. .- V. -.-^^v, ^/\ %?®fS^.* "^^ e> ^* 4^' o • K *,*. A* -: v^^ . V^^'\**^ V*^-**/ V**^'*/ * /-V/.'., Vc/ /Jl^\ \..** /^^ •»bi.* fSM^,^. '•**.«< >°^*. . ^^^o^ ^ % .^^"^^ *' o • The Cricket's Song kja«f«.HY of congress! Iwu Cooles Received :>L? 28 \90t Copynjttit Entry COPY B. Copyright, 1907 BY J. B. LippiNCOTT Company Published September, 1907 Printtd hy J. B. Lipfiincott Company T^e ff^ashington Square Prssi, Philadelphia «i* ** FOREWORD During youth and early manhood poetry and lit- erature were, to the mind of the author, synonymous terms. In this he but repeated the history of mankind, in which poetry has always been the first and for a time the only literature. With half a dozen exceptions the poems in this volume are the product of that period and mood of life. A considerable number of them have been printed in The Indepe7ident, The Outlook, Scribner' s Magazine, The Century Magazine, The Atlaiitic Monthly and The Galaxy, to the publishers of which acknowledgment is made. H. E. W. Washington, D. C. Table of Contents The Cricket's Song, 9 The Idler, ii A Bird in the Bush, 15 The Flight of the Red Horse, 18 The Star-Born, 29 At the End of the Years, 45 Anathema, 52 His Funeral Sermon, 60 A Winter's Night, 66 Unreturning, 69 Ephphatha, 71 Through the Cloud and the Sea, 74 In the Valley of Shadows, 77 At Evening Time It Shall Be Light, 81 The Literary Vagabond, 83 Lost, 86 Wild Plum Blossoms, 88 Riddles, 90 Circumstance, 92 The Wager by Battle, 95 What the Engine Says, 114 Ragnarok, 118 The New Name, 119 As I Grow Old, 120 Life and Love, 123 Belated, 125 Fever Fancies, 126 Down Below, 128 Sealed Orders, 131 The Returner, 132 THE CRICKET'S SONG Prone on the earth beneath the sparkling sky On the cool grass, in idle ease, I lie Where shadows crowd aside the waning light And listen to the voices of the night. Half in a dream, I hear with vague delight The sibilant, sharp song or reedy cry Of wrangling insects, shrilling with their might, And waiting long with well attuned ear And quickening joy, a piping fine and clear, A silken thread of sound in earth and air. Through the thick-woven chorus I do hear The night's sweet undertone, and marvel why I heard it not before, for it was there. 9 Amid the world's full-throated singers long I raised my oaten reed, content to be Unheard so I might voice the melody, The little melody I inly hear. Thrice happy if at last some waiting ear, Attempered with a kindly sympathy, Should hear, rejoicing at my slender song. 10 THE IDLER When days are long and skies are bright, When woods are green and fields are breezy, I take my fill of warmth and light And take — well, yes, I take things easy. You men of figures sneer, I know, Call me an idle, dreamy fellow; But my chief business here below Is, like the apple's, to grow mellow. I coax the fish in cove or creek. My light skiff rocks on rocking billow Or, weary, in some shade I seek A mossy hummock for my pillow, II Where stretched upon the checkered grass, Above the pebbly margin growing, I watch the still soft shadows pass. Lulled by the hum of warm airs blowing. On bending spray of tallest tree The brown thrush balanced takes his station, And half in jest, half soberly. Holds forth, half song and half oration. The red-capped workman on his limb. Up, down, in circles briskly hopping, Nods to the helpmeet calling him With knowing air his sage head dropping. She peeping shyly from the door. Expectant, listens to his drumming. The children sharply call for more And ask her when the grub is coming. 12 At times by plashy shore the still, White-belted watchman springs his rattle, And faintly borne from distant hill Come tinkling bells and low of cattle. The waves in long procession tread Upon the beach in solemn motion. Fringed with white breakers overhead Cloud islands dot the upper ocean. I know you solid men will sneer, Call me a thriftless, idle fellow; But, as I said, my business here Is, like the apple's, to grow mellow. And since the summer will not stay, And since the winter follows fleetly. To fitly use the passing day Requires my time and thought completely. 13 But, if of life I get the best, The use of wealth without its fetters, Am I more idle than the rest Or, wiser than the money-getters? 14 A BIRD IN THE BUSH Robin, under my window, just as the morning is breaking, Singing an autumn song ere you flit to the summer land, Clear, sweet throated musician, me from my slumber awaking, You, at least, are a bird in the bush worth two in the hand. Listening thus to your carol could almost set me a-singing Ah ! if my heart were so light and my life so free of care, Could I but join in your roving, southward our swift flight winging, Unto the land where the orange blooms, and jessa- mine scents the air. 15 T can but envy your freedom ; truly, as I am a sinner. You sow not, you reap not and yet by the Father's hand are fed While I — I must toil late and early if I would make sure of my dinner. Am I, then, better than you because I must work for my bread? Your songs are never rejected, you chaffer not over their payment; Hopping about as you please through the long bright summer day, Taking no thought of the morrow, no care for shelter and raiment ; For with the chill winds of November you hasten southward away. 16 Shunning the car and the steamer, you have no need of a ticket, Hackmen will leave you in peace, no landlord will put in his bill ; You travel by private conveyance, you stop in a first class thicket, And, dropping down in a cornfield, breakfast and dine when you will. Well, then, go if you must, since the leaves of the maple are burning, May you find pleasure and health, but do not tarry too long. With the first buds of the springtime back to my window returning Waken me early some morning from dreaming, again with your song. 17 THE FLIGHT OF THE RED HORSE A DAKOTA LEGEND ** My son, Woniya, I must take A journey to the Sacred Lake. Far to the north, 'mid ice and snow, A long, long way it is I go. An arrow flying all the night Would fail to reach it in its flight. You are my son ; I give to-day Full leave to all your childish play. All things are yours ; go where you will, Save to the Red House on the hill. Try not its door, turn not the key; There death and ruin wait for thee. But how and why I may not tell. For there is laid on me a spell, So all my love must turn to hate, And no man can escape his fate." i8 Washaka goes. In boyish play The child wears out the summer day ; He swims the stream, his crafty hook Draws shining treasure from the brook; The chattering squirrel hugs his limb As the swift arrow grazes him, But ever, as he played, he said, ''What is there in the House of Red?" Go where he would, each pathway still Led to the Red House on the hill. At last he stands before the door With mystic symbols pictured o'er. " What could my father mean," he said, " To keep me from the House of Red ? " Ah, no ! he will not disobey. Although the sire is far away; And yet, what harm could come of it For him to see which key would fit? And now he tries them, one by one, Until the last — what has he done! 19 Some thoughtless pressure of the lock, The door flies open with a shock. Strange tremors run along the ground ; The world is full of direful sound; Strange voices talk ; strange whispers rise ; Strange portents in the earth and skies. Through the wide door the youth can see All that there is of mystery, Before him stood a Horse of Red, With mane of gold, who sternly said : " Unhappy boy ! what have you done ? Washaka now must slay his son." Struck down with terror and remorse. The youth falls prone before the horse. " Oh, help me, help ! " Woniya cries, With gasping breath and streaming eyes. " Teach me some way ; show me the path Where I may flee my father's wrath." The horse replies : " The wrong is great, Yet I have pity on thy fate. 20 One way alone is left to flee, With perils fraught to thee and me. I charge thee, on thy life, thy soul, To yield thee up to my control. Look neither backward, left, nor right; Be brave, and yield no place to fright. Thy father now will try each art To strike a terror to thy heart ; But if thy heart begin to quail, That instant all my strength will fail; And if Washaka us overtake, I, too, must perish for thy sake. Take in thy hand this conjurer's sack. Away ! away ! Spring to my back ! " So said, so done. Away they sped. The dark sky clamored overhead; A mighty wind blew from the east, Which momently its force increased; The sun went down, but, through the night. He holds his tireless, even flight. 21 No need is there for spur or rein; Life is the prize he strives to gain. But though the horse flies Hke the wind, The father presses hard behind, And, ere the break of morn appears, A dreadful voice is in their ears : " Stop ! Stop ! thou traitor, while my knife Shall quickly end thy wretched life." *' Beware ! Beware ! Turn not your head ! Be brave ! Be brave ! " the Red Horse said. *' Put now your hand within the sack ; What first you find throw quickly back." Woniya in an instant found An egg, and tossed it to the ground; It bursts, it spreads — a wide morass. Through which the father may not pass ; Fierce lightnings fire Washaka's eyes As westward still the Red Horse flies. Long time the father sought, in vain, Some passage o'er the marsh to gain, 22 Where long-necked lizards basked or fought, Where winged dragons ruin wrought, Where serpents coiled and hissed, whose breath Rolled up in clouds of fire and death. At last he throws the magic bone, Which turns that teeming life to stone; And where he picks his careful way There are the Bad Lands to this day. The morn blooms in the eastern sky; The day comes on, the noon is nigh; The noon is past, the sun is low, The evening red begins to glow; But, driven still by sorest need, Still swift and swifter flies the steed. Vast, sky-rimmed plains on either side Begin to turn in circles wide. While rock, and shrub, and bush within In dizzy circles spin and spin. So swift the flight, so hot the race, The wind blows backward in his face; 23 But swifter far than any wind The father presses on behind, And to their ears is borne the cry That summons them again to die. " Beware ! Be brave ! Turn not thy head ! Put in thy hand ! " the Red Horse said ; " The first thing that thy hand shall find, That take, and quickly hurl behind." He draws and throws a bit of stone, When, 'twixt the father and the son, A range of mountains rears its height On either hand beyond the sight. Washaka seeks a pass in vain ; To left and right, above the plain, The strong, grim rocks confront his eyes. While westward still the Red Horse flies. At last he draws his feathered spear And hurls against the rampart sheer. So swift it dashes on the rock Fire-streams burst outward at the shock, 24 And where against the diff he drives, From base to top it rends and rives; A narrow gorge is opened through, By which Washaka may pursue. And now the Red Horse knows the need To lavish all his garnered speed. His hoof-beats fall like thunder-dints, And kindle showers of flying flints ; So swift he flies that one afar Might deem he saw a falHng star; But swifter still upon his path Washaka follows in his wrath. And now that fearful voice again Comes o'er the horror-shaken plain : " Stop, wretches, stop ! Behold the flood ! Now shall my knife run red with blood ! Who now can save you from my hate, And who has ever conquered fate ? " Alas ! what hope is left, and where ? What refuge now from blank despair? 25 The end is come, where shall they flee? Before them is the open sea. " Beware ! Beware ! Turn not thy head ! Put in thy hand ! " the Red Horse said ; " Just as we reach the ocean shore, Draw out and quickly hurl before. Be strong of heart. Be calm ; be brave ; The sea is not to be our grave." Woniya thrusts his hand within. Draws forth the bead-wrought serpent's skin, And casts it forth, when lo! a boat Upon the gleaming waves afloat ! They gain it with a single leap That sends it forward on the deep. The sails are set; before the breeze It draws its white trail o'er the seas. In vain the bright blade of the sire Whirls through the air in rings of fire. He gains the beach a moment late — What man has ever conquered fate? Vain are his curses, vain his prayer ; The glittering waves are everywhere. 26 Washaka stoops along the sands, Uproots a huge cHff with his hands; He heaves aloft with tug and strain, And sends it wheeling o'er the main. High in the air it rocks and swings, A moment to the clouds it clings; Then, as from lofty mountain-walls, Like some vast avalanche, it falls. The sea shrinks, cringing, from the shock Of that dark, shapeless bulk of rock. Like some great fragment of a world From out the stellar spaces hurled. Like chaff beneath the flail outspread The waves, and bare the ocean's bed. One vast wall, sweeping to the west, Bears on its topmost curving crest The tiny boat, so feather-light. Through all that long and fearful night ; At morn they rest, their journey done. In a fair land beyond the sun ; And one, with awful rush and roar, Springs tiger-like against the shore, 27 Drags down Washaka from the land, And hides him 'neath the sUding sand. Still from the coast a slender bar, Like a long finger, stretching far. When tides are low, points o'er the wave- That is Washaka's lonely grave. 28 THE STAR-BORN A DAKOTA MYTH Upon a grassy slope without the camp Where shadows, falHng fold on fold, grew deep And broadened slowly, lay two maids at eve, And gazing on the star-groups floating far Saw where the Swan adown the glimmering way On soundless pinions held her tranquil flight. The morrow, all unwilling, they should wed With warriors of their tribe, and thus one spake " Oh, if I might but marry that bright star." Then as she spoke she felt herself upborne. Without a jar or shock but silently As a bright bubble rising from the deep, 29 And looking down she saw a deathly face And wild eyes upward staring and stretched hands And streaming hair, and heard a lessening shriek As if an arrow flying from the bow Should hear the sharp twang of the quivering string. The wavering camp-fires glimmered and grew dim Like eyes that shut and opened — and were gone. The mountains sank in mist and the wide earth Became a luminous, vast wheel that shrank And, paling, narrowed to a speck of blue, But the bright star to which the maiden rose Grew broad and splendid, flooding all the sky. But now at last upon its verge she rests And finds it land like the fair world below, And one in shining raiment met her there And led her home and she became his wife. There passed a time, a peaceful, happy time. Day followed day with simple gladness crowned. The morrows shone before a goodly line In bright procession and passed on behind 30 In misty, unregretted yesterdays, Till memories of earth grew faint and dim, Its life and hopes a half-remembered dream. But all around, as in her earthly home, Grew tipsinna, large-stalked and very good. Which she desired to eat and told her lord, For now a new, mysterious thrill within. The rhythmic pulsing of a hidden life, Brought her strange longings ; but her lord forbade. Then on a time when they had moved their camp By some unhappy chance her tent was pitched Above a tipsinna both large and fair And thinking, '' Surely no one now will see," She struck her hunpe down beside the root And pried and lifted, summoning all her strength To start the stubborn, deeply-driven wedge. And drew at last the dark-skinned bulb away. When lo ! a hole was opened through where she Looked down and saw and knew the azure world ; But even as she gazed the sides fell in 31 And slipped below; then on the crumbling edge She ran and shrieked, caught at the tumbling grass, Then downward whirling, like an arrow fell, And swift and swifter, till all sense was lost. That night a hunter looking saw a star, For so it seemed, shoot swiftly to the earth, And going thither found, O piteous sight. The mother crushed and broken, and a babe Close by her side stretched out but breathing still; And full of pity, this the hunter took And wrapping in his blanket bore him home. '' Old woman," said he, '' I have found this boy By his dead mother and I brought him here." And glad, for one by one her babes had gone And mother love yearned to the motherless, ** Old man," she answered, " let us raise this child." " Yes, we will swing him round the tent," he said. And through the smoke-hole whirled him, but the babe Fell down and came in creeping. And again The old man tossed him, whereupon a boy 32 Came walking in. And yet again he threw, And this time came a lad with green round sticks. Then last of all the old man flung him up, Nor was it manifest the way he went. But after they had waited long there came A young man bearing sticks who entering said : " Grandfather, make me arrows for the chase." And this the old man did, and many days With bow and quiver Star-Born went about, A cunning hunter, and much game he killed. And since they had not room for all their packs They built another teepee, very large, And stored them there, and in dried meats were rich. Thus Star-Born came, the offspring of the skies. A tender babe, he grew to man's estate. Strong, faithful, brave, not scorning earthly tasks, Nor knowing yet how he should save his race. II Straight as an arrow, springy as a bow, So grew the Star-Born, supple, sinewy, strong, 3 33 With grip of steel and large of heart and limb And knew not fear nor any weariness. But now some inward urgency compelled Till he of the old hunter made request, " Tun-ka-shi-da, Grandfather, let me go That I may travel." ** Yes," the old man said ; " The time to travel is when one is young." Then Star-Born journeying came upon a day To where a people dwelt, and lo ! the men Were shooting arrows through a hoop, but one, Am-pe-tu-sha, looked on whom Star-Born joined And chose for friend, and by and by he said : " Now take me to your tent, Ko-da, my friend," And they together went. But when they came To where this young man with his kun-shi dwelt Alone, for she had raised him, thus he said : " Un-ci, Grandmother, give my friend some food." But she : " What do you mean ? There is no food And all the people die of thirst, and they Who go for water come not any more For something swallows them." And Star-Born said " My friend and I will go," but sore dismayed 34 The woman wept and strove to keep them back; " Mi-ta-ko-ja ! Mi-ta-ko-ja ! " she cried, Lamenting for her grandchild raised with care. Then came they to the margin of a lake Where on the bank stood many vessels full, And Star-Born called : *' You who they say have killed All who have come for water, where are you? For I have come for water." Then at once Whither the young men went could not be seen. But in a place extended they beheld Young men and women waiting; some were dead And some were dying, but none hoped or strove. " How came you here ? " said Star-Born, and they cried : '* We came for water and were swallowed up ; So we are lost and you yourself are lost." Then felt he something beating on his head, Blow after blow, and asked them what it was, " Take care," the others cried, " that is the heart ! " Then drew he forth his knife and whirling it 35 Around his head sent sparkles through the dark And with swift stroke cleft the huge thing in twain, And lo! a mighty sound and something shook As when an island bursts up from the deep; Then all was still. So Star-Born hewed a way And came forth with the others to the light. Then were the people glad and sought to build A house for Star-Born and to give him wives, Two fairest maidens, but he answering said : " Nay, I must journey. Give them to my friend." So he went on and came another day To where a people dwelt, and as before The men were shooting hoops and one looked on, Chaske, whom Star-Born joined and made his friend; And to his tent they went and this one said : " Mi-kun-shi, bring my friend some food." But she : *' There is no food and all the people die For lack of wood, and they who go for it Are somehow lost and come not back at all." So unto Chaske, Star-Bom turned and said: 36 " Come now, my friend, and we will bring back wood." Thus Star-Born, but the woman wept and wailed. Lamenting her lost grandchild raised with care. But some behind them followed to the wood And there they found great bundles ready tied Which Star-Born bade them carry to the camp. But when the rest were gone he stood and cried : " Ye who have killed all who have come for wood, Where have you gone? For I have come for wood." Then where he vanished was not manifest But in a room extended as before With young men and young women he was shut, And some were dead and some were waiting death But no one hoped or strove. Then Star-Born asked : " How came you here ? " And they : " What do you mean? We came for wood and something brought us here And we are lost and you yourself are lost." But looking all about he spied a hole Through which there crept a little straggling light. "And what is this?" he said. "Take care," they cried, 37 " That is the Thing Itself." Then Star-Bom drew An arrow to the head and flashed it forth Which, sharply crying, cleft through flesh and bone; And when the thing was dead they all came forth, And lo! a great owl's ear had shut them in. Then on another day he came and found A people perishing for lack of food And chose a friend who took him to his tent, And asking food the woman made excuse : " The North God treats us badly ; if one kills The buffalo, he takes it and we starve." " Mi-kun-shi," Star-Born answered, " go and say From a long way Mi-ta-ko-ja has come And I have naught to give him." Thus she did, Standing afar and quaking fearfully, — Lean, eager, wan, and wringing bony hands; But North God used her roughly, and she cried And came back bringing nothing. " Now, my friend, Take packing-straps and we will fetch home meat," Said Star-Born, though the woman much bewailed, 38 Lamenting her lost grandchild raised with care. Now when they reached the place they found much meat Without the house, and filled their packing-straps Which the young man bare home. But Star-Born went Within and faced and rated the North God For treating the old woman badly; and there hung Upon the wall a mighty bow of ice, Which Star-Born seized and snapped, while North God frowned Till all the sky was black and boded storm. Then, on the morrow, Star-Born bade the folk To hunt ; and many buffalo they killed ; But as they dressed the meat their cruel foe Came, gathering in his blanket all the flesh. As was his wont, but Star-Born him withstood, Defying him and warning him away. Then North God bragging said : " Who points at me Will die," but Star-Born stretched his hand 39 And felt no ill, and in his turn replied: " Who points at me will have a withered hand." Then North God pointed, laughing scornfully, First one hand, then the other; but they stayed Stretched out and rigid as if carved in stone. Or filled with his own frosts. Then Star-Born slashed The blanket and the gathered meat fell out. Which all the folk bore homeward, while the God Raged, yelling with his pain and helplessness. But the next day 't was noised about the camp That North God's wife had sewed his blanket up And he would shake it, which the people feared. And so it was, for facing to the north He shook his blanket and the snowflakes came Like great leaves whirling, and the ground was clad, The trees were laden and the very heavens Grew white and seemed to fall, so thick the snow. And all the tents were hidden. Then the winds Blew from the north in tumult, and they drove The snows in whirlwinds till all vision ceased, 40 And drifts grew into mountains, and the plains Were ridged and furrowed like the sea in storm. Then the winds ceased and bitter cold began To grope its way through the thick-covered tents; The breath froze, falling down in snowy flakes And spears of ice to lip and nostril clung; The air was death; even in the sheltered woods The huddled buffalo stood stark and dead ; And people shivered, numb with fright and cold. Then Star-Born took a fan and made his way Up to the air and sat upon a ridge And fanned himself until the South Winds came And pushed the snowdrifts backward to the North, Like frightened sheep in flight, so great the heat. And North God turned to flee, at last, too late, And with his wife and children burned away, All save the youngest, the smooth-bellied lad, Who slipped into a hole where yet was frost And so was saved — for Star-Born saw him not — To bring on earth the winter and rude winds, But in the spring to the far North he flies. 41 Ill Then would the people build a house for him And give him wives, but Star-Born stood and spake: "My friends, I need them not; I journey on. But if one maid among you, leaving all — Her home, her friends, her country, all she loves — Will go alone with me, not knowing where, To share perchance my dangers and my toils, Give her to me, for she shall be my wife." Then all the fairest maids who gathered stood Shame-faced and conscious, thinking secretly, " Oh, might his choice but fall on me," shrank back Abashed; but one, a meek and simple maid Who stood afar, not knowing she was fair. Nor dreaming one might choose her, at the word Came forth in silence, lifting not her eyes, And laid her hand for token in his own. Then as the shadows gathered round the camp Amid the cry of clamorous farewells 42 They went together forth. A little space Upon the hill against the reddening sky They stood, and, turning, Star-Bom spread his hands As if in blessing; and they went their way. Then day by day they wandered in a land Where no one dwelt nor any game was seen, And only roots and berries gave them food. But on a time when leaves began to glow At the sharp kiss of frost, and down the west The young moon reapt her way with sickle bright Through the ripe fields o' the sky, and all was still. Upon a height they stood, and Star-Born told. For well he knew, the story of his birth. Then spake he, gazing upward to his star: " O Father ! high exalted over all. From whom, a spark of the eternal fire, I sprang to do thy bidding in the world, Lo! I have done the work thou gavest me, Have brought the people water, food, and fire, Have tempered the cold winds and made the earth 43 The fit abode of man. Now, with my friend, Made one with me, let me return again Up to the silent, ever-watching sky That bends in love above the race of men." So spake he, and together they arose Above the earth, beyond all cloud and storm To heights serene and still, where yet we see Against the heavenly blue a double star. 44 AT THE END OF THE YEARS Perchance it matters not to one Who has outlived his Httle day, When toil and care are overpast And all the weary round is done — It matters little at the last To one who, lying underground. All undisquieted should hear Borne dully to his listless ear Some careless word of praise or blame, The little things men buzz around, And yet I wonder all the same When I am dead what men will say? When the gashed earth is healed again Perhaps one standing at the place With downward eyes and on his face 45 A thoughtful shadow of the past, The memory of a vanished pain, With generous, overpraise might say: " This was my true and valued friend, Warm, earnest, loyal, tender, just; With friend and foe he kept his trust. His heart was free from all deceit, Ah me! but it has ceased to beat And crumbled to its native dust. So death reclaims his own at last For he is strong and makes an end ; We are the creatures of a day." And other men will pass and one, Perchance an old-time enemy. Will gaze upon the carven stone And feel an old resentment burn And say with rancour in his tone: " There was a cold, hard man and stern, Austere, intolerant, taciturn. Complacent, selfish and alone, 46 Without a human sympathy." So shall he heap upon my name A tribute of reproach and blame. Another still will say, " There lies A most eccentric, wayward man, The type of contradictories, A visionary and a sage, A flighty oracle and seer, A dreamer in a bustling age Who sometimes made the wildest plan Born of a brooding mind seem clear By his too hopeful prophecies. He cared not if he lost or won, Nor even that his plans be tried; He made them and his work was done. They pleased his fancy, as a boy Delighted with his latest toy Puts lightly all the rest aside. He failed, of course, but never knew, 47 Such standards did the man profess ; What we deem failure, he success. Calm, fitful, patient, passionate. Inconstant, steadfast as a fate. For with a cable strained and taut Fixed in the eternal verities There swung his strongly anchored thought." And sometimes, when the rosy glow Of summer sunset covers all. One bending sadly o'er the mound And musing on the dead below Will from her lips no word let fall Of praise or blame, while down her cheek Some bright drops tremble, sliding slow. Will tell of some still aching wound, And she, poor soul, forgive again All that had ever caused her pain. Ah, then, how should I long to speak 48 To tell how sweet a rest I Ve found, How still the slumber underground. But not for long shall friend or foe Or any note or have a care. The years will come, the years will go. And friend and foe alike will bear To the dark chambers of decay Where all shall rest secure as I. And nature's kindly forces play, The wind, the hail, the sleet, the snow, The crumbling frost, the softening rain. To wear the ghastly scar away And smooth the ridgy earth again. And ages lapsing silently Lead on the day when none shall know That dust of mortal sleeps below. At last an idler all alone May chance upon a broken stone Amid the grass that covers all With moss and lichens overgrown, 4 49 And stooping down may slowly trace The shadowy letters and recall How such an one in ancient times Wrought out some long-forgotten rhymes And went his way with all his race. So he shall turn and lightly pass And from his mind the thought will cease Like summer cloud in summer sky Or swift wing-shadow on the grass ; The tiny creatures hid below The immemorial stone in peace Shall live their little lives and die, Not more unheeded of the race And alien little more than I. Yet somewhere in the mighty plan That out of chaos made me man And gave me thought and speech I know That I shall still retain a place. The patient mother still will keep Her children wheresoe'er they are, 50 With brow serene and sleepless eye, With love outwatching every star That watches from the steadfast sky, To guard them surely where they lie And duly waken them from sleep. 51 ANATHEMA Why do I toil forlorn on weary feet On journeys never ending, without aim? Through whirling snows and summer drifts of he? Wasted and worn through all the years the same, I may not tarry, neither rest nor sleep. Urged ever onward, tottering in despair. And in my rage my hoary beard I tear. Of years and centuries I take no keep. I only know that I am old, so old ! All whom I loved have crumbled into dust And intermingled with earth's common mould While I still journey onward — as I must, Anathema, crowned with immortal woe. To hate each pulse-beat, writhe at every breath, To live and yearn eternally for death. 52 One voice is ever swelling on the air, One word is ever throbbing in my ear, Mid roaring city streets that voice I hear, — It drives me on, it overawes my will, And through the battle-trumpet's deafening blare Breaks undiminished and enthralls me still. One form affronts and frights me everywhere. Stands barring up my ever changing path And goads me on to frenzy and despair. The tiniest flower gives back those starry eyes, Sad without pity, terrible in wrath I see them in the forest's billowing green And in the mirrored lake where moonbeams sleep Or shadows dance the rippling waves between. Alike they gaze from summer's azure skies And storm cloud rushing on, whose angry frown Darkens the fields, and the white flames that leap, The tongue of the old serpent flickering down. 53 How should I dream that Israel's Holy One Would come from Nazareth, that robber den? How honor one who, simple and unknown, With but a mob of lawless fishermen And babbling peasants thought to win a throne And hold against the strong with words alone? Sooth had I seen the lame leap up and walk, The leper cleansed, the blind receive his sight — fool ! what madness drove me on to mock One who had raised the dead to life and light? That dreadful morning when the city rose, Like hungry vultures ravening for food, 1 rent my clothes and clamoured with His foes ; I saw Him fainting underneath the wood And tottering sink before my very door, But closed my heart against the voice of good And beating, cursed Him. Then that pleading eye Grew stem and awful, shaking all my soul. Ah, hapless wretch ! I felt that all was lost, The gates of mercy shut forevermore. 54 Ah, me; that look will haunt me like a ghost, Ill-fated one, denied the right to die, And doomed to wander while the ages roll. And so I left my home, my native land, And thus I journey on from shore to shore And find no rest. On every lonely strand I '\e watched the restless billows surge and roar, Fit emblem of my soul in torment tossed. Till my ears ached with sound, the evermore Unchanging lamentation, *' Lost," and " Lost ! " Would that I knew where I might find thee, Death, Dark watcher, thou whom mortals dread and fear; I yearn to thee, I fain would kiss thy face. I would not shudder at thy icy breath Piercing through bone and marrow ; yea, more dear Than love's warm arms would be thy chill embrace. Oh, but to feel the sharp sting of thy spear! Age after age I 've sought, and sought in vain. The hungry sea that gulps whole navies down Sports with my woe and spews me forth again. 55 I walk untouched the panic-maddened town, Where horror-scattering Plague each step I meet — Men wildly rushing, blotched with burning red, Howling their curses to the city's gate, Or, grappled by an unrepenting fate, Fall, shrieking, down among the blackened dead Whose festering corpses sow the reeking street. I stand upon the battle-shaken plain Where bullets thick as drops of summer rain Sing wildly to the cannon's measured beat, Filling with calls to death the shivering air; But not to me they bring the message sweet, Not to my heart the lethal balm they bear. I beard the famished lion in his lair Which, cowering, whines with burning eye askance. And lashes tail and licks his hungry jaws, Dazed and dismayed, and dare not snatch his prey. The tiger, sliding on his velvet paws, Astonished turns with many a backward glance And swaying head and baffled slinks away. The crooked snake slips noiseless from my path, 56 That subtle beast that wrought the woman's fall And called upon our race Jehovah's wrath. In vain with naked heel I bruise his head, Or, if I seize the deadliest of them all And dash my hand against his hooked fangs. For all my toil I gain but deathly pangs, Not death, not death and slumber that I crave, For fevered veins the coolness of the grave. Inalienable estate of all the dead. 'No help in nature. Might I turn to man? If they whose lives from sin and wrong are free And filled with holy penance day and night Can move eternal justice with their prayer, Would not their cries avail for even me? Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? Ah, wretched outcast of an outcast race, In man's compassion without lot or share. In the waste places 'neath the orient sun Such have I met and on my bended knee, My head dustsprinkled, begged this charity, 57 But when they knew the crime that I had done They crossed themselves and cursed me to my face. No way is left to free me from my doom ; Long, bitter ages gone I tried them all. I try them o'er and o'er though all have failed, The judgment of the Mightiest has prevailed And He who notes the tiniest sparrow's fall Has shut the thousand gateways to the tomb. I pant along with eyeballs scorched and dry Eternal horror mantling in my breast, As hart for water-brook I long for rest, Maddened and frantic with desire to die. From my baked lips there gurgles forth a cry As if one fought with demons in his dream, Or corpse should shake his darkness with a scream. What more is left, what ending to my woe? O follower of Him, who morn and eve For human guilt and suffering mourn and grieve, When at your household altar low you bend 58 To ask for lengthened days for thee and thine, O, pray for him who is forbid to pray, Alone in Heaven and earth without a friend, That the poor gift of nothingness be mine. That I, too long afflicted, now may go Through nameless torment, if it must be so. To be at last as though I had not been. Blotted forever from the roll of men. Nay, nay; 'tis vain. Yet longer must I wait. " Until I come, until I come," He said. Yea, Thou hast conquered, Man of Nazareth, And to the end I must endure my fate. I Ve watched the heavens so longingly at night, And I have seen strange portents in the skies, The darkened sun, the moon withholding light, And in the earth false christs and prophets rise, Wars, earthquake, famine, but not in the cloud Thy sudden signal, when the heavens are bowed And the stars fall and graves give up their dead, To fill Thy followers with fear and dread And me with joy to snatch the boon of death, 59 HIS FUNERAL SERMON Diffused and formless, vacant, undefined, Slow-drifting shadow, without center, waste, The dust of ancient being, life no more. What was and is not, though it blindly strives. And ill at ease to find its struggles vain, To link itself to thought and memory. To be re-born and know itself itself. But Hush ! but Hark,! There 's something that I know. I 've heard that sound before — a doorway opes On memory and like a sudden light Thought sweeps through all the chambers of the mind ; I seem to know myself, though I am dead. Yet it is strange. I surely thought the soul, Freed from the body's gross companionship, Acquired new senses, attributes, and powers, 60 New energies, o'erflowed with vaster life — But no, I see not, feel not, only hear Far off the drone of a remembered song. Is there some state betwixt the quick and dead, The half-way house and limbo of the soul? Perplexed and dark. I know that I was sick — Day after day I turned and tossed in pain Until the time when I could turn no more, But moved a hand or stretched a restless foot Till they grew heavy and refused my will. And, last of all, my eyelids would not lift, And fluttered weakly under weary loads ; Then from myself I seemed to glide away, Out, out through infinite reaches of the sky, And down and down in rhythmic motion sank To still, dark deeps, till I became as naught. 'T was death but free from pain or any care And just a little thrill of vague regret. Before my eyes my life a picture stood. How vain, alas! how mean and slight it seemed; The plans wrought out in anxious weariness 6i That came to nothing, hopes all unfulfilled, Alluring dreams that never did come true; But all was over and no more to do, And rest was sweet, and so I died. A voice! A voice I know, long drawn and quavering, Pathetic, rising, falling like a wind And at the rise I catch some scanty phrase Faint as the message to the listening ear On slender wire from far-off city borne, But much I marvel I should hear at all. Is it that, others lost, one sense has grown A thousand, thousand fold, or do I wake Amazed, upon a world where Space is not? Or yet again, is there some living way O'er which words pulsing through the ether fly, The nerve of God from world to world? But list. The words grow plainer: " Pillar of the church." " Consistent Christian." " Zealous of good works." " A citizen whose loss we all shall feel." " Honest and upright, faithful, generous, In whom misfortune ever found a friend." 62 " We go to bear our dead friend to the grave ; Peace to his ashes, for the Hving, tears." That's parson Jones ; it is a funeral. *' Death waits us all, aUke the poor, the rich, Some sudden turning brings us face to face. But where or how to-morrow or to-day, Like Brother Thome's our journeys all must end." What ! Brother Thorne ? Ho there ! I am not dead — I am not dead, I am not dead, I am Open this cursed box and let me out. Did I not shout? Did not my muscles bound. My hair stand up, the sweat pour from my brow? All silent, voiceless, not a sigh nor breath. No quiver of the eyelash, mute and still. And he whines on — What fools these preachers are ! And they will bury me alive. Too late I shall awaken, six feet under ground, To rage, to choke, to bite my silly tongue, A rat caught in a trap and squeaking die. 63 Well, it is over; the last prayer is said. They gather now to stare upon my face — Ah, surely someone now in all that crowd Will have the sense to see I am not dead. If I could stir a finger-tip or toe, As I have done in nightmare, I should wake And rising up become myself again. Almost, almost, almost; and all in vain. There, there, dear heart, I feel your falling tears, I hear your sobs — God bless you, bless you dear; Out of the earth I '11 send my cry to Him To comfort and to keep you evermore : All dark, all dark — They bear me to the grave ; Here ends the journey: now they let me down, — Alone, alone, abandoned of my kind ; Lost, lost, by life and death alike disowned. A sudden crash and rattle overhead, Louder than thunder riving all the sky, 64. The gravel — God in Heaven ! I started then ; I stretch my finger, move my hand, my foot; I gasp, I breathe, I gulp the stifling air, I knit myself together, brace my knees, I summon all my might, my will, my life, To hurl all forth in one tremedous yell Which, cleaving way through wood and falling earth, Shall climb the vault and fill the empty sky With widening echoes, ghostly, horrible. To snatch the breath from chilled and ashen lips. To set all teeth a-chatter while shrill cries. Break out in fearsome chorus answering mine. They draw me up — tear off the lid — My God! 6s A WINTER'S NIGHT Draw up your chairs, the panes are white With winter growth, the ferns of frost; The bare elms shiver in the night. Their bony arms are wrung and tossed. The gates on frozen hinges creak, The rude wind tries each door and sash. And where it smites th' unwary cheek It stings and tingles like a lash. Upon the path the crackling snow Laughs at numb feet and stamping heel. And where the laden wagons go It drones and sings beneath the wheel. 66 The puffy smoke writhes in the air, And, dragon like, its coils unfolds; The starry lanterns wink and flare, The man i' the moon looks blue with cold. But crack the nuts while in the heat The corn its mimic fight begins, The skirmish, battle and retreat. Bring choicest apples from the bins. And pass the wine of sprightly speech. The brisk champagne of wit and jest; Give laughter easy room and each In turn make mirth for all the rest. Tell fairy tales and once again Let the deep buried genie loose; Sing nonsense songs, we '11 not disdain The melodies of Mother Goose. 67 So let the crazy Norther roar, Snug by the hearth we will not mind. To-night be written o'er our door: *' Who enters here, leave care behind." 68 UNRETURNING Gone? She is gone? Do you say she is gone? Ah, no; it is not so — I heard no sound; Her steps would run in music o'er the ground. No dewdrop stands a-tremble on the grass, No faintest footprint blurs the jewelled lawn To point the way where she did lightly pass. Ah, me! I see her not. How could she go? Was she not mine, — and I did love her so. It seems to me but just the other day, Last year, perhaps, a little while ago We sat together here in idle play — So many years? And I have slept, you say, And she is gone and will return no more? Ah, yes; she knows how all my pulses thrill To meet her, greet her, clasp her as of yore, For she is mine, is mine and loves me still. Yet while I slept she lightly stole away. 69 Yes, she is gone; but I will follow on, Follow and find her whither she is gone Through all the weary ways of life, in every clime. O'er land and sea and mountain height sublime, Desert and island and the empty air ; To every star in all the hollow sky; To the high gates of Heaven and gleaming wall Will follow, calling, listening everywhere. Will make my voice so strong and clear to reach Beyond all wastes, across all gulfs of time ; Will follow, weeping, listening as I call, Through all the sad vicissitudes of speech, Through all its stops, in every minor key, Through all the cadences of loss and pain. To woo her, win her, draw her once again, — " O Youth, Youth, Youth ! Come back, come back to me/' 70 EPHPHATHA Once as the harp from hand to hand Passed in high hall, each sang a lay, Some ballad of his native land, But one stole vexed and grieved away. He could not sing. With knitted brows, Head bent and cheeks that burned with flame. He went to watch the herded cows And chid himself till slumber came. Then was he 'ware that at his head A stranger stood and spake his name. And, " Cadmon, sing somewhat," he said, And stirred the half stilled founts of shame. 71 Alas, I cannot sing," he cried; " For that to-night I left the hall." Yea, thou shalt sing," the voice replied. "Of what?" "Creation and the Fall." As evening's sky with sudden flame His soul was filled with light divine, And trooping through his mind there came The meters, marshaling line on line, Then into column broke and wheeled — He woke, yet still they held their way. And thus it was the dumb man, healed, Became the Milton of his day. Ah, when I read the glowing page Of those great souls of other times Who pass the harp from age to age, I blush to own my little rhymes. 72 But might I hear by day or night One clear voice calHng from the skies That on my longing ear should smite Through all my dreams and fantasies — The old, sweet voice, strong to control All weakness and infirmities, To speak Ephphatha to my soul, Then would I rise and sing with these The formless songs of every mind. For I no higher lot would seek Than to be utterance for my kind, A voice for those who cannot speak. 11 THROUGH THE CLOUD AND THE SEA I SAT alone one day at the organ and played In a desolate, weary mood a strange sad strain. Through mazes of questioning chords my fingers strayed While I looked for the end in vain. For ever there strove in my heart a doubt and a hope. Light and darkness there in an even struggle warred, While ever some door in the sky seemed ready to ope And ever was shut and barred. And now the chords would swell like a wave when the tide Lunges against the shore and storms prevail, And now, as backward flung by the cliffs, it died Away in a passionate wail. 74 Till I saw where a window looked on the west and, lo ! The setting sun was fair, for the storm was o'er, And it touched the pictured panes with a rosier glow Which quivered along the floor. And lighted the patient face of my saint with smiles Till his wistful, far-off eyes grew wondrous sweet, And a glory streamed adown the echoing aisles And softly fell at my feet. And that sacred calm bade my foolish troubles cease With the storm and cloud without, and there somehow stole From that face or the shining heavens the hush of peace That softly possessed my soul. So Hope overcame, as with happy tears I bowed. While the swelling voice of the organ shook the air And rolled through the arches and rose like a pillar of cloud, And the glory of God was there. 75 And the glad pipes thrilled to the rushing flood of sound That filled all the place, till the phantoms that fol- lowed me, Dire hosts of an evil king, were whelmed and drowned In the surge of that mighty sea. 76 IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS It seems to be growing dark. The train is running slow But the car-wheels rumble so ! I 'm in such a haste to get home, For my wife has a terrible pain in her head And may not live till I come. Who is that there at the foot of my bed? And there on the mantel, clicks click, click — I wonder if I 've been sick? I don't feel anything much like pain But now I remember, the other day A windmill got in my head some way And its fans wheel round and round in my brain. 77 Why, what have I said ? You need n't smile ; I take queer notions once in a while But still, you see, I 'm perfectly sane, And come to think of it again It was n't a windmill after all. Only some sand got into my blood. It's been rushing along my veins for hours And it grates and grinds and scrubs and scours Till now it would n't be strange to find It had worn some holes in my mind. How did it get there ? Sure enough ; But it 's very volatile stuff And I think I got it in my food. Why yes, of course — The other day They gave me a piece of toasted brick And for hours and hours, I should think, it lay In my stomach and felt so hard and rough 'T would have made a well man sick. Just look at those awkward curtain strings ! They hang to one side and the curtain 's awry. Couldn't you fix them if you should try? What makes them so careless about such things? 78 Some medicine for me to take! Ha-ha! but that is an odd mistake. The sick man 's there, at the foot of the bed, And he groans and tosses and tumbles about For, you see, he is out of his head, And when a man's head is a Httle Hght It 's queer what silly speeches he '11 make, And with this and with that he has kept me awake For more than half of the night; I wish you would take him out. And another thing let me tell you, I — Stoop and let me speak in your ear; I would n't for anything have him hear — That man is going to die. I could sleep, perhaps, but that terrible clock Rings like a woodchopper's axe in the wood, And the blood in my veins pounds on with a shock Like sea waves breaking against the rock. I don't understand you; what did you say? I can't any longer see your face And your eyes look a million miles away. I think — I am going — to sleep — Call me — at five — in that case. 79 What wonderful shadows, heavy and deep, Spin round each other and crawl and creep, Vanish and gather and pause and glide And dash into mist as they break on me. Widening out into quivering rings. While low and lower I slip and slide To the fathomless depths of an unknown sea, A region of shapeless, nebulous things, A boundless, soundless ocean of air. I lose the notion of change and place. My body becomes a point in space But I — I seem to be everywhere. 80 AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE LIGHT The day is dying or dead, For the dull-red sun is lost in a dull-gray cloud, The air grows chill and the hum of wings grows loud, " It will rain to-morrow,'^ I said. But e'en as I spake, lo ! the tawny light, like a stain, A blur on the cloud, which suddenly brightened and spread. Till a fire brake out on the dusky edge of the world ; Then a segment of sky, like a wedge of blue, cleft the ridge in twain, Pushing it outward ever and upward, high and higher, Shivering base and crown in fragments rounded and curled. While from its chasms and rifts came gleams of purple and red. Ruby, and girasole, and gold, and glimmer of fire; 6 8i And yonder — look ! where the misty sea, far off and dim, Is one with the misty sky — the bulging cheeks of the sun Fair with smiles as he silently drops below the rim ; And now indeed the day is over and done. " 'T will be fair to-morrow," I said. 82 A LITERARY VAGABOND This is my number, two hundred and seven, Front garret. Walk in. Let me hang up your hat. Take the chair and a pipe. This I call the sixth heaven And we neither are likely to get beyond that. Location tip-top, eh? Sunny and airy, Upper crust neighbors, high bred as you see. Climate rather severe if a chap were to marry, Thank Heaven, there is no one dependent on me. I Ve a cat, to be sure, but she 's very quiet, Don't run to hysterics whenever I 'm out ; Wears one coat a year and is fond of mouse diet Of which there is plenty here running about. 83 Here I sit at my ease with heels in the windows As I tilt back my chair and smoke like a Turk, And spin out abstractions as fine as a Hindoo's And weave subtle fancies, the end of mv work. I write for the papers — whenever I choose to ; If pocket and stomach are empty and find A dinner depends on it, I won't refuse to Do anything almost — for which I 've a mind. In fine, I 'm a sort of poetical gamin, Though I live in a garret instead of the street, I hate as he hates cold weather and famine And revel in sunshine and plenty to eat. Sometimes if by chance I 've been paid for an article I dine on green turtle and that sort of thing. Pay my score with a flourish, not caring a particle For trifles like that, any more than a king. 84 And yet, at a pinch, I can financier some. I sleep till breakfast is over, you see. Then dine very cheap on a warm bowl of — meer- schaum, And have my cold dinner warmed over for tea. I keep my own hours, read or sleep, lounge or study. With none to molest me — I 'm perfectly free ; Go and come as I will, for I care for nobody And — ^yes, true — there 's nobody cares for me. 85 LOST The branches are wailing, wailing, The winds are heavy and chill ; The shadows, sailing and sailing, Go chasing over the hill. Lo ! lo, faint and forlorn, Maddened and sore affrighted, Rushes like one benighted, And the masses of clouds she crosses, To left and to right she tosses. With glimmering, golden horn. O Heart, thou art stricken and ailing. Watching and waiting for morn, While the night is so wearily waning ; But useless is thy complaining, Thy sorrow is unavailing To call back the Unreturning. 86 And foolish thy fond endeavor To fan again into burning The cold and desolate ashes — To kindle again into flashes A fire that has vanished forever. 87 WILD PLUM BLOSSOMS Queen of the Spring, oh ! love, thou hast waited So long, while we looked and yearned for th^ coming ; Vainly the Bluebird has called thee, And the bee sought thee, sorrowful, humming A song to entice thee, belated With sleep or some spell that enthralled thee. Thy lovers reproach thee, but now thou art here We give thee good cheer. Bluebird and bee and L For thy sweetness Thrills every lingering air; and the thorny tree Seems a great white tropic bloom in its completeness ; And the bee with the honey of love is drunken, and sips Unbidden the glittering dew of the morning, Fragrant, flowing with perfume forth from thy lips. 88 But we are not envious, Bluebird and I, for we, Forgetting our waiting, forgiving thy long delay, Are happy and glad but in thy presence to be, Only to catch the waft of thy breath all the day, Only to touch the hem of the white robe adorning Thy beauty, and sing and sing in honor of thee, " Hail ! O Queen of the Spring." And, now thou art here, Stay with us all the year. 89 RIDDLES Uneasy, complaining around my lone dwelling, Winds weary with travel and never at rest, Half-articulate, answer me, telling What mean your low moanings and whispers sup- pressed ? Ye blow where ye list and the sound of your going I hear all unknowing your circuit and way. O cloud overblowing and brook ever flowing Where tendeth, where endeth your journeying, pray? Lone dove wailing and bare bough swinging, Gray hawk sailing in circles wide. Dead grass trailing and green blades springing, What is the age-long secret ye hide? 90 Brown leaves drifting and brown buds swelling, Birds building nests and torn nest that clings, O far-travelled winds that moan round my dwelling. What end to the stir and the striving of things? All the rivers run into the ocean Yet ne'er is it full, for in snow and in rain 'Round and around through the cycles of motion Back to their sources they wander again. Full, full of labor, man cannot utter Nor fathom nor compass the mystery. Winds 'round my dwelling that mumble and mutter, Speak out and reveal the world's secret to me. 91 CIRCUMSTANCE Last night I walked, the moon was high, A golden glory broad and fair, Some broken clouds were drifting by From out the wrinkled western sky, An autumn mist was in the air. Around the moon a ring was thrown, A nimbus such as artists paint About the forehead of a saint. Encircling one star alone. Along the river's brink I strayed And saw the trees that downward grew, Whose leaves are never wet with dew. Whose rootlets never drink the rain, A silent underworld of shade. 92 Save where the moveless shadows lay The glittering stream that curved amain Shone fitfully, a Turkish blade That though the dark hills cleft its way. Some woven charm was in the air, Some secret, subtile witchery; High were my thoughts or seemed to me, And my rapt spirit thrilled and thrilled With lofty exaltation filled. Moved by some still, diffusive power O'er all, transfiguring earth and sky, That made it glorious but to be. This morn, from the untempered zone The gusty North, a blast was blown. An angry wind that whirled the dust, A bitter wind that chilled the bone, A spiteful wind that pushed and thrust, A blustering wind that swaggered by And roughly elbowed through the wood. That smote the ear with din and roar And with sharp pellets stung the eye. 93 Upon the river's bank I stood And watched the sullen waves that beat And flung their foam-drops at my feet, And all along the oozy shore The torn reeds tossing wearily. This morn, low in the western sky A cold white circle caught my eye, Faint as the first gray dawn of day, Wan as a ghost that dreads the light. This morn the spell that on me wrought Had yielded to a sad unrest. And dull and leaden was the thought That soared and shone but yesternight. And hope was dead within my breast. Pale as yon specter in the west, The moon that dimly sinks away. 94 THE WAGER BY BATTLE I Now when the Lady Evelyn was dead They wrapped her in her well-kept bridal gown, With here and there a jewel in dark braids, A wreath of snow-white flowers on snow-white brow, A creamy lily on the lily breast, And so, with tears and dole and long farewells, Laid her away in consecrated earth. Then good Sir Hugh, because his grief was great, And all the house was empty of delight, And every step rang ghostly in the halls, And day by day her portrait on the wall With sad eyes following, smote upon his heart. Her vacant chair, the pattern she had wrought, 95 Told ever of the bright but winged years Since first he brought her to the dark old house, An endless monotone of grief and loss, Set his face eastward and at Fontevraud Left only child, a maid of tender years. So passed, a shadow, forth from land to land And fell at last, struck through with paynim spear. But ere he set his back to all the past He gave by his Last Will and Testament To his half-brother, Ralph de Allingford, His large estate to have and hold in trust For his dear daughter when she came of age ; But if the child should die in infancy, Or if, attaining her majority. Should take the black veil of the sisterhood, Then to the said Sir Ralph and his heirs male A moiety, the rest to pious use. The summers came and went and came again And Blanche, the golden-haired attained her age. Large eyed, full lipped, and taller than the rest 96 Of the meek sisterhood and all unlike, For, faithful in the lowliest offices, The sunshine drew her more than cloistered shades, She loved the grass and flowers, not her bleak walls. The song of birds was sweeter than the drone Of evensong or tinkling nunnery bells. Half in a dream and half in memory She saw the green fields of her own dear land With snowy hedgerows, and she heard the voice Of lark and from dim forest aisles Horns blown afar and the faint bay of hounds. And much she prayed and strove to trample down These sinful longings, but the longings grew And would not be abased, so sore she yearned To see her ancient halls, her mother's grave. And learn, if it might be, her father's fate. So at the last she told the abbess all. With streaming tears and cheeks that burned ashamed. And hearing, pleased, the Holy Mother said: " These be suggestions of the foe of souls 97 To souls not wholly God's. I call to mind That much about your age the Devil's lure Had well nigh drawn me to his fatal snare, But with much penance, fasting long with prayer And vigils, from the Lord I craved a sign, And still with tears beseeching, fell asleep. When, suddenly, a glory filled my room And looking up astonied, lo ! the Lord, His bleeding temples bound with cruel thorns. And round the head a halo glistering white. He stood and pointed to His riven side. But I borne down with penitence and shame Could only gasp, ' Ah, Lord, for me, for me ! And I have torn Thy bleeding wounds afresh. But take the one poor gift I have, myself.' And He: *I take thee, daughter and My grace Be with you and suffice you to the end.' And then He passed, and waking, the gray east Was reddening with the streamers of the dawn. Such was the sign in which I overcame." So Blanche, much pondering and sore distressed, 98 Now thinking, *' I have conquered," and again " O wretched that I am," a shuttlecock Betwixt desire and conscience, as a dove That wildly whirs aloft to join the flock. By strong cord tethered flutters back to earth, And crying ever, " Lord, a sign, a sign ! " Long vigils over, sank in troubled sleep. Then suddenly her cell was full of light And looking up in awe to see her Lord, Behold ! with snow-white flowers on snow-white brow. With here and there a jewel in dark braids. Like drops of dew, as she beheld her last, The Lady Evelyn, who beckoning With thin, white hand and lips that made no sound But seemed to say, '' To England," slowly passed. So Blanche upspringing with a desolate cry For love remembered and the sheltering breast, Stretched out her longing arms though but to clasp The shadow of a dream, and so awoke And saw the long lance of the level sun Glancing on tree and spire and ruined tower, Strike through her casement, splintering on the wall. 99 With that she sought the Mother once again And such a luster gHmmered in her eyes, And such a gladness blossomed on her cheek, The abbess, nothing doubting, cried with joy, " Aye, you have had your message from the Lord." " Yea, my good Mother," and she told her all. And hearing, much amazed, the abbess mused. Debating if 't were devil's lure or no, Loath to receive, not daring to reject. Since God has work for men and women too In His great world, and convent walls were vain But for the mothers, so enjoined at last Another test and meekly Blanche obeyed. Then as before she filled the night with prayer Imploring, '* Lord, a sign, a sign, O Lord ! " And as before slept at the break of day. And lo ! a knight whose corselet at the breast Yawned with the mighty thrust of paynim spear Stood with white face, his armor dripping blood, lOO His voice like dry leaf fretted on the ground By querulous autumn wind, a piteous ghost: " To England, daughter, where with faithless priests Your faithless uncle schemes to hold your lands, And may the God who guards the innocent Grant a strong champion to fight your cause." So with wild eyes and sinking limbs that shook, By fear subdued and pale as any ghost The maid arose and the good Mother sought. Who heard the more amazed but not in doubt That God in vision had revealed His will. n " I, Blanche by baptism, 'gainst Sir Ralph propound That my good sire. Sir Hugh de Allingford, Was in possession of the certain lands Betwixt the River Thorne and King's highway And holden of our sovereign lord, the King, By payment yearly of two silver crowns. Which lands heritably pertain to me Through my sire's death, which said Sir Ralph from me lOI Unjustly holds to my great shame and scathe, Two hundred pounds, the which if he deny, Of the indwellers of the towne of Soame I ask assise; and my true claim to God And assise of good neighbours do refer, With right to say more if the need shall be." Thus the appellant sued for Writ of Right, To which the tenant of the lands replied : '' I, Ralph by baptism, do propound and say That I am rightful owner of the lands By the appellant named, and claim the right My own with mine own body to defend Against such champion as she choose to bring." Thus issue joined, the judges make decree That lists be fettle on a certain day Where right by wage of battle should be proved, Wherein the God of battles should reveal The truth by victory granted to the true. So when the day was come at early dawn. From leagues around the neighbors trooping came, 1 02 And wardens of the law to guard the Hsts; The justices anon, in purple robes, And heralds with their trumpets, and sleek priests From near-by abbey, lusting for the lands Which they should share, and praying for Sir Ralph, Prepared for burial service of the dead If one be found so rash to fight. A bier Stood ready for the luckless wretch who fell. Then as the trumpet proclamation made With ponderous step to open list advanced A bulky giant, brawny, mighty armed. With massive neck and vast wind-hardened cheeks That, where not overgrown with grizzled beard, Like well-tanned leather shone, and great red hands. Freckled and blotched and furred like lion's paw ; But now, through revelling and past his prime A little shaken and less free of breath. Less quick of hand and sure than in the days When seldom knight, in list or press of fight. Received his lance or clanging battle-axe And rolled not in the dust or stained the earth. 103 Then trumpets sound again and after hush Of expectation runs a sudden thrill Of mingled wonder, mystery and awe As from the crowd a maiden all in black, Firm tho' reluctant, with set lips and eyes That wavered not nor shrank to challenge death, Though in his stronghold, to the bench advanced, Where Law enthroned in red robed judges sat, And spake, clear voiced, " Hear this, ye justices, I, Blanche de Allingford, in England born But left, a child, in convent by my sire, And reared in France, a stranger to my own I come, and know not whether of my kin Any survive save yonder perjured knight Who, leagued with faithless priests, usurps my lands. Here without champion or a friendly face Or kindly hand to greet me, lo ! I stand Alone yet not alone, strong in the strength Of Him who is the strength of all this world, Who through the hands of one who watched the sheep With shepherd's sling and pebbles from the brook 104 Humbled the giant's pride in dust and death. So grant me leave in my own cause to fight, And if my body perish give it place In English soil to rest, but undismayed And joyful shall my spirit rise to God Who gave it, far beyond all scathe and wrong." Then while the judges murmuring conferred, And Sir Ralph hung his head, ashamed and vexed, Debating which were worse, to lose the lands Or the disgrace to fight a tender maid, The people cheered, with admiration caught. As a young man, hot cheeked and eager eyed Sprang to the lists and cried, " Ye judges, hear, Put not our English honor to foul shame. Fair lady, give me leave to fight your cause. And, if God will, I shall maintain your right." She, turning, marked a slender youth and tall. White handed, smooth of face and looking more A clerk than warrior, yet alert and keen. With supple sinews and not scant of strength, 105 Clothed with all grace, and fine in form and grain. Then as she looked a tender pity grew That such an one should stake his life for her, A stranger, and so young — so goodly, too ! But he, not rightly following her thought: " Nay, lady, nay. I am not so unfit For this rude sport as haply you may deem, Where victory in any case belongs Not to sheer strength, and in good cause, God with us, surely I shall overcome. O lady, trust me, give me leave to fight." And she, warmed in her heart, with reddened cheeks " I give you leave and trust you all in all." So, reassured. Sir Ralph threw down his glove And bellowed forth his boast : " Here is my gage Which I with my own body will defend." " I take it up," the stranger said, " and will Body to body the appeal make good." Then oaths were taken as by law prescribed : " Heare this, ye justices, that I this day Have eaten nought nor drunken, nor have I 1 06 Upon me bone, ne stone, ne magic herb, Inchantment, witchcraft, no nor sorcery, Whereby the word of God might be inleased Or devil's power increased, so help me God, And all His holy saints and by this book." Again the trumpets warned the people back, Lest any touch the lists or shout aloud, And with keen blade the executioner Stood by to sever hand or foot if one In any wise the battle should disturb. With cloaks cast of¥, in trews and tunics clad, And girt about the waist with leathern belt. Red-sandalled feet and legs bare to the knee. Each with a target and a baton armed Of stoutest oak, an ell long, tipped with horn, On either side the lists the foes were placed And the red sun rose up in the fair east And caught and kissed the bright hair of the maid In ripples shining and her champion saw And marvelled at her beauty and was glad. 107 Once more, from out the lists the trumpets sound And herald cries, " Let the combatants fight." So these advanced, one swaggering, over bold. And scornful of antagonist too slight To give occasion for display of strength, Whom but his baton's wind would puff aside, Gay with the hope of victory lightly won. The other with clear eyes that searched his foe. Grave, not unmindful of the chance of fight But nothing loath, and cheered in all his heart With sense of right and with a sweet, new hope To earn his lady's favor with her cause; Not hasting nor delaying, calm and sure. So for a moment stood they face to face, Crossed batons sidewise slanted, and retired A step and waited each the other's move, With searching eyes and muscles standing out Like tiger's at the spring, until Sir Ralph Aimed such a blow as if he thought some tower To topple from its base, but lightly sprang Aside the stranger while the heavy staff, Glancing from target, beat the empty air. io8 Then through the crowd a growing murmur ran Where none might talk aloud; half whispering They spake, and one : '' Fore God, a mighty stroke. Well that the stranger tempted not its weight." *' Yea," said his neighbor, " 't is a nimble youth And shrewd of fence; I doubt Sir Ralph will win." What need of further tale, how oft they met One striking madly, one evading stroke But not returning it, or as in sport A sudden, playful tap and quick retreat To draw his burly foe across the lists With waste of breath, then doubling like a cat Or as, at eve, the midge in braided dance. But as from time to time the murmur grew And men scarce held themselves from clapping hands Or shout, the headsman lifted axe, Whereat the sound sank like a breaking wave That whispering slides o'er darkening slopes of sand. Yet was there need of all his nimbleness 109 'Gainst one not faint of heart nor slow of foot, Where Death stood eager-eyed to watch the game. And once, indeed, the end had almost come. When stealing sidelong glance at lady fair, One instant off of guard, Sir Ralph sprang in With crashing blow that, caught on sounding targe, Had sent the young man reeling, like to fall, His foeman pressing on for final stroke. Then Blanche, in fright, unmindful of her lands. The time, the place, her maidenly reserve. Had broke the ban of silence with a shriek Had friendly neighbor not clapped hand to lips To shut it in and hush it to a moan ; But darkness wrapped her as she slid to earth And saw not how her champion, smiling still, Regained with supple grace his easy poise, All undisturbed, awaiting what should come. But people marvelled and half angry grew Seeing the stranger had forborne to strike Stout blow to cripple his antagonist Grown careless of his fence. no So passed the hours, High rose the sun, undimmed by any cloud And folk grew restless, suffering heat and thirst, But now, at last, Sir Ralph became aware That his great strength was waning, for his ears Rang to the beat of muffled drums, and breath Came sobbing and heart crashed against his ribs. His dry tongue ever licked white, blistered lips. And bloodshot eyes saw blood o'er all the field. As David longed for well of Bethlehem, So he for water and the evening star. Then was he minded for a space to rest And wait attack but had not long to wait, For now the other, seeing evil chance Might bring disaster to his lady's cause. And seeing how his enemy was spent. Urged on the fight and swift and swifter fell His blows which Sir Ralph parried as he might With clashing baton or resounding targe, Until one glancing smote the huge right hand. Which, reddening and benumbed, let go its grip III And the stout staff dropped, rolling on the ground. " Now yield thee, perjured knight," the stranger cried, " Fore God I am no craven," roared Sir Ralph ; '' I will not yield while any drop of blood Runs in my veins or breath in body bides." But even as he spake he reeled and fell, Of breath bereft, slain not by foeman's staff But by the blazing sun and wrath of God. Then for a moment standing as in ruth The champion mused, when turning to the bench, Where sat the justices in scarlet robes. He spake: "Ye judges, I full fain had spared This knight who did some kindness to my sire, But God has judged, and let your judgment give To rightful heir possession of her lands." Then unto Blanche, recovered from her swoon, But pale and trembling still as o'er her cheek Played smiles and shadows, as the sun and cloud O'er ripening wheat : " O lady, we have won. I with such skill as God to me accords, 112 You with your beauty and your innocence Which made me doubly strong and thrice as sure. All blessings on you, and for me the joy Of further service if the need should rise." And she : " O noble sir, to whom I owe Not longed-for home alone but life as well, How poor my words to show my wealth of thanks, And more than all the rest to see you safe; For had you fallen not my lands or home Nor all this realm of England could suffice To ease my grief who suffered you to fight A stranger's battle." Here the tale has end. Let him who will the happy sequel tell Where nought forbids the end all lovers love. 8 113 WHAT THE ENGINE SAYS What does the voice of the engine say With its hissing steam and its roaring wheels, The rhythm of cars that surge and sway? In varying speech to the varying mood It echoes the thought the traveler feels, The good that he hopes or the ill that he fears, It shouts or it whispers to listening ears To quicken the pulse or curdle the blood. What does the voice of the engine say To the children ofif for a holiday? It tells of meadows white with clover Filled with the murmur and drone of the bee, Of bright-winged butterflies blowing over, 114 Of sunny slopes and of lambs at play, Of gusty hills and the billowing wheat, Of leaves that whisper and boughs that swing, And the wheels on the smooth rails hammer and ring, " Up and away, up and away, up and away ! " And the hiss of the steam seems to repeat, ** We are free, we are free, we are free, free, free ! " What does the voice of the engine say To the man of business upon his way Back to his ledger or back to the street, The hiss of the steam and the wheels that beat Their intricate meters along the rail? *' Business rushing, business booming all the time that you 're away, Losing money, money, money ; you will miss it, miss a sale, Missed it, missed it, you have missed it ; losing money every day ; Swifter, swifter, hustle, hustle, you will fail, fail, fail ! " 115 What does the voice of the engine say With its hissing of steam and its clash on the rail To the felon borne on his fugitive way? " They will catch you, catch you, catch you," it is sneering in derision ; " No escape, no escape," and his cheek grows thin and pale And his breath comes hard and slow as there rises up a vision Of the court, the trial, judgment, the gallows and the prison. " Ruin, ruin, all is ruin — death or prison," so it saith. Beaten down a hundred times and a hundred times arisen : "Death or prison. Death or prison? It is death, death, death ! " What does the flying engine say To the soldier borne to the coming fray? In the hissing of the steam, in the rush and roar and rattle, Ii6 In the whirl and clash and clangor, if he listen he will hear Orders blown and orders shouted, all the voices of the battle, All its mighty diapason, rising, falling on the ear, Where the long lines ebb and flow and the bullets shrilly sing, Cries of terror and defiance, cries of anger and of blame, Sabers clashing, muskets crashing, dire confusion mingling, Screams of shell and measured thunder of the cannon gushing flame. Cries of onset and retreat, cries of triumph and dismay, O'er and o'er and like a burden, swell and break and swell again, Blending in a ceaseless, never ending threnody of pain, In one ruthless cry of death and slaughter, '' Slay, slay, slay ! " 117 RAGNAROK The earth flames in a fiery rain And crackling clouds drive o'er the sky, Your task, O pallid Norns, is vain ; Behold the fount of Urd is dry. The strong earth lifts, the mountains reel, The glitering sons of Muspel ride Where Bifrost, 'neath the iron heel Breaks, crashing to the bellowing tide. Whelmed in the sea's vast overflow Sink cliffs, from their deep bases hurled. The Gjallarhorn begins to blow And thunder rolls around the world. Ii8 THE NEW NAME What shall I call her when we meet? She knew no other name on earth Than that which mothers find so sweet ; Though words be cold and little worth " Our baby " seemed a name complete. But now so many years have flown Since from my tearful gaze she passed, How shall I in the great unknown, Amazed where all is strange and vast, How shall I there reclaim my own? What sweet, rare title does she bear? For when I meet her on that shore, Grown wise and great as she is fair ** My baby " I can say no more, For I shall be the infant there. 119 AS I GROW OLD What shall I ask as I grow old ? More strength of limb, for lengthened days, More honor or more idle praise, For power or fame, or gift of gold, A greater house, more lands to hold? Not so; nor yet that mystic lore One sought and gained in days of old, — To talk with bird or rock or tree. To bind fierce spirits or to free, Or far or near to call them still And make them vassals to his will ; With gems and gorgeous robes a store, A pleasure-house, an ivory throne. 1 20 Then saw with disillusioned eyes How all was rotten at the core And in his darkness made his moan To empty space and hollow skies, " O ! vanity of vanities." Nor far off ways of life to see, What gifts, what joys may fall to me. Let me but walk with vision clear, The path I choose not nor decline, That ends in darkness where at last In mists and cloud I disappear. But till that day I only ask For lesser want, not greater gain; Not more but better use of strength, More patience for my daily task, For daily bread for me and mine, For larger life fed from within. For wealth which genders in the mind. For full acceptance of the plan Where I am one with God and man, 121 A larger fellowship with pain, For sympathy with all my kind, Contentment with my little store And in my heart more love and more. 122 LIFE AND LOVE Fair is the morn and sweet the air, With flowers abloom the fields are gay And woods are full of scent and song. I go to spend the livelong day In curious quest or idle play Without a task, without a care, For youth is free and life is long. Love whispered shyly unto me, " Take me with thee." Ah, me ! for youth and spring are done, The happy days, they all are o'er. The careless days come not again. The golden hours are mine no more. Now I must toil beneath the sun I cannot stop with thee to play. 123 The sober work of life begun Fills all the thought of all the day. Love answered with soft eyes to me, *' I toil with thee." Alas, for me all days are done. Spring, summer, autumn, all are past. Youth was a dream and time so fleet And hope was vain and love so sweet, Yet I must leave thee now at last, Below the sky-line drops the sun, The bitter night draws on so fast. The pathway leads to lands unknown With jagged rocks and thorns bestrown. Thou can'st not aid me nor delay, Why should'st thou wound thy tender feet? Leave me to tread that path alone. So one last kiss and let me go; Ah, wherefore dost thou hold me so? With streaming eyes love answered, " Nay, All, all the way." 124 BELATED What doest thou here this chill and bleak November, Amazed, forlorn, among the frozen leaves? Does it not break thy heart, now, to remember The long bright days when, clad in golden greaves, With lance in rest thou held'st 'gainst every comer The thistle bloom, the honey-bended clover, Or, flitting on, light-hearted, idly humming, From flower to flower, from field to field a rover? What drove thee forth from the warm, friendly hive Filled with the plundered sweets and scents of summer, When summer suns and blooms and heats are over? When withered leaves with shrill and desolate cry Along the blasts like flocks of sparrows drive, What ailed thee to fare forth in this far field to die ? Ah me, for I alike have wandered vainly. Restless and troubled, full of eager yearning, Hope beckoned and retreating drew me after. Sometimes I saw a glimmer, sometimes plainly, But I could ne'er o'ertake that fleeting laughter. Now, far afield, the fateful winter coming, O'erworn, I cease — and there is no returning. 125 FEVER FANCIES Monstrous, ghastly, miscreate, Dwarfish phantoms, flittering, Hght, Through my door and windows drifting, Coming, going, all the night; Twisted features, hideous grin, Claw-like hands and leprous skin, Voices sibilant and shrill, Withered, crackling, whispering, thin, Prophesying dreadful fate. Lying prophets ! Well I know You are figments of the mind. But your mirthless, idiot laughter And your gibbering frets me so. What, you scurvy, starveling thief? Blear-eyed, rheumy, grim and gaunt, 126 Sick, you say, and need relief? Help yourself to what you want ; Quinine capsules, powders, pill — Ah ! it 's whiskey that you 're after ! Take it and begone with you, For if I but ope my eyes, Dread will seize you and surprise. Out you go and down you go With your noisome, snickering crew, Rolling, tumbling, sliding slow, Writhing, wavering out of sight, To unmeasured gulfs below. 127 DOWN BELOW Safe and snug under ground, Heigho! With nothing to worry me, nothing to fear, I care not for rain, I care not for snow; The summer may come, the summer may go, I change not at all with the change of the year. Ho, Ho! The sleeping is fine in my bed down below. You above there may fret, you may pine. You may pray for the rest which is mine Though you shrink from it so; You toil and you sweat, your struggles are vain, While you curse its hard fetters you 're dragging a chain You forge for yourselves if you only could know, Ho, Ho! But free are we all in the world down below. 128 By fine names or foul though you call Your discords, confusions and war, Humane or malign as you will Your tumults but lull from afar. Unmeaning to us are they still. Brag and bluster, delusion, deceit, Greatness, grandeur, despair and defeat, Shame and glory are names and no more Where fightings and boastings are o'er, Where is no one to rise or to fall, But you up above there, Heigho! You madmen who muddle things so. The mightiest nation of all Is silent and still here below, Ho, Ho! All the paths of the world lead below. I heed not the ebb and the flow, Not the shout nor the sob of the sea. Whether good luck or ill luck may blow, Secure is my portion to me. 9 129 Expectation and striving all done, Here equal at last and at one, Kings, counsellors, peasant and slave Without rancor or greed in the grave. You above there so troubled, Ho, Ho! Come down below. 130 SEALED ORDERS Three sharp raps on my door Shatter my dream. Who from the desolate shore Of the unmeasured sea, Without guide, without gleam. From the obdurate dome Of the black night is come With message to me? What! Muffled and formless and dumb! '' Come in ! I 'm at home." 131 THE RETURNER O Earth, Earth, Earth, upon thy breast, Thy tender breast, I lay my head. Here, where the leaves of gold and red, All summer ripening in the sun, Their day accomplished, one by one, With but the tremor of a sigh, Unclasp their hands to flutter down, Upon thy faithful heart to die; 'Mid trailing vines and grasses brown, O Earth, dear mother of us all. Here where the noiseless shadows fall Grant thou the weary wanderer rest. 132 The quails' far piping, loud and clear The blue jays' wrangle in their tree, The cricket chorus thin and high, The soft, warm wind's low lullaby, Shall mix and murmur in my ear; The winged blossom of the air In crooked flight shall waver near; The timid rabbit, stealing by With wide, wild eyes, will look at me; The mantis clasp his hands in prayer. Thus let me lie, while o'er me go The eastering shadows, wheeling slow ; The moon up-climbing, still and white. Her dreamy spell will o'er me throw. And in the awful depths a star Will gaze upon me from afar. Thus, musing on the wistful skies. That brood above me tenderly, O sleep ! O sleep ! seal up my eyes ; O deeper stillness ! steal from me 133 My pulses, softly as you may ; As through shut lids the yellow light Grows gray and dim, so let the fires Burn low and low and die away, Till, watching, one should scarcely say When the last flickering tongue expires, And sleep has yielded room to thee. Thus, thus, O mother of us all, From whom we are, in whom we cease, Receive again the life you gave, And here, where braided shadows fall. Let the Returner find a grave, And in thy breast eternal peace. 134 .^ .' HO*. • 0^ ^ • « 6 f^ <^^ '^ \V .. ^ '■^^c,^* ^*'.'^m:>- cO*,v;.^^'^°o /.'^i/"*?* %^f\^ %*-^*.0'' \/^^\^ 4 Ho^ ^o ^<* 1^^ ♦ V-^^ * %. * « -^^0^ HOx o • » •1<=J«. ■^0