IB THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES 'If. Posies out of Rings NEW^ORK- GEORGE-H-RICH* noNDico-nocccxcvi- WIN. PS CONTENTS PAGE Gethsemane 2 On the Wall of the Tour de Villebon, Meudon Wood. 2 Diana of the Crossways 3 With a Diamond Fede Ring on an old Venetian Mirror 3 Phillipene 4 Epigram 4 Worm i' the Bud 5 During the Cotillon ..:. . . . . 5 Pierrot . . . ' . . . . . . 6 Retort Courteous 6 Cinderella Fin de Si&cle 7 To a so-called Artist 7 To a Belated Genius . * 8 Ruth's Secret . . 8 The Mermaid and the Nightingale , g To Georgina, Lady Mount Temple .... 9 On the Embankment. London Fog Always . . Shipwreck. . . Quand Meme "Sweet Sorrow'* Song .... A Letter .... Song .... Fragment from Le Passant At the Marchg aux Fleurs. 918000 PAGE To the Cafe aux Phares de L'Ouest, Quartier Mont- Over the Fireplace at Brolles, Forest of Fontainebleau To John, aged One Betty's Eyes Star and Flower With a Sprig of Juniper Danse des Morts (in the Town-House of Basil) . The Immortal Gift "The Intruder" Turn About Porte Bonheur Since You are Gone To One Who Died Stolen from a Thief Requiescat Propinquity ........ The Mountain and the Star To Mrs. Brown Potter, wearing a gown of Beauregard Brocade To John Craig, as Prince John, in " The Foresters" . " In the Heart of the Winter Summer Lies Still " Irremediable 4 A Ghazel from Hafiz ....... 26 Pierrot and the Statue 27 You and I. . . . . . . .28 A Valentine . . .... * .29 Tutti Frutti 30 Child Song 31 The Star 32 All's Well 33 Song 34 The Broken Vase ....... 35 The Fairies' Song 56 Rouge et Noir 37 In the Luxembourg Garden 38 With a Four-Leaf Clover (Med en Fyr-vappling) . 39 vi PAGE Possession 40 The Merchant of Smiles 4I Always Together. A Song 42 Le Dieu et la Mortelle 43 Marie Antoinette Playing upon the Spinet in the White and Gold Salon at Little Trianon . . 44 Overheard at a Tea Fight 45 Am I Forgiven ? A Song 46 One of the Lost Sonnets from Mary, Queen of Scots, to James Hepburn, Earl Bothwell ... 47 Amour, Merci ! Chanson 48 The Foster Mother 49 Lute Song 50 Then and Now. A Song 51 A Bientot 52 To a Slipper 54 At the Play S 6 From Horace 58 Craigmillar Castle 60 Pierrot's Philosophy 61 Au Quartier Latin ....... 63 The White Peacock 66 Sea Sonnets 69 Epilogue to Ernest Dowson's "The Pierrot of the Minute" 73 Pierrot's Calendar 75 Nature and Art . . 77 If rings could breathe a tale of earthly bliss , What glowing eloquence -would blazon this. If the tongue utter what the heart may feel. How small our sorrow and how great our weaL Oh ! love of 'mine ', my heart can never guess What else to offer save that you possess. GETHSEMANE. T^HE white rose asked the red rose : 1 " Rose, How came you red ?" A drop of Christ's blood fell on me, The red rose said. ON THE WALL A LTHOUGH no roving butterfly OF THE TOUR A A m I DE VILLEBON, f. * *" X , MEUDON WOOD. Upon thy young, sweet breast After the French. Let me an instant rest FASHIONED in cunning curves, her gfgjWSCJF* 1 mouth was so Enchanting, Cupid took it for his bow ; And at my wavering heart once aiming it, He shot me with an arrow of her wit. \V7"HAT time in front of this dim glass WITH A W the Princess fair DIAMOND FEDE Was combing out her lovely wealth of red- VENETIAN* LD gold hair ; MIRROR. The Prince down-stooping kissed her, while she raised much soft objection, The mirror took the whole scene in and made a sweet reflection. B 2 PHILIPPENE. A KISS, O love! he begged right lov- Ji\ ingly ; at this, (As maidens will), she bashful- wise complied, But blushing deeply, whereat : "Philippene !" he cried, And Judas like, betrayed her with a kiss. r EPIGRAM .After Tl^EURICE in our time, Roquette in tfie French ^MARIE- VI JOSEPH CHENIER. 1V1 another, Have each been a prelate of Autun. Tartuffe^ people say, is the portrait of one, Ah, if Molttre had known the other 1 THOUGH loath to speak of that they most "WORM r THE desire, For want of which no other joys atone, Burnt in the cruel, sweet, immortal fire, What they tell no one, they tell everyone. She (gently furling her fan}, TO live upon one's wits, dear sir, is very bad. He. And yet, dear Madame, to have none to live on's sad. PIERROT A LTHOUGH this pantomime of life is &r*r. J\ pa ss m g fine, Who would be happy must not marry Col- umbine " RETORT \roU do not drink that dreadful wine," I She said ; " perhaps you're wise." "Au contraire? he replied, "it is The port of Paradise/ O HE would go to the ball. S!S D i?i T L * L A * O Her gown a pretty penny cost, But this time it was not Her little slipper that she lost. r I TOOK it for a voice, ARTIST* - CALLEEK The mistake was most absurd. I took it for a voice, 'Twas an echo that I heard. GENIUS. T? out of y ur dear si s ht is but the hORROW. |>j Enforced partings noble traits the more disclose ; Yet, I have looked away all likeness from your picture, As one may smell away the perfume from a rose. 12 THE ripest fruit is the fruit that hangs SONG, too high, The truest friend is the friend we never find, The dearest hour is the hour we say good- bye, The darling hope is the hope we leave behind. r YOUR portrait is what I want : A LETTER. Where I may fondly trace With passionate pleasure, each beauty and treasure, And wonder, and charm, and grace ; For try, try as I may, love, when you are away, I cannot remember clearly, It's because I love you dearly, The magic of your face. SONG - " T J VE lost a little heart, sir, 1 I think I have ; I've lost a little heart Just near you." Vhy I've found and taken it. May I keep it ? Here's another heart, ma'am, Won't that do?" Ju "Wrn r FRAGMENT QWEETHEART, here's April back FROM LE ^N _ PASSANT. From ^. , , again, the French of With banished sunshine in her tram, FRANCOIS Coppfe. i n every pretty nest each little bird makes love and sings. Blue heaven looks down and blesses us, The pure spring air caresses us, There's been a recent fall of snow from the turtle dove's white wings. THE posy market's beautiful T T In front of St. Sulpice. Blush roses, Parma violets, And heliotrope from Nice. These are not the prettiest though The're other charming sorts, Ten centimes for your penstes, dear, A penny for your thoughts. r THE painted ship in the paste-board sea TO THE CAF 1 Sails night and day. L'O RESD To-morrow it will be as far as it was yester- Q U But underneath, in the cafe\ The lusty crafts go down, And one by one, poor mad souls drown, While the painted ship in the paste-board sea Sails night and day. PASSIM. TI* ETHOUGHT the foison of all hope to 1V1 borrow, When Sorrow sick of pain had died of sor- row. To-day reluctant Joy is still delaying ; The long desired Love may come to-morrow ! r OVER THE FIREPLACE AT BROLLES, FOREST OF FONTAINE. BLEAU. DANCE, merry flame ! Dance fleetly to and fro I Speak with your golden tongue of Fontaine- bleau. Who knows, but yonder branch of chestnut there Shaded the red-heeled Louis and Moliere. Its sap burns even now with wild regret, Remembering it sheltered Antoinette ; And long before, fair Mary Stuart, Queen Of hearts and Scots ; the hapless Josephine, And him who lightly could her love forsake, Who took a world, yet was too weak to take Himself. Then foot it, flame ! Dance to and fro ! Speak with your golden tongue of Fontaine- bleau. 16 LIFE is a game of forfeits, John, ONE J HN> AGED (Heavy, heavy, what hangs over you !) ' What will your fortune turn upon : Years of tears and days of smiles, Truth and ruth, or wiles and guiles ? Toil and poverty, riches and state (Heavy, heavy, what hangs over you !) Hope unfulfilled or fulfilled too late, Fierce joy and pain, Or dull content ? Days nobly spent Or spent in vain ? Whatever fortune turns upon, (Heavy, heavy, what hangs over you), Courage and love are the things, John. r BETTY'S eyes are violets, BETTY'S EYES. Violets where sweetness lies. Promises she may not keep Lurk in Betty's flower-like eyes. STAR AND FLOWER. THE Star of Love is a flower, a deathless token, That grows beside the Gate of Unseen Things. A daisy is a fallen star, a thought unspoken, Written by one whose wings are silver wings. WITH A SPRIG OF JUNIPER. FAR north, where the white heather blooms, Love, flying, found a nest ; And called it by a fond pet name, Arnol, to breathe, to rest. 18 TO dance the motley measure out, 5JSS1 P ES There is the nimble task ! TOWN-HOUSE While scalding tears are running down OF BASIL). Behind a grinning mask. r YOUR loveliness let me rehearse THE IMMORTAL My gratitude to prove, GIFT - To praise you in my strongest verse, To fold you in my love. 19 C 2 "THE INTRUDER." GO, wounded heart, for she you loved is dead ; Ungracious death has done this double wrong. Go, make a daily friend of Grief instead. In lieu of her let Grief inspire your song. TURN ABOUT. HE fooled a woman once, to suit his pleasure, He spoilt her life, her spirit overruled. But love is stern, and measure meets with measure ; For he in turn was by a woman fooled. A SHIN ING lock of golden hair doth my PORTE- purse hold ; BONHEUR. Though lacking silver it is always lined with gold. r SINCE you are gone, all night I lie awake, SINCE YOU ARE Dreaming and dreaming, oh ! my love GONE. of you. Yet two not always company can make, I and my moonlight shadow are but two. TO ONE WHO you needs must go 1 I Ungracious prove ! I loved you so Oh ! light o' love ! Tr%! N FROM A I-J ER look g es to m Y head like wine - EF - O Strange bliss beyond belief, Her cruel little heart is mine, I stole it from a thief ! OUR Love is dead ! Our love is dead ! REQUIESCAT. Let's cover him with summer flowers. Put oak-leaves at his curly head With sprays from honey-suckle bowers ; Strew daisies pied and poppies red, Blood red, to bring him dreamless sleep. Hereafter life is bleak and drear ; When our Love died we could not weep, I did not shed a single tear. Our Love is dead ! Our Love is dead ! Let's bury him in summer flowers ! r THE woman you have always hoped to PROPINQUITY, meet, A moment since, went down that very street. THE MOUNTAIN f\NCE a Mountain loved a Star, STAR. \^j ^oved a Star and loved her only. For a night the Star shone down On the Mountain bare and brown ; Then, at dawn of " little day," Very softly slipped away. All great mountain heights are lonely. r TO MRS. BROWN- /^F her most sweet allurement be it said, FNG^GOWN^OF ^-^ Salome like, she makes one lose one's BEAUREGARD head BROCADE. STILL other kingdoms to be won, still J^JJ other crowns to wear ! IN "THE Prince, pray accept the freedom of my castles FORESTERS." in the air. r EVERY woman was to him a queen ; {^TH EHEART Although his head was white, his heart SUMMER STILL was green. LIVES." IRREMEDIABLE. ^fU for pleasure, I for pain, J. I for trust and you for joy ; I for loss, but you for gain, I build up that you destroy. r A GHAZEL FROM T} ELOVED, I am dust beneath thy feet ; LJ My life without thee is but incomplete. Though thou must change as all things changing must, Yet, cast thy shadow still upon that dtfst. 26 /^VNE summer evening in a charmed wood, PIERROT AND \^y Before a marble Venus, Pierrot stood ; THE STATU A Venus beautiful beyond compare, Gracious her lip, her snowy bosom bare. Pierrot amorous, his cheeks aflame, Called the white Statue many a lover's name. An oriole flew down from off a tree " Woo not a goddess made of stone !" sang he. " All of my warmth to warm it," Pierrot said ; When by the pedestal he sank down dead. The Statue faintly flushed, it seemed to strive To move, but it was only half alive. 27 YOU AND I. p OSE, mauve and gold in the waning 1\ west, A mountain towering high, And the fine black line of far off trees Like sea-weed against the sky. While on through wavering light and shade, With the oak-boughs overhead, We rode together. I wonder why Time gallops withal ? I said. Fast, fast as the horse's hoofs it flies, But the hour is mine ; I see A dark green habit, the dainty gloves, And a girl face turned on me. The hour is mine, time may grow remote, But such moments never do ; While the white moon pushes back the leaves, For she wants to look at you. 28 HE came one blustering snowy day ^ VALENTINE. In February weather ; He wore upon his dimpled arm A portmanteau of leather. He tapped upon my window pane ; He said : " You sly old fellow, Come out, and tell me all about That curly head and yellow, " Whose charming smile may well be praised On such a day as this is, Whose eyes are like forget-me-nots, Whose mouth is ripe for kisses. " The music of whose broken speech A happy home rejoices, Whose voice sounds pleasanter to you Than other people's voices." I looked amazed, the saucy Postman Answered me with laughter. He said : " My name is Cupid and Your valentine I'm after !" 29 TUTTI FRUTTI. A MATCHLESS woman, six years old, So pure is the blue sky ; Brush with us through the dew, And in the air we'll fly ! ; Tis we, those faithless things ! Like buzzing bees that roam, Low voices and soft wings, Upon the silver foam ! The sleepy waves reflect The reeds at the lake's brink. Come, for the birds expect The Fairies there to drink. HE gambled with Death for life, ROUGE ET NOIR . (Pierrots poor heart sank). Death chinked and threw double six, Pierrot threw a blank. They played far into the night, (Pierrot held his breath). " Ha ! spades are trumps, mon ami. I take the trick," says Death. BOURG E GARD!N" T HE sun flin ^ s man > 7 a ^ olden lance EN> 1 On a royal pleasure garden of France, Where an orange tree blows late in the fall ; But they've written on the grille by the wall : Le Public rientrepas id. In a certain rare sweet human heart Is a beautiful garden set apart, Where wrapt in silence and mystery blows A flower, whose perfume only one knows Le Public rientre pas id. HTHE little four-leaf clover that I find WITH A FOUR- 1 Between these pages, is another proof (MED ENFYR- That Fortune sometimes spares what grows VAPPLING;. From aloof . siSsS* O/CARL That sometimes Chance's chariot-wheel is kind. Little green heart-shaped leaf, would some- one say, Who pressed thee here within a lover's book, That hearts may somewhere find a secret nook, Pleasant and hidden from the common way ! 39 POSSESSION. pROM a sea of chrysoprase, -T From the deep of amber skies, A poem was born to Art, Like love in a woman's eyes. For the poet gave it form, With a pleasure fraught with pain. " From my love it came," he said, " To her it shall go again." Then he wrote it to his love, And he bade his song depart ; But although he sent it forth, It has never left his heart. r> UPID the pedlar, THE MERCHANT L> The mischievous pedlar, Mocks men and sings, " Buy ! Buy ! My pretty things. Fede and gimmal rings Buy ! Buy ! " "Who's afraid?" Said the little maid. ALWAYS A WAV awav nwav 1 TOGETHER. A W V awa y' awa y ! A SONG. ** Take me, I care not whether It storm or shine, if we may stay Together, Love, always together ! Away, away, away ! Where envious tongues can never Assail our joy, nor say That true love will not last for ever. Away, away, away ! For your love was worth winning. Mine to adore, obey. The end of love is death's beginning. Away, away, away ! Take me, I care not whether It storm or shine, if we may stay Together, Love, always together ! U I. a summer night &SS&S? LA In splendour and delight, In colour rich, with subtle odour blended, While rode the crescent moon Down the deep sky of June, A god unto a mortal condescended. II. With winning speech and wise, But in a human guise, For it was as a man the god pretended, With promises of bliss And many a honied kiss, The god unto the mortal condescended. 43 MARIE ANTOINETTE, PLAYING UPON THE SPINET IN THE WHITE AND GOLD SALON AT LITTLE TRIANON. AS happy as a queen can be ! I see her still in all her pride ; Love in her heart sings joyously, Le beau Fersen is by her side. Her charm and beauty casts a spell Forever through the changing years. What tales of tears and bliss they'd tell If walls had tongues as well as ears ! 44 First Speaker. DO tell me what you know of her ; all you have to tell. Second Speaker. I knew her only wisely, wisely but not too well. 45 AM I forgiven ? Oh, heart's delight, Moon of my heaven, Star of my night ! Falsehood, deceiving, Meets with deceit, Only believing Makes joy complete. Old love is burning, Dearest and best ; Late, but returning Home to your breast. Am I forgiven ? Oh, heart's delight, Moon of my heaven, Star of my night ! 46 ". . . Being departed from the place where I had left ONE OF THE my heart, it is easy to be judged what was my countenance LOST SONNETS seeing that I am no more than a body without a heart. . . . FROM MARY, Extract from a letter by Queen Mary to Earl Both-well. QUEEN OF SCOTS, TO JAMES \V/HEN first you rode into the lists, my W lord, Ah ! then mine eyes beheld a perfect man. But all our miseries and joys began When first you rode into my heart, my lord. When first you rode into the lists, my lord, Our fatal passion woke, such bliss I knew At being dominated thus by you, When first you rode into my heart, my lord. The beauty on which some have set great store Gainsaid your strength that would not be denied. Rest, rest contented ; love can crave no more, The heart's desire has been satisfied. And Bothwell, what though honied dreams before Have perjured proved, the sweetest has not lied. 47 AMOUR, MERCI ! f^ UPIDON, V>* Je n'ai point d'espoir ; C'est non, non, Toujours a moi. Cupidon, Eh bien pour toi ! Doux et bon, Mais pas pour moi. OH golden hair, my arms around thy neck ! THE FOSTER Yea,letmehide my head upon thy breast. There, only there, what matters all the rest, The faith forsworn and happiness a wreck. Fond is thy kiss, a wreath my brow to deck, Thy courage may be put to any test. There, only there, what matters all the rest, Oh golden hair, my arms around thy neck ! For thou denied me not, but cherished me, Bade me forget indignity and wrong. An alien heart, I found a home with thee, A home where love abides and I belong. Deep is my passion, measureless that sea, Dear Foster Mother, beautiful and strong. 49 LUTE SONG. QTILL night is ours ; O The day for others, yet true love endures, Then you are mine and I am wholly yours When night is ours. Still night is ours ; The dark grows like you, though we are apart, Safe in your arms, against your beating heart, Still night is ours. WHEN clouds were overflowing THEN AND NOW: And stormy winds were blowing, A SONG - And all the land was cold ; We walked abroad scarce knowing That dandelions were growing In gay rosettes of gold. But when the skies were bluer And all the land looked newer, And lovelier for the rain ; When every cloud was banished, The dandelions then vanished And but their ghosts remain. A BIENTOT. 'HTWAS a dream I know, a boy's first pas- A sion, A foolish love and a mock of bliss, Why was it a dream ? Oh, woman, woman, Come out from the past and tell me this. I can see her yet, her soft arms pressing A mass of fur on the satin chair, I breathe the fragrance of yellow roses Hid in her glorious red-gold hair. We had left the dance and stopped to whisper, And heard in the distance music float Through the open doors, with light that fell on The snowy pearls at her snowy throat. My cheeks were flushed and my blood went coursing With feverish throbs, a joy divine ! I dared to love her and dared to tell her My love, and had touched her lips with mine But when at the carriage door delaying, Wrapped close in white, as she turned to go, She said in her playful way, " Remember, Good bye for a little, a bientdt" 52 We met, and I laughed (my heart was weep- ing), While she smiled at me, as women can ; I heard her vow, with the lips that kissed me, To be the wife of another man. I looked at her sweet face in a mirror, And said, God grant you may never know My grief. Oh ! eyes with the silken lashes, Oh ! lips with your cruel a bientot. 'Twas only a dream, a boy's first passion, A foolish love and a mock of bliss, Why was it a dream ? Oh, woman, woman ! Come out from the past and tell me this. 53 TO A SLIPPER. 'T'O this complexion has your faded satin, J. With much ill-usage, come at last, and so You stand in haughty silence on my mantel, A high-heeled slipper with a pointed toe. Does there still linger in your homespun lining Some faint dim flutterings of mild regret For gay young hearts that once beat time so wildly, Watching you tripping through the minuet ? What of sweet faces, brave in rouge and patches, And powdered heads, and men in smalls arrayed, Half mad with admiration at your glancing From quilted petticoat and stiff brocade ? What of soft eyes, white arms, and burning blushes ? What of the gallant Tory in nankeen, Who made such fine remarks that evening, walking Along the Battery to Bowling Green ? What of the catches trolled, the treasonous ballads, The sprightly wit about the steaming bowl 54 Of Christmas wassail ? Souvenirs enthralling Must rouse again that blase leather sole. But tell me, was not that a fair assembly, The stateliest you ever moved among, When Polly Henderson got married in you ? The slipper only held its satin tongue. 55 AT THE PLAY. A HEALTH in the perfumed, the burning -/x Chartreuse^ And a toast in a rich pousse-cafe; To something more rich, more delicious than both, To a voice that I heard at the play ! I dined out of sorts at the Brunswick that night, And I thought, in a spiritless way, Where can a poor man feel more lonesome and triste^ Than alone in a crowd on Broadway ? I sat in the gaudy parquet, later on. Oh, that fiddle ! The curtain, well, well, I'll forgive, but never forget, as they say, One was sorry, yet glad when it fell. But no, like the sudden sweet kiss of a rose, A wild hedge-rose, with scent and with spray ; And grateful as water to feverish lips, Came that beautiful voice from the play* Ah ! only a few to Hesperides go, Who can carry gold apples away, There are but a few Cleopatras of song, There was only that one at the play. 56 A health in the perfumed, the burning Char- treuse, And a toast in a rich pousse-cafe^ To something more rich, more delicious than both, To a voice that I heard at the play ! 57 " DONEC GRATUS ERAM TIBI." Ode IX., Book III. Horace. FROM HORACE. VVTHEN I alone was near to thee, W And no one else, more dear to thee, Dared clasp that snowy neck, I envied not the Persian King. Lydia. When thou confessed no claim but mine, Nor worshipped Chloe's name, but mine, Not Roman Ilia's renown Was half so sweet a thing. Horace. Now Thracian Chloe rules my heart, My queen of song, of lyric art, For whom, if heaven would spare my soul, I would encounter death. Lydia. And mine is throbbing high with joy For Calais, the Thurian boy, For whom, if fate would spare his youth, I'd twice encounter death. 58 Horace. What if our old true love return, And once forgot more madly burn. What if there be no charm, no snare, In Chloe's mesh of golden hair, Because to slighted Lydia, My heart's door open I ? Lydia. Though lovelier than a star is he, Though light as bark thy levity, And thou more passionate may be Than the fierce Adriatic sea, With thee 'tis happiness to live, With thee 'twere bliss to die. 59 r-ACTr v HTHE shadow of a passing cloud 1 Has fallen on the waving wheat ; White birds abound in the white sky And all the air is strangely sweet. Ah, strangely sweet is all the air ! A sea breeze sings of foreign lands, Where circled by the rustling trees The Castle of Craigmillar stands. How brave a front it still maintains, Some of the beauty it hath worn It yet doth wear. Who would suppose Its rooms were rifled and forlorn ! Each tapestry and silver sconce ; Its lights are quenched, its queen has fled. Symbol of one still beautiful, Whose life was spoiled, whose heart is dead. 60 \V/HERE are you going, dressed in white, PIERROT'S W Pierrot, Pierrot, PHILOSOPHY. Since Pierrette has deceived you quite ? Tira, tiri, tira ! " I go to visit Columbine," Said Pierrot, Pierrot, " To mend this broken heart of mine. Tira, tiri, tira ! " The story is not new, It may apply to you ; If sweethearts will deceive, Why, hang it, do not care, oh ! hang it, do not grieve, But imitate Pierrot. If Columbine should jilt you too, Pierrot, Pierrot, In heaven's name, what would you do ? Tira, tiri, tira ! " Then to another girl I'll go," Said Pierrot, Pierrot, " She surely will console Pierrot, Tira, tiri, tira ! " 61 The story is not new, It may apply to you ; If sweethearts will deceive, Why, hang it, do not care, oh ! hang it, do not grieve, But imitate Pierrot. 62 THE Boulevard St. Michel that day was was very triste and wet. You know the Duval restaurant not far from the Vachette, Well, there's a joli waitress there who deftly waits on one, In black and white she looks just like a wicked little nun. She brought me most peculiar viands and finally cafe; Her smiles are tenderer than the steaks for every etranger. ^addition followed, yes, they charged for serviette and bread, I gave her all my pretty sous^ whereat she softly said : " Bon jour, Monsieur!" II. Just so, I met Dan Cupid once, the saucy scalawag ! Ah ! Nowadays he shoots a heart and hits a money bag ! Dame Fortune, too, the stately jade, was marching at his side. Fortune and Love, turn back, turn back, I have you both, I cried. I madly reached an eager hand commanding them to stay, But Love took to his wings and Lady Fortune ran away. Yet looking back they smiled at me and beckoned as they fled. I gave them youth and strength, and in return they said : " Bon jour, Monsieur /" L Envoi. Dinners, like life, must end, a mighty gour- mand is the past. The plumpest turkey will be boned and sor- bets melt at last ; And where the deuce the champagne went, what fellow ever learns ! The pie has promptly sought that bourne from whence no pie returns. The salade too departs, the Charlotte russe begins to swoon, And Mother Goose was right, each dish runs off with each bright spoon. The mendiants where are they now ! We've cracked each nut and joke, And all things terminate at length most pleasantly in smoke. The lights burn low, the toasts are done, the menu has been read, And quite too soon has come the time for us when must be said : Bon soir^ Messieurs ! THE WHITE HPHERE dwelt on Warwick Castle's fair THE WHITE HPHERE dwe PEACOCK. I plaisance, Beneath the triple shadow of the towers, A bevy of magnificent peacocks ; The most exclusive birds, they "breeded true," And made no mesalliances, nor sought To leave, through vulgar curiosity, The velvet circle of the green their world. Here they abode, complacent, elegant, Sure of their iridescent quarterings, Until some henchman fetched into their midst A peacock white as damask, diapered, With eyes a shade less white. Such insolence No well-bred fowl could brook. The "ja- panned" bird, Who boasted that his ancestors had crossed The sea from Tharshish with King Solomon, And who had known none but the very best Society, said : " An anomaly Of this sort, surely, cannot mix with us." Another, of a pedigree that dates Back to the time of Aristophanes, Said : " What meek airs the creature gives itself, Yet we all know how innocent it is." 66 Meanwhile the snowy peacock shrank abashed, It could not help being white. Suddenly The Castle door swung open, forth there strode, Who, but Richard Nevil, Earl of Warwick, The King- Maker. Too proud to be a king He made them. Powerful of limb and will Was he. With him his future son-in-law, George, the Duke of Clarence. " By our Lady ! " Quoth the Earl, " Whence came this peerless peacock ? n " Your grace," replied the Duke, " Louis of France Has hither sent it as a loving" pledge To further on the suit with Margaret." " A royal bird, the very prince of peacocks," The grim Earl spake, " Let it be looked to, well," Then in their clanking harness they passed on. Thus by a breath the bird was made a king. 67 F 2 Straightway the bevy fell to jabbering ; One, impudently plead near sightedness. Unblushingly another faced it out, And swore that majesty stood unimpeached. But the white peacock bowed its crested head, Stung to the quick by reason of their scorn, And on the te\r plaisance still dwelt alone. 68 I. A HANDFUL of young posies, no fare- SEA SONNETS, well! Yet it must needs fare well when such a load Of perfumed sweets larkspur a dainty goad, Sweet-pea for fancy, and the charming smell Of the commingling roses, breathe : farewell ! Each day I'll fling upon the glassy road That leaves no furrows, flowers you be- stowed. Fragrance thereof may reach you, who can tell! But the three brave devices I shall hold To get myself in courage, crush out fears, To strive with fate for something more than gold, To face the mystery of untried years. Still that harsh word farewell is cruel, cold. Is that dew on your flowers or is it tears ? II. Even as a sea-gull over restless waves, So glides the stout ship steadily apace. The salt breath of the ocean smites the face. Steadily glides the ship ; the dim lit caves Beneath keep the dark secret of the graves Of those who perished in a like wild race. An ever-moving circle bounds our place And careless sunlight all the water paves. Then old strange questions crowd the tired brain, Whence come we, whither go we, in what sort, If so, shall we reach distant land again ? And the monotonous, perplexing thought, Shall all the journey have been made in vain, Oh ! whither sail we into death or port ? 70 III. The moon's an aureole for a baby saint ; Steadily drives the good ship through the dark ; The waves are hungry growling wolves, whose stark Cold tongues lick the great keel, while the faint Few stars are caught like gems in yonder quaint Fantastic rigging. Suddenly we mark Along the black horizon one bright spark. A signal light. Then in reply we paint The sea with blood-red fire ; it floods the night ; A sailor at the bow holds in his hand The shooting flame. Thus, and we chose we might Send to these others struggling towards the land An answering greeting as a signal light. The weary watchers straight would under- stand. IV. Her marriage veil was wrought of fogs and spray, A wreath of sea-weed crowned her sha- dowy hair And many a priceless pearl hung round her bare White breast. How winningly she seemed to say, " Come unto me, there is no different way For you. Peace, peace, eternal peace ! But dare Clasp me and soon you will forget all care. Your thoughtsick head upon my bosom lay. My lips are sweet, dear lover. Very deep And perfect is the bliss I give. Then cease These feverish vain longings, only sleep In my cool arms perpetual release From pain is here. And I am yours to keep." The little waves ran murmuring, " Peace, hush ! peace." 72 (Spoken in the character of Pierrot}. THE sun is up, yet ere a body stirs, EPILOGUE TO A word with you, sweet ladies and dear fo^N'I^THE^" Sirs, PIERROT OF (Although on no account let any say THE MINUTE." That Pierrot finished Mr. Dowson's play) One night, not long ago, at Baden Baden, The birthday of the Duke, his pleasure garden Was lighted gaily \\\\hfeu d } artifice^ With candles, rockets, and a centre-piece Above the conversation house, on high, Outlined in living fire against the sky, A glittering Pierrot, radiant, white, Whose heart beat fast, who danced with sheer delight Whose eyes were blue, whose lips were rosy red Whose pompons too were fire, while on his head He wore a little cap, and I am told That rockets covered him with showers of gold. " Take our applause, you well deserve to win it," They cried : " Bravo ! the Pierrot of the minute ! " 73 What with applause and gold, one must con- fess That Pierrot had "arrived," achieved success, When, as it happened, presently, alas ! A terrible disaster came to pass. His nose grew dim, the people gave a shout, His red lips paled, both his blue eyes went out. There rose a sullen sound of discontent, The golden shower of rockets was all spent ; He left off dancing with a sudden jerk, For he was nothing but a firework. The garden darkened and the people in it Cried, " He is dead, the Pierrot of the minute ! " With every artist it is even so ; The artist, after all, is a Pierrot A Pierrot of the minute, naif, clever, But Art is back of him, She lives for ever ! Then pardon my Moon Maid and me, be- cause We craved the golden shower of your ap- plause ! Pray shrive us both for having tried to win it, And cry, " Bravo ! The Pierrot of the min- ute ! " 74 Spring. WHEN hope is high and days are fine, PIERROTS What coils and garlands lovers weave ! CALENDAR. Pierrot wooed sweet Columbine, But wore his heart upon his sleeve. Summer. " Come to my bosquet, love," he said, " The moon is up, the night wind blows, The rose in your soft cheek is red, I'll kiss you, dear, under the rose." Autumn. Now Harlequin passed by one day, Well versed in many an art and lure, And stole Pierrofs mate away, Then mockingly bade him, " bonjour / " Winter. Mon ami white Pie? rot met, In the white winter time, his foe. Sweet Columbine wept with regret For the poor heart that stained the snow. 75 Pierrofs Embleme. In spring time, when the days are fine, What coils and garlands lovers weave ! If you would woo a Columbine, Wear not your heart upon your sleeve. BEFORE I looked upon the face of Grief, NATURE AND Yea, long before Love ever came to ' bring it, I wrote a little song of Love and Grief, But it was Love and Grief taught me to sing it. 77 University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. THJ5 LIJBKAKI UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA ANGELES u^ 005968 3 tr> hf> QhjlL^,j PS 2 FU38p