V2S63. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES I - V \ * AS THOUGHT IS LED As Thought Is Led LYRICS AND SONNETS BY ALICIA K. VAN BUREN BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER The Gorham Press 1904 Copyright 1904 by ALICIA K. VAN BUREN. All Rights Reserved Printed at THE GORHAM PRESS Boston, U. S. A. PS CONTENTS Page. As Thought is Led 7 The Neighboring Firesides 8 Longing 9 Cherokee Roses 10 The World is Strange 1 1 Love's Inconsistency 12 Repression 13 The Seed 14 To-day and Tomorrow 15 The Only Way 16 Reconciled 17 Hypnosis 1 8 Deferred 19 Promptings 20 Unconscious Worth 21 Mother Mary 22 Rest 23 The Beech Tree 24 5 1051935 Page. Unchanged 25 A Memory 26 Hereafter 27 Inspiration 28 Euthanasia 29 Telepathy 30 An Impression 31 ToM. L. K 32 Action 33 When to Come Back 34 Because I Love You So 36 Mother and Child 37 These April Days 38 The Moon-Beam Bridge 39 The Old School-House 40 Fading Flowers 42 In Florida 43 November 44 My Violin 46 Spring 47 Memory 48 AS THOUGHT IS LED A dewy morning with unclouded skies ! Nothing I crave the kindly earth denies. Above, below, around, in all I see, A sense of beauty breathes. The old beech tree Is gently swaying in the breeze, and low And soft its leaves are whispering as though They feared to break my rest with too much sound Their shadows too seem whispering on the ground. The birds have ceased to sing and all is still As slumberland may be, and down the hill, Though glancing right and left, naught holds my eye Save one slow-flitting white-winged butterfly. Quite idly do I watch it as it speeds, Now here, now there, as though each flower it needs * Must try the iron weed, the golden-rod, And milk-weed with its bursting silky pod. Then down the hill it flies, at last to light For one brief moment on the little gate. Thou little gate ! perhaps this very night Thou 'It open wide for one dear love I I wait. THE NEIGHBORING FIRESIDES A happy man and woman sat beside Their fire. Between them was a small chest filled With garments soft and white; and gladness thrilled Their hearts as piece by piece they fondly eyed Each dainty thing, for each but served to guide Their thoughts to one whose coming needs must build New chambers in their house of love, and gild Their lives with self-forgetting joy and pride. Alone and poor, beside another fire, Another sat. Her thoughts were those that stir The soul to everlasting griefs and wild Despair death was her eager one desire. And soon death came, but not, alas, for her. He took the happy mother and her child. LONGING O grcat-souled makers of immortal songs, I love you well. To you what peace I owe ! How many griefs of mine have you allayed ! And yet to-day my eager spirit longs To utter its own cry of joy or woe In some small song that I myself have made. And so, you master singers, great and good, You fail me now. Though oft in you I've found Relief, to-day you leave me sad and lone, And like to one who, craving motherhood, And seeing many childish faces round, Enjoys them not through longing for her own. CHEROKEE ROSES Before my door are roses everywhere, But none O Cherokee ! are fair as thine. So thick upon thy breast the white blooms shine They seem but one great snowy blossom rare ; And yet, two months ago, as I stood there Beneath the fir round which thy tendrils twine, I dreamed not that thy leafless straggling vine Would some day all this vestal beauty wear. And thou, my friend, who seemed so commonplace When first I looked into thy clear true eyes, Thou too didst own an unseen inner grace Which, even more than beauty, beautifies. I never dreamed thy kindly rugged face Could ever look so good and brave and wise. 10 THE WORLD IS STRANGE The world is strange : below the hill I hear an unknown call ; One cry, and then the air is still Again and that is all. A stroller walks along the road, A horseman gallops by : I know them not, nor their abode, Nor where they go, nor why. This once, perhaps, they cross my days And never any more ; And they and I go separate ways, The ways we went before. They touch my life this once, and bring So very little change, It seems a sad unmeaning thing. Ah me, the world is strange 1 ii LOVE'S INCONSISTENCY One day when thou wert ill and spent with pain, I sat beside thy crib and tried in vain To make thee sleep. When murmured lullabies And soothing touch at last had closed thine eyes, I scarcely stirred, all fearful lest I make A sound, and thou to suffering should'st wake. Again, my darling child, art thou asleep. All day, beside thy little grave, I weep. From pain and sorrow ever art thou free ; And yet Oh, how I long to waken thee ! 12 Of much repression be not vain, Nor think it always best : Those feelings causing needless pain Are better unexpressed; But if we may, to some pale cheek, A smile by kind words win, And we those words refuse to speak, Then is repression sin. THE SEED God sows the selfsame truth in every heart A seed from which at birth a plant doth start; But every plant a different blossom shows According to the soil wherein it grows. Condemn no creed ! Dig deep beneath the sod And at the root thou'lt find the truth of God. TO-DAY AND TOMORROW To-day we pray for death, Tomorrow pray for life, And almost every breath Is drawn in strife. If death came when we willed No grave would be unfilled ; If life came when we prayed No grave be made. THE ONLY WAY I lost my way when in the woods one night And took a path I ne'er before had known. A storm was threatening, and it had grown Quite dark, and moon and stars were hid from sight. Then round my heart a numbing sense of fright Pressed hard I seemed so utterly alone ! Till through the gloom a flash of lightning shone And I beheld the homeward path aright. And so, dear love, whenever pain or care Or disappointment darken any day; When hope is almost vanquished by despair, And every thought is wandering astray, One word from thee will brighten all the air And lead my feet along the loveward way. 16 RECONCILED We sometimes grudge the hours of rest, Our minds too feverish for sleep ; And toss upon our beds, distressed That we the daytime may not keep. There are so many things to do, So many things must still be seen, And day's swift moments are too few For idle night to intervene. But slowly, now, through every limb There creeps a grateful weariness, And gradually the mind grows dim, The heavy eyelids downward press. How sweet the dreamland where we go, The long night that before us lies! Ah ! welcome Death ! If only so Thy cool soft fingers close mine eyes ! HYPNOSIS I love the little, swift, tempestuous brook, Whose bubbling waters, cool and fresh and sweet, Invite the thirsty wanderer's weary feet To where the tall trees make a shady nook. I love to lie there in the pleasant shade And watch the changing waters glide and gleam, Until the living world becomes a dream, And I myself into a dream am made. 18 DEFERRED Each day I Ve worn a smile to hide Suspense and pain thine absence made, Till now my smiles have slowly died, As garments too long used must fade. And though thou 'rt come again and brought Relief from all those haunting fears, To tell the joy I feel I Ve naught, O dearest one, but sobs and tears. PROMPTINGS For me the sunbeams glance and glow, And soft winds breathe. On me all day The thriftless happy birds bestow Their lavish carols, blithe and gay. For me with fresher beauty bloom The flowers, and shed their faint perfume. So sweet are night, noon, eve and morn, My happy heart is like to break If from its joy there be not born A tender love for thy dear sake. As nature showers her gifts on me So let me shower my love on thee. 20 UNCONSCIOUS WORTH To L. D. S. The sun one day looked down upon the earth And filled it with a light so gold and rare, Each living thing awoke and all the air Grew musical with sweet content and mirth ; And forest trees and tiny plants gave birth To tender leaves and fragrant blossoms fair. But though the sun shed beauty everywhere 'T was all unmindful of its own great worth. So thou, dear one, unconscious of thy power, Called forth the good that lay within each heart; And oft thy gentle spirit's kindly rays Like sunshine falling on the night-chilled flower Have made love bloom and tender impulse start When life seemed dark through all its hope less days. 21 MOTHER MARY The Mother Mary sat beside The manger, rough and bare, And watched with happiness and pride The infant sleeping there. All memory of her pain was past; A new joy had begun. Her mother-love would fain forecast The glory of her son : Her son who was to be a king ! A king with wealth and power. She knew not that the years would bring That last dark awful hour. Like Mary every mother turns Her eager tender eyes Upon her own dear child and yearns That he to fame may rise. But, oh, if she perchance could see The hatred and the scorn, The long-borne bitter agony, The hero's crown of thorn ! 22 REST With full content my tranquil heart is blessed As underneath the peaceful trees I lie. Sweet lulling sounds the wind's low rhythmic sigh, The bird's glad singing, clear and unrepressed, The anxious hum of bees as fearful lest They miss one flower like some soft lullaby Have filled my soul with peace; and ear and eye And heart and mind are gently soothed to rest. Dear love, my days were long and sad till thou Didst make the world seem fair. But well I know That those remembered griefs, which once did bow My soul, this happy restfulness bestow. In truth, how could I feel this gladness now Had I not known the bitterness of woe ? THE BEECH TREE The solitary beech stands dark and bare Against the winter sky. Rough winds have torn Its leaves away; and now it seems to mourn The cruel loss of all that made it fair. When clothed in its full green 't was wont to share Its sheltered peace; birds' fragile nests were borne Amid its leafy boughs, and many a worn Sad soul beneath its shade dismissed his care. My loveless life once seemed thus bare and stern Till fresh, unhoped-for hopes changed every part: For now I love and know love's sweet return, And now I feel life's quickening influence start Like leaves in spring; and every day I yearn To shed my gladness o'er some other heart. 24 UNCHANGED Once more beside thy shore I stand, My own St. Johns, And every tree through all the land Like one who dons His richest garb wherein to greet The honored guest In bright array and fragrance sweet Is newly dressed. Though newly dressed the selfsame trees I knew last spring Through whose green boughs the selfsame breeze Is whispering Are here again to welcome me : The slender pine, The moss-hung china-berry tree, The jasmine vine That twines about the old dead fir, The orange bloom That scents the air when soft winds stir Its faint perfume, The Spanish-bayonet whose crown Too heavy weighs, The pampas-grass, now dry and brown, That idly sways ; They all are now just as before Through many and many a year ; And some day I shall come no more, But they will still be here. 25 A MEMORY To L. K. F. It is the fairest of October days; Upon the hills the trees are all ablaze With red, red-brown and gold; and left and right The valley fields are bathed in purple light. The air is filled with Autumn's witching sound : The gentle fall of beechnuts on the ground; The sharp repeated raps the woodpeckers beat ; The rustle of the grass beneath my feet ; And, merged in one deep rhythmic monotone, The hum of bees, the insects' ceaseless drone, The far-off songs of birds, and in the leaves The wind's low sigh, like one who loves and grieves. How soft the breeze I it hardly stirs my hair. How warm the sun ! the mantle that I wear Is thrown aside. Ah me ! the earth is clad In bright unwonted charm but I am sad. For on a day like this you came to me Last fall. We stood beneath this very tree. I see you still and hear each word you said, But now I stand alone and you are dead. 26 HEREAFTER Should'st thou still live, beloved, and I die, I pray that hopeless sorrow may not press Too long and heavily. In thy distress, Let not thy grief-enshrouded heart deny The words of solace that may soothe its sigh. Draw not apart from those whose tenderness And sympathy would make thy sorrow less, But strive to see earth's joys with undimmed eye. And some day thou shalt hear a voice and see A smile reminding thee, perchance, of mine ; And from that voice and smile a love may grow Again within thy heart. God grant that she Who calls it forth may make thy pathway shine With joy as great as thou hast made me know. INSPIRATION Have you not heard the harsh unpleasant tone That hands unskilled draw from the violin ? Instead of those sweet strains they strive to win There comes a cry or rough discordant moan ; But when one plays to whom the strings are known, A gentle touch will seem to wake within Its breast a soul to his own soul akin, Till sound and feeling into one are grown. Thus, long ago, 't was your dear self who woke My slumbering heart to life and love. To none Had it responded rightly till you spoke; And then life's subtle music was begun, For love had claimed its own and at one stroke Had made thy soul and mine to merge in one. 28 EUTHANASIA In that sweet hour before the end of day, Just as the sun in silence steals away, It sheds upon the sky and sea and shore A radiant light they never knew before. And so 't is said that ere the spirit goes At end of life, the wearied body knows A brief and new-born ease and strength, the while The lines of pain become a peaceful smile. 29 - TELEPATHY There are wise men, I know, who teach That souls though far apart With kindred souls may hold some speech. To-night, although my lips are dumb, I call with all my heart; Then why, dear love, do you not come ? AN IMPRESSION Inquiring, wistful eyes that hope somewhere To find new happiness, yet fearful lest Another sadness rise. A brow distressed With thinking oft of days too full of care, And marked by cruel lines but still how fair! Wide nostrils that deep breathings of unrest Have fashioned so, and pallid lips compressed To check a moan of what unknown despair? I know not what upon that face has wrought Such grievous marks ; but, underneath its gloom, I see the dormant powers of joy, which naught But love itself can waken and illume. O would, sweet piteous face, I had the might To drive away thy gloom and bring the light ! To M. L. K. In vain I seek for fitting terms, my dear, Wherewith to tell you all the love I feel. Alas, the blundering words do but conceal The heart's intent. I am like those who hear The mind's ethereal music, sweet and clear, And yet whose fingers, lacking skill or ease, Bring naught but painful discords from the keys. ACTION Beneath the hill there runs a spring Whose cooling waters oft give cheer To some poor stranger drawing near To rest him from his wandering. The ceaseless flowing of the stream Doth keep its waters clear and cool; 'T would soon become a stagnant pool Were it to pause to drone and dream. So he who spends his every hour To dream and feel and not to do, Must needs lose force and stagnate too In naught but action is there power. 33 WHEN TO COME BACK My loved ones sat with me outside our door Last eve. All bright and calm the river lay, Save when some leaping fish with sudden splash Made wide dark ripples on the smooth expanse. The faint breeze scarcely stirred the tiny isles Of hyacinth that floated with the tide, Nor seemed to move the sail-boats, far away, Of weary fishermen returning home. Above the long dark line of oaks and pines That marks the farther shore, the sky was tinged With purple hues and pink. One star alone Through misty clouds shone dimly overhead. So peaceful and so silent earth and sky And river were, that we grew silent too, Submitting heart and mind to nature's mood. 34 From out the dreamy realm of formless thought Rose memories of you, dear Iov 7 e ; not those That fill the heart with pain, but only such As make its sadness sweet. Then all at once A mocking-bird close by began to sing. My soul, I think, was surely never thrilled By lovelier music. And whilst thus it sang Through all my being rushed the sudden thought I know not why that you yourself were near. The old belief was sweet to me, dear one, That you were far away from us, at rest Within a happier world. But if in truth You can, as some report, come back at times To those you love, and share in part their lives, O come I pray but as you came last night, Come when our minds are full of tranquil thoughts, And peace environs us and all our world. 35 BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO Because I love you so my glad heart thrilled When you confessed your love. What longings lay Within my soul to make your life a day Of happiness. My every thought was filled With eager hope that I might grow more skilled Each hour to shed new light upon your way, Withholding naught that pleasure might con vey E'en yielding life itself, if you so willed. Alas, I Ve learned such anxious love doth bring Its sadness too. For oft I yearn to find Approving looks : uneasy fears upspring When I perceive them not, and words unkind, Perhaps, I say; and then I grieve to know You Ve turned away because I love you so. MOTHER AND CHILD My child! How yearns my heart o'er thee, as pressed To its quick throbs thy fragile form doth lie. Wert thou not mine thy helplessness would cry For sympathy; but in thy mother's breast What fears for thee ! With each new life unrest, I know, is born, and ere distress draw nigh To thee I long, dear child, to learn how I May check its coming or may guard thee best. I would that thou could'st have my nature o'er, That all thy childish griefs I might divine, And make each bliss, that I once longed for, thine ; But if thy soul be one I ne'er before Have known, God grant I love thee all the more, For thou may'st have a greater soul than mine. 37 THESE APRIL DAYS These April days, ah, who can say Just what the weather has in store? This morning, when with steady pour The rain beat down, and skies were gray, Ah, who could guess the sun's bright ray Would beam before the day was o'er? These April days, ah, who can say Just what the weather has in store? My love is sweet as an April day, And though no welcome smile she wore When last we met, I '11 try once more This time perhaps she '11 bid me stay. These April days, ah, who can say Just what the weather has in store? 38 THE MOON-BEAM BRIDGE O golden moon, as thou dost slowly rise Above the beautiful St. Johns, how fair Thou art to one who is oppressed by care And looks at thee through longing tear-dimmed eyes. A bridge of gold across the water lies; From thee it stretches firm and smooth to where I stand. O would that I might cross, and share With thee the glories of thy Paradise ! And yet, dear moon, if thou should'st let me in, I might not feel the happiness, nor see The light and beauty, that I hoped to win. Perhaps upon this earth I 'd yearn to be, For it, 't is said, though full of pain and sin, Is still than thou more fair, when seen from thee. 39 THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE We started out to find the old school-house, The oldest house in Orange Park. At last, With limbs that ached from walking through the sand, We reached the broken gate ; and up the path, All overgrown with brambles, briers and weeds, We slowly went until we reached the porch. All rotted and unsafe we found the floor; And fallen limbs from overhanging trees Had broken through the porch's rotten roof. The roof itself was green with moss and ferns. The doors were gone ; the house stood open, free To wanderers tame and wild, to man and beast. The sun poured through the windows' broken panes On fallen plaster littering floor and stairs. The straight high mantel-piece that framed the wide Old-fashioned hearth, alone stood firm and dark With strange suggestions of an old-time cheer. Beyond the doorway, in the rear, there spread Long level stretches of the stately pines, Of burly live-oaks, gray with hanging moss, Of bayonetted palms and red-brown fields Of wiry grass. The old coquina steps, Beneath the doorway's sill, lay overturned Grim monuments of long-departed days. A chill depression pained my heart and grew More strong as, one by one, there stood revealed The signs of desolation and decay. And so at last we left the bleak old house ; But could not leave, alas, the heavy weight Of saddened thought; for in our minds still clung The images it had evoked. But soon A winding in the shady road disclosed A gleam of light the beautiful St. Johns. All suddenly it broke upon the sight, With miles of water open to the sky And flashing back the splendor of the sun. It seemed a symbol of eternal years ! Just so it must have looked in that far time When Indian fishers in their light canoes Or Spanish voyagers in high-prowed ships Moved up and down its shores. Our hearts grew light ; We lost the pain man's handiwork had wrought And felt the peace unchanging nature gives. NOTE : The school-house above-mentioned was situated on the plantation where Harriet Beecher Stowe first re sided in Florida. It was recently burnt to the ground. FADING FLOWERS Last month the jasmine was in bloom : Each blossom, like a golden star, Gleamed in the light, and shed afar Its sweet and delicate perfume. Though jasmine-buds no more delight The eye, before me now I see, Upon the climbing Cherokee, A hundred roses, snowy-white. And soon the great magnolia trees Among their glossy leaves will bear The white and massy blooms that share Their heavy odors with the breeze. And so, through all the burgeoning year, The various flowers shall bloom and fade. Oh why was all this beauty made When it so soon must disappear? IN FLORIDA In Florida now shines the sun of spring; And there the roses bloom, the glad birds sing; And there, before my door, the river lies, Its bosom glowing in the sunset skies Or in the morning sunlight glimmering. The breezes stir the wreaths of moss that swing From live-oak boughs; and from the tall pines fling The brown cones down; and sweet the odors rise In Florida. O birds and flowers and trees, around you cling What tender memories! My thoughts now wing Themselves to you. Where nothing greets the eyes Save snow and leafless trees, the chilled heart sighs For all the light and life the days now bring In Florida. 43 NOVEMBER To stay in doors to-day were best, For nature seems to be oppressed With melancholy and unrest. The sun has ceased to shine. The air Is filled with leaves the rough winds tear From off the trees now almost bare. Poor trees I how strange and weak you seem Without your leaves. Ah, who would dream You once controlled the sun's fierce beam. The chilly winds rush by with low Sad moans. Perhaps, dear trees, they know And grieve that they must leave you so. 44 A flock of black-birds draws in sight; Their chattering cry is shrill with fright Lest evil overtake their flight. My own mood, too, is such that less Than nature's mourning and distress Would fill my soul with heaviness. So I will close the door, and here, Beside the log's fresh-kindled cheer, Will warm my heart and banish fear. 45 MY VIOLIN My violin, with tender, loving care, Is resting near my heart. It seems to share Each quickened throb, and as I draw the bow Across the trembling strings, they seem to know My inmost heart and what lies hidden there: My heart through which, (though life seems wholly fair), There thrills a sadness like some deep despair, Which I would fain conceal, but needs must show My violin. I touch the strings; before I am aware They learn my grief, and sad notes fill the air; In melody that seems to overflow With tearful tones, they utter all my woe. Ah, is it kind with anguish thus to tear My violin? SPRING The Spring has come, and everywhere The flowers have bloomed, and trees long bare Have put forth leaves, and birds long still With raptured notes the woodlands fill. O would that thou to me could'st bring Such bloom and joy as these, dear Spring; That thou could'st make me also long To lift my voice once more in song. 47 MEMORY The dear remembered days they are not dead I The soul transcends the momentary thought. In memory the Past and Present wed, And each without its other sinks to naught. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-50m-9.'60(B3610s4)444 PS Van Ttaren - V236a As thought is led A 001 247 795 6 PS 35 V236a