THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE BUILDERS AND 
 OTHER POEMS
 
 BUILDERS 
 AND OTHER. 
 POEMS4BY 
 
 \ANDYKE 
 
 Charles Scribncr's Sons 
 NewYork MDCCCXCVffl
 
 Copyright, 1897, by Charles Scribner's Sons
 
 PS 
 CONTENTS 
 
 SONGS OUT OF DOORS 
 
 "Wings of a Dove 3 
 
 The Parting and the Coming Guest 4 
 
 An Angler's Wish 6 
 
 The After-Echo 10 
 
 Matins u 
 
 The Fall of the Leaves 12 
 
 A Snow-Song 15 
 
 If all the Skies 16 
 
 On the Glacier 17 
 
 Alpine Solitude 18 
 
 Roslin and Hawthornden 19 
 
 FOUR BIRDS AND A FLOWER 
 
 The Song-Sparrow 23 
 
 The Maryland Yellow-Throat 25 
 
 The Whip-poor-will 27 
 
 The Veery 29 
 
 The Lily of Yorrow 31 
 
 LYRICS OF FRIENDSHIP AND FAITH 
 
 Tennyson 35 
 
 A Ballad of Claremont Hill 36 
 
 Four Things 39 
 
 The Rendezvous 40 
 
 Transformation 41 
 To My Lady Graygown : with a Handful 
 
 of Verses 42 
 
 " Rappelle-Toi " 43 
 
 " Du bist wie eine Blume " 44 
 
 " Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam " 45 
 
 " In Memoriam " 46 
 Inscription for the Window of Katrina's 
 
 Tower at " Yaddo " 47 
 
 1051944
 
 Page 
 
 The Prison and the Angel 
 
 Santa Christina 
 
 Joy and Duty 
 
 Love and Light 5* 
 
 of the Northmen at the Thunder- 
 Oak 
 
 Chant of the Magi at the Fire-Altar 
 Song of a Pilgrim-Soul 57 
 
 A Babe Among the Stars 
 To the Child Jesus 59 
 
 The Bargain 
 The Master's Voice 
 Bitter Sweet 
 
 The Way 6 4 
 
 The Arrow 5 
 
 The Great River 
 Mercy for Armenia "7 
 
 THE BUILDERS 
 
 I The Creative Spirit 7 1 
 
 II The Wind of Death 72 
 
 III The Voice of Life 73 
 
 IV A Master-Builder 74 
 V Seas of Darkness 75 
 
 VI The Beacon 77 
 
 VII Storms of Battle 7 8 
 
 VIII The Fortress 79 
 
 IX Amor Patriae 81 
 
 X The Temple 84 
 
 XI A Solemn Music 85 
 
 XII The Builders' Hymn 86 
 
 vi
 
 SONGS OUT OF DOORS
 
 WINGS OF A DOVE 
 
 i 
 
 AT sunset, when the rosy light was dying 
 " Far down the pathway of the west, 
 I saw a lonely dove in silence flying, 
 To be at rest. 
 
 Pilgrim of air, I cried, could I but borrow 
 
 Thy wandering wings, thy freedom blest, 
 I 'd fly away from every careful sorrow, 
 And find my rest. 
 
 II 
 But when the dusk a filmy veil was weaving, 
 
 Back came the dove to seek her nest 
 Deep in the forest where her mate was griev- 
 ing, 
 
 There was true rest. 
 
 Peace, heart of mine ! no longer sigh to wander; 
 
 Lose not thy life in fruitless quest. 
 There are no happy islands over yonder ; 
 Come home and rest.
 
 THE PARTING AND THE COMING GUEST 
 
 "VVTHO watched the worn-out Winter die ? 
 W Who, peering through the dripping pane 
 At nightfall, under sleet and rain, 
 
 Saw the old graybeard totter by ? 
 
 Who listened to his parting sigh, 
 The sobbings of his feeble breath, 
 His whispered colloquy with Death, 
 And when his all of life was done 
 
 Stood near to bid a last good-bye ? 
 Of all his former friends not one 
 
 Saw the forsaken Winter die. 
 
 Who welcomed in the maiden Spring ? 
 Who heard her footfalls, swift and light 
 As fairies stepping through the night ; 
 
 Or guessed what happy dawn would bring 
 
 The first flash of her blue-bird's wing, 
 The first sight of her mayflower-face 
 To brighten every shady place ? 
 One morning, down the village street, 
 
 " Oh, here am I," we heard her sing, 
 And none had been awake to greet 
 
 The coming of the maiden Spring.
 
 But look, her violet eyes are wet 
 With bright, unfallen, dewy tears ; 
 And in her song my fancy hears 
 
 A note of sorrow trembling yet. 
 
 Perhaps, outside the town, she met 
 Old Winter as he limped away 
 To die forlorn, and let him lay 
 His weary head upon her knee 
 
 And rest awhile, and felt regret 
 
 For one so gray and friendless, see, 
 
 Her tender eyes with tears are wet. 
 
 And so, by night, while we were all at rest, 
 I think the coming sped the parting guest.
 
 AN ANGLER'S WISH 
 
 i 
 
 "VYTHEN tulips bloom in Union Square, 
 W And timid breaths of vernal air 
 
 Go wandering down the dusty town, 
 Like children lost in Vanity Fair ; 
 
 When every long, unlovely row 
 Of westward houses stands aglow, 
 
 And leads the eyes toward sunset skies 
 Beyond the hills where green trees grow 
 
 Then weary seems the street parade, 
 And weary books, and weary trade : 
 I 'm only wishing to go a-fishing ; 
 For this the month of May was made.
 
 II 
 
 I guess the pussy-willows now 
 Are creeping out on every bough 
 Along the brook ; and robins look 
 
 For early worms behind the plough. 
 
 The thistle-birds have changed their dun, 
 For yellow coats, to match the sun ; 
 
 And in the same array of flame 
 The Dandelion Show 's begun. 
 
 The flocks of young anemones 
 
 Are dancing round the budding trees : 
 
 Who can help wishing to go a-fishing 
 In days as full of joy as these ?
 
 Ill 
 
 I think the meadow-lark's clear sound 
 Leaks upward slowly from the ground, 
 While on the wing, the bluebirds ring 
 Their wedding-bells to woods around. 
 
 The flirting chewink calls his dear 
 Behind the bush ; and very near, 
 
 Where water flows, where green grass grows, 
 Song-sparrows gently sing, " Good cheer." 
 
 And, best of all, through twilight's calm 
 The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm. 
 
 How much I 'm wishing to go a-fishing 
 In days so sweet with music's balm !
 
 IV 
 
 'T is not a proud desire of mine ; 
 I ask for nothing superfine ; 
 
 No heavy weight, no salmon great, 
 To break the record, or my line : 
 
 Only an idle little stream, 
 
 Whose amber waters softly gleam, 
 
 Where I may wade, through woodland shade, 
 And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream : 
 
 Only a trout or two, to dart 
 
 From foaming pools, and try my art : 
 
 No more I 'm wishing old-fashioned fishing, 
 And just a day on Nature's heart.
 
 THE AFTER-ECHO 
 
 "MXDW the long echoes die away 
 *^ Along the shores of silence, as a wave, 
 Retreating, circles down the sand ; 
 And one by one, with sweet delay, 
 The mellow sounds that cliff and island gave, 
 Have lingered in the crescent bay, 
 Until, by lightest breezes fanned, 
 They float far off into the dying day, 
 And all is still as death. 
 
 But listen! hark, 
 A slender, wavering breath 
 Comes from the border of the dark ; 
 
 A note as clear and slow 
 As falls from some enchanted bell, 
 Or spirit, passing from the world below, 
 That whispers back, Farewell. 
 
 So in the heart, 
 When, fading slowly down the past, 
 
 Fond memories depart, 
 And each that leaves it seems the last ; 
 Long after all the rest are flown, 
 Comes back a well-remembered tone, 
 The after-echo of departed years, 
 And touches all the soul to tears. 
 
 10
 
 MATINS 
 
 when the night is done, 
 Lift their heads to greet the sun ; 
 Sweetest looks and odours raise, 
 In a silent hymn of praise. 
 
 So my heart would turn away 
 From the darkness to the day ; 
 Lying open, in God's sight, 
 As a flower in the light.
 
 THE FALL OF THE LEAVES 
 
 i 
 
 TN warlike pomp, with banners streaming, 
 
 The regiments of autumn stood : 
 I saw their gold and scarlet gleaming 
 From every hill-side, every wood. 
 
 Beside the sea the clouds were keeping 
 Their secret leaguer, gray and still ; 
 
 And soon their misty scouts came creeping, 
 With noiseless step, from hill to hill. 
 
 All day their sullen armies drifted 
 Athwart the sky with slanting rain ; 
 
 At sunset for a space they lifted, 
 With dusk they settled down again. 
 
 12
 
 II 
 
 At dark the winds began to blow 
 "With mutterings distant, low ; 
 
 From sea and sky they called their strength, 
 Till with an angry, broken roar, 
 Like billows on an unseen shore, 
 Their fury burst, at length. 
 
 I heard through the night 
 
 The rush and the clamor ; 
 The pulse of the fight 
 
 Like blows of Thor's hammer ; 
 The pattering flight 
 Of the leaves, and the anguished 
 Moans of the forest vanquished. 
 
 Just at daybreak came a gusty song : 
 " Shout ! the winds are strong. 
 The little people of the leaves are fled. 
 Shout ! The Autumn is dead ! "
 
 Ill 
 
 The storm is ended : the impartial sun 
 Laughs down upon the victory lost and won. 
 In long, triumphant lines the cloudy host 
 Roll through the sky, retreating to the coast. 
 
 But we, fond lovers of the forest shade, 
 And grateful friends of every fallen leaf, 
 Forget the glories of the cloud-parade, 
 And walk the ruined woods in quiet grief. 
 
 For so these thoughtful hearts of ours repeat, 
 On fields of triumph, dirges of defeat ; 
 And still we turn, on gala-days, to tread 
 Among the rustling memories of the dead.
 
 A SNOW-SONG 
 
 D 
 
 OES the snow fall at sea ? 
 
 Yes, when the north winds blow, 
 When the wild clouds fly low, 
 Out of each gloomy wing, 
 Hissing and murmuring, 
 Into the stormy sea 
 
 Falleth the snow. 
 
 Does the snow hide the sea ? 
 On all its tossing plains 
 Never a flake remains ; 
 Drift never resteth there ; 
 Vanishing everywhere, 
 Into the hungry sea 
 Falleth the snow. 
 
 What means the snow at sea ? 
 "Whirled in the veering blast, 
 Thickly the flakes drive past ; 
 Each like a childish ghost 
 Wavers, and then is lost. 
 Type of life's mystery, 
 In the forgetful sea 
 Fadeth the snow.
 
 IF ALL THE SKIES 
 
 TF all the skies were sunshine, 
 Our faces would be fain 
 
 To feel once more upon them 
 The cooling plash of rain. 
 
 If all the world were music, 
 Our hearts would often long 
 
 For one sweet strain of silence, 
 To break the endless song. 
 
 If life were always merry, 
 Our souls would seek relief, 
 
 And rest from weary laughter 
 In the quiet arms of grief. 
 
 16
 
 ON THE GLACIER 
 
 TTHE dawn in silence reigns supreme : 
 No sound the frozen stillness breaks, 
 Save when the avalanche awakes 
 
 The echoes, dull as in a dream : 
 
 Their hollow thunders, dying, seem 
 To leave the air so still it aches. 
 
 At noon, unnumbered rivulets spring 
 To life; and down the crystal walls 
 Each brook makes music as it falls, 
 
 Till all the blue crevasses ring. 
 
 So in the poet's heart the glow 
 
 Of love unbinds the streams that sleep ; 
 A thousand rills of feeling leap 
 
 To freedom, singing as they flow.
 
 ALPINE SOLITUDE 
 
 death bespread the solemn plain, 
 And crowned the circling peaks with dread 
 The sun was glaring overhead, 
 
 So fierce, the sky was full of pain. 
 
 And while I longed and looked in vain 
 For any trace of life, I said, 
 " No foot but mine has dared to tread 
 
 This solitude none shall again." 
 
 But as I spoke, before my feet 
 
 I saw a track across the snow, 
 Some -wandering chamois, hours ago, 
 
 Had passed here on his journey fleet, 
 
 A message from a friend unknown, 
 
 It left my heart no more alone. 
 
 18
 
 ROSLIN AND HAWTHORNDEN 
 
 Roslin Chapel, how divine 
 The art that reared thy costly shrine ! 
 Thy carven columns must have grown 
 By magic, like a dream in stone. 
 
 Yet not within thy storied wall 
 Would I in adoration fall, 
 So gladly as within the glen 
 That leads to lovely Hawthornden. 
 
 A long-drawn aisle, with roof of green 
 And vine-clad pillars, while between, 
 The Esk runs murmuring on its way, 
 In living music, night and day. 
 
 Within the temple of this wood 
 
 The martyrs of the covenant stood, 
 
 And rolled the psalm, and poured the prayer, 
 
 From Nature's solemn altar-stair.
 
 FOUR BIRDS 
 AND A FLOWER
 
 THE SONG-SPARROW 
 
 HTHERE is a bird I know so well, 
 It seems as if he must have sung 
 
 Beside my crib when I was young ; 
 Before I knew the way to spell 
 
 The name of even the smallest bird, 
 
 His gentle-joyful song I heard. 
 Now see if you can tell, my dear, 
 What bird it is that, every year, 
 Sings "Sweet sweet sweet 'very merry cheer." 
 
 He comes in March, when winds are strong, 
 
 And snow returns to hide the earth ; 
 
 But still he warms his heart with mirth, 
 And waits for May. He lingers long 
 
 While flowers fade ; and every day 
 
 Repeats his small, contented lay ; 
 As if to say, we need not fear 
 The season's change, if love is here 
 With ' 'Sweet sweet sweet very merry cheer. ' ' 
 
 He does not wear a Joseph's-coat 
 
 Of many colours, smart and gay ; 
 
 His suit is Quaker brown and gray, 
 With darker patches at his throat. 
 
 And yet of all the well-dressed throng 
 
 Not one can sing so brave a song. 
 It makes the pride of looks appear 
 A vain and foolish thing, to hear 
 His' 'Sweet sweet sweet <very merry cheer. ' '
 
 A lofty place he does not love, 
 
 But sits by choice, and well at ease, 
 In hedges, and in little trees 
 That stretch their slender arms above 
 The meadow-brook ; and there he sings 
 Till all the field with pleasure rings; 
 And so he tells in every ear, 
 That lowly homes to heaven are near 
 In ' 'Sweet sweet sweetvery merry cheer. ' ' 
 
 I like the tune, I like the words ; 
 
 They seem so true, so free from art, 
 
 So friendly, and so full of heart, , 
 That if but one of all the birds 
 
 Could be my comrade everywhere, 
 " My little brother of the air/' 
 This is the one I 'd choose, my dear, 
 Because he 'd bless me, every year, 
 With "Sweet sweet sweet very merry cheer/' 
 
 24
 
 THE MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT 
 
 TY7HILE May bedecks the naked trees 
 
 With tassels and embroideries, 
 And many blue-eyed violets beam 
 Along the edges of the stream, 
 I hear a voice that seems to say, 
 Now near at hand, now far away, 
 ' ' Witchery witchery witchery. ' ' 
 
 An incantation so serene, 
 So innocent, befits the scene : 
 There's magic in that small bird's note 
 See, there he flits the Yellow-throat; 
 A living sunbeam, tipped with wings, 
 A spark of light that shines and sings 
 ' ' Witchery witchery witchery. ' ' 
 
 You prophet with a pleasant name, 
 If out of Mary-land you came, 
 You know the way that thither goes 
 Where Mary's lovely garden grows : 
 Fly swiftly back to her, I pray, 
 And try, to call her down this way, 
 ' ' Witchery witchery witchery I ' ' 
 
 Tell her to leave her cockle-shells, 
 And all her little silver bells 
 That blossom into melody, 
 And all her maids less fair than she. 
 She does not need these pretty things, 
 For everywhere she comes, she brings 
 ' ' Witchery witchery witchery I ' '
 
 The woods are greening overhead, 
 And flowers adorn each mossy bed ; 
 The waters babble as they run 
 One thing is lacking, only one : 
 If Mary were but here to-day, 
 I would believe your charming lay, 
 ' ' Witchery witchery witchery / " 
 
 Along the shady road I look 
 Who 's coming now across the brook ? 
 A woodland maid, all robed in white 
 The leaves dance round her with delight, 
 The stream laughs out beneath her feet 
 Sing, merry bird, the charm's complete, 
 " Witchery witchery witchery ! " 
 
 26
 
 THE WHIP-POOR-WILL 
 
 FJO you remember, father, 
 It seems so long ago, 
 
 The day we fished together 
 Along the Pocono ? 
 
 At dusk I waited for you, 
 Beside the lumber-mill, 
 
 And there I heard a hidden bird 
 That chanted, "whip-poor-will," 
 ' ' Whippoorwitt ! whippoorwitt I ' ' 
 Sad and shrill, " wkippoorwill ! " 
 
 The place was all deserted ; 
 The mill-wheel hung at rest ; 
 
 The lonely star of evening 
 Was quivering in the west ; 
 
 The veil of night was falling ; 
 The winds were folded still ; 
 
 And everywhere the trembling air 
 Re-echoed "whip-poor-will!" 
 " Whippoorwitt! <whippootwilU " 
 Sad and shrill, " <whippoor<n>itt! " 
 
 You seemed so long in coming, 
 
 I felt so much alone ; 
 The wide, dark world was round me, 
 
 And life was all unknown; 
 The hand of sorrow touched me, 
 
 And made my senses thrill 
 With all the pain that haunts the strain 
 
 Of mournful whip-poor-will. 
 
 " Whippoorwittl <u>h{ppootwtlU " 
 
 Sad and shrill, " whippoorwittl " 
 
 27
 
 What did I know of trouble ? 
 An idle little lad ; 
 
 I had not learned the lessons 
 That make men wise and sad. 
 
 I dreamed of grief and parting, 
 And something seemed to fill 
 
 My heart with tears, while in my ears 
 Resounded "whip-poor-will." 
 ' ' Whippoorwill ! whippoorwill ! ' ' 
 Sad and shrill, " whippoorwill ! " 
 
 'T was but a shadowy sadness, 
 
 That lightly passed away ; 
 But I have known the substance 
 
 Of sorrow, since that day. 
 For nevermore at twilight, 
 
 Beside the silent mill, 
 I '11 wait for you, in the falling dew, 
 
 And hear the whip-poor-will. 
 
 4 ' Whtppoorcwfll I c a)hippoorwill I " 
 
 Sad and shrill, " <whippoor<u>itt! " 
 
 But if you still remember, 
 
 In that fair land of light, 
 The pains and fears that touch us 
 
 Along this edge of night, 
 I think all earthly grieving, 
 
 And all our mortal ill, 
 To you must seem like a boy's sad dream, 
 
 Who hears the whip-poor-will. 
 
 ' ' Whippoorwill I 'whippoorwiU ! ' ' 
 
 A passing thrill, " ivhippoorwini " 
 
 28
 
 THE VEERY 
 
 HTHE moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver 
 flood were pouring, 
 
 When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost 
 love deploring. 
 
 So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange 
 and eerie ; 
 
 I longed to hear a simpler strain, the wood- 
 notes of the veery. 
 
 The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scot- 
 tish heather ; 
 
 It sprinkles down from far away like light and 
 love together ; 
 
 He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding 
 mate, his dearie ; 
 
 I only know one song more sweet, the vespers 
 of the veery. 
 
 In English gardens, green and bright and full of 
 
 fruity treasure, 
 I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his 
 
 merry measure : 
 The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was 
 
 loud and cheery, 
 And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for 
 
 the veery. 
 
 29
 
 But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush 
 
 is singing ; 
 New England woods, at close of day, with that 
 
 clear chant are ringing : 
 And when my light of life is low, and heart and 
 
 flesh are weary, 
 I fain would hear, before I go, the wood notes 
 
 of the vrery.
 
 THE LILY OF YORROW 
 
 FJEEP in the heart of the forest the lily of 
 
 Yorrow is growing ; 
 Blue is its cup as the sky, and with mystical 
 
 odour o'erflowing ; 
 Faintly it falls through the shadowy glades 
 
 when the south wind is blowing. 
 
 Sweet are the primroses pale and the violets 
 after a shower; 
 
 Sweet are the borders of pinks and the blossom- 
 ing grapes on the bower ; 
 
 Sweeter by far is the breath of that far-away 
 woodland flower. 
 
 Searching and strange in its sweetness, it steals 
 like a perfume enchanted 
 
 Under the arch of the forest, and all who per- 
 ceive it are haunted, 
 
 Seeking and seeking forever, till sight of the 
 lily is granted. 
 
 Who can describe how it grows, with its chalice 
 
 of lazuli leaning 
 Over a crystalline spring, where the ferns and 
 
 the mosses are greening? 
 Who can imagine its beauty, or utter the depth 
 
 of its meaning ?
 
 Calm of the journeying stars, and repose of the 
 
 mountains olden, 
 Joy of the swift-running rivers, and glory of 
 
 sunsets golden, 
 Secrets that cannot be told in the heart of the 
 
 flower are holden. 
 
 Surely to see it is peace and the crown of a life- 
 long endeavour ; 
 
 Surely to pluck it is gladness, but they who 
 have found it can never 
 
 Tell of the gladness and peace : they are hid 
 from our vision forever. 
 
 'T was but a moment ago that a comrade was 
 
 wandering near me : 
 Turning aside from the pathway he murmured 
 
 a greeting to cheer me, 
 Then he was lost in the shade, and I called but 
 
 he did not hear me. 
 
 Why should I dream he is dead, and bewail 
 
 him with passionate sorrow ? 
 Surely I know there is gladness in finding the 
 
 lily of Yorrow : 
 He has discovered it first, and perhaps I shall 
 
 find it to-morrow.
 
 LYRICS 
 
 OF 
 
 FRIENDSHIP AND FAITH
 
 TENNYSON 
 
 In lucem transitus 
 October, 1892 
 
 PROM the misty shores of midnight, touched 
 
 * with splendours of the moon, 
 
 To the singing tides of heaven, and the light 
 
 more clear than noon, 
 Passed a soul that grew to music till it was 
 
 with God in tune. 
 
 Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, 
 
 true to art ; 
 Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human 
 
 heart ; 
 Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall 
 
 sing, if thou depart ? 
 
 Silence here for love is silent, gazing on the 
 
 lessening sail ; 
 Silence here for grief is voiceless when the 
 
 mighty minstrels fail ; 
 Silence here but far beyond us, many voices 
 
 crying, Hail ! 
 
 35
 
 A BALLAD OF CLAREMONT HILL 
 
 HTHE roar of the city is low, 
 1 Muffled by new-fallen snow, 
 And the sign of the wintry moon is small and 
 
 round and still. 
 
 Will you come with me to-night, 
 To see a pleasant sight 
 
 Away on the river-side, at the edge of Clare- 
 mont Hill? 
 
 " And what shall we see there, 
 But streets that are new and bare, 
 And many a desolate place that the city is com- 
 ing to fill ; 
 
 And a soldier's tomb of stone, 
 And a few trees standing alone 
 Will you walk for that through the cold, to the 
 edge of Claremont Hill?" 
 
 But there's more than that for me, 
 In the place that I fain would see : 
 There's a glimpse of the grace that helps us all 
 
 to bear life's ill; 
 A touch of the vital breath 
 That keeps the world from death ; 
 A flower that never fades, on the edge of Clare- 
 mont Hill.
 
 For just where the road swings round, 
 In a narrow strip of ground, 
 Where a group of forest trees are lingering 
 
 fondly still, 
 
 There 's a grave of the olden time, 
 When the garden bloomed in its prime, 
 And the children laughed and sang on the edge 
 of Claremont Hill. 
 
 The marble is pure and white, 
 And even in this dim light, 
 
 You may read the simple words that are writ- 
 ten there if you will ; 
 You may hear a father tell 
 Of the child he loved so well, 
 A hundred years ago, on the edge of Claremont 
 Hill. 
 
 The tide of the city has rolled 
 Across that bower of old, 
 And blotted out the beds of the rose and the 
 
 daffodil ; 
 
 But the little playmate sleeps, 
 And the shrine of love still keeps 
 A record of happy days, on the edge of Clare- 
 mont Hill. 
 
 37
 
 The river is pouring down 
 To the crowded, careless town, 
 Where the intricate wheels of trade are grind- 
 ing on like a mill ; 
 But the clamorous noise and strife 
 Of the hurrying waves of life 
 Flow soft by this haven of peace on the edge 
 of Claremont Hill. 
 
 And after all, my friend, 
 When the tale of our years shall end, 
 Be it long or short, or lowly or great, as God 
 
 may will, 
 
 What better praise could we hear, 
 Than this of the child so dear : 
 You have made my life more sweet, on the 
 edge of Claremont Hill?
 
 FOUR THINGS 
 
 things a man must learn to do 
 If he would make his record true : 
 To think without confusion clearly ; 
 To love his fellow-men sincerely ; 
 To act from honest motives purely ; 
 To trust in God and Heaven securely. 
 
 39
 
 THE RENDEZVOUS 
 
 T COUNT that friendship little worth 
 1 Which has not many things untold, 
 
 Great longings that no words can hold, 
 And passion-secrets waiting birth. 
 
 Along the slender wires of speech 
 Some message from the heart is sent ; 
 But who can tell the whole that's meant ? 
 
 Our dearest thoughts are out of reach. 
 
 I have not seen thee, though mine eyes 
 Hold now the image of thy face ; 
 In vain, through form, I strive to trace 
 
 The soul I love : that deeper lies. 
 
 A thousand accidents control 
 
 Our meeting here. Clasp hand in hand, 
 And swear to meet me in that land 
 
 Where friends hold converse soul to soul.
 
 TRANSFORMATION 
 
 QNLY a little shrivelled seed, 
 ^ It might be flower, or grass, or weed ; 
 Only a box of earth on the edge 
 Of a narrow, dusty window-ledge ; 
 Only a few scant summer showers ; 
 Only a few clear shining hours ; 
 That was all. Yet God could make 
 Out of these, for a sick child's sake, 
 A blossom-wonder, as fair and sweet 
 As ever broke at an angel's feet. 
 
 Only a life of barren pain, 
 Wet with sorrowful tears for rain, 
 Warmed sometimes by a wandering gleam 
 Of joy, that seemed but a happy dream; 
 A life as common and brown and bare 
 As the box of earth in the window there ; 
 Yet it bore, at last, the precious bloom 
 Of a perfect soul in that narrow room ; 
 Pure as the snowy leaves that fold 
 Over the flower's heart of gold. 
 
 (1875-)
 
 TO MY LADY GRAYGOWN: 
 WITH A HANDFUL OF VERSES 
 
 TVTAYSIDE songs and meadow blossoms; 
 w nothing perfect, nothing rare ; 
 Every poet's ordered garden yields a hundred 
 
 flowers more fair ; 
 Master-singers know a music richer far beyond 
 
 compare. 
 
 Yet the reaper in the harvest, 'mid the burden 
 
 and the heat, 
 Hums a half-remembered ballad, finds the easy 
 
 cadence sweet, 
 Sees the very blue of heaven in the corn-bloom 
 
 at his feet. 
 
 For the Over-Lord is generous, no straight walls 
 His love confine ; 
 
 Unto few, for world-wide glory, comes the sym- 
 phony divine ; 
 
 Unto all, for simple pleasure, come the thoughts 
 that sing and shine. 
 
 So to you, dear heart, I bring them : you, among 
 
 the busy throng, 
 Walk beside me, -help me, cheer me, keep the 
 
 days from seeming long : 
 All the blossoms, all the ballads, touched by 
 
 you, to you belong 
 You, my flower ; you, my song! 
 
 42
 
 "RAPPELLE-TOI" 
 
 pEMEMBER, when the timid light 
 
 ^ Through the enchanted halls of dawn is 
 
 streaming ; 
 
 Remember, when the pensive night 
 Beneath her silvery veil walks dreaming ; 
 When pleasure calls thee and thy heart 
 
 beats high, 
 When tender joys through evening shades 
 
 draw nigh, 
 
 Hark, from the woodland deeps 
 A gentle whisper creeps, 
 Remember ! 
 
 Remember, when the hand of fate 
 
 My life from thine forevermore has parted ; 
 When sorrow, exile, and the weight 
 Of lonely years have made me heavy-hearted ; 
 Think of my loyal love, my last adieu ; 
 Absence and time are naught, if we are true ; 
 Long as my heart shall beat, 
 To thine it will repeat, 
 Remember ! 
 
 Remember, when the cool, dark tomb 
 
 Receives my heart into its quiet keeping, 
 And some sweet flower begins to bloom 
 Above the place where I am sleeping ; 
 Ah then, my face thou nevermore shalt see, 
 But still my soul will linger close to thee, 
 And in the holy place of night, 
 The litany of love recite, 
 Remember ! 
 
 From the French. 
 
 43
 
 DU BIST WE EINE BLUME" 
 
 PAIR art thou as a flower 
 * And innocent and shy : 
 I look on thee and sorrow ; 
 I grieve, I know not why. 
 
 I long to lay, in blessing, 
 My hand upon thy brow, 
 
 And pray that God may keep thee 
 As fair and pure as now. 
 
 From the German of Heinrich Heine. 
 
 44
 
 "EIN FICHTENBAUM STEHT EEMSAM' 
 
 A FIR-TREE standeth lonely 
 " On an icy northern height, 
 Asleep, while snow-storms cover 
 His rest with robes of white. 
 
 Dreaming, he sees a palm-tree 
 In the distant morning-land ; 
 She stands alone and silent 
 In the burning waste of sand. 
 
 From the German of Heinrich Heine. 
 
 45
 
 "IN MEMORIAM" 
 
 'T'HE record of a faith sublime, 
 * And hope, through clouds, far-off discerned ; 
 
 The incense of a love that burned 
 Through pain and doubt defying Time : 
 
 A light that gleamed across the wave 
 Of darkness, down the rolling years, 
 Piercing the heavy mist of tears 
 
 A rainbow shining o'er the grave : 
 
 The story of a soul at strife 
 
 That learned at last to kiss the rod, 
 And passed through sorrow up to God, 
 
 From living to a higher life.
 
 INSCRIPTION FOR THE WINDOW 
 OF KATRINA'S TOWER 
 AT "YADDO" 
 
 is the window's message, 
 
 In silence, to the Queen : 
 " Thou hast a double kingdom 
 
 And I am set between : 
 Look out and see the glory, 
 
 On hill and plain and sky : 
 Look in and see the light of love 
 
 That nevermore shall die ! " 
 
 L'ENVOI 
 
 Window in the Queen's high tower, 
 This shall be thy magic power! 
 Shut the darkness and the doubt, 
 Shut the storm and conflict, out; 
 Wind and hail and snow and rain 
 Dash against thee all in vain. 
 Let in nothing from the night, 
 Let in every ray of light. 
 
 47
 
 THE PRISON AND THE ANGEL 
 
 OELF is the only prison that can ever bind 
 
 the soul; 
 
 Love is the only angel who can bid the gates 
 unroll ; 
 
 And when he comes to call thee, arise and fol- 
 low fast ; 
 
 His way may lie through darkness, but it leads 
 to light at last. 
 
 48
 
 SANTA CHRISTINA 
 
 CAINTS are God's flowers, fragrant souls 
 ^ That His own hand hath planted, 
 Not in some far-off heavenly place, 
 
 Or solitude enchanted, 
 But here and there and everywhere, 
 In lonely field, or crowded town, 
 God sees a flower when He looks down. 
 
 Some wear the lily's stainless white, 
 
 And some the rose of passion, 
 And some the violet's heavenly blue, 
 
 But each in its own fashion, 
 With silent bloom and soft perfume, 
 
 Is praising Him who from above 
 
 Beholds each lifted face of love. 
 
 One such I knew, and had the grace 
 
 To thank my God for knowing : 
 The beauty of her quiet life 
 
 Was like a rose in blowing, 
 So fair and sweet, so all-complete, 
 
 And all unconscious as a flower, 
 
 That light and fragrance were her dower. 
 
 No convent-garden held this rose, 
 
 Concealed like secret treasure ; 
 No royal terrace guarded her 
 
 For some sole monarch's pleasure. 
 She made her shrine, this saint of mine, 
 
 In a bright home where children played ; 
 
 And there she wrought and there she prayed. 
 
 49
 
 In sunshine, when the days were glad, 
 
 She had the art of keeping 
 The clearest rays, to give again 
 
 In days of rain and weeping ; 
 Her blessed heart could still impart 
 
 Some portion of its secret grace, 
 
 And charity shone in her face. 
 
 In joy she grew from year to year ; 
 
 And sorrow made her sweeter ; 
 And every comfort, still more kind; 
 
 And every loss, completer. 
 The children came to love her name, 
 
 " Christina," 't was a lip's caress ; 
 
 And when they called, they seemed to bless. 
 
 No more they call, for she is gone. 
 
 The wind passed o'er the flower ; 
 The place that knew and loved her well 
 
 No more, no more shall know her ; 
 They cannot reach her with love's speech, 
 
 And when they say " Christina " now 
 
 'T is like a prayer or like a vow : 
 
 A vow to keep her life alive 
 
 In deeds of pure affection, 
 So that her love shall find through them 
 
 A daily resurrection ; 
 A constant prayer that they may wear 
 
 Some touch of that supernal light 
 
 With which she blossoms in God's sight.
 
 JOY AND DUTY 
 
 "TOY is a Duty," so with golden lore 
 
 x The Hebrew rabbis taught in days of yore, 
 And happy human hearts heard in their speech 
 Almost the highest wisdom man can reach. 
 
 But one bright peak still rises far above, 
 
 And there the Master stands whose name is 
 
 Love, 
 
 Saying to those whom weary tasks employ : 
 " Life is divine when Duty is a Joy."
 
 LOVE AND LIGHT 
 
 ""PHERE are many kinds of love, as many 
 1 kinds of light, 
 And every kind of love makes a glory in the 
 
 night. 
 There is love that stirs the heart, and love that 
 
 gives it rest, 
 But the love that leads life upward is the 
 
 noblest and the best.
 
 PEACE 
 
 TTTITH eager heart and will on fire, 
 I fought to win my great desire 
 "Peace shall be mine," I said; but life 
 Grew bitter in the weary strife. 
 
 My soul was tired, and my pride 
 Was wounded deep : to Heaven I cried, 
 " God grant me peace or I must die ; " 
 The dumb stars glittered no reply. 
 
 Broken at last, I bowed my head, 
 Forgetting all myself, and said, 
 " Whatever comes, His will be done;" 
 And in that moment peace was won. 
 
 53
 
 CHANT OF THE NORTHMEN AT THE 
 THUNDER-OAK 
 
 Q THOR, the Thunderer, 
 ^ Mighty and merciless, 
 Spare us from smiting ! 
 Heave not thy hammer, 
 Angry, against us ; 
 Plague not thy people ! 
 Take from our treasure 
 Richest of ransom. 
 Silver we send thee, 
 Jewels and javelins, 
 Goodliest garments ; 
 All our possessions 
 Priceless we proffer. 
 Sheep will we slaughter, 
 Steeds will we sacrifice ; 
 Bright blood shall bathe thee, 
 O tree of Thunder ! 
 Life-floods shall lave thee, 
 Strong wood of wonder ! 
 Mighty, have mercy, 
 Smite us no more, 
 Spare us and save us, 
 Spare us, Thor! Thor! 
 
 From "The Oak of Geismar." 
 
 54
 
 CHANT OF THE MAGI AT THE FIRE- 
 ALTAR 
 
 worship the Spirit Divine, 
 All wisdom and goodness possessing ; 
 Surrounded by Holy Immortals, 
 
 The givers of bounty and blessing ; 
 We joy in the works of his hands, 
 His truth and his glory confessing. 
 
 We praise all the things that are pure, 
 
 For these are his only creation ; 
 The thoughts that are true, and the words 
 
 And the deeds that have won approbation ; 
 These are the effluence of Him, 
 
 And for these we would give adoration. 
 
 Hear us, O Mazda ! Thou livest 
 In light and in heavenly gladness ; 
 
 Cleanse us from falsehood, and keep us 
 From evil and bondage to badness ; 
 
 Pour out thy light and thy joy 
 On our darkness and sadness. 
 
 55
 
 Shine on our gardens and fields, 
 Shine on our working and -weaving; 
 
 Shine on the whole race of man, 
 Believing and unbelieving ; 
 
 Shine on us now through the night, 
 
 Shine on us now in thy might, 
 
 The flame of our prayerful love 
 And the song of our worship receiving. 
 
 From "The Story of the Other Wise Man."
 
 SONG OF A PILGRIM-SOUL 
 
 TUTARCH on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! 
 March swiftly on. Yet err not from the 
 
 way 
 
 Where all the nobly wise of old have trod 
 The path of faith made by the sons of God. 
 
 Follow the marks that they have set beside 
 The narrow, cloud-swept track, to be thy guide : 
 Follow, and honour what the past has gained, 
 And forward still, that more may be attained. 
 
 Something to learn, and something to forget: 
 Hold fast the good, and seek the better yet : 
 Press on, and prove the pilgrim-hope of youth, 
 That Creeds are milestones on the road to 
 Truth. 
 
 57
 
 A BABE AMONG THE STARS 
 
 I beheld the splendour of the night, 
 And all the misty myriad of her stars, 
 Forever swinging on their paths of light, 
 
 Far out beyond our system's narrow bars, 
 I marvelled that the glory of God's birth 
 Had fallen only on this little earth. 
 
 Infinite condescension, that could raise 
 
 The least to be most blessed. God can 
 
 bring 
 Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings 
 
 praise. 
 
 This late-born infant of the sky shall sing 
 A music sweeter than her sister spheres ; 
 Incarnate love, while heaven in wonder hears.
 
 TO THE CHILD JESUS 
 
 i 
 
 THE NATIVITY 
 
 every time-worn heart but see Thee 
 
 once again, 
 A happy human child, among the homes of 
 
 men, 
 The age of doubt would pass, the vision of 
 
 Thy face 
 Would silently restore the childhood of the 
 
 race. 
 
 II 
 
 THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT 
 
 Thou wayfaring Jesus, a pilgrim and stranger, 
 
 Exiled from heaven by love at thy birth, 
 Exiled again from thy rest in the manger, 
 
 A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth, 
 Cheer with thy fellowship all who are weary, 
 
 Wandering far from the land that they love ; 
 Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary, 
 
 Safe to its home in thy presence above. 
 
 59
 
 THE BARGAIN 
 
 YY7HAT shall I give for thee, 
 w Thou Pearl of greatest price ? 
 For all the treasures I possess 
 Would not suffice. 
 
 I give my store of gold ; 
 
 It is but earthly dross : 
 But thou shalt make me rich, beyond 
 
 All fear of loss. 
 
 Mine honours I resign ; 
 
 They are but small at best : 
 Thou like a royal star shalt shine 
 
 Upon my breast. 
 
 My worldly joys I give, 
 
 The flowers with which I played ; 
 Thy beauty, far more heavenly fair, 
 
 Shall never fade. 
 
 Dear Lord, is that enough ? 
 
 Nay t not a thousandth part. 
 Well, then, I have but one thing more 
 
 Take Thou my heart. 
 
 60
 
 THE MASTER'S VOICE 
 
 "VJITHEN days are dark and nights are cold, 
 ** And all the world seems going wrong ; 
 When fears are fresh, and hopes grow old, 
 
 And die because they 've waited long ; 
 'When all is sad without, within, 
 And I am plagued with doubt and sin, 
 Yet have I comfort, and rejoice 
 If I can hear the Master's voice. 
 
 Come unto Me, thou child distressed; 
 Come, find a refuge on My breast; 
 Lay down thy burden, and have rest. 
 
 When clouds are thick, and winds are loud, 
 
 And angry waters rising fast, 
 With many leaping waves that crowd 
 
 To overwhelm my boat at last ; 
 When all my chance of life seems lost, 
 Though far astray and tempest-tossed, 
 Yet have I courage, and rejoice 
 If I can hear the Master's voice. 
 
 Be not afraid; 't is I that stand, 
 In every danger, near at band. 
 The 'winds are still at My command. 
 
 61
 
 When earthly voices, once so dear, 
 Have died in silence, one by one, 
 Till I am left to mourn them here 
 
 'With empty heart, and all alone ; 
 When sorrow from the gates of death 
 Breathes on my cheek her icy breath ; 
 Yet have I peace, and can rejoice 
 If I but hear the Master's voice. 
 
 A little while; wait patiently. 
 A little while, andthou shalt be 
 With thy beloved, and with Me. 
 
 62
 
 BITTER-SWEET 
 
 JUST to give up, and trust 
 All to a Fate unknown, 
 Plodding along life's road in the dust, 
 
 Bounded by walls of stone ; 
 Never to have a heart at peace ; 
 Never to see when care will cease ; 
 Just to be still when sorrows fall 
 This is the bitterest lesson of all. 
 
 Just to give up, and rest 
 All on a Love secure, 
 Out of a world that's hard at the best, 
 
 Looking to heaven as sure ; 
 Ever to hope, through cloud and fear, 
 In darkest night, that the dawn is near ; 
 Just to wait at the Master's feet 
 Surely, now, the bitter is sweet.
 
 THE WAY 
 
 O seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, 
 May keep the path, but will not reach the 
 
 goal ; 
 
 While he who walks in love may wander far, 
 But God will bring him where the Blessed are. 
 
 64
 
 THE ARROW 
 
 T IFE is an arrow therefore you must know 
 ^ What mark to aim at, how to use the 
 
 bow 
 Then draw it to the head, and let it go !
 
 THE GREAT RIVER 
 
 " In la sua volontade fe nostra pace." 
 
 f"\ MIGHTY river! strong, eternal Will, 
 
 ^ Wherein the streams of human good and 
 
 ill 
 
 Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea, 
 The world is safe because it floats in Thee. 
 
 66
 
 MERCY FOR ARMENIA 
 
 i 
 
 THE TURK'S WAY 
 
 GTAND back, ye messengers of mercy ! Stand 
 ^ Far off, for I will save my troubled folk 
 
 In my own way. So the false Sultan spoke ; 
 And Europe, hearkening to his base command, 
 Stood still to see him heal his wounded land. 
 
 Through blinding snows of winter and through 
 smoke 
 
 Of burning towns, she saw him deal the stroke 
 Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned. 
 Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave 
 
 New tortures, horrible, without a name ; 
 Unto the thirsty, blood to drink ; a sword 
 
 Unto the hungry ; with a robe of shame 
 
 He clad the naked, making life abhorred. 
 He saved by slaughter, and denied a grave.
 
 II 
 
 AMERICA'S WAY 
 
 But thou, my country, though no fault be thine 
 For that red horror far across the sea ; 
 Though not a tortured wretch can point to 
 
 thee, 
 
 And curse thee for the selfishness supine 
 Of those great Powers that cowardly combine 
 To shield the Turk in his iniquity ; 
 Yet, since thy hand is innocent and free, 
 Rise, thou, and show the world the way divine ! 
 Thou canst not break the oppressor's iron rod, 
 But thou canst minister to the oppressed ; 
 Thou canst not loose the captive's heavy 
 
 chain, 
 But thou canst bind his wounds and soothe 
 
 his pain. 
 
 Armenia calls thee, Empire of the West, 
 To play the Good Samaritan for God. 
 
 68
 
 THE BUILDERS 
 
 AN ACADEMIC ODE 
 
 RECITED AT THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH 
 
 ANNIVERSARY OF PRINCETON COLLEGE 
 
 OCTOBER 21, 1896
 
 THE BUILDERS 
 
 INTO the dust of the making of man 
 
 1 Spirit was breathed when his life began, 
 
 Lifting him up from his low estate, 
 
 'With masterful passion, the wish to create. 
 
 Out of the dust of his making, man 
 
 Fashioned his works as the ages ran ; 
 
 Palace, and fortress, and temple, and tower, 
 
 Filling the world with the proof of his power. 
 
 The clay wherein God made him 
 
 Grew plastic and obeyed him ; 
 
 The trees, high-arching o'er him, 
 
 Fell everywhere before him ; 
 
 The hills, in silence standing, 
 
 Gave up, at his commanding, 
 
 Their ancient rock-foundations 
 
 To strengthen his creations ; 
 
 And all the metals hidden 
 
 Came forth as they were bidden, 
 
 To help his high endeavour, 
 
 And build a house to last forever.
 
 The monuments of mortals 
 
 Are as the flower of the grass ; 
 Through Time's dim portals 
 
 A voiceless, viewless wind doth pass ; 
 And where it breathes, the brightest blooms 
 
 decay, 
 The forests bend to earth more deeply day by 
 
 day, 
 And man's great buildings slowly fade away. 
 
 One after one, 
 
 They pay to that dumb breath 
 The tribute of their death, 
 
 And are undone. 
 The towers incline to dust, 
 The massive girders rust, 
 The domes dissolve in air, 
 The pillars that upbear 
 The lofty arches crumble, stone by stone, 
 While man the builder looks about him in 
 
 despair, 
 
 For all his works of pride and power are over- 
 thrown. 
 
 72
 
 Ill 
 
 A Voice spake out of the sky : 
 " Set thy desires more high. 
 Thy buildings fade away 
 Because thou buildest clay. 
 Now make the fabric sure 
 With stones that shall endure. 
 
 Hewn from the spiritual rock, 
 The immortal towers of the soul 
 
 At Time's dissolving touch shall mock, 
 And stand secure while aeons roll." 
 
 73
 
 IV 
 
 Well did the wise in heart rejoice 
 To hear the secret summons of that Voice, 
 And patiently begin 
 The builder's work within, 
 Houses not made with hands, 
 Nor founded on the sands. 
 And thou, Revered Mother, at whose call 
 We come to keep thy joyous festival, 
 And celebrate, 
 With fitting state, 
 
 The glory of thy labours on the walls of Truth 
 Through sevenscore years and ten of thine eter- 
 nal youth, 
 A master builder thou, 
 And on thy shining brow, 
 Like Cybele, in fadeless light dost wear 
 A diadem of turrets strong and fair. 
 
 74
 
 I see thee standing in a lonely land, 
 But late and hardly won from solitude, 
 
 Unpopulous and rude, 
 On that far western shore I see thee stand, 
 Like some young goddess from a brighter strand, 
 While in thine eyes a radiant thought is born, 
 Enkindling all thy beauty like the morn, 
 And guiding to thy work a powerful hand. 
 Sea-like the forest rolled, in waves of green, 
 And few the lights that glimmered, leagues be- 
 tween. 
 
 High in the north, for fourscore years alone, 
 Fair Harvard's earliest beacon-tower had shone; 
 Then Yale was lighted, and an answering ray 
 Flashed from the meadows by New Haven Bay. 
 But deeper spread the forest, and more dark, 
 Where first Neshaminy received the spark 
 Of sacred learning to a frail abode, 
 And nursed the holy fire until it glowed. 
 Thine was the courage, thine the larger look, 
 That raised yon taper from its humble nook ; 
 Thine was the hope, and thine the stronger will, 
 That built the beacon here on Princeton Hill. 
 " New light! " men cried, and murmured that it 
 
 came 
 From an unsanctioned source with lawless 
 
 flame ; 
 
 It shone too free, for still the church and school 
 Must only shine according to their rule. 
 
 75
 
 But Princeton answered, in her nobler mood, 
 " God made the light, and all the light is good. 
 There is no war between the old and new ; 
 The conflict lies between the false and true. 
 The stars, that high in heaven their courses run, 
 In glory differ, but their light is one. 
 The beacons, gleaming o\er the sea of life, 
 Are rivals but in radiance, riot in strife. 
 Shine on, ye sister-towers, across the night ! 
 I too will build a lasting home for light." 
 
 76
 
 VI 
 
 Brave was that word of faith and bravely was 
 
 it kept ; 
 With never-wearying zeal that faltered not, nor 
 
 slept, 
 She toiled to raise her tower, and while she 
 
 firmly laid 
 The deep foundation-walls, at all her toil she 
 
 prayed. 
 And men who loved the truth because it made 
 
 them free, 
 And men who saw the twofold Word of God 
 
 agree, 
 
 Reading the book of nature and the sacred page 
 By the same inward ray that grows from age to 
 
 age, 
 
 Were built like living stones that beacon to up- 
 lift, 
 And drawing light from heaven gave to the 
 
 world the gift. 
 Nor ever, while they searched the secrets of 
 
 the earth, 
 Or traced the stream of life through mystery to 
 
 its birth, 
 Nor ever, while they taught the lightning-flash 
 
 to bear 
 
 The messages of man in silence through the air, 
 Fell from that home of light one false, perfidi- 
 ous ray 
 To blind the trusting heart, or lead the life 
 
 astray. 
 But still, while knowledge grew more luminous 
 
 and broad 
 It lit the path of faith and showed the way to 
 
 God. 
 
 77
 
 VII 
 
 Yet not for peace alone 
 
 Labour the builders. 
 Work that in peace has grown 
 Swiftly is overthrown, 
 When from the darkening skies 
 Storm-clouds of wrath arise, 
 And through the cannons' crash, 
 War's deadly lightning-flash 
 
 Smites and bewilders. 
 Ramparts of strength must frown 
 Round every placid town 
 
 And city splendid ; 
 All that our fathers wrought, 
 With true prophetic thought, 
 
 Must be defended !
 
 vin 
 
 But who should raise protecting walls for thee, 
 Thou young, defenceless land of liberty ? 
 Or who could build the fortress strong enough, 
 Or stretch the mighty bulwark long enough 
 To hold thy far-extended coast 
 Against the overweening host 
 That took the open path across the sea, 
 And like a tempest poured 
 Their desolating horde, 
 To quench thy dawning light in gloom of 
 
 tyranny ? 
 
 Yet not unguarded thou wert found 
 When on thy shore with sullen sound 
 The blaring trumpets of an unjust king 
 Proclaimed invasion. From the insulted 
 
 ground, 
 In freedom's desperate hour there seemed to 
 
 spring 
 
 Invisible walls for her defence ; 
 Not trembling, like those battlements of stone 
 That fell in fear when Joshua's horns were 
 
 blown ; 
 
 But standing firmer, growing still more dense, 
 With every new assault of alien insolence, 
 While cannon roared and flashed and roared 
 
 again, 
 
 In sovereign pride the living rampart rose, 
 To meet the onset of imperious foes 
 With a long line of brave, unconquerable men. 
 This was thy fortress, well-defended land, 
 And on these walls, the patient, building hand 
 Of Princeton laboured with the force of ten. 
 
 79
 
 Her sons were foremost in the furious fight ; 
 Her sons were firmest to uphold the right 
 In council-chambers of the new-born State, 
 And prove that he who would be free must first 
 
 be great 
 
 Of heart, and high in thought, and strong 
 In purpose not to do or suffer wrong. 
 Such were the men, impregnable to fear, 
 Whose souls were framed and fashioned here ; 
 And when war shook the land with threatening 
 
 shock, 
 The men of Princeton stood like muniments of 
 
 rock. 
 
 Nor has the breath of Time 
 Dissolved that proud array 
 Of imperturbable strength : 
 For though the rocks decay, 
 And all the iron bands 
 
 Of earthly strongholds are unloosed at length, 
 And buried deep in gray oblivion's sands ; 
 The work that heroes' hands 
 Wrought in the light of freedom's natal day 
 Shall never fade away, 
 But lifts itself, sublime, 
 Into a lucid sphere, 
 For ever still and clear, 
 
 And far above the devastating breath of Time ; 
 Preserving in the memory of the fathers' deed, 
 A never-failing fortress for their children's 
 
 need. 
 There we confirm our hearts to-day ; and there 
 
 we read, 
 
 On many a stone, the signature of fame, 
 The builders' mark, our Alma Mater's name. 
 
 80
 
 IX 
 
 Bear 'with us then a moment, if we turn 
 From all the present splendours of this place 
 The lofty towers that like a dream have grown 
 Where once old Nassau Hall stood all alone 
 Back to that ancient time, with hearts that burn 
 In filial reverence and pride, to trace 
 
 The glory of our mother's best degree, 
 
 In that "high son of Liberty," 
 
 Who like a granite block, 
 
 Riven from Scotland's rock, 
 Stood loyal here to keep Columbia free. 
 Born far away beyond the ocean's roar, 
 He found his fatherland upon this shore ; 
 And every drop of ardent blood that ran 
 Through his great heart, was true American. 
 He held no weak allegiance to a distant throne, 
 But made his new-found country's cause his 
 own. 
 
 In peril and distress, 
 
 In toil and weariness, 
 
 When darkness overcast her 
 
 With shadows of disaster, 
 
 And voices of confusion 
 
 Proclaimed her hope delusion, 
 
 Robed in his preacher's gown, 
 
 He dared the danger down ; 
 Like some old prophet chanting an inspired rune 
 Through freedom's councils rang the voice of 
 Witherspoon. 
 
 8:
 
 And thou, my country, write it on thy heart, 
 Thy sons are they who nobly take thy part ; 
 "Who dedicates his manhood at thy shrine, 
 Wherever born, is born a son of thine ; 
 Foreign in name, but not in soul, they come 
 To find in thee their long-desired home ; 
 Lovers of liberty and haters of disorder, 
 They shall be built in strength along thy border. 
 Ah, dream not that thy future foes 
 Will all be foreign-born ! 
 Turn thy clear look of scorn 
 Upon the children who oppose 
 Their passions wild and policies of shame 
 To wreck the righteous splendour of thy name. 
 Untaught and overconfident they rise, 
 With folly on their lips and envy in their eyes : 
 Strong to destroy, but powerless to create, 
 And ignorant of all that made our fathers great, 
 Their hands would take away thy golden crown, 
 And shake the pillars of thy freedom down 
 In Anarchy's ocean, dark and desolate. 
 O should that storm descend, 
 What fortress shall defend 
 The land our fathers wrought for, 
 The liberties they fought for ? 
 What bulwark shall secure 
 Her shrines of law, and keep her founts of jus- 
 tice pure ? 
 Then, ah then, 
 As in the olden days, 
 The builders must upraise 
 A rampart of indomitable men. 
 
 82
 
 Once again, 
 
 Dear Mother, if thy heart and hand be true, 
 There will be building work for thee to do ; 
 
 Yea, more than once again, 
 
 Thou shalt win lasting praise, 
 And never-dying honour shall be thine, 
 For setting many stones in that illustrious line, 
 To stand unshaken in the swirling strife, 
 And guard their country's honour as her life.
 
 Softly, my harp, and let me lay the touch 
 Of silence on these rudely clanging strings ; 
 
 For he who sings 
 Even of noble conflicts overmuch, 
 Loses the inward sense of better things ; 
 
 And he who makes a boast 
 Of knowledge, darkens that which counts the 
 
 most, 
 
 The insight of a wise humility 
 That reverently adores what none can see. 
 
 The glory of our life below 
 Comes not from what we do, or what we know, 
 But dwells forevermore in what we are. 
 There is an architecture grander far 
 Than all the fortresses of war, 
 More inextinguishably bright 
 Than learning's lonely towers of light. 
 Framing its walls of faith and hope and love 
 In deathless souls of men, it lifts above 
 The frailty of our earthly home 
 
 An everlasting dome ; 
 The sanctuary of the human host, 
 The living temple of the Holy Ghost.
 
 XI 
 
 If music led the builders long ago, 
 
 When Arthur planned the halls of Camelot, 
 And made the mystic city swiftly grow, 
 Like some strange flower in that forsaken 
 
 spot; 
 
 What sweeter music shall we bring, 
 To weave a harmony divine 
 
 Of prayer and holy thought 
 Into the labours of this loftier shrine, 
 
 This consecrated hill, 
 Where through so many a year 
 Our Mother's faithful hand hath wrought, 
 With toil serene and still, 
 And heavenly hope, to rear 
 The eternal dwelling of the Only King? 
 
 Here let no martial trumpets blow, 
 Nor instruments of pride proclaim 
 The loud exultant notes of fame ! 
 But let the chords be clear and low, 
 And let the anthem deeper grow, 
 And let it move more solemnly and slow, 
 
 Like that which came 
 From angels' lips when first they hymned their 
 
 Maker's name ; 
 For only such an ode 
 Can seal the harmony 
 Of that deep masonry 
 
 Wherein the soul of man is framed for God's 
 abode.
 
 XII 
 
 O Thou whose boundless love bestows 
 The joy of life, the hope of Heaven ; 
 
 Thou whose unchartered mercy flows 
 O'er all the blessings Thou hast given ; 
 
 Thou by whose light alone we see ; 
 
 Thou by whose truth our souls set free 
 
 Are made imperishably strong ; 
 
 Hear Thou the solemn music of our song. 
 
 Grant us the knowledge that we need 
 To solve the questions of the mind ; 
 
 Light Thou our candle while we read, 
 And keep our hearts from going blind ; 
 
 Enlarge our vision to behold 
 
 The wonders Thou hast wrought of old ; 
 
 Reveal thyself in every law, 
 
 And gild the towers of truth with holy awe. 
 
 Be Thou our strength when war's wild gust 
 Rages around us, loud and fierce ; 
 
 Confirm our souls and let our trust 
 Be like a wall that none can pierce ; 
 
 Give us the courage that prevails, 
 
 The steady faith that never fails, 
 
 Help us to stand in every fight 
 
 Firm as a fortress to defend the right. 
 
 86
 
 O God, make of us what Thou wilt ; 
 
 Guide Thou the labour of our hand ; 
 Let all our work be surely built 
 
 As Thou, the architect, hast planned ; 
 But whatsoe'er thy power shall make 
 Of these frail lives, do not forsake 
 Thy dwelling. Let thy presence rest 
 For ever in the temple of our breast.
 
 Printed for Charles Scribner's Sons, at the 
 University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts. 
 
 First Edition, March, 1897 ; Second Edition, 
 September, 1897 ; Third Edition, March, 1898.
 
 This bo/k is DUE on the last 
 : stamped below. 
 
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 10M-1 1-50(2555) 470 
 
 REMINGTON RAND - 2O 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
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 LOS ANGELES
 
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 B86 Builders 
 
 1898 
 
 PS 
 3117 
 
 B86 
 1898