life' 
 
 DANIEL SARGENT 
 
Class 
 
 "Do .. 
 
 Book A ^ ^y ^ 
 Copyright )J^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
OUR GLEAMING 
 DAYS 
 
 DANIEL SARGENT 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 The Gorham Press 
 
Copyright 1915, by Daniel Sargent 
 All rights reserved 
 
 
 r/fe G or ham Press, Boston, U. S, A, 
 
 M 18 1915 
 
 ©CIA4ni425 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 I drink this cup to all the things that burn ; 
 To fire, to art, to truth, hut most to men ; 
 And by the selfsame pledge I hereby spurn 
 All things that can not die to rise again. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 In Pure Primeval Melody 9 
 
 All of Us Given a Song to Sing 10 
 
 The Song of Songs 12 
 
 The Seasons 13 
 
 The Uplands 14 
 
 To Paradise 15 
 
 I Thank the Men Who Die 16 
 
 Lest We Forget the Ways o' the Wind 17 
 
 Song of the Day 18 
 
 The Blind-Eyed Gondolier 19 
 
 The Open Field 21 
 
 The Brightness 22 
 
 The Red Flame 23 
 
 And This Shall Make Us Free 24 
 
 Thy Dark Eyes 25 
 
 The Eye is the Light of the Body 26 
 
 The Will to See 27 
 
 And the Word Shall be Made Man 28 
 
 Freedom 29 
 
 Like the Falling of Eye-Lids 31 
 
 These Solemn Days 3^ 
 
 The Voice of a Heretic 33 
 
 I Saw the City Gleam 25 
 
 Shall Ye Find Our Lord 36 
 
 When Night Flew O'er the Spars 37 
 
 In the Surface of All 38 
 
 Their Dwellings Are Afar 39 
 
 I Thank Them for the Music That They 
 
 Gave 40 
 
 In Autumn Days 41 
 
 The Bond-Bursting Laugh 42 
 
 The Blindness of the Day 43 
 
 The Bridge 44 
 
 The Letter Killeth 45 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Music of the Spheres 46 
 
 The Glory of Birth 47 
 
 The Grandeur of Death 48 
 
 The Beggar 49 
 
 The Ways of Wonder 50 
 
 The Spirit 51 
 
 "Art is Long" 52 
 
 Over the Sands 53 
 
 The Stars of Spring 54 
 
 I Call from Far with the Evening Star 55 
 
 Joy 56 
 
 Rain — October, 1914 57 
 
 A Dream 59 
 
 The Stirrup-Cup 60 
 
 My Will 63 
 
 By a Beat of the Heart 64 
 
OUR GLEAMING DAYS 
 
IN PURE PRIMEVAL MELODY 
 
 The heavens with their stars still turn 
 
 In pure primeval melody, 
 
 And bright the stainless dawnings burn 
 
 Eternally, eternally; 
 
 And what the new-born poet sings 
 
 Of unheard new-found radiant things 
 
 Shall join the ancient changeless harmony. 
 
 9 
 
ALL OF US GIVEN A SONG TO SING 
 
 All of us given a song to sing, 
 
 Comrades all are we; 
 
 The black, and the white, and the yellow, and 
 
 red. 
 Singing by land and sea. 
 Singing our songs of wonder and joy, 
 Of sorrow and agony. 
 
 Singing our songs of heaven and hell. 
 
 Of dark and the blinding light. 
 
 Singing our voyages, our fires. 
 
 Our dreams of the starry night — 
 
 For each hath a song that his heart must sing 
 
 Though his lips be sealed tight. 
 
 And the Hindoo sings with his calm limbs 
 
 crossed. 
 And his eyes turned into his soul, 
 And his song it tells of a perfect peace 
 Where the gaze is one with its goal. 
 For he that reaches to grasp his love 
 On the potter's wheel shall roll. 
 
 And the white fool goes to the end of the earth 
 
 Seeking the fountains of youth, 
 
 And it must be a song that leads him on 
 
 A song in his heart, forsooth. 
 
 For they with an eye can plainly see 
 
 He has turned his back on the truth. 
 
 lO 
 
For each man has a song of his own, 
 
 That nobody else may hear, 
 
 And each song has its smile of bliss. 
 
 And each song has its tear. 
 
 And each song singeth day and night. 
 
 For God is ever near. 
 
 So hark ye then to the songs of the world, 
 
 To the songs of the yellow and red. 
 
 Of the white and the black; before them all 
 
 Let us listen, and bow our head. 
 
 For the longing to sing that makes us one, 
 
 Till the voice of the singer is dead. 
 
 II 
 
THE SONG OF SONGS 
 
 Live many years, but speak them in one word; 
 
 See all the v/orld, but know it in one star; 
 Feel all the pangs which through mankind have 
 stirred; 
 
 Then sing the song of all the songs that are. 
 
 12 
 
THE SEASONS 
 
 The doors of the Spring swing open wide; 
 
 Into a shining world we ride 
 
 Where the glad birds sing what our hearts would 
 
 say, 
 And the warm wind driveth the clouds away, 
 And this is all that we know today: 
 "Bright, bright, bright is the sun." 
 
 Under the rainbow to summer skies — 
 
 And we know like a flash "This is Paradise," 
 
 For here are the flowers that never fade. 
 
 And we laugh through the fields and sing through 
 
 the shade — 
 Surely the secret of life is betrayed: 
 "Bright, bright, bright is the sun." 
 
 And over the rim of the summer's day, 
 (There are skies beyond) so we gallop away: 
 Straight on; — and what though the flowers die. 
 And the leaves fall down as the wind blows by, 
 Still it is true that high in the sky, 
 "Bright, bright, bright is the sun." 
 
 So on, till a-sudden the fields of snow! 
 And numb cheeks find how the cold winds blow, 
 And we beat our hands, till the fingers burn. 
 Are there skies beyond.'' Yet we never turn, 
 For this is all that a man can learn: 
 "Bright, bright, bright is the sun!" 
 
 13 
 
THE UPLANDS 
 
 This hour needs the uplands for its feet: 
 High in the winds which sweep from sky to sky 
 And belly out the sails of that proud fleet 
 Of vast mid-ocean clouds which voyage by. 
 
 This hour needs the sweet fern and the sun 
 And sight of distant hills, and fields between, 
 And one bright slender stream to run 
 Its silver ribbon through the valley green. 
 
 This hour needs the earth-love and the sky 
 And kinship with the winds' high ecstasy. 
 And with sweet heather, and with birds that fly. 
 And with the sun's heaven-fired divinity. 
 
 14 
 
TO PARADISE 
 
 O will you come to Paradise 
 And up the stairs with me? 
 I'll tell you many thousand things 
 You never thought could be. 
 I'll show you what I tried to say 
 And you will have to smile. 
 O come with me to Paradise, 
 We'll stay there for a while. 
 
 IS 
 
I THANK THE MEN WHO DIE 
 
 When houses are black, and sunsets red, 
 And the street-lamps wink and are bright, 
 I walk through the city streets and think 
 On the coming of the night, 
 An old, old thought of stars and a moon, 
 And the mystery of sight. 
 
 I think how many gleaming lives 
 
 From nations dark and far. 
 
 Burned through the lanthorns of their day 
 
 And leaping to a star 
 
 Now make it shine within the sky 
 
 So brightly on our war. 
 
 I thank the nations that they rose 
 To make this star shine bright, 
 That Greece achieved its Parthenon 
 Upon its hallowed height. 
 And that Rome ruled the subject world 
 With its majestic might. 
 
 And so I walk the city streets 
 
 Under a starry sky. 
 
 And there I see a million years 
 
 Bright in the heavens high. 
 
 And I thank the stars and I thank the years. 
 
 And I thank the men who die. 
 
 i6 
 
LEST WE FORGET THE WAYS O' THE 
 
 WIND 
 
 Lest we forget the ways o' the wind, 
 
 And raise our hand to a star, 
 
 Lest we forget the ways o' the wind, 
 
 Reaching to touch a star, — 
 
 Thou hast danced on our forest-paths below 
 
 Like a ray of the sun at play. 
 
 And only the will o' the wisp can know 
 
 The mysteries of thy way; 
 
 And thy touch is so soft, and thy step is so 
 
 light 
 That scarcely the world has heard: 
 Can the air of the heavens so azure bright 
 Feel the swift wings of a bird ? 
 All that we learn the ways o' the wind, 
 Nor raise our hand to a star. 
 The wondrous secret ways o* the wind 
 And the perfect light of a star. 
 
 17 
 
SONG OF THE DAY 
 
 Swiftly, swiftly rideth the horseman Night 
 High on his coal-black charger over the sea, 
 Over the plain and over the mountain height, 
 For out of the East he cometh, he cometh to me. 
 
 A thousand stars, a moon adrift in the sky, 
 
 A hush through the world, and he taketh me to 
 
 his side, 
 He holdeth me fast, under his cloak I lie. 
 And over the edge of the world we ride, we ride. 
 
 i8 
 
THE BLIND-EYED GONDOLIER 
 
 Dark is the city's sleep tonight, but lights swarm 
 
 in its dreams, 
 And though its eyes are closed it feels the touch 
 
 of silver beams. 
 For lo, the moon amid the stars has brightly found 
 
 its place 
 Above the campanile's tower watching with shining 
 
 face. 
 Now down it looks on a gondola which through 
 
 the silence slides 
 Out of dark shadow, crossing a light, over the sea 
 
 it glides 
 Until it shoots in a shower of stars that quiver 
 
 within the deep; 
 No wonder down in the gondola two hearts from 
 
 their sloth upleap. 
 Thus through the city's dreams they went, 
 While to the sweep behind them bent 
 The blind-eyed gondolier. 
 
 He dipped the long and shining blade so softly 
 in the sea 
 
 You scarcely heard the ripples wake, they spread 
 so stealthily. 
 
 For many years had taught him well, into the 
 soul of night 
 
 To steer two unknown souls like these, two sha- 
 dows in his sight. 
 
 They never changed, these faithful stars, these 
 figures were the same. 
 
 Year in, year out, all beautiful, he thanked them 
 that they came. 
 
 19 
 
A thousand nights like this he knew 
 And out the dripping blade he drew; 
 The blind-eyed gondolier. 
 
 But you, be not of little faith, chilled by the long 
 
 defeat, 
 This night is yours, both sea and land lie subject 
 
 at your feet. 
 This universe at your command, bowed to your 
 
 birth-right power 
 Utters eternally your bliss for this sufficing hour. 
 So crown your foreheads with the stars, and on 
 
 your shoulders cast 
 The purple mantle of the night — your kingdom 
 
 came at last. 
 But now he stoops to poise the oar, 
 Thinking of such nights still in store, 
 The blind-eyed gondoHer. 
 
 20 
 
THE OPEN FIELD 
 
 For those oppressed by crabbed care 
 God spread the open fields of sky, 
 
 Above their narrow streets, the air, 
 The azure trackless plains on high. 
 
 That each man prisoned in his fate 
 Of fettered task and little hearth 
 
 May in the wind-free realms, elate, 
 Laugh at the pin-fold of this earth, 
 
 And climb upon the sun-lit cloud 
 Or soar like eagle through the blue, 
 
 Or shield his eye to see the proud 
 Immortal day sink out of view. 
 
 And he may fly high up to God, 
 Up past the purple hours of stars, 
 
 And gaze at where the dead have trod 
 Their calm above our throbbing wars. 
 
 And when one meets another there 
 
 They that were foes shall clasp their 
 hands 
 
 In the sun-dizzy realms of air, 
 On the sun-set clouds, in the star-lit lands. 
 
 21 
 
THE BRIGHTNESS 
 
 The brightness of our ring of dawns 
 
 Of sun-gold, and star-fire, 
 Of western embers ere they fade 
 
 Shooting their red flames higher; 
 
 The brightness of the wonder gleam 
 
 Cast even on our tears, 
 And those cold Northern Lights that lit 
 
 The mystery of fears; 
 
 The brightness of the ruddy sparks 
 Struck from the flint of fate, 
 
 And ever ahead the hope-torch bright 
 Burning above death's gate; 
 
 We'll bathe our souls in all this light 
 And through the truthless ways 
 
 On past the unborn in their dark 
 We'll praise our living days. 
 
 22 
 
THE RED FLAME 
 
 " Ed ellu e bellu e jocondu e rohostosu e forte, " 
 
 St. Francis. 
 
 Could not a man grow wise beside this fire? 
 
 The ancient book upon the shelf Is cold, 
 But this red flame, hark, how it crackles higher, 
 
 And all its changing heart it doth unfold. 
 
 For now it tears itself to ribbons bright 
 And now it nods, as if it bowed at you, 
 
 Till suddenly it bursts again in flight — 
 
 One madding tongue that licks the sooty flue. 
 
 And then its jestlngs and its ribaldries, 
 
 And its soft prayers, and its warm heart-felt 
 songs 
 
 And then its placid lambent gaieties — 
 And lustily it laughs at all its wrongs. 
 
 I know you sail for truth across the seas. 
 But may I sit and Hsten to this friend? 
 
 Yea, take the heavy volume if you please. 
 But which will be the wiser in the end? 
 
 23 
 
AND THIS SHALL MAKE US FREE 
 
 Ever a road beneath our feet, 
 
 Over our heads a sky, 
 Though we climb the purple hills to greet 
 
 The heaven for which men die. 
 
 For wisdoms come and wisdoms go, 
 As we pass from land to land, 
 
 But this is the only truth we know. 
 And this shall ever stand, 
 
 And this shall make all knowledge one. 
 And this shall make us free: 
 
 That over the mountain comes the sun, 
 And it shines on you and me. 
 
 24 
 
THY DARK EYES 
 
 Come, O come with me away, 
 For a heaven I have made 
 Where the world shall leave its clay 
 And shall glitter new-arrayed, 
 But thy dark eyes bring with thee, 
 Else this realm could never be. 
 
 ^5 
 
THE EYE IS THE LIGHT OF THE BODY 
 
 Ye that let the poet die, 
 
 Sealed his lips, and closed his eye: 
 Who shall build your starry sky, 
 
 Ye that let the poet die? 
 
 Ye that called the poet dead, 
 
 And placed a cross above his head, — 
 
 From your dark the dawns have fled. 
 Ye that called the poet dead. 
 
 Ye that kneel beside his grave 
 Praying for the light he gave. 
 
 Think ye that his clay can save? 
 Ye are dust upon his grave. 
 
 26 
 
THE WILL TO SEE 
 
 I gaze at earth from off the walls of heaven, 
 Firm on the battlements by tempest laid, 
 Where, in the storm, I set the lampads seven 
 Whose gleam is into darkest chaos rayed. 
 I climb upon the heights of what may be, 
 And in that effort, lo, this glorious world 
 With its green lands and its far-flashing sea 
 Is to the trembling of my gaze unfurled. 
 
 27 
 
AND THE WORD SHALL BE MADE 
 
 MAN 
 
 Yea, many wandering truths have come to me 
 From distant lands, and ages long since gone, 
 
 And I have bowed before them reverently 
 For all their faces with the vision shone. 
 
 And some were kings, and wore a crown of gold, 
 But others crept all ragged in attire 
 
 As if their strength were feeble, chill, and old; 
 Yet every eye was passionate with fire. 
 
 But one there is for whom I still must wait 
 In bHnded night, and in the barren day, 
 
 And even now the hour is drawing late — 
 
 Or thinkest thou that he has passed this way? 
 
 And when he comes this nation shall at last 
 Take up the spirit of its mighty dead. 
 
 And of its mountains, and its prairies vast, 
 And of the stars that guard it overhead. 
 
 And when he speaks this nation shall be one. 
 And deathless fire shall flash in every eye, 
 
 And it shall drive the chariot of its sun 
 
 With triumph-chant across the ringing sky. 
 
 28 
 
FREEDOM 
 
 My freedom Is a torture cell. 
 My peace the rack of thought. 
 
 Was it for this that past the stars 
 My soul to life was brought? 
 
 Is it for this the dawn grows bright 
 
 Above my prison walls? 
 In through the grated pane its ray 
 
 Upon my darkness falls. 
 
 And is this really manhood's task 
 When birds sing in the tree, 
 
 To suffer in the cell of thought 
 Where eyes can scarcely see? 
 
 'Tis true that I thereby have found 
 
 The beauty of the sky, 
 Only through one small window crack 
 
 And with a dazzled eye. 
 
 Before my birth the widest skies 
 
 Ensphered my paradise; 
 I made me coronets of stars, 
 
 I flew where dawnings rise. 
 
 But I was blind, although I saw 
 
 With empty angel's sight 
 The glorious universe unrolled 
 
 In its eternal might. 
 
 29 
 
And so it was not till I came 
 
 Into this stifling cell, 
 That I first saw the fire of stars 
 
 As from a deep sunk well. 
 
 It was not till these prison walls 
 Enclosed me where I lie 
 
 That I was free, a man, a god, 
 Tortured and taught to die. 
 
 30 
 
LIKE THE FALLING OF EYE-LIDS 
 
 How long I stood there I know not, but mine 
 eye-lids lifted as from the sleep of ages, and I 
 found myself upon the dimness of a lofty moun- 
 tain with a candle in my hand. 
 
 And as I breathed and knew not where I was, 
 the flame of the candle grew more and more 
 radiant, so that I cried in the courage of light: 
 "Now but a little while, and I shall see all!" 
 For the height of the mountain-peaks was about 
 me, and the depth of the valleys lay at my feet. 
 
 And then all unseen, and felt only on the warmth 
 of my forehead, there came a dark wind which 
 made the candle flicker so that its wax grew cold 
 between my fingers. And then like the falling of 
 eye-lids, like the drifting of clouds, the hills and 
 valleys vanished from before mine eyes, and my 
 heart sank. 
 
 Darkness — but all silent and without a name; 
 it had no lips, it had no eyes, there came no 
 thunder crash, no terror of pain; and so I stood 
 and waited for the voice, for how could light come 
 into the darkness, and how could light go again into 
 the dark.? But there was no answer. And I 
 knew only that my heart was freezing to stone. 
 And there were no hills. 
 
 So I cast my eyes at the candle, at the 
 gasping flame, and watched it dwindle slowly, 
 until only the wick stood red. — I held my lips 
 tight-shut lest I breathe it out. — Slowly before 
 mine eyes it smouldered black, until the last spark 
 was charred, and only a thin blue smoke was left, 
 and that rose slowly, and curled, and was gone — 
 
 Pray thou for me. 
 
 31 
 
THESE SOLEMN DAYS 
 
 How darkened are these solemn days 
 
 Of slow deliberate truth, 
 
 And O, once more for the singing ways, 
 
 And the dizzy feet of youth 
 
 To risk once more the rainbow stair 
 
 Which up to the heaven soars, 
 
 Or into the flaming dawn to dare. 
 
 Seeking its golden doors. 
 
 But who now walks with the brave bright 
 
 sun? 
 Or his calm pale sister the moon? 
 Or who through the purple courts hath run 
 Where the treasured stars are strewn? 
 But the old man liketh his cell of clay, 
 Safe, and far from the skies. 
 And the stars he can see them from far away: 
 Hath not the flesh their eyes? 
 For the old man trusteth that he can find 
 The truth if you let him stay. 
 But the sun it dazzles the young men blind, 
 And the wild wind leads them astray. 
 O, save our souls from these darkened days, 
 O, save our souls from their truth! 
 And out once more on the singing ways 
 With the dizzy feet of youth! 
 
 32 
 
THE VOICE OF A HERETIC 
 
 My pride is In the calloused hand, 
 And In the sweat-crowned brow 
 
 Which bribe of heaven nor threat of hell 
 Can never make to bow. 
 
 I am the army yet unsung 
 
 Without a battle-cry. 
 I only ask for bread, more bread — 
 
 With that content to die. 
 
 My God Is but the power of steam. 
 And may his kingdom come; 
 
 I pray for that with speechless toil 
 Until my arm is numb. 
 
 And If you ask me why this creed, 
 
 I only bid you turn 
 To the soft white-handed men of God: 
 
 I bid you look and learn. 
 
 My work Is damned to ugliness 
 
 Before their dainty sight, 
 My body's sweat, yea, speak it out. 
 
 Is In their vv^orld a blight. 
 
 And shall I therefore kneel with them 
 
 Betraying all I love. 
 Betraying God, I mean my God 
 
 And not your God above.? 
 
 33 
 
O God of steam, it is your eye 
 Which finds my work divine; 
 
 You never sleep, you never scorn, 
 Heed then this prayer of mine. 
 
 This prayer, I say, I mean my life 
 My brutish toil and pain, 
 
 The ugliness that others mock — 
 May I not pray in vain. 
 
 34 
 
I SAW THE CITY GLEAM 
 
 I saw the city gleam in the morning light, 
 Its first white smoke adrift in the azure sky, 
 
 And all its daring towers rise sparkling bright 
 Into the stainless air — serene and high. 
 
 I heard the message of its crystal morn, 
 
 The clangor through the still air ringing clear 
 
 Of worlds new-made, and life again reborn, — 
 And brightly leapt the tumult and the cheer. 
 
 I saw the city at the end of day, 
 
 Its gloom of smoke about it like a shroud, 
 
 And thousand candles shot their sudden ray. 
 But still its iron heart was beating loud. 
 
 And now the city sunk in star-lit rest. 
 
 Great Titan, which has stolen heaven's fire, 
 
 Breathes into sleep, the vulture at its breast. 
 Hark! Midnight chimes from some still 
 wakeful spire. 
 
 35 
 
SHALL YE FIND OUR LORD 
 
 Ye that go to Paradise 
 When ye seek the Lord, 
 
 Who is there in Paradise 
 Can not see the Lord? 
 
 Ye that go to Arcady 
 When ye wish to sing: 
 
 Is there then in Arcady 
 One that cannot sing? 
 
 Ye that go among the dead 
 Seeking after truth, 
 
 Even fools among the dead 
 Gather up the truth. 
 
 But ye come to living men 
 Seeking only bread, 
 
 God awaits in living men — 
 But ye ask for bread. 
 
 Go ye then to Paradise, 
 Stand before the Lord: 
 
 Can it be your Paradise? 
 Shall ye find our Lord? 
 
 36 
 
WHEN NIGHT FLEW O'ER THE SPARS 
 
 My ship had left a little land, 
 And on a mighty sea 
 The giant-hearted days and nights 
 Clasped hands to cover me. 
 
 The boundless universe, it seemed. 
 Had wrapped me in its space. 
 And I like a child upon its breast 
 Gazed dimly at its face. 
 
 Above my head I saw the dawns 
 In silent victory. 
 Go marching up the dark to trail 
 Their banners over me. 
 
 But not the dawns alone, the noons 
 That burned with golden waves, 
 I gloried when their hearts caught fire 
 Within the day's blue caves. 
 
 And then the sunsets, awed with death, 
 That drowned so gloriously 
 Their flaming foreheads in the deep, 
 They gave their souls to me. 
 
 But far more wondrous and more hushed 
 When night flew o'er the spars. 
 Then in the height I scanned the bright 
 Bewilderment of stars. 
 
 37 
 
IN THE SURFACE OF ALL 
 
 Over my head is a roof 
 
 As the rain knows and the snow; 
 
 Over the roof is a sea, 
 
 Where I saw the swift bird go, 
 
 And over that sea is another sea 
 
 More dark and far; 
 
 And high in the surface of all 
 
 Glitters a star. 
 
 38 
 
THEIR DWELLINGS ARE AFAR 
 
 My thoughts float near like unseen half-heard 
 
 winds 
 That touch me in the laughter of their play, 
 And as my hand gropes out, but never finds, 
 I hear the rustle as they flit away. 
 For who can touch the lashes of a star? 
 Or who can steal the sunlight of the air? 
 They are not ours, their dwellings are afar, 
 Beyond our surest laws, and waiting there 
 They tease our strivings till a mortal dies. 
 And then they snatch the blind-fold from his eyes. 
 
 39 
 
I THANK THEM FOR THE MUSIC 
 THAT THEY GAVE 
 
 With sudden flight of birds that twittered gay 
 My singing hopes to other trees have flown . 
 Why should they stay? My autumn leaves are 
 
 strewn 
 Upon the frosty ground. Why should they stay? 
 For other trees are green wherein they may 
 Sing out their madrigals in joyous tone, 
 Forgetting winter, and the autumn moan 
 Which drives the withered leaves in droves away. 
 And shall my heart turn bitter? Far from so. 
 I thank them for the music that they gave 
 When sap of spring worked magic in my limbs, 
 And though it saddens me to hear them go 
 I listen still, and when I find my grave 
 May their dim echoes chant my dying hymns. 
 
 40 
 
IN AUTUMN DAYS 
 
 Blue are the autumn days, 
 White is the autumn cloud, 
 Swift are the autumn leaves 
 When autumn winds shriek loud. 
 
 Dead are the summer flowers. 
 Flown are the summer skies, 
 They with their summer suns 
 Glitter in paradise. 
 
 Kind was the summer's dream. 
 Keen is the autumn's chill, 
 Savage the winter's wrath 
 Ramping behind the hill. 
 
 Soon comes the flying cloud, 
 Soon shall the trumpet blow, 
 Then with its vengeful glee 
 Shall whirl the winter snow. 
 
 41 
 
THE BOND-BURSTING LAUGH 
 
 It's time that we laughed with a bond-bursting 
 
 laugh 
 As we gallop along, 
 While our hearts feel strong.- 
 It's time that we threw back our heads just to 
 
 quaff 
 The deep joy of living, 
 The deep joy of giving 
 Our souls to the wind to do what it will: 
 Our souls to the stream beneath the bridge 
 
 flowing, 
 We thunder across and then up the hill; 
 Through the shade of the oak tree 
 The sun of the sky; 
 
 I turn in the saddle, catch sight of your eye, 
 And I think of the sigh 
 And the bonds of despair 
 That it gave to me once; 
 But that is forgotten, and that is o'ermastered, 
 
 deserted behind: 
 All the meanness of care, 
 And the sin of the mind 
 With which I was cursed. 
 Throw your head back and laugh 
 For the bonds are all burst. 
 
 42 
 
THE BLINDNESS OF THE DAY 
 
 Into our dark a dawn will leap 
 
 When we have gone away, 
 
 And through the pathless night will sweep 
 
 The blue revealing day; 
 
 Till men within a realm of light 
 
 Will gaze with careless noon-day sight 
 
 O'er what we groped for in the dark 
 
 With only soul-fire for a spark. 
 
 And through the fields we wandered blind, 
 
 And past the springs we tried to find, 
 
 And o'er the graves we left behind, 
 
 Proudly the men of light will go 
 
 Boasting "The truth at last we know," 
 
 When we have gone away. 
 
 Yea, men at last shall know the light; 
 And is not light more perfect sight? 
 And is not truth the world revealed. 
 Which from our blindness was concealed? 
 And yet they know but half, for we 
 The meaning of the dark could see 
 When stars thronged our eternity. 
 Which they in light can never find. 
 For lo, the dawn shall make them blind, 
 When we have gone away. 
 
 So past our dark the dawn may leap 
 When we have gone away, 
 But through our visioned night shall sweep 
 The blindness of the day. 
 
 43 
 
THE BRIDGE 
 
 I built a bridge from the sun to the moon, 
 
 Its rampart dizzy with stars: 
 I stood in the sun at its flaming door, 
 
 My hand on its golden bars. 
 
 I looked through the dark till I saw you come, 
 
 Still half-afraid of the fire, 
 No wonder — for through the empty dark 
 
 Its blazing joy leaped higher 
 
 Till it wrapped my soul and it touched my 
 heart 
 
 And burned me to the core, 
 And I scarcely knew that the bridge fell down : 
 
 I needed its stars no more. 
 
 44 
 
THE LETTER KILLETH 
 
 "The living live, and the dead are dead." 
 So ye march with your heavy tread: 
 Keep to your ranks, nor turn your head — 
 "The living live, and the dead are dead." 
 
 Darkness is light, but what care ye? 
 Your tread has proven it cannot be, 
 And life is death and death is life, 
 And joy is sorrow and peace is strife. 
 And the purple hill is ever beyond, 
 And they that are free must live in bond. 
 And they on earth must in a star 
 Live in a distant hope afar — 
 Live in a star where they have not been — 
 Yea, and see what they have not seen, 
 Even as dumb men laugh and sing. 
 And the lowest clod is crowned a King 
 And smallest children are proven wise 
 And lame men climb to the highest skies. 
 
 Yet ye march with your heavy tread, 
 "The living live, and the dead are dead." 
 Keep to your ranks, nor turn your head. 
 Proving its truth by your very tread, 
 "The living live and the dead are dead." 
 
 45 
 
THE MUSIC OF THE SPHERES 
 
 The rythm of centuries, the rhyme of years, 
 And all the dawns that bring the glad refrain 
 
 Hark to the singing, ye that are born with ears 
 Lest He who wakens chaos sing in vain! 
 
 46 
 
THE GLORY OF BIRTH 
 
 And are thy wakenings glowing as the dawns 
 Which take their cloaks of gold and mount the hills, 
 And silver-sandalled haste across the lawns 
 And up the ridges where the snow-peak chills 
 Until upon the top, firm-footed in their zeal. 
 They raise their torch above the prostrate night? 
 And like the fervor of a thunder-peal 
 The wild aurora souled in cloud rolls bright 
 Into the deep serenity of sky. 
 And with the impatient splendor of its light 
 Chases the stars which loyally and high 
 Guarded the night in many a watchful band. 
 While far below, beneath the jagged height. 
 Beneath the battlements where dawnings stand, 
 No valley in its poverty of dark 
 But sees the splendor glitter at its feet. 
 And not a wave that does not steal a spark 
 And not a sea that does not gleam to greet 
 The arrow-glances of the dawns, which raise . 
 Their torch-arms higher, and yet higher still, 
 God-hearted at the entrance of their ways. 
 That all the blind abyss with light shall fill. 
 
 And are thy wakenings glowing as the dawns? 
 And do they drive the wan stars from the sky, 
 And haste on silver sandals past the lawns 
 To place their foot upon the mountain snow, 
 While one last vengeful wind of night 
 Blows savagely across the vale below 
 And flings thy cloak of gold in tumult bright? 
 
 The snow is flushed, the mountain-torrents roar, 
 The mists melt from the valley, and the sea 
 Lies dazzled by the glitter of its gold. 
 Is such the path thy wakenings spread to thee. 
 When from thy dark the dream is first unrolled ? 
 
 47 
 
THE GRANDEUR OF DEATH 
 
 And are thy dyings like the passing days 
 
 Which, when their eyes grow dim, about them 
 spread 
 Their youthful cloak of gold, and once more raise 
 With their last strength their torch above their 
 head? 
 
 — This as they glide upon their funeral pyre, 
 A shining ship across the western sea — 
 
 And lo, the sparks have set the sails afire. 
 And up to heaven leaps the victory. 
 
 And on the shore the people shield their eyes 
 To see the mighty ocean all ablaze, 
 
 To see great flaming galleons in the skies 
 Careen and sink into the azure ways. 
 
 And even when the glowing embers fade 
 The skies shall tingle for the grandeur still 
 
 In all the splendor of their stars arrayed 
 
 Which through the farthest gloom of chaos 
 thrill. 
 
 48 
 
THE BEGGAR 
 
 I will write no verses to-day; 
 
 From its blazing threshold the sun 
 Hath scattered its gold in my way; 
 
 I will walk till the daylight is done. 
 
 I will lie on the sweet-smelling grass 
 In my hunger to eat my bread, 
 
 Watching the clouds as they pass 
 In the azure seas overhead. 
 
 Beggar with thoughts in the sky, 
 Ragged among the flowers. 
 
 Earth-born and doomed to die, 
 Living eternal hours. 
 
 49 
 
THE WAYS OF WONDER 
 
 The ways of wonder through the world, 
 The bird that startles the dusk to sing, 
 
 The rainbow into the sky of tears, 
 And out of the snows, the spring. 
 
 The ways of wonder through the world, 
 Life mounting up like a column of light 
 
 To guide us under the thunder peals 
 Into the starless night. 
 
 50 
 
THE SPIRIT 
 
 I raise the flashing sword 
 To cut the world's last knot, 
 
 The binding, rankling cord 
 That holds us from our lot. 
 
 I poise the flashing sword: 
 Its sharpness knows no peer, 
 
 Its edge is yet unscored 
 
 With the jagged dents of fear. 
 
 I sweep the flashing sword 
 And darkness reels dismayed, 
 
 For what of death can ward 
 The swiftness of its blade? 
 
 SI 
 
"ART IS LONG" 
 
 You have heard the jest which they turned to a 
 
 That Hfe^ it is short, but art, it is long, 
 When Hfe is as long as the road to the sky, 
 And art is as short as the wink of an eye, 
 So we laugh at the jest, with the joy of the sun, 
 For life runneth on, but the art it is done. 
 
 52 
 
ON THE SANDS 
 
 Onward we walked still never speaking, step 
 after step, though tugged by the wind. And ever 
 the sky wakened more azure ahead and the sands 
 of the beach were more dazzling, and ever the 
 waves came racing and tumbling and thundering 
 upon the shore only to crawl back seething and 
 grasping. And ever the sea-wind, sun-bright 
 and salty, whirled the whipped spray-drops wet 
 on our cheek. 
 
 Down by the lip of the wave, snow-white and 
 trembling glittered the foam-spume stained with 
 the rainbow. And the flight of the sea-gulls 
 flitted in shadow under our feet. 
 
 Then did we turn from the drouth of the soft- 
 crunching sand down to the wave-beaten wet left 
 by the tide, where sometimes the stealth of the 
 up-flooding wave came to our feet, cooling and 
 playful. 
 
 And ever the cries of the gulls, and the shriek of 
 the wind in the beach-grass, and the shatter and 
 thrash of the surf dinned in our ears. 
 
 Our faces were stiff with the salt, our eyes 
 were a-dazzle, and the rough wind snatched at our 
 clothes. Thus to the point we arrived through 
 spray-drops a-sparkle, and gazed far out to the 
 rim of the wave-breeding ocean, hearing the shout 
 of our thoughts, our lips pressing dumb. 
 
 53 
 
THE STARS OF SPRING 
 
 The winter nights 
 
 They shiver with stars, 
 
 And the summer nights 
 
 They dream, 
 
 And the autumn nights 
 
 They stare with stars, 
 
 With a calm and steadfast beam. 
 
 But those deep-passioned nights of spring, 
 
 Bright with a thousand stars they sing 
 
 Which reel in many a festal ring 
 
 With pure ecstatic gleam. 
 
 54 
 
I CALL FROM FAR WITH THE 
 EVENING STAR 
 
 Between two flashing rivers 
 
 Beyond the setting sun 
 I call from far with the evening star 
 
 To say that my goal is won. 
 
 And you in the darkening meadow 
 Gaze up at the trembling ray: 
 
 Your dreams float near, but can you hear 
 The words which it has to say? 
 
 Or is it merely a sparkle 
 
 Which the spirit of beauty there 
 
 Hath hung in the night like a tear-drop 
 bright 
 To make the dark more fair? 
 
 Nay, dream not that stars have fallen 
 
 So emptily into space. 
 They are a part of each mortal heart 
 
 Sphered in the one embrace. 
 
 55 
 
JOY 
 
 And so it was that the heavens rocked 
 For the singing of the stars, 
 
 For joy is deeper than any sea, 
 And joy is higher than any sky, 
 And joy is crowned with eternity 
 And joy can never die. 
 And joy can Hve in a grain of sand, 
 Or build itself a palace bright, 
 A universe with the perfect hand 
 Of its undaunted might. 
 
 And so it was that the heavens rocked 
 For the singing of the stars. 
 
 S6 
 
RAIN— OCTOBER, 1914 
 
 "Close up thy book, put out the Hght, 
 
 And throw a log on the fading fire. 
 
 For at the window tappeth the rain; 
 
 Our old grey ghost is back again. 
 
 It seems as if he will never tire 
 
 From wandering darkly through the night.*' 
 
 A chill in my bones! is that then he? 
 
 He never speaks when he comes in, 
 
 For his ways are grey, and his hand is cold. 
 
 Though his heart is that of a child, I'm told, 
 
 And so I wait for him to begin. 
 
 As he sits by the fire-side thoughtfully. 
 
 For he always brings a tale to tell — 
 
 Whether of ships in the misty sea. 
 
 Or of the city streets at night 
 
 When street-lamps in the puddles are bright, 
 
 And I thought to myself, "What shall it be?" 
 
 (While slow from his hat the rain-drops fell.) 
 
 "Many deeds I have done, " he said, 
 "Errands of mercy, errands of pain; 
 I have pattered on the roofs of men 
 For ever and aye since God knows when. 
 But to-night my fingers have a stain: 
 The blood of men, the touch of the dead. 
 
 57 
 
"Priest I have been to those who die 
 On the battle-field with a writhing pain, 
 Kneeling to their confessions low, 
 Trying to cool their fevered brow; 
 And as they passed they thanked the rain, 
 For only a ghost had dared come nigh. 
 
 "And one there was whose eyes were dim, 
 
 And he reached to clasp this hand of mine,— 
 
 'My faithful comrade tell my friends 
 
 To fight for me, my battle ends.' 
 
 And I kissed his lips, and made a sign 
 
 I would do his bidding. I prayed for him. 
 
 "Strange new task for a ghost so old. 
 Washing the sin of the dead away, 
 Making their blood-stained fingers white. 
 Watching above them in the night! 
 I with a lip that can not pray! 
 I with a heart forever cold. " 
 
 A silence! I turned and found him gone. 
 And the fire blazed up as the new log caught, 
 And tap, tap, tap at the pane 
 As he passed on his endless path again; 
 While there we sat in a trance of thought. 
 And I lighted the light, for I felt alone. 
 
 58 
 
A DREAM 
 
 Where Is the hand that can paint It, 
 
 Where is the tongue that can tell it — 
 
 The vision I saw last night? 
 
 When we were lost in a mighty darkness 
 
 Where the heavens are wider 
 
 And the stars brighter, 
 
 A wind as secret as the blackness. 
 
 As limpid and cool as the white stars, 
 
 Was blowing past us. 
 
 I could see it lifting your hair 
 
 Which streamed dark behind you 
 
 In the scant light. 
 
 And I raised my head and gazed with terror 
 
 into your eyes 
 Where the rays glanced. 
 
 And I took the star which they had given me. 
 I raised my hands with it, 
 Holding it by the golden chain 
 Fast in my fingers. 
 And I bound it on your forehead 
 So that you shone through the whole night. 
 And I bowed my head, 
 And it seemed that clouds were sweeping by 
 
 me 
 Till I felt the darkness grow darker 
 Though I dared not look. 
 Then I raised my eyes and the skies burst 
 
 serene 
 And a thousand voices sang 
 And upward we soared. 
 You with the star on your forehead. 
 
 59 
 
THE STIRRUP-CUP 
 
 The road grew dim, the stars had come, 
 But my horse still galloped strong, 
 
 And my tired mind began to dream 
 Of the way behind so long, 
 
 For each man has his hour of dusk, 
 When he sings his even-song. 
 
 But I roused myself, and in the sky 
 
 I watched the slow moon creep, 
 And my thoughts flew up beyond the stars 
 
 Into the shoreless deep; 
 And I dropped my eyes: a light ahead! 
 
 At last the Tavern of Sleep. 
 
 So into the cobbled court I rode. 
 And the post-boy caught my steed, 
 
 And the good host stood in the lighted door, 
 "A welcome, my friend, indeed! 
 
 For a merry company is here. 
 And all that a heart can need." 
 
 And I heard them singing as I drew nigh; 
 
 I had heard their songs before. 
 And my heart grew warm for the very sound 
 
 As I strode to the tavern door, 
 And all that leaden weariness 
 
 Weighed on my limbs no more. 
 
 "And who may these be.?" I asked the host, 
 
 But he only shook his head; 
 'There are many come to my tavern here," 
 
 Was all that the good man said. 
 And just then they stopped, and their laugh- 
 ter rang 
 Till it wakened the dusty dead. 
 60 
 
Does a man lie down in the Inn of Sleep? 
 
 Are its rooms all dark and drear? 
 Nay, rather he sits with his bosom friends 
 
 In blazing fireside cheer. 
 The windows are black, he can see the stars 
 
 If close to the pane he peer. 
 
 But ever again I racked my brain: 
 
 Surely these men I know! 
 And so I beckoned and asked the host 
 
 As he busied him to and fro, 
 But a friend called "Wine," and nodding his 
 head 
 
 After it he did go. 
 
 And the wine was a wine of a warmer land 
 Which made the room all bright, 
 
 And made me sing, as I sang then 
 
 With them through the live-long night, 
 
 Till in at the window shone my doom: 
 The grey of the morning light. 
 
 And sad it was to bid farewell, 
 
 And never their names to hear. 
 They were such ancient childhood friends 
 
 And they must have seen my tear, 
 For one of them uttered a single word; 
 
 Like a flash it all was clear. 
 
 O friends who had given their lives for me, 
 
 Never, never again 
 Would I forget so ungratefully; 
 
 My heart was stung with pain; 
 And I would ride and sing through the world 
 
 Making their story plain. 
 6i 
 
So hot with resolve I ran to the court 
 Till the host cried in dismay: 
 "You've forgotten your stirrup-cup, my 
 friend — 
 It comes at the break of day. 
 For each man drinks a draught of it, 
 Or ever he goes away." 
 
 I pulled the horse back on his haunch, 
 Till the sparks sprang from his hoof. 
 "And hurry, hurry," I cried to the host, 
 "For dawn burns over the roof," 
 And the host ran out with a stirrup cup: 
 "This is my friendship's proof." 
 
 "But hurry, hurry!" I cried to him, 
 
 " For I can not wait to tell 
 Something you can not understand 
 
 That in this tavern befell." 
 And the host he gave the cup to my hand: 
 
 "Drink it! I wish you well." 
 
 "And why must all drink a stirrup-cup?" 
 
 I asked as my lips I wet. 
 And I drained the cup, and handed it down, 
 
 Till mine eye with his eye met; 
 His voice was low, but my blood ran cold 
 
 — I can hear the echo yet — 
 For thus he spake as the dawn leaped bright: 
 
 "It maketh a man forget." 
 
 62 
 
MY WILL 
 
 Here is the will of all I own 
 
 And live by and hold dear: 
 Cast lots for what the thieves can find 
 
 But this, at least, revere. 
 
 My hopes I give unto the winds 
 That blow to God knows where. 
 
 And may they never lull to peace 
 Or weary to despair. 
 
 My joy I borrowed from the sun 
 To light me through the gloom; 
 
 I give it back, and may it burn 
 Until the crack of doom. 
 
 My sorrows to the night I give 
 
 To make its darkness deep. 
 For through the terror of its sky 
 
 Brightly the stars must creep. 
 
 My wonder to the dawn I give, 
 When the world is made anew 
 
 And the wind sweeps free from out the sea 
 And the hillside shines with dew. 
 
 And to the smooth, unrippled pools 
 
 In which the clouds go by 
 I give my laziness that loved 
 
 To dream beneath the sky 
 
 And last unto the anguished beasts 
 
 I give my rasping songs, 
 For never unto bird or man 
 
 Their dumb distress belongs. 
 
 63 
 
BY A BEAT OF THE HEART 
 
 By a beat of the heart — I know not how — 
 It seemed that I opened my eyes — 
 I entered a limitless realm of light 
 And fared to its farthest skies: 
 
 Even from where at the world's first dawn 
 
 The glad stars, one by one, 
 
 Were singing out their fervent lives 
 
 To greet the rising sun 
 
 To where, from high on a mountain peak 
 
 Far under the thunder gloom, 
 
 I could see the immortal heavens rage 
 
 With the quenchless fires of doom. 
 
 For I could stride over births and deaths 
 
 Without the chill of fear. 
 
 For this was heaven, and I was slain 
 
 Death could not follow here. 
 
 And so when time's great blow is struck 
 And clay is proven clay, 
 Still in that realm which the heart-beat gave 
 I shall live in an endless day. 
 
 64 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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