»S 2812 L9 1904 I Copy 2 .M J I J, I Class _!2SjL.?_L^ Book ^ 9. 1^_? CoRyrightN»_l^^ a. COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. ^j) jFranli ^empsttv i>l)ermatt 8 mo, .00. LYRICS OF JOY. Crown 8vo, $i.oo, net. Postage extra. LITTLE-FOLK LYRICS. With i6 full-page illustrations, i: gilt top, $1.50, LYRICS FOR A LUTE. i8mo, cloth or parchment paper, $1 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY Boston and New York LYRICS OF JOY LYRICS OF JOY BY FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 1904 Co Y M 2. THE Li5f:ARY Of CONQRESS. Two Copies deceived OCT 17 1904 Copyrignt Entry . cuss CL XXc. No COPYRIGHT 1904 BY FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Published October jq04 ^) TO CLINTON SCOLLARD CONTENTS FANCY:— Confession 3 Witchery 4 Dies Ultima 5 A Tear Bottle 7 The Day's Shroud .9 A Sea Ghost 10 A Bird's Elegy 11 Secret 12 The Poet 13 The Charm . 14 His Desire 15 The Muse 17 The Interpreter 19 Harro 20 With Herrick 23 Canoe Song . 25 A Garland * . . .27 A Prayer ........ 30 NATURE:— The Year's Day 33 Arbutus 34 [ vii ] * Violet 35 April 37 Bacchus . 39 May Morning 41 ' Honeysuckles .42 Winter Dreams 43 White Magic 44 Footprints in the Snow , . . . . 45 Nantucket 47 Dawn and Dusk 51 LOVE : — To Juliet ........ 55 Rose Lore 57 On Some Buttercups 59 The Bower of Cupid 60 Moonlight and Music 63 In Absence .65 FOR MUSIC: — Love's Springtide 69 To Her 70 My April 71 A May Madrigal 73 Nocturne 75 Memories 77 A Song's Echo . . . . . , .78 [ viii ] With Roses 79 Two Songs 80 SONNETS : — Saint Rose Ss Surf Music 84 To a Mocking Bird 85 Music 86 The Shower 87 To a Butterfly in Wall Street . . . . 88 The Winter Pool 89 Betrayal 90 The Snow's Dreamer 91 The Cathedral Bells . . . . . . 92 QUATRAINS : — Dawn 95 Storm 95 Dusk . , .95 Starlight 96 A Sea Fancy 96 Mastery 96 Derelict 97 Fog 97 The Penalty . 97 Life 98 The Goal 98 Knowledge . 98 [ ix ] In a Garden 99 Ivy 99 Grass 99 Rose ......... 100 Day Dream 100 Fire Fancies 100 City Sparrows loi Writ in Water loi Contrast loi The Quatrain 102 A Wish 102 [ X ] FANCY CONFESSION When I was young I made a vow To keep youth in my heart as long As there were birds upon the bough To gladden me with song : To learn what lessons Life might give, To do my duty as I saw, To love my friends, to laugh and live Not holding Death in awe. So all my lyrics sing of joy. And shall until my lips are mute ; In old age happy as the boy To whom God gave the lute. [ 3 ] WITCHERY Out of the purple drifts, From the shadow sea of night, On tides of musk a moth uplifts Its weary wings of white. Is it a dream or ghost Of a dream that comes to me, Here in the twilight on the coast. Blue cinctured by the sea ? Fashioned of foam and froth — And the dream is ended soon. And, lo, whence came the moon-white moth Comes now the moth-white moon ! C 4 ] DIES ULTIMA White in her woven shroud, Silent she lies, Deaf to the trumpets loud Blown through the skies ; Never a sound can mar Her slumber long : She is a faded star, — A finished song ! Over her hangs the sun, A golden glow ; Round her the planets run, She does not know ; For neither gloom nor gleam Can reach her sight : She is a broken dream, — A dead delight ! [ 5 ] No voice can waken her Again to sing ; She nevermore will stir To feel the spring ; Through the dim ether hurled Till Time shall tire, She is a wasted world, — A frozen fire ! [ 6 ] A TEAR BOTTLE Glass, wherein a Greek girl's tears Once were gathered as they fell, After these two thousand years Is there still no tale to tell ? Buried with her, in her mound She is dust long since, but you Only yesterday were found Iridescent as the dew, — Fashioned faultlessly, a form Graceful as was hers whose cheek Once against you made you warm While you heard her sorrow speak. At your lips I listen long For some whispered word of her, For some ghostly strain of song In your haunted heart to stir : [ 7 ] But your crystal lips are dumb, Hushed the music in your heart : Ah, if she could only come Back again and bid it start ! Long is Art, but Life how brief ! And the end seems so unjust : — This companion of her grief Here to-day, while she is dust ! [ 8 ] THE DAY'S SHROUD From sunrise to the set of sun The Winds went to and fro, Singing the while they deftly spun A garment white like snow. And in the dusk, unto the west They bore the robe of cloud, And for the grave the dead Day dressed Within this snowy shroud. Then, slowly vanishing from sight, I heard them softly sing, And saw above the grave at night The stars all blossoming. [ 9 ] A SEA GHOST All night I heard along the coast The sea her grief outpour ; And with the dawn arose a ghost To haunt the furrowed shore. And when from out the gray mist rolled The sun above the town, A shipwrecked sailor came and told Of how the ship went down. Then did I sudden understand The sobbing of the sea, And of that white ghost on the sand I knew the mystery. [ 'o ] A BIRD'S ELEGY He was the first to welcome Spring ; Adventurous, he came To wake the dreaming buds and sing The crocus into flame. He loved the morning and the dew ; He loved the sun and rain ; He fashioned lyrics as he flew With love for their refrain. Poet of vines and blossoms, he ; Beloved of them all ; The timid leaves upon the free Grew bold at his glad call. He sang the rapture of the hills, And from the starry height He brought the melody that fills The meadows with delight. And now, behold him dead, alas ! Where he made joy so long : A bit of blue amid the grass, — A tiny, broken song. [ " ] SECRET Softly the little wind goes by, A whisper, — nothing more ; Some message from the azure sky Brought down to earth's green door. Fragrant and fresh the wonder-word, But what it means, who knows ? Only the butterfly, the bird, The leaf, the grass and rose. Theirs the divine felicity. The gift of wisdom rare. The melody, the mystery. The secret of the air. [ " ] THE POET Voice of the wind, of singing brook and bird, Dawn's message white and midnight's word, These secrets all belong Unto his song. For Nature to the poet's heart alone Makes her mysterious meanings known : He is her voice and her Interpreter ! C 13 ] THE CHARM Slight is the thing it needs to wake The embers that have slumbered long Within the poet's heart, and make Them burn again with song. A rose, a star, a voice, a glance, Echo or glimpse, — it is the same : Some mystery of time or chance That finds the hidden flame. Embers of song and song's desire, Hushed in the singer's heart they lie, And softly kindle into fire If but a dream go by. And none may say, since none can know, Whence comes the vivifying spark That sends a transitory glow Of song across the dark. It is a secret summons, such As comes unto the spray when spring Wakens the blossoms with a touch, That bids the poet, Sing ! [ 14 ] HIS DESIRE Of all the threads of rhyme Which I have spun, I shall be glad if Time Save only one. And I would have each word To joy belong — A lyric like a bird Whose soul is song. There is enough of grief To mar the years ; Be mine a sunny leaf, Untouched by tears, To bring unto the heart Delight, and make All sorrows to depart. And joy to wake. [ '5 ] No sermon mine to preach, Save happiness ; No lesson mine to teach. Save joy to bless. Joy, 't is the one best thing Below, above : The lute's divinest string, Whose note is love. [ i6 ] THE MUSE The songs I make, they are not mine, They all belong to her Whose words in some strange way combine To set my heart astir. If but her eyes look down on me The while I pause to write, By some swift touch of sorcery The sombre lines grow bright. Her voice upon me lays a spell Of music soft and sweet ; Imperfectly, what she may tell. My lyrics but repeat. I am as one who hears the thrush In some leaf covert dim, And in the intermittent hush Ponders the dew-fresh hymn : [ 17 ] Or one who in a shadowed place Watches the stars agleam And knows their beauty on his face Illumining his dream : Or one who catches from the rose A fragrant message sent From crimson lips and straightway knows All of the Orient. Like these am I, and all my rhymes Are but the records clear That write themselves at magic times When she, the Muse, is near. For could I make my own her song. Unto the world I 'd give A lyric which should live as long As song itself shall live ! [ i8 ] THE INTERPRETER Not his alone the gift divine Who understands how, line by line, To re-create the dream with all Its wonder-world ethereal : Something of that same gift has he Who, reading, through the lines can see The dream itself, — the secret thing That stirred the poet's heart to sing. [ 19 ] HARRO This is brave Hurra's story, Harro who watched the sea : To his renown I set it down As it was told to me. Back from the reef-caught vessel Came Harro's comrades four, And with them ten half-perished men Safe landed on the shore. "And are these all ? " asked Harro. Answered the sailors brave : " Nay. One lashed high we left to die, And find an ocean grave." Cried Harro : " Who goes with me To rescue him, the last, Alive or dead } Shall it be said We left one on the mast } " [ 2° ] Spoke up his gray-haired mother : ** Oh, Harro boy, my son, Go not, I pray ! 'T is death they say, And there is only one ! " Father and brother Uwe The cruel sea hath slain. My last art thou. Good Harro, now- Let me not plead in vain ! " Answered brave Harro : " Mother, Who knows, perchance for him Under the skies a mother's eyes To-day with tears grow dim. ** Farewell ! God watches over The fields of flying foam. And He shall keep us on the deep. And safely bring us home." Wild was the storm -swept ocean. And like a fragile leaf The lifeboat tossed long ere it crossed Unto the distant reef. [ 21 ] Wild was the sea, and madly Ever the tempest blew, While down the track came Harro back With one beside the crew. Hard to the oars his comrades Bent in the shrieking gale ; And Harro cried, when land he spied, " Thank God, we shall not fail ! " And when he saw his mother Pacing the shore in tears, Loud over all the storm his call Brought gladness to her ears. Over and over he shouted. And high his cap he waved : God gives thee joy ! God sends thy boy ! 'T is Uwe we have saved ! " Such is brave Harrd s story y Harro who watched the sea : To his renown I set it down As it was told to me. [ 22 ] WITH HERRICK In the green woods is the brook, Like a lyric in his book, Singing as it slips along Tender strains of sylvan song. Carol of the thrush's throat Echoes in its liquid note ; Murmur of the woodland bee Haunts its drowsy melody ; And its music, soft and low, Mimics all the gales that go Whispering in boughs of green Spread above it like a* screen. O'er its brink the lily, white As the risen moon at night, Leans in rapture, listening To the song it has to sing. Like a maiden who for love From her lattice leans above. Drinking in the song that slips Through the shadows from the lips Of her lover in the gloom. So above the brook this bloom [ 23 ] Leans to hear the message sweet That her lover may repeat. Loitering beside the stream, Is it strange that I should dream — Dream of Herrick, and of Her For whose eyes his lyrics were ? Julia, — she this lily is, And the brook's songs all are his ! [ ^4 ] CANOE SONG Gracefulest of buoyant things, Wanting but the snowy wings Of your kin, the swan, to be Queen of both the sky and sea ; Softly down the tranquil stream, As through slumber glides a dream, With the current let us go Where the slim reeds, row on row, Make sweet music all day long, And the air is full of song. Silent as the red man, who Out of birch-bark fashioned you, Steal along and come upon Hosts of water-lilies wan Suddenly, and bring surprise To their wonder-waking eyes ; Then be off again once more. Shadow-like, and haunt the shore, Gathering from bending grass Water secrets as you pass. [ 25 ] On and on and on we drift Till the stars begin to sift Through the twilight and, on high, At her window in the sky Comes the Night's pale bride to hark For his message through the dark ; Till at last the silver sand Reaches down and bids us land, Then till dawn, farewell to you — Sister of the swan — Canoe ! [ 26 ] A GARLAND Let me a garland twine For poets nine, Whose verse I love best to rehearse. For each a laurel leaf, One stanza brief, I make For memory's sweet sake. First, then, Theocritus, Whose song for us Still yields The fragrance of the fields. Next, Horace, singing yet Of love, regret. And flowers : This Roman rose is ours. c 27 ] Omar-Fitzgerald next. Within whose text There lies A charm to win the wise. Then Shakespeare, by whose light All poets write : The star Whose satellites they are ! Herrick then let me name, Whose lyrics came Like birds To sing his happy words. Then Keats, whose jewel rhyme Shines for all time, To tell Of him the gods loved well. Longfellow next I choose : For him the muse Held up Song's over-brimming cup. [ 28 ] Next Tennyson, whose song, Still clear and strong, Soars high, Nearing each day the sky. Then Aldrich — like a thrush In the dawn's flush, Who sings With dew upon his wings. These are the nine, above Whose leaves I love To lean, My happiness to glean. Theirs are the books that hold Joy's clearest gold For me, Wrought into melody ; Theirs are the words to start Within my heart The fire Of song and song's desire ! [ 29 ] A PRAYER It is my joy in life to find At every turning of the road, The strong arm of a comrade kind To help me onward with my load. And since I have no gold to give, And love alone must make amends, My only prayer is, while I live, — God make me worthy of my friends ! [ 30 ] NATURE THE YEAR'S DAY After the winter's night From the world is withdrawn, Out of the darkness gleams the light, — Spring — and the Year's fresh dawn. Blossom and leaf and bud. And the birds all in tune ; Then in a fragrant, golden flood, — Summer — the Year's glad noon. Crimson the roses blow, And the grove's breath is musk : Then to the Year the sunset glow, — Autumn — and hints of dusk. Glimmer the stars of frost. And the wind at the door Mournfully sings of something lost : — Winter — and night once more. [ 33 ] ARBUTUS Along the woods' brown edge The. wind goes wandering To find the first pink pledge — The hint of Spring. The withered leaves around, She scatters every one, And gives to wintry ground A glimpse of sun. And to the woodland dumb And desolate so long She calls the birds to come With happy song. Then the arbutus ! This The pledge, the hint she sought, The blush, the breath, the kiss, — Spring's very thought ! [ 34 ] VIOLET In this white world of wonder All wrapt in silence deep, Shut in her palace under The snow she lies asleep ; And she shall only waken When lyrics sweet and clear Out of the trees are shaken, And April 's here. Glimpses of grass and gleams of The golden sunlight bring Visions of joy and dreams of The miracle of Spring : She sees the shining faces Of buds and leaves appear, Lighting the shadowed spaces With April 's here ! [ 35 ] Then, O the nameless rapture Of that warm touch at last, When April comes to capture And hold her fragrance fast ! The dream of winter broken, Behold her, blue and dear, Shy Violet, sure token That April 's here ! [ 36 ] APRIL After the silence long On valley and hill, Listen, — again the song Of the silver rill ! Vanishes from the plains The prison of snow ; Broken the crystal chains, And the captives go ; Over the Winter's tomb The bird in its mirth Carols of bud and bloom To the barren earth ; Tremble the vines and trees With ecstasy then. Hearing the lisping breeze Hint of Spring again. [ 37 1 Mystery fills the air, And melody sweet Follows the pathways where Glimmer Spring's white feet. Over the meadow's floor She hastens, and — see ! April is at the door With her golden key ! [ 38 ] BACCHUS Listen to the tawny thief Hid behind the waxen leaf, Growling at his fairy host, Bidding her with angry boast Fill his cup with wine distilled From the dew the dawn has spilled Stored away in golden casks Is the precious draught he asks. Who, — who makes this mimic din In this mimic meadow inn. Sings in such a drowsy note. Wears a golden-belted coat. Loiters in the dainty room Of this tavern of perfume, Dares to linger at the cup Till the yellow sun is up ? [ 39 ] It is Bacchus come again To the busy haunts of men ; Garlanded and gayly dressed, Bands of gold about his breast ; Straying from his paradise Having pinions, angel-wise, — 'T is the honey-bee, who goes Reveling within a rose ! [ 40 ] MAY MORNING What magic flutes are these that make Sweet melody at dawn, And stir the dewy leaves to shake Their silver on the lawn ? What miracle of music wrought In shadowed groves is this ? All ecstasy of sound upcaught, — Song's apotheosis ! The dreaming lilies lift their heads To listen and grow wise ; The fragrant roses from their beds In sudden beauty rise : Enraptured, on the eastern hill, A moment, halts the sun ; Day breaks ; and all again is still : The thrushes' song is done ! [ 41 ] HONEYSUCKLES Within a belfry built of bloom, Above the garden wall they swing ; A chime of bells for winds to ring, Of mingled music and perfume. What scented syllables of song Throughout the day their tongues repeat ! They tempt with promise, honey-sweet, The listener to linger long. A bit of sunset cloud astray. The dappled butterfly floats near. Lured by the fragrant music clear, Trembles with joy, then fades away. And thither oft, from time to time, The humming-bird and golden bee, List, and go mad with melody, — The honey-music of the chime. And thither when the silver gleam Of moon and stars is over all. One white moth hovers near the wall, — A ghost to haunt the garden's dream ! [ 42 ] WINTER DREAMS Deep lies the snow on wood and field ; Gray stretches overhead the sky ; The streams, their lips of laughter sealed, In silence wander slowly by. Earth slumbers, and her dreams, — who knows But they may sometimes be like ours ? Lyrics of spring in winter's prose That sing of buds and leaves and flowers ; Dreams of that day when from the south Comes April, as at first she came. To hold the bare twig to her mouth And blow it into fragrant flame. [ 43 ] WHITE MAGIC When Winter hushes for a time The music of the sylvan brook, And shuts its witchery of rhyme In her white book, The world is not yet dumb ; For in the snow-hung vines and trees With their cold blossoms, icy clear. Invisible the winds like bees Swarm, and I hear Their weird and wizard hum. Such is the magic wand she wields That she can shape my fancy so My dreams are all of fragrant fields The wild bees know In summer's golden noon ; And through the dull December hours Mine is the month for which I long, — The barren branch grows bright with flowers Where the bees throng, — White magic, — winter June ! [ 44 ] FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW Worn is the winter rug of white, And in the snow-bare spots once more Glimpses of faint green grass in sight, — Spring's footprints on the floor. Upon the sombre forest gates A crimson flush the mornings catch. The token of the Spring who waits With finger on the latch. Blow, bugles of the south, and win The warders from their dreams too long, And bid them let the new guest in With her glad hosts of song. She shall make bright the dismal ways With broideries of bud and bloom. With music fill the nights and days And end the garden's gloom. [ 45 ] Her face is lovely with the sun ; Her voice — ah, listen to it now ! The silence of the year is done : The bird is on the bough ! Spring here, — by what magician's touch ? *T was winter scarce an hour ago. And yet I should have guessed as much, — Those footprints in the snow ! [ 46 ] NANTUCKET Dear old Nantucket's isle of sand, An ancient exile from the Land, — Free from the devastating hand Of pomp and pillage, I find it year by year with all Its white-winged fleet of cat-boats small Guarding what Fancy loves to call The violet village. The yellow cliffs, the houses white, The wind-mill with its wheel in sight. The church spire and the beacons bright, All bunched together ; How picturesque they are ! How fair ! And, O how fragrant is the air. With pink wild-roses everywhere And purple heather ! [ 47 ] Half foreign seems the little town, — The narrow streets, the tumble-down And rotting wharves whose past renown Is linked with whalers, — The roofs with Look-outs whence they saw In bygone days the big ships draw Homeward with oil, and watched with awe The sea-worn sailors : Half foreign, but the better half Is like the flag that from the staff Flings out its welcome, starry laugh, — Native completely ; The shops, the schools, the zigzag lines Of shingled dwellings hung with vines. And gardens wrought in quaint designs And smelling sweetly. Here one may wander forth and meet Skippers of eighty years whose feet Find youth yet in the paven street ; And if one hunger For yarns of wrecks and water lore. Pass the tobacco round once more. And hear what happened long before, When he was younger. [ 48 ] Enchanting tales of wind and wave, Witty, pathetic, gay and grave, — One listens in the merman's cave Enraptured, breathless. While from the gray, bewhiskered lips Come stories of the sea and ships ; The careful skipper never skips The legends deathless. Then out again, and let us go Where fresh and cool the breezes blow Over the dunes of Pocomo, Where bird and berry Conspire to lure us on until. Over the gently sloping hill, We see Wauwinet, white and still And peaceful very. Here is the ending of the quest ; Here, on this Island of the Blest, Is found at last the Port of Rest, — Remote, romantic : A land-flower broken from the stem, And few indeed there be of them Fitted so perfectly to gem The blue Atlantic. [ 49 ] Dreamy, delicious, drowsy, dull, — A poppy-island beautiful ; And there are poppies here to cull Until the plunder Provokes the soul to sleep and dream Amid the glamour and the gleam. And makes the world about us seem A world of wonder ! [ 50 ] DAWN AND DUSK Slender strips of crimson sky Near the dim horizon lie, Shot across with golden bars Reaching to the fading stars ; Soft the balmy west wind blows Wide the portals of the rose ; Smell of dewy pine and fir, Lisping leaves and vines astir ; On the borders of the dark Gayly sings the meadow-lark, Bidding all the birds assemble, — Hark, the heavens seem to tremble ! Suddenly the sunny gleams Break the poppy-fettered dreams, — Dreams of Pan, with two feet cloven, Piping to the nymph and faun Who with wreaths of ivy woven Nimbly dance to greet the dawn. [ SI ] Shifting shadows indistinct ; Leaves and branches, crossed and linked, Cling like children and embrace, Frightened at the moon's pale face : In the gloomy wood begins Noise of insect violins ; Swarms of fireflies flash their lamps In their atmospheric camps. And the sad-voiced whippoorwill Echoes back from hill to hill, Liquid clear above the crickets Chirping in the thorny thickets. Weary eyelids, eyes that weep. Wait the magic touch of sleep ; While the dew in silence falling Fills the air with scent of musk. And this lonely night-bird calling Drops a note down through the dusk. [ 52 ] LOVE TO JULIET (Cum regnat rosa) Heedless how it may fare with Time, I send you here a rose of rhyme : Its fragrance, love ; its color, one Caught from Hope's ever-constant sun ; Upon each leaf a lyric writ — Your eyes alone may witness it ; And in its heart for you to see Another heart — the heart of me. All roses are as fitly worn By you as by your sister Morn, Since you, like Morn, fail not to give New beauty to them while they live. If this against your bosom rest One brief, sweet hour its life were blest ; Then, should you chance to cast it by, It would not find it hard to die. [ 55 ] So take this bloom of love and song, And, be its life or brief or long. Know that for you the petals part. Disclosing all its lyric heart ; For you its fragrant breaths are drawn ; For you its color — love's glad dawn ; And for you, too, the heart that goes Song-prisoned in this rhyme of rose ! [ 56 ] ROSE LORE Now since it knows My heart so well, Would that this rose Might speak and tell ! You could not scorn Its winsome grace, The blush of morn Upon its face. Unto your own You needs must press The sweet mouth prone To tenderness ; Then, lip to lip, With rapture stirred. You might let slip The secret word, [ 57 ] With fragrant kiss Interpreting The dream of bliss The rose would bring. Then to your breast Take it to be Your own heart's best Love-augury, — A welcome guest, — To gladden me. C 58 ] ON SOME BUTTERCUPS A LITTLE way below her chin, Caught in her bosom's snowy hem, Some buttercups are fastened in, — Ah, how I envy them ! They do not miss their meadow place. Nor are they conscious that their skies Are not the heavens but her face, Her hair and tender eyes. There, in the downy meshes pinned, Such sweet illusions haunt their rest. They think her breath the gentle wind And tremble on her breast ; As if, close to her heart, they heard A captive secret slip its cell, And with desire were sudden stirred To find a voice and tell. [ S9 ] THE BOWER OF CUPID Whoso enters at this portal Shall find Love the one immortal. Green the grove that hides the grotto Over which is hung this motto ; Broidered paths of bloom and berry Lead unto the monarch merry ; Birds above on leafy branches Loosen lyric avalanches ; Bees go singing in the sunny, Blossom-builded haunts of honey ; Flutes of brooks and lutes of grasses Waken with each wind that passes ; All is fragrance, song and joy, Made for one immortal boy ! Many seek this grotto hidden ; Welcome all, and none forbidden. Soft the air and clear as amber ; Round the gate red roses clamber ; Day long, mirth and music fill it ; Night sends moon and star to thrill it. Voices, visions, dreams of rapture, There await, the heart to capture ; [ 60 ] Full it is of faultless faces — All the Muses and the Graces ; Poem, picture, flower and fancy, Every form of necromancy ; Naught to worry or annoy. Save the one immortal boy ! In this grotto lies the golden Guest-book, full of legends olden, Writ by lovers on its pages Since the daybreak of the ages ; Paris, Helen, Petrarch, Laura, Meleager, Heliodora, All the glorious Amante Sung of old by Tuscan Dante, Names that shine in song and story Crowd this volume with their glory, Tokens left by all the lovers In the world, between the covers ; Yet the record cannot cloy Love, the one immortal boy. Eve in Eden, fresh and pearly, Found on Earth this grotto early ; So, it came forever after To be haunted by her laughter. [ 6i ] What a countless throng have tasted Love therein ere life was wasted ! Blind they call the boy, in kindness, Yet is theirs the only blindness. He is sure of ear and vision, Hearts he matches with precision ; That is Cupid's only duty In this bower of bliss and beauty — That the end of all employ Is for one immortal boy ! [ 62 ] MOONLIGHT AND MUSIC Dear Heart, do you remember That summer by the sea, One blue night in September When you were here with me, How like a pearl uplifted The full moon rose and drifted, And how the shadows shifted Until the stars were free ? Along the beach the breakers Brought in their lavish store, Gathered from ocean acres. And strewed the curving shore ; Grasses that gleamed and glistened. Flowers that the sea had christened. Shells at whose lips you listened To learn their wonder-lore. Softly the breeze blew over From groves and gardens fair, Spilling a scent of clover Into the balmy air ; [ 63 ] The breath of pines around us, Fragrant it came and found us Just as the moonlight crowned us And Love at last came there. What music hailed our rapture ! What singers on the sand Were they whose hearts could capture Our joy and understand ? O Wind and Wave, they guessed it, They sang it and confessed it, — Their love and ours, — and blessed it There on the moonlit strand ! Dear Heart, still sweet the story, For all the years gone by : Still floods the moon with glory The land, the sea, the sky : And still the night-moth hovers Around us and discovers The same devoted lovers, — Wind, Wave, and You and I. [ 64 ] IN ABSENCE It matters not how far I fare, Or in what land I bide, Your voice sings ever on the air, Your face shines at my sidd For me each crimson flower that slips Its velvet sheath of green Yields the remembrance of your lips With all their sweets between. Your hair is in the dusk that lies Around me when I rest ; My only stars are your dear eyes, Love's own and loveliest. Happy am I, though far apart From all that makes life dear : Love dwells contented in my heart, Exiled yet always near. [ 65 ] Then take my message, Sweet, and know How far your love has flown To cheer and bless your lover, so Lonely, but not alone : I send it from the drowsy South, A dream of my delight, A message to your rosebud mouth — A kiss, and a good-night ! [ 66 ] FOR MUSIC LOVE'S SPRINGTIDE My heart was winter-bound until I heard you sing : O voice of Love y hush not^ but fill / My life with Spring ! My hopes were homeless things before I saw your eyes : O smile of Love y close not the door To paradise ! My dreams were bitter once, and then I found them bliss : O lips of Love, give me again ' Your rose to kiss ! Springtide of love ! The secret sweet Is ours alone : O heart of Love y at last you beat Against my own ! [ 69 ] TO HER My songs are all for her Whose love I fain would win : Each to her heart, a wanderer, Goes singing : Let me in ! Her eyes my beacons be, Her lips my rosy guides, And in her heart a melody For every word abides. Be brave, be brave, my song, Nor falter in the quest : Love in her heart has waited long To greet the singing guest. And be it yours to know The latch lift on the door ; Once in her heart — Go, lyric, go ! Be hers for evermore ! [ 70 ] MY APRIL Sweetheart, comes laughing April now To right the Winter's wrong ; And back to the forsaken bough The bluebird comes with song : And, rivals of the stars above, Stars in the grass you see ; So, like your namesake, April, Love — My April, come to me ! She brings the blossom to the vine, A token fresh and new ; She fills the crocus cup with wine, A pledge that she is true ; She sends the sunshine after rain, A golden augury : Sweetheart, and must I plead in vain ? My April, come to me ! [ 71 ] Oh, Winter lies upon my heart A dreariness and woe : It needs but your dear smile to start The buds of hope to blow ; It needs but your sweet lips to bring The message that shall be Like April's own, all love and Spring My April, come to me ! [ 72 ] A MAY MADRIGAL Sweetheart, the buds are on the tree, The birds are back once more, And with their songs they call to me To open wide my door : So wide shall stand the door to-day Because my heart is true To bud and bird, to mirth and May, And, most of all, to You ! Sweetheart, the leaves begin to show, The grass is green again, And on the breeze sweet odors blow From wild flowers in the glen : The world is glad with voice and wing. And all the skies are blue ; The scent, the song, the soul of Spring, I find them all in You ! C 73 ] Sweetheart, the snows have gone, and now It is the mating time. Hark to the lover on the bough, What melody sublime ! What ecstasy of passion, pride. And love and rapture, too ! So door and heart stand open wide To welcome May and You ! [ 74 ] . NOCTURNE Above the sea in splendor The new moon hangs alone, A silver crescent slender Set in a sapphire zone ; Around me breathe the tender, Sweet zephyrs of the south : Night will not let My heart forget Her kisses and her mouth. The loose sails idly swinging. The ship lights' glow and gleam, The bell-buoys' muffled ringing, Drive all my thoughts to dream, ■ To dream of her voice singing The songs I love the best : Night will not let My heart forget Where she has made her nest ! [ 75 ] O Love, where art thou biding While hangs this moon on high ? Star in the twiHght hiding, Come forth and light the sky Above the ship slow gliding Over the southern sea : Night will not let My heart forget Love's eyes that shine for me ! [ 76 ] MEMORIES As Love and I went walking Along the sea's gray shore, We heard the green waves talking, And love was all their lore. The purple shadows shifted. And through the twilight long From singing stars there drifted Our sweet betrothal song. But once, in days long after, We walked there, Love and I ; The waves had lost their laughter, The stars were hushed on high And each remembered only A little voice — oh, years, How long they are, and lonely ! Oh, heart, how full of tears ! [ 77 ] A SONG'S ECHO My Love is like a Winter rose That sweetly blooms alone, That has of rivals none, and knows A beauty all her own. My Love is like a tender tune That wakens tender words. And fills December full of June, And brings again the birds. Her smile, my sun ; her voice, my song ; Her face, my flower of bliss ; Oh, who could find the Winter long With- such a Love as this ! [ 78 ] WITH ROSES if Here are roses red, For their fragrance love them : When you bend your head Tenderly above them, To your own lips, sweet. Lift them up and hold them While their lips repeat What my heart has told them. Grant them of your grace, With your beauty bless them, Fold them to your face. Kiss them, and caress them. Brief their day, and so Only gladness give them. Yours the joy to know Love that shall outlive them. [ 79 ] TWO SONGS I Her greeting is a dulcet bell — Love's daybreak and delight ; Her smile is noon, and her farewell Leads in the stars at night. She is the sunrise and the gleam Of dew upon the rose, The vision that evokes the dream, The song in slumber's prose. II Roses are the rhymes I wreathe — Take them, every one ; Love — the fragrance that you breathe, And your smile their sun. When the petals fall apart. Then in melody, You shall read a rose's heart, And the heart of me. [ 80 ] SONNETS SAINT ROSE Dear Rose, what volumes it would need to hold The songs that poets have been fain to sing In praise of you, — the ruby in June's ring, Jewel of fragrance set in summer's gold ! What tender words of worship, since of old In Eden Love first found you blossoming. Have blest your beauty, hoping so to bring A touch of warmth unto a bosom cold ! Poets and Lovers there shall ever be So long as there are gardens where the vine Builds a green temple of felicity Within whose leaves is found your fragrant shrine. O sweet Saint Rose ! Dear flower of melody, — A lover's token, take this song of mine. [ 83 ] SURF MUSIC All day I hear along the sandy shore The melancholy music of the Sea ; The green-robed choir of Ocean sing to me, Chanting the legends of their ancient lore. I hear the tales of mariners of yore, Of ships gone down, of tempests blowing free ,- I hear the mast, remembering the tree, Grieve for the grove and all its leaves once more. But when night comes and in the deep blue sky Gather the stars above the fields of foam. The music changes, and in fancy I Again the old familiar forests roam And hear the mast's companions as they cry : Blow, Wind, and bring our captive brother home ! C 84 ] TO A MOCKING BIRD Thou feathered minstrel perched in yonder tree, Thou bird-magician in a blue-gray coat, Trickster of tune, thou canst repeat by rote Thy rivals' songs and win their loves to thee ! Song-sorcerer, who canst with melody Lure us to listen ; thou whose slender throat Is full of magic, bubbling note by note ; Mimic of music, sing thou on to me ! Chatter of blackbird, warble of the wren, Joy of the jay, and passion of the thrush. And every trill that ever bird has known, — I heard him jesting for a while ; and then, Softly upon the morning in a gush Of lyric love I heard him call his own. [ 8s ] MUSIC In vain the quest : no mortal eyes may know The secret haunt wherein by day and night She shapes her dreams of audible delight And sends them forth to wander to and fro : Spirits of Sound, invisible they go To fill the world with wonder in their flight ; Celestial voices, from whose starry height Strange hints of song steal down to earth below. Listen and hear the rhythmic echoes fall, — The winds and waves and leaves and bees and birds, The blended harmony of reeds and strings, — Chorus and orchestra, — the voice and all The miracle of melody and words, — Music herself it is who dreams and sings ! [ 86 ] THE SHOWER Hour after hour relentlessly the sun Shriveled the leaves and parched the meadow grass The sky was yellow and like molten brass The heat poured down until the day was done. Red the round moon arose, and one by one Blossomed the stars and in the river's glass Beheld their beauty, but the breeze, alas ! Refused to break the web the spider spun. But with the dawn a little cloud drew near, Leading a host forth on the azure plain. A distant rumble, then a forest cheer, And then a gust that whirled the weather-vane ; And then, at last, — O melody most dear ! The soft alliteration of the rain. [ 87 ] TO A BUTTERFLY IN WALL STREET Winged wanderer from clover meadows sweet. Where all day long beneath a smiling sky You drained the wild-flowers' cups of honey dry And heard the drowsy winds their love repeat, What idle zephyr, whispering deceit, Captured your heart and tempted you to fly Unto this noisy town and vainly pry Into the secrets of this busy street ? To me your unexpected presence brings A thought of fragrant pastures, buds and flowers. And sleepy brooks, and cattle in the fold ; And, watching as you soar on trembling wings, I think for those who toil through weary hours You are a type of their uncertain gold ! THE WINTER POOL Deep in the woods, amid the giant trees It lies alone within an open space, Beloved in summer by the sylvan race Of God's best poets — birds and golden bees ; Diana's mirror, full of memories Of all the nameless wonder of her face And of the myriad jewel-stars that grace Orion's glory and the Pleiades. Behold it now, all ghostly white and still, Shut in the shadow of the ice and snow, A solitary, sad, forsaken thing ; Bereft of beauty, marred and dark until Diana comes again and looks to know Her luring smile — the loveliness of Spring ! [ 89 ] BETRAYAL There came a day in winter when the sun Reached down and swept the world all clean of snow ; When captive streams long hushed in icy woe Escaped with song again to dance and run : Between the purple hills the vales were spun With silver mist, and, dreaming in the glow, The trees and vines were tremulous as though They felt the buds unfolding one by one. Just for a day this glamour touched the dearth And dreariness of life, — one vision brief Of joy that lit the sorrow of the earth, — Then passed, and with it hope went and belief : So Love once came and with a voice of mirth Betrayed my heart and left it dumb with grief. [ 90 ] THE SNOW'S DREAMER Asleep within her marble room she lies, And dreams of days to come when she shall go Across the meadows in the morning glow, Song on her lips, and gladness in her eyes : In dreams she sees again the warm, blue skies. And breathes the fragrance which the soft gales blow From trees whose blossoms, like belated snow, Have filled the orchards with a sweet surprise. So shall she dream, and slumber on until The first faint whispers of the south wind bring The shy anemones, all white with fear. To look upon her in her chamber still ; Then, waking, hear the bluebird blithely sing To welcome in the Daybreak of the Year ! [ 91 ] THE CATHEDRAL BELLS {Old Spanish Cathedral, St. Augustine, Florida) High in the old cathedral tower they hung, — Four ancient bells, the bronze arpeggio That called to prayer the gray monks long ago, And marked the hour while mass was said and sung. Over a land of fragrant flowers they flung Petals of music that were wont to blow Out of the rose of Time, whereof we know Naught save how sweet it is and ever young. Listen ! across the midnight comes their call, — Twelve in succession sound the bell-notes clear : A day has gone ; another day, begun. Awake, I hear them saying as they fall : Vahy Hispania ! Day of shadows drear ! Avey America ! Day of joy and sun ! [ 92 ] QUATRAINS DAWN Out of the scabbard of the night, By God's hand drawn, Flashes his shining sword of light, And lo, — the dawn ! STORM In the black jungle of the sky now wakes The Lightning's writhing brood of fiery snakes, And lion Thunder from his lair of cloud Startles the dusky world with challenge loud. DUSK Up from the underworld the shadows crowd And ply with noiseless fingers at the loom Whereon they weave the star-embroidered cloud That screens the door of Day's new-builded tomb. [ 95 STARLIGHT Over the rim, a fiery ball, God's hand the golden sun lets fall ; Then from the blue deeps of the skies The myriad white bubbles rise. A SEA FANCY The bugling winds their solemn dirges blow Across a dreary waste of foam-white waves. Here is the ocean cemetery. Lo, The phantom head-stones of the myriad graves ! MASTERY Strolling along the granite coast I caught From lips invisible this message clear : — Without my strength the ocean's rage were naughty And I am hut the whisper in thine ear ! [ 96 ] DERELICT Far in the distance looms a ship's dark hull, Aimlessly tossing on an angry sea ; And, circling round, one solitary gull, — White ponderer of this black mystery ! FOG In agony of death throughout the night The frenzied monarch tossed upon his bed Whence rose at dawn, mysterious and white, A ghost, — the spectre of the mighty dead. THE PENALTY Implacable and stern, the captive, Hate, In silence sits, too anger-blind to see Love's shining figure at his prison gate, Longing to hear him bid her turn the key. [ 97 ] LIFE Launched in the darkness on an unknown sea, A plaything of the winds and waves, I drift. And ponder what the shores of Life may be — What harbor welcome when the shadows lift. THE GOAL Creeds for the credulous ; but as for me, I choose to keep a mind alert and free. Not Faith but Truth I set me for a goal : Toward that shining mark God speed thee. Soul ! KNOWLEDGE For all Philosophy may teach. Only so far can Knowledge reach : All that we know from breath to breath Is Life and its great question — Death. [ 98 ] IN A GARDEN Throughout the long, enchanted summer hours, In treasuries of honey-wealth untold, Here in their bright metropolis of flowers The banker bees are busy with their gold. IVY Upon the walls the graceful Ivy climbs And wraps with green the ancient ruin gray Romance it is, and these her leafy rhymes Writ on the granite page of yesterday. GRASS Here is the cloth whereon the dew and sun Fashion their bright embroideries of bloom ; For dreams a pillow, and, when dreams are done, A fragrant cover for the dreamless tomb. [ 99 ] ROSE Screening her face of loveliness behind The garden's leafy curtain, waits the Rose For the enamored Nightingale to find A lyric hidden in his book of prose. DAY DREAM Into the slumber of the Day there came The vision of a spirit winged with flame, And down the fragrant air one butterfly - Her golden dream — sailed indolently by. FIRE FANCIES Deep in the ashes one live ember Lingers two similes to show : June in the arms of old December, A red rose in a drift of snow. [ loo ] CITY SPARROWS Within the stone Sahara of the Town A green oasis lies the open Square : Hark to the noisy caravans of brown, Intrepid Sparrows, — Arabs of the air ! WRIT IN WATER River or sea, the voice is still the same, Each curving water-lip the word repeats. Forever rumoring the poet's name, And murmuring melodiously — Keats. CONTRAST Caught in a crevice of the marble tomb, A fragile plant uplifts its hand of bloom. And poised thereon a butterfly takes breath Fantastic fellowship of Life and Death ! [ loi ] THE QUATRAIN Hark at the lips of this pink whorl of shell And you shall hear the ocean's surge and roar So in the quatrain's measure, written well, A thousand Hues shall all be sung in four. A WISH This be my wish : let all my lines Across the pages run like vines ; The words, their shining blossoms be ; The book, a field of melody. [ I02 ] Elecirotyped and printed by H. O. Houghton &= Co. Cambridge, Mass., U.S. A. OCT ir J904 OCT t4 \^-