S 3523 
 Y37 F4 
 ,915 
 ;opy 1 
 
 A FEW VERSES 
 
 BY 
 CHARLES E. LYMAN 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/fewversesOOIyma 
 
A FEW VERSES 
 
 BY 
 CHARLES E. LYMAN 
 
4 
 
 TKese sliort poems are printed to give pleasure, if so 
 it may be, to a few loving friends who nave spoken very 
 gracious and undeserved w^ords of me and of my •work. 
 TKey w^ere written in odd moments of a life of care and 
 affairs m tKe late months of 1914 and the early ones of 
 1915, with some written 1909-1913. 
 
 I wish specially to bear in memory, in printing these 
 lines, my beloved Mother — Juliana Hunt Lyman, w^ho, 
 although it IS thirty years since she died, remains a 
 living presence to those who knev7 her; and, w^ith her, 
 my dear Brother, a gentleman of unblemished purity 
 and lovable traits, A. Hunt Lyman, Esquire, late of 
 Cleveland and AsheviUe. 
 
 Charles E. Lyman. 
 
 Copyright 
 
 1915 
 
 By Charles E. Lyman 
 
 (0)C!,A41S2il 
 
 DEC 27 1315 
 
More notle 'tis to tear and tleed, 
 A man, upon eartK s battlefiela, 
 
 For God, — to die unknown, ii need, — 
 Than all tlie wealtli tke Indies yield. 
 
 A NEW BODY 
 
 Level tKe altar, tear down tlie screen. 
 
 Burn the ancient records, sweep the rums clean ; 
 
 A little touch oi pleasure ; to live 
 
 An artist, paint a ceiling, or give 
 
 A chei-d oeuvre to a cnurchly nave ; 
 
 And then at end to receive a grave : 
 
 Herein there is a parallel. 
 
 A monastery : the bell 
 Strikes on the gate, there enters m 
 A traveller unknown, ty chance. His chm 
 Is shaved, his vesture changed, he s fed ; 
 And lo, when morning comes, the dead 
 Have waked o er night, the rose has ope d. 
 The cathedral retuilt; all the dreainer hoped 
 Who thought he'd lost the tribute born 
 To him, erected fair of a morn ; 
 A new^ tower, throne, columns, gates; 
 In the close an idyl of grass awaits. 
 
 This IS a new body; be it here or there. 
 
 It IS than all earth's paintings fair. 
 
 IN SHERWOOD FOREST— AN OUTLAW 
 
 A deer s haunches ; 
 
 Low^ umbrageous branches ; 
 
 The charm of a woodland w^ay ; 
 
 Green rounded hills ; 
 
 God s kindness today ; 
 
 — Let the King do whate'er he wills. 
 
HIS LOVING-KINDNESS 
 
 As wKen upon tKe broad Pacific Coast there beats 
 
 TKe miglity water of the open sea. 
 So IS God s lovmg-kindness wnen the sultry heats 
 
 Of life's emergencies pass over thee. 
 
 The harriers of thy tropic coast are swept around 
 By pure and everlasting currents of the deep ; 
 
 And, o er the desert plains that in thy Dounds are found. 
 The cooling breezes of the Lord s compassion sweep. 
 
 PASSERS-BY 
 
 T^vo friends are mine, a young old man, and she 
 He loved long since, and wed, his wife to be ; 
 A friendship like the wayside blooms to me. 
 
 When o er the hills in leisure hours tney stray. 
 They call on me upon a summer day. 
 Outside my door, the moments they may stay. 
 
 A chance acquaintance tis ; I knovi' not \vhence 
 They come, nor v^^hither pass ; till I go hence 
 I shall still bless the sweetness I draw thence. 
 
 A CATHOLIC 
 
 Protesting with the Anglican 
 
 Against idolatry ; 
 
 Protesting with the Romanist 
 
 Against all seism ; 
 
 Protesting with the Puritan 
 
 That the church is 
 
 But the servant of the Soul ; 
 
 With a hand for all religion. 
 
 And for every man : — 
 
 In such sense would I ever be 
 
 Unto God a Catholic. 
 
Love has served me vi^ell ; 
 
 I il trust it now. 
 Love ! I am growing old ; 
 
 Toucn tnou my brow^. 
 
 THE RAILROAD 
 
 Ine rumbling enginery oi commerce lifts 
 
 Its voice from town to town across tne plain. 
 
 It enters neatn the smoky canopy 
 
 Oi cities, and glides tnence through flowery nel 
 
 It leaps upon its fragile track afar. 
 
 And poises on the waste and w^iiderness 
 
 As dotn tne spider on nis airy thread. 
 
 It hangs upon the storm-torn cliff unscared ; 
 
 It bears tke speedy messages of love ; 
 
 It doth tie into one essential bond 
 
 The diverse nations several interests. 
 
 By this is all tke look of living changed, 
 
 l^ew^ etched upon tne plate of industry. 
 
 A MORNING IN SPRING 
 
 O heart of mine, w^itKin me throbomg. 
 Lift up your song m )oy with the robin! 
 The Resurrection was m the morning. 
 In the spring that all earth was adorning 
 O heart of mine! in joy with the room 
 Lift up thy soul within thee throbbing! 
 
 ROBINS 
 
 Life made love to Time one day. 
 And gave an engagement ring. 
 
 If you w^ant to know^ the rest. 
 Come hear the robins sing! 
 
'Tis a little, little baby, — 
 'Tis a little baby s cry. 
 And it comes across tbe dark 
 
 Like a summons from the sky, 
 
 O my darling little baby ! 
 
 How could you, could you, die. 
 And leave your mamma here to grieve 
 
 For her baby m the sky? 
 
 DARBOY 
 
 Archbishop of Pans, his place 
 Was high. When led to death, his face 
 Looked on the soldiers with the grace 
 Forgiveness bears ; he spread his hands 
 To bless them. So w^as shot, rie stands 
 More noble ; Christ over the Commune 
 Has set earth s jarring chord in tune. 
 (Executed as a hostage m 1871) 
 
 THE CROSS 
 
 Delicate, rich, floriated. 
 
 Wonderful, 
 Full length, half length, decorated. 
 
 Beautiful, 
 In the heraldry of the ages 
 
 Without dross. 
 Upright on the figured pages. 
 
 Stands the Cross. 
 
 On the circlets of crowns royal 
 
 High designed ; 
 On Saint George's w^hite ground, loyal 
 
 Red outlined ; 
 On the stone lids of rude coffins 
 
 Old incised ; 
 On the spires by ships in offings 
 
 Scrutinized ; 
 Sign of hyssop, scourge, coat seamless. 
 
 Pilgrims sign. 
 On my journey to lands dreamless 
 
 Be thou mine ! 
 
ON A CARVED SHELL FROM THE ORIENT 
 
 Here is life emDodied : tkis small sLell, carved ty some 
 
 man of far Cathay 
 In semblance of a snip, displays the image of eacn no 
 
 and spar. 
 Outlined m fine and dainty snapes. 
 
 So, friend upon tlie \vorld s wide sea, thou art, or L to- 
 day ; a toy. 
 
 Fine past belief, cut by a Hand divine; fragile, of salt 
 winds toucned 
 
 And seas ; immortal as the dawn : 
 
 O, life s a fair sKell ; — broken, it leaves remembrance of 
 
 ricn climes. 
 And knowledge of the days to come, when, m the round 
 
 of perfect eartb. 
 Exquisite in new ligkt, sKall sbme tKe Orient, full- 
 
 breatned, again. 
 And tumult of tKe waves forever still. 
 
 THE COMMUNION 
 
 The chancel rail ! Forever two 
 For me will kneel together tbere ; 
 A memory as pure and fair 
 As is the dim and golden light 
 Withm the heavenly courts tonigbt. 
 
 I cannot separate tnese tw^o. 
 
 Life nnds no kigber chord tban tbis. 
 
 Two hearts bowed down m heaven's bliss; 
 
 Tnougk time shall end all things below. 
 
 This organ note will stronger grow. 
 
 God bless them as they kneel, these tw^o! 
 
 The fragile form beside the wall 
 
 For me is still a heavenly call ; 
 
 More luminous is life today 
 
 Because these tw^o kneel there to pray! 
 
 The late Mrs. Chester, and Mrs. Chester Lyman, at 
 Grace Memorial Church. 
 
[he beauty of celestial nills. 
 The permanence of time, — 
 
 O tell me, hast thou ever seen 
 So pure and fair a clime? 
 
 MY THEATRE 
 
 I have a favorite theatre m a glen^ 
 
 And think none is fairer. 
 
 By a cascade 
 
 Are mournful fringes 
 
 Of pines and Dirch, and then 
 
 A craggy slope of rock, rarer 
 
 Than sea-pieces, as twilights fade ; 
 
 In which glade 
 
 A cottage hinges 
 
 On a grassy curtilage : — 
 
 Upon this stage 
 
 One child plays alone. 
 
 I, his mother, wait 
 
 The rising of the curtain 
 
 Day by day, till the decisive tone 
 
 Shall mark him a master-actor, 
 
 A man, simple and great. 
 
 SUNDAY MORNING AT HOME 
 
 The home of the kind. 
 
 The peace and the bliss of heaven. 
 The calm of a quiet mind 
 
 Belong to a day in seven. 
 
 The light that comes through the half-drawn shade. 
 
 The Sunday stillness and shadows. 
 Speak of a light that never shall fade. 
 
 Of views o'er Elysian meadows. 
 
THE OLD CONFEDERATE CAVALRYMAN 
 
 1 Key gave us tnree days rations ; say 
 That Ricnmona s tnreatenea ; awayl away! 
 
 And we rode all ni^kt. 
 
 And we rode all day. 
 
 And we rode ail niglit. 
 
 Two nigfnts and a day; 
 We charged in the inornmg. and tne Federals broke: 
 Some oi tKe siumterers nevermore woke ; 
 And tnen we rode tack; for tke raid was done. 
 And Ricnmond savea, and a battle won; 
 But, out of a hundred and twenty-hve. 
 Our company numbered but ten alive. 
 
 Note — Written m 1909 and printed in the London 
 (Eng.) "Spectator," in 191L 
 
 THE RIDE FROM BEAVERDAM TO RUTHERFORD 
 
 - — so when morn 
 Again ascends the sky, the Horn 
 Of golden Marmora ne er held 
 An expedition this excelled 
 In sweet preparedness. Divme 
 The dawn, as when the feeding kme 
 Slow move from river banks through dew^ 
 At early call, and now anew^ 
 The white milk flows. Old Bradley sprang 
 First to his seat ; the late grapes hang 
 In clusters o er the carriage there ; 
 The priest ascends. A heavenly pair. 
 The maiden sweet and Richard come. 
 Together singing; then are dumb. 
 And kiss and part. 
 
 Like wings of humming-birds the spokes 
 Fly on ; and men are passed with pokes 
 Upon their backs ; and w^omen, spent 
 Too soon; fair faces once, and meant 
 For joy; and laughing girls; and there 
 May walk a thin-lipped boy, feet bare. 
 Whose hand upon the continents 
 
Shall lie ; tKe cKapelled eminence 
 Wliere now^ tlie cKurcn, memorial 
 Of men and women, oriel 
 Of CKrist, lifts granite cross to sky. 
 And rose-clad windows gently vie 
 With crystal keystone, font and rail 
 And desk, and chair, to hless the vale. 
 The city s lightsome song of mirth 
 Goes by, strong labor s builded girth ; 
 And S\vannanoa s w^aters pass 
 Beneath the bridge ; and, like a glass. 
 The mirroring sky above them tells 
 That all below^ rings matin bells. 
 
 Here silver altars rise, where sun 
 Illumines mist, and sculptures done 
 In w^hite ; they sip the sparkling wine 
 Of morning m the halls w^here shine 
 The ancient joys ; the w^ild grapes run 
 A frieze ; and tapestries are spun 
 In purple ; crimson pillars rise 
 Wreathed woodbine ; fairy merchandise 
 Is brought by ^vlnds ; the tulip-trees 
 Are stately Knights of yore ; pines tease 
 Their harps ; oaks age ; and centuries 
 Glide w^hite-winged, like light memories 
 Across a summer dream. 
 
 BEYOND CASHMERE 
 
 "Has passed 
 Not all where lifts your harbored mast. 
 
 "He borrowed something from the dead 
 On Cashmere's glacier cliff, one said 
 I met by Nile long since. His air 
 Was Cashmere ; yellow^ hair, and rare 
 Grey eyes ; snow, roses ; swift and gay 
 As w^mds that dance light clouds aw^ay ; 
 He lightly poised, like bagatelle. 
 His cue of w^ords. ' 
 
 "What play befell? 
 "To Ceylon, where he erst w^as found, 
 A ribbon stretched, that lightly bound 
 
A strange tale irom the CasKmere Kills, 
 A princess, priest and ninrio He fills 
 The measure of two tKousand miles. 
 Cathedral mountains, whose great aisles 
 Are paved w^ith saffron beds and rose. 
 Like frescoed walls, arise ; there flows 
 The chanting silver river; flies 
 Life lost and footstep dies. The skies 
 Hang chancelled o er a glacier s face. 
 Stupendous, in the snow^y grace 
 Of sculptured flower-work by w^ind. 
 All dazzling w^hite, w^here light is thinned 
 As o'er the sea before a storm. 
 
 But at its foot there rests a form. 
 Rare, maidenly, as w^hen a smile 
 To fair face leaps ; her soul long w^hile 
 From death has flown ; her body lies 
 Upon God s napkin; with dark eyes 
 Like lovely dales ; and fingers white 
 Like paths that ships that sail at night 
 By moonlight leave ; and perfect lips 
 Like curves of shore when red daw^n tips 
 The lily pads. Her hand caressed 
 A jewelled oriental chest. 
 Ajar, w^here burn such gold and gems 
 As break from Heaven s diadems. 
 
 He, then, w^hom I met, reverent. 
 Took from her hand the gift she lent. 
 The guardian priest, as fallen in sea. 
 Lost in his eye s soft mastery. 
 And so they laid her m her bed 
 Of roses w^ith the ancient dead. 
 By ruined temples, on whose walls. 
 Like theatres o er, the curtain falls. 
 
 Tis thus the Past hands dow^n to men 
 Her jew^elled wealth to use again. 
 And on Time's ice-stream, like a ship. 
 
Come snowy hanc! and perfect lip : — 
 
 Tne pearly drops oi matcnless speech ; 
 
 TKe lessons tliat tke sages teacK ; 
 
 Fair precedent ; laws, noole creeds ; 
 
 Delignt of arts; sweet words, Drave deeds: 
 
 A strain forgotten long ago. 
 
 Sung once by lips no more oelo^v ; 
 
 And memories of life s young time. 
 
 Like voyages in a summer clime. 
 
 Note — The above lines, w^itk tke Confederate 
 Cavalryman, and Tke Drive from Beaverdam to 
 Rutkerford, are parts of a long poem in manuscript, of 
 India, England, Askeville, wkick may very likely never 
 ackieve tke ligkt of print. — C.E.L. 
 
 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF GOD 
 
 An unpleasant doctrine, do you say, stern and forbidding? 
 
 If God our Fatker is and friend, 
 I say tkee, nay. 
 
 As, rejoicing, to His love I bend. 
 
 [ Note — "I am glad to believe tkat God wko is 
 omnipotent rules all tkmgs, and tkat He can bring to 
 pass tkat -wkick will be for tke good of all peoples and 
 nations, tkougk w^e Avko are so skort-sigkted cannot see 
 or kno\v. I love to tkmk He is above and over all. 
 — E. R. Beeson. 1 
 
 "YES" 
 
 Tkere s a blossom in tke bud 
 And a mist upon tke sky. 
 
 And tke color of tke blood 
 
 In tke blusk tkat s mounting kigk. 
 
 Now tke kiss is on tke lips. 
 
 And tke mist is in tke eyes. 
 
 And tke bliss is on tke tips 
 
 Of tke petals and tke skies ! 
 
THE PURITAN 
 
 Calm like tke moorlanJs, Ke tlie faint 
 Tread hears oi angels leet ; 
 
 Grown strong in loving ; sucn a saint 
 As walks a moaern street. 
 
 His human soul no priest or rite 
 
 Veils like a mist around ; 
 A soul, alone and w^mged and w^nite 
 
 Like some w^liite bird unbound. 
 
 He yearns upon God face to face 
 To look and live. How fair 
 
 The Puritan, who in earth's grace 
 Is touched oy ocean air! 
 
 I ve known the good man far and by : 
 If bleak his outward bent. 
 
 Fair fertile vales throughout him lie. 
 And orchards of content. 
 
 AT THREE IN A JUNE MORNING 
 
 The glamour of the darkening hours fills 
 
 With mist the outspread vales ; 
 No breath is m the trees ; o er roads and rills 
 
 A firefly glo>vs ; 
 The moonlit night lies white upon the hills 
 
 In soft repose ; 
 And sleep from star-fields overhead distills 
 
 Upon the woods and dales. 
 
 BY STILL WATERS 
 
 My mother died. I think when souls. 
 
 Like Easter flow^ers in crystal bow^ls. 
 
 Are borne across to purer air, 
 
 1- he Lord brings us this instinct rare : 
 
 That I transparently can see 
 
 Her soul before aw^aiting me. 
 
LETTER TO A FRIEND OF CHILDHOOD 
 
 Your motKer I remember somewnat well, — 
 
 I know now far that is from your neart s wealtn 
 
 Of knowledge ; — ker neig'nt or age, I cannot tell ; 
 But Ker kind looks made plain a soul in healtk. 
 
 I was a child then, awkw^ard and shy ; 
 
 But to your mother s greeting seemed as dear 
 As one long loved, or one w^hose childish cry 
 
 Had sped her heart to instant smile or tear. 
 
 This was the keynote, that she knew not self. 
 
 Yet of the merit seemed so unaware 
 That e en this grace was hid upon the shelf 
 
 Behind her unchecked graciousness of air. 
 
 She w^as my mother s cousin ; these two friends 
 
 Found in their homes alike their hearts chief buss. 
 
 Such sw^eet and wide acquaintance, — such fair ends. 
 Church, — culture,— my slow memory cannot miss. 
 
 I'LL TRUST IN GOD 
 
 I 11 trust in God though the heavens fail ; 
 
 A little thing am I ; 
 Sin and shame around me call. 
 
 And traitor passions cry. 
 
 Assault IS made on every side ; 
 
 I need divinest aid ; 
 Without, within, the strength of sin 
 
 Demands its debt be paid. 
 
 I look to Thee alone, my God ; 
 
 O, save Thy child this night. 
 And turn my life from bitterness 
 
 To honor and delight! 
 
Wken the broad, unDounded span 
 Overhead at first began. 
 Was it chance or was it love 
 Set the stars on high above? 
 
 LOWLINESS 
 
 A cage with silver wires, — 
 I d rather have a nest 
 
 Upon a sunny hillside 
 
 In a white-thorn s breast. 
 
 Imperial chanceries 
 
 Less merciful might be 
 
 To one not over-v^^ise, 
 
 A country bird like me. 
 
 YOUTH 
 
 Youth ! diamond oi the clustered years ! 
 Thou art oi all the starry periods blest. 
 Thou art, O Youth ! the setting of them all. 
 That doth outlast the drosses of the earth 
 To shine eternal on the breast oi Heaven. 
 
 THE THEOLOGIAN 
 
 A very modern Christian man. 
 
 My friend the theologian. 
 
 And scientific ; m his trade 
 
 No keener vv^orkman e er w^as made. 
 
 Of deep religious feeling he ; 
 
 From cant and casuistry free ; 
 
 Now^, — w^hen we add quick sympathy, — 
 
 What yet remains but honesty? 
 
 And this he has in such degree 
 
 1 own s a miracle to me. 
 
 My friend knows not his ow^n true w^orth, — 
 Of all the sw^eetest trait on earth. 
 
 TO A WIFE 
 
 Thou makest such sunlight m my life. 
 That memory sets thee, O my w^ife 1 
 Fixed on its silvered film ; no time. 
 Nor death, can dim thee. 
 
SUWARROW 
 
 Suwarro\v with tke peasants toiled 
 
 In lonely Novgorod ; 
 And in the cnoir among tnem sang 
 
 TKe service of oiir God. 
 He, called to lead, at Adda teat 
 
 The prince of arms, Moreau ; 
 rie then Macdonald m defeat 
 
 At Trebbia laid low, — 
 In June it was ; — wken August came. 
 
 The w^orld saw Joubert slain ; 
 Three times France gave her proudest name 
 
 To Suwarrow^'s disdain. 
 rle by his Sovereign now^ was called. 
 
 To leave for others room. 
 Here lies Suwarrovi'' — out three words 
 
 Are w^ritten on his tomb ; 
 While in the church the peasants sing 
 
 The service of our God, 
 As vi^hen Suw^arrow with them sang 
 
 Of old in Novgorod. 
 
 THE DEATH OF AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 For t\venty years I ve know^n thee well ; 
 
 We ve %valked the noontide street. 
 And over many a hill and dell 
 
 We ve paced w^ith rambling feet ; 
 We ve vs^alked among the springing corn. 
 
 We ve husked the golden ear; 
 We ve laughed when man w^as wed and born. 
 
 And w^ept above his bier ; 
 We ve heard the cattle low afar 
 
 Across the midnight hills ; 
 Together vi^atched the Christmas star 
 
 When dawn the red east fills ; 
 We ve knelt before the chancel rail. 
 
 And taken cup and bread ; 
 O speak! old friend, and give me hail. 
 
 Why walk you with the dead? 
 (The reference is to Mr. T. M. Kimberly.) 
 
FRUITION 
 
 'Tis said that vvKere the sun and ram 
 Warm Argentina's southern plain. 
 The Jesuits who planted missions there. 
 Some hundreds years ago, with fair 
 And gracious thought set also trees 
 Of apples, nuts and vines ; and these. 
 In time, have spread to orchards vast. 
 By nature s hand alone, not passed 
 In bounteous luxuriance 
 By forest groves ; and tribes still dance 
 With song at pressing of the w^ine. 
 And take from fruitful tree and vine. 
 
 So may a man the hours of every day 
 Plant w^ith young gladness that shall s\vay 
 The hills and dales of distant years. 
 Where, nourished by new^ smiles and tears. 
 Old orchards in great trees abound, 
 A fairer land not to be found. 
 
 A HEROINE OF HUMBLE LIFE 
 
 She w^as an old w^oman ; very lowly ; 
 
 And the story of her days 
 
 Tells the mighty deeds of humble life. 
 
 Where honesty is holy. 
 
 And the crossing of the w^ays. 
 
 With a hand to help, means more. 
 
 Always more, than battle strife. 
 
 There w^ere eighty years of poverty ; 
 
 No hour passed o'er 
 
 This ancient head, that bore 
 
 A perfect liberty. 
 
 Lack of kno\vledge forged steel chains; 
 Yet, every tide of sharp reverse. 
 Her smile, in better and in w^orse. 
 Crowned victory o'er life's pains. 
 
VENTNOR 
 
 I know not ii the summer sea 
 
 Skall bring renewed liie for me ; 
 
 Tne wash of waves ana oriny air 
 
 Bespeak a country strange ana fair ; 
 
 But II tnis mortal frame shall make 
 
 A shipwreck, or shall undertake 
 
 Ne^v voyages on familiar seas. 
 
 Let these sweet w^ords float dovs^n the oreeze : — 
 
 ''Dear God, I m thine, w^here er I go. 
 And Thou art mine, m w^eal or woe ! 
 And when the harbor greets my mast, 
 I'll love Thee for the dangers past." 
 
 Note — I wrote this poem for Mrs. Chester, and sent 
 it to her when she was with Bishop Whitaker, in his 
 cottage at Ventnor by the Sea, m 1910, a few months 
 before both she and Bishop Whitaker died. — C.E.L. 
 
 SUNSET 
 
 An hour I've been sitting. 
 An hour I've sat and sung ; 
 
 Life's evening is flitting. 
 
 Life's vesper bell has rung; 
 
 And m the starry twilight 
 
 I look a\vay and see 
 The lingerings of violet ; — 
 
 The sunset beckons me. 
 
THE LADY AT SINGAPORE 
 
 Land of spices and of balm ; 
 
 Farther Ind ! 
 Of the mangfo and the palm. 
 
 Farther Ind ! 
 Send me from thy distant clime 
 Word of 3oy and yelloAv calm; 
 Bear me on the wings oi time 
 Melodies as m a rhyme 
 Or in canzonet or psalm. 
 
 Farther Ind ! 
 But remember while you sweep 
 O er the shallow sea or deep, 
 
 O ye >vind ! 
 That the treasure that ye keep 
 Is my friend w^ho lies asleep 
 
 In Far Ind. 
 i-fCt her dream w^hile now she lies 
 
 Thus asleep. 
 
 Wrapped in sleep. 
 Of the River where snow^ flies. 
 Of the ice-Doats and cold skies 
 
 O er the deep ! 
 
 Durian and mangosteen. 
 
 Groves where purple parrots preen. 
 
 Tropic shore and harbor s sheen, 
 
 Singapore ! 
 Be ye routed save ye keep 
 My friend safe, w^ho lies asleep, — 
 My friend safe ! — that she may weep 
 
 Nevermore. 
 Think of loves she s had and lost ! 
 
 For a day — 
 Think of all the pain and cost, — 
 Softly blow no\v o er the deep, 
 
 O ye wind ! 
 And ye white ships by the strand 
 
 Far aw^ay. 
 And the cock that crows from land. 
 Ope for her the Buddhists lore. 
 Bring her safe to Java's shore, — 
 Spread for her a morning bland. 
 
 Farther Ind ! 
 
A HOME 
 
 A pine stands against the sky. 
 
 Ana at its siae a star; 
 A road tnat winds around a nill ; 
 
 The oreatn or evening air; 
 
 A ftome amono" sucn tnmgfs on eartri 
 A nope AvitKm tlie sky: — 
 
 How fair, kow^ fadeless tke estate 
 Bequeathed thee, passer-oy! 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Dtars are snining on tny wails. 
 
 Library, my Library! 
 Stars of tkot^^kt ia eartkly kails, 
 
 Liorary, tonigkt. 
 Yet tkougkt IS older tkan tke stars ; 
 The tremolmg v^^ave of mirid nnds oars 
 In naugkt of time or space. 
 A booK, a scroll, 
 A parckment roll. 
 Are tkmi^s wkose ribres interlace 
 Witk Deity. 
 
 Hear you tke niusic from tke street, 
 
 O Library? 
 A subtler music quivers tkrougk 
 Tkese tkm pages. 
 Marckmg ag'es 
 Come to our restless ears toni'^kt, 
 
 O Library. 
 Love, kope, divinity, aeligkt. 
 All bugle kere ; 
 
 Life, deatk, tke traitor and tke true. 
 Eternal sympkony mdite 
 In tkee. Library, tonigkt. 
 
 (Written in tke George W. Pack Memorial Library, 
 Askevilie, 1909) 
 
 THE INLAND PRESt. ASHEVtUtE, n. 38029