1 
 
 1 
 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ~W^ /YGY 
 %p ©ajiiTOy 1a>- 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
By dr. GUNSAULUS 
 
 Monk and Knight • 
 2 vols., i2mo $2.50 
 
 Phidias and Other Poems 
 
 i6mo., 75 cts. i3ino., gilt top, 1.25 
 
 Songs of Night and Day 
 
 Small quarto, gilt top, . . . 1.50 
 
 A. C. McCLURG AND CO. 
 CHICAGO 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND 
 DAY 
 
 FRANK W. GUNSAULUS 
 
 CHICAGO 
 A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY 
 
 1896 
 
 \J. 
 
 bXVoO 
 
 A^ 
 
^' 
 
 Copyright 
 By a. C. McCLURG AND CO. 
 
 A. D. 1895 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE PASSING OF TENNYSON - - - II 
 
 love's tide ---... 14 
 LINES READ AT THE FUNERAL SERVICES OF 
 
 EUGENE FIELD - - . - 16 
 
 MIRABEAU ------ 23 
 
 ON LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW OF EMERSON'S 
 
 LIBRARY ..... 24 
 
 SONNET ON BRITON RIVIERE'S I'AINTING " DAN- 
 IEL'S ANSWER TO THE KING" - - 25 
 ON THE DUCHESS SFORZA WITH THE STOLEN CAST 
 
 OF THE HEAD OF DANTE - - - 26 
 
 ON THE RECESSION OF THE FALLS OF NIAGARA ^^ 
 
 AT BEACH ST. MARY - - - - - 28 
 
 ERYTHEIA ----.- 30 
 THE UNVANISHED EROS - - - "35 
 ON A FELLOW PASSENGER ASLEEP ON THE TRAIN, 
 WITH THE POEMS OF BION AND MOSCHUS IN 
 
 HIS HANDS - - - - - 37 
 
 ON HEARING OF WILLIAM WATSON'S ILLNESS - 39 
 
 5 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ON THE FRAGMENTS OF SAPPHO'S POEMS IN THE 
 
 EGYPTIAN MUSEUM AT BERLIN - - 42 
 
 A poet's dream of belated love - - 45 
 
 HARVEST AND HOPE .... 47 
 
 AFTER READING SIR EDWIN ARNOLD'S VERSES - 50 
 
 TO A DAWNING TALENT ... 52 
 ON MOREAU'S PICTURE: " MAIDEN WITH THE 
 
 HEAD OF ORPHEUS" - - - "55 
 
 THE POET AND THE SOLDIER - - - 58 
 THE SUN SHALL BE NO MORE THY LIGHT BY DAY; 
 NEITHER FOR BRIGHTNESS SHALL THE MOON 
 
 GIVE LIGHT UNTO THEE - - - 60 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . . - . 62 
 EARLY MORNING AT PLYMOUTH - -6$ 
 
 POETRY AND MUSIC .... 57 
 THE PURITAN - - - - -69 
 
 LOST IDEALS .... - 71 
 
 THE CENTENARY OF JOHN KEATS - • 74 
 
 WAKING DREAMS ----- 86 
 
 CARE AND CARELESSNESS - - - - 88 
 
 AT SANTA BARBARA . - - . gi 
 
 A WORD OF FAITH - - - - - 93 
 
 SEA FOAM - - . - - gj 
 CHRISTMAS, 1895 - - • - -96 
 
 A SONG OF WIND AND RAIN - - - 98 
 
 A BOAT SONG - - - - - 100 
 6 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 BISMARCK - - - - . 102 
 
 SKY AND SEA - - - - - - IO3 
 
 THE NAME OF GOD - - - - I05 
 
 INSOMNIA - - - - - - 107 
 
 LOVE AND IMMORTALITY - - - I08 
 
 A BALLAD OF SPAIN - - - - - III 
 
 THE PERPETUAL WOOING - - - 1 14 
 
 BETWEEN SUMMER AND WINTER - - " H? 
 
 WHEN THE POET COMES - - - I Ig 
 
 THE COMING PARADISE - - - - 121 
 
 ARCADY ------ 124 
 
 ONE NIGHT AFTERWARD - - - - 126 
 
 TWO TRANSMIGRATIONS - - - - 129 
 
" How far from Sinai, in earth's measured time, 
 Riscth rarnussus?" once a minstrel asked. 
 The striking bells of ages in sweet chime 
 Answered the poet in the pilgrim masked: — 
 
 "From flame-lit cliffs to siminiits white with snow," 
 They said ; — "from rhythmic Truth's law-giving hour 
 To rhythmic Beauty's haunts where myrtles blow. 
 Both peaks were lifted by one thrill of power." 
 
 Then, troubled sore that neither here nor there 
 Were all earth's discords in pure concord held. 
 
 The minstrel-pilgrim, singing in his prayer. 
 Sought Him whose power was love in times of eld. 
 
 "Beyond Parnassus riseth Calvary," 
 
 God said. "Leave thou Apollo's lyric morn; 
 Thence fare from Delphi to Gethsemanc 
 
 Where near the olives Love is crowned with thorn." 
 9 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY. 
 
 THK rASSIN(; OK TKNNYSON. 
 
 " On the bed lay a fipiiro of lirralliinj; innrldo, noO(lc<l and hnthed In 
 ihc lii;ht of llic full moon wliich Ktrcaincd tliroii(,'li an oriel window, his hand 
 claKpini; a copy of Shakespeare he lia<l asked for recently, and which he kepi 
 hy hini to the end. The nioonlifhl, tlie majestic figure as he lay there drnw- 
 ing a thicker breath, irresistibly broin;hl to our minds his own ' I'assiiiL' of 
 King Arthur.' " — London Times. 
 
 With Shakcspciirc's voice Id ^^iiidc him 
 Where never ills hetide him, 
 Our poet sleepiii^( went. 
 With rose-Icjives softly f;illiii|(, 
 
 Through uutunm echoes calhng, 
 He passed with soul attcnt. 
 
 Sad moon, o'er brown hilKs gleamitif^, 
 Disturb not thou his dreaming; 
 Thy singer silent lies. 
 II 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 From moonlight, night, and wonder, 
 He stepped to sunlight yonder — 
 The poet's paradise. 
 
 His lyre-strings sweet and golden 
 Are yet with music holden — 
 Soft-echoed minstrelsy. 
 Shall ever English nation 
 Forget her consecration 
 Within his melody ? 
 
 And if some tuneless singer, 
 Or sorrowful light-bringer, 
 Forget his song or way, — 
 This lyre with string unbroken 
 Will ring, like music spoken, 
 
 And tremble toward God's day. 
 
 He knew what scents are sweetest. 
 His roses may be fleetest 
 In poet's garden-song; 
 
 12 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Yet on his page they brighten ; 
 
 Their fragrant splendors lighten 
 Life's pathway drear and long. 
 
 Bright bees will find sweet honey, 
 
 When flower-bells fresh and sunny 
 Encrimson hills and vales; 
 And darkened souls woe-stricken 
 Will feel slain hopes re-quicken 
 
 Where love nor spring-tide fails. 
 
 Sweep upward, rare musician, 
 Thou courtly song-patrician 
 Who never wanted grace ! 
 Let others smite and thunder ; 
 
 Let man behold sweet wonder 
 Upon our singer's face. 
 
 13 
 
SONGS OV NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 LOVE'S TIDE. 
 
 Calm, clear ;uul white, 
 
 Thou jewel of the night, 
 
 O moon of Cnul, whose ecstasy is light ! 
 
 My stormy self, a sea of restlessness, 
 
 Answers thine heart ; and here I praise and bless 
 
 Thy pale ami splendid arm of strentgh 
 
 That gathers all the eddies, anil, at length. 
 
 In spite of winds and rocks and waves allied. 
 
 Resolves their discords in Love's rising tide. 
 
 O sure the faith, and strong. 
 
 With sun-illumined sky, or throng 
 
 Of clouds above, or surge within my soul — 
 
 Thou know'st that, hidden, yet thou hast control. 
 
 So, sweeping shoreward with pearl-laden wave. 
 
 My life-tide feels its gladness at its grave — 
 
 H 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Glad that the peace is all of thee 
 Who art my K"'<1^". <lt-'ar ruler of the sea, 
 And gl.'idder still, when oii tlie shore of years 
 I cast some pearls made l)righter by my tears. 
 
 «5 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 LINES REAP AT THE FUNERAL SERVICES 
 OF EUGENE FIELD. 
 
 NOVKMIU-K (\ iSov 
 
 'Midst rustling oi leaves in the rich autumn air. 
 At eve, when man's life is an unuttered prayer, 
 
 There came thro" the dusk, each with torch sluninj 
 bright. 
 
 From far and from near, in his sorrow hedight. 
 The oil! earth's lone children, o'er land and o'er wave, 
 \Vho gathered around their dear poet's loved grave. 
 
 With trumpet and drum, hut in silence, they came; 
 Their paths were illumed hy their torches' mild tlame 
 
 Whose Si>ft lambent streams by love's glory were lit; 
 
 And where fairy knights ami bright elves useil to flit 
 Across the wan world when the lights quivered dim. 
 These watched at the grave and were mourning for him. 
 i6 
 
S0N(is OF Ni(;irr and day 
 
 Sweet children were there, and of every decree, 
 VVlio c;ir()lf(l his soii^s ;it ;i fond niollier's knee, 
 And Wynkcn and lilynken and Nod came to meet 
 Tlie J\oi:k-a-hy Lady from Ilnsh-a-My Street; 
 And on toward the starry bine ocean on hi^h 
 Ascended tlic children's sad, orjihan-like cry. 
 
 "(), children's own lover and minstrel," they said, 
 "At length you have found here your own trunflle-lx'd. 
 Where, like unto ours at the closing of day, 
 Your lips sing as sweet as they did in your filay. 
 Dear Shepherd, who l(»velh S(» well all thy sheeji, 
 Watch over <jur loved one who lies here asleej)-* 
 
 Lo, as they went wending o'er roadway and grass, 
 I saw one familiar and sweet. Did he pass 
 Away from the troop as they joiirncyi<l along 
 With drum-beat and dolls and with lullaby-song? 
 Ah, nay ; at their head marched with step ne'er so true 
 The poet's belovecl one — his Little IJoy IJlue. 
 
 17 
 
SONGS or NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 "O, Little Boy Blue! and lunv came you so far 
 From lands beyond ocean ami clouil-bank and star ? 
 
 Fareii you all this way ior your hahylu>od toy ? 
 
 Have you not forgotten our poet anil luiy?" 
 He sniiletl as he nuiveil with the children alone; 
 Then waited and jMayed o'er his loved and his own. 
 
 " "Tis not a ijreat chanjje," said the Little Uoy Blue, 
 "Kioni heaven to earth," and he spake as he knew — 
 
 "Pear children are there who have learned by his 
 song 
 
 That Christ is the Shepherd both tender ami strong; 
 \\\ heaven, there's muhing so sweet in our ji>ys 
 As this, that we sii\g what we learned here as boys." 
 
 O taithless one, striving to scatter your fear. 
 This bard was no iloubter ; through sunburst or tear 
 He sang smh a si>ng th.it the babe at her bieast 
 I'assed thence with his mother to God's deeper rest. 
 NVho breathes with these songs in his worship of love 
 May sing them again in the hotne-land above. 
 
 i8 
 
SONGS OK NIGlir AND DAY 
 
 There caiiif older cliildrcii with )^r:iy locks .uid wliite, 
 And iu;ir to lli.il ^r;ivj; in the w;iiiinj^ of lif.l't 
 
 Tliey thanked tlie dead singer tliat, 'midst din and 
 St ress, 
 
 Wlicn rhildliood w,is fading,, 'twas his >;ilt to lih-ss, 
 And thron^di all tlie clang and tlu; dust-clond ol time 
 To niter again onr lost <hildliood's loved rhyme. 
 
 Ami < >nc came mort; near, who, when once < rowned 
 
 with tiioin, 
 i'lnraycd the danip ni)',hl till it thrilled with hfe's morn; 
 
 I lis own heart was hnrthened lor yon and lor me; 
 
 I lis own blood redeeinelh lh(r whoU; world and lhe(;. 
 lie kn(;w what tnu; saving Irom sin's direst harms 
 Has gathered the children within His strong arms. 
 
 O, ficniiis ol heavt;n and earth, even liere, 
 In honrs loo mnch Imrried for prayer or for tear. 
 Thy voice once again o'er our tense-( hordctd slrinf^s 
 ( )iill>reathes, as onr poctl innnortally sings: 
 "'I'hc kingdoin of lieaven is given alone 
 To them who, like ( hildren, look n|» to (iod's throne." 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Dear minstrel and lover, who, through two score years, 
 
 Found tears in our laughter and smiles in our tears, 
 Dreamed you how the Christ, to the heart of our days, 
 Did speak once again in your own gentle lays ? 
 
 Philosophers falter, where, with your sweet trust, 
 
 We bury our poet's melodious dust. 
 
 Full soon o'er God's Acre the robins will sing 
 
 At birth of the dawn-light athrob with the spring ; 
 
 Their notes will be sweeter than ever, next June, 
 
 When near your own grave they learn secrets of 
 tune. 
 
 The meadow-lark's wings, when the wild flowers unfold, 
 
 Will flutter above you with music untold — 
 
 Untold, save to you, who, to harmony born. 
 By birth-right of poet, through midnight and morn, 
 Found this ancient world of ours musical still. 
 And scorned not its emptiest pipe to refill. 
 Till yonder, where bees, honey-burdened, will hum, 
 The pilgrims through ages to Hybla will come. 
 
 20 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 What said you to Horace when Charon's lone boat 
 Came near unto landing, and, with his old note. 
 
 He spake of the echoes that swept from your farm, 
 And asked if your heart still was pulsing and warm ? 
 Methinks you had laughter with poet and friend, — 
 Fine laughter, whose melody never may end. 
 
 Yet, far in the past, o'er the world Horace knew. 
 There lifted a tree that the earth's forest grew. 
 
 And stretched on the cross, reigned the Christmas 
 Day's King 
 
 Who teacheth new ages and voices to sing. 
 The lyre of your spirit was strung by His hands 
 Who leadeth all children to heavenly lands. 
 
 Our Christmas is coming. How ever shall we 
 Have hearts leaping up with the old Christmas glee ? 
 
 We'll wait at the dawn for your poem and tale ? 
 
 That morn will be strange, and our good cheer will 
 fail; 
 And Santa Claus, maybe, will just stay away. 
 Forgetful of us on the next Christmas Day. 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Marshmallows like yours will not grow on the trees, 
 Nor dinkey-birds sing over wonderful seas, 
 When you lie there so still, and each waits for his 
 
 gown 
 To depart on the train for your blest Shut-Eye Town ; 
 But the Christchild will come, and some time, after 
 
 night, 
 We'll meet you at morning with Christmas delight. 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 MIRABEAU. 
 
 AFTER READING VON HOLST'S " FRENCH REVOLUTION." 
 
 Unleashing storms that calm might brood o'er France, 
 Freeing the lightnings lest Truth's path be lost, 
 Mailed knight of Justice willing for the cost, 
 What prisoned noons hide in thy jeweled lance! 
 Voice of the age, our discord turns askance 
 To learn thy music through the holocaust 
 That, Babel-tongued, transformed to Pentecost 
 When man knew man beneath thy prophet glance. 
 
 Kingly with tempests, teach our timid time 
 What bloom of lilies grows when northern blasts 
 Meet rose-mouthed south winds on man's April plain. 
 Storm-girt are we — once let such speech sublime 
 Welcome the thunders while our old world lasts 
 To feel upon its breast God's gift of rain. 
 23 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ON LOOKING OUT OF THE WINDOW OF 
 EMERSON'S LIBRARY. 
 
 Here still he sits and waiting hears the pines 
 Murmur their secret and the Northwind sing. 
 Here where the robin in a hint of spring 
 Finds summer-song in untranslated lines 
 Left in his throat, e'en yet this soul divines 
 Runes mystic, primal, like the blossoming 
 Grown in the hour of life's first opening — 
 Still reads the seer the world's unconscious signs. 
 
 O for one moment when the silent chords, 
 Solemnly strung with harmony complete. 
 Once more may hold within truth's ample theme 
 All vagrant tones and all unuttered words ! 
 Then midst the noise of life's accustomed street 
 Souls might find triumph in his calm supreme. 
 
 24 
 
SONGS OF NIGHY AND DAY 
 
 SONNET ON BRITON RIVIERE'S PAINTING: 
 "DANIEL'S ANSWER TO THE KING." 
 
 "Ah, if 'twere true, how greater far than song 
 The fact itself ! An Hebrew prophet-seer 
 Alone, unharmed, where falchioncd Death flames clear 
 From yellow eye-balls burning in a throng 
 Of lions ; and, through instants roars prolong, 
 Pants with a blood-thirst, trembles at a tear 
 Just fallen from the prophet's Israel dear ; 
 Then crouches, snarling like a vanquished wrong." 
 
 'Tis true. What boots it, critic, thou dost doubt ? 
 Open a soul's den. Ask Love's angel bound: 
 "Art safe?" Lo, crownfed Evil from above 
 Listens, through compromise, to hear Death's shout. 
 While sharp-clawed passions wander silent round. 
 Dazed, cowered, and conquered by transfigured love. 
 
 25 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ON THE DUCHESS SFORZA WITH THE 
 
 STOLEN CAST OF THE HEAD 
 
 OF DANTE. 
 
 Fair dame of Italy, thy scarf of green 
 Hides Dante's sad and lightning-bearing face. 
 Hold thou those lips of scorn ! Thy kingly race 
 
 Will sit midst gems and gold, yet may not glean 
 
 The harvest-fields he planted 'neath the sheen 
 Of truths divine, unwelcome to their grace. 
 Mark thou the hour to be, when, in his place 
 
 Of rule, some son of thine beholds that mien. 
 
 Lo, this the hour! Thy scarf no more may hide 
 His lips of flame. Savonarola cries. 
 
 'Tis Dante's Samson leads the foxes on ; 
 
 And, leagued with fire, they bring the furious tide 
 Scathing the world while a Lorenzo dies — 
 
 A world whose ruin turns to golden dawn. 
 26 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ON THE RECESSION OF THE FALLS OF 
 NIAGARA, 
 
 Great time-piece of eternity — earth's dial — 
 Thou tumult-thunder of the clock of years, 
 Whose diapason breeds a league of fears 
 
 That earth grows old and hastens to her trial ! 
 
 One day the misty splendor hid the pile 
 
 Of stone now long dissolved where man up-rears 
 His city- towers, from whence his curious ears 
 
 List to thine anthem, sounding mile on mile. 
 
 So, strong opinions — erstwhile clouds on high 
 From Truth's vast sea, then gathered into streams — 
 Tumbled and plunged 'neath rainbow-colored bars. 
 In thought's wide realm the awful gorges lie ; 
 And deep, this side receding falls, still gleams 
 A river's current mirroring the stars. 
 27 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 AT BEACH ST. MARY. 
 
 The long brown arm thrusts out to sea 
 A headland lost in sliding sands ; 
 
 So Time indents Eternity ; 
 
 We live on Being's borderlands. 
 
 Man builds his lighthouse of Desire, 
 Waits here to greet a coming sail ; 
 
 Brings golden oil for Hope's faint fire, 
 And will not let his beacon fail. 
 
 Here on the fronting height abide 
 
 The prophets with their faith divine 
 
 Here see they first the moon-drawn tide 
 Tremble along Life's limit-line. 
 
 28 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Afar beyond, from shores unseen, 
 
 Thrusts out an arm enflowered and strong 
 And they who watch there hear, I ween. 
 
 The same deep-billowed ocean-song. 
 
 And deeper than the sea, below 
 
 Unmeasured calm or thunder-shock, 
 
 'Neath darksome mystery and glow, 
 Firm lies the floor of hidden rock. 
 
 2Q 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ERYTHEIA. 
 
 READ ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE FIRST MEET- 
 ING OF THE PARLIAMENT OF RELIGIONS. — 
 COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION, 1893. 
 
 " Erytheia, the legendary region round the Pillars of Hercules, probably 
 took its name from the redness of the west underwhichthe Greeks saw it." 
 
 Note of Matthe-w Arnold. 
 
 None knew where the limit-line was drawn 
 By viewless hands on the Orient seas, 
 
 Or where the West removed when dawn 
 Swept through the Pillars of Hercules. 
 
 And many a sailor, with thoughts that burned 
 'Neath a formless incense-cloud of faith. 
 
 Sat in his shallop and fondly turned 
 To question the stars' resplendent wraith. 
 30 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Afar beyond where the wise ones said, 
 Rose full on his dreams a visioned place. 
 
 Was it a home for the happy dead, 
 Or the golden land of a nobler race ? 
 
 A sailor is man, or a landsman thrilled 
 E'en yet with a faith that sends its crew 
 
 Where he thinks the Orient waves are stilled, 
 And the West begins in the fire-streaked blue. 
 
 There are wings that oft in the tranciiiil air 
 Show bright in the glance of the morning sun ; 
 
 They poise and flutter and vanish where 
 The horizon flames when the day is done. 
 
 There are triremes sailing far away 
 
 'Neath the purple clouds; and at night their oars 
 Dip gold where the moonlit tides convey 
 
 Ocean to ocean 'twixt unknown shores. 
 
 There are Tritons, too, with horns of pearl ; 
 
 And far o'er the shimmering waves there sound 
 31 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY ^ 
 
 To the mist-clad stars, when the waves up-curl. 
 Such tones as from sea to sky rebound. 
 
 Melodious winds drift through the trees; 
 
 Are they echoed strains of man's songs unsung ? 
 For this is the soul's Hesperides 
 
 Where the apples grow and the heart is young. 
 
 Never too high for the yearning hand, 
 
 The wine-red fruit is forever fair. 
 The white-breathed frosts in this sun-girt land 
 
 Kiss buds to bloom in immortal air. 
 
 These buds were hopes that had shriveled here 
 In a common wind where the birds grow mute. 
 
 So full of June is that atmosphere, 
 Each bending reed is a lover's flute. 
 
 O Man, are these but thy thoughts grown strong 
 For a dream's emprise to the unnamed seas ? 
 
 Dost thou breed such visions as ever throng 
 Beyond the Pillars of Hercules ? 
 32 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Shall never some wise geographer 
 
 Set stakes where begins thy laiui of the West ? 
 Shall thought disdain as a voyager 
 
 A spot whore the Orient ends its quest ? 
 
 The mariner's dream of the East is true — 
 "Sail west, my soul, to thy far Cathay!" 
 
 Man's thoughts o'er a sunset field of blue 
 Sweep through the West to the East to-day. 
 
 Great truths transform, yet arc never lies. 
 Though East prove West, if we sail too far — 
 
 Who thought him to live as a sacrifice 
 
 Makes soul for himself, finds his self's true star. 
 
 Quoth I: "To westward toward Faith's own shore 
 Of citrus and balm for the weary mind; 
 
 Good-bye to Reason!" I cried — but more; 
 True Reason in Faith is the goal I find. 
 
 Sunrise through sunset glows in sunrise. 
 Westernmost thoughts ope gates in the East. 
 33 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 At Concord lived Saadi ; 'neath Occident skies 
 Our Emerson sits at the Orient's feast. 
 
 O Christ, even Thou art highest and Lord, 
 Master of Worlds and this heart of mine, 
 
 Lowliest one and most adored, 
 
 Most human and near when most divine. 
 
 Ah, soul, thy world is an orb so large, 
 Of circles so many and sweep so vast! 
 
 Forever thou goest from marge to marge. 
 Yet never the Occident gates are passed. 
 
 And yonder where Erytheia vies 
 With visions of life and love and dream, 
 
 Our fancies sail where the old day dies 
 In the sundawn's rush of new day supreme. 
 
 34 
 
SONGS OK NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE UNVANISHED EROS. 
 
 'Tis a time when the gods that arc left us 
 
 Are dreams sitting loveless and lone, 
 And the doubt that profanely bereft us 
 
 Has melted the gold of a throne. 
 But hid near the sapphire-built portal 
 
 There's one that looks younger this morn 
 Than when Aphrodite immortal 
 
 Kissed Eros that hour he was born. 
 
 In cold and grey splendor beholden 
 The gods, one by one, disappear. 
 
 Faith fears for her chalices golden ; 
 
 No more flames the sun's charioteer. 
 
 But out of the vacancy glowing 
 
 One god comes as strong as of yore. 
 
 One Eden was lost us by knowing; 
 'Tis Eros who bids us know more. 
 
 35 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Away on the mountains of wonder 
 
 Are footprints that mark their retreat. 
 There's hardly a memory yonder 
 
 Of gods who for long held their seat. 
 But where there's a heart with an ember 
 
 Unblown into flames of desire, 
 This god comes through June or December 
 
 And lends his sweet breath to the fire. 
 
 Why stayed he, though all the rest vanished ? 
 
 Why worked he where fades the last prayer? — 
 
 None know ; but of everything banished 
 
 Man recks not, if Eros be fair. 
 
 / 
 For love, after all, is so holy, 
 
 Methlnks this one god, having stayed, 
 
 Will bring the rest back to us, slowly. 
 
 And man will not scorn that he prayed. 
 
 3>6 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ON A FELLOW- PASSENGER ASLEEP ON 
 
 THE TRAIN, WITH THE POEMS OF 
 
 BION AND MOSCHUS IN 
 
 HIS HANDS. 
 
 Wake, wake him not; a book lies in his hands. 
 Bion and Moschus live within his dream. 
 Tired of our world, he fares in other lands, 
 Wanders with these beside Ilyssus' stream. 
 
 Dull, even sweet, the rumble of the train; 
 'Tis Circe singing near her golden loom. 
 No garish show afflicts his charmed brain; 
 Demeter's poppies brighten o'er her tomb. 
 
 Now, half-awake, he looks on star-lit trees — 
 Sees the white huntress in her eager chase. 
 Wake, wake him not— upon the fragrant breeze 
 Let horn and hound announce her rapid pace. 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Unbanished gods roam o'er the thymy liills; 
 Calm shatlows sloop upon tho purple grapes. 
 Hid are tho naiads near tho stai-gommed rills; 
 Far through the moonlight wander lovelorn shapes. 
 
 Grey olives shade the dancing dryad's smile ; 
 Flutes pour their raptures through that visioned 
 
 stream ; 
 Echoes like these our modern cares beguile — 
 Soft-whispering music from tho oUl Cireek's dream. 
 
 38 
 
SONGS OF NKiirr AND DAY 
 
 ON HEARINC; OF WILLIAM WATSON'S 
 ILLNFSS. 
 
 "I am sorry to hear lh:it Mr. Watson liaH bcrii Irss well diirini; tlio 
 present wcitU. 'l')u: nervous tension wliiili always follows upon piililli ntion 
 tnay well have proved too miiicIi for liini ; it is to he hoped the relapse is oidy 
 momentary."— 7//6' Critic's London Correspondence. 
 
 I. 
 
 No: not the sciuliiif^' fortli his firiiitcd lines 
 Has robbed the poet of his calmer mood ; 
 
 Hut finding them along this life's confines 
 Where mysteries within our knowledge brood. 
 
 He faltered first, not when he; s|);ikc her name, 
 
 I')iit when Truth kissed hint with her radiant flame. 
 
 II. 
 
 Tense chords arc his, and yet so fine that Day, 
 
 Shining ujjon them for a lucent while. 
 Makes light too heavy ; and what time his lay 
 39 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Outbroathes, let not his lovers speak or smile, 
 Lest their too urgent gladness smite his brain 
 And cheat the harp a^olian of its strain. 
 
 111. 
 
 This is the price he pays, whose eager youth 
 
 Has waited long upon earth's farthest shores and 
 strained 
 
 Dear eyes of love and longing after Truth — 
 
 This, that 'neath lightning-Hash, the vision gained, 
 
 The soul's eyes ache to rest their happy sight. 
 
 E'en though the darkness deepen inti> night. 
 
 W. 
 
 The poet's mind climbs highest ; and his flesh 
 
 Ketines to filament of wonderment. 
 This bears him up within its wiiig-liko mesh 
 
 Ihitil he grasps the goal of his intent ; 
 And, holiling fast the gain, his overweight 
 Falls through to tlcsh again, inviolate. 
 40 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 V. 
 
 O what ail liour sh.ill l)c when, full withdrawn 
 
 From that hi^^h tower he >^ropes in towani tlie stars; 
 
 He, fearhig not its fragile steps, feels dawn 
 
 Enswathe his soul untlesheil ; and throu^di broad bars 
 
 Of morning', lonj^-wooed Truth herself shall say : 
 
 "Fear not; thou livest in tniclonded day!" 
 
 41 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ON THE FRAGMENTS OF SAPPHO'S POEMS 
 
 IN THE EGYPTIAN MUSEUM 
 
 AT BERLIN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Red bloom of Lesbian apple-orchards wafted through 
 long years 
 Falls on these shriveled parchments like a rain of 
 fragrant fire ; 
 Yet burns not, save where Love's half-hidden palimpsest 
 appears. 
 Flame meeting flame, in rain of Sappho's tears — Love's 
 rapt desire. 
 
 n. 
 
 If these be leaves of song, blown hither o'er an aeon 
 mute, 
 Oft eddying with the aeon's tempests — ever borne 
 along, 
 
 42 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 How sweeter far the hour when green-hid boughs bent 
 low with fruit, 
 And Sappho read her love-lay, bloom and fruitage, 
 all a song. 
 
 HI. 
 
 If these be ruins of the gems crushed 'neath the feet 
 of Time, 
 Firm-chambered lights e'en yet to love-crowned souls 
 illuminate, 
 Glints of her passion, fragments of a burning jewel- 
 rhyme ; 
 What was the coronet she wore ? O answer, shame- 
 less Fate ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 O'er these from Lesbos and her love-couch shine reful- 
 gent moons. 
 Grow thick, brown myrtle, starry jonquil, floating 
 maiden-hair. 
 
 43 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Out of her heart-throb, quick and troubled, breathe 
 aeolian tunes ; 
 Red oleander, love-emblazoned, tints the dreamy air, 
 
 V. 
 
 These be not vineyards on the hillside, clustered fruit 
 and vine ; 
 These be not blossoms in the valley, gold of daf- 
 fodil— 
 These are the red drops in Time's chalice of Love's 
 wildering wine ; 
 These are the perfume from Life's garden Sappho's 
 songs distill. 
 
 44 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A POET'S DREAM OF BELATED LOVE. 
 
 We two sat late at eventime 
 
 Awake at polishing a rhyme. 
 
 The apple-boughs dropped leaves of snow ; 
 
 The goldfinch called his mate below 
 
 Our casement, where the moonlight fair 
 
 Shed silver on the springtide air ; 
 
 And round me long white arms would twine 
 
 When Love breathed music o'er my rhyme. 
 
 Long years alone, till eventime, 
 Each worked on Life's old stubborn rhyme. 
 False pauses came ; and music went 
 With every hapless discord blent. 
 Syllabic blunders wrought their way 
 Through weary night and vacant day, 
 Until, at length, at eventime, 
 We wrought together on that rhyme. 
 45 
 
SONCS Ol' NKiU I' AND D.W 
 
 O blessed peace ol cvriitiiiu-, 
 
 VVluTo loiif.; vt'iiis iiu'ltc-d ill lli.U iliyinc ! 
 
 And iIioiis.iikI tr.u lit, lnvclfss days 
 
 rotiMil .ill llitii iiiisiisiKi Ird l;iys 
 
 W'ltliiii liic swclliiif, i.iiiliiu' ( ;ni^;hl ; 
 
 \\'lu-ii llidii^dit \v;is tiiiu- .111(1 lime was llioiii'.itt, 
 
 And llioii w.isl ^-.i.id at i-vtMilimc 
 
 To luli> iiH- .set tliat shininj', ilivnir. 
 
 46 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 HARVEST AND HOPE. 
 
 Within light tufts of yellow grass 
 The winds of Autumn play and moan. 
 
 White clouds, like ghosts that change and pass, 
 Fleck vale and mead, and then are llown. 
 
 Shy whortleberries, dark and blue, 
 Hide in lone marshes wet and green ; 
 
 Wild clematis and roses, too, 
 
 'Uow on the hillsides just between. 
 
 In all the wayside's dust, and there 
 Amidst harsh grass and in wan iields, 
 
 The goldenrod, with wealth to spare, 
 The treasureil ore of sununer yields. 
 
 47 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 The sunrise drifts among the pines 
 And lingers on the maple-bough 
 
 So long, in crimson touch there shines 
 His flaming word : " 'Tis Autumn now." 
 
 The plover, flying southward, wings 
 His way across the shadowed hills ; 
 
 The brown thrush, musing sadly, sings, 
 And sunset brings the whippoorwills. 
 
 The tall, dry reeds that pipe with tune 
 What time the lyric breezes come, 
 
 Were erstwhile flower-crowned loves of June, 
 Yet in their richer days were dumb. 
 
 Dear days agone, when all my world 
 Of dream and truth and love's desire 
 
 Lay like a blossom closely whorled 
 Within a soft green vase of fire — 
 
 Freed now by blooming, through the days 
 Of summer sun and Nature's need, 
 48 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 I blame not any strange delays ; 
 Life comes at length to be a seed. 
 
 Beyond the white and stormful dearth, 
 Through snows and rain, comes fairy S{)ring ; 
 
 Then autumn-seed will greet warm earth, 
 And dear old birds again will sing. 
 
 49 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 AFTER READING SIR EDWIN ARNOLD'S 
 VERSES. 
 
 Give me red loamy poppy-lands this summer night, 
 Let Lethe's stream flow soft 'twixt banks of moon- 
 drenched rue. 
 Let me not waken in that paradise of light 
 Where sleeps the bulbul with a waft of song — and 
 you. 
 
 But let me dream and through the silvery pleasaunce 
 roam, 
 Where lemon-grass grows spear-like and the blue 
 doves coo. 
 There may I pluck white lotus from the whiter foam, 
 And on the rippled shores find peace and love — and 
 you. 
 
 50 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Go with me, find with me the sun-bird's glowing nest, 
 Hid 'neath a musky branch of amaranth and dew. 
 
 Shake not the leafage dense, but let us love and rest. 
 I love your lute when silent, and your lips — and you. 
 
 So will we dream within the cloistered green and gold, 
 Where sapphired wings are folded all the warm night 
 through. 
 And when we wake enclasped in new love ne'er grown 
 old, 
 I will content my love with rest and morning — and 
 with you. 
 
 51 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 TO A DAWNING TALENT. 
 
 And was it darkness, only night o'erlit, 
 Starshine mistaken for completed day — 
 
 That late dream-life wherein we used to sit, 
 Restless, yet joyful, in our peaceful way ? 
 
 Something has happened to our fitful sleep, 
 Less like our sleep than like that straying beam — 
 
 O'er all the land and far across the deep 
 Falters, then vanishes, a radiant stream. 
 
 New mystery abides in sky, on earth. 
 Paler and smaller grows the best-loved star. 
 
 What strange and sacred sense of painful birth 
 Clings to thy speech, — Soul, gazing near and far ? 
 
 Mom ! Is it morn ? And dreams were not in vain ? 
 Ah, couldst thou not thy stars and mine keep fast ? 
 
 52 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 How, losing them, may we old paths regain, 
 Find rest and solace in that fadeless past ? 
 
 Never return ? O friend, that world was good. 
 
 Its mystery we knew with old delight — 
 What garniture of moonbeams o'er the wood ! 
 
 I know not this new mystery of light. 
 
 Within thy speech that trembled not before. 
 What age-long runes more old than yesterday ! 
 
 Like sea-shells, ocean-swept upon the shore. 
 Breathing the world-wide ocean's primal lay. 
 
 Hast thou gone back to God, or comest near 
 To God whose daytime floods thy lips with truth ? 
 
 Where didst thou leave thy wistful boyish fear ? 
 Thou seemest old — thou blithe, reliant youth! 
 
 And nevermore shall we in calm rehearse 
 Our chronicle of things and ways God made ? 
 
 Nay ! everywhere a bright new universe, 
 And everywhere the night and starlight fade ! 
 
 53 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 I go with thee, and, mist-enfolded, trust. 
 
 Surely the gray will yellow into gold ! 
 Yea, these are gems. Last night they were but dust. 
 
 Earth's self may be a star of wealth untold. 
 
 Speak once again ! Along the mighty ridge 
 Where paced our ghosts, are bands of crimson snow. 
 
 This is the day ; and there a chorded bridge 
 Arches the mist of waters far below. 
 
 Earth waited thee. These beads of crystal morn, 
 Rondured in sunrise, were but cold and wet. 
 
 Speak thou ! Say all ! O herald newly born ! 
 My soul will feel at home in daytime yet. 
 
 54 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ON MOREAU'S PICTURE: "MAIDEN WITH 
 THE HEAD OF ORPHEUS." 
 
 " After the killing and dismemberment of Orpheus by the Thracian 
 women, his head and lyre were thrown into the Hebrus. This maiden has 
 recovered his head and is about to give it to the Muses for burial at Libethra, 
 in that grave above which the nightingale sings as nowhere else in Greece." 
 
 "And is it he? The Furies heard his lyre and wept 
 The while he sought Eurydice and was undone, 
 
 When Proserpine was tears and Pluto's curses slept. 
 Ah, move, dear lips, in whispered song — Apollo's son. 
 
 "Thy cheeks are wet with Hebrus, and I kiss thine hair 
 That floated on the flood like wind-borne lays ; 
 
 What time these lips of honeyed beauty kissed the air 
 Abloom with melodies of sorrow-burdened praise. 
 
 " O Thracian women, whom slain loveliness may shame, 
 My newborn love is hate for ye! I hear your scream 
 55 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 That drowned within its horror music's heart of flame. 
 Yet see ! The full lips sing as in a glorious dream, 
 
 " Far up within the symphony of fadeless fires. 
 Great Zeus hath set this lyre to quiver with a song — 
 
 Song lucent, full and free, to order all their choirs 
 To music growing sweeter through the ages long. 
 
 "List! do they move again — these rose-lips touched 
 
 with dews — 
 
 Not dews of death, but drops of harmony distilled ? 
 
 Yea; for his loving shade her long-lost ghost pursues — 
 
 Soon through her kisses shall his dreaming thirst be 
 
 filled. 
 
 "Behold sweet lips that twitch with crying and with pain I 
 They strain to cry so loud Tartarus regions hear : 
 
 ' Eurydice ! ' and lo, blest face of peace ! Again 
 They move. Embrace her ! Gleams thine eyelid with 
 love's tear. 
 
 56 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 " I s'lve thee up, dear face ! Let Muses bury thee ; 
 
 And there, when shade with shade ye wander through 
 Love's vale, 
 I seek Libethra, love, and what deep melody 
 
 Throbs in that twilight for me in the nightingale." 
 
 57 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE POET AND THE SOLDIER. 
 
 A poet's pipe lay lost within the wood, 
 And dryads came and played about its mouth ; 
 Enamored breezes from the fragrant South 
 Wooed dulcet measures ; then the dryads stood 
 To hear new music pour its gracious wine 
 Beneath a bower of rose and eglantine. 
 
 A hero's sword lay gleaming on cold ground ; 
 
 Dry drops of blood were brown on edge and sheath 
 
 And near the blade a ruined laurel-wreath 
 
 Lay rotting on a moss-grown burial-mound. 
 
 Beside them, robed in garments for the tomb, 
 
 Sat a lone maiden with a passion-bloom. 
 
 When wild and brazen throats of righteous war 
 Shivered the morning stillness with their cry, 
 And where the Right paused tremblingly to die 
 58 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 At her last stand, a poet from afar 
 
 Filled the lost pipe with music ; then a youth, 
 
 Laureled and brave, waved the bare sword of Truth. 
 
 O poet-soldiers, ye who sing and fight ! 
 Nor pipe nor sword was ever lost in vain. 
 New armies form. Retreating o'er Time's plain, 
 Beside your graves they stand at last for Right ; 
 And none may say if poet's pipe, or sword. 
 Win the best triumphs grateful years record. 
 
 59 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 "THE SUN SHALL BE NO MORE THY LIGHT 
 
 BY DAY; NEITHER FOR BRIGHTNESS 
 
 SHALL THE MOON GIVE LIGHT 
 
 UNTO THEE." 
 
 I. 
 
 I LOOKED, and lo, beneath the verdured lea 
 The Day-god dropped his sandal in the sea ; 
 And plashing in the crimson splendor, I forgot 
 The less enchanting duty of my humble lot. 
 Then, bending oar with oar, as on the hills his feet 
 Shone like fine gold in flames of furnace-heat, 
 I moved my shallop till it touched the sedgy shore, 
 Where, having done my duty, I could do no more. 
 
 IL 
 
 O God ! and hast Thou heavens for my soul 
 Higher and deeper far, more stars in sweet control 
 Than ever shone along that path he trod. 
 Till, westering down, the doomed and vanished god 
 60 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Rose on another realm and made its ample dawn ? 
 
 If these be mine, though sun and day withdrawn 
 
 Make mine eye sadder, yet I bid Thee take 
 
 Ail my old sky ; so, for my soul's own sake, 
 
 Let me be sure of seeing God, when no more shine 
 
 Or sun or moon within that changeless universe of Thine. 
 
 6i 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 / 
 
 SIR PHILir SYDNEY. 
 
 I. 
 
 This was, in sooth, the one whom poets sing — 
 The tempered steel within a velvet sheath, 
 Tlie marble soul, so warm, a huddinjj; wreath 
 
 Grew on his brow and lived there blossominj;. 
 
 Hero and bard, the eagle's heart, with wing 
 Lustrous and soft, that on some clouded heath 
 A dove might hide, till, flying underneath 
 
 The noon, each spot liecame a sapphire ring. 
 
 O Gentleman, whose dt)wer ot purest strength. 
 Like morning-mist that made an old world new, 
 Awaited noons to make it seem more fair — 
 Men bring to thee fond dreams of man. At length 
 In thee their trembling colors chordcd true, 
 Stay — a loved treasure in our common air. 
 62 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 II. 
 
 The age God made to make a f^entlcman 
 
 Foretold him ricli in texture, heart and l)rain. 
 It winnowed eras in whose throes of pain 
 
 There pulsed a flower whose ardent lips be^an 
 
 To gather gold in Nature's primal plan. 
 Within this lover's rhythmic heart and vein 
 Moved the fresh youth of chivalry unslain 
 
 When God gave Sydney to His knightly van. 
 
 O large-souled age, with Shakespeare as thy chilfl, 
 Bacon thy nurseling, Spenser's lyre full-strung, 
 Raleigh thy courtier, plague of i)oi>es undone; 
 In thee Time's heart, with straying chords beguiled, 
 Broke into music with a song unsung — 
 Then Sydney lived— true knighthood's bard and son. 
 
 63 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 III. 
 
 Defender of sweet poesy ! 'Tis thou 
 Art poesy's most fair defence. An heart 
 Like thine is lyric and a tuneful part 
 
 Of that full lyric God hath sung till now. 
 
 Thy spirit's breath is epic when the slough 
 Buries our chariot-wheels, or when a dart, 
 More poison-dipped than selfish care, may start 
 
 A league of doubts before whose scorn we bow. 
 
 That cup of water hath its fountains bright ; 
 And lips of bards, athirst with heat and pain, 
 Have found Parnassian dew-falls in that hour 
 When Zutphen's battle-field was swathed in light. 
 Whate'er may cease, here sounds one life's refrain 
 The noblest is the noblest in his power. 
 
 64 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 EARLY MORNING AT PLYMOUTH. 
 
 Through grey mist tangled 'midst the wooded hills, 
 A brown-winged warbler, flying as he sings, 
 
 Stops o'er his grassy nest awhile, then fills 
 The salty air with sweetness, while he brings 
 Remembrances of vanished men and things. 
 
 I wait to hear him fill the silent vale, 
 And know a soul has come again to earth. 
 
 Listen ! Within his cell-like notes a tale 
 Of sorrow ! 'Tis a Pilgrim's second birth ; 
 Old anguish makes full concord with his mirth. 
 
 Here where his heart pours ecstasies of song. 
 
 Two centuries ago, he loved and died ; 
 Wandered with her the ocean-shore along, 
 65 
 
• SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 And watched with her the starlit ebbing tide. 
 Those lover-forms lie sleeping side by side. 
 
 Here now he comes with her to nest again 
 And rear their birdlings near the self-same shore 
 
 To know Love's joy of joys and heart of pain. 
 Lovers immortal, having loved before, 
 Somewhere this love shall nest forever more. 
 
 66 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 POETRY AND MUSIC. 
 
 SHELLEY AND vSCHUBERT. 
 
 Man's soul itself with songs of sky entrancing 
 Makes life a lyric field, bright dews enhancing, 
 Where lily-sounds in wild enchantment growing 
 Throng close, like stars, on vaulted darkness blowing. 
 
 ROSSETTI AND CHOPIN. 
 
 Far murmuring seas upon the white sand glistened. 
 Two full-toned souls for faint woe-accents listened. 
 When eddied passion's pains to calm were sinking, 
 These seized the concords, mate to mate re-linking. 
 
 67 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 BROWNING AND WAGNER. 
 
 Thunders and whispers sway the jubilation ; 
 
 Crashes of pains long past and joys from earth sweep 
 
 near ; 
 Then sobs and wails in rhythmic modulation 
 Breathe radiant, surgent song within a tear. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE AND BEETHOVEN. 
 
 What God wrote deepest in the soul is spoken. 
 Fair vase of tears and loves they brought unbroken; 
 Found every thread of secret joy or grieving ; 
 Wrought out the dream, immortal mazes weaving. 
 
 68 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE PURITAN. 
 
 God grew aweary of the rich low land 
 That kissed the rivulets in banks of bloom. 
 
 God said: "I'll make me peaks of crystal, grand; 
 And these with morning's glory I'll illume." 
 
 God saw the splendors of the meadows glow, 
 And granted sun and rain to verdant meads. 
 
 God said: "Though cold and solemn, builded so. 
 My rock-built heights be high as human needs." 
 
 God loved the gay, responsive souls who please, 
 And, clothed in blossoms, scent the growing day. 
 
 God said: "I'll make me sterner minds, and these 
 With shadow mark the sun's path on his way." 
 
 69 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 And lo, amidst the beauty and the calm 
 Of compromise, in long, compliant years. 
 
 Rose up the Puritan with sword and psalm — 
 A stainless height, unclouded, without fears. 
 
 Afar the long gold sunstreak came and stayed 
 
 Upon this summit like a crown of fire. 
 Filled all the gorges with the light that played 
 
 With holy rapture of divine desire. 
 
 Deep were the seams that witnessed how he came, 
 But fruitful all the landscape at his feet ; 
 
 And always, snowlike, innocent of blame. 
 
 His whiteness bore a rose-dream, world-wide, sweet. 
 
 And when God looks to earth for valiant minds. 
 He rests His eye-glance on these solemn heights. 
 
 Here sleep the secrets of the stormf ul winds ; 
 Here stay and radiate immortal lights. 
 
 70 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 LOST IDEALS. 
 
 Somewhere within the treasurehouse of God, 
 Where precious gems with primal glory shine 
 
 Walk to and fro, as o'er the earth they trod, 
 Our lost ideals, radiant, divine. 
 
 I see them toying there with pearls and tears 
 Once lost within the vacant world of Time. 
 
 I see them bending low amidst the years 
 To hear increase of music in earth's chime. 
 
 I know not — are they brighter, dearer there. 
 Than when we loved them first in happy days 
 
 When morning ran to evening with our care 
 And o'er the earth breathed Springtime's roundelays ? 
 
 71 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Ah, never fairer sight is given to men 
 
 Than sprang completely bright before mine eyes. 
 And walked before me in the twilight, when 
 
 The door stood open into paradise. 
 
 Sometimes I touched her with a finger-tip, 
 And knew my feet went one by one with her. 
 
 Sometimes I straightened, felt her rosy lip, 
 Then gladly called myself her worshipper. 
 
 My soul, make answer ! didst thou look away. 
 Or fall bewildered in her light sublime ? 
 
 I only know I lost her. One sad (lay 
 Vanished mine angel on the hills of Time. 
 
 No tempest blowing o'er the rocky height 
 Disturbed the lustre flowing to her feet; 
 
 'Mid Life's commotion, in her calm delight, 
 That loved ideal walked the heavenly street. 
 
 72 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 In God's own realm, all beautiful they wait 
 To make us welcome ; joy is in their eyes. 
 
 Our lost ideals tend the heavenly gate 
 And guide their lovers into paradise. 
 
 73 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE CENTENARY OF JOHN KEATS, 
 
 OCT015ER 29, 
 
 1795- • 895- 
 
 What golden wine is this poured sparkling forth 
 Within an hundred over-brimming cups, 
 Gift from a sister-century to ours — 
 Rich blood of grapes that purpled in full day 
 This side that fancied wall upbuilt by man 
 Whose thought alone divides the realm oi Time ? 
 These mellow draughts stirred sweet in tingling roots 
 Feeling their way 'neath fragrant leafy mould 
 That made a bower in Cowper's arid day. 
 Ours were the wide-leaved tendrils when the tide 
 Of vernal sap rose high and overflowed 
 In spray of whitest bloom ; the vintage ours 
 As sunset splendor loiters on wan leaves 
 Beneath whose shade in latest Autumn time 
 Our century grown old sits with her past, 
 Bereft of Browning and of Tennyson, 
 Sipping rare nectar from her hundred years. 
 74 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 An hundred years of Keats! — is this thy K'^t ? 
 Nay, bard and priest at Beauty's shrine, 'tis more 
 Than one song-loving century may bear 
 Away. At this glad instant, when there break 
 Upon thy singing countless unnamed dawns, 
 Each hour of long millenniums crowds near 
 To beg of thee anointment and this boon — 
 That, in her songful hours, may reign that mood 
 In which thou sawest mysteries unclasped 
 To thee whose spirit yearned for Beauty's lore. 
 
 The poets come — new minstrels whose song-threads 
 Must fail to weave themselves in rhythmic dreams, 
 Till bards may know that Truth is Beauty's self 
 Disguised and taciturn, that men may love 
 Her sovereignty alone. Then shalt thou reign, 
 And once again shalt be the voice elect 
 Of that celestial spirit Beauty hath ; 
 And, in high noons of thought, thou who art called 
 The Mage of Beauty shalt be known as Sage 
 Of Truth, and all most affluent melodies 
 
 75 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Will sink to rise within tliat harmony 
 Where Truth and Beauty evermore are one 
 According strict within thy lucent rhyme. 
 
 Not thine the shield of Middle-Age Romance 
 Agleam upon thy father Spenser's breast ; 
 Nor thine the organ-pipes whose wave-like strains 
 Swept down from heaven and triumphed over hell 
 When Milton's soul, in Cromwell's time, was song. 
 Still less thine eyes found paths o'er fiery marl 
 O'erpaced by that imperial Florentine 
 Whose feet with Beatrice's found God's throne. 
 Not thine was Goethe s world-wide, human glance 
 That lit the secret mazes in man's brain ; 
 Nor thine an Argive Helen's tale to tell 
 Accordant with a race's dream or doom. 
 These are of song's true masters ; only less 
 Are they than Shakespeare — universal bard. 
 Yet, midst their winnowed chords, thy note sounds clear; 
 And as o'er leagues of time their accents float, 
 Each singer surer of the ampler theme. 
 Thy honeyed reed outpours its amber tones 
 76 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 In sweet, delicious lyric o'er lush vales. 
 
 What time on mountain-summits these aspire, 
 
 Thou fillest old Earth's self with melody — 
 
 Old Earth our home, old Earth that is our grave. 
 
 Thou wingest even o'er her pain and strife 
 
 And makest sanctuary of her groves. 
 
 O'er her scarred bosom zephyrs breathest thou, 
 
 And from her woe there lifts the incense-cloud. 
 
 Let others tread the sphery provinces — 
 
 Thy spirit heareth here, 'midst dewy grass. 
 
 Such unwrit canticles as on white peaks 
 
 Grow mute midst loftiness and faint for breath. 
 
 Thou livest here. 'Tis well, when silence reigns 
 
 On starlit solitudes where genius lived, 
 
 That thou o'er earth's wide glades shouldst carol still 
 
 Of Beauty's new and immemorial birth. 
 
 In twilight hours, when other throats are dumb, 
 
 Breaks forth the song-stream of thy nightingale. 
 
 Thy brother Shelley's is the skylark's blithe 
 And soaring note ; the nightingale's is thine ; 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Whose plaintive rapture hides in mantling hours. 
 
 His were the stainless lips of gladsome morn 
 
 That, tremulous with prophecy of noon, 
 
 Grew vocal, and the radiant day was song. 
 
 Thy note, more dulcet, found half-chorded eve 
 
 Awaiting thee, and where, o'er Hampstead lawns, 
 
 The musing twilight weaves a tapestry 
 
 From noon and midnight, in thine age-long spring, 
 
 Thy spell divine the theme of Beauty wrought. 
 
 His was the cloud-wraith fringed with shining threads 
 
 His hand alone might snatch from skies inane ; 
 
 His were exultant winds of melody 
 
 On lightsome lyre-strings hung in murky pines ; 
 
 And man found skyey ways to tread with him 
 
 Above the many-languaged boughs that moaned 
 
 While Asia's ardor crimsoned snowy hills. 
 
 Thine was the lay of autumn, though thy spring 
 Scarce greeted May with perfect kiss of rose — 
 Autumn, whose heart with summer's throb of fire 
 In wiser mood goes hasting toward a seed — 
 78 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 The pensive hour of swift transmigrant time 
 Enflowered and golden-leaved, fruitage of June 
 Made riper in reluctant love with frost — 
 The hour when life with birth is satisfied. 
 
 So, through thy consonant and o'er-ripe lines, 
 
 Mysterious winds besiege the tufted flowers 
 
 And bear them where, white-sepulchred in snows, 
 
 Blossom and verdure have blest burial. 
 
 His was the glory of Parnassus' mount ; 
 
 Thine were the Hybla-haunts of hoarding bees ; 
 
 His was the spear aflash with earthly dawn. 
 
 And thine the graven shield of primal noon. 
 
 Thy youth found altars where Greek marbles gleamed. 
 
 And, 'midst incessant London -fog and roar, 
 
 The secret of their fashioning was given 
 
 To eyes that Athens mastered with her calm. 
 
 I see thee standing near the splendid theft 
 
 Torn from the Parthenon and held for thee — 
 
 Thou son of want whose speech was minted gold. 
 
 79 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 O, what an hour was this for Art's emprise, 
 
 When visions amorous of perfect form 
 
 Married Hellenic beauty to thy strain ! 
 
 Thou hadst no knowledge of what sorrow comes 
 
 To days whose lights emotionless transform 
 
 Themselves to chambered systems hard as gems ; 
 
 And men miscall them seeds when vernal skies, 
 
 Close-bending, ask for gifts to upturned loam 
 
 Of thought. Our haughty pride goes forth to sow. 
 
 We plant the furrowed soil with jewels dead 
 
 And irresponsive unto rain of tears 
 
 Or springtide sun. O, for one pagan more 
 
 So innocent as thou of questioning. 
 
 On whose white forehead, as on thine, are carved 
 
 No telltale wrinkles where life's cheer is lost — 
 
 One Grecian youth with joy's elastic tread 
 
 "Whose offering is living seed of song. 
 
 Thine was the old idyllic trust in things 
 That smiled with Ceres when at length she fared 
 To Attica, and if thy joy was less, 
 80 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 It only sighed in more delicious rhythm 
 When Ceres sat her down on that bare rock 
 Still called The Stone of Sorrow, or what time 
 Persephone, flower-laden from ripe fields, 
 O'erfilled a poet's measure from her store. 
 
 We visit Greece to hear a sage despair, 
 
 Or see a Socrates drain poison-cups — 
 
 For simple joy is alien to our world. 
 
 Thou saw'st Demeter's autumn-feast outspread. 
 
 And o'er fresh boughs and deep-strewn tamarisk. 
 
 Thou heardest ripples from the sacred streams 
 
 Up-flowing where shy nymphs concealed in caves. 
 
 Without our science, in its first grey hour. 
 Thine was the eye whose glance, like quickening Spring, 
 Opened the darksome mystery of March, 
 And led forth Nature's secret virginal. 
 Thou didst not pause to learn how far from slime. 
 Or yet how near to Plato, in Life's scale, 
 Was that blue blossom Cyther^a loved : 
 8i 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Enough to thee that it was beautiful. 
 Let others spurn thy musky winding paths 
 And note how dreaming apes had hiding-place 
 And rioted within the moss and sponge, 
 Or some eye keener on the scent of him 
 Track Shakespeare's genius through long-buried realms 
 Of stone, or Chaucer's numbers 'midst the ooze. 
 Thine was the wistful eye to fathom glooms 
 Of night, and in thy song, to woo black buds 
 To ope their hearts. Dark questions came apace, 
 And man, with aching brow, went forth for Truth. 
 Still rose above the strenuous years thy hymn 
 To Beauty, glad with praise that Beauty is 
 And hath her own pure voicing. Even yet 
 That music bides o'er inharmonious times 
 From out whose night, with birth-notes in bright mom, 
 Fair-featured days uprise whose psalmists lead 
 The wedded twain of Truth and Beauty on. 
 Our larger-brained and heart-exploring bard 
 Who asked of earth : " IVhat porridge had John 
 Keats f' 
 
 82 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 — Browning, the sage and soul-discoverer 
 
 For us who lost our souls within man's soul — 
 
 He feared not music might forsake man's brain 
 
 While he could hear thy chord-compelling rhythm. 
 
 Or see thy liquid light in unvexed streams 
 
 Flow softly on his tortuous ways. His song, 
 
 Oft stumbling o'er a rough-edged heap of gold. 
 
 Confessed thy melody and caught again 
 
 A mounting cadence from thy fervent lips. 
 
 And he whose faultless lyre made flawless song 
 
 Seem easy speech to lips in troublous days — 
 
 He whose strings felt in Wordsworth's wonder-psalm 
 
 The tones that moved his lyre to utterance — 
 
 He blent thy perfect music with his verse. 
 
 Thy golden pollen borne on charmed winds 
 
 Dropped warm within white petals from Grasmere, 
 
 And Tennyson's full blossom oped one morn 
 
 Of modern poesy the flower supreme. 
 
 Dappling thy pools 'midst lilied nooks of song, 
 What purity of light ! No stained morn 
 
 83 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Was thine, tossing licentious curtains back 
 
 Till sultry noon lays bare love's wasted heart. 
 
 Thine was the light whose raptures rise to noon 
 
 On Latmos' mount where young Endymion slept. 
 
 The wind that brought white blossoms in her mouth 
 
 Roved to thy lips and kissed thee unafraid, 
 
 And, when she roared about thee, thou didst say: 
 
 "She is my wife; my children are bright stars, 
 
 Beauty my king, and epic shapes his guards." 
 
 So pure thy spirit, thou didst vanish forth 
 
 In that voluptuousness of rhythmic air 
 
 To whose song-murmuring heart thine own was wed. 
 
 Thine was at once the fact and fantasy 
 
 Of loveliness. Pure beauty dared to live 
 
 And walk forthright, her vestal bosom bare, 
 
 With heart unwon since blithe Aegean days 
 
 Gave to her Bion and Theocritus. 
 
 Renascent Spenser's glorious Attic son, 
 
 The Phidian chisel calmed thy youthful hand. 
 
 Flowers blew upon thy path, and there attained 
 
 84 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A sculpturesque and lucent marble grace. 
 
 Love's lips, that for an hundred years have drunk 
 
 Their fragrant secret, are not wiser now 
 
 Than then ; still seems this bloom alive and fresh, 
 
 As though they were not Beauty's chiseled forms. 
 
 Thou wast no craftsman, skilled to place thy phrase 
 
 'Gainst polished phrase, in crystal-circlets massed; 
 
 Thy passion breathed not choice mosaic-rhymes — 
 
 Thy tuneful heart its swift revealment made 
 
 Of that deep elemental rune which sings 
 
 Its way from artist's heart, through all he sees, 
 
 To art itself — the consummate response. 
 
 Thy craft was sculpture-song that, Orpheus-like, 
 
 Transformed immobile things worked on by thee 
 
 To wax whose texture stirred with hum of bees 
 
 O'er-burdened still with wafts of clover-bloom. 
 
 And so instinct with Beauty's latent theme. 
 
 That when once touched by thy melodious hand, 
 
 Itself became immortal for thy praise. 
 
 85 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 WAKING DREAMS. 
 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. 
 
 Like red and satin poppy-leaves, 
 Lie soft the dreams of Paradise. 
 
 They linger when my spirit grieves; 
 They quench the fever in my brain 
 And kiss my hopes to life again — 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. 
 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes, 
 Like star-beams melting into peace. 
 Drift on the visions out of skies 
 
 Wherein eternal years increase. 
 I slip the sovereignty of earth. 
 And feel the light of second birth — 
 Between my eyelids and mine eyes. 
 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes, 
 With Love's bright mystery and grace, 
 86 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 My precious friends without disguise. 
 
 With benedictions on each face, 
 Walk slowly 'midst the tress and flowers, 
 Or sleep within the garden-bowers — 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. 
 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes, 
 A wandering spirit, through my sleep. 
 
 Comes singing where the daylight dies ; 
 And tuneful founts of tears aleap 
 
 Begem the path her footsteps trod. 
 
 In hers my dim-eyed soul saw God — 
 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. 
 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes, 
 
 I live and conquer, see and know. 
 O let my spirit in this wise 
 
 Along the trackless confines go! 
 No other universe is sweet 
 As this — forever bright, complete — 
 Between mine eyelids and mine eyes. 
 
 87 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 CARE AND CARELESSNESS. 
 
 I CAFE not that the storm sways all the trees 
 And floods the plain and blinds my trusting sight ; 
 
 I only care that o'er the land and seas 
 Comes sometime Love's perpetual peace and light. 
 
 I care not if the thunder-cloud be black, 
 Till that last instant when my work is done; 
 
 I only care that o'er the gloomy rack 
 Flames forth the promise of a constant sun. 
 
 I care not that sharp thorns grow thick below 
 And wound my hands and scar my anxious feet ; 
 
 I only care to know God's roses grow, 
 And I may somewhere find their odor sweet. 
 
 88 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 I care not if they be not white, but red — 
 Red as the blood-drops from a wounded heart ; 
 
 I only care to ease my aching head 
 With faith that somewhere God hath done His part. 
 
 I care not that the furnace-fire of pain 
 Laps round and round my life and burns alway ; 
 
 I only care to know that not in vain 
 The fierce heats touch me throughout night and day. 
 
 I care not that the mass of molten ore 
 Trembles and bubbles at the chilly mold ; 
 
 I only care that daily, more and more. 
 There comes to be a precious thing of gold. 
 
 I care not if, in years of such despair, 
 I reach in vain and seize no purpose vast ; 
 
 I only care that I sometime, somewhere. 
 May find a meaning shining at the last. 
 
 89 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 I care not if, a child in Life's high tower, 
 
 I grasp in vain at many ropes above; 
 I pray to catch one dangling cord — for power 
 ' To ring one note of God's unfailing love. 
 
 90 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 AT SANTA BARBARA. 
 
 The long green leagues of open sea 
 Roll shoreward as on yesterday; 
 
 The old lights shine on wave and lea ; 
 I hear the self same ocean-lay. 
 
 God! art not weary of Thy voice 
 Set to such monochord of tides ? 
 
 Soul ! God doth challenge thee ! Rejoice ! 
 Thou hast infinity besides. 
 
 With every mounting wave that bears 
 
 White bloom of wide sea-meadows near, 
 
 I lose my dull brown shore of cares 
 
 That binds my thought and spirit here. 
 
 91 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Gathered from out the ocean-noon 
 
 That shines afar on stormless deep, 
 
 Made whiter by a silver moon 
 
 That plucked them in their budding sleep, 
 
 The pure, translucent blossoms come — 
 A wealth of splendor on the wave ; 
 
 They bloom above my fears — and some 
 Hide my unworthy triumph's grave. 
 
 And all around sounds strange and free 
 God's deepest music heard in time — 
 
 The choral of eternity. 
 
 In steady, psalm-like, prayerful chime. 
 
 This His divinest gift to me. 
 
 To break my old horizon-line, 
 And challenge with Infinity 
 
 Whate'er in me is yet divine. 
 
 92 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A WORD FOR FAITH. 
 
 The long-borne fagots 'neath my hard cold will 
 Lie piled in order — yet are wet with rain. 
 
 I looked to Thee, and prayed — am praying still. 
 Flame of God's love, wilt thou thy fire restrain ? 
 
 Ah, Sun of Righteousness, art fled away ? 
 
 Are moon and starlight come to tell Thy doom ? 
 Shall these transform, and, like a Milky Way, 
 
 Lie like a dream across the vacant gloom ? 
 
 Still I believe my fagot-thoughts are shine — 
 Shine of the sun, packed close in warp and woof I 
 
 While I am man, this memory divine 
 
 Lives in my doubt and of the sun is proof. 
 
 93 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Sun, thou art hid elsewhere, in iron and flint. 
 When thou hast vanished and the day is done. 
 
 Strike I the darknesses; and lo, a glint; 
 O kindling fire ! O relic of the sun ! 
 
 So, fired at last by love — old love so new. 
 My work shall be the one acknowledgment: — 
 
 O God, I find Thee, doubt and darkness through ; 
 Earth knows no instant of Thy banishment. 
 
 94 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 SEA FOAM. 
 
 Are they bloom of white on flowering waves 
 
 For marriage of land and sea, 
 Or white-lipped hate that the shore enslaves 
 
 And fetters what would be free ? 
 
 Is the green that purples afar away 
 
 The change of a love grown deep, 
 Or the charm of Love's declining day. 
 
 When a love-dream fades in sleep ? 
 
 Are the white- winged birds that fly through the dawn 
 
 Great hopes loving sea and sky. 
 Or the ghosts of hope from a world withdrawn, 
 
 Not knowing whither to fly ? 
 
 O, my wondering soul, thyself art here 
 
 In song and sob of the sea ; 
 The ocean I see through smile or tear 
 
 Is my portraiture of thee. 
 
 95 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 CHRISTMAS, 1895. 
 
 The bleak winds hush their wintry cry 
 And murmur softly with the sigh 
 Of Mary in the lowly place 
 Where shines the Baby's holy face. 
 Yet everywhere men ask this mom : 
 'O, where is our Redeemer born?" 
 
 The winds of time are still this night; 
 
 One Star is guiding calm and bright. 
 
 My soul, hush thou and follow on 
 
 Through day to night, through night to dawnl 
 
 Where childhood needs thy love, this morn, 
 
 Lo, there is thy Redeemer born ! 
 
 96 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 So, Jesus, with their carolled praise, 
 Thou comest in our day of days. 
 These bring Thee to our earth again ; 
 We hear once more the angels' strain. 
 Blest be the children on this morn ; 
 Behold our dear Redeemer born ! 
 
 97 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A SONG OF WIND AND RAIN. 
 
 Wind and rain, 
 
 Away o'er the main, 
 Banqueting loudly with foam-lipped death, 
 And kissing swiftly with lightning breath, 
 Singing amid the straining shrouds. 
 Playing with life 'neath lowering clouds ; 
 On from the Southland laden with bloom ; 
 On where the summertime finds a tomb ! 
 For wind and the rain hold converse together; 
 And wet sails gleam in the freezing weather. 
 
 Wind and rain 
 
 Away o'er the plain 
 Reveling gaily with rapturous life, 
 And bearing along in your wild, swift strife 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Harvests unreaped in the seeds you fling, 
 
 Autumns of bloom in the breath of Spring, 
 
 On, through the shine of an April sun; 
 
 On, till the winnowing work is done ; 
 
 For wind and the rain hold converse together. 
 
 And whisper their loves in the stormy weather. 
 
 99 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A BOAT SONG. 
 
 Sing as we float along ; 
 
 Sing as the tide grows strong ; 
 And far to the wide, wide, billowy realm, 
 Borne swift and sure are ship and helm. 
 We are children freed in infinity, 
 When we sing and sail far out to sea, 
 
 Till the day is done. 
 
 And the red, round sun 
 Sleeps with eve in the rosy seas. 
 
 Sing as we come ashore ; 
 
 Sing when the swallows soar ; 
 And close to the fisherman's hut we glide 
 Borne swift and sure on the flooding tide. 
 
 100 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 We are weak and helpless, but nearing home, 
 Let us gather flowers from the land and foam, 
 
 Till the day is done, 
 
 And the red, round sun 
 Sleeps with eve in the rosy seas. 
 
 101 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 BISMARCK. 
 
 Frederick's battalions, on whose side was God, 
 Charlemagne's vast vision fadeless in the sky, 
 Luther's bold protest, asking Fate to try 
 
 Stein's dream of order for the realms untrod, 
 
 In one supreme full sunburst o'er that sod — 
 I see all these leave blood, and then ally 
 The steel with truth, to speak through one calm eye 
 
 Their mission in the statesman's empire-rod. 
 
 "We fear no one," he said, "but God." Such fear 
 Impels the German heart to sovereign cares 
 And makes him servant unto God alone. 
 "I must!" he cries. " I will — let me not hear!" 
 And so while that one calculates nor dares, 
 Bismarck beholds and constitutes a throne. 
 
 102 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 SKY AND SEA. 
 
 The Harvest Moon from tinted skies 
 The sundown left aglowing 
 
 Within the ocean purple lies 
 Where silent tides are flowing 
 
 Afar on heights the dreamlike clouds 
 
 Attend her in her shining. 
 The sailor here against the shrouds 
 
 Beholds them while reclining. 
 
 The sky is but an upturned sea, 
 The moon a ship of wonder — 
 
 Fair sign of that eternity 
 That charms our souls up yonder. 
 
 103 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 So seems the sea an upturned sky 
 
 All fathomless, yet nearer 
 Than moonlit leagues where clouds float by- 
 
 The upper sea's bright mirror. 
 
 Between the sea and sky I stand, 
 
 The Infinite around me ; 
 Round both is God ; and there's the land. 
 
 Let not my dreams confound me. 
 
 At Sea, September gth, j8qj. 
 
 104 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE NAME OF GOD. 
 
 I. 
 
 Along the wasting mere of Time I passed, 
 
 Half-blind with introverted, doubtful eyes 
 
 That sudden searched majestic routes of stars. 
 
 My sight was strained — one instant's space 
 
 A microscope with o'erlarge glass ; the next 
 
 A telescope too small of lens. Methought 
 
 To read that Name above all names men speak. 
 
 I called that Power enthroned o'er Time and space 
 
 On whose strange earth mine eyes were fading — FATE. 
 
 Till then my soul, self-pitying, had no woes. 
 But loved her fancied martyrdoms and sighed. 
 
 105 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 One night came sorrow, unannounced and calm, 
 And struck within mine heart a place of tears 
 That welled up in mine eyes and bathed my sight. 
 Long days I looked not out or in, but kept 
 My doubtful vision in their soothing flood. 
 
 II. 
 
 Then Life spake: "Go, and look well to thy path." 
 
 I looked and I beheld not anything 
 
 So blessed in my way, as this : I saw ; 
 
 And hasting on to duty in that dawn, 
 
 I read there first for me the name of God. 
 
 I had but known four letters of His name, 
 F-A-T-E — of these the last misplaced. 
 Till in that hour's white light I found the whole 
 Of God, with sight made true by purging tears. 
 FATE throbbed with heart and swelled with holy love, 
 Till FATHER spelled Himself upon my speech. 
 
 io6 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 INSOMNIA. 
 
 So SLOWLY comes the morning o'er the world, 
 It seemeth somewhere in the spirit's dark, 
 Where, ghostlike, flap black wings of night-born doubl- 
 ings — hark ! — 
 Day's banner loosened once falls closely furled ; 
 So slowly comes the morning o'er the world. 
 
 So slowly comes the morning o'er the world. 
 
 It seemeth somewhere in a dreamlit land, 
 
 The stream of Time were lost amid oblivious sand; 
 
 And where the ancient silver current swirled 
 
 Full slowly comes the morning o'er the world. 
 
 So slowly comes the morning o'er the world. 
 Till now a white hand reaching through the grey 
 Sets free my curtained soul ; and jocund dawn of day 
 Smooths with bright-jeweled feet the waves upcurled ; 
 And swiftly comes the morning o'er the world. 
 107 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 LOVE AND IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Alone Love wandered through the dew and flowers 
 Along a mossy bank where Lethe flowed; 
 
 And crocus-meads, 'neath trembling myrtle-bowers, 
 Lay golden where the wan day's brightness glowed; 
 And Love was fair 
 
 With pink-white feet and wavelike yellow hair. 
 
 Love sat him weaving coronals of green 
 Enflowered with myrtle, sapphire-cups of bloom ; 
 
 And beads of gold enwrought their velvet sheen 
 Where Love himself had found his unveiled tomb ; 
 And Love sang sweet 
 
 The while the myrtle blossoms hid his feet. 
 
 1 08 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 "I weave," he said, "these clinging tendrils fast 
 To crown my brow when Death leads on his fears. 
 
 These seeds I planted blossom from my past; 
 This mossy bank I watered with my tears." 
 And Love was sad 
 
 The while the singing birds of May seemed glad. 
 
 "Kisses and sighs are these. My chaplet-crown 
 Lives blossoming and beautiful for aye. 
 
 I leave my name in buds. Soft floating down 
 The stream, Love's name will bloom alway." 
 And Love looked far 
 
 Beyond the light of mom or evening star. 
 
 What time Love dreamed. Death slipped within the 
 bower. 
 Waved once his sceptre o'er the crocus-mead, 
 Grasped sudden, missed Love's crown of green and 
 flower. 
 Then lordly Love uprose, and, giving heed, 
 His hand agleam, 
 The crown threw swift across the slumbrous stream. 
 109 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 "Now to thy task, O Death," Love smiling said, 
 
 "O river of forgetfulness, flow fast!" 
 A dream of life hung o'er Love's golden head. 
 
 He cried: "O Death, thou canst not kill the past!' 
 But Love had died. 
 What time his crown bloomed on the other side. 
 
 That hour upon that other bank there reigned 
 
 A sceptered angel — Immortality, 
 By all his unforgotten yearning trained — 
 
 Love's other self, or form, flower-crowned and free, 
 And thus alone 
 Love, fleeter-footed, went to find his own. 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A BALLAD OF SPAIN. 
 
 I HEARD the clash of steel on steel ; 
 I saw the glittering chariot wheel 
 Roll 'midst a cloud of dusty gold. 
 'Twas on a day in times of old; 
 
 In Castilla — 
 
 Blest Castilla! 
 
 I knew his face, dark-skinned and fine, 
 A rajah's boast of peerless line. 
 From out of Islam, flaming came 
 This Orient torch, to light the shame 
 
 Of Castilla — 
 
 Fair Castilla! 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A fleeter steed than mine he rode, 
 Pricked to his speed with shining goad. 
 But then my loved one, passing by, 
 Had caught the prince's evil eye. 
 
 In Castilla — 
 
 Sweet Castilla! 
 
 Steel flashed at mine, and tears fell fast ; 
 What time the Moslem warrior passed. 
 "Come, come with me, his slave!" she cried; 
 And I rode silent at his side 
 
 From Castilla — 
 
 Loved Castilla ! 
 
 And now I see her long, bright arms 
 Bedecked with Orient jewel-charms. 
 I teach her ankle-bells their chime, 
 And love her in this far-off clime — 
 
 From Castilla — 
 
 Dear Castilla! 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 This day the vina-strings will sound 
 In vain; the prince will search around — 
 And through his tears the deep-blue haze 
 Will glimmer, when his eyes shall gaze 
 
 Toward Castilla — 
 
 Her Castilla! 
 
 And now two milk-white steeds await 
 The lifting of the palace-gate. 
 'Tis done! Die, prince! Without reply, 
 We speed beneath the starlit sky 
 
 Toward Castilla — 
 
 Our Castilla! 
 
 "3 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE PERPETUAL WOOING. 
 
 The dull world clamors at my feet 
 And asks my hand and helping, sweet; 
 And wonders when the time shall be 
 I'll leave off dreaming dreams of thee. 
 It blames me coining soul and time 
 And sending minted bits of rhyme — 
 A-wooing of thee still. 
 
 Shall I make answer .-* This it is : 
 I camp beneath thy galaxies 
 Of starry thoughts and shining deeds; 
 And, seeing new ones, I must needs 
 Arouse my speech to tell thee, dear. 
 Though thou art dearer, I am near — 
 A-wooing of thee still. 
 114 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 I feel thy heart-beat next mine own ; 
 Its music hath a richer tone. 
 I rediscover in thine eyes 
 A balmier, dewier paradise. 
 I'm sure thou art a rarer girl — 
 And so I seek thee, finest pearl — 
 A-wooing of thee still. 
 
 With blood of roses on thy lips — 
 Canst doubt my trembling? — something slips 
 Between thy loveliness and me 
 So commonplace, so fond of thee. 
 Ah, sweet, a kiss is waiting where 
 That last one stopped thy lover's prayer — 
 A-wooing of thee still. 
 
 When new light falls upon thy face. 
 My gladdened soul discerns some trace 
 Of God, or angel, never seen 
 In other days of shade and sheen. 
 
 115 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Ne'er may such rapture die, or less 
 Than joy like this my heart confess — 
 A-wooing of thee still. 
 
 Go, thou, O soul of beauty, go. 
 Fleet-footed toward the heavens aglow. 
 Mayhap, in following, thou shalt see 
 Me worthier of thy love and thee. 
 Thou wouldst not have me satisfied 
 Until thou lov'st me — none beside — 
 A-wooing of thee still. 
 
 This was a song of years ago — 
 Of Spring. Now drifting flowers of snow 
 Bloom on the window-sills, as white 
 As greybeard looking through Love's light 
 And holding blue-veined hands, the while 
 He finds her last the sweetest smile — 
 A-wooing of her still. 
 
 ii6 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 BETWEEN SUMMER AND WINTER. 
 
 I. 
 
 Red Autumn kindles on the vine ; 
 The o'erripe grapes are swoll'n with wine; 
 September wails across the bay. 
 And, when the summer-scented day 
 Runs swiftly toward the sunlit South, 
 I see the red upon her mouth. 
 The berries linger on her lips 
 And crimson on her finger-tips. 
 Ah, fare thee well ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Come, kissing meadows with thy frost. 
 The firelight is thy Pentecost. 
 The Summer leaves the table spread ; 
 Come, Winter cold, snow-filleted, 
 117 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 And banquet on the branch and vine. 
 White priestess, pour the fruity wine. 
 The future feeds forever more 
 Upon the Past's immortal store ; 
 So, fare thee well ! 
 
 Il8 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 WHEN THE POET COMES. 
 
 The ferny places gleam at morn ; 
 The dew drips off the leaves of corn ; 
 Along the brook a mist of white 
 Fades as a kiss on lips of light. 
 For, lo! the poet with his pipe 
 Finds all these melodies are ripe. 
 
 Far up within descanting June, 
 Floats silver-winged a living tune ; 
 Winding within the morning's chime 
 That sets the earth and sky to rhyme ; 
 For, lo! the poet, absent long, 
 Breathes the first raptures of his song. 
 
 119 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Across the clover-blossoms wet, 
 With dainty clumps of violet 
 And wild red roses in her hair. 
 There comes a little maiden fair. 
 He can not more of June rehearse; 
 She is the ending of his verse. 
 
 He waits, and, through perpetual days 
 Of summer-gold and filmy haze — 
 When Autumn dies in Winter's sleet, 
 He watches still those dew-washed feet; 
 And o'er the tracts of Life and Time 
 They make the cadence for his rhyme. 
 
 120 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 THE COMING PARADISE. 
 
 I SAW her 'mid the long green stalks 
 
 Of silky corn in summertime. 
 I saw her 'midst red hollyhocks, 
 
 And watched the sunlit pantomime. 
 For lovelier brown was in her hair, 
 
 And silkier brown fell o'er her eyes ; 
 And fairer than her garden fair, 
 
 I saw a coming paradise. 
 
 I breathed with her the heavy musk 
 
 Afloat upon the eventide, 
 And ran behind her in the dusk 
 
 And dreamed I walked close by her side. 
 
 121 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Somehow the perfume stole my breath ; 
 
 Somehow the moonbeams quenched my sighs 
 For there I kissed the lips of Death — 
 
 Yet lived with her in paradise. 
 
 Next morn I found her where lush grass 
 
 Lived specked with lilies white and large. 
 Ah, solemn clouds that pause and pass 
 
 Afar from sea-green marge to marge, 
 Beneath your path I strain to see 
 
 That one sweet face of all most wise. 
 Across a dark infinity 
 
 Glows evermore that paradise. 
 
 At night the glow-worm held his lamp 
 
 Against her forehead pure and white ; 
 And down the green sward cool and damp 
 
 She wandered, minstrel of the night. 
 I hear her often, when I tread 
 
 The soft turf where they say she lies. 
 They count her name among the dead ; 
 
 Then flames my surer paradise. 
 
 122 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 If, in the realm of amethyst, 
 
 O'er plains where buds are blossoming, 
 Are clouds of gold or purple mist — 
 
 I'll find her, in some eve of Spring — 
 Her lilied limbs asleep amid 
 
 The glory where some angel flies 
 And stops, where softly she has hid 
 
 My childhood's dream of paradise. 
 
 So, near her grave are hollyhocks, 
 
 Red like her lips ; and there along 
 The brooklet grow the tasselled stalks, 
 
 And thither floats the robin's song. 
 That far-ofif perfume haunts the air; 
 
 Wan moonbeams overfill mine eyes ; 
 I dream, and fondle with her hair. 
 
 And live again in paradise. 
 
 123 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ARCADY. 
 
 Be kot hesitant with me, 
 
 For I go to Arcady. 
 
 Winter is stern monarch here, 
 
 And without the window there, 
 Scornful of the leafless year. 
 
 Breathes his frosts upon the air. 
 Now from all the hapless trees 
 Every frisky dryad flees. 
 Be not hesitant with me — 
 Let us go to Arcady! 
 
 Be not hesitant with me — 
 Come, and go to Arcady! 
 We have drunk the Summer's wine- 
 Every yellow drop is gone — 
 124 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Plucked the last grape from the vine. 
 
 Yonder woodlands hide the fawn, 
 Where, beneath the young moon's glance, 
 Lithesome dryads throng and dance. 
 Be not hesitant with me ! 
 To the woods of Arcady ! 
 
 125 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 ONE NIGHT AFTERWARD. 
 
 The earth tonight with Spring is sweet ; 
 And once-loved flowers blow near my feet, 
 Because with mine thy footsteps fleet 
 Still tread with me this maze of time. 
 
 Mine eyes, so used to see thine own, 
 Gaze upward toward the burning throne 
 Where thou art blessed ; here alone 
 I'm wending through this maze of time. 
 
 Mine ears were used to hear thee say 
 
 What visions came on yesterday ; 
 
 And here I wait thee, while I pray. 
 
 What hast thou found and known in heaven ? 
 
 126 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 How did the heavenly gate unbar? 
 Didst rest thy wings on what white star ? 
 Or art thou near me, or afar — 
 Since thou hast found and entered heaven ? 
 
 How fare the throned and happy dead ? 
 By what dear angel wast thou led ? 
 Hast thou my spirit's record read, 
 And lov'st thou me as I love thee ? 
 
 Thou knewest doubt — didst sow in pain. 
 Do I sow chaff or golden grain ? 
 O, once, as then, speak thou again ; 
 Thou lovedst once, as I love thee. 
 
 How didst thou thirst for living streams! — 
 And thou didst find their shadowed gleams 
 E'en. here. May I believe the beams 
 That fall and glimmer toward the sea ? 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Is perfect sunrise, as we thought, 
 From out of flickering twilights wrought ? 
 Didst find the noontide where we sought - 
 The full, pure glory o'er the sea ? 
 
 Are seeds that ache here blossom-crowned ? 
 Does every broken circle round ? 
 Is justice true ? Is lost faith found 
 Where thou hast been with God today ? 
 
 Strike some tense string that He may bless ! 
 Ask some strong angel to confess, 
 And let me hear the answer " Yes!" 
 From heaven where thou hast been all day. 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 TWO TRANSMIGRATIONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Four centuries before Rome's eagles flew 
 Above the blood-red crest of Calvary, 
 There hung above the seven white-crowned hills 
 The destined triumph barbarous Gauls had grasped 
 At Allia's encrimsoned stream, now bright 
 And flowing calm 'neath skies of sunset-fire. 
 The Tiber theirs; Porta Collina near; 
 *Twixt Palatine and Aventine they saw 
 The fleeing soldiers leave their city doomed 
 And hide themselves within the capitol. 
 Then undefended Rome went forth. The hills 
 Stood crowned with fading light of hope what time 
 The Flamen Quirinalis hid the jars 
 Within Boarium ; and white-lipped men 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 And women swayed the arched Sublician bridge. 
 Afar Janiculum lit up the gloom — 
 A torch of flame above a shadowed vale. 
 Pale, in that bright red hour of fear, swept on 
 Toward refuge vestal virgins in white robes 
 Soft-tinted in the dusky crimson glow. 
 When lo! Albinus hastened near, his steed 
 And cart o'er-burdened ; wife and children piled 
 With coarse plebeian wares above the wheels. 
 His hour — the hour that linked a mortal man 
 With gods enthroned and Rome, o'erpassing love 
 Of woman or sweet child — the hour of faith 
 Had come. 
 
 The Roman spake but once, with voice 
 Ne'er sweet to woman's heart, ne'er filled with love 
 Of child — the hour four hundred years too soon 
 For childhood's vision in Madonna's arms. 
 Or mother's rapture in the Virgin's face ; 
 And soon the axle bore instead, a freight 
 Of vestal virgins o'er the crowded road. 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Fairer than sunset — only sunset days 
 Within her heart— a grey-haired vestal stayed — 
 Vestalis Maxima — and thus she spoke: 
 "Nay! I will perish here — be slaughtered first 
 With these defenceless; spurn a safety torn 
 From helpless children and a mother doomed ! " 
 
 Finding a shelter for her new-made care, 
 
 She looked again toward undefended Rome, 
 
 Where, shut within the capitol, the hosts 
 
 Of Roman soldier-cowards hid their swords. 
 
 Swift as the flight of panic-stricken men 
 
 She met, the vestal virgin ran ; and late 
 
 The closing day beheld her sitting near 
 
 Her sire — Rome's relic of a century. 
 
 The grey-haired daughter clasped the white-haired man, 
 
 Blind and awaiting death. 
 
 "This last is mine 
 To do for Rome," he said. "I see not foes, 
 But hear them. O my vestal child! — and thou 
 To die beside me?" 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 " Nay — protecting thee, 
 My sire ! I'll call the wrath of deities 
 That never yet forsook the hills of Rome — 
 Gods, whom I met at altars, when, a girl, 
 Thou gavest me to holy tasks, will hear 
 My prayer. Hear now, ye gods immortal, hear!" 
 
 Serenely sat her sire — a senator 
 
 Stone-blind to all, save honor, in the hour 
 
 Of Roman shame. Like all his peers that night 
 
 The old man sat him in embroidered robes. 
 
 In death's auroral brightness, saying prayers 
 
 Of Fabius Pontifex. When morning came. 
 
 He mused within the colonnade, in sight 
 
 Of all; his only gem unfilched — this child — 
 
 Herself a grey-haired virgin waiting death. 
 
 His blue-veined hand held fast the sceptre white 
 
 Of ivory ; and in his heart was Rome. 
 
 "Ah, tremble not, my child," he whispered soft, 
 "Would I had more to give to Rome than age; 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A shout, or stroke ! Nay ! even these are passed ; 
 
 My life is now white-embered, wanting flame. 
 
 Would I might see thee once again ! For now 
 
 Thou art more beautiful in face and form, 
 
 As in thy soul, than when I gave thee up — 
 
 That fragrant bud of mine, pulsing to blow; 
 
 And thou wast called Amata, yea, beloved! 
 
 O, like that radiant gold upon thy head — 
 
 A votive gift hung 'midst the lotus-leaves — 
 
 That shining past seems near, yet quite cut off 
 
 From all the rank green present blossomless — 
 
 I may but wait to perish with my child. 
 
 Hush ! be they Gauls that shout ? Nay, vestal, nay ! 
 
 I saw thee once within the plostrum there ! 
 
 Thou didst ride forth, the lictor just ahead ; 
 
 And Roman consuls turned them, making room 
 
 For thee. Gods ! Now, all unattended here. 
 
 Thou waitest with a senator, thy sire — 
 
 A prisoner of Gauls — to die! O Rome! 
 
 A monarch's life was spared on one request 
 
 The vestals made ; and royal fierceness bowed 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 To them. Come closer, girl! nay, vestal, come! — 
 By chance, a guilty wretch once meeting thee 
 Had his reprieve. And yet a brutal Gaul ! — 
 Ah ! heardst that cry ? Their feet have crossed the spot 
 On which thou stood'st to sprinkle waters pure 
 As thou wast pure, when Rome upbuilt her fane 
 Of marble. Mars ! Ah ! Mars seems dead in Rome. 
 (Still must we hold to faith in gods supreme!) 
 Then thou didst guard the ever-burning flame 
 And Vesta's atrium made fairer still, 
 The while the loved Palladium was kept 
 By virgin eyes and Roman soldiery — 
 Hear, child ! They clatter on the street ! " 
 
 She saw, 
 And, statue-like, sat white-robed courting death. 
 A flame, bright prophecy of ruin, sprang up 
 Where erst the Via Sacra skirted close 
 The Atrium ; and then a hotter flame 
 Burned white within a Gallic face. One shout — 
 And at her father's side she rose, the while 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 A short sword, seized from death-chilled Roman hands. 
 
 Gleamed at her breast, then glittered suddenly 
 
 Above the senator, who silent sat 
 
 With all his peers — a long illustrious row 
 
 Of bearded statues on the marble steps. 
 
 The Gallic chief advanced. 
 
 " Nay ! Nay ! " she cried, 
 "Thou brutal wretch!" (for he had touched the beard 
 And raised his sword to strike) "Nay, Gaul! Strike 
 
 not! 
 Strike not, till thou hast killed his vestal-child ! " 
 
 Then, through his savage thirst for Roman blood. 
 There ran the soft sweet cadence of her speech, 
 The o'erheard voice of her who shone and stood 
 All beautiful. His heated soul, o'er-hung 
 With quivering atmospheres of Gallic hate. 
 Searched for a shadow in that blistering noon. 
 Within his bosom varying forces blent, 
 As, in some deep grey glen of bouldered rocks, 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 The birds trill raptures and the serpents twine. 
 
 "Woman!" he snarled — and held the azure edge 
 
 Above her head, then saw deep eyes and quailed. 
 
 New thoughts grew fast, to shrivel in his wrath, 
 
 Like young green branches in a forest fire 
 
 That ooze with life and burn with furious flame. 
 
 There for an instant glowed a sunlike thing 
 
 Above the hard barbaric conqueror's head ; 
 
 The ice-strong purpose clear and cold, shone fair 
 
 With streams of color quivering to its heart. 
 
 Then, hardening again, the light grew cold — 
 
 The blest ideal vanished evermore. 
 
 The man died out ; the brute struck once, then once 
 
 Again ; and Pulvius' thinner blood ran down 
 
 The steps. The ruddy streamlet trickled on 
 
 O'er mottled white, until it met the chilled 
 
 And sacred treasure of the virgin's heart. 
 
 Then flame was master, and the west wind swept 
 O'er Rome a desolation fiery-tongued 
 From Palatine to Aventine, the while 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 The Gallic chieftain trod across the blood — 
 A blinded monster trampling hapless bloom. 
 
 At Curia Hostilia, when flame 
 
 Had died beneath the white-crowned Aventine, 
 
 The senate met ; and Rome was eloquent. 
 
 One name breathed majesty and sweetness forth 
 
 One name was foulest of that Gallic horde — 
 
 The vestal virgin's and her slayer's name. 
 
 II. 
 Swift centuries had gone o'er Rome. A Name 
 From Nazareth had brightened through the night 
 That led to daybreak o'er a moonlit world. 
 And there Time sat within the ancient walls 
 A-weaving moonlight in with sunlight-threads - 
 Night's leavings, precious wastes of radiance - 
 With first and silky threads of morn the breath 
 Of God had blown across the weaver's loom. 
 
 The ancient vestal's task was yet undone 
 That hour she saw the cross triumphantly 
 ^37 
 
SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Outshine the whitest temple on the hills. 
 She smote her milkless breasts, nor knew how sure 
 Through motherhood of sacred rite, one God 
 Would place her features in the Christian nun. 
 Nor, dreaming only dread, when, having knelt 
 Before the goddess Vesta, quickly rose 
 The last fair vestal in her snow-white robe 
 To look on purple-shadowed Sabine hills. 
 Full confident no Christian's sight might find 
 Her sacred paths or relics of her tribe — 
 Thought she how soon the underworld of Rome 
 From columned silences of catacombs 
 Should tremble song-filled with a sisterhood 
 Like hers — fair virgins worshiping the Jew. 
 
 The morning came to Merida alone. 
 The crucifix shone starlike in the dark. 
 With solemn murmur all the kneeling men 
 Urged through their clouded faith— /^r lllerida 
 Was foredoomed to the lion — the voice of prayer. 
 A low sad rumor spread beneath their fear, 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 And doubt lest God's care-taking governance 
 Had failed. Then outbreathed Merida, the nun, 
 Her own mysterious music. "I shall live- — 
 And live forever!" Then the Christ seemed near. 
 
 On toward the amphitheatre she moved, 
 White-chapleted with flowers of purity ; 
 Firm footsteps awed the thirsty pagan eyes 
 That hung upon her loveliness and peace. 
 Eyes lit with rapture of divine surprise 
 Swept calmly o'er the hundred thousand there 
 That looked upon insensate men who dragged 
 Red corses o'er her path, completing death. 
 Pure sunlight fell upon the silvery sand 
 Brought from afar to hide the streaks of blood. 
 Her milk-white feet had made a turning-path, 
 Avoiding half-chilled pools of blood, or splash 
 Of brown dry gore uncovered in white sand. 
 
 One rush of old remembrance dizzied her 
 What time she saw Vestalis Maxima 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Beside the Roman empress seated calm. 
 'Twas such a thought, like memory, as that 
 Of yesterday — the day her baptism came. 
 When o'er her rippling gold and forehead white 
 The sprinkled waters fell, the virgin felt 
 An old life thrill her brain ; and pain with joy 
 Dwelt in her heart enthroned, contending there 
 For mastery of her. "O, once there touched 
 This head the waters of another faith," 
 She said. And now she mused and nobly turned 
 And listened for some far-off angel-strain 
 Afloat across Soracte clad in snow, 
 Shaking the myriad hillsides as it came. 
 Blending its harmony with cruel roar 
 Of beasts, overcoming them with Christian praise- 
 Mused in the intervals of hope. 
 
 " Lo, here ! 
 This is familiar ground ! My soul ! 'twas here 
 I saw — or dreamed I? — saw from yonder place 
 Where sits Vestalis Maxima — saw blood 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Encrimsoning the sand, heard shrieks of pain 
 
 And saw, or heard, '•Police Verso!'' See! — 
 
 My thumbs went down. The red-sailed galley then 
 
 Bloomed roselike, moving slow on Tiber's breast, 
 
 Yet brought a lion ; wives left couches built 
 
 Of ivory, to join the shout; and there, 
 
 Amidst it all, with royal, sodden leer. 
 
 Sat, olive-crowned, the Emperor! A dream?" 
 
 A long and vibrant roar filled all the space, 
 A green flame brightened in two yellow orbs. 
 The thunder shook the big brute's tawny flanks, 
 As out from damp and shadow, long denied 
 The freedom of his mountain-paths or flesh 
 Of tender kids, the famished lion came, 
 Awed by the sudden light of day and her 
 For whose sweet veins he thirsted. As he leaped, 
 He threw the sand behind him; men sat still — 
 For, midway in the air, he turned him swift 
 As bird or light itself. His outstretched paw 
 Pushed from his course the shining shape, but tore 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 To whitest sand beneath her trembling feet 
 
 The thin white tunic on the virgin's form. 
 
 He ploughed the sand, and now the brute looked round, 
 
 And moaned and panted while he gazed 
 
 Where most the bright and amorous sunshine glowed 
 
 Upon the sand unrobbed of whiteness yet, 
 
 Where stood the virgin unafraid and calm, 
 
 And trampled 'neath her snowy feet the pride 
 
 And cruelty of famished Roman faiths. 
 
 A thunderous roar again shook earth and heaven — 
 
 In vain the powerless monster crouched to spring. 
 
 And then the shouts and thunder died away. 
 
 The air was awestruck at the silence white 
 
 That stood and reigned by right of purity 
 
 Within that wide-walled silence vaulted o'er 
 
 With silence, domed and pitiful as heaven. 
 
 Around her glory unabashed and pure, 
 
 The shivering beast went slowly wandering. 
 
 His head hung low between his thick-thewed arms 
 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 That urged him close to her. His tail curled round 
 His leg, and crouching down, he licked her feet. 
 
 " I would not harm thee, helpless brute ; quail not. 
 
 Thou art a punished soul ; thy hell is flame 
 
 Of withering fierceness in thy cruel blood. 
 
 Thyself art leonine; yet thou art he 
 
 Whose stolen sword dripped crimson long ago 
 
 When I escaped the wounded body — pierced 
 
 So near the heart I lived in, I slipped out 
 
 The wound all bloodless, leaving thee to kick 
 
 The red corpse and my father's quivering flesh 
 
 Upon the stained marble in the street. 
 
 Look up from out the snarling brute, O soul ! 
 
 For thou wast once a Gallic chief in Rome. 
 
 I perish here in Rome ? Nay, death before 
 
 Failed thee — there, at the Forum's ancient steps. 
 
 Thou canst not harm me — thou, who art a beast!" 
 
 The while his hot breath warmed her marble feet, 
 He grovelled near, and mourned a lion's grief. 
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SONGS OF NIGHT AND DAY 
 
 Majestic agony inflamed the sunlike eyes, 
 That instant his uplifted gaze fell back 
 Within his sight from innocence so sure 
 And charged with lightning white as heaven. 
 No brute nor man dare look, and passion died. 
 
 Ah, hell is hell of fiercer heat for aye, 
 
 When next to heaven's calm, its hottest flames 
 
 Feed on themselves. 
 
 " Thou Gallic wretch ! " she cried, 
 "Thy hell is this — thou must, yet canst not gaze 
 On me. My heaven this — I see my God ! " 
 Still upward looking, lest she might lose all 
 In losing sight of God, the virgin fell 
 Upon the death-sick monster at her feet. 
 And passed from thence to other life beyond. 
 
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