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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
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SONGS ALONG THE 
 WAY 
 
 BY 
 
 NORMAN HOWARD 
 
 NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 
 
 THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 1911 
 

 COPYRIOHT, 1911, BY 
 
 NORMAN HOWARD 
 
 / 
 

 SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF POETRY 
 
 i 
 The world turns slowly from the western sky 
 
 Where Phoebus spreads about empurpled beams. 
 From out the cloudy rift that opes on high 
 
 The flashing gold of fair Elysium streams 
 Upon this land where wondering I dream. 
 This underworld where weary mortals spoil 
 Their living for the life they would possess. 
 And by this eastern stream 
 
 I would forget the fever and the toil 
 
 That makes of tliis fair paradise a worldly 
 wilderness. 
 
 Across the beauty of this world I lean 
 
 Where fancy spreads afar her purple wings, 
 And memory musing o'er the meadows green 
 
 To find one star her inward vision brings, — 
 For one bright star I found in this dark space 
 
 That brightly burned and shone and passed away; 
 But I saw thro' the night, 
 To where it quickly passed and left a trace. 
 For O it warmed me with its wondrous ray 
 
 And poured upon my soul a flood of beauty fair 
 and bright! 
 
 There is a road that leads unto the sun, 
 
 There is a land beyond the dark-rimmed hills. 
 
 Where I would rest when weary day is done. 
 Where peace and gentle dreaming freely fills 
 
 The time without the advent of the hour; 
 
 7 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Ah^ there I smiled upon my own sad cares. 
 And dreamed that I was free, 
 Untrouhled by the pressure of their power, 
 By that light that in my heart still wears, 
 
 E'en as the watch light flashes faith, to mariners 
 at sea. 
 
 What tho' the road do lead to no sure end? 
 
 What tho' the distant land be one of dream? 
 So weary feet forget the path they wend; 
 
 " 'Tis well," for pleasures never did but seem; 
 And gladly would I wander o'er the day 
 To realms of silences and shadows deep. 
 For all that my soul sought 
 Is far from this poor present place away. 
 
 Where on those peaceful shores of dreams and sleep 
 The soul breathes fine and free in quiet reverie 
 and thought. 
 
 O who can dream upon a winter's night. 
 
 Or meditate upon a summer's day. 
 And deem that haunts of men hold more delight 
 
 Than where the wind and running brooklets play? 
 Friends are kind, but each one has his care. 
 Strife is good, but only some can win 
 Ambition's gilded goal. 
 My best ambition were to breathe the air 
 Of Heaven, and where the cities' end, begin 
 
 To journey where the winged thought can wan- 
 der with the soul. 
 
 Upon Parnassus' height the air is pure. 
 
 And they who breathe that air shall live serene 
 8 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 From all the hopes of little minds secure. 
 
 And undisturb'd by mad Ambition's dream. 
 Let thousands plod along their noisy ways. 
 
 And chase the darling hope that leads them to 
 The ever-distant goal, 
 If I may only pass my fruitful days 
 
 Ambitious for the most my faith can do 
 
 To know the deeper instincts of the heaven- 
 reaching soul. 
 
 Ah, dream no more for mortal love, O soul. 
 
 For knowest not the fever and the fret. 
 Of Love's desires know not, yet pay the toll 
 
 O Love's highway, whose end is never yet? 
 No, dream no more of Love as mortals dream, 
 But let it be the star that shines apart 
 To guide your way with light, 
 Protesilaus like, thy love must seem. 
 Nor like poor Laodamia's, whose heart 
 
 Essayed to grasp immortal love and perished 
 with the night. 
 
 For often have I loved and dreamed of love, 
 
 And sought to find the idol of my dream, — 
 But clay alone my dearest hopes would prove, 
 
 For idols never are the things they seem. 
 And I have learned that only in the mind 
 
 The true ideal exists inviolate 
 Of meditative hours; 
 The highest happiness my soul can find 
 
 Is when the lightest fancy gathers weight, 
 
 For then it is the mind takes on creative powers. 
 
 Now have I found my star, and like a king 
 That outward sets to victory and war, 
 9 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 I journey to the joy my hope would bring — 
 
 And following my star, I follow more 
 Than kings who follow conquest, right or wrong — 
 Than they whose hoardings pile with increase high. 
 That golden fantasy 
 Shall ne'er disturb the dreamer and his song! 
 For with our spirit doth the conquest lie. 
 
 A spirit nearest to its home, when lost in poetry. 
 
 O give me oft a pensive quiet hour, 
 
 A cheery ingle nook, and strewn around 
 The poets of all time, and then the power 
 
 To wander where the plowshare turns the ground, 
 To meet the spirits of the field and stream. 
 To hear the lark that greets the early mom 
 Beside a flowery dell, 
 Or mayhap by some running brook to dream 
 The mystery of why a flower is bom. 
 
 And gather in a secret that knows more than 
 one can tell. 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF SONG 
 
 Softly and slowly descending on reveries pensive 
 
 and still. 
 Sounds of a beautiful voice, swelling far beyond reach 
 
 of the soul. 
 Winning the mind far away to the bourne of its peace 
 
 and its rest. 
 
 Calls to the slumbering soul to attend to the spirit 
 of song; 
 
 10 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O many's the wearied heart in the world, that would 
 
 wander for aye, 
 Over the highway of Arcady, into the valley of song. 
 
 Peace, gently gathering, shadows my soul as the mist 
 of the skies 
 
 Slowly descends on the streets of the town by the 
 hillside at night. 
 
 In that calm quiet the endless, tired woes that were 
 born of the day. 
 
 Weighing the spirit with care, fade away to a mem- 
 ory dim; 
 
 Higher swells Mildred's fair voice, while unfolding 
 her soul in her song, 
 
 Wrapping my spirit in sleep, till I stand on the 
 bridge of my dreams, 
 
 Out on the world's distant rim like a spirit of meas- 
 ureless love. 
 
 Spirit unfettered, I gaze freely out on creation as one 
 
 Looking afar across mountain tops, over the valleys 
 and hills, 
 
 Far o'er the sunbeams descending, where Fancy sits 
 crown'd, to that land 
 
 Sunburst and purple, deep dyed by the hands of the 
 twilight and dawn. 
 
 Shining till silver white moonlight, sails crescent 
 amid the pale stars. 
 
 Lightly away still the soft plaintive melody carries 
 
 my soul; 
 Westward where Fancy looks dreamingly over the 
 
 ocean's wide rim, 
 
 11 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Yon where the luminous rays of the violet sunglow 
 suffusing, 
 
 Forming from phantasmagorical gules of the ethereal 
 gloaming, 
 
 Kingdoms of jasper and marble on emerald islands 
 afar, 
 
 Rising in beautiful splendor and burning amid the 
 gold sea 
 
 Rich as the hues of the afterglow born of the mem- 
 ories' thought. 
 
 Wavering Fancy grows constant and notes on the 
 waters last shore 
 
 One little isle of her choosing that harbors her fond- 
 est of dreams. 
 
 There, where a turbulent river leaps down thro' its 
 groves from the woods, 
 
 Gardens immortal, which grow at the source of the 
 wandering wind. 
 
 Hung with the ripening fruits and the verdure of 
 Rhea and Ceres, 
 
 Beautiful Dawn as she passed scattered rarest per- 
 fume on the flowers. 
 
 Till the wild West Wind hung constantly over the 
 islands of Dream. 
 
 Lightly up-curling and rolling the billows upon the 
 beach stretching. 
 
 Playfully fleeing before were Nymphs from the 
 waters retreating. 
 
 Gathering pearl-shells and lichens cast up from the 
 crypts of the sea. 
 
 12 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Others danced merrily, circling round a fair youth 
 
 ivy-crowned, 
 On the gold sands of the sea their flying feet twin- 
 kling whitely, 
 Lovely their nude haunting forms, and exquisite their 
 
 tapering limbs; 
 Beautiful hair flowing freely and wide-eyed with 
 
 perfect delight, 
 Danced to the sound of his music with free and a gay 
 
 elfin cheer, 
 Singing unto the fair youth in their midst, who in 
 
 love with his pipes. 
 Stopping to play by himself some sweet ditty of 
 
 dolorous sounding, 
 Quietly wandered away to the forest land leafy and 
 
 shady. 
 
 Softness grows gently and holds by its power a 
 charm over the air; 
 
 Once more the voice in its melody swelling more 
 plaintively near 
 
 Rises unto the sweet mutable chord, that floats lan- 
 guidly down, 
 
 Thrilling with music that nQver will stay, but retards 
 slowly out, 
 
 Even as leaves that have fallen while rustling after 
 the wind. 
 
 As storm clouds that sudden gather and shatter the 
 
 sunshine of morn 
 Silence bewilders my soul in recalling that time is 
 
 but time J 
 
 13 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Poppylike pleasures beguile us but only until we 
 
 awaken, 
 Music may woo us from weariness only until it is 
 
 done. 
 
 AARON BURR'S RIDE 
 
 Resting briefly from the war's alarms, 
 
 Silent were the cannon at White Plains, 
 Silent were the regimental arms, 
 
 Silent were the prisoners in chains — 
 All the Tories 'round were out of range. 
 
 Camping here the generals elate, 
 Plann'd the war until the watch was changed, 
 
 For tlieir liberty and for their State 
 
 They stood ready with their men to fight and face 
 their fate ! 
 
 But Aaron Burr, the soldier near this spot. 
 
 That fair midsummer's night when all was still. 
 
 The changing hopes and fears of war forgot, — 
 And moved alone by Trove's imperious will 
 He sought the shore and climbed the western hill 
 
 To where his fair Theodosia sleeping lay; 
 E'en here he boldly rode along until 
 
 He gained his lover's side across the bay. 
 
 Upon that early distant year, long since and passed 
 away. 
 
 14 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 From out his safe encampment at White Plains, 
 On either side a horseman, he did ride, 
 
 Regardless of the night, with loosened reins, 
 Until at last he reached the river's side — 
 A ferryman there took him o'er the tide. 
 
 The horse and rider to the distant shore, 
 Where enemies were picketed around. 
 
 Tho' little was his heart on thoughts of war 
 He brav'd the bullets of the hostile ground 
 Until at last the quest of his true, gallant love he 
 found. 
 
 By many watching sentries did he pass, 
 
 And many a straggler on the same highway, 
 
 For far more courage love than murder has, 
 So swiftly did he boldly ride away : — 
 
 For he must needs be back before the day. 
 Ere morn disclosed his rashness to the light, — 
 
 But never could he rest until he lay 
 
 Within his lover's arms, and so that night 
 He dared a thousand dangers with Love's vision in 
 his sight! 
 
 And Theodosia fair, with soft round arms, 
 Perhaps upon her pillow dreaming lay: — 
 
 Not deeming of her ardent lover's harms. 
 Nor even that he now was on his way 
 
 To step into her fancies' idle play, 
 
 As softly as on clear, fair night the moon 
 
 Ascends a latticed-close with silent ray. 
 E'en so he steps at length into her room 
 And brings unto her wearied heart its long awaited 
 boon. 
 
 15 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 In the darkness of the night outside 
 
 The sound of horses' hoofs beside the door, — 
 
 The clank of spurs marked out a manly stride, — 
 The rider had dismounted, and before 
 
 The lady knew what message, love or war. 
 What dire calamity or chance amiss 
 
 Had come to spread its warning word once more, — 
 He strode into her sweetest sleep's abyss, 
 And startled from its resting place her passion 
 with a kiss. 
 
 How sweet is love's attraction when a man 
 
 Of strength and courage and his lady meet ! 
 
 No greater feeling was, since Time began, 
 And man made woman, woman man complete ! 
 
 E'en so he gazes on her features sweet 
 
 Beneath the silver of the full moon's light, — 
 
 The tender eyes, and dark with love replete, 
 The wistful face, and pale, so fair and bright, 
 For woman with her lover is a spirit in the night. 
 
 "Wliat tales of wild adventure then were told, — 
 The dangers, sharp retreats and battles won. 
 
 What secrets of ambitions to unfold 
 
 Before tlie blisses of the night were done. 
 
 Thro' all the hopes of life and war, still one 
 There always is, whose beauty scarce appears, 
 
 But from whose love are mighty deeds begun, 
 Who listens eagerly with loving ears 
 And crowns at last the valor of war's cruel and 
 darkest years. 
 
 16 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And all the merry wiles of woman's breast. 
 
 The idle British officers who came 
 To find a certain road, but took their rest. 
 
 Constrained by wit and beauty to remain: 
 The light flirtations with the gallants vain, 
 
 To hear the compliments that lightly fell. 
 For woman speaks in language of no name 
 
 To win the praise that idle lovers tell, 
 
 And beauty, conqueror o'er friends, can conquer 
 foes as well. 
 
 Of all the passions that delude the mind — 
 
 The rich man's pride, the poor man's honest scorn. 
 
 The young girl's guileless trusting love, and blind. 
 The faith of conquest of men's early morn: 
 
 The most compelling passion still is borne 
 When two young blooded, even mated souls 
 
 In other's arms throw all reserve to scorn. 
 
 Till speechless thought in swift vibration rolls 
 Leaps past the lips and clamors for the breath that 
 life controls ! 
 
 Ah, love, the tender, true and burning flame. 
 The mutual love that every danger dares, 
 
 That flames the brighter for the maiden's shame 
 And throws aside the world and all its cares, — 
 
 The brightest leaf of all that Truth still wears, 
 What were this world without thy smiling face? 
 
 Ah, ill the mortal wight without thee fares. 
 It matters not the age, the time or place, 
 This world were but a prison house without thy 
 saving grace! 
 
 17 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Oh, secrets were divulged perhaps that night. 
 And movements of the enemy were learned, — 
 
 The coming plans, — but, oh, of more delight 
 The secrets of a breast that warmly yearned. 
 
 And here at last was soothed to quiet peace ; — 
 But now too soon the sun his passage earned 
 
 Across the sea of night which soon must cease. 
 
 When Phoebus o'er the morning sky his steeds would 
 soon release. 
 
 And now into the chambers of love's feast 
 The early eye of sober morning peers 
 
 From out the regions of the crimson East; 
 And soon across the sky his course he steers ! 
 
 "Oh, go not, love, hide here!" — but still the fears 
 Of woman ever spurred a lover's breast, 
 
 So heeding not her pleading nor her tears 
 
 He kissed her twice and calmed her heart to rest, 
 And mounting lightly then rode down the hillside 
 of the west. 
 
 Long she watched, with loving eyes that yearn. 
 The mounted figure fade into the night; 
 
 She prayed to Heaven for his safe return; 
 And saw with jealous eyes the coming light, 
 With anxious fear she could not sleep aright, 
 
 For troubled dreams disturbed her aching heart. 
 And ever came the vision to her sight 
 
 Of one lone horseman, halted in arrest, 
 
 Doomed to die at sunrise on the distant hilltop crest. 
 
 By morning once again within his camp. 
 
 He wiped from off his boots the early dew, — 
 18 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 A sleepy trooper mopped the saddle damp 
 
 With wondering eyes^ and guessed but never knew; 
 Another cleaned the straps and blankets blue, 
 
 And, staring, scraped the foaming horse's side; 
 The troopers soon forgot, to love's cause true. 
 
 The ferryman upon the waters wide 
 
 Kept to himself the secret of that wild, impulsive 
 ride. 
 
 AMINIUS BEFORE SALAMIS 
 
 The Persian hosts are near our shore. 
 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 My galley waits its urgent oar, 
 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well ! 
 The sails are full, the winds are free. 
 And we are armed for Victory — 
 Or Death, if needs, that Greece be free. 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 
 I know the foe are ten to one. 
 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 We may not see the morrow's sun. 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well ! 
 But we engage for love, for home, 
 They for pride and spoil alone. 
 And I for Greece, and thee, my own 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 
 If my blood must stain the brine. 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 
 O take this sword and make it thine, 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 19 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 But if the Gods send Victory, 
 By Salainis shall Greece be Free! 
 Thy beauty then can honor me. 
 
 Sweetheart, fare thee well! 
 
 THE ROSE IN THE GARLAND 
 
 Oh, for a woman's kiss in the night, 
 
 That lingers so ! 
 
 And the breast of snow. 
 Sweet with the joy of a lover's delight! 
 
 The arms outspread 
 
 And the lips so red. 
 To the beautiful eyes of a clear true light 
 That shine from the depths of their heavenly 
 height 
 And swim in a mist like the stars' of the morn ! 
 The conscious grace of a beautiful form, — 
 
 And the lovely head. 
 
 Its proudness sped, 
 That faUs to the heart where its love is shed, 
 And there like a rose in a garland is worn ! 
 
 WHEN WE WERE YOUNG, LAST NIGHT 
 
 Yesterday, My Lady, we were dancing at the ball. 
 Yesterday I sought you out as fairest of them all, 
 Yesterday your lovely face was glowing in delight, 
 Of all the merry dancers there your footsteps were 
 most light. 
 
 20 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Last night our talk was merry, 
 Last night our hearts were young, 
 
 Beneath the holly berry 
 That on the arches hung. 
 Last night we were the leaders is the spirit of the 
 
 dance, 
 Last night our hearts were happy in the spirit of 
 
 romance ; 
 Oh, never, never, never, could a mortal joy compare 
 With the happy, happy presence of your form beside 
 
 me there. 
 As we danced that night at Sherry's, while each 
 
 observing eye 
 Would turn to note your beauty as you glided lightly 
 
 by, 
 When all was fair at Sherry's, and every heart was 
 
 kind, 
 And days of youth were still before with only dreams 
 
 behind ! 
 
 But now the dance is over and the dancers all are 
 tired. 
 
 The soul sustaining music and its echoes have sus- 
 pired ; 
 
 Pleasant are the memories that linger by my side, 
 
 And resting now is pleasant for our spirits would 
 abide, — 
 
 Our feet have grown aweary of the fun we loved 
 the best. 
 
 Our spirits have grown weary, so we quietly would 
 rest; 
 
 But your lovely face is beautiful as ever to my sight, 
 
 Tho' twenty years have passed away since we were 
 young " last night " ! 
 21 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 AT PARTING 
 
 Deauest, the day is over, 
 
 Crimson the full red sun, 
 The crickets sing from the clover. 
 
 The day is almost done. 
 Back to the toil of the city, 
 
 Back to the strife that is there, 
 Back to the paths without pity 
 
 That lead to the temples of care. 
 
 A rvoTtian's love is the heart of a man. 
 And ever was since the tvorld began. 
 
 Heart of my heart, I love you. 
 More than my rvords can tell; 
 
 How can I live without you. 
 Girl that I love so well? 
 
 Dearest, the sun is setting, 
 
 Kiss me the last farewell. 
 Now should our hearts be forgetting 
 
 The love that they never could tell. 
 Back to your palace and dreaming, 
 
 Comforts and love without fears. 
 Back to my planning and scheming. 
 
 Back to the fate of the years. 
 
 Heart of my heart, I love you. 
 More than my words can tell; 
 
 How can I live without you. 
 Girl that I love so well? 
 
 But a 7voman's love is the heart of a man, 
 And ever was since the world began. 
 22 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 I MET A BONNIE LASSIE 
 
 I MET a bonnie lassie, 
 
 As fair as lassies be. 
 Her darling face was tender 
 
 And sparkling was her 'ee. 
 
 Her eyes were eyes that charmed me, 
 So glowing soft and brown, 
 
 I thought it was the Springtime 
 Not Winter time in town. 
 
 I thought it was the Springtime, 
 
 Witli every bud in bloom, 
 For a' the world seemed sunny 
 
 As smiling skies of June! 
 
 And now that she has left us, 
 ISIy fondness brings me ben. 
 
 For this is but the city — 
 And Winter time again. 
 
 AT QUEBEC 
 
 'Tis sundown, and the bells ring dreamily 
 
 From out the belfries of the churches round. 
 
 The drowsy echoes answer wearily 
 
 And fill the air incumbent with their sound. 
 23 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 The faint auroral flushes tint the skies 
 
 Witli streaks of goklen gray and crimson rose. 
 
 And tinge the pkicid stream whieh round me lies — 
 The broad St. Lawrence which beneath me flows. 
 
 A hundred spires arise on every side 
 
 Above the ancient frowning citadel, 
 Beside the plains where Montcalm in his pride 
 
 Was slain with Wolfe, who stormed the precious 
 hill. 
 
 The little houses, narrow, crooked lanes, 
 That mark the town, historic every spot, — 
 
 Here Fortune's hand has left the Past's remains, 
 And greedy Industry yet knows you not. 
 
 Here sisters pale and reverend cures pass 
 Sedately down the city's silent street, — 
 
 Or mayhap here a lover and a lass 
 
 Awake the gloom with laughter as they meet. 
 
 Just westward from the town ten miles or more. 
 Deserving of their favor and renown, 
 
 The lovely falls of INIontmorenci roar. 
 Falling from their lofty summit down. 
 
 A little further on the quaint old shrine 
 
 Of Mary's IMother, Saintc Anne de Beaupre, 
 
 Contains her relics, hallowed thro' all time, 
 
 ^Vliere wandering pilgrims by the thousands pray. 
 24 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 The peasant folk who till the fragrant fields 
 And find in humble toil their life's surcease. 
 
 Contented with the fruit their labor yields,— 
 Contented with their faith in God and peace. 
 
 An hour has passed and lo ! the promenade 
 
 Is gaj4y thronged with all the city's youth, — 
 
 The laughing lads and girls in groups parade, 
 A moving, lighted fairyland, in sooth. 
 
 The hundreds rest upon the benches ^vide. 
 In watching idly every passing scene; 
 
 While here two lovers linger side by side 
 And gaze upon the waters as a-dreara. 
 
 Where flit the boats against the lighted shore. 
 Now up, now down, howe'er the pilot steers ; 
 
 Forgetful of the passing voices' roar. 
 
 And e'en the music that assails their ears. 
 
 And here's the field of strife where Montcalm fell; 
 
 Ah, how the fates of empires mighty spring 
 From deeds of one brief hour, and who can tell 
 
 The future force of any present thing? 
 
 I think of Wolfe, the valiant conqueror, 
 
 Who knew than war a glory far more bright — 
 
 Who said, " Those lines of Gray hold honor more 
 Than winning of this victory to-night ! " 
 
 The doughty deeds of sword and shield and lance. 
 The strife of proud armadas fleet and strong. 
 
 Grow dim repeating, as the years advance, 
 Before the glory of one pregnant song! 
 25 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And here's the spot where brave Montgomery fell - 
 So lost America her northern line, — 
 
 So lost what oft I wished was hers so well, 
 So very near and like this land of mine. 
 
 To think this country broad and fair and free, 
 Its wealth of plains and mines and forests tall. 
 
 Might now have been our land of Liberty, 
 
 But for the chance of one stray sentry's ball. 
 
 The dim Laurentian mountains fade in blue. 
 
 The sun drops quietly into the west, 
 A few last rays creep late the pine tops thro' 
 
 And Nature fades away to sleep and rest. 
 
 I AM WEARY 
 
 I AM weary, come, my dearie. 
 
 Sing a song to me, 
 Soft and low as streams that flow 
 
 Into a tranquil sea. 
 
 sing once more 
 
 The love of yore, 
 Love on the hills of morn. 
 
 For all must come 
 
 To earth and tomb 
 And sleep in the grassy bourne. 
 
 O sing the eyes that shone so bright, 
 O sing the gold brown hair, 
 
 O sing the love a maiden's sigh 
 Sets in the heart astir. 
 26 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 sing once more 
 
 The love of yore. 
 Love on the hills of morn; 
 
 For all must come 
 
 To earth and tomh 
 And sleep in the grassy bourne. 
 
 O speed the day so far away. 
 Come hither in a song; 
 
 A little light to see aright 
 
 Just which way love has gone. 
 
 sing once more 
 The love of yore. 
 
 Love on the hills of morn; 
 For all must come 
 To earth and tomb 
 
 And sleep in the grassy bourne. 
 
 O'ER THE WORLD I'VE WANDERED 
 
 Song 
 
 O'er the world I've wandered, 
 
 AVith the stars above, 
 Many tomes I've pondered, 
 
 Spirit treasures trove. 
 
 Travel is but longing 
 
 For a land uiiknown. 
 Words are but a weariness 
 
 Others' bread a stone, 
 27 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Greater than the longing 
 Of foreign lands afar, 
 
 Truer than the wisdom 
 
 Of deepest words that are, 
 
 Springs an ancient story 
 Deep within this breast, 
 
 " Helen, Mrite the sequel 
 
 And put the dreams at rest! 
 
 OH, FOR THE GIRL WHOSE TENDER GRACE 
 
 Song 
 
 Oir, for the girl whose tender grace 
 
 Holds my heart in a secret spell ! 
 Oil, for the sight of her beautiful face, 
 
 The girl of my dreams that I love so well ! 
 
 Oh, for the eyes that shone so bright! 
 
 Oh, for tlie glorious dark brown hair ! 
 The countenance briglit, and the sweet delight, 
 
 Of the fleeting smile that lingered there. 
 
 For there was a light in those deep blue eyes 
 That softened under the lashes long, 
 
 Which spoke to the feelings deep that rise 
 At the peaceful strain of an olden song. 
 
 The cold winds howl by my lonely room 
 
 And the little fire burns cheerily. 
 And deep in my heart and its silent gloom 
 
 Is the thought of the girl that is lost to me. 
 28 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE GARDEN OF ROSES 
 
 Ah, what of all the roses 
 
 That bloom in fair array, 
 Some forty summers onward. 
 
 When we have passed away? 
 For fair as are the roses 
 
 That bloom, with velvet leaf, 
 As fair to me thy beauty, — 
 
 And youth is e'en as brief. 
 
 The white rose in the garden 
 
 That blooms in beauty fair. 
 Oh, will it still be blowing 
 
 With you no longer there? 
 Oh, shall the rose be fragrant, 
 
 The garden shine as bright. 
 When we have traveled onward, 
 
 The garden out of sight? 
 
 God knows, the pain of parting 
 
 (And parting life is blind). 
 Is only sad remembering 
 
 The beauty left beliind. 
 New roses may be perfect 
 
 As this within your hand. 
 And then perhaps its secret 
 
 Please God, we'll understand. 
 
 29 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 SOLITUDE 
 
 Within a lonely garret room 
 Beside a single lamp alight, — 
 
 As silent as a hidden tomb, 
 
 And gazing on an inward sight, 
 
 The poet rapt amid the gloom 
 Within his soul perceives a light. 
 
 And as the gazer of a star 
 
 Who travels far from out the town, 
 
 He wanders into realms afar, 
 
 Whose gates are brighter than renown. 
 
 His thoughts are where a painter's are 
 Who dares forget both praise and frown. 
 
 Oh, wan and pale and comfortless 
 He muses in a midnight dream. 
 
 And lives another soul's distress, — 
 A peasant poor or crowned queen: 
 
 It matters not if Death's caress 
 Has calmed it long ago, I ween. 
 
 The glory of the star-soul lives 
 
 Beyond the ken of changing Time, 
 
 Awaiting him whose insight gives 
 A living soul to breathing rhyme, — 
 
 The rapture of an hour is Ixis 
 
 Who builds of dreams a pregnant line. 
 30 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 A fancy starts before his sight 
 And pauses like a vision real, 
 
 A glory burns in beauty bright 
 And o'er his wakened senses steal. 
 
 While music floods his soul in light 
 As he beholds the sought ideal! 
 
 The dream of dreams, the dream of yore, 
 The form, the face of all most fair! 
 
 The pen that hardly moved before 
 Hath pictured down a witness there! 
 
 And now the vision is no more, — 
 He stares upon the empty air. 
 
 It matters not if Death's caress 
 
 Has calmed the passion long ago, 
 It matters not if comfortless 
 
 The poet dreams in want and woe, — 
 Perchance the spirit of the song 
 
 Awakes from Beauty's lovely light, — 
 Then Music will not linger long. 
 
 And then the dreamer dreams aright. 
 
 THE POET'S CHOICE 
 
 Silent from the lonely close of day. 
 
 Thro' solemn hours of vigil, still and cold. 
 
 Till dimly shines his single midnight lamp; 
 The poet sits whose dreams are oft retold 
 
 When his own lips are gone to worm and dust. 
 31 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Not his the joy of triumph, not for him 
 The notice of men's favor, nor the kiss 
 
 Of Love's full lips, the common gift of men, — 
 The song but not the taste of Love is his. 
 
 For like the bird, a captive bound, he sings because 
 he must. 
 
 Then is it not, that somewhere in his heart, 
 Beneath the mortal working of his mind. 
 
 There springs a fresh, Parnassus-molded joy, 
 That in the cloak of Beauty he shall find. 
 
 And give the world a treasure ta'en on trust? 
 
 MEETING 
 
 Her eyes with flooding love were dim. 
 Her shadowy hair was loose and long. 
 
 As with a cry she sprang to him 
 And kissed his lips and wept anon. 
 
 Around his neck her woven hands. 
 And on his heart her bosom warm. 
 
 For he was home from foreign lands, 
 At home and safe from passing harm. 
 
 Together now, no more to part. 
 
 No more to bear, she laughed and cried. 
 
 And smiled and blushed, and in her heart 
 Was happiness, and satisfied. 
 32 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 OVER THE SILVERY SOUTHERN SEA 
 
 Song 
 
 Over the silvery southern sea, 
 Dream of my dreams, come back to me, 
 Boy of my love, come back to me, 
 Back to my heart at home! 
 
 East of the east he wanders still. 
 Following, following youth's wild will. 
 Left his home on the windy hill. 
 Left my heart to roam. 
 
 Over against the eastern skies 
 Where the land of " Elsewhere " lies 
 There I gaze with dream-dimmed eyes. 
 Dream as I gaze alone. 
 
 Boy of my love, so kind and true. 
 In spite of the things we say and do. 
 Boy of my dreams, if you only knew. 
 Knew what my heart had known. 
 
 Over the silvery southern sea. 
 Dream of my dreams, come back to me, 
 Boy of my love, come back to me. 
 Back to my heart at home. 
 
 33 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 ON BEHOLDING A BEAUTIFUL SUNSET 
 AFTER WORK 
 
 One thin, low streak 6i sunshine in the west 
 Of fading rose, for one brief moment seen 
 Still holds a charm o'er all the long day's toil 
 And leaveth peace >vith the ensuing night. 
 
 Then think not beauty's strength ends in the 
 
 sight — 
 An idle thing to please, it is a sign, 
 A holy comfort for tired, weary hearts, 
 A promise for the power of noble things. 
 
 ALAIN CHARTIER 
 
 The morning sun had kiss'd away the dew 
 
 From every leafy lip of bud and flower 
 
 That decked the green of large and grassy lawns 
 
 Beside the darkly frowning castle walls 
 
 Where Margaret, the Dauphine fair of France, 
 
 With all her women lived and fairer far 
 
 Than all the many flowers of her dear France. 
 
 Where fountains threw their fine and silvery spray. 
 The creatures light of limb and fair of form 
 Would pause amid their haste to quench their thirsts, 
 And as they left the lawn, birds soon hopped in 
 To dip their beaks, or mayhap with their wings. 
 To beat the cooling spray against their breasts 
 
 34 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And hop away refreshed, with rippling song 
 As strong and fresh as 'twere before unheard 
 By listening ears and new to their own throats. 
 The air was seldom silent of their song, 
 And all the day the spring breath of the south 
 Would seem to bear a thousand flowers' perfume 
 Up through the stately elms and great oaks tall 
 Which hid the winding river from the view, 
 Save here and there where seeming silver gleamed 
 Its sunny waters o'er the valley's side. 
 
 Between two bushes flaming in the pride 
 
 Of brief, fair May sat Alain Chartier, 
 
 O'ercome by sleep, as tho' a fairy hand 
 
 Had smoothed with dreams the ever restless mind 
 
 To calm and quiet thought till every squirrel 
 
 Grew bold and crept beside him where some nuts 
 
 Beneath the sod lay hidden since the Fall; 
 
 With pouch well-filled, scarce moving twig or stem, 
 
 And whisking his long tail he would retire 
 
 Till soon the hoard was gone. 
 
 And oft the birds 
 
 Would hop more near to take a curious look. 
 As wond'ring at the silence that seemed sad. 
 But, hearing neither song nor trill of tune. 
 Ascended to the air with such a song 
 So sudden, yet so sweet, the poet dreamed 
 That 'twas the song and not the feathered wings 
 That bore them upward to the heaven's blue. 
 His gentle mind recalled within its dreams 
 The spirit of a thousand years before, — 
 A memory of days departed, faint 
 
 35 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 As dwells the odor of a fallen rose 
 Beside the bush deserted of its pride. 
 The conscious motive of the active mind 
 Was gone, and in its stead an influence 
 Whose sweetness is the very soul of rest 
 That wakens not; but, like the music's end, 
 Still dances on when words and verse are thro'. 
 
 The dearth of love in this too worldly world, 
 The pride of honor, selfislmess of joy. 
 All argued into silence those fair thoughts 
 That so oft filled his heart and tuned his mind 
 To sympathy and closeness with the soul. 
 A white bud lay beneath his listless hand 
 Almost unseen among the blowing grass, 
 Tho' no one knew, its power and mystery 
 (For beauty has a power) half forced, half won, 
 Half baffled into sleep his wondering mind. 
 In perfect peace of soul tlie poet slept. 
 
 And down the marble steps came Margaret 
 From matin prayers and hymns, to breathe the air 
 Among the sunny paths and gardens fair. 
 Her gentle mind was sweet from holy thought, 
 Untainted by the gross world that around 
 Her castle walls strove mightily with self. 
 Her brow was high and noble, and yet broad, 
 (For therein kindness to all beings dwelt 
 Unmindful of its own superior light). 
 Her maids almost as fair around her walked. 
 With gentle voices low in sigh and laugh. 
 Almost as stately and almost as fair 
 As she, their mistress, like a regnant queen 
 
 36 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Among her sister queens, while close behind 
 
 The beaded monks came bending calm and slow, 
 
 With holy looks; and half their holiness 
 
 They seemed to find in her, their reverend eyes. 
 
 So slowly turning, ever turned toward her. 
 
 From whence a smile seemed wondrous recompense; 
 
 And jostling unaware they followed her. 
 
 With motion fairer than a bird may soar 
 She gracefully descended, and the sun 
 Beheld her eyes, as jealous of their light; — 
 And bending her fair head she there beheld 
 The poet sleeping on the seat below. 
 The oft-repeated forms of prayer and rite 
 Of sable-hooded monks died from her mind. 
 Remembering the sweet thoughts of the man. 
 E'en as their chant forgot to tone again 
 The monks looked on in wonder and in love. 
 As with a smile upon her lips she moved 
 Down to Alain. The maiden's murmurs ceased, 
 And all stood still by trellised step or stair. 
 Leaning low between the blowing bush. 
 Her light robe's fringe upon his still hand fell. 
 And spoke, " It is because those lips have said 
 Such perfect things." She kissed them, and passed 
 on. 
 
 The startled monks their broken chant restarted; 
 As Margaret passed on; the women smiled. 
 Their lingering looks behind still finding him 
 Yet steadfast in the land of peace and dreams. 
 
 37 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 ON A ROSE 
 
 Go, lovely rose, 
 
 To thy repose, 
 Within the book I press thee; 
 
 Tho' not to save 
 
 The breath thee gave, 
 But hers who did caress thee. 
 
 For thou shalt die 
 
 And withered lie, 
 E'er Autumn's suns are burning. 
 
 But breath of her 
 
 More fair shall stir. 
 When leaves of time are turning. 
 
 SONG 
 
 Ah, would the rose upon the stem, 
 That blushing gains her prime. 
 
 Return and be a bud again 
 To cheat the hand of time ! 
 
 Or doth it recompense the rose 
 To grow with sun and rain, 
 
 Then fade away as summer blows. 
 And come no more again.'' 
 
 Perchance when winds are over-rough 
 
 She smiles unto the sky. 
 And takes her fate in ignorance, 
 
 As even you or I. 
 38 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O WOMAN SWEET 
 
 Song 
 
 O WOMAN sweet is a fairy flower 
 
 Where beauty blooms in a showy shower; 
 
 Woman sweet is a lovely rose, 
 
 And only the heart of her lover knows 
 
 The perfect power of her purity. 
 
 That mutable life's one surety 
 
 Lies in the faith of woman's love, — 
 
 All things else must changing prove. 
 
 No man hath more than this, for his 
 
 The only thing that certain is. 
 
 YVONNE 
 
 A LADY there was and her face was as fair 
 
 As lilies that turn to the sky; 
 Her bearing was noble, her lineage was rare — 
 
 A princess of kingdoms gone by. 
 She dwelt among chambers of gray and of gold, 
 
 A castle of marble and white. 
 But lonely she lived, by the parapets old. 
 
 And dreamed on her pillow at night. 
 
 Her hair was as fair as the skies of the dawn, 
 Her eyes were as deep as the sea, 
 
 But pale were the cheeks of the slender Yvonne,- 
 This maiden of gentle degree. 
 39 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And lonely she dreamed her a beautiful dream, 
 That came in a trance in the night, — 
 
 Astride of a palfrey with trappings of green. 
 She saw her own betrothed knight. 
 
 Erect on a beautiful palfrey of white. 
 
 With trappings of green did he ride, 
 Tho' stern was his gaze, all liis features were 
 bright — 
 
 He rode with a sword at his side. 
 All slowly he circled the bristling hill 
 
 As up to the palace he wound. 
 And paused by the walls of the castle so still. 
 
 With whispering forests around, 
 
 Yvonne then awoke from her beautiful dream. 
 
 And gazed from her tower on high, 
 But naught of the knight in full armor was seen. 
 
 No proud stepping palfrey went by. 
 Oh, lonely she dreamed in lier castle of white, 
 
 Her beautiful chambers of gray, 
 She dreamed the same dream of her lover at night. 
 
 And looked for him long by the day. 
 
 And many came seeking the hand of the maid 
 
 From countries both near and afar. 
 In garments of yeomen and princes arrayed, 
 
 To her Avho dwelt lone as a star. 
 But none touched the love hidden deep in her heart. 
 
 Nor answered the longing she knew. 
 Till tears from the edge of her lashes would start — 
 
 And sadder and paler she grew. 
 40 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 So sadder at heart grew the gentle Yvonne, 
 
 Her spirit more sad and more pale, — 
 The maid has a heart e'en as cold as a stone, 
 
 The false lovers said in the vale. 
 They made her a curtsey and bade her good day, 
 
 And bowed very low at her side. 
 So one after one they rode gayly away, 
 
 As only false suitors can ride. 
 
 Oh, deep were the tears that came fast to her eyes, 
 
 And wet were her lashes so long: 
 The lovely smile died on her beautiful face. 
 
 The music sped out of her song. 
 But none touched the love hidden deep in her heart 
 
 As chaste as the stars of the night, 
 When silver the stream in the luminous gleam 
 
 Of the moon that beams fair with its light. 
 
 Her eyes wandered far to the sight of a star 
 
 That shone o'er the parapets old, 
 From far, far away to the realms of the day, 
 
 Whose twilight and dawn are of gold. 
 She plucked from the vines that were climbing on 
 high 
 
 Their leaves blowing light in the air, 
 She plucked her a blossom as red as the dawn — 
 
 And fastened the flower in her hair. 
 
 She thought of the dawning, she thought of the rose. 
 She thought of her dream in the night ; — 
 
 A sudden light shone on her tower, and there 
 Before her was kneeling the knight. 
 41 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 " Ohj come with me ! fly to the realms of the day. 
 
 Oh, thou who wert waiting for me. 
 Oh, come to my countree that stretches away, 
 
 My castle that lies by the sea ! 
 
 " For there all our chambers are ringing with song, 
 
 Our tables with wine and good cheer, 
 While lonely thy days as they linger along, 
 
 For pride and not love linger here." 
 Then blushing with joy she turned slowly her head. 
 
 As closer her spirit he drew. 
 And close in his arms from the castle they fled, 
 
 Afar to his fair world anew. 
 
 They quietly passed doAvn the encircling stair 
 
 And down from the parapet old. 
 They fled from the gloom and the ghostly air — 
 
 The tower so dark and so cold. 
 Under the arch of the doorway tliey fled. 
 
 And over the moat-bridge they flew, — 
 She laughed a free laugh at the gates as they sped. 
 
 That hardly the dull echoes knew. 
 
 He seated her safe on liis brave prancing steed. 
 
 His beautiful palfrey of white, 
 And gazed, long, with his eyes of love 
 
 At her eyes of dear delight. 
 " Oh, beautiful maid, Oh, star of my hope, 
 
 Thou light of my brightened day, 
 Come to my arms, come to my heart. 
 
 Come to my mount, and away." 
 43 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 So over the hills of her childhood they sped, 
 Far over the country they flew, — 
 
 And happy in loving she laughed a free laugh 
 That hardly her glad heart knew. 
 
 THERE IS A TIME 
 
 There is a time for leaves to fall, 
 The fragrant rose to shed its bloom. 
 
 For May to loose her blossoms all 
 And vanish like a rare perfume. 
 
 There is a time for summer's sun, 
 There is a time for winter's breath; 
 
 For idle years of youth to run, 
 And age to fade away in death. 
 
 There is a time for love to rise 
 
 And grow between two happy hearts, 
 
 ^Vhen young love springs its first surprise 
 And bliss upon the soul imparts. 
 
 There is an hour for song and rhyme. 
 
 As sober meditation, yet — 
 There is, alas, no time, no time. 
 
 For love forgotten to forget. 
 
 43 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE RIVER IS WIDE 
 
 The river is wide and the river is long, 
 
 With mountains above and the long cliffs below, 
 
 But not for its grandeur I'll sing you a song — 
 Of one fairest spot that my memories know. 
 
 'Tis there on a mossy rock under the trees 
 The billows so white running rippling by, 
 
 And far enough westward to catch the cool breeze, 
 To see, if you care, the blue hills in the sky. 
 
 I love the small spot and 'tis there could I dream 
 The rest of my days, for the cove is so fair, — 
 
 Mayhap 'tis because it's so quiet and green. 
 Or so, since I sat with sweet Marjorie there. 
 
 LOVER AFTER TOIL 
 
 With too much love, my soul ofttime oppressed, 
 Implores my tongue to speak, my mind to write, 
 
 With haste I seek sweet solitude and rest. 
 
 With heart of morning song, tho' tired, and night. 
 
 'Tis then I come, fair one, to sing to thee, 
 
 To sing the song my aching heart hath bound. 
 
 For toil is past, and shadows set me free. 
 
 To sing a song of sighs my lips have found. 
 44 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 When all the weary, hot, and toilsome day 
 
 I charm the work's low thought away with love, 
 
 By loving thee o'er all, O canst thou say 
 This evening hymn of mine doth idle prove? 
 
 In thought of thee I find the day's work pleasiire. 
 Then spoil it not, and give brief night its measure. 
 
 LOVE'S VIGIL 
 
 O WHEN thine eyes are weighted down with slumber 
 The sweet smile still, the dainty limbs at rest, 
 
 When spirit from thy form doth disencumber. 
 Like death but for the motion of thy breast, 
 
 Then thinking of thee by the winter's fire. 
 
 And lost within the realms of sweetest thought. 
 
 My true love's passion chooses the desire 
 
 To be a spirit from Love's heaven brought. 
 
 A spirit light, of air and love, unseen, 
 By mortals, and to visit thee so fair. 
 
 To kiss thy lips and whisper in thy dream 
 
 My love; to smooth the brow of thy gold hair. 
 
 Oh, let my soul keep vigil o'er thy form 
 Until a purer wakes thee in the morn. 
 
 45 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 HOW ILL THY SPARKLING EYES 
 
 Sonnet 
 
 How ill thy sparkling eyes of three years past 
 Foretold the beauty Time has there fulfilled, 
 Or how briefly days of childhood last 
 Like the dews upon the bud distilled. 
 
 They vanish with the golden sun of morn, 
 And so thy beauty born to brighter bloom 
 Has opened like a rose, thy slender form 
 Has filled almost as quickly as the moon 
 
 That day by day rounds out its slender horn. 
 If love makes perfect thus with Time's increase 
 How perfect be that love thy soul lias formed ! 
 Yet time is fickle and his favors cease. 
 
 O share thy beauty with another's heart 
 ^^^lile it still is in its fullest part! 
 
 A PROPHECY 
 
 The fitful gusts go piping down the lane 
 And blow the sere leaves to the freezing sod; 
 
 The trees stand bare 'neath darkened skies of rain, 
 WTiile by my fireside dreamily I nod. 
 46 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Then thinking of the life of gentle mind. 
 That dwells so far above man's weary way, 
 
 Which soon must be renounced for tasks less kind, 
 For Mammon's hand still guides our mortal day; 
 
 Then thinking of that day (youth too soon passed). 
 When far from friends I'll face Dame Fortune's 
 wiles. 
 
 Lost joy and hast'ing age may shadows cast. 
 But they shall fade, remembering thy smiles. 
 
 The whole world cannot change the life I'll live 
 In thee; thy love such greater grace doth give. 
 
 THE WANDERER 
 
 The night hath her stars, 
 The desert her flowers; 
 
 The sea hath her gems. 
 
 And birds have their bowers. 
 
 And I have my love. 
 My love and my song; 
 
 O be the day weary 
 Or be the road long, 
 
 My day hath her flower, 
 My night hath her star, 
 
 Tho' tiresome the journey 
 And home lies afar. 
 47 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 The way may be weary. 
 But never for long; 
 
 My song has its love 
 And love has her song. 
 
 LOVE AND TO-MORROW 
 
 All day as I labor I wearily sigh 
 
 For pleasures that surely the morrow will bring. 
 And then when the death of the day drawcth nigh 
 
 In thought of the morrow most gladly I sing. 
 When evening descendeth with rest in sweet sleep 
 
 I wake from the dreams of my fair lover's face, 
 To gaze at the east if fair Phoebus yet peep 
 
 From curtains of gold where beginning their race 
 The fiery steeds spring o'er the morn's early sky. 
 
 For then will I see ere the dewdrop is gone 
 From May buds' petals the loving bright eye 
 
 Of one that I love, and my heart is at home. 
 
 SEA SONG 
 
 O WAVES are dancing in the bay 
 Where sun is bright. Come, let's away; 
 Let's down to ship at anchor riding 
 No more on shore with lubbers hiding 
 From "wind and wave, and sun and storm, — 
 We've been too long at harbor warm. 
 48 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 So come away, the heart grows weak 
 Beside a tender w^oman's cheek. 
 Aboard, and let the damsels be. 
 For us the wild, the open sea. 
 
 THE CALL OF THE OPEN SEA 
 
 A Viking's blood runs thro' my veins, 
 
 I long for a new countree; 
 I'd roam where'er a monarchy reigns. 
 
 Far over the open sea ! 
 
 Away, away for many a day 
 
 Over the golden main, 
 I'd follow on to the end of the world. 
 
 To the end of the seas again! 
 
 It's O for \vinds of measureless seas, 
 A glimpse of the shoreless skies, 
 
 A-roaming o'er the world and away 
 As free as an eagle flies ! 
 
 O Dave, my boy, there's many a ship 
 That sails to a port unkno-svn, 
 
 A-roaraing o'er the bottomless deep 
 And ever at rest a-roam! 
 
 O Dave, my boy, there's many a ship 
 That sails to a distant quest. 
 
 Ahoy ! let's give this city the slip 
 And on to the East and West! 
 49 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 TO THE OLD ADVENTURERS 
 
 In Search of El Dorado 
 
 Gone from our footsteps, tho' left to our memory, 
 
 Sea-faring spirits of old, — 
 Were ye paid ever for all your endeavor 
 
 In tracing these secrets of gold? 
 Now while ye rest with the sod on your breast, 
 
 As silent and helpless ye lie, 
 Now can ye know of those secrets unfound, 
 
 Hidden in earth from the sky? 
 Or if the spirit thro' power of its own 
 
 Has risen and taken its flight. 
 Looking upon the delusions of men 
 
 Watching us grope in the night, 
 Can ye not speak to us, spirits adventurous. 
 
 Speak from your heaven and guide us aright? 
 
 THE SUN WORSHIPERS 
 
 O THERE was a thrill at the sight of the hill. 
 And the brooklet where stone from stone 
 
 The waters fell from well to well, 
 To drip or splash in a foam. 
 
 Over the hill to the west, the west. 
 
 Wherever the sun went down. 
 Over the frieze of the distant trees 
 
 That sit on the hill like a crown. 
 60 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 The mist would gather behind each hill 
 And crouch in the valley below. 
 
 While overhead so red, so red. 
 The sun was hanging low. 
 
 We worshiped the light of the dawning day, 
 
 The sun in the reddened west, — 
 As years ago the Indian cliild 
 Shot his shaft in his native wild 
 To follow the sun to rest. 
 
 STORM KING 
 
 Fifty miles from the dusty town 
 The lofty cliffs of Storm King frown. 
 Frown in the storm o'er the wind-swept miles. 
 Or fair in the sun of morning smiles. 
 And looks in a dream o'er Newberg Bay 
 North to the Catzbergs far away; 
 Between the hills of the vale outspread 
 The river winds, a silver thread, 
 And down below in the valley deep 
 The hamlets lie in peaceful sleep. 
 
 Fifty miles from the crowded town 
 I'd camp where the dew falls softly down, 
 Far from the castles of discontent. 
 Far from the plains of Tenement. 
 A table set on a rocky board, 
 A blanket bed on the grassy sward, 
 While high above the leafy tent 
 Is stretched the starry firmament; 
 51 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And sleep with my head on the springy sod. 
 Sleep with dreams in the peace of God. 
 To wake in the light of early dawn 
 When manteling night has just withdrawn, 
 With all the wood- folk up from sleep, 
 And life astir in the forest deep. 
 
 O for the hawk that circles round, 
 
 O for the bird that hides in the ground, 
 
 O for the eagle that builds liis nest 
 
 High on the top of a pathless crest! 
 
 Here is a pleasant near retreat 
 
 From the hardened paths and the hasting feet; 
 
 What is wealth when light on your back 
 
 You carry your home in your mountain pack? 
 
 What are the wines of olden Spain 
 
 To rocky pools of heaven's rain ? 
 
 O far away on the mountain's breast. 
 To dream in the soul's divinest rest, 
 And stretched beneath a mountain pine 
 To watch the shadow's lazy line 
 Trace the hilltops in and out 
 Where the clouds are blown about. 
 To watch the weary steamers trail 
 With here and there a lonely sail, 
 And hear the trains with faintest roar 
 Creep along on the distant shore: 
 Save the birds no other sound 
 Breaks the stillness all around. 
 And wliile in a shady nook you lie 
 With face before a smiling sky, 
 Breathing the mountain air refined. 
 Ask of your heart if God is kind. 
 52 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 LEE AT APPOMATTOX 
 
 The officers were all without, and at the table seated 
 Were two strong men, brave leaders both, without 
 their armies now. 
 The followers of one were vanquished, hungered, and 
 depleted. 
 The others were victorious — you know the story 
 how. 
 
 The smaller man and younger wore the soldier's blouse 
 
 of blue 
 
 Of a lieutenant-general, bespattered from his ride; 
 
 The taller man and older wore full uniform and new. 
 
 With spurs and sash, a brilliant sword was belted 
 
 to his side. 
 
 Silently the two shook hands and spoke a word in- 
 formal. 
 And then arranged the final terms of that too 
 costly peace. 
 The face of Lee was anxious, but the face of Grant 
 was normal 
 But for a trace of gladness that the strife was soon 
 to cease. 
 
 " Surrender unconditionally," the spirit was before 
 him 
 That gave the words their meaning, now so hard, so 
 hard to bear. 
 " We will not ask your swords," wrote Grant, as sym- 
 pathy came o'er him. 
 And then Lee asked, " The horses, sir, the horses 
 may we spare? " 
 
 53 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And at the answer, lo ! his face lost something of 
 its sorrow, 
 " That will help them much/' he said, " to bear with 
 their defeat; 
 They are farmers and have not to plow with on the 
 morrow, 
 For all they had — their homes, their lives — they 
 placed here at my feet." 
 
 Then they arose, shook hands, and Lee passed slowly 
 out and gravely, 
 Tall and straight and slender, tho' his hair and 
 beard were gray. 
 And out upon the steps he paused, — for silently and 
 bravely 
 The army that had followed him, there in the valley 
 lay. 
 
 He paused and gazed a moment, then as shattered 
 hopes came o'er him, 
 He smote his hand and fist as sorrow rocked him in 
 its power. 
 The tears were in his eyes when they led Traveler 
 before him, 
 And Union hats were raised for him in that last 
 trying hour. 
 
 O truly great as general, aristocrat and gentleman, 
 In thy words misfortune is good fortune bravely 
 borne, 
 Thy noble spirit bore all well, and so thy fellow coun- 
 trymen. 
 For lo! the wounded Southland rises on the battle 
 morn ! 
 
 54 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 AT GETTYSBURG 
 I 
 
 The star of day had slipped behind the old familiar 
 
 hill. 
 The peace of night lay on the farm and all the woods 
 
 lay still, 
 But chilling was the wind that blew about the herded 
 
 kine; 
 The family sat together round the blazing logs of 
 
 pine. 
 
 "Another call for men, sir, from the President in 
 
 state, 
 Men needed! ^ Can I go, sir, go before it is too late? " 
 And a father's face grew graver than the graveness 
 
 of his years. 
 Slightly bowed his whitened brow, his eyes half- 
 filled with tears. 
 It took all his courage as unheeding child and wife 
 He answered, " You may go, sir, to the front, and 
 to the strife. 
 
 " Remember, if you're fighting, sir, or waiting, 'tis 
 
 the same, 
 Be loyal to your country and be loyal to my name. 
 And should it come to dying, sir," — his bright eye 
 
 grew still bolder, — 
 "If fate so wills it, die, sir, like a man and like "a 
 
 soldier ! " 
 
 55 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And happy was a youthful niind that dreamed of arms 
 
 and war^ 
 But fearful was the mother's heart beneath the smile 
 
 she wore. 
 A father's mind was struggling for mastery of fears, 
 A little sister trembled in a sudden flood of tears. 
 
 The morning sun shone brightly in a clear and cloud- 
 less sky. 
 
 The village homes were hung with flags, to wave the 
 soldiers by. 
 
 At last the hour expectant came, with sounds of many 
 feet, 
 
 A thousand men were marching to the war-drum's 
 rhythmic beat. 
 
 He paused to hear his father say, " Remember what 
 I've said! " 
 
 And laughing, kissed his sister's tears away and on- 
 ward sped. 
 
 The days drew out the courage of the youth who 
 
 willed to roam. 
 And time bore out the bravery of the loving folks at 
 
 home. 
 And never did the sinking sun sail westward from the 
 
 day 
 But kindred hearts were thinking of their hero far 
 
 away. 
 
 A year passed when a letter came with good news 
 
 from the boy, — 
 " Your son is made an officer ! " — and with a father's 
 
 joy 
 
 56 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 A father's pride was mingled, for a soldier's rank is 
 
 won ! 
 The mother only prayed again that He might save 
 
 her son. 
 Yet joy ran o'er the country farm and smiled from 
 
 bank to burn, — 
 The farmhand dreamed a welcome of the soldier boy's 
 
 return. 
 
 The sun in its beneficence upon the village shone. 
 And by the hazy autumn time the fruitful crops were 
 
 grown. 
 The harvest days were over, with the cider in the mill, 
 And soon the trees were leafless on the cold and windy 
 
 hill. 
 Still vacant was one quiet room so free from sudden 
 
 harm, 
 But courage kept her council on that old New Eng- 
 land farm. 
 
 II 
 
 'Twas morning, and at Gettysburg, and every soldier 
 
 knew 
 That rank should meet opposing rank before the day 
 
 was tlirough. 
 For like colliding thunder-clouds that meet upon a 
 
 race 
 The armies of the North and South stood grimly face 
 
 to face. 
 Neither Meade nor Lee had planned to meet the 
 
 frowning foe, 
 But having met, nor JVfeade nor Lee did plan to turn 
 
 and go 
 
 57 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Beside the road to Emraitsburg a peaceful valley lay. 
 And here the mighty armies met to fight their bloody 
 fray. 
 
 Let others tell the fearful tale of horror and of 
 
 death, — 
 Who bore the arms of murder and who felt the can- 
 nons' breath ; 
 How hollow-eyed commanders formed their armies in 
 
 the night, 
 And pale and wan held council while the moon was 
 
 shining bright. 
 By day the clouds of heavy smoke did hover o'er the 
 
 vale. 
 And curled about the screaming shells and hid the 
 
 hissing hail, — 
 Or how the valiant Pickett charged the bristling ranks 
 
 in vain, 
 When thousands withered marching on before the 
 
 leaden rain. 
 
 'Twas evening, and at Gettysburg the day's hot fight 
 
 was o'er. 
 The sharp fight in the railroad cut, the place was 
 
 red with gore, — 
 The pale, wan moon looked down upon the scene with 
 
 silver light, — 
 By comrades dead and dying the wounded slept that 
 
 night. 
 A soldier of the Northern blue arose from where he 
 
 lay 
 To give a fallen soldier drink who wore the Southern 
 
 gray,— 
 
 58 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Oh, Rebels were forgotten in their feeble, wounded 
 
 plight. 
 And foemen of the day were wounded comrades of 
 the night. 
 
 No more the cursed cannon roared its fire across the 
 
 green. 
 No more the angry iron hail responded with a scream, 
 As Round Top darkened slowly close beside the fading 
 
 sky 
 Where forty thousand souls below had found a place 
 
 to die. 
 
 Among the number one awoke, half rising, looked 
 
 around. 
 And saw his comrades scattered, dead and dying, on 
 
 the ground. 
 Then thinking grimly of the fight and horror he had 
 
 passed. 
 He felt his life-blood flowing and he knew it was his 
 
 last. 
 For he had fought as well becomes a soldier and a 
 
 man. 
 And now he was prepared to die, — what else mortal 
 
 can? 
 A memory ran through him, and in pain he rose alone. 
 The thought inspired strength within him like 
 
 strength from music's tone. 
 He wrapped his cape about him and without a mo- 
 ment's pause 
 He walked across the battle-field, Lieutenant-Colonel 
 
 Dawes, 
 
 59 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 His officer, saluting, at attention firm and right; 
 
 " Report, sir? " and the answer paused on pressed 
 lips bloody bright. 
 
 He said with supreme effort, for his blood was grow- 
 ing colder, 
 
 "Just tell the folks I died, sir, like a man and like a 
 soldier." 
 
 Then throwing back his martial cloak he showed the 
 raw wound red. 
 
 And there at his command's feet the hero's form fell 
 dead! 
 
 Ill 
 
 At morning sun they buried him upon the battlefield. 
 His martial cloak a surplice and a blanket for a shield. 
 His ruddy lips were pale and sealed and on his face 
 
 repose, 
 As one with marcliing orders, knowing whitherward 
 
 he goes; 
 As one who slumbers peacefully within the firing line 
 They covered him and left him to his mystery divine. 
 
 The sun in its beneficence upon the village shone, 
 Again by golden harvest time the fruitful crops were 
 
 grown. 
 The summer winds breathed gently on those old New 
 
 Hampshire liills 
 Where far away the home folks toiled and life-blood 
 
 never spills. 
 In vain the plodding farmhand dreamed the soldier 
 
 boy's return. 
 No brother kissed a sister's eyes from bitter tears 
 
 that burn, 
 
 60 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 A father's hand grew weary for a father's hair was 
 
 A mother's heart was heavy where the weight of sor- 
 row lay; 
 
 Deserted was one farmhouse room so quiet, free from 
 harm, 
 
 But Courage kept her council on that old New Eng- 
 land farm. 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, 1906 
 
 Beyond the eastern hills the sun arose 
 
 As day once more upon fair Frisco shone — 
 When Nature shuddered, — and down from her 
 throne 
 The West's " Pacific Queen " in terror fell ! 
 Against the dawn a himdred fires arose. 
 
 The trembling earth gaped wide and all was 
 Hell, 
 And ruin reigned as ne'er before was known. 
 
 The country's hand gave help and other lands 
 Sent aid and sympathy, — the Old World named 
 
 This crushing blow thy final doom and seal. 
 But e'er the adverse elements regained 
 Their calm and order, with thy bleeding hands 
 Thou builded up anew with all the zeal 
 With which thy sons since Forty-nine are famed, — 
 And grander still the dauntless city stands ! 
 
 61 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 A WINTER'S NIGHT 
 
 Within the room were riches from the East; 
 
 And by a long and marble corridor 
 The God of Music spread a living feast 
 
 With soft selections from " El Torridore," 
 
 And operas that have long been loved before. 
 The violins upon a golden thread 
 
 Of music wove an aching dream of yore. 
 The clarinets in light foot treble led 
 The melancholy 'cello to lift up its drooping head. 
 
 A thousand brilliant lights shone cold and white 
 
 Upon a place as faery as a dream; 
 On every hand a different delight 
 
 Was seen on marble arch and purple screen; 
 
 And here and there a painting placed between 
 The arches of a near and festive room 
 
 Spoke love and beauty, or a verdant scene 
 Of rural life, a harvest field and moon; 
 For all was life and luxury, far placed from care and 
 gloom. 
 
 And in the center of the gilded hall, 
 
 Beneath a green and barred and leaded shade, 
 The music of a dripping waterfall 
 
 With the orchestra in union played; 
 
 Around the hall in gorgeous wraps arrayed 
 The painted women drank in luxury. 
 
 Nowhere was the hand of pleasure stayed. 
 And adding loudly to the revelry 
 
 The voices rose of some who had been drinking long 
 and free. 
 
 62 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 It was the night, and overhead the stars, 
 The very stars that shone on Bethlehem, 
 
 Twinkled faintly through their cloudy bars 
 And disappeared behind the misty hem 
 Of Heaven; darker still it grew, till men. 
 
 Like shadows, passed the gloomy street along; — 
 Each lamp shone dimly in its misty pen, 
 
 'Twas late, but through the window still the throng 
 
 Upon the midnight silence broke with noisy jests 
 and song. 
 
 Then silently the snowflakes fell, and grew. 
 
 And spread the city with a mantle white, 
 As softly as descends the summer's dew 
 
 That falls upon the clover fields at night. 
 
 But chilling blew the bitter winds, and tight 
 Each passer-by his covering would hold. 
 
 Low bending, for the snow did rob the sight. 
 And e'en the gentleman in fur did fold 
 More close his Persian collar to keep out the winter's 
 cold. 
 
 The streets were soon deserted as the snow 
 
 Still deeper piled its silence, till a plain 
 Was curbed and corner where the wind would blow 
 
 From drifted heaps to level space again. 
 
 And down the night a child of unknown name. 
 Unsheltered, wandered, aimless and alone, — 
 
 Be it friends or fortune most to blame, — 
 He had no welcome roof to call his own, 
 Nor cot, nor crust, nor any place that he might call 
 a home. 
 
 63 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Along: the chill and bitter street he passed, 
 And paused before that city mansion fair, 
 
 Tho' not in hope that he had found at last 
 A respite from his weary journey there; — 
 But even as the moth turns to the glare 
 
 Of brilliant light, with blind and thoughtless wings, 
 He gazed upon the light witli weary stare — 
 
 A place where music sighs and laughter rings 
 
 Were unto him as pleasant dreams of far-off happy 
 things. 
 
 His home no more his home, — it boots not why, — 
 
 Perhaps a father drunk, a mother dead ; 
 He had been used to woe, for in his eye. 
 
 Where hunger stared, emotion long was sped. 
 
 But pinched and thin he was, ill-clothed, ill-fed. 
 Lo ! to a friendly shadow nook he stepped, 
 
 Tho' scarcely able to hold up his head 
 As to liis last cold corner dark he crept, 
 And there as numbness spread over him his soul and 
 body slept. 
 
 'Twas early morn, and now the merry throng 
 
 Were gathering their cloaks and sables rare, 
 When thro' the open door a burst of song 
 
 Broke out upon the solemn midnight air; 
 
 And slowly out they passed, and found him there. 
 A glance, a look, a touch, a sudden cry ! — 
 
 They bring him quickly to the inner glare. 
 All pausing in their revelry to sigh 
 For one who came three blocks away from Poverty to 
 die. 
 
 64 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE NEWSBOY AND THE PEANUT MAN 
 
 " Peanuts ! " cried the peanut man, 
 As he stood in the square by his little stand 
 Turning the goobers round and round, 
 While the whistle squeaked with a shrilly sound. 
 And the old man blew upon his hand, — 
 
 For the air was chill that Autumn night. 
 And the man in rags was a piteous sight. 
 He watched the faces passing by. 
 None seemed to heed the whistle's cry. 
 Or passed with a smile at the homely sight. 
 
 Then the lad that sold papers, the smallest one, 
 Half hid 'neath his " extras " and eating a bun. 
 Came over the square in the evening's dusk 
 And gave the old man half the crust. 
 For this was the old man's son. 
 
 His yellow papers were nearly gone. 
 He was cold and tired, so he too sat down, 
 On the box by Iiis father he took his rest. 
 And slept with his head on the old man's 
 breast ; — 
 And some paused to buy peanuts, while passing on. 
 
 65 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE PALISADES IN WINTER 
 
 Yesterday the cliffs I could not see, — 
 
 The day was dark, the snow was thicker growing; 
 The air was white with flakes and like a sea 
 
 The dark ice-spotted stream its waves were throw- 
 
 And sight was lost, where waters deep were flow- 
 ing; 
 Loud was the noise of ice-floes crushing there, 
 
 And louder still the fierce North wind was blo^ving, 
 Which drove the sleet aslant thro' chilling air. 
 Forcing me away from the wild elements' warfare. 
 
 To-day the sky is clear with sun's strong light, 
 
 The wind, more temperate, reigns o'er silent earth. 
 The sun gilds o'er the stream intensely bright, 
 
 The Palisades have had a second birth. 
 
 The whole scene now presents an Arctic dearth 
 Of solemn majesty, somber and grand. 
 
 As secH by lonely wanderers in the North. 
 Above the scene the bare cliff's changeless stand. 
 While far below where pine tops rise, slopes out the 
 crystal strand. 
 
 AT SAGAMORE 
 
 Two thousand feet above the dark blue rim 
 Which men call water rise on every side 
 
 The wooded mountains to their sky line dim. 
 And toss their heads to heaven, high and wide; 
 66 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 While in the waters silvery clear, beside 
 The forest shore, I found an island green, — 
 
 And there an Inn where long I would abide 
 With Jean, to sail and seek each changing scene, 
 Till Love at last contented with its life forgot to 
 dream. 
 
 AT HOME 
 
 I've traveled many countries o'er, — 
 Strange lands from east and west, — 
 
 And now I turn to home once more 
 To quiet, peace, and rest. 
 
 I care no more for foreign skies. 
 
 Nor distant ancient scenes; 
 My soul craves but the peace which lies 
 
 In this our land of dreams. 
 
 This spot upon the Hudson where 
 The sun and winds are free — 
 
 Above the frowning Palisades, 
 Below the Tappan Zee. 
 
 For on those sparkling waters 
 Which laugh upon the shore, 
 
 Oh, there we sailed and dreamed away 
 Our youth and love of yore. 
 
 Oh, there the waves more gently leapt 
 
 While passing to the sea; 
 I think the skies bent closer there 
 
 Above my love and me. 
 
 67 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 For there we two together roamed 
 Upon the rose-crowned hill, — 
 
 And I am working for the time 
 When love shall have her will. 
 
 I care not for the glories grand 
 The ancient Past has known, — 
 
 Oh, little bungalow — and Love ! 
 Then has my soul her own. 
 
 THE WATERFALL 
 
 O SPIRIT free of the mountains, 
 Laughter light of the morn. 
 
 Flooding the vale with music 
 Clear as the huntsman's horn. 
 
 Laughter light of the mountains. 
 Spirit sweet of the morn, — 
 
 The fancy free of the fairy folk. 
 The dewy dells adorn. 
 
 Dashing down the mountain. 
 
 Over the wolds away. 
 Leaping out like a fountain spout. 
 
 To fall to the winds in spray. 
 
 Breath of the mists of morning, 
 Form of the formless mist, 
 
 The clouds descend and still contend 
 With the wooing wind at the tryst. 
 
 68 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 The mountain sleeps through the ages, 
 And in its sleeping dreams; — 
 
 The mirrored lake from its slumbers wake. 
 And both in thy nature gleams. 
 
 Wondrous work of the hillside, 
 
 Art of the constant hill. 
 Ne'er in sound or motion bound. 
 
 Thy song is constant still. 
 
 Lovely appear on the mountain 
 The silvery steps of thy feet, 
 
 Leaping down with a laugh to the town 
 With its sordid ills replete. 
 
 THE OLD MILL 
 
 Down by the old mill where the water falls still, 
 And all its oak beams are now soft with decay. 
 
 Time's unsparing tooth wrecks regardless of ruth. 
 The old mill is slowly now passing away. 
 
 The mill-stone now broken lies low, the last token 
 Of unceasing use in the prosperous past; 
 
 Where labored the farmer from winter to summer, 
 Who relished his bumper its dregs to the last. 
 
 The water-wheel gone, the pit empty and lone, 
 
 Where listless and careless the waters still flow; 
 The mildew and moss still mourn for its loss. 
 
 And form a green shroud with the ferns as they 
 grow. 
 
 69 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And over the edge of the stream's rocky ledge. 
 
 Where, slipping and tumbling, onward they roam, 
 
 The swift waters flow to the sharp rocks below, 
 Which scatters and tears them to light mist and 
 foam. 
 
 Below in her tryst the fair maiden of mist 
 
 Now promises peace of the near future's best; — 
 
 The valley beyond gently slopes to a pond. 
 Which gathers the turbulent waters to rest. 
 
 The water still roars as its volume it pours. 
 
 Although its accompanying grinding is gone, — 
 
 The sound of the mill will forever be still. 
 But beautiful Nature continues her song. 
 
 THE WORLD'S TRUTH 
 
 What my blessings next may be 
 When I learn death's mystery 
 I have knowledge none, nor fear,- 
 One thing only love I here. 
 
 Solomon who lived of eld, 
 All of worldly comforts held. 
 Powerful, rich, and wise was he, 
 Yet found all but vanity. 
 
 Then am I more blessed by far 
 Than the ancient princes were. 
 Naught of weariness I feel, 
 Love alone is true and real. 
 70 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Wealth I crave not, but for thee, — 
 That our love may journey free; 
 Naught of pride, save that which lies 
 In the spirit of thy eyes. 
 
 Only one thing love I here, — 
 Else the world were cold and sere, — 
 'Tis the passion of thy breast, 
 This alone can bring me rest. 
 
 HYMN OF THE NIGHT 
 
 Break, daylight, o'er the shadow sinking land. 
 
 O'er all earth's cares and joys draw slowly down 
 
 The purple curtain with thy gentle hand. 
 
 O'er the western waters and the hills 
 
 The rosy day departs; the restless town 
 
 Must sleep and leave all fretting, worldly wills 
 
 To Heaven's care, for Nature sleepeth, too — 
 
 Nor wakes as mortals do to daily cares. 
 
 To all her works fair Nature beauty gives 
 
 By natural rest and quiet. Only man. 
 
 Despising beauty, puts his life away 
 
 With low thoughted cares. Both day and night 
 
 Are times for peace and joy and quiet thought. 
 
 O let the simple blessed life be thine, 
 
 As peaceful, sweet and beautiful and free. 
 
 As all of Nature's beings — happy birds 
 
 Who sing and fly and live aloft near skies 
 Whose lives with song and sunshine harmonize. 
 71 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE POET'S FUNCTION 
 
 No idle dreamers they, who silently 
 Gaze out the fading watches of the night, — 
 For light creeps only in upon the mind 
 Slumbering to the dull things of this world 
 And lost to consciousness in mystery 
 Of light unseen and truths unknown to men. 
 The active mind cannot look in beneath 
 The surface of its life; the passive mind 
 Alone receives impressions from beyond, — 
 Alone can see, in silence understand; 
 Tho' unexpressed, feel truth within the soul. 
 We mortals are but fools, these things are naught, — 
 The worldly things we love and dote upon, — 
 Our only strength is faith. There is a world 
 More real than this, and there our spirit leads. 
 No dreamers they, who grope around in thought 
 For truth where mortals carelessly pass by. 
 O ye, who love the substance of this world, 
 Love but the very shadow of a dream ! 
 And how small and how inferior 
 These spheres are to the Mind that governs them. 
 These moving clods, to Thought that gave them 
 birth ! 
 
 70 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 Both Life and Death appeared to me last night, — 
 Then unseen fingers did figures mold 
 Upon the mobile mind, where, uncontrolled, 
 Sleep closed the weary lids and let in light. 
 
 Life was a playful child, and fair and bright. 
 It babbled of each thing it felt and saw; 
 Yet nothing knew of all that filled its sight. 
 Nor through its tears could sorrow see aright; 
 But on its mother's breast forgot its awe. 
 Where love brought perfect rest and manifold. 
 
 And kind, grave Love lit Death's, the mother's face, 
 Who answered not each cry, but gravely smiled; 
 And brightly shone her soul with Truth's calm grace. 
 As she foresaw the Future of her Child. 
 
 AD LENTE 
 
 The sober night has spread his dusky wings 
 Afar from east to west. The stars are out. 
 The moon is clear amid a changeless sky, 
 And all the air is still. The troubled thoughts 
 That weigh the brooding mind have worn away 
 As homeward fly the swallows to the west. 
 The troubled thoughts fly far, but sorrow still 
 Sits pensively amid the quiet gloom, — 
 Sits waiting with the troubled heart for sleep. 
 
 73 
 
SONGS AI,ONG THE WAY 
 
 So sleep, sweet sleep, come spread thy cloak for me, 
 And bring to me the secret of thy peace. 
 O give to me the potion of thy dreams, 
 And vanish me unto thy sacred realms. 
 
 MELPOMENE 
 
 I SAT me in a play-house thro' a play, 
 
 Saw mimic passions melt into my own, 
 And gladly felt my being fade away 
 
 Before the glo^ving grave before me shown. 
 
 But never had I such true pathos known 
 In drama, until Anglin played her part; — 
 
 The soul's reserve to all the \innds was thrown, 
 Its spirit rose till tears had clicked the heart, 
 Beneath her beauty's power and all-conquering art ! 
 
 THALIA 
 
 O Maiden Muse of Comedy Divine, 
 
 Whose graceful arts of witchery and wile 
 Can win sweet pleasure from the passing time. 
 
 And teach the wearied heart again to smile, — 
 O turn to us those sparkling eyes and bright, — 
 
 Thy lips with wondrous witchery do teem. 
 O come once more before the magic light. 
 
 As fair as is the spirit of my dream. 
 Thy beauty wins the cares of Time away 
 74 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And leaves the sweetness of a rare perfume,- 
 As lovers fled together in a play 
 
 Where lingers but the cadence of the tune, 
 O such the spirit that our senses greet 
 When falls at last the curtain at thy feet. 
 
 ROBERTSON 
 
 'Much passion have I seen through tear-dimmed 
 
 eye 
 On drama's stage of careful studied art, 
 Oft heard sweet song to silence gently die, 
 When from the throat a new speech seemed to start; 
 But till, with Hamlet's great life-wearied heart. 
 With eye divine, face sweet with too much pain, — 
 With deep pure voice possessing love's control, — 
 With graceful gestures of tall manhood's frame, — 
 Not ever had I known the soul to move 
 So joyfully as for Robertson. — The man 
 Was more than actor on the stage when Love 
 Led on the way to light where light began: 
 His noble power seemed tutored from above. 
 When his great art showed what an actor can! 
 
 OH, WHAT IS THE PLAY? 
 
 Oh, what is the play when Helen's face 
 Beams with the joy of her spirit's sight! 
 What is the play when beauty's smiles 
 Lighten her face with her soul's delight! 
 
 75 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 What is the play when Helen's eyes 
 Fill with tears at Perdita's woe ! 
 What is the passing plot of the play 
 When Helen's eyes with feeling glow ! 
 
 When crowned with her presence by your side 
 
 You feel the sorrow of her sighs. 
 
 Or take new interest in the play 
 
 At her bosom's fall and rise, — 
 
 Oh, tell me if you can, I say, 
 
 What is the play, what is the play? 
 
 GOOD NIGHT 
 
 Helen, when thy hand in mine 
 One still moment lingering lies. 
 
 Gazing on thy face divine 
 Looking deep into thine eyes. 
 
 In those eyes so deep of brown. 
 Seeking for their inmost thought — 
 
 Smiling at thy maiden frown. 
 
 Hearing thee, yet heeding not; — 
 
 Past all words and even thought, 
 When the tongue is silent, still. 
 
 And the heart to passion wrought 
 Holds, before thy woman's will : — 
 
 Thou my deep true love canst see. 
 Open, frank before thy sight. 
 
 Can I take as much from thee 
 
 In thy tender, low " Good night " ? 
 76 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 AT SUNSET 
 
 The dark and dreary day went out at last. 
 The hidden sun shone only at its setting; 
 
 By eventide the storms and clouds had passed. 
 Of her own tears the earth was fast forgetting. 
 
 Then in the distance rose in silver splendor 
 The clear, new moon, and with it rose a star; 
 
 And side by side they traveled, till the tender 
 Light of Heaven showed " New Day " afar. 
 
 AT PEACE 
 
 Outside the bleak November wind blows cold. 
 The leafless trees toss wildly up on high. 
 
 And overhead the black crows calling bold, 
 Like ghouls of storm go flying o'er the sky. 
 
 The sturdy chimney rocks amid the storm. 
 
 The slow ascending smoke is cruelly torn. 
 
 While snowflakes fall and melt in its wide top. 
 And in the grate the pine knots burst and pop 
 
 Where you and I, love, sit before the fire so warm. 
 
 O here I find a charm for all the chill 
 
 Of biting winds wrecking the world outside ; — 
 
 A place for homeless wanderers full ill — 
 by thy heart's warm hearth let me abide. 
 77 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 For, love, in thee I find a warmer life, 
 I like the grace and beauty of thy limbs. 
 
 Thy cheeks are red, thy lips with kisses rife, — 
 Thy gentle mind hath few false fears and whims, 
 While mine a restless swallow, o'er life's darkness 
 skims. 
 
 Long have I waited, love, for this sweet hour. 
 
 Long years has love to me been but a dream; 
 The distant longed-for splendor, life's one flower, 
 
 The blossom of the years and toil unseen. 
 Now dost thou prove the truth that did but seem 
 
 The object of a love held long aloof. 
 And now ray spirit dwells in thine serene. 
 
 Still strong and constant to the light that never 
 failed from youth. 
 
 MUTATION 
 
 The evenings fade, the mornings come. 
 The wanton sun peeps in and out; 
 
 The dark clouds gather till they run, 
 And now they flee in hasty rout. 
 
 All through the day, all through the night. 
 All through the years, the restless tides 
 
 Fall and climb to depth and height, 
 And there immortal beauty bides. 
 78 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And so my life rides up and down, — 
 Now in despair I hopeless drift; 
 
 And then fair weather comes around. 
 When lo ! I like to sing a lift. 
 
 The majesty of calm and storm, 
 The wondrous beauty of the sea. 
 
 The lovely rainbow's bended form. 
 Are symbols great enough for me. 
 
 IN ARCADY 
 
 When sunset fades across the glades upon the grand 
 
 old river, 
 When all the trees are Autumn's tho' the wind is 
 Summer's still, 
 
 O fair a place that never 
 This world from me shall sever, — 
 The years may come and go, but Love at last shall 
 have her will ! 
 
 Away, away, across the bay, across the pur ply 
 
 reaches. 
 Into purple waters fading and the purple sky. 
 There is a place to rest in, 
 A place I would invest in, — 
 A place I'd love to lay me down and watch the ships 
 go by! 
 
 79 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O fair and dim the high line of the earth's and 
 
 heaven's sky line 
 O fair this spot of beauty where I long to build my 
 home. 
 
 The world around is weary. 
 Monotonous and dreary, — 
 With. Love I could forget it all and care no more to 
 roam! 
 
 O, Love, have we not built ourselves a palace there 
 
 already? 
 O, Love, have we not often, often wandered to that 
 shore ? 
 
 And oft with weary feet 
 Thro' bending fields of wheat, 
 Wandered in our wonder world with all the love of 
 yore? 
 
 And traced upon the hillside running thro' each vale 
 
 and valley 
 The beauties of the brook that murmured laughter 
 in its sound; 
 
 Running down the mountains. 
 Then leaping up in fountains. 
 Upon the lofty lawns where flowery forms are strewn 
 around. 
 
 And watched the laden vessels sweep with bended 
 
 sails and silent. 
 With the pointing pennant on the mizzentop on 
 high,— 
 
 Watched the waves come swelling 
 From their distant southern dwelling, 
 And seen the sudden shifting shafts of sunlight from 
 the sky ! 
 
 80 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And the little distant ships that tack out in the open. 
 With their dark and slender sails all bent and sloped 
 the same, — 
 
 Like a little swallow 
 
 Fleetly on they follow, — 
 Follow still the wind's free will on to the open main ! 
 
 And O the trees that frame the distant picture of 
 
 the open. 
 The wondrous fair artistic trees that seem to linger 
 round, — 
 
 The poplars, maples, willows. 
 Their points below the billows. 
 Which tumble on the hidden beach with music in the 
 sound ! 
 
 O all the leafy luxury that languishes about us. 
 The luxury of color on the carpet of the sod, — 
 
 The trees are red and yellow, 
 
 For the year is growing mellow. 
 The crimson leaves, the yellow sheaves, the hand- 
 painting of God! 
 
 O all the joy and laughter of the years that shall 
 
 come after. 
 The music of the motors and the hunters' riding 
 light — 
 
 With all the hounds that follow 
 Over hill and over hollow, — 
 The reveling and dancing in the lighted halls at 
 night ! 
 
 81 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O all the days of sunshine from the Autumn to the 
 
 Springtime, — 
 For Time shall prove the treasures that our Hope did 
 never lack, — 
 
 For the Love of long ago. 
 Is the Love my heart would know, 
 With joy in all the blood of youth, and Love with 
 hair blown back! 
 
 But ere the Spring come Winter Time when all the 
 
 birds are silent. 
 The stubble wheat is frozen and the running brooks 
 are still, — 
 
 O cold the chilly sky 
 By the reddened west on high, 
 Where the black pines huddle on the bold and windy 
 hill. 
 
 O here's a world to lie in, to sleep in and to die in. 
 To live in and forgive in, to play in and to dream, — 
 A place to do your best 
 Leaving Heaven with the rest, — 
 A place to own your soul, your home, your fields, 
 and meadows green. 
 
 O hea\y days that wear along until that time is 
 
 present — 
 O heavy days and weary nights so sure to intervene, — 
 How often shall I count you ? — 
 But hope shall still surmount you. 
 And gladly shall I gaze into the future with a 
 dream ! 
 
 S2 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O see the light wind playing with the branches of 
 
 the forest, 
 O see the sun rays straying thro' the tree tops dark 
 and tall! 
 
 It smiles into our eyes, — 
 So come, my love, arise, 
 And know that I must leave thee and that dreaming 
 is not all. 
 
 There's gold in morn's horizon of a worth beyond 
 
 apprising. 
 For glory of the rising sun, youth's seas incarna- 
 dine — 
 
 The strength of Hope fails never. 
 Love goes where Youth has led her, 
 And lips of Love grow redder with the languishing 
 of Time ! 
 
 THE LAND OF THE MORNING STAR 
 
 A SONG for old Westminster, boys. 
 
 Up on the valley hill! 
 A song for the boys who've gone away. 
 
 And wish they were with you still. 
 For memories cling to the songs you sing 
 
 In the happiest days that are, 
 And dear to the heart, dear as the home — 
 
 The land of the morning star. 
 
 The land of the morning star. 
 83 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 For this is the land of morning star, 
 The realms of the jocund day. 
 
 The woods, the river, and the hills. 
 The track and the fields for play. 
 
 It's Ho, for the cabins in the snow. 
 The tents when the fields are fair; 
 
 For troubles come and troubles go. 
 But never a youth shall care, 
 No, never a youth shall care. 
 
 The friends you make, the hearts you love, 
 
 Tho' vanished one by one, 
 Leave something more than memories 
 
 To fade with the fading sun. 
 And when the clouds of trouble come 
 
 To darken the doubtful day. 
 The quiet grace of a leader's face 
 
 Shall help you to keep the way. 
 
 Shall help you to keep the way. 
 
 THE PASSING OF THE YEAR 
 
 It is the last night of the year: 
 Adieu, old year, adieu, adieu ! 
 
 I leave with you this lingering tear — 
 For Love and Joy bring in the New. 
 
 The ship sails down the silvery stream, 
 The cold December storm is past; 
 
 The wailing winds no longer scream. 
 The stars appear, and one is fast. 
 84 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Now, may the sailors journey free 
 
 Of care, with mind and heart tuned high, 
 
 Nor fear the fickle changing sea 
 Beneath the watch light of the sky. 
 
 So when my bark puts out to sea, 
 I trust tliat still light shall appear; 
 
 For long in Heaven sought by me, 
 To mark my pathway light and clear. 
 
 So when the years spin on and on. 
 And fade away as last year's night, 
 
 I trust that by the morning's dawn 
 My soul shall view this world aright. 
 
 THE FALLEN TIDE 
 
 Old, old is the rolling sea. 
 
 Unmeasured is its time; 
 Yet seems no older than my heart 
 
 When Youth and Love were mine. 
 
 Wide, wide, is the distant sea, 
 
 Where the tide runs back in vain; 
 
 And my heart flows out, that the flood of youth 
 May fill my life again. 
 85 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 MEMORIES 
 
 Silent are the halls where once fair Mildred's voice 
 rang clearly, 
 Fled are all the echoes that once answered to her 
 song; 
 Lonely and deserted is the place we loved so dearly, — 
 All the friendly faces of the boys and girls are 
 gone. 
 
 O spirit of those happy days, bring back the careless 
 laughter, 
 O memory, bring back to me the days when we 
 
 were young 
 
 The joy of youth was with us then, and all that 
 Cometh after 
 Is fading to the memory of songs that once were 
 sung. 
 
 O beautiful the girls were then and brave the lads 
 around them. 
 And cheerful shone the cracking logs while flaming 
 on the fire; 
 No ready hand to stir them now, a desuetude has 
 bound them, 
 The gloomy shadows flit away and with the flames 
 suspire. 
 
 How eager rang the constant bell to mark each 
 friend's returning! 
 How cheerful was the welcome of each wanderer 
 who came! 
 
 86 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O quickly open swung the doors upon their hinges 
 turning, 
 And once within they swung in place as ever to 
 remain ! 
 
 The wondrous tales of foreign lands and deeds of 
 
 cheerless labor, 
 
 The tales of lonely duty thro' the dark and chilly 
 
 night — 
 
 Forgotten was the noisy mill, the uniform and saber, 
 
 Before the lovely faces laughing in a free delight. 
 
 Forgotten was the toilsome day and every silent 
 sorrow, 
 Forgotten were the years of fruitless work and 
 worry past; 
 For present joys eclipsed the very troubles of the 
 morrow. 
 And in the eyes of merry maids shone happiness at 
 last. 
 
 The joy was far too bright to last, till time for 
 Care's returning. 
 When lo, the God of Time looked down and turned 
 the care to love. 
 For two by two we went away to ease each other's 
 yearning. 
 And soon the others followed, trusting all to God 
 above. 
 
 So now the story's done, run on and say good night 
 to mother, 
 And ask her if she knows about the circle in the 
 hall; — 
 
 87 
 
SOxNGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 And maybe when you're older you may draw around 
 another 
 And grow up, — if you sleep and sleep, — like 
 mother fair and tall. 
 
 WHEN I WAS A LAZY LOVER 
 
 When I was a lazy lover. 
 
 And you were my wide-eyed queen 
 
 Wandering care free over 
 The sunny hills of green; 
 
 Idly wandering to and fro, 
 
 O dreams would come as the dreams would go. 
 
 With hair of brown, gold turning, 
 
 And cheek of dimpled smile, 
 Eyes with love a-burning 
 
 Every light foot mile; 
 Over the hillside high and low. 
 Then dreams would come as the dreams would 
 
 go- 
 But now that the light of morning 
 
 Has turned to the day wide west 
 New dreams my heart is scorning. 
 
 For the old that my heart loves best; 
 The idle dreams of long ago. 
 For no dreams come as the old dreams go. 
 
 88 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 THE DREAMER 
 
 He wandered down the crowded way 
 
 Beneath the evening siin; 
 And thro' the weary city street 
 
 He walked as though alone. 
 
 His head was bowed, but not through years, 
 
 His face as morning bright, 
 His thoughtful brow was kind, and oh. 
 
 His eyes were full of light. 
 
 He did not have the hurried pace 
 
 Of thousands at his side. 
 And in this near, unblest to-day 
 
 His soul was satisfied. 
 
 WHEN A CHILD 
 
 Oh, how were you when a child, 
 
 When you heart was beating wild. 
 
 And a thousand glories passed before you, 
 
 Seen by you alone? 
 Your soul's longings then were clear, 
 In your tender seventh year, 
 Dulled and dimmed by repetitions now, 
 
 You're old and worldly grown. 
 89 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 O those fair and dreaming eyes, 
 Whose pure thoughts unknown to sighs, 
 Once beheld the gloried visions of 
 
 The gentle fairy throng, 
 O how fresh were sun and flowers. 
 In those heav'nly morning hours, 
 Then the world was wondrous new, and oh. 
 
 The soul was wondrous strong ! 
 
 One by one ye fade away, 
 
 In the lurid light of day, 
 
 " As out of the Everywhere you came 
 
 Unto the Here." 
 Like the soul's truth came faint gleams 
 Of your half-forgotten dreams. 
 When how strangely, like some fancied hope's 
 
 Fulfillment they appear. 
 
 ON MY MOTHER'S GRAVE 
 
 By the lone shade of the whispering pine tree, 
 In the deep silence and darkness of night. 
 
 Under the daisies, unknown and unnoticed. 
 Lies the lost love of my childish delight. 
 
 " Mother," a word that has been but a memory 
 Since the dear loss of that innocent year, — 
 
 Smiling and tender, youthful and beautiful. 
 Loving and beautiful, she who lies here. 
 90 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 Touched by the sun and the winds of the heavens, 
 Wrapped in the rain and the snows of the year, 
 
 little grey mound that the grass has closed ten- 
 derly. 
 Love unto dust has turned solemnly here. 
 
 All that mas true to me. 
 All that was sweet to me. 
 All that was kind to me 
 Lies buried here. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 Like ships that pass into the night. 
 Around the bay beyond the bend, 
 
 Forever passing from our sight. 
 
 By moonlight gleam to journey's end,- 
 So passeth on the dearest friend, 
 
 Gone from the world forever. 
 
 When sounds of music gently die. 
 
 As strains become more soft and low; 
 
 The list'ning heart withholds a sigh. 
 As scarcely moves the vibrant bow: 
 So sad it is a friend must go. 
 
 The dear voice silent ever. 
 
 91 
 
SONGS ALONG THE WAY 
 
 AT NIGHT 
 
 Oh, why should golden suns go down, 
 When fairest grow their splendor; 
 
 Oh, wh}^ should twilight grow to dusk, 
 As light of day grows tender? 
 
 When sun is out, and clouds are white. 
 How brave the sky above us! 
 
 So fair — it seems unkind at night. 
 To turn to friends that love us. 
 
 92 
 
jui. 31 mt 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 
\ 
 
 BRmR of CO CRFSS 
 
 020 994 530 7 
 
 1