QNNETS OF LIFE 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
SONNETS OF LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 JEANIE OLIVER SMITH 
 
 (Temple Oliver) 
 
 Author of ''Day Lilies", ''Story of Blackie", 
 
 "Blackie's Companions'' and joint author 
 
 with O. O. Auringer of a poetical 
 
 life of "The Christ, from 
 
 Advent to Ascension". 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 I9II 
 
Copyright, 19x1, by Jeanie Oliver Smith 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 
 5^^ 
 
 The Gorham Press. Boston, U. S. 
 
 CI,A283287 
 
To my Aunt 
 Mrs. McCree 
 
 of 
 
 Edinburgh 
 
 This hook is dedicated 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 The Century 9 
 
 Reward of the Pen 1 1 
 
 Marshal Huntington Bright 13 
 
 John Howard Payne 15 
 
 An Exotic 17 
 
 Sunset on the Lake 19 
 
 Good-Night and Good Morning 21 
 
 The Cathedral's Lesson 25 
 
 Nineteen Hundred and Two 29 
 
 To the Aldines 31 
 
 Carmen Sylva 33 
 
 Loyalty 35 
 
 To the ^'London Punch'^ 39 
 
 Edward Rex 41 
 
 Alexandra 43 
 
 The Wife's Lament for Her Husband. . 45 
 
 The Dismantled Christmas Tree 47 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 The Assassin 51 
 
 Between Lake and River 53 
 
 To One Who Had Lived a Century . ... 55 
 
 A Mystery 57 
 
 Richard Watson Gilder 61 
 
 The Rescued Palisades 63 
 
 Legend Lore 6^ 
 
 The Poplar 67 
 
 The Angelus 71 
 
SONNETS OF LIFE 
 
THE CENTURY 
 
 How shall we gauge or weigh the Century's 
 
 store 
 Of treasure science-gleaned, through earth 
 
 and air, 
 From zenith space to Nadir's hidden lair, 
 Transmute by alchemy which men adore. 
 Though shrouded in mysterious depths of 
 
 yore 
 Our quickened sense perceives. Now men 
 
 may dare 
 To search that wonder-birth, for God is 
 
 there. 
 In His own realm, the realm of Doubt no 
 
 more. 
 
 How rich that life which spans a century! 
 Men gathered up the marvels of the years 
 And called them miracles; but few could see 
 The deeper meanings writ through all the 
 
 spheres, 
 That spark of fire in man, in flower and 
 
 tree, 
 That earnest of our immortality! 
 
REWARD OF THE PEN 
 
 The sun had set. Night had begun its race. 
 My mood despondent. Futile effort spent, 
 Though every energy its purpose bent, 
 In sun and cloud to win the honored place. 
 Swift Pegasus disdained such light embrace. 
 Why heed or care? Should one "pay too 
 
 much rent." 
 The dull-eyed oxen in their furrowed stent, 
 Fret not for thong, nor change their stead- 
 fast pace. 
 
 Then came thy blossoms, pure beyond com- 
 pare. 
 
 The thought they whispered to my heart was 
 this. 
 
 These flowers so fragile that they cannot 
 bear 
 
 Night's finger-touch nor zephyr's gentlest 
 kiss. 
 
 From purple depths gave Hope's brave coun- 
 tersign ; 
 
 And made the glories of the summer — mine I 
 
 II 
 
MARSHAL HUNTINGTON BRIGHT 
 
 At rest! And thou wast one who knew no 
 
 rest 
 Whene'er thy blest activities could bring 
 One gleam of comfort to the sorrowing, 
 Or help a brother in his upward quest, 
 A champion of the Right, thy souPs behest 
 Was loyalty and truth, the power to fling 
 A caustic pen at wrong, yet seize the wing 
 Of rapture-thought to reach the mountain 
 
 crest. 
 
 O friend, who loved so well the wayside 
 flowers 
 
 Beside thy path, and bade fair thought- 
 seeds grow 
 
 Where others saw no bloom *neath winter's 
 snow. 
 
 Without thy smile how drear this world of 
 ours ! 
 
 Yet who — as thou— the rapture thrill could 
 feel 
 
 Of disembodied power, life's mysteries to 
 unseal? 
 
 13 
 
JOHN HOWARD PAYNE 
 
 Years number few since one loved child of 
 
 Song 
 With royal honors to his home was brought, 
 But all too late. Such fame in vain he 
 
 sought, 
 Such favor missed from all the lettered 
 
 throng. 
 Now, loyal hearts would seek to right the 
 
 wrong. 
 And bring their gifts, with tenderest feeling 
 
 fraught ; 
 And yet their gold and myrrh and tribute 
 
 brought 
 And told in stone, alas ! has waited long. 
 
 He sang of home, but yet no home had he ! 
 Too late such fond award to bring the glow, 
 Or flush of ardent hope to cheeks of snow, 
 Or charm us, now, by heaven-born min- 
 strelsy. 
 And yet, he may, who knows? from that high 
 
 place 
 See through it all our love's transfigured 
 face. 
 
 15 
 
AN EXOTIC 
 
 Friendship is an Exotic. Once 'twas found 
 On earthly soil. It chanced in heaven one 
 
 day, 
 An angel, in his universal sway 
 Of man's domain, on deeds of mercy bound; 
 Through azure distance, star-blent space 
 
 around. 
 Found 'neath the Tree of Life, a flowret 
 
 gay, 
 
 Its petals tinged with evening's sunset ray; 
 He sent it floating earthward to the p^found. 
 
 One culled the flower to wear upon her 
 
 breast, 
 But at her feet its snow-white petals fell; 
 She found too soon it would not bear the 
 
 test. 
 So near a beating heart it could not dwell I 
 The frost breath of reserve no shield might 
 
 prove. 
 The flower was Friendship, but its fruitage 
 
 —LOVE ! 
 
 17 
 
SUNSET ON THE LAKE 
 
 How small Earth's spaces when the heart 
 
 has wings. 
 How, like the carrier dove it homeward flies 
 To meet its comrades 'neath familiar skies 
 And know the rapture thought which free- 
 dom brings. 
 And so this thought-dove, eager, onward 
 
 springs 
 With swift, sure pinion, grown ethereal-wise 
 And cleaves the ambient air while daylight 
 
 dies 
 Freed in its flight from all detaining things. 
 
 'Tis sunset on the lake. The leaves are still. 
 The darkling wavelets seek the shore in play 
 Clasp mimic hands and sing their roundelay, 
 Till lost in mists they seek the mountain rill. 
 Yet through the dark the flash of wings I 
 
 see. 
 All quivering with their thought-fraught 
 
 ecstasy. 
 
 19 
 
GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING 
 
 Our lives are tragedies. We sleep, we wake, 
 As any babe with terror-fears bedight, 
 When blindly groping through the empty 
 
 night. 
 It seeks its mother's brooding hand to take. 
 And why? lest some mimosa tendril break 
 That clasped our heart and made the dark- 
 ness light, — 
 The heavens star-studded to our mortal 
 
 sight, 
 The world all beautiful for Love's dear 
 sake. 
 
 We say ^'Goo<i-morning," lest some hope 
 should die. 
 
 Before the evening's close, and fond ^'Good 
 night?" 
 
 To ward some menaced ill, some soul's af- 
 fright 
 
 Of hidden foe that might in ambush lie ! 
 
 To ships that pass we cry the glad ''All hailF' 
 
 E'en though our cheeks should blanch and 
 lips grow pale. 
 
 21 
 
GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD MORNING 
 II 
 
 We wish a *^glad new year,** lest In the folds, 
 The petal folds that mark the days and hours, 
 Some grief should lurk to blight the fairest 
 
 bowers. 
 And turn to blackness all that nature holds. 
 We speak the *^ Bon-voyage,'* when space en- 
 folds 
 From sense and sight, awhile, and pray the 
 
 powers 
 Send winds beneficient and balmy showers. 
 To guide in safety to far distant wolds. 
 
 Oh human love! art thou a boon or bane? 
 No boon, if lost in Being's futile close ; 
 Blest boon, if steadfast faith o'er nature 
 
 throws 
 The hope of heaven to meet our loved again. 
 No boon, if bounded by this little span, 
 Blest boon if love's eternity we scan. 
 
 23 
 
THE CATHEDRAL'S LESSON 
 I 
 
 Within the vast cathedral's shadowy light 
 I walked among the humble reverent throng, 
 Yet bended not the knee, nor deemed it 
 
 wrong 
 Those outward emblems of our faith to 
 
 slight, 
 'Tis but for weaklings or for babes they cite 
 To have recourse to picture cross or thong 
 For scourge or crown. How better far the 
 
 song 
 Of victor Joy. Since heaven all wrongs must 
 
 right. 
 
 The choral service, how it grandly swelled 
 How reverence grew, beneath that lofty 
 
 dome. 
 And brought the wayward heart back to its 
 
 home. 
 How eye and ear the spirit captive held! 
 Transported by angelic wings along, 
 How pride was crushed those worshippers 
 
 among. 
 
 *5 
 
THE CATHEDRAL'S LESSON 
 II 
 
 Yet came I forth unsatisfied — alone. 
 Though strongly felt that mystic atmosphere 
 In tremblings of the soul and sudden tear 
 To see the image of the Holy One, 
 His forehead bleeding 'neath its thorny 
 
 zone. 
 Low at his feet a weeping woman, near 
 All sorrow-stricken in her doubt and fear, 
 Beneath her weary burdens bending prone. 
 
 She rose at length. Those bleeding feet she 
 
 pressed 
 With trembling lips then passed out with the 
 
 rest. 
 Her loving impulse thrilled my being 
 
 through, 
 And following her I knelt in reverence too, 
 We who apart had stood mid shadows dim, 
 At heart were one ; because of love for Him. 
 
 2^ 
 
NINETEEN HUNDRED AND TWO 
 
 Linger, oh fateful year, nor onward sweep, 
 How can I bear to watch thee o'er the brink 
 Of that sheer wall 'neath which I cower and 
 
 shrink 
 Because thy lash of Sorrow bade me weep? 
 Like spaniel soul beneath the blow I leap 
 In terror from its smart; yet mutely think, 
 How drear to let thee go ! the only link 
 To that life-love, so beautiful, so deep I 
 
 Time's ruthless haste how couldst thou not 
 
 subdue ? 
 Like a strong whirlwind dashing through the 
 
 wood 
 Cleaving great oaks, of which the first he 
 
 stood. 
 And foremost fell— that heart so leal and 
 
 true. 
 Oh year ! whose havoc Life can ne'er undo, 
 Yet whose marked hours his spirit's victory 
 
 knew ! 
 
 29 
 
TO THE ALDINES 
 
 On Their Thirtieth Anniversary 
 
 For three times ten in harmony to dwell 
 
 Means something in this world of change 
 and chance, 
 
 It action means, and purpose to advance 
 
 The Good the Noble, and the false — expel. 
 
 Its sentiment poetic who can tell? 
 
 Three whole decades of life may joy en- 
 hance 
 
 Or sorrow smother, through such time's ex- 
 panse 
 
 But told in prose ; Work held its magic spell. 
 
 But how to celebrate this regal Ten? 
 
 The "Silver" past, the "Golden" far from 
 
 view. 
 The "Diamond," hidden from our mortal 
 
 ken; 
 This thought, oh friends of years, is left for 
 
 you, 
 When three decades in peace have passed, 
 
 oh then 
 Love needs no calendar — so tried and true. 
 
 31 
 
CARMEN SYLVA 
 
 On Seeing a Painting of Her Girlhood 
 
 So fair of form and face, Roumanla's Queen! 
 From over sea, my heart goes out to thee. 
 With eager love and steadfast loyalty, 
 And greets thee royal heir of Song's demesne. 
 Upon that cheek the flush of rose is seen, 
 A sculptor's envy those fair rounded arms, 
 Eyes dark and downcast, free from love's 
 
 alarms 
 Untroubled by the cares of state — I ween. 
 
 Although the flush has paled on cheek and 
 
 brow 
 And Time has writ his characters thereon, 
 No thief of hours could steal the honors won 
 In Mind's estate, — few amply dowered as 
 
 thou. 
 The gods have crowned thee with their gifts 
 
 divine 
 And thou dost reign — Roumania's queen and 
 
 mine! 
 
 33 
 
LOYALTY 
 
 'Yond Ocean-spaces, one beloved bard 
 Wrote to his brother — of the fervid pen, 
 A sonnet for his natal day, and when 
 Years speeding, one by one, brought fame's 
 
 award. 
 The gift poetic, fraught with love's regard, 
 Fell at his feet the same. Its burden then 
 Was ''Live oh friendF' "Our hearts have 
 
 ever been 
 Most true and tried, by tooth of Time un- 
 
 marred." 
 
 Kind heaven has listened that poetic prayer 
 And spared both friends to taste of world- 
 renown. 
 Which they had nobly earned — for "Do and 
 
 Dare," 
 Their motto always, whether smile or frown 
 The greeting of their fellows everywhere, 
 While hand in hand they walked Life's vale 
 adown. 
 
 35 
 
LOYALTY 
 II 
 
 It matters little what the poet's name 
 Or what his comrade's. But they live to-day, 
 Beyond the seas, and send their embassy 
 From heart to heart, in thought-waves just 
 
 the same, 
 Nor doth it matter whether praise or blame 
 Their "Caesar food" strong faith in God 
 
 their stay. 
 'Tis Personality which holds alway 
 Magnetic forces superseding fame. 
 
 Oh, friend of years, 'tis thus I come to-day 
 With voice and pen in greeting, to aver 
 Love's loyalty from heart most true alway, 
 As to a guide and soul-conservator. 
 And ''Live oh liveF' unceasingly I pray, 
 And teach heaven's wisdom, that I may not 
 err. 
 
 37 
 
TO THE "LONDON PUNCH" 
 
 Thy scoff and jest Columbia has heard 
 (Not undeserved, perhaps in braggart 
 
 youth) 
 Thy voice of satire knew but little ruth 
 And woke again its echo, word for word. 
 But now, whene'er the pencil or the pen 
 Would hurl like missile from the Occident 
 One thought, and all the force of wrath is 
 
 spent 
 Our choler hides, and peace returns again. 
 
 Who laid the ''wreath on murdered Lincoln's 
 
 bier," 
 'Twas hand of thine, and thine the heartfelt- 
 tear 
 Who said "Columbia's sorrow is our own," 
 When our loved Garfield gave his parting 
 
 moan? 
 And when McKinley, our lost leader slept, 
 Your own beloved Queen our vigil kept. 
 
 Disarmed we stand. Such hand-clasp in our 
 
 pain 
 Has sheathed the sword, and all the rancour 
 
 slain ! 
 
 39 
 
EDWARD REX 
 During His Illness 
 
 A word has chilled Britannia's loyal heart 
 With nameless dread. The question "Is it 
 
 well?" 
 Meets slow response. Men shrink beneath 
 
 the spell 
 Of fear and dread, they mutely stand apart, 
 And gaze with faces blanched, and tears that 
 
 start. 
 Waiting they know not what, they cannot 
 
 tell, 
 ''Le roi est mortf Oh God, not this the 
 
 knell, 
 We hear prophetic through the hurrying 
 
 mart? 
 
 Not King nor Master, only, but our Friend; 
 Grown doubly dear through pathos of his 
 
 pain. 
 If Heaven shall will it, may he yet again. 
 Be our loved Leader till his race shall end! 
 How swift to follow while he leads the way. 
 Oh Edward Rex! Our nation's strength and 
 
 stay. 
 
 41 
 
ALEXANDRA 
 
 O SORROW ! Thou didst see the coming storm 
 Which Love saw not. Nor strange when 
 
 mortals weep 
 That God should "give to his beloved sleep," 
 For to all hearts thou art a phantom form. 
 How, Sorrow, canst thou say thy name is 
 
 Love? 
 Thy name is Marah I for thy waters deep 
 Sweep hope's foundations bare. Yet dost 
 
 thou keep 
 The key which opes the gates to joys above. 
 
 Is it that this sweet angel at thy side 
 Blest human love is mortal, though so dear? 
 Immortal thou? That this terrestrial sphere 
 Gives all its sable clouds thy form to hide? 
 Heaven's child transformed the graves of 
 
 earth beside? 
 O love ! O sorrow ! stand beside thy dead, 
 And speak God's peace to her whose light of 
 
 life has fled! 
 
 43 
 
THE WIFE'S LAMENT FOR HER 
 HUSBAND 
 
 How have I hungered for the days of June, 
 
 The month of bird and rose and springing 
 vine, 
 
 With all the joys which youth and Hope en- 
 shrine, 
 
 When life's glad purpose seems with heaven 
 in tune 
 
 But now, alas ! I crave not such a boon 
 
 The month has brought such ill. No sun 
 can shine. 
 
 For Sorrow's dregs have poisoned life's red 
 wine. 
 
 No more my heart can sing its gladdest rune. 
 
 So close the calendar. Let night apace 
 Speed with its shadows over porch and door. 
 For o'er this threshold never, never more 
 Can come that form to meet my fond em- 
 brace, 
 Oh travesty of life! Love's banner furled 
 What joy can dwell in this untoward world? 
 
 45 
 
THE DISMANTLED CHRISTMAS 
 TREE 
 
 I looked upon a row of exiled trees 
 
 Massed In a group beside a city wall 
 
 Their slender arms were drooping one and 
 
 all, 
 Caressed no longer by the summer breeze, 
 But cowering from the winter's embassies 
 Of storm and hall beneath their snowy pall 
 All rent and torn In their untoward fall 
 These woodland treasures, born the world 
 
 to please. 
 
 Oh why this slaughtered host? I questioned 
 
 then 
 That graced the hillside In their beauteous 
 
 youth 
 Uncared for, slain, without regret or ruth. 
 And no renewal where their place had been. 
 Sad answer came from devastated plain 
 We know not why those multitudes were 
 
 slain ! 
 
 47 
 
THE DISMANTLED CHRISTMAS 
 TREE 
 
 II 
 
 Then spake a mother, in abashed disclaim, 
 *' 'Twas for the babes, 'tis their deHght to 
 
 see 
 The glittering gifts that decked that with- 
 ered tree, 
 Hence this dismantled host, you must not 
 
 blame." 
 Now spoke the Forester, the man of fame 
 Loved by Persephone, elusive dame; 
 "If trees were mushrooms growing speedily, 
 'Neath summer suns, from fire and tempest 
 
 free; 
 But these, — a whole decade of growth, they 
 claim ! 
 
 Oh never yet a babe was sent to earth 
 But might be taught by tender mother's care, 
 To love the sweet hamadryad spirits, where 
 They with their sylvan brothers had their 
 
 birth. 
 On hillside home, where all their kindred 
 
 grew 
 By winds caressed, that never axe-stroke 
 
 knew. 
 
 49 
 
THE ASSASSIN 
 
 Why this mad envy of the crowned head? 
 
 This strange distrust which marks the hon- 
 ored knight 
 
 As target for all ills earth-wrongs incite? 
 
 'Tis fevered blood by former ages shed. 
 
 Oh ''fools and blind!" by envy dumbly led, 
 
 The being crazed who seeks his friend to 
 smite 
 
 Would turn and rend the hand that guides 
 aright 
 
 Still more and more if every king were dead! 
 
 Could kingless realms the balm of peace in- 
 stil 
 In hearts that have pre-natal taint and scar, 
 Induced by ages of embittering war, 
 Of greed for conquest, of wild craze to kill? 
 For long past wrongs no present wrong 
 
 atones. 
 Guard well the ancient rights of Kings and 
 thrones. 
 
 51 
 
BETWEEN LAKE AND RIVER. 
 
 The sound of waters fretting on the shore, 
 The hum of insect life, the droning bees 
 A sound of whispering winds among the 
 
 trees 
 And dancing sunshine at the open door, 
 A woodland lake, beneath the hills asleep, 
 Upon its crystal depths a boat at rest. 
 Two silent forms in eager earnest quest 
 Where speckled trout in gladsome pastime 
 
 leap. 
 
 Blithe nature here presents her fairest face. 
 Bright birds on every bough, all unafraid. 
 Sweet fern and trillium beneath the shade 
 And sunlight flecking all the fragrant space 
 But best of all, enhancing all the rest 
 Dear Friendship dwells, — of life the crown 
 and crest. 
 
 53 
 
TO ONE WHO HAD LIVED A CEN- 
 TURY 
 
 A smiling infant at the century's birth, 
 Gifted and honored at the century's close, 
 Holding hearts captive in her charmed re- 
 pose. 
 The friend— the more than friend — of 
 
 matchless worth, 
 Within this span of years through grief and 
 
 mirth, 
 Through woe and weal, the tide of Being 
 
 flows 
 Gifts great and manifold earth-life bestows 
 And in Heaven's plan no prescience of 
 dearth. 
 
 What now perceives her spirit in its course 
 On upward wing through those translucent 
 
 waves, 
 The secrets of the stars? Of light the 
 
 source ? 
 The meaning of this strange electric force 
 Which we call Life — and try to read its 
 
 staves 
 Until its melody our soul enslaves? 
 
 55 
 
A MYSTERY 
 I 
 
 A presence from my home has passed to-day 
 And left a silence. 'Twas not human friend 
 Nor voiced our human speech. Yet do I lend 
 A plaint of grief which Time can scarce al- 
 lay. 
 A prisoned soul from wondering orbs looked 
 
 out 
 And met the soul in mine, with mute caress 
 And reciprocity of tenderness, 
 Wherein there lay no human dole nor doubt. 
 
 And why, oh why, may thought not pene- 
 trate 
 The mystery of this life's imprisonment 
 And wrench the secret. Why to Being lent, 
 If Death that Being could annihilate? 
 From those deep eyes immortal spirit shone 
 That seemed but one degree beneath my 
 own. 
 
 57 
 
A MYSTERY 
 II 
 
 'Tis love omniscient breathes the soul in 
 
 man, 
 And corporeity is made to change 
 To some ethereal substance, in the range 
 Of endless being. This is nature's plan. 
 So never lost is any spark or ray 
 Of love's compassion. They who watch and 
 
 wait 
 In their magnetic circles near heaven's gate 
 In eager spirit search through space, may 
 
 say. 
 
 Most humbly wise, by heaven's blest wis- 
 dom taught 
 
 "The soul of bird or beast passed by this 
 way 
 
 And entrance meekly, wistfully besought." 
 
 But who for this mute soul has ransom 
 brought? 
 
 Then Love might answer Love the marvel 
 wrought. 
 
 And made that soul immortal. Bid it stay! 
 
 59 
 
RICHARD WATSON GILDER 
 
 What calendar Is thine, O year of years, 
 How many of our noblest passed from earth, 
 How many made Immortal since Its birth. 
 Set free to learn the marvels of the spheres ! 
 Yet not one poet-soul of nobler girth 
 Nor more beloved and mourned; A na- 
 tion's tears 
 Fall at thy passing; nay two hemispheres 
 Give pause the while, acknowledging thy 
 worth. 
 
 Twelve moons before, our Stedman passed 
 
 from sight; 
 Then Swinburne, as Its dawn sped over sea; 
 Then Meredith, with all his honors dight. 
 Masters and lovers of pure minstrelsy. 
 Thy reverent soul could win a grander 
 
 height 
 And Song's renascence through the ages see. 
 
 6i 
 
THE RESCUED PALISADES 
 
 Sing in thy course, oh Hudson to the sea ; 
 The Palisades, thy bulwark for all time. 
 Since never-more man's greed those heights 
 
 may climb 
 Or rob the generations, yet to be. 
 Immortal Irving, spake in prophecy. 
 And Washington, who loved those shores 
 
 sublime 
 And Fulton, with his Clermont's throb and 
 
 rhyme 
 Warriors and poets, all paid court to thee. 
 
 But none could know this metamorphosis, 
 To later eyes, ''A garden of the Lord." 
 Where bird and babe may feel the zephyr's 
 
 kiss, 
 And glorious trees keep sylvan watch and 
 
 ward. 
 Roll on, oh Hudson, in thy majesty. 
 For * 'Laughing Water," thy song-name 
 
 shall be ! 
 
 63 
 
LEGEND LORE 
 
 The Pansy 
 
 The legend tells how once a Seraph passed 
 O'er earth's fair field with wing of gossamer, 
 And, resting underneath a lordly fir 
 By human strife and clamor unharassed, 
 He knelt to reach a stream by sunshine 
 
 glassed 
 As man might do to slake a mortal thirst. 
 When from a scarlet throated singer burst 
 Such liquid notes: " 'Tis paradise at last!" 
 
 "But no, 'tis mundane. Here my pansy child. 
 My flower of earth, by jealous leaflets kept." 
 He bade her wake, whose heart so long had 
 
 slept 
 Then kissed her lips. She knew her Lord, 
 
 and smiled. 
 And ever those who love, can find a trace 
 On velvet petal of that angel face ! 
 
 65 
 
THE POPLAR 
 
 Down where the rainbow rests within the 
 
 sea 
 Where Iris guards Earth's hidden gems and 
 
 gold, 
 Where ivory palaces hold wealth untold, 
 A mortal strayed, this wonder-world to see. 
 Some iridescent gleam, he saw with glee 
 And, yielding quickly to his fierce desire 
 To own the bauble with its crimson fire. 
 He grasped, then fled, in stealthy misery. 
 
 The wondrous thing purloined, he dared not 
 
 hold. 
 For Iris from her rainbow-pillar knew 
 What mortal hand profane had dared to do 
 And straight her sun-god of the deed was 
 
 told 
 The fleeing mortal threw his treasure-trove 
 Deep in the darkness of a poplar grove. 
 
 67 
 
THE POPLAR 
 
 II 
 
 But soon the sun-god smote each quivering 
 
 leaf 
 To find where this forbidden gem was cast 
 And from Aurora's face the shadows passed 
 While Iris saw and praised her valorous 
 
 chief. 
 At once the poplar, to their fond relief, 
 Held wide his arms, and lo, in foliage massed 
 Down fell the gold. The culprit found at 
 
 last. 
 The Sun-god smiled, but said, "not thou the 
 
 thief." 
 
 But for complicity in other's wrong 
 Thou hast heaven's censure met, yet art for- 
 given 
 By lightning stroke no bole of thine be riven. 
 But upright branch and limb to me belong. 
 And on each shining leaf this vein of gold, 
 My crest and signet, mortals may behold. 
 
 69 
 
THE ANGELUS 
 
 What, in this canvas story, thrills each sense ? 
 Not field of furze, nor landscape peaceful, 
 
 still. 
 Nor sunset glory o'er the purpling hill ; 
 Nor mystic veil of twilight, deep, Intense, 
 Nor treeless plain, nor distant chapel spire, 
 Nor simple peasants at their homely ploy, 
 Could thrill our souls with such unwonted joy, 
 Of heavenward aim and rapturous desire. 
 
 But 'tis deep reverent awe scarce understood. 
 Fervor intensified by time and place, 
 Deep love and rapture on the maiden face. 
 Embodied worship. Faith's beatitude ! 
 Our deepest human need is pictured there, 
 And all the world Is thrilled by that unspoken 
 prayer. 
 
 71 
 
n 10 ^-^11 
 
One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
 MAR 10 1911 
 
LIBRARY