i CANNOT LEAVE THE LIBRARY. § Shelf— i-i.-5-^-^-X-5- ¥. m^t COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. ^ I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. i 9-165 ^U^M^^dMurvct^, IN THE 'l|ahniu of % (Erag (A STORY OF THE NORTH) AND OTHER POEMS BY MabH favUr f itts m^ SMITH-BROOKS PRESS DENVER 1907 -<15 F BRAKY CONGRESS One VOL V rteceived I JUN 19 1907 eOPY A. Copyright. 1907 By MABEL PORTER PITTS All Rights Reserved ©n onp wi)a kmnua Itnm many amtba anil trars arc {^ih brnrallT tl|p uiork. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG A STORY OF THE NORTH AND OTHER POEMS CONTENTS. Page AWAKENING (THE) 20S "A DIGS" 134 AN EPISODE 13S AN OLD LETTER CASE 209 APOTHEGMS FOR THE IDLE 241 AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO 94 BARRIERS 250 BESIDE THE BIER 150 BURDEN (THE) 176 BENEDICTION (THE) 128 BLINDNESS 206 BRIDGE (THE) 123 BE KIND 110 BENEDICTION 285 CHILD OF NATURE (A) 253 COMPANIONS 211 CAROL (A) 189 CALL OF THE LORELEI (THE) 283 CARMEL 290 DON'T WORRY 193 DAY DREAM (A) 274 DREAMS 162 DREAMER (THE) 98 DESECRATION 229 ELUSIVE (THE) 267 EARTH'S LESSON 87 EARTH-CALL (THE) 90 EARTH-LOVE 273 FOR LOVE OF THE BURDEN 132 CONTENTS. Page FINIS 245 FALLACIES 260 FEALTY 287 GRANDEST THING (THE) 200 GOLDEN GATE (THE) '. 234 GALLEY SLAVE (THE) 249 GREATER VICTORY (THE) 92 GROPING 248 "GIVE! GIVE!" 170 GHOST CITY (THE) 281 HIS' ANSWER 233 HERE, AND THERE 262 HOPE 139 IN MEDITATION 105 IN RETROSPECTION 192 IF YOU HAD KNOWN 175 I THANK THEE 213 IN LOTUS LAND 153 INEVITABLE (THE) 226 IN MISSION DOLORES CHURCHYARD 236 IN THE SHADY PLACES 255 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG 1 JOHN BRADFORD'S PRAYER 178 LOVE'S ENEMY 169 LOVE'S VICTORY 188 LOVE'S LAMENT 120 LIFE 244 LOVE'S RECOMPENSE 185 LOVE'S S'PAN 149 LIFE'S MIRAGE 254 LOVERS" TR-irST (THE) 112 LOVE'S ABERRATION 247 CONTENTS. Page LOVE'S REIGN 218 LOVE-PLAINT (THE) 93 LIFE OF YESTERDAY (THE) 215 LEST WE GRO^y TOO CONTENT 258 LOVE'S FALLACIES ISO MAN'S LOVE 122 MEDICI'S NEW YEAR (THE) 119 MISER'S SONG (THE) 243 MY PLEA 181 MAN AND WOMAN OF IT (THE) 238 MAN'S HERITAGE 124 NEW YEAR BELL (THE) 217 NEGLECTED LUTE (THE) 288 ON THE LITTLE SANDY 173 ON LAUREL HILL 121 OF THE NANCY PRYNE 204 ON THE TAMALPAIS ST^OPE 231 PAST (THE) 157 PHANTOM (THE) 137 PICTURE (A) 182 PRAYER (THE) 202 PUNISHMENT (THE) 201 PESSIMIST (THE) 195 PASSING OF THE TIVOLI (THE) 129 PENALTY (THE) 118 POLE-SEEKERS (THE) 220 PARADOX (A) 167 "POETIC CHOIR" (THE) 257 POPPY (THE) 146 QUATRAINS 276 RETROSPECTUS 1G3 ROSE (THE) 144 CONTENTS. Page RECOMPENSE 166 ROAD OP A GREAT DESIRE (THE) 184 ROSE OF MONTEREY (THE) 151 REGENERATION 261 SATIETY 106 SATAN'S TOAST 127 STAR (THE) 224 SIREN (THE) 141 SPANISH SERENADE (A) 168 SUICIDE (THE) 135 SPECTATOR (A) 265 TO MANUELA 214 TO MY PIPE 143 TO-DAY'S ROYALIST 196 TO JESSICA 154 TO TOMBSTONE II 160 THEN AS NOW SS TO THE OLD YEAR 251 TO ETHEL 227 TO MY BOOKS 186 TO YOU 286 TO MY MOTHER 279 UNCERTAINTY 259 VOICE OF SILENCE (THE) 125 VOYAGERS (THE) 191 VOICE OF NATURE (THE) 158 WANTON (THE) 99 WHICH DOES NOT MATTER TO YOU 155 WITH LOVE AT YOUR SIDE 269 WOMAN'S CONSTANCY (A) 101 WHEN LOVE BETRAYS 96 WOMAN'S DESTINY 270 CONTENTS. Page WHEN CHRIST IS RISEN 223 WHERE ALL IS VANITY 263 WILL YOU RECALL ME? 239 WHO PAYS? 164 WITH YOU TO SHOW THE WAY 292 WHAT KING? 145 WATER SPRITE (THE) 103 WHEN PASSES THE FLAME 172 WITH NATURE 219 WOMAN 198 YESTERDAY (A) 109 YOU WHO LOVE ME 272 ■ .!///(• oil mile /.v iiiiirhlif cur (lid urcr stretches hlcak and hare- Tlnis she /iiiils Ihe ixiimcrii that can cope against despair." IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. I. In a village in the Northland where the end- less wreaths of snow Smooth the ice-blocks' rugged edges choking' fast the Yukon's flow, W here the frost in form fantastic traces vines and flow'rs and lea\'es On the dwellings' low-browed windows half cnncealed beneath the eaves, Traces roses pale as ashes, roses cold and dead and gra}- As the 1)l()SSoms of a passion that the heart knew vesterdav. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Lived a woman blest with beauty fair as blush of summer's dawn, Eyes akin to English bluebells that the dew- drops tremble on, Hair as tawny as the rush-grass limp l^eneath the sun's embrace, And each changing, new emotion adding glory to her face. Here she lived, her hopes, ambitions all but turned to sounding brass By the mock'ry of chimeras darkly shading- fortune's glass In the days of earnest seeking, when the thing- desired but seemed, And with stubborn will to follow where the light of metal gleamed. Hope will live within the bosom while the light of life endures. Men will follow blind, and eager, where the isnis fatuus lures. IN TME SHADOW OF THE CRAG. And the suft"ring's of such marches, and the woes of such stampedes, And the pictures full with pathos where the soul of pity feeds, And heroic acts of mercy, not forgot though left untold, Pro\'e man's reason, only, bartered, that his heart is still unsold. There is that within our being", give it name the one who can. Shining God-like in man's pity and humanity to man. And the primal good, forgotten through the drift of human will, Stirs the soul, however crippled, to some memory of it still. Rumor comes on north wind blowing, vague, and wild, as rumor can, Of a storied El Dorado rich beyond the ken of man. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Like a fever comes the rumor, sweeping bare the Httle town, Lea\ing naught l3Ut empty caljins, cold, be- neath the winter's frown; Cal)ins looming dark and cheerless, with their windows blank and dead As the sightless eyes of mortals when the spark of life is fled; Doors, left half ajar, are filling with the drift of falling snow. Bleak as though by man deserted half a cen- tury as^o. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. II. Ah, the white-storm, velvet-footed, ah, the treacherous, the cold. Creeping, creeping to the bosom, there with taloned clutch to hold, Tricking with its soft embraces, kissing with its fateful breath, Loosing not its fascination till the heart lie hushed in death; Ah, the white-storm, ah, the cruel, settling close on brook and mound, Smoothing out the hollow places on the high, uneven ground, Masking hill and lake and river in its clinging cloak of white. And in sullen anger sweeping through the weirdness of the nip^ht ! IN THE SHADOW QF THE CRAG. On an upward pathway wending;, toiling pain- fully, and slow, Moving in uncertain fashion through the trackless waste of snow, Are a helpless man and woman, fighting hard for life and breath, All dismayed, for in the ice-wreaths they have seen the Silent Death ; They have seen his haggard features, they have watched his measured stride. And thev know that he is with them, walking silent at their side; If they falter, lo, they perish; if they pause, he claims his own. And they pray for help to heaven, for the world is turned to stone. Where is now the wish for riches, where the hope in earthly things, WHiere the music in the siren song the golden 2'uinea sino-s? IN THE SHADOW OF THK CRAG. Lo. ambition's ileeting- \-isi(^n mocks the slowly glazing" eye And the world is sodden ashes when a man is marked to die. O'er the leaden sky comes flashing" slender spires of ghostly lig"ht Showing" where the white-storm's forces seek a bivouac for the night, Showing ontj^osts wheel and vanish with their conquering banners furled As if touched with sudden i^ity for a tortured, ■ helpless world. Through the \'oid come sounds of weeping, incoherent words, and wild, And the father presses roughly to his heart his weeping child ; "O. my daughter, well-beloved! O, my daughter, mine bereft ! "Angels guard thee, for in chaos thou hast no protector left. IN THE SHADOW O'F THE CRAG. "Rest thy head upon my bosom, let me feel thy hand in mine — "Daughter, seest thou the splendor of a dis- tant citv shine? "Heard'st thou nt^t that sweet voice utter words which thrill my weary breast. " 'Come to me, thy work is ended, come to me, for I am rest' ? "Fare thee well, my dear beloved, o'er rough seas we long' have sailed, "I have tried to make safe harbor, I have tried, and I have failed. "Though the night of death divide us, lost the way that we have trod, "Still I know that 'dawn will find us some- where 'neath the smile of God.' " O, the Northland, callous hearted, vast and cold and bleak and Ijare, How may prayers reach out to heaven from such desert of despair? IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Comes the voice that slowl}- faihng Ijegs in accents faint and low, "Sing the song we lo\e, my danghter, sing it once before I go; "Sing-, 'twin lielp ni}' trem1)hng s^Mrit find the Light tliat marks the g\)al — " Then from out the dark comes floating, "Jesus, lover of mv soul," And the night-bird stops to listen — "Let me to Thy bosom fly," Breath of north wind, strangely tempered, sighs o'er him about to die, And tlie song t(^ frenzied cry turns when his struggling soul has passed. "Father, to Thy ha\'en guide him, O, receive him Thine, at last." And the night is spent and weary, and the daw'n is near at hand. And a soul has left the lesson it could never understand. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. But perhaps the tangled jjrohleni will one day be clearer shown When the man shall stand unhampered in the o'lorv of the throne. 10 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. III. Tliroug'h the hoar frost crimson pennons of the dawn begin to show And the crystal ice-spars gHsten with an iridescent eiow. In far distant lands, and kinder, when the day begins to dawn. Comes a chirrup from the tree tops and an answer from the lawn, From some neighlioring branch's shelter goes a flutter and a cry And the matin song of Nature sweeps the gold-empurpled sky. All is motion, all is gladness, happy in return- ing light. Not the dead, oppressive stillness of this gleaming waste of white, IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Not this silence, hushed and Hfeless as the shadowed face of Fate, Brooding ever on the secret locked within its ice-bound gate; Here, no hills that call to meadows where cool, babbling rivers run, Here, no joyous cry of greeting from the children of the sun. Yet the horizon, dull tinted, shows faint mo- tion in the east, Signs of life that make the wildness seem in loneliness increased. Clear, and clearer, shows the outline 'gainst the stretch of yellow sky And tlie startled air rolls pulsing underneath the hunter's cry. Tokohoma, lithe and supple. Tokohoma, strong and brave. Lord of all these sullen acres, lord of land, of air, of wave, 12 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Lord, l)y right of full possession, where no stranger forms intrude, lie, a chieftain, undisputed, reigns o'er realms of solitude. And he comes on fleet foot speeding over white, uncharted tracts. Storming, fearlessly, the ice-blocks in the frozen cataracts, Spurning drift on drift that, gleaming like great milestones bleak and cold, Mark the path of this new Hermes swift of foot as he of old. Now he pauses, stoops, and, seeming, ques- tions something that is dumb. Then darts back like winged arrow, back on way so lately come, And the startled white grouse Cjuestion the astonished face of dawn, "Where his course?" and, "What his mission?" Ere the answer, he is gone. 13 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Gone, with doiiljt each hope defying, gone, with pain of anxious breath. Gone, (in wings of fear fast flying, racing with th.e phantom death; Muscles tense, and nostrils swelling, back, still back, each wdiite drift rolls, Tokohoma pressing closer to his heart the thing he holds. North, still north, till on his vision, lo, there falls a welcome sight. Rounded mound of snow-house glist'ning in its new found dome of white, Then, quick passes through its portal to the haven of his quest, \\'orn and wan, this Hermes, clasping still his burden to his breast; Burden strangely limp and lifeless, burden fair as shines the sun. Burden for which Tokohoma neck to neck with death has run. 14 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. But the stretch is stih uncovered, still un- certain lies the g"ars, long years, with brow dark beetling, it has scf)wled on hill and plain. Years, long years, its glooming shadow on the mountain's breast has lain. When the Spring unclasps the river from its long-locked icy sheath, Hien a second crag floats trembling in the waters far beneath, And the white-finned salmon darting where the depths of crystal gleam Shun the shade that wavers darkly as it falls athwart the stream. 40 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. V eigne tradition wraps in shadow deeper still the jagged crest, And far ont npon the seacoast where the red sun gilds the west Lives a tale of huw a warrior bore the death he rightly won \Adi() designed to lead a paleface to the Great Crag of the Sun. One (kill dawn, before the ghost-light fades beneath advancing day. Over drifts that lie unbroken Tokokoma takes his wav ; North he speeds o'er rising uplands that de- flect toward the west. Where the Great Crag, hjoming darkly, stirs strange tumult in his breast; Many times its rugged outline he has traced against the sky. Many times its sober grandeur has compelled his heart and eve. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Though familiar with its phases as it rises bleak and sheer. Yet he ne'er has braved its shadow but witli superstitious fear. Soon the plain is left behind him stretching far toward the east, And he turns tu face new hazards that each moment are increased. Cautiously he goes, and slowly, in the hush of bated breath. For who braves the Crag's dominions braves them hand in hand with death. Giant rocks nuist be surmounted, shad'wy chasms must be crossed. Shallow footholds forced in ice-blocks where the mountain streams have tossed, Spines of jagged rock are pathways swung between the earth and sky, Where his heart must lieat courageous if he have no wish to die. 42 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Here he skirts a ledge, long ri\-en by the force of some past shock, Where He fossil ferns embedded in the strata of the rock; Here is shunned a pit smooth-crusted by its overhanging drifts Fairy edged in feathery hoar frost trembling lightly in the rifts. Where this hssure yawns abysmal to a depth of fearful gloom Is the spot the redskin traitor met the horror of his doom. Tokohoma nears its darkness. He must leap it. It is done. And he sinks fatigued and breathless at the Great Crae of the Sun. Here he rests till day comes bursting o'er the i)lain in angry red. Till the lurid light beats fiercely on the rock swuno- overhead. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Then he rises, stands a moment, hke a sinner nnconfessed, Who, enamored of his weakness, cannot pluck it from his breast. And with glances strangely solemn watches shadows change and lift To disclose beneath the Great Crag, in the ledge, a narrow rift With a \'aulted arcli beyond it stretching back- ward into gloom, W^rapped in dread and heavy silence like the hush within a tomb. Here he enters, recent struggle marked in lines upon his face Set in stolid resolution no conviction may dis- place, In a calm of deadened feelings, like a swimmer. cramped and numlx Who sinks passive 'neath the waters he has failed to overcome. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Scarce his eyes become accustomed to the cavern's lesser Hg'ht Than his shig'gish fancy quickens to one sweeping, backward flight ; Sacred pledges, oaths, traditions, crowd the cave's forbidden door, But the pictures are unwelcome, he resolves to look no more. And he turns where broken stratum, virgin vein, and glist'ning bed Show the velvet yellow changing to a fierce and sullen red 'Neath a shaft of sunlight piercing like a knife-blade keen and thin Through the dark to probe the secret of the mvsterv within. Gold is here, pure, unpolluted by the hand of want or greed, Thnugh the heart of many a chieftain has been tempted in his need. 45 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. But a breast ma}- Ijeat \\ith hunur though de- nied emblazed device, And a man's a man, though redskin, and may stand beyond a price. Through injustice, through privation, through the white man's threat and bribe. Has the secret Ijeen close guarded by the trusted of the tribe. It had been a hope, a safeguard, should their landholds he assailed, It was held a final resource when all other means had failed. For themselves, such garish baulile it were in them to despise, But each knew the fascination that it shed for other eyes, And the vague, uncertain future was a theme for lesser fear With such ward against the season when the paleface should appear. 4S IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. And he came. The moaning pine boughs sway lieneath the polar star To repeat the old, old story of the lands that lie afar, Teepees gone, and lodges empty, confiscate by law of might, And the redman, naked, vanished into nothing- ness and night. Then it was that graybeard councils gazing o'er their broken host Swore to circumvent the white man in the thing he wished the most, And each calmed his outraged bosom when desp(Hled and o\'errun By an oath to keep the secret of the Great Crag of the Sun. Hasten, hasten, Tokohoma ! Work while thou hast yet the day. Let no sacred i)ledge deter thee, let no retro- spect delay, 47 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Fuller pile thy mooseskin pouches till their space can hold no more, Work, proud prince, forget that labor ne'er has soiled thy hands before. Work, and c[uell that cry within thee that goes harking through the years Back to suff"rings of thy people, men's priva- tions, women's tears. And forget that near the Yukon where the white man spreads his tent Glide, at interxals, strange figures with their gray locks lowly bent That abide awhile unquesticined, like to souls that stand exempt. To observe the strife for riches with grim, satisfied contempt — That come somewhere from the silence to be seen awhile of men Then, with cloaks close wrapped about them, back to silence sink aeain. 4S IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Hasten, hasten, Tokohonia, let no scruple stay thy hand, ^^'ho has erred he will forgive thee, who has loved will understand. Hesitate no more upon it, clear thy heart of fretting- doubt. Act, and if thou may'st, with honor, if thou niay'st not, then without. Ofttimes what has loomed enormous dwindles when the thing be done. Thus thy project, with the gauntlet of thy superstitions run. Thou, a Croesus, heard' st that spoken which through all thy being- thrilled Yet doth stand, like others, grieving for a wdsh still unfulfilled? Hast thou dreamed, perhaps, that somewhere something- might be held unsold? Hast thou fear of limitation for this sullen, g'list'ning- gold? 49 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Ease thy mind, O Tokohoma, work while thou hast day above, "Gold is head, and heart, and feeling-, it is friendship, it is love." IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. VII. Life within the snow-house settles to a sem- blance of repose ; Every day, like that before it, void of interest comes and goes, Every day a deeper damask shades the con- valescent's cheek And a lighter tone breaks gently where but grief was wont to speak. Hope will live while life can struggle, biding fortune's adverse moods And from sorrow comes a patience that re- bukes vicissitudes. She who had despaired now rallies as the lag- gard days go by And inclines to'ard hope, through instinct, for to lose it were to die. 51 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Surely naught of hope lies yonder where bleak glaciers mark the south, Surely naught of promise glistens in the river's ice-choked mouth, Yet she clings in stubborn courage that the North alune can give To some undefined imiM'ession that is hope in thing's that live. Tokohoma tends his game snares, going out each day at dawn To retrace each feath'ry footmark ere the mists of morn are gone; When the drifts are deeply crusted and when- clement winds abide He is seen on plain and upland, a companion by his side. Oft their forms are silhouetted on the dull sky's yellow rim As they swing o'er rise and lowland, strong of breath and free of limb. 52 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Hindered by no clinging garments, wearied by no useless dress, She who stands in fur and buckskin stands a woman none the less With the touch sublime and subtle, deeply lying, that defies Any form of garb to change it, any custom to disguise. Mile on mile is cjuickly covered over stretches bleak and bare — Thus she finds the panacea that can cope against despair, Thus contrives to tire her body that all thought may be at rest And remains abroad the longer when her heart is most distressed. Tokohoma ne'er surmises what is passing in her mind. In his self-hallucination he remains content and blind. 53 IX THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. And construes to suit his pleasure sighs that inadvertent start While she feeds, all unsuspecting, the strange passion of his heart. Time comes round when such long rambles fail to bring the peace desired When against her hopeful courage all the Northland seems conspired; Its great, glistening plains appal her, its relent- lessness affrights, Menace taints the gloomy story its forbidding linger writes And she ofttimes seeks the shelter of the cabin tired, unnerved. There to shut away the picture, there to sorrow unobserved, There to feel the hope for succor sink beneath assailing doubt And a poignant dread steal o'er her of those silent ways without. 54 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. One day prostrate thus, but hiding each dis- tress of heart and mind Lest the tears should seem ungrateful, and the discontent unkind, One day, just as twilight darkens to the shade that evening wears And she bends in deep attention o'er her meager household cares, Far from out the void comes trembling that which makes her pulses start. That which holds the blood suspended in the ways that touch her heart; Something vague, and yet apparent, tangible, and still unreal. Seems to spread in widening circles and through all the Northland steal; Something undefined, elusive, that a moment fills the pause Lying 'twixt her heart's sensations and the cjuestion of the cause. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Loud, then soft, then sunk to nothing, as each air-gust fades and swells, Intermittent sound and silence like the rhyth- mic swing of bells. On the wind seems borne the fragment of a trailing, broken word, Quick she turns, but Tokohoma gives no sign if he has heard, And she scarce has lent attention to her small pursuits again, Checking' what she would have spoken, pond'- ring what it may have been, When a gust of stronger pressure sweeping- past the cabin door Brings the sound in vibrant measure, this time louder than before. This time there is no mistaking, this time Tokohoma hears. Quick he gains the cabin doorw^ay, through the pur])ling twilight peers 5C IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. To beliokl a muffled figure swinging" o'er the dark'ning snow, And to meet a sakitation sounded in a deep "Hako!" Scarce!}' is the greeting answered, scarce the first surprise is o'er. Ere the dogs and sled sweep circkng to a hak l)ef(n-e tke door; Here they loom unreal and spectral in the slo^^■ declining light While the stranger's hearty accents beg a shel- ter for the night. It is said, hy them that suffer, that despair alone can kill. These ha\'e ne\'er known the anguish of a great joy's sudden thrill. She, \\ithin. stands tense and rigid, like to one of power bereft. And, from out fast merging senses, finds but expectation left IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. When at last they stand together in the half lit, low walled place, Deep and differing emotions showing plainly in each face. O, what energy is wasted in pursuit of false desires ! O, what sacrifices redden, feeding useless altar fires ! Through the world we seek life's touchstone, ardently, from sun to sun. And the hour 'tis least expected, lo, the won- drous thing is done. And 'tis not the wealth of wisdom, and 'tis not the glint of gold. It is not the thing long dreamed of, that ob- tained, we priceless hold. But a rain1)(nv tinted bubble showing, to aston- ished eyes. Giant plan and cherished purpose dwarft to things of pigmy size; 58 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. And the shimm'ring opalescence that fills earth and sky above Is the (lid, familiar story, which is all, for it is love. In the time it takes the glances to observe the lightning's sheen It was done, yet not so qnickly l)nt one watch- ing there has seen ; In the redman dormant passions to their channels wildlv set As the look of maid and stranger tell that kindred souls have met. 59 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. VIII. When we Icn-e, the thing that frets us is un- wilHngly beHeved, We are wroth with donl)ts of warning, happier, far, to be deceived; Some strange madness holds us sanguine e'en Ijeneath suspicion's frown And we scarce achnit disaster when our house of cards eoes down. So it is with Tokohoma when the first wild Rush is o'er. When the inward tumult settles to the calm it knew before. With the difference that his passions now awakened to distrust Lie, a lake of seething lava, straining at the broken crust. 60 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. But he makes each doubt subservieut to the hope that love ius[)ires And continues blind and stul)1)orn in the way of his desires. Many morns have now been numbered by the sun's uncertain light Since the stranger begged the favor of a shel- ter for the night. When came troops of urgent promptings that he should resume his way CfMiipromise \N'ould 'wait on duty to result in fresh delay. She of gentle heart, full naively, all her sweet persuasion lends And through days of happy converse the pro- tracted stay extends ; Time is tuned to love and raptures that no further wish comprise Than the ])riv'lege of confession, told already through the eyes. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Life takes on a Ijrighter color in the days that follow this, All the Northland seems transfigured as be- neath an angel's kiss; Maid and lover find new beauty in the vari- tinted sky, Watch together bright ]3lumed eagles that, o'er hilltops, circling fly. Hunt the home of snowflowers nestling" in the bosom of the drifts And explore, like hal)p^• children, caves of overhanging rifts. Sometimes, in excess of spirits, when she lifts her voice in song- It is heard by Tokohoma, faintly, as he speeds along \\'ith his steps still to'ard the darkness of the Great Crag in the west And the hope of lo\-e still vil)rant to each pulse- beat of his breast. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Since that night of jealous anger when the stranger first appeared He has held in leash his passions and dismissed the things he feared. 'Tis his way with mooted questions to revolve them o'er and o'er, But when once they are decided to revert to them no more. Thus his usual projects find him with a clear, untroul^led mind. With no anxious doubt attaching to the pair he leaves behind, Who, their happy love indulging, greet each other at the dawn With no thought of Tokohoma save that he abroad is s'one. Glad that day is here before them where the darkness late has been. Glad to roam their snow-ringed Eden giv'n to love each other in, 63 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Still they watch the sun-shafts brighten through the overhanging haze All unskilled to read the secret of those tower- ing peaks they praise, All unconscious that the Great Crag shows beneath the rising sun. That the work will, "neath its shadow, in a little time be done. Love, confessed, at last lies tranquil 'neath contentment that it l^rings And the talk of maid and stranger turns again to other things ; Plan and project half forgotten in the joys that nearer pressed Now return with deeper interest, fevered with the old unrest. ^\'hen the lo\'er shares the secret of his mission there, it seems \Varp and woof of that frail fabric which the substance is of dreams; IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Deep the story is with interest, he who tells it halts for hreath Like to him from whom he had it ere his lips were sealed in death. Meager word he has for guidance, mem'ry only serves for plan, Bnt 'tis here, this wealth of Croesus, in the circle of a span. Once again the North is calling with the siren voice of old. Once again ambition trembles with the lust for yellow gold, Once again the tinkling sledge-bells fret the silence of the dawn And return to find the snow-house when the shades of night are drawn. Days are spent in fruitless effort, empty search, and useless toil, Hope sustained on that which fails it must upon itself recoil, 65 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. But the sting of disappointment when the primal pain is o'er, Leaves the stranger still as eager, and as san- guine as before. Thus he spends tlie time indulging old am- bitions, hope compels ; Thus each night the maid who loves him listens, listens, for the bells. And their distant, muffled echo lightly tossed from mound to mound Rolls but faint, still all her being leaps respon- sive to the sound. Yet, at times, come vague present'ments, that, in terror, hold her dumb ; What if never from the silence should the sledge-bells tinkling come? What if yonder sun declining mark the epoch with its beams Wdien her soul shall wake to torment from the joy of empty dreams? 66 IN THE) SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Thus, full oft, she frets her spirit with the pain oi love's alarms, Thus, full oft, misgivings vanish, fading 'neath protecting arms. Once, when such grave dread assails her that her eyes o'erflow with tears. And her lover soothes with kisses all her doubts and foolish fears. One approaching to'ard the cabin where a ling' ring sunbeam plays, Stops without to view the picture, as it were, through crimson haze; From his back, as is his custom, flings his game upon the floor, But omits the usual greeting as he steps within the door. 67 IN THH SHADOW OF THE CRAG. IX. Morn across the endless snow-fields creeps reluctantly and gray. Loath to mock the dead, bleak silence with the light of coming day, Heavy o'er each hill and river slow it steals with laggard feet Where the hoar frost clings in garlands like a mold'ring winding-sheet; It wrtuld seem that some stray life-throb should, at dawn, in gladness start But the whole white stretch lies pulseless, cold and sullen to its heart. Yet about the cabin yonder signs of waking motion shows. But 'tis alien to the landscape and the great North's grim repose. 68 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. First the sledge-dogs start the echoes to an- nounce that night is fled Springing up to greet the sunhght from each warm, snow-burrowed bed. From the snow-house comes the stranger, drowsy stiU l^eneath some dream Half regretting that 'twas broken by the clamor of the team. All night long had sleep been troubled, all night long had shadows pressed Round his couch to lend discomfort and with discord fill his breast; Faces had, in wanton fashion flashing by, re- signed their place To a mask, that came and vanished, like to Tokohoma's face. But when day in listless motion o'er the hills began to creep Then his troubled mind had drifted to a calmer, sweeter sleep. IN the; shadow of the crag. Filled with vagTaiit fancies merging to a better, happier trend That the outcry from the sledge-dogs inter- rupted ere the end. Soon the eager team, full harnessed, stands impatient for the start, Once again the lover, turning, holds the maiden to his heart. Who, with that vague fear upon her which from too great love will grow, Closely clings to him in silence, strangely loath to let him go. When his form is but a shadow in the dis- tance these alarms Haunt her still and through perverseness seem to mock her empty arms; But to quell each fond misgiving soon more cheerful thoughts arise, Sanguine dreams of fairer countries bring back hope to wistful eyes. 70 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. She, pretending, reads the future from the book's unopened leax'es With attention keenly busy on the woof that fanc}" weaves. All day long she feels the promise of a happier fortune spring. All day long bright hopes around her like a benediction cling And when night across the Northland in a hea\}- pall is drawn She, in doubt, can scarce accredit that the happy da}- is gone. Household duties now commanding, quick she trims a feeble light. Stops between her cares to listen to the noises of the night ; Something yonder, tense and sullen, sweeps the earth with broken moan, .She who hears stands dumb and rigid like an image carved in stone. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Far, far out, each surging- air-gust fateful forces swift invites — ■ This the sound is that, fuh-sweHing, spoke of death that night of nights ! Round the hut stray, hurried snowflakes com- ing- forces half reveal. Bitter cold through chink and cranny pierces like the thrust of steel. In the lulls that come abruptly, quick succeed- ing fitful swells, She, within, in deep attention, once more listens for the bells. Once more hears their muffled music roll along the changing mounds Once more marks each tinkling cadence trail away in broken sounds. Once more waits within the cabin where such happiness has been Till the low-browed door shall open and her lover enter in. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAO. Footsteps o'er the snow come creaking to an- nounce him near, at last, Soon the cabin door swings shriv'ring from before a biting blast That sweeps walls, and floor, and ceiling, shrieking loud in mad delight. Then whirls 1)ack, past Tokcihoma, to be lost within the night. For the time that spans a moment still he stands without remark. Strangely tall his stalwart figure looms against the outer dark, In his black hair frost wreaths glisten, snow- flakes fleck his wolfskin coat, Torn, perhaps by jagged boulders, and loose hanging at the throat. Sullenly at last he enters, to all outward pres- ence blind, Deeph' sunk 'twould seem in problems that revolve within his mind. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Lig'htlv m()\es the maid i)rei)aring that which forms the evening meal. But full oft to'ard Tokohoma do her furtive glances steal ; To her mind come wild suggestions that her inmost soul rejects. She refuses as preposterous this strange thing she half suspects; Then the truth comes full upon her sharp, con- vincing, clear defined. And explains much bitter rancor in the heart once known as kind. As the falcon stares bewildered when first loosed from jess and hood S(^ she, dazed, now looks on actions until now misunderstood ; Tn the light of this revealing she becomes con- fused and dumb — Tliey must go, herself and lo\-er, lest some fearful evil come. 74 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Tokohoma, sitting silent, makes as if he would arise, There seems menace in his action, there seems madness in his eyes; O'er the maid sweep vague present'ments, what they are she scarce can say, But her heart reads evil omen in her lover's lung delay. In this drift of speculation time has passed not marked before. Up she starts, alarmed and anxious, swift pro- ceeds toward the door And when faint and all but sinking 'neath the pro1)lem of her doubt Tokohoma flashes past her and in frenzy rushes out. Out. far out, his form soon merges in the shadows of the west; Out, far out, with dread emotions storming fiercely in his breast, 75 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Glad he is to whip through wind-gusts sweep- ing by with broken wail, Glad he is to buffet forces marshalled for the gathering gale; Swift he spurns each ice-clad boulder, heedless passes trap and lure, Scorns to cling where shallow footholds mark the way as insecure, Wildly leaps each drift and chasm, desp'rate till the gual be won And at last stands torn and bleeding 'neath the Great Crag of the Sun. Scudding clouds that fly wind driven, show a path of ghostly light Where the pale moon, hanging distant, seems to mock the frozen night. In a patch of open sky-line where the forces thinly set Tokohoma's storm-swept figure shows in inky silhouette ; 76 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. He, like one in sudden madness, bares his tem- ples to the blast, Caring not for dangers present, dwelling not on dangers past; He disdains each giant wind-gust that assails his eerie place And that lifts his hair and flings it like a whip across his face But he feels no outward lashing of his passion driven form And his wild, disheveled figure seems the spirit of the storm. Once, his arms he stretches upward like to one who bears the pain Of a grief, that grown to crush him, he no longer may sustain, Then, as if to thwart emotions out of which such weakness grew, Quickly turns toward the cavern and the work left still to do. 77 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. When desires that love has cherished, when the Hfe that l()\"e has planned Fade away in swift destruction ere we come to understand. Then 'tis not the final wrecking of our hopes that rends the heart But the looking on the dunil) things that have been of love a part. Tokohoma takes the pouches, one by one, from out their place And a wave of tender feeling hotly burns within his face; Dreams are here, and fancied projects, in these mooseskin pouches rolled, Hopes and sweet anticipations, garnered with the gathered gold; Here are gentle thoughts compelling to'ard the love he hoped to win And beneath each thong some life-drop of his heart is fastened in. 78 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Rouse thyself, O Tokohoma, let thy inner soul be dumb; Is it royal prince, or woman, that can thus be overcome ? Thou hast seen a star swing hither and its orbit touched th}' course — It has passed — thy way is yonder, true to thy compelling force. Rouse thyself and let the temper of thy fathers in thee speak. Let thy manhood shame the weakness showing pallid on thv cheek, And the work that brought thee hither, let it be completely done, It is well that hope should end here where thv folly was begun. Then, beneath the crag is motion that would kin to frenzy seem. In the htful light cjuick flashes that which sh(^ws with velvet gleam ; 79 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Down, deep down, through space descending, hard and yellow, shining, cold, Leaps, with sndden flings and dashes, hoard on hoard of glist'ning gold; Down it springs like bright blades flashing, each renio\'ed from shrondin.g- sheath. Till it hides within the shadows of the river far l)eneath. When at last the task is ended Tokohoma turns his face And looks long- toward the cabin, standing rigid in his place ; In his pose is that intenseness of a Cjuestion deep involved. In his look that indecision of a purpose half resolved ; But he turns aside suggestions, holding one alone exempt And at last this, too, dismisses with a gesture of contempt. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Wild and strange his form in shadow marks itself against the light As he turns and sets sharp northward to be lost within the night. 81 IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. X. When the storm is spent and morning in tlie curtained east is shown Then the Northland, cold and empty, comes again into its own. Naught disturbs the lonely distance save a cry that spreads afar As a wolf, on crouching haunches, points his nose toward a star. Landmarks that were things familiar lie in- consequent and strange ; \Adiere was life now seems existent some mute evidence of change, Restless snow-drifts hedge the cabin and the snow-house close about And the paths before their d(iorways are for- ever blotted out. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. Like a v/raith, the chill of morning through the hut, unhindered, steals And it writes in silver tracings on the things the light reveals, Yet it can record no motion that the distant dawn awoke Save that from the lamp, still l^urning, trails a line of cjuiv'ring- smoke; Too, a sheet of snow, thin drifted, creeps across the cabin floor Like a restless ghost, and yonder, just outside the open door. Tiny whirls of powd'ry lightness hiss against a growing mound That has ris'n to hide beneath it what has stained the frozen ground. Fitful gusts of wind, sharp circling, quickly fill each sunken rift Cov'ring close the sledge's burden lying deep within the drift. IN THE SHADOW OF THE CRAG. When the laggard sun, slow mounting, gives the day a deeper glow Then is shown two quiet figures outlined 'neath the drifted snow, One a man's is, all unconscious that his blood- less lips are pressed By a woman, who, still kneeling, clasps her lover to her breast. In the North the air hangs heavy 'neath the silence of the years And the wind moans low and broken as it sweeps between the spheres. 84 EARTH S LESSON. EARTH'S LESSON. Why should we not bring smiles instead of tears To lay upon the altar-stone of God ? Why hold beliefs of superstitious years That dwarf the sjiirit with discordant fears And outrage flesh with harsh, insulting rod? Why should we not come smging to the throne With hearts that in ebulliency of joy Seem bursting from their cells, too narrow grown ? O, whv should man reap nothing of the sown But tares, and all the beautiful destroy? The feast is spread and we are asked to dine; What sullenness of temper does it show To rudely turn from kindly proffered wine And pass with shielded eyes where splendors shine. The Father never meant it should be so. THF,N AS NOW. Sine', sine" fair earth, till every silent throat Responds nnto the life-song of your sod And thunder-sounding rolls each swelling- note • And teach us liy your own sweet, simple rote To smile beneath the kindly smile of God. THEN AS NOW. Long, long ago when butterflies Could converse hold, and let men know Their wants, thev caught the traits of men As I will undertake to show. Two butterflies were winging past King Solomon's temple, grand and vast; From touch of wing and foolish flutter 'Twas plain unto the most benighted, Their troth had just that day been plighted. THliN AS NOW. Like maid perplexed when blushes come. My Lady Butterfly was dumb, But, bursting with his own importance, My great Lord Butterfly, loquacious, Spoke of himself in way audacious. "You see yon temple, dear," he said; She answered, "Yes," by nod of head; "\\>11, AX'ith my wing, all down encovered, I easily those pillars, polished, Could tumble at your feet, demolished." This bold remark was overheard By Solomon : "Upon my word Who ever knew such braggart boasting?" Then calling him aside, demanded Why he should lie thus open-handed. Returning to his mate at last. She, woman-like, asked what had passed And he. man-like, to stop at nothing So, with eclat, he might come through it. Replied, "He asked me not to do it." THE EARTH-CALL. THE EARTH-CALL. To you, in cowl and gown, Who stand aloof with hands crossed on your breast And patient head bowed down, Do wild thoughts ever come? Do ghosts of former hours now long since spent In phantom shape renew the joys they lent And hold }ou in their vagaries of air; Do you at times awake to find your prayer Forgotten, and lips dumb? Beneath that sober garb Do vagrant longings ever stir to vex Your heart with cruel barb? Do dreams you thought long crushed Rush full upon you o'er your weakening will And make your pulses leap with quickening thrill ? THE EARTH-CALL. What guilty blush is this that stains your cheek ? The scourge, the scourge for one avowed so weak Till lawlessness is hushed ! Do voices from the throng, Strange, weird world-voices, ever reach your heart And still your matin song? Do you, too, ever seem To see the better happiness afar And, when 'tis day, long for the night's pale star. Then, scarce the night comes, wish the day again ? Your lot is but the common lot of men; Back to your beads — to dream. 91 THE GREATER VICTORY. THE GREATER VICTORY. There was a way, a joy, a mystic, unnamed thing A dreamer sought — As vague as air that's troul^led by a swallow's wing — Ideal, intangible, and shadow-fraught. Impossible it seemed, so much it held desired, So much implied. So near, yet so remote ; uncertainty conspired Tc:) make it seem l)v distance deified. One day the prize was gained ; he struggled through despair. Through ways defiled, To grasp a poisoned cup ; the watching world stood there And so he pressed it to his lips and smiled. 92 THE LOVE-PLAINT. THE LOVE-PLAINT. L^or m}' Icn-e and me How the robins sang in the greenwood tree, How the great bell's voice Li tlie church afar made the hills rejoice For mv love and me. On the sun-kissed lea, Where the wanton liower lures the roving bee, There we rested long, And the whole world throbbed to the passion- song Of my love and me. Ah, my love and me, How we creep afar lest the world shall see \\diat my arms enfold ; O, the w'ay is long and the world is cold For my love and me. 93 AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO*. The story runs thus: 'Twas a Sabbath morn So still that no leaf of the tasseled corn Which weighted the stalks in the neighb'ring held By rustle or tremor a breeze revealed ; A pastoral scene that was fair to view, With cattle in clover-fiecked fields of dew, And the sun just touching with burnished gold San Juan Capristrano, the mission old. With them that kneel down 'neath its arches, dim. In the love of their hearts to remember Him Is she, who, low-bowed in her place of prayer, Seems shunned by the faithful who gather there ; Bright feminine eyes on her fair face rest, On her rounded arm and her swelling breast. And each seems inclined to deny assent To beauty that sins and is penitent. Out yonder a silence shrouds copse and hill And fastens the valley within its thrill; 94 AT SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO. A ponderous terror that creeps along And hushes the notes of the thrush's song, A sullen, intangible, grewsome thing. The shadow, unseen, of a monster-wing. That gathers the steeps in its mystic clutch And palsies the air with mesmeric touch. The animate harken ; the silence speaks ; Back flashes the answ^er in fear-blanched cheeks, And horrors, half dreamed of, suspended lie In the beat of the breath and the wid'ning- eye ; A rumble, a rending, a power compressed That tortures the hills with its deep unrest, A shiver, a pause, then the temblor's hurled In the white of its wrath on a helpless world. The mystery gathers within the dell And hushes the sound of the mission bell. It razes the stones wdth its lev'ling rod And crushes the cries that are raised to God. No soul, in the chapel, that felt its breath But rushed to the doors to a frenzied death Save her who was shunned ; lest her faint heart fail She had knelt, in her faith, at the altar rail. ♦When the proud old mission at Capistrano was tumbled by an earth- quake the arch over the altar was the only one that stood. WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. The l^anshee frets the night with dismal cry ; Some twenty times across the wind-swept ckme I've heard it come, now shrill, now scarce a sigh That floats beneath the weird and pallid moon Like some dread echo moaning in reply. Your lover soon will come; rest yet awhile Till yonder length'ning shadow darkly dips And lays its finger on the sleeping dial. Then wake the heavy silence of your lips And rouse their languor to a welcome smile. Who knocks without? You are impatient, friend. But eager lo\'er knows not how to wait. Perhaps your mistress in good time will send And raise the hopes that droop disconsolate. Have patience, doors must open, nights must end. 96 WHEN LOVE BETRAYS. What ! Yet again ? Coukl you, beycind the door, Behold the stilhiess of this covered thing. This huddled horror prone upon the floor And watch the growth of yonder eddying ring I wonder would you seek admittance more? How near that cry ! Could I have heard aright ? It seemed to live within the very room. \\niat fiend conspires to fill me with affright? Vague portents breathe within the murky gloom And fraught with menace is the sullen night.. AAHiat work, what work, to show to-morrow's sun. O, why, poor weakling, why did you not live And keep unstained these sands so nearly run? ^ ^ ;■< ^; ^ Now, you without ! let Fate her verdict give What life shall answer for the thing I've done. 97 THE DREAMER. THE DREAMER. My way is this : To rest in the shade Deep in the dusk of some whispering glade Drowsily happy and satisfied; Great are the wonders that grow apace Out of the heart of such hallowed place; Weird with a theme I may not repeat Pipes of Pan lull me with music sweet; Few know the path from the highway wide To way that is mine, in the shade, aside. My way is this: Apart from the strife, Far from the tumult of clamorous life. Courting the comfort the throng denied, Having no care v\dien the day is done If I shall look on to-morrow's sun; Glad in the light of the thing that seems, Happy to live in my idle dreams. This is no highway the world may ride. This way that is mine, in the shade, aside. THE WANTON. THE WANTON. I planted a rose in the sandy soil of an iinkept garden bare, It fastened its roots down deep in the earth and lifted its head in the air. It flung- its arms to the summer's sky and opened its heart to the sun. And seductivel}^ pressed its lips to the breeze in joy of the deed I had done. Its crimson heart was as red and sweet as the lips of a woman I knew. And I came to liken the wanton thing to her beauty as it grew, It would blush and pant in the sun's hot ray and tremble with sweet delight As the southern wind pressed warm and close to its heart in the sultry nieht. 99 THE WANTON. It would quiver and bend as the passionate wind pressed close with hot caress, And nod and sigh as the bees flew by and flirt its scarlet dress; I g-rew to hate its wanton way, despise its heart of flame, Abhor its maddening sweetness, withheld from none who came. So I crushed its life in my hand one day, in passion its roots uptore. And panting with shame and anger gazed on my unkept ground once more; I loudly laughed in savage joy to show the world my scorn, But pressed my heart with my bleeding hand to hide the o-ash of a thorn. 100 A WOMAN S CONSTANCY. A WOMAN'S CONSTANCY. A barren road lies parching in the sun; Its drear monotony and tiresome length Drag on, and threaten never to have done. I toil along the rough, uneven way With heart depressed, with face tear-stained and worn, And dread the light of each succeeding day. One morn, when all but sunk beneath my load. My untaught lips essayed a prayer, and lo. The light of Calvary shone o'er the road. No hope but one, the cross. A dream I nursed — But that is dead. O God, desert me now, Then chaos is, and Fm indeed accursed. 101 A WOMAN S CONSTANCY. My dream, a weakling's dream, no more shall fret My yearning" heart. \A'ithin the mighty calm Of yonder sacred cross, I will forget. Come, subtle essence of a power divine, Cloak all my senses in thy mystery. And shield me from all mastery but thine. ;|: ^ ;{< >|i ^ Mankind is weak, O God, the steady light Of Thy great presence awes; so keep me firm Lest I drift back to sin, and to the night. My erring heart still pleads and mourns its loss In silent anguish. Is there no relief For those who kneel and cry beneath the cross? Just God, forgive! In vain I've tried to slay This love within my Ijreast. Take Thou all else But give me l)ack my dream of yesterday. Two faces silhouetted in the dawn ; The woman sits and dreams in sweet content; Her prayer is answered, but the cross is gone. 102 ■Anil muoiihcams lost in the pulseless niyht Arc (jathercd close by the irutcr- sprite." THE WATER-SPRITE. THE WATER-SPRITE. All clay she lies in a lily's cup, But late at night when the moon comes up, Away, away o'er the dimpling lake To a place she knows in the flow'ring brake Where perfumes lift from a tangled wild To thrill the soul of the air-born child, To overcome with a rare delight The ravished sense of the water-sprite. The spot is ringed with a shaded red Of flow'r-cups. blossoming overhead ; Here waves beat soft on a sanded beach With lisping murmur, like childhood's speech On grasses burnt to a sable brown She rests as light as a thistle-down, And moonbeams lost in the pulseless night Are gathered close by the water-sprite. 103 THE WATER SPRITE. The warm air steals from the spice-groved South To press its kiss on her wilhng mouth, And where but promises late arose She now the joy of fulfillment knows; With arms fiung wide to the perfume warm, With wing's sunk limp to her melting form She yields herself to the sweets of night. Those languorous jovs of the water-sprite. IN MEDITATION. IN MEDITATION. Though all else fade yec may 1 always keep The memory of yesterday; that time W^ien words were said that made the pulses leap. When good was killed and evil set a-chime, And every impulse that was virtue-fed Lay prone. 'Twas then I hid the wound from which hope bled. And made no outward sign when it was dead. But r\'e remembered. 'Twixt my God and me There lives a prayer, a fervid, earnest prayer, That reaches down through all infinity And rests where lesser pleas would fear to dare. \\'hen He shall give His ultimate decree, AA'hat will we do, mv soul, when He shall say to me, "This day I give to thee thine enemy." 105 SATIETY. SATIETY. A man and a wciman in sad discontent, Their hearts dull and heavy, to Cnpid's shrine went. And knelt at the altar old, faded and worn. To ponr out the griefs and the wrongs they had borne. Each went there alone, in contrition and dread, Afraid lest the other should see love was dead. And shrunk from the scene the denouement would make. And tried to e\'ade it for each other's sake; They onlv acknowledged in secret, and shame. The truth of the tale of the moth and the flame. "I'm tired," said the man, " 'tis the old, self- same play. The same entre act every night, every day, 106 SATIETY. The same ceaseless babble, cheap tinsel and ganze, The same angry words from the same jealous cause, The same curtain-raiser, the same curtain call— ["d give twenty years to be out of it all." 'T'm tired," said the woman, 'T kneel to con- fess We wavered and struggled in sore heart dis- tress. Brought duty to bear on my faltering mind, But only ephemeral good could I find, A.nd lo\'e lies as cold and as dead as a stone — I cover the corpse with the hopes I have known." 'T'm tired of it all," said the man with a frown, The liar to the holy of holies threw down, And stood there aghast in the dim, sacred place As he saw in the dusk, silhouetted, a face. ■'You here! For what purpose?" he falter- tering cried, 'T'm sacking the Temple of Love," she replied, 107 SATIETY. "I've torn down the idol, depleted the shrine, Despoiled, desecrated this temple of mine; The image I thought was pure gold in the past, I ftnd is but poor imitation at last." They parted, and traversed their different ways And thought all forgotten in happier days, But sometimes unbidden, heart-sick, on the rack, The thoughts of the man and the woman go back. And tears and regrets and fond memories crowd Round a small, broken image with hope for its shroud. lOS A YESTERDAY. A YESTERDAY. There's a land I know, Its beauties lie 'Neath a tropic sky. There the cacti grow ; There the red-lipped, sun-kissed cacti grow, And glow, and glow. There's a face I know; To red lips set Round a cigarette; There's a promise low, There are raven lashes drooping low O'er eyes that glow. There's a spot I know ; A face lies white In the moon's cold light, And the cacti grow — ■ And the red-lipped cacti blood-red grow. And glint and glow. 109 BE KIND. BE KIND. If you are kind Then there wih be no need of separate ways, No painful gathering where tares upraise Through tears that bHnd. Thoughts unconfessed Although from \'enom sprung, may harmless fall. But all their potent power is past recall When once expressed. And lo\e lies dead Sometimes before the heart is yet aware That mortal wound has been inflicted there By hard things said. The pulses start, And dread alarm through soft emotion creeps, As hopeless sorrow o'er contentment sweeps To rouse the heart; no BE KIND. And when it wakes, It turns, like one that dreams, from what an- noys And beats awhile to past, remembered joys — Then slowly breaks. Be kind, he sweet. And let our love from such deep source he drawn That each shall know the other in that dawn Where next we meet. in THE LOVERS TRYST. THE LOVERS' TRYST. A swift ebb tide, on the eastern side, Sweeps in at the Point Del Mar, For cycles old have the l)reakers hissed And swept their spray in a circling- mist O'er a crag that's christened "The Lovers' Tryst." A wild. Ixild run that the sea-folk shun, Crowned high by decaying walls, That, years ago. were a castle old. Where dwelt a maid with a heart of gold. Who lived, and died, for a brigand bold. The good ship Sue. with her \'iking crew. Set sail at the break of day ; All night she'd drowsed to a sweet refrain Of music, sung by the mighty main. Whose pulses throbbed at her anchor-chain. 112 i ^^^^M ■■ ■■ 1 * ^^^ >^2l Hj H f'fu ' J ^1 K^^S^'i^^^l ^M ■ ^flr ^Kp^^^^^H ^1 ' '"wKB ^ ■ 1 E V pw l^iS n 1 m Hik^M t^« Pr Is 1^ 1 Q 'aB»^BBj ^^■L— tfl^H^^B ^B^raj^^Hnj^ ihi ^ ' ^ 1 ^r^' ■ THE LOVERS TRYST. Her listless crew slept the whole nig-ht through, And never a man that stirred, Tliat is, save one, and he swam to land To kiss a beautiful maiden's hand, And nurse a love that was contraband. And now he stood in his plaid and hood, And thought of the night gone by; He thought of love, and a maiden's bed. And a tender look o'er his features spread That made a saint's of a pirate's head. And when his ship, with a llirt and dip, Swept close'to the castle wall, He bared his head as he hove in sight, And dipped his flag, in the morning- light. In sweet salute to a form in white. "Sing ho, sing ho, my aggressive crew, "We'll toast the lass, and the good ship Sue, "Both good and steady, and firm and true." Right well it be if they prove so, too. U3 THE LOVERS TRYST. A sentinel's face, from its hiding place, Saw Sue dip the brigand flag. Then disappearetl ; in a moment more A bugle sounded from off the shore That made the echoes with challeng-e roar. A call to arms, while the sharp alarms Ring c[uick "long the castle walls, A shot flies swift, o'er the waters blue, That's answered, cjuick, by the viking crew With an old Long Tom and a thirty-two. Ha, see! A bark leaves the fortress, dark, And speeds for the open sea ; She cuts the foam as she plows along In hot pursuit of the pirate throng. Who flout her sail with a ribald songf. "Sing ho, sing ho, all my \'iking crew, "And sing again when your song" is through, "And make the jest that 1)est pleases you." 'Twill be the same in an hour or two. 114 THE LOVERS TRYST. The pirate crew would have sworn that Sue Could distance the Falcon bark, But Ijig- and red in the morning light The Falcon's beacon forged in sight, And the viking crew prepared for tight. Sing ho, sing ho, let your song ring true, And pipe a note for the Falcon, too, The lassie's father commands the crew That rides the waves in pursuit of you. The light of day saw a bloody fray. The deck of the Sue shone red. Her monkey-gafT was a gallows-tree That swayed and bent 'neath the corpses, three, Of pirates, dead as they'll ever be. The captain stood, in his plaid and hood, And wielded his trusty Ijlade; The ring of dead he had piled knee-high At length attracted the searching eye Of a man in lace who was tacking by. 115 THE LOVERS TRYST. "You imp of fire," quoth the irate sire, "Come measure your sword with me : "Forsooth, I vow hy the Sphinx's head, "That ere the sun grows a deeper red, "You'h mark }'Our length on a coral bed." Then quoth the chief: "By Gilmony's Reef, "It pains me to cut your throat ; "But I've a tryst with your daughter, fair, "Which you would spoil, if you lived, I swear, "So pray to heaven ere you journey there." On guard ! On guard! Now, their breath comes hard, Now, chances would seem a draw ; The pirate falls, he is up once more, He stumbles — slips on the bloody floor — The other's blade spits his heart's red core. Then o'er the rail, with a lusty hail, They toppled the brigand bold; A valiant man, and a brave, I vow. The father cried : "Will you tell me how "You'll keep your tryst with my daughter now?" 116 THE LOVERS TRYST. The answering word by the wind was heard, But not by the Falcon crew ; Thev snng- their songs of the bloody fray, They sailed back home to the fortress gray, And reached it just at the close of day. No single star o'er the Point Del Mar Hung high in the hea\ens dark ; The beach lav black, but a grewsome sight Was shown next day by the morn's rich light — A maiden robed in a dress of white. Sing ho, sing ho, for the good ship Sue, Sing ho, sing ho, for her captain, too; He's sung his song, and his song is through, A lone farewell to the viking crew. A heart of gold, and a l)rigand bold. Her arms press his bloody form. Her cold, dead eyes meet his glassy stare, Her wdiite lips rest on his sea-swept hair. Thus ends the tale of this luckless pair. 117 THE PENALTY. THE PENALTY. The song was finished when the maestro said, "Dream not of fame nor }et of great success;" Then kindly adde