>HEAF 0P P0EMS GE0RGE PERRY G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK LONDON 27 West Twenty-third St. 24 Bedford St., Strand Sbf litucherbotktr |jrcss 1894 COPYRIGHT, 1894 BY ROLAND HINTON PERRY Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by Tbe ftnicftcrbocfjcr press, Hew G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS THIS "SHEAF OF POEMS," THE AFTERMATH OF A LIFE DEVOTED TO LARGE IDEALS, IS DEDICATED TO MRS. BLOOMFIELD MOORE IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF HER APPRECIATION OF MY LATE HUSBAND, AND IN MEMORY OF HIS ADMIRATION OF HER PHILOSOPHIC BREADTH AND ELEVATION OF THOUGHT AND HER SELF-CONSECRATION TO THE HIGHER INTERESTS OF HUMANITY, BY IONE HINTON PERRY CONTENTS. I'AGE INTRODUCTORY vii EUCLID, PROBLEM I ....... i A VOICE 7 IN THE CASTLE OF LUFTWICH ..... 13 ACROSS THE DESERT ....... 19 EXULTEMUS ......... 27 HASTE, O ANGEL ........ 29 STAY IN THE ROSY SKIES 31 THE SEA'S PRAYER 33 A PROMENADE 35 JUDGMENT HYMN 41 THE PHALANSTERY 47 A SUMMER DREAM 59 THE SHOON 73 SHADOWS OF ROMANCE 79 UNCREATED LIGHT 83 ALONE 85 ^ENONE 89 THE SACRAMENT OF LOVE ...... 93 vi CONTENTS. PACK SONG OF KILCARE COTTAGE ... 99 SUNBEAM AND ROSE ....... 105 WHEN Do THE FLOWERS DIE 107 FIRST OF THE YELLOW LEAVES 109 THE BRAVE OLD BANNER . . . . . . in " LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD " . . .115 IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS i ig SIVA, DESTROYER 125 TRIBUTES TO THE MEMORY OF GEORGE PERRY . . 131 INTRODUCTORY. (From the "Home Journal" of Wednesday, November 21, 1888.) The Home Journal is confronted to-day with the sad duty of announcing to its readers the death of Mr. George Perry who, for many years, has presided over its literary departments. The effacement of his name from its familiar place under the title-heading of the Journal is a mournful necessity. And the pity of it is all the more because Mr. Perry seemed to be endowed with a bodily constitution that, though he had reached his sixty-first year, gave assurance of still a goodly number of years of effec- tive work either as editor or in that scholarly retire- ment to which he looked forward. The illness, ultimating in consumption, of which he died, was induced probably by exposure to the severe storm of last spring which he was obliged to viii INTRODUCTORY. face for a long distance in regaining his home after an ineffectual effort to reach the Home Journal office. The first effect of this exposure was an apparent ex- citation of health and spirits. But a few weeks later a low feverish condition set in attended with a cough which, not being ascribed to any deep-seated dis- order, was neglected. Mr. Perry, notwithstanding his gradually failing strength, and notwithstanding the solicitations of his friends and associates, per- sisted in his editorial work until, toward the end of June, he left, according to his custom, for a summer outing in the Berkshire Hills, expecting to renew there, as in former years, some measure of the vital energy expended in the work of the year. The sunlight and air and freedom of the Berkshires did not, however, have their usual effect upon him ; his strength steadily failed. Returning to the city a few weeks ago, he was making preparations to leave for a winter in the South, when death intervened. During this gradual decadence of his vital powers Mr. Perry always talked encouragingly, and in a quiet matter-of-fact way, of his recovery of health and vigor, as if apparently he felt it a duty to give INTRODUCTORY. ix nature " the benefit of a doubt," and not at least oppose her in any recuperative effort that she may have held in reserve. But it was evident that there was an undercurrent of feeling reflecting the shadow of approaching death, and that he did not turn away but was ready to accept this issue with philosophic calmness. That in the quiet of Berkshire Hills such at times was the secret tenor of his thoughts is shown by the following poem which he had pencilled on a stray bit of paper, and which was found among the papers at his bedside : SIVA, DESTROYER. Whose voice shall say him nay? Whose arm shall bar his way 1 Lord of unbounded sway ! Siva, Destroyer. Proud kings, whose lightest breath To men is life or death, Heeds he your ruth or wrath 1 Siva, Destroyer. INTRODUCTORY. Mother with bleeding breast Bowed o'er thy birdling's nest, Shall thy last woe arrest Siva, Destroyer ? Maiden with eyes of love Fixed on the heaven above, Hast thou a prayer to move Siva, Destroyer ? Youth of the lion heart, Brave for life's noblest art, Shall fame's fair glory thwart Siva, Destroyer ? Earth in thy sweet array, Bride of celestial day, Hast thou one bloom to stay Siva, Destroyer? Stars on the dome of night, Climbing to your far height Do ye escape his might ? Siva, Destroyer. What voice shall say him nay, What arm shall bar his way. Lord of unbounded sway ! Siva, Destroyer. IN TROD UC TOR Y. xi These are noble verses, tuned to a majestic cadence, borne along upon a deep groundswell of feeling, noble and strong in their terse simplicity. But it would be an error to infer from their subject and tenor that Mr. Perry lacked faith in that All-Life, in the light of which the shadows of destruction are ever absorbed and lost. Mr. Perry was a be- liever in the Over-Soul and in the persistence of life ; for him death was not entitled to the name of a reality. And this his faith was not due to the force of early teaching, to derived associations of thought ; it was not that faith which was worn as an external habit of mind ; it was a part, and the most radical part, of his nature ; it had more the character of an insight than a faith. He was a man of the antique oriental type to those who could understand and appreciate him a unique personality in this our latter-day world ; to him the shows of the world, the procession of events, were but the filmy clouds on the surface of life, a magnificent phantasmagoria for the entertain- ment of the soul. But this underlying thought did not prevent him, especially after he had hardened xii IN TROD UCTOR Y. himself to the work of life, from taking a practical interest in the questions of the day so far as they affected the higher culture, nor from engrafting upon an instinctive conservatism the most progres- sive views, as the many articles from his pen during the twenty or more years of his editorship have borne testimony. And yet through all there ran the qualifying note of the orientalist it is but a play in which I am taking part ; these shows and questionings are remote from the " me " which is my real life albeit I must do my work, and speak my piece as an actor in the scene, obedient to the call-bell of the stage manager Time. Mr. Perry was born in Richmond, a township in western Berkshire, Mass., bordering on the New York State line. He came of an old New England stock which has given distinguished sons to the service of the republic. The family homestead in which he first saw the light was situated near the base of what is known as Perry's Peak, from which one of the grandest views in the Berkshire Hills is seen. He who now writes this tribute to the mem- ory of his friend recalls as one of his most cherished IN TROD UCTOR Y. xiii remembrances a brief visit at his friend's home, when he was guided by him through winding ways to this mountain-top. It was at the period of early manhood, when life itself was an ascent to be climbed, and every upward step revealed an enlarged horizon and gave an intenser exhilaration. Surely no grander entertainment could a man offer his friend than this, and in such an ascent where could one find a more fit companion than him we mourn to-day ? He was by nature native to the mountain tops, a soul that satisfied itself only with the largest compass of view, the completest sweep of sky, and the sun's fullest flood of light. Mr. Perry was graduated at Williams College at a time when the wave of New England transcen- dentalism was still at its height. The Brook Farm venture had indeed collapsed, but youthful disciples of the new school still dreamed their dream of an ideal social life. Soon after his college days Mr. Perry joined the " North American Phalanx," a community established in Monmouth County, New Jersey, where it held a domain of some seven hundred acres ; made up in part of representatives xiv IN TROD UCTOR Y. of the idealism of Brook Farm, but in much greater part of practical-minded people, with a considerable infusion of that class which is neither idealistic nor practical, but has crochets and angles of belief and character which make it difficult for them to find a comfortable place for themselves in the world at large. The Phalanx for a few years grew in strength and flourished, but finally after a protracted strug- gle, long after the spirit that had inspired its for- mation had died out, went the way of all similar communities that are not held together by some religious bond, thereby giving testimony to the truth that society, whether on a small or a large scale, can only be sustained by some principle or faith higher than self-interest. Amid this community in its earliest and best days Mr. Perry spent two or three years of his life, dividing his time between the labors of the farm or garden and the prosecution of his favorite studies, reading the poets and philosophers and dreaming out for himself some solution of the great world- problem. On leaving the Phalanx, after a few months spent at his Berkshire home, Mr. Perry IN TROD UCTOR Y. XV came to New York to try his fortunes in literature ; he came, as other young men have come before, with a manuscript roll of poems in his hand, seeking a publisher. He did not succeed in this, but grad- ually adapting himself to the kind of literary work in demand though not without a strong effort of will and under the pressure of necessity, for his nature was inherently idealistic and his mind busied itself with themes remote from the common interest he succeeded in pushing his way in the literary field. His essays were received with special favor by the late Mr. Willis, and gained for him the post of assistant editor of the Home journal, and on the death of Mr. Willis he succeeded to the literary editorship of the paper and eventually acquired a part ownership in it. That is now some twenty odd years ago. We have little left to say. The ability, force and elevation of his mind have made themselves felt in leading articles on literary and social topics and in various departments of criticism. Though well known in literary circles and highly esteemed, he lived a somewhat recluse life, the life of the scholar X VI IN TROD UC TOR Y. and thinker. There is one group of literary people who will especially feel his loss, the later choir of poets. Of those who in recent years have acquired distinction in the poetical field not a few owe to Mr. Perry not only their introduction to the public but valuable critical help and counsel. Mr. Perry was himself a born poet of subtle and profound imagination, if not of varied range and versatile facility, and those who knew him best will always regret that the hard conditions of life did not leave him free scope for the exercise of his genius in the direction marked out by his nature. Our friend and associate's death so we call it in our human parlance occurred on Thursday, No- vember 1 5th. On the following Saturday the mortal form by which he was recognizable to our human sense was committed to earth in the burial ground of his fathers in Canaan Cemetery, N. Y., a few miles from the Berkshire home of his youth. And so for him have passed the world and its shows. H. H. A SHEAF OF POEMS. EUCLID, PROBLEM I. Unto those who rightly seek What the wise and subtle Greek In his symbols has concealed, Is the lore of gods revealed : Centred on the line's extremes, Twain embracing circles draw, Unto which this line shall be, Bond and limitary law. From their hearts two rays unite, Where the curves each other meet They are peers in birth and state, They the perfect Trine complete. EUCLID, PROBLEM I. Thus are we but empty lines, Light nor beauty has our life Shallow, narrow, stretching on, Long its futile toil and strife Till around our hearts are drawn Circles of the love of man, In whose arches we may find, Life's true measurement and span ; In whose arches we may see, Beauteous forms that ever shine, Forms that can from chaos lead Up to symmetry divine ; 'Neath whose arches we may build Our life's pathway straight and wide, Whereon struggling man shall find Heavenly furtherance and guide ; By whose arches we may rear, Thought and deed in noble trines, Which forever shall endure, Fortresses to man, and shrines. EUCLID, PROBLEM I. Let the shining bands enlarge ! Ever widening, till we find, In their clear, unselfish light, Godlike worth in all mankind. A VOICE. Mortal ! heaven's towers Frowning o'er thy pathway stand, - Up the terror-guarded ramparts ! Like the dauntless Morn ascend ! Hear thy godlike spirit ! Raze the walls of blinding Awe ! Be thou all thy soul can image ! Pass the Ban, and Curse, and Thrall ! Tempt yon airy regions ! Yonder fathomless Profound Will become to thee as steadfast As this narrow sky-girt land. No Abyss infernal Can detain thy venturing feet, Ne'er to him that seeks the Truthful, Shuts the unrelenting Gate. 7 A VOICE. Crags, nor gnawing Vultures, Chains nor loneliness can cower, If thy soul but see the glory Of the realms it may rule o'er. Guides, but never Masters, Thee can bring to starry spheres Never crouching slaves can enter Realms to which the Soul aspires. In thy own free Spirit Find thy holy, only rule ! Earth and heavens are barred and bolted To the soul that bows in thrall. Unto lowest nature, Thou art now a very god Past the highest thrones supernal, Leads thy upward, endless road. In those loftier heavens, Thy poor Pride and Self-regard Shall all die, Love's voices only In those harmonies are heard. A VOICE. II Up ! thy mortal brother Bearing on thy dauntless heart, Till his weak, unsteady footsteps Touch the Eternal Fields of Light. Down thy conquering pathway, Through the razed and rifted walls, Heaven's crystal floods outpouring Shall redeem Earth's deepest hells. Hear thy godlike Spirit ! Rise ! and know thy boundless might, Up ! thou conqueror, creator ! Take thy rightful Throne and State ! IN THE CASTLE OF LUFTWICH. Unbar the castle gate, Let now the bugle sound, A thousand swordsmen wait, Their chargers spurn the ground. The booming peals that roll From yonder flashing plain Awake the dreaming soul To fullest life again. The Soul has now its birth ! I feel its boundless might Cope with the deep-set Earth, And touch the spheres of light ! I scale the heights of life, Beyond the clouds of fear ! I 'm freed in noble strife ! Freedom is only here ! 13 IN THE CASTLE OF LUFTWICH. 15 Long by the stream of thought Vainly the Soul has stood Within its depths has sought The Beautiful, the Good ; Till the mock'd soul, with taunts, Cursed heaven, in wrath and pain, Sent with so godlike wants Upon Earth's poor domain. But heaven no more I wait, Heaven's might is in my heart ! Of all-decreeing Fate, I am myself a part ! And worlds I sought in vain, Shall rise beneath my hand ! Deeds ! deeds ! Fate's iron reign Bends at their stern command ! I hear, O man, thy march, Struggling with countless foes, Move up the shining arch, With strong and earnest blows IN THE CASTLE OF LUFTWICH. 17 And heaven's gates shall fall Before thy storming hand, And on its crystal wall Thv steadfast feet will stand. ACROSS THE DESERT. Long ago we started, Pilgrims o'er the sand, Dauntless, Titan-hearted, To seek the Aidenn land. Many days the marches Sped like dreams away ; 'Neath the mirage arches The desert blooming lay. Ever when the sunbeams Shot the fiercest down, O'er the fiery sandbeams The mirage brightest shone. Countless were the treasures Stored with tireless hand, Stored for glories, pleasures, To grace the Aidenn land. 19 ACROSS THE DESERT. 21 Many days the marches Sped like dreams away ; 'Neath the mirage arches The desert blooming lay. Years but still no Aidenn O'er the horizon rose ; Pilgrims, sorrow-laden, Lay down in death's repose. Marches ceased. The vision Like the day-star fell ; Naught that land Elysian, But Hope's illuding spell. On our sad breasts sinking Bowed our heads in shame, Of that glory thinking, That baseless towering dream. And we stood all laden With life's noble spoil- Cheer for that high Aidenn, But not for desert toil. ACROSS THE DESERT. 23 Mute and sternly beating, Mused our hearts beside Rivers deep and fleeting, That sought the ocean tide ; Gentle blossoms pressing Summer's fiery path Onward to the blessing That waiting Autumn hath ; Winds, with rapid pinions, Ever sweeping on Toward the bright dominions Where reigns the golden sun ; Saw the blessed of nature Robed in beauty shine ; Germs of stunted stature In deserts strive and pine. Long the fallen arches Of that Titan dream Threw, o'er hurrying marches, Their bright, bewildering gleam. ACROSS THE DESERT. 25 But no more the marches Sped like dreams away, And the mirage arches Made not the desert gay. Now a larger heaven Bends above us here, From our eyes are driven The mists of faith and fear. See we all things clearly, Hoping, fearing none, Living, acting, cheerly, As lives the mighty Sun. Here is youth eternal, Time and self are naught. Life for ever vernal In the great world-plan wrought. Night and twilight hoary Faith and Hope may cheer, Till they die the glory Of Noon shall not appear. EXULTEMUS. Bacchus, hail ! we drink to thee, Jocund god of generous pleasure ! Earth forget and heaven see, Drinking from thy purple treasure. By the midnight torches' glare, Over mountains steep and hoar, O'er the leafy, sounding shore, Crowned with ivy, thee we bear. Bacchus, hail ! we drink to thee ! Wreathe the goblet's flashing brim, Mirth with myrtle crowned and Glee ! Wildly chant the midnight hymn ! By the midnight torches' glare, Over mountains steep and hoar, O'er the leafy, sounding shore, Crowned with ivy, thee we bear. Bacchus, hail ! we drink to thee ! Shouting till the hills about, Hills and heavens return the shout, Evoe, Bacche, triumphe ! 27 HASTE, O ANGEL. What dark demon hast them cherished, O sad Soul, in thy endeavor To transcend the deeps that sever Angels from the lost and perished ? What dark spirit of the night Like a vulture tracks thy flight ; Thou by youthful visions bidden To explore the darksome way, Over seas in shadows hidden, Over continents forbidden, To the bounds of Endless Day ? Back, thou fiend, to endless night ! Haste, O Angel, haste your flight ! Fold your perfume-laden pinions O'er my weary, aching sight ! Guide my steps from out this night, Set me with the humblest minions In your holy pure dominions. Guide me ! only thus can mortals, Sore beset and sorrow-laden, Ever pass the blessed portals, Ever taste the bliss of Aidenn. 29 STAY IN THE ROSY SKIES. Stay in the rosy skies, Storm-troubled clouds ! Your pitchy folds are shrouds, And wrap the sweet and closed eyes. O winds of parted Springs, Your desolate wings Flap through the hollow night And bear life's slain delight. Sweep o'er the sunny vale, Mad surging flood, Below your war and wail Lie slain the beautiful and good. THE SEA'S PRAYER. O boundless, star-eyed Peace ! Fulfil my wild desire, And bid my spirit cease To struggle and aspire ! Yearning I stretch my hands, They clasp but lifeless sands ; Stanvard my steps I bear, They tread but empty air. Ever the lifeless sands, Ever the empty air, Ever the yearning hands, The struggle and despair. 33 A PROMENADE.. In midwinter I was stalking Down a proud and regal street, Where palatial grandeur only, Caught the echoes of my feet. O'er me came the scene's enchantment- Winter's frost I felt no more ; Crimson day from silken curtains Bathed the velvet-tufted floor. In the soft, luxurious shimmer Languished rare exotic blooms, And the streams of tropic carols Rippled through the thick perfumes. Precious ore, and stone, and crystal, Wool and silk of richest dyes, Burned along the walls of marble, Proudly towering in the skies. 35 A PROMENADE. 37 Art's divine prophetic pencil There surpassed the primal birth, Wrought the grand Promethean visions That shall clothe the future earth. What this wretched throng that passes ! Man in ruins can it be ? God in Heaven ! what impious mortals Here have outraged Man and Thee ! O ye children of the Father ! Whence have come your wreck and spoil ? Plundered, famished, blinded, buried In the sepulchre of toil ! O down-trodden, chilled, embruted ! Where is youth's auroral flight ? Where affection's dewy fragrance ? Where the grace of manhood's might ? A PROMENADE. 39 Where, poor wretches, is the fruitage That from earth your toil has won ? Marble homes your toil has builded Lustrous robes your toil has spun ! Fires of Heaven ! can naught more gentle Than your burning, blasting tide, Sweep from earth this mad oppression Crush this damning fratricide ! No; O Mercy, thou thou only, From thy high celestial home Thou alone wilt bid these fallen Unto life's rich banquet come. JUDGMENT HYMN. Day of Love ! that day of glory Shall redeem this chaos hoary ; Age to age repeats the story. Oh, what joy and exultation When Love brings the full creation To its high adjudication ! Night shall flee, and fear infernal ; Earth before its Judge eternal Shall arise in light supernal Love, the scroll of life unsealing All divining, all revealing, Night and Hell no more concealing. 41 JUDGMENT HYMN. 43 Spheres with joy will thrill and tremble, All the tribes of men assemble In the world-embracing temple Paeans through the arches ringing Suns like burning censers swinging, Holy airs and odors flinging And like sounds of seas fraternal, Blent and borne by breezes vernal, Shall go up the chant eternal. When that day shall come in splendor, What can lips of mortal render Of the joy it shall engender ? Thou with cloudless splendor burning ! Unto Thee all life returning Yearns with deep and deeper yearning. Thou to chaos hast descended Suffered conquered and ascended With relumined worlds attended. JUDGMENT HYMN. 45 Thou hast judged without remission : Sin inherited perdition : Wisdom followed with contrition. All have shared the high salvation And as one the vast creation Chants in choral exultation. THE PHALANSTERY. I see before me now that stately mansion In the bright air, above the woods uprise, And there below that quiet lake's expansion Mirrors the shore and trees and azure skies. Far in the east the glowing groves of peaches Wave in the splendor of the pulsing air ; The Brisbane hill, the long and level reaches, The Highland peaks and dim blue sea are there. Westward I see the wheat and crimson clover, Zoning the okro blooms and gleaming maize, The Height of Ivenvor, and boundless over Pours the imperial sun's resplendent blaze. Up from the glow of countless sunny acres, Out from seristery and court and hall, I hear the songs of cheerful-hearted workers With the inconstant breezes swell and fall. 47 THE PHALANSTERY. 49 There in the silvery forest's broken vistas, 'Mid the broad garden's leafy blooming lines, I see my brothers and my peerless sisters : Their starlike glory o'er the landscape shines. Sweet Inez ! oh, those tender, artless graces Wake my hushed heart to strange forgotten pain ; Time only veils but nevermore effaces, The dear, fair dream forever must remain. Nor ruthless Fate's unchanging, stern decision, Nor the proud glory that I seek and win, Shrives my lorn heart of that regretful vision Of that celestial life that might have been. noble Junia, has the noon's full splendor Brought the fair promise of thy rosy morn ? Has thy great soul one tribute yet to render To that poor fate whereunto thou art born ? 1 know by that sweet voice and beauteous bearing, By the calm greatness of thy deep blue eyes, Still in its low estate thy soul is wearing The undimmed birthright of thy native skies. THE PHALANSTERY. 51 I half forget the years and their wise sadness, Hearing the chimes of romping Ida's voice ; Sure, Heaven comes down to such immortal glad- ness And angels with sweet envyings rejoice. How like a vision's gorgeous shadowy coming The white-browed Otta rises on my sight ; How darkly, brightly, those great orbs are roam- ing Oh that those eyes were boundless as the night ! How fair upon her forehead's pearly whiteness Winds the dim shadow of her dusky hair ! It darkens not her cheek's translucent brightness, The crimson waves of life are flashing there. And one has gone. The blue-eyed grasses cover Her sweet, green pillow in the oaken glade. The deep still summer-glow around and over Shines like the azure gaze of Elferaide. How eager in the lists of young ambition Haroder strives there by Ottilia's side ! THE PHALANSTERY. 53 She has fulfilled the vestal's saintly mission And wears the star and crescent of a bride. These are my brothers. I have found that union Only with them, where soul may talk with soul : A segment only of its full communion, Where shall the longing spirit seek the whole ? The sun from out the cloudless heights of azure Low in the heaven holds his conquering way, O'er the broad West outrolls the vast emblazure The earth is purpled 'neath the flaming day. There joyous crews upon the lake are rowing, And many a group along its margin strolls, The lonely cornet down the vale is blowing, The vying athletes hurl their ponderous bowls. Along the lawn, among the locust blossoms, Gay laughing childhood sports and cheerful age ; The childly games yet warm the aged bosoms ; Their hearts are younger as their souls are sage. THE PHALANSTERY. 55 The night has come. The lighted lamps are gloat- ing O'er the soft splendor of those lofty halls ; The bugle's swell upon the nightwind floating The joyous household to the dance recalls. The countless train comes thro' the columned portals, Bright as the radiant hosts that throng the skies ; In snowy light move by the young immortals, The mists of sorrow dim my raptured eyes. There 'neath the vasty dome's refulgent ceiling Stands like a sea of light the countless tide ; It sways beneath the music's lofty pealing ; The airy undulations surge and glide. How noble is this brotherhood, how glorious ! Worthy yon starry heavens that o'er it shine, Like ye, O sweet eternal stars, harmonious ; Ordered like ye in symmetry divine J THE PHALANSTERY. 57 How thro' the long and weary night of ages Has earth-born, erring, heaven-aspiring man Lifted his darkened eyes to those bright pages, Vainly their golden mysteries to scan. The bells begin their chimes. The Pleiad sisters Have sunk beyond the mountain's western height ; The winds sigh in the forest's darkened vistas ; The sea's low moan uprolls upon the night. A SUMMER DREAM. When the blazing sun of August Smote the mountain aud the plain, Smote them till each living creature Writhed and sunk in fiery pain, I betook me to my castle In the purple hills of Spain. There, in restful, dreamy shadows, By the fountains' murmurous play, Sought I refuge from the burning Vengeance of the god of day. And with gentle necromancies, With a subtler, purer fire, Strove I to dispel the poison Of this withering, wasting ire, Strove to quell the haunting phantoms That disturb the life divine. " Bring," I cried, " the mystic flower, Nature's secret sign and power." 59 A SUMMER DREAM. 6 1 And they brought me dreamy pansies Drenched in dews of amber wine ; Blue-leaved asters from the mountains, Flecked with shining stars of gold ; Snow-bells from the sunless wold ; Red-lipped memories reared and tended In still lanes by sun and stars ; Dark auroras, dreamy, splendid, Thrid with fiery trails and bars These and more, till all the room Glowed with rarest bud and bloom. Up from stately silver vases Pearl-white lilies lofty rose, And the amaranth's rich graces Touched and lit their proud repose, While with airy curl and hurtle Down the sculptured silver bases, Fell and swung the dusky myrtle, Through which peered the fairy faces Of the ruby mignon rose. O'er the glowing, quaint mosaic Of the quaintly pictured floor, A SUMMER DREAM. 63 Writ with symbols algebraic, Starry signs of mystic lore, Lay in heaps the lucent laurel, Ivy, palm and dismal yew, Fragrant balm and thyme and rue, True love, fickle roving lorel, Lime and humble luckless sorrel Tearful with the night-born dew ; Lote and hallowed passiflora, Circe, fern, and asphodel, Regal crocus and zenora, Sweet madonna and rhodora, Almond, musk and moschatel Myriads 1 could number well, Myriads that I could not tell. And their radiant, pure emblazure Of each hue from red to azure, With the rich and rare perfume, Rose upon the crystal air, Rose and floated till the room, Filled with this aromal mist, With this fine ethereal fire A SUMMER DREAM. 65 Born of water, wine and bloom, Pulsed and burned like amethyst. Through these glowing, purple seas, Sailed resplendent scarabees ; From their glimmering rapid wings Rolled the air in flaming rings ; And a carol quick and clear, Rising from the fiery springs Of the kindling atmosphere, Flowed with circling, certain motion, Throwing wide the trancing rings Through the tremulous swaying room, Till the throbbing, charmed ocean Waved and shook, and every bloom Breathed and quivered with emotion. Then within the gorgeous splendor, As in sunset skies remote, Rose a light, mysterious, tender, Like the dreamy beaming lote. Near it glowed, more near and certain, Fainter fell each rippling note ; A SUMMER DREAM. 67 Fainter, dimmer seemed the curtain Of the misty fire to float. Touched by the quick lightning's finger Suddenly it flashed and fell. Dim-seen forms I scarce could tell, With the song's low close and swell, Seemed to sway and glide and linger, Seemed to float and soar and sail Dim and distant recognitions Of celestial apparitions Shining through the air's blue veil. Ah, that I could once regain Something of that vanished strain That weird soul-song and refrain ; Those high thoughts and inspirations ; Those transcendent revelations ! Only echoes now remain ! " In the many is but one : One is all, all is one : A SUMMER DREAM. 69 Soul and life, stone and star, High and low, near and far : One, the seer, seen, unseen, One what will be, is, hath been. Knowing this we are freed From the thrall of thought and deed ; In this wisdom rise above Pleasure, pain, hate and love, Hope and fear, virtue, crime, Life and death, self and time ; Through the zone of stars we range, Through the shadowy realms of change, Past the bounds of name and dream Into one, the All-Supreme." Then the tender, roseate shimmer Paled with tremulous glow and glimmer, And the air grew heavier, dimmer, A SUMMER DUE AM. Like a palid, wan eclipse, Like the wane of dying lips. Clouds arose and hovered, wandered, Swelled and lowered, flashed and sundered. Lo ! the muffled sether thundered, And there came a voice from far Like the war-shout and evangel Of some proud Promethean angel Urging on the faltering war. And again the course of day Held its hot and dusty way. THE SHOOK. Last midnight in the darkness I woke from visions sweet, And heard upon my threshold The tramp of thronging feet. There came in long procession All shoon I ever wore The stalwart boot of manhood The tiny shoe of yore. Downtrodden, torn, neglected, Laden with dust and grime, Each bore, spite age and wrinkle, The spirit of its prime. I could not smile to see them, All stiff and gaunt and hoar, In pantomime enacting The days that are no more. 73 THE SHOON. 75 Some on the floor went softly With timid steps and small, Some with an antic canter That shook the steadfast wall. And some with restless longing Turned to the stars above, And some were still pursuing The hopes, the dreams of love. And near them, gayly falling, Like airy flakes of snow, Were silken shoon, to hear them Was rapture long ago. And some ah ! there were many Went pacing to and fro ; Their lonely shadows darkened O'er years of doubt and woe. A few I scarcely knew them They were not shoon of yore With footsteps small and timid They tottered o'er the floor. THE SHOON. 77 All stopped where hung my bootjack And parleyed low and long, The ancient jack descended And mingled 'mong the throng. Then went in long procession All shoon I ever wore Leading the ancient bootjack From out the lonely door. And shadows dark and silent Are closing o'er the light That lingers round their pathway Far in the depths of night. SHADOWS OF ROMANCE. When the sweet air of youth Is beautiful with stars, And the blue dome is bright With the moon's golden bars ; And earth gleams fair and strange 'Neath the celestial fire, And wondrous murmurs float Down from the heavenly lyre ; And o'er the joyous earth Visions of beauty dance, Through endless vistas chase The shadows of romance Oh let the lover sun Awhile his coming stay, To kiss with glowing lips This glorious dream away ! 79 SHADOWS OF ROMANCE. 8 1 For though his kiss shall bring Glory and strength and light, Oh let him leave awhile This beautiful delight ! UNCREATED LIGHT. All the holiest light Of the seraph eyes of night, All imperial splendors of the sun, Of the eve and morn, Leave my spirit lorn : All the thoughts that lie In the awful sky Leave me in unrest, Leave me all unblest. With all earth and heaven's wealth I am undone If I lose thy blessing eyes In whose cloudless skies, Pure the snowy fountains rise Of th' eternal, uncreated light. Bid me to their light ! For all else is night. 83 ALONE. A glory leaves the sun ; A grace has left the day ; The stars return, but not the light That flushed their azure way. For my heart's queen has passed Into the deepening west ; My heart is wild with doubt, and naught Answers its lonely quest. The soaring eagles come Out from the glowing sky ; Their all beholding voyage gives No tidings nor reply. The fleet winds kiss her lips And fly from out the west ; She breathes on them, but they no sign Yield to my soul's unrest. 85 ALONE. 87 On yonder golden stars Her royal eyes now turn ; They gaze deep in her soul how mute, And cold, and calm they burn ! O Seraphim that bend Your flight from thrones above, Humbly on mortal thoughts to tend With ministries of love, Bear to my soul's pure shrine, Under the western star, The worship of my soul, the vows I breathe, alone, afar. Bear to its only home This heart that sinks in pain ! Oh bring me thence one thought, one breath, To bid me live again. Vain veil of air ! My eyes Can almost pierce the screen How near my soul can come alas ! Still rolls the night between. .ENONE. Like a grand Asian queen upon her throne, All glorious and opulent and bright, I saw the goddess-bosomed queen JEnone Pavilioned in the shadowy tent of night. I saw the black deep torrents of her hair Sweep like' a flood adown her pearly zone ; Her snow-white bust that rose all wondrous fair, A heavenly temple reared to holiest prayer, Fairer than all that mortals ere have known : Her cheeks that beautiful as Hesper shone ; Lips like the lucent bows in summer skies, As precious as the gates of Paradise : And her fair brow that beamed upon my sight Like the horizon, glorious, grave, divine, A royal palace nobly planned and wrought For the high pleasure of Imperial Thought. I looked within the mist-like lids of light, And lashes that like clustered stars did shine, 89 9 1 I saw the heavenly grandeur of her eyes And all as one my soul's glad hosts did rise, Hasting their long-sought, heaven-crowned queen to greet, Laying their eternal homage at her feet. THE SACRAMENT OF LOVE. Why all this vast array, So beautiful and bright ; The gorgeous teeming day, The solemn domed night ! Why doth fair Nature come With all her countless throng, 'Neath heaven's temple dome, Chanting her wond'rous song ? The glorious sun, And all the shining zone That overspans night's firmament, Are lit for this intent, And this alone : Are all for Love's high sacrament. From sun and starry urn That like firm censers burn, 93 THE SACRAMENT OF LOVE. 95 The incense clouds that pour, Rainbow laden, Breathing Aidenn, Down to earth's floor, All come for this intent, To grace Love's sacrament. All Nature's voices every tone Hymn this, and this alone ! All chorals of the land, The fountains, streams, the sea, The shells upon the strand, In this one song agree ; For this the eves and morns, In glory come and go, And ever their wild horns The air's gay heralds blow ; Clouds on their errands flee With pitying shade and showers ; And plant and soaring tree Wave to the cheering skies Their rapturous replies ; And all the hosts of flowers, THE SACRAMENT OF LOVE. 97 Blessing with holy eyes The happy nuptial hours, Answer to the stars above VVith benisons of love ; All for this high intent To celebrate Love's Sacrament. SONG OF KILCARE COTTAGE. 'T is a lodge in the mountains of Warwick, And like hermits of eld we live there ; The world rushes by But we heed not its cry, At our lodge on the hills of Kilcare. By the tent of the green, oaken woodlands, The dream of the days glideth fair ; Sailing clouds are our books, And our music the brooks That leap down the rocks of Kilcare. Sweet scenes ! What Delectable Mountains With these heights and these lakes can compare ? How the echoes out-ring Every viva we sing To the beautiful hills of Kilcare ! 99 SONG OF KILCARE COTTAGE. IOI The stars, how they climb to our eyrie ! Like pilgrims they come, gay and fair, And they fill all the nights With their lofty delights, On the beautiful hills of Kilcare. They pass, and go down in the valley We stay not their steps with our prayer, For they carry dull woe To the shadows below, From the beautiful hills of Kilcare. The winds rustle over the woodlands, Like coursers their feet beat the air, Their breath, filled with balms, Dispels the dull calms From the beautiful hills of Kilcare. They pass, like life's visions nor seek we The charm once dissolved to repair, But we trill a gay rhyme For the odors of thyme They leave on the hills of Kilcare. SONG OF KILCARE COTTAGE. 103 The sun, at the earliest dawning, Comes forth from his palace of air, And throws his first kiss To the beauty and bliss He finds on the hills of Kilcare. All day, at the door of his palace, He stands, gazing down to his fair ; His loving looks say : Oh forever to stay On the beautiful hills of Kilcare ! At evening, in gold and in purple, He goes and we ask him not where, For true love may part, And still glow in the heart, On the beautiful hills of Kilcare. 'T is a lodge by the woodlands of Warwick, And like hermits of eld we live there ; The world rushes by But we heed not its cry, At our lodge on the hills of Kilcare. SUNBEAM AND ROSE. A sunbeam, flying from the eve, Paused by a rose, its beauty seeing, And sighed : How sweet therein to live, Did other beams not fill its being ! In grief he spread his wings of light And onward passed, to wander ever ; But sweet throughout his endless flight The rose's fragrance breathes for ever. 105 WHEN DO THE FLOWERS DIE? When do the flowers die ? Not when the diadems Crowning the tender stems Grow sere and dry ; Not when the ripened reeds Fall with the golden seeds, And mouldering lie. When do the flowers die ? Not when the waking germs Fall to the demon worms ; Nor when the eyes That the sweet buds enfold Drop in the darksome mould, No more to rise. But the bright flowers expire, When from their gentle souls Love's fragrant breath outrolls Like balmy fire ; When their pure passionate sighs In clouds of incense rise Blessing all earth and skies, Then they expire. 107 FIRST OF THE YELLOW LEAVES. Ere frosts and storms have come, The warm South wind that breathed upon thy birth, First of the yellow leaves ! hath borne thee home Upon the quickening earth. While yet the skies are warm, And warm and bright the clouds in summer's sky, Ere thy green resting-place hath lost a charm, Thou goest mid flowers to lie. So they who ere life's sky With coming woes and cares is overcast Drop gently from the ranks which bye-and-bye Shall fall with many a blast. 109 THE BRAVE OLD BANNER. Huzza ! the brave old Banner Moves on its conquering way ! Its foes go down like shadows Before the blaze of day ! Oh mark its glorious coming Above the stormy fight ! The Bow of Heaven's Blessing : The stars of Truth and Right ! What shouts and tears of gladness, When the blest vision comes ! How thrill the brave to see it Unfurl above their homes ! Sun of all joy to freemen ! Bright glory of the sky ! Pledge to the slave and exile, Of hopes that shall not die ! THE BRAVE OLD BANNER. 113 Speed on thy course triumphant ! The thrones of despots fall, Thy lightnings rive the shackles, And men are brothers all. Wave in thy glorious splendor ! O'er earth thou e'er shalt roll, While a star illumes the heavens, And a noble hope the soul ! LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD. (THE BARTHOLDI STATUE.) When darkness girds the land And grasps the sea, I lift my iron hand To set them free. I smite the front of Night, Demon of Death, I lift the living light To show the Path. O blinded men, behold The guiding ray ! See and be ever bold ! Give reason sway ! 115 LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD Cast off the slavish chain From hand and thought, Be lords of your domain, Unbound, unbought. Heed not the curse or ban, Doubt not, but know That Heaven's utmost span And earth below Were based and built in Light And Liberty, And ever Light makes Right And Right makes Free. IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS. Has the eternal sorrow come at last ? Has the long twilight deepened into night ? Is the sweet joy of day forever past ? Has the great sun forever quenched his light ? Where is the faithful wakener of the day ? Is his voice sealed in an eternal sleep ? Where does the herald star of morn delay ? Quenched are his beams forever in the deep ? Can the great sun of hope no more appear ? Is there no star to light these rayless hours ? Is there no spring in the eternal year, To lull the sad heart's pain with wind and flowers ? O ruthless fate ! to mine the answering eyes, The light of life's high noon, have never shone, Nor love's sweet breath has lapped in paradise This weary heart, here exiled and alone. 119 IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS. 121 Shall it be never mine to wear the crown, To taste the godlike joy of victories won ? But to the caverns of the dead go down While the proud venture is but just begun : Like ye, fond flowers, that in your sunny path Fall ere ye reach the autumn's golden prize ; Like ye, O gems, that in the gloom of death, Waste ere ye once have seen the glorious skies ; Like ye, O winds and clouds, that blow To far-off lighter regions of the day ; Like ye, glad waves, that to the ocean flow And ever waste and perish by the way ? For her vast harvest lavish nature sows Alike all regions of her wide domain ; Some in the meadow fair and lordly grow Some in the desert strive and pine in vain. The golden issue of her mighty plan No niggard thrifts imperil or impair ; Lavish with world and plant and beast and man, Her boundless victories her only care. IN THE VALLEY OF SHADOWS. 123 Down the still lapses of this restful gloom Lit by your closing eyes, O hapless flowers ! 'Mid idle airs yet warm with your perfume, Calmly I near death's shadowy silent bowers. SIVA, DESTROYER. Whose voice shall say him nay ? Whose arm shall bar his way ? Lord of unbounded sway ! Siva, Destroyer. Proud kings, whose lightest breath To men is life or death, Heeds he your ruth or wrath ? Siva, Destroyer. Mother with bleeding breast Bowed o'er thy birdling's nest, Shall thy last woe arrest Siva, Destroyer? Maiden with eyes of love Fixed on the heaven above, Hast thou a prayer to move Siva, Destroyer? 125 SIVA, DESTROYER. Youth of the lion heart, Brave for life's noblest art, Shall fame's fair glory thwart Siva, Destroyer ? Earth in thy sweet array, Bride of celestial day, Hast thou one bloom to stay Siva, Destroyer ? Stars on the dome of night, Climbing to your far height Do ye escape his might ? Siva, Destroyer. What voice shall say him nay, What arm shall bar his way, Lord of unbounded sway ! Siva, Destroyer. TRIBUTES. tributes to tbe /IDemorp of (Beorcie His summons came when in his passing prime He turned his face to view the setting sun, The garnering of his harvest scarce begun While yet far heard the reapers' echoing chime ; But still with manly step he mated Time, Sought for the good the hurrying moments spun, Scattered abroad again the treasures won, And rounded life to large eternal rhyme. Ah ! we whose hearts rebuke the empty place, Who felt his worth, and more, who loved him so We yet must speed his flight at morning call : For mighty souls who throng unbounded space And whisper mighty thoughts to us below, Do cry him Welcome : he was kin to all. Kate Elizabeth Clark. 13* Siva, Destroyer ! Thus he wrote Addressing Death, in Death's embrace, - The while not one complaining note Made discord in his life of grace : A life so lifted, so ideal, It raised and glorified the real. His spirit's wing now drops the stress Of knightly warfare, waged anew With each day's birth, 'gainst fruitlessness Of art-work to its art untrue : We singers singing at the gate, Shall long such warrior-friend await. Nor we alone are losers ; they Who profited unconsciously By virtue of his standard's sway In social ethics, these shall be 133 TRIBUTES. 135 Made mourners too, for one to fill His place of power with equal will. Whoso but knew him slightly, knew But little of his charm unique ; His playful irony, his true And gentle manhood ; some high peak Snow-mantled, radiant to the rim With rosy light, might figure him. Yet mountain, pine, or anything Less sentient than the human soul In its divineness fails to bring This man before us. ... Only dole With us remains. Siva, with thee He dies to bloom eternally ! Mary Barker Dodge. A seal upon a heart was set Of ample purity and truth ; Its break had made the world forget That aught on earth remained of ruth. A kindlier heart than that, O Friend, Ne'er burned within a poet's breast. Though now that heart is stilled in rest, 'T is not the end, 't is not the end ! To many free to wander far, His generous lamp had lent its ray, To be to happier paths a star ; But his the sterner, darker way. The ore his labor delved from earth He gave to others far from care, To wear as jewels in their hair ; He walked aside in unknown worth. TRIBUTES. 139 His daily task a spirit bound That would have spread its glorious wing And soared in flights from common ground To sing in realms where poets sing. But daily to dull labor bent He gave his life. Then passed to where A spirit, proud to be content, May wear the crown that angels wear. Louise Morgan Sill. Ye winter winds, that sigh and moan O'er desecrated forest aisles ! O wild lamenters of the smiles That for too brief a season shone ! Ye rude, harsh-throated chanters ! share With us the burden of a grief That in your terror seeks relief On your grim wings our sorrow bear ! Yea, 'midst your clarion-blatant wails, Echoes of frigid Arctic shrieks, Lifted where the aurora wreaks Its ghostly gleams on frozen sails ! Yea, 'midst the cruel tones of woe, Which surge across your harps' loud strings, Your harps, whereto the salt rime clings Dashed o'er them from some wave-tossed floe ! 141 TRIBUTES. 143 Yea, 'midst the fury of a flight That desolates, at one sharp sweep, The lingering lovely hues asleep On clouds about the gate of night ! Yea, carry with you from our hearts A pittance of their anguished pain ! A whisper through the skyey main, Where the electric glory darts ! Ah, let us in your tumult find A note of solace, which shall swell Triumphant o'er the muffled knell Whose snare about our souls is twined ! Yea, of your very rage we ask Strength to outbreast the bitter wave : Death to this Spirit new Life gave ; And Darkness is but Morning's mask ! William Struthers, SANTA CRUZ, CAL., FEB. 16, '89. Ever Dear Home Journal. At the time that I saw the news of Mr. Perry's death in your columns I was unable to tell you of my sorrow, as I was then temporarily crippled in my right hand. Even at this later date, the feeling of painful shock with which I saw those ominous black lines darkening your pages and read the sad short story of his sudden going out for ever from the familiar place that had so long known him, is still fresh with me. The fact that I am so far away does n't matter in this respect ; for to think of No. 3 Park Place, and that familiar nook inside of it, sacred to you, is impossible without at once thinking too of George Perry, and remembering that I can never again mount the well-known stairs and make my way to a certain corner and find, as I have always found before, seated at his desk, your good genius, of the TRIBUTES. 147 calm and benignant presence, ever ready to take into the shelter of his generous wing the shamefaced and diffident author new to the ways of editors ; and to give abundant encouragement if there should be the least spark of poetic promise to be blown into a flame it might be but a very little flame perhaps, but he never failed to lend it his fostering breath. How many have reason to bless his good offices in this respect, we shall never know ; nor shall we ever know how many there are who sorely miss them and will always carry the memory of his thoughtful kindness and polished graciousness in their hearts. But of them all, was there ever one, here and there, who even partially understood how delicate and rare was the spirit that bent itself to the daily bondage of office work ? His physical stature and presence well betokened the superiority of the inner man. This I sit here and ponder over, as I read the selections from his poems, which you have fitly given the most prominent place in your columns of February the sixth. Every one of the many who TRIBUTES. 149 knew and loved George Perry will be glad that you have done this, and I must be of the foremost among those who thank you for this last sad pleasure in connection with our memories of him ; for the relationship between us of editor and con- tributor, though infrequent and irregular ripening slowly into an unbroken friendship began about the time that N. P. Willis left that vacant chair in the Home Journal office ; some of my very first bread-and-butter-y efforts having been submitted to Mr. Perry. What a revelation those poems will be to many who thought they knew him ! now that he, to use his own words, is ' ' freed From thrall of thought and deed ; " and has gone " Past the bounds of name and dream Into one, the All-Supreme ! " " Howard Glyndon." (Mrs. Laura R. Searing.) DATE DUE Q 13QQ UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000204218 2