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TO THE BELOVED MEMORY OF MY DEAR FATHER CONTENTS Page Uenvoi ix The Balm of Gilead Tree i Love's Test 4 Our Birthday 5 A Christmas Greeting 6 A Lover Considers, Compares, Concludes ... 7 Kismet 12 A Fallen Leaf 13 My Star 15 Mustered Out 16 A Wood Violet 19 Nightfall 21 Hyacinths 23 Endymion 24 Egeria 26 Miranda 28 A Valentine 29 From the Beach — I 31 From the Beach — II 32 Twenty Years After 33 Only a Word 36 At Last 38 Memories 40 The Captain's Prize 46 vii Contents Page Tout Lasse: Tout Casse: Tout Passe : 49 The Hour will Come 51 The Poet's Grave 53 On the Way Home 55 Persicos Odi, Puer, Apparatus 56 Dick the Discontented 58 Sunt Lachrymae Rerum 60 A Remonstrance 61 A Challenge 64 In Old Madrid 66 After the Ball 69 Serenade 71 Why? 73 Sonnets: I. Sweet is that solitude 75 n. Love came to thee 76 HI. Shemnitz 77 IV. November 78 A Last Word 79 FOR KATHERINE AND ELIZABETH A Fairy Song 83 In a Closet 87 pro bono publico Hymn for Decoration Day 93 A Song of the Century 96 viii VENVOI HAND unskilled may touch and try the strings, With vagrant fancies charming care away, Some solace oft such idle music brings. Whether the tune be plaintive, bold, or gay. A II Not these the notes the master's hand awakes When Art her gift to heaven-born Genius lends. And o'er the chords his soul impassioned breaks In sound that all our mortal speech transcends. Ill Yet may the master smile, sometimes, to hear The faint, imperfect music that betrays A kindred impulse, to his spirit dear. And, smiling, pardon what he cannot praise. THE BALM OF GILEAD TREE FATE overtakes us all! I blame not the decree that bade thee fall; And yet, thou quaint old tree, My soul resents the stroke that shattered thee, In all thy spring-time show of bravery. Still cheerful at the core. Greeting the May so gallantly once more. II Alas, when we are old, The invisible deep roots of life take hold Upon a Past unknown To newer generations; I had grown To love thee for the memories thou alone. Year after year, with me Sweetly didst share, thou Balm of Gilead tree! The Balm of Gilead Tree III How long ago it seems Since first, a child, just mingling truth with dreams, I stayed my steps to greet Thy gracious shadow in the village street; For I had heard beloved lips repeat Old words that seemed to bear A charm — of Gilead and the Healer there. IV Dimly my heart perceived Their mystic meaning; dimly I believed God set thee there for good; Wherefore, with childish faith, devout I stood Beneath thy blossoming boughs, assured He would From those green depths bless me, — A little soul, aware of poverty. Ah! many a year since then Great storms have shaken thee, sweet suns again Made glad thine heart; and I — 2 The Balm of Gilead Tree ■I too have tossed in tempests, faced the cry Of hungry winds, and seen at last the sky Look forth, divinely blue; Not all a dream, that trust my childhood knew! VI Well hast thou done thy part. Thy wayside warning to each careless heart Whispering, the summer through! Might man but learn of thee to be as true To His dear law Who gave thee light and dew, And bade thee to the end With shelter, shade, and strength His earth befriend. VII Farewell! — 'tis transient pain; Yet O, whene'er this heart, a child again, Drawn close to Memory's breast. Hears the old voices lulling doubt to rest And owns the first beliefs are still the best, I shall remember thee. Thou fragrant messenger of peace to me! LOVE'S TEST Le vent qui Heint une lumVere allume un hr aster. Beaumarchais PAST twelve! and chill through my shutter A gust of the nlght-wInd sweeps; In the grate it startles the embers, And the answering blaze up-leaps; It flares the lamp on my table, And the scared flame cowers and creeps And dies in the dark. So work ends. What task now the little wife keeps.? II I shut my book; in the shadow I sit and muse how stern Blows the pitiless blast of Fate. — What! You are come. Sweet.? Ah, I turn To the lips and the heart that love me! Why I sit in the dark? — I learn How a frail love dies of the hardship That makes ours sparkle and burn ! 4 OUR BIRTHDAY To E. P. M. HOW shy and sad this Child of Spring! Her secret spell In wood and dell She weaves with tears; her task is done. Nor stays she for the blossoming; While May flowers bud and bluebirds sing, April is gone; And none makes moan: But you and I will not forget A mark beside her grave to set. A CHRISTMAS GREETING A SIGH — a whisper, far away, May reach an ear attuned to hear; And I could half believe, to-day. Your spirit knows that mine is near. II Be well! be happy! so I pray. While round me reigns high Christmas cheer I, for a moment, seem to stay Beside you: do you think so, Dear.^ A LOVER CONSIDERS, COMPARES, CONCLUDES BUY coal! buy coal!" — You hear it, Marguerite, Far down the distant street. That lamentable, long-drawn cry — And smile among your cushions where you lie, With satin-slippered feet, Deep in the velvet curve of that quaint chair Carved like a shrine above your golden head: What are you thinking. Sweet? II We note the difference, it may be said: Outside, the wintry air. Sharp as his voice that pierces like a knife; The black and grimy trade; The rough humanity that all its life Is doomed to jolt and bawl Beneath men's windows: hear the dolorous call; "Buy coal! buy coal!" 7 A Lover Considers, Compares, Concludes While here are warmth and bloom: The glowing grate that tempts your graceful foot To perch upon the fender; flowers That make a silent summer in the room; Books, music, art; And you, the cause and crown Of all this beauty, sit here, smiling down On me, whose part In the scene is to adore you — and I do! Flower of my heart. Blossoming so far above the world's dark root; But human, too! Ill "Buy coal! buy coal!" — That faint and vanishing cry. How all unlike the sigh With which, deliciously, you sink Again among your cushions and (I think) With soft approving eye Survey the ring that white hand deigns to wear. My ring — and yours! our sacred solitaire! "Splendid," you said. But I Seem to look down into the blackness where (Of us two unaware!) 8 A Lover Considers^ Compares, Concludes Fast wedged beneath the Immeasurable weight Of aeons, slept this spark of fire. Crystallized carbon? — So The chemist says, and In its last estate How Infinitely higher The world esteems it than this mean Carbonaceous stuff, the common, the unclean, Whose steady, watchful glow Defying Night and Winter, guards so well Your beauty's citadel! But true these loyal Carbons to their own: Their immemorial line Burns in your grate, and sparkles In your stone; The secret of the mine — What lights the diamond in Its rayless cell They do not tell! IV What think you. Marguerite? Is your thought mine, here kneeling at your feet? Ah, smile before you speak — So the pure oval of that faultless cheek Rounds to a lovelier line! "From coal to diamond a far cry," you say? Ay! — and a far cry, too 9 A Lover Considers, Compares, Concludes From yonder blackened toller in the street, My exquisite girl, — to you ! That rude soul fated in its own dark way To live and love, to suffer and to pray, Like us — perhaps — some day. Shall it be named with yours? — be named and owned? V Now, your heart speaks! Now shines, tear-lighted, in those deepening eyes The vision my soul seeks — The fair true self, whose sweet humanities Cheapen and put to shame The tawdry elements of dust that claim Homage and servitude from such as you! — All vain, false, foolish things Drop off their flimsy wings And perish in the sunlight and the dew Of love and pity God has made To fill the heaven of a pure woman's heart! VI O, take your pleasure, undismayed, Laugh, dance, my Sweet, and wear Whatever 's rich and rare; lO A Lover Considers, Compares, Concludes I know where hides my jewel, unconfessed! I know the heart that beats beneath this vest So broidered and beset With flowery fancies, wrought After some marvellous fashion, brought Across the Atlantic to adorn you. Yet, When these slow days are done, When you, my Love, are won. Won, past all argument, question, or retreat, — When I shall listen closer to the beat Of that dear heart, — will fear Startle my own, to hear How yours, all woman, denying naught to mine, Is yet, divine! II KISMET MANY a thing the heart divines In its first dim youth, Half aware of days unborn, While yet in the front of morn The Star of Childhood shines: Many a thing the coming years Seal with slow, reluctant tears For truth. II Mock not thou the childish woe; Soothe the groundless fear: What prophetic shadow may That little helpless heart dismay Alas! we cannot know. In mystery our lives unfold; Yonder the secret may be told; Not here! 12 A FALLEN LEAF POOR faded leaf, blown shivering down to me, Was it for this, thy home was fixed so far Beyond the rude hand's reach, where winds are free In yon blue deep, and heaven so near to thee Thou might'st unblamed have deemed thyself a star? II Was it for this that thou, the fairest there, First of thy kindred felt the kiss of dawn. Beloved of the sunshine? — first didst share The dewy whisper of the evening air. And caught the pale moon's earliest smile forlorn? Ill Alas! there came to thee an evil day When, with his subtle whisper, sweet and strange, The late Year sought thee, dancing on thy spray, And stole the freshness from thy heart away, And flushed thy cheek, amazed, with crimson change. 13 A Fallen Leaf IV Flame-tinged and glowing in thy wayside tower, Thou wast the wonder of the passer-by; Perchance a marvel to thyself, that hour When all thy being owned the fatal power That matched thy splendor with the sunset sky. Brief was thy dream! The frost is keen to-night, And thou, poor outcast, tremblest in the dust, Where heedless footsteps tread thee out of sight. And none remembers thee to mourn thy blight — From light — from life — to outer darkness thrust! 14 MY STAR AST falls the summer night O'er field and wood, and this dark silent stream, Where, resting on my oars, I watch day's light Withdraw its last red beam. F II Lo, in the west one star From heaven's clear deep looks at me wistfully; Later, a host will follow, brighter far, But none so dear to me. Ill For thus, when life is done, And Death's great shadow darkens o'er mine eyes, For me shall thy lost face, our bliss begun, Open God's Paradise. 15 MUSTERED OUT THE cricket chirps in the orchard; The night grows sweet with the scent of the barley sheaves, The wind is still; not a breath stirs the shadow of leaves The moon draws on the wall; And close under my window I hear an apple fall. II O that old scent of the barley! And the apples lying so cool in the dew-wet grass! There was once a way, by the broken steps, you could pass To the orchard unseen: Many 's the night that way — after an apple — I 've been. i6 Mustered Out III She would come too, the wild girlie! Slipping out under the sumachs behind the shed door, White and noiseless — a spirit, a dream — she never seemed more; How we laughed when I sprung Out from the bushes, and caught her! — Ah, we were young! IV "Poor boy!" they say. "What a pity!" Why, my youth dropped dead in her grave! 'twas all the same, then, In camp, on the march, in the field, I cared for the men. Not for my own life — no! And here I lie, glad of the pain that means I 'm to go. But it 's good to lie here again In the boys' attic chamber, under the low brown eaves, W^atching once more the wall, and the curious shadow of leaves. Dreaming of her the same As I dreamed years ago, when nightfall between us came. 17 Mustered Out VI Darkness and sleep — -then the waking! Dawn and her face! O my God, shall it be so again? She said so. Thought of that shamed away many a stain From a soul none too pure. I 've been true to you, Love! In heaven I could not be truer. VII O good-bye, dark world of sorrow! That's the last stab! — Now her little soft hand in my breast Comes, stilling the anguish, hushing the heart's throb to rest. And her whisper! — She said, "Sleep and peace for us both, in the holy home of the dead!" A WOOD VIOLET — If it have breath, If life taste sweet to it, if death Pain its soft petal, no man knows. Swinburne LINGERING, I stoop to look On thee, lone dweller in thy forest nook! Violet, thou dost not miss This summer eve, thy little share of bliss! Surely thou findest it sweet Thy tiny tribute, at His gracious feet, From that unstained cup, Pure as in Paradise, to offer up! II To leave thee, I am loth, Alike we sleep and wake; alike for both Draws near the Unknown — Death! And hast thou not, with that brief, exquisite breath 19 A Wood Violet Whispering of Love divine, Brought His own message to this heart of mine? Thou hast not lived in vain; May'st thou in some far Eden bloom again! 20 NIGHTFALL DARK between thy banks, O lonely River, All day long thy restless waters moan; In the busy summer fields, unheeded, Like some mournful music's undertone, Still their murmur saddens everywhere Labor's ceaseless din, beneath the noontide glare. II But when night along the misty valley Steals, and shuts the door of forge and mill, Hushing all the stir of toil and traffic, While the twilight air breathes cool and still, — Then thy voice calls loud across the hills. And with sound supreme the darkening silence fills. 21 Nightfall III All day long the lonely heart keeps sighing; Toil and thought resist its yearning prayer; Life needs many things, nor stays for pity: But night comes at last; day's strife and care Die forgotten; then, O heart of mine. Have thy way! The silence and the dark are thine. 22 HYACINTHS PURPLE and white and rose! Out of the sad black mould The fragrant spikes unclose, The Hyacinth buds and blows. But how, in the dark and cold, Each blossom its duty knows To be purple, or white, or rose. No Hyacinth ever has told! II Purple, and white, and rose — A dream of the hues that fleet At sunset o'er Alpine snows. And ever the wonder grows That a bulb in my window-seat. Here by the salt sea, knows How the Jungfrau pales and glows, When Twilight kisses her feet! 23 ENDYMION "Blessed, methinks, is the lot of him that sleeps, and tosses not, nor turns: even Endymion." Theocritus, Idyl III. "TJTUSH!" she said, "ye Winds that visit Latmos! J £ Breathe no whisper where Endymion Hes, Lost to earth beneath the brooding skies; Closer creep, ye silvery Mists of midnight, Let no keen-eyed Star his sleep surprise. II "Lull him, O ye Dews, — he must not waken! Steep his chilly senses In a dream Deep and dim, where this fond face shall seem, Softly gliding earthward through the shadows, Like a meteor pale to pause and gleam. 24 Endymion III "No — whate'er betide, he must not waken! Only while he sleeps, Love dares be bold, Lingering o'er the lips to kisses cold; Only in the dreaming ear that misses Half its meaning, shall the tale be told. IV " Fate is cruel, my beloved — sorrow Comes with knowledge: never mortal heart Learned its bliss except with bliss to part. Mine it is to know how much I love thee! Thine to dream — thrice happy that thou art! "Happy? — Yes, through all the troubled ages Nothing changes in this dream of thine, By Love's sacred silence made divine; All things fade and fail that are not shadows: Sleep," she sighed, "in sleep forever mine!" 25 EGERIA WHAT whispered she to him Beside the water dim, Under the misty shade of leaves that clung So thick about the fountain? Dark and sweet The veiled night her silence o'er them hung; No sound of wandering feet, Nor stealthy step of sylvan creature stirred Among the wood-paths; far away he heard Rome's midnight pulses beat, But heeded not. What whispered she to him Beneath the shadowy leaves, beside the water dim? II Some secret, dread and old, From mortals over-bold Hid by the high and jealous gods alway? Some rune of things that were or things to be, Or sage enchantment wherewith princes sway The round earth and the sea, 26 Egeria And happy hearts of men? So legends say. Was it for this their wise King stole away From pomp and revelry, To that lone dell where, by the fountain's brim, His dewy-sandalled love kept tryst with him? Ill Ah, but the place was sweet! Beneath his heedless feet He crushed the fern and deep delicious bloom Of violets. Sweeter to his soul her kiss, Her arms that clasped him in the fragrant gloom. Her sigh of timid bliss! Discrowned awhile, his brow upon her breast Forgot its burden; dear he was, and blest. Perchance she whispered this — 'T was all she knew! Would'st thou her secret share ?- "Where Love is found, the wise find Wisdom there." 27 MIRANDA "But you, O you, So perfect and so peerless are created Of every creature's best!" The Tempest. Act III., Scene I. Shakspeare. THOU pearl of maids, Miranda, — stainless, free, Fearless of evil, yet not over-bold! Thy beauty haunts my heart; beside the sea In dreams, methinks I do companion thee. Where 'neath the moon the waves shine silver-cold, And thou, with gentlest shape of airy state, And young eyes bright with innocent command, While Ariel's whisp'ring sprites around thee wait, On the wide shore in musing mood dost stand. High o'er thee darkens all the wooded isle, Beneath thee all the stars in ocean smile. And in thy face the lone and lovely night Is mirrored lovelier! Maiden without guile. Thou in that solitude hast no affright. But murmurest to thyself a song the while That charms the sleeping sea to deeper hush of light! 28 A VALENTINE To E. H. R. LADY, I know a prison Where a captive pineth, A dungeon dark and deep, Where no beam of noonday shinethj And the sweet consoling stars Through those unrelenting bars Never peep. II He is young but wasted With a silent sorrow; He dares not hope to-day Nor can hope to-morrow; Yet from life he may not part Till the fires in his heart Die away. 29 A Valentine III Oft have I thought him dead, And his pain past forever, But he only slept To waken wild as ever; His prayer for liberty, Lady, grieved even me, Till I wept. IV O shall I set him free — The Boy in prison lying? 'T is but a word from thee And the door is open flying! Thou only hast the key; Will mercy sweet please thee, Emily? 30 FROM THE BEACH— I DEAR little Boat, home-faring Across the white-capped sea, I watch thee toss and tremble Like the foolish heart in me: Yet shoreward thou art speeding, No homing bird flies truer; Thy master's hand is steady. Thy master's eye is sure. II Why should I dread the tempest? The stress of coming years? Why doubt the distant harbor So dimly seen through tears? I, too, may keep, though trembling, A course as true as thine. For, happy Boat, thy Master Steers, too, this heart of mine! 31 FROM THE BEACH — II COME with me! The light wind and the sea Laugh along the sunny shore together; 'T is summer weather! My little sail is dancing on the foam; Yon fairy isle to-day shall be our home! O come with me! ' II Come with me! The storm is on the sea; Wild 'mid the surge that o'er us dashes The lightning flashes; We must drive headlong now before the gale; I know not whither, nor how far, we sail, But — come with me! 32 TWENTY YEARS AFTER WELL, Time has touched you tenderly! I knew he would! Was ever yet Real or fabled, any he Who, In your presence, could forget The courtesy, the reverence, due To all our faith enshrines in you? II The day for flattery, you say, Is past? The smile with which that's said Is just the same that used to turn — When head and heart were light — my head. And would they now — those serious eyes — Persuade me that I Ve grown more wise? 33 Tzventy Years After III Wiser and sadder? Yes — perhaps! So much the more 't is well to feel That where one worshipped in one's youth Is still the fittest place to kneel. No man whose heart you Ve deigned to school Looks back to call himself a fool! IV That 's something to be thankful for — When first illusions, thinning fast, Begin to show how flat and drear Life's real coast-line lies at last — One high romance still throned in mist. By dreams of dawn forever kissed! You keep your secret still. I know To-night no more than years ago Why, of all mortal faces, yours Should stir the soul within me so — 34 Twenty Years After Old thoughts deep buried, not to rise, Live, and reproach me, in your eyes. VI Old thoughts, old visions, old beliefs, The thing I meant — but failed — to be! Ah well! — Good-night! our ways part here Ay — and hereafter! — Yet to see Your face for me that shadow wear Perhaps of heaven is one man's share! 35 ONLY A WORD ONLY a word! A little winged word Blown through the busy town, Lighter than thistle-down, Lighter than dust, by roving bee or bird Brushed from the blossoming lily's golden crown, Borne idly here and there. Oft as the summer air About men's doors the sunny stillness stirred. Only a word! But sharp — O, sharper than a two-edged sword, To pierce and sting and scar! II Only a word! A little word that fell Unheeded as the dew That from the darkling blue 36 Only a Word Of summer midnight softly steals to tell The tale of tinkling brook and star-lit dell In yonder noisome street. There, pale with dust and heat, The little window-flower in workman's cell Its drooping bell Lifts up to meet the kiss it knows so well. A word — a drop of dew — But 0, its touch could life's lost hope renew! 37 AT LAST I BUILT my bower in summer weather, A bower no birdie need disdain, Where two that loved might live together, Safe sheltered from the wind and rain; For now that woods are green, said I, The Bird I love will hither fly. II The summer roses bloomed and perished. The brooks grew silent in the grass, Vain were the May-time hopes I cherished; My Bird was but a dream, alas! And thick about my lonely eaves Began to fall the fading leaves. 38 At Last III And now the sky was drear November's, And roared the wind and plashed the rain; Sadly I brooded o'er the embers, When, hark, against my window-pane A flutter faint, a cry, I heard, — I sprang to open — 'twas my Bird! IV A tiny thing to brave such weather — Its eyes were dim and chilled its feet; Rain dripped from every drooping feather. But O, its note was passing sweet! I caught it close, I held it fast; Love sings within my bower at last! 39 MEMORIES DORA '11 be married to-morrow! Dora, the youngest of all! But yesterday she was the baby; now she is twenty — and tall, Taller than Helen or Margaret — a bride, and going away! And this old, sad house is once more bedecked for a wedding day. II There '11 be bustle enough in the morning, what with dressing the bride. And wedding guests to welcome, and Dora's last packing beside; To-night how quiet the house is! I hear but the wind's low moan. And the ticking clock in the corner. 'T will be so when she is gone! 40 Memories III To-morrow I must be cheerful. Tears, to be sure, I shall shed; Tears for Dora, they will be; not for myself, nor the dead. But to-night when nobody heeds me and all the house is asleep, Dora herself would forgive me this sitting awhile to weep. IV Ten years! — And it seems but a moment! Ten years ago to-night And I was our Margaret's bridesmaid, gay with a girl's delight. Fair, and so glad to be fair — for there was one to see! deep and fond was the look in his eyes that night for me. Nobody knew that I loved him. Nobody ever dreamed I was more to him than the others; and yet to my heart it seemed 41 Memories We two, in a secret heaven — the heaven of bliss denied — Were alone in the world together, when he was by my side. VI He might not speak, and I knew it — but what was that to me? Hope is the slave that trembles; Despair is fearless and free. He came for his own: I gave it, unasked. Was it mine to keep.'' — How else could I bear to remember that grave in the far cold deep.^ VII No words, but only a silence; no kiss, though we were alone; Not a sigh — his true heart guarded my secret as well as his own. But the clasp of that clinging hand, in his eyes that passionate claim! — So he left me. One week later, the news of the lost ship came. 42 Memories VIII None pitied me; how could I tell them? I mourned him all alone; I mourn you as much to-night, Love, now ten long years are flown! Margaret has her husband; Helen, husband and children, too; But I have nothing, Lawrence, only my dream of you. IX Only a dream, and yet — are the others so much more blest? Sometimes I could almost think the sad, wronged love fares best. If that dream were the brief delusion that dies with the bridal hour Could I have borne its fading — my life's one perfect flower? It is pleasant to visit Margaret; her home is grand and gay, Her husband is in the Senate, and "a rising man," they say; 43 Memories They go everywhere together; he's polite to her, never unkind, And Margaret, I know, is learning woman's lesson — not to mind. XI Yet I cannot choose but remember their courtship of long ago, When Richard came so early and was always the last to go. How they sat and talked in the twilight or, leaning together, read In the book — or the broidery pattern — some wonderful thing unsaid. XII Does he ever care now to sit by her.'' Or know if she works or reads. ^ He has too much to do for his party to think of the life she leads — That life he had vowed to cherish! Sad mockery! Yet, I know, He is one of the world's good husbands. Perhaps it is always so. 44 Memories XIII They say it is always so, Love. Everything changes but you. Shall I blame Death.? What am I, then, that you might not have altered, too.^* Better my dead than their living, grown so careless and cold — Dearer the kiss never given, the tale that never was told! 45 THE CAPTAIN'S PRIZE SHE came to me! she came to me! As though a Httle bird should be Blown out upon this wintry sea, And, buffeted by storm and sleet. Drop on the deck here at my feet. Perhaps it was not wise nor well To seek such refuge. Who can tell.^ 'T is not the shelter you 'd expect A bird or woman to select; Nor I the sort of fellow — just — A woman or a bird would trust. But here she is. What 's next, we '11 see. Up anchor, shake the mainsail free! One thing is sure — she came to me! II A year ago I did not dare To ask this lady could she care My wild and wandering life to share; 46 The Captain's Prize Too bold a question that, for me — I, but a graceless sailor — she, The fairest, daintiest, stateliest girl. Of all her haughty house, the pearl! See, now! Two little feet are set Beside me, in the wind and wet; The salt spray sparkles in her hair; She turns her face to me — take care. Sweetheart! between the wind and me. You '11 think we have wild ways at sea! And yet — you know you came to me! Ill All's well! — the ship begins to feel The long swell underneath her keel; The harbor-lights behind us reel; Far out, in rain and darkness, soon We shall be running free; no moon Nor star. Sweet, in the sky above; Nor pilot wanted, now — but Love! Give me those little hands that seem To make all true that else were dream! They 're mine — and yet, on sea or shore, 47 The Captain's Prize I never shall be master more; For O, there is such sovereignty In their soft touch, their silent plea — God knows, my Dear, you came to me! 48 TOUT LJSSE: TOUT CJSSE: TOUT PJSSE Gerard de Nerval Tout lasse ? — Even so! — The tired child, wearied with his play, Lets fall the toy that charmed him for a day; Murmuring, into the mystery of Night He sinks — and wakens to a world of light. II Tout casse? — Time crushes under foot the crumbling shell; Perish each tint that with the rainbow vies! Is thine the secret of that ruined cell? Then in thy hand its deathless beauty lies. 49 Tout Lasse: Tout Casse: Tout Passe III Tout passe? —T\\Q light, the shadow of this mortal day — ■ Sorrow and joy — how fast they fleet away, To blend as one in His eternal thought, Where Love abides — and all that Love hath wrought! 50 THE HOUR WILL COME NOT yet — not yet! Between the night and morn There is an hour, uncheered by moon or star, That hungers for the day — the day unborn. , Never seems light so far As when that hour sits, darkling and forlorn. Waiting, as we wait, on the verge of morn. II Not yet — not yet! When, all athirst for rain, The hot fields gasp, and up the sultry sky The great clouds gather, darkening o'er the plain, Earth stills her faintest sigh; She waits — as we wait — dumb, in patient pain. The crash with which the tempest breaks its chain. 51 The Hour will Come III Not yet — not yet! When, flooded full with streams From mountain height and glen, the river wide Brims near its thundering fall, how still it gleams! No ripple stirs the tide That waits — as we wait — holding hushed in dreams The fate with which its current darkly teems. IV The hour will come! — the dawn, the thunder-peal. The weltering plunge of waters down the steep: Ay — thrones, dominions, powers, in terror reel. Deep calling unto deep. And star to star, when Judgment breaks the seal. And tyrants learn, at last, with whom they deal! 52 THE POET'S GRAVE FOR him no bitter tears we shed; Rather, self-pitying, we sit and weep That we are left, around his bed. These annual rites of memory to keep Ere we shall with our friend be laid, Through the long summer days with him to sleep Beneath the old oak's whispering shade. Where doth he wait for us? To-night Methinks the blooming earth and fragrant air Should bring his dear ethereal sprite To seek, this eventide, the old wood where At eventide we used to meet. And dream away day's sordid strife and care. Till dews were thick beneath our feet. A sweet and noble soul was he; Too finely strung for this world's tuneless touch, But breathing purest melody 53 The Poet's Grave Of thought divine and tenderness to such As loved him, — all too well aware, Of weary worldliness and strife how much His shrinking spirit needs must bear. Alone with blossoms, birds and bees, At last he sleepeth in the ancient shade ; No voice, save murmur of the breeze. And whispers in the flowery grass o'erhead To mingle with his dream of peace — If thou, our Poet, in the mould low laid Dream still, where thou hast found release. 54 ON THE WAY HOME THY light streams far, thou gladdening star, O'er vale and forest, tower and town; From land and sea men look to thee In every clime, as night comes down: And yet, were all the eyes that mark Thy rising, closed in endless dark, Undimmed would ghtter still Thy bright, unpitying spark. II I heed thee not. In yonder cot. As home I haste, from toil set free, Though dark and damp, the casement lamp Shines clear, across the fields, for me. Dear light! dear heart! how well I know If bitter death should lay me low Dark would that casement be. And quenched your winsome glow! 55 PERSICOS ODI, PUER, APPARATUS Horace. Odes, I, XXXVIII ALL this parade, Boy, that the Persian Makes o'er his cups is my aversion! These wreaths you bind Of linden rind Are nowise to my taste; and, mind, I '11 have no searching up and down For some late rose That, lingering, blows Our little feast to crown! II Nor do I choose you should be taking More time and pains than go to making The twist you may. Of myrtle spray, Weave fresh, the year round, any day — S6 Persicos Odi, Puer, Apparatus Fit leaf for you, who pour my wine, And me, I think, Who sit and drink, Beneath the tangled vine. 57 DICK THE DISCONTENTED ""TF I had but a home of my own," said he; — I Poor fellow, how sadly he sighed as he said it — "If I had but a home of my own you would see How steady and sober and saving I 'd be. Though for that, now, you give me no credit. II "To think I may never get quit of that trunk. And die after all in a lodging-house attic! So low at the prospect my spirits have sunk You may thank your good stars I don't go and get drunk, Or pitch into some scrape, as bad and emphatic." Ill "Dick, dearie," she said, "now you're foolish indeed, Not to say you are really a little — ungrateful! We can't have our house yet, but what is the need Of sulking and threatening.'' — You're bound to succeed. It's this grumbling, I tell you, makes poverty hateful! 58 Dick the Discontented IV "And no home of your own, Dick? Why, where are your wits? Here 's your home — ■ in my heart, where you 're master forever, Such a nice cosy corner, where nobody sits But your own precious self! Very ill it befits A fellow with your luck to talk about 'never'! " . . .0 there now! come Dicky, be sensible, do! I really must finish this hat. See, to-morrow We will walk in the Park — and the hat must go too, With a rose and a ribbon set on, to please you! For which I had neither to beg nor to borrow. VI "Good-night! go your ways! — I've heard something to-day I may mention to-morrow, if you behave better. I was told not to tell, so I hardly can say — O such luck for us both! But it's late: you can't stay. — You may take it and read it; it's all in that letter!" 59 SUNT LACHRYM^ RERUM SHE wept; her tears like summer rain Revived the beauty of her flower-like face; She sighed — for wonder more than pain, And, sighing, found she gained an added grace! She wept, and sighed. II You think she did not care. She did, For him who never wish of hers denied. Nor should the deeper grief be hid; She cared for many a thing that with him died: So, wept and sighed. Ill Sorry and scared may yet be shrewd! Wealth, homage, love, her beauty still might buy; Sorrow prolonged might prove too rude, Ay! — mar that face on which she must rely! — Her tears she dried. 60 A REMONSTRANCE {Addressed to one who asserted that man's friendship was worth more than woman's love.) u NCERTAIN, capricious, inconstant, untrue, A creature that can't be relied on — Tliat 's the verdict of man, whose life 's but a span. Presuming our sex to decide on! II His life's but a span; somewhat brief, one would think. For a just and complete j-^//"-inspection, Without complicating the task by debating How far woman falls short of perfection! Ill And you too, though no woman-hater, my friend, — More cruel, perhaps, because kinder — Even you echo shabbily: '^ Farium et viutahile She proves, wheresoever you find her." 6i A Remonstrance IV ''''Place aux dames^^ for awhile! Let a woman explain Those similes graceful, but bitter, With which civilized man, since discussion began, Illustrates his rule — not to hit her! There 's the moon, type of female inconstancy? Well, Don't you know that her changes are due To the smiles and the frowns, the ups and the downs Of her master — as ours are to you? VI There's the wind, blowing hither and thither? 'Tis said Woman's fancy is fickle as air; But the vacuum still that she 's trying to fill — Ah! 'tis caused by a coldness, somewhere! VII Bring on all your emblems! The dew and the mist, Sea and cloud, image woman's caprices? But observe, if you please, how each one of these Confirms me in my exegesis. 62 A Remonstrance VIII Under infinite aspects, each still is the same Vital element, pure and persistent, You 'd tire of all beauty — 't would fail of its duty, Were its forms ever fixed, near or distant. IX Thus, her mood ever changing, her mind still the same, Woman 's true, though she seem like a traitor; One end she 's pursuing, whatever she 's doing. And she reaches it. sooner or later! 63 A CHALLENGE HE thinks himself granite. That suits him right well, Steadfast and stern as the mountain wall yonder! Well, let him be granite, but I '11 be the brook Through cranny and crevice commissioned to wander; The little brook, talking and teasing all day, Darkling or bright, in its mischievous play Wearing the heart of the granite away! II He may be ice, too, if that 's to his mind, Silent and cold as the winter-locked river! He shall be ice — yes, and I '11 be the star That delights on its surface to sparkle and quiver; The little star, lonely and daring and shy. Which nobody marks as it creeps up the sky, Its face, in the ice-mirror imaged, to spy. 64 A Challenge III Or he may be iron — good steel, I '11 allow; A blade rarely tempered, sharp, subtle and splendid! But I '11 be the lightning to dance on its point By laws of electric attraction defended. Brook, lightning, or star: there's a choice of the three In what shape I may come; but I vow he shall see — Ice, iron and granite don't terrify me! 6S IN OLD MADRID SWEET, my red geranium flower! Peeping through my lattice screen, Like a maiden from her bower, Forth, I pray thee, look and lean, When far down the street thou hearest Step of him my heart holds dearest. Naught to fear, if thou art seen Keeping watch in shine or shower. Wishing, waiting, hour by hour; Spiteful though the neighbors be None will think to mock at thee. Hark! he's coming! — Yes, 'tis he! Nod, dear flower! The wind blows free, Nod — and if he seem to see. Say one little word for me! 66 In Old Madrid II Tell him what my mirror shows — Tresses glossy, black as night, Brow of pearl, and lips of rose, Dark-lashed eyes whose glances bright Many a cavalier says, sighing, Would reward a man for dying. (This, of course, is far from right!) But that I am fair, he knows. Oft his looks the truth disclose; Tell him I am good, likewise. Very grave, discreet, and wise; True I am, and scorn all lies. Such as that Dolores tries When she, whispering, sits and spies Yonder, while her needle flies! Ill Bolder maid I never knew! Like a parrot on its perch Twists her neck the street to view While the pious come from church, 67 In Old Madrid And the young gallants are prancing, Bowing here and there, and glancing! Ah, they pass! — And you may search, He 's not there! And not for you The rose that in our courtyard fell Last night, by the moonlit well! I 'm no tattler, nor shall tell Any soul how that befell! O, I hope he loves me! Yet So are maidens oft deceived; Men their fancies soon forget. Then the foolish one is grieved; And with grief, one's bloom 's departed. Keep me, O sweet saints, light-hearted! 68 AFTER THE BALL OOD-NIGHT! If you and I were lovers I'd say, "Good-night and dream of me," But prudence now — or pride — discovers How very foolish that would be. G II Since not a shadow of Love's blindness Lurks in those eyes of yours, to bless The man they dazzle with their kindness, What use in signals of distress? Ill Look! — o'er yon sand-bar sails the moon; her Smile, cool, brilliant, and remote, Not much avails that luckless schooner Fast stranded. Better keep afloat! 69 After the Ball IV Good-night! 'tis I must do the dreaming; Your pillow dews oblivious steep. Day's loss in Lethe thus redeeming Is Beauty's secret. You will sleep! But when, with bird and rose, you waken And count your conquests, do me right; I shall be wishing then I 'd taken Another sort of leave! — Good-night! 70 SERENADE DO not wake, thou Dearest! No, no, sleep! While in dreams thou hearest Voices low and deep, With pause and cadence, creep Through all the winding ways That weave their mystic maze Around thy maiden heart, Bid them not depart — No, no, sleep! II Do not wake, thou Dearest! No, no, sleep! Love, since Love thoii fearest, Dreaming too, shall weep The peace he needs must keep; 71 Serenade Yet song and dream may dare Breathe, still, Love's tender prayer; Nor fright thy maiden heart. Bid not Love depart — No, no, sleep! 72 WHY? WHY do I love you? I don't know! They say Love never gives a reason; But that he has one I don't doubt, Do you? That's nothing less than treason! II Not always, let me tell you, Dear, Love practised such excess of prudence; 'T was once his custom to explain His moods and methods to his students. Ill And how to solve each puzzling case He taught by rule and illustrations; But sceptics, such as you, have made Love shy of giving demonstrations. 73 Why. IV Why foolish mortals love at all, Why we two hold each other dearest, How long 't v/ill last, and how 't will end. You 'd like to know, you precious querist! You never will! I '11 tell you that! Yet still maintain my first assertion; Love understands what he 's about, And blinds us, just for his diversion. VI Ah, why I love you? If I knew, I would not tell you. — No, no, never! For souls like yours and mine were made To play at hide and seek forever. VII There's little you do not find out, But since that little makes life pleasant, I think I '11 keep the secret still. And so keep you, too — for the present! 74 SONNETS — I SWEET is that solitude where one dear face Makes all the world! — that face wherein I read Whatever 's best in letters, art, or creed, And all that 's fair in manners, good in men, By Love translated! In some loneliest glen 'T were bliss to dwell, sole student of thy grace. Each day's new lesson in thy looks to trace! And yet, in street, or hall, or market-place. That face remembered makes a solitude Divinely deep, where nothing mean or rude Dares enter in. My Love! with thee abides The charm that binds the earth, the stars, the tides: Beloved by thee, where'er I rest or roam, Dwells in my heart serene, the unalterable home! 75 SONNETS — II LOVE came to thee as when among the hills The April torrent leaps its bank, and breaks Far down the valley in a flood that wakes The startled herdsman, and with panic fills The plain for bridges wrecked and shattered mills. Homestead and hamlet reel; but soon retakes The stream its channel, and with verdure makes The toiler glad, among the fields he tills. But hers the slower heart, that unawares Received the tribute of Love's hundred rills That steal in secret down to swell its strength, Till brimming high with all that Passion dares It bursts its builded barrier, and fulfils. With one sheer desperate plunge, its fate at length. 76 SONNETS — III SHEMNITZ AT Eden's gate a Harp, old legends say, Upborne by angels, waits: mark well the plan Devised in Heaven to try the Soul of Man! Six chords are seen whereon required to play, Whoso calls music forth has leave to stay; But though that soul escape the Judge's ban And sits expectant, for a granted span. Awaits it still another Judgment Day. For one deep chord unguessed that Harp contains; And he whose skill may o'er the rest prevail To draw from six their far-resounding strains, May yet to wake one note on Shemnitz fail. And whoso fails on Shemnitz, for his pains, Outside the gate, a stranger, still remains. 77 SONNETS — IV NOVEMBER ALAS! the bitter days before the snow! When Earth Hes like a corpse, unshrouded, bare, Dumb, desolate, cold, beneath the backward stare Of pale, receding suns; a primal woe Mourns in the wailing wind that fain would know The secret of this death of all things fair. Who shall make answer? Evermore aware Of Joy's dark ending, blindly man must share The doom sad Nature, seeking to foreshow. Writes in dead waste and ruin everywhere. So be it! Let Youth, Strength, and Beauty go — Even the heart's treasure — anguish past compare! We die; God lives! O earth-born, answered so. So armed — defy man's deadliest foe. Despair! 78 A LAST WORD NO song Is here for those the heart holds dearest; Deep is the silence In Love's hol^ places! Nor mine the gift to match dear names with music: And yet, methinks I sometimes see their faces And hear their voices, for one happy moment, Amid the alien words my fancy traces. II Ah, then I know the song, whate'er it may be. Hath found Its key-note in their very being: Their lives, their spirit wake the passion in me To seize the joy, the sorrow, past us fleeing On that swift tide of Time, that sweeps forever Sorrow and joy to shores beyond our seeing. 79 FOR KATHARINE AND ELIZABETH {jEtat. 8 and 5) A FAIRY SONG FAIRIES, wake! — the sun is set: Tree and turf with dew are wet, And the moon with laughing light Peeps above yon mountain height, While beneath her witching beam Mortals lie abed, and dream! II Now with tiny leaps, unseen. We '11, across the shadowy green. Steal far down the darkling dell, And where tall ferns shield us well Linger in the dusk to hear Sounds too fine for mortal ear. 83 A Fairy Song III List — and hear the sweet Bluebell Ringing slow its fairy knell! Far and near amid the grass, Where no ruthless footsteps pass, Rings the Bluebell, sweet and low, Good-night to the elves below. IV Hark! and hear the Windflower sigh When the night-breeze wanders by! Hear the little whispering wings Of those merry moonlight things Who from silver cup-lets pour Dew for every thirsty flower! O, but haste! — No more delay! Now 's the time to dance and play! Off with many a hop and skip Down the woodland path we slip — 84 A Fairy Song Trip and skip through hollows dark Lighted by the Firefly's spark, Till we reach the moonlit glen Hidden deep from eyes of men, Where from forest cave and cell Thronging Fairies rush pell-mell. And with bow and courtesy meet. Pause, their lovely Queen to greet. VI Queen Titania, like a star. Shining from her throne afar, High upon a mossy mound Bids the Trumpet Blossoms sound, Waves her hand, and with a glance. Smiling, gives us leave to dance. VII How the fairy maids and men Sparkling, fly to partners then! Queen's Own minstrels, twelve all told, Crickets stalwart, black and bold, 85 A Fairy Song Beat their tambours with a din That bids us leap and whirl and spin. Wild the music, wild the glee! Bird and squirrel, from their tree Peer, our tiny troupe to see, At our midnight revelry. Snake and toad come never near; Spiders flee in mortal fear. VIII But, alas! the eastern sky Shows the streak that bids us fly; Ended now is all our fun; Fairies do not love the sun. Queen Titania lifts her hand, — Vanish all! — at her command. 86 IN A CLOSET ODEAR! and it's all your own fault, Allie, Why would you keep swinging that door? Now we both are shut up in the closet, And can never get out any more — That is, never more till Mamma comes, And she '11 not be at home until four! She can't know how dark it is, in here. And somehow, so smothered and tight! — O Allie, you don't mean you 're crying? No, we're not going to stay here all night! Put your little face up to the keyhole And see what a pretty, bright light! II Allie dearie, you are not a baby! And you never should scream and give way To your feelings like that; and don't bang so! There 's nobody up-stairs to hear us. Stop crying! Be good and we '11 play. 87 In a Closet In this closet are all Mamma's dresses: I can feel the black silk, and the fur On her nice winter coat; you feel, Allie! 'T is almost as if we had her. And something so sweet, and just like her, Shakes out of her things when we stir. Ill I wish we could see! Here 's her bonnet With the lovely pink rose and lace bow. I '11 tell you what we can be thinking — We are like poor blind children, you know! They must feel to find out. I am thankful We shall not always have to do so! They can't see their father nor mother. Nor their cat, nor a bit of blue sky. Nor anything else in the world! Think, They must stay in the dark till they die. IV We too must have patience, pretending We're blind. Sit by sister — don't stand! Never mind about cutting out pictures, In a Closet People can't always do what they 've planned. It 's nice in the dark telling stories — Give sister your soft little hand! hark! the clock strikes in the study! 1 '11 count, Allie. One — two — three — four! Very soon now Mamma will be coming — • There she is — only one minute more! — How glad the poor blind people must be When the good Angel opens the door! 89 PRO BONO PUBLICO HYMN FOR DECORATION DAY SWEET smiles our mother earth to-day, As in her childhood's dawn of yore: The sunshine and the rains of May Awake her heart to bloom once more, Nor lingers in her Spring-time face One thought of Winter's bitter days. II Yon hills that whitened in the blast Are green from foot to crown again, And streams that ice had fettered fast Ring music with their broken chain: Where howled the wind and whirled the snow. The wild bird sings, the violets blow. 93 Hymn for Decoration Day III O hearts that bleed, O souls that cry Against the working of His will Whose storms leave sunshine in the sky, Whose darkness bids the dew fall still, Behold how soon His gracious years Bring joy for mourning, light for tears! IV No more the battle-tempest raves, Nor blood of brothers stains our sod: They slumber in untroubled graves Who passed through mortal strife to God; While softly stirs above the dead The sign for which their blood was shed. They sleep, who heard the cannon roar. The squadrons charge, the steel blades clang; Far from their dreams forevermore The onset fierce, the death-stroke's pang; The pain is past — the peace they won Shines sweet and steadfast as the sun. 94 Hymn for Decoration Day VI O therefore is it meet to bring Our garlands to the soldier's tomb, When sweetest blossoms of the Spring In Winter's frosty footsteps bloom, And Hope anew repeats to men That even this dust shall live again. 95 A SONG OF THE CENTURY {Written for the centennial anniversary of the incorporation of the town of Waterville, Maine, June 23, 1802.) WHO will not love his country — the dear land where he was born? And we who love thee in our pride, to-day will love thee more, Thou who sittest between the Seas with a hand on either shore! The sunset gold is in thy locks, thy face is toward the dawn. And in thy lap the orchards lie, the vineyards and the corn. II Thy mountain heights stand guard for aye; their white crests greet the sun; League on league thy forests marshal their serried pines below; A hundred rivers draw thy streams, rushing sea-ward as they go 96 A Song of the Century With the tribute of thy harvests and the triumphs thou hast won — Iron fruit of forge and furnace — who hath wrought as thou hast done? Ill The roar of mighty cities — the din of steel-clad ways that meet And clang and cross each other thou hearest, night and day, But thou 'rt hearkening to the children in their school- time and their play, And they grow to fight thy battles and fling beneath thy feet The accursed fraud and falsehood that would mar thy forehead sweet. IV Thy voice is heard in the Old World; they listen there — and heed : "What child of yesterday is this, that bids us all beware? "She waxes bold as beautiful, she has strength and gold to spare!" 97 A Song of the Century So they forge their guns and build their ships, and are thy friends indeed; While England laughs across the Sea — "Blood tells — we know the breed!" O well it is to dwell with thee, North or South, or East or West, But in all thy pleasant borders from the mountains to the Sea, The valley of the Kennebec is the place where I would be! And here 's a little City, dearer far than all the rest; 'T is her hundredth birthday! — cheer her now, you who know her best! VI You who know how fair her homes are beneath the summer shade, How many churches lift their spires — how trimly court and lawn With verdure charm the stranger's eye — how cheerily at dawn 98 A Song of the Century Bell and whistle wake her echoes — how Time's magic touch has laid A spell upon her College walls whose memory shall not fade! VII Look back to the old Taconnet; your Waterville lies there, A cluster of rude dwellings in the clearing by the stream Where the shining salmon leaps; and the prowling wild- cat's scream At midnight scares the settler, in his troubled dream aware Of the dreaded Indian war-whoop and the burning roof- tree's flare. VIII Other days and other lives now! But many a time, since then, In peace and war the little town has borne her part right well. She has her roll of heroes — some who unrecorded fell. 99 A Song of the Century They have passed; but what they stood for, stands; this day we bless the men Who taught and toiled and fought for us with sword and spade and pen. IX They have passed — as we shall pass! Another century will see The green turf growing over our own unheeded dust; Well for thee, O little City, if some lives, generous, pure, and just. Sow in thee to-day the seed whose fair harvest then shall be A city's crown of glory — a people worthy to be free! loo WX7 89 ^^ 'Ta. a^ ♦■ 'bV 0" ^^^* o. \ ^^ A^^^'V t<. A^ ' .A^ [heckman |i||''**o ' BINDERY INC. ■«■ I O- *■ O H ' ^O ^^ * • . -I * IAN «|- .^IIX^^ ^'^"'^^ '^^^^J /""^ '-'- JDERY INC. PI '\^'''>.o'''(P V*''"^*^^'*' '^ '*»'•' ^^ N. MANCHESTER. gV ^^ <^'^* "^ll^' "^^"^ * ^IR ^ ^vP