3535 fl555 ^E DIRGE OF THE >EA- CHILDREN Wtl-Vliti-Wa-r /* f KENNETH RAND Class _'5^_i£Jii BookAiS_5_Di_ GoiyrightN" \°L\A. COPYRIGHT DEPOSn^ of tfje BY KENNETH RAND BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1913 T5 ^^^O copybight, 1913 Sherman, Fbjsnch &" Company ©CI.A350888 7 TO MY FATHER AUTHOR'S NOTE The author wishes to thank the editors of the following magazines for their courtesy in permitting him to reprint many of the poems in this volume: Yale Literary Magazine, Lippincott*s, Adven- ture, Smith's Magazine, Yale Courant, and Yale Record. CONTENTS PAGE The Dirge of the Sea-Children ... 1 SiLENUS 7 The Apostate 8 "There's Likewise a Wind on the Heath" 9 The Garden Wall 10 Tuscan Dawn-Song 12 To You IN Romany 13 Auswanderer 15 The Suicide 17 The Debt of the Gods 18 The Red Romance 19 The Old Highway 20 Paganism 22 Thalassia 23 The Witch of Memory 25 The Pretender 26 A Lyric from the Spring-Epic .... 28 Lover's Dawn 30 The Sea-Tramp 31 The Crows S3 Onagh of the Western Wind .... 34! Epitaph 36 Harbor-Bound 37 Romance 38 The Prodigal 39 The Thorn-Garden 42 The Flower-Peddler 43 Morning-Song on the Open Road ... 44 The Life Prisoner 46 The Knight 47 Straw-Death 48 Sympathy 51 Rouge et Noir 52 The Corpse-Fire 54 CONTENTS PAGE Visions 56 Apostasy 58 The Wonderful World 59 The Ballad of the Gypsy King ... 61 A Portrait 65 The King and I 66 The Roadside Weeds 67 Disillusion 69 The Time-Fools 70 The Huckster 71 When the Poet Died 74 In Avalon 75 The Song of the Butterflies .... 76 De Amicitia 78 Leaven o' Life 79 The Two of Us 80 A Song of the Old Gods 81 At the Altar of Youth and Love . . 83 The Tops'l Schooner 84 lotophagoi 86 "Et Ego in Arcadia Vixi — " .... 87 Gypsy Song 88 Sea Chantey 90 "The City of Dreadful Dawn" ... 91 Victory-Song of the JEgean Pirates . . 92 My Friend Pan 94 The Road to Romany 95 The Song of the Optimist 96 THE DIRGE OF THE SEA-CHILDREN AND OTHER POEMS THE DIRGE OF THE SEA-CHILDREN THE MOURNERS This for the sea-child — all the open seas For grave — a square of canvas, iron bars To help him down — and let the hissing spray. Speeding the dying day. Chant the wild death-song with the wet sea- breeze, Down from the woe and the wars Of the feverish world of men — Into the cool arms of the old sea-mother — Could another Soothe you as she does, when Lost in the meshes of her streaming hair You hear her croon that magic melody Of grief too strong to bear — Sobbing along the beaches endlessly Her weird dusk-dirge, rill the gray ocean and the gray sky merge, And all is dark — Hark!— The poignant wailing of eternal Pain! [1] THE SURF Grief — grief — grief — in vain We sigh the sadness of the rolling years And cry the madness of the brooding Fears — Grief — grief — grief — the chain Of Time runs out and dims in formless black Obscurity, a night without a star, Strown with the dim tide-wrack Of derelict dreams. Far, far. Is it a light that gleams Over the waste sea-track? Grief — grief — grief — behold The tongueless sorrow that pale light reveals The songless morrow that wan cycle wheels In from the gloom of Time! Grief — grief — grief — the gold The lavish Day-star squanders fades to brass — See how he wanders, like a pallid mime Over the shoaling ocean's sodden swell. Where never keel shall pass Nor skilled tongue tell The romance and the glory and the rhyme — The mystery — Of silent sea — [2] Or the grand frenzy of the storm-wind's wrath! Here is the mighty epic's aftermath — Salt-barrens, and a night without a star, Strown with the dim tide-wrack Of derelict dreams. Far, far. See how the last light gleams Over the waste sea-track! THE MOURNERS Sobbing the song breaks — hear the ripples lap The shifting, changeless sands — See how they wrap Their light foam-fingers round the clumps of weed — Stroking with fairy hands The flotsam that the restless breakers breed — Casting upon the beach to rest awhile, Till the flood-tide Draws them once more to her capacious breast. Plays with them, here and there, to trick, be- guile Her world-long road's unrest — Then spurns aside. [3] Restless, O Mother, as your children's hearts — That flit like fading ghosts In a dim wraith-dance up and down the world, Blown like the stinging spindrift, onward hurled From Thule's battered coasts South where the heat-haze parts Its veil of fantasy, Gemming the sleepy waves With magic isles of scented sorcery — West, on a headlong, straining, sunset-chase Clear to the furnace-doors of Orient — Turn, O ye wander-slaves ! Ere strength be spent, Think ye to find a respite from the race? No rest — no rest — we die ; Yet still our corpses strew the foam-ringed strands, And still the sea demands Her children — hear her sigh — I THE OPEN SEA Children — O children — who have felt my kiss Have known my love, my tenderness — My soft caress And the exultant bliss Of my great strength that sweeps around the earth — [4] I — I — who knew your birth As I shall know your death — Croon you a magic slumber-song, a breath Snatched from the cool green grottoes in my deeps, Where sleeps The peaceful gathering of weary dead, Swung in the strong arms of my cradling tides — Softer by far than graveyard's moldy bed That Earth provides. Children — O children — who have known my smile. My merriment, my treachery. My guile And cruelty — My cold brutality — And worse than all, my bitter, biting scorn Of Man and all his darings and his deeds — Come, all ye children, ye that know Where leads The path ye go — And yet have sworn Your love for me on many a lonely tryst. And my cold lips have kissed [5] With your hot young ones, soft and fresh and red — O all ye dead — Ye brave and nameless dead — The path is free — I — I — the mother, lover, sla^^er, call My children all — I— I— the S€a! THE STJEF Grief — grief — grief — our tears We sow in spume along the barren shore — We know the doom the darkling ages pour O'er the still-struggling world. Grief — grief — grief — what leers Smirking and mouthing in the creeping dark. With sneering lip upcurled? Back, hack, fiend! for stark Lies the white salt-waste, stretching on afar To horror of a night without a star! • ••••• Whence come these drifting dreams? Far, far. Is there a light that gleams Over the waste sea-track? [6] STLEyVS They say Silenus danced once on a clifF That dropped a hundred even fathoms sheer To black-toothed reefs, the toppled battle- ments Raised by Earth-Titans when the world was young And new lands braved the sea. Aye, on the verge The leering wood-god, strayed in merry maze From fevered Bacchanalia, loosed his limbs In a wild clumsy choral prancing, till His inky shadow mocked the silver moon And shocked the somber dignity of night. And now when seas of Time have drowned the torch That flaunted flaming mane at Bacchic feasts, Silenus leaps in motley — here a patch Torn from a pale priest's robe, and there a rag Of silk or satin from a lady's gown ; For he is mad with stronger drink than wine, And he is mad with baser flame than lust, And from the rim of Time, wild-drunk with lifCf Flings empty flagons at the Infinite. [~] THE APOSTATE Toward a goal of fading mist I have plodded desolate; I the bloody rod have kissed, And have borne a brother's hate, And the shame of low estate; I have prayed, ye did not list. If ye had but stooped to clear From the doubting minds of men But a weft of clinging fear I would not have stumbled then To my father's gods again ; But I prayed, ye did not hear. I am but an atom caught In your long infinity; Have ye then of comfort aught In your cold Divinity, Or your silent Trinity? I have prayed, ye answered naught. [8] "THERE'S LIKEWISE A WIND ON THE HEATH" gypsy, what is the worth of life, and why do ye sing all day. When there's work to do in the fertile fields, a-reek with new-mown hay? — I sing, i' faith, of the skies above and the world that spreads beneath — There's a road that runs to the ends of earth, and a wind on the open heath! gypsy, what will ye leave the world, or ever ye come to die? I'll leave the sun and the lovers' moon, the gift of an empty sky — A lightsome heart and a roving foot, but the best that I may bequeath Is a road that runs to the ends of earth, and a wind on the open heath! [9] THE GARDEN WALL THE MOTHER Look ye, O children, the rose is blown — Gay is our garden now — For the Sun is trailing his robes of gold, Warm and scented, and fold on fold. Like a spendthrift monarch, has reckless thrown His cloak o'er a blossoming bough: — And the little winds that fall So wearily over the wall. Whisper "0 rest ye now To our failing minstrelsy — " O to be free, Young and free, And sleep in the shade of the wall ! THE CHILDREN If ye climb by the twisted oak That grows in the garden there, (There's a limb that ye all may grip, If ye dare the risk of a slip, And the toll of a tattered cloak. And a snarl of twigs in your hair) Ye may win, if ye do not fall, To the top of the garden wall. [10] Over, O over the garden wall, Out to the beckoning road — Looping away where the mountains call, Stooping to play where the valleys fall, Down to the shore of a sunlit sea Flashes the beckoning road — O to be free, Old and free. And follow the beckoning road! [11] TUSCAN DAWN-SONG Who is it sings by the Florentine gate? (And the soft night pales to the morrow) Patient art thou, O lover, to wait Thy beloved so long at the Florentine gate — (Ah, red flower of hearfs sorrow!) I hark to thy mandolin's lilting, (See the white road stretch to the dawning) While yestereve's roses are wilting To the tune of thy mandolin's lilting — (And the breezes blow the morning.) See where the highway dips to the vale — (Heart o* the Dawn, but life is sweet) And the shadows flicker and faint and fail Where the magical highway dips to the vale — (And the whole world waits at our feet!) [12] TO YOU IN ROMANY O WILL you never understand the reason that I love The magic roads of Romany your Httle feet have trod — The camp upon the hill-brow, where in lone- liness with God You see the sleepy earth below, the luring stars above ? And may I never tell you of the haunting of the dream Of sky and sun and wander-wind, and sails upon a sea As blue — well, as your eyes, my love, for can there really be In all the waiting wondrous world a truer), bluer gleam? I may not seek and be in hope that I shall ever find My black-haired blue-eyed gypsy-maid, and yet I ever dare To quest along the highway till the world is left behind, And then to follow farther where the kindling planets flare! [13] Follow farther — follow farther — though the dawning-lights remind There is but a lost dream-Romany — and you^ my love, are there! [14] AUSWANDERER O THE land is dead and your souls are dead, Dead with the burden of toil and tax, Cramped and stunted and shriveled and sere. And the lash of the law is hard on your backs, And the endless toil will never relax While the lungs draw breath and the blood runs red. Eat, for the strength to toil again. Toil, for the life is ever dear. Though the spirit starve on the meager bread, Though ye live like bullocks and not like men. For the law is the law, though it be of steel. Hammered and forged for the groaning earth. Not to be loosed, and scarce to be borne — Pity the land that gave ye birth. But what do ye think the land is worth In the question of human woe or weal? Flee, ere ye rot in your fathers' gyves — Up and away in the eye of the morn — With a favoring wind and a hurrying keel Flee — only thus may ye live your lives ! [15] O westward follow the beckoning sun, Prairie and forest and lake and sea, There at the end your goal shall be. Hemmed by no cramping boundary, But wide as the floor of the limitless deep, And free as the winds of the open sky, From the rolling slopes where the ^eecy sheep With their sunburnt herdsmen wander by. To the sheltered ranch in the mountain's lee. Freedom to live and freedom to die. Freedom to sow, freedom to reap. And freedom to rest when the work is done — When the blood is chill and the race is run. [16] THE SUICIDE Friends, who have loved me well and known me ill, Who called me joyous only yesterday — You know how dear it was to me to stray Free-footed, restless, drawn by every hill That promised Heaven beyond, till heart and will Swept with the winds a million worlds away 1 Yet earth has never child she may not slay. Nor sea a lover that she cannot kill. The road is calling, and I may not wait, The breeze that fans the stars shall be for guide- Good friends, 'tis never time for tears, when wide Swing the kind portals of the ^on-gate ! And should men name me dead, I beg ye, say "Nay, he but wearied here, and went away." [17] THE DEBT OF THE GODS If so you never have known Joy of a god, Never, afar and alone, Pinnacles trod, — Battle of failure or love. Summits of gaining and giving, Lo, the high Heavens above Owe ye for living. If so you never have won Bliss of a night, Night of a victory done. Dream or delight — Climax of love or of strife Rapture of gaining and giving, Look ye, the masters of life Owe ye for living. If so ye never have leaped Stung by the fire. If so ye never have steeped Soul in desire. Suffered and won by a breath Struggle of gaining and giving, Masters of life and of death Owe ye for living! [18] THE RED ROMANCE There's a laugh and a curse on the dim-lit quays — (Ah, liquor and love and a waiting wave) There's a muffled cry on the languid breeze, Where the tide-rip sets to the silent seas — (Ah, liquor and love and a waiting wave.) What is it swings by the harbor's rim — (And all in the name o' the Red Romance) What is it bobs through the shadows dim? With a knife in the back can a dead man swim? (And all in the name o' the Red Romance.) O it's down to Jones with the bones of the drowned — (Flotsam rides on a following sea) Where the rolling waves sweep the wide world round, And the Trade-wind shrieks to the outward- bound — (Flotsam rides on a following sea,) [19] THE OLD HIGHWAY There once was a road down the valley, Dropping away to the seas, When the pine-woods crept to the edge of the dust That powdered the friendly trees ; When the pillared forest-alley Shook to the spring-wind's gust, And a gay stream fell like a tattered veil. Shreds of foam-lace, delicate, frail. Torn by the restless breeze. There once was a road down the valley. Ere the sun was shorn of its rays To gleam like a specter's wraith-wrought shield Through the dusk of the chimneys' haze — Ere the slaves of Task and Tally, Orderly, bloodless, steeled. Changed the rattle of galloping feet For the treadmill trudge of an engine's beat, And the hearth for the foundry-blaze. There once was a road down the valley. And still, as the old moons wane, [20] And the steel rails stretch to the mist-draped morn Like a glittering faery lane, Ye may feel the dead years rally To mock at the years unborn — A whinny, a laugh from a wayside inn, The clink of a bit and the hoof-beats' din, The brush of a wind-blown mane ! [21] PAGANISM A CONVENT — long and low and gray and still, Hedging the open road with quiet wall ; Above, a luring hill — and then a call — Some sunburnt stroller's song: "O the sun is gold and the sky is blue. And blood is warm and hearts are true^ And the world is just for me and you And Love to walk about in^ Ah, singer, you who cry the joy of spring. To ears that hear you through the Litany, Quick ! while the dream-lips cling, is piety Or the blind Love more strong? ''Beloved, the gold of swift To-day Is snatched by Yesterday away — O seize and spend it while you may — *Tis a gay world to be out inT [22] THALASSIA A VISION of som€ moonlit night at sea, When ships are shod with silver, and the waves Soft-footed tread their endless chorals through To a low-tuned asolian melody — Was it a dream, or did the eye see true Fair scattered tresses flung upon the breast Of cradling rollers, sobbing burden-slaves Of flotsam from the Islands of the Blest? A maiden very fair and very young. With eyes that matched the sapphire of the seas — Full-robed in Death's eternal chastity. In vain the foam went wantoning among The silken-woven golden fantasy Of hair that dared the white flood of the moon. And brought the sun of lost Hesperides To shame Diana's silvered plenilune. [23] She seemed to slumber on the tender arm Of monstrous Titan mother-creature wrought In the dim cosmic dawn, of chaos-clay ; That could not save, and yet that would not harm. And weeping stooped unwillingly to slay ; That might not choose or know the Right or Wrong, But only love the child the waves had brought, And steal the wind's harp for a cradle-song. Whence came the endless wailing? Lo, the sea Rang with the sorrow of the dirge that rolled As though the wild, wet lips of all the world Poured out the anguish of eternity; "Ah, mortals, when the reeling ships are hurled Back to the womb of life at Fate's behest, Why fear, when I am here to guard and hold, I, who of mothers am the first and best?" [24] THE WITCH OF MEMORY Fresh spells ! New spells ! True spells to-day ! A charm to keep the frost away, That makes the rose-time never die — Come buy A bit of sun and summer-breeze, Of love and life and leafy trees. When zephyrs sigh. Fresh spells ! New spells ! True spells to-day ! A bit of magic from the May, A snatch of song where swallows fly — Come buy A spring-day when the pulses leap And all the southern breezes sweep The sapphire sky. Fresh spells ! New spells ! True spells to-day ! That point the road to Yesterday, That start the tear-drop in the eye — Come buy A ghost of long-forgotten love, The tryst, the silver moon above. The last good-by! [25] THE PRETENDER Grim blue guns that rattled and jolted, dim in the dusk of the morning, Bandaged heads and the curling lips that told of a victory won; Clink of the sabers and click of the hooves, and the leader's stumbling warning. And, bent o'er the horn of his saddle, a strip- ling with hair like a shred of the sun. O ye masters of battle, that ravage the hearts of the slumbering valleys, Ravage ye also the bloom of the garden of life, and the blossom of Youth? Lo, for the price of a Throne ye are selling a spirit to slave in the galleys — Ask ye the Child who is slave of the Throne — mayhap he will tell ye the truth! "Not for the crowns of a thousand kings, not for a nation's pillage, Not for the glory of ermine robes, nor fame for the bards to sing — Never for these would I barter a day of my dream in the old home-village. Youth that I lost when the scarred old vet- erans shouted and hailed me King. [26] "Kinsman, an ye would hold my throne, yours it would be for the willing — Ah, but I bow to a grim gray wolf, I who am lord of my realm! And the serpent nests on the dai's steps, and the word goes out for the killing, 'Soldiers, your King bids ye each be brave, and wear his plume in your helm!' "You — do you lust for my blood, as they say? — or live with a secret sorrow — You, who are younger, in sooth, than I — I who am old as the world? Old as the world, and dead as the world, and drear as the trudging morrow Bringing its burden of one more day, and one more banner unfurled!" Grim blue guns that rattled and jolted, up to the rim of the morning. Grim gray troopers that softly swore, and dashed the sweat from their eyes ; Lo, from the head of the column there rippled the wave of a whispered warning. And the stripling strove to scowl like a King as the sun looked over the rise. [27] A LYRIC FROM THE SPRING-EPIC There's never song in all the world To charm the heart o' me Like song of spindrift tempest-hurled Across a barren sea; There's never tune in all the earth With half the swinging, shouting mirth Of the old song The bold song Of sun and empty sea! There's never joy in all the days That sweep the seasons by, To pass the lure of winding ways. Of wind and summer sky; There's never bliss can match the thrill Of dawn-light on a crested hill, And the gray road The gay road Beneath a summer sky! Ah, love, and can the sum of all The earth and sky and sea, The April-lure, the Summer-call, The Autumn's sorcery — [28] Outweigh the wealth of pagan gold Thy tangled, truant tresses hold, When the glad wind The mad wind Has lent its sorcery? [29] LOVER'S DAWN The earth and sky Have a song as old as themselves; And you and I For one brief moment, while the dawn-torch flings Its pagan tresses wild, for cirrus-elves To sport among, find wings That lift us to the hearing of their voices Ringing in cadenced chorals over trackless seas — Hark, how the wind rejoices. Singing the love-notes of long-lost Hesperides ! The earth and sky Have a song that is ever new; But you and I Have found a wild and haunting melody Of long unrest, of roses and of rue — Till all Infinity Fills with the perfume of dear joy and sorrow, Sweet tears and laughter of a phantom yester- day. What promises the morrow? "Feet wander paths that meet a million worlds away." [30] THE SEA-TRAMP O THE skies are dim and dreary and the days are dull and weary — If you hark you'll hear the eerie wailing of the autumn-gale; And there's in my heart a sadness mounting al- most to a madness When the ebbing harbor tide-rip tells its old familiar tale. Then I hear the sea-wind singing and the warn- ing fog-bell ringing, And a whisper comes a-bringing just a dream of Southern sun — Till my painted picture-islands lift their foamy-footed highlands, And I find the trail of rapture, ever new and never done! So I huddle down, a-dozing, while the dying coals are posing As the bloody sunset closing in the furnace of the West ; Then the moon, a ruddy wonder, breaks the velvet night asunder And the forefoot springs a-flaming o'er the Highway of Unrest. [31] Then old faces come to meet me, and old places seem to greet me, And old enemies to beat me in the fight for gold or fame, 'Till my whole mad Youth is standing on the hearth-rug there demanding That I give account for wasting it in folly and in shame. Though ye be no kin, O Brother, dearer are ye than another — Blooded by the world-old Mother to the Ocean's sorcery; Though old bones may never bear it yet old hearts will ever dare it — Look! The harbor-lights are dimming. . . . Lefs heat to open sea! [32] THE CROWS Out from the gloom of the mountain-gorges, Dark in the glow of the dawn, See how they scurry like shadow-wrack, Each in his funeral-cloak of black, Faint and fade and are gone. Dancing away down the ribbed ravines. Chattering ghouls astride the breeze- Haste, O Beloved, thy weary feet. Out where the desert and skyland meet. Merging in mirage-seas. Beloved, the way was all too long— (See how they settle around!) Let the heat-fog's flickering fancy-veil Cover thy death when the spent limbs fail. Droop to the sun-baked ground. Up through the gloom of the mountain- gorges. Bed in the glare of the Sun, See how they swing in a serried line. Wheel and hover and weave and twine. When the bright day is done. [33] ONAGH OF THE WESTERN WIND Black was the night and wild — And the wet lips of the wind Planted fierce kisses ; Racing the cloud-wrack piled Sky-seeking crags, while behind Raved the mad blisses Tempest-taught sea-children know. Wrung from the wrath of the West; Tortured wave-devils below Heard its behest. Dashing on high, they clothed Reef-tattered headlands in white As for a bridal ; Crashing the waves betrothed Sea-foam to cloud-trailing night. While rang the tidal Anthem of thunder and fear Torn from the reeds of the gale — Plunging the surf-stallions rear, Lashed by the hail. Wet were thy cheeks, thy hair. Salt with the sting of the spray. Gay with the peril; Wilder, more fearfully fair [34] Than the cold birth of the day Paling in beryl; Mad with the passion and wine Poured from the caverns of space, Sudden I glimpsed the divine Joy of thy face. Born of the wild west wind, Savage, yet wise as the sea. Kin to its rages ; Sure hast thou suffered and sinned. Loved and rebelled, to be free. Daring the ages; Lo, and the night of my heart Flashed to a splendor of flame ! Hotly I sundered apart Shadows of shame. Wraith-maiden wast thou, or sprite Blown from the Isles of the Ghosts, Storm-fool's derision? Spun from the mist and the night, Thule's dim ice-battered coasts Wafted in vision? Lo^ -for the hands that I grasped, Loy for the lips that I pressed, Moched me and fled, and I clasped Winds of the West! [35] EPITAPH What wealth was mine, O Lord, I wept at leav- ing, As miser weeps who has too freely spent; And Faith and Fear of Death were lost in grieving, And restless discontent; I watched the Sun Its last course run. And died, still weeping, at its red descent. The gold that melted 'mid its fading blazes Was all the wealth my poverty could keep; The wind that whirled the leaves in idle mazes My barren-lands may reap; And yet I deem My wealth of dream Far dearer than the gold I held so cheap. Mine heirs, I leave you sun and scented breezes, And my great mansion of the open sky ; Fee-simple right to roam where free heart pleases, Where'er the path may lie; No words of doom Carve on my tomb — But just ^^He loved the world, and grieved to dier [36] HARBOR-BOUND Old ships that drowse at anchor, empty-hulled, Whose keels have known the wash of many seas, And borne full many burdens — argosies That foreign winds and foreign waves have lulled To restless slumber on the restless deep, That now in sheltered harbor-corners sleep The silent sleep of spent slaves burden-dulled — Old ships that sleep. Old men that sit a-dreaming in the sun. Whose lives have known the sting of many pains — The sting of pleasures too, mayhap — whose brains Have wrought what wonders ere their day was done: Forgotten heroes of a failing dream. Placid they sit — or do they only seem Careless of ancient treasures lost or won? Old men that dream. [37] RO^IANCE SoJiEWHZKE a sapphire ocean laves the shores Of garish islands, where the beaches' sand Is all fine-sifted gold-dust, and the land Swells like a dryad's boscwn to the doors Of loftv brass-domed palaces, burned red Beneath the tropic sunlight's liquid pall. Girt round with groves of wonder-blossoms taU Where aU the world but Love and War is dead. And Love is languishing in dungeon dark, And War is raging round the palace towers : And, wreathed with gay hibiscus, Death lies stark Half -hid in coppices of passion-flowers; And Failure laughs in rags, while mourning- bell Is sounding crowned Success's solemn knelL [38] THE PRODIGAL I SAT alone amidst the wreck of life — Its fading splendors Still lingered, failing; Poor pallid ghosts of love and joy and strife, Such phantoms as a fevered brain engenders That loiters, quailing. On the dim brink Of long oblivion, and clings To humble, simple things — As roses, ruddy sunsets, songs of birds — And fears to sink Back to the mother earth that bore it. Then, E'en while I pondered deep on prosy words (Vain words, like "dear," "beloved," — aye, or "God") One knocked, and knocked again. On the worn portals of my senses. Fairy-shod, A Being entered — nor more beautiful On earth the wheeling years have ever seen — And whispered, "I am Pleasure. Dost still know How good a sers'ant I have proved to thee — How dutiful — What gay pretenses, [39] Bright masks of bliss for thy dull poverty, Thou owest me? All that thy brain or heart or soul have been, They owe To me, to Pleasure, King of all the World!" But I was bitter with an ancient wrong, In that I e'er had lived and laughed and sung — For I was passion-hurled From sun-gilt crest of life's high pinnacle Down to the depths where rang the mocking song That Satan, somber-drunk, sad-cynical. Trolled in the days when "all the world was young !" I too was young once — or I think so — see. How the years slip like coins from open hands ! How old am I? A day — infinity? What matters it? Too old, in life, to live. And far too young, in years, to die. Ah, Pleasure, How may I pay the debt I owe. Or give Full, full redemption? Though Gold of all Time were mine, the endless treas- ure Of endless years, [40] Heaped in a mass to fill the Heaven-span, It scarce could buy one small, gay, lilting laugh Caught in a snare of dawn and dream and dew ! Ah, Pains and Griefs, and Fears, Man's dread familiars all, since life began, Ye are but sordid chaff Of blight-rid garnerings — the true Soul of the harvest lingers, mocking, hidden Under the symbol of a lilting laugh ! So, slave unbidden. So faithful, kindly, joyous, dutiful — Pleasure, of form so beautiful — Light-limbed, bright-tressed, soft-clad in silk and gold — Come you to mock? Bah! Get you gone again ! My hearth is deep with ashes, dead and cold. I And so you go? Well, then. Adieu! I watch you leave without regret. Ah, God! — and yet — Stay, stay! Once more — ah, just once more! — renew That old dear laughing joy of dawn and dew! [41] THE THORN-GARDEN Youth and Love once chanced to part In the garden of my heart; "Later on we'll meet again 'Neath the bramble-hedge of Pain — " Thus spoke Love — Then braggart Youth "Rather 'neath the Rose of Truth !" When the cycles' slow revolving, All our hopes and fears dissolving, Wheeled around the trysting hour, Where was Love? and where was Youth? Thorn of Pain or Rose of Truth? Harh ye! Travel-stained and dour. Underneath the Rose of Pain Youth awaited Love again — While beneath the Thorn of Truth Jaded Love was seeking Youth! [42] THE FLOWER-PEDDLER With the columbine And the eglantine For new love, and for folly, Now by my rood I'll suit thy mood So be it grave or jolly; So be it sad Or bad or glad I have the flower to please thee — The red, red rose When love-light glows And Cupid's witchings seize thee; Or underwood For maidenhood And purest love, I borrow The violet shy — But should Love die I've myrtle for thy sorrow. Vve a hunch of vine And some columbine For Wine and Youth and Folly — But the flower for me (And perhaps for thee?) Is the rue for melancholy! [43] MORNING-SONG ON THE OPEN ROAD Awake, O Beloved! the dawn-torch is burning, The lark o'er the meadow his matinal sings; The darts of the Sun-god the mountains are turning From emperor's purple to crimson of kings. The road is before us — the hills call to follow, To beckoning distances luring away; To-day is to-day, and to-morrow to-morrow — Ah, quick! ere they die to a dim Yesterday! Awake, O Beloved! the moments are hasting; The summits are blazing with ruddy raw gold; And wanderlust-Yidden the spirit is questing Beyond the dim hills where the valleys unfold. O art thou a gypsy? then haste to the roving, And waste not in sleeping the gifts of the Sun, But out on thy journey be joyfully moving, That never is ended, yet ever begun! Awake, O Beloved! thy red lips are smiling — O pleasant the dreams that thy slumber-eyes see — Yet fairer the visions, that ever beguiling Call over the ranges of far Romany. [44] Ah, love, must I waken thee ever with kisses, My love with the dawn-splendor hid in her eyes? Ah, Thou and the Road are the dearest of blisses That gild our old world with immortal sur- prise ! [46] THE LIFE PRISONER Men with the flush of the wind in your faces, Glint of the dawn in the depths of your eyes, Send me a thought from the desolate places, Windy spaces of Paradise; / shall never see new stars rise. Just one breeze from my palm-fringed islands Trailed like pearls on a dreaming sea; One lone gust from my storm-racked highlands, One lone cataract flashing free ! Master of Mercies, pity me! God! How I prayed, on my knees, for hang- ing- Death — for death — not a man-wrought hell! Answered the leg-bar's mocking clanging — **Lo, while you live, hear me clank your knell; Pray to the stones of your cellF' [46] THE KNIGHT Across the world I followed you, love, And found you weaving chaplets for your hair; I called the mighty dome of heaven above To witness You were fairest of the fair; I cast the wealth of princes at your feet, And spurned it, since you scorned to call it sweet. Sword of a king, or clash of bannered host — - Ah, love, they were but pawns I flung in play- Pawns that I laughing won and laughing lost. Or if it pleased you, laughing cast away; Yet, should the tumult stir a single bud Of your rose-wreath, I drenched the world in blood. Ah, Empress of my shadow-bordered realm. Who weaves a wreath of roses and of rue. Behold, the flaunting pride-plume of my helm Is at your feet, in dust laid low, for you; Ah, Gods ! There live none glorious as I, Who win one rose to cherish as I die! [47] STRAW-DEATH I WHO have lived my life, My years of hot-blood roving, in the sun — Now that my course is run, Is it for me to die Hemmed from the sapphire sky, Scene of my joy and strife — Die here — where the pale chilling blood can just Stain my wan lips As the soul slips Into the darkness? Shall I die in bed, Lost in the shadows of a dimming room, Unutterably sordid? Give me dust Sweeping across the barrens, choking down The feeble death-gasp till the red stars reel In a weird dirge-dance round my sinking head. Rather than see through gloom The specter-pallid nurse in white and gray. The ice-nerved doctor with his black-browed frown. Stealthily steal To fend the last light of the dying day With close-drawn blinds from my light-thirsty eyes, — Ye sunset-skies I [48] / used to know your splendor! Let me die Like any dog, hut let it he away Under the open sky! Give me to die like a beast, afar, alone With but the hawk and crow To watch beside me while I cast my soul, And but the sky to know What my racked lips have uttered, what last groan, Or curse or prayer, I breathed to heaven above — And this the whole Boon that I ask of you — to split in twain With your wild night-winds, for the ancient love I bore you, O ye Sunset-flames, the smother That rides like some dire curse upon my chest. And let me feel again The blessed western breeze — my restless brother On many an endless road — that knew me best Of all the winds that sweep around the world. — Give me to drown in the dark, where, tempest- hurled. The black ship wavers down through soundless sea; Give me to die in a good fight, foul or fair. With but a heart to stab, a throat to clutch, And once again to see [49] That gay red haze of madness veil my sight- To feel the hot breath and the blood-stiff hair- / ask too much? I am a beast, they say? Then let me die. By all the gods, just as a beast should die- Out in the -flaming sunset, far away Under the open shy! [50] SYMPATHY My neighbor, crabbed and mean and old as death, Runs in in mad despair — "Come quick!" he cries, "My house is blazing — all the things I prize The greedy flame devours !" "Why lose your breath?" I calmly answer — " 'Tis no lasting harm — The day is chill; the fire is nice and warm." My love and I fall out; we have some talk Right on the public path — it seems to me I ne'er have suffered such catastrophe. Just then — "T^/^^/, neighbor , and does Cupid halkf My dears, young blood is warm, you "know — in truth. To see you quarrel gives me bach my youth!" [51] ROUGE ET NOIR Red or black? The louis, spinning, Crossed the table's speckled baize; "Thine, O Luck, to pick the winning Color from the checkered maze." "Ah, mon cher, take care in choosing — True love counsels 'Play the red' — " "Red it is." — The game's amusing — "Faites vos jeux,' the croupier said. auburn her hair, and as warm as summer- Rouge — not much — was an omen gay — And eyes as hold as the ram red gold. So what was there more to say — to say- Aye, what was there more to say? Red or black? *'Mon cher, be heeding — Black has won — 'twill win again ; Hark to true love's humble pleading — Play the red, and play in vain! Black will win far more than treasure — Black it is — we'll soon be dead — Louis were meant to purchase pleasure." ^'Faites vos jeux" the croupier said. [52] O raven her hair as the mane of midnight- Lips that swore they would e'er he true — And a pair of eyes out of Paradise, So what was there else to do — to do — Aye, what was there else to do? l'envoi Gaj the game — 'twas worth the playing — Louis, loves, have fleetly fled: What's two louis? Easy paying! ''Rien va plus,'' the croupier said. [63] THE CORPSE-FIRE Sub-Tropical 'Ware ! there's a light ! Do ye know the blaze And the stark grim shapes around — Where the smoke-wraiths weave on a wind- wrought loom A shroud for the reeking ground? Close? Too close! We'd 'a' joined the wrecks And the dead on the houseless sand, But the failing glare of the last grim Hearth Warned us away from the land. 'Ware! There's a light on the weed-flung beach — Off — beat off — swing wide! For the ghost-glow flares on the breakers' crests In the gay surf-wash overside. Off — beat off — ye've the plague to praise And the beacon of Dead Man's Light — Aye, thank your gods that they burned a corpse From the cholera-camp this night! [54] 'Ware! There's a light on the foam-ringed beach — Out — swing out — to the sea! And thank your gods for the on-shore wind That keeps ye fever- free ; The wind that sweeps from the ocean-waste, Cold and honest and clean, And swirls the sand on the ghost-rid dunes Where the bare-picked wrecks careen. [55] VISIONS In the Street — Afternoon A FACE, chance-met, With eyes lash-curtained, and perchance a smile, Or say, a tear; A glimpse of satin-shimmer, or the wile Of silken-curled coquette — Or here, Stumping and stooped, an empress with a crown As thorned as Jesus wore — Some poor unholy Mary, burdened down With such a weight of stark inhuman sorrow That all the gold of Magi-sung To-morrow, Heaping forevermore. Could scarcely drown it ! — ^then. Comes Youth and Wine and Laughter — And look — behind That crippled pencil-peddler — see, Between him and the haggard Magdalen — Serene, refined. With fresh-faced, solemn children trailing after, In prosy pomp. Respectability! [56] On the Road — Evening A road, Looping and twining to the heaven-rim ; A barren field, tare-sown By winds and birds, and dim Gray shadows trembling tenderly along The mighty loins of distant mountain-ranks — The high abode Of dream-divinities of moon and dew; While lone And far and clear as some queer elfin song A cow-bell clanks. Then through The dusk-wrought romance of the eventide Breaks with a shock the world — for there, beside The magic road, some vagrant ne'er-do-weel Kindles a fire to cook his evening meal. [57] APOSTASY And are the old gods dead, their altars hare. The flowers strezvn hy loving hands of old. Are they all withered? — Ay, indeed — the mold Lies thick on fallen idols, and the air That once was scented with the spice of Ind Now knows no censer but the flying wind, That wafts the breath of humble flowers there. For they have sinned. So, sinned they then, those wicked gods of yore? Say how they sinned, that I may understand — In that they ruled unwisely? — Nay, the land Did prosper, but they taught forbidden lore, Let Eros wander wild, nor did rescind The wanton laws of Youth undisciplined. And when Joy knocked, threw wide the temple door. 'Twas thus they sinned. And this was sinning? — Ay, or so they say. — Ah, then, beneath my vine and tamarind Leave me to worship them, and go thy way. Thus have I sinned! [58] THE WONDERFUL WORLD "O TRULY the world is a wonderful place!" Sang the Poet at dawn ; "For the sun's at my back and the wind's in my face, And I'm off to the west at a merry good pace ! When I'm gone Just give 'em my blessing, and tell 'em from me I'll bring back a fortune from over the sea," Sang the Poet at dawn. "0 truly the world is a horrible thing 1" Cried the Poet in pain ; "It's made me a slave when I should have been King, I've worked with my hands, when I wanted to sing— And the gain That I won by the sweat of my brow is so small You scarcely could call it a 'fortune' at all!" Cried the Poet in pain. "And here I am home, with the sun at my back," Quoth the Poet at eve. [59] "It's little I have and it's much that I lack- I'll turn me around and go back on my track- I believe That it's gold that I see in the sunset's face- O truly the world is a wonderful place!" Sang the Poet at eve. [60] THE BALLAD OF THE GYPSY KING 'TwAs over the stones of an ancient road That slashes the distant east, A ragged beggar came footing it in Where the monarch sat at feast; His hair was black, his face was brown, His eyes like witches' lights. And hot they shone on the ladies fair And boldly on the knights. "And who may ye be," cried the King in wrath. "That dare to burst on me In this lowly guise, when I sit at feast 'Mid vassals of high degree? And who may ye be, who think the eye Of a beggar is fit to stare At the noblest maids of the royal court — The fairest of all the fair?" Now the ragged wight smiled a crooked smile And his voice was far from low — "O I am a Prince o' Romany Who dare to speak you so — I come as King to a brother King To ask for roof and meat. And there's never a maid of all this court That's fit to kiss my feet. [61] "For I am the monarch of more than land As well in your heart you sense — Ah, son of the race of a thousand kings, Be finished with this pretense! By the brand you bear on your brawny arm, That you hide with a silken sleeve, I name you the son of a shameful birth — Do you dare to disbelieve? "I name you the son of a shiftless drab In my father's gypsy-camp — Come, part the silk, let the people see By the light of your banquet-lamp The gypsy-mark on the strong sword-arm Of this son of a thousand kings — Who owes his life to a shameless churl On some nameless wanderings !" Now the King has paled to a sickly gray. And in woeful mood he sits. For never he ruled by lofty birth But eke by chance and wits ; Aye, his throne he had won by steel and luck That he held by steel and might, Yet never he thought to know the need To prove his heritage-right. [62] And now, as he reached for his trusty blade And cast his mantle back, On the swelling skin of his knotted arm A scar stood, grim and black, As though 'twere made by two twisted twigs Crossed in some children's play — Loud laughed the wight " 'Tis the patteran — A gypsy has been this way 1" O, clanking down to the marble floor Fell the blade from the royal hand — "Ah, gods !" cried the King. "Do I dream or wake ? Ye wight, do ye understand The arts of the devil? or are ye he^ Who has set this spell on me. To see my life as an opened scroll By strength of your sorcery? "For I seem to see my forgotten youth With all of its good and ill — There's a white road-ribbon runs beckoning down From the crest of a breaking hill; And over the hill lies Power and Fame, And the sun has stained it red. But lo, at the summit its hot rim gilds A crown for my daring head ! [63] "And it's over the hill to the brink o' doom I feel my footsteps swing — Ye may not jest with the gypsy-blood So be ye slave or king. You have witched me out of my crown and throne — Did you ask for roof and meat? I give you my palace and fertile fields — Go take what you need to eat! "For now I am off to the end of the world With only the wind for guide — Small price to pay on the houseless way — I'll saddle no steed of pride; So keep ye well — Long live the King! — And light be the scepter's load — Yet, if so I know the breed, we'll meet A little along the road!" [64] A PORTRAIT Born with a mask of insincerity You feigned the virtues all the world es- teemed ; To you the nude and graceful Verity, Purest of nymphs, a shameless wanton seemed ; You stalked through life in buskins — brought the posing. The green-room's make-up, to the work of men. And played your part so well, the last disclosing Unmasked you but to see you mask again! What 1J0U was underneath, the world may guess, But never prove — yet whether great or small The mummer-soul within, men still confess You were the bravest actor of them all — And write for epitaph "Nor fame nor pelf He asked, but merely NOT to he himself T' [65] THE KING AND I The King and I went forth to ride — (O fair the lands of his domain !) He spurned a beggar-lass aside Who dared to touch his bridle-rein ; I gave her a smile and a piece of gold — She threw me a kiss — the tale is told — Ah, brother with the seeing eye. Which was the richer^ he or I? [66] THE ROADSIDE WEEDS (The Vagabond Speaks) Though the world were mine for the plowing, The sowing of wheat or of tare, I'd spare the seeds of the vagrant weeds And fling them at random there; And if they should wither, 'tis justice, Yet if they should flourish, 'tis fair. For they are the yield of my favorite field In the garden of Devil-may-care! They are the gayest of friends on the highway. Though gray with the roadside dust. And gay on the narrowing byway When the wheatfield is sad with the rust; You can follow their fallow-land creeping Wherever the road may run — For they are the fruit of the reaping Of the fields of the Prodigal Son. And whose was the hand of their sowing? Go ask ye the wind in the trees ; Go ask ye the breeze that is blowing A magic from over the seas — • [67] "South I will grip ye a scepter, North I will win ye a helm, East and to West what your heart loves the best — Give ye the World for a realm!" "Aye, but the wealth of my harvest?" "Reap ye the weeds by the road — Or love ye to toil on a stubborner soil? Go get ye a master and goad." "Nay, I will keep to my vineyard — Mullen and bramble and tare, — For they are the yield of my favorite field In the garden of Devil-may-care!" [68] DISILLUSION "Seek me," she laughed, "at the Ends of Earth, Seek for me over the edge of Dawn — Are you so mighty of mind and brawn That you scorn to show a maid your worth? Follow the lead of my madcap mirth To Heaven-portal or Hades-gate — But tempt me not with the weary bait Of Prosy-plenty or Romance-dearth!" I sought her far where the heavens flame Like shimmering domes of molten brass — 'Mid painted isles where the weird moon swings In the palm-tree's top like God's cuirass ; I found her — "Beloved/' she cried in shame — "Love lies not here, hut in common thingsT* [69] THE TIME-FOOLS YOUTH Though the lavish moments squander All the precious gold of pleasure, Though the ravished senses wander 'Mid the cream of Ophir's treasure, Yet, hy all the gods above, Take the life, but leave us love! AGE Though the maidens' soft caresses Be as honey of Hymettus, Though the chilly soul confesses Eros-flames at last forget us, Toil or ease or peace or strife. Take the love, but leave us life! [70] THE HUCKSTER Buy a hit of magic. From the Hills o* Dream — Visions of the night-time. Never what they seem; Scraps of idle Fancy, Threads of fairy gold — Buy such mighty magic As was never sold! Buy a bit of magic You who scorn to dream — Would you glimpse the future Or the Past redeem? Clear against the darkness, Cloudy in the sun — Buy a skein o' Dream-stufF, All your hopes are wonl Dreams of gold and glamourie, far on Southern seas, Love and strife and venturing. Fancy's fan- tasies ; Seize them, O ye sleepers, snatch them while ye may — Like a breath of Heaven-wind, they have blown away! [71] Buy a pinch o' Romance Stolen over-sea, Where the palmy islands Promise royally — Wealth of hidden treasure, Store of pirate gold — Draw your gory cutlass, Glut your galley's hold! Would you know the conquest, the battle's ecstasy? Call your shadow armies, and lead to victory ; Yours to plunder Ophir, and yours the spoil of Ind— Hark the ghostly trumpet-call braying down the wind! I Buy a royal diadem Or a crown o' thorn — I have served your fathers Long ere you were born ; Aye, the long-tailed monkey. Dancing in the trees. Dreams, like you, of gardens Of Hesperides! [72] Or it be a maiden fair, whom you long to wed, Lo, and by my sorcery the marriage-words are said; Love and Hope, Ambition, Lust — all of them are thrall To the humble Dream-smith, the master of them all! Buy a hit of magic From the Hills o* Dream — Visions of the night-time. Never what they seem; Scraps of idle fancy. Threads of fairy gold — Buy such mighty magic As was never sold! [73] WHEN THE POET DIED One night a somber, dun processional Trailed drably through the crepe-hung avenues Of my dark city of tremendous dream, With hearsed and plumed terror; till I wept, Begging the mouthing mourners — "Lo, what king Is dead so greatly?" "Peace, Fool," they wailed, "Knowest thou not this night a poet died?" Then, as the bier wheeled grimly by, a vain Black-plumaged peacock proudly at the head Of all the dour cortege, methinks I heard A merry, mocking satyr laugh within. [741 IN AVALON In Avalon, in Avalon away Beyond the circling rim of chaos-sea There lilts a song of dream and glamourle, In Avalon, in Avalon away; *'Ah, scatter, Spring, thy flowered fantasy, For Hero Might-have-been is wed to Princess Yesterday !" In Avalon, in Avalon away. Where you are Queen, O Love, and I am King, What reck we what the dim To-morrow bring. In Avalon, in Avalon away! I envy not the Gods their glorying. When Hero Might-have-been is wed to Prin- cess Yesterday. Ah, far and far, in Avalon away, Too far to fear the sting of sorrowing. The Hero Might-have-been has won the Prin- cess Yesterday! [75] THE SONG OF THE BUTTERFLIES Lilts the music through its measure Like the ripple of a dream, Trip the dancers through their pleasure Till the dawning-gleam ; Time is old and we are young — Thus the song is sung: "Love and Life forever last — Pluck the blowing rose, While the Demon of the Past Ever greater grows; Withered blossoms, dying love. Memory and Pain — Howsoe'er the harvest prove, Let us dance again!" Drop the petals of the flowers. Dims the fervor of the glance, Fly the fairy-golden hours. Handmaids of Romance — Time is young and we are old — Thus the tale is told: [76] "Loving, living, cannot last. Pluck the wilting rose — Let the Demon of the Past As the Present pose; Withered blossoms, dying love. Memory and Pain — Howsoe'er the harvest prove, Let us dance again 1" [77] DE AMICITIA "O WOULD I were happy as you!" I cried "Who laugh all the livelong day — Whom, all of the years that I've lived beside, I've never found aught but gay, — Or other than faithful and cheery and kind, Thoughtful, unselfish, and wise; 'Tis surely a wonderful world you find Through the gold of your laughing eyes !" Ally friend who was nearest and dearest to me^ I knew you the least of all — You gave me the wine — so I should not see That you drank for yourself the gall! 78] LEAVEN O' LIFE The wheat and tares of life were ground to meal — (So runs the ancient legend) — and the Gods Fashioned a myriad cakes, and baked them brown And crisp in passion's fire, then spread them wide On the broad window-ledge of Earth to cool; And lo, the cakes were called the race of Man, The wheat-meal Virtue, and the tare-dust Fault. "But" (saith the legend) "ere the grain was ground, While yet the mill-wheel labored, came a Faun, And mocked the busy gods, and pelted flowers — Violets, roses, columbine and rue — Till some by chance were mingled with the grain And leavened all: whence grew the wondrous gift Of power to see the splendor of the sky. Of power to feel the transport of the tear. Of power to fight with odds, to lose, to smile While losing, at the sneers of all the world — In brief, the gift that makes us more than Gods, And flings light-hearted lives to jest with Hell." [T9] THE TWO OF US I KNOW a chap — O, he's no friend of mine — A cautious chap, who keeps his wary eyes Fast on the path he treads, lest luring skies Seduce his prosy brain — or dawning-shine With lavish splendor craftily entwine His senses, so he walk in puddles. Now, Of course — if asked — ^he could (and would) tell how I, through my gay star-gazing (was it wine Or merely poetry that mixed me?) trod All careless through the mire, although I swore The glory of the sunset really bore Me, heedless of all else, right up to God. Now he was clean, and I was muddy-shod — Which of the two of us deserved the more? [80] A SONG OF THE OLD GODS O FOLLOW the wind o'er the beckoning hill Where the boundless kingdoms lie — Sons o' the Sun and Sky, Can ye barken and yet be still? Can ye hear the mirth Of the seas that swing To the ends of earth Where the breezes bring A chant of the years when the world was young When the heart was true and the hot lip clung {Ayey the -flowers were red on the Eden-tree — They're withered now on the Eden-tree) And Love ran wild i' the spring? O follow the road where it leaps to meet And carry ye off and away! Strap ye the wings o' Day To your laggard and lowly feet! Shall ye stop your ears To the winds that sing When the dawn appears And its flaming wing [81] Sweeps through a wood where the heart o' the Sun Hides in a rose when the day is done, {Aye, the -flowers were red on the Eden-tree — They're withered now on the Eden-tree^ And Love runs wild i' the spring? [82] AT THE ALTAR OF YOUTH AND LOVE "So that the Love-lights burn," I cried, "And brightly blaze, Not mine, O Love, in foolish pride To stint my praise ; So long as Youth and Thou remain I praise no God except ye twain." "But years have wings," the Voices say, And fleetly fly — Thy time is brief — an hour, a day — And then to die: Altars are bare, and Deities Are drunk, or sleep, or gone o'er seas !" "Nay, not my Gods!" I cry, "Behold! The sacred flame!" I show the altar, rich in gold. With loud acclaim; Alas, e*en while I prayed, the Fire Choked 'mid the ash of spent desire. [83] THE TOPS'L SCHOONER The Pirate Craft Speaks, You fear no more to see my sails Come sweeping up the seas. Nor guard with pike and carronade Your laden argosies; You never turn and run for it When the lookout bellows now ^^ There's a low black tops'l schooner Just off the starboard bow!" You trudge the sea in sordidness, And find a sordid grave — Collision, ice, or hurricane, You'll die a burden-slave ; And never know the ecstasy Of a hot fight, hand-to-hand. With a low black tops'l schooner A hundred leagues from land ! You'll never smell the powder, Nor feel your hair-roots rouse When the long nine sends its warning Across your questing bows; When the round-shot splits the foremast, And your sturdy spirits fail As the low black tops'l schooner Pours men across your rail ! [84] No more you'll rake the Indies With clumsy "ninety-fours," And strand on hidden coral-reefs Off fever-ridden shores ; I showed your nimblest frigates The cleanest pair of heels — The low black tops'l schooner That never dawn reveals ! For now my snuggest harbor Shall know me ne'er again, And now my safest anchorage . Shall wait for me in vain — A ghost-ship, manned by phantoms From Morgan down to Kidd, The tops'l schooner's left for aye The islands where she hid ! You fear no more to see my sails Come sweeping up the seas. Nor guard with pike and carronade Your laden argosies; You never turn and run for it When the lookout bellows now ''There's a low black tops'l schooner Just off the starboard bowT [85] LOTOPHAGOI Because we do not hold your God as true — O iron-hearted galley-slaves of gold — Because we do not judge our worship due A scowling Toil-wrought Baal of metal cold — Because our hearts are young, our sorrows few, Consider, are we baser clay than you? Because we love to dream away the days. And count the lavish sunlight ample prize. And deem your lust for power and human praise As senseless visions of a madman's eyes. Because we idle along sunny ways. Do we deserve the pity in your gaze? Because around our shores the warm waves roll. And palm-fringed islands strew our south- ern seas. Because we know no isles 'twixt Pole and Pole One-half so near to Paradise as these — Because we scorn your toil and miser's dole, We pray you, let no pity rend your soul! [86] ''ET EGO IN ARCADIA VIXI—" O I was born in Arcady When all the world was young — Where the wood-thrush sings in his forest bowers "Loves may wither like fallen flowers, And fade like sunset-fantasy, To die unwept, unsung; Yet fields are rich in Arcady Where all the world is young!" O I have lived in Arcady And known the sun and rain — The glint of dawn on the dew-wet heather, Tears and laughter of April-weather, And lo, the woodland sorcery Has called me home again — For loves are true in Arcady Through years of sun and rain. Ah, love, the road to Arcady Is through the Hills o' Dream — Follow away till the cypress-alleys Open to sunlit, joyous valleys. And learn again the magicry Of dew and dawning-gleam ; For hearts are young in Arcady Beyond the Hills o' Dream! [ 87 ] GYPSY SONG Dawn- WINDS and a waxing sun, Eastern hills aglow, Soon the laggard shadows run To the vales below; Sheep-bells from the waking fold Tinkle merrily — Can ye fairer land behold Than fair Romany? Out beneath the open sky Hark the gypsy-song — O beloved, thou and I Tarry here too long! Burdenless and fancy-free, Take the wind for guide; What are kings to thee and me. Striding side by side? Out beyond the Ends of Earth, Off in Fairyland, Lies our goal — of little worth When To-day's at hand! Praise the Sun-god throned above, O ye strollers gay. And the goddess Life-and-Love Showing ye the way ! [88] Careless slaves of sun and breeze, Wind-flushed, sunburnt, browned. This our house, the friendly trees And the friendly ground ! Who knows where our heads will lie In such merry weather? Sun and wind and Thou and I Arm-in-arm together! [89] SEA CHANTEY When the storm-winds of Heaven have slain the Sun, And he dies in the bloody West, When the stars burn out, and the day is done O'er the endless sea's unrest, "Listen — O listen — " the Shadow cries To the blind sea-reapers — "Rise — O rise — No longer sleep — " Save us, O Lord, when the reapers reap ! When the ships swing out on the ebbing tide To the harbor of missing wrecks. And the wet sea-devils from overside Keep tryst on the reeling decks, — When the wind-fiends howl in the houseless dark, And the foam-paved water-ways lie stark, God of the Deep Save us, thy slaves, when the reapers reap! [90] "THE CITY OF DREADFUL DAWN" Like paint upon a pallid cheek, The nightmare-city daubs its chilly gray With warm red rouge of morn — And lo, the day, That shaking Age shall fear, that Youth shall seek, Trails in its bannered pageantry of scorn — Mocking awhile in noonday pride And then Veiling again 'neath curtained sunset-skies The horrors, cloaked and masked, that laugh- ing ride To grace the shambles of a Paradise. Poor Time-fools bowed before an empty shrine! With each the Goddess died, with each began ; Hail, Lucifer! Haste, gild with light divine The pale slaves of thy painted courtesan! [911 VICTORY-SONG OF THE ^GEAN PIRATES Swift as the seagull that turns in the sun with the dew of the spray on the gray of her wings, Flashing to whirl like an eddy of breeze that old ^olus checks in the flush of its flight- So, O Beloved, we harry the lumbering hulks of the clumsy flotilla that brings Spices from Egypt and Pontus and Persia and rich-woven silks from the Borders of Light. Rangers are we of the Narrower Sea, where the islands are scattered as spindrift that flies Roused from its coverts of beryl and emerald, lairs of the nymphs of the Winds and the Waves — Spindrift that leaping to 'scape from the prow that is notched to a star in the African skies Wins o'er the gunwale and beats on the backs of the kings of the sweep-head — the bent galley-slaves! [92] O my Beloved, the oar-thresh shall sing of my love and the kingdom I cast at thy feet— Lo, I am lord of the rock-battered seas, and my sword is a terror from Thrace to Cyrene ! King, by the sway of the staggering deck as we reel through the wreck of the fight, and the fleet Hails us the masters of Hades and Heaven and seas that are given to billow be- tween ! Swing her about! Let them drown if they will, let them choke in their blood and the sense of their shame — They who are slaves of the Rome of the West, where the sun sinks to rest on Hesperian shores. Swing her about — let them die in the dark, where the wake is a wavering welter of flame — Drop them behind to the drone of the wind and the dirge of the drum of our hurry- ing oars! [93] MY FRIEND PAN With Pan amid the flowers, When I was young and gay, I danced away the hours With rhyme and roundelay; For the world was at its spring. And Life was at its morn — Who dreamed the years would bring When the Rose died, the Thorn? But when the summer faded — The summer-time of Youth — And weary, worn and jaded, I felt the Thorn of Truth, I turned to Pan a-sighing For solace of romance — Cried he, "Come, haste thy dying — We youngsters want to dance!" [94 1 THE ROAD TO ROMANY "And what is the worth of your fertile realm?" Sang the wind to the weary king, "And what is the price of your jeweled helm, Or the tribute the barons bring? Your palace I'll buy with the roofless sky, For your gold I'll give you the sun, For your silken bed, you may lay your head On the earth, when the day is done. ^'By the side of the Road to Romany, The magic Road to Romany — ril buy your crown for a wind-swept down And a bit of the Road to Romany!'' "And what do I want with my sheltered fields?" Cried the king to the restless breeze. "I'd give all the tribute my kingdom yields For a cure for my soul's disease; O my throne I'll trade for a leafy glade With the white road beckoning through. And my helm I'll pawn for a golden dawn And the voice of a comrade true ! *'We two on the Road to Romany , The magic Road to Romany — O Vd sell my crown for a wind-swept down And a bit of the Road to Romanyl" [95] THE SONG OF THE OPTIMIST Though the vintage be poor, at the best, Drink it up — it is wine; So it kindle the heart, for the rest You're a fool to repine. So you find in the dream and desire Full reward for the sting and the tire, Though the price be the gold of the West, Drink it up — it is wine! O the maid is not fair at the most — What of that — it is Love. Or perhaps you have loved and have lost — It is Heaven above While it lasts, and for all of the pain. If you lived it all over again. Though your honor and soul were the cost — Would you stop, if 'twere Love? Have you wasted your fortune of years? Never mind — it is life. Have you harvested nothing but tears From the barrens of Strife? Have you failed, and seen crumble the dream That you built with your blood where the gleam Of the fading false-dawn disappears? Think of this — it is life! [96] JUL lu iyi5