THE POET AND HIS SELF ARLO BATES LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ©tap .mp^rij^t :|ij..- Shelf.. '?='4 Slx^^l UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/poethisself01bate THE POET AND HIS SELF !32 tjje Same ^xit|}or. Son- POEMS : Berries of the Brier, anc nets in Shadow. i6ino, cloth. Price, $1.50. Separately, $1.00 each. A LAD'S LOVE. A Story. i6mo doth. Price, $1.00. ALBRECHT. A Story. i6mo, cloth. Price, $1.00. A BOOK O' NINE TALES. With Inter- | hides. i6mo, cloth. Price, $1.00. • ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers. THE Poet and His Self ARLO BATES BOSTON ROBERTS BROTHERS 1891 ' , r. ^ ^ Copyright, 1891, By Roberts Brothers. John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U. S. A. Co t{)e ilMemotg of fEIeanor Putnam/ CONTENTS. PAGE The Poet and His Self ii Clarisine the Countess 26 The Ballad of Bloody Rock 33 The Poplars 40 The Swallow 44 Reunion 46 The Finished Task 47 The Return of the Dead 48 And After 50 In the Lighthouse 51 The Great Sphinx 53 By the Sea 56 Night Song 57 Pope John XXIII 58 Guilt 60 Encounter 6[ When First Love Comes 62 Sleep (,^ Vlll CONTENTS. From a Sketchbook,— page After the Storm 65 A Sunset 65 The Cliff . 66 A Southern Sunset 66 An Afternoon 67 Nightfall 67 Under the Moon 67 Off Ireland 68 The Inscrutable Sea 68 A March Day 69 Harun 70 A Reminiscence TZ The Advance 75 Love is a Knave n Pulpit Rock 78 To A Slipper 80 In Tulipee 82 A Flower Cycle, — The Crocus 84 The Trilliums 84 The Water Lily 86 The Wild-Briar 87 The Columbine 88 CONTENTS. ^^ PAGE A FLOWER Cycle {continued),— The Foxglove. •" The Cardinal Flower ^i 92 The Lupine 93 The Meadow Rue 94 The Jasmine The Purple Aster 98 Fragrance ^^^ Death and Love Bereavement ... 104 The Love of the Dead The Sphinx ^^^ Chopin's Nocturne in G Minor A Song of Tokens A Man's Reproach A Birth-Chance . Forward! A Remorse To My Infant Son Fardels,— ^^^ The Moon-Maidens ... 121 Age-Dread For a Sun-Dial A Woman's Thought X CONTENTS. Fardels [contimied),— " PAGE The Whole of Truth j^» A Dull Day .... 123 The Change . . . 124 A Word's Weight j Abandonment ... 125 Solitude ... ^ ^25 To a Coquette Parting ^ 126 Tantalus ... ^ 126 Cupid's Bargain An Answer \ ^ ^ Wee Rose ... o 120 To A Flying-Fish . . 129 A Shape 132 Judith 133 Sung to an Antique Lute for Sylvia 135 The Spanish Main ... 140 A Burial ..... 142 By a Grave 143 The Oriole . . . 145 The Beginning and Ending 148 THE POET AND HIS SELF. I. THE POET SPEAKS : OINCE a lie that soothes is better Than a truth that bites and stings ; Since the manacled wretch in fetter Is happier dreaming of wings ; Let us make the whole world our debtor ; Go to ; let us sing smooth things ! Since fate has trapped us and caged us, Why should we beat at the bars ? When cares of the earth have engaged us, Why need we long for the stars ? When the old wounds have enraged us. Why should we risk fresh scars? THE POET AND HIS SELF. Let us live in a world of seeming, For the truth cannot be borne ; In fancy youth's pledges redeeming, Since reality still is forsworn ; Man is happy only in dreaming, — To waken is ever to mourn. 11. HIS SELF SPEAKS : TF fate has indeed ensnared thee, Foil her at least by thy scorn ; The deepest of woes is spared thee, And thou art not wholly forlorn, So long as thy manhood is left thee ; — When fate has of that bereft thee. Thou mayst curse the day thou wast born. Who, then, art thou, who presumest Wisdom and hope to destroy? What is this thing thou assumest, That the end of life is joy? THE POET AND HIS SELF. 13 Excusing thine own weak complaining Is this plea that no hope is remaining, That its visions are but fate's decoy. Be brave, and in face of disaster Hold fast to thy courage, that so Thou mayst meet thy fate as its master, Not crouch as a slave to its blow. Life at worst is but pendulum swinging, From despair unto joy ever springing, As the morn after night doth show. Ill, THE POET SPEAKS : T170RDS, words, words ! I have heard them Said over a thousand times. The prophets and mockers who gird them, The poets and men of rhymes. Have raved them and said them and sung them, And with meaningless iterance rung them, Till they stale like grimaces of mimes ! 14 THE POET AND HIS SELF. What though one coward call me ? A word — is it more than air ? What evil more hard could befall me Than the pain of life to bear? Though I am but one, yet my vision Must for me set the seal of decision On Hfe's gifts, be they foul or fair. IV. HIS SELF SPEAKS : T^OST thou remember how one summer morn — When all night through the blackness of the wood Had bitter fancies thy feet led and scorn Of all life offered thee of hope or good, — Thou cam'st to the fair margent of a stream Whose netted ripples snared the sun's first beam, Pale, broken flecks of gold with topaz gleam ; And how thou lookst across the little flood To where a hillside sloped, one lawn of green THE POET AND HIS SELF. 15 Broken by snow of birch boles, and by bud Of daffodils not yet awake between ; And down a winding way light moving came A maid demure, in robe as white as flame, With eyes as pure as Mary's holy name. And only that such loveliness could be Thou didst the bitter doubt of night forego. What was there changed between the world and thee? She did but smile, and from thy sight passed so ; And yet thou wert no more of sombre mind. Since beauty thus thy bitter thoughts could bind Canst thou not still in beauty comfort find? V. THE POET SPEAKS : A H, me, how beautiful was she ! With the slant sunbeams on her gold hair glinting. And stir of virginal white vesture, hinting How sweet the bosom's curve must be. 1 6 THE POET AND HIS SELF. Too swift she passed, as through a rift Of cloud one sees the moon in beauty sailing But to be gone. Beneath her robe's soft trailing Their heads I saw the violets lift ; And birds, though not a note was heard In all the vale till then, broke forth in singing, And voiced the rapture of my heart, upspringing In ecstasy beyond all word ! VI. HIS SELF SPEAKS : D" kOST thou remember how one storm-wild night Thou stoodst amid the surf that howled and hissed. And with a fume of froth that whelmed thy sight, Bit at the rocks and clutched them, fiercely roaring, And worried them, till in a rage of mist It sprang in fury skyward soaring ; And how a boat, o'er the life-hungry swell 'Swept by strong hands, fought its way to the shore ; THE POET AND HIS SELF. 17 Till one brave sailor leaped into the hell Of waves like beasts blood-frantic ; how unshrinking Though torn and broken, he to safety bore A weak old man snatched from the frail bark sinking ? What was it all to thee? And yet thine heart Tingled and burned to glorify the deed. Simply that thou and he were men, a part Thy spirit claimed in that brave act of daring. When man could thus heroic be, there seemed no need To ask if manhood were not worth the sharing. VII. THE POET SPEAKS : A ND still I see the snarling wave draw back, And crouch, and spring again, swift as a thought And strong as fire ! Maddened with baffled ire. It tore the sand and rent the rocks for lack Of the poor human prey it sought, Till of its own blind rage it died distraught. i8 THE POET AND HIS SELF. VIII. HIS SELF SPEAKS: VU'HY do some names strewn down a printed page Like pearls let fall upon red, orient sands, Make thine eyes glisten, and heroic rage Beat hotly in thine heart? Of far off lands And other times the men who living bore them, And centuries their dusts have scattered o'er them. What is Leonidas or Curtius Or Winkelried to thee, that but their names Can move thee thus ? Their deeds and courage thus Make thy throat swell, and visionary flames Dazzle thine eyes ? What won these men in dying That still they live, the centuries defying ? THE POET AND HIS SELF. IX. THE POET SPEAKS : 'T^HEY loved their country with a love more strong Than death ; and while earth stands, so long Their names shall shine, enriching story. Fame for themselves have won a countless throng ; For all mankind these won eternal glory ! X. HIS SELF SPEAKS : 'T^HERE were two lovers walking by the sea, With eyes that spoke in flame and yet were pure ; The day was dying, but there could not be Or day or night to them, or cloud or sun. But in each other, all the world too poor To buy the wealth was in one look, in one Fond kiss of tenderness and fire, The apotheosis of chaste desire. 20 THE POET AND HIS SELF. And thou upon the chff above them lay, Touched with the tenderness such love behoved, And watched them bathed by dying day In flood of gold ; and all thy youth before thee Rose up again, and love's old languors o'er thee Lapsed like the sea. How deep thy soul was moved The tears hot springing to thine eyelids proved. XI. THE POET speaks: O |H, love, that bids all else defiance. And makes men gods ! Love proves the deep alliance Of seen and unseen ; soul to kindred soul Is by it joined, although between them roll The star-floods of all space ; and walking there Symbol of holiest mysteries was this pair. THE POET AND HIS SELF. XII. HIS SELF SPEAKS : TF beauty, courage, patriotism, love, Make thee exult in being ; If all life's ills they lift thy soul above Only in others seeing ; What must it be to kindle with such flame ? And who art thou a life so rich to blame ? Ever the spite of little souls 'gainst life Finds vent in peevish railing ; The self-sick egotist with self at strife Still seeketh unavailing Some fair excuse his weakness to explain ; And cries that life, not he, is void and vain. XIII. THE POET SPEAKS : T3UT man is like a child lost in the dark, Who knows not where he is or how bested. What boots to offer toys to him? A spark Of light were worth them all amid that dread. 22 THE POET AND HIS SELF. What joy is joy to him who walks in fear? Can life be comforted till 't is without The blinding pain of human ignorance, The stinging ache of human doubt? XIV. HIS SELF SPEAKS : T IFE is here, life is now, and who spends it in yearning To guess whither it tends, whence it comes, where it goes, Only wastes golden hours, and fails in the learning The secret it hides or the lesson it shows. Be content not to know ; life is doing, not knowing ; Only be, only live, only do ; still foregoing The unknovvn for the known while around thee it glows. For the wisdom of life is to live, not to question Of a meaning so hidden no eye can discern ; Oft the secret is told in some lightest suggestion, Who drinks deep of life's cup best life's meaning shall learn. THE POET AND HIS SELF. 23 Be content not to know, and each moment shall teach thee, Through beauty and love shall the mystery reach thee, Though elusive it vanished before at each turn. Life is good if we live without question. In sorrow It is doubt that smites ever with bitterest blows ; To the grief of the present the dread of the morrow Adds in anguish a sting the most cruel it knows. Be content not to know ; and with manly endeavor Battle down the grim fear of forever or never ; — Live to-day, live to-day, live to-day, ere it goes ! Life is here, life is now, but the moment is fleeting ; Live it fully in courage, as if it were all ; In the strength of thy manhood to make thy heart's beating Lead thee on unto victory e'en though thou fall ! Be content not to know; all the lore of the sages Nothing better can teach ; and the lesson of ages Is but this : live to-day, for thy moment is small ! 24 THE POET AND HIS SELF. XV. THE POET SPEAKS : TDUT not to know ! To go on blindly From doubt to doubt ; unwitting if or kindly Or cruel be the god or chance or fate Whose will we wait ! XVI. HIS SELF SPEAKS : /^H, passing gleam on life's tumultuous sea, What then art thou ! Count all the tribes that swarm About the earth, that have been or shall be, Then reckon all the stars, whose glories warm The void illimitable, nor will the tale The sum of being to express avail. When thou canst call the ocean dry if one Of all its drops shall fail, or count the earth, If one poor air-mote fall, a thing fordone. THE POET AND HIS SELF. 25 Then mayst thou dare complain if in thy birth The All hath failed itself to justify. Till then be humble, and forbear thy cry. A drop wave-scattered on the shore of time, A mote wind-blown, is in the universe As great a thing as thou. Eons sublime And beings infinite, must he rehearse Who of the All would reason ; can its span Be measured by so small a scale as man? What is, has been and shall be. It is well In that it is. Be glad if thou of all Some tiny syllable of truth canst spell. Before the awful mystery to fall In reverence is man's part ; while onward roll The mighty marches of the Eternal Whole ! 26 CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. LA MORT D'ARTHURE; I, xcix. /^OD knows we were in such a desperate case The very warders at the city's gates Wept as our train passed out, and on each face Were fear and dole ; since he who held our fates In his sole grasp, the blameless king and high. Great Arthur, might our piteous prayer deny. All the court women and each damosel After the Duchess following, down the way Strewn with the signs of battle fierce and fell Our train rode slow, until before us lay The splendid circle of pavilions bright Where Arthur's Table Round encamped its might. From lances in the greensward thrust hung shields And fluttered pennants gay with many a hue ; And helmets dinted deep in hard fought fields. CLAKISINE THE COUNTESS. 27 The silken curtains waving, gave to view Brave cups of gold with jewels set thereon, The spoil of cities Arthur's host had won. And everywhere were signs of conquest ; spoil Of Lombardie, Braband, and high Almaine, Loraine, and Flaunders ; wealth that patient toil Had gathered but to lose ; and now Tuskaine Must pay its share. And all about our town The moats were filled, the walls were broken down. So piteous was the contrast, even I Who hated so this Duchess, could have wept To see her anguish as our train drew nigh King Arthur's tent, as if in dreams we stepped From a land smit with famine into one Where plenty smiled like the high noonday sun. To see the pages crumble manchet bread To feed the hounds, made our mouths water. Meat In all our city there was none. Instead We ate of things here trodden under feet. I could have struggled with the pampered pack For a stray morsel, had not pride held back. 28 CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. On the bare ground the Duchess bent her knees Before the Enghsh king, and all her train Kneeled as she kneeled ; and crouching there witli these I seemed her bridal state to see again That day she came among us, and we bowed The knee in homage to her beauty proud. That day lives in my memory when she came To wed my lord and love ; and now my heart Swelled with so fierce a joy to view her shame My eyes with tears of bitter bliss did smart. That was her hour, and this, forsooth, was mine : Yet still I held my peace and gave no sign. The King avaled his visor, and his face AV^as meek and noble, while she humbly prayed He spare the town. " Have pity in your grace," She pleaded kneeling. " Let the siege be stayed. For love of God receive the city's keys, And spare the helpless babes, old men and these." And all we women beat upon the breast In woman's wise, and moaned and wept like rain ; CLARIS/ NE THE COUNTESS. 29 Till Arthur swore his awful sword should rest, If but the city ceased resistance vain, And gave the Duke up that on him for all The vengeance of the conqueror might fall. She that had moved the Duke to send us here. She that had slept within his arms and shared His children's love, she that had vowed more dear Than life to hold him, how was it she dared To hear such proffer nor to fling it back With scorn and rage, lest earth to gulf her crack ! There is a nook I wot of, by a stream, Shut round with pollard willows from the sun, Where once he kissed me on the lips. I deem. In sooth, had there between them been but one Embrace so full of love, she had not then Bartered her lord to save a world of men. Helpless I heard him thus betrayed to save A paltry city ! God's blood ! My lip through I set my teeth to keep back curses. Grave, To which we all go, I will he in you And curse this Duchess till the bolt of God Must needs flame out and smite her to the sod ! 30 CLARISINE THE COUNTESS. What were a thousand mighty cities' fates To his ? Would all the fair lands of Tuskaine Were wrapi>ed in flame, and every city's gates Swarmed with invaders, so he might remain Safe in his high estate, and unafraid. It was his wife and not his love betrayed ! And then anon the King stayed the assault j And I must see, who could not flee away As common wenches might, and hide, how Rolt, The Duke's first son, so like him one might say One were the other save for odds of years, Delivered up the keys. Quick -springing tears Blinded my eyes, till each fair burnished shield Wavered with swimming outline, one dull blur The brave deface emblazoned on its field ; He was so like his father ; not of her, His treacherous mother, one remotest trace. He might have been my son for all his face ! Gay as a garden bed where tulips crowd. The knights of the Round Table stood, with plume And helm, and shield, in gold and samite proud, CLARIS! NE THE COUNTESS. 31 And scarves, fair ladies' tokens, like the bloom Of all the flowers shall spring in fair Tuskaine From graves of her brave sons these swords have slain. And flutes and rebecks, tabor, pipe and lute, Made mellow all the air, their notes elate With insolence of victory ; as mute We came a second time in mournful state. While in a litter, hurt and wounded sore, To hear his doom pronounced the Duke they bore. How his eyes shone ! While he could hold a spear He would not yield. I thrust a bodkin deep Into my palfrey's side, and reined her near The litter as she bounded. I shall keep The look he gave me long as life' may last, And it shall warm my grave when life is past ! A prison is his guerdon. In his sleep, Dreaming of home, he hears the northern sea Beat on the walls of Dover's craggy steep ; And through his dungeon bars in autumn he May see the birds fly south toward Tuskaine, And long to follow them, — but long in vain. 32 CLARIS I NE THE COUNTESS. But when his thoughts fly yearning to the south, It cannot be to her. He knows her guile ; Sure he must hate her false, thin- lipped, pale mouth, And shudder thinking on her cruel smile. God's blood ! He is no longer hers but mine ; We shall be one in death. Toward that I pine ! THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK, IZ THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. TN that dread book where page by pag( God's angel writes from age to age All sins and woes, till time assuage, This wrong is written, to arise Blood red before all waiting eyes At that last day of Great Assize. High mountain walls the valley close, In midst a noble river flows. Fed from their crests' eternal snows. Far up a mountain side juts bold A rocky platform, firm of hold By span of stone like drawbridge old. Upon its drawbridge, nature's hand Of granite hewed, a paltry band Might bring an army to a stand. 3 34 THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. Thence might a watcher plainly trace All the wide valley's smiling face, Where the Chumaia had their place. A valley where fair rivers flow, Where pine-nuts and the wild grain grow. And dappled deer dart to and fro. Where 'mid the river's rustling reeds The water fowl to plumpness feeds, An'd to sleek trout shakes down ripe seeds. Of California's valleys fair None nature with more kindly care Did for her children wild prepare. Well the Chumaia loved this land, Where the Great Spirit held their band As in the hollow of his hand. Here in the mountain's friendly shade Had they their humble wigwams made, And here their dusky children played THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 35 In peace, with rude and childish game ; And life was good ; and but a name Misfortune, till the pale-face came. And then long years of blood and flame. And a black record writ in shame. Till the proud tribe was scarce a name ; And from a last despairing fight A broken remnant took its flight. Right crushed beneath the heel of might. Wild children of the wilderness, Bewildered by their wrongs' excess, Bitter beyond human redress, They fled through woodland mazes known. Save to the beasts, to them alone, Since once this forest was their own. A broken band they frantic fled To Bloody Rock ; and from its head Looked downward in despair and dread. 36 THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. So swift their flight they could not hide Their trail ; and up the mountain side A band of foemen fierce and tried, Like sleuth-hounds tracking down their game, Greedy for blood their white foes came, With cruel rifles, sure of aim. Relentless, pitiless they stood Amid the coverts of the wood. Grim smiling at their vantage good. The leader to the bridge drew near And called their foe with bitter jeer, His hard alternatives to hear. "We have you in a trap,'' his cry; " To choose the way that you shall die We give you leave. If you defy '' Our ofl'er, our guns' skill you know ; — • Either to starve in torments slow. Or leap to sudden death below." THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 37 What madness or what wile of Fate Led them to Bloody Rock to wait The coming of incarnate hate? Its fastness was a fatal snare. Prisoned they stood, environed there With walls impassable of air ! Their choice was that of heroes when They chose the leap. They proved them then That still were the Chumaia men. They locked their hands. In dusky line The red men stood, courage divine In their stout hearts ; of fear no sign. Shrill on the air their death-chant rose, And e'en the cold hearts of their foes Its anguished wail with horror froze. One parting sunbeam redly played, Like an accusing finger laid On Bloody Rock, as the sun stayed 38 THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. Its downward course to point the spot To God, that He forget it not Though all mankind this thing forgot. And far below they turned their gaze To where the setting sun's long rays Shot through the valley's purple haze. The valley that had been their world Stretched sweet below. Its faint mists curled With gleaming jewel tints impearled, As fair as Paradise in dreams ; From its long interlacing streams, Their fevered eyes caught silver gleams. Chanting their death-song, weird and high, They pierced the air with bitter cry, Singing farewell to earth and sky. Two score they stood in the red glow, — So far the valley lies below Its giant oaks like sage- bush show. — THE BALLAD OF BLOODY ROCK. 39 An instant on the verge they hung, While yet their quivering death- chant rung, — ^ Then to the awful depths they sprung. They were and were not, ere the eye Could turn aside. Their dying cry Hardly outstripped their souls on high. Then a great silence ; such as falls When human woe the heart appalls, And death with awful warning calls. The night mists through the valley spread ; Dim shadows hid the mountain's head : — Darkness and peace were o'er the dead. Its finger red the sun lays yet On Bloody Rock ere it will set ; And paints the cliff as it were wet With blood. And God does not forget. 40 THE POPLARS. THE POPLARS. TN the blue twilight, all along the shore, The poplars stood and watched her as she went, And whispered there behind her, though before They were so still, save only that they bent To peer at what she hid beneath her cloak, The burden over which her heart had broke. She heard their dreadful whispers each to each. Telling her secret, which she came to hide Under the sand ; their sinister, low speech That thrilled her through. And still the lapsing tide Repeated what they said, and cried her shame. And the dishonor of her ancient name. It had seemed that the very worst to bear Would be Ralph's eyes, and the fierce curse of Guy ; But now these poplars, standing solemn there. THE POPLARS. 4 1 Seemed to know something worse than these, and high Above her head she felt them speak of her And hint some awful secret in each stir. Shivering she hurried on her bitter way To where the tall cliffs overhung the strand ; Her burden in their shadow black to lay, Hiding it underneath the wave-beat sand. When suddenly she stumbled, while her gaze Was fixed in horror of a wild amaze. She sank down blindly, stricken to the ground, Dropping the thing she carried ; and laid bare From the dark wrappings which had swathed it round. Her dead babe tumbled on the sand. Its fair White hand lay like an empty, wave- tossed shell Beside a dead man's cheek there where it fell. This was the secret that the poplars knew ! Standing there silently, what had they seen When Ralph and Guy rode homeward? If one slew A man there in their sight, with dagger keen, Although it was her love they would not move, Unless it were to nod, as who approve. 42 THE POPLARS. The whole world whirled around her — save that still The poplars in the twilight, gaunt and tall, Watched in cold calm as if they had their will. She should have known this evil would befall ; Now she remembered Ralph's half pitying glance And Guy's derisive, baleful look askance ! She seemed to see her brothers riding down, Their horses' hoof-beats on the treacherous sand Too stealthy to give warning ; Ralph afrown With bitter sadness, Guy with eager hand Already on his dagger, and a smile More sharp than curses m its cruel guile. She saw her lover turn as he had turned That June day at the tourney, when her face Across the Hsts had yearned to him, and burned The distance from between them till the space Vanished away, and they seemed heart to heart. Despite the field which held them wide apart. How could her knight, taken thus unaware Here on the sands, hold out against the twain ? She had prayed that they kill her, laying bare THE POPLARS. 43 Her aching bosom to the knife in vain. Theif vengeance had been bitterer — to kill Her lover and to let her live on still ! And yet it seemed the poplars should have stayed The dreadful deed ! She sprang up bitterly^ And cursed them where they stood. Their tall forms swayed In the blue twilight, and she heard the sea Repeating what they whispered each to each, Telling her shame in sinister, low speech. 44 THE SWALLOW. THE SWALLOW. T DOFF my hat to the robin, And I fling a kiss to the wren, The thrush's song sets my heart throbbing, For it makes me a child again ; But when you wing your airy flight, My soul springs up to follow ; I would be one with you, and I might, For I love you, love you, swallow ! I hear the many-voiced chatter Under the barn's broad eaves, As clear as the rain's blithe patter, Or Usp of crisp poplar leaves ; I seem to learn the way to be glad. Earth's joys no more seem hollow ; He who would flee from musings sad Should learn to love you, swallow. THE SWALLOW. 45 Your flight is a song that lifts me A moment to upper air • That with strangest power gifts me To buoyantly match you there. How high soe'er your course may run, My eager thought doth follow ; Together we might reach the sun, For I love you, love you, swallow ! 46 REUNION. REUNION. " Has this been thus before? " Rossetti ; " Suddcii Lights 'T^HIS hath all been before ; and thou and I Were all in all unto each other ; And yet, when first my eager eye In this life on thee fell, keen bliss did smother Old memories, till my dull heart deemed This our first meeting, as it seemed. This shall all be again ; past other deaths New futures blest await us, dearest ; Though lives shall pass like fleeting breaths, In every parting still thou nearest. — But sure I must remember, sweet, All that has been, when next we meet ! THE FINISHED TASK. 47 THE FINISHED TASK. ■Y\7'HEN life is done, that it is done, if well. Should sure be cause for joy, even to those Who o'er their task unfinished see its close Through eyes which burn with tears. We may not tell By what divine adroitness it befell Another wrought so swift the work which shows The approving seal of Death, which for repose Sends the worn laborer to his strait cell. Long is the task of life, though it be wrought By dextrous hand and brain divinely keen. What end of toil but is with joyance fraught ? Why make lament that those whose lives have been Most quickly finished will delay for naught. But haste from toil to the reward unseen ? 48 THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. ■fX^'HEN the dead return, 't is not in garments ghostly, And shapes like those in life they wore ; Not as vague phantoms shivering through the case- ments, Like fugitives from night's dim shore ; Not with signs and omens fearful is their commg ; No outward sense their forms may mark ; To spirit prescience alone their spirits Call sweetly from the outer dark. When the dead return, 't is as a blest conviction That fills like Hght the waiting soul ; It is but this ; and like the daylight fading It vanishes without control. THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 49 Yet who has felt this bliss no more can sorrow Hold utterly within her sway ; He knows how sharp soe'er may be his anguish It can endure but for a day ! 50 AND AFTER AND AFTER. TITHEN love has been a flower One smelled of and laid by, Or set in a glass Where he useth to pass Till it should fade and die ; Then one with time forgets it, And another flower contents ; Or, if he brief regrets it, 'T is that It pleased his sense. When love has been the throbbing Of one's own inmost heart ; The light of his eyes, The breath of his sighs, His soul's bliss and its smart ; Then love by life is measured. Since love and life are one ; Together they are treasured. Together they are done. IN THE LIGHTHOUSE. IN THE LIGHTHOUSE. 'T^HE light in the Hghthouse tower Goes round and round and round, Like a fiery eye which searches For that which is never found ; The sea, on the rocks beneath it, Calls still for what does not come ; While the heart of the lighthouse keeper Yearns ever, but ever is dumb. The sea-birds dash on the lantern And fluttering die in the night, In useless, vain endeavor To reach the beacon light. The winds cry out forever For that which no quest may reach ; But the keeper's strong desire Is far too deep for speech. 52 IN THE LIGHTHOUSE. Night after night in the lantern He sets the light aglow; Night after night complaining He hears the waves below. He hears the wind's fierce crying And the sea-bird's death-note shrill ; But the pain of his love's denial He suffers and is still. THE GREAT SPHINX. 53 THE GREAT SPHINX. Tl THERE sea and shore locked in a stern embrace, Like mighty wrestlers who strain knee and thigh In mortal combat, a primordial race Whose latest memory ages had let die Ages agone, builded the Sphinx, to stand Watching that strife, impartial and sublime ; And on the wave-washed border of the land The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. Slow inch by inch the land pressed back the sea With mighty strain, till the Sphinx' listening ear The wave's hoarse roar heard faintly ; steadfastly It fought the tides, as year dropped after year Like swift sands in the glass. Age followed age As in the fervid sun melts morning's rime ; And still, eternity its heritage, The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. 54 THE GREAT SPHINX. Men came and went ; race after race decayed ; Even the stars grew old, till here and there One paled and died ; a late-come people stayed To pile the pyramids, ere they should fare To tombs whose very stones are dust ; the gods Themselves fell from their many-templed prime ; While still in watchfulness nor sleeps nor nods^ The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. Farther away the battle fared, the shore Still straining every thew against the tide ; Till wide plains fertile lay where wide of yore The bitter water stretched but might not bide. Amid its sheen of emerald and gold A small stream crept, bred, like an asp, in sHme ; Watching the new-born Nile wax broad and old, The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. And men forgot the races who of eld Had in their turn forgotten that the sea Once laved the Sphinx's feet. Calm it beheld Monarchs arise, and reign, and cease to be ; Proud cities like mirages rise and fall ; Peace marred by war and virtue crossed with crime THE GREAT SPHINX. 55 And wisdom stained with folly; seeing all The Sphinx crouched like embodied time. And all the golden glory of the East Waxed 'round it till one matchless woman bloomed, Its perfect flower ; then swift as it increased Waned Egypt's greatness, in its flower doomed. Stealthy as its own lioness, the waste Pressed ever forward ; but with front sublime x\nd motionless regard its bound'ry traced The Sphinx, crouched like embodied time. The sand waves beat its feet as once the brine. But moved it not ; the hot, dry billows pressed Up to its throat, and. could no more; divine It stayed their ravage with its stony breast. Till sea and desert be no more, it stands In solitude superb, unmatched in age or clime ; Changeless as fate, while men waste like the sands. The Sphinx waits like embodied time. 56 BY THE SEA. BY THE SEA. r^ LITTERS the water with myriad stars That but flash as they flee ; Crossed is the heaven with milky bars, While, a russet band, The hne of the land Cuts the pale blue sky from the steely sea. Boats hurry by with the sun on their sails And the foam on their lee ; Yet all their speed as nothing avails To match the swift flight Of the fleet gulls, white 'Gainst tne pale blue sky and the steely sea. Over the waves of a creek far remote, Like a dim memory. Steals some dark Indian in birchen boat ; And his bright blade dip3 Like a meteor that slips From the pale blue sky to the steely sea. NIGHT SONG. 57 NIGHT SONG. T STOLE along through the dark, And I trembled for who might hear, As I followed the casement's spark That guided me to my dear. For I thrill with such rapturous pain, And the languor of keenest desire, To revive in thy smile again, And to glow with thy kisses^ fire ! The roses quivered with love Till their dew-wet petals fell, As I watched the dim lattice above For the signal I knew so well ; But the sweet, dusky night wastes away, And my love is allfei^vor and flame ; Oh, awake ei-e the moon betray, — Canst thou sleep when I murmur thy name ! 58 POPE JOHN XXIII. POPE JOHN XXIII. [BALTHAZAR COSSA.] T"! 71X11 bare feet brown as the dust he trod, He trudged toward Rome his sturdy way j The while in childish treble shrill He trolled the ritornella gay : " Oh, flower of the broom. How fleeting is youth's bloom ! •'And whither goest?" asked shepherd folk. Toward Rome he nodded curl-crowned head. •" And what wouldst thou with Rome? " they cried. ''I shall be Pope," he said. Oh, flower of the heath, What shall abash youth's faith? The soil of Rome is foul and rich, And fast grows what is sown therein ; Page, soldier, intriguer was he, — POPE JOHN XX in. 59 Then was he priest absolving sin. Oh, flower of the rose, How oft with youth faith goes ! By ways of guile and ways of force, He rose the scarlet hat to wear ; Did he remember how he came With curl-crowned head and brown feet bare? Oh, flower of the thyme, What memories crowd life's prime ! Then the tiara crowned his head ; An emperor held his bridle-rein, Barefooted walking at his side ; And nobles sued for grace in vain. Oh, flower of the grass. Yet swiftly all things pass ! In pride and power he waxed, as if There were no end to rule and place ; Then death's hand touched him, and he got For all his might delay nor grace. Oh, flower of the quince. Forsooth, how fares he since? 6o GUILT. GUILT. /^NCE in a dream, meseemed I fell Upon my foe and slew him ; then Standing beside his corse, felt swell Remorse so keen I waked again. ^•' It was a dream, my soul is clear," I said, '' since he is living yet." '' Not so," my soul cried ; " guilt is here While you that he escaped regret ! " ENCOUNTER. 6i ENCOUNTER. 'T^WO spirits swirled along the vast, Meeting, each other clutched in fear While each his woe outbreathed, aghast The other's bitter plaint to hear. ^' Alas ! " one mourned, ^^ from bridal bliss Death tore me, newly wed this morn." The other wailed : " Far worse than this My pain ; I hasten to be born ! " 62 WHEN FIRST LOVE COMES. WHEN FIRST LOVE COMES. (RONDEAU.) Y\7HEN first love comes, this stranger guest Youth Httle knows, as in his breast Keen thrills he feels, half bliss, half pain. Yet not for worlds would he again Return to the old quiet blessed. Such pleasure dwells in this unrest, This ecstasy he counts the best Of all life's savors sweet or vain, When first love comes. And still with longing unrepressed Backward does age look, dispossessed, When of youth's fervors none remain And all its gracious hopes are slain ; Remembering with sighs life's zest When first love comes. SLEEP, 63 SLEEP. /^H, Sleep, how soft thy kiss ; how cool and sweet The touch of thy pale hand upon the brow That throbs with pain. All else grows old ; but thou Art ever young. He who pursued thee fleet In youth's hot flush, no less before thy feet In palsied age a suppliant comes to bow. To thee, though thus forsworn, love pays its vow ; Thy kiss consoles the vanquished for defeat, And is best bliss the conqueror obtains. Night shows the sorrowing one thy sflken tent, And in thine arms doth he forget his pains. Though fortune frown, refusing to relent. If thou art kind, the best of life remains. And we despair only when from thee rent. 64 SLEEP. II So dear thou art, so passing sweet and fair, Not even Egypt's dusky queen had spell Potent as thine— or schemed with wiles as fell ! How prodigal the heart thou dost ensnare ! How dearly buy we each endearment rare ; How lavishly for every kiss we tell Its price in golden time sands, knowing well The bitter poverty that we must bear. We give thee all that is, all that may be, All that has been, nor once the price regret, Since worthless were it all bereft of thee. We know thee cruel as the grave, and yet Our love pour out as lavish as the sea, Since none save thee can teach us to forget ! FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 65 FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. AFTER THE STORM. /^VER the green and purple bay Like eager gulls the white crests flock ; Like wild gray falcon, bent on prey, The fleet boat speeds and spreads dismay. Till they rush to death on the shore's black rock. A SUNSET. The lighthouse floats on the milky sea. As if it were hung in air ; The setting sun all crimson flames, While, unwarmed by its glare. The moon sails high In the dimming sky, Of every cloud-fleck bare. 5 66 FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. THE CLIFF. Peaked, el)on ledges, with shining spray powdered, Showers of pearls from some Titan's great hands ; Cliffs gray and sombre, and gaunt forests spectral ; \\'hite gulls like memories of far-away lands. A SOUTHERN SUNSET. The palmettoes tall against a sky Of saffron and rose and pearl Stand as if cut from jade. The shadows lie About their feet, where black roots curl Like water- snakes that writhe and coil Out of the water thick and smooth as oil. With eyes hand-shaded looks the quadroon girl Across the lake's smooth sheen, bespread With faint reflected clouds of gray and red ; While like the spirit of the coming night The heron wings on high his sullen flight. FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 67 AN AFTERNOON. So blue the sea that all the sky looks pale, And white as snow the fleet yacht's rounded sail ; And white as snow along the black reef's line The breaker's curling edges gleam and shine \ While dark against the sky, against the bay, The gnarled boughs of a tall pine writhe and sway. NIGHTFALL. In red and brown the sun goes dqwn, In crimson cloud and sombre rack ; A crescent moon, new-born since noon, The smooth sea mirrors back. UNDER THE RIOON. The wavelets edge themselves with flame As the dark tide turns to flow In molten silver under the moon, Over the sands of snow : 68 FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. As if the seething sea in rage Foamed with a spume of fire Thus to be baffled by the land, Burning in futile ire. OFF IRELAND. Rocks furred with the velvety heather As brown as the dun deer's horns in the spring ; Where the sea-birds, like bees in June weather 'J 'hat hum 'round the hive, on untiring wing Hover in clouds of gray ; While far below. The wavering line of spray Rims the cliff's foot with snow, Where restless waves their foam-wreaths fling. And isle and ocean melt together. THE INSCRUTABLE SEA. Flashes innumerous come and go, Teasing the sun-god burning for love's blisses, As the sea warmed with ardor to his kisses : FROM A SKETCH-BOOK. 69 Yet on their way remorseless down below Sweep the fell currents with untiring motion^ Hid by the sparkles which bewitching glow, The Mona Lisa smile of the ocean. A MARCH DAY. A single boat lies on the glass-smooth bay. As gray the water as spun flax ; and gray The sky as smoke ; and gray as moss-grown stone Crumbling on some old grave, forgot and lone, The shore and boat and tree. The stretches of beaches, The long sandy reaches, The wavering dunes, and the wide, windy sea. 70 HA RUN. HARUN. A BU, the sage, master among the wise, Said to his pupil, Harun : '' To their end Flow all my years. When death shall close my eyes, To thee my mantle and my rule descend. " In token of thy mission shall be thine Three wishes. See that thou art wise in choice, That thou the very heart of truth divine, Since thou must teach when dust hath choked my voice." ''Master," quoth Harun, ''be first boon to stand In thought upon the farthest star man's sight May eager reach when, on the desert's sand, His vision yearns through the abyss of night " The master bowed assent. Straightway a trance Wrapped Harun's sense, passed him and left him free. HARUN. 71 " What sawest thou? " asked Abu. " The advance Of mote-thick stars down the mimensity." The master smiled. "Thy second boon," he said. " In thought to stand upon that star the last My vision conquered." Abu bent his head ; This too was granted, and the vision passed. ''What sawest thou?" " As thick as dust when high By the simoon the desert sands are swirled, The stars hang in the void, far as the eye Could pierce the gloom, each one a perfect world." ''Thy third wish?" Abu said. " Once more to look From that last star which trembled, far and dim, Upon my vision's utmost verge." Scarce shook The master's beard of snow, ere unto him 72 HA RUN. This too had come, — and passed. With eyes as quick As youthful lover's, set 'neath brows of snow, Still Abu asked : " What sawest thod ? " " Stars thick As thoughts of mortals which no number know " Reach on down the illimitable dread." " Now of the boon that thou hast reached the span, What hast thou gained? " "The secret," Harun said; " The heart of truth, — the nothingness of man ! " A REMINISCENCE. 73 A REMINISCENCE. TN that time, ten centuries back, When I was an Eastern king, I was weary of Hfe for lack Of a love that could comfort bring. And a girl with breath like nard. With sleek, long limbs, and eyes Which glowed like the eyes of a pard In the jungle that drowsy lies, Came and danced in the torches' glow Till once more there was savor in life ; And my sluggish blood had the flow Of youth with its passionate strife. When the irksomeness of to-day Seems more than my soul can endure. On a sudden the time melts away. And my heart, like a hawk to its lure, 74 A REMINISCENCE. Flies back to that night long past, In the centuries set like a star; For a moment I hold her fast, In that antique world afar. I feel her warm, sweet breath And her burning lips on mine, And the fluttering heart which death Has scattered in dust on the wind. A moment — and then to-day Comes back all dull and stale ; As the vision fades away Like the breath of a finished tale. And if I shall find her again In the centuries yet to see. Who knoweth ; or if in vain Forever my quest must be ? THE ADVANCE. 75 THE ADVANCE. \X7ITH the thunder of legions the army advances, With hoarse clangor of trumpets and clamor of drums ; With hot prancing of horses and glancing of lances, And with wild, tingling bugle-notes onward it comes ! Who remembers his babes at his wife's knee soft prattling. Or who sighs that afar weeps his mother white-haired. Now that empty of steel every scabbard is rattling And with glitter foreboding each sword flashes bared ! There was yesterday love, there '11 be fame for to- morrow — But to-day there is neither ; the need of the hour Has o'erwhelmed all beside, and nor pleasure nor sorrow Nor the heart's dearest hope now has meaning or power. ^6 THE ADVANCE. It is but the mad zeal to beat down yonder foemen Now possesses all souls as a flame wraps a pyre ; That now thrills every fibre of leaders and yeomen, With a wild, awful rage in which mingles no ire. Men no longer are men, but of one force gigantic Is each warrior a part, yearning forward to slay ; As resistless the tide sweeps the mighty Atlantic Sweep the columns along on their blood-flooded way. And the blare of the trumpets, with clash of arms vying, Shrieks on high for a carnage shall glut e'en Death's maw; While the cries of the trampled, turned human in dying. Fall on ears deaf to prayers, — for, oh, God ! this is war I LOVE IS A KNAVE. I^J LOVE IS A KNAVE. RONDEAU. T OVE is a knave ; he plucks a rose Or twines a curl, — and toys like this He spreads to snare fond hearts ; he knows How little else than light breath goes To vows and bubbles both, I wis. The most bewitching airs he blows On sweet-voiced pipes ; while promised bliss, Pledged with no sure fruition, shows Love is a knave. Sweet, to deprive us of repose. Love weaves his schemes ; but, naught amiss, We laugh to scorn his threatened woes, And cry, with warmest clasp and kiss, *' Love is a knave ! " 78 PULPIT ROCK. PULPIT ROCK. TTTHEN the tide comes in, cooing and wooing sweet With soft, fond kisses in the summer noon. And lays largess of treasures at its feet, Sea-wrack and shells and every gracious boon Love can devise — passionless and austere The gray rock stands, and will not see or hear. When the tide comes in in wrath of winter night, Beating with giant hands, and shouting hoarse Like viking in berserker rage, and might Of all the whirlwinds rushing from their source — Untouched alike by anger or by fear. Steadfast the rock abides the tempest drear. PULPIT ROCK. 79 Well were it for the heart unmoved to brave The bitter storms of fate which fierce assail ; To see the welkin darken with the wave Over its head, yet steadfast to prevail ; — But better be fate's slave, than cold and dumb When love's sweet tides in fond persuasion come ! So TO A SLIPPER. TO A SLIPPER. T17HEN my great-great-great-grandmamma Was but a maid of sweet sixteen, This slipper, faded now and frayed, Was hers in pride of satin sheen. 'T hath danced in stately minuet. And as it twinkled in and out Beneath her brocade petticoat 'T hath tortured many a heart, no doubt. It hath a high, unsteady heel. And such a piquant, pointed toe. That with, a strangely mincing gait, She must have been constrained to go. Yet I doubt not her powdered hair And glancing eyes accorded well With these same marionette -like steps. And made her lovers' bosoms swell. TO A SLIPPER. 8 1 My dear great- great-great- grandmamma Long since was clothed in heavenly guise ; For 'spite this slipper frivolous She walked this world in godly wise. And as she strays through Paradise With golden sandals, jewelled clear, Sure she must smile, if she recall This slipper that she danced in here. 82 IN TULIPEE. IN TULIPEE. A X /"HEN the pulse of spring stirs in the blood And blithe birds northward soar ; When bough and heart begin to bud, Though old they be, and hoar ; 'T is then, in the hush which morning brings, A sound long gone in memory rings ; As of old I listening seem to be To the tinkling mule bells of Tulipee. When the morning star begins to fade, And day's pink finger-tips On the edge of Heaven's gate are laid, Before she through it sHps, — 'T is then the mule-bells ringing clear My inner sense so well can hear ; Till again the palm-girt walls I see Where winds the road through Tulipee. There was one palm bent like a bow That leaned above a wall. IN TULIPEE. Zt^ That its long shadow, moving slow, To tell the hours let fall ; And one knew when it reached so far Would Nina take her water-jar Down to the fountain gurgling free By the river Lisa in Tulipee. A line of shapes in the morning dim Went the muleteers their way To where on the broad bay's silver rim The city waiting lay ; And as under my lattice they passed along Each morn I waked to hear their song, For it seemed a message to bring to me From her nest they passed in Tulipee. Oh, long are the years have fled since then, And cold are the skies above ; Little this sombre north doth ken Of the zest of a tropic love. But when spring comes, I glow again With the old time fires of bUss and pain ; All life hath left I would give to be Young, and with Nina in Tulipee ! «4 A FLOWER CYCLE. A FLOWER CYCLE. To G. W. C. THE CROCUS. "O RAVE crocus, out of time and rash, You come when skies are all amort and chill ; Too soon to find how cruel hail can dash, And bitter winds can kill. You are like early loves, most sure, Which die so soon in this world's nipping air ; Your mission like to theirs, — not to endure, But to make springtime fair. II. THE TRILLIUMS. Wake, robin ! Wake, robin ! " the trilliums call, Though never a word they say ; A FLOWER CYCLE. 85 Wake, robin! Wake, robin!" while bud-sheaths fall. And violets greet the day. The soft winds bring the spring again. The days of snow are done ; The stir of life 's in every vein, And warmly shines the sun. The trillium stars are white as milk. They beckon as they swing ; The trillium's leaves are soft as silk, They make the robins sing. Soon all the hill and all the dale Shall once again be gay ; When trilliums from the tree-set vale Open their cups to-day. Wake, robin ! Wake, robin ! " the trilliums cry. Though never a sound they make ; Wake, robin ! W^ake, robin ! " till wings whir by. And robins sing for their sake. 86 A FLOWER CYCLE. III. THE WATER LILY. Where the dark waters lave, Where the tall rushes wave, Safe from rude winds that rave, Floats the fair lily ; White as my sweetheart's breast, Pure as her dreamings blest, Lying in cradled rest, When night is stilly. Oft wooing comes the bee On light wings eagerly, Leaving the pleasant lea Luscious with clover ; Then to her heart of gold, 'Mid petals half unrolled, Fond doth the lily fold The amorous rover. Sweetheart, within thine arms Fold me with all thy charms, A FLOWER CYCLE. 87 Safe from more rude alarms Than thy heart's beating. Let the sweet Hly be Emblem for thee and me ; Be thou as kind as she In thy fond greeting ! IV. THE WILD- BRIAR. The wild-briar dabbles his finger-tips In the wine till they are red ; Then over the hedge he climbs and slips, And kisses the wild rose on the lips Till blushing she bows her head. The wild-briar clambers from spray to spray, For an ardent wooer he ; But once he has won, he hastes away, Nor tears nor prayers avail to stay His fickle fancy free. The wild-briar riots the thicket through, Like a wanton, lusty faun ; A FLOWER CYCLE. He strings for the cedar berries blue. He vows to the alder homage true, He sighs to woo the dawn ! For the fire of love and the fire of youth Fill his veins with zest divine ; Till winter has seized him without ruth, And thickets are bare ; oh, then, in sooth, He longs for spring's glad wine ! THE COLUMBINE. Gay in her red gown, trim and fine, Dances the merry columbine. Never she thinks if her petals shall fall ; Cold rains beating she does not dread ; Sunshine is round her and spring birds call. Blue are the skies above her head. So in her red gown, trim and fine, Merrily dances the columbine. Blithe with her white throat, smooth and fine, Dances the careless columbine. A FLOWER CYCLE 89 If she coquets with the wandering bee, When he goes does she toss her head ; Heart-whole and froHcsome still is she, Lovers enough she finds instead. So with her white throat smooth and fine. Carelessly dances the columbine. Bright in her coronet, golden and fine, Dances the mocking columbine. Gay is she still, whatsoever befall, Loveless wanton, on pleasure bent ; Now is her moment, her day, her all ; — Where will she be when it is spent? Then will be dust all her coronet fine ; Dust, only dust, mocking columbine. VI. THE FOXGLOVE. In grandmamma's garden in shining rows. The box smells sweet as it trimly grows ; The sun-dial quaint the hours tells, 'Mid foxgloves tall with spotted bells ; . <)0 A FLOWER CYCLE. And all is dear, and all is fair, As childhood's self had dwelling there. In grandmamma's garden a child I played With naught save bees to make afraid ; I counted the spots on the foxglove's cheek, And knew it could tell, if it would but speak, How cunning fairies painted them And made each like a shining gem. In grandmamma's garden the foxgloves gay • With every wind would nod and sway ; Full well I knew that they were wise. And watched with childhood's eager eyes To see them whisper each to each, And catch the secrets of their speech. In grandmamma's garden still I walk. And still the foxgloves seem to talk. Their speech not yet my manhood learns, But when I see them youth returns ; I wonder at them still in vain, — But with them am a child again. A FLOWER CYCLE. 91 VII. THE CARDINAL FLOWER. When days are long and steeped in sun The brown brooks loiter as they run, And lingering eddy as they flow Full loth to leave the meadows low ; For then the cardinal, ablaze With splendid fires, their fancy stays. Like a tall Indian maiden, dressed In scarlet robes, with tranquil breast That ne'er has known love's humbling thrall But haughty queens it over all, The flower her image mirrored throws, While proud as beautiful she glows. She sees the speckled trout dart by, And swift- winged flit the dragon-fly Over the brook's smooth waters dun ; Naught doth she heed them, all or one ; Even the sun-god when he woos With proud indifference she views. 92 A FLO WE J^ CYCLE. The saucy swallow darts athwart The topaz brook, but wins him naught Of notice from the haughty queen. Wrapped in her beauteous self, serene She dwells alone, untouched by praise. Through the brief splendor of her days. VIII. THE LUPINE. Ah, lupine, with silvery leaves And blossoms blue as the skies, I know a maid like thee, And blue, too, are her eyes. Gray as a nun's her dress ; How lowly, And holy Her mien, cannot mere words express. Fair lupine, tlie dew-drop shines A gem night gives to thee ; So pure her radiant soul Within her breast must be. A FLOWER CYCLE. 93 Like thee, she dwells alone ; All sweetness, And meetness, As in thyself in her are known. Ah, lupine, I pluck thy bloom, But how her grace may I win? So pure, so fair, is she My suit may not begin Unless I send thy flower To prove her, And move her, Me with her priceless love to dower ! IX. THE MEADOW RUE. The tall white rue stands like a ghost That sighs for days departed, Ere life's woes gathered like a host And sorrow's tears had started. And 't is, oh, to be a child again Where meadow brooks are playing. 94 A FLOWER CYCLE. Where the long grass nods with sound hke rain To south wind through it straying ! Oh, the rue grows tall and fair to see ; Sweet ' herb of grace ' and memory. The white rue trembles as it stands, As if some spirit seeing, As if it yearned toward unseen hands — Some loved one near, but fleeing. And 't is, oh, to taste lost youth once more, When well-loved lips were meeting ; When the heart was light that now is sore, Nor dreamed love's bliss is fleeting. Oh, the rue grows tall and fair to see ; Sweet ' herb of grace ' and memory. X. THE JASMINE. The soft, warm night wind flutters Up from the dim lagoon, W^hile the timorous shadows hide them From the red new-risen moon ; A FLO WE I^ CYCLE. 95 The scent of the jasmine Hngers Like a languorous pain divine, Till the night- moth reels in its fragrance, Drunken as if with wine. Oh, jasmine fair ; Oh, southern night most rare ! The warm air beats with passion As some hot bosom throbs, While an amorous night-bird murmurs. As its bliss found vent in sobs ; The breath of the jasmine pulses. It comes and goes on the wind ; Could one cHmb o'er its lattice What bhss might he not find ! Oh, jasmine blest ; What dreams of cradled rest ! A spark from the casement flickers, And touches the jasmine's bloom, Till the blossoms glow like star gems As they gleam in the fragrant gloom. I know not what breath from their chalice Has stirred my soul like wine, 96 A FLOWER CYCLE. Till I reel like the drunken night- moth With love's keen pain divine. Oh, jasmine sweet, Why speeds the night so fleet? XI. THE PURPLE ASTER. When the brown birds take flight and hot summer is over, When leaves fall fluttering down from the trees, When the sweet flowers fade, and the bee, wanton rover, Safe hid at home takes his honey- fed ease ; Then comes all alone, and unmindful of summer. The stanch purple aster, with goodliest cheer ; And blithe is the heart of the sturdy late comer That blooms all alone in the bleak of the year. With its messages brave all the lorn meadows cheering, It lifts its chalices up to the sky ; As in promises sure that the chill winter nearing, Must yield its sway to the spring by-and-by. A FLOWER CYCLE. 97 Its heart is of gold, and sweet faith is the burden Its blossoming teaches when hope seems to flee ; Small love or reward does it win as its guerdon, Yet fails not its cheer though the skies clouded be. When the shrill, merry horn of the hunter is sounding. And hounds are baying from valley to hill ; When the hot, panting stag in his flight hurries bounding. While speeds the hunt with a turbulent will ; Then the frosts come at night, and the aster drops slowly Its pale, purple petals, like flakes, one by one ; Till all its brave beauty lies scattered and lowly, And shrivels to dust 'neath the cold autumn sun. 98 FRAGRANCE. FRAGRANCE. A FANTASIA. "^OT all the sensuousness of melting sound Can move our being as sweet fragrancies Steal with insinuations delicate Into the mind. The lute's low melody, Plaintive as love ; the organ's reverent tone ; The horn's inspiring blast ; the wild appeal Of hautboys sentient of all life's deep pain ; The eager clamor of the drum's fierce beat ; Touch, thrill, or rouse, yet leave us still ourselves. But who has breathed the scent of violets And not that moment been some lover glad That to his love is clasped in heavenly kiss ; Who smelled the earth new turned, and not a space Been the blithe husbandman robust and free ; Who drunk the perfume of the ripening grape Like wine, nor straightway felt himself a god ? FRAGRANCE. 99 All memories, or sad or piercing sweet, Come on the wings of fragrance ; all desire Wakes at its bidding with resistless stress ; Old dreams are in its keeping ; youth and love Wait on its will, and not the thoughts which serve Their sweet behests move with more subtile law, Swifter or more mysteriously. The sea Sends its compelling message on the wind In scent of brine, and who may say it nay. The woods their odors balsamic breathe out As slow swung censers all the minster fill With fume of incense, and who strays therein Forgets the world and fame and love and gold. The sudden breath of some old fragrance long Remembered, our lost youth gives back again ; And only by this mystic alchemy Is the past from its ashes recreate. What song of siren, over the hushed waves Persuasive wooing to the yearning ear Of mariners long storm-tossed, wins his sense Like wafts of perfume from some isle of spice, lOO FRAGRANCE. Seductive telling of groves dimly lit With green light filtered through dark cassia boughs, And honeyed hushes 'twixt the birds' low lays? Of more delights than sense can speak they hint ; And weary wanderings on the bitter brine, The toilsome oar, the stinging wind, the wave Insatiate hounding down its cowering prey, Are all forgotten in that luring spell. What ecstasy of sense is like to that One breathes in walking through the bosky way Of the fresh woods in June? Odor of pines. The heavy sweetness which the barberi-y pours, And the divine aroma of the bloom Of wild grapes matted o'er some rustic wall, Or eglantine, mingling its spicy smell With that of luscious honeysuckle horns. What vague romances old flit through the brain When on the air rich scents are shaken out From Orient stuffs wrought with dull gold and silks Dim with a hundred hues. All the fair time Of great Alraschid seems to live again. FRAGRANCE. lo And dreams are real. Was not that sound the note Of flutes contending with the nightingale? Did not a signal taper's welcome spark A moment from the loved one's lattice gleam? Something there is more sublimate in scent Than in aught else of which our earthly sense Has cognizance. It trembles on the line Which marks where spirit doth with matter blend. Angels might talk with fragrancies for speech As we with sounds ; and truth so deep and high ^Vords cannot compass it, might be outbreathed In perfumes, had we gift to understand. Here an uncomprehended mystery, There may be worlds where, its deep secret guessed, It is the key which shall make all things plain ! I02 DEATH AND LOVE. DEATH AND LOVE. /^"\NCE Death in malice cruel sought to slay Love the immortal, and with poison dart Smote down a bright-winged cherub in my heart ; And came in glee again upon a day To gloat above the corse, and mocking say ; '' Aha ! how desolate and lone thou art ! Where is the balm shall ease thee of this smart? Rise up, and make a grave and there Love lay." And I, for answer, bade him turn and gaze Where in my heart, as in a hallowed shrine, Sat Love in deathless state. With sore amaze. He cried, *' I surely slew this god of thine ! " " Love cannot die," I said. *' It lives always. Thy stroke slew Passion, but not Love divine ! " BEREA VEMENT. ^ ^3 BEREAVEMENT. T IKE a star that on water wind-vexed -^ Its tremulous image has thrown, So over my soul, grief-perplexed. Thy radiant presence has shone. But as clouds shut the stars from man's sight Has death closed between us. Below Surge the billows in blackness of night. — Of the star lost to view who may know? I04 THE LOVE OF THE DEAD. THE LOVE OF THE DEAD. Yl TOFUL and desolate beyond all word A ghost bent o'er her sleeping child ; With mother-passion all her being stirred To bear it on her breast through Noland wild. But by the child the father slumbering lay, And her name murmured in his sleep. With bitter moan she turned and fled away ; A double loss she could not make him weep. THE SPHINX. 105 THE SPHINX. A GES unsolved my question waits A nobler race with broader span ; My riddle CEdipus guessed not, He but rephrased it — " man." A higher race the doubt must solve As man of brute or plant doth learn ; As brute to man, so man to these Who shall the secret's core discern. Till then unmoved I silent brood With smile half pity and half scorn j With cold contempt I see men die, But pity wakes when men are born. io6 CHOPIN" S NOCTURNE IN G MINOR. CHOPIN'S NOCTURNE IN G MINOR. ■pAINT through the twilight hazes Shimmers one palpitant star ; Faint through the woodland mazes The Angelus sounds afar. Only the brook's murmur golden Falls on the wanderer's ear ; Voices of memories olden The soul holds breath to hear. Voices of joy and sorrow Vanished and far away As the dawn of the sun-bathed morrow Seems from this dying day, When faint through the twilight hazes Shimmers eve's palpitant star; And faint through the woodland mazes The Angelus dies afar. A SONG OF TOKENS. 107 A SONG OF TOKENS. VITHEN the spring on the hills sets her sandaled feet lightly And with honeyed breath hastens the wasting of snows, Amid thickets where lately the frost stars shone brightly There a flower all peerless awakens and grows. The cold memory of drifts and the promise of summer Are commingled to one in the lovely new comer, Till in union of snows and of rose the spring knows How her own splendid flower the kalmia blows. II. When the summer in state hides her pulse's hot tingling Under robes of rich verdure and jewel-like sheen. io8 A SONG OF TOKENS, When her pride and her passion upbound in their mingUng, Is the sign of her mood in a flower still seen. From the cool brooks it rises, and burns 'mid the rushes Like a flame springing upward to outsoar the thrushes. All love's poignant, fierce pain, sweet and vain, bliss and bane. In the cardinal summer embodies amain. III. When the autumn sits pensive, and calls back with sighing All the dear lost delights of the days that are dead. Half unconscious she weaves from the hues that are dying On the hill and the lake, one last wreath for her head. Of faint purple and gold are the blossoms she chooses. For the hope that she holds and the joy that she loses ; And the first frosts surprise her with eyes where tears rise. While a garland of asters upon her brow dies. A SONG OF TOKENS. IO9 IV. When the winter comes slowly with footsteps that linger All along the lone way where his loved ones have trod, Not one blossom or bud does his chill, numbing finger Set to shine upon bush or the meadow's brown sod. Far too deep is his grief to be shown by such token, And he covers from sight all his hopes fond and broken ; For when grief is most deep, then must weeping still steep The sad soul, till to silence at last death adds sleep. no A MAN'S REPROACH. A MAN'S REPROACH. TX7HEN into my life you came You gave me no promise, yet still Dare I charge on you the shame Of a pledge you have failed to fulfil. Said not each tone of your voice, Said not each look of your eye, " Measure my truth at your choice ; No means of proof I deny " ? Was it for nothing your glance Held itself, flame pure, to mine? Needed there speech to enhance The strength of its promise divine? Was there no pledge in that smile, Dazzling beyond all eclipse? Only God measures your guile When you could lie with those lips ! A MAN'S REPROACH. iii You fail me, in spite of it all, And smile that no promise you break. No word you have need to recall ; Your self is the vow you forsake ! 112 A BIRTH-CHANCE. A BIRTH-CHANCE. P^ WOMAN lay in travail, While the candle by her bed Burned down toward its socket ; And Fate, with fine smile, said : '• If the candle live to light him Let the boy's life joyful be ; But let him be born to sorrow If its gleam he do not see." Slowly the anguished moments One after one went by, Till the wan flame died in darkness, — And there followed the babe's birth-cry ! FORWARD I 113 FORWARD ! T IVE swiftly, that thy slow years may not falter Dragging dull feet along time's weary way ; In quick succession let emotions alter, And crowd the life of years into a day ; They miss the secret who with trifles palter And dally idly when they fleet should run. Be thy course as of splendid comet wheeling Its matchless march onward from sun to sun ; Waymarks along our path are throes of feeling. Who soonest lives them through is swiftest speeding Along the road to loftiest being leading. Forward ! If through pain's thorns thy pathway leadeth 'T were surely best to hasten to be done. If in joy's meads, yet linger not ; he speedeth To fuller bliss who spurns the meaner one. As the hot runner not an instant heedeth What lies anear so that the goal be far. 114 FORWARD! So let thy race imshcking be and breathless, Thy goal as .distant as the farthest star ; In haste forsake the dying for the deathless ; Be in an instant old, and youth's endeavor Leave far behind in flight toward the Forever. Only if love's cup to thy lip be lifted, — Love sweet and cruel as an altar flame, — Be thou wdth this supremest guerdon gifted. Drink reverently, as men the sacred Name Pronounce, and slowly, slowly as are shifted The stars eternal in their lofty place ; So slowly that no precious drop be wasted, No subtilest flavor fail to yield its grace. Who fully this divinest cup has tasted Knows in the draught all life's true worth and blessing, — His moments more than loveless years progressing. A REMORSE. 1 15 A REMORSE. OHE was a milk-white nun With a soul like night's first star ; Sturdy and fleet my steed That carried us fast and far. But something in her eyes Prayed me my will forego. And all beguiling lies Met with a sacred '' No." So I spoke naked truth, And said : " Our love is crime That will smirch your swan-white soul Blacker than hell's own grime." So I said : " The price soul- wreck, Will you buy love's blisses so? " And she clung about my neck And wept, though she said " No." Tl6 A REMORSE. God knows I did not lie, Yet was I sore to blame That I kissed her yearning lips As a flame melts into a flame ! In anguish of self-scorn Slowly my black years go ; But first remorse was born When she unsaid that " No." rO MY INFANT SON. II 7 TO MY INFANT SON. TN what fair land you dwelt before you came To this our earth, truly I cannot tell ; But much I fear you hold yourself to blame When you reflect, and doubt if you did well So far to range. What wild caprice did move you On quest so rash as changing worlds to prove you ? Much of that worLl I wonder, while I try Still to discover in your speech or mien Some clue its place or sort may signify. I surely something of that land unseen May gather if I do but watch you shrewdly, Although, perchance, I form my guesses crudely. It must a region be of sweetest cHme And wholesome air that one so fair has bred ; It much misheartens me that this world's grime Ii8 TO MY INFANT SON. Your milk-white soul may smirch ere all be said. Brought you no amulet or magic token By which all spells of evil may be broken? That you were wise with wisdom of that land Your canny winsomeness full well doth show ; Though some strange vow I cannot understand Has sealed your lips from telling what you know. No hint can I beguile from your discretion To give me of its lore the least impression. I am assured by your right regal air You were a prince therein, of sway supreme ; Sooth, it behooves me speak Your Highness fair Against the day you shall your crown redeem ! I pray consider, if at times I thwart you, 'T is but that useful lessons may be taught you. Belike from your superior heights you deem Much that I count of w^eight but little worth ; To you, no doubt, as idle fardels seem The things men strive for in this gurly earth. But do not by your former standards measure ; These are the best we know of worth or pleasure. TO MY INFANT SON. 119 Had we the knowledge renders you so wise, We too, mayhap, would all these trifles scorn ; Would hold earth's honors as the emptiest lies, Its gains as windle-straws trampled forlorn. Yet, certes, we already hold them lightly ; Sad were our case to rate them yet more slightly. Methinks I was a fool that your sweet speech, When first you came, I did not strive to learn, But cumbered rather mine to you to teach, When surely yours had better served your turn. If you were minded any hints to scatter Of the hid way you came, or such high matter. They much must miss you in your former place ; It chills my heart to think how lorn and sad Would be the home had known, but lost, your grace. Prithee consider, fair sojourning lad. How little able I to live without you. And slip not back, even should fortune flout you. Some time, it may be, fate will be so kind As passports to us both at once to send ; And 1 myself your guest, perhaps, may find, 120 TO MY INFANT SON. And watch you as you debonairly bend To the glad plaudits of your subjects loyal, Half mad with joy to greet their master royal. Ah, well ; if so it fall, though I should be Far from the throne set in the lower ranks. Yet I at least your kingly state may see, And babble garrulous to those around of pranks You played while here incognito you tarried. And out of sight your wings and aureole carried. Meanwhile, since my son's shape you deign to wear, If I fall short in aught, beseech you, naught Set down to malice. Since within you share A king's state yet, with kingly kindness fraught Be still your thought. Reflect : we both walk blindly Then why should either bear himself unkindly? - FARDELS. 121 FARDELS. THE MOON-MAIDENS. T ONGING, each lovely moon-maiden Looks on the earth, which rides Round as a shield light-laden In which the love-god bides ; While earth's love-lorn daughters, longing, Gaze on the moon with sighs ; Fall amorous impulses thronging From those moon-maidens' eyes? AGE-DREAD. Sad must it be when one is old To feel the heart of youth Hot beating though the blood be cold And panting in self-ruth 122 FARDELS. Like some wild bird that beats its wings Buried beneath the snow The stealthy avalanche sudden flings, Whelming the vales below. FOR A SUN-DIAL. The shadows on the dial fall, But who can tell How soon a cloud may end them all — And life as well ! A woman's thought. Though you the heights of love have trod And walked the depths of hate ; Though power tremble at your nod, And deed on will await ; Life's keenest joy you yet have missed, Nor can you understand, Till you your baby's mouth have kissed, Have touched your baby's hand. FARDELS. 123 THE WHOLE OF TRUTH. I prayed a spirit who bade ask a boon : " Show me the whole of truth." He bent his head With look of awe. " Globed like unto the moon The perfect truth; complete its round," he said. " Only the All that compasseth its sphere May see the whole, whose parts to us appear." A DULL DAY. The daisy grows, The daisy blows ; The foot of the clown Treads its down. Be hfe the fairest, Be hope the rarest, The guerdon for lover and saint and knave Is a grave. The child is born White-souled j forlorn The man, black as crime With earth's grime. 124 FARDELS. What eyes 'scape the smarting Of sorrow's tears starting? What hope or endeavor to blessing wins More than sins? THE CHANGE. When I met Death, I said : " Alive in humble state I shrank ; Now with the mightiest I rank, Being dead." But he replied : " Not so. Death changes not the soul, which still Is in itself its good or ill, Its joy or woe." A WORD S WEIGHT. Taunts and reproaches poured on me my foe And moved me not ; and yet when soft and low One syllable so light it scarce was heard My loved one murmured^ all my soul was stirred ! FARDELS. 125 ABANDONMENT. The jasmine drops its blossoms, Yellow as gold and as sweet as myrrh, As if it lived but to strew the path, And to die in serving her. She treads them down unheeding, Blossoms or hearts that bestrew her way ; And yet my heart in her path I fling. Though her feet she will not stay. SOLITUDE. One sought a place a crime to dare, So lone not even God should be aware. God gave his wish and drew aloof; Yet not alone he found himself in proof. Since his own soul was there. TO A COQUETTE. They say, forsooth, thou hast no heart, — What does it matter, with those eyes? 1 26 FARDELS. They say thou ansvverest truth with art, I care not since that voice repUes ! Whate'er thine inner self may be, I needs must worship what I see. PARTING. I parted from my friend, While wailed the sea That love-lit days must end And parting be. I parted from my foe ; No less the sea Sounded its wail of woe That partings be. TANTALUS. I clasp thee in my arms ; I gaze into thine eyes, Till far down in their deeps I see thy soul arise. FARDELS. 127 For that I thirst and burn, Content with naught beside While still thy soul of souls Is to my grasp denied ! cupid's bargain. When Love was young, the wilful boy. His own affairs conducted, And strangest errors made, because He would not be instructed. But age o'ertook the rogue at last. And stopped this wild proceeding. Full soon he found, throughout the world, His power fast receding. And so, for quite a handsome sum, — Though Cupid's name for gammon Was still retained, — his business all Love traded off to Mammon. 128 FARDELS. AN ANSWER. "The gods have hated me," one said, " That they send black- browed Woe to sit Beside my hearth." Her sombre head Woe raised, and answered : " Slow of wit " In sooth thou art, and dull of sight, Who thus the eternal gods dost blame. To those whom the gods' hate doth blight Is sent in wrath not Woe, but Shame ! " WEE ROSE. Wee Rose is but three Yet coquets she already ; I can scarcely agree Wee Rose is but three When her archness I see ! Are the sex born unsteady? Wee Rose is but three. Yet coquets she already. TO A FLYING-FISH. 129 TO A FLYING^FISH. "pISH, most uneasy, Through air so breezy An instant, silver-wing'd, you soar ; Then downward lunging Behold you plunging Into the waves that darkly roar. Your flight gulls follow, Intent to swallow Your hapless self with hungry greed ; Beneath the water Sharks, bent on slaughter, No less are mad on you to feed. Sure either danger Might fright a ranger, But you, poor fish, must both endure ; 9 130 TO A FLYING-FISH. 'Twixt air and ocean Ever in motion, And yet in neither e'er secure. Though ne'er you know it, Much like the poet You take your way through flood and air. He soars in fancy, Strange necromancy Holding him one bright moment there ; Then downward falling, With plunge appalling. He sinks into cold fact absurd. Though more than man, he Not spirit can be, — As you are neither fish nor bird. Like gulls to swallow The critics follow His flight that yearns toward the sky ; While care and hunger And the book-monger Below in ambush darkly lie. TO A FLYING-FISH. 13 1 Bitter the choosing, Though its refusing Doth cruel fate deny the bard. Though song bring anguish, Yet mute to languish To poet's heart were pain more hard. Yet still the minute While one is in it That flight seems worth all pain below ; Though fate phlegmatic Its joys ecstatic Will swiftly drown in waves of woe. And, fish, beheve me, It much would grieve me Were you content your wings to spare ; No pains that rive you. Can e'er deprive you Of raptures felt when up you fare ! 132 A SHAPE. A SHAPE. /^NCE in a dreadful dream I saw a shape Too horrible for human word to tell ; With sting to pierce, talons to hold, and gape Of fangs to rend, as horrible as hell. Its eyes smote like the basilisk's ; a flame Enveloped it, despoiling all sans ruth. " See me and fear," it cried. " Hear but my name, And flee me shuddering, for I am Truth ! " JUDITH. 133 JUDITH. QHE was lithe and supple and straight As the palm-tree at her gate ; The wild pard had not her grace, While the splendors of her face Ate into men's hearts like flame. Burned her eyes with amorous fire, And the greed of their desire Was for soul as well as limb. — But she made their radiance dim, And to Holofernes came. To the hero, lust and wine Made half bestial, half divine. Came Judith with smooth neck bare. Arms naked, and breasts as fair As the white and full-orbed moon. In alluring disarray- Slipped her loosened robes away ; While her smile, with fell intent, In and out of hiding went Like a wolf will ravage soon. 1 34 JUDITH. It was while he sleeping lay, When the night paled into day ; Strength and power and renown By her woman's guile struck down ; That her blow fell, sure and swift. Her imperial, ivory side His hot hfe-blood, spurting, dyed ; While her quick, insatiate eyes Gloat above him where he lies. And her hands his great head lift. Then with holy mien she goes. As if early from repose Called by pious thoughts to prayer ; And the thin, chill morning air With the scent of blood she taints. All her heart's fierce lusts full fed Walks she with abased head, Cruel in her glee as hell ; — Till all Israel's praises swell For this chiefest of their saints ! FOR SYLVIA. 135 SUNG TO AN ANTIQUE LUTE FOR SYLVIA. T WAITED in the pleasance fair My Sylvia to behold ; The while a mossy dial there The lagging moments told. *' Oh, silly dial, sooth," I said, " How slow thy shade doth move ; Persuade thine hours more quick to fly, And bring me her I love ! " At last she came ; but out, alas. Bliss flees as soon as won ! But one brief instant seemed to pass Before my sweet was gone. " Oh, cruel dial," cried I, '^ sooth, Couldst thou not slower move? Hadst thou no single jot of ruth To part me from my love? " 136 FOR SYLVIA. II. Dear Mistress Sylvia, in thine eyes Do I such sweetness see That all my soul with joy would melt Were they but sweet for me. Ah, why so quick to cold disdain Doth all that sweetness turn If I but breathe the passion vain With which for thee I burn ? Dear Mistress Sylvia, though thy scorn My outward form doth win, Yet surely love must touch thine heart Couldst thou but look within. Look on me as a casket graced With precious gems divine. Or as a cup which to thy taste Doth proffer priceless wine. FOR SYLVIA. 137 III. Give me a look of cold disdain, And all my hope is lost ; I pine like flowers that have been slain By an untimely frost. Let kindness but one dear glance fill, And straight such life 't will give, New hope and joy my pulses thrill, And in thy glance I live. I laid a rosebud in thy hand Soft flushing like thy cheek ; Its message thou couldst understand. And yet thou wouldst not speak. Oh, like that rosebud, doubly blessed. Might I thy bosom know, I 'd be content to seek thy breast, And die upon its snow ! 138 FOR SYLVIA. IV. I heard the flutes and viols play Full many a merry tune, Like choirs of birds that wanton gay In thickets green with June ; And yet again they plaintive wailed In cadence sad and slow, As if nor string nor pipe availed To voice their bitter woe. And if they grave or jocund rang Still seemed my heart to speak ; My thought of Sylvia yet they sang. For which were word too weak. They breathed my grief and joy profound. Yet could not half reveal ; For love is sweeter than all sound, More deep than song's appeal ! FOR SYLVIA. 139 V. Dear Mistress Sylvia, as I went, My heart was filled with thee ; Thy presence with my musings blent, Thine image walked with me. New-fallen all about my feet The fresh, unsmirched snow Of thy pure life a semblance meet Did in its whiteness show. But as I walked, my trace I left, Unsightly and unfair, Which straight my heart of joy bereft, And filled my breast with care. Dear, should I thus thy life besmutch, I give my passion o'er; Since, though I prize thy love so much, I prize thy whiteness more ! I40 THE SPANISH MAIN. THE SPANISH MAIN. DEVON, 1575. ^OME, shake out the sails, and clear up the decks, The wind is piping and free ; Clap hard down the helm, till in snow-storm of flecks, The foam flies up from the lee ; Once more we begin to live again, We are ofl", brave lads, for the Spanish Main ! Get cutlass and matchlock ready for use, — We are going for more than play ! For throat of the Spaniard get ready the noose, — The yard-arm is ready alvvay ! For quarter who begs will beg in vain. When we settle scores on the Spanish Main. A galleon sails for Cadiz with freight Of pearls and opals and gold ; Alert in her track will our stanch vessel wait. THE SPANISH MAIN. 141 Her ingots shall stuff our hold. The black-bearded dogs shall lose their gain, And reckon with us on the Spanish Main. Queen Bess with a mouth-filling oath shall declare Were ne'er lads more worthy her grace ; Old Devon shall ring with the names that we bear, And think of the pride in Drake's face ! Then, hearties, be quick ; the very planks strain In their eager zest for the Spanish Main. Remember the comrades starved in the dark Of Spain's black dungeons' despair ; We fight in God's quarrel ; what man has a spark Of soul, and yet could forbear? Up, lads, we are off to the proof again If England or Hell rules the Spanish Main ! 14^ A BURIAL. A BURIAL. T^HE moon, as yellow as a citron, smoulders In the brown dusk of air ; Dull, oily scum on the black water moulders, Laced with long weeds like hair. With lurid flame the smoky torches burning Make blinder still the night ; The loathsome flood in viscid eddies turning Swirls in the rower's sight. Dim, noisome reptile shapes after it thronging. Into the dark lagoon A thing is slipped that throbbed with love and longing When last the sun marked noon. s BV A GRAVE. ^43 BY A GRAVE. O fierce he was that with his might He smote down lies, and put to flight With tongue Uke sword of hght That flashing flies. So fine he was that each appeal, Though plea most faint, could straightway feel Deep will to help and heal Answer complaint. Oh, fine and fierce ! Could death subdue That strength of will, and take from you That ardor ever new. And burning still? Oh, fierce and fine ! Oh, comrade leal, These tears of mine tell what I feel Better than words reveal — Or sounding line. ^44 BY A GRAVE. Dead others lie beyond recall ; You might defy vvhate'er befall ; Fierce, fine, above us all, You could not die ! THE ORIOLE. '45 THE ORIOLE. r IKE a live flame wind-wafted from altars celestial ■^ Floats the blithe oriole through the bright air ; Dropping down as half won by spring's glories terrestrial Buoyantly upward swift fleeting to fare. Like the light on a fount's rippling bosom that glances With the wavering pulse of its rhythmical flow, Now he rises, now falls ; or, as leaf blast-tossed dances. In whimsical mazes he sweeps to and fro. In the meadows beneath him the buttercups' chalices Gleam, beaten gold, in the glowing June sun ; The red clovers are fragrant as spikenard of palaces. Blue blooms the iris where topaz brooks run ; But oh, what so sweet, what so fair as his singmg ! What so lucent, so mellow ! Oh, oriole dear. Thy notes down the mist-muflled Stygian meads ringing Even shadowless ghosts, hope-abandoned, might cheer. lo ^s. 146 THE ORIOLE. How the fervor of being, the zest of Hfe glorious, Seethes in the lay like the spirit in wine As it foams in the cup of some hero victorious, Triumphing splendid at banquets divine. With what gurgling delight is his song brimming over ; With what infinite glee, like the laughter of Pan ! As the sunshine of June, the perfume of the clover, The caress of the west wind commingled and ran. How he sings with his flight, till the song-tide out- bubbling Hardly less motion than melody seems ; In ecstasy ever his passion redoubling. Flinging his notes as the sun flings its beams ; Like the amber of honey from fragrant combs dripping Where the bees of Hymettus have made them brim o'er. Like the shower of gold 'round the polished limbs slipping, When the god unto Danae descended of yore. Jocund bird, might I join in the joy that thou utterest, Dear would life be, as it once was of old; THE ORIOLE. 147 As of old might my heart leap as light as thou flutterest, Clovers be censers and buttercups gold. Like the day when love comes is the oriole's singing, When from fulness of bliss all the fond bosom aches ; — Oh, sweet oriole, sing ! Drown the death-bell's dread ringing, For when love hears that clang, then the lonely heart breaks ! 148 THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. TIT'HEN God strewed the stars down the void As a sower flings wheat to the field ; When all space trembled under His footsteps of thunder, And the lightning His pathway revealed ; When the systems Hke legions of angels deployed, And their suns were as dust to His breath ; Behind all His splendor supernal There brooded a darkness eternal ; And the name of that darkness was Death. It lurked like a shadow which lies Where some planet floats lonely in space ; Like the blackness which follows The moon's mountain hollows Till they darken forever her face ; THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 149 Like a garment it clung, as through infinite skies The Creator in majesty trod, In glory immensurate glowing, Ineffable radiance bestowing. The unspeakable lustre of God. Then Hfe through the universe swept As a whirlwind of flame wraps a star. From the godhead up-welling, Its floods ever swelling, Burst in billows gigantic afar. To the bound'ries of space and God's thought life out-leapt. There its infinite largess to pour. As the moon-driven tide of the ocean In the stress of resistless commotion Overwhelms with its waters the shore. Like dust on the wild blasts of space Countless millions of races were swirled. Till each star-mote that slumbered With beings was cumbered, And was waked to its weird as a world. Though all universe-wide was dissevered their place. 150 THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. In their destiny still were they one ; Blind, pitiful, helpless, unknowing, Like sparks on a wintry wind blowing, Which even beginning are done. Wherever life's tide flooded grand. All the universe broad thrilling through, Death followed its waking, As wave on crag breaking In recoil dashes backward anew. As the seed in its germ holds the forest unspanned. Thus the word of creation hid death ; Existence was like that illusion Where rainbows above the confusion Of the maelstrom hang frail as a breath. Like a heart which unfaltering beats, So the infinite tumult of life Throbbed in mighty pulsation. The ceaseless mutation Of being's unquenchable strife. As an arrow unswerving which swift forward fleets, So the world-tide unwavering sped. Sweeping on to that end which was fated, THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. 15 1 That doom which already awaited When the word of creation was said. When God shall upgather the stars As a gleaner upgathers the wheat ; When the suns all their splendor Forever surrender, Plucked like corn from the paths where they fleet ; When His hand, which hath builded the universe, mars, And to nothingness brings it again ; — A presence shall still lurk behind Him, A power resistless shall bind Him, As the fiat of fate doth constrain. Then into Death's keeping at last Will He render the spoils of His hand, Their substance dissolving, Fate's debt thus absolving, Till all space bare and empty doth stand ; Till the Darkness and God only dwell in the vast, And that moment of God men call time Hath vanished )ike flash of star falling ; And voice of deep unto deep calling Wakes no longer the echoes sublime. 152 THE BEGINNING AND ENDING. Then the All in the vast broods supreme, Undivided, as when cosmic dust In one globe-fire hath blended ; There self-comprehended. Self-sphered, self-perfected, august. As a soul unto consciousness waked from a dream. Broods the All when existence is done. For God, who is glory supernal. And Death, which is darkness eternal, The Beginning and Ending, are One ! THE END.