HE GODDESS OF LIBERTY 
 IN WALL STREET 
 
 (An Allegorical Satire) 
 
 THE MODERN ARGONAUTS 
 
 (A Plan, of Peace Preparedness) 
 
 REDIVIVUS 
 
 (Christ Again) 
 
 HYMN TO LIBERTY 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 By EDWARDS P. INGERSOLL 
 
 Published by 
 
 EDWARDS P. INGERSOLL 
 SINGLE TAX REVIEW, 150 NASSAU ST., NEW YORK 
 
 PRICE 50 CENTS 
 
 Copyrighted 1916 by Edwards P. IngersoU 
 

 TO THE READER 
 
 At the suggestion of some of my friends I am making this 
 collection of m}^ occasional efforts in verse, even including some of 
 the juvenile period. It will be noticed that the later productions 
 deal mainly with war and the economic-social problem. The writer 
 is one of those who believe, not in art for art's sake, but in art for 
 humanity's sake, hence he has felt more and more impelled to train 
 his muse in the service of the down-trodden masses in the great 
 struggle for emancipation now going on in the United States. How 
 intimately this great social struggle is appealing to the creative mind 
 in this country is well shown by the fact that quite recently during 
 an evening visit the writer was in conversation with a historical 
 painter and a sculptor both of whom were at work on subjects relating 
 to the industrial struggle, the one nearest their hearts. So insistent 
 is the voice of social justice becoming in our minds that it will not 
 let us rest by day or night until the great cause is won. Hasten the 
 day, led in by the great advance guard of prophets, poets, artists 
 and thinkers who believe in art for humanity's sake! 
 
 "All are needed by each one. 
 Nothing is fair or good alone." 
 
 EDWARDS P. INGERSOLL, 
 Evangelist for Liberty, Free Land and Fraternity. 
 
INDEX 
 
 The Goddess of Liberty in Wall Street 3 
 
 Redivivus {Christ Again) 1-3 
 
 The Modem Argonauts 18 
 
 Pandora 20 
 
 A Call to Peace. . 24 
 
 Hesperia 22 
 
 Love's Messengers 26 
 
 The Sphinx 27 
 
 To the New Year — 1916 28 
 
 The Vernal Troth 29 
 
 Europe's Messenger 30 
 
 Invocation to the New Year 31 
 
 The TreadmiU 31 
 
 Easter Discord — 1915 32 
 
 The Dying War God 32 
 
 To the Old Year — 1914 33 
 
 Parting 33 
 
 Apple Mary 34 
 
 The Song of the Billionaire 35 
 
 "Now Abideth These Three" 36 
 
 Anacreontic 36 
 
 Out of Work 37 
 
 Serenade ' 38 
 
 Homing 38 
 
 The Merry Month of May 39 
 
 The Garden of My Heart 39 
 
 To "Hinda" of Moore's Fire Worshippers 40 
 
 Nocturne 40 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 The Ford Peace Ship 41 
 
 To Keats 41 
 
 To Hesperus 41 
 
 The Sleeping Nun 42 
 
 Mom 42 
 
 Conceit 42 
 
 JX-VEXILIA 
 
 Ode to Greece 43 
 
 Fickle Fortune 44 
 
 On Keats' Burial Place 45 
 
 Barcarolle 45 
 
 The Dearest Memories 46 
 
 The Boy Wanderer's Farewell to Home 47 
 
 Respite 47 
 
 Lullaby for Children 47 
 
 The Wreath of Friendship 48 
 
 Album Verses 48 
 
 Wall Street in Folk Lore 48 
 
 Hymn to Liberty .^ Cover Page 3 
 
 ©Ji.A4l8713 
 
THE GODDESS OF LIBERTY IX WALL STREET 
 
 AN ALLEGORICAL SATIRE 
 
 One day a lovely maiden 
 
 Came strolling to The Street, 
 
 Her breath was summer-laden, 
 
 The daisies 'd kissed her feet. 
 
 About her gracious presence 
 
 Was balm of country air, 
 
 Her brow was crowned with pleasance, 
 
 Her glance was debonair. 
 
 From her clear eyes the sunbeams 
 
 Shone forth without disgxiise, 
 
 Commingling with the day dreams 
 
 In innocent surprise 
 
 At fortunes "short and long" tolled 
 
 From Babel towers of chance 
 
 In Mammon's mighty stronghold, 
 
 The seat of high finance; 
 
 At Washington encrusted 
 
 With money changer's grime, 
 
 With silvery notes o'erdusted 
 
 From Trinity's lorn chime. 
 
 Her looks suspicion flouted, 
 
 She held no secrets there. 
 
 No human heart she doubted 
 
 Nor thought of hidden snare. 
 
 A wreath of fresh wild posies 
 
 Adorned her rustic hair. 
 
 Yet rarer were the roses 
 
 Her damask cheeks did wear. 
 
 II 
 
 A noble line she boasted 
 
 Of old colonial sires, 
 
 W^ho stood like sentries, posted 
 
 To guard the altar fires. 
 
 That led the fathers, halted 
 
By fear, by baffling Fate, 
 
 To liberty exalted 
 
 When grew the greater state; 
 
 That blazed o'er range and river, 
 
 O'er moor and grange apart 
 
 And burned for Freedom ever 
 
 Within her vestal heart. 
 
 There, deep-enshrined she cherished 
 
 The martyrs to her cause. 
 
 The steadfast souls who perished, 
 
 Death-bound to tyrant laws. 
 
 She dream.ed that God had christened 
 
 America, the free. 
 
 To astral spheres she listened, 
 
 Chanting in harmony 
 
 Of buoyant hopes undaunted. 
 
 Of a fair land to be 
 
 By no gaunt spectres haunted; 
 
 United sea to sea 
 
 In one vast soul revival 
 
 Of labor and of love. 
 
 Spared of all passions tribal 
 
 And symboled by the dove. 
 
 To Mammon's stealth in blindness 
 
 It ne'er should bend the knee. 
 
 Ruled by pure lovingkindness, 
 
 The hearts innate decree, 
 
 'Twould prosper, justly yielding 
 
 Its friiits to husbandry. 
 
 Its children's children shielding 
 
 From want and misery. 
 
 So gleamed the blissful vision 
 
 Before her raptured eyes 
 
 Of ripened fields Elysian, 
 
 The reaper's Paradise. 
 
 Unsnared by Love's emotion 
 
 This maiden's ecstasy 
 
 Breathed only pure devotion — 
 
 Her name was Liberty. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Faultless in form and feature, 
 Superb, surpassing fair. 
 How came this peerless creature 
 Within the dragon's lair? 
 
IV 
 
 Heedless of lurking dangers, 
 Untrained in Mammon's way, 
 She sought the money-changers 
 To hear what they would say 
 About the Yellow Peril — 
 The gold that holds in thrall 
 The worlds' great marts till sterile 
 It bleeds and leaves them all; 
 Of lands all held by title 
 From willing hands away, 
 Rents racked without requital 
 And raised from day to day; 
 In court blind Justice mocking 
 The poor with cruel spite 
 And no rich sinner docking 
 For might is what makes right 
 While press and pulpit cover 
 The truth with glossing art 
 And draw with touches clever 
 The villain in his part; 
 The money lords all stripping 
 The coat from labor's back. 
 At its pale throat fast gripping 
 Like wolves in hungry pack. 
 
 These lords she would admonish 
 With plain and strong appeal: — 
 "Repent! (how 'twould astonish!) 
 And learn the common weal." 
 So through the grim dominion 
 Where Mammon has his throne 
 She spread the new opinion — 
 We all our country own 
 And not a few who manage 
 By hook or crook of law 
 
 To cram the whole appanage 
 Down Wall vStreet's greedy maw. 
 
 VI 
 
 But when the noisy gamblers 
 
 Beheld the queenly guest, 
 
 Like rude and shabby shamblers 
 
 t 
 
They bandied quip and jest. * 
 
 'Tis known that the apt scholar 
 
 In this great business street 
 
 Rates only by the dollar 
 
 All things or good or sweet. 
 
 No lamb has ever wandered 
 
 A down the crooked street 
 
 But quick its fleece quite plunderea 
 
 'Twas turned away to bleat. 
 
 Whatever chance has brought them 
 
 On veering winds of time 
 
 With booty rich has fraught them, 
 
 Reeking with labor's grime. 
 
 And though this female starlet 
 
 Would any heart disarm, 
 
 They'll quote her at the market 
 
 And estimate her charm. 
 
 This maid so kind and winning. 
 
 Fired with the patriot's flame, 
 
 Would shield them in their sinning. 
 
 How couid she know "the game"? 
 
 Her name would bravely nerve them 
 
 For a Napoleon's part, 
 
 Her innocence would serve them. 
 
 They'd coach the bold upstart. 
 
 In plots and planks instructed, 
 
 A diplomatic don 
 From mystic dreams abducted. 
 She'd make a perfect "con." 
 For she would be so trusting! 
 
 Respectability 
 Could screen its money-lusting 
 Behind fair Liberty. 
 Thus secretly they plotted 
 This virgin heart and true. 
 Guileless, by them besotted 
 Should Greed vile service do. 
 
 VII 
 
 Her pledge had ne'er been broken 
 The peoples' cause to fend, 
 Her name oft, proudly spoken, 
 Had made the tyrant bend. 
 When her ideals she'd mention 
 Then inwardly they laughed — 
 
"(Fourth of July pretension — )" 
 And rallied round the graft. 
 With all the arts and graces 
 Their hollow hearts contain 
 They smugged their foxy faces 
 Nor spoke a word of gain. 
 They vowed like fawning actors 
 They loved their country well, 
 Were pubUc benefactors, — 
 Wall paper they did sell 
 To widows and to orphans 
 To decorate their rooms. 
 And raised enormous war funds 
 To help the Red Cross booms. 
 As vested rights' testators 
 They dallied with the press. 
 With courts and legislators, 
 With statesmen in distress. 
 They fostered tariff debates 
 On cotton, oil and steel. 
 They bagged the shifty rebates 
 Or — closed a little deal. 
 
 VIII 
 
 By Jesuitic pleading 
 
 They tricked the pretty maid 
 
 To follow their false leading 
 
 And hold the hand they played. 
 
 She did not long resist them 
 
 For Liberty, you know. 
 
 Thought she could safely list them 
 
 "Pro bono pubHco." 
 vSo she was soon entrusted 
 With missions far and wide, 
 Big business she adjusted 
 And swelled the bankers' pride. 
 And everyone asserted, 
 Persuaded by her art, 
 The Street had been converted 
 To take the peoples' part. 
 She turned the heads of lawyers, 
 Fogged the judicial mind, 
 In legislative foyers 
 The peoples' cause declined. 
 Exempt from laws of libel 
 
The editors wrote rot, 
 And the whole blessed Bible 
 The ministers forgot. 
 "She did but do the bidding 
 Of men of high degree, 
 Assured they were us ridding 
 Of foes of property. 
 
 IX 
 
 Rome's proud patricians granted 
 
 The people should be fed 
 
 But foimd the people wanted 
 
 The circus and the bread. 
 
 And of the twain the bleeding 
 
 That drenched the circus ground 
 
 Proved mightier than the feeding 
 
 To draw the mob around. 
 
 Said Wall Street lords, conniving :- 
 
 "We must have pageantry. 
 
 A state so rich and thriving 
 
 Should build a great navy 
 
 To dance in ports and waters 
 
 Of home and foreign shores 
 
 For marriageable daughters 
 
 The officer adores. 
 
 And then should foreign robbers 
 
 Presume to have a say 
 
 And send their husky mobbers 
 
 To take our graft away. 
 
 We'll train our guns upon them 
 
 And pipe all hands to sea, 
 
 By aeros we'll drop on them 
 
 x\nd save our property. 
 
 And we will call a million 
 
 Of men with bands galore 
 
 To cost each year a billion, 
 
 (And every year cost more), 
 
 To march with banners flying 
 
 All up and down the land 
 
 And show how grand is dying 
 
 For Wall Street's patriot banc], 
 
 We'll furnish Death munitions 
 
 As all big bankers do, 
 
 Uphold The Street's traditions 
 
 And loan the money too. 
 
Our names will shine in story 
 As winners of the war, 
 We'll wear the gold and glory 
 And never wear a scar." 
 
 X 
 
 Through all this double dealing, 
 This diabolic game, 
 The systematic stealing 
 Was going on the same. 
 The worker's wealth was plundered, 
 Their lives were cheaply held. 
 Their children sadly wondered 
 And against God rebelled. 
 The octopus keeps draining 
 The life from labor's veins. 
 Great Croesus surely gaining 
 What feeble strength remains. 
 
 XI 
 
 Then burst a mad inflation 
 And mid the deafning din 
 They bought and sold the nation 
 (The people were "thrown in"). 
 No shallow-pated praters 
 Of patriotic punk, 
 No callow second-raters 
 At doling out the bunk, 
 The truth they all perverted 
 To mask their nimble schemes. 
 Not one whit disconcerted 
 They played the two extremes — 
 Philanthropists and patriots, 
 Beloved of their kind 
 But boosted up the freight rates 
 Beneath the crafty blind. 
 
 XII 
 
 Then Liberty 'gan waken , 
 
 To see her sorry plight. 
 
 The role she'd undertaken — 
 
 Corrupter of the Right. 
 
 Incensed, near — crazed with anguish, 
 
 She first did penance do 
 
(The people's cause did languish, 
 Her name was tarnished too.) 
 Then on the rascal traitors 
 She turned her righteous wrath, 
 The wreckers, thieves, rebaters 
 That block the nation's path: — 
 "Impious, mischievous meddlers 
 With God's prime, fixed decrees, 
 Base, pettifogging peddlers 
 Of legal sophistries. 
 The Earth is equal hostess 
 To man's vast family, 
 No law but human justice 
 Can set the people free. 
 Vengeance shall still be rising 
 To desecrate your tombs. 
 Your sons, their gold disguising, 
 Shall yet meet direful dooms." 
 "Of all the slimy dastards 
 That dodge the hangman's rope 
 That strain of Freedom's bastards 
 Who rob the race of hope. 
 Deserve the cat-o-nine-tails 
 Through all eternity, 
 While Justice with her fine scales 
 Weighs out the Equity. 
 Dull clods do beat within ye. 
 Not human hearts that feel; 
 Greed's gilded lures e'er win ye 
 To kill the Great Ideal." 
 
 XIII 
 
 With these bold words recanting 
 She faced the threat'ning throng, 
 A goddess pure, enchanting. 
 Nobler from sense of wrong. 
 First curses low they muttered. 
 Surcharged with vengeful harm 
 Then louder cries they uttered. 
 Seized her rebellious form. 
 And, her fond dreams deriding 
 They mauled her round the block, 
 "Hail! demagogue in hiding!" 
 They tore her simple frock. 
 "She'll be a goddess nevermore. 
 She's just a bit o'skirt. 
 
 10 
 
We've pulled her down forevermore 
 
 And dragged her in the dirt. 
 
 The saucy miss was well paid 
 
 For what she did for us. 
 
 She's just a 'buy and sell' trade, 
 
 And — now this nasty fuss. 
 
 Be sure there is no holding 
 
 A woman to her way, 
 
 It ends in shrewish scolding, 
 
 'The game' she will not play. 
 
 A suffragette 's quite pesky 
 
 To suit in business deals; 
 
 Her temper 's more than risky, 
 
 A tantrum she conceals." 
 
 XIV 
 
 From bruising straight to buying 
 They sauntered off in scorn. 
 
 Leaving the poor maid lying 
 Sore-wounded and forlorn. 
 
 XV 
 
 But scarce they 'd turned that scornful look 
 
 When lo! a spectre strange! 
 The Street, filled with her presence, shook 
 
 And panic seized "The Change." 
 
 Transfigured all the maid arose, 
 
 Resplendent, strong and brave. 
 
 Towering above her shrinking foes 
 Like giant o'er a slave. 
 
 Keen flashed the trenchant, flaming sword 
 
 Within her lifted hand, 
 With scorching eye and withering word 
 
 She scourged the miscreant band: — 
 
 "Ye sordid horde of plundering knaves, 
 
 In vain ye'll mercy plead. 
 Man, woman, child ye make your slaves 
 
 To glut your sateless greed. 
 
 "The piteous moans of starving poor, 
 
 The children's wails, denied, 
 Who dull mechanic tasks endure. 
 
 Are incense to your pride. 
 
 11 
 
"A Babel sound of misery 
 
 Assails my wearied ears, 
 Gaunt hunger in the streets I see, 
 
 I sense the falling tears. 
 
 "The land, the law, the school, the creed, 
 
 The hut bows to them all. 
 They are but tools of master Greed 
 
 To build your lordly hall. 
 
 "But. they that sow shall also reap. 
 
 The master builder Time 
 Shall yet the faith of ages keep 
 
 And build the dream sublime. 
 
 "The state secure, whose perfect base 
 
 Is justice, man to man. 
 For Liberty must God embrace. 
 
 Not Life's ephemera;! span. 
 
 "The light that leads the world alway 
 Springs from my star-lit crown, 
 
 My eyes are daggers in the fray, 
 My heart Greed cannot own. 
 
 "I stand before the castle Might, 
 
 Held by the wastrel Sin, 
 Come join me, rout the hosts of night 
 
 And bring the new day in. 
 
 " 'Tis written in the book of Fate 
 A thousand years of peace 
 
 Shall bless the reincarnate state, 
 If Mammon-worship cease. 
 
 "To every clime and subject isle ' 
 
 Resounds my trumpet call, 
 
 Let not the tempter's voice beguile, 
 Humanity needs all. 
 
 "I summon to the toilers' strife. 
 
 Oh! let the clarions roll! 
 For Liberty has come to life 
 
 And man shall find his soul. 
 
 12 
 
R E D I V I V U S 
 {Christ Again) 
 
 Two thousand years the church has stood 
 
 And waited for the Lord, 
 Two thousand years of widowhood 
 
 In sombre weeds abhorred. 
 
 Eyes fixed upon the vacant sky 
 
 With wide expectant gaze, 
 She counts her ceaseless rosary 
 
 And for the coming prays. 
 
 While roundabout the multitude. 
 
 On ritual manna fed, 
 On pious psalm and platitude, 
 
 Still cries for daily bread. 
 
 A stone ye give in lieu of bread! 
 
 A serpent's poisoned sting 
 The hand conceals ye stretch to aid 
 
 In your vain ministering! 
 
 The fruitful earth, God's good green earth, 
 
 Ye filch for a favored few, 
 A favored few of creed and birth. 
 
 By sword, by rack and screw. 
 
 While prelate, ruler, lord and squire 
 Wax fat and sleek and bland, 
 
 Want shrinks beside the cottage fire 
 And Woe stalks through the land. 
 
 Puffed up with purse and royal pride, 
 
 No deeds of mercy done, 
 How could ye find a place beside 
 
 The Meek and Lowly One? 
 
 For round and round the weary world 
 
 The blood -red rivers run. 
 And shafts of Hate are fiercely hurled 
 
 From rise to set of sun, 
 
 And he who preacheth Christ's pure creed. 
 
 Purged of all worldly dross, 
 To him ye give as lawful meed 
 
 The garret or the cross. 
 
 13 
 
Oh, eyes that see not, neither seek!- 
 
 O, ears that will not hear! 
 O, tongues too dumb His name to speak! 
 
 O, Hearts that cringe and fear! 
 
 His is the blood ye shed in wrath, 
 Him your blind greed enthrals, 
 
 It is the Christ your guile betray'th, 
 On Him your vengeance falls. 
 
 In all who speed the rolling sphere 
 
 Along the groove of Time, 
 Making the God-note ring out clear 
 
 In th' universal chime; 
 
 In those who sternly point the way 
 Mid the brute clash of Wrong, 
 
 And lead a baffled world, astray, 
 To the grand heights of Song, 
 
 Where bursts the vision of the Land 
 
 Of Promise on the ken, 
 The sorrowless new Eden, and 
 
 The Paradise of men: — 
 
 He lives to share the low estate 
 
 And shape the noble dream. 
 To help us choose the truly great 
 
 And spurn the things that seem. 
 
 Pent up in dank and dismal cell, 
 With scornful thrust laid low 
 
 When slaves in desperate deed rebel 
 The tyrant to o'erthrow; 
 
 In dock, on rack, on scaffold tall, 
 
 Tortured and maimed and slain; 
 
 Heard when the ax in frightful fall, 
 Baptized with bloody stain; — 
 
 Mocked, scourged, despised, in clanking chain, 
 Felled by the despot's blow: — 
 
 Oft hath He come — He comes again! 
 Ye knew him not, nor know. 
 
 14 
 
The marvelous pattern once begun 
 
 Doth shuttle ever rest? 
 Man never is (the rede doth run) 
 
 But always to be blest. 
 
 Alas! that leaf of Bible lore 
 
 Should be so soon forgot, 
 He came unto his own once more, 
 
 His own received Him not. 
 
 The bearer of His word why shun 
 
 Like a forbidden guest? 
 Why look ye for the rising sun 
 
 With faces toward the West? 
 
 Among the sons of men, I ween, 
 The laureled and the great. 
 
 The priceless man, hath ever been 
 The man who risks his fate; 
 
 Who takes our hoard, our mental store 
 Of dogmas we hold dear, 
 
 And brushing off the dusty lore. 
 The simple truth makes clear, 
 
 And they who see the growing plan. 
 Shall they stand idly by 
 
 Or peer out through the mist to scan 
 Our human destiny? 
 
 What of the night, O Watchman, tell, 
 What see'st thou in the gloom? 
 
 Methinks I hear the distant bell 
 Warn mariners of doom. 
 
 Breakers ahead! the rock-bound shore! 
 
 The Watchm.an's startled cry 
 Rings out above the mounting roar 
 
 Of waters to the sky. 
 
 Where is the Captain in the hour 
 Of danger and of dread? 
 
 He Hes below where cravens cower, 
 Heedless of rocks ahead. 
 
 15 
 
Shall man thus weakly bend to fate? 
 
 Where's the courageous soul 
 Will grasp the helm of Church and State 
 
 Ere shipwreck take its toll, 
 
 And steering by the eternal star 
 
 As only great faith can, 
 Will bring us safe within the bar 
 
 To the final port of man? 
 
 O, hear ye not that mighty surge — 
 The heartbeat of the world — 
 
 Outswelling, sounding doom and dirge 
 Of every flag unfurled. 
 
 When common brotherhood of man 
 Shall banish class and creed 
 
 In worldwide fellowship, and ban 
 This cruel reign of greed? 
 
 Come unto Me, the Master said. 
 
 All ye that labor long. 
 Come learn of Me and bravely tread 
 
 The pathway of the strong. 
 
 And fear not in the fateful day 
 When Me ye must defend, 
 
 For with you I will be alway, 
 Alway unto the end. 
 
 The golden face of mellow truth 
 
 Shines through the ripening years, 
 
 We know in age what once in youth 
 We hoped or dreamed in tears. 
 
 And this I know from out my heart, 
 When soul leaps to ascend 
 
 He is the lofty counterpart, 
 
 The guide, the type, the friend. 
 
 Then stir the slothful, cheer the faint, 
 
 Unite, revolt, decry 
 The traffickers who foully taint 
 
 The truth and gild the lie. 
 
 16 
 
Firm in the faith that looks through death 
 
 The purpose high fulfill, 
 The power that gives the statue breath 
 
 Is man's creative will. 
 
 For judgment we are brought to bar, 
 
 Ourselves we do accuse; 
 If chance hath mastered us thus far 
 
 The way we now must choose. 
 
 But not to glory, honor, fame, 
 
 The love that self denies 
 Leads yet to Calvary — the same 
 
 Sad path of sacrifice 
 
 He trod two thousand years ago, 
 
 Beset with cold and heat. 
 With thorns, with steeps both hard and slow 
 
 And worn by bleeding feet. 
 
 It is the law of human life 
 
 The great shall serve the small, 
 
 That peace is won alone through strife. 
 That some must die for all. 
 
 What though from Pisgah's topmost height 
 
 We view the sunlit towers 
 Nor enter into perfect light — 
 
 The vision still is ours. 
 
 With mute appeal and radiant brow 
 
 Chastened by sacrifice, 
 His spirit yearning to endow 
 
 With life an age that dies' 
 
 The martyred head content to bow 
 
 In shame for liberty; — 
 There stands the Christ before you now. 
 
 Look, follow and be free! 
 
 17 
 
THE MODERN ARGONAUTS 
 
 We'll send our peerless navy out, 
 All painted white and clean, 
 
 Prepared with every kind of scout 
 Whose scent for peace is keen; 
 
 Professors, pundits of the law 
 
 And polyglots profound. 
 Bigwigs, each primed with some old saw 
 
 That's coin the world around r 
 
 Handshakers of the glad old school 
 
 Who'll lend a five or ten, 
 And Quakers with their Golden Rule 
 
 And good will unto men; 
 
 New Thoughters with their mystic ken 
 And Christians — ah! too few. 
 
 Brave Comrade with the caustic pen 
 And Single Taxers too. 
 
 We'll put to sea in men o' war 
 Full-ballasted v^ith books. 
 
 Ambrosial bubbles at the bar 
 And Ganymedes for cooks. 
 
 In quest of proud Adventure's store; 
 
 Like Argonauts of Greece 
 To search the wide, wide oceans o'er 
 
 For golden words of peace. 
 
 And suffragettes in pantalettes, — 
 
 Except the surly shrews 
 With faces sour as vinaigrettes, — 
 
 Shall man the burly crews. 
 
 Instead of duels of the sword 
 In port, when we're ashore. 
 
 We'll choose that all-compelling word 
 Ne'er quite defined before: — 
 
 "Ho! brother, greet the day with us, 
 'Tis made for all to share; 
 
 Come Briton, Frenchman, Teuton, Russ, 
 Your golden hearts lay bare." 
 
 18 
 
We'll joke the Japs out of their wits 
 And spike the German guns, 
 
 Smash all their cruel creeds to bits 
 And frolic with the Huns. 
 
 Broadsides of handshake we'll throw out 
 
 While cheerily we sing, 
 And everywhere our rousing shout 
 
 Shall make the welkin ring. 
 
 For us no bombs and Zeppelins, — 
 
 Those big, aerial rooks, — 
 We'll take a guarded world with grins 
 
 And volleys of good looks. 
 
 Vive! Hoch! Viva! Banzai! Hooray! 
 
 Shall swell in tongues galore 
 To hail the fast-approaching da}'- 
 
 When tongues shall be no more ; 
 
 When hearts shall beat with common throb, 
 Attuned the whole world o'er, 
 
 And every hand that turns the knob 
 Shall find the open door. 
 
 We've tortured long the silent earth 
 
 To wrest the fiend of gold. 
 Fierce yellow fever from our birth 
 
 Inflames the young and old. 
 
 Now let us dig the richest veins 
 
 Of treasure under suns, — 
 Our golden hearts that fear enchains 
 
 Neath hatred's crushing tons. 
 
 And rarer far than all the pelf 
 
 The goblin Greed can hold 
 The depths that hide the better self, 
 
 More dear than worlds of gold. 
 
 If we would win the world to peace 
 The power that in us delves, — 
 
 Faith, like the Argonauts' of Greece, 
 Must conquer first ourselves. 
 
 Great hearts can make this mortal plan 
 
 A temple to endure; 
 Our eyes shall see the God in man 
 
 Because our hearts are pure. 
 
 19 
 
PANDORA 
 
 Thou art the very soul of all around. 
 
 E'en as the scentless flower, plucked with the rose, 
 
 Seems fragrant as the rose itself, within 
 
 My heart I feel a sweet inbreathed spell. 
 
 And yet, insooth, scarce know it to be thine. 
 
 Thy voice is low and murmurous with echoes 
 
 Bubbling from the deeper soul and far-hid 
 
 In thine eyes that melt in soft beatitudes, 
 
 There lurks a happy dream, just half-awake 
 
 And yearning to be true. The wreath of smiles 
 
 Around thy ruby lips adorns a tongue 
 
 That moves in measured melody and speaks 
 
 A heart where harmony is throned supreme. 
 
 Like raiment of the night thy raven hair 
 
 Doth ripple round thy graceful form and fall 
 
 Away in silken strands, true lover's knots 
 
 To bind my heart to thine. Amort with sport, 
 
 Eeolian zephyrs, truant, pause and play 
 
 Upon thee, while each leaflet whispers praise, 
 
 Clear flutings, garnered fresh from Elfin-land. 
 
 Thou holdest close communion with the flowers, 
 
 As one of them, and drinkest from their breath 
 
 Intoxicating odors faint with love. 
 
 For thee the Sun his brazen heat abates. 
 
 And cools his tropic ardor for thy sake. 
 
 The startled birds, at sight of thee, forget 
 
 To sing and all the noisy trumpetings 
 
 Of day are stilled in solemn adoration. 
 
 All things for thee are tempered, while they yield 
 
 To thy pure charm an homage meet. Thou m.ov'st 
 
 In slow procession with the twilight hours, 
 
 Enfolded round in shadow and in calm. 
 
 At darkening night the jealous Moon reveals 
 
 Her silver sheen, the stars shine brighter on 
 
 Thy path and all the trembling leaves are hushed 
 
 In breathless awe at beauty so divine. 
 
 Oh let me be the tender wind that dotes 
 Upon thee; let mc woo thee, sweet, and coax 
 The budding love from out thy luscious heart 
 To full-blown splendor, now, while yet 'tis time. 
 While Night still holds her m^^stic sway, for Night 
 Was made for thee and thou was't made for love. 
 Love's nectared chalice I have filled for thee: 
 Oh! drain with me its honeyed sweets, distilled 
 From earth's immortal lays, songs ever new! 
 
 20 
 
Oh might I quicken thee and wake to Ufe 
 That slumbering dream of thine! Could I but ope 
 The portals of thy cloistered mind and take 
 True lover's tribute of it's previous store! 
 Then would I scale the battlements of heaven 
 And win the snow-white lilies from the throne 
 Of God to lay them down at thy dear feet 
 As humble guerdon of my loyal love. 
 
 One glimpse of heaven thou gavest. Rend the veil! 
 
 Throw wide the scene to my ecstatic gaze! 
 
 O, silver voice from golden heart, attune 
 
 Again my ravished ear to thoughts divine! 
 
 Oh ! leave me not my starving soul to feed 
 
 Upon the sterile husks the swine do eat! 
 
 Nor let my wounded heart be broken quite 
 
 Upon the sharp and cruel wheel of Fate. 
 
 Life's refuse heap of pain and strife, of dross, 
 
 Of blighted hopes and vain regrets, I cast 
 
 In sorrow- at thy feet, when lo! it buds 
 
 And blossoms into beauty in the dust. 
 
 Can'st thou not trust the winnowing years to clean 
 
 Away the chaff from Hfe's full-kemeled grain? 
 
 As some rich-toned, responsive instrument 
 Wakes at the singer's voice, though all untouched, 
 Methinks all virtues tremble in accord 
 When now I gently breathe thy name, oh love, 
 Pandora, wondrous woman of my dreams. 
 Elusive, veiled, a prize for future years. 
 With out-stretched arms, disconsolate, I stand 
 And call and blindly grope, with pleading voice, 
 And strive in vain to clasp a mortal hand. 
 Thy fleeting form dissolves and straight I hear 
 Thy distant footfall down the halls of time, 
 While Midnight hymns a threnody for thee. 
 
 The crystal sky anon is choked with murk. 
 In fear Song flies away from p^allid lips. 
 Love calls a truce, his genial conquest o'er. 
 The day of wrath, that dreadful day, is come. 
 When Justice rides the tempest swift to scourge 
 And Revolution thunders at the gate. 
 
 21 
 
HESPERIA 
 
 From a sea-pillowed isle in the glowing west, 
 Lulled like a babe on the Ocean's breast, 
 
 She came in the lush spring-time. 
 
 There the winds and the waves together plav, 
 
 Or die in wonderment away, 
 
 So soft is the hallowed clime. 
 
 There the breeze like a bee a-gathering treats 
 
 Flits all day long from flower to flower, 
 And then, o'erladen and cloying with sweets, 
 
 It loiters and dies in shade and bower ; 
 While the rose to the night's de\^n/ baptism 
 
 Droops answering in odorous prayer. 
 And the pale airs, all swooning with passion, 
 
 Their sorrowing loves lay bare. 
 E'en the birds in the thickets yonder 
 
 Sing carols so full and strong 
 That Summer forgets how to wander 
 
 And listens the whole year long. 
 All the sounds and odors that steal on the air 
 
 Seem wedded in one long, fervent prayer. 
 
 And weave the wierd spell of song. 
 
 Hesperia, gem of the western wave, 
 
 Rooted and ribbed in the coral strand, 
 
 With pearl-studded walls the clear waters lave 
 
 And pine-serried banks that like sentries stand 
 
 The brooks down the slopes of thy verberate hills 
 Falter and frolic in whimsical glee. 
 
 Or linger in sport with the murmuring rills. 
 Wee, truant children of the sea. 
 
 Ah ! she was the Queen of that fairy isle 
 
 In the clime where the summer never dies. 
 Fond Nature had lured her with every wile 
 
 And wrapped her in magical phantasies. 
 And the slumbrous flowers awoke with surprise, 
 
 A-blush at the morning in her eyes, 
 Blue heavens star-lit with dreams ; 
 
 For the music of waves and the smiles oi the sea 
 And a laugh from the breezes wild and free 
 
 Lived in the gladness of their beams. 
 
 Her songs lay light on the tranced air, 
 
 Pure- voiced dreams in a cradle fair. 
 Caressed by the crooning wind; 
 
 Mellifluous strains enriching the heart. 
 With healing touch for love's lingering smart, 
 
 For thought, wan guest of the mind. 
 And soft fell the tread of her sandalled feet 
 
 As the dew on the grass, the bloom on the wheat, 
 Or the balsam breath of May. 
 
 22 
 
Her locks lured warmth from the setting sun, 
 
 Their sheen from the moonbeams shyly won 
 And gloss from the glow-worm's play. 
 
 Around her were murmurs that sighed and stirred, 
 Faint echoes of prayers of the cooing bird, 
 
 Repining in mateless dole. 
 And all her enchantments, her wealth of soul, 
 
 Were limned in the sweep of an undulous whole, 
 Proud beauty's imperial goal. 
 
 She sailed away in the mellowest June, 
 
 When the earth was singing in perfect tune 
 An impassioned roundelay, 
 And the choirs were joined in those parting days 
 In a blended poem of passion and praise 
 For the Queen on her bridal way. 
 
 So fair was the world when that bridal morn, 
 Fresh gem-bedewed and new heaven-born. 
 Crept forth on prayer-bended knee. 
 Fair festal raiment did earth adorn, 
 
 Fairer the hope in m}^ heart then born 
 Of a honeymoon for me. 
 When the envious hours a soul-mate miss 
 They stir up the jealous Fates to hiss 
 Their poisonous hates and fears. 
 So pure was the gleam of my bourne of bliss 
 
 They loosened the hounds of the wind, I wiss. 
 To follow with fiendish jeers. 
 And they scented their pre}?- and bayed and moaned 
 And they hoarsely snarled and wildly groaned, 
 Oh! greedily gnashed and ground. 
 Till the shivered bark went shrieking down 
 
 To the cavemed deeps, where the mermaids gowned 
 My bride and prepared her crown 
 For the regal pomp of old Ocean's bed — 
 Eternal troth of my dream-love — -dead. 
 Arrayed in a coral gown. 
 Sitting alone by the cheerless sea, 
 
 Watching the wild birds ceaselessly 
 Wheel in their, weary race; 
 My heart in my breast is dead and chill. 
 Like a stone I bear it forever until 
 I die, and the sea is cold and still 
 As a dead man's face. 
 
 28 
 
A CALL TO PEACE 
 
 This is the hour big with Fate, 
 
 A great deed must be done. 
 The holy cause we consecrate 
 
 That peace be surely won. 
 
 A sickened world, crazed, anarchist, 
 
 Quaking with wild alarms ; 
 A spectre bathed in bloody mist, 
 
 Reels 'neath the shock of arms. 
 
 Now horrid, shrunken, grinning Death 
 
 Has blurred man's horoscope; 
 Has blasted with his putrid breath 
 
 Our frail, slow-budding hope. 
 
 But while the shattered nations groan, 
 Benumbed with pain and dread, 
 
 And shudder as they feebly moan 
 Their dirges for the dead. 
 
 We toy with gun and battleship. 
 
 And mumble martial fame, 
 Nor heed how fickle was the slip 
 
 Set all the world aflame. 
 
 Faint prayers and medleys mixed with doubt 
 
 We stammer in our fear. 
 As piously we usher out 
 
 The maimed and bleeding year. 
 
 Oht for a Quixote to defame 
 
 This inodern code of might! 
 To put a war-worn world to shame 
 
 Bravely, in all men's sight ! 
 
 Then shall the swollen, crimson tide 
 O'erwhelm our peaceful shore? 
 
 Must juggernaut of war o'erride 
 And plunge us deep in gore? 
 
 At parting of the ways we stand, 
 
 Two visions rise from far; 
 Before shines clear the Promised Land, 
 
 A ptire, eternal star. 
 
 But from th' Inferno of the past 
 
 Bmte passions, smould'ring, throw 
 
 Hell flames, and while we gaze aghast 
 Outbursts Vesuvian woe. 
 
 24 
 
To scar and scald the patient earth, 
 
 To rend the shaking ball, 
 To blot out all of noble worth 
 
 Beneath an ashen pall. 
 
 Why txirn we backward toward the night. 
 
 Or falter ere we choose? 
 Our fathers faced us to the light. 
 
 Their faith we shall not lose. 
 
 Stand forth, young David of the West, 
 
 Strong-hearted, unafraid, 
 No sordid thought within thy breast. 
 
 Nor yet by scorn dismayed. 
 
 Go out to meet Goliath old, 
 
 But not in armor clad. 
 Extend the hand of friendship bold. 
 
 Dare be Sir Galahad. 
 
 The torch of progress fallen low 
 From Europe's stricken hand 
 
 Lift high; let it a beacon glow. 
 By Freedom's altars fanned. 
 
 Let no drum beat, no bugle blow 
 To marshal murderous hosts. 
 
 Forge no great guns in serried row 
 To mask our friendly coasts. 
 
 Above the cannon's sullen boom, 
 
 The rattle of the guns. 
 The trumpets piercing sulphurous gloom, 
 
 The war cries of the Huns ; 
 
 Undaunted by the noisy screeds 
 That human souls v/ould blind, 
 
 Oh ! hear the still small voice that pleads 
 Goodwill to all mankind. 
 
 Bid greed and conquering lust abate. 
 The battle flags keep furled. 
 
 Break down the barriers of hate, 
 Let Peace o'erflow the world 
 
 25 
 
LOVE'S MESSENGERS 
 
 If I were the breeze of the dying day, 
 And my little wings were aweary at play, 
 
 A moment I'd rest 
 
 On the earth's strong breast, 
 Then fondle the flowers lovingly, 
 And nestled in roses, pause and sigh, 
 
 "Lullaby, lullaby, 
 
 Little flowers, the day 
 
 Will soon pass away." 
 
 And while they were nodding in dreams, 
 With a kiss I'd steal all the hid perfume 
 
 The}^ give the beloved night; 
 And whispering "hush"! to the playful beams 
 At hide and seek in the drowsy bloom, 
 
 As still as death 
 
 With a parting breath, 
 I'd speed through the waning light. 
 
 I'd woo low plaints from the mateless dove 
 And wed them in one new name of love ; 
 And there, while murmuring leaves repeat. 
 Like the spirit dream of an untouched lute, 
 
 I'd lisp it low, 
 
 In the golden glow, ■ 
 And breathing my burden of incense out— 
 
 — die at her feet. 
 
 If I were the light of the dying day 
 
 And Love were abroad in the smiling May, 
 
 I'd bathe in the hue 
 
 Of the ocean blue. 
 And search through the depths of the lucent waves 
 For the pearly sheen of his treasure caves ; 
 
 I'd peep in the glades 
 
 Where daylight fades; 
 
 In the duskening vales 
 
 Where silence trails 
 Her muffled pall o'er the mossy sod. 
 In the languidest nook of the Land of Nod. 
 
 I'd catch the gleams when the leaflets dance 
 
 In a thousand forms their wild seance. 
 
 In a shady dell where lovers tell 
 
 Their troth to the silent sky, 
 
 I'd feign to sleep yet vigil keep. 
 
 While their fond adieus I'd spy. 
 
 I'd linger in love on her ringlets' sheen. 
 
 Then the faintest ray that e'er was seen 
 
 In the dainty cup of a lily queen 
 
 I'd gather, and wed the whole 
 
 In a silent soul 
 Of glow, and glamor and gleam; 
 
 26 
 
And clasping a filmy young moonbeam, 
 I'd madly dance 'till in a trance 
 Of witchery, wonder and dream, 
 I'd trifle away the last moment of day; 
 Then slyly, a wayward waif at bay — 
 — I'd live in her eyes. 
 
 THE SPHINX 
 
 Oh! woman, great goddess of fashion, 
 Diviner of kind and of kin, 
 Creator — destroyer of passion 
 And mother of world-old sin; 
 
 Revealed through the masks and disguises 
 Thou wear'st in thy manifold part, 
 Through the wiles and the cunning surprises, 
 A Sphinx, a deceiver thou art. 
 
 For war is the breath of thy body 
 Though peace is the prayer of thy heart. 
 Thy tongue quite divine in entreaty 
 Leaves wounds that forever will smart. 
 
 Though we sing of those soft, cooing kisses. 
 Fond mem'ries that never depart. 
 Still the sting of thy soul-filling blisses 
 Sinks deep as a poisonous dart. 
 
 Like apples of Sodom e'er turning 
 To ashes on fever-parched lips. 
 At passion's last ling'ring inuming 
 Flits the ghost of thy finger tips. 
 
 Well versed in the role of Bacchante, 
 Rehearsed in the dance and the play. 
 E'en the brazenest belle of Ashantee 
 Would win on her triumphal way. 
 
 Soon said is the crude of thy seeming 
 When coyly thou beatest retreat. 
 Earth-bred is the m^ood of thy dreaming. 
 What veins in thy vanity meet ! 
 
 To be queen of the heart is thy portion. 
 Enthroned high on majesty's seat. 
 While the lords of the earth in contortion 
 Are writhing in pain at thy feet. 
 
 27 
 
TO THE NEW YEAR— 1916 
 
 Thou stumbler o'er the threshold of the world, 
 
 Bent low 'neath heaping wrongs of yester years! 
 
 Cursed be the doddering day that gave thee birth, 
 
 Abortive imp hatched out in murder's lair! 
 
 Brute offspring of a nest of pregnant crimes! 
 
 No milk of human kindness warms the life 
 
 Within thy curdled veins, but cruel deeds 
 
 Their likeness print upon thy sombre brow. 
 
 Thy young head wears, in truth, a bloody crown. 
 
 Gift of a mad, a wicked, M'-anton world. 
 
 Mirth ill befits thy coming, hapless wight! 
 
 Strike not the light and festive note of cheer. 
 
 With plaintive dirge toll out a solemn hour. 
 
 Thou hast no wand to ope for wistful eyes 
 
 The treasures of the future's store of hope, 
 
 No talisman to charm away the beast 
 
 Whose bulking shape crowds out our pleading souls. 
 
 Thou art a mere pretender on the throne, 
 
 A poor king's jester at the court of Time. 
 
 Think'st thou to mock away our plangent grief? 
 
 Supreme grave digger of the ages, thou. 
 
 Who diggest graves for m.en, for helpful beasts 
 
 And e'en for man's ripe, mellowing hopes. 
 
 And flaunt'st funereal crepe in God's clean heav'ns. 
 
 No fairies hover at thy luckless birth, 
 
 crippled ruler of a crippled realm ! 
 
 The savage wolves have rent thy tender flocks. 
 
 Thy pleasant fields are foul with carrion clay. 
 
 Thy treasures wrecked by ruthless, vandal hands. 
 
 While lamentations choke the voice of song. 
 
 And stealthy Famine grasps the scythe of Time 
 
 To cut thy millions down in shrivelled death. 
 
 And think'st thou now to heal our bleeding hearts 
 
 With one wild burst of brief, punctilious joy? 
 
 Would'st fain believe that we our sorrow wear 
 
 As ornament to be put on or off 
 
 As please thy vanity and childish whim? 
 
 Oh! would that old Oblivion of the floods 
 
 Might wrest an interregnum from thy hands 
 
 Till Time restore his ailing limbs to health 
 
 And cleanse his fear-crazed brain of poison fumes. 
 
 Then might he hold again the reins of power 
 
 And order out of chaos form anew. 
 
 But destiny lies in thy stained hands, 
 
 So hobble on to quit thy doleful task 
 
 And drag thy leaden load across the scene, 
 
 O melancholy Hamlet of the years. 
 
 28 
 
THE VERNAL TROTH 
 
 Earth now flings out her robe of living green 
 
 To hide the nakedness of winter's harm. 
 
 Arrayed in vestal garb of bravest hues, 
 
 Her choristers to blissful notes attune 
 
 Her fruitful union with the embracing Sky. 
 
 It is the time of increase, of new faith, 
 
 When mounts the busy sap through bush and tree 
 
 And blithely beats the bounding heart of man, — 
 
 The yearly mating of the Earth and Sky. 
 
 But tragic fate hangs o'er this vernal troth. 
 
 All sinister the signs that haunt the scene. 
 
 Fair Earth, fresh-nurtured from the wells of Life, 
 
 Lift not thy maiden veil to vulgar view. 
 
 Behold ! Thy bridal robe is crimson-stained. 
 
 And, smirched with battle-smoke and choked with grime, 
 
 The groom, once clear-eyed as the dawn, is blind 
 
 To love's sweet blandishments, distraught and dumb. 
 
 In vain thy feeble songsters swell their throats 
 
 To quell the Babel of tumAiltuous war, — 
 
 The vulture's croak, the clamor of the kite, 
 
 The jackal's bark, the wolf's Satanic snarl. 
 
 The cave-bom beasts, long pent, have scented blood, 
 
 And seeking prey, roam through th' affrighted world, 
 
 While Beauty flees and Wisdom palsied stands. 
 
 For violence great Nature keeps no school; 
 
 In quiet only does she bare her heart. 
 
 No babbling brook, no gentle flower, can tell 
 
 Its modest tale where bloody work is done. 
 
 As war's malign contagion eats its way. 
 
 The witches' cauldron, brewing vengeance, breeds 
 
 A dread miasma round the globe. But breathe 
 
 The poison brew. Spring's lessons will be lost 
 
 And voiceless her deep undertones of peace. 
 
 More kind is Winter with his piercing blast. 
 When men unleash their ancient tribal hate. 
 And, hurtling o'er the scorched and wasted fields, 
 Sow sepulchres with red and ruthless hand. 
 Sad earth ! Will Time erase the tell-tale stains ? 
 Will rains be p\ire again, and suns benign? 
 God fend thy teeming breasts must suckle Death 
 And fertile lands crop out for aye in graves ! 
 
 29 
 
EUROPE'S MESSENGER 
 
 Rejected, repelled by the tribes of Cain 
 
 Who deluge the earth with a noisome flood 
 
 Of primeval brutes from the Stygian caves, 
 
 I wing my lone way o'er the trenched fields, 
 
 Where death careers on the poisoned blasts. 
 
 Where, bleeding and torn in the crimson camps, 
 
 Lie scattered the slain and battle scarred. 
 
 I rise as the ghost of th' unnumbered dead — 
 
 Hope, vanquished, sore-wounded, yet loth to die — 
 
 To find me a land where the air is sweet 
 
 And sunshine and rain will revive the heart: 
 
 Where, tickled by teasing winds from the sea. 
 
 The leaves laugh loud on the rollicking boughs, 
 
 And the soothing tides with mesmeric spells 
 
 Lisp low siren songs on the restful shores ; 
 
 A land unpalsied by phantom fears. 
 
 Serene mid the slaughter and weltering strife, 
 
 A haven, a home for a broken heart, 
 
 With a ministering hand to bind my wounds 
 
 And a mystical voice to lull the pain. 
 
 I pause in suspense at great Liberty's gate 
 
 And trembling stand at the portal side, 
 
 While, breathless, I harken the life within. 
 
 On my startled ear falls the muffled tread 
 
 Of the hosts that march to the drum's dread beat, 
 
 The thunder of forges fashioning guns 
 
 And the clatter and clash of champing steeds. 
 
 "Have murder's foul minions betrayed my cause 
 
 And brewed a sly mixture — revenge and lies — 
 
 To drug with vile opiates the souls of men? 
 
 Is no refuge found for despairing Hope, 
 
 No hand outstretched that is willing to save?" 
 
 In sorrow I turn from the gate away 
 To scan the wide world for a beckoning hand, 
 A threshold unstained by the sign of blood. 
 But the mad world mutters the curse of Cain, 
 In sackcloth and ashes the nations rage. 
 
 I come, the lost Hope of the race of men. 
 So long have I tarried and prayed for peace. 
 Oh! let me come in to a loyal hearth 
 Ere the earth grow black with tempestuous hate 
 And forever shut are the gates of light. 
 
 30 
 
INVOCATION TO THE NEW YEAR 
 
 Cross not the threshold ere thou shrive thyself, 
 
 Fair stranger from the pure empyrean, 
 
 The earth reeks hot with bloody quarrel. The air 
 
 Is rank and rife with stifled pestilence, 
 
 And Desolation broods alone o'er scenes 
 
 Where once were busy life and rural charm. 
 
 This is thy heritage; this slaughter pen 
 
 The realm thou must subdue to gentleness. 
 
 How wilt thou e'er rebuild this ruined world 
 
 Or look on human face once called divine? 
 
 Mayhap thou bring'st from farthest source rare balm 
 
 For our deep wounds, and comfort for our hearts 
 
 Bowed down in sorrow's slough of needless tears. 
 
 Mayst thou depart from fratricidal strife 
 
 And lead in paths of peace and charity. 
 
 Sear in our consciences the homely truths 
 
 We utter with our lips so carelessly. 
 
 Teach us the sacredness of human life, 
 
 The joy of brother love to bind our hearts 
 
 As one in cheerful service for our kind. 
 
 Have pity for our worse than senseless fall; 
 
 Incline our wills to shape our destiny 
 
 Aright, ere we make havoc of all Time. 
 
 THE TREADMILL 
 
 Would Greed might take vacation, 
 His great machine give wa}^ 
 Whose every stroke and motion 
 Makes my heart bleed each day; 
 Tears all to shreds and tatters 
 The tender, throbbing nerve 
 That feeds the sense of duty, 
 And numbs the hands that serve. 
 No time to think you tell us, 
 No time to hear within 
 The still, small voice of conscience 
 In all this craz}^ din? 
 Then let this humdrum cease, albeit 
 But one short deathless hour. 
 When Life might gain true meaniag 
 And Love Its rightful dower. 
 Set free from fatal serfdom 
 To Mammon, class and creed, 
 'Twould reach its full completion 
 And rule the heart indeed. 
 Just one brief glimpse of Beauty 
 For men whom God hath made. 
 Before we drop in harness 
 Like whipped out beasts of trade! 
 All tasks might then be pleasures 
 Despite their meager doles 
 And we might get acquainted 
 W^ith our own precious souls. 
 
 31 
 
EASTER DISCORD— 1915 
 
 Cease, mocking bells; strike not the shuddering air 
 
 With tones discordant to the season's mood. 
 
 'Twere seemlier your brazen tongues were mute, 
 
 Cleaved to your hollow throats, and Earth were left 
 
 Aloof to bind her broken heart, unpained 
 
 By these rude bursts of boisterous joy. 
 
 Like blist'ring hail on tender human hearts. 
 
 Th' ecstatic peals descend and ope afresh 
 
 Our bare and gaping wounds. Cease, mocking bells; 
 
 'Tis but a dirge ye ring, a requiem 
 
 For all the blasted hopes of withered Time. 
 
 Lo! Yonder lie the hosts of Christian slain. 
 
 To death-grip cheered by fierce and vengeful prayers, 
 
 By sober blessings of the recreant priests. 
 
 Crazed with the blood-lust of their tyrant kings. 
 
 In Europe's pitiful Gethsemane 
 No resting place is found for sacred feet. 
 Stilled are the pleas of love and peaceful song. 
 With brutal boast, with hate of helHsh hue. 
 They have but crucified their Christ again 
 And plaited for the world a crown of thorns. 
 
 THE DYING WAR GOD 
 
 O god of battle and of blood. 
 
 Drink deep thy draught of gore. 
 Like cataracts in raging flood 
 
 The red libations pour. 
 Mad hosts to vengeful death foredoom 
 
 Upon the blood-drenched plain, 
 Huge human hetacombs illume 
 
 Thy dark fanatic fane. 
 But hark! above the dull earth-gloam 
 
 A world's heart-rending cry 
 Shrills through the blackened, brazen dome; 
 
 "Vile monster, thou must die!" 
 
 From Titan throats the hot, steel rain 
 
 Belch forth in withering blast. 
 Exult while swift the lurid flame 
 
 Licks up the storied past 
 And all the treasured beauty, gained 
 
 From countless, niggard years 
 Becomes a coarse-strewn desert stained 
 
 With futile, mocking tears. 
 
 With fang and tooth and ravening claw, 
 
 wreak thy mcked will. 
 Dread Cyclop with the man-gorged maw 
 
 Whose greed no grief can still. 
 Though myriad tongues as one implore 
 
 Thy murderous lust to stay. 
 Thy dripping blade is whet the more 
 
 In frenzied haste to slay. 
 
 32 
 
Serene above thy savage rites 
 
 God's splendid rainbow bends 
 Its heavenly hues of hope and lights 
 
 The scene with nobler blends. 
 For, hark! above the dull earth-gloam 
 
 A world's heart-rending cry 
 Shrills through the blackened, brazen dome: 
 
 "Vile monster, thou must die!" 
 
 TO THE OLD YEAR —1914 
 
 Avaunt, old year, be quickly gone. 
 
 Thou base, dishonored guest, 
 
 Thy hope was but a worthless pawn, 
 
 Thy joy a crel jest. 
 
 All fair and full of promise seemed 
 
 Thy young life at its morn. 
 
 The stars in lustrous beaut}- beamed 
 
 The night when thou wert bom. 
 
 In festal garb we welcomed thee, 
 
 Set forth our goodly cheer. 
 
 Joined all in seemly revelry 
 
 Nor harbored paltry fear; 
 
 But thou, a mad man in thy might, 
 
 With proud and brutal boasts 
 
 Did'st rise up grimly in the night 
 
 And slay thy loyal hosts. 
 
 Begone! arch traitor to the race, 
 
 Red-handed tribe of Cain! 
 
 Golgotha seek; in that lone place 
 
 Do penance for the slain. 
 
 Through ages may the ghostly dead 
 
 Provoke unbidden tears 
 
 'Till hover round thy guilty head 
 
 A thousand wailing years. 
 
 PARTING 
 
 'Twas only the dying echo 
 
 Of a far oflf wedding chime. 
 Only a fragrant moment 
 
 Plucked from the fleeting time; 
 
 Only the rude awakening 
 
 From the dream of a day divine, 
 When life all aglow seemed pressing 
 
 Like a naked soul to mine. 
 
 Then deep in my heart I'll lay thee, 
 
 Hope's young bud chilled with tears. 
 
 To mingle thy sad, sweet fragrance 
 With thoughts of coming years, 
 
 33 
 
And when Death shall close the portals 
 Of life on this mortal form, * 
 
 On lips that are cold and silent 
 That kiss shall still be warm. 
 
 To long is the soul's to be. 
 
 Ours the dim-visioned star, 
 'Tis what in our hearts we would be 
 
 That makes us what we are. 
 
 APPLE MARY 
 
 Twelve apples the store of her world estate 
 
 And her years were eighty-five. 
 She'd buffeted weather early and late 
 
 But b\isiness didn't thrive. 
 And who gives heed to the crippled or old 
 
 In the city's hustle and rush. 
 Where millions of apples are bought and sold 
 
 And sentiment is gush ? 
 
 So send her away to the poor house door 
 
 That opens for friendless age. 
 She'll better fare than she fared before 
 
 On the curb in the apple trade. 
 For sixty years she waited and prayed 
 
 For the lover that never came. 
 Full many a bride has since been made 
 
 And many a maid, grand dame. 
 
 O, Mary, your lover will come now soon. 
 
 He waits but the trysted hour. 
 He'll beg but a breath as a trifling boon 
 
 And he'll bring you a worthy dower. 
 It's the lover that comes to us all one day, 
 
 The lover that loves us best. 
 Whether our tresses are black or grey 
 
 Or whether we've longed for rest. 
 
 When the curtain that parts us backward rolls 
 
 And reveals the haven secure. 
 There's a welcome above for good old souls 
 
 And a home for all the poor. 
 Yes, Mary, he'll come with a fond embrace 
 
 And succor your failing breath. 
 With pitying glance at your aged face — 
 
 For your lover's name is death. 
 
 34 
 
THE SONCx OF THE BILLIONAIRE 
 
 Old Moloch feasted on filets souled. 
 His heart was forged all of brazen mould, 
 His head was set with barbaric gold. 
 To him the innocent babes were doled 
 As men his power and worth extolled 
 In Carthage great of old. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 I'm a billionaire and I own the air 
 And the earth and sea and the world to be. 
 I grind men as grain nor reck I their pain 
 As m}'' greedy pile I'm counting the while. 
 Ha! Ha! My greedy pile. 
 
 Old Moloch's tribute was mean and small, 
 A sacrifice for a festival, 
 But every life fears my tribute call. 
 From the tables that groan in my lordly hall 
 No crumb at the feet of my slaves shall fall; 
 No crumb at their feet shall fall. 
 
 Then drive them along to the mill and mine, 
 Young and old in unending line. 
 Break and brand till they wince and whine. 
 Slave or starve is m}^ countersign. 
 For I've locked the earth and the key is mine; 
 And the ke}^ is mine. 
 
 The gilt-edged stock is a saintly name. 
 It's bought in the market just the same. 
 When clutching the gold my claws grow lame 
 I limber them up at the holy flame 
 Then turn again to the grabbing game; 
 To the grabbing game. 
 
 I'm a billionaire and I own the air, 
 And the earth and the sea and the world to be. 
 I grind men as grain, nor reck I their pain 
 As my greedy pile I'm counting the while. 
 Ha! Ha! My greedy pile! 
 
 35 
 
NOW ABIDETH THESE THREE" 
 
 Love is the breath of the soul, 
 The heart's first waiHng cry. 
 
 'Tis the spirit's parting toll 
 In last extremity. 
 
 Abideth now Faith, Hope and Love, 
 The godhead virtues three, 
 
 But Love is Faith and Hope above 
 Though all do well agree. 
 
 For Faith and Hope do dwell apart 
 In time and in degree, 
 
 But Love the infinite of heart. 
 Is pure eternity. 
 
 The future and the storied past 
 
 Ope to its magic key, 
 Through Love we visualize at last 
 
 Our immortality. 
 
 ANACREONTIC 
 
 Love and logic can't agree, 
 Love is not philosophy, 
 
 But a burning, 
 
 Ever turning. 
 Logic into minstrelsy. 
 
 Love is longer 
 
 Love is stronger 
 Than the iron rule of three. 
 
 Love is but a bee that sips 
 Honey from a thousand lips, 
 
 Ever Maying, 
 
 Ever straying 
 Where the rarest nectar drips. 
 
 Love is feater. 
 
 Love is fleeter 
 And a purer honey dips. 
 
 Love's a wayward dream that hides 
 In the heart and there abides, 
 
 Lightly sleeping, 
 
 Coyly weeping 
 'Till the tender heart confides. 
 
 Never harming. 
 
 Love's more charming 
 Than all else on earth besides. 
 
 36 
 
OUT OF WORK 
 
 They walk the street with cringing feet, 
 
 They slink from door to door, 
 They brave the driving rain or sleet 
 
 To make one effort more. 
 They drag their weary limbs like lead 
 
 The same sad tale to tell, 
 When out of work is out of bread 
 
 With only life to sell. 
 At straws of chance they blindly catch 
 
 And pore o'er "want ads" too 
 In hopes a poor thin crust to snatch 
 
 Before the landlord's through. 
 Yet untold acres lie unfilled 
 
 Despite the woeful need; 
 All human hopes are unfulfilled 
 
 While land is locked by Greed. 
 With good advice we cram their heads, 
 
 Or give a pious pill; 
 Some turn to bitter, fiery "Reds," 
 
 And some graves unknown fill. 
 To Bible texts a hundred fold 
 
 We add the loud "Amen!" 
 But paving stones are not more cold 
 
 Than texts to workless men. 
 Pink charities and red tape balls 
 
 We offer in our fear, 
 Lest, like Belshazar from the walls 
 
 Dread judgment v/e may hear; 
 And mene, mene, tekel and 
 
 Upharsin read the wise 
 In letters bold, that blazoned stand 
 
 Before our blinded eyes. 
 Cursed be all God-defying power 
 
 That work should be a boon. 
 Besought, like alms, with crouch and cower, 
 
 With flattery's wheedling croon! 
 Oh! prate no more of earth-born souls 
 
 And rights of common birth, 
 We pay the landlord's swingeing tolls 
 
 Or else get off his earth. 
 Almighty God has made the earth 
 
 For all the sons of man ; 
 We grab it to create a dearth 
 
 And honest labor ban. 
 His sunshine freely shines for all 
 
 Without respect of worth ; 
 The landlords' black and bloodied pall 
 
 Echpses Mother Earth; 
 So some must work while others reap 
 
 The profit on pay day. 
 We follow like a flock of sheep 
 
 And see no other way. 
 
 37 
 
And just so long as land is land 
 
 And man by land must live, 
 He holds us in his hollow hand 
 
 To whom we rent must give. 
 In desperation see them grope, 
 
 Too broken to rebel; 
 They're out of work and out of hope 
 
 And out of hope is — hell. 
 
 SERENADE 
 
 Sweetly rest, my darhng, while around thee 
 Guardian angels fold their snowy wings, 
 Holy Peace with loving hand shed o'er thee 
 Every rosy smile of hope she brings. 
 And if through the heaven of thy dreams 
 Low, sweet voices, lulled to angel-strings, 
 Whisper love and peace to thee alone. 
 Darling, tis thy lover fondly sings; — 
 Peace, love, 
 Peace, love, 
 Peace on thy pillow to-night. 
 
 Flowers answer soft the night wind's wooing. 
 Dearest, everything hath tongue for thee, 
 And from deeps of night a slumbrous music 
 Seems to whisper, "Love, sleep on, "tis he." 
 Oh! how sweet to glide into thy visions 
 On the gentle wings of melody. 
 Sweeter, love, for thee to find, at waking, 
 Heaven one long, deep blissful dream of me. 
 
 Peace, love, 
 
 Peace, love. 
 Peace on thy pillow. Good night. 
 
 HOMING 
 
 Dear heart, the repose of my dreaming, 
 Lie still in thy bower of bliss ; 
 
 Love's dart, the delight of pure seeming 
 I fill with a tremulous kiss. 
 
 Oh ! life shall be ripe in its fruiting 
 And rich in its creamy joys. 
 
 And love shall be clear in its luting, 
 Unmixed with all base alloys. 
 
 The heart grown wan in its roaming, 
 Kissed pale by fond lips that sing, 
 
 To the nest of its last long homing 
 Fate wafts with unerring wing. 
 
 38 
 
THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY 
 
 Come lads and bright-eyed lassies 
 
 To the woods and fields away, 
 Don't yield your hearts too early, 
 
 For we'll dance the livelong da3^ 
 Come tripping, smiling, laughing, 
 
 Ne'er a frown shall mar our play 
 There's naught to do but love 
 
 In the merry month of May. 
 
 II 
 
 Now should a lad come to you, 
 
 And seem minded there to stay, 
 Don't hang your head too shyly, ' 
 
 Blush, and turn the other way, 
 But let your heart speak plainly. 
 
 It will tell you what to say, 
 There's naught to do but love 
 
 In the Merry month of May. » 
 
 III 
 
 And if he speak you fondly, 
 
 Plight his troth to you for aye. 
 Ne'er wait the tongue's late answer, 
 
 For the pretty cheek's dismay 
 Can tell the simple story 
 
 That you will not say him nay. 
 There's naught to do but love 
 
 In the merry month of May. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF MY HEART 
 
 Many flowers are growing in my heart for thee, 
 Fraught with tender pathos, love and sympathy; 
 Shrouded in the twilight, watered by warm tears 
 From the soul's lone vigil through the yearning years. 
 Bursting from the shadow like the stars above. 
 They shall blossom only in the sunshine of thy love. 
 
 Wilt thou give these flowers daily loving care, 
 Cherish them with kindness, nurture them with prayer, 
 They shall glow with beauty 'neath thy magic skill, 
 With delicious fragrance all my beauty fill, 
 And if thou, my darling, tend with gentlest art 
 They shall bloom forever in the garden of m)^ heart. 
 
 39 
 
TO "HINDA" OF MOORE'S FIRE WORSHIPPERS 
 
 vSleep sweetly, fair maid, on thy bright pearly pillow 
 Not fairer than thou who dost rest in the wave, 
 
 May the beautiful Peris and nymphs of the billow 
 Keep sacred the spot of thy watery grave. 
 
 May the)^ twine with the sea- weed thy long flowing tresses, 
 And deck thee with all the rich gems of the sea, 
 
 Till at the soft touch of their loving caresses 
 Thou wakest a child of the ocean to be. 
 
 May the bright fairies sing, as they float by, a ditty 
 Low- voiced as the sea-shells' murmurous song. 
 
 Let this and the ocean's deep, hollow-toned pity 
 Lull the sleep of thy love like eternity long. 
 
 May the lone star of love bend over thee nightly. 
 And look with its tenderest beams from the sky ; 
 
 May the soft wind of evening its pinions fold lightly 
 And pass o'er the grave of thy love with a sigh. 
 
 And when as a nymph at the city immortal. 
 
 Thou pleadest where Peris have sorrowed before. 
 
 The angel who guards at the glorious portal. 
 Will ope for thy love the blest heavenly door. 
 
 NOCTURNE 
 
 Just the hope of a seal unbroken 
 And the voice of a lute unstrung, 
 Just the pain of a love unspoken 
 And the pang of a song unsung. 
 
 O, Hope with its slender gleaning! 
 O, Life with its empty scroll! 
 O, Death with its tender meaning! 
 O, Love with its martyred soul! 
 
 But out of the dead hopes blooming — 
 From the songs that were not to be — 
 There breaks through' the heart's grey glooming 
 An immortal melody. 
 
 And fanned by the faithful fancies 
 That fondle the old desire. 
 Fresh-fed by enamoured glances, 
 Love's ashes glow with fire. 
 
 40 
 
SONNETS 
 
 THE FORD PEACE SHIP 
 
 Blessed is he who men to peace would lead 
 
 Said He who spake anew commandments old, 
 
 And faith e'en as a grain of mustard seed 
 
 Increase shall yield in many thousand fold. 
 
 Though "Peace!" the cry o'er angry seas and lands 
 
 Distraught with violence and battle feud, 
 
 And faint the lone cry dies, He who commands 
 
 The destinies of life discerns the good 
 
 In voices crying in the wilderness, 
 
 Hope's warders in a desert waste of wrong. 
 
 For other tongues, heart-thrilled, shall bless the deed 
 
 Till swells the single voice to choral song, 
 
 And jubilees of peace and brotherhood 
 
 Shall rise from lands redeemed by brothers' blood. 
 
 TO KEATS 
 
 O! to recline far-sheltered in some sunny vale. 
 Lulled by the soft enchanted silence to repose! 
 Then could I scorn deep-furrowed care and close 
 The wear}^ book of life and its unending tale 
 With thee, Keats, to watch the sunbeams trail 
 Their golden skirts along the cloudlets' snows. 
 While bathed in fire, each ribbed cloudlet glows 
 With splendor like a burnished coat of mail. 
 O mighty soul, not in the cerements of rhyme 
 Can th}^ great spirit be embalmed ; the power 
 To live an immortality sublime 
 In nature was thy portion in Death's hour. 
 And thou art still unchanged, but one fair flower 
 Is wrested from the coronal of Time. 
 
 TO HESPERUS 
 
 star of love, soft is the ray and sweet 
 
 Thou sheddest on the glistening flowers. 
 
 Thou only see.st sequestered bowers 
 
 Where happy lovers oft at even meet; 
 
 And peeping 'mid the streaming flakes of Hght, 
 
 Thou notest with thy merry twinkling eye 
 
 Love's secrets, whispered to the silent sky, 
 
 And truant winds, the tell-tale messengers of night, 
 
 O star of eve, not softer is thy ray. 
 
 Nor purer is thy mellowest beam 
 
 Than are my lovely lady's eyes, which seem 
 
 To e'en dispel all longings for the day. 
 
 Brightest of stars, I love for the hour 
 
 Thou bringst me to my gentle lady's bower. 
 
 41 
 
THE SLEEPING NUN. 
 
 Sleeping she lies ; upon the jewelled stole 
 
 That circles her soft breast the morning beams 
 
 Glance sportively. A sacred halo seems 
 
 To shrine her beauty like an aureole. 
 
 Her eyes, the Argi of her pious soiil, 
 
 Dream-closed by wooing sleep, in slumbrous gleams 
 
 Bum through their curtained lids as if her dreams 
 
 Were visions holy, great and worshipful. 
 
 The soulful depths of dark brown eyes scarce hide 
 
 The prisoned dew. The baby smile that plays 
 
 Around her features seems a child beside 
 
 Its sleeping mother. Sad, kind heart, 'tis given 
 
 To thee to know in meek and lowly ways 
 
 How sweet to wake on earth and sleep in heaven . 
 
 MORN 
 
 Soft falls the moonbeam on the quiet lake, 
 The still, dark night expands her sable wings. 
 I steal among the fragrant flowers to take 
 A ling'ring look at sweet repose, and watch 
 The blushing morn imprint her maiden kiss 
 Upon the blooming cheek of youthful day. 
 0! sweet that fervent kiss when youth like this 
 Unfolds its charms to day, and swiftly brings 
 The brightening dawn when darkness fades away. 
 O golden morn! we love thy fleeting hour; 
 Then crystal dew lies sparkling on each flower. 
 That decks the eastern hills in brightest ray. 
 Torn from the rosy-colored robe of light. 
 Thou angel of the dawn, thou crown of night! 
 
 CONCEIT 
 
 One rose, one lovely rose I have, 
 
 My rose, love; 
 Wear it on thy breast; 
 
 Thy rose, love. 
 And thine are all the rest. 
 
 One love, one only love I have, 
 
 Thy love, dear, 
 I wear it in my heart 
 
 My love, dear, 
 Yes, mine thou art. 
 
 42 
 
JUVENILIA 
 
 ODE TO CxREECE 
 
 O, lyre of Poetry's bright morn ! 
 Untouched, neglected, and forlorn; 
 The mouldering dust of ages clings 
 Around thy cold and silent strings. 
 And long the guardian angels keep 
 Their vigil o'er thy peaceful sleep. 
 Each transient, soul-inspiring breeze 
 Which springs from Lesbos' azure seas, 
 Steals o'er thy slumbering strings in vain 
 With sighs for glories that have been; 
 The spirit that it loved so well 
 Hath flown to other lands to dwell. 
 O, for a soxil like that which moved 
 A people with the art it loved 
 And made the centuries' winged flight 
 Resonant with its wondrous might. 
 The lofty soul, th' exalted mind 
 That found the god in human kind, 
 And born of earth was chosen to be 
 High-priest of heaven-born minstrelsy. 
 Such could Oblivion's barriers break, 
 Anew thy silence vocal make. 
 Till bursting from their binding chain 
 Thy sweetest echoes throbbed again. 
 
 II 
 
 O, Oenius! bird of lofty flight. 
 Could I but catch thy wing of light 
 I'd pierce the realms of nether air 
 And find ideal creations there; 
 I'd tear away the rolling clouds 
 And clear the dewy mist that shrouds 
 The splendors of Elysium fair; 
 I'd roam a fearless child of air. 
 Wandering beside those fearful streams 
 Where poets in their wildest dreams, 
 Darken the foul abyss of Hell 
 With wailings and the lost one's knell. 
 Then stealing Heaven's serenest ray 
 By founts of youth's eternal day. 
 List to- the Muses' sweetest song 
 And join in blest accord the throng; 
 Till, as the insect from the gloom 
 Flits round the centre of its doom, 
 Then dashing mid the tempting fires 
 That lure it to its death, expires; 
 Soul from dismantled clay should fly, 
 Lost in ethereal harmony. 
 
 43 
 
Ill 
 
 But were immortal powers mine 
 O, Greece! to thee I would consign 
 Those powers to sing thy glorious name 
 And revel in thy sunny fame. 
 I'd hover o'er thy ruined walls 
 With sweetly-toned lute, where falls 
 No footstep of thine early pride, 
 But solemn stillness, deep and wide, 
 Marks but a vestige of the rich display 
 That graced thee in thy better day. 
 I'd w^ander through the sylvan groves 
 And wake to Sappho and her loves. 
 Then far Leucania's island seek, 
 There on that promontory bleak, 
 To gaze into the depths below 
 And think on Sappho and her woe; 
 To watch the purple cliffs unfold 
 Their airy wings of sunset gold 
 And kiss below the sleeping wave 
 (As around about the waters lave) 
 tFntil it smiles in dimpled glee 
 Then sleeps again as peacefully. 
 
 IV 
 
 Once brightest of the constellations : 
 
 Lost Pleiad in the group of nations; 
 
 Thy star of martial fame hath set, 
 
 But Glor}^ lingers o'er thee yet, 
 
 As Sorrow still bewails her dead. 
 
 Though all but nameless dust hath fled. 
 
 Narcissus like thou'st pined away, 
 
 Lost in thine own great majesty. 
 
 But from thy withered bloom there springs 
 
 A flower whose perfume on the wings 
 
 Of dying ages wafted, fills 
 
 The earth with scent of daffodils. 
 
 Primeval source of endless song! 
 
 Eternal powers to thee belong; 
 
 Each new delight of Homer's page. 
 
 The praise of every future age. 
 
 Shall weave a green, undying bloom 
 
 To wreath around thy lowly tomb. 
 
 Though age on age its course has run, 
 
 Thy glorious praise has just begun; 
 
 Still by thy death thou'st lived to be 
 
 The Polar Star of Poetry. 
 
 FICKLE FORTUNE 
 
 Dame Fortune is a fickle shrew, 
 Of that there is no doubt. 
 
 She gives the French the dainty gout, 
 The Englishm.en the gout. 
 
 44 
 
ON KEATS' BURIAL PLACE 
 
 Greece! rise and claim thy poet's dust! 
 
 He loved thy storied lore, and must 
 
 The mouldering wrecks of war enclose 
 
 That tender soul which, like the rose, 
 
 That only blooms beneath the care 
 
 Of Dian, loved its wrongs to share 
 
 With her own calm and pitying Ught; 
 
 A spirit of the gentler night"? 
 
 The fiery sun of envious wrath 
 
 With venom-poisoned ray hath 
 
 Forced the flower of Genius' bloom 
 
 To wither on that lowly tomb. 
 
 Before Hope's dew with gentle kiss 
 
 Had waked it to new loveliness. 
 
 Not even Love's strong ties could save 
 
 That spirit from its early grave. 
 
 Fiends, devils, critics, (ye are one) 
 
 Behold your work of ruin done! 
 
 Earth holds enwrapt your mouldering clay, 
 
 But cannot wipe your guilt away. 
 
 Lo! Beauty looks with scornful eye. 
 
 And Sorrow will not give a sigh. 
 
 While Pity's lyre shall still prolong 
 
 The requiem of the friend of song. 
 
 BARCAROLLE 
 
 Flowers and wreaths we gaily bring. 
 Songs of delight we sweetly sing, 
 For all the world is bright to-day. 
 Glad in the merry month of May. 
 Come and partake the season's joys, 
 Pleasure is here that never cloys. 
 Beauty and youth in every clime 
 Gather fresh flowers in sweet springtime. 
 
 Meadow to mountain sends the cheer, 
 Loud ring the praises of the year, 
 Mirth without measure laughs away 
 Flushed by the fun of blithesome May. 
 Come where the maids their locks unbind, 
 Tossing like cowslips in the wind. 
 Here with the dance and jocund song 
 Speed we the fleeting hours along. 
 
 Through all the sunny, happy land 
 Laughter and love go hand in hand. 
 Beauty's the bonny queen we own. 
 Blossoms and boys bedeck her throne. 
 Age and his sulky, surly train 
 Far from our romps and pranks remain. 
 Come and forget your cares today, 
 Prithee, and do not haste away. 
 
 45 
 
THE DEAREST MEMORIES 
 
 Touch with solemn gladness 
 The chords at memory's door, 
 And wake the sounding echoes 
 Of the things that are no more. 
 The dearest of all the pictures 
 That hang in memory's halls 
 Is the vision of the distant mountains, 
 Which sweetest thoughts recalls. 
 Thoughts of such wondrous pleasure 
 That I can scarcely tell 
 Of the hours I've spent at leisure 
 Mid the scenes I love so well. 
 Now I fancy I see me riding 
 O'er the surface of the lake. 
 When, the evening shadows gliding, 
 The sunbeams their last leave take. 
 Then viewing the dewy meadows, 
 Over the mountains wide, 
 And chasing the phantom shadows 
 By the crystal fountain's side. 
 Yes, many a golden moment. 
 Many a beautiful day, 
 I've passed in the far off mountains. 
 Dreaming the hours away. 
 Yet not for its rays of sunshine. 
 These happy hours of glee, 
 But the thoughts of its darker shadows 
 It is the dearest to me. 
 I think how my mother departed 
 One lovely day in May, 
 And, leaving its earthly temple. 
 Her spirit fiew away 
 To enter the shining portals 
 Where the white-robed angels trod. 
 And sing the glad new chorus 
 In the city of her God; 
 And a smile of immortal beauty 
 Lighted her features o'er. 
 As if she co\ild hear faint music 
 Just swell from the heavenly shore. 
 And when from this vale of sorrow 
 She went to her peaceful rest, 
 I know that she sank serenely 
 On the loving Savior's breast; 
 I know that she watches o'er me 
 To guide my steps aright. 
 And will in death be near me 
 To bear me to realms of light. 
 Whenever I think of those mountains 
 As my sainted mother's home 
 The tears of a sweet remembrance 
 To my trembling eyelids come. 
 Then of all the treasured pictures 
 That hang in memory's halls, 
 That of the distant mountains 
 The sweetest thoughts recalls. 
 46 
 
THE BOY WANDERER'S FAREWELL TO HOME 
 From the home of my childhood I sadly depart, 
 All the scenes that I love fill my sorrowing heart 
 
 While I list to the sweet village bell. 
 As the last dying murmurs fall faint on my ear, 
 Words my tongue cannot utter I still seem' to hear, 
 Fare ye well, love and home, fare ye well. 
 
 Nevermore shall I rest in the cot that I love, 
 Where my mother, an angel, looked down from above, 
 
 Never weep by her grave in the dell. 
 The dear angel will come to watch o'er me again, 
 But the cot will be empty, and I away then. 
 
 Fare ye well, love and home, fare ye well. 
 
 RESPITE 
 
 When ill accords the world with me, 
 And Fancy shuns wild revelry; 
 When joy o'erflows in happy rhymes 
 Or sorrow's darkening gloom at times 
 Surrounds me with its leaden pall; 
 Whene'er I seek release from all 
 The heavy chains which bind the soul 
 And keep it from its lofty goal, 
 I'll flee to join the mystic throng. 
 Where swells eternally the song 
 The Muses' praise to magnify 
 And bless the name of Poetry; 
 Where spirits sweet commimion hold 
 Their tenderest feelings to unfold, 
 Their only thought in joy or pain, 
 'Tis sweet to love and love again; 
 Where leaps the heart in ecstacy, 
 Raptured with its own melody; — 
 That realm, the Fancy's strange device, 
 Revealed — the Poet's Paradise. 
 
 LULLABY FOR CHILDREN 
 
 When little pussie bye bye goes. 
 
 Soft on the warm rug lying. 
 
 She only thinks, as her eyes close. 
 
 Of naughty flies so trying; 
 
 Sweetly purring in her dreams. 
 
 Through fairy mouseland straying, 
 
 But little mousie's bright eye gleams, 
 
 Out in the pantry playing. 
 
 When little dollie bye bye goes, 
 
 Snug in her cradle sleeping. 
 
 She hardly lets her blue eyes close, 
 
 Out from dreamland peeping. 
 
 Hush ! now ask the Father's grace. 
 
 Still she lies attending. 
 
 For she thinks the sweet child-face 
 
 An angel o'er her bending. 
 
 47 
 
THE WREATH OF FRIENDSHIP 
 
 THE FIRST POEM AT 15 
 
 In traveling o'er life's varied path 
 Each one his wreath of friendship hath, 
 Each plucks his blossoms on the road 
 To lighten sorrow's burdening load; 
 And gaily weaves the gathered flowers 
 Into a wreath in leisure hours. 
 Some wayside buds are wondrous fair 
 And brea'the forth perfumes on the air; 
 And sweetest nectar out distil, 
 Which bitt'rest things with flavor fill. 
 But others droop on feeble sands, 
 Or bear the marks of thoughtless hands. 
 So each one, gathering as he goes. 
 Must take the sharp thorns with the rose, 
 And, tying in his wreath, each binds 
 His friendships' flowers of many kinds. 
 But when thou near'st thy final rest. 
 What charm to thee have roses' bloom? 
 For thou, departing to the tomb. 
 Must lay thy wreath upon thy breast, 
 And bear thy withered leaves above 
 The trophies of thy earthly love. 
 
 ALBUM VERSES 
 
 Thou art like the fabled blue flower. 
 Like a sweet poetic mood. 
 
 Like the heaven soft and tender. 
 Like all things fair and good. 
 
 In vain I play with similes 
 And call you fairy, elf, 
 
 I like you best, Kate, unadorned, 
 You're just your own self. 
 
 WALL STREET IN FOLK LORE 
 
 The pioneer stock gambler, 
 
 Long-famed in nursery-lore. 
 
 That crooked sHck old rambler, 
 
 Found fortune had in store 
 
 A crooked sixpence, lying 
 
 Upon a crooked stile. 
 
 When, doubtful fate defying. 
 
 He went a crooked mile. 
 
 This "piker" crude in Wall Street 
 
 Took profits rather small. 
 
 But now the crooks them all beat 
 
 With crooked tips on call. 
 
 To crooked news they all treat 
 
 As prices rise or fall — 
 
 The same old crooked, small street. 
 
 The crooked style and all. 
 
 48 
 
Hymn to Liberty 
 
 Written, and composed ))y Edwards P. IngersoU 
 
 Spir - it of Lib - er 
 Oh let thy mig^ht - y name 
 Greed like a lead - en pall 
 
 thee we a 
 
 strength- en our 
 lies , o'er the 
 
 Help us 
 Lig^ht there the 
 Hate stran-gles 
 
 ren - aer inee 
 sa " cred flame 
 ev» • ry ^thin^ 
 
 for • er - er; 
 thy lovfe iin 
 
 DO ble at 
 
 dore, _ 
 hearts!, 
 earth, u 
 
 mtJTto 
 
 parts; 
 
 birth; «« 
 
 ilt:\ 1 ' 1 
 
 ^=f=\ 
 
 =f= 
 
 ==^ 
 
 J ' •' 
 
 J 
 
 cresc, . 
 
 1 J- J' J 1 
 
 '^ / / 
 
 r 
 
 — :■ . 
 
 r 
 
 
 a r 
 
 r 
 
 =^ 
 
 -T-t- 
 
 ^f- p r ' 
 
 Horn - agre 
 
 and 
 
 hon 
 
 - ot 
 
 due. 
 
 And 
 
 to thy 
 
 name be true 
 
 Then shall 
 
 this 
 
 liv 
 
 - itiff 
 
 soul 
 
 Like 
 
 u vast 
 
 - cean roll. 
 
 Strike down 
 
 the 
 
 Te 
 
 - nal 
 
 crew. 
 
 'Till 
 
 their vile 
 
 deeds they rue, 
 
 , J J 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 s 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 i J 
 
 1 J J 
 
 4>! 1 .,L ^ ^— 
 
 -J — 
 
 — V^ 
 
 -1_J4- 
 
 J r 
 
 __ij__ 
 
 
 i-T fr—r — 1 
 
 ^ V\f N -W- 
 
 -w— 
 
 rnf^ 
 
 
 i S 
 
 1 
 
 r :r 
 
 M-. V—\ 1 
 
 a\ 
 
 As thy grand work 
 And spread from pole 
 And thee for mer 
 
 we do. . 
 to pole, 
 cy sue. 
 
 Dear Lib - er 
 Dear Lib - er 
 Dear Lib- er 
 
 tyJ 
 ty! 
 ty! 
 
 Many a lowly cross for thee we'll bear, 
 Many a sharp rebuff, many a care. 
 WTiate'er that cross may be 
 Still thy fair face we'll see 
 And live alone in thee. 
 
 Dear Libertv! 
 
 Arfd in the holy strife brothers U save. 
 Lift up the fallen one, rescue the slave. 
 When thouTiast need of me 
 E'en life itself shall be 
 Laid down mankind to free. 
 Dear Libertv!