 
 When God's pale angel took thee by the hand, 
 And bore thee to the borders of this life, 
 Beyond its clamorous cries of toil and strife ; 
 
 Thy spirit wander'd near the heavenly land, 
 
 And viewed the white wings of its angel band. 
 And all bright visions of its perfect peace. 
 
 Thy soul drank deep its music, bland and grand. 
 And in its air thy sickness found surcease. 
 And all thy seated sorrow its release. 
 
 Now, when God gives thee back to love and prayer, 
 Thou bringest perfum'd airs of trust and ease, 
 
 Blown from that glorious country, far and fair. 
 
 The peace of God is pictur'd in thy face, 
 
 In sunnier rays from heaven and ampler gifts of grace ! 
 
108 SONNETS. 
 
 BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 What time unfurling leaves and baby blooms 
 And lilt of birds in all the echoing trees 
 And scents of freshness on each balmy breeze, 
 
 Show Spiing has burst the bands of wintry glooms; 
 
 When her soft light the earlier dawn illumes, 
 And crocus, iris, hyacinth and all 
 
 The rath bright blossoms which her breath perfumes 
 Unfold their modest beauty at her call, 
 And shine where late the cold earth lay in thrall ; 
 
 Your birth comes, heralded with flow'r and song 
 And all best things that in the Spring befall. 
 
 To bless with later spoil the whole year long. 
 So, dear, your life fulfills all hopes of love, 
 Bless'd here with noblest gifts that wait God's crown' 
 above ! 
 
SONNETS, .109 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 Since here on earth the sight of thee no more 
 May bless my vision, and thy gracious voice 
 No more may make my heavy heart rejoice ; 
 
 Since hope is fled, that what bath been before 
 
 May e'er return to link us as of yore, 
 The sunlight seems to wither in its sky. 
 
 And earth's bright flow'rs are faded on its shore. 
 Thus, the dark twilight deepens, and the eye 
 Discerns less lustre, as the day drifts by. 
 
 In all that once seem'd sweet and lit with bliss. 
 Yet, as the night approaches, I descry 
 
 The white stars crescent in the heaven's abyss, 
 
 And read that hope and love, though lost to sense, 
 
 Bloom in the home of God, brilliant and more intense! 
 
110 SONNETS. 
 
 THE CALIPH OF BAGDAD. 
 
 The Caliph look'd beyond his darkening room 
 Toward the broken glories of the AVest, 
 And ponder'd many a question in his breast, 
 
 And still in pondering found but doubt and gloom, 
 
 Without a star his gropings to illume. 
 
 What are the springs of happiness, he ask'd; 
 
 What lifts the hovering shadow from the tomb, 
 
 And lends the light in which Content hath bask'd? 
 May Love with such a heavenly pow'r be task'd ? 
 
 Can Fame or Empire real riches give, 
 
 Or calm the heart, in outward splendor mask'd, 
 
 With hopes that make it glad to wait and live? 
 
 — But when the Caliph's anguish was most deep, 
 
 The Caliph ate, and smok'd, and went to sleep. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
THE SOUTHERN HExiRT. 
 
 The heart of the South at the feet of God." 
 
 — Haret Flash. 
 
 The Southern heart ! ah, could it show 
 Its late experience, wrought in words, 
 
 How would the vital record gloAV, 
 Of burning tears and biting swords! 
 
 How would the nations tarry long, 
 
 "Where the quick w?lls the story tell, 
 
 Of all its burdening woe and wrong. 
 
 Of all high, hopes that broke and fell I 
 113 
 
14 THE SO UTHERN HE A E T. 
 
 So, in young Carthage, love his guide, 
 ^neas moved, and saw the past, 
 
 And all Troy's war and woe descried. 
 In Tyrian vistas, vague and vast. 
 
 And all great Hector's fall and stain. 
 Old Priam's grief, Ascanius' fears, 
 
 Hecuba's hopeless pangs — the rain 
 Of Grecian blows and Teucian tears ; 
 
 Thus through our Southern gallery, hung 
 
 With scenes of glory and of gloom, 
 And war's wild weeds of grief, o'erflung 
 
 With war's wild w^reaths of amaranth bloom- 
 Might the world wander; stately stone 
 
 And hues of fire and bronze of life. 
 In art's most eloquent, silent tone. 
 
 Telling the story of the strife ; 
 
THE SOVTHERN HEART. 115 
 
 Yet leaving all untold the grand 
 
 Mute might of woman's patient faith, 
 
 From which the heroes of the land 
 
 Drew the high spells that vanquish'd death. 
 
 So would the Temple shine, with fame 
 
 Of patriots, glorious in their fall — 
 Their deeds of victory writ in flame, 
 
 But dark their final conquest's pall. 
 
 And darker yet the tides of peace 
 
 Have swept the souls of those who live; 
 
 Not all at once the guns' surcease 
 Taught the high duty to forgive. 
 
 So brother's hand, on brother's heart, 
 
 Too many a blow has planted keen ; 
 And want, unwonted, many a dart 
 
 Has fix'd where joy and hope had been. 
 
116 THE SO UTHERN HEART. 
 
 And blind mistrust and wrathful word 
 And mutual scorn the sections mov'd, 
 
 Till the white angel Death appear'd 
 And taught the sisters how they lov'd. 
 
 Then all their hollow feud was hush'd, 
 What time the North her bounty sped — 
 
 Her clear, calm face with pity flush'd, 
 Like dawn, on glacial summits, red; 
 
 "What time the South, in sack-cloth bow'd, 
 
 Sent back her amber'd praise and prayers- 
 Like moonlight struggling through its cloud, 
 Her wan face shone amidst its tears. 
 
 Now all her pictur'd past new light 
 Takes from her sister's love and cheer ; 
 
 O'er the long gallery, wrapp'd in night, 
 The fresh beam falls, whose noon is near. 
 
THE SO UTHERN HEART. 117 
 
 A lily bloom in softness breaks 
 
 O'er darken'd crypts, where memory wept, 
 And many a chord of kindness wakes, 
 
 With many an ancient love that slept. 
 
 Glory to God, whose angel Death, 
 
 Though heads were bow'd and eyes were wet, 
 Taught North and South the sacred faith 
 
 Of Christly love, and Union yet! 
 
 Note to the Foukth Stanza.— Neither Hecnba nor Ascanius appears 
 among the figures which ^neas eaw at Carthage, as described in lines 456- 
 to 494 of the First Book of the ^neid ; and they are introduced here by 
 poetic license. 
 
LOVE'S LIGHT. 
 
 On western hills the day declines, 
 Beneath their violet plumes of pines, 
 And where the last ray lingering shines, 
 
 'Tis softly fading into night. 
 The tender gloaming, shade on shade. 
 Comes darkling dow^n, on glen and glade, 
 What time, in beauty bright array'd. 
 
 The stars bloom into sight ; 
 
 Then love takes up the evening song. 
 
 And memory, kindling warm and strong, 
 
 Eecalls dead hopes in thickening throng. 
 
 And paints the past in mellow light. 
 118 
 
LOVE'S LIGHT. 11& 
 
 On eastern slopes the sunbeams wake, 
 The soft rays, lighting lawn and lake, 
 On kindling earth and heaven break. 
 
 In radiance touch'd with morning's dew ; 
 The dawn's young beauties, fresh and sweet, 
 In blissful union, move and meet, 
 What time the passing shadov/s fleet, 
 
 Of night depart from view. 
 And love sino;s soft the matin sons;, 
 And hope surveys, on pinions strong, 
 The future's blessings, rich and long, 
 
 And paints their dawn with prescience true. 
 
 Morning and noon and set of sun. 
 Through all the hours of day that run. 
 The light from heaven, at dawn begun, 
 The waiting earth with beauty fills. 
 And nature smiles, in all her moods, 
 Through lawn and lake, and wilds and woods, 
 
320 . LOVE'S LIGHT. 
 
 What time the heavenly lustre floods, 
 
 And all her pulses thrills; ^ 
 
 And love takes up her joyous song, 
 And hope and memory, true and strong, 
 Present and past with raptures throng, 
 
 And light which heaven's own love distills! 
 
THE SWORD OF LEE. 
 
 This is the sword of Lee, the true and tender; 
 
 Four years he wore it through the battle's blast. 
 If it were drawn the sad day of surrender, 
 
 'Twas, then, perhaps, the first time as the last. 
 
 Four years our belted knight of battle bore it ; 
 
 Great armies mov'd beneath its sovereign sway ; 
 Legions of heroes marched in pride before it, 
 
 And haughtiest hearts were eager to obey ! 
 
122 THE SWORD OF LEE. 
 
 What time it slept in its embroider'd scabbard, 
 
 It shook with power the wondering world around; 
 Sacred as herald in his mystic tabard, 
 
 Itmov'd the nations without sign or sound. 
 
 # 
 
 This stem of steel meant, for the Southern legions, 
 The soldier's law — the captain's right and might; 
 
 In every home, through the far Southern regions, 
 It shone, a guardian power and beacon light; 
 
 Before all eyes within the Northern borders. 
 It flash'd a meteor ray af storm and strife ; 
 
 To all the w^orld, the w^eapon of Lee's orders 
 Appeared to carve new nations into life ! 
 
 Yet never drop of blood nor stain of murther 
 
 Dimm'd the bright surface of the blameless blade; 
 
 For that, as well it had been borne no further 
 Than the Toledan forge where it was made. 
 
THE SWORD OF LEE. 123 
 
 This is no curtal-axe of Canir de Lion, 
 
 Nor doughty bhide which Charles the Emj:)eror bore, 
 Nor Eoland's hince, in the far chivalrous aon, 
 
 Nor mace of Norman William, thick with gore. 
 
 And yet, bloodless sword of the commander, 
 HoAV dost thou dim the prowess of them all, 
 
 Alone that rose victorious in surrender, 
 
 And mad'st thy cause most mighty in its fall! 
 
 magic symbol of command and glory — 
 
 How like the "still small voice" of power divine; 
 
 Unus'd, thou led'st the currents of earth's story; 
 
 And, sheath'd, dost still with world-wide splendor shine. 
 
THE BROOK'S VOICE. 
 
 1st Cor. xiv : 10. 
 
 Thou canst not aid me, brook, 
 Though many an hour I lie. 
 With eager, wistful look, 
 And fallen, forgotten book. 
 To watch thee, babbling by. 
 
 I hear the murmurous noise ; 
 
 I stoop to hear it speak ; 
 
 It seems to have a voice 
 
 To make my heart rejoice, 
 
 But soon the words qrow weak. 
 124 "" 
 
THE BROOK'S VOICE. 125 
 
 And oft the murmur breaks 
 
 In inarticulate sound ; 
 A music bright it m.akes, 
 And many a warbling wakes 
 
 From rocks and grassy ground. 
 
 But when I fain wouhl hear 
 
 The tidings that it brings, — 
 The words of comfort clear, 
 For human heart and ear. 
 
 The brooklet only sings. 
 
 And all day long it keeps 
 
 Its single, changeless tone, 
 Nor in the night it sleeps; 
 Ever it swings and sweeps. 
 
 And makes its song alone. 
 
126 THE BROOK'S VOICE. 
 
 Canst tlioii, listeniiicr heart, 
 
 The brook's dim message glean? 
 Thou hast a magic art, 
 To take the tones apai't, 
 
 And feel whate'er they mean. 
 
 What legend may we find, 
 Or promise in its song? 
 Has it a speech design'd 
 For human heart or miinl. 
 
 To tell of I'idit and wron^r? 
 
 The Heart answers : 
 This burden, curious man, ■ 
 
 The brooklet sighs and sings 
 Thy life is but a span ; 
 The vraters ne'er outran 
 
 The passage of its wings. 
 
THE BROOJCS VOICE. 127 
 
 Merrily lauglis tlie brook, 
 
 To leave its liapjiy hills; 
 It casts no lingering look, 
 And needs no mystic book, 
 
 And fears no future ills. 
 
 So let thy stream of life 
 
 Pass to the waiting sea ; 
 With hope and patience rife, 
 Unvex'd by fear or strife, 
 
 And in calm confidence free. 
 
 Broadly the brooklet's sheen 
 Reflects the'heav'n's blue space, 
 
 And bright its banks between, 
 
 Each How'r and fringe of green 
 May see its mirror'd face. 
 
128 THE BROOK'S VOICE. 
 
 So liuman lives should bear 
 To heaven reflected bliss, 
 
 In grateful praise and prayer,. 
 
 For all the good they share. 
 And all the ill they miss. 
 
 If the brook's voices fail 
 
 To teach thy ignorance proud. 
 Know, Nature wears a veil 
 That sense may not assail. 
 And God is cloth'd in cloud. 
 
IN PACE. 
 
 " Tread lightly, for my heart lies under your feet, love." 
 
 —John Brousham. 
 
 He calmly lies who knew no rest; 
 A wayward heart was in his breast, 
 By weary cares and thoughts oppressed. 
 
 He look'd abroad n^Don the earth, 
 
 So lovely in its lordly girth, 
 
 And saw the daily death of worth. 
 
 And — sadder far— he look'd wdthin. 
 
 And saw the track and trail of sin, 
 
 And heard the demons' ceaseless din. 
 129 
 
130 IN FACE. 
 
 The rocks had torn the straying feet, 
 His hopes cleferr'd — his pleasures fleet, 
 And love, a bitterness and cheat. 
 
 Till now, with triumph song and psalm, 
 In clear delight of Aidenn calm, 
 The wounded spirit finds its balm. 
 
 And winds that with low music sweep 
 Through trailing flow'rs that o'er him creep, 
 Will sing the troubled heart to sleep. 
 
 While ev'ry storm that beats and blows 
 Is soft to him as falling snows. 
 Or music, melting to its close. 
 
DICKENS AT PRAYER. 
 
 "•Never abandon the wholesome practice of sayiu;? yonr own private 
 prayers night and morning. / have never abandoned it myself^ and 1 know 
 tJie comfort of it." — Chaules Dickexs to his Son, E. B. L. Dickens. 
 
 What time the Master puts away 
 
 The busy labors of the da}^, 
 
 And buries all the thronging train, 
 
 The bright creations of his brain, 
 
 Ere yet, on bosom dark and deep, 
 
 The kind night hushes him to sleep, 
 
 In truth's own words of trust and love, 
 
 The Master's prayer is borne above. 
 131 
 
132 
 
 DICKENS AT PIIA YEU. 
 
 How many a IVicMid's ra.niiliar face 
 Melts into iiiglil's unconscious spjice ! 
 TIow many a cliild's dear voice is slill'd 
 When sleep the staggering sense liatli fill'd, 
 And all the canvass, wondrous Lriglit 
 AViili gleaming figures, dies from sight! 
 Well may thc^ Master pause and pray, 
 Ere the charm'd 2)iclure fades avvny. 
 
 For sl(M'p, with all ils teeming train, 
 Scarce tills the chamber's of his brain. 
 With fancy's figures, wild and bright, 
 And chasing shapes of shade and light, 
 More rapid than the bustling throng. 
 That moves his peopled stage along, 
 And thrills the world's resyionsive heart 
 With tlie (hn^p pathos of his art! 
 
DICKENS A T PR A YEH. 1 33- 
 
 How bright tlie lino of living forms 
 The touch of genius wahes and warms! 
 IIow dwells the Master, fond and fraught, 
 On these fair children of his thought, 
 Ere memory glides, on noiseless wings, 
 Where sleep's wide ocean sways and swings. 
 And dreams, with glancing Hags unfurl'd. 
 Rule the tir'd brain and weary world! 
 
 And so, as sense grows dumb and blitul, 
 And darkness falls on eye and mind. 
 And death's twin brother silent waits, 
 To guard the mystic slumber gates, 
 The Master puts the throng aside. 
 The children of his love and pri<le, 
 And kneels, with childlike faith sufllc'd, 
 Submissive at the feet of Christ! 
 
134 DICKENS A T PEA YER. 
 
 Kneel, genius, at the throne of Love ! 
 So shall thy soul new pathos prove, 
 And so thy heart fresh influence draw 
 To move mankind to mercy's law; 
 So shall thy hand more deftly twine 
 The sighs that swell, the smiles that shine, 
 And so, by paths thyself hast trod. 
 Thy power lead on to good and God! 
 
TO A VOICE. 
 
 Ba hort er ein Klingen^ 
 
 Wiefloten so si'isz. 
 Wie dimmen der En gel 
 
 Im Faradits.—i^ckihi.'EB.. 
 
 Clear voice, far over tlie night to me, 
 
 You come as to ships on the Indian sea. 
 
 Come floating scents from tropic isles, 
 
 Over the wave for miles and miles; 
 
 The breath of the llowering trees and fields, 
 
 The odorous balm which the Orient yiehls, 
 
 Wafted by trade-winds, far and free, 
 
 To mariners weary of sky and sea ; 
 
 So, worn and weary, clear voice, to me 
 
 You breathe your burden of melodv. 
 135 
 
136 TO J VOICE. 
 
 The cliurcli bells singing of peace and prayer, 
 Softly break through the Sabbath air, 
 Ringing the angels' anthem forth, 
 "Glory to God and peace on earth." 
 They cure the mind with cares perplex'd, 
 They heal the heart strings worn and vex'd, 
 They tell of mercy and heaven and rest, 
 And the happy songs of the sav'd and blest ; 
 So on myheart, forlorn, oppress'd, 
 You fall, clear voice, and give it rest. 
 
 Down in the vale by the smoking guns, 
 Eed with slaughter the rivulet runs, 
 And over the trampled fields the tide 
 Of battle surges from side to side. 
 Hark to the bugle, pealing afar. 
 Over the groans and the cries of war, 
 
TO A VOICE. 137 
 
 And see how the horse, in column dread, 
 
 Hearing its music, to triumph tread ! 
 
 And so, in the trials and storms of life, 
 
 If the heart should fail in the clamorous strife. 
 
 Do you, pealing voice, but call. 
 
 And the note on the listless ear shall fall, 
 
 And wake the courage and nerve the arm 
 
 For all life's struggle, pain and harm ; 
 
 So that the heart which almost fell 
 
 And fainted in the press, shall swell. 
 
 To hear your trumpet-tones peal high. 
 
 And sing of the brave who lowly lie — 
 
 Of death and of honor tliat cannot die! 
 
 voice, to me you bring a calm. 
 
 As the chanted hymn or silvery psalm 
 
 In cloister'd aisles, where, sweet and low, 
 
138 TO A VOICE. 
 
 The eclio'd symphonies come and go, 
 
 By which sad nuns, with vigils worn, 
 
 And bearing of their lives alone, 
 
 Are soften'd into painless tears 
 
 While thinking of their happier years ; 
 
 So all I was and all I strove 
 
 To master — all I us'd to love — 
 
 The dawning day of hope and truth — 
 
 The blissfrd halcyon of youth, — 
 
 All these, clear voice, your spell at last 
 
 Hath summon'd from the buried past, 
 
 And I thereon, w^ithout regret. 
 
 Can look, and may be happy yet. 
 
TO MY WIFE ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 [May 17th.] 
 
 I. 
 
 fair and fond, to whom the middle May 
 
 Brings the dear record of thy natal day, 
 
 The month that bore thee best conveys the sign 
 
 In which thy life's maturer blessings shine. 
 
 Gone are the Spring's first beauties and delights, 
 
 The earlier blooms, the daintier sounds and sights, 
 
 And hush'd the notes of young and timid birds, 
 
 FilTd with love's music, yet without love's words ; 
 
 And hush'd the soften'd zephyrs that replied. 
 
 And the trill'd echoes from the water's tide. 
 
 Where, late lock'd fast by winter's iron hand, 
 
 The brook now dances through the lilied land. 
 139 
 
140 TO MY WIFE ON HER BIRTH- DAY. 
 
 Clos'd, too, the blue eyes of the dawning Spring, 
 
 The violets first that peep'd through Winter's wing, 
 
 And faded all the hyacinth's maiden grace, 
 
 And iris' delicate scent and blushing face. 
 
 These are the spoils the year advancing makes, 
 
 And these the charms from nature's brow he takes. 
 
 These fairy tones and tints the monarch mars, 
 
 Like sunlight broadening through the fading stars, 
 
 Quenching their tiny tapers, one by one, 
 
 And the auroral halo where they shone. 
 
 Yet, love, the sunlight breaks on sky and main 
 
 More radiant far than all the starry train. 
 
 And Spring still lingers, yea, more rich and bless'd, 
 
 For all dropp'd blossoms from her baby breast. 
 
 And fiird with nobler music, now the birds 
 
 Chant hymns of marriage set to love's true words. 
 
 Lo, where the earth on matron bosom bears 
 
 The fruit's first promise, warm'd by suns and airs, 
 
 And see, where late the clod's obstruction lay, 
 
TO MY WIFE Oy HER BIRTH-DAY. 141 
 
 The wheat's tall plumage tosses green and gay, 
 And, Avak'd by earlier dawns, where ploughmen bold 
 Drive the teams tinkling to the mellower mould, 
 'iSTeath oaks within whose myriad leaves are lost 
 The sifted sunbeams, cross"d and intercross'd. 
 Now, all the valleys smile more bright with bloom, 
 The breeze's kisses, as they pass, j)erfume, 
 Laden with breath of many a forest flow'r, 
 And many a cluster nurs'd in border'd bower, 
 While the land sparkles v;ith the living rays 
 From these, the stars of earth, that fleck its days! 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus iiature, darling, has no grief to spend. 
 Because her youthful raptures met their end; 
 See all around, her buxom comforts spread, 
 And warmer sunshine broadens overhead — 
 Not such as late the gate-ways of the morn. 
 With mild and maiden beauty did adorn ; 
 Now, life's full tide in every beam pulsates, 
 
142 TO MY WIFE ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 And, where it falls, a fuller life dilates. 
 
 The Spring, outgrown her youthful weeds and moods, 
 
 Stands crown'd with flow'rs, 'mid faded bells and buds, 
 
 Nor sighs that they are faded ; lo, her breath 
 
 Swells joyous o'er all shapes and shades of death! 
 
 And, lit with hope, and knit with power, she turns 
 
 To where the beacon of the future burns, 
 
 To light her lifted brow and crest sublime, 
 
 — The keen and proud enjoyment of her prime, — 
 
 And, yet more brightly show the Summer's store, 
 
 That waits her hand when she is Spring no more ! 
 
 So, dear, your birth-day tells the tale of life; 
 
 The Winter's passage, vex'd with storm and strife; 
 
 The Spring's first beauties, bath'd — while yet they flee — 
 
 With " light that never was on land or sea;" 
 
 The dreams and forms that love may not recall, 
 
 And hopes as frail as winter leaves that fall. 
 
 But now, in pomp and joy, the middle May 
 
 Comes, bearing nobler bounty on its way, 
 
TO 31 Y WIFE ON HER BIRTH- DAY. 143 
 
 And surer bliss succeeds the bubble dream, 
 No more an image flash'd from wave or beam, 
 And life's ripe comforts come — not place nor wealth — 
 Alas, dear wife, not even home nor health ; 
 But this one comfort, mov'd from change as far, 
 As heav'n's most fixed and eternal star, 
 And bas'd more deeply than the rooted rock. 
 Or hoary tower that fronts the tempest's shock ; 
 Yea, fadeless as the sun himself in heaven — 
 This perfect comfort to our hearts is given. 
 That love now links us close as bands of steel, 
 Alike through storm and sunshine, woe and weal. 
 Shadow to shine, and thorn to flow'r, succeeds; 
 Sometimes beneath the thorn the bar'd breast bleeds ; 
 Sometimes within the shadow hope is cold, 
 But love may not be chill'd, heart of gold, 
 And tenderest breasts that bleed are true and bold. 
 Take, then, your birth-day greeting: this its sign, 
 Nature in middle May is more divine, 
 
144 TO MY WIFE ON II EE BIRTH- DAY. 
 
 Though Spring's first rapture and romance decline. 
 
 Now, coy no more, the surer joy abides. 
 
 Which never sorrow dims nor doubt divides, 
 
 That in love's holy temple, where we kneel, 
 
 — Ten years have tried us, dear, in woe and weal,— 
 
 Now dwells no more the hovering shade of fear. 
 
 And only faith and prayer have entrance here. 
 
 Age, ache nor penury, nor doom nor death, 
 
 Nor any power of earth, nor ill beneath, 
 
 May take this knowledge from us: that when time 
 
 Has rung his latest offspring's funeral chime; 
 
 When the worn w^orld shall lag in fitful course, 
 
 And stagnant waters sicken at their source ; 
 
 When time's last feverish pulse shall cease to beat, 
 
 And earth and sky dissolve in primal heat, 
 
 Our faith will still be changeless and intense, 
 
 And love more bright beyond the bounds of sense, 
 
 And still our highest happiness shall be. 
 
 The rugged paths through which we walk'd, to see, 
 
TO MY WIFE ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 145 
 
 And bless the burdens laid on us that wrought 
 One will between us, and one blended thought, 
 And know that suffering's fires have power to fuse 
 True souls in union they may never lose. 
 So ours, dear heart, were melted in its flame. 
 And made to praise the Lord of Suffering's name, 
 That we were reckon'd w^orthy to pursue 
 The foot-prints trac'd in tears and bloody dew, 
 Till suffering led us high to plains of peace, 
 And God's ow^n pity bade the suffering cease. 
 
A LILY OF FLORENCE. 
 
 '* Candida (Uia, viva monUia, sunt tibi, S2wnsa/'''' — Bernard de Clunt. 
 
 "A Tuscan lily, only white, 
 As Dante, in abhorrence 
 Of red corruption, wish'd aright 
 The lilies of his Florence." 
 
 —Mrs. BROWNiNa. 
 
 fair and pure, whose face of bloom 
 Is fram'd in tresses dark and coil'd, 
 
 Where, as a moon in tracts of gloom, 
 Its brightness is more brightly foil'd ; 
 
 The light from royal eyes is shed 
 
 In clear frank glance that knows no harm, 
 
 Whereby the guileless flame is fed. 
 
 Which burns not with the beams that warm. 
 146 
 
A LILY OF FLORENCE. 147 
 
 deep, sweet eyes, whose sacred light, 
 Shammg the speech of flippant tongue, 
 
 Makes Innocence too high and bright 
 For look or word to do it wrong. 
 
 Bright eyes they shine, but in their glance 
 There melts no impulse swift and soft, 
 
 To meet the ardent young advance, 
 Or lift too eager hope aloft. 
 
 Proud, passionless, their light is stirr'd 
 Not by the feign'd and flowing vows, 
 
 From ardent lips by Beauty heard. 
 
 When at her shrine young Fancy bows. 
 
 And Guile, if Guile her presence near'd, 
 Would find his aim and art uncharm'd ; 
 
 For power of evil is not fear'd 
 
 Where power of evil hath not harm'd. 
 
148 A LILY OF FLORENCE. 
 
 But all her spirit's lustre wakes 
 To the high act and earnest word, 
 
 And only all her beauty breaks 
 
 When nobler impulse stirs the chord. 
 
 And all her thought to Duty's law, 
 With music of the Spheres, beats true, 
 
 And all her speech and influence draw 
 The soul where Heav'n lies near in view. 
 
 Well may the lily's heart of gold 
 
 Type that high throne where sits her Duty, 
 
 And well its dewy dress enfold 
 
 The image of her heart's white beauty. 
 
 Gem-flowers, the Heavenly Bride that greet. 
 On wdiose bright robe ye cluster stilly. 
 
 Be here her emblems, chaste and sweet, 
 
 Whom Love hath crown'd "the Tuscan lily. 
 
JAMAIS— TOUJOURS. 
 
 Go, love, once gaily cherisli'd, 
 
 Thy April mood is past ; 
 With Spring's burst burgeons perish'd, 
 
 And flow'rs too frail to last ; 
 Soon as the bud reach'd blossom, 
 
 Its opening heart disclos'd, 
 
 Where once I fill'd her bosom, 
 
 A fair, new hope repos'd. 
 149 
 
1 50 J A MA IS— TO UJO UES. 
 
 Vows once so softly wliisper'd, 
 
 Be now as swift forgot ; 
 And absence, fondly Mizpah'd, 
 
 Be now my happiest lot; 
 Sweet voice, once heard with rapture, 
 
 Breathe still in memory low, 
 Which yet may hold in capture 
 
 Her songs of long ago. 
 
 Part, hands, and farewell beauty ; 
 
 Fade, hope, as down the skies, 
 Floats the white shape of duty, 
 
 With sad yet pitiless eyes ; 
 No more the lark's glad laughter 
 
 Must turn my thought to thee, 
 Save, as in God's hereafter. 
 
 Our souls may mingled be. 
 
JAMAIS— TOUJOURS. 151 
 
 For, though, with April's pageant, 
 
 Thy smile hath stray'd from home, 
 And Love, the coy free-agent, 
 
 In new-found franchise roam ; 
 Though me he disinherits, 
 
 I only may go free, 
 When earth or heaven our spirits 
 
 At last shall mingled see. 
 
THE DEAD HOPE. 
 
 Fast fell the niglit; low rnoan'd the wind which swept 
 
 From where, beyond the hills, the shadows crept 
 
 Up the dim sky, and far, on land and sea, 
 
 The storm's dark spirits gather'd wild and free. 
 
 All nature felt the spell which, deepening down, 
 
 Clos'd hill and vale and city in its frown, 
 
 And shuddering, hush'd her noises in the gloom. 
 
 And bow'd box^ore the tempest and its doom. 
 
 152 
 
THE DEAD HOPE. 153 
 
 Far from the happy haunts of busy men, 
 Through many a shadow'd path and cloister'd glen, 
 Across dim spaces where the tempest's wing 
 Swept low and Llurr'd the face of everything. 
 By many a ruin, stark and gray and wan. 
 By many a spot some curse seem'd resting on, 
 I rode into the storm's advancing pall, 
 And felt its presence dark'ning over all! 
 
 What time my steed's sharp step no longer broke 
 The night's wierd hush I know not ; but there woke 
 From a low, ruinous wall beside the way, 
 A sound that caus'd both steed and heart to stay. 
 There sat a form bow'd down, though not with years, 
 Whose cheeks were worn by no unmanly tears, 
 Whose garb was old and patch'd, and yet whose face, 
 For lack of cheer, still lack'd no knightly grace ! 
 
154 THE DEAD HOPE. 
 
 Pity my senses sadden 'd, and my tongue, 
 Thougli first its accents in confusion hung, 
 Made the swift tender of respect and aid, 
 And ask'd him wherefore in the storm he stay'd. 
 " Come, friend, benighted and distressed," I said, 
 "And seek a shelter from the blast o'er head; " 
 He answer'd me with silence and with grief. 
 To which nor words nor tears did give relief; 
 
 "What sorrow thus thy life has overcast? 
 What spectre haunts thee from the buried past? 
 Why seek the darkness and the tomb for cheer, 
 And leave behind whate'er the world deems dear ? ' 
 At last his bended head arose, and dim 
 His eyes look'd out, beyond the gray locks' rim : 
 His voice came low^ and thick — " My love is dead, 
 And with her death my heart and hope are fled." 
 
THE DEAD HOPE. 155 
 
 " Yet, come," I urg'd — " the night winds gather fast, 
 The ruin'd arches murmur in the Wast; 
 The white tombs shine with dim and spectral light — 
 Leave with me this dark cavern of the night ! " 
 And yet, in plaintive tones, too sad to swell 
 Along the chords Avhere griefs high notes do dwell, 
 He said, " I lov'd fair Hope, and she is fled ; 
 There lies her grave — I would I too w^ere dead." 
 
 And there, 'mid night and death, the mourner kept 
 His own sad vigil w^here his passion slept, 
 Dead to the world and deaf to human voice, 
 And living only with his heart's lost choice; 
 "I lov'd the beautiful Hope — and there she lies, 
 Eapt by the grave's embraces from my eyes; 
 I lov'd her first and sole, and with her sped 
 My life's true life — I would I too were dead!" 
 
IMMORTELLE. 
 
 Inside a shadowy vignette of the past, 
 
 My love doth bide ; 
 Her face in yet more luminous color cast 
 
 By all beside. 
 
 For on the Springs in which my love had light, 
 
 The shadows dwell ; 
 But stronger than the years her grace is bright, 
 
 With fadeless spell. 
 
 Since those May mornings when her voice of song 
 
 Made my heart gay ; 
 
 What though time's pitiless wave has swept along 
 
 And turn'd life gray? 
 156 
 
IMMORTELLE. 157 
 
 No wintry tide has reached her hngering feet, 
 
 Nor touch'd her hair; 
 No cloud has fallen across the sunshine sweet 
 
 Which was her a'ir; 
 
 Across her brow no lines of care and age 
 
 Their shadows show ; 
 Fadeless her beauty shines on nreaiory's page 
 
 As loner ao;o. 
 
 As gold which roay not suffer in the fires 
 
 All else consuming — 
 Her charm, amid all dying dim desires, 
 
 My life illuming, 
 
 Still shines, all changeless as the gem which burns 
 
 'Midst earth's decaying ; 
 A sacred memory, where the heart still yearns, 
 
 Baclv from all straying. 
 
158 IMMORTELLE. 
 
 All else, time, change, the grave may claim ; but her 
 
 These must not master ; 
 The Heaven she dwells in may not know the stir 
 
 Of our disaster. 
 
 Nor may I deem her dear dead beauty marr'd 
 
 By time's mad race ; 
 Still smiles my memory's treasure, drap'd and starr'd- 
 
 Her radiant face ! 
 
 And v.diile on earth my footsteps loiter slow,. 
 
 Her eyes shall shine. 
 On all our eddying tides of life below, 
 
 Changeless — divine ! 
 
 And in each vision of the bless'd in bliss 
 
 Which rapture paints, 
 Brightest to me her heavenly figure is. 
 
 Among God's saints! 
 
THE TWO SWORDS. 
 
 In Memoriam Capt. "Wm. D. Tompkins and Capt. Samuel H. Tompkins, 
 C. S. A., of Bedford County, Sons of Dr. Daniel Tompkins ; both killed 
 in action. 
 
 Where, in tlie attic window, 
 
 Dim light the day affords, 
 'Mid gathering mould and cinder, 
 
 There hans; two hero swords. 
 
 Silent as they who wore them 
 
 The swords have hung for years, 
 
 Stain'd with their blood who bore them, 
 
 And wet with sacred tears. 
 159 
 
160 THE TWO SWORDS. 
 
 Now while tlie busy spiders 
 The slumbering blades festoon, 
 
 "Where rest the gallant riders, 
 And where each echoing gun? 
 
 And where the charging legions 
 These stainless swords have led ? 
 
 Look to the silent regions, 
 
 And ask the mouldering dead ! 
 
 The useless swords and sashes 
 Now moth and rust consume. 
 
 And they are dust and ashes. 
 Who fell in life's young bloom. 
 
 But as the sunlight flashes 
 A faint gleam on the grave, 
 
 From faithful eyes there dashes 
 A soft rain, for the brave. 
 
THE TWO SWORDS. 161 
 
 Yea, fading eyes and wrinkled 
 
 Have paid their tribute too; 
 And unseen tears liave sprinkled 
 
 Their names in holy dew. 
 
 They and their swords are cherish'd 
 
 Where moth may ne'er decay ; 
 The true and brave who perish'd 
 
 To live in love alway! 
 
 And as the steel is lighted 
 
 Through all its cankering dust, 
 
 The cause of truth is righted 
 And God still crowns the just. 
 
 The memory of the heroes, 
 
 E'en from the dust of death, 
 Blooms fragrant as the tea-rose 
 
 That spends its balmy breath. 
 
162 THE TWO SWORDS. 
 
 And as the spirit brothers 
 Float o'er the lov'd and lone, 
 
 The love and thonght of others 
 Will ne'er efface their own. 
 
 The rusted swords in shadow 
 Shine beautiful to all, 
 
 Beyond the daisied meadow, 
 Or rosy woods in fall ! 
 
THE PARTING HOUR. 
 
 A COMMENCEMENT EECITATION. 
 
 The hour of parting coraes too soon — 
 An hour that clouds the joy of June, 
 When through the gateways of the past, 
 Our school-day memories vanish fast ; 
 For every morn, succeeding bright, 
 Shall sweep them further — into night ! 
 
 The hour of parting! Well may song 
 
 And flow'rs and flags and festal throng 
 
 Hide all the saddening thoughts it wakes, 
 
 And hush the heart-strings that it Ijreaks, 
 
 And lend a lingering light of grace 
 
 To bless and crown our parting-place. 
 163 
 
164 THE PARTING HOUR. 
 
 The hour of parting ! So in life, 
 The smile still veils the inward strife; 
 And hope still dwells on future gains, 
 And radiant turns from present pains, 
 While faithful memory buries low 
 The faded dreams of long ago. 
 
 The hour of parting ! Let it wake 
 Not only pain for parting's sake, 
 But every memory, dark or bright, 
 That frames the year in faithful light, 
 And paints its picture, fix'd in hue, 
 Upon the young heart's tablet true. 
 
 For parting is not grief alone, 
 Nor is its language all a moan, 
 For many a happy scene revives, 
 And many a joy of laughing lives ; 
 Back many a golden word it brings, 
 And many a m.erry song it sings. 
 
THE PARTING HOUR. 165 
 
 For parting gives his reverend head, 
 Who all the studious year hath led, 
 A greener wreath of memory's bays, 
 And loyal love and grateful praise, 
 And prayers that all his years be sweet. 
 And blessings brighten 'round his feet. 
 
 And parting makes our full hearts swell 
 With love for those who taught us well, 
 Who patient led the little bands 
 Through wisdom's fair and flowery lands, 
 And toil'd before their eyes to spread 
 The ]page which shrine? the deathless dead. 
 
 And parting malres our mates more dear; 
 Paints every charm in colors clear. 
 Hides every fault — if such had life — 
 And hushes every voice of strife, 
 And maybe makes them — seen afar — 
 A few shades better than — thei/ are ! 
 
166 THE PARTING HOUR. 
 
 Dear friends, who grace our hall to-night, 
 You mingle, too, in memory's light; 
 Your praise has given us pride and heart 
 Which falter since we now must part ; 
 Since all the glittering scene must fade — 
 The vision past — the pageant j^lay'd ! 
 
 But though on earth our paths divide, 
 And feet of friends go wandering wide ; 
 Though here our tenderest ties are riven, 
 There shines a City, high in Heaven, 
 Where parting tears shall no more come, 
 And God shall guide His parted home ! 
 
EN ROUTE. 
 
 By a Virginia Corifedorate, riding across tlie mountains to join Gen. 
 Johnston, after tlie surrender of Gen. Lee. 
 
 Desolate! desolate! only my duty 
 
 Bearing me up tlirougli the danger and pain; 
 Cheer'd by the thought of her smiles and her beauty, 
 
 When I shall see her again. 
 
 But if I do not, she told me, when leaving, 
 
 I must be true to the red cross of stars ; 
 
 So there's the comfort that she will be grieving 
 
 If I should die in the Avars. 
 1G7 
 
168 EN ROUTE. 
 
 If /should die? what a pitiful trifle ! 
 
 What if I do! who will sorrow or care? 
 Is there a heart-shrine the tidings would rifle, 
 
 Leaving it broken and bare ? 
 
 What if she die in the time I am fighting ? 
 
 Where's my reward or my victory then? 
 What's all the glory that I might delight in? 
 
 AVhat all the honor of men? 
 
 Aye, and I mind me the flush that would gather 
 Deep on her cheek, like the sun's rosy birth, 
 
 And that her eyes wore a sparkle that rather 
 Seem'd of the Heaven than earth. 
 
 Let me not think, as I ride o'er the mountain, 
 Only her image to cheer me along, 
 
 My day-star could fade, or my solacing fountain 
 Ever could cease in its song ! 
 
E2i ROUTE. 169 
 
 Let me but look to the day I shall meet her, 
 Queen of my heart, in her beauty and truth : 
 
 Surely my life will be brighter and sweeter 
 Then, for this season of ruth ! 
 
 Fade, rosy light, till the mists of the gloaming 
 Shroud the lone wood, it is no night to me ! 
 
 Far from this perilous solitude roaming, 
 Dearest, my soul is with thee ! 
 
 AVith thee, and cheer'd .by the star of thy beauty, 
 Warm'd by thy love, and illum'd by thy light; 
 
 Seeking thy favor through rough paths of duty, 
 Sure thou wilt lead me aright! 
 
AFTER LONG YEARS. 
 
 Past and hereafter are near as one, 
 For both are unreal : I liardly know, 
 
 If memory do not sometimes run 
 Into the future, and make it glow 
 
 With the light of the long ago. 
 
 Then I was a child, and you were a child, 
 And we lov'd each other as angels do, 
 
 With a love that was pure and undefil'd, 
 
 And I never a thought nor a motive knew 
 
 That did not centre in you. 
 170 
 
AFTER LOIsG YEARS. 171 
 
 Now what is real in all that was? 
 
 You and I, who are living yet. 
 But where is the love that we lov'cl? Ala;^, 
 
 'TwavS first a fetter and then a debt, 
 
 And then a dead regret ! 
 
 And yet iny heart hath no other guest 
 
 Than the ghost of a love which my thoughts restore; 
 And never an image hath fill'd my breast, 
 
 Save that which it proudly and fondly wore, 
 
 And lost, in the years of yore! 
 
 And you whom once I lov'd so fain, 
 
 Are you too mov'd when the strings of thought 
 Are swept by memory's hand amain ; 
 
 Is your full soul with feeling fraught, 
 
 Or your pent heart o'erwrought? 
 
172 AFTER LONG YEARS. 
 
 Or do you ever, in soften'd mood, 
 Recall our love and its bitter cost. 
 
 But which, I think me, by all that's good, 
 Will somehow come to the home it lost, 
 However 'tis torn and toss'd? 
 
 Else why hath my heart no other guest. 
 Than the broken love and a dire regret ; 
 
 And why still lingers our troth in my breast. 
 As sacred-sweet as the mignonette. 
 No more a doubt and a debt ? 
 
 The past and future are near as one ; 
 For both are unreal ; I hardly know, 
 
 If memory do not forward run, 
 
 And cause the coming years to glow 
 With the light of the long ago ! 
 
IN HEAVEN. 
 
 How thrilling sweet throiigli tlie rich aisles of Heaven 
 Swept high that golden storm of angel strains, 
 
 Whereby the soul, with fire in tensest riven. 
 
 Was then swift swollen with love's most rapturous pains! 
 
 My spirit bow'd before the glorious chorus; 
 
 My lips leap'd quick the tide of j^raise to twine ; 
 
 For never yet had risen the current o'er us 
 
 Of love and light so boundless and divine! 
 173 
 
174 IN HEAVEN. 
 
 And yet, heart, that once to me wast given, 
 
 What time we trod the paths of life below, 
 I knew and lov'd thee ere I knew of heaven, 
 
 And still for thee I yearn with passionate glow. 
 Ere yet I drank this changeless blossomy weather, 
 
 With which the courts of God are sweet and fair, 
 The storms of nether life we bore together ; 
 
 And shall we not the peace of Aidenn share? 
 
 And, as in those dear days of pain and trial, 
 
 Thoii wast the comfort and the crown I knew, 
 Through this bright host, I turn now in espial, 
 
 And look along its ranks to welcome you ; 
 And when the music lifts its joftiest passion, 
 
 Thine is the voice my soul is strain'd to hear, 
 Till e'en in Heaven love's old familiar fashion, 
 
 Because thou art not v/ith me, grows]more dear. 
 
IN HEA VEN. 175 
 
 And so, though love and light and song ecstatic 
 
 Near burst my soul with bliss beyond alloy, 
 My rest in Heaven hath still a thought erratic — 
 
 To share with thee the fullness of its joy ; 
 I miss thy face in this high home of splendor; 
 
 I need thy voice to swell the singing sea, 
 And pray thee come, w^ith looks and accents tender, 
 
 To make this Heaven, while still I bide with thee! 
 
THE EDDY. 
 
 Our many troubles wife and I 
 Turn'd over as we walk'd, 
 
 "Until beside tlie river's bank 
 We sat us down and talk'd. 
 
 Alonf^ the little stream there bent 
 
 The willow's fringe of green ; 
 
 And many a mass of granite gray 
 
 Arose its banks between. 
 173 
 
THE EDDY. 177 
 
 Under the willow's grateful shade, 
 
 Upon the river's side, 
 We turn'd our sorrows o'er again, 
 
 And Avatch'd the waters glide. 
 
 And still the bitter cry arose, 
 "How long, Lord, how long?" 
 
 And still the bitterer thought, "Can He, 
 The Judge of earth, do wrong?" 
 
 In moody silence so we lay, 
 
 As in a gloomy dream ; 
 I broke off little bits of wood. 
 
 And cast them in the stream. 
 
 A sudden interest stirr'd my wife; 
 
 She ask'd, as she arose, 
 "What makes them swim vp stream, and not 
 
 The way the current flow^s?" 
 
178 THE EDDY. 
 
 "There is an eddy here," I said; 
 
 "The bits obey its force, 
 But soon the current takes them up, 
 
 And sends them on their course." 
 
 And as I took her hand, I said, 
 " Our sinful doubt is solv'd 
 
 By this slight eddy of the stream 
 In which the wood revolv'd. 
 
 " For though opjios'd to all our pray rs 
 Our fates and fortunes seem, 
 
 Be sure 'tis only for a time 
 They strive to go np stream; 
 
 " And God will yet deliverance grant 
 When we our patience prove. 
 
 And send us buoyant on our way, 
 And light its course with love!" 
 
A DOCTOR'S VALENTINE. 
 
 FKOM A CONVALESCENT PATIENT. 
 
 Friend, who art more than friend to me, 
 Parent of second life and breath, 
 
 Who, under God, hast set me free 
 
 From lingering ill and menac'd death; 
 
 How can my faltering lips confess 
 
 The debt of thanks and love and praise, 
 
 And how th' unselfish patience bless 
 
 That led my steps through darken 'd ways ! 
 179 
 
180 A DOCTOR'S VALENTINE. 
 
 Richer than all the gifts of wealth 
 
 And all most bounteous boons of kings, 
 
 Thy care, God blessing, gave me health, 
 And boundless pleasure on its wings! 
 
 The wanderer in the darken'd w^omb 
 Of some deej) mine's mysterious aisles, 
 
 Fancies each narrowing arch his tomb, 
 
 Far from the sunshine's warmth and smiles, 
 
 Until the sudden torch's blaze. 
 Glancing on crusted gems around, 
 
 The glory of the cave displays. 
 
 And bathes with light the gloomy ground: 
 
 So, each dark recess of my thought 
 Sparkles w^ith hope's reflected ray, 
 
 And, where the healing hand hath ^vrought, 
 The mind's gaunt spectres troop aw^ay ! 
 
A DOCTOR'S VALENTINE. 181 
 
 To thee, best heart ! — to tliy true touch, 
 And clear, brave brain, the praise is given ; 
 
 Perhaps I thank thee e'en o'ermuch, 
 And stint the praise I owe to Heaven ; 
 
 Yet this poor grateful song my heart, 
 Rid of its pain, spontaneous brings, 
 
 To crown thy heaven-bless'd healing art, 
 And breathe the joy that soars and sings 1 
 
A WIFE'S VALENTINE. 
 
 Ama?niis—amabanivs—amabinius.^''—CHA.m.'E3 Kingslet. 
 
 CaU'd no longer now 
 
 By pet names of passion, 
 
 Whicli, long years ago, 
 Were our lovers' fashion, 
 
 No fond prattle's aid 
 
 Needs, my wife to render 
 
 Dearer to my heart than maid 
 
 To the knight most tender. 
 
 182 
 
A WIFE'S VALENTINE. 188 
 
 AVords are all bat breath, 
 
 And too bare and common 
 For the loyal love and faith 
 
 Paid the wife and woman. 
 Far too deep the stream 
 
 Of wedded joy and trouble, 
 For the eddying foam and gleam 
 
 Of the rainbow'd bubble. 
 
 Nay, no troubles ride 
 
 On the halcyon current; 
 With her life-barque on the tide 
 
 Mine shall ne'er go errant ; 
 And my sorest fear 
 
 Is, I am not worthy 
 Of a spirit so high and clear — 
 
 I, so ill and earthy. 
 
184 A WIFE'S VALENTINE. 
 
 Still, I shall not seek 
 
 Witli the world's base metal, 
 — Flattery, silken-sleek 
 
 As the rose's petal, — 
 To make good the debt 
 
 Which my true love renders, 
 Or the heart's deep troth to fret 
 
 With mere surface splendors. 
 
 If my wife would know 
 
 All my heart's true nature, 
 All th' affection's wealth below 
 
 My dull habit's feature, 
 Let her ask not words. 
 
 But life's consecration 
 To its pole-star, which affords 
 
 Weightier demonstration — 
 
A WIFE'S VALENTINE. 185 
 
 Than mere lilt of birds 
 
 In the months of roses ; 
 Love asks deeds, not words — 
 
 Love prays, and not poses, 
 And 'tis love's best boast 
 
 That it still rejoices 
 Li love's perfect knowledge most, 
 
 Lacking love's light voices! 
 
CROSS AND CROWN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Under the axe and under the halter 
 
 There are spirits Vvdiich neither shrink nor falter, 
 
 Which neither dread the seeming shame, 
 
 Nor dungeon damp nor wreathing flame, 
 
 But die with courage and in calm, 
 
 Secure of triumph song and psalm, 
 
 And the martyr's wreath of palm. 
 
 Witnesses to truth sublime, 
 
 Their voices ring to latest time, 
 
 Their dying words outlast the breath, 
 
 And spring like flow'rs from mouldering death. 
 186 
 
CR OSS A ND CR WK 187 
 
 Fast they stood for Truth in pain, 
 And firm they fac'd the iron rain, 
 
 Nor reck'd its roar and rattle, 
 But died as brave men love to die, 
 With the Hag of their faith unfurl'd on high, 
 
 In the perilous edge of battle ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Other battles are lost and won, 
 
 Other gallant deeds are done. 
 
 Many are they who laugh and smile, 
 
 With a weary heart the while, 
 
 And bear with patient faith and hope 
 
 Their burdens up the rocky slope. 
 
 And hush sad fears that cloud the mind. 
 
 Nor look at darkening gulfs behind. 
 
 Nor heed the chill of falling night. 
 
 Nor yet the poisonous vapor's blight, 
 
 Nor any threat of sound or sight. 
 
188 Cn OSS A Nl) CR WN. 
 
 Theirs tlie task to work and wait, 
 Witliout favor, tlianks or state; 
 Theirs the heaviest doom to share — 
 The pleas'd and patient face to wear, 
 And yet the hungering heart to bear; 
 To spend their all for love's dear sake, 
 Yet never answering echo wake; 
 Theirs the dreary fate to pray 
 For dear hearts drifting fast away 
 From home's safe nest and duty's day, 
 Yet see the vain petition die, 
 As if it storm'd an iron sky. 
 Theirs too to front misfortune's stroke, 
 And wear privation's galling yoke, 
 And feel, with faltering heart forlorn, 
 The sting of treason and of scorn. 
 These are the battles won at home, 
 Which shine not in Valhalla's dome. 
 Nor sound in epic strains of Eome ; 
 
CROSS AND CROWN. 189 
 
 And these are fought by uameless men 
 And nameless ^yomen, v/hom the pen 
 Leaves nameless to historic ken. 
 
 III. 
 
 Stars, eagles, plumes, the accolade, 
 
 For conquering heroes wnif, 
 Who win, with wasting braii'l and blade, 
 
 The title to be great. 
 These, home from havoc, proudly share 
 The smiles and favors of the fair, 
 And all their country's praise and prayer. 
 Theirs are the highest seats of state. 
 
 And honor's rich, descending scroll, 
 And glory's notes, resounding late 
 
 In echoes of the soul ! 
 What glory shall be ihine, heart. 
 Whose fields were won, alone, apart — 
 Whosa steadfast strength and fiery will 
 
190 CR OSS A ND CR WN, 
 
 Were spent in conflicts lone and still? 
 What slialt thou have, whose breast was bare 
 The wounds of other breasts to spare, 
 And who, when stricken, made no nioan, 
 But stood still battling and alone ? 
 What decoration shall be huns 
 By royal hands, w^ith honey 'd tongue, 
 Above the bleeding breast obscure 
 Which fell but fail'd not to endure? 
 
 Thine, faithful heart, are stars of Heaven; 
 To thee are noblest titles given, 
 And when the roll of fame is made 
 
 Of those vj ho dutys heights have trod, 
 Upon thee shall the accolade 
 
 Be lower d hy the sword of God I 
 
EBB-TIDE. 
 
 [For a School Commencement.] 
 
 Upon the sliores of ocean 
 The tides in ceaseless motion, 
 Advance and then retreat, 
 With noiseless steps and fleet, 
 That flow and ebb amain, 
 To ebb and flow again. 
 
 Like to the ocean wave, 
 
 That pulses broad and brave. 
 
 Upon the sandy beach, 
 
 With sinuons roll and reach. 
 
 With equal change and strife. 
 
 Pulses the tide of life. 
 191 
 
192 EBB-TIDE. 
 
 Upon the climbing tides 
 The broken sea-weed rides, 
 With bits of many a wreck, 
 And S23linter'd spar and deckj 
 And all mysterious things 
 The ocean bears and brings. 
 
 And when the tide runs out, 
 In multitudinous rout, 
 The shells and sever'd weed 
 Upon its crest recede, 
 Torn from the shingly shore, 
 And lost forevermore! 
 
 So year by year there meet, 
 In sacred ties and sweet. 
 New bands of loving lives; 
 When the sad hour arrives, 
 As the torn sea-weed parts, 
 It rends the circled hearts. 
 
EBB-TIDE. 193 
 
 Out on an unknown sea 
 Of cloud and mystery, 
 The sever'd friends divide, 
 On waters waste and wide, 
 Sometimes witli friendly hail 
 To greet each other's sail. 
 
 But as the ocean's toil 
 Restores no more its spoil ; 
 Sometimes the scatter'd bands, 
 On neither seas uor sands, 
 Shall pass each other's sail, 
 Or greet with friendly hail. 
 
 Dear comrades, who may part 
 To-day with sadden'd heart, 
 Let not this lesson braid. 
 Your sunny lives with shade; 
 Our comfort is to know 
 We only part below. 
 
194 EBB-TIDE. 
 
 For tliongli we drift asunder 
 In rain and rolling thunder; 
 Tbougli evermore our ships 
 Should sail in hope's eclipse, 
 Tlie star stdl shines above, 
 Which is the Master's love. 
 
 And when the sea at last, 
 With shy and earth, is past; 
 When all its tides and waves 
 Are sunk in sunless graves. 
 And all its paths untrod. 
 Our souls shall rest with God! 
 
LUX REDUX. 
 
 Athwart tlic blinded blae of heaven, 
 And hidden hues of falling even, 
 The slow, Pad, winter rain is driven. 
 
 Aloft the sun is veil'd and dim; 
 
 The moon reveals no silver brim; 
 
 The white stars, radiant 'round her rim. 
 
 Are gone from their celestial camps, 
 
 And vanished with the greater lamps, 
 
 And darken'd in the drifted damps. 
 195 
 
196 LUX REDUX. 
 
 Only the rain falls slant and hard; 
 Only the sj)ectral mist keeps guard, 
 And light of heaven is bann'd and barr'd. 
 
 Yet, rose and gold, and white and wide, 
 With nameless splendors lit and dyed, 
 The clouds shine on the other side. 
 
 And far above the darkening rain. 
 
 There rolls through heaven the starry train, 
 
 And moon and stars will come again. 
 
 So, heavy heart, the rain of tears 
 Will vanish in the mist of years, 
 While bine beyond the sky appears, 
 
 And stars of promise still shall shine, 
 And peace, of which the moon is sign, 
 And heaven be cloudless and divine! 
 
A CHRISTxMAS HYMN. 
 
 Lord, who exchang'd'st the light of Heaven 
 For light of earth, this day of days, 
 
 Grant that the heavenly light be given 
 To fill our hearts with holiest rays ! 
 
 As, guided by the stranger star, 
 
 The wise men of the Orient came, 
 
 And brought their gifts of gold afar, 
 
 And offer'd worship at Thv name; 
 197 
 
198 A CHRISTMAS HYMN. 
 
 So limy we bring, an oliering free, 
 Of all our nature hath the Lest, 
 
 And deem the talent spent for Thee 
 And in Thy service, only hless'd. 
 
 So rnay we deem the fairest gifts 
 Of earthly fortune void and vain, 
 
 Save when Thy face its favor lifts 
 To make all earthly fortune gain. 
 
 And, as of old, the Syrian swains. 
 
 Heard, as they watch'd their flocks by night, 
 From opening heav'ns the angels' strains. 
 
 And saw and bless'd the Q;racious sic^ht; 
 
 So may our humblest moods be rais'd 
 In prospect of the prize unpric'd, 
 
 And so our weariest work be prais'd, 
 That brings us near th' awaited Christ ; 
 
A CURISTjIAS JIYMX. 199 
 
 Tliat on 1!.-, wallciiig in I lis way, 
 
 The star may rise which hailM His hirth, 
 
 While an^el voices lift their hiy, 
 
 "Glory to God, and peace on earth! "' 
 
 Grant that, as on each earthly dawn, 
 Thy sun doth rise and shine in might, 
 
 The Sun of Righteousness, this morn, 
 Mav fill onr souls with love and light. 
 
 Grant that, as every sky of night, 
 
 Is strewn with stars through fields of space, 
 This night the Star of Bethlehem's light 
 
 May fill our hearts wdth heavenly grace! 
 
A YEAR IX IIEAVEX. 
 
 [In Memoriam W. P. 13. ; Obiit Jauuarj Sth, 1879.] 
 
 True soldier in tlie iield of life, 
 The God wlio gave thee to the strife, 
 One year ago this winter day, 
 Recall'd thee from our love away, 
 To grant thee, in His heav'n of rest, 
 The endless glory of the bless'd ! 
 
 One year ago! How drear its space 
 
 Without the love-light of thy face; 
 
 How cheerless sped each weary week, 
 
 Since thou could'st neither smile nor speak 
 
 Since all the charm thy presence shed 
 
 Was quench'd forever with the dead. 
 200 
 
A YEA R IN HE A VEN. 201 
 
 Nor yet forever! E'en with us, 
 
 Who lov'd thee and who mourn thee thus, 
 
 Thy memory dwells, a living power, 
 
 To bless and brighten every hour, 
 
 To guard the wandering feet from sin, 
 
 And wake the better self within. 
 
 The high example still remains, 
 The generous hand bestows its gains. 
 The spotless name still shines on high. 
 And the brave life can never die. 
 While faith and truth and modest worth. 
 Claim homage from the sons of earth. 
 
 While thus we mourn thee, clear and bright, 
 
 Thy figure rises to the sight, 
 
 And each familiar trait comes back 
 
 With tender memories in its track, 
 
 And every cherish'd word and thought, 
 
 By the heart's listening ear is caught. 
 
202 A YEAR IN HEAVEN. 
 
 Ah bitter day, that saw our light 
 
 Fade down death's dim and dreary night ; 
 
 Ah weary cross the angel laid, 
 
 Who wrapp'd our path in sndden shade, 
 
 And left it cheerless to be trod 
 
 By widow'd feet, to thee and God ! 
 
 For still our light shines well we know, 
 Beyond the sunset's radiant glow. 
 In the Lord's city, bright and high. 
 With the crown 'cl princes of the sky, 
 We know our lov'd one's form is seen, 
 By life's full tide and pastures green. 
 
 In the Lord's love-light, near the sun, 
 W^hose rays his dying eyes look'd on ; 
 Where faith is sight and prayer is praise, 
 And night is lost in deathless days, 
 His eyes are lit, his song is sweet, 
 His rapture endless and complete. 
 
A YEAR IN HE A VEN. 203 
 
 And so we mingle joy with tears 
 That thus ihy ]oj in heav'n appears, 
 Thy cruel pain assuag'd and heal'd, 
 Thy trial pass'd, thy ransom seal'd, 
 Thy life and memory pure and true 
 As morning blossoms dash'd with dew. 
 
 So too We consecrate anew 
 
 Our hearts to keep that memory true; 
 
 To deck thy name with pride and love, 
 
 And learn, though thou hpvSt pass'd above, 
 
 The lofty model of thy life. 
 
 To keep us stainless in the strife ! 
 
HEART OF GOLD. 
 
 Comrade, have we not walked togetlier 
 
 Side by side in the days agone, 
 Hand in hand through the spring-time weather, 
 
 "When all the glory of May was blown — 
 When all the shy v;as a field of azure, 
 
 When sunshine reign'd on the happy earth, 
 
 And angels look'd, through the heaven's embrazure, 
 
 On a world of beauty and wealth and worth? 
 204 
 
HEART OF GOLD. ' 205 
 
 This was the workl that we walked in, brother, 
 
 Hand in hand in the days gone by; 
 But as we were walking there came another, 
 
 A world to which heaven did not seem nigh; 
 When the bloom went out of the mead and meadow, 
 
 When the eyes of the angels were far away, 
 And when on our j^ath fell the sudden shadow, 
 
 And out of it faded the golden ray. 
 
 Still, as of yore, did we walk united. 
 
 Whether the heavens were black or blue ; 
 The path perchance might be dark or lighted — 
 
 It was ever the same so our hearts were true. 
 And when was our plighted faith e'er broken? 
 
 And when was the link of our hands undone? 
 Needless the voice of affection spoken, 
 
 While hearts mov'd true as the circliuo; sun. 
 
206 HEART OF GOLD. 
 
 And now, dear heart, as tlie years grow older, 
 
 And gray locks gather about our brows, 
 Is the love of the past any fainter or colder? 
 
 Does the mildew moulder our ancient vows? 
 Are other voices more sweet to hearhen 
 
 Or other faces more bright to see, 
 Now that the shadows of twilight darken 
 
 The pathway trodden by you and me? 
 
 No ! by the token of silent pressure 
 
 Of hands yet link'd in the old-time grasp; 
 And no! by the look of the eyes' pure azure — 
 
 The past is safe in the spirit's clasp. 
 And faithful still, down the path together, 
 
 We lingering walk as in days of old. 
 Through the dreary eve and the wintry weather, 
 
 In the warmth and light of your heart of gold ! 
 
IIEAKT'S EASE. 
 
 How sweet is the breath of even, 
 "With sudden dash of the rain; 
 
 How blest is the balm of Heaven, 
 On brow and brain ! 
 
 0, heart that wast hoar and ashen, 
 
 And fever'd with many fears, 
 
 How soften'd thy pang and passion, 
 
 In rain of tears! 
 207 
 
THE FORGET-ME-NOT. 
 
 "Friendship is love without its wing;" 
 So wrote the poet; but /write, 
 
 It has love's wings, which soaring bring 
 My heart back to its home to-night. 
 
 Serene and deep the current flows 
 
 From hearts that meet in union true, 
 
 And by its banks a blossom blows, 
 
 In modest sweetness, bright and blue. 
 208 
 
THE FORGET-ME-NOT. 209 
 
 That flow'r is the Forget-Me-Not, 
 
 Which friendship mirrors on its tide; 
 
 It lifts its face in many a spot 
 
 Where peeps no face of flow'r beside. 
 
 And when the heart lacks other cheer, 
 And life is dark with many a doubt, 
 
 The bine flower's influence, sweet and clear, 
 Through all the mingling mist shines out. 
 
 And so the modest bloom abides, 
 
 The type of friendship true and dear, 
 
 And lights the stream's commingled tides, 
 Unchang'd through all the changeful year. 
 
 So let our lives, in merging streams, 
 Flow on, the world's wild noise forgot; 
 
 While o'er us, lil^e a star in dreams, 
 There shines the flow'r, Forget-Me-Not. 
 
IN MEMORIAM AC AMOREM; 
 
 CAPT. ROBERT D. EARLY AND CAPT. WILLIE EARLY, C. S. A. 
 
 Since these two hero brothers' glorious fall, 
 
 The wan and weeping wreaths of winter's snow 
 
 For sixteen years have laid their pitying pall, 
 Where they lie cold below. 
 
 For sixteen years, the early blooms of Spring, 
 
 Have rais'd their flags of beauty o'er the grave, 
 
 And Summer stoop'd his crown, a mourning king, 
 
 In memory of the brave. 
 
 210 
 
IN ME MORI A M A C A MO REM. 211 
 
 And Autumn here liatli sj)read Ins cloth of gold, 
 Rich with the hues of many a glittering leaf, 
 
 And all around his bounty doth unfold, 
 In mellowing fruit and sheaf. 
 
 Lo! where the rolling year its tribute pays. 
 The spot which love and honor consecrate; 
 
 Here, wdiere affection's hand its laurel lays, 
 Fond memory lingers late. 
 
 Back through the mists of intervening time. 
 The eye of love their stately beauty sees. 
 
 When in the fullness of their budding prime 
 They drank the battle breeze! 
 
 Full of all valor, and of youth's desire, 
 
 With love of country and the thirst of fame, 
 
 They, following only duty's beacon fire. 
 Died glorious in its flame! 
 
212 IN MEMORIA M AC A MOREM, 
 
 Their patriot zeal, inspir'd in earliest youth, 
 
 Beyond heroic measure had increas'd ; 
 So lov'd they chief their country and the truth, 
 
 And self, the last and least. 
 
 And so they died, not the mere soldier's death, 
 Though each fell glorious in the focal blast; 
 
 Each calmly gave the cause his dying breath. 
 When victory's hope was past. 
 
 Not theirs the casual stroke on fields of war. 
 
 For these sought death with grave and knightly grace, 
 
 And rode to meet its welcome like a star, 
 Each smiling in its face. 
 
 Fled were the flags that late had flash'd on high, 
 The field abandon 'd to the foeman's host. 
 
 Where Robert with his General chose to die, 
 Rather than yield his post. 
 
IN ME MORI A M AC A MO REM, 213 
 
 " Honor and duty " was tlie lesson taught, 
 
 Alike by noble life and martyr's death; 
 "Duty and honor" is the blazon wrought 
 
 In fame's memorial wreath. 
 
 Of all the hearts which canght th' exalted strain, 
 One was his brother's, and to him as well, 
 
 The law of life was honor without stain. 
 And in that sign he fell. 
 
 For when, at last, the fatal end drew near. 
 And all the Southern battle was undone. 
 
 See Willie front an array without fear, 
 Till shot beside his gun. 
 
 And there, as Willie lay, his duty done, 
 
 With dead, drap'd face, and arms forever cross'd. 
 
 With the last echo of his silenc'd gun, 
 The cause he lov'd was lost. 
 
214 IN MEMO UI AM AG AMOREM. 
 
 So died the two young Captains, ripe in fame, 
 Full crown'd witli lionor, and embalm'd in love ; 
 
 The darkness closing o'er each spotless name, 
 The pure soul pass'd above. 
 
 What tongue may tell their glory? Through the years 
 Whose vista opens to the prophet's ken. 
 
 The hero-figures shine throu2;h mists of tears. 
 But shrin'd by song and pen. 
 
 What lips may tell the love we bear the dead. 
 Or sing the grateful memory of the land? 
 
 Till faith and honor from the earth are fled, 
 These live, in heart and hand. 
 
 Deathless in death, and changeless in our love, 
 And radiant in the light of glory's crown. 
 
 The heroes, happy in their heaven above, 
 On our dull earth look down. 
 
IN ME MORI A M AC A MO REM. 215 
 
 While we with faltering lijis the tribute pay, 
 And strew these humble blossoms on the tomb, 
 
 The tokens fade, the pcean dies away, 
 The heart is dark with gloom ; 
 
 But fadeless shine their names on memory's page, 
 In love's own light their smile beams bright afar, 
 
 "While honor broadens on from age to age, 
 And fame from star to star ! 
 
THE GRAVE OF LEE. 
 
 [from a memorial poem.] 
 
 lion Lee, now all tliy labor ^y^ougllt, 
 
 Thy campaigns ended, all thy battles fouglit, 
 
 No more thy ear the trumpets' blast sball vex, 
 
 No more the clianging tides of war perplex, 
 
 And tlie guns' voices, known by tliee of old, 
 
 No more bigli converse in the fight shall hold ! 
 
 The red-cross flas;s are folded, but the skies 
 
 Still kiss the blue field where Sic Semper flies. 
 216 
 
THE GRA VE OF LEE. 217 
 
 Kest, then, in lionor'd sleep beneath the mould 
 O'er which Virginia's ensign is unroll'd; 
 Sleep 'neath the snowy daisies, when the Spring 
 Comes trembling back her tiny blooms to bring. 
 The pilgrims of the world here reverent wait ; 
 'Tis holy ground within the chapel gate, 
 And every heart in all thy South here turns, 
 "With grief now falters and with pride now burns! 
 Sleep, for thy bed is 'neath Virginia's sod, 
 And curtain'd o'er thee is the heaven of God ! 
 
THE ENGINE. 
 
 Brave and brawnythe engine stands, 
 
 With feet of iron and brazen hands, 
 
 And nerves of steel and heart of ire, 
 
 And breath of smoke and front of fire — 
 
 As the engine stands, prepared for flight, 
 
 On the gleaming rails, through the closing night. 
 
 Slowly the engine grinds the steel. 
 
 And moves each laboring rod and wheel ; 
 
 Heavily drawn is its panting breath. 
 
 And the piston heavily w^orhs beneath, 
 
 While, far below, on the glancing track, 
 
 The blaze of the head-light is beaten back. 
 218 
 
THE ENGINE. 219 
 
 For, flaming forth on the engine's front, 
 To brave the night and the tempest's brunt, 
 The head-light gleams like a fiery eye, 
 As the rushing engine thunders by, 
 And leads the train, with its beacon bold, 
 Like the pillar'd fire in the diiys of old. 
 
 cheerily flashes the train at night, 
 And merrily echoes its sudden flight 
 O'er rattling rails, with whirling wheels. 
 Till the mountain curve its flame conceals ; 
 But still the distance repeats its song. 
 As the iron engine is swept along 1 
 
 Bravely the engine bears amain 
 
 The freight of life upon the train. 
 
 The strangely mingled tides that cross. 
 
 The fight for gain, the doom of loss, 
 
 And hopes that bloom, and hearts that bleed, 
 
 Follow together the engine's lead. 
 
220 THE ENGINE. 
 
 Softly and saiely the travelers rest 
 In night and sleep on the engine's breast ; 
 The dark clouds gather, the storm assails : 
 But steadily still on the rattling rails, 
 The engine bears its living freight 
 Where strange or friendly greetings wait. 
 
 So, one by one, each pilgrim guest 
 Deserts the engine's shelterins; nest ; 
 But as they pass, each vacant space 
 Receives some new and passive face — 
 The veil v/hich hides an anxious soul, 
 Impatient for the destin'd goal ! 
 
 But thouG;h the wino-s of thouo;ht outrace 
 The bounds alike of time and space. 
 The engine's journey soon is pass'd, 
 And each worn traveler left at last 
 To drag the chain of those who roam. 
 Or find the welcome warmth of home ! 
 
THE ENGINE. 221 
 
 O faitliful Engine, still at length 
 
 Thy heart of fire and limbs of strength; 
 
 Thy passage through the night is done ! 
 
 Thy victory over distance won ! 
 
 Thy bright eye clos'd and hush'd the bell 
 
 Which woke the night and rang farewell ! 
 
 Farewell, brave Engine ! Thou and thine 
 Deserve a happier rhyme than mine ; 
 For what was Troy, and what was Kome, 
 To heroes of our time and home? 
 Salute the heart that knows no fear, 
 And find it — in the Engineer ! 
 
HIEROGLYPPIIO. , 
 
 I look' whilom on the figures 
 From an old Egyptian tomb, 
 
 That show'd the ancient rigors 
 Of servile deht and doom. 
 
 In the quaint ancient painting 
 
 One form stood high and proud ; 
 
 A King's ; the rest, as fainting, 
 
 Low on the earth were how'd. 
 222 
 
JIIEROGLYPIIia 223 
 
 The one was lordly and lifted, 
 
 Master of lands and lives ; 
 Rarely grac'd and gifted, • 
 
 Witli power and wealth and wives. 
 
 Under the least of his digits, 
 
 Keeping the kingdom down ; 
 The people, no more than midgets, 
 
 Floating about his crown. 
 
 And they on the earth extended — 
 
 Humbly kissing the dust ; 
 Mutely and basely bended, 
 
 As famine begging a crust — 
 
 To what were their souls prostrated ; 
 
 What saw they ihe7^e to adore ? 
 And how did he keep them weighted, 
 
 With burdens sordid and sore ? 
 
224 HIEROGLYPHIC. 
 
 How were their eyes kept blinded, 
 To reckon a fellow-man 
 
 Otherwise moulded and minded 
 Than on their own plain plan? 
 
 They deem'd the mortal deathless; 
 
 They caird the human divine! 
 And one weak creature was scathless. 
 
 And all the rest supine! 
 
 Wonder of all the wonders! 
 
 Never more to be known — 
 Gone in the wrack of thunders 
 
 When men rose up for their own I 
 
 Say, ghosts, in the hades, 
 Whither ye all have flown 
 
 Are kings, and lords, and ladies, 
 And courts and curtseys known? 
 
HlEFx OGL YPIIIC 225 
 
 Does one to another shadow 
 
 O'er cruok the pregnant knee? 
 Has hell a social ladder 
 
 Of high and low degree? 
 
 Do ever the slaves remember 
 
 The cruel yokes they bore — 
 Bore on spirit and member 
 
 In those dark days of yore? 
 
 And do they feel revengeful 
 
 And hght the old grudge out, 
 To show that things are changeful, 
 
 When death undoes the doubt? 
 
 Or do they ever together, 
 
 Lords and slaves and the rest, 
 All now birds of a feather, 
 
 Laugh at the foolish past? 
 
226 HIEROGLYPHIC. 
 
 And wonder, as we, too, wonder, 
 What might the mystery be, 
 
 That men from men could sunder 
 In high and low degree; 
 
 That one was thron'd and royal, 
 And held the world in awe, 
 
 While thousands, low and loyal, 
 Look'd up to him — for law! 
 
 Cover the ancient jicture! 
 
 Its lesson is conn'd and known ; 
 Forever burst is the stricture, 
 
 That bound the people down ! 
 
HIEROGLYPHIC. 
 
 ANOTHER VERSION. 
 
 I read the strange inscription 
 In hieroglyphic words, 
 
 Beneath a group Egyptian : 
 King Aah-mes and liis lords. 
 
 Proudly he stood before them, 
 
 Elate, aloft, serene ; 
 
 There fell a lustre o'er them 
 
 As if his face were sheen. 
 227 
 
228 HIER GL YPIIIC. 
 
 And as he stood there glorious, 
 The lord of mighty lords, 
 
 He felt his heart victorious, 
 Begirt with loyal swords. 
 
 And they, who knelt so humbly; 
 
 Were their bent souls abas'd? 
 The mouths that waited dumbly, 
 
 Was their true speech effac'd? 
 
 Had they no high aspirings. 
 Or gave they freedom up, 
 
 As slaves whose only hirings 
 Are bestial bite and sup? 
 
 The leaders of the legions — 
 Had they no loftier life 
 
 Than peace in servile regions. 
 And ease with wealth and wife? 
 
HIEROGLYPHIC. 229 
 
 Not such the pictiir'd story 
 
 Of Aah-mes and liis lords : 
 They tell of ancient glory, 
 
 Those hieroglyphic words. 
 
 They tell of leal devotion ; 
 
 Of service tried and true, 
 And of that lost emotion 
 
 Which pays to Rule' its due ; 
 
 That know no broader freedom 
 
 Than owning those high souls 
 Which God gives men to lead them 
 
 To grand and glorious goals; 
 
 Which deeras the public order 
 
 The happiest social range; 
 And holds him worse marauder 
 
 Who seeks ferment and change; 
 
230 IIIKROC L VPIIIC. 
 
 Which rather own one master 
 Than court the monarch Mob ; 
 
 And recks it less disaster 
 For few than all to rob; 
 
 Which holds in highest honor 
 Obedience, service, faith. 
 
 And makes its king the donor 
 Alike of breath and death. 
 
 And for this dream of duty 
 Still slept each faithful sword ; 
 
 More dear than kiss of beauty 
 The king's mere favoring word. 
 
 Where now on earth is mated 
 This once submissive faith, 
 
 That patient serv'd and waited. 
 And dar'd all dooms of death? 
 
IIIEROGLYPIUC. 231 
 
 Where now the antique flavor 
 
 Of duty, once snblime; 
 What now is noble favor, 
 
 When all men crowd to climb? 
 
 And now the only master 
 
 Is gold, to gild disgrace, 
 And now the one disaster 
 
 Is loss of pay or place. 
 
 And since all men are ef|ual, 
 
 And now no man is first. 
 The sure and solemn sequel, 
 
 Is, power still seelvs the worst ! 
 
 The lord is on the level 
 
 With all his former fiefs, 
 And shadows of the devil 
 
 Steal o'er the hieroglyphs ! 
 
CRADLE SONG. 
 
 Winnie, lie a-dreaming! 
 
 In thy baby brain, 
 Rays and shapes are streaming 
 
 From the phantom train, 
 Like the sunshine beaming 
 
 Through the veil of rain. 
 
 Winnie, as she slumbers, 
 
 Lying light and low, 
 Some faint frown encumbers — 
 
 Cloud upon the snow — 
 
 Till the angel numbers 
 
 Set her smiles aglow. 
 232 ' 
 
CRA OLE SONG. 233 
 
 Sleep on, Winnie dearest, 
 
 While the clouds depart. 
 Heaven to thee lies nearest, 
 
 Baby as thou art; 
 Thy shut eyes see clearest, 
 
 With the pure in heart. 
 
 Waken, Winnie, waken, 
 
 For thy mother's kiss ; 
 Thou art not forsaken 
 
 By the angels' bliss, 
 And the Christ hath taken 
 
 Thy pure love to His. 
 
 And at last, my treasure, 
 
 When thy day is done, 
 All thy dreams of pleasure 
 
 Shall in Heav'n be known, 
 And the angels' measure 
 
 Greet thy soul alone ! 
 
4 
 for an hovr of Lvridee!'''—A Jacobite Officer at Pbeston. 
 
 Now in her days of gloom, 
 
 Virginia's dark eclipse, 
 Rise, lion Lee, from the tomb, 
 
 With the old command on thy lips. 
 
 Ride at the head of her host, 
 
 As in great days of yore. 
 
 And restore thou the battle lost, 
 
 Our Cid Campeador! 
 234 
 
THE CID. 2S6 
 
 Not now among the guns. 
 
 But in a peace of disgrace. 
 Lead thou again her sons, 
 
 And form her line in its place. 
 
 Not as the Emperor speeds, 
 
 Reviewing the ghostly Guard, 
 Midnight in the Invalides, 
 
 With Sainfe Ilelene for the word .; 
 
 But lead the State of thy love, 
 
 spirit, serene and bright; 
 From devious paths that rove, 
 
 Away from the track of right. 
 
 To virtues that crown'd thy fame, 
 
 To duty which was thy star; 
 And honor lighting the soldier's name. 
 
 With beams from the heaven afar. 
 
236 THE CID. 
 
 Ride, lion Lee, to the front, 
 And rally the broken lines; 
 
 They will not break in the brunt 
 When thy sword points and shines. 
 
 Till the shade from the shield be drifted, 
 And the stain on the flag depart, 
 
 And the olden honor be lifted 
 
 In the State so dear to thy heart ; 
 
 0, wake for us, lov'd and lost ! 
 
 Virginia, now as of yore, 
 Calls to the head of her host 
 
 The Cid Campeador ! 
 
ARS A MORIS. 
 
 Wlioso lets his lienrt go errant 
 
 Like a bee from I •loom to bloom, 
 Ne'er can Lave a certain warrant, 
 Any heart will give it room. 
 If it straying 
 Goes a-Mayiijg 
 Through life's garden, as it will, 
 It will surely, 
 Ne'er securely. 
 
 Find a single flow'r to fill. 
 " 237 
 
ARS A MORIS. 
 
 Whosoe'er have lov'd and parted, 
 
 Though for pride the parting last, 
 Yet will e'er be tender-hearted 
 Toward the fondly cherii^hed past. 
 
 If they f-ever 
 
 And forever, 
 Life no other charm imparts, 
 
 And 'tis better 
 
 Love's light fetter 
 Bind their re-nnited hearts? I 
 
THE SAMARITAN. 
 
 Proud priest, with frozen heart and face, 
 And rohes of sanctimonious grace, 
 Thou canst not hear the sufferer's cry, 
 And well thy haughty feet pass by ! 
 
 Yet how canst thou, deaf and blind 
 
 To ills and errors of thy kind, 
 
 The sinner's sorrowing burden share, 
 
 Or lift to Heav'n the mourner's prayer ? 
 239 
 
240 THE SA MA RITA N. 
 
 formal Levite, cold and hard, 
 With iron ritual bow'd and barr'd, 
 What ear hast thou for suffering's sigh? — 
 Well raay'st thou pass with lifted eye ! 
 
 Yet, deacon of a rigorous creed, 
 That makes no room for liearts that bleed, 
 Thou hast no sense of guilt within, — 
 What offering canst thou make for sin ? 
 
 Last, scion of a bated race 
 That boasts no covenant of grace, 
 Thy heart the sufferer's cry will heed, 
 ■ Thy hands will soothe, thy bounty feed. 
 
 For pitying hearts, whate'er their race 
 Or creed, are flU'd with heaven's own grace ; 
 And Sin, through Suffering, comes to God 
 What way the Sinless Sufferer trod 1 
 
TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 
 THE CLOUD. 
 
 [From the French ; " Beau Nuage."] 
 
 What bird, cloud, precedeth? 
 
 No rest thy pinion needetb, 
 
 As through the sky it speedeth, . 
 
 My thoughts though sad are sweet ; 
 
 And with the morning's beam, 
 
 A witness in my dream, 
 
 The shore, the stream. 
 
 Where joy my steps shall greet. 
 
 Whence, bright cloud, dost thou roam, 
 
 Borne by the wild wind's sweep ? 
 
 Com'st thou from that hom^, 
 
 For which I often weep ? 
 241 
 
242 THE CLOUD. 
 
 Hast thou the mountain lit on 
 
 Which my companions sit on ? 
 
 Our native skies are Breton, 
 And fleck'd with many a star; 
 
 Hast seen my mother kneeling, 
 
 Her voice suppress'd with feeling, 
 
 As with prayer appealing 
 
 I'^or him wlro wanders far? 
 
 Whence, bright cloud, dost thou roam, 
 
 Borne by the wild wind's sweep, 
 
 Com'st thou from that home, 
 
 For which I often weep ? 
 
 Hast seen the chapel yonder 
 Where Louise sits to ponder ? 
 While far away I wander, 
 
 Does her fond thought decline? 
 
THE CLOUD, 243 
 
 No! It will waver never! 
 Louise is mine forever! 
 No time can sever 
 
 That faithful heart from mine ! 
 For pity's sake, bright cloud, 
 
 Borne by the wild wind's sweep, 
 Take me to that liorae, 
 For whicih I often weep ! 
 
A ZEPHYR SONG. 
 
 [After Tennyson.] 
 
 The sun-sheen lies 
 
 Athwart the skies 
 And all the earth reflects its splendor, 
 
 And in its light 
 
 The flowers are bright, 
 
 And breathe their joys in glances tender. 
 
 Blow, zephyr, blow; set the blue hare-bells swaying 
 
 And answer, blossoms, answer ; she is out a-Maying. 
 244 
 
A ZEPHYR SOSG. 245 
 
 love, thy feet 
 
 Among the sweet 
 And scented forms of blossom-beauty, 
 
 Are like fair pearls, 
 
 Enwreath'd in curls, 
 Which crown white brows in grateful duty; 
 Blow, let us see her golden trail of tresses — 
 Blow, zephyr, touch her cheek with tender-true caresses I 
 
 love, thy art 
 
 Hath won my heart, 
 Which offers at thy feet its treasure, 
 
 And only asks 
 
 The boon of tasks 
 Whose filling may afford thee pleasure — 
 
 Blow, bitter w^ind ! my love hath turn'd and left me ! 
 
 Blow and tell the drooping flow^'rs of all she hath 
 bereft me! 
 
A PARAPHRASE FROM HORACE. 
 
 "• PersicGS odl, jmer, apvarafus.'" 
 
 Mislike me tliese grand banquets of tbe Persians, 
 And' linden wreaths vrliere civic crown should rest; 
 
 Pray, boy, give o'er these profitless excursions 
 For roses blossoming in snowy nest. 
 
 Festoon my halls with many a myrtle garland; 
 
 Its simple elegance the bard beseems, 
 
 Who sits with gods to nectar in the star-land — 
 
 The eerie realm of poesy and dreams! 
 •246 
 
A PARAPHRASE FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 '■' Dein ist mein Berz vnd soil es ewig hhiben.'" 
 
 All nature, dear, shall hear and know my love: 
 The fair earth and the glowing sky above; 
 For on each tree the truth shall be confess'd, 
 And on each pebble of the sea iinpress'd, 
 
 This heart is tliine, and so shall be forever' 
 
 And quick upspringing shall the sprirdvlevl seed. 
 Show God in characteis He loves to read, 
 In leaves unfolding, and in petals fair, 
 And stardike blossoms fragrant in the air, 
 
 This heart is thine, aiid so shall be forever! 
 
 And though the characters may fade away, 
 
 The blossom wither and tlie bark decay, 
 
 The bright stone, wearing, cease to bear thy name, 
 
 No time can alter or erase thy claim — 
 
 My heart is thine, and so shall be forever ! 
 247 
 
THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 
 
 [Translated from the ^^^aeicl, Book V; lines 004-004.] 
 [J/. J. jr.] 
 
 Now first the fickle goddess chang'd her mind, 
 
 And adverse fortunes for the fleet design'd. 
 
 While at the tomb, with various sports, they paii 
 
 Dae honors to the great Anchises' shade, 
 
 Saturnian Juno sends, on heavenly path, 
 
 Iris, her shining messenger of wrath, 
 
 To wreak lier will upon the Trojan fleet. 
 
 And breathes soft zephyrs on her wings and feet, 
 
 Revolving many thoughts within her breast. 
 
 And all her ancient grievance unredress'd. 
 248 
 
THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 249 
 
 The virgin, swiftly speeding down the bow 
 That sparkles with a thousand hues below, 
 Circling the shore with movements strong and fast, 
 Unseen to all, beholds the concourse vast. 
 By lonely ports and silent ships she stands; 
 The Trojan women, on the distant sands, 
 Were mourning still Anchises lost and dear, 
 And gazing on the deep with many a tear. 
 "Alas for us, the wearied, yet there sleep 
 How many a league and labor of the deep ! " 
 This was the voice of all: they seek a home, 
 And grieve the laboring ocean yet to roam. 
 Skill'd in the wiles of mischief, Iris stands, 
 Among the weeping w^om.en on the sands, 
 And puts the goddess off with instant hands. 
 And Beroe she becomes, his aged spouse — 
 Doryclus, the brave Epirote chief; her house, 
 And many a clansman bold and generous boy 
 Conspicuous made her in the tribes of Troy. 
 
250 THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 
 
 Thus slie tlie Trojan wanderers address'd, 
 
 With glowing eyes, wan cheek and heaving breast: 
 
 "0 wretclied ones," she cries, "whom Grecian hand 
 
 Dragg'd not to shiughter in our native land, 
 
 Where once the walls of towering Troy did stand! 
 
 race unhappy, what more hapless state 
 
 Is yet held for you by an adverse fate! 
 
 Since Troy's dread sack, the seventh summer now, 
 
 Has roll'd above us, as, with restless prow. 
 
 Beside far strands and treacherous rocks we row, 
 
 Through stranger straights and unknown stars below ! 
 
 We seek Italian shores across the sea, 
 
 That as we draw anear them, seem to flee, 
 
 While wild waves mocking toss us far and free! 
 
 Here are the friendly bounds of Eryx: here, 
 
 His hospitable court, Acestes dear. 
 
 What hinders walls upon this favoring coasts 
 
 To give a city to the roving host? 
 
 Dear native land, and focal gods of home., 
 
THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 251 
 
 But vainly Fav'd, is there no sheltering dome, 
 And never walls but walls and domes of Troy 
 Where we may yet the bliss of home enjoy? 
 Shall we on cooling streams no vision lift, 
 Save Xanthus bohi and Simo'is the swift? 
 Come, then, and let us burn the cursed ships; 
 For, dim in dreams, the senses' dire eclipse, 
 Cassandra with a kindled torch appear'd, 
 The murder'd sibyl, wandering and wierd. 
 'Here seek ye Troy, for this is home,' she cried; 
 The season favors and the signs beside: 
 Lo, here four altars rais'd. to Neptune's name; 
 The god supplies the fury and the flame I '" 
 
 These thoughts she rouses, and with forcefnl hand 
 She swings and hurls afar the blazing brand. 
 The Trojan women stand with minds of fright, 
 And hearts struck silent by the wondrous sight. 
 Among them only one, an ancient dame, 
 
252 THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 
 
 The nurse of Priam, (Pyrgo was her name), 
 
 Exclaim'd, "0 women, she whom now we note, 
 
 She is not Beroe, the Epirote ! 
 
 See but the signs of heavenly beauty here — 
 
 The radiant eyes that shine divinely clear; 
 
 What spirit has she, what a beaming face, 
 
 And what a voice and what a moving grace ! 
 
 Myself but now left noble Beroe ill, 
 
 And griev'd that fate withstood her pious will, 
 
 To pay due tribute to the mighty shade. 
 
 And mourn where lost Anchises' form is laid ! " 
 
 She rag'cl in vain: the doubting women stood, 
 
 And balanc'd certain with uncertain good. 
 
 They eyed the ships, and lov'd their present ease, 
 
 Yet knew far voices calling from the seas. 
 
 And fate that destin'cl other seats than these. 
 
 While yet they doubted, Iris rose aloft 
 
 On wings wide.pois'd, with motion swift and soft. 
 
THE BURNING OF THE SHIPS. 253 
 
 And cleft a sudden arch athwart the sky. 
 Deep-struck with awe, the women, standing by, 
 Now fir"d with frenzy, scream and seize the brands, 
 And strip the inmost altar where it stands. 
 Some feed the blaze, — as, yet, with languid lips, 
 It swallows piece by piece the fated ships, — 
 With leaves and boughs and branches half consum'd, 
 Till swift the oars and benches are illum'd, 
 What time the flame compels its lurid course. 
 And w^raps the painted prows with fatal force! 
 
POEMS OF ALLEGED HUMOR. 
 FAX FANCIES. 
 
 Light frame of canvas and of wood, 
 
 Salute my lady's face 
 With every air that's soft and good, 
 
 And every breath of grace. 
 
 With gales of Araby the Blest, 
 
 Refresh her fainting sense, 
 
 And fill the pulses of her rest 
 
 With bloom and balm intense. 
 254 
 
FAX FANCIES. 255 
 
 fragile frame of woof and wood, 
 
 Upon thy wings of balm, 
 Wake gentle memories in the blood, 
 
 And dreams of trust and calm. 
 
 That as thy perfum'd airs awake 
 
 The stir and strength of life. 
 Soft reveries on the heart may break, 
 
 With bliss and blessing rife. 
 
 scented frame of wood and woof, 
 
 While thus her spirit dreams, 
 Let not my memory lag aloof, 
 
 A shade among its beams; 
 
 But breathe my name with subtle art 
 Where love's own fancies swell — 
 
 Among the pictures of her heart, 
 A bright, brief space to dwell ! 
 
HER RED RIGOLETTE. 
 
 ABOUT SOMEBODY. 
 
 Let other bards sing of the Pleiades shining, 
 Like fire-flies canght in a glittering braid, 
 
 Of clouds with a sunlit or silvery lining, 
 
 Or morn in her beauty and freshness array'd; 
 
 /know of a beauty more gentle and tender — 
 I wis that its sheen is more luminous yet, 
 
 And that is the glow of her sunny hair's splendor, 
 
 As seen through the braids of her Red Rigolette! 
 A 256 
 
HER RED RIGOLETTE. 257 
 
 The death of the day is with beauty attended — 
 
 The clouds with ricli crimson are tinte'l and stain'd, 
 High-heap'd are the drifts, and the halo is splendid, 
 
 That o'er the lit wave is effulgently rain'd : 
 Air, ocean and earth with the light are resplendent — 
 
 I know of a glory more radiant yet — 
 The hair on her snowy neck carelessly pendant, 
 
 Or bound in the braids of her Red Rigolottel 
 
 Ah, dainty neck, set on the daintier shoulders. 
 
 Each bend has the grace of a blossom or plume I 
 These arch lines of beauty enrapture beholders, 
 
 No less than the downy cheek's roseate bloom. 
 A curve of more exquisite charm has the golden 
 
 And woven hair bound in the silk of her net, 
 Adorning, like flags upon battlements olden, 
 
 This dingy old world through her Red Rigolette 1 
 
•ir>S II ER RED RIGOLETTE. 
 
 A picture is painted of maidens essaying 
 
 To lure us with hooks that are fair to behold. 
 The baits are assorted, and temptingly playing, 
 
 With beauty, or talent, or virtue, or gold: 
 What need that My Lady her hook should be dangling? 
 
 All hearts are decoy'd by the flash of her net; 
 The others may vaunt an occasional angling — 
 
 Sh'^ sweeps the wide stream with her Red Rigolette ! 
 
A MEMORY. 
 
 HEART-BREAK 
 
 Yes, I lov'd her in that time, 
 
 With full heart; 
 It was in my joyous prime, 
 
 Now depart! 
 
 Many years ago it seems 
 
 Since those youthful glooms and gleams, 
 
 Which, like lights and shades in dreams. 
 
 Lift and start. 
 259 
 
260 A MEMORY. 
 
 For the early pangs, I ween, 
 
 Now are dumb; 
 And the raptures in between 
 
 Never bloom ; 
 And life is calm and cool. 
 Like a still and mantled pool, 
 Where tlie sunbeams, broad and full, 
 
 Rarely come. 
 
 Now, whether it were love, 
 
 Or but youth. 
 That did such blisses prove. 
 
 In good sooth, 
 I cannot know nor tell ; 
 But I thought I lov'd her well. 
 And that in my heart did dwell 
 
 Trust and truth. 
 
A MEMORY. 201 
 
 So the bright days glided fast — 
 
 Woe their loss! 
 But roy love, it could not last — 
 
 Sore the cross ! 
 Devotion's offering s\Yeet 
 She swept from her proud feet. 
 As if the gift complete 
 
 Were but dross. 
 
 Well, the daylight seem'd but dark 
 
 As she pass'd ; 
 And my heart will bear the mark 
 
 Till the last; 
 The sign of joys decay 'd, 
 And of hopes that shipwreck made, 
 As the evening glories fade, 
 
 Vague and vast. 
 
•2()2 A MEMORY. 
 
 heart's ease.' ■ 
 
 Bat I was not vanqnisli'd all 
 
 In the strife ; 
 And the worst did not befall 
 
 My young life. 
 There was still one faithful breast 
 Where the weary might have rest, 
 So I went and all confess'd — 
 
 To my ivifcl 
 
He: 
 
 GATE OF PPJARL. 
 
 Heaven send hef li^ppy ^e^t, 
 
 Safe in its l;eeping; 
 Pinions of all the blest, 
 
 Guaiil her while sleeping. 
 
 Dreams from the lighted land 
 Sift through her slumbers; 
 
 Strains from the angel band, 
 Lull with your numbers! 
 
 Love, that is heaven below, 
 
 Gild the dream-breaking, 
 
 That shie may never know 
 
 Sorrow at waking ! 
 263 
 
264 GATE OF PEARL. 
 
 She: 
 
 I was so tir'd, I stept 
 
 Almost like tipsy ; 
 
 But for bad dreams I'd slept 
 
 Sound as a Gipsy. 
 
 Dreamt I was glorified: 
 
 Quite too much sound there 
 
 Too many lights, beside, 
 Hung up around there. 
 
 Felt like a staring loon, 
 
 As I'm a sinner; 
 Glad that I woke so soon — 
 
 Isn't that dinner f 
 
THE BLUE DANUBE. 
 
 silken slippers, fair and white, 
 
 I see you fall in airy dances, 
 As lightly to my raptur'd sight 
 
 As fall the moonbeams' silvery lances. 
 
 0, soft and light as drifting snow, 
 
 That silent falls through nights o' winter, 
 
 Yet stirring all my heart below, 
 
 Like w^armest brand of Gascon vintner ! 
 265 
 
260 
 
 THE BLUE DANUBE. 
 
 The r|ui(;k blood ebbs and iiovvs amain ; 
 
 The eyes are lit with laughing humor 
 Meanwhile, ilnj footsteps move again, 
 
 As rapid as the fabled Rumor; 
 
 A noiseless tread, and yet, I ween, 
 A step wdiose stately hold is royal ; 
 
 Sic Semper ! Thou perforce art Queen, 
 And we, thy circling sul)jects loyal! 
 
VALETE AC PLAUDITE. 
 
 Bread on the waters, bring not back 
 
 The floating sea-weed on your track. 
 
 Nor yet the parasitic seed. 
 
 And barnacles in deeps that breed : 
 
 Nor yet too soak'd nor salt be found. 
 
 What time your cruise is homeward bound 
 
 In fine, be neither less nor worse, 
 
 Than when you shippM upon your course. 
 
 Bread on the waters, land at home 
 The wealth and wonders of the foam ; 
 Let amber, pearl and coral-comb, 
 Select their nest within your crumb : 
 Or land, at least, with humbler spoil- 
 Fish, flotsam, spermaceti, oil : 
 And we, to pay the Fates their favor, 
 Will vow to keep on shore forever ! 
 
GUERDON. 
 
 'I'he rivers unravel 
 
 The brooks from their leas, 
 And after wide travel 
 
 Subside in the seas. 
 
 With notes soft as satin, 
 The birds that unite 
 
 To welcome the matin 
 Are silent at night. 
 
 The poet's emotion 
 Is hush'd as the birds, 
 
 And sinks in the ocean 
 Of songs without words. 
 
 And men, as they pilfer 
 The thoughts he unroll'd. 
 
 Say, speech may be silver, 
 But silence is gold.