A A 2 5 2 7 9 9 THE PATH O' DREAMS BY THOMAS S. JONES, JR. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES The Path o' Dreams The Path o' Dreams Thomas S. Jones, Jr. Boston: Richard G. Badger Chr (Sorham 1905 Copyright 1904 by THOMAS 8. JONES, JR. All rights reserved PRINTED AT THE OORHAH PRESS BOSTON, U. 9. A. / TO ROBERT TANSEY LAUGHLIN 904106 Contents Page The Piper . . . , 73 Echo . . . . . /^ At Dusk ..... 75 To 16 Tears . . . . . 77 Reverie . . . . . 18 The Gloaming Hour .'. . 19 Soul-Slumber ..... 20 Harvest . .... 21 Constancy . . . . .22 My Silent Years 23 Trdumerei . .... 24. Indian Summer .... 25 Page Once ...... 26 The Empty Cup .... 27 A Forest Dream . ... 28 A Song at Sunset . . . 29 Quatrain . . . . 31 Life's Paradox .... 32 Forgotten . . . . . 33 Drifts . 34 Withal . . * . -35 Noel **.... 36 Solitude . . . . . . 57 Illusion i * . . . 38 Legende * . . . . 39 Quatrain . . . ^0 Berceuse * . . . 1 Daphne . . . . . 42 Two Chords . .... 43 October Night 44 L'Envoi ..... THE PATH o' DREAMS The Piper We danced and sang through the sylvan glade As the piper played, as the piper played With never a thought of the joy he made ; For his squeaking pipe was quaintly small And the rasping notes would break and fall. We thought it quite poor if we thought at all As the piper played. The shadows were long in the sylvan glade As the price we paid, as the price we paid. We had little to give, else he might have stayed ; But others must dance while he must play. Yet it seemed so strange he went away, For we didn't then know we had lived our day And the price was paid. Echo And Spring withal is just across the way, Though harsh and shrill the shifts of March come blowing, The softened pipes of dreamy-sodden May Sound once again like forest streams a-flow- ing. O Songs of Tester-Spring that are no more, Hours of Buried Youth, so sweet of yore, Down 'neath your grassy graves in endless sleep 1 wonder if you wake, and hear, and weep. At Dusk A line of gold, a shade of withered rose Amid the gray, oh, just a little while Before the night; as though day could not close Its eyes in sleep without one last sweet smile. To .... Closed in a Vase of Gold, there lie Flowers of Lavender; dead and cold And void of life as are the walls that hold Their dust. Yet in a silent mystery They breathe a perfume throughout all eternity, And ever in a haunting fragrance bless A lonely heart with tenderness. Ashes of Lavender! And a breath Can hold forever sweet a Vase of Life, And smother even Death in Love-in-Death. 16 Tears So long ago it was, so long ago, And I forgot 'twas but a charge, for, oh ! It was so sweet to keep, to know. Only forgive you see love needs must grow When heav'n is near each hour and it is so, So hard just then to let it go. Reverie The night has lost her gage within the pool And wide-eyed she, As pass the hours beside the waters cool, Stalks wistfully. Blue shadows of gray trees mid golden mist, Tower after tower, Are caught the while in liquid amethyst With one moon flower. But she wots not the shadow trees afloat Gray gold between, Only she notes her flower a little boat Upon the sheen. And when the yellow moon grown pale with age Sinks in the gray, She sees oh, strange I deep in the pool her gage Drowned for aye. 18 Alone a wanderer throughout the streets of day, One who but wished to roam Not knowing then; ah, now, only to ask, to pray For you to take me home. Soul-Slumber Where there is the red of roses, Where the heather blowing sighs, She in lonely sleep reposes With the mould-dust in her eyes : And she never knows the flowers Bloom above her in their bowers, And she never knows the hours Drag so slowly where she lies. Oh, I would that I were lying Where the wild June-rose hedge blows, Fading as the sun is dying, As the day draws to its close ; For my soul is gone forever, Dead with her to answer never, And when soul and body sever There is death in life, God knows. 20 Harvest Yellow leaves and autumn wind, For summer days have flown, And now there is a harvesting Of that which once was sown. Here men together reap their grain, Here men reap theirs alone; And many there are who reap the grain And bind the golden sheaves, And many there are whose arms are full Of dead and yellow leaves. 21 Constancy Still deep in the lane do the red roses blow And cover quite tenderly Their names that were graven long ages ago On the old, old trysting tree. And though they are dead with their vows all undone, False to troth and fealty, And though each frail heart 'neath the far colder stone Now crumbled to dust may be ; Still deep in the lane do the red roses blow And cover quite tenderly Their names that were graven long ages ago On the old, old trysting tree. My Silent Years Like souls they softly slip away; The wistful twilight wind Is not less still nor sad than they That leave but me behind, For all they take and I who stay Again may never find. Good-bye, good-bye, my silent years; Some day when I am dead. Though now I stand so mute with tears, Some day I trust instead To find that bourne where reappears Each hour remembered, To find again my silent years Some day when I am dead. Traumerei There is a place of dreams, Dear, a place of dreams Where you and I, my head upon your breast, Ride toward the South. Far in the yellow West There is a fading light, while o'er the moonlit sky The clouds fly from the wind ; and you and I Just dream together, dreaming thus to rest Forever and a day in that far place of dreams. Indian Summer Soft through the purple of the western hills, Through veils of haze, Wherefrom this peace, this rest which in me thrills, Spirit of Autumn Days? Where are the questionings of summer spent, Or are they with my years, lost memories, Spirit of Sweet Content? Enough to lie and listen as the day grows old To melodies From that near choir of voices manifold, Spirits of Gathered Leaves. Once Ah, who could know That you and I were here In days so long ago, And plighted troth? Why, dear, 'Twere sweeter, kinder, better not to know. 26 The Empty Cup To him she gave a goblet red with wine, While he but drank and then forgot in fine. Saw he how frail the glass was wrought, how red The fire glowed in the crystal bowl? Ah, no, Enough for him the draught remembered, The cup was empty, let it go. Oh, far too exquisite a glass for this, Thus cast aside save with a quaffing kiss. Yet, after all, what matter? Best or worst It serves the same to hold the wine, and so 'Twill just as well allay a craven's thirst, The cup is empty, let it go. 27 A Forest Dream To sleep again beneath the shadowed pines, Hearing afar and sad the night-wind softly sighing Amid the boughs, breathing the dewy air Wafted so cool upon my brow where I am lying At rest, drunk with the perfume of your hair. Ah, Spirit of the Pines, I would not care Again to wake, if in your arms I might be dying ! 28 A Song at Sunset Clouds of saffron, crimson, golden, Thrilling veils of gossamer; In the shafts of dusk beholden Vanished elfin lands recur. And between an arras rending, Turquoise-wrought infinitudes Charm the mass of gorgeous blending With soft minor interludes. Oh, the wonder transformation! Roses gold from roses gray In an aurate scintillation From the leaden clouds of day. Fabric of the sun's fair weaving, Made of stuff too frail to hold; Yet that moment of deceiving Bursts with rapture manifold. Promised isles lost in the gloaming, Floating on effulgent fire; Whither we would rest from roaming,- Sunset Land of Heart's Desire. 29 So once seen those lights far burning, From the Grail within the Garde, Guide us upward ever yearning Changed from savage into bard. Clouds of saffron, crimson, golden, Thrilling veils of gossamer; In the shafts of dusk beholden Vanished elfin lands recur. Quatrain Into this Garden wide, apart and lone You came, nor cast aside the tangled weed. Though that was long ago, still from one. seed Rue and Rosemary ever since have grown. Life's Paradox Wreaths from the censer's brazen grate Wandering listlessly Against that calm inviolate, Wherefore so trouble ye? Or, do ye seek that mystery Because, as I, ye must? Knowing what was and is to be Are silence, ashes, dust. Forgotten Out far away in the distant street I hear the echo of passing feet Your footsteps, Sweet. It seems so strange, yes, it seems so queer That you could wander away from here, Without me, Dear. 33 Drifts Did you ever watch the snow on a hill Blowing and blowing yet never still, Though the wind is low And the wastes below Rest like the dead in their icy chill ? But the snow on the hill Is never still. And at night white wraiths in the ghastly gleam, Forbidden to sleep, lost lives redeem; While the wind shrieks shrill Round the frozen hill As they cry and call in a maddening scream, For the wraiths on the hill Are never still. 34 Withal What if the miles stretch out and bar That you and I should meet? why, even still You are beneath this very moon and star Which I am watching from my lonely hill, And I can say low with a happy thrill, You are not far, dear heart, you are not far. 35 Noel Sometimes the world seems harsher when the skies are gray, And more forlorn; Yet not a flower was blooming on the wintry day Ere Christ was born. So ofttimes the day sinks to its gloomy end, Where all seems done, The twilight colors paint themselves and glow and blend After the sun. Solitude Alone I weave a fancy in the glow, While all the world outside is white with snow And cheerless. But to me, Musing before this fire and drowsily Supposing that your head rests on my knee, Seeing the while your great eyes dim-des cried, Heaven could not be fairer than that snowy world outside. 37 Illusion There are so many flow'rs, so many songs, So many fair things in this world of ours; While I pretend that one to me belongs, One song, one flower, from all these songs and flowers. Although it's blooming for the world I know, Although it sings to you as tenderly, I think it mine what if it isn't so? And that those words are really meant for me. Legende Across the seas, Beyond the hill, Within a grove, there lies Upon the sward An elfin thing With madness in her eyes, For she is mad with joy because The world seems Paradise. And in the glades Where steal the streams Throughout the sunny day, She wanders free In fantasy Along the flowery way, And she is never sad, because Life is a rondelay. Yet just because She is so pure, And in her soul believes, 'Twere better not To cross the hill Or sail the sullen seas. 39 Quatrain Oh, the waste of vain doubt and regret ting ! Shall I seek for the thought that deceives, When I find all the old world forgetting In the whispers of silvery leaves? 40 Berceuse Across the blue the fleecy clouds waft by, Too fair of beauty thus so quickly sped, You do not see, for on my heart you lie, You do not see, but know, for you are dead ! Sweet, sweet the strain throughout the dark ened air, So faint, so far from out the passing day; These dying roses crown your tawny hair, This fading breeze sings our last roundelay. It comes from where the snowy clouds are gone, So still I listen to its ladened theme, For, though I lose you at the morrow's dawn, I still may find our garden of a dream. Our garden where no cross-roads meet and part, Where roses bloom for aye, not withered, You'll lead me through the paths of sleep, dear heart, There shall I find those clouds where you are dead. Daphne Do you not hear her song When rosy showers fall And forest whispers call Along? Do you not hear her feet Now faint among the leaves, Or is 't the wind that grieves So sweet? Do you her face not see Mid birches of a glade Where sunbeams pass half maid, Half tree? 42 Two Chords Two ladened chords oft sound within the soul: One fraught with joy, a great pure major theme ; The other, fragile as a half remembered dream, Throbs softly in a strain of minor dole. And yet of these, the sweeter far to me Is that grave echo of earth's tragedy. 43 October Night The boughs weave a web where the moon looks through And the casement sways 'gainst the chilly moon, Oh, strange that this sky now so cold and blue Once was soft with the clouds of a sunny June! 44 L'Envoi Through the mesh of tangled rushes In the stream, Glints of gold glow ruddy blushes Gleam for gleam, And the Song of Sundown hushes To a dream. As the breeze is faintly falling Cool and low, As the whip-poor-wills are calling To and fro, Soft it throbs with pain so palling In the glow. Silent sobbing song of ending; You and I Know the night will soon be bending O'er the sky, Know the silent words past mending Are "good-bye." 45 Good-night; And may your barque of dreams in twilight Float beneath a wooded hill Upon a lake of gold, as still As death. Good-night. 47 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444 THE LIBKAKX UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA - LOS ANGELES PS -Jones - 3i>19 Path o* dreams APR -81957 000252 PS 3519