'^ o *n-'-.^'\/ 'V*^-'/ V'-^\^* %^' ^^ "onO^ ,«, « ' '^^^'- %.^^ :m^'^ \/ /JSfev %.^'' : v^^ ^o.'^T'.o^ v*';rtT'\«*' \.**-^-'^o' THE LADDER SHORT POEMS BY PAUL WELLS 75 3^^ Copyright 191? By Paul Wells ©C1.A246524 THE TORCH PRESS CCDAP RAPIDS IOWA TO MY MOTHER AND FATHER CONTENTS The Ladder • • 9 From a Tyrolean Window . • • . . 10 A Garden 11 To Music in the Night 12 Life's Everlasting Shore 13 A Tyrolean Shepherd Boy . . . • • 14 Like a Night Bird 17 Resurrectus • • . 18 To A Cathedral Window (in the Church of Our Lady at IMunich) 19 Dance Masks ....♦•.. 20 1 — Schuhplattler. 2 — Legende. 3 — Abendglocke. 4 — Humoreske. 5 — Momento capriccioso. 6 — Ber- ceuse. 7 — Kontraste. 8 — Orientale. 9 — Elegie. 10— Eine Sage. In a Monastery 31 September's Moon 33 To A Winged Charioteer (on the roof of the Parlia- ment Building in Vienna) • • . . . 34 Weariness 36 The Winter Wood 37 Verses • • 38 Sonnet (written at the Mausoleum of Franz Liszt at Bayreuth) 39 Love Song 40 My Life of the Morning Is 41 My Quest . . • 42 Night on the Sea 43 A Fantasie 44 Light Love 45 To A Meadow-Brook . 46 De Profundis . 47 KONDO 48 Sonnet 49 Hymn 50 Impressions on a Voyage 51 Tyrolean Sketches . 54 1— Mountain Sunset. 2— To an Alp. 3— Twilighl on Lake Wolfgang. 4 — The Blue Hour. The Storm Child 56 The Elf Child 57 Evening Song . • 58 Assignation 59 Water-Lily 60 The Elevation 61 The Road to the IMystical Hills . 62 From a Life 64 Over the Waterfall 65 Sonnet to Music (dedicated to Ernest Hutcheson) 66 Gardens Under Rain 67 Black Fluttering Birds 'gainst the Day Sky 68 Storms . . . . 69 THE LADDEE When I was still a little child, I often cried, "When Fm a man ril climb a ladder to the shy, And gather all the stars I can/' Now Fm a man and keep my word; Each night on ladder which belongs To whim, I climb and gather stars. And see strange worlds and hear strange songs. FEOM A TYROLEAN WINDOW Out in the field the peasants are mowing, Their long scythes thrash through the clovers blow- ing; The souls of the blossoms rise from the ground, Perfuming the sunshine, which falls around Our faces and hands, like the scented hair Of a golden lover, soft limbed and fair. Come friends, let us play on our instrument ; Make music, and let this noontime be spent Midst perfume of flowers and perfume of sound; Yea let the blue gossamer hours be bound In sensuous ecstacy, and let thought Float away like black veils with darkness fraught. Come let us float upon the odourous wave Whilst opal-scented sprays our bodies lave ; Let us toss with the foam toward some land Of dreams, and like white sea-blooms fringe the strand Of Beauty's Isle; and like those languid flowers Let's lie and dream away the honeyed hours. 10 A GAEDEN What matter that my heart does ache If beauty sings out through the night? What matter that my tears do fall If they like crystals catch the light 1 So long as yonder drifting moon Shows me the mountains in silver mist ; So long as with yon trembling trees I feel the thrill of leaves moon-kissed ; So long as in the night I hear The shepherd's love song which he sings; Then am I thankful for my pain — The deeper ecstacy it brings. And pray my heart with fervent breath, Through all the many coming years, To make itself a garden sad And keep it watered with my tears. 11 TO MUSIC IN THE NIGHT Ah my beloved, I love thee as Thou floatest like an angel through the night. And yet because thy beauty is to me The most adored thing on earth, Because thou canst compel My smiles and tears at thy own will, Thou choosest now to take my heart And crush it with thy beauty, till I well nigh faint with pain. Yea to the very ground I fall. Weeping and quivering with ecstacy From which I would but cannot die. 12 LIFE'S EVERLASTING SHORE come out on life 's everlasting shore Love, let us wander sweetly hand in hand. The roseate day is passing fast, no more E 'er long our happy feet shall pace the strand. The twilight o'er our lives so soon will creep. And by night's wave we may be washed away. Then on the sea whilst for lost things we weep, On land our child will laugh with the new day. For when each day by night is darkled o 'er, Some find the deep, some keep the golden sand : So come out on life's everlasting shore All ye that love, and wander hand in hand. 13 A TYEOLEAN SHEPHEED BOY Bare of foot and singing, Like a young hunter god, Adown the tapestried mountain green dyed. Chases the sheep 's-lad fleet. And on his long shepherd's crook a-swinging, He leaps the stones, only touching the sod, Which heaves like cushions of velvet green-pied Under his winged feet. Hunter of joy is he ; Well knows he that his prey Lies ambushed in this mountain dell flower fenced. Like a star-flower dropped From heaven, he falls into this opal sea Of bloom, and pausing not he throws away His crook and hat and winds his arms, entranced. Bound his brown curls un cropped. Laughs then into the stream Set like a sapphire clear Midst emerald ferns glazed o 'er with beryl flake - — Nature's jeweled ornament. This is his sanctum ; leaf hidden I seem An intruding pagan cringing in fear Before this young priest preparing to take His holy sacrament. 14 Of his garments homespun Swiftly he strips himself, As a rose-bud, knowing the March wind flown, Strips off its coarse pod brown. And like a gold daisy kissed o ' the sun, He blooms brown limned to be wooed by an elf. Par up the mountain his sheep graze alone, But through the trees floats down A bell-chimed rhapsody, Blending the cello drone Of bees with notes of flutes and oboes sweet Played someyhere overhead. And like one dancing to a melody, Lithely he trips down to the brook thick sown With moss, and dipping first his rosy feet, He takes his watery bed. His sought for joy is found. And parting the cool ferns He laughs to see the awkward drowsy snails Start, wakened by the sun. For long he lies, his limbs in ripples wound ; But now he trembles as his pleasure turns To drowsiness, and rising shakes the veils Of dew thread off ; and done With waters, chilled like dawn. He clambers from the stream. Choosing the softest of the moss grown bowers, He spreads himself for rest, 15 And gleams pale as a chiselled topaz faun. He sleeps, and by his smile I know his dream ; He giveth me that dream — of Attic days, , When like this boy, youth blessed, Endymion lay by day And waited for the Moon. And like the peasant Sicilians of yore. Who on a sleeping god Dared not to spy except with death to pay, I creep away in fear with muffled shoon, That he may not be, when his sleep is o ^er. Stripped of his pure god-hood. 16 LIKE A NIGHT-BIED Like a night-bird my heart is singing ; Alone and in the darkness singing ; Up through the leaves a spirit winging ; Up to the stars a lone song winging. That lonely song was born of weeping ; My heart f onnd beauty in its weeping ; Ever faith in the darkness keeping ; Ever a song in the still night keeping. 17 RESUREECTUS Oil love, oh love until you come to me I lie as in a grave Enshrouded in my tears which the cold air Freezes into my shroud. Yea verily this earthy world can be As nothing to me save A grave-yard drear where lisping ghosts hang e'er About me like thin cloud. Oh love until you stand above my tomb I cannot rise again. 'Tis you can bring my resurrection day And for that day I wait. My faith still lives ; oh see the roses bloom Upon my bare grave when My poor heart calls out through its house of clay — *^Love will this trance abate.'' Oh love have pity on me in this sleep And heed these flowers of hope. Let not the time be long — oh come to me My love that I may rise. Kneel lightly here and let your sweet voice creep Below, my grave to ope. That I may see the dawn and walk and be With you in Paradise. 18 TO A CATHEDEAL WINDOW In the Church of Our Lady at Munich Thou burning thing, glowing with western light, Painting bright flowers where tears and shadows were; Staining the aisles as bursting berries might So stain the summer's ground with colours rare; Pilling the chalice wdth a wine of blood Such as no vintager ever hath pressed; Gilding the lamp where holy vapors brood And steep themselves in thy spirit light blessed; Thou rival brilliance of that Eastern Star Which led the world unto the Saviour's feet, Be thou the blazoned power to call afar And bring the toiler from the poppy heat ; The soldier from his song and dragoned shield ; The sailor from the sea-steeds which he drives ; The dreamer from the daisy powdered field ; And with thy passionate beauty stain their lives. 19 DANCE MASKS {Written after hearing a set of piano compositions called ^'Walzermasken'^ hy Leopold Godowshy played for the first time in Vienna on February 11, 1912, hy the com- poser.) TO MR. GODOWSKY 1 — Schuhplatter Far up amidst the mountains high, Where craggy peaks are staggering Endeavoring to reach the sky, An emerald lake is shimmering. It is a jewel into a wine Of sparkling clear distillage flung, And midst its filigree of pine A mountain tavern quaint is hung. This land remote is Austria; Now up the road the peasants hie, And on a shrine to Maria Lay flowers, and to the dance troop by. Oh gladly will they dance tonight, Yea dance this festal eve away. For their gay coloured costumes bright Show this has been a holiday. 20 The tavern's great room has been cleared Of all save benches round the wall, And from the low beamed ceiling, bleared Oil lamps their dingy light let fall. About the room the beer maids flit. And neath a Crucifix rough hewn. In corner dim musicians sit. And for the dance their fiddles tune. Into this room the peasants throng, Each woman clad in gaudy skirt. With head-dress quaint and flying long, And bright shawl round her shoulders girt. Each man in leathern breeches black Cut short; bare-kneed and gaudy socked; Green jacketed ; and in the back Of his green hat a feather cocked. The merry fiddlers 'gin to play ; They play no tune, but oft recant Two droning chords in rhythmic sway, Of tonic and its dominant. And to this drone the peasants sing Some dancing ditty of their land ; Their rough shoes clatter as they swing And weave their figures hand in hand. 21 And now anon the dance grows wild, And each man grabs his partner fair About the waist, and like a child He tosses her into the air. 2 — Legende One day when Christ was still a lad, He wandered through the village street, And met some children wild and glad, A-dancing on blue- sandalled feet. ^ ^ Come dance with us, ' ' to Him they cried ; He sadly smiled and shook His head ; *^Alas my sandals black are dyed And heavy are,'' the Boy Christ said. His arms He lifted in dismay From His frail body, wearily; His shadow fell across the way Like a black cross on Calvary. In fear and awe the children fled ; From a well grown round with bitter bloom He drank a cup, and back home sped, And crept into His darkened room. 3 — Abendgloche Now softly through the young Spring night. There floats past me a belPs pure note. Like love-call of some elfin sprite Soon answered from some silver throat. 22 There through the leaves I see it sway, Wrapped round with many coloured flowers, As though some happy Springtime fay, Had hung it there to chime her hours. And at the rope a girl and boy Pull dancingly, glad with the time ; Their hearts are filled with love's young joy. And well they love this silver chime. They lift their voices in love's song. Harmonious with the tones above. Oh let me hear for long, for long. This evening bell of Spring and love! 4 — Humoreske Beside the frog pond hedged with weeds, A slimy stone is laid in state; The giggling moon observes the fete. And showers her light amongst the reeds. Then from the slime, the pleasant queen Crawls out and takes her royal seat. Her plain coiffure is very neat. Her modish gown is emerald green. With diamonds and rubies rare Her crown is set right heavily, And at her throat, topazes three But emphasise that she is fair. 23 And in her wake come waiting- dames Who kiss her hands and stir the air With lizzard- scale fans which they bear. A knight draws nigh and calls the names Of honored ones who'll rigandon And dance her authorized court skip. Then from the weeds these dancers trip They dance for Art — Art's sake alone. They pose a pattern like a frieze, And then with jewelled fingers bright, They beat their little stomachs white. And twine their legs in fantasies. 5 — Momento capriccioso Eyes blue as a sapphire mirror; Frail hands white that draw me nearer ; Blown lips — it does not seem amiss, If in the waltz I steal one kiss. Eepulsed — ; relief laughs in my heart ; My triumph is her angered start ; 'Tis sweet to take no heed of frown At jewels that weigh not in my crown. 6 — Berceuse '*^ Sleep my little one, sleep my own. In thy small cradle soft and white. And dream of that one blessed night When thou to womanhood art grown. 24 ^*Wlien thou shalt dance at thy fine ball In satin gown of wondrous hue, And fairy slippers gold and blue, And hold all youthful hearts in thrall. ^^When thy own lover fair to see, Shall hold thee in his arms so strong. And whirl thee through the dancing throng, And give his loving heart to thee. *^0h little one, dream of yore For thee thy happy mother has; A perfect dream, a dream e^en as Thy mother lived these years before." 7 — Kontraste The dull November night is chill. And round an iron bridge arched tall, The foggy air hangs like a pall ; Below flow waters black and still. And at one end, bneath a lamp Whose sooty glass some yellows spill, A beggar grinds his organ shrill. All out of tune from the night's damp. Across the bridge a woman frail. Drifts like a leaf danced by the wind ; Her tawdry dress is of her kind. And crimson paint hides those cheeks pale. 25 She pauses in her drifting drear, And gazing at the river black, She shudders, then her quest calls back, And smiles as each man passes near. Perhaps this Will is not her own; Perhaps this life is not her dream ; Perhaps, when gazing in the stream She knew a mother wept alone. 8 — Orientale Upon a gilt divan, deep couched With satin cushions of bright red, In golden robes the sultan crouched. With gaudy orange turbaned head. Then running slaves sped out and laid A silver carpet broidered through With a great rose of crystal braid, And gemmed with pearl and opal dew. In violet silks musicians three Bent low and strummed their music wierd; One piped a flute of copperie; One rhythmed on a drum blue smeared; The other plucked the dancing tune On emerald harp with strings of brass. Then borne aloft, like a pale moon, Upon her couch the sultaness 26 Was carried to the carpet spread. Swathed was she in a robe of grey ; And lifting her from off her bed, The brown slaves snatched her robe away And held it curtain-like behind Her as a background for her dance. With soft grey feathers it was lined, And did her beauty but enhance, For her fair body was like snow At eve upon a mountain hung, Soft flushed with the pink sunset glow; And o'er her forehead's crest there swung A sapphire blue like one lone star. Then like a tossing flower she danced, Now dropping low, now leaning far. She swayed with motion, all entranced. And when her movements languid grew, A black slave on the carpet laid A squirming serpent green and blue Near to a slab of poisoned jade The colour of dead human flesh. And when the serpent saw the thing Agleaming on her forehead, fresh It coiled itself for a quick spring. 27 Then snatching off the sapphire blue, She dropped it on the poisoned stone; The fascinated serpent flew With hissing fangs, and falling prone Upon the jade fierce writhed and died. And hectic music filled the room; The sultaness with passion cried; And through the air swept dark perfume. 9 — Elegie Through Autumn's day in dull despair. The leaves funereal dance and sing — '^Oh lovely Summer, thou wast fair, Fairer still than lovely Spring. * ^ Yea thou wast fair, and thou didst pour New life into our hearts ; thou wast Our heaven, thou wast our God, yea more, Our lover from the gold sun cast. ^*The bliss of perfect days we knew When thou didst sit through those green hours Beneath thy wondrous veil of blue, Among 'st thy garden of bright flowers. ^ * We happy were when thou didst smile ; When thou didst weep, we took thy tears Upon our cheeks, and for awhile Hung still or trembled with vague fears. 28 ''And oh the bliss of many a night, When hanging on the couched boughs, We lay against thy body white, Moon washed, and heard thy loving vows, ''And felt thy scented breath creep o'er Our drowsy eyes, and heard thy heart Faint trembling at some night-bird's lore Of how death doth all lovers part. "Oh true and cruel that prophesy. For thou art gone; for death the thief Hath stoPn thee from our arms, and we Drift on, fast fading from our grief. "Oh Winter, quickly come and bear Us to our graves." — Thus wandering Through Autumn's day in dull despair. The leaves funereal dance and sing. 10 — Eine Sage Ye great men of the earth, I say While standing in your wake, ye are But dancing puppets in a play. Whom little men ruthlessly slay. And if your dance with some new thought. Whirls out from these poor men too far. Or is with too much beauty fraught. Then all your greatness speaks as naught. 29 Ye little men of earth, I say While looking on your work, beware ! How will ye stand at last, when may . These puppets come to life one day. 30 IN A MONASTERY Klosterneuhurg near Vienna Along the dark stone corridor beneath The ground, unlighted save from the faint glow Of swinging lamps before a solemn row Of altars screened with gates of frail wrought iron, They passed, those monk priests in their surplices Of costly lace thrown over cassocks black. They mounted then the grey stone steps and passed Into the holy sanctuary still. Where Christ was pictured in that Passion fierce Which bade Him give His life to save the world. And one by one they knelt before the shrine. And seemed to sway with passion in their hearts. With passion for devotion and for prayer, Which bade them cast all other thoughts away. They raised their voices in a solemn chant That throbbed with passion's fiercest hectic note; So keen it was, that like a lightning flash It charged my every fibre as I stood. Like molten fire it raced through my blood. And beat like hot waves in my fainting brain ; The gold and jewels on the altar frame Their glitter sent to scourge my heart which beat Against my breast as does a tortured bird Hard beat against its narrow prison cage. 31 I felt a demon enter in my soul ; It raged and grappled with my sanity; It wildly bade me give myself away, To play my role and die as Christ had done ; To rush up to the highest altar step ; To curse the priests and desecrate the shrine ; To abandon myself before their eyes, And hold the sacred vessels in my hands. Then when our passions of the moment waned, The priests passed dumbly back into their cells — And dumbly I passed out into the world. Their passion was not greater than was mine. 32 SEPTEMBER'S MOON September's moon doth ride in state Across the victor's star-strewn ways, While at her chariot wheels, cruel fate. Tread our sweet captive summer days. With their departure sorrows come, And with them gladness leaves our lands. Whilst we remain prostrate and dumb They go to serve mongst foreign bands. Yea 'twill a saddened country be. But we will wait, since strength we lack, Until June's moon so kind, will free Our summer days and bring them back. 33 TO A WINDED CHARIOTEER On the roof of the Parliament Building at Vienna Thou cliarioteer who motionless wast struck Whilst riding o'er this Grecian temple grand, I bid thee stir thy bronzed wings once more, And whip thy horses into action swift. Then catch me up into thy chariot And drive me to some land where I may reign. Not as a king, but an all powerful god. Drive not to that fair Attic land from whence Thou camest, for e'en long ago thy gods Were driven off by some cruel shatterer Of dreams, and those poor unbelieving men Would hearken not unto my later voice. Drive not to Egypt crumbling in the dust, For long ago the bag-pipes ceased their tunes Of praise, and entered into Pharaoh's tombs; Perhaps there lingers still some faint acclaim To Allah, but it dareth not to speak too loud. And drive me not to any Western land. For there men bow the knee to hoarded gold. And have no faith in any other god. 34 But drive me to tlie Siberian plains Where joy is not; where men are flung aside Tike dogs to run before a screaming lash ; Where love is not; e^en where pity is not; Only perhaps a little faith in God. Yea drive me farther still, to where some few Escape their chains to wander through the snow; Where hunger causes them to howl like beasts; Where misery fierce has so bleached their sight Of colour, that even the sun is black, Since all that is not white snow must be black. Oh charioteer, drive me over them. Drive me fiercely, for I will be their God. I will send clouds of snow, and lightnings Of bitter wind ; and I will call to them — **I am thy God, behold thy only hope.'' And when they lift their arms and cry to me, Then will I laugh at them, yea shrilly laugh. And I will call the wolves to wait about With hungry gleaming eyes until they die. Siberia, oh my Siberia, What a country for my pleasure thou art. Siberia, oh my Siberia, I will be thy God, I will be thy God. 35 WEARINESS So tired am I toniglit that my life seems Like a great desert — ^ ending as begmi; And o'er it pass some caravans, my dreams, Losing themselves and dying in the sun. So weary now am I, that in my soul I feel a vast sea, meeting stormy sky; Its ships are laden with my faith, their toll Is death; content am I that all should die. Cold is my heart; it is a forest deep In night ; no sun of day to warm and cheer ; So dark and still it is I cannot weep; Alone I stand in silent sorrow here. 36 THE WINTEE WOOD The winter wood — • How cold and dark and endless doth it seem. My niunbed spirit wanders through it Seeking for some warmth of life. But the trees they waver not, And the saddened leaves murmur restlessly Of the one I loved so much so long ago ; Of that day so long ago when in a storm a fair tree fell — Fell across my breast, crushing the life from my heart. Now will I wander on until I find the lake wherein my heart blood ran. There will I drown this corpse and find oblivion. 37 VERSES I Ah tlie Pain of this world so wide; The killing, crushing pain; 'Tis like a demon vain, Who, with unloving feet, doth stride O'er purple violets crying For mercy; but he stalks on; Winds find them when he's gone. Calling to God, all bruised and dying. II Ah the Beauty of this golden world ; 'Tis like the glad sunrise Which comes with fresh surprise Each morn, burning the dark which night unfurled. It wrecks our sorrows and our griefs E 'en as a sailing ship Kissing the ocean's lip. Is wrecked on lovely coral reefs. Ill Ah the Faith of this world; like sweet Morning-glories in night Calmly waiting for light ; Then their lord, the morning, shall meet Their closed eyes with kissing away Of darkness and languor. And shall show them the splendor Which comes with the Eternal Day. 38 SONNET 'Written at the mausoleum of Franz Liszt at Bayreuth I wardered through the quaint Bavarian street One Sunday morning — 'twas a summer day. I found the peasant 's church, I heard them pray And sing their homely songs so simply sweet. And just outside, unseen by hurrying feet, I found the tomb where the great master lay, Within a grave-yard where the ivy spray "Wound o'er the hymn enshrouded death retreat. Of himself immortal song he giveth. Music that liveth eternal and grand, And he whose world name is a burning brand, Now sleeps to peasant hymns and songs of birds Behind a door that bears no name, no words. Save ^^I know that my Redeemer liveth." 39 LOVE SONG Oh give me the field and open road That I may roam at will; And give me cool wood and laughing rill That can my fevers still; Give me the mountain that my abode May be near skies all blue ; Then give me your love so strong and true, That I may live for you. 40 MY LIFE OF THE MORNING IS My life of the morning is, since thou dear, hast come unto me. Thou sun of my heart and my world, causing the shadows to flee. Thou makest the flowers to open, thou makest the birds to sing. And with thee in dewy fragrance, the breezes of morning bring. I will rise now in happiness and go to my new day. Working with lighter heart, treading a brighter way ; A way which has been through darkness, a land all dead and dumb. But which now is blooming and singing since thou unto me hast come. 41 MY QUEST To fly towards light; To soar until I feel the heat of God; To know my tears as but a veil of fleeting cloud across my eyes ; To look into the sun and see the seven-hued passions of the world transfused into the one white ray ; To steep my nostrils in the vapors that arise when day strikes in where the damp of night has been and truth exudes ; To hold upon my lips the summer fruits that ripen in the sun ; To hear close in my ears the eternal hymn of light across the strongs of centuries past and echoed in the caves of years unborn ; Yea to steep my every sense in light till I may say that I am light ; This is to be my quest. 42 NIGHT ON THE SEA My soul shall live Througli darkest night and stormiest sea, xlnd sing out like the watchman's bell, For ^^allis well/' Yea though my ship is dashed against the rocks Which yonder feeble light-house marks; Yea though 'tis dragged by storms down to the utter depths ; Still shall my soul commingle with the Universe ; My soul is God and cannot be destroyed. 43 A FANTASIE The wind is gently playing over nature ^s garden fair; Tall slender stalks are bending, capped with purple blossoms rare; Gold butterflies are hovering round and flitting to and fro, While cloud-bits dancing o'er the sun, fantastic shadows throw. And with this wondrous magic spell, this scene so wierdly bright, My soul, swift, light, is floating 'mongst it all with wild delight. An elf that soul, perhaps, or spirit gladdened to be free ; Well let it be: so mav it float on till Eternitv. 44 LIGHT LOVE Come maiden be my little love Just for this sunny day. Show me your smiles and kisses, love, Then you shall go your way. I ask not that you constant be. Nor that you love no other. For if alone you lived for me, You might prove quite a bother. The flower that is not kissed, you see, By sun and rain together. Will never always pretty be In every kind of weather. The raindrops falling on the lake Do mar its tranquil beauty, And so my many tears would take Your prettiness as duty. No dear I swear this shall not be, I'll keep you bright and fair, With laughter in your eyes to see. And golden in your hair. Before return of cloud and strife. Let's love i' this summer day. And I will bless you all my life. While you go on your way. 45 TO A MEADOW-BROOK Merrily singing on thy way, With never a care thy joy to stay, In every season thou art gay, Thou meadow-brook. • So gay art. thou in fresh Springtime, That wild flowers o 'er thy low banks climb. Seeking to catch thy merry rhyme, Thou meadow-brook. So gay art thou with Summer's notes. That birds call down from singing throats. And winds float by like idle boats, Thou meadow-brook. So gay art thou in Autumn days, That sad leaves on their drifting ways, Pause upon thy joy to gaze. Thou meadow-brook. - So gay art thou when Winter blows. That restless snowflake to thee goes. Glad to sink and find repose, Thou meadow-brook. Merrily singing on thy way. With never a care thy joy to stay. In every season thou art gay. Thou meadow-brook. . 46 DE PROFUNDIS In the night, in the night I cry to Thee From out of the blackness which enfolds me ; Somewhere in the dark Thou art lost to me; Blindly I lie and vainly reach for Thee. 47 EONDO Poor fallen city whose ruler is slain. That ruler who would not have died And decked his feast with fragrant flowers. Now blacker than Obsidian stone The fierce wind-warriors o'er him ride. Poor fallen city whose ruler is slain. Still from the silent watchmen's towers ! I watch and weep for thee alone. Poor fallen city whose ruler is slain. 48 SONNET (To the altar picture of Santa Barbara, by Palma Vecchio, in the church of Santa Maria Formosa, at Venice) When first I saw thee, Santa Barbara fair, I thought thou wast not saint alone, but too A queen of royal lineage born ; I knew It by thy diadem, thy regal air. But when I looked upon thy massive hair. Thy full warm throat, thy face so pure and true, I felt thou wast the woman whom men woo. With whom no saint nor queen can e'en compare. I know a maiden like thee who is queen, And saint, and better still a woman sweet. Through all the years her image I adore, And keep the laurel on her altar green. I offer her the best gifts from my store. And kneel in loving homage at her feet. 49 HYMN (In the little towns hack in the mountains in Austria, the orphan asylum adjoins and overlooks the graveyard, and at evening the children gather in an upper room and sing their hymns.) How sweet to walk where Jesu leads, Through the bright garden flooded with light; How sweet to know His loving care Ever is o 'er us till the dark night. How sweet to lie in His cold arms, Seeing the too sweet day vanish as breath; How sweet to know that when He breathes ^er our tired eyelids, we shall find death. 50 IMPRESSIONS ON A VOYAGE 'Tis day-break ; in the faded hush Out in the East, a palette lies Splotched o'er with many coloured dyes Now waiting for some painter's brush To spread them — dawn's plain grey to hide. Oh Thou great Painter whose skilled hand Doth paint the flowers on the land, And black grief round the deadened clay, What wilt Thou paint for me today Across this Canvas stretched so wide? ^^Oh mortal one, I paint for thee An opal hued sky and sea ; This is enough ; now canst thou see A dream of thy Eternity." II The sea is gray And soft as breast of dove. The clouds above Are gray, but through the rifts The faint sun sifts A silver way Across the deep. 51 Some sea-gulls spread their wings, And, too, gray things. Drop on the silver sward • And drift toward Some unknown keep. in The universe is a turquois Half dipped in indigo. And on the horizon, arow, Like tossed white arms of swimming boys. Some white sailed boats now gently poise In dim phantasmal show. IV A curtain is the sky this eve, Flamboyant cloth of gold and red Shot through with gaudy orange thread, Such as girls in the Orient weave. But lo, this cloth aside is caught By unseen hands, and forth there shows In coral, hyacinth, and rose, A magic veil of frail mist wrought. And through the veil the Moon in bliss Peeps out, a virgin crescent shy, To whom up leaps in ecstacy, A young wave for his evening kiss. 52 For days we've plighted with the fickle sea, But now I know we near the faithful strand, For grey sail-boats with swarthy fishers manned, Drift out to give us welcome cheerily. Alas, the bold sea, jealous lest we be Enamoured of the fair and winsome land, A cloth of mist across our eyes has fanned. Love wins ; and from the mist a rainbow free Leads to Walhalla — (god-hood won at last) — 'Tis Dover hanging painted 'bove the sea. Now all night long we 've drifted on and passed Light-houses faintly starred ; and with the morn I see from porthole, Antwerp 's masts new bom. At last Europa fair thy face I see. 53 TYEOLEAN SKETCHES 1 — Mountain Sunset Like grey billows the mountains are tossing ; Their crests are gleaming with a foam of fire ; Sprays of pink and faint purple are flying, And pale phantoms rise to beckon and fall. 2 — To an Alp Until the great world dies thou standest there Immovable and peaceful in thy power, Whilst I, frail creature of the plains below, Must creep away after a few short years. Oh to hide myself in thy stony arms; To sink until I rest in thy strong heart ; Till thou shouldst know my wish and promise me To keep my spirit till the great world dies. 3 — Tivilight on Lake Wolfgang If I should sink into this quiet gray, I'd count my dying sweet if at the last Mine eyes beheld yon mountains rising dark And softly from the water's fading light. 54 If I could see this trembling silver light Of sky before it caught the mountains dark, Then would I close my eyes and sink at last To rest, and be at peace with all the gray. 4 — Th^ Blue Hour As I was climbing through a mountain gorge, I saw, far up and hanging to the rocks, A tiny cluster of the bluest flowers, — As blue as the sky and the lake below. And like a wayside shrine they seemed to me. I said my prayer and went my happy way. Thanking them for the perfect blue they held, And the blue that hung in the lake and sky. 55 THE STORM-CHILD Why is it that on sunny days, I go about with silent ways, Whilst on the days of stormy skies, Within me dear dead passions rise? Why is it then I'm lifted high. Singing with wind that's passing by? Why are with rain, which seems akin. My songs of heart then mingled in? And what this subtle feeling blest That to my life brings peace and rest ? And when the winds still stronger blow, Why do my songs still sweeter grow? A voice from out the wind doth say — ^^Thou art not a child of the sunny day, But thou art kin to storm and rain, A child of sighs and tears and pain.'' 56 THE ELF-CHILD I am an elf so happy and free, I fly and sing through wood and o^er lea, I swing for hours in yon fairy tree, For I am an elf you see. And all my days are spent in singing. And all my days are spent in winging, And all my days are spent in swinging. For I am an elf you see. I fear not the storm, I ride the gale, I dance up and down the moonbeams pale, I frisk and play with my shadow frail. For I am an elf you see. My day all fear and sorrow overthrows, I laugh with glee at men's heavy woes. My life no hope of eternity knows. For I am an elf you see. With the sweet summer I too must die. But I go to death without a sigh. That I have lived why need you ask why? For I am an elf you see. And all my days are spent in singing. And all my days are spent in winging, And all my days are spent in swinging. For I am an elf you see. 57 I EVENING SONG Sweetheart, the daylight softly dies, And with the singing evening bell. Our arms entwined, we pace the dell Beneath the pale light of the skies. The dews are bowing with the grass About the altar of the earth, And flowers to odours fresh give birth, Which like incenses o'er it pass. Into a crown I twine these flowers. To place upon thy tresses light, Proclaiming thee queen of this night. And the queen of my life's all hours. Thy watching heart on which I lean. Doth soothe my weary dreams of life. Oh, in my arms, sweetheart, my wife, I crown thee now my gentle queen. 58 )f ASSIGNATION Until the sunset hours, love, Let us wander through the day; Until the death of flowers, love. Let us dance and sing of May. Then, when we see the flame, love, E^er our hearts like flowers must wilt. The life cup let us sieze, love. That our joy by us be split. 59 WATEE-LILY Pale flower why floatest thou So calmly there upon the pond I By waters thou are loved I trow, And with sweet kisses chosen hast To keep that loving bond Until thy life hath passed. Ah my pale Love, Thou water-lily too. Come float thee on this pond my breast. I'll lull thee with my songs of love, And Sweet, I'll kiss and keep thee true Until thou witherest. 60 I I THE ELEVATION The organ music echoes on the walls Of the cathedral, giving voice like some Sea cavern over which the wild waves strum. Loudly, richly to the worshipers it calls For singing ; surely through these holy halls In this glory of sound the Lord will come. A bell is rung, — the organ pipes are dumb, — O'er all the silence of Christ's presence falls. Humbly, softly He comes as long ago He came along the Sea of Galilee. In silence then we kneel while He is nigh ; He passes on ; again the trumpets blow ; But through the surging sounds the memory Of moments calm and hushed when Christ passed by. Cologne 61 THE EOAD TO THE MYSTICAL HILLS One winter evening when I had abode Par back in the mountains of Austria, T wandered o 'er a lonely country road. 'Twas the night of the Feast of Maria, And in a wayside shrine deep swathed in snow, Two lighted tapers wrapped Her Image in a yellow glow. So deep the land lay in the winter's power. That every tree and house and fence and hill Was white and silent in the evening hour. And from a cataract beside a mill Hung icicles in brilliant clarity, Like crystal chimes on which the wind played bitter harmony. Like great white clouds the mountains hung about And seemed to drift with the triumphant snow, Binding the heavens where the stars looked out. With the faint lights in the valley below. Then on the road I met a pretty boy, A peasant lad, wrapped in his homespun coat and youthful joy, 62 And in his hand a lighted lantern hung, And in the rough dialect of the land He called to me as might an elf have sung — * ^ Goodnight my gentleman, I kiss your hand, And Marians blessings pray for you, good-night." With all my heart I prayed for him the same, and wished I might Kiss not his hand but his rosy red cheeks. And tell him to keep his own lantern bright. I longed to tell him that the one who seeks To keep his happiness through the long night, Must pray to the Virgin, and as She wills, Must keep Her white road which leads back to the mystical hills. 63 FEOM A LIFE My days fly by like flocks of birds, Leaving old years, old years. I search my heart for cheering words, I find but tears, but tears. I strive for power — ambition sways, I grasp cold fears, cold fears. There is no joy in all my days. And death's eternity nears. 64 OVER THE WATERFALL Falling waters — falling hopes ; Flying spray and passing life ; Unceasing roaring — destiny ; Churning whirlpool — endless strife ; Swirling depths and blinding tears ; Against the rocks — no mercy there ; At last the waters calm — (ah death) Passing to we know not where. 65 SONNET TO MUSIC (Dedicated to Ernest Hutcheson) Dear Music thou hast cleared the night for me ; Thou hast dissolved the mists whilst passing by ; And thou hast stripped the clouds from off the sky, From which the blessed light, celestial, free. Streams down and thrills me with its clarity ; Thou hast revealed the sacred mountains high, Whose mystic peaks in holy radiance lie ; Thou hast filled the air with a choralry Of angel voices, singing true and clear Some songs triumphant which enwrap the sphere ! With joy so strong it conquers every space, — Or else some sadder songs sent on apace, | Which bring strange beauties to the human heart. | Oh Music great, thou my Eedeemer art. | 66 r GAEDENS UNDER RAIN i Ye gardens under rain — Ye sad hearts under tears — For you the rainbow's gleam; For you the flowers of years. i 67 BLACK FLUTTERING BIRDS 'GAINST THE DAY SKY V'. Black fluttering birds 'gainst the day sky — My heart 'gainst love, desire; "White gleaming stars 'gainst the night sky — My soul 'gainst Eternity. 68 STORMS Let fierce storms rave; with them 111 mount the peaks ; Midst winds, 111 scourge my heart with music wild; O'er earth we'll soar and tears in rain shall fall, The while rare flowers into my life shall look ; Sweet fruits shall bloom, and I shall be content When from my storm pierced heart some songs have bled. 69 yS2B I "^oi^ .'< •n«.,<« 0^ ,'\'.'.' 'b. .<** .•".. ';*. • A V^^\o^ •^o>* ^^^ vP <^^ ^ * * ^A^ \/ U ^^^ *i V^*^-^\^^^