IGHT / Book ^n7 CORfRIGHT DEPOSm SUNLIGHT AND STARLIGHT BY HENRY G. KOST i g^AimetV6RITAJ|p BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS Copyright, 1911, by Henry G. Kost All Rights Reserved The Gorham Press, Boston, U. s. a. tCI.A320340 TO THE MEMORY ' OF MY PARENTS 'Aimer, c'est agir." Victor Hugo. CONTENTS Our Country and Some Men Page. I Love Thee, Columbia 1 1 Columbia's Call 12 To the Nation's Conscience 13 The White Fleet 15 Abraham Lincoln 16 William McKinley 17 Henry George 19 George Washington 20 Napoleon Bonaparte * 21 John Keats 21 The Grave of Joseph Rodman Drake 22 Thoughts, Scenes and Events. The Ideal 27 The Old Peddler 29 Lorelei Despoiled 29 To the Egyptian Obelisk 33 Irish Melodies 34 Old Periodicals 34 South Africa 35 Israel, Mourning, 1905 36 Alt Muetterchen 37 The Witch 38 The Electric Car 40 Fiddle Notes '. 41 Saturday Night 42 Nature's Noblemen 43 De Profundis 43 The Hyacinth 44 Denny's Pool 45 Christmas 47 5 CONTENTS Musings and Problems. Page. Youth 51 To Time 52 Human Wishes 53 To Man 54 At Midnight 55 Only for a Day 56 Dreaming, Dreaming 57 The Music of the Stars 58 Midnight — "One Day Less" 59 Envy 60 Jealousy 61 Avarice 62 Quien Sabe ? 63 Resemblance 63 Ad Astra ? 64 Mors Pallida 64 Nature Daybreak 69 To a Robin 70 The Seasons 71 Niagara 72 Early Spring 74 Spring 75 The Brook 76 In June 77 June Twilight in Town 78 Night in June 78 Song 79 Daylight and Starlight 80 The Ocean 81 Farwell to the Mountains 82 Sunset 83 6 CONTENTS Personal and Emotional. Page. Remembrance 87 Resurrection 87 To My Wife 88 Wanderlust 88 To My Daughter 89 To My Son Edgar 89 June Child 90 To My Sister 90 Guidance 91 Woman's Sphere 92 To Sadie C 92 To S. C. 93 "Mizpah" 93 Night and Day 94 Slumber Song 94 Meeting — Parting 95 Conservatism 95 My Mother 96 Vanished 96 At Moonrise 97 Wherefore ? 97 Vanitas 98 The Maiden's Lament 98 Everyday Verse. Satan's Comments 103 The Road to Success for the Modern Poet. . 104 The Past to the Present 105 Modern War 107 Sic 108 The WTiite Man's Privilege 108 Rags and Rubbish 109 War, A. D., 1900 — Peace, A. D.? no 7 CONTENTS Page. Trusts 112 "Manly Sport" 112 The Poet 114 Le Grand Tour 116 Songs of Childhood. Seasons 121 Games 124 Wee Folks 127 OUR COUNTRY AND SOME MEN I LOVE THEE, COLUMBIA* I love thee, Columbia, fair land of the west. By nature with lavish hand bounteously blest: Thy streams sparkling silver, thy plains waving gold. Thy lakes Heaven's mirrors, thy peaks towering bold; ^Vhere the palm's sunny leaves greet the evergreen pine And the fruits of the west and the east intertwine. O refuge from oppression, Thou home of liberty; Whose starry banner shelters Freemen, forever free! I love thee, Columbia, for patriots died To wrest thee from tyrants that justice denied. Thy sons bled to save, from disruption and shame, Thy banner of stars and thy glory and fame, That, still, from thy shores there may ring o'er the sea The watchword of freedom, the song of the free. O refuge from oppression, Thou home of liberty; Whose starry banner shelters Freemen, forever free! I love thee, Columbia. In progress and toil, In love for thee rival the sons of thy soil ; From the Lakes to the Gulf, from Atlantic's wild roar To majestic Pacific's gold-glistening shore — Were a foe thee to threaten, thy name to despise. Thy sons in invincible ranks would arise. *Copyright, 1900, by Carl Fischer, New York. Music by T. M. Tobani. II O refuge from oppression, Thou home of liberty; Whose starry banner shelters Freemen, forever free! I love thee, Columbia, and, true e'er to thee, I'll strive for thy glory, O land of the free. May "Justice to all," be thy motto so brave, "Where none shall be master, and none shall be slave" — A nation united, as one we will stand : Our hearts pledged to thee, our dear native land. O refuge from oppression. Thou home of liberty; Whose starry banner shelters Freemen, forever free! 1897 COLUMBIA'S CALL Hark! 'tis the blast of the bugle. Hark! 'tis the blare of the drum: Arise in your might, ye patriots, The time to act has come. Ye freemen, it is our country's call — Americans, warriors, one and all! To arms ! To arms ! To arms ! Once more we'll follow the banner, Whose stars unblemished shine; Our sacred flag of freedom. Blest by the will divine. Forward ! ye men of the northland, Onward ! ye men of the west ; The south and the east send greetings. By one dear mother blest. Columbia, thy sons have heard thee all. Resolved to face the world at thy call. 12 To arms! To arms! To arms! Once more we'll follow the banner, Whose stars unblemished shine; Our sacred flag of freedom, Blest by the will divine. Strike! and remember the battles Your sires for liberty won; — Seventy-six, and the spirit Of hallowed Lexington. Columbia, with joy we heed thy call. United to shield thee, one and all. To arms! to arms! to arms! Once more we'll follow the banner. Whose stars unblemished shine; Our sacred flag of freedom. Blest by the will divine. 1898 TO THE NATION'S CONSCIENCE When you struck the shackles from him And you called your chattel man — Who, through gloomy centuries, suffered 'Neath his color's darkened ban; When you gave the rights of freemen To the race your sires enslaved. How your hearts, with pride ennobled, Cheered the saviors and the saved ! Writ with golden letters, glistening In the sun of juster days. Flashed the purer constitution. Hailed and sung by poets' praise. While the world, slow evoluting From its prejudicial night. Marvelled that a nation's conscience Boldly dared assert its might. 13 When, oppressed by powers of darkness, Faintly came a cry for aid, With your open hearts you lavished, Blazed your will with gleaming blade. Yet, how strange! With deeds recorded. Glory gained in alien land — You would snatch the gift you granted From your brother's pleading hand? Name the day when, from his colors, Cravenly the freedman fled! Speak the word ! With heart devoted. For your land he fought and bled! 'Neath the Stars and Stripes he conquered. Side by side with brethren true — AVhat that flag meant for the negro, Judge by what it means for you! Would you thrust him from the hearthstone That your fathers, willing, gave? From him wrest the rights of freemen, Whom your noblest died to save? Justice dwells where men are equal ; Hearken to her voice sublime. Lest you banish her you cherished. Turning back the hands of time. Oh, remember your traditions! Progress pales that leaves behind Bitter thoughts of wrongs unrighted. In the march of humankind. Guard the flaming torch of freedom. Yours, by right, in sacred trust! Lead the world in might and glory! Fearless, righteous, fair, and just! 1903 14 THE WHITE FLEET At Riverside We are here, in our garments of white, In the hour of triumph and peace. When we spake the world was listening, And its wonder will never cease. There was need for our being and action, That our country no laggard be, Whose boast had become a legend — That she'd hold her own on the sea. We arose when the people called us, We arose from the brains that planned. In strength, to strike death and terror To the foes of our peerless land. 'Neath the torrid sun of Asia We spoke — none were left to reply; And the Pearl of the smiling Antilles Saw us speak and our foemen die. No more shall the sad lamentation For Columbia's decline on the sea Pierce the hearts of her sons with sorrow — We are strong, and thus ever shall be. Flaunt the banner that blazed at Manila And the flag at Santiago unfurl'd! When we spoke it was ever to conquer. And our voice was heard all o'er the world. We are firm, and the mail that binds us Is no truer, indeed, than the steel Of the sons of the land of freedom, Who handle our guns and our wheel. 15 We are here, in our garments of white, In the hour of triumph and peace. When we spake the world was listening, And its wonder will never cease. 1900 ABRAHAM LINCOLN A rude log-cabin in the western wilds; A poor boy bent in study by the blaze Of home-made torch, and drinking, with delight. Wisdom's pure waters, in the lonely night. A sturdy youth, whose blade hoar giants fells To mark the outposts of man's daring fight With stubborn nature, and whose willing toil Wrings frugal sustenance from the virgin soil. An honest heart, replete with simple faith In the eternal righteousness of truth. When calumny casts o'er the weak its blight, An advocate of man's God-given right. A matchless winner of his people's trust, Whose plea sincere is born of guileless thought; Who towers, unreached, above the learned and staid. Whose rugged grandeur makes mere culture fade. A ruler by a sovereign nation's voice; A chief in council with unsullied soul. Whose saddened visage speaks the crowding care. Of burdens, he alone, of men, could bear. A faithful helmsman in the raging storm, Whose trust, unshaken, guides the ship of state O'er seas that hunger, with tempestuous might. To tear the covenant based on mutual right. 16 A bold eraser of the blot of shame, Who strikes the shackles from a trodden race, And crushes treason, with no faltering pause, In faith abiding in a righteous cause. An humble victor in a hapless strife, To malice stranger, and to vengeance blind, Whose outstretched hand would raise the fallen foe, Whose Christ-like heart forgives the treacherous blow. A martyr, whom malignant fate denied The modest mete his patient soul had craved, E'en when the sun, at last, burst through the pall That hung, tenacious, threatening woe to all. A memory! O a sainted shade — mankind Will ever cherish and will justly claim, — WTiile day and night on Time's round dial stand, — The noblest gift God gave this western land. 1901 WILLIAM McKINLEY Died September 14th, 1901 Toll slow, O mournful bells, Our sorrow from dolorous throats, Your sad and solemn knells, Your woe-betokening notes! Ah, grief amongst us dwells. And lowly our banner floats: Our leader, chosen and tried. Our chieftain, benign and great, Our trust, and our hope, and our pride, Hath given his life for the state. 17 Your tribute, O cannons, roar O'er our ocean-girt land and the seas, — With your echoing thunder deplore, And the weighted silence release. Ah, well may our eagle soar, Half-hearted, in days like these: He hath fallen by coward hand, Who, beloved and exalted, stood; And a wail fills our cherished land, At the loss of the great and the good. Sound soft, O easeful airs, Twining comfort with sorrow and tears. Like a saint's ascending pray'rs. When death life's blossom sears. Ah, virtue honored fares, Victorious o'er dread and fears: O faith from those dying lips! O love of that failing voice! In your faintness pure eclipse A thousand sermons choice. Be hushed, O million sounds. Ye tireless wheels be still! For we all have a share in those wounds, That our bosoms with anguish fill. Ah, reverence glideth its rounds With a sad and tremulous thrill: Let us lay our leader to rest. Our chieftain, faithful and great. Enshrined in our hearts, ever blest, Who gave his life for the state 1 1901 18 HENRY GEORGE Died October 29th, 1897 Though not thy follower, yet now, that thou art gone, I feel a void, as when some brilliant star Is vanished from the mortal eyes of men — Some star that beamed its hopeful rays to guide The hopeless and the struggling, lonely one. Thou wast a man, a man, in these forlorn Conglomerate days, when many atoms strive Vainly to build some homogeneous soul That might pass muster as of sterner mould — Such as our fathers', when this land was born. A latter Franklin, in these days of gain, This era of aggrandizement; — how strange — A man in public life, whose only aim The welfare of his fellows, and whose voice Was raised to lift the lowly to a human plane ! Honest and fearless! — O how few can say That selfish interests flee their uttered word; That circumstances do not shape their course And bid them bow to some Gesslerian sham. Their manhood at some idol's feet to lay! Give me a man that calls a spade a spade ! One who is bound to see his honest thought Expressed in words that quibblers cannot shake, And man enough to bear the sting of want. The pain of censure, struggling undismayed. Truth must prevail, as the eternal sun His rays yields to our helpless planet Earth, — - So the inherent consciousness of right And justice will pursue its certain course, And warm the failing heart to work luidone. J9 Heroic men are few, and when they die The boastful strutters of this globe must feel How vain is life before the giant-death, That smites the great, the just, the small, alike And grinds to dust the frames that time defy. But works remain, deeds of an honest soul Leave imprints on the sands of endless time — Thus, this brave lover of mankind will live. This honest champion of the rights of man, This friend of justice, whom the just extol. 1897 GEORGE WASHINGTON Serene and pure, thou loomst on History's page, A man of action, and yet more than man ; For God doth mold on some supremer plan A nation's founder, who creates his age. In danger calm, and virtue's favorite child, — Thy master-mind controlled a people's fate; Thy sword carved out a free and happy state; Thv wisdom curbed the passions keen and wild. The first among thy people, in whose heart Thou'lt live exalted and in love enshrined, While men may breathe of freedom's holy air. Thy spirit guide us when the heavens are fair. And lead us safely through the storms that blind, - Thy deeds our pole-star, and thy life our chart. 1 901 20 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE Pale boy of Corsica — hungry, without a name, Fed on ambition, all insatiate, To make thyself the greatest of the great ; Whose demon-zeal set half the world aflame! Petit corporel, who sentry's duty shared, Swelled to the despot, madly levelling all To keep perturbed Europe in thy thrall; Moving kings on life's chessboard as none other dared. What medley strange of mind's supremacy. Of intellectual height, with ruthless greed, and coarse. Thine, man of destiny, that knewest not love or pain ! Worshipped, yet hated, scoffing diplomacy — Latter Attila — master of plans and wars — But to all mankind — incarnate disdain! 1895 JOHN KEATS Immortal dreamer, who, with magic pen, Wokest Attic beauty from the tomb of time; And, conqueror of fashion, space, and clime, Sangst thine own soul into the souls of men ! E'en now, Endymion, with his silver queen Floats, whispering gently, on night's amorous breeze ; Hastes Porphyro bold, when chilled fountains freeze. To keep sweet tryst with saintly Madeleine. 21 Deep in gloom forest's banished, throbbing heart Yet wistful eye may trace Hyperion sad, Dim with the burden of unsceptred woe. O Pan still pipes, and Dian's virgin dart Cleaves rustling foliage where, in accents glad, Undying songs through poesy's kingdom flow. 1 901 THE GRAVE OF JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE Hunt's Point, Bronx Borough "Green be the turf above thee. Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee Nor named thee but to praise." Halleck. Scrubby knoll above the field, Straggling sunbeams, scarce revealed. Tangled bushes; vagrant trees; Weeds persistent; lulling breeze. Cobwebs clinging, brambled maze. Dim in twilight's ghostly haze. Fallen stones and mouldering names — Dust to dust, as Fate proclaims. Softly step, lest careless tread Pass upon the lonely dead In their home, that kindly earth Destined for them at their birth. Alas for the poet, too soon called away From the magic realm of the Culprit Fay! From the slow-gliding Bronx that inspired his muse With its waters pellucid, now prey to abuse. 22 O for the singer, whose voice rang on high In his song of the Flag that he claimed from the sky! Had he been spared, O Columbia, to thee. Proudly defiant from sea unto sea! Had he beheld thee, the queen of the world, Envied wherever thy banner's unfurl'd! Feared and respected, unsullied and free, Thy stars the bright beacons of liberty! Endless his sleep in his narrow cot. By many unnoticed, by few not forgot; Lonely, neglected — but little to spare Had mother-Earth for this poet so rare. Running wild riot, the weeds rank enslave, By blossoms unbrightened, the singer's lone grave. Yet, when the summer-night silently falls, Fire-flies flit and the cricket calls. And, from their slumber, elf, goblin, and fay Hasten to guard him who sang their lay ; Sang of their deeds in the long-ago, When his pulses beat and his cheeks were aglow. Bright, on the swell of the azure wave, Flashes the flag of the free and the brave; Blazons the emblem he proudly sung, — Deathless, his strains, and inspiring, have rung. And, in the distance, the echoing roar Speaks of his country's might from the shore; Speaks from the mouth of the cannon grim — Terror of foes, but a tribute to him. Tangled the bushes, neglected the spot. Lonely and flowerless the singer's cot. Many the days since they laid him to rest, 23 _ ^: Gathered so young to the realms of the blest. And the moons that waned and the years that died Enshroud his life in eternity's tide. Faint, like a sigh from the dim spirit-land, Glide the sad lines traced by friendship's true hand. Tears, their mute music, e'er sacred they be — Honoring the poet who sang of the free! 1900 24 THOUGHTS, SCENES, AND EVENTS THE IDEAL When violets azure starred the mead And smiling wreaths crowned happy trees, A youth strode on, where blade and weed Swayed gently in sweet vernal breeze. 'Twas rapturous light illumed his eyes, E'en while he asked enthusiast-wise: "O saw ye not the maiden rare. With dreamy eye and raven hair? Her form is light as sunbeam fair; Her voice is soft as angel's pray'r." The ploughman halts his patient yoke. On knotty arm he leans his frame; "I saw her not," he slowly spoke, "And doubt she ever hither came." While fields rejoiced in flowers bright And nature throbbed with life and song. By hope's own pulsing blush bedight, A sturdy traveller passed along. Though steadfastly he plod his way, Yet pause he would, to query aye: "O saw ye not the maiden rare. With dreamy eye and raven hair? Her form is light as sunbeam fair; Her voice is soft as angel's pray'r." His sweeping scythe the reaper staid; His palm relieved toil's glistening brow; "I saw her not," he thoughtful said. Nor ever passed she hence, I trow." 27 The shade was heaped with rounded fruit, Ripe autumn stored the bams full well; His path, a wanderer hoar, pursued, Whose beard o'er aching bosom fell. His frame on limbs all-palsied sway'd. Yet feebly quoth he, undismay'd: "O saw ye not the maiden rare, With dreamy eye and raven hair? Her form is light as sunbeam fair; Her voice is soft as angel's pray'r." The gleaner glanced from stooping task, And pity smoothed his rugged face, — "I saw her not, for whom you ask. Nor one like her, about this place." On hill and dale white mantle lay. And hard and hopeless froze the ground ; The starlight's lonely keep alway Remained a bare, unfriended mound. And from it floats, in ghostly breath. The quest bequeath'd by life to death: "O saw ye not the maiden rare. With dreamy eye and raven hair? Her form is light as sunbeam fair; Her voice is soft as angel's pray'r." The eyes of heaven search afar Throughout the pathless universe — "I saw her not," thus beams each star, 'Tis vain to seek such charms as hers." 1 901 28 THE OLD PEDDLER A poor old man who bears a triple load : — His aching-gathered wares to eke his life, And age, and poverty — so Atlas-like, Upon his shoulders, with a world of woe. Let him not pass without a kindly nod Of sympathy, to help him bear his lot With less heart-breaking, and a mite to ease His lessening journey to its looming end. He, too, once smiled upon a mother's breast. And gamboled, joyful, o'er the village-green, Or cleared the hedges with an agile foot ; In youth, eyed buxom maids with eyes aglow With passion, long since buried with his past. His lot was lowly and his mind enslaved By ignorance, or dulled with dreary toil; His wants, the cravings of the primitive. But he is human and deserves a glance, E'en from the thoughtless, for he, too, can claim God's fathership and part of mother Earth, When, from his labor, he shall fall asleep, — As all his brethren sink to rest some day, — To be forgotten, while the world goes on. 1900 LORELEI DESPOILED Fashioned, immaculate, by cunning hands, I vainly craved for some secluded spot, Nestled among the vineyards of my native stream, Haunted by legends of the age of dreams, Sacred to deepest passion, where, forsooth, Fair Aphrodite might cleave the golden waves. Lending her ravished ear to some immortal song. As, on his chariot, from the flaming east, Phoebus Apollo poured his flood of light. Mingled with flood of harmony divine, 29 To lighten and inspire the human heart, Burdened of worldly cares, and sore with grief — Such as the glad Immortals never knew; Such as my poet felt as mortal man. E'en while his spirit tasted joys divine, Sipping of nectar, on ambrosia fed. Though fleshly torment racked his earthly frame. Yet vain my craving, by the stream of song, The tabernacle of Teutonic hearts. My spirit's ancient haunts, to muse and sing. While Helios' rays, bom from Oceanus' depths. With sparks lit on divine Olympian heights, My tresses kissed, and shone my flashing comb. Luring the woful youth to amorous spell. For mortals tore my singer from his grave, Hurling anathemas upon his silent lips, Piercing his heart with shafts of venomed hate, — "Unpatriotic mocker, skeptic vagabond, Sensuous voluptuary, scribbler bribed by foes. Doubter of doubtless rights of kings' divine. Base, ingrate proselyte, blasphemer," and the like They cried, and turned me from my native haunts — A restless wanderer on this whirling orb. Driven from home, mine eyes drank in the west, Where Phoebus settles in a burst of gold. More splendid in its wealth than Midas knew; Sacred to human freedom, where the stars Shine forth in azure field and lend their shielding ray To millions, free and equal, — sovereigns all. By right divine, ordained of human will; Where each may serve the Power his heart conceives To the full measure of his conscience, free. 30 In true adorement, of his neighbor's thoughts; Yet where all kneel at Freedom's altar, raised On broadest base of equal rights for all. Here lingered I, awaiting some fair place Within the confines of the garden-spot, Wherein the tumult rests to dream and play; Where children, great and small, are void of care. And Nature smiles with Art, their hands a-clasped. But lo, with plans and tablets, learned men. With compass, rule, and magnifying glass. With the experience of the connoisseur And expert judgment, came, and, forthwith, found Me, and my cherished emblematic train — "Ill-fitted, unaesthetic, ugly, vile, And deviating from most sacred rules." And thus decreed my exile to extend. Until some pitying heart might grasp my woe, With generous hand provide some welcome home, Where I might rest from my long wandering. Rumor, borne gently, on mild Notus' wings. Breathed softly that, from the bright city, famed For its surprising wealth of women fair, The summons came to bid me join the throng Of chiselled images, that dare not vie With the more perfect forms that grace its homes; And from the shores of the majestic stream, Yon superb rival of my native Rhine, There floated, faintly, from the western bank. Amid the noise of traffic, and the clang Of whirring wheel and shrill, disturbing valve. The cry subdued: "Ah come to us, fair maid, Within our fields, Elysian, rest be thine!" But vain the rumor, vain the welcome tones, 31 Beating but feebly on the surging throngs That, rushing breathless, with unceasing toil, Make, what she is, the Empress of the West. At last, at last, I found a resting place Amid the lonely regions of the Bronx, Where, slow, the surging waves of trade subside, And lovely nature sadly yields to fate; Where tree and flower survive to mutely breathe, For some brief spell, of more poetic days. When frugal fare and honest, sober toil Had fit reward in lengthened lives of peace, And madly-rushing crowds did not pursue The fleeting feet of Hermes, to o'ertake The god and grasp his store of glistening gold, — The goal of this industrial, noisy age. Here, mid the swaying trees, they gave me rest From my long wanderings, step-child, I, of scorn, Of narrow quibbling for my poet's sake. Of rigid ruling in the name of art. Rest, rest I found, and thousands greeted me With hearts of welcome, chanting my fair song. That made my singer deathless to this world. Ah me — I weep — at last to rest, and find Myself despoiled by an ignoble hand, — E'en on Columbia's hospitable soil: — Sad Melancholy's lonely features crushed; My fair Euterpe headless, and the rose She offered my sweet singer, ruthless torn With her soft arm, from her entrancing frame. And why this act ? Did base, malignant spite Thus vent its wrath ? or gloomy prejudice. Slink darkly forth, enwrapped in inky night. To coward deed? or were conceived, perchance, These fatal blows of some befuddled brain? 32 Ah me ! Far have I wandered ; rudely coarse Hath been my treatment at the hands of men ; But now, this heartless vandal adds disgrace To all my suffering, and I mutely bow My head in sorrow, and my thoughts shall be Unuttered to th' impassive throng, and mute, My lips — I dream of fairer days, when song Of glad Immortals filled my breast with joy, Nor breathed its sweetness on man's prose-dulled ear, Till my great singer sang it to the world. 1900 TO THE EGYPTIAN OBELISK Hail, Ancient Stranger from the land of Morn! Who, in old age, hast sought these western climes. From the veiled past where, mythic and forlorn, Rose Heliopolis in forgotten times. On thee, O emblem of the rising sun, A hundred generations gazed and died. And passed to nothing, while thou stand'st as one Born for eternity — great Thotmes' pride. He, who once raised thee to Hor em akhou, Would have, as mighty Phra, thee grant and give E'erlasting life, and thou, with language true, Imbuest mortal with desire to live. Still, when thine age he calmly contemplates And counts the hastening years 'twixt birth and death. Life seems a mockery, and unkind the Fates, That, when he wills to live, deny him breath. 33 "O for a long existence, and to see Those scenes that thou complacently hast view'd!" The soul's vain longing, whose philosophy: To search life's depths — serves only to delude. Remind, mute witness of the distant past, Remind the heedless of those gone before. Life's vanity thy theme, while thou shalt last, Oblivion, when towards heaven thou point'st no more. IRISH MELODIES I heard the soft plaint with its harmony floating. The sigh of a people, the voice of a race; And the melody sad, with its accents denoting A tribute to love, wreathed with chivalry's grace. I thought of your fate, your devotion to freedom; The ken of your stern resolution was mine. And the struggle and strife for ideals you cherish, That link all your hearts, like a mission divine. I thought of your valor — the vanguard in battle, Your bright wit and humor, your keen repartee. Your love for that isle — and they all seemed trans- figured — Your songs drew the tears of affection from me. 1 901 OLD PERIODICALS Mutely ye lie, and yet, how eloquent Your still appeal recalls to memory Those by-gone days, when many an hour I spent Upon your pictured page, and history, Romance, and science their enchantment lent. 34 You spoke to me, in thousand various ways, The thoughts of gifted minds, and iancy's touch Revealed not, then, the toil, the pain, for praise And fleeting gold — e'en if their lot was such — That spurred long-orphaned pens in halcyon days. Mutely ye lie ; and heartless, base, it seems To turn you from the home that welcomed once Your weekly visit, and where youth's fond dreams Wove visions of the future, in response To inspiration from your magic reams. Ah grievous pity! sheltering space is small, So, to damp mouldering, you must be consigned. In dismal subterranean gloom, or fall To strangers who, perchance, may, scattered, find Your serried numbers, at some petty stall. Thus, ye are fated, faithful friends of old, To share life's round of harsh vicissitude. The world is open for the young and bold; It greets the infant — yet, how destitute In veneration! — to the aged, how cold! 1901 SOUTH AFRICA Who seeks for cause in this unholy strife. That bids the very heavens cry for shame; This hideous sacrifice of pulsing life. This carnage for most pitiable fame? 'Twas not the gold that Afric's bosom bears; 'Twas not the mandate 'gainst an alien rule. That smote this earth with hellish pang, and tears The hearts that beat not in some wretch or fool. 35 Human aggression and man's stubborn mind, These sway yon scions of a brother-race, Whose sturdy valor dazzles all mankind, Whose murderous struggle, Christ's own words dis- grace. Aye, talk of progress, ye, who string the soul On dry statistics and, with wrinkled mien, Shake for j^our problem, lest survive the whole, And not your fittest, as you fondly ween. Go, preach your doctrine to the human beast, Enraged for blood, and calling on its God To justify its ravage, unappeast By gory streams and grave-uprooted sod. Ah, glorious progress, wise, enlightened age, That cannot stay the fratricidal blow! Shame-faced, turn back cold Clio's blood-stained page Ten centuries or more, and voiceless grow! There seek, ye thoughtful sophists, if ye must. The cause, the justice of this sacrifice. That stamps God's creatures into useless dust, And mocks your culture, with its frenzied eyes. 1901 ISRAEL, MOURNING, 1905 Aye, mourn thy slain, O Israel, weep, and mourn The gloomy powers that would efface thy name With gory torch, and blaze their own, base shame, In dullness brute, by envy's hand upborne. 36 Ah, through the ages hast thou mourned the scorn, The venomed shafts that hate, 'mid hoarse acclaim, Through centuries flung, yet vainly strove to maim Thy spirit bowed, but firm and unforlom. Do not despair! Ere long the day shall dawn When, slain, at last, by thought's all-conquering might. Black prejudice shall yield its brutal ghost. And ignorance perish with its loathsome spawn ; When truth, unbound, shall flood the world with light, And upward, onward, lead her clear-eyed host. 1905 ALT MUETTERCHEN Yon silvery locks once shown like gold, And smooth as apples were those cheeks, Where roses bloomed and blushed of old. That paled and fled the furrowed streaks. Those gentle eyes with quiet gaze. Once laughed bewitchingly, and burned Their fire in hearts that craved the blaze. And recognition humbly yearned. How lithe, in graceful dances, swayed That stooping form when, round and fair, On dainty feet, a winsome maid. She glided, sylph-like, debonair. Those shrivelled hands, once soft and white, A long-forgotten dollie clasped ; In childish glee, with pure delight. The wreath from fragrant meadows grasped. 37 The trifles of those buried days, Like flowers, spring from memory's tomb; And childhood's joys, the final rays Of dying stars, pierce age's gloom. 1 901 THE WITCH "Lead forth the witch!" the justice spake — "She hath been found, by Christian folk, Allied with Satan's goat and drake, And willful sought the arch-fiend's yoke." "So, therefore, for the common weal. And in the name of the Most High, It now is meet that justice seal Her fate, and, forthwith, she mote die." "Upon the stake she shall expire; Dark sin hath long defiled her heart; Her soul be cleansed by flame and fire, And with her perish devilish art." The crowded square is hushed and still, With agitation vain to trace. Though yon accusers hide but ill Their bated breath and ashen face. And eyes, bewitched in rigid stare. Behold a hapless creature led By law's cold hands, a maiden fair. With guilt's base chaplet on her head. She mounts the scaffold, lost in dream, No sigh escapes her branded breast; Nought, in her black eyes' furtive gleam, Save awed bewilderment exprest. 38 Her frame is slight; her cheeks are pale, Yet vagrant blushes o'er them haste As, rudely, though she, trembling, quail, A sinewed churl enchains her waist. A flickering flame — a piercing shriek To heav'n ascends — an eager blaze, Whose tongues man's fiery sentence speak, And wrest her from man's fiercer gaze. Still lips are mute and hearts beat slow, Nor silent pray'r the spell can break. That hisses in yon dazzling glow, And, quivering, crimsons cloud and lake. 'Tis done. — The throng, reluctant, leaves The smouldering scene of vanquished shame. Where lingering smoke still darkly weaves Its funeral wreath o'er dying flame. A sluggish stream subservient seeks Its hav'n of peace, the meeting-house, Whose bare unworldliness bespeaks The parson's theme and knitted brows. In sombre sermon he exhorts His passive listeners to beware The fiend, that modest virtue courts, And glibly lays his treacherous snare. "Go hence, ye sinners, to your home" — His thundering words, the voice of doom — "Know ye, who from God's pathway roam. That sinful joys reap death and gloom." 39 "Go, contrite, hence, and, fervent, pray That, humbly, ye may live and serve The Lord, as He decides ye may. Nor from His stern commandments swerve!" Morn's rosy smile becalms the sea ; The west-wind rocks the flowers of spring, And where may saints and sinners be? — O'er leveled graves the robins sing. Through time's cool archways glides a sigh ; A ghostly whisper links the years; The same sun gilds the same blue sky. And joy is wedded still to tears. 1 901 THE ELECTRIC CAR I come with a hiss and I pass with a roar; I am gone like the blast on a desolate shore. My frame is of iron ; my soul is the spark That man has enslaved from the powers of dark. For haste is my motto, and speed is my song; My master must think when I'm rushing along; For life is a span, and time it is gold, And man, to succeed, must be nimble and bold. I care not for anguish; I halt not for pain; I note not the victims my hurry has slain; None hinder my progress, nor curses nor tears — Life hinges on seconds, and seconds make years. 1 901 40 FIDDLE NOTES Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle, Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle: O'er the distance, through the night, While the silent stars are listening, Nimble music wakes the fiddle. Winging laughter, silv'ry bright. Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle, Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle: Care is fled and mirth is king. For the glad brief summer hours; Life has ceased to be a riddle — Heart and voice concordant ring. Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle, Di dee li dee, — di lee, di lid-die: Eyes a-sparkling, clear as day. Cool, refreshing breezes dally. Agile feet inspires the fiddle; Graceful forms in rhythm sway. Di dee H dee, — di lee, di lid-die, Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle: Might thus e'er the heart accent, While it beats, this thoughtless pleasure; Leaving sages solve the riddle. O'er their gloomy pages bent. Di dee li dee, — di lee, di Hd-dle, Di dee li dee, — di lee, di lid-die. 1900 41 SATURDAY NIGHT How sad the sight — a strong man led By yonder child along the street, With staggering step and muddled head, While curses, foul, his lips repeat. A slave to passions that degrade, Nor bind their chains on lowest beast; That holiest duties bid evade, And sway the greatest like the least. It is not mine to cast the stone, I know mankind is prone to sin; But years of toil could not atone For wrongs like this, to nearest kin. My heart beats for yon anxious boy Who feels his sire's keen disgrace. What thoughts his young hopes must destroy, With shame stamped on his youthful face! O subtle demon, that dost creep With treacherous charm through helpless man. And dost thy weakened victim keep From honor's call and nature's plan! Ah, wretched beings, who incite Such scenes as this, for petty gain! Yon child's sad eyes your deeds indict; To God, his tears shall not be vain. 1901 4a NATURE'S NOBLEMEN Here is health to the man that says "yes", or says no , — Be he wise or unlearned, be he brilliant or slow. I am full, to the core, with disgust and disdain For the quibblers and gliders, intriguers and vain. Here's a shake for the hand that is warm and is firm; For the snake and the worm are cold-blooded and squirm. I detest the conceit that is blatant and loud; I abhor the smooth villain that slinks through the crowd. Here's success to the work that is honest and fair, Be it planted on earth, be it builded in air. May the devil confound his slick pupil that tries To attain any goal by his cringing and lies. 1901 DE PROFUNDIS "Here, where men sit and hear each other groan." J Keats. O Health, fair goddess of the beaming face. Now but a memory, who wert once my friend, My childhood's rosy guardian, wont to lend Uncraved, thy presence, with benignant grace. — O did my midnight musings, and the trace Of siren Nicotine bid thee forefend My listless couch, that Morpheus dost not send, From quivering brain enjoining time and space? 43 Or is life's daily rack thine mortal foe? Since thou elud'st me, when, with impish glee. Fears, frights, and torments palsy, dumb and slow. Mine onward step, and throttle, dizzily. Clear thought, nor wouldst my poor, weak heart assuage. Fluttering, like captive bird, in poisoned cage. 1906 THE HYACINTH Of all the youth whom Hellas bore, None more than Hyacinthus fair; Beloved of the god of song. Endowed with charm and beauty rare. Alas, for those, on whom their love. In tender years, the gods bestow ; Not theirs the lot, the gifts divine To scatter long, on earth below. Twas thus, decreed the envious Fates, — Or jealous Zephyr's spiteful will — That from Apollo's hand should dart The discus, swift with fatal skill. As, wounded sore, and faint with pain. In Attica's embowered wood. The god-loved boy, expiring, lay. On moss-bed, stained with precious blood, — His heart transfixed with grief divine, Apollo bade a flow'r to spring, From each red drop, eternally, A fragrant ruby-wealth to bring. 44 And years have cOme and years have passed — Each vernal season sees arise On emerald stalk sweet jewels set, To feast man's sense, delight his eyes. And each fair blossom tells anew This touching tale of mythic days ; The hyacinth, with tears of dew, Turns longing to the sun-god's rays. 1905 DENNY'S POOL On the Eastkill, near Beaches Corners, Greene County, N. Y. Beware, beware of Denny's Pool And the rock that forms its side ; In the forest deep, by the mountain steep. Where the Eastkill's waters glide. O winsome, fair, is the laughing stream, As by sunlit field it hies. Where the elm-trees tall, and the willows' wall From their pictured image rise. But the inky depth of Denny's Pool, In its frame of hemlock's gloom, With its frowning face, is a gruesome place, That yawns like a watery tomb. When the Iroquois dwelt, a warrior-race, In the Mountains of the Sky,* When the war-whoop rang, and the bow-string's twang Bid the death-winged arrow fly, *Onteora — "Mountains of the Sky" — Indian term for the Catskills. 45 The Manitou, grieved, in his sorrow shed A tear from his great, grey eye; And it fell with a splash, like a thunder-crash, And the riven rocks echoed his sigh. But the red-man dreaded the spirit's wrath, Onteora grew peaceful and still; — And the pale-face came, and his axe and his name Blazed boldly on mountain and hill. Dan Denny set forth in the midsummer's night With his lure for the waters' queen; And he cast about, for the wily trout. The bushes and bowlders between; And he came to the rock that was riven in twain By the tear from the Manitou's eye; He saw, in the gloom, the watery tomb. And he whisked his moth-winged fly. But the Great-Spirit, wroth, in his righteous wrath Bid a monstrous trout to rise. And Denny's line sang, and the dim forest rang With his loud and exultant cries. And he played his prey in the dismal gloom. By the waning moon's faint ray; And he coaxed and curst, and in anger burst, Boding ill for his judgment-day. The sombre firs sighed 'mid the cruel fray. And the screech-owl hooted its cry, When Dan Denny vowed, by his soul and his shroud, To conquer his game, or to die. 46 As he leaned o'er the brink of the ebon crag, With a splash rose the king of the gloom, And the angler was flung, unshriven, unsung. To the bottomless depths of his tomb. In midsummer's night, when the moon hangs low And the fire-flies flash on the stream, A ghost faint is seen, the bushes between, Gliding on to the goal of his dream. Beware, beware of Denny's Pool, In its frame of forest's gloom; With its haunting face, 'tis a gruesome place. And grim as man's pitiless doom. 1909 CHRISTMAS Christmas bells! Christmas cheer! Happiest time in all the year; Though, in winter's icy clasp, Nature slumber, cold and drear, Field and wood be chill and sere. Christmas bell toll the knell O'er the corpse of frantic strife, Envy, hatred, selfish life; Let them lie in deepest grave. With no pray'rs their souls to save. Hail the birth, again on earth, Of sweet charity and worth — Christmas come, to open, wide, Hearts, by yule-lit fireside. Christmas star! Christmas tree! Tide of blissful memory, Light our path with guileless thought, 47 Bring the joy, oh joy of yore, From your unexhausted store. — Christmas star, from afar, Beam thy blessings, meek and mild, O'er the world grown wise and wild ; Beam with blessed ray again: "Peace on earth, good will to men." Christmas breathe, with incense rare, Love and kindness everywhere. Christmas fair! Christmas bright! Hail to thee, oh holy night! Thou, of nature's hope, the sign, Gav'st to earth the babe divine; Giv'st, unto these later days, Grateful hearts, and lips to praise. Wondrous night, that bid'st arise Visions craved by fancy's eyes: Fire-lit hills, in thought, we see. Brightest star o'er Galilee; Oak-tree wreathed with mistletoe, Humble manger's aureole glow. Christmas tide, oh abide With thy message, far and wide; Wave o'er hearts thy magic wand, Bringing peace to every land. Christmas, with thy gentle mood, Teach our common brotherhood. Bells and cheer, and star and tree, Christmas ever welcome be ! 1905 48 MUSINGS AND PROBLEMS YOUTH An ample armchair, clouds of ambient smoke, And thoughts — O solace for thy buried years! And if age chill thee? — wisdom's sober cloak Wrap snugly round thee, youth's own joys and tears No longer warm; of silvered strains, a throng Cheers not the monotone of dull routine. Nor hastes thy pulses to their wonted pace. But faint, unstirring, sounds that once-loved song; The breath of spring, its banner's emerald sheen, To thine experienced mind seem commonplace. O for the fountain that, in legends old. Poured forth its waves in some meridian Thule! Fragrant with blossomed breezes manifold From sun-girt lands, within whose crystal pool Men might wash oflF their years, and leap anew Into the turmoil, the glad strife of youth. That grasps the day and lets the morrow rest With its own cares, and, laughing, life's sore rue Shakes on slow wisdom, — wild, perchance, uncouth, Yet happy as yon warbler in its nest. O fame and station! — pitiful array, • Age-burdened, limp behind youth's winged feet. Vain would the worrying purse with red-cheeked play. Or cares of state with boyhood's joy compete. O monarchs true! whose steeds, subservient hours. Bear you, at will, amid the magic train Of pleasure, dedicate to rosy health. O kings uncrowned ! that dream not of your powers. Yet rule a realm age never can regain, Armed, cap-a-pie, with years, with thought, and wealth ! 1903 51 TO TIME O fleeting spirit that, impassionate, Pursuest, unhalting, thine eternal course, With naught to bid thy hastening foot to pause, Nor genial welcome to thee, soulless fate! Remorseless, chase, insensate, — unconcerned By life or death, unmoved by smile or tear, Thou turn'st the guiltless hope to trembling fear. And quenchest zeal that for perfection yearned. What is to thee ambition's lofty flight? That hast seen empires sink to nameless graves! What import to thee, sovereigns and slaves? That hold'st, in equal balance, day and night! The merry laughter of sweet childhood's joy. The artless fancy of love-drunken hearts, The faith in toil, the care that trust imparts. The tottering step creat'st thou, to destroy. Thy breath doth bleach ; it tears the raven gloom And blows the roses from the ruddy cheek ; Thy furrows plough'st thou on the strong and meek; Thou rock'st the cradle and thou digg'st the tomb. Coldly thou glidest through ages and through space; Planets and suns thou Hght'st to shine and pale. Thou bear'st existence, but to draw the veil. And nothingness dreams of its vaguish trace. Thou guidest faiths to spring from hope and fear. Dogmas and creeds, to rise and sway awhile; Fancy's divinities dost form, to reconcile Men to their lot, and mould the hapless seer. 52 To bcj with thee, is to have been, forsooth, As crumbling legends breathe realities, As clouds bespeak vague aqueous entities, As theory essays to master truth. Haste on uncurbed! Who envieth thy flight? Whose eyelids never close to grateful sleep; Whose name — indifference; whose vigils keep. Vainly, the spheres, that wrestle with thy might. Thou suffer'st not the torments thou must bear To all existence, since it is by thee. Yet thou art helpless, nor can'st e'er be free To view, complacent, what is true and fair. I goo HUMAN WISHES When shall that be which is not, which we seek? Weary travellers of earth; Whose every accent some desire doth speak, Who hope from birth. That will o'wisp, escaping as we clasp Close to it our eager hand ; — We might as well the heavenly beacons grasp, That light the unknown land. What are our hopes and wishes? Fancy's birds, Roaming away, when born. Seeking that realm, whereof the preacher's words Tell all the sad, forlorn. 1885 53 TO MAN Why should'st thou be my foeman, framed, like me, Of mortal substance, since, by subtle chance, Our pathways meet in this brief space of time The Power inscrutable allots to man? Our world is one vast graveyard where, forgot, The ashes of the myriad dead repose, Who, too, as thou and I, had planned and hoped To conquer, but to find the tomb their goal. 'Tis well to strive, to learn, to think, to act ; — Ambition lifts the soul to strength and power. Yet but a moment, and the strong and weak, Alike, must close their eyes in endless sleep. Give me thy hand, my brother, while we may, Let us rejoice that we have met to note The kindred spark that fills thy breast and mine — Who knows, how soon we'll part forevermore? Though science preach that but the fit survive, The strong must drive the weaker to the wall, That some elect shall shine like gorgeous stars, And the great multitude in darkness pass. Let it suffice that we were born to live, White, black, and yellow, of all various faiths, Of mental heights, or deep in ignorance steeped, — We're human all, whatever our degree. Though competition be the life of trade, Combat, unceasing, watchvi^rd of our life, And progress based upon the forward stride Of selfish strength, that others leave behind — 54 Yet still, with learning, science, art, and skill, And mental gifts to soar above the crowd. With wealth and pride, what matter they forsooth? All who were born to live, are born to die! 1900 AT MIDNIGHT Over the peaceful waters Float the sounds of the midnight bell, Like the voices of spirits echoed, Celestial, its musical spell. Solemn and calm, as a token, The death of another day — A signal to life's weary pilgrims, Of time that passeth away. Day and night, and their burden, Their joy and their manifold care. Forgotten in changes eternal, — A wish, a brief sigh and a pray'r. We've been, — and we are not — an atom On the restless ocean of life, Tossed by the unebbing current. Creatures of pitiless strife. Patience and toil, brave endeavor. Honest endurance and faith: — Hope, like a beacon of heaven, Chance, — a terrestrial wraith. What is an age? what, a thousand? Sunlight and darkness succeed. E'en like one pulse-beat another, Races and nations and creed. 55 Children are born and bear sires; What is a life's barren yield? Onward to sink into Lethe — Grains drop on fate's fatal field. Works that endure? — ask the seeming Quenchless star in the sky: Dead — though its rays fall for aeons, Bright, on the wondering eye. Riches, and fame, and honors? Names 'luming history's page? — Buddhas and Platos were many, — Nirvana claims seer and sage. But for the present, the era. Children of men, can you zeal, For, of the future, no sibyl. What is to be, can reveal. Records of ancient convulsions, Rocky, and speechless, and cold ; Though eternity's bell toll a requiem- Youthful this earth is, and old. Over the peaceful waters Float the sounds of the midnight-bell : A greeting, a warning, a summons — Creation — oblivion its knell. 1896 ONLY FOR A DAY Wreathe the laurel for the victor. Mingling roses with the bay. Crown his brow, for he has vanquished- Clio whispers: — "for a day." 56 Bring the harp, its strains inspired Shall enchant thee with a lay, That some mighty poet chanteth — Fashion hath it: — "for a day." Clasp thy loved one to thy bosom, Let thy heart its homage pay, Breathing, softly, true devotion — Eros murmurs: — "for a day." Hark, the thundrous words of warning Fill the soul with awe-full sway; Mercy crave repentant sinners — Sighing saints weep: — "for a day." Fame and faith, and love and fancy. Life and light — how brief their stay. Man beholdeth, man enjoyeth — God so wills it — "for a day." 1899 DREAMING, DREAMING Dreaming, Dreaming Of the days that ne'er shall be. Hoping, hoping For the ship from o'er the sea. Trusting, trusting In the gift of strength and mind. Toiling, toiling With the zeal of humankind. Drifting, drifting On the ebbing stream of life. 57 Sighing, sighing At the endless waste and strife. Yearning, yearning For the rest that waits for all. Sleeping, sleeping At the Maker's gentle call. 1901 THE MUSIC OF THE STARS God's golden notes are writ athwart the sky On Hope's own page of deep, eternal peace; Nor wait they, mutely, the great Master's touch To burst in echoing melody through space — Endless as Time, th' unending Universe, — For to the soul, whose lonely yearning soars Beyond the bounds of toil, of fell disease. Of mortal weakness and of crushing care, Immortal music fills the silent sphere With rapturous sweetness, wafting calm serene. What symphony majestic breathe the rays In sparkling splendor, born of countless orbs. Unheard, yet drunk by more than sensual ear In ecstasy of spirit, sanctified With thought removed afar this fateful globe. And all its human frailty and its woes! Hushed is the strife and healed the wound of war. From envy's baneful blight the heart absolved, Stilled e'en the struggle for this earthliness, 'Mid wondrous tunes that sing, sublimely grand, Th' undying song of immortality — Divine perfection, the Creator's love. Dawning but dimly on man's awe-filled sense, A faint reflection of the unrevealed. 58 What anthems swell from out th' encircling vault, Bounded by mortal eye, yet boundless as the Thought That bid it be, and be forevermore. And million — million years of universal life, Of being by the Word, and having been. And being still, th' Almighty Will of God ! Aeons and worlds, Creation's graspless maze, Endless to human calculation, but a glance, A breath of Him who was, and ever is, Whose Voice called forth what is and e'er will be, Whose Will exalted sways the Universe And bids His Work Eternity proclaim. What insignificance these human discords yield ; What motes, the turmoils on this mundane sphere; What bubbles on th' unf athomed sea of Time : — Earthquakes and floods, and strife of race and faith ! When silent music from a myriad worlds, Uncomprehended in sublimity. Enfolds the soul in deepest depth of peace, God's radiant notes in heavenly harmony. 1900 MIDNIGHT— "ONE DAY LESS" One day less to spend in watching O'er the cherished little flock. One day less to note their growing, Slow, the bell strikes twelve o'clock. One day less of toil and worry, Anxious of to-morrow's care. One day less of hope and sorrow, And to God a heartfelt pray'r. 59 One day less — the moments swiftly Glide their stern eternal course. One day less — we crave the future, Brightly pictured on it soars. One day less — the fleeting phantoms, Gain and comfort quickly fade. One day less — O hopeful mortal, E'en ambition lowly laid. One day less — the goal approaching, Care and worry pass away. One day less — no fight unceasing Is thy lot, O frame of clay. One day less — how soon, unnoticed, Will the world its course pursue ! One day less — a little patience — Then eternal sleep for you. One day less of pain and suffering; One day less of power and fame ; One day less of love devoted — Tide fast ebbing whence it came. igcK) ENVY Thy cursed mutterings make the heart unhappy; Thy venomed sting strikes hatred in the mind; Thou hybrid monster, with thy red eyes burning And feasting on the soul of humankind. The shallow dullard breathes thy breath seducing, From plain contentment becks thy devilish grin ; Distorted pictures shows thy lying mirror, — Voluptuous ease, — but hides the worm within. 60 The cultured list thy subtle treacherous whisper, They crave thy coward stab at wealth and fame, While learning stumbles and achievement dwindles, And honor drags its purity in shame. Thou mov'st the tongue to calumny and slander. For outward dross corrupt'st the virtuous heart, And changest glibly, with unblushing features, The gold of truth for worthless sham and art. Thou brood of hell that, with infernal passion, Sprang'st from hypocrisy's unholy lust. And gloatest and gnawst, with hideous satisfaction. On man, thy prey, progenitor of dust. Not e'en the grave can ban thy fetid vaporing; Defenseless death thy silence cannot claim, — With ghoulish claw thou tear'st the veil of memory ; With impious glee thou soil'st the honored name. 1901 JEALOUSY Sister to madness, who torment'st thy soul With vain imaginings, lest thy heart have peace; Self-scourged with nipping thoughts that, heed- less, weave Suspicion's web, and fettered fears release. Falsely thou claim'st love's kinship — Love is trust, Divine its birthplace — thine, the chilling cave Of foggy doubt, — for thou shun'st heaven's light. And stealest, darkly, from affection's grave. Man is not perfect, yet thou wouldst create A creature Satan might, exultant, claim His earthborn image; thus thy poisoned mind Looks through perverted eyes and conjures shame. 1901 61 AVARICE Cowering, thou sitt'st with white lips thinly span- ning Thy hollow cheeks, whose ashen hue is death. Suspicion drink thine ears, acutely listening, For lurking fear instils the guileless breath. Compressed, thine eyelids, whence the fretful glances Of trustless pupils dart uncertain rays Of stony coldness, freezing, like Medusa's, The hapless mortals chancing in their gaze. Deaf is thy sense to suffering and misfortune; Mute is thy voice at pain's tormenting cry; Tearless, thine eyes heed not the orphan's weeping; Rigid, thy features, at the widow's sigh. Thy words grate harshly, like the hail-stones beat- ing Their icy death on buds of trustful spring; Or like the blast that scatters from the casement The roses that, in hopeful beauty, cling. Thy spider-fingers grasp with famished trembling The petty idol which thy breast adores, Whose barren heart coimts, as it slowly pulseth. The vain possessions reckless fortune stores. Sweet music to thee is the hollow jingling Of paltry coins that chance strews in thy way, Gleaned from this earth that, mocking, will re-echo Their sound, when tumbling on thy worthless clay. 1 901 62 QUIEN SABE? What Is it all? — a smile, a hope, a tear; Some joy and some sorrow sown, scattered, be- tween — Helpless in-ushered, — helpless delivered, — A struggle for space and a flitting unseen. Quibbles and combats, faith-guided, despairing, A whence and a whither, none dare to essay. A breath on the ocean of time that rolls ever. Unending and tideless, from day unto day. What is it all? — ask the flower that bloometh. The insect, that wingeth its brief, pathless flight — Budding and breathing, breathing and dying. Trusting, or trustless, — day followed by night. I goo RESEMBLANCE Man oft is martyr to his memory. O calmed mind tortured on the pyre of thought. And heart tormented when, undreamt, unsought. Death's prey by life is imaged! Agony Dwells on the arched lines of beauty's brow, And living lips mock all the tomb hath sealed With time's insensate clay. — Once more, revealed. Eyes snatch their speech, and cruelly endow Life's soulful features from the grave's dull stare. And paint with memory's brush the blanched cheek — The earth-worm's revel ; — deck, in radiance rare, The charge of Azrael, bidding mute lips speak: — "From shrouded regions, hollow-eyed despair Averts the strong, with madness smites the weak." 1902 63 AD ASTRA? Earth, sun, and stars thou fathom'st, and, elate. Thou dwell'st the thought-companion of thy sire. The cave-bear's tenant, ere Promethean fire Convulsed Olympus 'gainst the reprobate. Deeper and deeper still, to penetrate The secrets of dead ages, thy desire. But, with soul-trembling, to behold expire A race of theories sprung from high estate. Ah, seest thou not Jehovah's faith-reared throne Loom vague on ruins that held Zeus and Phra? — Circled by home-sick ravens, woe-begone, Kung-fut-se and Buddha, mute in speechless awe, And the meek Christ, in prayer upon his knees. Humbly, before eternal mysteries. 1906 MORS PALLIDA Mysterious lord of absolute domain — Whose realm looms vague beyond a sea of tears, Upon whose borders, more than mortal pain Vents voiceless anguish ; — trembling hopes and fears In vain would grasp thee, who, wild fancy's flight, Spurn'st irom thy threshold, where existence bows, Meekly submissive to thy will sublime. That bids descend the dismal shades of night O'er life, — brief offspring of ephemeral vows Light breathes unconscious in the ear of time. 64 Why do men fear thee, who art passing just? Saying nay to the mightiest, nought but nay, To helpless sucklings, to unfathomed trust Faith may instil, as to the worm, whose day In sightless struggle stirs dumb grains of sand. Yet shrinks thy presence, e'en as wisdom quails, Guideless and palsied, at thine only word. That hushes thought and mutes supreme command Into imperishable silence, pales The flush of being with its tones unheard. When men saw gods with elemental eye In ocean wastes, in fire, storm, and cloud. When rustling woods were oracles, and high On misty summit dwelt a merry crowd Of deities, delight of human mind, — Thou earnest, a smiling youth, on wings of air. Bearing thy message, and, with unseen hand, Led'st forth thy choice, nor wert thou deemed un- kind, Nor did men shun thee, hopeless, or despair Of their winged journey to the nether land. Imaged of creaking bone and orbless stare, Scythe-bearing, stol'st thou through the age of faith. When dreams were mighty, and the midnight glare Shot heavenly warnings, fitful boreal wraith, Of wars and horror; thou did'st cut a swath, World-wide with carnage, pestilence, and plague. Gloating thou stood'st beside the gloomy pyre, Which superstition clawed from every path Where reason fled, and pitying hearts did ache, That deemed thee harvester for Satan's fire. 65 The world hath changed, yet, still, all creatures dread Thine icy presence, thine unechoed call, That chills life's stream, and, to their dreamless bed. Consigns thought, action, pleasure, suffering, all. Nurtured of being, thou dost grow apace, The waxing shadow of each earthly day. To hound thy quarry with unceasing lust. Crowding its progress with e'er lessening space, — Till life succumbs to fate's unequal fray, And thou hast conquered, and thy prey is dust. 66 NATURE DAYBREAK Night veils deep comforts in her silent breast — Dreams and oblivion, starlight's calm and peace, Shadows and coolness, for the weary, rest — But death is darkness, and life's wonders cease Their charmed appealing to the eye and ear. E'en when fair Luna glides her silvered course. — High noon is gorgeous in her loud display. Yet dazzling splendors sear — Dewless droop leaf and blade while songsters pause. And sad-eyed twilight weeps for dying day. Perfect alone, in beauty, smiles sweet mom. Hope's fairest blossoms wreathe her virgin brow, Breathing rare incense over hearts forlorn. And magic sustenance, though the Fates endow Life's leaden hours with more enduring reign ; Her gentle influence soothes grim-faced despair, And, innocent, she guides from dismal gloom Doubt's dreary flight, and pain Grows dulled, as her creative charm, like pray'r, Breaks the dark seal from faith's ephemeral tomb. Lone, orphaned shadows in enshrouded vales, Lingering, dissevered, from night's sable robe, Tremble, affrighted, while the azure pales Afar, where dawn wooes soft th' awakening globe. With modest smile, and banishes strange dreams — Joys unsubstantial, sorrow's speechless woe — That flitted, phantom, through the realm of sleep; Transformed with happier gleams Of life and beauty, morn spreads forth aglow Her jeweled wealth in silent circling sweep. 69 Ruby and sapphire line th' renascent east, Dipping their splendor in the cool sea-waves, Charmed to meek quietude, their wrath appeast, 'Neath placid count'nance, in deep-bosomed caves. And spires uplifted, piercing vanquished haze, Responsive flame to day's great golden eye, Rising, omniscient, in eternal pow'r, Whose light is life, ablaze With promise of unnumbered springs, the sky Divinely pure in nature's holiest hour. Bird-notes lie budding in the fragrant wood ; Robin and thrush intone their dulcet lays 'Mid bosquets green, and, heavenward borne, a flood Of marv'lous music pours the lark, in praise, Melodious joy from bliss-enraptured throat. Were care a fable, mythic, sorrows keen. Could Flora's children peep more fair arrayed, Or music's spirit float More tranquil, soothing, on its wings unseen. To nest in hearts, alike from sky and glade? 1 901 TO A ROBIN O happy spirit of the summer air, That flood'st with melody the sunlit day, — Life's very essence, burst from gladness rare — Soothing sore hearts with thine entrancing lay. Waking, soft echoed, childhood's vanished hour, With wizard notes thou weav'st ethereal dreams Of golden ray, rose cloud, and zephyr's breath. A wonderland, create of music's pow'r. Floats on thy voice, and, in its spirit-beams, Folds the freed soul, unstung by flitting death. 70 Thou dwellest 'mid the swaying boughs on high, Afar from care's sod-clinging, sad domain; And, with their realm th' illimitable sky. What heed thy pinions fate's earth-binding chain? Thy sustenance is scattered at thy feet. And toil thou know'st not, save when, light of heart, Thou gather'st wind-blown offerings for thy nest, And, ever joyful, pour'st thanksgiving sweet For nature's bounty, with consummate art, Serene and modest, from thy grateful breast. 1901 THE SEASONS Gentle showers; peeping flowers; Verdant meadows; budding trees. Sunlight bringing songsters singing. Softened azure, fragrant breeze. Youthful, the spirit bom of the spring-time; Modest, the smile that enchanteth the heart. Bright as the dew, at the daybreak, that glistens. Visions and hopes, dreaming, guileless, their art. Golden glowing; radiance, sowing Sunny pastures; leafy shade. Wealth of pleasure, nature's treasure. Gorgeous color, bright arrayed. Deep is the spirit of living summer; Warm, the affection its drowsiness binds. Flashing, the glances, as lightning that dances Fitful along the horizon, and blinds. 71 Ceaseless longing; memories thronging; Tone of sadness; fading leaves. Light unheating; night repeating Starry splendor; vigorous eves. Sad is the spirit of warning autumn ; Spectre of brilliancy, mournful its glow; Chilling the hopes that ambition had kindled. Born of the seeds, that the heart dared to sow. Desolate reaches; barren beaches On the frigid shores of Time. White and cheerless, cold and tearless, Soulless branch and rigid clime. Frosty, the spirit that bleak winter beareth, Blasted and dismal, the emblem of dearth. Roaring with tempests and wrapping, enshrouding, Cloak of oblivion o'er passionless earth. 1900 NIAGARA Sublime Niagara! Could thy glory find But human pen to plant thee in man's soul With words thine image! — Ah, one only hand — But that has withered with the poet blind Who sang of our first parents — could extol Thy marvels fitly; — and yon demon-band That rage thy rapids fearfully and grind Man's heart in awful whirlpool! — their control None might depicture, save the gravely-grand Dead bard who, sad-faced, trod the Stygian land. O thunderous voice that drown'st with solemn roar The clamorous turbulence of maddened waves, Unleashed and desperate for resistless leap O'er time-yoked rocks, where ghostly mist doth soar^ 72 A hovering spirit from Titanic caves, Gnawed by thy ceaseless hunger — w^hile, in sweep, White as stern winter, lashed by raging Thor, Hastes thy deep current, Time hath craved and craves Vain with its granite chains enslaved to keep, Since Nature roused from elemental sleep. O, dost thou sing the red-man's deathless dirge? Who came to worship at thy shrine sublime. When pale-faced greed and cunning dwelt afar; Great Spirit, whose defiant torrents surge From Earth's beginning to its end of time! Lit by the new-born moon and day's one star, When frail canoe bore to thy fearful verge A death-kissed maiden, while, in mournful rhyme, Pleading for plenteous peace, victorious war, — The death-chant floated weird from shory bar. Or doth Jehovah speak his thought through thee? To fill with wondrous awe dull mortal ear. Deafly entranced by thine o'erwhelming voice, And roll, majestic in sublimity. This cataractine tumult that, in fear, Men view thy vastness, yet would fain rejoice At Hope's fair rainbow o'er thy milky sea, E'en as He showed it to the aged seer, Whose bark alone was spared by Godly choice When mankind sank beneath its Maker's curse. Ah, what is man — who, feebly, dares essay To grasp thy grandeur, wrought by Nature's hand. Kin to fierce tempest and unbridled deep. That smite our foothold in disdainful sway! What hopes are wrecked — what plans bestrew the strand 73 In ruins, as curbless, while men wake or sleep, Th' untiring moments, snatched by Time away, In pauseless rapids seek yon climax grand Where heart-beats stop, and whirling Fate doth reap What Life hath sown, yet cannot save or keep. So rush thou on, in peerless wild career, Tumbling vast torrents to th* insatiate sea, While Time shall be and man may view thy might; Speechless, may drink thy beauty, and be near The great, unfathomable mystery. That links unconscious morn with shrouded night; Till mountains crash and heavenward shall rear Chaotic fragments — as, in agony. Our Mother-Earth shall groan her final plight. And dust insensate mark her erstwhile flight. 1902 EARLY SPRING The sullen sky is gray with clouds, The mist lies on the sea; And, chill, the wind blows o'er the waste And smites the barren lea. The earth is damp with fog and rain; The trees are lank and bare; And yet a strange, mysterious breath Is floating through the air. The hoar despoiler 's loath to yield, But wondrous powers strive To swell the buds on tree and bush. And burst death into life. 74 The sun his lengthening course pursues And rouses slumbering day To earlier toil, his summons beams With each increasing ray. The birds are on their northward flight, Their notes hie on the breeze; They bid the playful waves defy The blast that made them freeze. The heralds are a-wing, afloat, And spring is their device, Whose smile, triumphant over death, Melts winter's heart of ice. 1901 SPRING In praise of Spring, Awakening The world from frosty sleep; With joy we hail The snowdrops frail. That from some shelter peep. Again to live. And thanks to give For bud and blade and tree; From death restored. To touch a chord Within our soul, with glee. Ah, magic time, When songs can climb Empyreal heights, nor pause. When love anew, With nought to rue. To heaven in rapture soars. 75 I900 Should Ceres fail, Of no avail Might be Apollo's string. And Venus' smile Could none beguile, But for the birth of Spring. THE BROOK Silently, pure. Clear, undefiled, Strong in its weakness, Nature's sweet child. Murmuring, gently. Pebbles among, Kissing green mosses. Woodland's fair song. Cleaving the granite. Turbulent spray; Youth's lusty vigor Ready for fray. Gathering, bravely. Rills to its side — Rushing wild torrent, Hindrance defied. Waxing in wisdom. Slowing its pace; Deeper and broader. Majestic it sways. Bearing its burden, Dimmer its flow; Vain to discover Surface below. 76 I goo Sweeping, wide-reaching, Sullen and grand, Cheerless, disdainful, Stubborn its stand. Aged, white-crested, — Slow to its goal, Yielding to billows. Reluctant, its soul. Cleansed of defilement In ocean's embrace. Lost, and yet present Eternal, in space. Child of fair nature Rest in her sea, Immortal, unending. Unfettered and free! IN JUNE A cloudless sky; with fragrance laden The air of June, and Sunday-rest. My child beside me, bearing blossoms, And golden sunlight in the west. A robin's note to heaven ascending; A brooklet babbling in the dell ; And, from the distance, gently blending Its silvery voice, the vesper bell. O perfect world! Thy creatures blessing With sweet composure's priceless balm ; O'er restless spirits softly shedding In beauty, deep, religious calm. 77 O Sunday-Stillness! Nature spreading Her loveliest gifts to weary hearts: A radiant day, mild peace, fair flowers, And music, ere thy charm departs. 1900 JUNE TWILIGHT IN TOWN The children singing "London Bridge;" The sparrows' chirp among the trees; Afar, the rumbling of a train; A steamboat's whistle on the breeze. The hurried homeward strides of men. At last from daily drudgery free. In twilight's cooling air, sufiEused With wafted breath from distant lea. More sweet endows eve's gathering shade Th' unfolding rose, a rare old tune. The honeysuckle's lavish wealth. And hearts grown light in wondrous June. 1 901 NIGHT IN JUNE On the waters glistening. Silvering leaf and blade, Shedding dreamy splendor O'er the silent glade. In the peaceful heavens Sails the orb of night, 'Mid the glittering myriad. Golden points of light. 78 1896 Dewy blossoms, nodding, In their breeze-fanned sleep, Jessamine and roses — Snow and blushes deep. Hedges green, and giants. Reared by nature's care. Fostered by her bounty, Drink the balmy air. Emerald swords, the rushes, Guard the tranquil shore. Laved by cooling ripples, Gently wafted o'er. Silver stars, the lilies. Beam with golden eyes. Pour their sweetest fragrance From the mirrored skies. Silence, dreamy stillness, Perfume, peace and rest — Nature's gentle offering. Bounteous, beauty-blest. Sighing branches, swaying In harmonious tune. Lisping sounds of zephyrs — Heavenly night in June. SONG Lonely, the moon my companion, I stroll by the reed-bordered lake. Rustling, the trees, their weird music; Elves, all-enraptured, awake. 79 Dancing, fantastic and graceful, Silvery their slender forms sway. Over the waters come gliding Nymphs fair, in splashing array Past the dark branches a-flitting, A spirit, the whip-poor-will's note — Dream of the dreamland of fancy, My soul, like a phantom, afloat. Drowsily, fragrant blossoms. Crimson, and lilies of white Hearken the strains that, enchanting. Summer breathes sweetly o'er night. 1900 DAYLIGHT AND STARLIGHT When waning day ascends the mountain-top And leaves the imprints of her rosy feet, The sealed lids from curious star-eyes drop And golden glances seek the monarch fleet. But mother night spreads out her dusky cloak And bids her children modestly to beam, And, lest they fear, she lights with magic stroke Her silver fentern in the milky stream. Yet, yearning still, the little eyes are ope To greet, at dawn, the queen that traceless sped. With ceaseless longing and undying hope. Year in, year out, by vain desire led. For, when pure day steps from the flaming sea, Her dazzling splendor blinds the timid orbs; Their sheltering lids must close unwillingly. And lingering shades her radiant glance absorbs. 80 Thus vain the yearning of ambitious men To grasp the brilliance of supremer mind, Too late their wakening and too slow their- ken, With eyes unused to dazzling gifts that blind. Perchance, in twilight's haze to feebly shine, Their fate, or, modest, beam through narrowed night. With faint illuming, since the touch divine Denied them, vain they crave creation's might. 1 901 THE OCEAN At Newport O raging sea, in flaky showers breaking Upon the rocks! — O vast, unfettered soul! — Whose crowding currents surge from pole to, pole, Augmenting, threatening, trembling, pausing, slak- ing. Creatures of chance, thine own majestic waves, — Some roll superbly to the further shore; Some yield their strength on granite spurs before. And feebly their embrace grim bowlders laves. O restless spirit, doomed to toss and surge. Marking the pulse-beats of immortal time; In ever-changing aspect bearing Thy countenance, — thou roar'st a constant dirge For all thy victims, seized in every clime, With ravenous greed, insatiate and unsparing. 1886 81 FAREWELL TO THE MOUNTAINS Farewell, unrivalled hills, With all your sparkling rills, Whose ceaseles mirth Gave gladsome birth To golden moments and to bubbling thought. Farewell, inviolate peaks, Where light inconstant seeks Its fitful moods to show — Gray mist and brilliant glow. Move not your sturdy heart of granite wrought. Farewell, ye legioned trees, Whose myriad leaves release Life's breath to quickened air, And fill with essence rare The craving lung and stir life's ruby stream. Farewell, ye boundless skies, With all your golden eyes, Undimmed by smoky haze. In glistening radiance gaze On scenes unshorn by greed's defiling scheme. Farewell, sweet nature pure, That, fearless, canst endure The serpent-lightning's flash. The rending thunder's crash. The grasping freshet and the cloudburst's roar. Farewell, — but not for aye — I hail the unborn day. When, free and unrestrained. From town and toil unchained, O'er cumbrous care my soul again shall soar. 1 901 82 SUNSET Sunset — Mild zephyrs woo the yearning boughs, Sweetened with song from elm and purpling copse, Rustling, inimitably soft, their vows, Cooling still dales and pearl-veiled mountain-tops. A lonely cloud lies dreaming o'er the haze, Floating, in silence, smiles and tears above. Light as the soul escaped life's torturous maze. Earth's soil-sprung offspring clasped by heaven's love. Dazzling, descending Phoebus flames his way, Golden god-monarch of the blazing car. Beckoning chaste Dian's virgin, silvered sway. Crowning the west with Love's fair evening star. 1901 83 PERSONAL AND EMOTIONAL REMEMBRANCE Across the sea, across the ebbing tide Of years, a happy, happy home I see: Fond parents, a babe, and, at his mother's knee, A little boy, red-cheeked, and dreamy-eyed. O happy home ! fond love ! — O hope denied ! — Unbidden came a guest, and mute was he To pray'rs and tears, and wrested ruthlessly The noblest mother from her loved ones' side. My mother! Time's receding tide has borne Thy dear voice far beyond my longing ear, Thine image faded, but still, unforlorn. Thy love abides with me, and ever near Thy blessing has been lingering, since the night When heav'n disclosed its beauty to thy sight. 1911 RESURRECTION Though thou art dead, yet is my thought thy tomb, Whence dreams arise to give thee life, forsooth, In wondrous resurrection of thy youth. With all its hopes and strivings — through the gloom Of orphaned years, and blot the silent urn From anguished memory. — I again behold The hearty man, with courage firm and bold. On life's rough journey, with deep learning earn The grudged reward to sacrifice that stands By man in sore distress; that heals the wound Of combat, and, with wise and patient skill. Wards of? the foe that knocks with fleshless hands. O faithful father! — in thy love I found Life's burdens lifted, healed its every ill. 1911 87 TO MY WIFE Upon me rests the magic of thine eyes In dreamy splendor, for their sparkling light Bedims the stars of silent winter-night, That steeped thy tresses in its ebon guise. Upon thy velvet cheeks the warm blush hies From envious rosebuds, and the soft delight Of cloudless climes endows thy features bright With sunlit tint of blissful paradise. The lark its silver notes bestowed on thee — Thy voice melodious charmed my yearning soul And lulled our babes with gentle lullaby. O, may thy sunny spirit e'er control Our destiny, and thou, with counsel wise, Give me, dear love, the guidance of thine eyes! 1911 WANDERLUST To H. N. K. O restless roamer! — hath no charm for thee The peace of home, the warm, inviting hearth? That thou must wander, nomad-like, on earth, A bird of passage, wilful-winged, and free! What strange ancestral power may it be That drives thee on — from sober toil and mirth, To spurn thy home, the city of thy birth, And e'en thy parents' sheltering roof fo flee? O Wanderlust! — through generations thrives Thine elemental strain, and heedless roam The knights of brush, of song, and minstrelsy! World-wisdom marks the sphere for normal lives, But to the artist all the world is home, — And in our thoughts, dear son, we roam with thee. 1911 TO MY DAUGHTER Like snowy blossom warmed by morn in May, A little face, — illumed by lustrous eyes, So innocent, yet twinkling, strangely-wise — Enframed in raven floss, soft-pillowed lay. Our home's own sunshine, — ever bright and gay With happy baby-talk, as oft she tries To stand, — but falls, — yet laughs, — at last to rise On tiny feet, and run the livelong day. O dearest Helen ! how those memories cheer These sober hours, when I see thee stand, — My little maid, with features, fair and clear. And those dark eyes, become a lady grand, — Whose love, whose joyful spirit, and whose smile Bid time to pause for me, and rest awhile. 1911 TO MY SON EDGAR Indifferent thousands flitted past, nor tried To leave an impress on my ardent mind ; But some, with souls responsive, strove to find Their way into my heart, and there abide. Yet treasured most, those who, by blood allied. Are kin to me, and to my trust consigned. — O'er them my love shall watch, and firmly bind The bonds by fate, by chance, or nature tied. 89 O thou, my son, who always hast been true To thine own self, as thou wast true to me ; With love and kindness striving e'er to do A good son's part, e'en from thine infancy. The kindred spark, that ties — I find in thee — Thy soul to mine for all eternity. 1911 JUNE CHILD When to their highest goal the steeds of Phoebus rose And poured their quick'ning fire on craving earth, An infant soul, athirst for mortal birth, In our baby-boy its human dwelling chose. Sweet June caressed the babe with sunniest smile; She bathed his tiny form in fragrant spray. And, showering rosy petals where he lay. She bade soft-zephyrs nurse his sleep the while. O black-eyed boy! bright be thy destiny! Who lov'st fair nature with receptive heart. May climaxed Phoebus, ever spurring thee, In science guide thee, and inspire in art. For thee, rare June her loveliest roses twine. Her spirit pure, breathe gently over thine. 1911 TO MY SISTER One home once knew us. — In our childhood's day We shared the joys, the sorrows, as they came Into our lives, and e'er the holy flame Of love burned brightly, lit by kinship's ray. 90 We're severed now — divergent runs the way In life's stern duties; — but our parents' name Will link us ever, mutual interest claim, While God permits our lessening earthly stay. Dear Helen ! — well I know that, though apart Through life we wander, and oft void and cold The world may seem, yet warm, in faithful heart Still lives the spark which lit those days of old. Our joys quench not the flame of long ago ; Our sorrows fan it but to brighter glow. 1911 GUIDANCE To Edgar 'Tis coward fear that makes men slaves to power, That bids them kneel to idols, mean and base, Or join in clamorous turbulence, to raise Mad mob-rule's standard for its one brief hour. Some envy lures, and many victims cower Before glib tongue; — with smiling, unguent ways The hjqjocrite o'er mindless mortals sways; E'en sober judgment may design devour. Do what is right and fear no mortal foe! But 'ware deceit; trust not the winning smile. And, if the evil challenge, fearless go And falsehood smite, and crush designing guile! As I have known thee, so the world shall know That thou art true, and can'st give blow for blow. 1911 91 WOMAN'S SPHERE To My Daughter Helen Fair is the maid whom nature kindly gave The gentle smile, her modest maiden-way, Sweet grace, a heart awake to noble sway In deeds of kindness, e'er alert and brave. To man abhorrent, strides, with wrinkles grave. The new man-woman, — poring, night and day. O'er learned volumes, to assert her say. By intellectual force make man her slave. My child ! let nature be thy loving guide, Through life's ordeals she will lead thee wise; And ask thy heart its counsel to provide. If doubts becloud, the world deceive thine eyes. Man's proper sphere, and woman's were reveal'd By God's own laws, which nature stamp'd and seal'd. 1911 TO SADIE C. Maiden, whose gentle smile Lendeth me peace; In thy sweet presence Sorrow must cease. Maiden, thy dreamy eyes. Winning my heart, Seem to say softly: "Ne'er shall we part." Maiden, thine image fair Lives in my dreams. — All past afflictions Thy being redeems. 1886 92 TO S. C. Think not, — though sadness seems to cast O'er many a song its sombre veil, — That all my hopes are rent in twain And grim despair fore'er must last. I still bear faith within my breast; A smile may wake the slumbering ray, A word from sweet lips bid me trust And feel that truth preserves her sway. Ah, gladly. Fortune's wealth I'd yield, Ambition's zeal, the crown of Fame — For one, whose heart could read mine own, Whose sympathy my love could claim. 1886 "MIZPAH" {To Sadie C.) We may have met to part again, — How soon, and wherefore — who can tell? But, were my dearest hope in vain — I only know, I wish thee well. It is not in man's power to stay The hand of stern, relentless fate; But were it mine to rule and say — Thou ne'er should'st be disconsolate. I feel that, near thee, I could brave The storms that wreck the strongest heart. — But severed — what remains to save? Dear child, have we but met to part? 1886 93 NIGHT AND DAY (To S. C.) I am Night, and love and sadness Reign within my yearning breast; But its veiling melancholy Yieldeth dreams and gentle rest. Thou art Day, thy smiles are sunbeams Shedding golden radiance 'round; Roses bright adorn thy bosom, And with joy thy brow is crowned. Night and Day must wed, sweet being! Mirth must sink to calm repose, Gathering strength for new effulgence; Light on care its spark bestows. Rosy mom and golden twilight From their fond embrace will spring. — Night and Day, in happy union, Forth rare thoughts and joy shall bring. 1886 SLUMBER SONG To My Little Daughter Helen Rest, dear child! May angels, gently, Guard thee in thy peaceful sleep, And no anxious dreams oppress thee. Loving spirits vigil keep. Rest, dear child! May glorious visions Float around thee, pure and sweet, And thy soul, on fancy's pinions, All thou lov'st most dearly, greet. 94 Rest, dear child! I'm watching by thee. Faithful, with a father's care. — May the good Lord ever shield thee, Guide thee always, maiden fair. 1895 MEETING— PARTING Meeting: — O golden light Streams from the vernal sky; Gently, soft zephyrs play: Love surely cannot die! Parting: — O dismal day; Low hangs the sombre cloud; Strewing, the moaning wind. Dead leaves — Earth's funeral shroud. Ways of this changing world, Man's proud domain, — Lord, he, and slave alike — Fate rules the twain. 1886 CONSERVATISM Two birds met at the close of day And sought the self-same place of rest, — One from the Orient, far away, The other from the youthful West. They sang their evening songs and told Of all the scenes they loved the best; But with the morrow they had to part- One came from the East, and one from the West. They met, and gladly would have stayed. And been a happy, well-matched pair — But then, five thousand years ago, Their sires sang not the self-same air. 1886 95 MY MOTHER I long for the love of my mother, The guide of my youthful day; The loving mother who kissed me, As on her warm bosom I lay. Away has she passed, and forever, — I see her now only in dreams. Her voice soundeth nevermore cheering; Her smile on me nevermore beams. Alas, like the Spring's tender flowers. She sank to a cold, early grave. I weep, when the thought comes o'er me How kindly my faults she forgave. At night, when, thus sad, I am thinking, And wishing the dead might return, I fancy my mother is sighing. The cause of my sorrow to learn. 1880 VANISHED The door-way is vacant, a spirit is gone. The stars and the moon from the heavens are flown. And a moment of joy, a brief, fanciful dream Has vanished forever in Lethe's dark stream. O, beauty endures not, and happiness dies Ere the soul to its perfect enjoyment can rise. When the sunbeams the realm of the night-born invade. The sweet rose beginneth to wither and fade. 96 So my trust and my hope are shattered and fled ; A wraith hovers dim o'er the haunts of the dead. A face and a spirit have vanished in gloom — Where violet sprang, the pale moonwort shall bloom. 1885 AT MOONRISE When the white moon, slowly rising, Veils the earth in spectral glare, Then I think of those departed, And for them ascends my pray'r. For I have not e'er forgotten How dear voices cheered my heart. How warm hands were clasped in friendship, And how soon we had to part. Though my old hopes all be vanished. And, with them, life's joy and care, — When I see the white moon rising, — For those gone ascends my pray'r. 1885 WHEREFORE? The sun shines from the azure sky, The birds sing love, the brook goes by. Murmuring sweet lullaby. And happy, oh, thrice happy am I — Wherefore ? Wherefore ? The clouds are gloomy the heavens o'er, The rain in streams its flood doth pour, And sorrow fills my breast once more, Oh sad, unspeakably sad am I — Wherefore ? Wherefore ? 1885 97 VANITAS 'Twas but too brief, — a sweet, a fleeting dream, Too beautiful to last; As heavenly visions to the poet seem, A glimpse — forever past. An angel veiled, the halo of the blest. Its charms too pure for mortal eye; — Divine fulfillment of a hope exprest. An instant born — to die. Ah, Fate! who would attempt to change thy course? Vain soarer to the perfect realms of light, By passion spurred, then torn by grim remorse; Kissed by the sun, to be enrobed in night! 1885 THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT O, why are you mocking my sorrow? I cry to your rolling surge — Your answer — monotonous roaring, Your solace, — a heartless dirge. You come from the earth's furthest regions; Your waves bear no message, false sea. O, what have you done to my darling? You bring him not back to me. I've watched you at daybreak, when slumber Came not to my weary eyes; I've watched you at sunset's fair promise, With hope emblazed on the skies. You tossed like a creature in anguish. Like a soul tormented, O sea; But vain were my tears, my beseeching — You brought him not back to me. 98 I've stood in the moonlight consoling, And peered o'er your silvered waste, Where weird shapes uncanny seemed dancing And flitting in ghostly haste. You glittered and sparkled deceptive; You moaned and you laughed, as in glee. My heart broke with vain supplication — You brought him not back to me. When winter's fierce tempests were howling, I fled not the gale or snow; In hurricane's shrieking and terror I stood alone with my woe. You thundered enraged, and threatening You roared, O merciless sea; But with all your fury and dashing You brought him not back to me. 1901 99 EVERYDAY VERSE SATAN'S COMMENTS ON WARS, STRIKES, LOCKOUTS, ETC. "When men fall out and can't agree. Thrice hailed the glorious chance for me! I light the fires of spite and hate; I loose the tongues to boast and prate ; To stubbornness I goad the mule; I prick the brains of knave and fool." "When men fall out for greedy fight, pleasure mine! O rare delight! My turn to harvest many a soul Whose better nature lost control. Mine allies kind, ye passions fierce. Be thanked for bursts that cut and pierce." "When men fall out and won't give in How rich my dragnet proves in sin ! 1 turn my nose at pseudo proof ; On man's pretension set my hoof; I snap my fingers in their face Who man's development would trace." "When men fall out and get apart, triumph mine o'er trustful heart! 1 strangle gasping common-sense; I thrust my fork through faith intense; And, from my blazing judgment seat, I vote concession but a cheat." "When men fall out, I laugh in glee; With keenest pleasure suffering see The wretched beings, who have no share In quarrels, meek their burdens bear. I saddle troubles on their back. Their lives with care and pain attack." 103 "When men fall out, then wildly rage My fiercest hell-hounds on the stage, Where some, with mock-heroic mien, And some, with comic mask, are seen ; While blank amazement, as a rule, Betokes the great unthinking school. "When men fall out and angels sigh. While virtues crushed to heaven cry, I enter on triumphant sway And lead my host in brave array. With envy, rancor, wrath, and strife I prove the vanity of life." 1903 THE ROAD TO SUCCESS FOR THE MODERN POET Shun simplicity; Woo duplicity; Twist and invert to thy heart's content. Speak enigmatical ; Seem problematical ; Leave it to wisdom a key to invent. Aim to be serious. Veiled and mysterious. Learn to devise a symbolic refrain. Flee all plain-speaking, Serpent-like sneaking, Creeping, and crawling the laurel will gain. Truthful be sparely; Miss the nail squarely. Stroking thy words at a leisurely pace. Truckle to fashion; Screen fiery passion. Critics to please, who will grant thee the race. 104 Search, undespalrmg, Loathing all swearing, Lexicons, standards, — by nothing dismayed. Conjure, nought ruing, Sense misconstruing. Phrases and words, scintillating, arrayed, Dead are past ages. — Pegasus rages, Drest in a glittering, uncertain costume. Shining and flashing, Blindfolded, dashing Starward, where, ghostly, frail meteors loom. Note that, serenely, Aged and queenly. Feeling and thoughts sleep in measureless space. Ignore them, supinely. Thus, writing divinely. Fame is assured thee by popular grace. 1900 THE PAST TO THE PRESENT The Past it spoke to the Present, and said: "You gather the harvest of seeds I spread. I toiled and I toiled, and my heart and my brain Mixed blood and thought with my soil and my rain." "You boast and you blare of your progress rare, Your comfort and happiness everywhere. You vaunt your steam, your conceited microbe. And your speaking sparks that encircle the globe." "You prance upon fields my muscle laid bare; You dash through the sea, you enslave the air; And you utter, with pride, that none else, beside Your own ships rode ever on fortune's tide." 105 "You speak of your mercy, my blood-thirst decry, To vie with your era all others defy. In grace, and in prowess, in justice, and fame, Your praise with your brazenest trumpets proclaim." "I lived as you live, and the human heart Cannot be transformed by fit and by start. I fought as you fight, and my heroes were great As any you offered to crown and to state." "I thought as you think, and the human mind Is riven by doubts and by prejudice blind. I slaughtered for faith, and you slaughter for gain. And death is but death, though of names he bear twain." "You swear by your culture and, madly, you pace, If need be, destroy an obstructive race. I ate, when I hungered, of human flesh; Your quarry hangs limp in your trade-woven mesh." "I worshipped the sun and I tolled the bell; I peopled the heavens and rancorous hell. You ransack the sky, and the stars you hand down, Mere ciphers, to puzzle both scholar and clown." "Your comfort for body, your haste for the mind The soul to its earthly abiding place bind ; You clip its apt wings and you hem its rapt flight To the luminous orbs of the olden night." "Yet day follows day, and the time, too, shall be When your breed will scoff you, as you now scoff at me. For pride meets its doom in its surfeit and age, When the Author of All turns the self-sated page." 1903 106 MODERN WAR Addressed to the Christian Nations Ye, who wage war in honor's name, And strive with valorous deed for fame; Who save the suffering, spare the weak, And never cruel vengeance wreak, Will hear the plaudits of the world, And praise where'er your flag's unfurl'd. And ye, defenders of your land. No matter where your home may stand, No matter what your race may be. By despot ruled, or sovereigns free — Who can deny your homage true. And blessings on your courage, too? But ye, who fight but to enslave Or, proselyting, souls to save. Who thrust your faith and power where, Content, a people say their pray'r. Are fitter for Mohammed's band. With sword and Koran in your hand. This is the twentieth century. The nations' eyes are ope to see. Beware, if, in the Saviour's name, You put the Christian world to shame — With lust and plunder, greed and pain You crucify your Christ again. 1 901 X07 SIC With knowledge armed, rare science bequeathed, Electric haste of skillful aid — The soothful anaesthetic breathed, Excision antiseptic made. This gun shoots fifteen hundred times Within one minute's thoughtless reign — To purify earth's narrowing climes, And travail prove a thankless pain. Were Jove alive, methinks, a roar Of laughter would Olympus rock, And lichened Pan's awakening snore Full nineteen centuries' progress mock In saving and slaying. 1901 THE WHITE MAN'S PRIVILEGE Luke vi., 31 If the skin be white, e'en wrong is right, — A man's a patriot and hero; Though he lie and cheat, and grasp and beat. And his honest aims be zero. For color can ne'er make a man, Nor love of home engender. The brain's too small to break the thrall. Saint Progress cries: "Surrender!" Hypocrisy, no ken of thee Have backward, simple races. With Faith, a cloak, a lightning stroke, The sword its pathway blazes. X08 For virtue's white, and the Bible's right, While the Devil's black and yellow. Since the human soul none can control, 'Tis the skin decides the fellow. Could Buddha teach what exploiters preach. To heavenly bliss translated? King-futse might tell of the earthly hell, That greed and cant created. 1900 RAGS AND RUBBISH Swaddling clothes of forgotten nations; Tattered remnants of fabulous faiths; Pharoin edicts and proclamations; Ghostly garments of spectres and wraiths — "Rags and rubbish; rubbish and rags." Royal purple and wasted treasure; Banners by victors and vanquished borne ; Sails spread for riches and sails spread for pleasure; Triumphant successes and causes forlorn — "Rags and rubbish; rubbish and rags," Manuscripts penned by oblivioned writers; Documents steeped in ephemeral lore; Failures of cowards, and doings of fighters; Theories nurtured by thinkers galore — "Rags and rubbish; rubbish and rags." Menus long devoured and charming love-letters; Checks, cashed and cancelled, in days gone by; Sweepings of treaties ; tools, victims, abettors ; War's bloody fangs, flirt-diplomacy sly — "Rags and rubbish; rubbish and rags." 109 / Waist-deep, in ambient eternity's waters, Standeth, gigantic, old scrubwoman Time, Drowning, unceasing, her sons and her daughters, Murmuring forever her pitiless rhyme: "Rags and rubbish; rubbish and rags; Rags and rubbish; rubbish and rags." 1902 WAR, A. D., 1900— PEACE, A. D. ? "'Ready! Charge bayonets! Forward!'" "Rush them and cut 'em down! What if the shrapnel tear ye, Hell and perdition frown?" "Blood! — ugh! it spurts all over The devil! — his face gone, ye say? That reeking mass yonder — his body? Forward, — to hell, to-day!" "Smoke, and flashes, and crashes. Roaring, and clattering din — A racket — old Nick is commanding, And Heaven seems caving in." "Slay, and be slain — for honor; Kill, and be killed — for gain; Fight, and die for your country; Life be not lived in vain." "God?" d'ye say, and "Courage?"— Whate'er your home may be. Whether a savage heathen. Or Christian-bom, and free. 1 10 Whatever tongue ye rant in, Where'er your cradle stood, Listen — some folks call it murder To shed your fellow's blood. Of course, it's taken for granted — It's proper and right to slay In war; — only pitiful cowards This statement dare gainsay. But the mighty Lord in Heaven — (Whom ye more or less believe — Whether your skin be white or yellow — ) Your course may watch with grief. For He's fashioned ye all in His image And made ye men, not beasts; He's given ye heads to think with, To shun such gory feasts. Your mother, who suffered to bear ye, Who watched ye with every care, Did surely not want ye to murder, To save ye from harm was her pray'r. Ye're men, first of all, human beings. And it's men ye are called on to slay, Men, who should all be your brothers. Yet who' re ready to kill ye to-day. Pity, — that yet are not wiped oTat Boundaries, color, and creed. Racial distinctions and idioms, Narrow ideas and greed. Pity — this globe isn't larger. With greater abundance of grain; That gold is a metal that glitters; That loss is contrasted with gain. Ill If ye were nearer the angels, Had less of the spirit for fray ; If the beast, that still clings to ye, Would leave your mortal clay. There might be time for talking Of peace and brotherhood; — But love's sweet milk is wasted On savage thirst for blood. 1900 TRUSTS We trust in God! The Trust trusts not- Trustee of our weal and woe. The Lord's great bounty be forgot — The Trust so wills, and it be so. We trust in God! and He hath breathed Within our soul the sense of right ; Some spark of Sinai's fire bequeathed In righteous cause our way to light. We trust in God ! The time draws nigh When His command we shall obey, And trustless trusts, unwept, shall die. And universal trust hold sway. 1900 "MANLY SPORT" "First blood! Hurrah — the ruby streak! Great Scott! — just see that stinging blow! Another! Look! — he reels, he falls — My, what a fist ! that laid him low." 112 "'Get up, you coward!'" — "Watch him rise, His face is white — his jaw is set." — " 'Now hit him square between his eyes!' " "By George! and fight is in him yetl" "Why what is up?" — He cuts the air; — He gasps, — blood-blinded, bruised, and sore — A crash! — down goes the lifeless frame, A livid mass, besmeared with gore. A faithful friend, who watched at night. And hearked his master's every word. Lies panting there, with mangled throat, While pandemonium's shouts are heard. His sight is ebbing; fain he'd creep To lick the hand that sold his life — A parting glance — he groans and dies. And oaths and laughter vile are rife. "What pretty pigeons! Hear them coo! How bright their plumage, swift their flight! I know the song we learned at school, When roosting pigeons say 'good night.' " "What? — twenty-thousand? We're in luck! What fun it is to peg away And drop them with a steady hand — Except the few that go astray." " 'Tis great, this sport, to kill or maim. It gives you vim, and then — the stakes! There's courage for you; that's the game — Of timid boys brave men it makes." 113 "Of course 'tis Rome, — say A. D. one, When heathen rites held godless sway; Or bloody and benighted Spain, When she, alone, did crave Gathay." Why no, good friend, look 'round, or read The papers, and rejoice to see Your chance, at home — United States, — Progressive twentieth century! 1 901 THE POET He's quite a useless fellow. That fellow what writes them rhymes. He ain't worth a cent in politics, And acts queer at sundry times. He's careless about his dressin', And don't give the barber a show. He can't make a decent livin,' And is rather unusual slow. His views is always contrary — He don't see the good in a deal ; He'll never, I'm sure, make his fortune; And he says to graft is to steal. When other folks talk, he's quiet. And dreams half his life away About human possibilities. While we go a makin' hay. He sees splendor in the sunlight When we others feel blazin' hot; And when it comes to the moonshine, A mania, by gosh, he's got. 114 I wouldn't employ him a clerkin', At two-and-a-half per week. He couldn't manage a shovel, Of ploughin' I wouldn't speak. He's down on lynchin' and baitin', And he must be color-blind, When he says he sees no diff'rence In the make-up of all mankind. When it comes to trade and expansion, He's nowhere up-to-date; And he's got scruples and outlandish notions About our progressive fate. When we talk of usin' our elbows And the greatest philosopher cite. He says "the survival of fittest May be true, but it isn't right." He don't join in spreadin' the eagle And boastin' what we can do — He'll come with his dreams of millenium And peace, that never come true. I'm sure I've no use for that fellow, That fellow what makes them rhymes; He's out with all practical notions. And never quite up to the times. For one thing, though, I'll give him credit, I've never known him to cheat; But when it comes to o'erchargin', He's a deuce of a cuss to beat. 1900 "5 LE GRAND TOUR Get the children ready, Bessie; Have the carriage at the gate; See that all the trunks are fastened, For the steamer sails at eight. Six days on the proud Atlantic; Seven vi^eeks in smiling France, — With the loveliest time in Paris, Where the hours and minutes dance. Then for Germany's gray castles On the dreamy, sunlit Rhine; Sweet "Gemuethlichkeit," and "Roemers" Brimmed with golden, sparkling wine. Switzerland's cloud-piercing summits In their cloak of glittering snow, We'll ascend, and drink, at twilight, Rapture and the alpine glow. Slowly, then, we'll search the garden, Europe's flowery paradise, Milan, Florence, Rome and Naples, — Art and beauty feast our eyes. As the season wanes, we'll travel O'er the blue and tranquil sea; Taste of Turkey's real coffee, Up the Nile steam leisurely. Sphinx and Pyramids we'll visit. With a side-trip to Khartoum, Then embark, and sail for Jaffa, Through the Holy Land to roam. Ii6 If, perhaps, since we've the credit, — Gilt-edged stock and bonds galore — "Hear — there — John! Get up, you dozcr,- Half-past six, or even more!" "Breakfast's on the table, waiting And your sandwich's ready, too. — Wake up! — ^you'll be late, I tell you. And your tardiness you'll rue." "Now — you won't? Don't you remember How, last week, you overslept, And the firm, for your defection. Ten cents of your wages kept?" Hurried bites and scorching swallows. Breathless speed — a nickel fare, — Thus "le grand Tour" to the office. Somewhere down, near Chatham Square. 1901 117 SONGS OF CHILDHOOD I. SEASONS SPRING Hear the robin singing In the budding tree. Golden sunshine, laughing, Fills our hearts with glee. Listen to the birdies; See the clear blue sky; Green the grass is waving Where the brook goes by. Let us hasten to the meadow Where the blue-eyed violets peep. We will sing a song of greeting, While they waken from their sleep. Gladly from its slumber, Nature fair awakes, Perfume sweet, and color From the sunshine takes. Happy time of blossoms; Gentle breezes sway. Joyful is our welcome, Lovely, blissful May. Let us hasten to the meadow WTiere the blue-eyed violets peep. We will sing a song of greeting. While they waken from their sleep. 1898 121 SUMMER In the east the sun is glowing, — Hear the rooster sound his note: Cock-a-doodle-doo ! Who is going now a-mowing? Golden-ripe the wheat is growing, Cock-a-doodle-doo ! In the leafy coverts hidden, Sings the cuckoo-bird its song: Cuckoo, Cuckoo ! And the curious boys, unbidden, Seek the paths, by thorns forbidden, Cuckoo, Cuckoo! Round the barn, the swallows flying. Swiftly darting, ever chirp.: Cheewit, Cheewit ! On their graceful wings relying. Like a band of air-sprites, crying: Cheewit, Cheewit! Out of doors, the children playing; Shouts of pleasure fill the air: Heigho, Heigho! Summer's beck'ning glad obeying. O'er the sunlit pastures straying, Heigho, Heigho! 1898 AUTUMN Gone are the flowers, the birdies have flown. Grey clouds in the sky by the chilling wind blown. But Nancy and Harry skip over the field. In glee at the sports that the season will yield. 122 'Tis the time of ripe chestnuts, of apples, a store, With a peep at Thanksgiving and pop-corn galore. How it braces, this air of the bountiful fall, Red cheeks, joyous laughter, while chasing the ball. 1898 WINTER Come, my little darling Nell, Golden-haired, come hither. Fair, the story I shall tell, Spite the dreary weather. When the snow lies, soft and white. All the ground enwrapping; Where the nothern-light shines bright Santa is not napping. And for little girls and boys Who have been behaving, O what wondrous gifts and toys Santa Claus is saving. At the dawn of Christmas morn, All the stockings swelling With the good things, hither borne From dear Santa's dwelling. Joy to every little one At sweet Christmas bringing; Happy day of gifts and fun, Day of love and singing. 1898 123 II. GAMES PLAYING BALL Here's the ball, — now watch it, Harry, Straight it soars into the air — Catch it! don't be 'fraid or tarry, — You're a clever boy, for fair. Chorus : Onej two, three! D'you see it fly. Almost way up to the sky? Down it comes — now, don't be rash — Good! — you've caught it like a flash. Upon again! — you must be ready, — Not so high, but swift and true. Here it goes, for little Freddy, With his faithful eyes of blue. And once more! — so far it's rising, — Run in, nimble Willie! — there. That's a ball, — there's no despising — For that boy with auburn hair. 1898. SKIPPING THE ROPE Turn the rope; turn the rope! One, two, three ; one, two, three. And I jump so gracefully, One, two, three ; one, two, three. Never miss my turn, I hope. One, two three; one, two, three. Whirling ever faithfully, One, two three ; one, two, three. 124 Turn around! turn around! One, two, three ; one, two, three. And I float so dreamily, One, two, three; one, two, three. While my feet scarce touch the ground,. One, two, three ; one, two, three. Don't be turning lazily. One, two, three ; one, two, three. 1898 HOOPLE SONG I've got a nice new hoople And I will run a race. Whoever wants to beat me, Must risk a headlong pace. Chorus Running and rolling along. Singing a cheerful song; Onward we speed like the wind. Leaving all others behind. Just see it rolls so steady; The houses past me fly; It runs its course, as lightly 'As birds go speeding by. The goal that we have chosen Will soon come in our view; Along, my trusty hoople, I ever speed with you. 1898 125 1898 1898. PLAYING TAG You art it; you are it — Catch me, if you can! Over stones and fences Run, my little man. Never touched me, never. Run with all your might. And I'll always dodge you. Till I'm out of sight. Thought you had me, did you? 'Guess you're wrong this time. Now I'll try a-walking, While the hill you climb. My, but you came nearly Tagging me, for fair — At the post I'll meet you, Yonder — over there. HIDE AND SEEK Are you ready, all of you? Ready ! Ready ! Ready ! Now I'll find you, sure, I do — Steady! Steady! Steady! In the pantry one must be — Quiet be, oh sissy! Some one's hiding there, I see — Run, my little missy! And behind the kitchen door — Ha! I guess he's found me. Touch the mark upon the floor! You walked all around me. 126 1898 III. WEE FOLKS FAMILIAR VOICES Can you tell me, little fellow, How the rooster crows at mom. Dressed in red and green and yellow, Greeting, loud the day, just born? Cock-a-doodle-doo ! And the bird that, in the forest, Leaves its nest and flies away, That some foster-mother birdie By the little ones must stay? Cuckoo! Cuckoo! When at eve — now listen, sonny — By the bam they swiftly fly, To and from their nests so bonnie, What do speeding swallows cry? Cheewit! Cheewit! After dark, when all are sleeping, With her glowing eyes so bright, How does pussy, stealthy creeping, Break the stillness of the night? Meow! Meow! DOLL SONG Good moming, little dollie; I hope you've slept all right, For I have been a-dreaming Of you the long, dark night. 127 1898 Chorus Dear little dollie, my darling. You always smile so true. I never will, never neglect you. My dollie, I surely love you. My see, how you look drowsy; I'll comb your fluffy hair; And I must wash you, darling, To make you bright and fair. Right after breakfast, dollie, I'm going to wheel you out. Tugged nicely in your carriage, For you must be about. We'll call on pa and mamma, On baby brother too; For I am sure he loves you, As all good children da 128 SEf 12 1912 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ;''::;'v::.; :•:.:; :vSy^'v'!&;'':-a 015 873 040 6 ••;::■; :-:..:.iJ:M:, ••:s: i;y,v.i.i';i ■^V,;•A■^ ■■:>liK(!,''':\'J:ii^^iV