RI6NN 
 
 V. 
 
 MO Re 
 

 Book 
 
 (ioiyrightN''_.i:^(i"^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
ADRIENNE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY ISABEL 
 
 WYMORE 
 
 jiy|^ARTIety6RITAn.|y 
 
 ^ 'sJff 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 tCfte (gorijam l^xtSi 
 
 1907 
 
Copyright igo6 by Mary Isabel Wymore 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 LiBa.^HY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 >-"68 19 190f 
 
 ^Joyyri£ht Entry 
 CLASS A XXC, No, 
 COPY B. ' 
 
 ^"7 
 
 77/^ Gorha^n Press^ Boston 
 
TO MY TRUE FRIEND 
 
 To her whose kind sympathy and aid have been 
 the inspiration of this work — I dedicate these 
 poems. 
 
 " Our birth is hut a sleep and a forgetting: 
 The soul that rises with us, our life's Star^ 
 Hath had elsewhere its settings 
 
 And Cometh from afar.'' — Wordsworth. 
 
 These poems are arranged in the order in which 
 they were written, thus making an unbroken chain 
 in the development of an idea. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Adrienne ...... 
 
 7 
 
 Spring ...... 
 
 14 
 
 Egotism 
 
 16 
 
 Elva; or, The South- Wind's Tale 
 
 17 
 
 Keep My Faith .... 
 
 20 
 
 The Eternal Mystery 
 
 20 
 
 The Universe .... 
 
 22 
 
 The Winter s Promise 
 
 26 
 
 What is Better than Success? 
 
 26 
 
 No, Not a Cynic .... 
 
 27 
 
 The Lost Glory .... 
 
 27 
 
 When Hope is Gone 
 
 30 
 
 Glimmerings through the Mist 
 
 33 
 
 Atheism ..... 
 
 35 
 
 Good-Night . . 
 
 43 
 
ADRIENNE 
 
 *Tis a simple tale, a tale of the sea, 
 
 And if, as ye read, it seems to be 
 
 More than an idle tale, then take 
 
 It as murmurings strange that the waters make,- 
 
 Voices heard in the sounding waves, 
 
 Rising from deep-hid ocean caves. 
 
 Interpret the story as ye will, 
 
 *Tis only a simple sea-tale still. 
 
 I 
 
 Once there lived by the surging sea ■ 
 
 A maiden wondrous fair; 
 White as the very sea-foam was she, 
 
 Like the sun her shining hair. 
 And nothing she did the livelong day 
 
 But sit beside the surge; 
 And e'en when the storm-winds flung the spray, 
 f'} Still clung she to the verge. 
 ll^'Though the booming swell 
 \'w^ In thunder spoke; 
 
 "^ Though blinding fell 
 The rain, and broke 
 ' The waves on the rocky shore: 
 
 Still she dreamed there evermore. 
 But the sea-gulls thick around her flying 
 Hoarsely were ever their warning crying; 
 " Adrienne, Adrienne, 
 Oh, when, oh, when 
 Will you wake and cease your dreaming?*' 
 
And they hovered and ducked and soared on high, 
 And swooped upon her with their cry, 
 
 And filled the air with screaming. 
 But Adrienne, unheeding, kept 
 
 Her eyes fixed on the sea, 
 Though all around the tempest swept. 
 
 And the white-caps tossed in glee. 
 
 II 
 
 There, ever and ever, day on day, 
 
 The lonely maiden sat. 
 Yearning and wishing and longing aye 
 
 For something, she knew not what. 
 In all things as a child was she; 
 
 A spirit bright but lone. 
 She had never tasted misery, 
 
 No grief had she ever known 
 Save the mystic silence that bound her close, 
 
 And the wind that breathed of love. 
 And the longings, unhid, that within her rose, 
 
 And the calls of the birds above: 
 " Adrienne, Adrienne, 
 Oh, when, oh, when 
 
 Will you cease your idle dreaming?" 
 For thus the sea-gulls wheeling overhead 
 
 Were forever and ever screaming; 
 And the silence in clearer accents said: 
 "Alas, forever dreaming!" 
 
Ill 
 
 One morn a ship, all ghostly gray, 
 
 Came sailing, silently sailing 
 Out of the west at break of day; 
 
 Its top a mist was veiling. 
 As it nearer drew, it caught the beams 
 
 Of the sun, and shone snow-white. 
 Skimming the glistening breakers, meseems, 
 
 Like a bird, with passage light. 
 On the shore, Adrienne, in wonder bound. 
 
 Saw this moving shape come gliding; 
 And a faint little whisper of joyous sound 
 
 Stirred her soul as she saw it sliding 
 Silently, smoothly, o'er the deep. 
 No longer her voice was chained in sleep. 
 
 But wild 'round the cliff it rang; 
 For the first, first time, so gladly sweet, 
 
 In her nameless joy, she sang. 
 That willingly sailors their death would meet,- 
 
 Entranced as of old by the Siren's tones, — 
 
 To hear that voice from amongst the stones. 
 
 IV 
 
 But suddenly over the sea there rushed 
 
 A gale so chilling cold 
 That the voice of Adrienne was hushed. 
 
 The peals of thunder rolled 
 From cliff to cliff, with awful sound. 
 
 Like a giant's mutterings 
 Of rage; and the wakened waves resound 
 
 With sullen roar, that brings 
 
 9 
 
A pallor to the sailor's cheek, 
 As by the lightning's glare 
 He rises, — in such an hour how weak! — 
 
 The ocean's worst to dare. 
 The blackness of twenty nights is come 
 
 O'er the sea, with all it bears. 
 And a line of merciless, pounding foam 
 
 With the rocky cliff mad Wars. 
 There, shrouded in the gathering gloom, 
 
 Her wind-blown tresses flying, 
 Her hands outstretched in wild affright, 
 Her bright eyes dimmed with crying. 
 While the rain beats down on her fair young head, 
 And a fitful glare is upon her shed 
 
 By the zigzag lightning playing. 
 Stands Adrienne, with wild, wild woe 
 Struck mute, and dumbly praying 
 All powers that be, above, below. 
 To save that ship from its dreadful doom. 
 And send once more the grateful light. 
 Ah, Adrienne, 
 'Twas then, 'twas then 
 You awoke from your idle dreaming! 
 Adrienne, Adriennne, 
 'Twas then, 'twas then. 
 With the lightning o'er you streaming! 
 
 In vain, in vain, that prayer was blown 
 
 Across the raging brine; 
 But if God saw fit that the ship go down, 
 
 Adrienne, 'twas no fault of thine. 
 
 10 
 
While the horrible din of cries and groans, 
 Of shrieks for help, of despairing moans 
 Of souls wrenched hard away 
 From the clasp of the wonted clay, 
 Did with violent agony sway 
 That slender young form, which the spray 
 Had drenched with brine; and away 
 O'er the sea did her hopeless gaze stray. 
 Straining in wild dismay 
 To catch, by the lightning's play, 
 A glimpse of the ship so gray, 
 Ere it sunk beneath the wave. 
 To find a watery grave 
 For the ones she could not save, — 
 God in mercy cleared away 
 The clouds, and sent sunny day 
 O'er waters of purest blue. 
 Which never a faint trace knew 
 Of the winds that raged and blew, 
 And wrecked, within the view 
 Of the lonely girl, the ship; 
 And she saw, with quivering lip. 
 That beneath these ripples fair, 
 Sparkling in the sunny air, 
 Down in the waters there. 
 Was it lying, with all it bare. 
 
 VI 
 
 Ay, the storm had cleared, and the sun shone red 
 O'er the breakers white with foam. 
 
 How fast the thunderous clouds had sped! — 
 No slower had they come. 
 
 11 
 
Glad summer took within her fold 
 
 Sea, sky, and land, and all; 
 No longer the heaving billows rolled, 
 
 No more did the torrents fall. 
 Only that surface dimpling there. — 
 
 So fair, so calm, so mild, — 
 Looked as innocent 'neath the golden air 
 
 As if it had never, in wild, 
 Mad rage sent down to eternal sleep 
 
 The sailors brave who rode 
 Over, its treacherous waters deep, — 
 
 Ah, me! — to their long abode: 
 Leaving their loved ones behind to weep 
 
 That they ever had dared to confide 
 
 Their lives to the ocean wide. 
 
 VII 
 
 The maiden knelt on the beach awhile, 
 
 Sobbing in piteous grief; 
 Then heedless of all the false sea's guilty 
 
 Sundered from all belief. 
 She mournfully sank upon the sands, 
 
 And bathed her limbs in the tide; 
 Wearily looped up the scattered strands 
 
 Of hair, and in sorrow sighed. 
 So bright a hope had come and gone, 
 
 So glad a dream was o'er, 
 That the weight of the pain thus thrust upon 
 
 Her, unused as she was, seemed more 
 
 Than her gentle heart could bear; 
 
 So bowed she in despair. 
 
 12 
 
VIII 
 
 But as, overcome, she lay in pain, 
 
 Good God a blessing sent, as sweet 
 As a bud of spring, or the gentle rain 
 
 That feeds the bud; for, flung at her feet. 
 The One lay upon the wave-licked sands. 
 
 His ghastly face upturned; 
 She softly stroked it with timid hands, 
 
 While the heart within her burned. 
 She holds him in her tender arms. 
 
 And gazes in mute bliss. 
 While the cold, cold form she sweetly warms, 
 
 And seals the lids with a kiss. 
 Once, twice, and thrice, in wond'ring joy. 
 
 She kissed the marble brow 
 And the golden tresses of the boy. 
 
 And the cheek as white as snow, 
 While deep love into her lonely soul 
 Softly, quietly, tenderly stole. 
 
 Bringing its own sweet, brooding peace; 
 And the smiling sun shed o'er the whole 
 
 His healing beams, nor did he cease 
 Till he warmed the maiden's kneeling form. 
 
 And lit with a radiant light 
 
 The brow so smooth and white 
 Of the Beautiful One sent by the storm; 
 Till at last in mercy there came a wave 
 
 From the heart of the briny deep. 
 That bore them both to a happy grave 
 
 And the joy of a peaceful sleep. 
 There, deep in the Ocean's tranquil breast. 
 
 No more to moan or weep, 
 
 13 
 
While the waves their tireless vigils keep, 
 They are gently lulled to eternal rest. 
 But v^here is the soul, a pining guest 
 While here by the chains of flesh suppressed ? 
 
 SPRING 
 
 Warm is the breath of the South-v^ind, 
 Waking in meadow and glade 
 
 Sweet little modest blossoms 
 Timid in sun or shade. 
 
 Blue is the sky and smiling; 
 
 Calm is the day, and fair; 
 The woodland music is ringing 
 
 Glad in the sunny air. 
 
 Spring is born in the meadow, 
 Spring is born in the glade; 
 
 Spring soft plays in the sunshine, 
 Spring rests cool in the shade. 
 
 Through the day and the night-time 
 
 Ever one song is sung: 
 Love is born in its beauty. 
 
 Again is the old earth young. 
 
 Well may the soul look upward 
 
 Through its spiritual eyes. 
 Far beyond the hazy snow-drifts 
 
 And the sunny blue of the skies, 
 
 14 
 
And catch the distant glimmer 
 Of a land all clothed in light, 
 
 Which knows no stormy winter, 
 And is always equally bright. 
 
 There, haply, the pure and the sin-stained 
 
 Will mingle glad and free. 
 See the same glistening rainbow, 
 
 Rest 'neath the same green tree, 
 
 Breathe the same fragrant odors, 
 List to the same sweet songs. 
 
 And out in Heaven's sunshine 
 Bury their pains and wrongs: 
 
 E'en as the earth, recreated. 
 With her stains all washed away, 
 
 In her beauty pure rejoices 
 All the soft-rippling day. 
 
 When dying eyes are closing, 
 
 And faint grows the mortal breath. 
 
 And faded and old are the garments 
 Of flesh, and rigid in death, 
 
 Then will the blessed mem'ry 
 Of Spring in her gladsome green 
 
 Steal o'er the dulling senses 
 With a touch of joy serene; 
 
 And, a smile on his face, the dying 
 
 Will close his eyes in peace. 
 Hoping to taste the sweetness 
 
 Of a Spring that will never cease. 
 
 15 
 
EGOTISM 
 
 " Hespera, hast thou not noted oft 
 How now spots, fleecy white and soft, 
 And dazzling bright in the sun; now clear, 
 Dark spaces of curious shape, appear, 
 
 Which anon are veiled in mist again, 
 As light or shadows now and then 
 Glide o'er the face of that orb afar ? 
 Much do I wonder what they are. " 
 
 " Ay, Anehda; the wise men say 
 That yon is a world like ours, and they 
 Would have us believe that beings there 
 Like unto us, — as wise, as fair, — 
 
 Are dwelling; but I think only Mars, 
 Of all the myriads of shining stars. 
 Folds to its breast an intelligent race. 
 And raises to heaven a living face. " 
 
 " Hespera, thou art quick of speech; 
 Be not so hasty, I pray, to teach 
 That in all the universe, wide and vast, 
 The one germ of life on our orb was cast. " 
 
 16 
 
ELVA; OR, THE SOUTH-WIND'S TALE 
 I 
 
 There is a valley, snugly closed 
 
 By sentinel hills around; 
 There the sunshine streams. 
 And the water gleams; 
 There the sunny stillness calm reposed, — 
 
 The south-wind the only sound, — 
 When wandering through it I heard a voice. 
 
 And I listened. Now sweet and clear, 
 
 And anon, like the breath of a mere 
 Wind, did it come; but it did rejoice 
 
 My heart, to hear it speak 
 
 Of a maiden, bright, but weak 
 And lonely, who lived in this valley fair, 
 And longed to fly to the purer air. 
 And this is the tale the south-wind told 
 Of the maiden's fate in the days of old. 
 
 II 
 
 The rising East was bathed in a crimson glow, 
 And inch by inch the Earth's dark shadow crept 
 Farther and farther into the West, where slept 
 Still soundly weary lands beneath its bow 
 Of night. The morning wind blew cool 
 And sweet o'er meadow and dreaming pool, 
 Rustling the leafy trees. 
 And tossing bright, waving seas 
 Of grass. Then softly one stole away 
 
 17 
 
From her bed, uneasy with dreams 
 Too bright for her peace, or meseems, 
 Too vexed for her tender years. 
 Too harassed by lonely tears. 
 In the early dawn of the green Spring day, 
 Half-wakened, and dreamy with sleep, 
 She strayed by the whispering stream, 
 And watched the glad sunrise gleam 
 
 Golden on lofty steep, 
 Then bathe in its flood the glen, 
 And the dwellings of drowsy men. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Warmer and warmer grew the light; 
 Farther and farther retreated the night. 
 Wrapped warm in the sunny air 
 And the south-wind, Elva fair 
 
 Lingered long by the streamlet's side. 
 In a brooding calm she wandered there, 
 And bent on the waters a musing stare. 
 
 And viewed the heavens serene and wide. 
 Which, smiling above her, — deep and blue, 
 As if they never a shadow knew 
 Save the downy clouds that drifted slow 
 Across them, — seemed, in a voice so low 
 That dull-eared men would have heard no sound 
 but the wind, to say: 
 
 " Come, gentle soul, and let thine innocence 
 
 Be safely tolded in my love intense. 
 Before the stony, thirsty deserts line thy lonely way." 
 
 18 
 
IV 
 
 The maiden heard, and Hfting up her face 
 In its dewy purity and youthful grace, 
 She gently answered: " Bear me, O sweet wind, 
 Up to the skies; we'll leave the earth behind, — 
 The earth, homely mother of my infancy; 
 Even as thou callest, beauteous Heaven, 
 To thine airy heights I'll gladly go with thee, 
 For to me a lonely lot is given. 
 
 There on thy loving breast 
 
 I'll lie in eternal rest." 
 
 She spoke, nor spoke again, nor ever more 
 Was Elva seen beside that dreamy shore. 
 
 Whence she vanished no one ever knew; 
 But the sunny south-wind the truth would slyly 
 tell. 
 And the secret smiled from the heavens blue. 
 At least, she was gone forever from that dell. 
 Yet in some sunny place. 
 Some serene and airy space, 
 I doubt not doth she dwell. 
 
 VI 
 
 And then, methought, when love here on this orb 
 Seeketh, unresting, for immortality. 
 
 Even as the heavens did her soul absorb 
 
 In their wide mystery, so with Love 'twill be. 
 
 19 
 
KEEP MY FAITH! 
 
 O thou Unknown Power, 
 
 Whose mysterious sway my spirit feels, with awe; 
 E*en in my darkest hour, 
 
 Still grant me strength to read thy divine law 
 Of equal peace and joy for all; 
 Oh, keep my faith, whate'er befall! 
 
 Still let me see the light, 
 
 Far, far above me, where the sunny sky 
 Melts away before the sight; 
 
 Still let me feel that somewhere, lie 
 Fair morning lands of constant peace. 
 Where love and spring-time never cease! 
 
 THE ETERNAL MYSTERY 
 
 Life and life! — near, yet apart! 
 
 What the mystery 
 Which binds them thus, when heart on heart 
 
 Each longs to be, 
 One with another ? Alas, in vain, 
 
 Through all the ages. 
 Have we chased joy and suffered pain, 
 
 Still divided pages! 
 Each yearns to blend with another; yet 
 
 Each separate stays; 
 All fruitlessly each strives to get 
 
 Within the maze. 
 What is life, that flows around us swift. 
 
 20 
 
A turbid stream, 
 From whose distant banks the fogs ne'er lift, 
 
 Nor does a beam 
 Of sunshine melt the mist ahead 
 
 That guards the mouth, 
 Nor is a radiance freshly shed 
 
 O'er its lost youth ? 
 Ah, me! The ages sing no lay 
 
 But only this, — 
 That what has been is gone away, 
 
 And that what is 
 Will not be soon, and what shall be 
 
 Soon will flee. 
 And what we've seen we'll no more see. 
 
 For the new will be. 
 But there's a voice within the heart 
 
 Whispering still, 
 That what now pains us will depart, 
 
 And that there will 
 Sometime be what we've longed for aye; 
 
 That yet the time 
 Shall come, the dawn of a brighter day, 
 
 In a sunnier clime. 
 With reason stern the voice combat. 
 
 And 'tis hushed; 
 Yet faith remains still, for all that, — 
 
 Never crushed. 
 
 21 
 
THE UNIVERSE 
 
 See, all around us are moving myriad orbs, 
 Each a rolling world, like to our own, with seas. 
 Perhaps, and sunny skies, and verdant fields, 
 That fill the air with mingled sweet, fresh smells 
 Of sprouting herbs; with breathing, active forms 
 Of animal Hfe, that roam the lands, or swim 
 -The seas, or sail the heavens wide and free; 
 With beings full of intelligent fire, whose eyes 
 Glow with a thinking light and ernest mood; 
 With beauteous shapes it hurts the soul to see, — 
 Clad in the dangerous garment of mortal flesh; — 
 (We weep that it cannot last, what is so fair); — 
 Bright faces that smile a space and flit away, — 
 One moment warm with the soul's best glow, the 
 
 next 
 All quenched to ashes pale. Who knows what 
 
 lives 
 Have hung a doubtful period near the brink 
 Of death's dark chasm, — as do we all, — and then 
 Have fainted and fallen from the verge ? what 
 
 pains. 
 What joys, what sorrows, what rewards, what 
 
 hopes. 
 What cold despair, what passions mad, what strong, 
 Wild wishes, sins, and evil deeds; what high. 
 Pure, noble depths of soul; what weakness sad, 
 That fell, too frail to fight; what mortal pangs 
 And yearnings, in those unknown worlds afar. 
 Have burned, have faded, glowed, and flickered, 
 
 till 
 
 22 
 
That mystery that none may fathom stilled 
 Them all for aye ? 
 
 There, where the glittering stars 
 Shine on our earth tonight like smiles that pierce 
 The awful blackness for friendly comfort's sake: 
 Look up, and tell me: do they not bring faith ? — 
 Those pensive smiles, those peaceful smiles, those 
 
 smiles 
 That seem to speak of calmness wrested hard 
 From the grip of pain, and peace serene, at last 
 Won, spite of all that interposed between. 
 What worlds they seem to speak, those quiet 
 
 smiles, — 
 What worlds of sorrow, thought, and doubt, and 
 
 pain. 
 And flitting joy, that fluttered but to die, 
 Like a gaudy butterfly; and struggle grim. 
 And final triumph or defeat, and rest 
 Calm in the stillness of death, that silent broods 
 O'er millions of spirit-worlds, which, dying, burst 
 Aflame, and burn still bright, though ages since 
 Have passed! Where now the mortal beings, who 
 Once strived and sorrowed there, and sought for 
 
 joy. 
 
 And found a hollow void, or senseless clay, 
 
 As mortals must, in the stage 'twixt brutish flesh 
 
 Without the breath of spirit-life, and soul 
 
 Dissolved in the primal ether ? Where 
 
 The life, the thought, the breath that filled the 
 
 whole 
 With meaning ? All decayed in lumpish clay, 
 And burning on that gigantic funeral-pile. 
 The world that bore the living forms ? All gone ? 
 
 23 
 
The men of science have cleared a little space 
 In the vast depths of the universe. The stars, 
 That have shown like lamps a-light in the dark sky 
 Through all the ages since the v^orld began, 
 Still shine the same, but v^e knovsr their distance 
 
 now, 
 Even how much matter in them is massed, and what 
 They consist of; whither they drift, what relations 
 
 stand 
 Amongst them; how they sometime have brighter 
 
 been. 
 Or dimmer; how orbs once hot glow no more; 
 How orbs once dark and dead now blaze with fire 
 Kindled by a sudden collision, world with world. 
 Perhaps. We know that a number far too great 
 For conception, of masses fiercely hot, and lumps 
 Cold and stiff, like the earth and the moon, and 
 
 clouds, — 
 Formless — vague — filling immeasurable space, — 
 Like Orion's nebula, and galaxies 
 Rich in new stars, white-hot from the forge of Time, 
 Are bound in a cluster huge, that twists its coils 
 Round the neck of Heaven, enclosing the Milky 
 
 Way, 
 With its dense star clusters, and shapeless nebulous 
 
 films 
 That glimmer afar with light of green or blue, 
 Awful in their vast distance; — there hanging huge, 
 Unmeasured, infinite to our eyes, the mass 
 Is floating onward, bearing us in its folds. 
 Yet there is a space beyond it we dimly see. 
 That holds in its lap yet other systems, great 
 As ours, or greater, mayhap, — we know not. 
 Far as we see, yet farther still there lies 
 
 24 
 
More space to be pierced. We know that ages past 
 
 A different universe filled the rayless void 
 
 Of nothing that pens it in. We knov^ that things, — 
 
 All things, — are changing nov^; that what has been 
 
 No longer is, and that what is will soon 
 
 Give o'er to still other forms we know not of. 
 
 We know that the Earth and her sister planets 
 
 round 
 Must one day unite with their parent sun again, — 
 Where shall we be then ? — and that the whole 
 
 universe 
 May be massed together in one gigantic ball 
 Of matter, blazing through the depths of time, 
 And throwing a terrible light through the black 
 
 abyss 
 Of space. So much have the scientists shown us. 
 
 Yet 
 They have not ripped the veil from the face of 
 
 Truth, 
 For we know not yet the beginning of things, or the 
 
 end. 
 Beneath the shallow current of our life 
 Here on the earth, — its pleasures, pains, and aims, — 
 Lie the deep waters of thought and doubt's unrest; 
 And under all, is the firm, hard bed of faith. 
 Probe we, with our small strength, the depths of 
 
 space, 
 And we find no answer to that old question: 
 
 " Whence 
 Come we, and whither do we go ?" Alas 
 For him " who strives to know where faith should 
 
 trust!" 
 For assurance to fainting hope and the strong 
 
 desire 
 
 25 
 
That throbs and beats, and longs and longs and longs 
 
 For knowledge that shuts not out the hope of bliss, 
 
 And is never satisfied; to the eternal wish 
 
 To know all things, and far, far more, to find 
 
 A state of peace and tranquil happiness 
 
 And love, we must have faith to wait and trust. 
 
 THE WINTER'S PROMISE 
 
 " I will bear ye onward 
 
 Through the darksome night, 
 Onward to the sunshine, 
 
 Onward to the light; 
 And though my breast is cold, 
 And though my face is old. 
 Still I'm a faithful guide 
 To the place where ye'd abide. 
 And I will surely make 
 The journey ye would take. " 
 
 WHAT IS BETTER THAN SUCCESS.? 
 
 What is better than success ? 
 
 To do your duty, 
 Strive your best, without selfishness, — 
 
 There is beauty! 
 Say with Odin, " I will fight, 
 
 Though I'm to fall!"^ 
 Just to struggle for the right 
 
 Is best of all. 
 
 26 
 
NO, NOT A CYNIC 
 
 A cynic, do you ask me ? No, not quite! 
 A cynic would feel not gladness in that light 
 That dips the trees and the grass and everything 
 In a golden glow. The wind-song would not bring 
 Sweet hope with it, from memory's sunlit hours 
 Of musing o'er the new-born wildwood flowers, 
 Or from the future, however wild and strange 
 It seemeth, since all earth's things forever change. 
 There is sadness in the wind, but there is sweet 
 As well. Would that everyone might as gladly 
 
 greet 
 That sound, as I ! But to many and many, I know, 
 It brings but sorrow to hear that sighing low. 
 
 THE LOST GLORY 
 
 I 
 
 A roseate glory glimmering from afar, 
 
 A warm, rich light empurpling rich-clad boughs; 
 More dazzling radiance gleaming in every star. 
 Where they shine, gem-like, on Night's soft, 
 dusky brows; 
 A west-wind blowing wide and free and cool. 
 
 Sweeping o'er valley and hill with deep-toned 
 voice; 
 Heaven's dear face reflected in every pool, — 
 
 Bright mem'ries of childhood, how they my 
 heart rejoice! 
 
 27 
 
II 
 
 Then the strong wind spoke to my heart of heroic 
 deeds; 
 Then noble shapes were companions in my 
 dreams; 
 Then I walked with those who sowed in my soul the 
 seeds 
 Of courage and faith when Hope has hid her 
 beams; 
 Then I slowly strayed through the green and blos- 
 soming fields 
 Of Spring, through the Summer's fierce and 
 panting heat, 
 Through Autumn's woods, where the gay leaf the 
 acorn shields, 
 O'er the icy hills with the wintry tempests beat; 
 
 III 
 
 And my heart quailed not at the thought of dismal 
 death, 
 And a body in darkness lonely rotting away; 
 Young hfe ran warm in my veins, and warm was 
 my breath. 
 And in friendship closely knit were the soul and 
 the clay. 
 But the winds called loud, as they're calling even 
 now. 
 Not with wail or sigh, but a mystic, moving force 
 Calling me on, and I follow, or swift or slow; 
 And I follow, till Time shall have ticked my 
 earthly course. 
 
 28 
 
IV 
 
 " The glory shall come again," my Spirit cries, 
 
 But her voice is muffled oft in my tired brain; 
 I hear her faintly, she only sobs and sighs, 
 
 And adds with her weeping to anxious life's sad 
 pain. 
 Yet again, in the silence, she calls, and I hear her 
 then. 
 And my Faith sleeps as sweetly as child of Joy 
 ever slept; 
 She bides in my breast unafraid, as in breasts of 
 men 
 She must ever abide, while the ashes of glory are 
 kept. 
 
 Death is a passing, another turn of Change, 
 
 That rolls from our sight forever the friends we 
 love; 
 From our sight forever, we say, for our bodies 
 derange 
 The delicate vision our souls brought down from 
 above. 
 We see them not; but they hover still in our dreams. 
 And their wings brush our faces as o'er us they 
 nightly bend; 
 And patient they wait, till for us the glory gleams 
 Once again, and we too know the bliss of life 
 without end. 
 
 29 
 
WHEN HOPE IS GONE 
 
 Moral: Yield not to Despair, 
 But fight him in his lair, 
 
 As Great-Heart didlj^j 
 Beyond thy trammeled view 
 Gleams a city fair and true, 
 
 Though its light is hid! 
 
 Fast fell the snow. A slender girl, ill-clad, 
 And wan with want, and stooping low, and sad 
 Of face, strove hard against the wintry blast. 
 Shivering, and drawing tight her shawl, she passed 
 Along the lonely road. On right and left, 
 Moaning as their bleak branches were wrenched 
 
 and reft 
 By the winds, dark woods rose high. And gleam- 
 ing afar. 
 Bright lights of a city shone, each a twinkling star 
 In the stormy night's void blackness; now fair and 
 
 clear 
 As morning hope in life's one happy year. 
 Now swallowed up in the hollow wind's loud roar, — 
 Now bright — now dim — now certain — now no 
 
 more, — 
 And the wanderer's one haven, Hope, is fled. 
 " Ah, well for me, indeed, were I now dead 
 And at rest at last, rather than wandering here. 
 Alone in the cold — O God! — all that was dear. 
 All, all gone now, and this black night blinding me, 
 So never a ray of hope can my poor eyes see! 
 That city, 'tis a dream, — a cruel dream 
 That mocks me, — for it anon doth refuge seem. 
 
 30 
 
And then is vanished, with all my hope of rest. 
 
 I wander here alone, and sad oppressed 
 
 With doubt and fear, sudden hope and wishes vain, 
 
 Weariness of body and of brain. 
 
 Loneliness, love-longing, life's despair 
 
 Of a life to be lived in a purer and sunnier air! — 
 
 Alone, alone, no shelter, aid, or hope ' 
 
 To strengthen my lagging steps! — O dark sky, ope 
 
 But a slit in thy gloomy vault, that one little ray 
 
 Of Heaven's sunshine may promise another day, — 
 
 Blest assurance that this black night will not last 
 
 for aye! 
 O wood, that weepest and wailest and groanest 
 
 alway, 
 
 cavernous wood, so dark and deep, art thou 
 The only companion of my journey now ? 
 
 1 shall never reach the city. — Alas, it gleams 
 
 Full bright! From afar the mock of hot hearth- 
 lights streams, 
 That draws me to my doom! The grave yawns 
 
 wide, 
 A huge, black gulf, 'twixt me and that blest side 
 Of this raging river; the fleeting phantom calls, 
 Beckons me toward its safe and sheltering walls, 
 But I never shall reach it. Nay, here the black 
 
 waters swirl 
 At my feet, and the city's beyond; no matter; hurl 
 Me swift to the death! — Ha, ha! — Naught's be- 
 yond; naught's here. 
 Save the wind and the storm and the wood with its 
 
 branches sere! 
 Swift, swift! — Stop this brain! — Ah! — I drink the 
 deep waters down. 
 
 31 
 
And beneath them — alone and unmourned — I sink 
 
 and drown! — 
 Help, help ! — My breath ! — Oh, let me breathe again ! 
 Come quickly, death! — Oh — come, put an end to 
 
 this pain! — 
 Ah! — a quiet rocking to and fro — 
 A babe in cradle — slower and more slow — 
 Blest sleep — bright dreams — my mother's dear, 
 
 loving face — 
 A breathless instant hanging in middle space — 
 A silence — a strangeness — a calling, louder than 
 
 Hfe, 
 Yet soundless — a blind, bewildered, gentle strife, 
 As one waking from a deep sleep — a swimming of 
 
 light— 
 A confusion of heavenly shapes — everything, 
 
 bright — 
 An instinctive gladness — a wonder — a presence dear 
 Unseen, yet felt to be loved, and ever near — 
 Then peace." The city is found; the darksome 
 
 night 
 Gone and forgot; somewhere in th' unclouded 
 
 light 
 Of the pure, ethereal heavens, a spirit blest 
 No longer is vainly seeking a place of rest. 
 
 32 
 
GLIMMERINGS THROUGH THE MIST 
 
 A rosy gleam, a glory throwing 
 A wavering brightness from afar! 
 
 A fleeting flash of olden sunshine 
 And rays of whiter-sparkling star! 
 
 A richly purple mist uprising 
 
 O'er green hill-slopes bathed in sun! 
 
 A sweeter gush of fresher waters, 
 That in clearer rivulets run! 
 
 A drowsy murmur of the breezes, 
 Cool and soft and silvery-sweet, 
 
 As through the air's pure crystal clearness 
 Swift they glide on winged feet! 
 
 Hush! A faint, uncertain waving. 
 
 As of something in the air! 
 A dim sense of some dear presence. 
 
 Unseen in the ether there! 
 
 A loving and a glad communion 
 With the silence brooding o'er! — 
 
 Glimmerings, these, of life's lost morning, 
 Half-remembered dreams of yore. 
 
 Fair, indeed, these fleeting glimpses 
 Through the vista of the past. 
 
 When our present path is stony. 
 And with storm-clouds overcast! 
 
 33 
 
Is the way before us darkened ? 
 
 Is the future veiled from view ? 
 Yet those bright lands we remember 
 
 Fade in the farther distance blue. 
 
 Past and future meet together 
 In the present's narrow span, 
 
 Seeming but a precarious foothold 
 To the timid heart of man. 
 
 Yet the sun still shines above us, 
 And the ground is firm beneath. 
 
 And, — before, behind, — the mountains 
 Folded are in a dim-bright sheath. 
 
 Nearer draw and parts the curtain, 
 Clears away the shimmering mist; 
 
 Tenderly the verdant-sloping. 
 Dewy hills with sun are kissed. 
 
 Does a fog sometime hang o'er us ? 
 
 Does a storm o'ersweep the sun ? 
 Still we know, beyond are lying 
 
 Smiling lands no clouds have won: 
 
 Even thus, when the night-hung valley 
 
 Closes us in wintry breath. 
 Yet a little way walk onward. 
 
 And we pass the shadow of Death. 
 
 And why fear we for the future, 
 When the friend of all most dear 
 
 Walks beside us in the spirit, — 
 All our lives is ever near .? 
 
 34 
 
First felt in the gentle stirrings 
 
 Of the air in life's bright morn, 
 Now, as grows the soul in wisdom, 
 
 Consciousness of her is born. 
 
 Warmly wrapping up our hearts here, 
 Immortal Love shall bear us on 
 
 Past the gate to Death's dark valley, 
 Whither those we mourn have gone. 
 
 Fear ye not! The sun will never 
 
 Cease to shine in spirit-land! 
 And still, through dimly golden vistas. 
 
 We'll walk with young Love, hand-in-hand! 
 
 Still the past, and still the future 
 
 Shall recede before our view. 
 But the gently blowing breezes 
 
 Blend the old airs with the new! 
 
 ATHEISM 
 
 The land where Atheist dwells is known 
 To many and many, these days, I'll own. 
 I have been there, too; well I know the way 
 To that land so cold, and stern, and gray. 
 Yet now I've 'scaped it, and stand without, 
 And hear heavenly music round about; 
 So now I would tell ye, ye that stay. 
 How ye may ope the gate and away. 
 
 Ye're armed with Reason; Reason blocks your way; 
 
 Then with Reason must we endeavor to shake your 
 sway. 
 
 35 
 
We must show that the very highest Reason of all 
 Is the Faith that waits and works, — or stand, — 
 or fall. 
 
 Oh, say ye, doubters, that this universe. 
 
 With all its varied hosts of living forms. 
 
 With all the intelligent mortals made of clay. 
 
 Who are born, and grow, and strive, and feel, and 
 
 think. 
 And love — ah, love! — and long for eternity 
 With the same deep yearning through all the years 
 
 of time, — 
 Is ruled by chance alone ? drifts pilotless ? 
 Is a chaos, heaped together causelessly 
 By no wise master, and for no purpose great ? 
 Oh, say ye that this good ship listlessly 
 Veers with the wind, upon the open sea, 
 Nor seeks a port; but idly drifts through space 
 And time, dooming its freight of human hopes 
 To destruction and everlasting death ? 
 
 Is there 
 No aim at all, no spirit in the mass ? 
 Are we so helpless, chained, and bound to earth. 
 That we must perish for aye in the wreck of worlds, 
 And life cease being ? Is there, then, no soul. 
 No spirit ? 
 
 We know that life is something. Where 
 It is not, lumpy matter heavily lies. 
 Moved by no will, commanded by no thought. 
 This something is quite intangible; that we know, 
 For when one dies, no part of the body is ta'en, 
 The weight is the same. For ages we've stood 
 
 agreed 
 That the soul, if it exists, is thinner than air, — 
 
 36 
 
A nothing — a thought — an idea we cannot grasp. 
 Deny its existence ? Then what, ah, what, is life, 
 And what is death ? 
 
 Is the body a mere machine, 
 Grinding out thoughts and deeds while unim- 
 paired, 
 Weakening with long use, and friction, and rust, 
 Till at last its busy wheels are stilled in death ? 
 Perhaps so; very likely. And is the brain 
 But one of the parts of this strangest of machines .? 
 Very likely, again. But what of the thoughts that 
 
 come 
 Unsummoned by any need of earthly life ? — 
 Thoughts of eternity, so wide and vast 
 That the brain is bewildered by them; of divinity. 
 Glorious, omnipotent, lighting up 
 All the world of souls with its radiance; 
 Of love that lives when all the stars are dim. 
 And finds in the light of God a tranquil peace; 
 Of growth from the tiny seed of immortal life. 
 Through all the stages of its sojourn in clay, 
 Up to the perfect spirit, that has its all 
 In love .? 
 
 Ah, me! 'tis strange we are burdened thus 
 For no reason at all; 'tis strange that we should die 
 And be buried here in the ground, with all our 
 
 hopes! 
 If there is a soul, why should it die ? We know 
 That at death, the clay returns to clay; the dust. 
 To dust. There is a natural law which states 
 That matter can never be destroyed: then why. 
 Oh, why, should we think that spirit can be de- 
 stroyed ? 
 Will not the same law hold ? Our scientists say 
 
 37 
 
That matter may change its form: that wood is 
 
 burned, 
 And remains in ashes or flies away in smoke, 
 But still the same amount of matter exists. 
 Thus when the body decays, 'tis given back 
 To the earth or the air, and exists yet, though re- 
 solved 
 Into its elements: may not, also, the soul 
 Be resolved and purified, yet live through all 
 Eternity ? 
 
 Let that discussion rest. 
 'Tis merely a theory, put forth full oft. 
 Foundations hath it, perhaps — enough. We know, 
 We know, that from the remotest traces left 
 Of life's existence on our earth, its growth 
 Hath gradual been, but never-ceasing; thus, 
 From the tiny, helpless, microscopic germ 
 Of protoplasm, — the ameba, or the first 
 Vegetable, indistinguishable, almost. 
 From some of the lowest forms of animal life, — 
 Through ages of fossil creatures that lived and died, 
 Through the age of the winged serpent, the mam- 
 moth huge. 
 The tropical vegetation o'erspreading the earth — 
 The slimy seas, the monsters of the deep. 
 The unformed continents lying beneath the waves — 
 Through age on age ascending, climbing higher, — 
 Stretch up to us two long, unbroken lines: 
 One, plants; the other, animals; and last. 
 That animal most wondrous of them all, — 
 Man, — who in his pride will scarcely own 
 The name of his class. 
 
 Is all this goodly growth, — 
 This seeming development of a lofty plan, 
 
 38 
 
Pointing up to no less than divinity, — 
 
 To die on the planet that gave it birth, and leave 
 
 No trace, in spirit-existence, — life, — of all 
 
 It hath been? Oh, then, what a loss! Even we 
 
 can see 
 Much better use for so much good material. 
 How useless and wasted, all noble sentiments, 
 If destined, anon, to exist no more! Oh, no, 
 'Tis folly to be so wise, if wisdom it be 
 That brings such a dark conclusion! Let me be 
 Content to feel that there is a soul, and, too. 
 That the soul is immortal! 
 
 Granting there is a soul. 
 And that 'tis immortal, then doth the question come: 
 Can we think that all these souls just grow and flit 
 By chance or their own sweet will ? that everything 
 Just happens in the spiritual world ? Not so 
 Is it in the world of matter: natural laws, — 
 So we call them, — determine the courses of the stars 
 And the planets, to a hair's breadth; nothing is left 
 To chance. Were it so, the moon would fall in the 
 
 earth. 
 The earth in the sun, and all the stars would soon 
 Be struggling in chaos. Then why should we 
 
 doubt 
 That the spirit-world, as well, is ruled by laws 
 Unchangeable as gravitation itself? 
 And if laws there be to govern, whence do they 
 
 come ? 
 We may not believe in a personal God, as did 
 The Greeks and the Romans in days of old; and 
 
 yet 
 Some power, we feel, must be at the helm, if the bark 
 Is to steer safe into a definite port. Then what ? 
 
 39 
 
Divinity — mere spirit without form, 
 
 Almighty as no personal God could be, 
 
 Full of power, and goodness, and love, and light, 
 
 Yet after all mere spirit without form — 
 
 We cannot apprehend; the thought's too vast, 
 
 Too abstract, for us to grasp. Yet can we see, 
 
 Dimly, something of this; our straining minds. 
 
 Yearning to clasp the infinite, catch some ray 
 
 Of its distant glory, imperfect as they are. 
 
 Humility is better here than pride. 
 
 We understand enough, methinks, to know 
 
 Our own great ignorance. When we see that, — 
 
 Comprehend — admit — it, — then we know 
 
 That Reason had better put on a Quaker garb, 
 
 And cease to vaunt her glories; keep beside 
 
 Her sister. Faith, so meek, serene, and calm; 
 
 And fly no longer in the face of God, 
 
 Till her waxen wings are melted with the heat, 
 
 And down she plunges, like Icarus, in the sea 
 
 Of dark Despair. Then see we, too, 'tis best, — 
 
 Wisest, — to believe that a master spirit rules, 
 
 Whose vastness can suck up the little drops 
 
 We are, as the sky sucks up the dew. 'Tis best 
 
 To believe a beneficent mind is planning good; 
 
 Cherishing purposes that eclipse the stars 
 
 With their splendor; shielding all with equal love; 
 
 And nursing the little germs of life, till full 
 
 Development they reach. How can we be 
 
 Content to believe, for a moment, that this life 
 
 here, — 
 So often a failure, so short of perfection aye, 
 So burdened with sorrows often, and loaded with 
 
 cares. 
 
 40 
 
So far below what we picture in our dreams, — 
 Is all ? or that it must perish forever ? or that 
 There can be a universe all drifting on 
 Forever, and not for the sake of Eternal Right ? 
 Oh, good must conquer, and we must live, though 
 
 long 
 The way, and dark, to the blessed home of Truth! 
 Reason is good, for she shows us oft the way 
 Through caverns dark with superstitious fear, 
 Or over mountains, piled of earth, or streams 
 Boiling with passion, or icy with prejudice. 
 Reason is good; we praise her none too oft. 
 For by her search-light thrown o'er all the seas 
 Of darkness dangerous the passing years 
 Have come to wreck upon, we see the rocks 
 They stumbled over, steer with greater care. 
 And safely 'scape them; by her guidance, too, 
 We sail into the future, and avoid 
 Much that others have found of danger there. 
 Reason is good; never let us desert 
 Her beacon, for she guides us well, not ill. 
 But let us be not rash, lest some false guide 
 May don her face and voice, and sink us deep 
 Beneath the waters of Despondency. 
 Reason is good, but she dwells with her sister, Hope 
 And she is far too just to spit at Faith, 
 And call her vixen, traitor, weakUng, fool. 
 Because she wears a meeker garb, and seems, 
 BHnd though she is, to see a heavenly Hght. 
 Reason is good, but Hope is better still. 
 And Faith is best of all, for she makes us firm 
 In our trust that all that is wrong will be righted 
 
 at last; 
 And strong to battle till this life's cares are past. 
 
 41 
 
Then hail! all hail! Rejoice we as one heart, 
 
 As light we go upon our several ways! 
 Each one of us has his own especial part 
 
 In carrying out the plan our race to raise! 
 Trust on, work on! No thought or labor's wasted 
 
 That tends to elevate us toward perfection! 
 Come on, my friends, ye who have bitter tasted, 
 We'll set our faces all in one direction! 
 Cheerily, cheerily, sing as we go! 
 Divinity's destined for us here below! 
 On to the work! Onward, on! 
 Whither the best before us have gone! 
 Forward, march! Keep step and time! 
 We'll take our rest in a sunnier clime! 
 Rescue the guilty, cheer the sad. 
 Heal the sick, and rejoice with the glad! 
 Keep still in the line, and onward still, 
 Till at last we reach the top o' the hill, 
 And breathe a bit in the rarer air. 
 Ere we must melt in the ether there! 
 Hark to the peal of the organ-chimes! 
 Do they not speak of diviner times ? 
 Slow and solemn; slow 
 And sweetly solemn! Oh, 
 Methinks, from angels flow 
 Such harmonies as they go! 
 The silent tears will start 
 From the depths of the hardened heart, 
 To hear those solemn tones, — 
 Those sweetly solemn tones. 
 Oh, bliss of God indeed, 
 Stirring in Thy seed! 
 
 42 
 
Peace — and rest — at last, 
 When this Hfe*s cares are past! 
 
 " In ocean's cave still safe with Thee, 
 
 The germ of immortality!" 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT 
 
 Good-night! 
 The parting day hath ta'en its light 
 And left us; now the dark hours keep 
 Watch o'er the weary world asleep. 
 
 May thy dreams, my love, be bright! 
 Good-night! 
 
 Good-night! 
 Truth will win, and Love, and Right. 
 Slumber sweetly, care-oppressed! 
 God is watching o'er your rest. 
 
 May thy dreams, my love, be bright! 
 Good-night! 
 
 43 
 
FEB lU J 907 
 
LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS 
 
 LO^Q 481 170 4