FOEHJ 
 B4LL4D 
 
 >. M; j, 
 
 I 
 
GIFT OF 
 Class of 1887 
 
 
BANCROFT 
 LIBRARY 
 
 o 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
POEMS AND BALLADS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHANNA M. SANDERS 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 PRINTED PRIVATELY FOR THE AUTHOR 
 
 BRUNT & COMPANY 
 
 1890 
 
Copyright, 1890 
 BY ALFRED A. WHEELER 
 
 C& \^<*\ 
 
 Of ONE HUNDRED COPIES PRINTED 
 THIS is No. Z 
 
WHEELER 
 
:-! \\ T 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 My Song i 
 
 May Day 3 
 
 On the Rhine 8 
 
 The Lost Pleiad n 
 
 The Singer . 12 
 
 The Secret Cairn 17 
 
 The Truant Lord 18 
 
 Tintern Abbey 20 
 
 On a Piece of Washington's Coffin . . .23 
 
 The Stars and Stripes 24 
 
 A Centennial Ode 31 
 
 Dalilah 35 
 
 Florence Nightingale 36 
 
 The Bride 37 
 
 The Apple Woman's Story 39 
 
 Sea Weeds 48 
 
 The Death of Wagner 49 
 
 The Mermaid's Song 50 
 
 A Lover's Rhapsody . .51 
 
 Unloved 52 
 
 Bereaved 53 
 
At the Fountain of Egeria 56 
 
 In Bondage 57 
 
 Pia in Maremma 58 
 
 To a Thistledown 62 
 
 Matin Song 64 
 
 A Bird Carol 66 
 
 Cradle Song 68 
 
 Arctums 70 
 
 To my Brother 71 
 
 Curds and Cream 72 
 
 California 7& 
 
 In the Santa Cruz Mountains 79 
 
 In Pace . 82 
 
POEHS 
 
MY SONQ 
 
 WHAT though my lips be, mute , 
 Or faintly sighing, 
 Like some unfingered lute 
 
 Neglected lying, 
 Amid whose silver chords sweet music only 
 
 slumbers 
 Until the minstrel's touch shall wake its hidden 
 
 numbers : 
 Within my bosom sealed, 
 
 Oft wildly ringing, 
 
 The music unrevealed, 
 
 My heart is singing. 
 
 Like haunting sounds that dwell 
 
 With soft emotion 
 In pearly cavern' d shell, 
 Borne from the ocean, 
 Throbbing in echoed pulse to distant billows' 
 
 swelling, 
 Their solemn melodies in mystic whispers 
 
 telling : 
 A mem'ry of the skies, 
 
 In music clinging, 
 Within my fond heart lies, 
 Forever singing. 
 
MY SONG 
 
 And though my lips be mute 
 
 Or faintly sighing, 
 Bearing no outward fruit 
 
 Of that inlying, 
 And though no touch of fire, in words of kindling 
 
 glory, 
 With bardic gift translate my spirit's silent 
 
 story : 
 Its own true song of life 
 
 In secret winging, 
 My heart, unmoved by strife, 
 Is ever singing. 
 
MdY D/IY 
 
 WAKE, comrades ! Lightly spring 
 From slumber's drowsy thrall! 
 Cheerful hearts and voices bring, 
 
 Responsive to our call. 
 Come, come, come merrily, comrades all ! 
 With a joyous lay 
 To greet the day, 
 
 And lead forth our bonny Queen of May. 
 Crown her with roses, glowing buds 
 
 Impearled with dew; 
 And scarf her bosom pure with braids 
 
 Of violets blue; 
 The sceptre, token of her power, 
 
 A slender wand 
 Of fragrant lilies, spotless white, 
 
 Place in her hand, 
 As chosen queen of our happy band. 
 
 ii 
 
 Then haste to the upland lawn, 
 Gemmed with the breath of night, 
 
 While the silver-footed dawn 
 
 Comes dancing o'er the height, 
 And Nature smiles in answering delight. 
 
4 MA Y DA Y 
 
 With lips as gay, 
 Shout, shout away, 
 All hail to our bonny Queen of May! 
 On ! lead her to the throne of state 
 
 The rustic chair 
 Of twisted branches quaintly made, 
 
 That lichens bear; 
 Her dainty foot-stool mosses be, 
 
 The carpet green 
 Where moonlit elves and flitting fays 
 
 Erst danced unseen, 
 In antic mirth with their own fair queen. 
 
 in 
 
 Let our heartfelt music swell 
 
 In chorus loud and deep, 
 Wafted to the secret cell 
 
 Where sportive echoes sleep; 
 Till cheerily every woody steep 
 In mocking play 
 Sweet homage pay, 
 
 And ring to our bonny Queen of May. 
 Her canopy the spreading shade 
 
 Of stately oak, 
 Whose hoary stem has braved the storm 
 
 And thunder-stroke, 
 Now garlanded, like smiling age, 
 
 With honied vines, 
 The woodbine's wealth and blushing grace 
 
 Of eglantines, 
 Blazoned in trembling gold with furtive shines. 
 
MA Y DAY 
 
 IV 
 
 Choicest posies hither bring 
 From rifled field or nook, 
 Moist from green-enameled spring 
 
 And lily-margined brook, 
 Or formal plats that garden walls o'erlook. 
 To the May-pole gay, 
 Away, away! 
 
 Then bear off our bonny Queen of May! 
 With leafy banners shedding sweets 
 
 From purple plumes 
 Of lilac branch, and rosy crests 
 
 Of chestnut blooms. 
 Emblems of innocence and joy 
 
 Her path bestrew! 
 Oh, may her life's light footsteps press 
 
 On flowers too, 
 That wear serenest tints of pleasure's hue! 
 
 Nimbly, nimbly on the green, 
 
 Dance now and gaily sing; 
 Hands entwining each between, 
 Quickly form the fairy ring; 
 And drooping wreaths like fragrant censers swing. 
 Dance, dance, dance away! 
 No foot may stay. 
 
 Dance about our bonny Queen of May! 
 With airy laughter, jokes and wiles 
 
 From boys and girls, 
 And flaunting ribbons letting fall 
 
6 MAYDAY 
 
 Long sunny curls, 
 We trip the giddy circle round 
 
 With hearts of glee, 
 Nor pause the frolic step, till by 
 
 Our queen set free, 
 To cast our glowing tributes at her knee. 
 
 VI 
 
 Like gazelles whose bounding feet 
 
 O'er perfumed prairies go, 
 Seeking some beloved retreat 
 
 In fertile valleys low, 
 
 Where spring breathes soft and waters flow, 
 To wander and play 
 The livelong day, 
 
 We run with our bonny Queen of May : 
 Some to the fountain's bubbling brink 
 
 With thirsty lip ; 
 Some to the shady stream, their lines 
 
 To slyly dip ; 
 To the pied meads and clover fields 
 
 Of emerald sheen, 
 To lure the bees and butterflies 
 
 The blooms between, 
 Or oracles from sibyl daisies glean. 
 
 VII 
 
 Gather, gather, rovers all, 
 
 With lagging step and slow ! 
 
 To rest in groves where shadows fall 
 That noon-gleams never know, 
 To the May-feast gather at the call ! 
 
MAY DAY 
 
 Who'd stop to play, 
 
 When called away 
 To feast with our bonny Queen of May ? 
 
 Then ere we part, we'll saunter through 
 
 Some sylvan glade, 
 Or musky woodland's arching aisles 
 
 Of mottled shade ; 
 List to wild minstrelsy afloat 
 
 On the still air ; 
 Peer into ferny brakes and thorns 
 
 For nestlings there ; 
 Or watch the squirrel sport, or start the hare. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Homeward, birds ! On weary wing, 
 
 One lingering pause devote, 
 To join in grateful caroling, 
 
 With latest, sweetest note, 
 That haply may to heaven's portal float ; 
 For in twilight grey, 
 Fast fades away 
 The reign of our bonny Queen of May. 
 
 ' Spread o'er her couch, O balmy Sleep, 
 
 Thy charmed veil ! 
 Let gentle Shapes kind vigil keep, 
 
 Till stars grow pale ! ' 
 I/) ! now the crescent moon betrays 
 
 Its tender light : 
 And rippling on the dewy air, 
 
 ' Good night ! Good night ! ' 
 Proclaims our May-day revels ended quite. 
 
ON THE RHINE 
 
 O WIFTLY flows the dark blue Rhine, 
 ^ Like a Sibyl, half divine, . 
 Murmuring, as it glides along, 
 Many a weird and wondrous song, 
 Red with strife and strong with pride, 
 And mellowed by time, like the fiery wine 
 Of sunny vineyards by its side : 
 Songs of love, the olden story ; 
 Songs of tournay, war, and glory ; 
 Songs of age and songs of youth ; 
 Of holy strivings after truth, 
 And darkest deeds of hate or ruth. 
 
 O bright river, storied river, 
 Siren-tongued, immortal Rhine, 
 What entrancing lays are thine ! 
 What rugged rhymes and dreamy chimes 
 Of those heroic, struggling times, 
 To listening ears dost thou deliver ! 
 
 Once more upon thy shining breast, 
 In fancy's magic colors drest, 
 
ON THE RHINE 
 
 Oh, let the mirrored outline rest 
 Of wooded hills and castled steep, 
 Embattled towers and frowning keep ; 
 Let blazoned banners proudly float 
 O'er bold escarp and guarded moat ; 
 Bid Time restore dismantled halls, 
 The ivied arch, the crumbled walls ; 
 And 'mid thy vines and fruity bowers, 
 And waving fields and crowding flowers, 
 Bring back the pageant, martial host, 
 The battle cry and lordly boast, 
 The steel-clad warrior stout and brave, 
 The glancing spear and flashing glaive, 
 The war-steed decked with housings bright, 
 And noble bearing of the knight, 
 In gallant deeds of high emprise 
 To win the smile of ladies' eyes. 
 
 Sing on, sing on, thou stately stream ! 
 The artist's love, the poet's dream ! 
 Sing of fair maids and bandits dun, 
 Of spectres grim and cloistered nun, 
 Of giant heroes, empires won, 
 And precious blood on every hand 
 Shed for the love of Fatherland ! 
 Awake earth's echoes far and wide 
 With lofty hymns, first sung beside 
 The cradle of an Infant Truth 
 That strangled serpents in its youth, 
 And whose maturing strength has brought 
 Freedom to man's aspiring thought ! 
 
I0 ON THE RHINE 
 
 Sing on ! and let me catch the sigh 
 Of dying years that round thee lie, 
 The spirit and the old emotion 
 Of melodies that with thee fly 
 To mingle with Oblivion's ocean. 
 
THE LOST PLEIAD 
 
 MEROPE), child of light, why dost thou haste 
 From realms where thou hast dwelt 
 
 serenely chaste ? 
 Why, ah why yearn 
 To view life's turbulent sad sights, 
 And share, with human passion, blights 
 That chill or burn ? 
 
 Seeking a mortal spouse in earth's dark maze, 
 Doth not some vision on thy steadfast gaze 
 
 Forboding wake? 
 And with dim prophecy of pain 
 From love unsatisfied or slain 
 Thy purpose shake ? 
 
 Thy star grows pale, where, in a golden throng, 
 Thy sister Pleiads wake celestial song ; 
 
 For nevermore, 
 
 Amid that shimmering, star-linked band, 
 Shalt thou, Earth-bound Merope, stand 
 As heretofore. 
 
THE SINQER 
 
 A LADY sat within her bower 
 Once on a day, 
 Lily-fair, in the golden hour 
 
 Of youth's sweet May ; 
 But brighter than day's golden shower, 
 And sweeter than spring's opening flower, 
 Dwelt in her breast a latent power, 
 
 Fatal alway ! 
 An altar and a tomb the dower 
 
 Of Passion's sway. 
 
 ii 
 
 From the pure fountains of her heart, 
 
 So deep and strong, 
 Came gushing, her ripe lips apart, 
 
 The tide of song : 
 Hymning of joy and life and art, 
 As thoughts to forms of beauty start, 
 Or playful fancies glance and dart, 
 
 Like doves that throng 
 On white wings fluttering to depart 
 
 And flight prolong. 
 
THE SINGER 13 
 
 in 
 
 Each passing footstep lingered there, 
 
 So sweetly fell 
 That lofty music, with a rare 
 
 Melodious spell : 
 
 Easing the burdened mind of care, 
 Soothing the anguish of despair, 
 Teaching the suffering soul to bear 
 
 Or grief dispel : 
 So prodigal its strength to share, 
 
 Its joy to tell. 
 
 IV 
 
 Till faltering ceased those anthems clear ; 
 
 As ebbing streams 
 Pause, stilled, when tidal pulses near. 
 
 (O rosy dreams ! 
 In whose illusive atmosphere 
 So radiantly hopes appear, 
 That vanish with a sigh, a tear, 
 
 In misty gleams !) 
 Love's presence wakes a tender fear 
 
 That rapture seems. 
 
 With outstretched arms and bosom bare 
 
 To the pure light, 
 She softly wooes that phantom fair 
 
 Of new delight, 
 For heart of heart craves equal share ; 
 
i 4 THE SINGER 
 
 When lo, a shadow falling there, 
 She only clasps the empty air ; 
 
 And lost to sight, 
 The vision fades on her despair, 
 
 Love's early blight ! 
 
 VI 
 
 But the pent song that erst was still 
 
 (Alas, that grief 
 Had power its sunny flow to chill 
 
 In unbelief!) 
 
 Burst through the bonds of baffled will 
 With richer melody to thrill, 
 And sweeter, deeper sense instill. 
 
 (Just so the leaf 
 Is shed, when nectared juices fill 
 
 Their fruity sheath.) 
 
 VII 
 
 Yet mingling tones of sadness came, 
 
 Unheard before : 
 The fainting cry of want and pain 
 
 Without the door, 
 The craving else than empty fame, 
 The shrinking from a touch of blame, 
 The thirst of a consuming flame, 
 
 Ah, how deplore 
 Those shuddering discords that proclaim 
 
 The reft heart's lore ! 
 
THE SINGER 15 
 
 VIII 
 
 Till with soft show of courtesy 
 
 And wooing bland, 
 (So weds the secret, treacherous sea 
 
 The smiling land) 
 A stately form on bended knee 
 Proffers the chalice that should be 
 A charmed draught, her song to free 
 
 From sorrow's brand. 
 (The luring hand of Destiny 
 
 Who may withstand ? ) 
 
 IX 
 
 But oh, her bowed lips only greet 
 
 A bitter taste ! 
 And heart-stung by her love's defeat, 
 
 Recking no waste 
 That makes a sacrifice complete, 
 Into that cup, woe's last retreat, 
 She throws her life! (Love's gains are fleet!) 
 
 Pouring, thus graced, 
 The rich libation at his feet 
 
 With fatal haste. 
 
 The light has faded from the west; 
 
 Come the dark hour ; 
 Death sits a grim and silent guest 
 
 Within the bower. 
 Her white hands folded on her breast, 
 
16 THE SINGER 
 
 snow-wreaths from an Alpine crest, 
 The lovely minstrel lies at rest, 
 
 A broken flower ! 
 At peace for aye the heart oppressed 
 
 By passion's power. 
 
 XI 
 
 But that high song's immortal sound 
 
 Still echoes, heard 
 Above the din of life's dull round, 
 
 And souls are stirred : 
 
 The brow of thought with rapture crowned, 
 And hearts from chains of earth unbound, 
 When with electric touch profound 
 
 Some burning word 
 Sheds with its light a joy new-found 
 
 On hope deferred! 
 
THE SECRET Q/IIRN 
 
 A BOVE the grave of perished joys 
 **' And daring hopes untimely slain, 
 There rises, stone by stone, a Cairn, 
 
 Secreted in the heart's domain ; 
 Where pilgrim thoughts, through weary years, 
 Oft pause with unavailing tears. 
 
 The flaunting trains of worldly pride 
 Pass by afar and know it not ; o .- 
 
 No warring passions linger there 
 To desecrate the hallowed spot 
 
 Where souls bereaved, with mournful song, 
 
 Unceasing requiems prolong. 
 
 L,ove only waits and vigil keeps, 
 
 Through the long night of grief's dark hours; 
 Till from oblivion's gathering mould 
 
 Spring memory's amaranthine flowers, 
 And faith's pure dawn, with promise bright, 
 Touches the Secret Cairn with light. 
 
THE TRU/INT LOR& 
 
 HK cries to his horse, as with loosened rein 
 He spurs and bounds o'er the barren. 
 
 plain, 
 
 'On, Selim, on ! high-hearted steed, 
 That never yet failed me at my need ! 
 Miles upon miles before us lie, 
 Now prove your mettle and onward fly." 
 
 The rider bethinks him of his home, 
 In an evil hour he had willed to roam, 
 Of its sparkling founts, its vine-hung bowers, 
 Its alleys green, its fruits and flowers; 
 Of his fair young wife, of a voice unheard, 
 Of the charm and joy of a loving word. 
 
 But none of these to his restless heart 
 Could the balm of sweet content impart. 
 He longed for- action and power and state, 
 To vie with men and to war with fate ; 
 And so it befell on a weary day, 
 He mounted' his Arab and rode away. 
 
 Then days and months and years were told 1 ,, 
 And the fervor of early love grew cold ; 
 Till in a vision of import dire,, 
 
THE TRUANT LORD 19 
 
 An angel kindled remorseful fire ; 
 
 And his heart cried out with craving pain 
 
 For love and the sweets of home again. 
 
 Though brave the steed and swift his flight, 
 His flanks with red and his breast with white 
 Are with blood and foam bedabbled o'er, 
 Ere breathless he stops at his master's door. 
 No loving smile, no welcoming word, 
 By the truant Lord is seen or heard. 
 
 On a bed of slime, unmoved and dim, 
 The water sleeps at the fountain's rim; 
 Where beauty of art with nature vied, 
 The newt and the slug in silence glide ; 
 Ungarnered fruits decay and drop ; 
 Thistles and weeds are summer's crop. 
 
 The spider has woven her silken lace 
 To drape the portal's dingy face ; 
 Over ruined garden and empty hall, 
 Behold ! there hangs a funereal pall 
 For hope departed and love betrayed 
 And a broken heart in the tomb low-laid. 
 
TlNTERN 
 
 stands in ruin Tintern's hallowed 
 -* fane, 
 Where silence, awe and desolation reign ! 
 
 Through roofless walls, here ages yet entire, 
 No longer heavenward points the lofty spire ; 
 Its deep foundations, too, arched o'er in vain, 
 Return with slow decay to earth again. 
 Some stately columns, time awhile defied, 
 Still rear their ivied heads with seeming pride ; 
 Whilst others, fallen from their Gothic state, 
 With flowers o'ergrown, half hide their humbled 
 fate. 
 
 Through windows once with pictured story bright, 
 No more the morning plays with changeful light ; 
 But clustering vines the casements darkly shade 
 With graceful fringe of tendrils overlaid ; 
 And moss and lichens, in each crevice caught, 
 Quaint traceries of arabesque have wrought. 
 Tall ferns that in green tangled tresses stream ; 
 Pale wall-flowers that like golden censers gleam, 
 Wafting their fragrant incense on the breeze ; 
 Thistles and grasses in a living frieze, 
 Together with the ivy's curtained flow, 
 
TIN TERN ABBE Y 2 1 
 
 A solemn, soft and checkered shadow throw 
 Along the dew-damp aisle with turf o'erspread, 
 Where once the pavement holy footsteps led. 
 
 Rude pious-sculptured fragments lie around, 
 And Death's denoting tablets mark his ground ; 
 Whilst tombs to rank and friendship passed away, 
 Now unremembered, moulder in decay. 
 The very names that once were known to fame, 
 Or cherished in fond hearts like sacred flame, 
 Though graved on marble by the hand of care, 
 Have vanished like a breath upon the air. 
 
 Yon stairway, which, by fearful footing traced, 
 Still hangs almost in air through years of waste, 
 Once coursed secure the turret's circled height, 
 Where lonely monk, in prayer th' enduring night, 
 With contrite heart essayed and bitter tears 
 To lull remorse or soothe fanatic fears. 
 Or there perhaps some deep, ambitious mind, 
 Mysterious vigils kept, in thought sublimed ; 
 Aimed by forbidden art and magic spell 
 The star-stampt characters of night to tell ; 
 But secrets dire perused of hidden fate 
 Still left the lonely heart more desolate. 
 
 No tinkling bell, nor organ's swelling sound, 
 Nor chanting voice breaks silence oft profound. 
 The screech-owl's vesper cry alone is heard, 
 Or matin music of some flitting bird. 
 No joy -bells thrill the golden morning air 
 With bridal summons for the young and fair ; 
 
2 2 TIN TERN ABBE Y 
 
 No pealing chimes of Merrie Christmas tell, 
 Nor solemn tolling of the passing knell ; 
 But summer breezes mournful music wake, 
 And wintry winds more awful dirges make, 
 When flooding rains like tears unnumbered fall, 
 Or drifting snow-wreaths spread a ghastly pall. 
 
 And yet within this desecrated fane, 
 
 L,ike lingering perfume, hallowed things remain : 
 
 The dew of contrite tears ; the breath of prayer 
 
 That once exhaled upon its sacred air ; 
 
 The dust of holy men and weary life, 
 
 That here laid down their burdens, ceased their 
 
 strife, 
 
 And 'neath the shelter of a common sod 
 Found peace within the bosom of their God. 
 
ON A FlEQE OF WASHINGTON'S COFFIN 
 
 A RELIC dumb, yet oh ! how eloquent 
 fc"^- This fragment of the lowly, narrow bed 
 
 Of him 1 for whom a nation's tears were shed ! 
 Who, in the- hour of need, his genius lent 
 To heal his' country's wounds, war's fury spent; 
 
 And having patriot hosts to conquest led, 
 
 In peace, unsullied by ambition, spread 
 Fresh lustre on Free People's Government. 
 
 Less frail this remnant of the forest tree 
 Than mortal shell now crumbled into dust ; 
 But noble deeds and truth and honor live 
 Immortal : and till time shall cease to be, 
 The name of Washington to all men must 
 Be hallowed and the hope of freedom give.. 
 
THE STdRS /IND STRIFES 
 
 A BAU,AD OF THE FIRST VICTIM OF THE 
 CIVII, WAR 
 
 blow that lowered Sumter's flag 
 -*- Awoke a slumbering fire 
 That gathered lightnings on its path 
 
 To weld a people's ire. 
 That blow, aimed at a Nation's life, 
 
 Struck every loyal heart, 
 
 And taught the scheming partisan 
 
 The patriot's nobler part; 
 
 Respect for just, enlightened rule, 
 
 Obedience to L,aw, 
 Voice of his country's majesty 
 
 That Anarchy shall awe ; 
 To keep the Starry Flag aloft, 
 
 Unsullied and unshorn, 
 A beacon-hope on Freedom's height 
 
 For ages yet unborn ; 
 
 And more than life to prize that bond 
 Whose wise control unites 
 
 The strength of numbers with the pride 
 Of individual rights ; 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES 25 
 
 Which knows not East, West, North nor South, 
 
 Save one united Whole : 
 One name, one past, one destiny, 
 
 One body and one soul. 
 
 A brooding horror filled the pause, 
 
 Dread herald of the storm, 
 Ere the avenging hand was raised 
 
 Or severed thought could form ; 
 Till burst the war-cloud's pent up wrath, 
 
 And borne from hill to shore, 
 A Nation's mortal cry went forth : 
 " Onward ! through Baltimore !" 
 
 " Columbia calls her loyal sons 
 
 To ward off Treason's guile ; 
 To quell the parricidal rage 
 
 That would her soil defile ; 
 To guard her stately Capitol 
 
 From the invading tread 
 Of rebel children, who would pour 
 
 Dishonor on her head ! ' ' 
 
 Then from the workshop and the field, 
 
 The anvil and the loom, 
 The press, the studio, the school, 
 
 The mart and counting-room, 
 Came heart to heart, like brethren true 
 
 Their birthright to defend, 
 The heirs of freedom bought with blood, 
 
 Their own free blood to spend. 
 
26 THE STARS AND STRIPES 
 
 Foremost in answer to that call, 
 
 Among the loyal ones 
 With noble indignation fired, 
 
 Came stern New England's sons. 
 They came in faith but to defend 
 
 The Nation's Temple-door ; 
 No order yet to draw the sword, 
 
 But "On ! through Baltimore ! " 
 
 Too honest all to apprehend 
 
 Rebellion's brutal power, 
 Mob-force, that met them shamelessly 
 
 In that unguarded hour ; 
 Assailed with missiles rude and vile, 
 
 And shot like beasts of prey : 
 Such welcome Baltimore bestowed 
 
 On that fair April day. 
 
 O city of historic pride, 
 
 Wipe off that bloody stain ! 
 Untarnished raise the civic shield 
 
 With loyalty again ! 
 Bright gem that sparkles on the brow 
 
 Of haughty Maryland, 
 For Freedom and for Union shine 
 
 Among the starry band ! 
 
 Where thickest fall the dastard blows, 
 First fruit of Treason's hate, 
 
 A wounded youth unnoticed lies : 
 Achieved a hero's fate ! 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES 27 
 
 A solemn calm to pain succeeds, 
 
 He watches from afar 
 The flag he no more may defend, 
 
 So long his guiding star. 
 
 When lo ! as though the parting soul 
 
 Would bear to heaven's expanse 
 Some shadow of its Past, recalled 
 
 In one supernal glance, 
 Sweet visions minister delight, 
 
 While death holds revel there : 
 The pageant of his guiltless life 
 
 Seems painted on the air. 
 
 New Hampshire's wooded heights ! O joy 
 
 The sweets of home once more ! 
 The swallows building in the eaves 
 
 Above the cottage door ; 
 The rustic garden where he watched 
 
 The resurrected seed, 
 That oracle of Nature's love 
 
 Which he who runs may read ; 
 
 The ancient musket on the wall, 
 
 Revered with childish awe, 
 His gallant grandsire once had borne 
 
 At glorious Chippewa ; 
 The old man's stirring tales of war 
 
 Beside the winter hearth, 
 Of victories and moral throes 
 
 That gave a nation birth; 
 
28 THE STARS AND STRIPES 
 
 His boyish aspirations for 
 
 Some greatness undefined, 
 His trivial faults, privations, joys, 
 
 Are strangely brought to mind r 
 How, when the daily task was done, 
 
 In some secluded nook 
 His country's history he conned 
 
 From the long-treasured book ; 
 
 How to the drum and fife's glad sound 
 
 His heart would wildly beat, 
 As proudly near the village corps 
 
 He trod the grass-grown street ; 
 How sprang the hot, unconscious tears 
 
 To eyes unused to weep, 
 When o'er those native skies he saw 
 
 The Flag of Freedom sweep ; 
 
 And how, when war's imperious call 
 
 Disturbed this dreamy life, 
 He woke to manhood, joined the ranks, 
 
 And parted for the strife. 
 And then his little brother's wish, 
 
 Half sorrow and half pride. 
 ' ' O sister, would I were a man, 
 
 To fight by Jamie's side !" 
 
 That sister's artless vanity 
 To see his martial grace ; 
 
 The tearless pallor, like a veil, 
 Spread o'er his mother's face ; 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES 29 
 
 Her last fond look, her parting words 
 
 "My son, be true and brave ! " 
 When to the country's treasury 
 Her Widow's Mite she gave. 
 
 But memory fades with ebbing life, 
 
 And instinct guides the way 
 To drag his failing limbs beyond 
 
 The tumult of the fray. 
 A humble shop is near, he gains 
 
 At last a shelter there, 
 Where pity wakes and gentle hands 
 
 Bestow a Christian care. 
 
 But one stands by with sullen brow 
 
 And cold, embittered heart, 
 Who calls himself a " Southerner/' 
 
 And takes a traitor's part; 
 Who falsely claims secession's right 
 
 The Union to destroy, 
 And looks with sectional disdain 
 
 Upon the " Yankee" boy. 
 
 To him unknown the generous glow 
 
 That fired that patriot breast, 
 Its simple faith Obedience 
 
 To loyalty's behest ; 
 A selfish policy he knew, 
 
 The partisan's poor lore ; 
 And rudely questioned and rebuked 
 
 This man of Baltimore. 
 
30 THE STARS AND STRIPES 
 
 ' ' Unlucky boy ! what brought you here 
 
 To face the brunt of war ? 
 The workshop or the school, methinks, 
 
 Were more befitting far ; 
 Or mother's chiding hand to curb 
 
 A vanity so mad : 
 Say, was it for the * hireling's pay ? ' 
 
 What brought you here, my lad ? " 
 
 The youthful hero, rallying 
 
 His fast departing breath, 
 Uplifts a pallid brow where hang 
 
 The icy beads of death ; 
 The radiance of a heavenly smile 
 
 Played o'er his ghastly cheek, 
 As thrice his faltering lips essayed 
 
 The proud reply to speak. 
 
 Forth from his wide and filmy eye 
 There flashed a sudden fire ; 
 
 One last great throb his true heart gave, 
 As woke the old desire. 
 
 Then, as he sank to rise no more 
 Upon his gory bed, 
 
 In thrilling, sweet, exultant tone, 
 " The Stars and Stripes /"he said. 
 
A CENTENNIAL ODE 
 
 JULY 4, 1876 
 
 /~^OL,UMBIA ! like some goddess newly shrined 
 ^-s In Time's emblazoned hall, thou'st made 
 
 thy name 
 A talisman of hope for faith to bind 
 
 Above the wounds of nations and their shame ! 
 
 Thy banner, Freedom's glorious oriflame, 
 Hath borne to many a land o'er ocean's bound 
 
 A blessing with the triumph of thy fame, 
 And wakened in man's heart a joy profound, 
 Where'er thy watchword, " liberty, " was heard 
 to sound. 
 
 ii 
 
 Quick with regenerate force, thou wert a Bud 
 
 To be engrafted on the virgin years ; 
 A new Evangel, written with the blood 
 
 Of trodden peoples and their children's tears ; 
 
 A Sign portentous waking tyrants' fears ; 
 A Haven made for Pilgrim feet that fled 
 
 The cruel barriers Superstition rears : 
 Star of the West, thy kindling radiance led 
 To Freedom's cradled hope, and holy influence 
 shed! 
 
32 A CENTENNIAL ODE 
 
 in 
 
 The tangled forest, the unpeopled wild 
 
 Or peopled only with a savage race 
 Were braved and conquered, nature's frowns 
 
 beguiled, 
 
 Until the desert bloomed with every grace. 
 Danger and want to free, full life gave place ; 
 And faith's endurance, life's heroic toils, 
 Gave strength to growth which now moves on 
 
 apace, 
 
 Laden with wisdom's wealth and nature's spoils, 
 From whose enlightened bulwarks ignorance 
 recoils. 
 
 IV 
 
 Pride and pompous Ceremonial pause 
 Kre they decry the rudeness of thy youth, 
 Or curl the haughty lip of scorn, because 
 Thy monuments historic are, forsooth, 
 Not yet embellished by Time's gnawing tooth ; 
 For thou hast reared a pharos on thy shore, 
 
 The Light of Freedom, nature's sacred truth, 
 Where panting slaves and .exiles sad and sore 
 Shall feel oppression's goad and burdens never- 
 more ! 
 
 v 
 
 Thy temple doors have opened to the world 
 A sanctuary for enfranchised Mind ; 
 
 Beneath thy starry flag, in peace unfurled,?' 
 Trophies of industry and art are twined ; 
 Just laws and equal rights the fasces bind ; 
 
A CENTENNIAL ODE 33 
 
 There in one universal brotherhood 
 All nationalities a home may find, 
 The fruits of liberty their daily food 
 May gather and enjoy, if rightly understood. 
 
 VI 
 
 The treasures of primeval days are stored 
 
 In earth's kind breast throughout thy vast 
 
 domains ; 
 From Plenty's horn a lavish sweetness poured 
 
 On fruitful valleys and wide grassy plains ; 
 
 While o'er blue lakes and winding river veins 
 A spirit of ethereal beauty bends, 
 
 O'er the steep cataract's abysses reigns, 
 On snow-clad mounts and giant groves descends, 
 And grandeur's grace to Nature's wilder aspects 
 lends. 
 
 VII 
 
 And many a name of hero and of sage, 
 Serene in peace, in war still undismayed, 
 
 Illuminates thy brief historic page. 
 
 The name of Washington, with pride displayed 
 On thy emblazoned shield, a shrine hath made 
 
 In every land where an aspiring soul 
 Its sacrifice on freedom's altar laid. 
 
 Long may that hallowed name, while cycles roll, 
 
 Be cherished and thy sons' ambitious aims 
 control! 
 
 VIII 
 
 The fire of war's dissension quenched a flame 
 By error kindled and by passion fed 
 
34 A CENTENNIAL ODE 
 
 Aggressive hands, once raised with deadly aim, 
 In friendship clasp ; grief's mutual tears are 
 
 shed 
 All wrongs forgotten of the buried dead 
 
 O'er many a grave of brother once a foe : 
 Embittered hearts that once in discord bled, 
 
 Now gladly throb with patriot pride, and know 
 
 The blessings union, peace and liberty bestow. 
 
 IX 
 
 Thy grateful sons, Columbia, greet thee now 
 First hallowed by a century of years ! 
 
 Years whose immortal fruits shall yet endow 
 Humanity with youthful strength that cheers, 
 And moral beauty, as new light appears. 
 
 And though the mazy paths of truth elude 
 Man's groping mind awhile, though error rears 
 
 Its hydra-head in vile solicitude, 
 
 Years of unfettered thought may lead to Perfect 
 Good. 
 
 A century of chartered freedom thine 
 
 The first imperial stamp by ages prest; 
 Victorious bays and peaceful olives twine 
 
 Thy starry diadem's refulgent crest. 
 
 Thy pedestal a New World, thou dost rest 
 With firm feet on a mighty continent, 
 
 A boundless ocean laving either breast, 
 Thine eyes upon a glorious future bent : 
 Humanity's Ideal ! Freedom's Embodiment ! 
 
D4LIL4H 
 
 ON SEEING STORY'S STATUE 
 
 IS done ! the deed of treachery and guile 
 That robs the mighty warrior of his 
 
 strength ! 
 
 His shorn locks lie in all their vaunted length 
 Beneath thy feet, the spoil of many a wile ; 
 And gold thy cruel fair hands doth defile, 
 Thou type of perjured woman's evil ways, 
 Who while caressing secretly betrays, 
 And stabs at life and honor with a smile ! 
 
 Upon thy brow, now passionless and cold, 
 
 As though remorse stirred in thy stony heart, 
 
 The moral of thy guilty tale is told 
 
 In conscious shame : a germ of heavenly mould, 
 Left, ere thy better angel did depart, 
 To bloom in pity there, immortalized by Art. 
 
FLORENCE 
 
 ANGEly of help, by holy fires annealed, 
 Whose charmed name links with Italia' s 
 
 flower 
 
 The wakeful minstrel of the rosy bower, 
 How oft thy voice like music's balm hath healed 
 Despair and anguish death alone had sealed, 
 When e'en thy shadow's sympathetic power, 
 Through thy sweet mercies, soothed the dying 
 
 hour 
 Of heroes, and their fainting hearts were steeled. 
 
 Then like the Swan- White Maiden's fairy spell, 
 The "precious gems" of thought by truth 
 
 made bold, 
 The " golden rings " of love's encircling fold, 
 
 In countless blessings from thy presence fell ; 
 And in the vital warmth thy good deeds shed, 
 Sprang roses whereso'er thy footsteps led. 
 
THE BRIDE 
 
 HER bridal robes all pearly white, 
 Of silvery, silken gleams, 
 Seem luminous as fleecy clouds 
 
 That veil the moon's chaste beams ; 
 And filmy laces fall like foam 
 
 That follows in her wake, 
 As to the sacred shrine she glides, 
 Love's plight to give and take. 
 
 With eyes like violets bathed in dew, 
 
 Downcast in maiden shame, 
 And fluttering heart impressed with awe 
 
 And fears without a name ; 
 While orange-blooms, the virgin crown, 
 
 Their fragrant breath exhale 
 Above a fair unsullied brow 
 
 And cheeks as lilies pale. 
 
 As on some far rock-columned shore 
 
 Resounding billows swell, 
 And breaking die, soft as the sigh 
 
 Within an ocean shell, 
 The organ's deep melodious tides 
 
 In wavy raptures rise, 
 
38 THE BRIDE 
 
 And choral voices thrill and melt 
 I^ike sounds from Paradise. 
 
 With heart to heart, for bliss or bale, 
 
 The youthful spouses stand ; 
 The golden circlet of the wife 
 
 Gleams on the bride's fair hand ; 
 Her pledge of love, life's freight of hope, 
 
 In trust supreme is given : 
 Oh, may that vow be blest on earth 
 
 And registered in heaven ! 
 
THE /IPPLE WOMAN'S STORY 
 
 WILL you buy an apple, madam? Here's a 
 pippin bright as gold. 
 Better never ripened, and many a fine one I 
 
 have sold. 
 Here's red and russet, less beautiful, but just as 
 
 sweet and sound. 
 
 Thank you, lady. L,ittle Miss will have a treat 
 now, I'll be bound. 
 
 It warms my heart to see her beaming face, so 
 
 pure and mild. 
 "Tis a glimpse of heaven, the darling ! Be not 
 
 afraid, dear child ; 
 Though I'm like the sere and blasted tree, it was 
 
 not always so ; 
 I once was ruddy and straight and strong, a 
 
 long, long time ago. 
 
 And I'm so accustomed to it now, I quite forget 
 
 the shame 
 Of my scars and crooked limbs. True, ma'am, 
 
 misfortune is no blame ; 
 I've never looked upon a glass since I learnt to 
 
 look within, 
 And face the ugliness found there, for ah, who 
 
 is free from sin ? 
 
40 THE APPLE WOMAN 
 
 Yes, I'm growing old, dear lady, shall be sixty- 
 nine to-morrow. 
 
 I've had sore trials in my time, too, heaps upon 
 heaps of sorrow ; 
 
 Yet I don't repine, there's nothing now can grieve 
 me evermore, 
 
 And I'm thankful I have not to beg my bread 
 from door to door. 
 
 Tell you about it? Yes, I will. 'T is a dreary 
 
 tale of woe, 
 That now seems like a troubled dream, for it 
 
 happened long ago. 
 You can scarce believe, my dear, that I was once 
 
 a pretty girl, 
 With eyes as bright and blue as yours and as 
 
 many a golden curl. 
 
 I was a loved and happy child, though reared on 
 
 plainest food, 
 And my home the humblest cottage that in our 
 
 village stood. 
 No lighter step than mine was seen, no merrier 
 
 voice was heard, 
 In the meadows where I tossed the hay and 
 
 caroled like a bird. 
 
 I had many suitors, and might have married 
 
 better to be sure ; 
 Yet I was rich in my Harry's love ; fond hearts 
 
 are never poor. 
 
THE APPLE WOMAN 41 
 
 Father and mother they 'd only me I left for him 
 
 I chose ; 
 And parting was my heart's first grief, but so 
 
 God's order goes. 
 
 Folks said we were a handsome pair. A proud 
 
 and joyous wife, 
 I little thought my path would lead through 
 
 years of lonely life. 
 We left the village for the town for the sake of 
 
 Harry's trade : 
 A ship-carpenter, my dear, and a good livelihood 
 
 he made. 
 
 Snugly and happily we lived, as small comforts 
 round us grew. 
 
 A blessing rested on us then, twice a mother's 
 joy I knew. 
 
 The pretty ways of baby, the prattle of our 
 chubby lad, 
 
 A tidy hearth and a loving smile, made the home- 
 welcome glad. 
 
 One evening, keeping holiday, we went to see the 
 
 play, 
 Leaving our blooming baby Rose with a neighbor 
 
 by the way. 
 Ann had a nursling of her own ; there seemed 
 
 no reason for regret : 
 Yet I had misgivings, and my lips with baby's 
 
 tears were wet. 
 
42 THE APPLE WOMAN 
 
 So I wearied of the mirth and glare ; and at 
 nature's mute demand, 
 
 More than once my tingling bosom seemed to feel 
 her playful hand. 
 
 Silent I sat, and o'er me came a shuddering, name- 
 less fear, 
 
 As mournful sounds like sobs and cries seemed to 
 murmur in my ear. 
 
 The curtain fell, we hurried forth. Then, like a 
 surging ocean, 
 
 The clang of bells, the cry of " Fire!" the engine's 
 rushing motion, 
 
 Grew louder as we neared our home, lighted by 
 lurid flashes, 
 
 Alas ! to find a blackened ruin, a heap of smoulder- 
 ing ashes. 
 
 Clasping our boy, my husband parted from me in 
 
 the throng. 
 
 I, thinking of baby's peril only, hurried along. 
 Unmindful of the fiery rain oh, 'twas like the 
 
 day of doom ! 
 I reached the burning tenement and flew up to 
 
 Annie's room. 
 
 Dizzied and blind, I searched and called despair- 
 ingly in vain; 
 
 Stunned by terror for a moment, then a prey to 
 doubt and pain ; 
 
 Till a sharp cry, an infant's wail, my groping 
 footsteps led : 
 
THE APPLE WOMAN 43 
 
 From the floor I snatched the darling to my 
 breast and would have fled. 
 
 But oh, the stairs had vanished ! in their place 
 
 great bursts of flame, 
 Mixed with hissing streams and stifling gusts, 
 
 nearer and nearer came. 
 Cries of horror from the crowd answered my 
 
 voice, with anguish keen, 
 When at the window, 'gainst the light, mother 
 
 and babe were seen. 
 
 Daring arms were stretched and caught the 
 
 precious little life I bore. 
 Then from fiery death escaping, I sprang out and 
 
 knew no more. 
 But oh, I left the hospital a hideous thing, half 
 
 blind and lame ; 
 And 'twas Anrf s baby I had saved; mine perished 
 
 in the flame. 
 
 Yes, lady, Ann was rescued from the attic crazed 
 
 with fright, 
 Whither she ran to rouse her boys, who else had 
 
 waked no more that night. 
 Ann said she never could repay me, she a poor 
 
 sailor's wife; 
 And would insist she 'd been to blame, good soul, 
 
 and thought so all her life. 
 
 Well, health returned, yet every day saw hopes of 
 happiness depart ; 
 
44 THE APPLE WOMAN 
 
 For husband never was the same, he took our 
 
 losses so to heart. 
 Moody or wild, neglecting work, he sought the 
 
 tavern's hateful spell : 
 Ah, guess what followed, ma'am, his shame is 
 
 not for my poor tongue to tell. 
 
 I struggled on, toiled early and late, more than 
 
 my strength could bear ; 
 Though Charlie's little gains ere long were 
 
 proudly brought for me to share. 
 Then happened what I'd long foreseen, after years 
 
 of silent woe, 
 But oh, the tears of widowhood came with a 
 
 bitter flow. 
 
 Sad and lonely were the days I passed while 
 
 Charlie was at sea. 
 He was a beautiful, brave boy, and so dutiful to 
 
 me 
 That I had no heart to thwart his wish to lead 
 
 a sailor's life. 
 Thank God ! there never came between us a word 
 
 of blame or strife. 
 
 He was wondrous clever, too, I still can see his 
 
 sunny smile, 
 While telling marvelous long yarns, dear boy! our 
 
 evenings to beguile. 
 I know not how he learnt it all ; his tongue, so 
 
 glib, was never bold, 
 
THE APPLE WOMAN 45 
 
 And so truthful why, he'd not have told a lie 
 for mines of gold. 
 
 Well, a hard winter came, when food was dear 
 
 and scarce beside ; 
 But I sold no apples in those days ; Charlie all 
 
 my wants supplied. 
 I counted every lengthening day, as a miser 
 
 counts his store, 
 For with the spring would come my treasure to 
 
 my arms once more, 
 
 I remember how I used to sit and wateh the little 
 
 star 
 He once told me guided mariners, wandering on 
 
 seas afar ; 
 And how my yearning heart would throb, as I 
 
 walked at eve alone, 
 Looking out upon the ocean, saddened by its 
 
 solemn moan. 
 
 And oh, I never, never shall forget when the 
 
 great storm began, 
 How the wind howled at the shattered pane and 
 
 the rain in torrents ran ; 
 How I held my fainting breath at the awful 
 
 thunder of the deep, 
 As all night long I wept and prayed, and never 
 
 thought of sleep. 
 
 And what a mortal dread I felt, when, cowering 
 at the hearth, 
 
46 THE APPLE WOMAN 
 
 An icy kiss upon my brow left a farewell not of 
 earth. 
 
 A stillness fell ere morning broke ; and when I 
 looked upon the street, 
 
 The white snow lay in drifted folds like a glisten- 
 ing winding-sheet. 
 
 Three fearful days the tempest raged, before 'twas 
 
 truly known, 
 That, while saving other lives, my boy had 
 
 bravely lost his own; 
 And that almost in sight of home his ship had 
 
 gone ashore, 
 Freighted with precious souls, whose little dream 
 
 of life was o'er. 
 
 Small comfort to me was it then to hear his 
 
 frozen corse was found, 
 And with others decently interred in consecrated 
 
 ground. 
 But now I'm glad to know he sleeps beneath the 
 
 heaven's blue pall, 
 With a sunny sod upon his breast where summer 
 
 roses fall. 
 
 You weep, ay, so did I those days, until my 
 
 heart was dry. 
 But now I'm waiting patiently to join them all 
 
 on high. 
 I've earned a pittance, just enough a pauper's end 
 
 to save ; 
 
THE APPLE WOMAN 47 
 
 And have a spotless suit laid by to clothe me for 
 the grave. 
 
 I cannot see through it all ! yet I feel that God is 
 
 good, 
 That His sacred promises are kept, though not 
 
 always understood. 
 No kindred branch is left me, but He has lent a 
 
 little flower 
 To cheer my wintry age and dew with tears its 
 
 last dark hour. 
 
 'Tis Nellie, madam, Ann's poor grandchild, now 
 
 orphaned and alone. 
 I love the dear good girl, and oftentimes forget 
 
 she 's not my own. 
 On holidays and the brief hours that labor leaves 
 
 to spare, 
 She never fails to come and soothe me with many 
 
 a tender care. 
 
 Together then we gossip and the pleasant time 
 
 flies fast, 
 While she prophecies the future and I preach 
 
 about the past. 
 And that is all my story, dear. Yes, when it's 
 
 not too cold, 
 You '11 find me hereabouts, not long, though, 
 
 for I'm growing weak and old. 
 
SE/I WEEDS 
 
 IN gardens of a hidden world we dwell, 
 In Ocean's crystal depths, through which the 
 
 light 
 
 Gleams in pale rays of pearl and chrysolite. 
 Our purple beauty drapes each rocky cell ; 
 We filmy webs weave for the chambered shell, 
 Green carpets spread in coral caverns hid, 
 A mossy couch for slumbering Nereid, 
 Or Siren dreaming some melodious spell. 
 
 The sea-nymphs, dancing on the nacreous sands, 
 Their flowing locks crown with our airy plumes, 
 
 Their foam-white bosoms wreathe with rosy bands 
 And garlands woven of our brine-gemmed 
 blooms, 
 
 And with these treasures of our ocean- birth 
 
 Enrich and grace the barren edge of Earth. 
 
THE DEdTH OF WflQNER 
 
 >T"VHEIR faces veiled in grief, the Muses bend 
 -*- Above thy couch of death. How cold and 
 
 still 
 Those lips of fire, that once the world could 
 
 fill 
 
 With music, and the light of poesy lend 
 To misty themes of love and strife, and send 
 With power of prophecy a deeper thrill 
 To human hearts, and quicken human will 
 To higher aims of Art and nobler end. 
 
 Great Master, mighty Singer, art thou mute ? 
 Thy harp unstrung ? Thy voice forever hushed , 
 Whose music like the storm of battle rushed, 
 
 Or in soft, melting strains dropped heavenly 
 
 fruit ? 
 
 Immortal! still thou compassest Earth's sphere: 
 Thy soul on music's wings still hovers here ! 
 
THE flERndiD'5 SONQ 
 
 SING, sisters, blow your music shells, 
 And dance on every wave that swells ! 
 While skies are bright, 
 And morn's delight 
 Within our bosom dwells. 
 
 Sing, sing and dance, for soon shall we 
 Return to homes beneath the sea, 
 
 Where joy is dumb, 
 
 Our power o'ercome, 
 And hushed our minstrelsy. 
 
 There silence reigns in twilight shade 
 Of coral caverns pearl-inlaid ; 
 
 Where sweetly sleep, 
 
 Down in the deep, 
 The captives we have made. 
 
 Sing, while we sport in summer rays, 
 The siren song of olden days, 
 
 That lures and charms 
 
 And to our arms 
 The mariner betrays! 
 
A LOVER'S RttdPSObY 
 
 Oh, had I the prophetic fire 
 And touch electric that inspire 
 The poet-soul's melodious lyre, 
 
 The thoughts that now in secret burn, 
 Within my heart's deep-hidden urn, 
 By alchemy of love would turn 
 
 Into the golden words that throng 
 To melt and mingle into song 
 And fancy's happy dreams prolong. 
 
 Yet would I vainly strive to tell 
 The transports that my bosom swell, 
 Wrought by thy beauty's potent spell. 
 
 And vain were quest, in earth or air, 
 For aught of wealth that could compare 
 With worth and loveliness so rare. 
 
 In silence chained, when thou art near, 
 Love seals my lips ; in sudden fear 
 Awed, as when angel forms appear. 
 
 Yet, wouldst thou know what speech denies, 
 Love's answer all outspoken lies, 
 And thou mayst read it in my eyes. 
 
UNLOVED 
 
 T IKE a parched, neglected vine 
 *-* Drooping in the sultry air, 
 Is this thirsting heart of mine, 
 
 Vainly seeking everywhere 
 Some firm faith on which to lean, 
 
 Some kind hand to raise it higher, 
 Some fond eye whose steadfast beam 
 
 Glows with love's celestial fire. 
 
 Day by day the craving vine 
 
 Puts its pleading tendrils forth, 
 Mutely grasps the barren air, 
 
 Dragging wearily on earth ; 
 So this yearning heart of mine 
 
 Hungers with a vain unrest 
 For some kindred bosom, where 
 
 It might cling forever blest. 
 
BEREdVEb 
 
 I HEAR the meadow-lark's love-carol ring, 
 I note the swallow's sure returning wing, 
 And blossoms garlanding the new-born spring : 
 But where art Thou ? 
 
 The circling years roll on, and evermore 
 Fresh flowers tessellate earth's fragrant floor ; 
 The hills grow green, the billows beat the shore 
 With pulse unchanged. 
 
 Heaven's airy dome, not less serenely blue, 
 From heights unseen still sheds the golden hue 
 That lends a glory to earth's daily view, 
 As once of yore ; 
 
 When like two guileless children hand in hand r 
 That waken, wonder-lost, in fairyland, 
 Within a brighter world we seemed to stand 
 Immortal grown. 
 
 Beauty, a spirit of inborn delight, 
 Before us went and led our steps aright, 
 Through lowly paths to many a starry height 
 By angels trod. 
 
54 BEREA VED 
 
 As parted dew-drops, trembling side by side, 
 Drawn by a hidden law, together glide : 
 Our spirits met and mingled, all untried, 
 Insphered by love. 
 
 What subtile charm did then our sense entrance, 
 What fond communings veiled the hours' advance, 
 What truths, the revelations of a glance, 
 Our clear eyes told ! 
 
 On ocean-sands, in woodland-depths apart, 
 Or in the crowded halls of Mirth or Art, 
 With the sweet secret binding heart to heart, 
 We stood alone. 
 
 E'en in the storm of passion's loving ire, 
 Flashing its summer-lightning's fitful fire, 
 Our souls, like burning vapors mounting higher, 
 Were purified ; 
 
 And clouds that would have made love's sun- 
 shine cease 
 
 Transfigured shone and gave its light increase, 
 Or broke in jocund colors arched to peace, 
 Such joy was ours ! 
 
 But when our life's grand symphony began, 
 All thought diverse to sweetest concords ran ; 
 Unfettered as the chords night-breezes fan, 
 Its music sprang. 
 
BEREA VED 55 
 
 The wing of time no shadow cast ; its power 
 But mellowed golden tints of that bright hour ; 
 Eternal summer crown' d our nuptial bower 
 With ripened bliss. 
 
 And O beloved ! when came the dread decree 
 That rent the bond of that blest unity, 
 And like a star no eye again shall see 
 Thou didst depart ; 
 
 Swift as the fatal wrath of tropic seas, 
 O'er whose calm breast the hissing tempest flees; 
 Dark as the doom the shipwrecked sailor sees : 
 My anguish fell. 
 
 I warred with fate, long impiously fought 
 Against the heavenly barrier thou hadst sought ; 
 The boon of life was scorned and reckoned 
 nought, 
 
 Bereft of Thee ! 
 
 Till, in that night of struggling grief's appeal, 
 Subdued and taught an angel's touch to feel, 
 Then closed the bleeding wounds that never heal : 
 The strife was o'er ; 
 
 And the Great Mother took me to her breast, 
 Soothed me with charms and gave me holy rest : 
 Now gently leads me to the portals blest 
 That shelter Thee. 
 
AT THE FOVINTdIN OF 
 
 EGKRIA, lovely phantom of dead years, 
 Thou lingerest yet in this enchanted grot, 
 
 Where in ecstatic grief, all else forgot, 
 Thy being melted wholly into tears, 
 Whose ceaseless flow no mirrored heaven cheers. 
 
 Here pilgrims pause to muse on thy sad lot ; 
 
 The poet dreams and consecrates the spot, 
 And in the murmur of thy fountain hears 
 Th' immortal plaint, like moan of widowed birds, 
 
 Its music to his listening ear betrays ; 
 
 And visions throng of old heroic days ; 
 Till thought and feeling blossom into words, 
 
 To crown thy tears with the unfading wreath 
 
 That art and song to deathless love bequeath. 
 
IN 
 
 AH ME ! it is a weary, bitter thing 
 To sit with fettered feet beside the sea 
 And mark its blue waves rolling wild and free, 
 That call and beckon and white arms upfling, 
 With siren glance a free path offering ; 
 To list to winds whose music sweetly tells 
 Of Nature's liberty, or proudly swells 
 With paeans that contending forces ring ; 
 To trace with longing gaze the free bird's flight 
 To summer climes and heavens of purer ray, 
 And crave its airy wings to bear away 
 The ransomed soul ; while day gives place to 
 
 night, 
 And, mocked by fortune's smile, the slave of 
 
 fate 
 
 Moves the dull oar of life and learns to watch 
 and wait. 
 
VIA IN 
 
 "RICORDITI DI MK CHE SON I<A PIA" 
 
 Dante, Del Purg. Cant. V 
 
 OH, jealous love is cruel in its might ! 
 More fatal than the south -wind's fiery 
 
 breath, 
 
 Through some enchanting garden of delight 
 Wooing fair things with kisses steeped in death ; 
 
 Till the pale rose falls scentless from its stem, 
 Sweet buds of promise cankered strew the 
 ground. 
 
 And the bowed lily's spotless diadem 
 
 Is blackened in the blight that breathes around. 
 
 Thus, like one buried living, make I moan, 
 Immured in this lone castle's secrecy ; 
 
 While slowly as the closed sepulchral stone 
 Maremma's subtile poison stifles me. 
 
 The promise of my life's delusive morn 
 
 Was like the sunshine of a false spring day : 
 
 A fleeting smile, a golden gleam heaven-born, 
 Too soon in chilling storm-clouds hid away. 
 
PI A IN MAREMMA 59 
 
 My dream of bliss, a brief portentous calm, 
 Vanished untimely with a troubled waking ; 
 
 And grief's embittered tears distill no balm 
 To soothe this stricken heart and stay its 
 breaking. 
 
 The setting sun, blood-red like a fierce eye 
 
 Greedy of pain, seems gloating on my sorrow, 
 
 And sinks, as tireless foes to ambush hie, 
 Only to bring another suffering morrow. 
 
 The dusky sea, with sullen stealthy pace, 
 
 Creeps in for leagues about the marshy land ; 
 
 While I dream of blue waves that gaily race 
 And break in music on a sunny strand. 
 
 Oh, for the pinions of yon wandering bird, 
 To soar in freedom from this prison's thrall ! 
 
 Where, though by day the screech-owl mopes 
 
 unheard 
 And bats' black wings cling to the ivied wall, 
 
 By night winds sadly wail, or silence spreads 
 A ghostly pall of noisome mists on earth; 
 
 Pale spectres glide within, and horrid dreads 
 Awake from unseen things of evil birth ; 
 
 Where numbed with grief I sit, or stretch wan 
 
 arms, 
 Pleading unheard with lips now cold and pale ; 
 
60 PIA IN MAREMMA 
 
 While thoughts, that once came honey-laden 
 
 swarms, 
 With torture-stings my very life assail. 
 
 Am I that Pia, once in stately halls 
 
 Where met Siena's young patrician daughters, 
 Whose smile was likened to a light that falls 
 
 Reflecting heaven on untroubled waters ? 
 
 The breast of Beauty gave her nurture sweet, 
 The hand of Art with generous Nature strove 
 
 To gift her youth with charms and graces meet, 
 And mould her virgin heart a shrine for love. 
 
 Ah yes, alas ! in life's unclouded spring, 
 
 I was that gladsome, cherished maid, so graced, 
 
 Until a fatal love with spousal ring 
 A jeweled fetter on this finger placed. 
 
 These faded locks, once bright and softly flowing, 
 Were beauty's pride, breeze-kissed and rosy- 
 crowned ; 
 
 These languid feet, once light as zephyr's going, 
 Air-winged by mirth and music spurned the 
 ground. 
 
 Till love came fluttering to my ready heart, 
 As comes the shy bird to its hidden nest, 
 
 Only ere long as coldly to depart 
 
 And leave to wintry winds what summer blest. 
 
PI A IN MAREMMA 61 
 
 I learned to brook suspicion's gloomy form, 
 The withering frowns that banished artless joy. 
 
 Unconscious of th' impending passion-storm, 
 With bolt of jealous scorn that would destroy. 
 
 O cruel doubt that crushed a true heart's love ! 
 
 Quenched kindling hopes in vain indignant 
 
 tears, 
 And left me nought a husband's faith to prove 
 
 But sullied fame and life's few ruined years. 
 
 Night folds me shuddering in her black embrace, 
 Not darker than my fortune's present gloom ; 
 
 For secret death lurks in this shadowy place 
 And hurries on my early, unknown doom. 
 
To A THISTLEDOWN 
 
 TTTElyCOME, tiny wandering thing ! 
 * V With thy silken-feathered wing, 
 In my chamber window stealing, 
 Noiselessly thy form revealing, 
 Gently waking in my heart 
 Thoughts that not with thee depart, 
 But deepen memory into feeling. 
 
 Thoughts of childhood's happy dream, 
 
 When a changeless fairy scene 
 L,ife appeared, without a morrow 
 That could wear a shade of sorrow. 
 
 Light and free as thou, more dear, 
 
 Dwelt I in love's atmosphere, 
 
 Untaught a joy from hope to borrow. 
 
 Wafted through the golden air, 
 
 Whither dost thou softly bear 
 Thy little fructifying treasure, 
 To complete the careful measure 
 
 Of thy humble task on earth ? 
 
 Hast thou not the meed of worth 
 In a wanton tour of pleasure ? 
 
 Restless, sportive, airy thing, 
 Tarry and thy story sing ! 
 
TO A THISTLEDOWN 63 
 
 On the bank of some blue river, 
 Where the pointed aspens quiver, 
 
 Hast thou left thy parent stem 
 
 For the crowded homes of men, 
 There thy moral to deliver ? 
 
 Or from some secluded lake, 
 
 Whose glassy depths weird pictures make 
 Of hoary rock or drooping willow, 
 That dimly shades the mossy pillow, 
 
 Where the wild-fowl's hidden nest 
 
 Hides her brood from preying quest, 
 Com'st thou dancing o'er the billow? 
 
 Or perchance where some rude hedge 
 
 Marks the meadow's grassy edge, 
 
 Or field with rustling corn resounding, 
 The farmer's fruitful home surrounding, 
 
 A spiny calyx of pale hue 
 
 Beside the blushing wild-rose grew, 
 
 Whence thou, oft kissing earth, com'st 
 bounding. 
 
 L,ink of that mysterious chain, 
 Whose secret man hath sought in vain, 
 Which though strained is sundered never, 
 Spite of time or death's endeavor, 
 Lo, thy little downy sphere 
 
 marvelous doth not appear 
 Than sparkling orbs that roll forever ! 
 
SONQ 
 
 glad earth wakes ! O welcome day, 
 -*- That brings fresh life in every token! 
 Night-shadows flee like captive sprites 
 Whose fairy bonds the morn hath broken. 
 
 Resistless beams of rosy light 
 
 The gloomy bars of darkness shatter ; 
 
 And fleecy cloudlets upward float, 
 
 Like sportive flocks that part and scatter. 
 
 A thousand gems on leaf and blade 
 
 Like merry twinkling stars are glancing ; 
 
 The streams run blue, the babbling brooks 
 Upon their pebbly beds are dancing. 
 
 Birds plume and stretch their ruffled throats, 
 With sudden strains of music gushing ; 
 
 Flowers raise their slumb'rous heads and smile, 
 Like waking babes with pleasure flushing. 
 
 The fallow fields and grassy meads 
 
 Long level rays with gold are glossing ; 
 
 The breeze with dewy fragrance fraught 
 The tassel' d corn is gently tossing : 
 
MATIN SONG 65 
 
 From wood and plain a hymn of praise 
 To Nature's God is sweetly sounding ; 
 
 And every freshened pulse of life 
 
 With gratitude and joy is bounding. 
 
A BIRD 
 
 Where the topmost branches swing, 
 There I lightly sit and sing 
 Greetings to returning spring : 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
 Darting now from spray to spray, 
 Where the dancing sunbeams play, 
 Warbling a gay roundelay : 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
 Groves and gardens I explore ; 
 Near the friendly cottage door 
 Linger, singing o'er and o'er 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
 Or within some leafy bower, 
 Sheltered from a passing shower, 
 Sipping nectar from a flower : 
 TJra-la-la ! 
 
 Through deep woodland shades I go, 
 Where unruffled waters flow, 
 Waking echoes sweet and low : 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
A BIRD CAROL 67 
 
 When I woo my little wife, 
 Heart and song with joy are rife: 
 Oh, what happiness is life ! 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
 Arching boughs that touch the sky, 
 Haunts unseen by human eye, 
 There my little treasures lie : 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
 Safe within a downy nest, 
 Warm upon the mother-breast, 
 While I sing with love's unrest 
 Tira-la-la ! 
 
QR4DLE 5ONQ 
 
 O LUMBER, my darling one ! 
 V3 Slumber and rest, 
 In tenderest faith 
 
 On thy fond mother's breast ; 
 For soft is the pillow, 
 
 Where fresh from the heart 
 Her life and thy own 
 
 Mingle never to part. 
 
 Lullaby ! Lullaby ! 
 
 The weary sun sinks, 
 
 His bright journey is o'er ; 
 The wavelets he kissed 
 
 Ripple golden no more. 
 Then lullaby, babe ! 
 
 Sleep the dark hours away, 
 To wake and rejoice 
 
 With the beautiful day. 
 
 Lullaby! Lullaby! 
 
 Night's shadows are falling, 
 And chill blows the breeze 
 
 That murmurs so mournfully 
 Through the old trees ; 
 
CRADLE SONG 69 
 
 But warm and secure 
 
 From disturbing alarms, 
 My little dove nestles 
 
 In sheltering arms. 
 
 Lullaby! Lullaby! 
 
flRCTURMS 
 
 TO MY GRANDSON AT COLLEGE WHOSE BOYISH 
 NOM DE PLUME HAD BEEN ARCTURUS 
 
 AS nightly, like some Magian worshipper, 
 -" I gaze enraptured on the starry sky 
 
 And mark Arcturus gleam with ardent eye, 
 Fond thoughts of thee my yearning bosom stir, 
 Till tearful dews the heavenly vision blur. 
 I see thee, clothed in youth's auroral light, 
 Awaiting manhood's day with vision bright, 
 To pure and lofty paths of thought defer. 
 
 Now far away in other heavens unseen 
 
 By my fond glance, my young Arcturus dwells, 
 Shedding on stranger hearts those gladsome 
 spells 
 
 Wherein my weary spirit sought to glean 
 
 New strength and courage for declining years, 
 Amid affection's glow, undimmed by tears. 
 
To fir BROTHER 
 
 T. J. G. 
 
 T AST night in dreamland, by thy cheering side, 
 -V I wandered ' mid long unremembered scenes. 
 
 By alchemy of slumber's charmed means, 
 Youth crowned our brows ; joy pulsed in life's 
 
 full tide ; 
 The forms beloved, that time and death divide, 
 
 Grew bright, emerged from memory's misty 
 screens ; 
 
 And yet, it seemed, the harvest wisdom gleans 
 From scattered sorrows did with us abide. 
 
 Sweet the renewal of that early life ! 
 When for the mastery in logic's wit 
 The intellectual fires of youth were lit, 
 
 And mirth and humor closed the gay tongue-strife. 
 Some compensation absence yet may deem 
 The fleeting pageant of a happy dream. 
 
CURDS IN* CRE/IM 
 
 A SOUVENIR OF PHILADELPHIA DEDICATED TO 
 MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS 
 
 "T^TOTHING trivial, mean, or rude, 
 -^ > But contains some hidden good 
 In the husk the fruitful seed ; 
 Potent virtue in the weed ; 
 In the rock the virgin gold ; 
 Bitter rinds sweet juices hold ; 
 In the rough unsightly shell 
 Pearly hues of heaven dwell ; 
 And the wasting sands of earth 
 Cover gems of priceless worth. 
 All things are not what they seem, 
 Here is more than Curds and Cream ! 
 
 ii 
 
 Soft and cool and mild and sweet, 
 With Arcadian gleams replete ; 
 Rosy dawns and purple shades 
 Garnered here by rustic maids ; 
 Clover-tops and new-mown hay 
 Tempered by the breath of May ; 
 
CURDS AND CREAM 73 
 
 Vesper music of the trees 
 Trembling to the evening breeze ; 
 Homely sound of lowing kine 
 Mingling with the strain divine, 
 Humble poet's worthy theme, 
 Let me laud thee, Curds and Cream ! 
 
 in 
 
 Let me ever thankful be 
 Simple tastes have cherished thee ; 
 For the charm thy sweetness brings 
 Touches memory's secret springs. 
 Bathed in fancy's magic dews, 
 Youth's pale flower its bloom renews. 
 Visions throng of old delights, 
 Rural sounds and rural sights, 
 Where an ancient farm-house stood, 
 Near an oft-frequented wood : 
 Lights and shadows of the dream 
 Conjured here by Curds and Cream ! 
 
 iv 
 
 Sounds that taught my untuned ear 
 Music of a higher sphere ; 
 When I shared the pure repose 
 Nature's sober gladness knows ; 
 And the song of some lone bird 
 Unknown deeps of feeling stirred, 
 Like a warning voice afar 
 Calling from my unseen star ; 
 
74 CURDS AND CREAM 
 
 Long ere love's impassioned strain 
 
 Woke the echoing voice of pain, 
 
 Or doubt's rude tones to discord brought 
 
 Heavenly harmonies of thought, 
 
 Or grief could any blight impart 
 
 To mar the summer of my heart. 
 
 Sights that painted on mine eye 
 Beauty-types that never die : 
 Shady stream with cedar dyed, 
 And fringe of emerald moss beside : 
 Airy grace of tangled vines ; 
 Cloistral glooms among the pines ; 
 Pictured vistas through arcades, 
 Set like gems in forest shades ; 
 Sycamores in silvery mail, 
 Giant wardens of the vale ; 
 Weeping willows drooping low 
 In green cascades of leafy flow ; 
 Glistening fields of growing grain ; 
 Flocks like snow-flakes on the plain ; 
 Distant orchard's cloudy bloom ; 
 Country garden all perfume ! 
 Where ' mid healing herbs the rose 
 In redundant beauty grows ; 
 And silken lilies rear their heads 
 Proudly from the rustic beds ; 
 Lilac-hedge and grassy floor 
 Leading to the dairy door ; 
 Golden cheeses, splashing churn, 
 Frothy milk-pail's rich return ; 
 
CURDS AND CREAM 75 
 
 Fallow fields and ploughing team ; 
 Morning banquet Curds and Cream ! 
 
 What this witchery ? And whence 
 Come these subtile links of sense, 
 Blending earthly with divine, 
 Bridging o'er the gulf of time, 
 And bringing sunny pictures back 
 To illume its blighted track ? 
 Links of sense with feeling fraught, 
 Forged and fashioned into thought, 
 Whose electric thrills unroll 
 Secret records of the soul, 
 With ironic grace supreme 
 In a bowl of Curds and Cream ! 
 
 VI 
 
 Fled the long, long years of strife 
 On the battle-field of life ; 
 Vanished all their wounds and pain, 
 Every tint of sorrow's stain : 
 Childhood's golden age is here, 
 With its joys and simple cheer ; 
 Destined fortune strange and bright ; 
 Youth's horizon boundless light ! 
 
 Early morn ! Hour fresh and cool, 
 Sacred from the thrall of school ! 
 'Mid the bloom of flowers and fruits, 
 
76 CURDS AND CREAM 
 
 Odors wild of plants and roots, 
 At the market-place we stand, 
 Brothers, sisters, hand in hand. 
 Brass-bound tub and napkin white 
 Bring the snowy curds to sight ; 
 Cheerful, sun-browned dames dispense 
 For our smiles and copper pence : 
 Rosy cheeks and lips redeem 
 Gross delight in Curds and Cream ! 
 
 vn 
 
 Lilies floating on the tide, 
 Innocence our shield and guide, 
 'Mid the throng of busy feet 
 Crowding market-house and street, 
 Noise of traffic and demand, 
 Loiter we in fairy-land. 
 Undiscerned the brow of care, 
 Eager search for scanty fare, 
 Hungry glance and pallid cheek 
 That privation's doom bespeak : 
 Heedless of the living stream, 
 Sip we nectar, Curds and Cream ! 
 
 VIII 
 
 Golden days forever fled, 
 When our footsteps angels led ! 
 Childish faith and fresh surprise 
 That made the green earth Paradise ! 
 Where is now that household band ? 
 
CURDS AND CREAM 77 
 
 Mother's soft caressing hand? 
 
 Careful Father, teacher sage, 
 
 Planting seeds for later age, 
 
 Seeds of love and truth and thought, 
 
 That enriching harvests brought ? 
 
 Where the kindred of our hearth ? 
 
 And playmates dear who shared our mirth ? 
 
 Closed the shining Gates of Old ! 
 Time and Death their gains have told. 
 Pearly morn and ardent noon 
 Darken to night's coming gloom. 
 Now no longer hand in hand 
 Brothers dear and sisters stand : 
 Ripened like the autumn sheaves, 
 Scattered like the wintry leaves, 
 Oceans vast between us roll, 
 Other ties our lives control. 
 Yet, as in a magic glass, 
 All our youthful joys repass, 
 Luminous in memory's beam 
 By the spell of Curds and Cream ! 
 
CdLIFORNId 
 
 ON THE FORTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF ADMISSION 
 TO THE UNION 
 
 HAIL, Daughter of the Great Republic, 
 crowned 
 
 With vine and olive, while thy sunny face 
 Blends matron dignity with youthful grace, 
 And Nature's bounty makes thee world-renowned! 
 
 An empire's strength within thy realm is found: 
 Health, riches, beauty, all in thy embrace; 
 And from thy toiling sons has sprung a race 
 
 Whose worth to thy wide glory shall redound. 
 
 And when disunion threatened to destroy 
 The noblest fabric ever reared by man, 
 
 How firmly on its platform didst thou stand ! 
 How lavishly thy treasure didst employ, 
 To soothe the woes that Civil War began, 
 And by thy brave example cheer the land ! 
 
IN THE 54NT4 CRUZ 
 
 HERE in the balmy air I breathe fresh life, 
 New sense of liberty and Nature's grace ; 
 And like some lonely Dryad, in deep shades 
 Apart from man, I wander in a world 
 Of sylvan beauty. 
 
 In this silent world, 
 Lo ! the sequoia's venerable bulk 
 Stands yet firm-rooted 'gainst the stroke of time, 
 Whilst nations and proud thrones, their courses 
 
 run, 
 
 Have crumbled into dusty nothingness. 
 Great pines, whose plumy helms salute the sky, 
 Their naked boles like granite shafts upreared, 
 Stand monarchs of the mountain solitude ; 
 And ancient oaks, with tangled, hoary locks 
 Of pallid moss, rise like the effigies 
 Of Druid priests of a forgotten age ; 
 And groves of cypress spread a feathery screen, 
 Where nestle quail or sits the listening hare. 
 
 With trunk and twisted stems of rosy hue, 
 The stout madrono spreads umbrageous leaves, 
 That glisten fitfully with emerald sheen, 
 Half- veiling flowery urns, like pearl-drops hung, 
 That load the sighing breeze with drowsy sweets. 
 
8o SANTA CRUZ MOUNTAINS 
 
 The ceanothus, too, with subtile breath, 
 
 Wafts fragrance from her tiny purple plumes; 
 
 And delicate azaleas, with faint fire, 
 
 Like silver stars, light up each bosky nook ; 
 
 And manzanitas raise entwining arms, 
 
 Dyed in the ruddy hue of native wine; 
 
 While mountain pinks, scattered like crimson 
 
 drops 
 Fresh from earth's heart, glow on her naked 
 
 breast. 
 
 In this embowered glen, beside this stream 
 
 That glides in crystal to the neighboring sea, 
 
 Oh, let me rest, and in an idle dream 
 
 Of old-world story, playful fancies feed ! 
 
 That now resounding in the wild bee's hum 
 
 I hear the magic horn of Oberon ; 
 
 That on this green bank, " sometime of the 
 
 night," 
 
 The fairy queen Titania may have lain ; 
 In yon cool alcove, where each furtive beam 
 Dapples the gloom with flickering golden light, 
 Her dainty elfin troops of antic sprites 
 L,ike glow-worms may have sparkled for awhile. 
 
 Or lost in sterner mood, here let me muse 
 On life's mutations in the lapse of time, 
 Pacing with tardy steps these dusky aisles, 
 Whose brown elastic carpet of dead leaves 
 Is but a page of Earth's wide palimpsest, 
 Where, o'er the dim mementoes of lost years, 
 
SANTA CRUZ MOUNTAINS 81 
 
 The olden tale, forevermore renewed, 
 In fresh designs of beauty she records. 
 
 Or like some spirit-weary potentate, 
 Sated with pomp and the behests of power, 
 Withdrawn from vain illusions of the world 
 To seek the balm of Nature's holy chrism, 
 My royal throne this rugged, time-worn stone, 
 Fern-plumed and draped with pall of velvet 
 
 moss, 
 
 I^et me, communing with sweet Nature's self, 
 Seek inspiration from her purest founts ; 
 And here supine, with raptured eye explore 
 The blue ethereal vault above me spread, 
 Until my spirit, borne to the abyss 
 Of thought divine from which its being sprang, 
 Touched momentarily with kindred fire, 
 Thrills with mysterious recognition of 
 The Unseen Presence that pervades all space ; 
 And reconciled to Nature's laws, discerns 
 That all is good, blest by Eternal Love. 
 
IN 
 
 COME, Sleep, O silent goddess, grave and calm! 
 Shed o'er my troubled brow thy soothing 
 
 balm, 
 
 Haunt my vexed ear with some quaint holy 
 psalm, 
 
 Or olden lay 
 
 Of childhood's day. 
 
 Beneath thy nebulous, soft veil conceal 
 
 Earth's sordid cares, the woes time cannot heal ; 
 
 On weary lids lay thy Lethean seal, 
 
 Like the caress 
 
 Fond mothers press. 
 
 Lead me through mazes of thy charmed land 
 To far-off shores by peaceful heavens spanned, 
 There let me wander or enraptured stand, 
 
 Forgetting all 
 
 Life's fret and thrall. 
 
 There welcome smiling eyes and lips long stilled, 
 Whose tender greetings once my bosom thrilled : 
 There let me find youth's promises fulfilled, 
 
 Nor more bewail 
 
 The hopes that fail. 
 
IN PACE 83 
 
 Or in oblivion steeped, let memory cease ; 
 And like a nestling veiled in downy fleece, 
 In all the sweet beatitude of peace, 
 
 Thy spell's control 
 
 Wrap my sad soul.