DriftwcDd and roeou Cajfy F.Jacob Cbiss r^uD C -^ rf':^ COPYRKiHT DEPOSIT. DRIFTWOOD AND FOAM BY GARY F. JACOB W BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1914 m -5 1914 Copyright, 1914 Sherman, French & Company >CI.A37C:187 ^» CONTENTS PAGE An August Night 1 Lancelot to Guinevere 9 An Opium Dream 11 A Child's Address to the Deity . . .12 Altissima 13 The Violin at Evening 14 Daydreams 15 Precocity 16 To MY Mother . 17 Requiescat 18 Little Girl 19 I Sought a Path that I had Known in Childhood 20 To THE Blue Ridge Mountains . . . . 21 Jerusalem^ Accursed 22 Somehow 23 Summer's Asleep 24 It is Rest that I Ask 25 Strange Incense 26 Are We TO Blame ? 27 October 28 The Burden of Conscience 29 I DO NOT Fear the Rough Wind's Might . 31 The Mocking Bird 32 Driftwood and Foam 33 Her Love 34 With the Tide 35 Before the Wind 36 A Valentine 37 PAGE Idols 38 When I have Seen your Eyes Aglow . . 89 Life's Way 40 His Father Plans 41 The Bishop Argues a Point 44 Rain in the Streets 47 At the City's Gate 48 Our Minstrel 50 After Fifty Years 52 A Hymn of Conquest .54 There Hangs a Veil 58 Pere 59 DRIFTWOOD AND FOAM AN AUGUST NIGHT The sultry, humid moon looks down o'er fields Of ripening corn, whose tassels bend beneath Their fecund pollen-weight and shake the golden Powder thickly o'er the filling ears. A line of hazy blue marks where the mist Arises from a little, sullen stream, Too weak of hope to babble to itself, Too weak of will to struggle toward the sea. Within the pool the frogs croak drowsily. Or from the bank with sudden splash drop in. Shaking an echo gently through the reeds. The whippoorwill calls low, monotonous. Then rises in the air to sink again To earth with half-spread wings. Dim stars and few Glow in the northern sky, Andromeda And the Great Bear, the Cross and Pegasus, While in the south, alone the constellation Sagittarius still holds its watch. A night when lovers should not stray abroad. When kisses scorch the lips on which they fall ; A night too still for sleep, too passionate For dreams. No breeze to waft the thought away From sensuous things, and yet enough to fan The cheek and set imagination's course [1] Across the wood and on toward where a glow, Too faint to call a light, hangs in the east, A pale excrescence such as comets leave Behind, when from their bodeful paths they turn Aside to flash upon the eyes of men A message from the unknown universe. The city rests, if ever cities rest. They know not sleep. From out foul cavern- dens The sweltering, low-browed human-vermin creep To blistering roofs, or loll in listless groups About the streets. A little child has falPn Asleep upon the curb and lies almost Beneath the thousand trampling feet. Who cares? A mother tries to still a fretful babe. Then nods to wake aghast from a wild dream. A beating din, and gnomish shapes flit back And forth before a dreadful, glaring light. A furnace belches flame; a drunkard reels. A tall church looks sedately down and draws Its skirt of tombs about its feet, wishing To help, but still too fearful of a spot To lift a fallen sinner from the dirt. The rich have fled to seek their ease, and left Behind them hunger, pestilence, and death. [2] Along the beach the tide Is full and laps Without a murmur on the beaten sand, Pushing the briny rime from ocean's lip At each faint swell a scanty inch up shore. Ten legion legion teem with laugh and shout In dripping sport full shoulder deep, while there A tired head goes down unseen to seek Its rest, not caring how the surf may toss Its lifeless limbs about. Som.e swimmer, spent, Clings to a drowning friend and calls in vain For help; while farther up the seething press. On pleasure bent, makes merry at a clown's Loose jest, or wileful women lure weak boys To their destruction, where by night a son In one mad whirl unravels all the years Of labor that a father's patient care Has wrought into a priceless tapestry. A mighty ship glides from its dock and steams With courage out to sea to bring again Its human freight to — ^what? Excess of toil, Excess of vice, excess of revelry. Can this be all? Ah, is it all? — Thank God, The breeze has stirred at last and loosened white A foamy breaker on the quiet deep. The corntops ripple, and the hot roofs crack. The gay crowd pauses long enough for one Swift breath. — [3] Can this be all? Why strive? Why wed and bring an anxious pack of cares About our heels, if this be all? The breeze Awakes and fans the brow of wanton and Of saint. A stranger lifts the little child And seeks for it a quiet resting place. The mother and her babe repose serene In azure-lidded sleep. A good priest takes The drunkard in and bathes his fevered head. The moon goes down ; the stars come out. They shine On mountain and on sea. Above the crags In snow-clad peace the peaks in grandeur touch The sky. Out there the broad horizon dips And rims a circle round the ocean's verge. O Christ, to such a world as this you came And lived your message so divinely good. About you surged the Galilean press And cried for bread. Capernaum you saw Across the hills and wept. To you, an hour Ere your agony, the children sang. You were a man, were such a man as we! Your great heart stirred to all the passion of A sin-sick world until you doubted, too. If there were right or good; and all alone You sat beneath the stars and calmed your soul Amid the wilderness. Gethsemane You knew, and in that stillness born of God Sought out the way of truth and right. Christ, You were a man, the man of men, a soul So pure, so high, that men (O foolish men!) Have named you half divine. You were divine. All, all divine. What need for shepherds' tale Have we, of angel hosts proclaiming to The hallowed night a babe's nativity? What need of veil of temple rent in twain .^^ Can terror lurk in darkness when the soul For once has glimpsed the everlasting light? Do shining ones beside an empty tomb Alone reveal man's immortality ? Away with myths and miracles. Does not The existence of the universe attest An order and a purpose more sublime Than all chaotic, momentary sway O'er winds and waters, demons and the grave? Nature transcended is but nature still. From death itself arises life. Is God So weak, so erring in His will, that He Repents, that He can curse His work? Can cry For vengeance and for blood ? Can be appeased By reeking sacrifice? You came from Him. Thence came we all. You knew His fatherhood. His love; and the pure flame almost consumed The very flesh in which you moved. Oh, could We, too, but know, but see as you have seen! We are not cattle browsing in the field, [5] Content to rear our young, to feed, to die. We are not beasts that tear and rend. Like you, Within the dark we feel an impulse. We Would know, that we may steer our course aright. We look abroad. The surging mass cries out In agony to us for aid. What can We give.'^ What is a garment here and there.? A little food.'* Why should we eke existence out If we are swallowed by the deep at last.'* O Christ, the truth you saw, a golden thread. Has drawn us through all ages past, still draws Us on. Oh, could we know as you have known ! We need not then grope in the dark. Oh, did You really, wholly know.'* Or rather did You, too, not feel, and trust to Him with Whom Is perfect light .?^ — ^We do not know; as yet. We do not know ; but we can feel, can long For truth, can lay our heads upon the heart Of earth and hear its beat, can weep with it, Can work, can dry our tears, can sing awhile, Can wait. Those silent watchers of the night Whose vision sweeps the vast expanse behold The universe move on unerring in Its path. They see it move but one brief space, [6] And, seeing this, with certainty can tell Us where to-morrow it will be. They do Not need to scan its trackless course. Knowing a little, they can prove the rest. Oft have we peered into the mystery, Have traveled oft and oft upon the long, Long way that stretches ever out and on Before the weary sight, have learned by rote A stage or two, but have not grasped the truth That shall reveal all eons past- — to-day, To-morrow, and all time — ^united, one. Some things we know, but know in part, as yet. And knowing partly, cannot hail the end. Perhaps it is but just beyond— yet still Beyond. Perhaps the vision is too bright For human eyes that are not ready yet To see. One thing we know, — that we are men. And, being men, would read our destiny. O God, we would not see the shame alone! We, too, would catch the irisated gleam About us. We would feel with those who mourn. And not grow callous with despair, would feel Their woe and still have hope. O God, Keep us divine and living souls ! Let us Not sink again ! The purpose that has led Us through the past, oh, let it lead us still! Oh, let us know! No creed is broad enough, No faith so high that it can compass alL [7] God, work Thou in us ! Teach us to know. Knowing, we cannot doubt, we cannot blame. With Thee all things are good and purposeful, Are right. Teach us to know. The truth that in The past has burned goes ever brighter on Before. Shekinah like it leads. Oh, let Us learn that we may work with Thee to-day ! Oh, let us love! Oh, let us seek the souls Akin in hope to ours ! Let us be men ! Thou'st made us what we are ; yet led by Thee We can be more. O God, teach us to know ! [8] LANCELOT TO GUINEVERE On the day on which he first declared his love. To-day we have wandered together From morning to setting of sun — Shall we swear that nothing shall sever These hearts that now beat as one? I have looked in your eyes so tender And drunk from the fount of your soul; Ah, what in return shall I render — A promise of love never cold? Ah, sweetheart, the night's closing round us; Atremble's the fast fading west — Oh, tell me, the love that has bound us. Shall it pale and go out with the rest? After dark shall there come a to-morrow? Shall I waken for you, you for me? Will our love be a joy or a sorrow, A bitter or sweet memory? Ah, sweetheart, I fear the dark portal That closes at last for all men ; Change comes with the night — and, immortal, Shall we e'er love so wildly again? [9] O fool, thus to dally, uncertain! In shadow is wrapped the far pine. Come, Darkness, down, down with thy curtain! You, love, and the hour are mine! [10] AN OPIUM DREAM Over the languid poppy field The eastern breeze breathes low; The drowsy senses gently yield, The ebbing pulse-beat slow. Eternity and yesterday Are blended into one — No evening light to die away, No rising of the sun. Across the mountain peak there floats A little, milky cloud. The silken sail of fairy boats In rainbow mist ashroud. Row in, row out, or linger there Upon the rocking Nile, Or seek some lilied meadow where Soft India's women smile. Ah, do not move ; ah, do not stir ; But watch their breathing tresses. Ah, do not move; as tiger's purr, So soft are their caresses. Dream ever, ever — ne'er to wake; No thought, no plan, no will; Hearing the tender songs they make. Feeling their kisses still. [11] A CHILD'S ADDRESS TO THE DEITY Dear God, I cannot tell What wonders Thou hast wrought for me; I do not question Thee As how my path shall lead O'er stony cliff or into quiet dell: I only know that in the evening breeze I hear Thy voice ; The sky, the wood, the trees, — All speak to me. It is enough that they, my friends through choice, Have taught me of the bond of brotherhood That binds us to the weakest of our kind — To see in each some good That shadows the divine Within. So pitiful we are, So careless of our sin. So frail; Yet, loving Thee and these. Dear God, it cannot be That we shall fail. [12] ALTISSIMA Words are profanation. Of old the Israelite With reverence bowed his head; To shield from desecration. Enwrapped in might And mystery. He left that sacred name unsaid. Within the stillness of the night, He sought the shores of Galilee And worshipped there. How great in time the sea That rolls between That spot and where To-day we stand! Yet, up ! Look up ! far, far above ! Still may be seen Across the canopy on high. Writ in the language of the sky, Unchanged, unchangeable, the same: I AM. Beneath that Name (Oh, read and bow in awe, thou soul !) Upon the everlasting scroll Engraven standeth: Love. [13] THE VIOLIN AT EVENING Hush ! Primeval yearning Stirs in the breathless air ; All of the heart's deep burning, From pain to music turning, Is whispered as in prayer. Now merry, mazy measures. And madly flying feet; Now glowing, panting pleasures, The ruby-silken treasures Of warm lips as they meet. Now bird song after twilight; Now only purple gleam. As of September sky-light — The afterglow, the die-light. Of Summer's golden dream. O heart, O hope, O vision Of all things fair to be! Voice of the far elysian Beyond all time's transition ! Soul of eternity! [14] DAYDREAMS Foolish thoughts of an idle day, That into my fancy flit and stray, Of times that were and are yet to be, As bright as the clouds and as glad as the sea Out there on the rim where they meet and play. Ah, glad was I, as glad as they, Till I stopped to listen, to bid them stay. Till I caught the burden they whispered me. These idle thoughts. There's a throb in my pulse, try as I may My feverish will cannot allay, That rises and struggles to be free. To slip with the wind and the tide, the lee, Onward and outward and ever away, Since I stopped to listen to what they say, These foolish thoughts. [16] PRECOCITY A farmer's daughter six years old, His tenant's lad of eight. "I'll marry you when we grow up, If you will only wait." It was the little girl proposed To the reluctant youth, Who with swift candor shook his head And blurted out the truth: "I'd rather not promise quite yet. Because I love another ; And, if I can, when I grow up, I think I'll marry mother." Thus all our little hopes of sand Go trickling through our fingers. In wiser years, to take their place, A pleasant memory lingers. [16] TO MY MOTHER Thy tender features o'er me bend, Thy hand upon my brow Caressingly, I feel again, As it were now. Ah, there was pride in thy caress, The future golden-clear — love! that thou shouldst know distress, Or life be drear. Hope was not shattered at one stroke; It crumbled day by day. As morning after morning broke. Unchanging gray. Some plan thou hast cherished for me, dear. With each day's sun has set — My strength is less than that, I fear. Of other men — and, yet. Thy tender features o'er me bend. Thy breath is in my hair — What matters all that fate can send So deeper love be there! [17] REQUIESCAT Hush, baby, hush: let no tear be shed Over our slumberer here; But leave a kiss on her lips instead. Let your fingers play in her wavy hair. As softly now she sleeps. So white her throat — let a rose lie there. No, baby, we must not awaken her; Peacefully let her dream — Her bosom almost appears to stir. She was so tired, baby dear; But now she rests quietly. Kiss her good-night; we must leave her here. O baby, it seems my heart will break — Her slumber will last so long; Yet we must bear it for her sweet sake. [18] LITTLE GIRL You have broken my heart, little girl. With your wayward and clinging caresses. With your laughing blue eyes, and your tresses Blown out by the wind in a whirl. Through the glad, sunny slope of the years. With your mouth sweet, and dimples beguiling, You have broken my heart with your smiling From your innocent eyes stained with tears. I have found you a treasure of pearl With your wanton, bewitching excesses, With your wayward and clinging caresses ; Yet you've broken my heart, little girl. [19] I SOUGHT A PATH THAT I HAD KNOWN IN CHILDHOOD To-day I sought a path that I had known And loved in childhood; But bush and briar had overgrown The way, and stood Thick-matted where the pansies then had blown. The spring that once had cooled my tired brow Was filled with leaves and moss ; The little pond was empty now; I watched across The sun-baked clay the furry cat-tails bow. The stump where once I saw the fairy sprite (Alas ! I've found Things far more real than she have vanished quite!) Had fallen to the ground. And weeds had hidden it from sight. My castle-rock was but a bare, brown stone (I do not understand Where all its grandeur can have gone) ; On every hand Was change, and what I'd longed to find had flown. [20] TO THE BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS When Spotswood and his hundred knights first spied Afar thy swelling crests and drew from out Their scabbards every gleaming blade, a shout Arose as when at flood some mighty tide Comes rolling on the beach, and far and wide Its echo like the spray was tossed about. Then, hushed and silent, every man, though stout His heart, in awe his helmet laid aside. Sublime in solemn grandeur, towering where Thy purple summit peak on peak arose. Against the evening sky in regal state The mystic past lay couched. Before them there Millenniums lay sleeping in repose Too deep to heed the trumpet-call of fate. [21] JERUSALEM, ACCURSED Jerusalem, thou tarnished name, writ high Among the noblest cities of the past, How justly art thou now abased! At last, We know thee as thou art. The mighty lie, — That thou shalt live the glory of the sky. Arising from the furious, fiery blast Of this consumed world, to-day is massed And branded with tradition's shame. Defy The truth no longer : — ^Leaving the green sward And mountain slope to dwell within thy wall. The Jew upraised thy gaudy-templed gates apart On Zion, there to barter peace of God. Then like to Egypt's stinging blight did fall The stain of thy pollution o'er his heart ! [22] SOMEHOW Ah, do you remember the morning Long ago when we said good-bye? Through the mist came the rush of the river ; Night hovered aloft in the sky. So early it was that the dew, love. Dripped down through the leaves everywhere, Shaking its cold drops about us As we awaited the ferryman there. His boat came from over the river ; And softly, ere yet it was day. It bore you out to a shore, love. That ever seems farther away. I thought you were beautiful then, love, I think you are beautiful now ; But the mist has crept in between, love. And your beauty is altered somehow. The eyes that I thought would be mine, love, The lips that I thought were for me, Have suffered a change, somehow, love, A change that I, only, can see. Perhaps 'tis the mist on the river. Perhaps 'tis the mist in my heart ; Yet, I know that the day brings no clearing, That something still holds us apart. [23] SUMMER'S ASLEEP Summer's asleep on the hill. Lying under the trees, Rippled o'er by the breeze, Her limbs are stretched, rosy and still. The cattle have eaten their fill. The heat is ashimmer; The fields are aglimmer; The plowman goes plodding; Corn tassels are nodding; The catbird is panting Just where the twig's slanting ; Through the meadow goes sparkling the rill. With tired lids, listless and still. Cheeks redder than cherries. Lips stained with wild berries, Lies Summer asleep on the hill. [24] IT IS REST THAT I ASK I AM tired of living to-night, Tired of joys and of fears; Tired of love and of hate; Tired of laughter and tears. Yet, I cannot, in clasping my hands, Pray to the Giver of Light That I, too, like the hour of eve. Softly may sink into night. It is rest — only rest that I ask; Rest that my limbs may grow strong. That, resuming my burden, I may Greet the new mom with a song. [25] STRANGE INCENSE A TINY, tangled head bent down Within a city's gutter — A laughing face of tan and brown Amid the rubbish of the town. Mud-pies and broken glass all day Bring fairyland from far away To thee, sweet innocence, at play. But mud-pies blacken; glass gives pain; And laughing eyes are turned to gain Mid cold and hunger, snow and rain. God shield thee, tangled head bent down Within a city's gutter! Poor lily of the noisome town ! Strange incense, shed o'er stranger ground! [26] ARE WE TO BLAME? Beneath the canopy of night They touch the passerby; A whispered word — then lost to sight. Are we to blame for this? Are you or I? Within the gilded den The whirling dance goes round ; Some gay, some sad, they turn, and then- Are we to blame for this? A life in shame goes out, And no one questions why. Or cares how this was brought about. We cannot be to blame, Can you or I? [27] OCTOBER I HEAR the myriad murmur Of gently falling leaves, The hushed and broken sobbing Of Nature as she grieves, Not in the mad, wild wailings That mourn a love new slain. But in that calmer grief for one Who comes not back again. Her sorrow creeps upon me Like an opiate at last. And I feel a vague, deep yearning For an hour long since past. 'Tis a strange, sweet melancholy, Untouched by a regret. With no longing for the future. No present to forget; Only to dream, to listen, Enwrapped by autumn's spell. Enchanted by the music Of the brook within the dell. [28] THE BURDEN OF CONSCIENCE O God ! To be born with a conscience ! To bear the weight of sin ! To feel with the lowly Jesus The love for men within, And ever to see them stumble And mingle with the clay The beauty that God has fashioned To grace his perfect day ! To see how the weak are fettered, By passion overthrown; To see the strong will mastered, And wild destruction sown; In hearts that were made for loving. To see there rancour hate. Till naught is left but sorrow And cursing against fate! O God ! To be born with a conscience ! To be bom with a wish to save! Yet ever before you yawning The chasm of the grave, And into it stricken and helpless To see the millions fall. Ere came one chance for living Pressed close within its wall! [29] This thing of evolution, These countless years of woe, While by in slow procession Eons on eons go! O God! To be born with a conscience! To feel the weight of sin ! And not to know the wherefore Of this ceaseless cry within! [80] I DO NOT FEAR THE ROUGH WIND'S MIGHT TO POLYHYMNIA I HAVE heard all day the lap of the waves, Caressing a golden shore, And ever in breaking they seem to say, "Come over, come over, come o'er." They promise me rest and friendship sweet; They tell of awaiting love; And they bid me sail ere the stormy gale Sweep furiously above. But I do not fear the rough wind's might; I dread the golden shore. What could love or friendship mean to me, If I had you no more? 'Tis true that the waves have a luring swell. But I will not hear them break. Let me live for you; let me die for you — Yea, perish for your sake ! [81] THE MOCKING BIRD At midnight I arose. A host of stars Looked coldly down upon a world of snow; Enwrapped within a ghostly shroud of ice, The pines made mourning, rocking to and fro. A soft, sweet tremor shook the air And waked an echo set to summer's tune — Then, lo! a song that flooded all the night With the full glory of the August moon! [32] DRIFTWOOD AND FOAM Driftwood and foam — ^between and round about The rising tide comes surging in and out; Across the rocks the breakers race and reach, And rush with thunder on the hard, white beach And up the shore. And yestermorning, hke a sylvan lake. With blue-eyed smiling as if just awake. The sea reflected every cloud that sped (A snow-flecked gull with downy wings out- spread) Across the sky. A lordly craft, its canvas filled, at noon Sailed gayly out toward where the crescent moon In fading leaves a single yellow star. To-day among the rocks — a broken spar^ — Driftwood and foam. Driftwood and foam cast up along the shore. And hearts whose hopes are dead forevermore — A life whose gallant craft at noon set sail To distant port^ — the night — ^the rocks — the gale- Driftwood and foam. [33] HER LOVE Like to the frost on the desert sand, Like to the foam on the sea, Like to the nettle within the hand, Was the love that she gave to me. [84] WITH THE TIDE Sailing down a sunlit river With the bright mist on the lea ; Sailing down a sunlit river As the tide goes out to sea. Sailing down a sunlit river, Blows the light breeze from the lea ; Sailing down a sunlit river As the tide goes out to sea. Sailing down a leaden river, Gray mist creeping from the lea; Wrapped within a phantom river. As the tide goes out to sea. Drifting down an unseen river — Hark ! A voice floats o'er the lea ; Drifting down a silent river. By the tide borne out to sea. [36] BEFORE THE WIND Fung out, fling out our happy sail, And set it to the wind; Good cheer to greet us shall not fail, The harbor far behind. The white foam flecks our flying keel; The mast is forward bent; The bounding pulse within we feel; And with the spray is sent On high, on high, up to the sky. Our glad, exulting song. And answering to the sea-bird's cry Is borne the waves along. Away, away, both night and day To greet the ocean swell. And not a fleeting second stay From morn to evening bell. Then speed, oh, speed, for naught we heed. But onward with the gale; Wherever Neptune's wand may lead. We sail, we sail, we sail! [36] A VALENTINE The leaves were budding then, my love; The hills stretched green and fair; And with the breathing of my vow Mingled the balmy air. The leaves have fallen now, my love. And snow-crowned stands the hill; Yet warmly beats for thee a heart That winter cannot chill. [37] IDOLS In sooth, we fashion every day Our little gods of common clay. Our little gods of greed and lust, And store them in some niche away. And kneel before them in the dust — Our little gods in whom we trust. But, when, in quiet hours apart. The evening light steals o'er our heart. Our little gods on whom we call. Our cherished idols of the mart, Down from their niche within the wall. Like shards in fragments round us fall. Yet, ere the miracle of light Its roses casts at fleeing night. Our hands their labors have begun To set each broken piece aright. And build them over every one For worship at the rise of sun. [38] WHEN I HAVE SEEN YOUR EYES AGLOW When I have seen your eyes aglow, Within your hand the crimson flask, And heard in foolish torrents flow Your words, beneath the Bacchanalian mask Your truer self looked forth at me^ — And I have stood aghast And stricken. — Oh, the horror, love, to see You thus! With all my heart I've longed to flee And could not ; to keep back the tears I've laughed; and, as its echo came to me, I've sickened: in its hollow sound the jeers Of demons intermingled With all the weeping that the years Might bring. — O love, is this to be For us ? [39] LIFE'S WAY The way of the world is old, But its windings are new to me ; I clamber with joy o'er the wold, And I shout when I come to the sea. The longing which stirs in my heart Is rife with a world-old pain; Yet the tears which in penitence start Gush forth in a blinding rain. Love is as old as the hills ; Yet the passion which rises in me Exults and surges and thrills Like the tide sweeping in from the sea. The way of the world is old; But the wayside sparkles with dew As I watch where the flowers unfold And seek for life's meaning anew. [40] HIS FATHER PLANS Whose desk is that? — ^Why, sir. It's for my son; I'm glad you like It better than the one I use; but this Is good enough for me. Some thirty years I've had It, and, you see, With time I've grown attached to every blot. Each one recalls a case. That, sir, that spot Brings back the night before my maiden- speech — But I'll not give the history of each. Why, yes, I've fixed the office up a bit In hope, you see, to make It better fit With his Ideas. He's off at college now; But summer brings him home ; and I, somehow, Have set my heart to keep him here with me A while. I wanted him to study law, you see ; To take my place and reap the benefit Of all my toll ; but he Is not a whit Inclined to "poring over musty books." He'd be an engineer. Just now It looks As though he'll have his will ; but wait a while. I let him go to college (what! you smile?); I let him study where and what he would. A man must mingle with the world. He should Have seen a thousand things before he turns To his life's work. What though to-day he bums [41] To build a bridge? — Why, let him know how they Are screwed and riveted; and then, I say, To-morrow he will want to tame a horse, Be president, or something worse. The young were ever so. My plan is this (And, sir, I cannot see why it should go amiss) : To have him spend a pleasant summer here ; Give him enough to do — an engineer Or lawyer, then what difference can it make To him? I'll let him see that it's for his sake; I'll talk to him — not tease him nor command — Of all the good (of course, you understand?) To be derived. 'Twould take him twenty years (That he'd succeed at last, I have no fears), At least, to build himself a business such As I have ready here to give him. Much That I have striven for would thus be lost. Let him go over things with me ; the cost (Why, he is sensible!) must soon appear Too great — to have his will, a trifle dear. Of course, he'll take to law instead. This minute it has come into my head, Five years from now, why, sir, I can retire — Leave him the business, everything. — Desire More ? He must be off* a year or two For study ; — ^but there are summers — ^true. A man of his capacity could learn Much, aye, very much, let him but turn His head to it; and, sir, with me to show [42] Him everything, 'tcould not take long, you know. Tilt, tut, why, man, the time has long since passed When lawyers needed eloquence! At last The man of brains and business tact now goes Ahead of him who makes fine words and those Who waste their time in politics. He, well, Has sense and character. My friend, I tell You plainly, you can never hope to find A man more pleasing, or of better mind. Let him but set his head to it, I say. And he'll be worth a good, round sum one day. I'll win him over, never fear. Let's see — If you can come to have a talk with me Next week, he should be sitting in that chair — Fine eyes he has, sir, and his mother's hair — I am his father, sir; you'll pardon me? — Come in again and sit awhile ; you'll see. [43] THE BISHOP ARGUES A POINT What, thou hast come to me against my will! Have not the holy fathers told thee oft That this thou askest is forbidden by The Church? And who am I to set aside Its holy law? The canons of the Lord Must stand though earth and heaven should perish all. What need to argue more? — His rule is mild, You say ; He would not see disease and shame With leaden weight press down a guiltless one. — Thou understandest not. Did He forbear The shame of Pilot's hall, I ask. The cross, Was it too heavy to be borne by Him? Thus shouldst thou bear thine own with cheer- fulness. He bore it that the world might be re- deemed? — How canst thou say it was not for thine own Redemption that this cross has come to thee? Perhaps, from this same wedlock may arise A people's captain and a nation's judge. — What, what! There, too, might be an idiot born? — Perish the thought ! From foul iniquity Itself the Lord has reared a prophet more Than once. Wedlock is holy, preordained [44] From the foundation of the world. Make room For license, what vexed matron would not run To lay aside this holy bond? Tell me, What libertine but would not find a bride Each night, and on the morrow put away? To free thyself thou wouldst involve the race In degradation. Bars cannot come down. Or every sheep will flee the shepherd's fold. From out the great confines of time and space, God draws two souls together. Then the Church Unites them at its sacramental altar. When God has sanctioned, there can be no wrong, — Except in seeking to annul His high Decree. Think not of that. Your fates are one. Bear with humility thy lot ; and, if He strike thee on thy right cheek, turn the left. It is the law of love. — The Master said That man for Sabbaths was not made, but they For him? — ^Wouldst thou misquote the Holy Writ? For shame ! But what has that in point with this? 'Twas spoken of the Sabbath. — ^What! Our men And women labor on that day? High feasts [45] Are held, and every churchman eats his fill? — How should we, then, commemorate the day On which the Master rose, if not with cheer? The Sabbath thou wouldst have us keep passed, too. With Jewish rites and rituals. We keep A Christian Sabbath in the Christian way. — This law might be a relic of the East, Perhaps, and of the time when women sold Themselves upon the market place, if so It was their lord's command.? — Perhaps The devil is not in thy brain, nor seeks To change the Scripture to his impious will! Enough, I'll speak to thee no more of this! Thou art, God wot, almost an infidel! — The Church has made thy life a curse to thee, And sets a hell to surging in thy breast? Thou canst not bear his blows and curses one More day! — Beware! I say to thee, beware! Better a thousand curses borne on earth Than once to loose the everlasting curse Of Heav'n. I say, beware! I'll not discuss For thy rebellious questioning the laws Of the Great Maker and the Holy Church. Go, lock thyself within thy chamber; pray; For thou art very near to being damned. [46] RAIN IN THE STREETS The splash of the rain on the pavement ; Dull treading of struggling feet; A torrent of mud in the gutters ; A rivulet dammed in the street. At the corner the dripping policeman Stands guard on his watery beat. The wheels of the carriages jostle, Scattering drops thick and brown; The bell of the motorman jingles — - A car with its curtains drawn down. To a world of gum-coats and umbrellas The sun has abandoned the town. In doorways groups that are pausing. With anxious gaze turned tow'rd the sky ; While newsboys crying their papers. And women with wet skirts drawn high, Old men, strangely dazed, in confusion, And young ones, go hurrying by. The crowding of men and of women, In sorrow, in joy, and in pain; The task that at daylight awaits them. With dark drawing homeward again; In the streets ever rushing and pressing; O'er all the gray sky and the rain. [47] AT THE CITY^S GATE The King sat by the gate at sunrise And watched the people thronging to the town. Upon the purple mountain fell the sunrise, And the harvest rippled glad on every hill. In his heart there beat the glory of the sun- shine ; In his pulse there flowed the gladness of the hills, As he watched the people laden with the har- vest Stream past and lose themselves within the town. Then the King arose and called unto the people ; Pointed outward toward the glory of the sun- shine ; Called, "Behold the gladness of the hills !" Yet no eye was raised to greet the sunshine; No shout proclaimed the glory of the hills; Till the evening fell, and with the purple shadows Fell a shadow like a mantle o'er the King. Still past him through the shadow moved the people. Nor heeded yet his cry, "Behold the hills !" Then the King grew angry in the twilight, Seized a sack and cast it to the ground. In amazement looked the man upon him; Shook his head in answer to the King; [48] Dumbly raised his burden to his shoulder, And passed with gray locks bent into the town. Then the King in anger seized another And strewed its golden grain upon the ground. In amazement looked the youth about him, Let the grain lie scattered o'er the ground; With a shout he pointed toward the valley, With a cry beheld the purple of the hills. And the King knelt down within the twilight. Filled again with golden grain the empty sack. While the youth with rapture gazed about him. Heeding not the King upon the ground. There with the purple shadows clasped about them. With the purple shadows on the ground. King and peasant watched the sunset; Then together bore their burden into town. [49] OUR MINSTREL TO M. E. M. We hear a tinkling in the dark, A voice so low we barely mark The melody that softly steals A little way across the fields. Our minstrel ! He plays to us a happy tune Of elfin sprites beneath the moon, Or waltzers gay who touch the hands Of maidens dark in southern lands. Our minstrel! He sings how lovers far away Send kisses passionate to say They think of sweethearts far more dear Than in the hour when they were near, Our minstrel! And, yet, before the song is done. Almost before it has begun. Our eyes are wet — we know not why — Our hearts are stirring with a cry. Our minstrel ! [50] Ah, what is it for which you plead? Of what is it your soul has need? Our pulse is answering with a throb ; Our voice is shaken by a sob, Our minstrel! Oh, come, nor linger at the door; Our hearts stand open evermore To bid you cease a further quest. To give you welcome, love's own guest. Our minstrel! [51] AFTER FIFTY YEARS I PASSED him once upon the street and marked him not Until a stranger, half in awe, whispered a name, And pointed after him, a name almost forgot; But at its sound a sudden throbbing swept along My pulse. He turned his face. Across the surging throng I gazed with beating heart upon the thin, firm lips ; The forehead high, o'erhung with thick white locks, brushed back As if the fierce wind of the charge still blew through them; A nose aquiver yet as when his eyes of black. Sweeping the ranks, each coward rooted to his place ; Pale cheeks and finely cut. With firm and even pace He moved, as firmly as upon the day he caught His banner on his sword, then brandished it, and gave The fierce, dread word to charge, — a man ten thousand men Had followed where the cannon's jaws had yawned — a grave ; [52] Then closed — a hell; whose swift descent how oft had brought Dumb terror to the foeman's heart; who had been born A demon-geniused god of war. A general when A fair-cheeked boy, he'd been too rashly proud to yield Or own defeat, upon that fatal April day Beating his captors back, still master of the field, A hero of an ^ age unconquered now as then. Alone, unheralded, he turned and went his way, — A simple, dignified old gentleman in gray. [63] A HYMN OF CONQUEST The nations have builded them navies To battle for the deep; Their armies, numbered by millions, Eternally vigils keep. And mothers have lifted their babies To see the gay squadrons go by, Have praised the gleaming banners As they flaunted beneath the sky. And poets have sung of the captains And the honors that they have won. Of the glory of the battle Beneath the noonday sun; Have sung of the glory of conquest. Forgetting the carnage and slain. Forgetting the widowed mother And the orphan brought forth in pain. They have sung the proud returning Of the triumphal car. Forgetting the greed and passion That breed relentless war. [54] They have called it patriotism And laureled the victor's brow, When shame should have filled the rulers And caused their heads to bow. II The nations have builded their navies And conquered the restless deep ; Their armies, guarded by thousands. Lie down on their arms to sleep. Oh, when will they wake to their folly? Oh, when will come the day When the sword will rest in its scabbard And the musket be laid away; When the strong, no longer oppressors. Shall champion the weak. And each in the good of the other His own best good shall seek; When none shall cry for mercy ; When justice shall hold sway From the paling of the morning star To the rise of a new day; When the nations shall cease their strivings, And each be unto each As a true and loyal brother. Living the gospel they preach; [55] When men, their souls untrammeled, Shall seek the good they crave; When joy shall crown their labors, Returning what they gave? Ill Let the nations build them their navies From the south to the polar star; Aye, let them gather their armies And scatter them afar. Rejoice in the might of the battle! Rejoice in the day yet to be When sham shall be stripped of its tinsel And the people from ignorance free! The day of triumph and conquest, But stainless of murderous gore. When the conquered march forward in phalanx. Strewing their flowers before! Let mothers proclaim to their children The victories their fathers have won. And let the poets sing them Of the fight 'neath the noonday sun ! [56] How their prowess has strengthened com- merce And throttled monstrous war, And given hopeful plenty Such as the earth never saw! Let the nations build them their navies And bid destruction cease; Aye, let them gather their armies In universal peace! [67] THERE HANGS A VEIL Between my soul and yours there hangs a veil That I have striven oft and oft to clutch And rend; but ever at the slightest touch It parts like airy gossamers that sail O'er morning meadows; yet I ne'er break through To where there stands the very inmost soul of you. Beneath the noonday sun a darkness falls On us ; you see me dimly and my smile Is deeply shadowed, though my heart the while Is all aflame with love. My spirit calls Aloud; yet, in the darkness wildly tossed, Only the echo reaches you, its meaning lost. Ah, this for which we long — ^to stand before* Each other with our highest thoughts re- vealed. The pain and striving of our lives unsealed, Our love with all its precious, tear-stained store, — Must be denied us now. But wait; within the blue Of ethers yet unknown I will return to you. [58] PERE No, no. You must not call me generous; You must not say that I have always placed Myself behind, and thought alone of others. You could not read my thoughts ; you could not know That in each little kindly act I pleased Myself, and sought through all, in all, my gain. How many years I've drunk, rejoicing, your Sweet praise, until at times my spirit, light With this clear wine, has mounted high, far higher Than is meet that men should soar. Not so to-night. The New Year comes— the last, perhaps, that I Shall see. With this old year I am Resolved to lay aside deceit, to stand Before you as I was and am. I've prayed, Ah, God ! I've prayed, nor has there yet come light; But still it seems the time to speak. I know That I've been wrong to seek to change your love And fashion it against your will, by gentle Craft to lure your heart across the gulf That lies between us, to make you think My love was as your own, and free from taint [59] Of selfishness; yet wrong because I knew Not what was right or best. I've sought, and, when I've found no answer, gone the same old way Because that way was sweet. I am too old To be misled by passion. Eighty years Is nigh to death; yet not so nigh that love Before his icy presence should be chilled And flee. We shall not meet again; therefore I trust myself to-night to tell you all. It will not harm you now to know. Perhaps 'Twill make your life the sweeter, looking back, To know how richly you have blessed me. It is my debt ; I owe you this. At heart I've robbed you of your love and in its place ('Tis all that I can offer), this. There was a time when telling what I now Must tell had been a joy unspeakable. That time has passed long since. To-night it is A duty, not a satisfaction; A duty that I cannot shirk because There is no reason longer for concealment. You remember when you came. The rose was in Your cheek, and you were glad in the fresh glow Of twenty summers, — a being Beautiful to look upon, so fair you seemed [60] Not of this earth, — and I was strangely stirred. I watched you at your daily task and saw Your soul was fairer than your angel face. I heard you call me "Pere," as though you, too, Had been my child; I felt your sweet good- night Leave burning impress on my brow, when you With those whose very blood was drawn from mine Came at the hour of rest to wish bright dreams And slumber undisturbed. And thus went by A happy, painful year. Then you were gone. I wandered through the cotton-field and down Beside the swamp, and the thrush sang and the catbird's Silver fluting shook through the mellow evening air; And I sank down in the tall grass and hid My face within my hands and prayed and waited ; And, while I sat, there was a little rustle, And Lydia was beside me, looking anxious, Her bonnet fallen aside and berry-stains Around her gentle mouth ; and then, because I knew she loved you well, I let her coax My secret from me. She did not weep. Or tell me I was wrong to let your love Rest in my heart beside that sacred love [61] Which death had sealed with lasting benedic- tion, But put her arms about my neck, and looked Into my eyes so tender, wistfully, I could have wept to see her so much grieved. We walked together till the twilight fell. And then came home. That night before she went To bed, I saw her take a lamp and stand Awhile before the portrait there, and then With tear-stained eyes pass on. Oh, well I knew I did that memory no violence. But yet it gave me pain that she should think I had forgot her mother and the happy years We'd passed together. That night I could Not sleep. So when the dawn paled in the east, I arose and walked abroad, resolved to wait. You were too glad, too young, to make of you An old man's nurse; for so, indeed, I thought That it might be, if I could win your love. And if I could not; if you, too, should feel. Like Lydia, that I wronged you and that other ; If your laugh should be a moment stayed and tears Should cloud your radiant eyes ; if you should cease [62] To think of me as pere, and my love should stand Between us as a barrier — then that — Ah, I could wait. — My heart was lighter when I reached the house; but Lydia's troubled face Oppressed me. All through the busy hours. Each time she passed I longed to clasp her to me And to stay her fears ; but then I lacked the strength. O love, I needed twilight with its blessed calm Upon my soul, that I might speak as if My speaking were no pain. Rebellious noon Is weak in its proud strength; when in the sun All things send back a glow, 'tis hard without Some sting of bitterness to think yourself Denied, and others blessed. So, love, I waited. With the evening Lydia came, and quietly We sat together. I told my resolution. The while she was so still I thought almost She had not heard, till like an autumn gust A sob broke from her, and her eyes o'erflowed. And thus I came to know her grief had not Been for herself. You would be married soon. (Forgive me, if in what I tell I bring Old sorrows back anew. I do not wish To pain you or to steal from you your tears.) You would have told me long ago ; but she Had held you back because she saw and wished To spare me this from your own lips. So kind. So good, she was and is, I think sometimes There is an angel in the house, and awe And holy thankfulness o'erpower me. She bade me write and wish you every joy And all true happiness ; and from that day She set herself to do all things to make Your life more rich, because she loved you. But more because she knew it pleased me well. God blessed us with abundance, and I counted It a gift divine, a sacred trust, sent That she might use it for your good. The ways Of Providence are strange; what though I sought The wherefore and the why of things — It was not thus that I might wring from heaven All my soul's desire. — Nay, rather in the dark- ness Did I listen for a whisper, that I might answer To His voice, "Lord, here am I. Oh, speak!" Yet, when there came a message saying he Was dead, my heart stood still accusingly. Had the All-Knowing Spirit read my wish And granted this, my secret, inmost thought I had so struggled to suppress? And would He give you back to stand before me in Your grief, and let your tears reproach me, though Your lips should speak no word? I had not loved [64] You rightly, or your happiness had been Mine, too ; your grief, my grief. But now my heart Was glad and beat exultingly against High Heaven, shouting, "She will come to me, she will come !" I was no longer old — for what, when love Goes coursing through the brain, are three score years? — Perhaps I was half mad; I cannot tell; For the old hunger, waking, would not be sup- pressed. They say that passion is the slave of youth And follows only where her master treads. It is not so. To me she clung when youth With tired step had wandered down the hill, When just the echo of his song was left To tell how far he'd fled. — You came. Where once The surf had rolled and thundered, lay a beach So calm that passion there were desecration. I loved you; oh, I loved you. But your soul Was wrapped about with veiled mystery As some fair shrine, and sorrow was its vestal. Ah, once I found you all alone and weeping. I would have caught you in my arms and drawn You close and closer, but something held me back. The voice within me woke and whispered, "Wait ; not yet. This ground is holy ground." [65] You saw my heart was moved and thought that I Was troubled with your sorrow. You remem- ber How you put your arms about me, said That I must not be grieved for you, that you Would be a brighter child, — at least, that you Would try. My heart swelled mightily within me And robbed my tongue of speech. I dared not touch you. Dared not breathe the air you breathed. Somehow — I know not how — I put you from me ; fled Into the wood and hid me till the dark Had fallen, till the wildness was all past. O love, forgive me if it seems I have Not borne my burden patiently. IVe waited Long, so long, for this ; and counting o'er the years To-night takes from them half their bitter- ness. — Since then H has not been hard. The pain has gone — All gone; and in your blessed presence All the purity and beauty of your life Have been my portion. It has been my com- fort To be near you, just to love you and to know That you were happy. [66] Then there came your art ; And through the years, long lengths that never seemed To end, but ever swept us on and on. Although afar a mighty murmur rose And swelled forebodingly, it was enough To know that you were there; naught else I heeded. Yet oft of late a sadness has been on me; For I have felt the hour of parting near And known not how it might be at the last; But now that I have told you, all seems right And well. — ^You shall be great. — Think of your art And live for it, untrammeled by an old Man's weakness. — Nay, do not sob so — hear me speak. You've been so much to me, so much; I still May claim what you would give a father, The right to love you and to help you. Yes, kiss me if you will, and press your wet Cheek close to mine ; for when you come again. You will not find me here. — God keep you, child — Nay, let me see you smile again. — The New Year's come. Its richest blessings be for you.— Another kiss. — My child, my love, good-night. [67] Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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