PS ?sn7 .075 A7 1901 ill Class _^SLM2?7 Book 1 Copyright^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. AT THE TEMPLE GATES BY STEWART DOUBLEDAY THE Ebbcy press PUBLISHERS 114 FIFTH AVENUE LONDON NEW YORK MONTREAL THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Two Copies -Received JUN. 3 1901 Copyright entry ( CLASS <5C-XXa N». COPY B. •Q 1 ■ $ Copyright, 1901, by THE Mbbcy press in the United States and Great Britain. All Rights Reserved. At the Temple Gates Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/attemplegatesOOdoub To William CONTENTS PAGE To Revery 1 Still Forest 8 Betrothal I5 A Shore Lyric *7 Flight J 9 A Bacchanal 22 The Holland Maid 2 5 Holland Lyric 2 7 Rembrandt 2 9 Gioconda 3° Venetian Etching 31 The Shell 34 A Water Idyl (Composed after hearing the Melusine Overture by Mendelssohn) 35 Chopin 39 Beethoven 41 On Reading some Lines of Schiller 42 To W. H. G • 43 A Prelude 46 Longings in Spring 47 The Recollection 49 To Silence 66 To the Earth 71 vii viii Contents PAGE Autumn Memories 72 Beside a Sleeping Child 76 A Ballad 78 Beauty that Lies in the Thorn 80 The Song. . . 82 Two Lyrics of Children 83 A Cry of Mercury, Messenger to Hades 86 Proserpine Studies 89 Bleaklands 101 Evensong 103 Sanctuary 106 Tranquillity 107 An April Lyric m To an Evening Cloud 112 Three Sonnets of a Wintry Shore 115 TO REVERY Tranquil sweet of summer nights, Queenly wanderer 'mong delights, Come — thy flowery pallet spread Gently 'neath my drowsing head. Let me in cool arbours lie Where the lovelorn breezes sigh. And thou — enchantress of the place — With thy dewy mantled grace Bending o'er me as I sleep, May I inhale the rapture deep That in thy seizeless beauty lingers, And from thy long inviolate fingers Draw the mesmeric loneliness At the Temple Gates From which I wake to no distress. Ay, let me in cool arbours lie Where the lovelorn breezes sigh. But while in such ideal repose, Let me not fail the nobler throes That make a temple of the bosom And ripen into clearer blossom The weed recesses of the mind. I would not a cold laurel bind About mine ears and heartless dull Humanity's plaint beautiful, Nor with a fancy-dimmed sight Shut out the legions of Heaven's light, Nor yet to other natures blind me ; But rather, with what power assigned me God has fixed, find the good Dwelling in dreams of larger brood. To Revery Thou often, gracious, comest to me In forms of loftiest symmetry, With plain attire and Grecian poise Befitting soul's most permanent joys; And sometimes in an Eastern veil, And rarely in Minerva's mail, Thou hastenest to my side ; but O I love thee best when least to know Form or motion or attire, I bend before thy hallowed fire, And bless thy sunny tressed hair, And deem thee a young mother fair, Whose children visions 'bout thee play Like gentlest zephyrs in mid-May. Sometimes when from world to look In a half unchosen nook, At the Temple Gates I find thee standing white and tall, A pale gleam in thy coronal. Then how cheerly swells my heart, Star serene for Life and Art, Touched with tranquillity divine, Sweeter than Olympian wine. Or, when Morn sings at my bed, Ev'n in comeliest gown of red, Thou, th' inquiring eye dost meet With graceful motions, gambols sweet, And ceaseless change with his gay brood Bringing poise to sombre mood. Yet in thy sprightliest matin step Thou dost never bring mishap To the domain of sober reason, Nor fail the duties of thy season, Nor quit the path that holds to noon. To Revery I know no more requiting boon Than just to touch thine arm and steal Where the labourer takes his meal In the hayrick's fragrant cool, Or to sit near massy pool And view the maidens one by one Drink there; browned by harvest sun, Or to hear the children crow When the mid-meal syrens blow, And the colts and calves roll over Frisking in the dusty clover. So dost thou my whole day bless With a translucent loveliness, And usherest me to the dark Hopeful of the heaven-spark. And, Revery, if man excuse More ancient name, thou art my muse: At the Temple Gates I hold thee dearer and more true, Womanly and warm of hue, Fitter for the human fold, Than th' unbending muse of old. Something in thy fragrant waist, Like Hebe, slender, Mary, chaste; Something like the real love Leaning o'er me from above — With the flame of Heloise Borne to me on the constant breeze, Lights me fierce and carries me far Whither transcendent glories are, To the bright place I know so well, And ever feel and may not tell. Tranquil sweet of summer nights, Queenly wanderer 'mong delights, To Revery Come, thy flowery pallet spread Gently 'neath my drowsing head; Aye — comfort me till life be fled. STILL FOREST I It goes against my heart good men should kill Sweet singing birds that never did them ill. Truth, 'tis a penance but to roam the woods Where the blithe songsters in swift changing moods Had thrilled us with a calm delicious glad- ness, And cured the soul of an unrighteous sad- ness, And gi'en some colour to a pallid world. Who could be still when April hath unfurled Her faery leaves, green sails on shallop sprays, And launched her flowery skiffs in mossy bays, 8 Still Forest 9 And forgot the saucy crew? Where is the strut Of Captain Redbreast, where the noisy- throat Of Officer Blackbird, or the pipings true Of bullfinch, linnet, bluebird and cuckoo? All gone — affrighted by the murd'rous din Of monster weapons. O 'tis stupid sin To haunt the natural grove with smoking barrels, And startle birds from their life-giving carols. Methinks the man has something of demon's strife Who melteth not when the frail wounded life He hath sent panting to the careless ground, Beats its one wing and uttereth not a sound. io At the Temple Gates How deep the silence where some well-loved voice, That rang like a commandment to rejoice, Hath stilled forever. O then th' accustomed sheen Of vernal branches with the sun gold be- tween, Where first we wooed, brings us to sullen grief. Better the naked bough than songless leaf; Better the neutral wilderness hoary wild Than arboured paths where the lost friend hath smiled. And thus my soul is saddened to the quick Here to encounter none, where once so thick My flying friends would sally forth to greet My harmless presence with their cooings sweet. Still Forest n A maiden with blinded eyes, a beauteous face That glows not, an unused forgotten place Which once inspired our lay, so seems the wood In April time without that sunny brood. II And yet 'tis a thin pleasure to complain — This silent blending suiteth a searching vein Engendered by these lonely woodland walks ; And now I find a voice in the very stalks Behind the simple flowers. If when we die We gain in heaven what we have been too blind To seize on earth, tyrannous Death were kind. The sublimest stations yielded us by fate Approached are by paths most delicate. 12 At the Temple Gates He who would build up temples from the heart Must know the dainty fretwork of his art. And thus with Happiness. To view her well, We must creep stealthily to some leafy dell Where glints a placid runnel, mossy pure, And girt our souls from the mad world immure And murmur a passing prayer. Then shall we know From ferny bank o'er the intoning flow How lovely 'tis to lean; what blest con- tent Dwells in those faery fathoms translucent, And how it enriches soul still longings to have spent. Still Forest 13 But first we must dismiss all troops of pleasure ; Frail happiness beats only to gentler meas- ure; The Nereid floating amid soft rushes Dissolves to atoms pearls if the cheek flushes. The dreamiest swelling of warm lips to kiss, Sets the wings beating of our fragile bliss. Joy is a faint odour, which, when we strive To imprison, vapours to her honey hive ; The rhythm of passionate speech freed from the words ; The melodious memory, without the song, of birds. So have I found thee, fleeting Happiness, Here in this wildwood where the air's caress 14 At the Temple Gates Folds on me tempting, and the young flowers slender Gaze skyward so pathetically tender I needs must laugh to stem the rivulet tears. O what sweet time so thousandfold endears The lone spot to me that I boldly stay In peril of delights passing away? BETROTHAL The woodland zephyrs flung Their wildness to her cheek; So bright was she and young, So leal yet loth to speak. I drew her to my breast, And held her there and prayed We alway might be blest, As in that ferny glade; Where hawthorn blooms beguiled The airs with a lonely scent, And the noon looked forth and smiled From the folds of his cloudy tent ; is 1 6 At the Temple Gates Where the song-thrush in his glee Made creak the laurel bough, And the swoon of a distant sea Gave deepness to our vow. A SHORE LYRIC O light and laughing Alice — If thou wilt be my bride, My hut shall seem a palace, Our fief the dun waves wide. Flowers shall trim our porches, And birds make merry din; Young blue-eyed boys with torches At eve will light thee in. By dawn we shall be sailing Over the odorous sea — i 'Tis a mystical joy unfailing The trawler's life so free. 17 At the Temple Gates Then lean thou soft on my shoulder And let me scarf thee well — The nights are growing colder And sighs the northern swell. flight; Mark ye the swift Over the rift Of the breakers ! Watch the lone swallow Over the fallow Rustling the mallow — Lord of his acres. Oh to outlift My spirit and follow And wing the gay seas And fringe the gay leas, And glide like the wind over mountain and hollow, And hover the deep as I cover the shallow, 19 20 At the Temple Gates And fly to the Far In the smoothness of life^ With no more of strife Than I see in a star As it rises and falls Or glimmers. Hndah! Swift, away, the sea calls ! Swallow, lone swallow — the morn-barley shimmers — Go fleeting, fly joyous o'er meadows and moors, I would be alone. I would be alone In a motion my own, Flight 2 1 To wing my own flight, my heavenward tours, Tis naught ye have known, But something God-grown, Full princely — And calmer and swifter — sublimer than yours. A BACCHANAL Let elden poets praise the bowl, Mine be the wild-voiced sea; The orgies of his mighty soul Are wine enow for me. The west'ring sun shall tint the wave, The wind made merry foam ; While hoary billows rollicking With stony bumpers, rise and sing To Neptune-broods at home. A breaker of yon briny draught! No gentler be my choice; I yearn what potion gods have quafft To gain immortal voice. 22 A Bacchanal 23 His horn may any mortal bowse And jovial notes inform; But few can stand in Poet's House And with the thund'rous sea carouse To music of the storm. In tankards of ennobling mirth I pledge with purple brim, Who hath no soul for sordid earth, But joins my tidal hymn. If every loftier spirit stood In high tempestuous band, To drink deep of heroic mood, — Beneficent for them, and good For men of every land. 'Tis gone — but O fierce God afar, Victorious and great ! Let me not lightly wage my war Nor fearful ply my fate : 24 At the Temple Gates Grant I may never less defy Than now — where thunders creep- Where lightning sears the northern sky, And storm-clouds scour silently Above the vanquished deep. THE HOLLAND MAID She roamed the fair and fragrant sand, I followed, scarcely knowing ; 'Twas evelight in the Netherland, The long Norse tide was flowing: Her cheek shone with the Western sun, Her hair hung dark in tresses, She seemed that soft ideal one An artist's soul caresses. I know not whether so to gaze Bring pleasure more than paining; She had those heart-bewitching ways Of lowly sweet disdaining : Her prettiest lip she made to curl, 25 26 At the Temple Gates Like any princess frowning; And yet one saw 'twas but a girl Whose childhood was her crowning. On the white beach at Schevening I viewed that herring maiden; She did not play nor dance nor sing, With nets she travelled laden. But I can see her bodice blue, Her shoon and skirting yellow, And oh! God grant she find a true Brave, loving fisher fellow. HOLLAND LYRIC I As the fish take delight in the sea, And birds wing the shore, I shall sing thee in glee With the wind blowing free, I shall sing thee in glee Love — and o'er and o'er, And draw thee to me Love — and kiss thee thrice more. II As the storm hides the red fisher fleet In a passion of rain, 27 28 At the Temple Gates I shall hide thee, my sweet, In my bosom complete, I shall hide thee, my sweet Love — and kiss thee again, And soon may we meet Love — and speed us amain. REMBRANDT In rudeness of high venture and a flood Of manly splendour bursting from the soul Rich as a Holland landscape, in control Of virile wisdom, soundly great and good, Van Rijn stands single. What a sunlit brood Of mortals he has left us with his brush. 1 stare at them and feel my visage flush As if I too before the master stood. This burgher who, black-eyed, with bowsing horn In Amsterdam two centuries ago Regaled his convivials, hale-born, No waning knew to his full spirit's wealth, But on pale canvas let to overflow The blithe outpourings of his golden health. 29 GIOCONDA The Mona Lisa throweth me to trance ; I cry for Mona Lisa wonderingly ; I would give riches to writhe in her glance One moment and endure her cold reply. Laughing — I grant the very name of her Maketh me various in desire, a thrall Trembling before my Lady Sinister Who telleth naught and comprehendeth all. A serpent Lamia by lone dusky rocks After the wand of Hermes made her woman ; Medusa — ere proud Athena gave her locks Of vengeance; something whimsical and human Yet with a noble bounteousness of mood, Mysterious fair, and strangely great and good. 30 VENETIAN ETCHING O for Venice, Venice! Od'rous damp Venetian, Palaces and bridges, Tintoretto, Titian. Every artist yearneth Soul to steep in Venice — If no ship may bear me, I will steal a pinnace. Sail across th' Atlantic — 'Twixt the Rocks Herculean- Holding still to Eastward On a sea cerulean. 31 32 At the Temple Gates I will thread Messina To a classic ocean, Plashing round Apulia With a faery motion. Soft ! the Adriatic Trembles into being. See ye not sweet Venice, Whither I am fleeing, In the featlvry distance? Now 'tis clearer, fuller — Look, my mainsail quivers, Heavier grows with colour, Red and brown and golden, While the vapours gather Lovingly like children Round the sea, their father. Venetian Etching 33 Blithe Apollo fills them With deep moods and cravings, Richer in their fragrance Than old Persian ravings; Richer in their fragrance — And I drift uncaring Whither group the fishers After their seafaring; Near the green giardino Where the wavelets lapping On the weed strewn scala Send my soul a-napping, And I wake and find, ah — Where O where is Venice? Where the steeples shimm'ring? Where the sails, the pinnace? THE SHELL I have a shell, a sea-shell in my pocket, It might be rimmed with gold — made a love locket — Or anything of jewellery fine If so be I might sell this heart of mine. But as it is, sleep, sleep my little shell My fair frail thing where every fall and swell Of her delighting bosom is pourtrayed In thy soft purring; sleep, be not afraid. 34 A WATER IDYL (Composed after hearing the " Melusine Over- hire " by Mendelssohn) Some time cerulean hills were mirroured far Into the soul of stream, celeste and wild — In one long waste enchant of sunny France — Where Nereid form and natural grace dis- crete Did flowering wreathe ambrosial tapestries 'Long the else naked shores, did Raymond quit His haunts of wonted revelry and steal An hour of delicious watchfulness — Go.d-fed and filled with yearning — by the waters 35 36 At the Temple Gates Rippling in murmur sweet. And as he lay Soothed into subtle dream among the shapes Of youthful fancy, fell-distraught and vain, Rose there a Life from out the billowy clear Of undulating river, whither his eyes Threw longingly of tender looks and sad. And swept into the sense ceolian strains In cadence stream-borne, held 0' long harmonies And soul-recesses heaped with quiver- ing pearl, — Thus sang the Life, the Naiad Melusine — Her eyes beseeching, hair downfallen loose, Floating like liquid gold upon the wave: " Raymond of Lusignan, O hie thee to the forest, A Water Idyl 37 Where leaves are springing, dying, or the frost Hath left the branches bare — O stay not here — " Then swept into the sense ceolian strains In cadence stream-borne, held 0' long harmonies 'And soid-recesscs heaped with quiver- ing pearl, — " O stay not here — Where cold haunt drowns the enchanted lover lost : O hie thee to the woods and take thee no rest Till — in lone cave — " * * * * * * held o' long harmonies And soid-recesscs heaped with quiver- ing pearl, — 38 At the Temple Gates " Till in lone forest cave." Here vanished, Serene in untold beauty, 'neath the rim Of waters limpid and transparent pure, Down to the gloom of mossy pebbles chill, In hidden grottoes and deep-visioned shades And many a viewless strange-refracted layer Of curious shapes, the unhappy Melusine. CHOPIN He touched the ivory keys and passed away Into a holier region of fair dreams Beyond the realm of Thought ; where choral streams Forever lull the sense, and tall trees sway Beneath th'enchanted breeze; where day by day The spring a blessing breathes and sunlight gleams Thro' shady knots of leaves, and Nature teems Panting, to fill the Poet's cup alway. And yet amid this loveliness I feel 39 4-0 At the Temple Gates The same sad searching eyes, like minor chords Cleaving the soul; and, ah, too deep for words The bitter yearning of a long-drawn sigh Which naught can quell — Chopin, thy grief unreal Is real to me — I weep, I know not why. BEETHOVEN Sing, arch-evangel of the Hallowed Dark, Sing, and we shall not weep thee very- long; We know thou art magnificent and strong And hast the Phidian breadth, the Homer spark ; We shall forget how miserable and stark Thy life — thy room how solitary, cold ; Thy soul barred rudely from her rightful fold, For Earth's surpassing bitterness the mark. Aye, when thunders from the Almighty steep Assault with grandeur the enthroned sky, 41 42 At the Temple Gates When sunlight spears the mountains and winds are thrown At random yet in stupendous harmony- Over the passionate bosom of Love's deep, We can forget the life-elm o'erblown. ON READING SOME LINES OF SCHILLER Heroic waves are beating on the rocks Of my soul's strand; they shake their fiery locks High in the air, they burst the chain and run, And die with all their glorious duty done. To W. H. G. I As David unto Jonathan, so I To you dear friend ; and who shall us gainsay So sweet companionship, that cannot die Till thou or I lie stored in the clay. Ofttimes I look upon the stars and think How frail Life's delicate film, till seer Night Dews warning on my temples and I shrink Th' intenser charm of soul's dsedalian light. Then falls the time when I can scarcely mark Or pulse or breathing and the failing ground Appals with ghostly fragrance, and the dark Sways numbing to the senses like a sound. But whatsoe'er my mood, tis but a frame For thy true image given in God's name. 43 44 At the Temple Gates II An odour thrills me in these Autumn days, Too galling sweet where sunken leaves have lain — Now is the month of winds and shifting haze, Of storms and soughing boughs and swing- ing grain. Spent apples cumber o'er the lifeless ground, And grapes hang rimy to the slender vines ; Chill rains are constant, moles make easy mound, Garners are full and farmers cellar wines. Now is the time when 'long the temple sky Form priestly clouds to Night's recession hymn; And now young maids bewail the dark and sigh The summer's loss when day grows early dim; To W. H. G. 45 And now the hour when thou shalt most of all Be with me in my heart's confessional. Ill Companioned with a tremulous, sweet joy, I wander where the salt mist mantles all; And now the baser world cannot annoy, I gladden forward as to festival : The perfumes of sea marish are awake — I sing yet seem in prayer, as the waves Kneel on the sands a moment ere they break In hymns and haste declining to their graves. The wind, like faunal flutes accompanying The distant harmonies of sea and shoal, Doth fall away and swell, awakening Some hidden Beauty in my streamlet soul, Who chorals 'mong the reeds what I would rime To thee, half-hushed and at the end of time. A PRELUDE O Poesy my refuge and delight ! My sanctuary steeped in hallowed fire; Thee shall I not approach with coarse desire, Nor trivial temper nor satiric spite; But with a heart bowed lowly in thy sight, Kneel and be thankful and rise dimly grand And laud the Priest-Creator who hath planned Art's many temples with illustrious might. Then if my song be sweet in godlike ears, Sweet unto them that know harmonious sound, O never let it wholly to the world — After the soul has suffered and been hurled Thro' a life's fury, drowned with vexing tears, If yearns the beauty of thy cloistered bound. 46 LONGINGS IN SPRING O sweet to roam the pleasant mead, In the life-yielding May, When birds are at their merry creed And freshly blooms the day. A holy food it gives to me, A wonder and delight, A glory and a liberty That make the whole world bright. And if I could but bear away These saving balms that heal, O if I could arise and say One tithe of that I feel, — 47 48 At the Temple Gates Then in my heart a joy would flow, A May dawn of the mind, Giving me power to love and know And beautify mankind. THE RECOLLECTION Companion bright — methought I stood with thee In the blithe June time, when the runneled mead Set the thrush calling, and the frisky kine To piping zephyrs dallied with nimble step. Hand swinging hand we gazed on shadow streams, Sighing dreamily when the luscious frag- rance Frenzied our nostrils, or the honeyed murmur Nestled too closely, or the wide-bosomed clouds, 49 50 At the Temple Gates Sweeping like Juno in Olympic robe, Swelled out our moving fancies. Some time thou, Or some time I, remarked how a floating wisp, Or blossom torn aloose, for all the world Resembled a butterfly; then would we lean And strain our vision, colouring the while To watch whither it sank; then to laugh loud At lovers' silliness, and straight become Solemn as evergreens in sapling time. O I can view how fresh thy kirtle hung— An oriole's dress, thy bodice a lily, Thy hat a fairy bark on golden waves ; And how thy mouth did quiver when I spake Some foolish tale of lovers who were false, Of others who endured a sacrifice, Or others who like Juliet sipped the vial. The Recollection 51 Then silent stood we smothering deep sighs, Nor venturing the mutual glance till thou By the morn rye set murm'ring loosed a song; O then I watched enviously lest thou Forget me in thy soul's communion ; And thus thy voice leading the feathered quire : " Was once a lowly swain That wooed a highborn maid; And they kissed in the golden grain And strolled in the linden shade. " The girl had a father old Who loved his daughter fair, And spake ' when ye leave my fold, Tis some noble name to share; 52 At the Temple Gates " ' The name of noble knight, Whose castle towered and free Fronteth the eagle's flight When he launcheth o'er the sea. " ' In honourable domain, Where the powdered seneschal Shall fend thy silken train When thou queenest thro' the hall. " ' Make thee a splendid home Where the armours brightly beam, And sink to the carved tomb By legendary stream.' " Then answered the girl, — ' O father let me stray At eve where the harebells twirl And the shepherd streamlets play. The Recollection 53 " ' For I know a comely place, A crofter's cottage low, Where ivies interlace And the birds twit to and fro. " ' I crave no eld domain, Where the powdered seneschal Shall fend my silken train When I queen me thro' the hall ; " ' But a gentle country heart, One gracious Hope above, A loyal woman's part, And some pretty heads to love. " ' O father dear relent ; Let us to do our will ; And our days shall aye be spent To please thee and bless thee still.' 54 At the Temple Gates But the sire frowned wild, And he drew a trembling sword — Now the grass weeps o'er his child And he shrinks before the Lord." Then spake I, " wondrous sweet thy song — Ah Isabel, — The way is all too clear; No Romance now to frame our love with dark, Setting love's gold the deeper ; nay, 'tis gone, The balcon time, when Youth with hushed guitar Honeyed the twilight, and the clanging steel Brake on the amorous stillness of the moon Like Apollo's shaft. Gone is the woven ladder, The Recollection $5 The sil'vry hoof of lion-haired coursers gay, The holstered weapon, all caparison And knightly harness have played their parts and gone. And it brings the sigh, to dwell on splendours past; On the gorgeous cloak and mediaeval strut, On plumes 'bove glitt'ring helm in shouting list Where a Lady smiled enthroned. What have we now In all this age, this cunning wakeful age, This age of records and fresh definitions, This time when all things swell the crucible. And the dearest jewel of our Fancy's casket Shall prove but dross, — ay, what is now to set 56 At the Temple Gates Against the roseate dream that shall not pale And doff its fragrance by comparison ? " Then sang my Love — her voice like morning vale Or pasture sweet after long banishment, — Crystalline : " Idly in the past thou rovest, Thine eyelids heavy and thy heart oppressed ; Thou starvest in a world of plenty — eat! About thee are fruits waving, and the corn Droopeth in ripeness, and maturing roots Dug from the odorous fallows are thy food. Yon pearly brook where laps a gentle haze Under long leaves to cool her waters limpid Shall give thee drink. O Wanderer this air Delicious, and the ground so greatly firm, This earth with all her benefits and pains, Bring hope more joyous than the moulded past. The Recollection $y And who can tell the past how dead it lies! Nay, let us live and love and praise the God." Then seemed I took thee with mine arms and passed Thro' a wide door whence fell a gentle plain Toward life waters, undulation sweet. A soft fire glimmered from a swaying fount. I gazed — some phantom 'fore us with a censer 'Gan swinging light, as others incense yield. Without him was no vision ; and we twain Leaning together, looking not on ourselves, Led by the angel Human — ay, 'twas thou Invoked him in the generant loveliness Of primal nature — entered a dim vale. 58 At the Temple Gates II Now as we went with watchful eyes and bright, In our young marriage happiness too fair, Our tranquil guide pointed a mighty dome, Which in vast bolted blackness bended me; And, first time in our wanderings did seem To smile our master spirit like a father At evetime by his best beloved children, And spake: " Come silently and enter in; Come silently and enter pitiful. These are the portals of a mighty hall, The hall of people, poverty, and pain, That hall ye know not; bend the neck and come." So entered we, heart-thrilling and with pause, The Recollection 59 Even so unexpectedly and grimly That shadowy domain which is the world. And O my heart with pity Gave a great heave, and the tears coursed adown Thy visage young, and a strange wonder- ment Plenished our souls — barren things till that time. " Alas ! " I cried, " so much of all mankind, So vast a company ! " and hid my face In scholar hands, while thou didst tremble too. Then spake the guiding one : " as lookers-on Remain ye not ; compassion shall ye know And the deep sombre pathos for your kind; Soul must be wakened ere development ; 60 At the Temple Gates But not alone come ye to view the world. To play your part, to move within the world, Ye have fared troublous hither. Others shall gaze Compassionate on ye, as ye on them. Sorrow must level all, till joy may build Enduring mansions on a likelier soil." ^c ;fc $z ^ He $z O Time thou wast a desert, and our lives In lonely caravan did wend their way All silently across thee; thou didst stretch Before mine eyes through tedious distances Of seeming endless years, endless years. 5JS * * * * >K In every soul comes longing and the hour When beauty is too burdensome with sweet ; When passion too warm refined frees our life's flower The Recollection 61 Into mad melancholy, golden winged. Then is the need of winter and sere tempest, The want of rudeling buffets and ill fortune, Th'enduring heartstab of a treasonous world : For in our intense delights we grow too precious, And cherishful of insect fantasies, Too dapper in our souls. — Nay, let the North Shiver us into generosity; And let the sleet and the loud hissing rain Shame us to better action : the hungry square, The street of rags and the infectious alley Are critical auditors. Let us then feel Like Nature's self, the wants of our own time; And, hoarding up lost energies, give out 62 At the Temple Gates In proper season; and with how fair a face Our own apportioned blessing to mankind. ****** Lull me winds, and thou blest stream Softly ply thy sylvan voice For here my love would stray by choice And here I used to watch and dream. How slender was her form in white, Her soul, how tranquil shining through, And every step she made was true As the step a star takes in the night. My soul is standing on the shadowy brink Of some great thought, my heart already glows With one great love; and like the glorious sun, The Recollection 63 Silently, from the night-time of the past Rises my life. Oh, precious hour of all, When we awaken to a world of good ; Our fancies ripened with experience, And the fair human influence set blooming By sympathetic rains; Oh fragrance warm Of charitable impulse, breeze divine That wends amain the channel of compassion Wafting us unto God. How trifling then Romance with all its dress, all the display Of days Provencal, the chivalric blend Of Romish pageantry, Castilian pride, Lie sculptured cold in the mind's corridor, And wage no more with Nature for our hearts, Than vies the diamond with an orphan's tear To melt us. — So, Love, did we journey on 64 At the Temple Gates In blest serenity from that Youth hill, Whence, fashioned in one symmetry of soul, We dared the glooming valley. And even now — While at mine elbow wrapped in secure slumbers, Under the cool of nursing branches gentle, Thou leanest, dear, — I hold the record sweet, Which, on thy brow with a smooth tranquil blend, And o'er thy lips so burdened womanly, And on those eyelids, never yet flushed with anger, Voices thy beautiful past. And I do hold This earth a garden, which can nourish thee ; And the hordes of people are thy brethren flowers ; The Recollection 65 The sky with all its heaven is not more fair Than memory shrined in this calm blissful nook. So sleep thou on ; myself shall view the kine Move gracefully adown the idle glen. TO SILENCE I Majestic Being — thou that overawest The insolence of mortal word complaining — Come down among us from thy heaven height : Thy lofty frown unfold and kill our feigning, Our fancied glory; and even as thou sawest With pitying eye the universal night Primeval, where co-martyr of the Light, Thy spirit fled, And Godlike from the dead Did rise — O come and save us with thy might. 66 To Silence 67 II Come to us now, 'tis no delusive fear That makes us turn To thee, with thirst we burn. Give us thy cup of crystal fountain clear ; For we are fallen into noisy seeming And gesture meaningless, a very Babel, A pandemoniac life, of thought a dearth. Descend O Prophet in thy garment sable — The locks translucent from thy frontal streaming — And cast us forth, chiding our impious mirth With muteness till we crave the higher worth ; Point to the land, Then, with thy holy hand, Shatter our earth-built towers to the earth. 68 At the Temple Gates III Thy stateliness — thy kingly step and slow, When thro' the woods, Or over noontide floods, Or robed in purple mists upon the brow Of some gray Alpine form thou wand'rest lonely, — Or, Arab-like, the Dark thy still companion, Across Sahara or the Nubian waste, Or Arizona steep where streamless canyon In desolation becks thee — thee, thee only O'er sombre seas at whose horizon vast Lethean spelled our senses swing aghast, We recognize, And glory blinds our eyes — Sovereign of the Future and the Past. To Silence 69 IV We honour thee, magnificent and pure, Thou priestly shape Who lovest well to drape Thy shoulders with the midnight stole obscure ; Ancestral one, who 'neath thy Sphinx-brow holdest Eternal secrets; Astrologer and Father Who with thine Art forth from their forest haunts Calk st thine Ariel spirits sweet; or rather Grim visage wide, that while we gaze un- foldest Into an ocean where no storm-fiend taunts; Stupendous Thought ! who stridest forth and daunts jo At the Temple Gates The dizzy brain — Our earthly visions vain — We praise thee with no chords nor sounding chaunts, V But with the choral of pure contemplation, Where — poised above the world, the strife inglorious — Gazing upon thine immortality, We kneel in nobler war and rise victorious. We would be like the stars, in holier station, To send thee paeans that could never die While thou, Great Phantom, like the sea, the sky Or some dread thing Beyond imagining Didst hold thy sceptre forth eternally. TO THE EARTH Untiring One who searchest the deep skies Year after year — nor heeding moon nor star ; Great Silent Heart that thro' the long centuries Hast held thy fire hidden ; always far From him thou lovest yet no nearer hate — Tell me, was ever life so desolate, Was ever such inexorable fate As thine, eternally thy course to run, Seeming to approach, yet never nearing one Who lighteth all thy lonely way — the sun? 7i AUTUMN MEMORIES (On hearing " Im Herbst " by Robert Franz.) I If she were false I would be dead, The dank leaves clustering o'er my head ; No cypress bough to sing in the wind, No flowers strewn, no sorrow kind, Naught but death — to make me blind. I would not — cold and cruel — haunt Her chamber drear and darkling chaunt . Like the autumnal wind which calls " If she were false, if she were false ; " Nor like yon cloud in tears to break, Nor yet the storm full vengeance wreak ; But ah, too stunned to live or speak I'd hie me to my grave, my grave ! 72 Autumn Memories 73 And burst the clod and never weep, Nor hold the breath and backward creep, Nor voice these passionate throbs and rave; But throw myself in the crumbling deep And bless the God who such sleep gave If she were false. II When forest leaves are lying sere And dull mist hangeth over mere, Then speed I to the fields around, And linger by a mossy mound Where she doth lie, where she doth lie, And O it is a dreary sky. 74 At the Temple Gates No birds make music in the trees Half -naked branches in the breeze Sing a low dirgeful monotone — I wander o'er the leas alone No prey to melancholy fears, But O it is a world of tears. Ill Adown the early village scene I pass like a spirit thing ; Children are romping on the green Before the school bells ring. I stand beneath an aged tree Where I was wont to stand ; But now it does not shelter me. I am so tall and grand. Autumn Memories y$ The clouds are flying as fast they flew This day agone twelve years, And the earth was green and the sky was blue, But they moved me not to tears. O I have ranged afar, I feel The world is in despite; O Love ! O Heaven ! Let me kneel On the brink of concealing night. BESIDE A SLEEPING CHILD O slender sleeping Innocence ! Like a wan lily thy petals fold In the dark. No fell dream can bring offence; No harsh voice can bid thee hold Thine eyelids ope and stark, To think and think Till morrow, And drink and drink No joy;— Nay my sweet cither, nay so ! 'Tis thus for guilt, Whose fingers toy death's hilt ; 'Tis thus for age And worldly vassalage ; 7 6 Beside a Sleeping Child Jj "lis thus for him who raves In torment of suspense, Whom ceaseless worry draves Trembling to hourly graves Or harmfuller discontents; But thus for innocence, For Godliest innocence? Ah, no, no! A BALLAD The leaves are blowing across my face — Now a mace, a mace ! The clouds are flying, the heavens are clear- My horse and my spear! Ye cannot go at your age, your age With your spear and mace; Ye would not attempt the winter's rage — And your withered face. I'll follow him o'er the western field — My helm and my shield! Now, open the gate Sir Seneschal, Or thou shalt fall. 78 A Ballad 79 father thy arms can never hold Thy silver shield; And the wind sweeps down so sullen cold Thro' the Western Held. Now daughter take thy hand from me — I will be free ! I'd brave far more than the wintry wild For my hapless child. BEAUTY THAT LIES IN THE THORN A love song is on my lips So sweet and rare of hue, I am as one who sips Delight in elysian dew, And my cheek with passion pales Though my music trembles and fails. As in the farewell of Spring- When the early beauties are dead, And the season awakening, With maturer warmth is fed, — And the ripeness that in youth cloys Has become the intensest of joys, — 80 Beauty that Lies in the Thorn 81 So from the death of one hope I will shape me a lovely fear, Tender as heliotrope Yet blooming and wholesome and clear, And this I shall bring to thee On wings of bright melody; And place it at thy side — so; Then vanish like silver rain, And thou shalt arise in a glow And say : " Love was not in vain, When, from life's early sorrow Such fruitful delight we borrow." Oh in the denial of all I've loved the most from my birth, Little by little shall fall The threads that bind me to earth; Till I may rise slender and true, As spirit-beings do. THE SONG The song that burns in my bosom Shall be a song of you ; Sweet and with no strange fancies— But simply toned and true. A world of figure and fancy And strange wild loveliness, Could only cover thy beauty, Make my song's beauty less. 82 TWO LYRICS OF CHILDREN I Ada pure sparkling crystal From a life's tender well, I would to all-seeing Heaven That I might with thee dwell. But the sea of a generation Separates us for aye, And tho' I may call thee and bless thee, I never can have thee by. To have thee by as I would, As a playmate and a part; I must invite thee, child, If I would give o'er my heart. 83 84 At the Temple Gates And a smile is on my lips — The smile that were tears to some — The nest where thou art the loveliest guest Can never be quite thy home. II Heaven's kindness on thy head, My little one so bright ; Here in thy basket bed Smoothed ready for the night. Heaven's kindness on that brow, And the pretty fingers curled, And the silken breathings low, And this nursery — thy world. In thy pure, gentle eyes Is something still and strong, A warmth and a surprise That melts me and haunts me long. Two Lyrics of Children 85 And here in my poet's mood I feel I could thee bless With a strange wondrous good Beyond mere happiness. A CRY OF MERCURY, MESSENGER TO HADES I I could not dally, I dared not wait, Ever too early And too late. II They snatched him from me — The boy so fair. They wove in threads Of his golden hair ; III In blood their fingers Deep-rooted stained ; 86 A Cry of Mercury 87 And over his beauty — So godlike veined — IV They drew the curses Of sin and death, And threw the fire In his sweet breath, V And crooned in evil ; And killed his hope, And bade me for ever In darkness grope, VI If I could not lead them To bitterer things ! Till I grew like a comet On terrible wings 88 At the Temple Gates VII And strake them to silence! But ah ! 'twas all ; I rise in the heavens Only to fall. VIII I could not dally, I dared not wait — Ever too early, And too late. PROSERPINE STUDIES I A Hymn of Proserpine, who, having dreamed the coming of Pluto, is told by Minerva that she is intended for the arms of Jove. Happy solution Of my dreams; What seemed so dark Was but the shadow Of some High Presence Over my way. Now can I step With firmer pace, And lips more silent; 90 At the Temple Gates For I shall sleep Upon his breast Olympian. And blessed be My own high state — Ev'n I, God's maiden — And think ye not That I shall fear His beckoning. But oh, to quit These tender fruits, And earliest flowers, And leaves transparent ! This — this will cost me Many a tear. Sweet fresh'ning rain, Fall thou around And wet the grasses ; Proserpine Studies 91 Bear me, O Zephyr, Resinous odours From the wild grove. For these my children Long must I pine; For the birdling bowers And arched brooks, And the laughing squirrels In their first freedom. Even the worm And the lithe lizard, Yea, and the serpent, Insect and zo-oph, Have my caresses, Are to me dear. Still am I joyous — Joyous to find My grief a shadow; 92 At the Temple Gates What seemed so dark Was the Great Presence Over my way. Calm then, and list thou Heart ! for the calling, For the far voice ; As the full Ceres Made me and bade me, I shall obey her. II The Solitude of Proserpine Gone, gone Minerva? Alas — but thou wilt come again! I am So weak without thee and the sport of Hours That dare not venture near thy radiant shield. Exalt thou art! supreme of all thy sex Of any world; and I? — O beauteous flower That hangs thy head, sweet grass that breathes around me, Fair lisping brook which runneth thy cool waters O'er crisped stones, — thou — thou art me. My mother bade me when I first arose Give life and warmth unto the barren earth, 93 94 At the Temple Gates And shed new influence and beauties rich ; And as I ran and laughed, lo ! from my hair Shook seed and petal, herb and freshest part Of roots, then loveliest forms imaginable Rose to my vision, and I breathed for joy — For very joy of what was soon to come, Was soon to be made real. For when I saw How all was but a dream, I sate and wept; And every seed under the wholesome shower Sprang up in natural life to comfort me; Sprang up and when I smiled grew joyous too. This seemed the fairest influence of all — That, when I wept or when I sang or when I laughing ran and lay reposeful down And merely breathed all things drew Good of me. Proserpine Studies 95 But in the passing — in the calm, later time, When, ever watchful I should guard my childlings Lest they should fail — came there a parched breath Out from the earth and with it a harsh voice, Which spake : " O ye are mine, ye are for me, For mine alone." And ah, the hopelessness That struck me with these words. I looked above And saw the placid sky ; I gazed around On beauteous lawns and rivers and pure hills And glens of wavering green, and still did hear Below, heart-breaking laughter, riotous mirth 96 At the Temple Gates And shouting of unholy things. I turned, Silent, and fled in dream o'er dismal waste — O'er dream waste terrified, until I knew Minerva's hand upon my brow — and woke. Ill ( Song of the Zephyrs Wailing for Proserpine ist Zephyr She is lost, She is gone, Tempest tost, Desert lone In the wild. 2 d Zephyr Sweet and mild Was her breath ; "Ceres' child!" The God saith ; She is gone. 97 98 At the Temple Gates 1st Zephyr Where afar In the space Moon or star Wheels apace; She is flown. 2d Zephyr Every stone Must now weep, Every tone Wake from sleep, Her to mourn. 1st Zephyr Ay, forlorn Must we bide, She is borne Proserpine Studies 99 From our side, Where away ? 2d Zephyr Bridal bay For her hair, — Well-a-day! She was fair, Proserpine. 1st Zephyr Weary mine Who hath known; Weary thine, She hath flown, Proserpine. 2d Zephyr Proserpine. LofC. ioo At the Temple Gates ist Zephyr To the hill, to the vine Let us fly. 2d Zephyr Canst thou die Proserpine ? (Exeunt in calm.) BLEAKLANDS Now may I roam the melancholy hills, Yon wintry hill that in no verdure gowned, No autumn rich, Sirenian wind or sound Of skurrying bee the heart's cup overfills ; Nor where gay, winged sprites 'mong leafy rills Chant in full joyance till the woods resound ; Nor where sun-fairies sport o'er mere and mound, But with content as stricter fancy wills. And I do think 'twill ever be my choice — Mothered by highest moods when quite alone — IOI 102 At the Temple Gates To hearken Nature's sterner, grander voice; There dwells a beauty in that undertone, A living power to bid the soul rejoice, The melodies of spring have never known. EVENSONG The holy light of eventide Is mantling the still sea, All things in world and heaven wide Glow with tranquillity. An angel watches o'er the deep, I feel the presence mute ; The magic of his vesper lute Has lulled the labouring waves — they sleep. How blest the time when every care Stills like a summer cloud; When a pure balm breathes in the air, And nature is endowed 103 i oa At the Temple Gates With special powers to heal the mind, — When heart quaffs blissful springs; When dreams have high awakenings And golden sights enchain the blind. At moments let me feel the storm In all its passionate yearning, But give me now the placid form Beneath which life is burning. I love the early tempest cry, The fresh morn and the motion ; But none less clear the tranquil ocean Under a meditative sky. O fisher schooners softly wending Brown winged o'er the bay! With the low light of heaven blending In my spirit's ray! Evensong 105 Ye are but fancies like the rest — Dream sails on vision streams — And real tho' ye be, as dreams I love ye best, I love ye best SANCTUARY There is a temple in thy face, but O I shall not name thy brow an altar nor Thine eyes pure sainted windows ; I adore Too fondly, deeply ever to bestow Images on thy sacred beauty. No, Let me but worship without knowing why, — As 'neath the benison of sea or sky We stand bareheaded with all veins aglow. O what were human life without devotion ? Without the blessed time when Self does fail Silently like a shadow, when an ocean Of sublime meaning tides the naked heart From love's eternity, and world, grown pale, Kneels murm'ring while unworthy dreams depart ? 106 TRANQUILLITY When I am gone, let first resound The dismal mockery of brass; And let, by melancholy mound The gloom cortege of mourners pass. Then all of sweet that ever was In the fresh dewy world I love, The flocks, the flowers, the silent grass, — Let them press round about my bed and joyful prove. When pipings from the leafy burn — By zephyrous satyr lonely played, With something of a soulful turn Inspire the solitary shade; 107 io8 At the Temple Gates Or when from distant pasture glade Issues the calm of bleating herds, Or when the gold light 'gins to fade And eve wakes silvery with twinkling notes of birds; Then low my heart shall lie in nest As it lies in the wild grove here ; I cannot fancy heaven's rest More perfect and more fruitful clear, I cannot vision spot more dear, More blessed for the labouring one— > A holier urn for the last tear Than this retreat where all my toil on earth seems done. While I am living let me be No selfish fool of sighs and groans; I would make pure the ecstasy Tranquillity 109 Of all which strenuous manhood owns. But when I die — God rest my bones! Then I have finished and shall seek No more life's descant of strange tones But lips shall close as when Content for- bids them speak. Ambition is the morning light, Its memory the gloam of age, But the genial ministers of night Have little power the soul to 'suage Unless with an heroic rage We have found weariness in strife; Profoundest calm is passion's gauge, — We must have toiled to know the evening cools of life. As in the fading of a flower Dwelleth the dirge of beauty spent, no At the Temple Gates So in this pensive poet's hour I feel a faery discontent; Yet with it something God hath lent To make me strong and heavenly wise ; Now in new paths my way is bent With proudly rising soul and meekly downward eyes. AN APRIL LYRIC Oh I would be the priest of spring To say a mass for everything That sings and wings and blooms and sprays — And bless them to the end of days. Now Nature laugheth like a child, And over all — so mute, so mild — My soul like a protecting sky Offers her balm of sympathy. I feel that I could die for them, These birds, these flowers on dewy stem, And the green lives multitudinous As the loving Saviour died for us. in THREE SONNETS OF A WINTRY SHORE I ALONE Sweet recreation by the wintry sea To wander as the mood will oft invite, When colours roseate fall silvery On the pure limpid shells and pebbles white; When weeds lie prisoned by the freezing foam, And minnows dart in the translucent shallows ; And broken reeds are stiff'ning in the loam, And wild birds shriek about the briny fallows. When sky is clear and northwind biteth keen, Dull eyes grow bright, pale cheeks turn flow- 'ry pink, — When life-fruit hangeth ripe, and I to glean Need but the moment on my fair love think ; Then falleth unto me a joy so pure, I wonder my frail spirit can endure. 112 Three Sonnets of a Wintry Shore 1 1 3 II TOGETHER My Radiant One, it were enough that thou With all thy beauty stayest for ever mine; That every glint of thy dear eyes, each line Of cheek and bosom holdeth me as now; It were enough that o'er thy limpid brow No darkness steal to mar its brilliance fine; And thy repose, thy motion, all of thine Be thine till a wise heaven disallow. But when, exulting by the ocean's side — Where wind shouts free, and waves responsive roar, And storm-birds scream above the skurrying tide- There Girl! though in thy beauty as before Thou standst — in thy full loveliness and pride — These fade away, God gives thee so much more. H4 At the Temple Gates III — ALONE So startling white, O February moon ! Can thy dark home appal thee to such ways, That thou with heaven's glory on thy face, Wanderest in dejection? Can the boon Of solitude be turned to pain so soon? Has grief consumed thine ampler, fuller rays, Or, tell me, seekest thou some purer place Beyond the wave where rest thy silv'ry shoon ? Form incomparable ! I gaze on thee In calm so deep, meseems as if thou wast My bridal shape of spirituality, Some beauteous being rendered from the Past, In whose inviolate countenance I see Life's joy and sorrow mould into one at last TO AN EVENING CLOUD Bright swan of heaven's sapphire bay, My soul is rilled with light, To view thee on thy golden way Unto the silent night. It yields me a contented throe, A balm from paradise, To watch thee, lordly-bosomed, flow Along the limpid skies. When all the troublous day is done, The weariness and strife, How fortunate to gaze upon One large majestic life. "5 1 1 6 At the Temple Gates It makes the world with all its noise Seem petty and amiss ; And thine the noblest of pure joys, A calm, superior bliss. Oh let me, open-minded, learn To glide like thee along, And on laborious lives that yearn Shed freshening dews and strong. I would have something of God-form, Be kingly poised like thee, A power for swiftness and for storm ? Held in tranquillity. Then hear me, traveller of heaven, Where peaceful billows swell ; In thy serene transparent even I feel my life is well. To an Evening Cloud 117 I feel the freshness and the spring, And the full grace divine That flows for every living thing In the world's heart and mine. THE END This is the fifteenth edition of a list of some of the works issued by The Abbey Press, publishers, of one hundred and four- teen Fifth Ave- of New York, in Paris, Mel- Montreal, Cape- Berlin, and other jKgpgB ST WM-£^5 *r¥~. 5M& nue, of the city with Agencies bourne, Calcutta, town, Mexico, places; any book may be obtained through any bookseller, or will be mailed postpaid, on receipt of the published price. ADVERTISING AGENTS' DIRECTORY, THE. Cloth. One Dol- lar. (In preparation.) AFLOAT WITH OLD GLORY. By H. V. Warren. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. AMERICAN ELOQUENCE. A Selection of Orations. By Carlos Martyn. (In preparation.) AMERICAN WOMEN OF THE TIME. Revised to date and edited by Mr. Charles V. Rideal, Mrs. John King Van Rensselaer and Dr. Carlos Martyn. Cloth. $7.50. (In preparation.) ARICKAREE TREASURE, THE. By Albert G. Clarke. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. AT THE TEMPLE GATES. By J. Stewart Doubleday. Cloth, 12mo. Ouo Dollar. AUNT LUCY'S CABIN. By Jane Kankakee. Cloth. Daintily produced. Fifty Cents. BALLADS OF BROTHERHOOD. By Alphonso Alva Hopkins. Cloth, small 12mo, S4 pages. Fifty Cents. BEAUTIFUL HAND OF THE DEVIL, THE. By Margaret Hob- son. Cloth, small 12mo. Fifty Cents. BOBTAIL DIXIE. By Abbie N. Smith. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. One Dollar. BRITANNIA; OR, THE WHITE QUEEN. By the Rev. South G. Preston. Cloth, 12ino. One Dollar. BY THEIR FRUITS. By Edith M. Nicholl. Cloth, 12mo. One DoUar. SOME PUBLICATIONS OF THE CANDLE LIGHT, A, AND OTHER POEMS. By Louis Smirnow. Cloth. One Dollar. CAT TALES IN VERSE. By Elliott Walker. Cloth, with cover designed by C. H. Rowe. Fifty Cents. CAVALIER POETS. By Clarence M. Lindsay. Cloth, small 12mo. Fifty Cents. CHARLES DICKENS' HEROINES AND WOMEN FOLK. By Charles F. Rideal. With two drawings by Florence Pash. Cloth. Fifty Cents. CHRISTIAN SCIENCE AND KINDRED SUPERSTITIONS. By the Rev. Charles F. Winbigler. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. CHRIST'S MESSAGE TO THE CHURCHES. By William M. Campbell. Cloth, 12mo, 170 pages. One Dollar. CITY BOYS' LIFE IN THE COUNTRY; OR, HOWARD AND WESTON AT BEDFORD. By Clinton Osgood Burling. Illus- trated. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. COALS OF FIRE. By M. Frances Hanford Delanoy. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. CONCHITA'S ANGELS. By Agnes Camplejohn Pritchard. Cloth, 12mo, 216 pages. One Dollar. CONSPIRACY OF YESTERDAY, A. By Mical Ui Niall. Cloth, 12mo, daintily produced, 75 pages. Fifty Cents. CONTINENTAL CAVALIER, A. By Kimball Seribner. Cloth, 12mo, 258 pages. One Dollar. CORDELIA AND OTHER POEMS. By N. B. Ripley. Cloth, small 12mo. Fiftv Cents. COUNCIL OF THREE, THE. By Charles A. Seltzer. Cloth, 12mo, 177 pages. One Dollar. COUNTRY STORE WINDOW, A. By Herbert Holmes. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. CRIME OF CHRISTENDOM, THE. By Daniel Seelye Gregory, L.D., LL.D. Cloth, 12mo, 330 pages. $1.50. CROSS OF HONOR, THE. By Charles F. Rideal and C. Gordon Winter. Second Edition. One Dollar. CULTURE FROM READING. A book for everybody. By Albert R. Alexander. Twenty-five Cents. CUPID IN GRANDMA'S GARDEN. By Mrs. David C. Paige. Daintly produced. Twenty-five Cents. CURIOUS CASE OF GENERAL DELANEY SMYTHE, THE. By W. H. Gardner, Lieutenant-Colonel U. S. A. (retired). Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated, 204 pages. One Dollar. DANGER SIGNALS FOR NEW CENTURY MANHOOD. By Ed- ward A. Tabor. 12mo, cloth bound, 316 pages. One Dollar. DAUGHTER OF THE PROPHETS, A. By Curtis Van Dyke. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE, THE. By Elizabeth Bryant John- ston. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. DEFEATED, BUT VICTOR STILL. By William V. Lawrence. Cloth, 12mo, 424 pages. One Dollar. DEMOCRACY AND THE TRUSTS. By Edwin B. Jennings. Cloth, 65 pages. Fifty Cents. DEVOUT BLUEBEARD, A. By Marie Graham. Cloth, 12mo, 300 pages. One Dollar. ABBEY PRESS, 114 Fifth Ave., New York. SOME PUBLICATIONS OF THE DIABOLICAL IN SCRIPTURE AND IN HUMAN LIFE, THE. By Harold Storinbrow, D.D., LL.D. Cloth, 8vo, limited edition. Ten Dollars. (In preparation.) DIP IN THE POOL, A.— (Bethesda.) By Barnetta Brown. Cloth (Miniature), daintily produced. Twenty-five Cents. DOCTOR JOSEPHINE. By Willis Barnes. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. DOCTRINES OF THE BOOK OF ACTS, THE. By G. L. Young. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. DOLINDA AND THE TWINS. By Dora Harvey Munyon, A.M. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Seventy-five Cents. DOOMED TURK, THE; OR, THE END OF THE EASTERN QUES- TION. By E. Middleton. Cloth. Fifty Cents. EGYPTIAN RING, THE. By Nellie Tolman Sawyer. Cloth, small 12mo. Fifty Cents. EVERYDAY CHILDREN. By May C. Emmel. Cloth. Fifty Cents. EXPERIENCE. "How to Take It: How to Make It." By Bar- netta Brown. Cloth (Miniature), daintily produced. Twen- ty-five Cents. FEATHER'S WEIGHT, A. By Amarala Martin. Cloth, small 12mo, 131 pages. Fifty Cents. FIGHTING AGAINST FATE. By Moses D. Morris. Cloth, 12mo, 275 pages, with one hundred illustrations. One Dollar. FLOWER OF THE TROPICS, A, AND OTHER STORIES OF MEXICO AND THE BORDER. By Warner P. Sutton. Cloth, 12mo, 121 pages, daintily printed and bound. One Dollar. FOUNDATION RITES. By Lewis Dayton Burdick. Cloth, 12mo. $1.50. FROM CLOUDS TO SUNSHINE; OR, THE EVOLUTION OF A SOUL. By E. Thomas Kaven. Cloth, 12mo, 182 pages. One Dollar. FROM THE FOUR WINDS. By Warren B. Hutchinson. Cloth, small 12mo. Fifty Cents. GLOBE MUTINY, THE. By William Lay, of Saybrook, Conn., and Cyrus M. Hussey, of Nantucket. Cloth, 12mo, 163 pages. Seventy-five Cents. "GOD AND THE CITY." By the Right Reverend Henry C. Pot- ter, Bishop of New York. Paper, Five Cents. A daintily printed, silk cloth bound edition, Twenty-five Cents. GREAT BREAD TRUST, THE. By W. H. Wright. Cloth, Min- iature Series, 54 pages. Fifty Cents. GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD, THE. By Henry Drum- mond, Cloth, with photograph and biographical sketch of the author. Fifty Cents. GREEN VALLEY. By T. P. Buffington. Cloth, 12mo, 151 pages. One Dollar. HALF HOUR STORIES. By Dora Harvey Munyon. Cloth, 12mo, 148 pages. One Dollar. HALLIE MARSHALL. A True Daughter of the South. By F. P. Williams. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. HANDFUL OF RHYMES, A. By Lischen M. Miller. Cloth, 12mo. $1.50. ABBEY PRESS, 114 Fifth Ave., New York. SOME PUBLICATIONS OF THE HEALTH AND HYGIENE FOB THE HOUSEHOLD. By John F. Nutt. Twenty-five Cents. HEART'S DESIRE, THE. "The Moth for the Star; The Night for the Morrow." By Barnetta Brown. Cloth (Miniature), daintily produced. Twenty-five Cents. HEROINE OF SANTIAGO, THE; OR, "WHAT FOLLOWED THE SINKING OF THE MERRIMAC. By Antoinette Sheppard. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. HOCH DER KAISER. Myself und Gott. By A. McGregor Rose (A. M. R. Gordon). Fully illustrated by Jessie A. Walker. Cloth, 12mo. Fifty Cents. HOUSE OF A TRAITOR, THE. By Prosper Merrimee. With photograph and biographical sketch of the author. Cloth. Fiftv Cents. HOW TO ENJOY MATRIMONY; OR, THE MONOGAMIO MAR- RIAGE LAW AMENDED BY TRIAL-EXPIRATION CLAUSE. By Rose Marie. Cloth. Twenty-five Cents. HOW TOMMY WAS CURED OF CRYING. By Gertrude Mitchell Waite. Cloth, fully illustrated and daintily produced. Fifty Cents. IN LOVE AND TRUTH. The Downfall of Samuel Seele Healer. By Anita M. Friedrichs. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. INTELLECTUAL PEOPLE. By William Adolphus Clark. Cloth, small 12mo, 97 pages. Fifty Cents. INTERNATIONAL DIRECTORY OF AUTHORS, THE. With a full list of their works, dates of publication, etc. Compiled and edited by Charles F. Rideal and Carlos Martyn. IRON HAND, THE. By Howard Dean. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. One Dollar. JOHN WARRANT. By Henry Goodacre. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. JONAS BRAND; OR, LIVING WITHIN THE LAW. By Jane Valentine. Cloth, 12mo, well printed and bound, 263 pages. One Dollar. KEY- WORDS AND PHRASES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT. By the Rev. South G. Preston. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. LADY OF MARK, THE. A Story of Frontier Experiences. By Sidney C. Kendall. Cloth, Fifty Cents. LIFE'S SPRINGTIME. By J. N. Fradenburgh. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. LIKE THE LILIES. By Lueinda T. Fenner. Daintily produced. Twentv-five Cents. LIQUID FROM THE SUN'S RAYS. By Sue Greenleaf. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. LITERARY LIFE. (A monthly Illustrated Magazine.) Five Cents per copv or Fifty Cents per annum, mailed free. LITTLE COURT OF YESTERDAY, A. By Minnie Reid French. Cloth, 12mo, 232 pages. One Dollar. LITTLE CRUSADERS, THE. By Isabel Scott Stone. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. LITTLE SCARECROW, THE. By Maurus Jokai. Cloth. Fifty Cents. ABBEY PRESS, 114 Fifth Ave., New York. jTune-15 ' ! ^01 JUN 3 1901 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724) 779-2111