$1 ^aJlads and e. SIdred fyxuW Winivm^ Jibatg THE GIFT OF -€>. (§M^, tike (^^CfiJt^^ A, JLO^^tfl, \2ll!L'±90>r 4534 Cornell University Library PS 3509.L43B2 3 1924 022 384 295 The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022384295 BALLADS AND LYRICS C. ELDRED BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER The Gorham Press 1906 Ml Copyright 1906 by C. Ei,dred All Rights Reserved /\.'2.o77M-i The Gorham Press, Boston CONTENTS And Then Love Came 7 What the Breeze Said 9 The North Wind .... 10 Holidays 13 A Normandy Maid 13 The Coach 15 In the Rose Garden 16 Santiago .... 17 A Morning Galop 20 The Woods of Arden 21 The Lighthouse 30 The Modern Trovhadour 32 Evening 34 An English Cathedral 34 Good Morning 38 The Net . ... 37 A Maiden's First Lover . 38 Mawarah .... 38 The Poet's Land 46 At Her Feet 47 Kilcommon's Daughter 44 The Lark . . ■ ■ 59 At Gordoni's 55 Laura's Tears 56 The Shipwreck 57 Rose-Time 63 His Choice ..... 65 The Soul's Flight 68 Meg Bucclegh 69 The Open Sea .... 73 Young Love 74 The Winds . . . . ■ 75 Kismet .... 76 Nostalgia 78 A Sprig of Rosemary 79 The Players 80 June ..... 86 On the Deep 87 The Picture 90 Dawn . 92 The Prisoner 93 Courtship ... 97 Her Kerchief 101 A Knight of Today . 102 The Charge . 104 Birth of the Flowers 106 The Thames at London 106 At the Window . 108 A Canvas of Israels 108 I Told Her . . . . 111 The Lover's Lane . 112 Some Thoughts of Marcus Aureb us . 114 The Inn . 117 My Ain Countree . 118 The Idler .... . 119 There Came Love . 121 In Maiden Meditation 122 English Songs . 124 BALLADS AND LYRICS AND THEN LOVE CAME 'Twas the Lady Arline sat her maidens among And she heard all the tales they were telling of love, For when a maid's fair, and giddy, and young There's only one word at the end of her tongue ; So they talked, and they sang of nothing but love. Then said Lady ArUne : "What is this strange love, That maidens go sighing for all the day long, That the minstrel is singing fore'er in his song? Is it aught I can hear? Is it aught I can see? And why does this love come never to me ? ' ' And one maiden, she said : " Its a great mystery ! For its never a woman you like in that way, And no woman o'er you could hold such a sway. But a man, the one man, you suddenly meet. And, if he so wish, you'll kneel down at his feet. ' ' And one maiden, she said: "Tis the strangest of strange ! When the man comes to you you will quickly confess Your blood bounds in your veins at his slightest caress. And your soul fades away in the transports of bliss When he touches your Ups with his in a kiss. " And the maidens, all said: "This love's in the heart! And you'll let all the knights go carelessly by Till the one comes along, who entrances your eye: 7 Though you know not wherein he is unhke the rest, Before you're aware he's hid deep in your breast." And the Lady Arline, she laUghed at her maids, Who were endlessly talking and singing of love. And she said : ' ' Let us go and stroll in the glades, And perhaps, when you feel the great charms of the glades. You'll give o'er this talking and singing of love. " So they strolled in the glades at the dying of day. Till they met a young knight, fair of face proud of mien, Who was lost in the woods, and he asked them the way. As he lifted his cap to fair Lady Arline. And his hair it was auburn, tinted with gold. And his teeth were like pearl, and his eyes a deep gray. And he smiled, and he bowed as his story he told. Till the Lady Arline set him straight on his way. Then the Lady Arline watched the young knight depart. And a blush crossed her cheek at a glance from his eyes ; For they seemed to pierce down to her innermost heart, And she bowed her adieu with the faintest of sighs. Then he thanked the fair maid, and he went on hi® way 'Neath the trees, all bedecked with their gar- ments of green ; But as backward his glances happened to stray. His eyes met the eyes of fair Lady Arline. Lovely Lady Arline sat her maidens among. And she heard all the tales they were telling of love; But now she resembled all maids who are young, For, though she sat silent her maidens among, The Lady Arline thought of nothing but love. WHAT THE BREEZE SAID 'Tis the morning breeze sweeps over the lawn ! Do you hear it rustle the grass ? Do you hear it say : "At the coming of day Over the lawn I pass?" Do you hear it say, In its musical way: ' ' Over the lawn I sweep on my way, Over the grass I love to play, Over the dew- wet grass?" 'Tis the morning breeze at your lattice knocks. Oh maid, with the golden hair ! Do you hear it say: " Come loosen your locks Out in the morning air?" Do you hear it say, As it goes on its way : ' ' Come out on the lawn at the breaking of day. Come out on the lawn, sweet lass, and stray ; Somebody may be there?" 'Tis the morning breeze you hear, my lad, As it rustles among the trees ! Do you hear it say : ' ' Come out and be glad, Out on the grassy leas?" Do you hear it say. At the break of day : "Come out on the lawn ! There's a maiden gay You may meet on the lawn as you go on your way, Fanned by the morning breeze?" 'Twas the morning breeze that brought it about. As it blew at the coming of dawn. 'Twas the morning breeze that summoned them out. Out on the velvet lawn. Yet it seems to say : ' ' 'Twas only in play I brought them separately out to stray; But, lo .,'together they go on their way Over the dew-wet lawn!" THE NORTH WIND Why won't the North wind blow, blow, blow? Why won't the North wind blow9 So sang the Captain's wife upon the deck, While motionless above her hung the sail ; But still the deep blue sky showed not a fleck ; But still there came no sign of answering gale ; And there be^^ond gun shot, but still in sight The foeman's ships lay, ready too for fight. Oh blow, thou Northern wind, And fill our drooping sail! 10 Be not unkind Be not unkind, Thou Northern gale, But blow, blow, blow, And sweep us to the foe! She sang again, but though one sweetly sing, One cannot fill with clouds the azure sky. One cannot from the Northern wind-caves bring A breeze that will blow soft, or will blow high ; And so all through the long and breezeless day. Both fleets upon the water quiet lay. Oh wind blow from the North! Oh dreary Northern skies Your gales send forth. Your gales send forth! Let tempests rise! Oh blow, blow, blow, And sweep us to the foe! And thus she sang at dawn, as broke the day, "While still the sail hung idly gainst the mast. While still the rival fleets at anchor lay. While idle morning hours slowly passed Till noon, when first, in gentle puffs, came forth The wished for breeze, straight from the icy North. Now does the North wind blow, blow, blow! Now does the North wind blow! In tones triumphant poured out from her throat Her glad refrain. Then stronger grew the breeze. The ships that had so long seemed but to float. Now danced with life upon the swelling seas ; And then before the North wind ceased to blow, They swiftly bore down on the waiting foe. 11 Oh, blow thou Northern breeze And bear us on our way! Let swelling seas, Let swelling seas, Rise 'neath thy sway Oh blow, blow, blow, And sweep us to the foe! And while she sang, the vessel onward dashed Towards the foe before the North wind's blast, And cannon balls through wooden ramparts crashed, And bullets from the yards rained thick and fast, And blood poured forth, and dying seaman fell With requiem of pealing shot and shell. Cease, cease, thou Northern wind! Here let our vessel stay! Calm, calm the seas, Smooth down the seas, Lest far away You blow, blow, blow Our vessel from the foe! Hid 'neath the deck she trembled, full of doubt Of what might hap in battle thus begun. Until the sailors' wild triumphant shout Told her their ship the victory had won : And then they brought below her husband, dead. And in low tones, she sang while tears she shed : Oh, why did the North wind blow, blow, blow! ' Oh, why did the North^wind blow! 12 HOLIDAYS Oh, all our days were holidays, And life an endless bliss, When hand in hand, my sweet and I — Love beaming from her tender eye. And lighting up her face — Went strolling through the country ways, Or idling in the chace. With here a fond and loving kiss. And there a soft embrace. And so we strolled through country ways As if all life was play. A glance to us love's joys could teach : Two clasping hands said more than speech : Words would have been amiss. Oh, all our days were holidays. And life was full of bliss. When we went strolling on our way With here and there a kiss. A NORMANDY MAID 'Twas a Normandy maid with nut-brown hair. And eyes as blue as the sky And she tossed her head high up the air, Just as her lad went by. Ah, my! Isn't it sad when a maiden fair Tosses her head high up in the air Just as her lad goes by? 13 And her lad went on with a deep drawn sigh To his work on the tossing sea ; And she watched him go from the tail of her eye, But never a word said she. Ah, me ! Isn't it sad when a lad goes by, And a lass only looks from the tail of her eye When he goes on a stormy sea? And it blew all day and it blew all night, And it rained relentlessly, And the fishermen's fleet was lost to sight On the breast of the angry sea. Ah, me! But it's sad when the boats are lost to sight. All through a day and all through a night. Out on an angry sea. And the lass, all the mom, roamed over the sands Till the fleet came in from the sea. And she heartily pressed her living lad's hands. And his lips she kissed joyously. Ah, me! 'Tis better to clasp a living lad's hands Than to see his dead body thrown up on the sands By a cruel and angry sea. u THB COACH Come, coachman, mount upon the box. And gather up the reins ! Each nag is eager for the start. And at his tether strains. So bid your rear-guard blow his horn. And snap your lengthy lash. And let the steeds, you hold in hand. Forth from the inn's yard dash. The horn is blown, the whip is snapped, the steeds are on their way, And sitting by the coachman's side, we feel the coach's sway! Yo ho ! Yo ho ! Yo ho ! Swiftly the gallant horses go ! Yo ho ! Yo ho ! Over the roads we go on our way, Over the roads and far away ! Yoho! Yoho! Now touch that rear horse with the lash! Don't let that leader lag! Get every ounce of pull you can Out of each straining nag. Just fleck that off horse in the front Till he pulls taut the trace, And snap your whip across the team ! Why, there's a better pace. Aiid now we go, and now we fly along the level road. Put up your whip! The gallant steeds no longer need a goad ! Yo ho ! Yo ho ! Yo ho ! Swiftly the eager horses go ! Yo ho ! Yo ho ! 15 Over the roads we go on our way, Over the roads and far away. Yo ho ! Yo ho ! IN THE ROSE GARDEN My love strolled at my side — the month was June — Beside the lake, on which we'd idly sailed. While in the West the daylight slowly paled, And in the East just showed the risin_g moon. We reached the garden, full of flowers fair Of many kinds with dews of even wet. Though long I live, ah, ne'er shall I forget How full of fragrance was the ev'ning air. I oped the gate. My love and I went in. It was the rose's home. On ev'ry side The beauteous rose with other flowers vied. In such a strife the rose must always win. And while we strolled the narrow paths along, I plucked a white rose here, a red rose there, I slowly gathered flowers ev'rywhere; And as I culled my thoughts turned into song. See where the lovely roses bloom, The roses in the garden fair! Gather them ere they meet their dooni, While still their perfume fills the air! Gather the roses white as snow, The roses red as ev'ning's sky! See where the new horn flowers blow! See where the old ones fade and die! 16 And then I gave my love the rare bouquet I'd plucked while strolling where the roses dwell : And, as night's shades enshrouded slow the dell, We left the garden fair and went our way. She took a rose, — 'twas almost fair as she — A perfect rose with leaves, as deeply red As if some wounded heart had on thetn bled, And touched it to her lips, and gave it me. SANTIAGO 1898 Just as swift as they could go to Santiago bay The Spanish ships had scurried to seek a safe retreat. And there for many a day. With furnaces unlighted, those Spanish vessels lay While the Yankee fleet, PuflBng steam from ev'ry boiler and smoke from ev'ry stack, In stately array. Sailed forward and back, and forward and back. Outside the bay. Not so safe was this retreat Into which the Spanish ships so eagerly had sailed. For, although the Yankee fleet To get to Santiago for a month or so had failed. Yet an army brought from Yankee land, kept stretching round that town. 17 And cannon, brought from Yankee land, from the heights would soon look down : So that harbor to those Spanish ships for safety thither brought With dangers grave was fraught, And 'twas plain to ev'ryone One of two things must be done. Keep the vessels in the bay and presently be caught. Or light the furnaces and run. So they chose the bolder way, The captains of those Spanish ships in Santiago bay. Lit the fires in their furnaces, and sallied forth to meet The watching Yankee fleet In the early morning hours of a July Sabbath day, Sallied forth upon the ocean wide. With guns shotted for a fight, With steam ready for a flight, To face the Yankee squadron waiting eagerly outside. Who can say, when all is done. Whether better 'twas to stand and fight or better 'twas to run? Little wonder then the Spaniards, when their ships had left the bay. Firing now and then a gun. Swiftly steamed along the shore. With the Colon to the fore, Thinking, in a running fight. There would come a chance for flight. And the swiftest of the Spanish ships, perchance might get away. 18 Get away ! Why ev'ry Jack on board That Yankee fleet had been longing for that day. Get away ! Why those Spanish ships had scarcely poked their noses from the bay When ev'ry cannon roared On ev'ry Yankee ship, that outside the harbor lay ; And battleship, and cruiser, and gun boat joined the fray. And little Yankee yachts at the Spaniards banged away Till a perfect rain of shot, Till a frightful storm of shell, Seeking each uncovered spot. On these Spanish vessels fell. Nothing made by human hand Could that battering withstand. Little wonder then those Spanish ships, some with flames were soon alight. Some, with engines rendered worthless, were halted in their flight. Some, with magazines exploded, could neither run nor fight; Little wonder in this plight. That the Spaniards turned the noses of their vessels to the land. And, while the hissing shells through their broken armor tore. Upon the rocky strand Ran their battered ships ashore. 19 Get away ! Well, there's only this to say : When the rain of shot was o'er, When that storm of shell was done, Ev'ry vessel of that Spanish fleet lay wrecked upon the shore, And the victory was won. A MORNING GALLOP Then mount your steeds, my comrades. Then mount your steeds this morn, And gallop o'er the springy turf Before the day is bom ! And gallop, gallop, gallop Toward the coming day. That glimmers in the Eastern sky As we go on our way ! Fly o'er the road! Don't spare the goad ! The East will glow. As swift we go Over the hills and far away. Over the hills and far away. So gallop, gallop, gallop While scarcely yet 'tis mom ! So gallop, gallop, gallop Before the day is born ! And give the sun good morrow, As he climbs up the sky ! Give morrow to the startled deer. That through the forest fly ! 20 And gallop, gallop, gallop ! Our nags enjoy the play Of galloping along the road Before it yet is day. The road is clear. The day is near. Red grows the sky As swift we fly Over the hills and far away. Over the hills and far away ! So gallop, gallop, gallop Beneath the rosy sky ! So gallop, gallop, gallop Before the sun mounts high ! THK WOODS OF ARDEN Oh, the lovely woods of Arden, The far-away woods of Arden Nobody knows How the traveler goes To the far-away woods of Arden. In the lovely woods of Arden There was merriment all day. When the prince returned from roaming To the folk, who owned his sway. Merry maids and lads were dancing. And the music was entrancing In the lovely woods of Arden. 21 upon a mom in early summer time, When all the roses fair were in their prime, Prince John returned from roaming o'er the earth To lovely Arden's wood, his place of birth. The lark was singing of the day new born. The air the freshness had that comes with morn, The Eastern sky, still roseate in hue. Was swiftly fading into heaven's blue. The outspread hmbs, in summer's green arrayed, Stretched from the trees and furnished grateful shade. The grass, not yet by fiery sun-beams browned. Spread like an em' raid carpet on the ground. And 'neath the trees, and in each shady glade. His people on that lovely morning strayed. In the lovely woods of Arden, Upon that summer day, 'Neatli the trees, still decked with dew-drops. All the people were at play. When the prince returned from straying All his people went a- Maying In the lovely woods of Arden. From Arden he had sailed to foreign strands A twelvemonth since, had roamed in foreign lands. And sought on ev'ry hand the strange and new. Our fairy mothers give content to few: And we — in youth especially — are prone To fly from home, to seek what is unknown ; But soon there comes to us a fierce desire, Howe'er the foreign scenes we may admire. To hasten home to seek what is well known. And well beloved because it is our own. And so the prince, grown eager for the old. Came quickly back unto his native wold. 22 And so his people, on that summer day, Gave him sweet welcome in their merry way. In the lovely woods of Arden There was music ev'rywhere; For the folk sang 'neath the branches And the birds sang in the air ; And the tunes of both were olden. Unto art or not beholden, In the lovely woods of Arden. And then his people strove — for youth and age Vied with each other on that mimic stage — To please their errant prince with simple plays. That brought back to his mind their rustic ways. No gaudy trappings there to witch the eye : The turf their stage, their canopy the sky. Their exits and their entrances were made Between the trees, that formed the forest glade. The younger folk, the lover and his lass, Lounged in their seats upon the verdant grass : The elder sat beneath the play-house roof. The leafy branches that hung up aloof. When man at first to picture life essayed No doubt his play-house was some grassy glade. In the lovely woods of Arden, In a green and shady glade, All the folk to please their monarch In their rustic manner played : And their speech was void of ranting, And their songs were quite enchanting In the lovely woods of Arden. And first the chorus came, and young and old In song the loveliness of Arden told : 23 Oh, the lovely woods of Arden, The far away woods of Arden! Ev'ry woodlander knows Where the violet blows In the far away woods of Arden. Breezes blow in Arden' s woods, Soft and gentle breezes blow; Flowers grow in Arden' s woods. Fair and beauteous flowers grow; Rivers flow in Arden's woods. Clear and rippling rivers flow; Sunbeams glow in Arden's woods, Bright and flashing sunbeams glow; Breezes blow. Flowers grow. Rivers flow. Sunbeams glow In Arden's woods. Oh the lovely woods of Arden, The far away woods of Arden! All the denizens know Where the rivulets flow In the far away woods of Arden. With crook in hand, in flowing tunic clad, Upon the scene there stepped a shepherd lad, While from the trees a dainty shepherdess Moved on the stage, garbed in a simple dress ; Plain country folk were they devoid of arts, And thus the lad and maiden played their parts Strephon Phyllis, I love ! Phyllis So often vows a swain. 24 Strephon Phyllis Strephon Phyllis Strephon Phyllis Strephon He loves. Ah, yes; but soon he'll love again; For man is fickle far more oft than true. Believe not that of me. I love but you. Aye, till- Nay, nay! I'll love you dear till death. You'll love till death? Until my latest breath. Believe me, dear, when thus my heart I ope, And give your loving shepherd swain some hope. Some hope to Strephon. Look thou in my eyes. Can you see hope for Strephon in them rise? Laughing eyes of violet hue Seem so true. That no lover can believe They'll deceive; For those eyes of violet hue Must he true, Yes, those eyes of violet hue Must he true. Phyllis Sometimes eyes of deepest blue Are untrue. Sometimes maidens make believe. And deceive. Sometimes hearts make a m.istake, And they break. 25 Sometimes bright eyes go astray, Turn away. StrEphon Ah, your eyes have turned away. Gone astray. And no longer can I see Turned on me Those bright eyes that can me sway. Ah, I pray That those eyes, thus turned away Will not stray! Phyllis, I love ! Phyllis Love whom? STrEphon Love only you. Phyllis To one maid constant? StrEphon Aye, to one maid true. Phyllis Strephon, I love ! Strephon Love whom? Phyllis Look in my eye ! Strephon Oh, Phyllis, can the one you love be I ? Phyllis, I love, and ever I'll be true. Phyllis Strephon, I love, and I love only you. Strephon home hovers round and flits away. Love conies to us, hut will he stay? I fear, I fear that love will stray, That he will go away. For love is of the flitting kind; Yes, love is of the flitting kind. And changes oft his mind. Phyllis Yet, when he nestles in a heart. Of it at once he is a part. If it is true he'll not depart. 26 Ah, he will not depart! For love has seldom been unkind; Aye, love has seldom been unkind; He's far too often blind. In the lovely woods of Arden, All upon a summer day, The shepherd and the maiden Frolicked in their rustic play ; And the maid was only teasing, For the lad to her was pleasing In the lovely woods of Arden. And then a maid with hair of golden hue, And dainty face, and eyes of azure blue In soft, sweet tones, with only girlish art, Gave voice unto the music of the heart. Into our world of strife, Into each busy life. Love, ever fresh and fair. Love, with its fancies rare. Comes dancing. Oh, sing me the song of the heart! The life blood swiftly flows. In pearly cheek it glows. Out of fair eyes it gleams, From, manly eyes it beams. Glows it in ruby lips. Thrills it fair finger-tips. Oh, 'tis love that made the blood dart! Oh, love is the song of the heart! Into our world of woe. Into all life below, 27 Love, either hold or coy, Love, that's without alloy, Comes gliding. In the lovely woods of Arden Sang the maid her dainty song, Sang of love quite new, yet olden. And for which all mortals long; And the birds kept up their singing, While the maiden's notes were ringing. In the lovely woods of Arden. The two extremes, trim youth and wrinkled age, Moved side by side upon the mimic stage. The lad stepped back, and for the sire made way. As was the custom in that ancient day. The old man sang, not true in time or note. For tunes sound harshly from a well-worn throat. I'm a jolly, old fellow of three-score and ten. And in Arden, there be a-many like me, A-m,any old fellows of three-score and ten, Who in all that I say will gladly agree. Because they are three-score and ten. Oh, we've had jolly tim,es in the days that are past. When the feast was superb, and the liquor flowed fast, When the lasses were fair, and their kisses were sweet. And we danced on the turf with the nimblest of feet. And the tunes! What on earth is there now can com- pare With the heart-touching tones of some dainty old air? 28 I'm a jolly old chap and I speak for the rest. And in Arden there he a-many like me, Who believe that the days that are gone were the best; Old fellows they are, and with me they agree That the days that are gone were the best. At once, with smiling face, the young lad sang. And like some organ grand his clear notes rang. Give me the joys of the days to come, Of the days that are not yet born! Give me the glorious shining sun. That will rise on the morrow's morn! Give me the lass, that I'm yet to meet, The fortune I'll surely make Give m,e the dreams, that fill m-y mind In the m-orning before I wake! The past is dead: go bury the past. In the present we merely live. And the thought that fills my brain, is still. What will the future give? Give me the joys of the days to come! Let the dead past bury its dead! Give me the gifts the future days Will shower upon my head! In the lovely woods of Arden Sang the youth and aged man. But old age and youth have differed Ever since the world began ; While old eyes are backward turning, For the future youth is yearning. In the lovely woods of Arden. 29 And so his people on that summer day, Amused their monarch in their rustic way, With song and dance, and jest and mimic play Until the sun had cast his latest ray. Oh the lovely woods of Arden, The far-away woods of Arden! We'd all hasten now. If we only knew how, To the far-away woods of Arden. THE LIGHTHOUSE 'Twas a hght on the coast, that shone through the mirk of the night. And the man at the helm whirled the wheel a bit to the right, For the channel was none too deep, and none too wide. When a ship tried to creep to the bay on the slack of the tide. But the man at the helm could see the rocks on the right. And the shoal on the left in the glare of the beacon's light. And he held the ship with a firm and steady hand, As she crept 'tween the up-reared rocks and the shelving land. And then the light went out like a candle that's quenched. And the fog settled down so thick that the man was drenched As he stood at the helm, as if he'd been dipped in the sea, And he heard the breakers pound on the rocks on the lee. 30 Boom ! He could hear the sea as it leaped in its might, And surged on the shoal, and beat on the rocks on the right, And he whirled his wheel, and peered in the fog for the light. But the glare and the tower were lost in the mirk of the night. Boom! And he turned the wheel just a spoke or two; While to masts and spars, and ropes clung the vessel's crew. And prayed as they heard the noise, that came from the shocks Of the seas, which rose and battered upon the rocks. And then, like a flash from a gun, outsprang the light. And the fog lifted up, and broke to the left and the right. And the rocks showed grim and black, and the breakers like snow On their crests, with a sea of inky blackness below. Two sprang to the wheel, and the three held the ship on her way In the channel, that ran 'tween the rocks and the shoal to the bay. And the flame in the light-house tower shone clear and bright, As they held the ship in her path in the mirk of the night. 31 And the breeze held true, and, just at the turn of the tide, They dropped their kedge in the bay, where a fleet could ride ; But they heard, as they lay in their berths, the sullen roar Of the sea, as it battered upon the rocky shore. THE MODERN TROUBADOUR Merely peeping was the early morning sim Just above the rosy edges of the earth, And the birdlings had not even yet begun The songs with which they welcome morning's birth, When the youthful troubadour, with heart swell- ing in his breast, 'Neath the window of the room, where his lady- love found rest. Touched the strings of his guitar in the freshness of the day. And, his lady-love to greet, Sang, in accents strong and sweet. His morning lay. Awake! Awake! While still the sun hangs in the Eastern sky, While still the gloomy clouds of night swift fly, Oh, wake, my dainty love awake! While still in Eastern cloud-land warmly glows The light of morn, red as the ripened rose, Awake! Awake! Oh, wake, my dainty love, awake! And greet the sun, while in the East he shows. 32 Awake! Awake! Ere yet the coming day is fully born, While still the air the freshness has of morn, Oh, wake, m.y dainty love, awake! While birds are singing on the quiv'ring trees. While glittering dew-drops sparkle on the leas. Awake! Awake! Oh, wake, my dainty love, awake! While earth is still cooled by the morning breeze. Oh, the world has grown prosaic in this age, And for dainty song all love has passed away, For the people left their couches in a rage At being roused so early in the day, And the chickens sharply crowed, ^and the horses loudly neighed. And the porkers grunted low, and the watch- dogs hoarsely bayed. And the donkey, in the bam, joined the chorus with a bray, But his lady, fair and true. Slumbered peacefully all through His morning lay. 33 EVENING The East grows dark as slowly comes the twi- light, The vault of heaven shows a deeper blue, While still the sun keeps all the Western sky light With lustrous beams of red and golden hue. Seewhere the West is filled with ev'nings splendor, See where the sky is turned to liquid gold. See where the clouds, now massive and now slender. Seem purple hillocks on each other rolled ! Slow pale the clouds, so late with bright gold glowing; Their silver linings slowly fade away. While ever darker all the East keeps growing, Till night, in sable folds, enwraps the day. AN ENGLISH CATHEDRAE I sat beneath the minster's lofty vault, While priest and acolyte moved slowly by. And sang the solemn slow recessional. The scanty worshippers passed out the porch : Yet still I sat, as footsteps died away. And daylight faded fast, and twiUght came, Till ev'ry high raised arch was lost to sight, And nave and choir whelmed in ev'ning's gloom. And then as if some strange magician's wand Had swept at once ten centuries away, The grand cathedral was with light aglow. 34 The rays of morn flamed through the painted panes Until the stories, told in colored glass, Stood out so clear that he might read who ran. The pillars, with their lofty fluted shafts. And crowns of carven, Gothic capitals, The arches, rich with dainty tracery. The vault that soared toward the far off sky. As if it spurned its tall upholding piers. All glowed beneath the brilliant light of day, That poured its golden beams through rosy glass. The minster's door oped wide, and from its tower The matin bell rang out in solemn tones. The near-by abbey's iron gates swept back. And, through the portals wide, a thousand monks With tonsured heads, black-robed and sandal shod. Poured forth a throng almost tumultuous. Who, slowly streaming through the minster's doors. Filled all the aisles of transept and of nave. And stood in attitude of reverence. And while the waiting monks stood silently Before the altar, lit by waxen lights. That dimly shone, dulled by the glare of day. The priest, with many bendings to the shrine, Read slowly in his solemn tones the mass Unto the ending, Ite Missa est. And, as he thus dismissed the pious throng. The thousand monks, each bowing low his head In heartfelt reverence before the shrine. Enriched with tracery of yellow gold, And precious stones, and deftly polished wood, 35 And pictures glowing in the morning light, Towards the door moved solemnly and slow. The softly stepping verger touched my arm. I started like a sleeper, sudden roused From dreams that vex the watches of the night. I quickly gazed around with peering eyes. It still was eve. The aisles were wrapped in gloom : And, through their lengths, tall phantom pillars rose. That softly faded in a phantom roof. I rose, and, with slow step and bended head, Moved through the porch and sought the outer close. 36 GOOD MORNING There'd been terrible storms of rain and snow, When only the Kast wind seemed to blow, When the clouds o'er the earth hung dense and low. And the heavens with sunlight were never aglow ; But there came a beautiful dawning, When the East assumed a rosy hue, And the upper sky became deep blue. And the fleece like clouds to the West swift flew, And the glorious sun came into view, And I said to the sun. Good morning ! Good morn, I said. Oh hght of day ! Good mom, I said, And in that way Oh I said to the sun, good morning ! As I gazed at the sky on that beautiful mom. As I drank in the freshness of day new bom, And thought of the look the sky had worn When the earth by tempest and storms was torn. Then I welcomed that beautiful dawning. When the sun rose up in his glorious might. When the heavens above were clear and bright. When fast fled away the clouds of night Before that delightful morn's clear light And I said to the sun, good morning ! Good mom, I said, Oh Hght of day! Good mom, I said. And in that way Oh I said to the sun,good morning ! 37 THE NET Weave me a net ! Weave it with meshes strong, For love may fret, And Love may long Far from my grasp to speed Leaving my heart to bleed I Weave me a net ! Weave it with meshes wide. For Love does fret. And will not bide ! Why should I bid him stay. If he would fly away? Weave me no net ! Meshes are prison walls. If Love will fret. Though my heart calls. Let him swift fly away ! I will not bid him stay. A MAIDEN'S FIRST LOVER He's as fair as a rose, A maiden's first lover. For that youth she'll disclose. The love a maid shows. When there comes a first lover ; And so swiftly love grows That, long ere she knows What he's like she'll discover He's as fair as a rose, A maiden's first lover. 38 MAWARAH I Where flows the stately Hudson swiftly onward to the sea, Where rear the Palisades their fronts in solemn majesty, Where stood, unbroken, groups of trees, of oak, of fir, of pine. Where twined around the oak's gnarled trunk the ivy or the vine. Where, in the grass-clad forest glades, gamboled the russet deer, Where, in the river, poured the brooks their waters bright and clear. Where, in the caverns of the hills, the wild beast made his lair, There roamed the native Indian, free as the am- bient air. II And on a day before the trees had felt the white man's axe. Before the virgin field had bom or wheat, or corn, or flax, l/ong ere the forest's glades had been turned into village sites, Before the skies had ever glowed with furnaces' red lights, The Indian braves, with stately steps, moved to the council fire, And sat in solemn conclave there, young chief and aged sire : 39 The Indian women, from the tents, gazed on the painted braves With timid looks, as on their lord oft gaze some cringing slaves. Ill The chiefs had sat around the fire as silent as the grave. The lighted pipe, without a word, had passed from brave to brave, Had passed around the council fire, from aged chief to young, And from the pipe — ^its fires dead — the ashes had been flung, When from his seat, with solemn mien, the oldest chief uprose. '"Tis not," he said, "to talk about some crime done by our foes, 'Tis not to seek revenge for wrongs we never can forget, 'Tis not to aid a friendly tribe this council here has met." IV "Our greatest chief, who held us all beneath his gentle sway, And whom we loved for many years, last autumn passed away. He left one child, Mawarah named, a daughter young and fair. Commended by his dying words unto our tribal care. Mawarah' s grown to womanhood and should be fitly wed, 40 But she's refused to choose a youth, among our warriors bred, And so this council has been called a remedy to seek. Has any chief advice to give? If so, then let him speak." V No chief rose from the council fire, no chief the silence broke. Until in solemn earnest tones again the old man spoke. "This girl, Mawarah, has no sire: the tribe must take his place. And mate her with some gallant brave, fit for the war and chase. She will not choose among the braves, who wish with her to wed. And, since she will not choose herself, let fate choose one instead. She's fleeter than the bounding deer. Let her then lead the chase, And give her to the speedy brave, who'll pass her in the race." VI They brought Mawarah from the tents unto the council fire. She was in truth, a maiden fair the braves might well admire. As fit as Atalanta seemed this maiden for the race. Fair face and lissome limbs she had, and form of matchless grace. 41 ' ' Now list, Mawarah, " said the chief, ' "this coun- cil has decreed That you shall wed the Indian brave, who'll vie with you in speed. And let those youths, among our tribe, rise from the council fire. Who'll run to win Mawarah's hand, who still this maid desire." VII A dozen youths sprang to their feet, all eager for the race. A smile, that augured ill for them, lit up Mawarah's face. The chieftain spoke: "A rocky cliff stands high above the tide Five miles away. The one first there shall win her for his bride. 'Tis fit the maid should lead a space before the warriors start. Go, girl! — And now, ye youths, pursue! Quick, quick, ye braves depart!" Mawarah bounded like a deer; the dozen braves out-sprang; And, as they sped across the grass, the Indian maidens sang: Unto the cliff, 'Neath which swift flows the river, Mawarah flies. Ye braves, who prize Her sparkling eyes. Pursue! Pursue! Unto the cliff, 42 'Neath which swift flows the river, Pursue! Pursue! Now 'tis a maid ye chase. See how Mawarah flies! Fleet foot shall win the race, Stout heart shall gain the prize. Unto him, who wins, Mawarah! Unto him,, who wins, Mawarah! VIII Like hunted doe Mawarah ran, straight towards the PaUsades. The youth pursued her through the woods and 'cross the forest glades. The men and maidens of the tribe came after at a pace, That left them'soon far out of sight and hearing of the chase. And still Mawarah led the way beneath the forest trees, More like a child, who runs in sport, than like a maid who flees. Till suddenly one of the braves, more speedy than the rest. Sprang from the band of running youths, and hard the maiden pressed. IX A fog had risen from the stream high up above the cliff. That here and there the wind swift whirled with every slightest whiff. Mawarah looking backward oft, the youth forging ahead. 43 Wrapped in the fog no notice took of where they swiftly sped, Knew not that they had left behind the forest's verdant glades, Knew not that they had reached the spot where rise the Palisades. He swifter ran, but, as he clasped the maid in his embrace, The pair went o'er the tow'ring cliff. He'd won and lost the race. The men and maidens of the tribe, who came at slower pace. At length approached the Palisades, where ceased the fatal race. The Northern wind, grown fresh, had swept the blinding fog away. And bared the cruel rocks beneath on which, in silence lay The victor and the Indian maid breast pressed to breast, and dead. The fog had been the wedding veil, the rocks the wedding bed. Then suddenly from ev'ry throat the cry of woe outrang, And soft the requiem of the dead the Indian maidens sang: Dead 'neath the cliff. Where calmly flows the river, Mawarah lies; The chief likewise Has closed his eyes 44 Fore'er, fore'er, Beneath the cliff, Where calmly flows the river Fore'er! fore'er! Now, she who lost the chase. In death has closed her eyes. He lost, who won the race: Death stole away the prize From him, who won Mawarah! From him who won Mawarah! THE POET'S LAND Oh, will you board my caravel, And seek the land where poets dwell? My boat is made to cleave the air, But only when the wind is fair; And if you'll take the trip I've planned. She'll bear you to the poet's land. ;| Where is this poet's land? you say. Where are the signs that point the way? It's in the sky. Ah, who knows where? I steer by guess my airship there ; But, if you'll come, you soon will stand Half way 'tween earth and fairy-land. Sit in the stem. Now ofE we go. How soft the fragrant breezes blow. List, while the lark goes singing by ! List, while his song floats through the sky, And guides us to that distant strand Half way 'tween earth and fairy-land ! These skies — ah yes — they're always blue. The moon has e'er a silvery hue. 45 There's fragrance in each breeze that blows Each rippHng streamlet softly flows. And in this land, high in the air, There's naught that is not sweet and fair. The leaves are ever spotless green; The waters have a silvery sheen : The roses bloom the whole year round : There's music here in ev'ry sound: The nightingale above us floats. And reckless sings his dulcet notes. Let's anchor here our caravel. Let's ramble in this dainty dell. Let's roam across this meadow sweet. Where daisies crowd around our feet. Let's pluck the flowers, sweet and rare. That fill the gardens ev'rywhere. What do they call this lovely dell? Why it's the spot where poets dwell. It's high up in the upper air: No mortal being knows just where : Once there howe'er we know we stand Half-way 'tween earth and fairy-land. AT HER FEET Is thy heart mine, my dear? Soft in my list'ning ear I hear it beat. See at thy feet I kneel ! Ah, all your thoughts reveal ! How shall I pray to thee? What shall I say to thee Here at thy feet? 46 Deep in thy eyes, dark brown— Ah, softly cast them down ! — Let me read, Love, What we'll scarce turn to words. What we'll scarce tell the birds ! Do I ask aught of thee? Nay I ask naught of thee Except thy love. From thy lips, crimson-dyed, Soft let thy whisper glide, Only a breath ! Let it tell all I crave ! Ah the heart, that I gave. Shall I recall from thee ? Nay, I ask all from thee. Love unto death. KILCOMMON'S DAUGHTER Oh, the fairest of maids in all the broad land Was the laird of Kilcommon's daughter : And some knight or peer. Prom far land ot near, To her home came daily to court her : And of course the idea got into her head, 'Twas a very good thing for a maiden to wed. But she wouldn't be wooed like a mere country maid, For she was Kilcommon's daughter. She resolved she would live Unwedded, or give Unto ev'ry wooer, who sought her. Some riddles, that long had lain hid in her mind, Some queries to which he answers should find. 47 So she sent out her heralds North and South, And she bade them set forth, by word of mouth, That the knight, who could guess her riddles three, And answer her questions foiur Could the husband of Mary Kilcommon be, And her demesnes rule o'er ; And she sent out out her heralds East and West, And she gave them exactly the same behest. Of course many knights and squires essayed To marry Kilcommon' s daughter : But, as none touched her heart. She let them depart With the silly replies they brought her To the woods, and the wilds, where they dolefully strayed, And watched from afar the hard-hearted maid. But it hap'd that there came, one fine summer's day To the laird of Kilcommon's daughter, A knight, tall and proud, Who solemnly vowed That he'd come from afar to court her. And he seemed to the maid so charming that she Sadly offered this knight her quaint riddles three. So she said to the youth : ' ' My troth I will plight, If the riddles I offer to you, Sir ICnight, You can properly guess for me, And if answers you find to the strange questions four. You will soon have a chance to cogitate o'er, With pleasure your spouse I'll be. 48 Now here are the riddles I offer to you : If the questions are old make the answers seem new. " "Suppose a man should be incUned To seek for wealth on high, Where could that eager mortal find A fortune in the sky? ' 'When making of this world was done, When earth from chaos burst, Which of the twain, the moon or sun. Lit up this planet first? "The bishop's in his palace grand. The sailor's on the sea; They're far apart, yet theres a taste Wherein the two agree." The knight said to the maid : " I will win your fair hand. I will rule as your spouse over Kilcommon's land. For I'll guess your riddles three. I can see that the knights who to solve them essayed, Knew not that your riddles mere trifling displayed, And so they were left for me. Now here are the guesses I offer to you. Just see if the answers I tender are true. " ' ' If mortal in the heavens high Should try great wealth to find. Of course he'd seek in ev'ning's sky A cloud with silver Uned. 49 "The moon was rolling on its way, When first this Earth was bom ; For Holy Writ states Earth's first day Was made of eve and morn. ' ' Herein the prelate and the tar Seem much alike to me ; The sailor loves the ocean, and The bishop loves the see. " Overwhelmed with delight, overcome by surprise Was the laird of Kilcommon's daughter; And she quickly confessed That her jests could be guessed, As this knight so quickly had taught her ; And she felt more at ease, when she tried him once more By stating to him her odd questions four. So she said to the youth: "I acknowledge, Sir Knight, You have answergd my riddles, and answered aright, But now there is something more : For here are some queries I offer to you, And you must find answers, both clever and true, To each of these questions four. Now list to my words, and I'll frankly confess That I hope most sincerely my queries you'll guess." ' ' What beast might have in ancient day, When grew the heavens dark. And floods swept all the land away. Been saved without the Ark? 50 "Now look around, on ev'ry hand, With sharp and cunning eyes. And say what statesman in this land Will always win the prize. "Than pinnacle and minaret. And spire that seems to try Afar above the Earth to get. What is there that's more high? "What one is there of all mankind, Who live, have lived, or died, Who, being not the least bit blind. Could never look cross-eyed?" The youth laughed as he said : "You will maid be no more. I have true answers found to your strange ques- tions four, As I did to your riddles three. Now list while your queries I answer aright. And, when I have finished, your troth you must plight This thrjce happy day with me ; For you promised in wedlock with me you'd be bound, If to all your conundrums true answers I found. " "When o'er the Earth the deluge swept The dog, without the Ark, Could have his life in safety kept. Because he'd his own bark. "Whene'er success a mortal buys His cash he must disburse : 51 So he is sure to win the prize, Who has the longest purse. "No pinnacle so high can be As with the clouds to vie: Above all towers we can see The bright, and clear blue sky. ' ' Old Polyphemus from his birth Had one eye till he died : And he, of all men on the Karth, Could never look cross-eyed. " Then she looked in the eyes of the knight, who aspired To the hand of Kilcommon's daughter, And she laughed merrily. While she said, mid her glee, To the knight who had come to court her : "You alone guessed the thoughts that lay hid in my head, You alone are the knight with whom I will wed. " So she sent out her heralds North and South, And she bade them set forth, by word of mouth. That a wooer had guessed her riddles three. And answered her questions four. That he would the spouse of Kilcommon be, And her demesnes rule o'er : And she sent out her heralds East and West, And she gave them exactly the same behest. 52 THE LARK Oh the lark was awake, sitting close in the grass, Near the stream that flowed by like a river of glass As it moved slow and smooth 'neath the shim- mering light Of the dawn, lingering long in the bosom of night. And the phantoms of trees softly swayed on the hill, And the ghosts of the bushes bowed over the rill 'Neath the breeze of the morn, as it swept on its way, And whispered to nature the coming of day. Then the sun lit the East with a glory of red. And the tints of the rose to the upper sky spread. While the lark upsprang and soared on high And sang as it flew far up in the sky : "Good morning! Good mom! Good mom!" AT GORDONI'S If you've been in Rome this decade. And you have a taste for ices. You must surely know Gordoni's, And — ah yes, — his frightful prices. It's of course upon the Corso, and on ev'ry side surrounded By the magazins, that, for many years, in the Corso have abounded. So when ladies go a-shopping Or for muslins, or for laces, Through the windows of Gordoni's You can see their pretty faces : 53 For somehow the strain of shopping — women have no petty vices — Is relieved — or women say so — only by Gordoni's ices. Many men, when fagged by business And its hurry and its hustle, Find a solace in tobacco In some place, that's free from bustle : Yet, when weary of conversing of the markets and the prices. Some intrude upon Gordoni's, and — of course they go for ices. Men and women there's the total Of the human aggregation. Some are bom quite near the purple. Some have neither rank nor station ; But all go, on foot, behind a span, or with a mo- dest pony To that shop upon the Corso just to patronize Gordoni. So I sat once at the window, And I watched the people straying Up and down Humberto's Corso, And I shocked the guests by saying : "What a dainty, lovely creature flicks her whip across those ponies ! And, by Jove, the driver's coming to get ices at Gordoni's." She was pretty as a picture, Made by Greuze or by Murillo. Dark, you know ; eyes full of passion ; 54 Graceful as a swaying willow, As she swept across Gordoni's shop, and sat down at my table. And why she sat, and why she smiled I would tell, but I'm not able. It began about her lorgnettes, Which had got into a tangle. I had soon the chain untwisted, So the toy would deftly dangle. When she did not hold it to her eyes to read the list of prices And varieties, which could be had, among Gor- doni's ices. Then we chatted very gayly. As we slowly ate our ices. Oh, I would have sipped a dozen. But, alas, one ice suffices ! And my heart was slipping fast away that morn- ing at Gordoni's, When she rose in haste, remarking: "There's my husband with my ponies." I confess I was astounded. When I saw her lovely ponies And the man, who drove and halted At the curb before Gordoni's. He was old, and small, and grizzled. Well, to curse him seems a duty, When an ugly old curmudgeon gets married to a beauty. Oh, the might have beens that meet us. And that with our day dreams mingle ! 55 I might easily have wed her, If she only had been single. And now there is not any hope that I that dame can cherish, Unless that husband, old and gray, obligingly will perish. I've sought her on the Pincio, Where the Roman band plays neatly, At the play house, and the opera, But I've lost that dame completely, For I've never seen that lady since, or her husband or her ponies. Although ev'ryAvhere I've looked for her, and even at Gordoni's. LAURA'S TEARS Why should I mourn when Laura cries? Her tears but clear those lovely eyes. Which in my inmost heart I prize. As, when the raincloud swiftly flies. It leaves the deep, cerulean skies In purer and far brighter guise. I'll kiss her tear-drops, as they flow. So that with red her cheeks may glow. So that more blue her eyes may grow. Thus, when the drops are falling slow, We greet the rain that there may glow. In clearing sky, the glitt'ring bow. 56 THE SHIPWRECK O'er the waves the ship was gHding, Like a bird on sea-foam riding, And the folk she carried safely idly passed the time away: 'Gainst her masts her sails were flapping, At their posts the tars were napping; Life was easy, life was dreamy, life was like a summer's day. Merry tales were all beguiling; Lips of happy maids were smiling. As they lounged upon the broad decks or leaned gently 'gainst the rails ; Tender words in ears were stealing ; Sportive laughter loud was pealing. Broken by the engine's throbbing or the flapping of the sails. Two there were with hearts united,. Two with troth but lately plighted. New made wife, and husband scarcely turned, from lover fond and gay; And the smiles their lips enwreathing, While they vows of love were breathing. Told of love that yet had traces of the scarce gone wedding day. No one saw the storm clouds creeping, No one saw the North wind sweeping From the far off, dark horizon, where the clouds were black in hue. No one dreamed of woes or troubles. 57 As they watched the dancing bubbles, In the foam the whirling paddles on the tossing waters threw. 'Till the captain, who was peering Far off where the wind was veering To the East, and to the West, and swinging back again to North, Seeing that, ere wind comes whirling. Sails, that flap aloft, need furUng, IvCt his orders, clear and startling, in his trumpet tones ring forth. Swift the storm clouds rose up higher. Swift the surging waves came nigher. And the wind, with voice of giant, loudly bellowed through the shrouds : Now the ship on crest was riding, Now it to the depths was gliding, 'Mid the waves that, tempest-driven, seemed to roll in whelming crowds. See those maddened waves uprearing ! See them in their wild careering ! How they rise abcjve the ship's side, with their crests all crowned with foam ! Hear them 'gainst the mainmast dashing, Far up in the maintop splashing, To engulf the steamer threatening, as they swell up high and comb ! Though the waves o'er her were sweeping. Still the ship was bravely keeping All those lives, that trusted blindly to the staunch- ness of her sides. Though the waves on high were tow'ring. 58 Though the skies above were low 'ring, Still the steamer floated safely on those stormy ocean tides. Then, while still they were awaiting Signs of that fierce storm's abating, Through the ship from mast to keelson sudden ran a dreadful shock : And the cries, on all sides rising, Ev'ry doomed one there surprising. Told them that the storm-swept steamer had been wrecked upon a rock. Unto all his seamen calling, 'Mid that scene drear and appalling Quick the captain bade them lower all the boats upon the sea. Two were lost, as madly dashing Through the waves and wildly crashing 'Gainst the ship, they broke in pieces, and in frag- ments floated free. Then was but one boat remaining, Towards which ev'ry soul was straining. Till the captain barred the passage, and in trum- pet tones loud cried : ' ' Only part that boat can carry ; Till help comes the rest must tarry; And the lot our fate and fortune for us all must now decide. " Then with terror not dissembled. With weak hands that shook and trembled. Forth they drew the lots that doomed them unto life or unto death. 59 Some, with limbs that quaked and shivered, Some, with whitened lips that quivered. Some, with hearts that throbbed so strongly they could scarcely draw their breath. Oh, the bitter cries that went up From blanched lips, in anger sent up, As they saw the lot deprive them of that shadowy chance of Ufa ; Yet, amid the loud lamenting, Fortune still was unrelenting. Child was hurried from its parent, man was parted from his wife. Drew the bride a lot that gave her Promise that the boat would save her From the drear and greedy grasping of the cruel angry wave. But her husband, doomed to perish Far from her he yearned to cherish, Drew the lot, that promised nothing but a dreary, watery grave. Swift as light she moved beside him. And with tender glances eyed him. As she clasped his fingers softly in the hollow of her hand : In her eyes the tears were quivering, His strong frame with pain was shivering. Yet she spoke amid the tempest and her tones were calm and bland. "Shall I leave you 'mid the roaring Of the billows, madly pouring Cross the deck where e'en the dumb planks seem to shiver and to moan? 60 Shall I leave you here to perish, While my life I weakly cherish? Shall I leave you, oh my darling, here to meet grim death alone ? "Is my love but for the charming Of the days when naught's alarming? Shall it change and be as fickle as the ever chang- ing tide? Oh with you my lot I'm casting, For my love is everlasting ! Do not drive me, oh my darling, do not force me from your side ! "See where yonder mother's straining Her wet eyes without complaining. For her boys are safely hidden in a comer of the boat, But her heart be sure is breaking At the leave she thus is taking. I/Ct that mother with her darlings o'er the billows safely float ! ' ' Let me free her from her sorrow. Give to her a glad to-morrow, Let me bring, like guardian angel, peaceful smiles upon her face ! Ah, I see you are relenting ! Ah, I see you are consenting ! I will stay with him, brave Captain. Give that mother there my place. " For a moment he was smiling. While his mind she was beguiling. But her words unto the Captain stunned him for a breath with fear ; 61 Then he cried in tones of praying : "Do not mind what she is saying!" "Its too late," the Captain answered. "See, the boat's no longer here. " Then the boat with little urging, 'Mid the billows wildly surging, Floated off and left the steamer slowly sinking 'neath the waves, Left those two with eyes wide straining. Hoping naught, yet not complaining. Floated off and left them waiting, waiting for drear, wat'ry graves. Then she threw her arms around him. With their living chain she bound him. As she looked, with loving glances, up into her husband's eyes. Ah, the light of love was dancing In her eyes, still so entrancing, That they seemed the blue of heaven, shining through the angry skies. "Dost remember in the gloaming. When by brookside we were roaming. That you told me that you loved me in your gentle tones and low. While the shadows skyward speeding. Unto us seemed highways leading, Leading up toward that heaven, where all loving mortals go? "Dost remember how you told me. While your arms did still enfold me. That you loved me with a love that even death could not destroy ? 62 Dost remember then my asking — Thus your foresight harshly tasking — If our little time of loving on this Karth was all our joy? ' ' For my heart e'en then was praying, And my lips were almost saying That, when death saw fit to claim us, it would take us both away. Ah, my love, there'd be no sighing At the thought of merely dying, If from those we love we parted not for e'en a single day. "You were only then my lover, When my heart did thus discover In its depths those tender yearnings, while I'm now your loving wife. Ah, my love, if, broken-hearted. From your side I had been parted. Would the world have furnished solace to my shattered useless life ? ' ' Then her husband's face was yearning. Then her husband's eyes were burning. As he looked upon the dear one, whom he clasped within his arm. "Ah, my darling, though I crave you, I would give my life to save you, I would give my soul to shield you, shield you, dear, from coming harm. " On his breast her head was resting. While her heart was thus attesting That the love she bore unto him was a love that conquers death: 63 On his face her eyes were glancing, On her lips a smile was dancing, And his cheek was fanned each moment by her soft and dainty breath. Still the waves on high were dashing, Still the ship on rock was crashing. As the sea, a mighty torrent, swept up high against the mast, Still her eyes were brightly shining, While, upon his breast reclining, With her glances bright she watched him, fearing each might be the last. Then they knew the end was nearing. For the prow was now uprearing. "ICiss me on the lips," she whispered, "ere my life shall glide away." With her breast 'gainst his breast pressing. With his lips lier Hps caressing. Passed they on the sinking steamer out of Ufe to endless day. ROSK-TIME It's rose-time, rose-time, and the garden is aglow With the crimson of the roses on the trees. It's rose-time, rose-time! At the dawn the roses blow. While the leaves are trembling in the gentle breeze. Red roses in the garden. That shame my sweetheart's lips! Red roses, blooming here and there. 64 Red roses blooming ev'rjrwhere Until the autumn strips Those roses from the garden, That shame my sweetheart's lips! It's rose-time, rose-time, and red, and pink, and white Ope the roses at the breaking of the day. It's rose-time, rose- time, and in the waning light Bloom the roses as the ev'ning fades away. Then revel in the flowers. While still the month is June ! The roses gather here and there, The roses gather ev'rywhere, They'U vanish all too soon Those roses in the garden. Most lovely while 'tis June ! HIS CHOICE Laura If you'd the world from which to choose a bride To suit your taste, — Damon That field is somewhat wide; And surely I my heart would quickly lose Had I the world from which a bride to choose. Laura Well, should some lovely maid thy heart ensnare. Ah, tell me then what shade would be her hair? 65 Damon Like thine. Laura Like mine? Damon Why, yes! I love it fair, And full of dainty wavings here and there. Laura Her eyes, what would you wish to be their hue? Damon Like thine, which rival heaven's azure blue. Like thine, oh sweetheart fair, when love light leaps Into my heart out of their deepest deeps. Laura But still — Damon Ah, still? Laura I fear you merely say Those idle words, "like thine, like thine" in play, And that upon some^ Damon Distant? Laura Distant day Quite other things will o'er your heart hold sway. Damon Ah no ; if I were master of my fate. With utmost Uberty to «eek a mate. What hair, what eyes, I'd like you bade me state. And I've obeyed. Now, if you wish — Laura Nay, wait! Her face? How would you have her features seem? Damon Enchanting like some vision in a dream. And fine and pure, not large and gross you know. Yours are quite small. Laura My friends all tell me so. 66 Damon And I would have sweet smiles — I see them now— Irradiate her face from chin to brow. Laura But then— Damon Nay, nay! You know you bade me state What face I'd like could I control my fate. I'd like her teeth like pearls — I see yours shine Between red lips— Ah, hers should be like thine. And on her cheeks — you blush — a shade of red Should tinge the white, just like — your blush has fled. Two dimples — Laura Two ? Damon You've one on either cheek; So should she have whom for a bride I'd seek. Laura How tall? Damon You're five feet, three? Laura Nay, five feet four. Damon That's just the height in women I adore. Laura But if her eyes and face are just like mine. And hair, and cheeks, and teeth, and blush — Damon Like thine. Laura Why then she would be — Damon You. That's very true. If I'd the world to choose from, I'd choose you. 67 THE SOUIy'S FLIGHT Day fades away ; night settles down ; The sky is full of surging clouds ; A blackness, pall-like in its gloom, The earth enshrouds. The moon bursts forth in silver splendor, And floods with Ught the realms on high ; A thousand brilliant, shining stars Illume the sky. The silver splendor thrills my soul. And to ecstatic thought gives birth. I yearn to revel in that light Above the earth. My soul sets all my frame on, fire; All earthly dross is burned away : I stretch my arms, as if I'd fly To endless day. I rise, I soar, I mount the sky: Upon a snowy cloud's white crest. And, in'"a'''ship of stars, I float To perfect rest. 68 MEG BUCCLEUGH So she mounted her steed and she rode like the wind, Like the wind that blows from, the sea. And she recked not that foes, fierce and stern, rode behind, Rodebehind, but they rode not as swiftly as she, For she rode like the wind from the sea. The news came down to Arrachar that Buccleugh and his men Had gone a-hunting of the deer in far Glenarloch's glen, And left his castle walls unmanned, his castle-gate unbarred, With but a woman in command, and striplings for a guard. ' ' We'll go, " said red McAllister, as soon as it is day . Black Buccleugh owes to us a debt, that we will make him pay: He's harried the McAllisters in country and in town, And now we'll slay his stripling guard, and pull his castle down." Before the Buccleugh castle-gate, upon the mor- row's mom. The herald of McAllister blew loudly on his horn. "Now open wide your gates," he cried, "and yield your castle-wall ! Tonight the red McAllisters will sup in Buccleugh's hall." 69 Meg Buccleugh stepped out on the wall, in Buc- cleugh tartan dressed, Her baby boy, scarce two years old, she held against her breast; She eyed the red McAlUsters, half hidden in the wood, And answer to the herald made as near the gate he stood, "The Buccleugh banner you can see, where we have hung it high. We mean to keep that bonnie flag a-floating in the sky. Our gate is fast, our walls are strong, and my brave boy and I Will hold them firm, come here who may, will hold them till we die." She slowly left the castle-wall, her babe upon her arm, And not a man in all that crowd bethought to do her harm, She moved so calmly from the place, she showed so little fear That not a bowman in the band drew bowstring to his ear. But once within the castle's court, she to her henchmen cried : ' ' Now saddle quick my good black steed, and ope the postern wide. I'll leave you your young master here. See that you guard him well, While I search for your liege and mine in far Glenarlock's dell!" 70 So she mounted her steed, and she rode like the wind, Like the wind that blows from the sea. And she recked not that foes, fierce and stern, rode behind, Rode behind, but they rode not as swiftly as she, For she rode like the wind from the sea. She urged her steed among the trees, she urged him o'er the fell, Nor drew she rein, nor slacked she speed till, in Glenarlock's dell, She found black Buccleugh and his men, enjoying woodland cheer Beneath the arching greenwood trees where they had slain the deer. "Why waste your time, my lord," she cried, "in far Glenarloch's glen ! Why waste your time in hunting beasts, when there's a chance at men! Why will you, in this distant spot a single moment wait! McAllister, with all his crew, is sitting at your gate!" Black Buccleugh's cheek is crimson red, black Buccleugh's eyes aflame. "Give o'er the chase, my men!" he said, "We'll hunt a nobler game. And by my faith, McAllister, before the sun has fled. Will woe the day he came our way, or Buccleugh will be dead. " 71 No more said Buccleugh, as he rode, to urge ahead his men. They followed fast upon his heels out of Glen- arloch's glen. They followed as they always had wherever Buc- cleugh led, But Meg, the laird of Buccleugh's wife, rode ever at their head. As falls the tempest on the com fell Buccleugh on the foe. In vain the foemen held the spear, in vain they drew the bow. Black Buccleugh rode so fiercely with his hench- men through the vale. That scarcely a McAlUster was left to tell the tale. There's weeping now in Arrachar in castle and in cot: There's wailing for McAllister, because he cometh not: The dreary coronach is borne far by the evening breeze For all the brave McAlUsters, who lie beneath the trees. But when in Buccleugh's castle-hall the clans- men meet to dine, Brave Meg of Buccleugh's health is drunk in flow- ing cups of wine; And then the minstrel tunes his harp that he may better tell. About the ride Meg Buccleugh took to far Glen- arloch's dell. 72 For she mounted her steed, and she rode like the wind, Like the wind that blows from the sea, And she recked not that foes, fierce and stern, rode behind. Rode behind, but they rode not as swiftly as she. For she rode like the wind from the sea. THE OPEN SEA My eyes delight in the open sea, The sea with its billows blue, Where the mighty waves swell high and comb In a froth, that is snow in hue. Where the billows roll the livelong day, Like the eager dolphins at their play. On the deep, deep blue. And I joy in the sound of the zephyrs soft. Of the hurricane that roars, Of the breeze that wafts the stately ship With speed to the distant shores; Yet I dread the wind that drives the ship Far from the course it should make on its trip With fierce loud roars. But I love the swell of the vasty deep In its calm and majesty. When the billows roll in serried ranks On the breast of the open sea, When the ship sails free, when the ship sails true And straight to her port on the deep, deep blue Of the open sea. 73 YOUNG LOVE Young Love has a thousand fantastical shapes, And a thousand fantastical ways; Sometimes he allures you in paths that are plain, Sometimes in a wildering maze. Now he's dark, now he's warm, jet black are his eyes. His lips are as red as the rose. And the fervor of passion, warming the blood. In his face, in his eyes ever glows. Anon he is fair; his eyes are deep blue. His tresses are tinted with gold, • His face is as pure as the snow on the heath, And his heart, sometimes, is as cold. Then the tawniest brown are his beautiful eyes. Then is chestnut the hue of his hair. And his glances and blushes, and wildering smiles The coldest of hearts will ensnare. Guard your heart, if you will engage in his sport. If with Love you've courage to play! He will laugh in your face, if youth's bloom still is there. He will jeer at your locks if they're gray. And e'en if you happen to win in the game. And to press dainty Love to your breast. He will dextrously strive to escape your embrace. To your heart he will never give rest. Young Love has a thousand fantastical shapes, And a thousand fantastical ways ; He's abroad on a lark on the darkest of nights. And he sports on the brightest of days. 74 THE WINDS In from the tossing sea Over the hot Gulf stream that Eastward flows, Crossing the stormy main, Laden with mist, with clouds, with fog, Bringing the beating rain The East wind blows. Over the giant bergs, Loosed by the swelling tides from Greenland's shores, Over the icy floe. And frozen lake, and ice-bound land. Whirling the crystal snow The North wind roars. Ear from the snowy mounts, With their abysmal, huge, fathomless deeps. Over flat prairie lands, Bringing us pure life-giving air. Dried on the desert's sands. The West wind sweeps. Up from the torrid lands. Over the sun-burned seas, and strands, and bluffs Where hot rays fiercely beat, Trailing behind the stifling dust. Yet cooling summer's heat The South wind puffs. KISMET A summer wind, And a lovely sky of an unflecked blue,, And a sea of an amethystine hue, So the lookout lolled in the nest on the mast. While the ship to her bourne sailed straight and fast. But the wind and the waves were rising. A forceful breeze. And the waves swept over the ocean's breast. Showing snow white plumes on ev'ry crest. Till they rolled into billows before the breeze, That lashed all the ocean to surging seas, For the wind and the waves were swelling. A furious storm. That came from the North with a frightful blast. And beat on that vessel fierce and fast, Till the sails hung Uke rags on each broken mast. Till the ship went down as the storm swept past, For the wind and the waves were roaring. A raft at sea, And a girl alone on the might deep. Where she lay on that raft a huddled heap. And clung, while the waters over her leapt. And clung, while the tempest over her swept. But the wind and the waves were falling. There's land in sight! And the raft, swept up by the waves on the land. High and dry and motionless lay on the strand. And the maid drank deep from a spring she found. 76 And fell on her knees and kissed the ground, For the wind and the waves were smoothing. A ship ! a ship ! And the girl waved her kerchief and shouted aloud Till she saw the ship's crew to the vessel's side crowd, Till that boat veered around, turned her prow to the land, And sailed towards that woman alone on the strand, But the wind and the waves were rising. A clouding sky. And a freshening breeze, that ruffled the sea. And made ev'ry tar fear that shore on the lee. For they knew a fierce wind and a sea mountains high Could come, like a flash, out of just such a sky, If the wind and the waves were swelling. A tempest fierce, And the blasts once again came hurriedly forth From the ice bound caves of the frozen North, And the ship, that so close to the land seemed to be. Turned her prow and, with haste, sailed out on the sea. For the wind and the waves were roaring. A roseate morn ! But the storm, that had raged through that hor- rible night, Had swept out of life that girl in its flight. 77 For she lay, dead and cold, underneath a huge tree, That the storm had torn up and hurled down near the sea, And the wind and the waves were lulling. NOSTALGIA Paris 1900 Confound that little passing band, that is playing in the street, And that keeps a- jingling in my ear the tune that home is sweet ! Don' 1 1 know how sweet my home-land is ? Don' t * I wish, both night and day. That my dear old Yankee father-land wasn't quite so faraway? Oh, I know the Seine is lovely, when it gets out- side the town. And I like to watch its charming banks as the boats sail up and down. But I'd rather see the Harlem's flats from the crown of Buena Ridge, Or watch the vessels in the bay from the cars on Brooklyn bridge. And though the Bois's exquisite now, clad in its summer dress. And the dainty Uttle nooks therein are fair, I must confess There's a spot in New York's play-ground where the lilacs scent the air. And I'd give, — well, all my share of Europe, just to be transported there. 78 Yes, I've heard that good Americans go to Paris when they die : But, when I've shuffled off this coil, I know where I would lie. Put my bones in fair old Greenwood's earth, whene'er I pass away. For I want to rise 'mong Yankees on the resur- rection day. If I had Prince Houssain's carpet here, I'd em- bark this very day. And be wafted o'er the ocean deep and be landed on Broadway; For I love that stretch of New York's street from the Hall to Union Square, And I've walked its pave so often that I know each flagstone there. So I'll pack my trunk to-morrow mom, and, be- fore the leaves are brown, I'll once more be within my home in dear old New York town ; And I thank that httle passing band, that was playing in the street. Because it made me think of home, and played that home is sweet. A SPRIG OF ROSFMARY A little sprig of rosemary It was her whim to wear, A Uttle sprig of rosemary. Entwined in golden hair. A gust of summer wind swept by; The twig fell on the street. 79 Oh, could I leave it to be crushed By careless, passing feet? I picked it up ; it touched my lips. Why should my darling speak? I saw the love-light in her eyes, The love-bloom on her cheek. The summer fled ; the winter came ; With hearts a woman plays ; She made it plain that we had reached The parting of the ways. Yet rosemary's for remembrance, Or so the poets say ; Yet rosemary means constancy — But in a woman's way. THE PLAYERS I married her. 'Twas madness on my part. What right has want to wed with poverty? The poor should single be until they die. "Put money in thy purse," if thou wouldst wed. Yet we were wed. I knew not where to turn To find a home or e'en our daily food. Still I had promised, and I kept my word. We both were young ; our hearts were full of hope, I knew that we could live if we would work. But, where and how to find some honest toil, I knew no more, when she and I were wed. Than does the babe know whence its food will come. It hap'd that one, the tenor of a troupe That came unto our little town, fell ill. I love the soft, aye e'en the sharp-toned, strains 80 That, 'neath the bow, the vioHn pours forth ; And my young wife could sing sweet EngUsh songs In gentle, tender tones that touch the heart. And so I asked that we — since we were one — ■ Might take the place of him who'd fallen ill. Yet, when I stood at night upon the stage My fiddle in my hand, my heart stood still, And in my throat there rose a giant lump That choked my breath. I feared that I would fail. But, when I slightly turned toward the stage, I saw my Alice there. She touched her breast ; And then I knew I could not, must not fail Since I had bound another life to mine. And so my heart once more began to beat, While 'gainst my breast I placed the violin. I took a theme. Oh, 'twas an olden theme I'd ofttimes played, and which I knew by heart ! But somehow all those people passed away. I saw them not. My soul held fast the bow. And weird, strange tones came from that violin, I knew naught of, and mingled with my theme ; Soft tones, which whispered of the loveliness And sweetness of the Alice whom I loved ; Wild tones that told of all the passion strong That surged, and beat, and throbbed within my breast Until I knew that I had won her love ; Sweet tones that told of all the ecstacy Of joy that comes to those who wed with love : And, as the sweet notes softly died away. My hand dropped to my side, and all was still. And then in one o'erwhelming whirl of sound Of clapping and of cheers the people praised. From dreamland I came back, and bowed, and bowed ; 81 And she I loved stood near the wings and smiled. I would have gone to her, but those in front, With loud applaudings, bade me play once more : And she who watched me, softly clapped her hands. And so I laid my bow upon the strings. Know you the wondrous, matchless joyousness. That comes when one's o'erburdened heart's set free. And thrills one even to his fingers' tips? I drew the bow across the senseless strings, And from the violin came forth strange tones Of wild, aye mad, fantastic melody, That rippled into laughter, now a child's, And now a dainty maiden's full of sport. And now a mother's playing with her babe. And now the rude, rough laughter of a man, And then a child's again, and died away. They cheered me to the echo, would have more. I shook my head, and so they let me go. And, near the wings, she clasped me round the neck. And kissed my Hps, and sobbed upon my breast. Her turn came soon. I led her on the stage, And played for her as oft I had before. I knew she could not fail, for her sweet song Was bom with her, part of her very soul. And poured forth if she only oped her lips. The people quiet sat, with eager eyes Upturned to us, and then in gentle tones. As sweet as is the red-breast's dainty cry. As soft as is the summer breeze's sigh. That touched the sternest heart my darling sang : 82 She was only a woman trusting, believing, Only a woman tender and true ! He was a man, for whom she was grieving. Who came with soft words her fond heart deceiv- ing, And then from her flew Only a woman trusting, believing. Only a woman tender and true ! "She was only a woman, who her shame was hiding, Only a woman dead in the sea ! From her cold lips unto him came no chiding. Out of her form her soul too confiding By death was set free. She was only a woman, who her shame was hiding. Only a woman dead in the sea ! "She was only a woman by treason maddened. Only a woman gone to her doom ! Alas, for the home whose hearth he had saddened ! The home, that she might for long years have glad- dened. Is buried in gloom. Only a woman by treason maddened. Only a woman gone to her doom !" She ceased, I saw tears glist'ning in their eyes. I saw their bosoms throb. I heard their sighs. And then I knew that she had touched their hearts. She bowed and would have gone, but they awoke And broke the spell she'd woven round their minds. And would have more, and would not let her go. Her eyes looked into mine. I clasped her hand. And pressed it close in mine. She understood My wild desire to crush her in my arms. 83 And then I dropped her hand, and took my bow, And drew it o'er the strings. She knew the note. And gaily laughed, and joyously she sang A merry song she oft had sung before : For 'tis my thought to mingle joy with tears. And eagerly they listened as she sang. '"Tis five miles to her home. But think you care I, When I long for a glance From her bonnie grey eye, When I yearn for a word From her bright ruby lips, When I crave just to press Her white finger-tips? As I think of her face, Bewitching with smiles, I travel with pleasure Those dreary five miles. It's no distance home. The road's but a span. Time never so fled Since Time first began. There ring in my ears Her last parting words. Like the murmur of brooks Or the singing of birds. While right fore my eyes Gleams her face wreathed in smiles. Ah, bless her, I love Those dreary five miles!" 84 She turned to move away. I took her hand And clasped it close in mine to lead her off : But all those people rose up in their seats, And kerchiefs waved, and cheered, and called for more. And she, in gentle tones, said in my ear : ' ' How kind they are. I'll sing for them again. " I took my violin and touched the strings, And when she heard the notes she gave a nod. And like a bird she sweetly sang her song. ' ' Oh, the sun uprose and we sang of the mom. Of the glory and beauty of day new bom ! And the lark joined in, as he rose in the air. For the sun was bright and the mom was fair. And we sang of the day, Of the sun's first ray, And we sang of the grandeur of day new-born. Oh, the sky in the Kast had a roseate hue. And the vault up above was the deepest of blue. And the air had the sweetness that comes with the day. When it sweeps to the land from the sea far away. While the flowers, new-bom. At the first breath of morn To the sun turned their leaves all sprinkled with dew." They cheered and clapped her to her heart's con- tent, And, when she smiled and bowed, they cheered again ; And then I led her off and still they cheered. 85 But at the wing I took her in my arms, And kissed her dainty lips as she had mine, And softly whispered in her list'ning ear : "My dear, my dear the victory is won !" And so work came, and we're still on the stage Though years have passed, and through our lives, perchance, We've just as happy been as if we had Put money in our purse ere we were wed. JUNE The laurel blooms upon the hill. The daisy flowers by the rill. The liUes all the brooklets fill, The creepers and the ivy soon Will all be snarled together. The roses make the garden glow. The guelder-rose tree, in full blow. Holds up its ball as white as snow. For it is June, is lusty June, And June brings blooming weather. The gentle winds, that softly blow. Just rustle into music low Among the leaves, swept to and fro, And almost ripple into tune In sweeping o'er the heather. The trees are swaying in the breeze. The brooks run murmuring through the leas, The birds are singing on the trees. For it is June, melodious June, And June brings singing weather. 86 ON THE DEEP The sun shone fiercely on the waveless sea Through all the long, long day, Beat through the dreary hours on her and me ; Not e'en a cloud all day would set us free, As on the waves we drifted wearily. Or like a dead log lay. We were but two, a woman frail and I, Within that little boat, For one by one, we'd seen our comrades die, As wearily day after day dragged by, And motionless, beneath a cloudless sky. We were compelled to float. We'd seen our ship go down beneath the wave Into an unknown sea. We'd seen our comrades food and water crave. We'd seen them like ferocious madmen rave. We'd seen them sink into a watery grave. Leaving but her and me. Alone we floated there upon the deep, That tender girl and I, And sometimes I could see her softly weep. She sometimes sighed while she was still asleep, Across her face a shade would sometimes creep At thought that she must die. All food was gone. Life we could scarce maintain. No water touched our lips. Save when some summer cloud gave welcome rain. We prayed for ships, for tempests. All in vain ! The blazing sun rose up and sank again. But came no prayed for ships. 87 Prone in the boat and like a log I lay, But still with open eyes. Too weak a single word to her to say, , I watched her as she sat one dreary day. While once again the hot sun made its way Across the cloudless skies. As sank the sun that night into the sea Her face seemed wan and sad, But while I still was watching, suddenly Her eyes, her face, her body seemed to be Quite changed, and instantly 'twas plain to me That she was going mad. She rose and, though I would have held her fast, I could not move, nor speak. Up to our little vessel's prow she passed. And, standing there, held steady by the mast She sang, while gazing on the waters vast. In tones still sweet, though weak. "Oh, see the meadows, The meadows bright green! In the meadows, The meadows. The lovely green meadows All the lads, all the lassies at eve may he seen. Oh, come with me my sweetheart! Oh, come with me tonight To the meadows, The meadows. The lovely, green meadows! 88 And we'll start For the meadows, Ere fades the twilight. Oh, see the meadows, The weadows so fair! Oh the meadows. The meadows, The lovely green meadows! A II the lads, all the lassies at eve will he there. I will stroll my sweetheart, By your side tonight In the meadows, The meadows, The lovely green meadows! Let us start For the meadows Ere fades the twilight. " She stepped into the sea, which seemed but grass Unto her maddened brain. No words my parched and nerveless Hps would pass, As I lay in that boat a helpless mass. The sea swept o'er her. Then to limpid glass It smoothed itself again. 89 THE PICTURE The blood of youth ran hot within my veins, And woman can be gracious, when she deigns To look with favor on a man who gives His first, fresh love to her, who only lives To read his love, though somewhat changed in guise, As he peers deep into her tender eyes. And so I loved, and she? — Ah well, who knows? Not oft a woman's heart with passion glows. And so she may have loved, and now what odds To one who, old and weary, tomb ward plods? But one with wealth came eagerly to woo. And she? — Ah, bah, the story is not new. I went my way. Why should a mortal vex His soul about the triflings of the sex? But I shunned women ever from that day. And now that I am old, what harm to say My thoughts stir not at frou-frou of a dress, My heart craves not the fairest maid's caress. One day in Rome — ah, wealth soon came to me — I found a prize in Ranco's shop. And she Is ever true, is ever young. Her eyes Are perfect in their blue as Roman skies. I paid ten scudi. Ranco would have sold ^ Whate'er he held most dear for Yankee gold. I gaze on her, half-hid in ev'ning's light. Almost she seems to live. Almost! Nay quite! I turn from her; backward my thoughts take flight, Backward into the black of mental night; Again I cast my eyes on her, and she Sweeps far the past and these thoughts come to me: 90 Is she fair? Tresses of bright golden hair, Deep hliie eyes and dainty air, Face that shows no sign of care Make her fair. Is she true? Those pure eyes of darkest blue, Those sweet lips of rosy hue. Which for kisses seem to sue Show she's true. Is she sweet? Smiles that every mortal greet. Eyes that make one's bosom beat, Face that knows naught of deceit, Prove she's sweet. Who is she? She's the maiden you can see In that picture, who to me. Almost seems alive to be. That is she. What's her name? Ah, then me you must not blame That I cannot tell her name. Naught is written on the frame Of her name. I bought the picture. When I ceased to roam I brought it here, and placed it in my home, Above the mantel, where the firelight throws A softened light 'neath which the figure glows, And almost lives. — Ah, it was deftly hung ! And she is ever fair, and always young. 91 Bah ! I grow old ! Is it the end of all That I should love a picture on the wall, That there should be no sons to honor me, No daughters, children crowding round my knee, That I have let my youthful days go when I could have wed ? Alas, it might have been ! DAWN The birds sit crowding on the trees. Preening their feathers. Preening their feathers ; The birds sit crowding on the trees. Rocked by the early morning breeze, Preening their feathers and wings. The birds go flitting over the leas, Shaking their feathers. Shaking their feathers ; The birds go flitting over the leas. Whirled by the early morning breeze. Shaking their feathers and wings. 92 THE PRISONER You threaten me. Yet death I do not dread, Since she I better love than life lies dead, And motionless beneath the sun-baked sod. Why should I care, through many bitter years, Along the dreary paths of life to plod, Fore'er alone, with naught that life endears? You have your proofs. I did not seek to fly. I killed the Count. Listen, I'll tell you why. She was so young ! Her sixteenth year scarce past ! But 'neath Italian skies maids ripen fast. And such a dainty child with azure eyes, And hair, in which she bound the golden Ught The sun pours forth when clear are noonday skies. Might well have had a life- time long and bright As joyfully and lovingly she stood Upon the very verge of womanhood. But ever fate, in its mysterious way, With human hopes and wishes seems to play. Her people were the richest in the land : I was an artist twenty years of age : Yet me they brought to her to teach her hand To copy loveliness from Nature's page. Where by the hills, the stream, the brook, the mead, 'Tis writ so plain that he who runs may read. Why was it that her people did not know That they should fear to fire put near tow? For in my veins the glowing blood of youth 93 Burned fiercely to my very finger tips, And in her heart — What did they think forsooth Turned crimson red her youthful pouting lips? And so we loved as reckless as a pair Of happy birds without a fear or care. Not long ! a month, a week, perchance a day, Passed like a dream upon its flying way. When with our hands enclasped, we were espied, As we strolled 'neath the trees that towered above. We were so young ! We knew not how to hide Our deepest hopes, and so we told our love. They sent me forth. Her prayers and mine were vain. I never saw her living face again. See how they worked ! I was a minor still. Beneath my father's rule for good or ill. Out of my home he'd sent me forth to make My way alone, in this world's bitter strife. He could not house his child, but he could take Into his home a youthful second wife. They went to him- — or was it to his wife? — And bought my liberty, mayhap my Hfe. And he for gold sold them my liberty. Agreed for gold to make a monk of me. Of me a monk ! 'Twas madness on their part. I love the air, the fragrant air of mom, I love the early birds, that swiftly dart Athwart the heavens when the day is bom, I love the sun as he rides up the sky And tints with rosy hues the realms on high. 94 I love the fields, the trees, the meadows green. The gentle brooklets with their silv'ry sheen. The birds that sweetly sing at break of day. The twilight songsters and the bird of night, The storm that fiercely sweeps upon its way, The breeze that scarce the leaves moves in its flight. I love all Nature's charming mysteries. Her murmuring brooks, and softly waving trees. And me they would immure within a cell, Where only those of Nature weary dwell. 'Twas madness on their part! 'Twas bound to fail! They did deprive me of my liberty. But why should I before that outrage quail. Since I knew in a year that I'd be free ? But how those monks wished I had never come : I made their home a pandemonium. And when that bitter year had reached its end. And they could not my spirit break or bend. The law compelled the rogues to set me free. And then I sought my love without delay — Resolved to go wherever she might be — And found her dead, aye dead but yesterday. Murdered poor child ! Aye, that's the word I need Just now to fit the word unto the deed. They'd wed her to a Count. They dared not tell Her master that her heart was in my cell. They thought her love a fancy of her youth. But he grown jealous, sought to probe her heart, And she, too innocent to hide the truth, 95 Told him how I had tried to teach her art. He quickly from her tale her secret learned, And then his love to bitter hatred turned. One day, while I was prisoned in my cell, He found her where our love we'd dared to tell Beneath the trees. Enraged he struck a blow Upon her cheek. She swiftly from him fled. But lost the path, and fell where, deep below, A jagged ledge of rocks upreared its head. And there upon the rocks mere lifeless clay. Most foully done to death, my darling lay. To answer for that crime was he brought here ? 'Twas murder! E'en to you that must be clear. Murder's the taking of a human life, And that's a crime, when done by such as I. But when a noble Count strikes down his wife. Why that's an accident. You pass it by. And he could sit at home and pretence make Of sorrowing. Would that my dead awake? She lay within a coffin, open wide, When I got in her house at eventide. They'd dressed her like a bride in spotless white. How like an angel bride she seemed to be ! And then the thought came, like a flash of light. That not the bride of death, but mine she'd be Perhaps when I lift up the mystic veil and go Into the land beyond, it may be so. How beautiful she was! How wondrous fair Her face enwreathed with silky golden hair! I stooped and softly kissed her on the brow. And they who watched the dead, filled with a dread 96 Of harm, led me away I know not how, And sent me forth. I left with them my dead But not before I'd clearly seen the trace Of his foul blow upon my loved one's face. I sought the Count. As quickly I drew near His face grew ghastly white, he shook with fear. I told him who I was, why I was there. Aye, told him of the murder in the glade. He would have killed me, but he did not dare ; And like a craven, loud he cried for aid. But ere his men could come, at his behest, I drew my knife, and plunged it in his breast. You came and found me there. Why should I fly? I do not care to live, nor fear to die. My act was punishment. 'Twas not a crime. But 'twas not done quite in your formal way. So let your farce go on, and, when it's time To end with death, I'll ask for no delay. The sooner I can leave this world of woe. The sooner I will heaven's mysteries know. COURTSHIP 1. The Maid How fair she was ! Bright curls of golden hair Adorned a brow, as pure as unsoiled snow That lies upon a field till breezes blow On its impurities that taint the air. Her features dainty were and wondrous fair. Out of soft eyes, that rivaled heaven's blue, An artless soul looked forth, gentle and true. 97 Her garments, such as charming women wear, Knwrapped a lovely form, whose youthful lines Swelled softly into maiden limbs and breast. Her face, her eyes, her form were outward signs Of all the charms that made her heart their nest. In gauzy robes of summer time arrayed. Not oft one met on earth so fair a maid. 2. The Lover A youth was he with form of manly height, And shoulders broad enough to deftly bear Such burdens as grim fate should deem his share. And deep brown eyes, which sparkled clear and bright. Lit from within by that resplendent light A pure and honest heart can give to eyes, And pure and honest hearts alone can prize. Still tempering with gentleness his might He gayly bore himself like new-made knight. Who deems his martial manliness should wear A cloak of courtesy before the fair. A constant pleasure was he in the sight Of those who bow to purity in man. And put our common vices under ban. 3. On the Verge In summer time and at the countryside He met her first, within a charming nook Beside a quiet pool, formed by the brook As it sped onward toward the ocean's tide. Thereafter oft he wandered by her side Upon the hills, when was the East aglow. 98 Or through the meadows, when the sun sank low, Or in the woods, or by the riverside. His heart had learned to throb when she was near. Her cheek had learned to flush whene'er he spoke : Each thrilled, whenever met their hands or eyes; Yet was he troubled with a constant fear That she would not wear willingly love's yoke. The while she told her secret in her sighs. 4. The Plunge Full many times, when she was out of sight. His courage mounted high, he vowed he'd speak. And told himself 'twas cowardly and weak To let a maiden put his wits to flight. To let his heart be overwhemed with fright. Full many times he planned what he would say, The time he'd speak, the place, and e'en the way He'd ask the maid he loved her troth to plight : But, when she turned on him her tender eyes. His courage fled until to his surprise, And ere he knew his hopes he had confessed, He found his love one day upon his breast : But, though upon his breast he found her head, He could not tell one single word he'd said. 5. The Struggle 'Twas but the outer citadel he'd won. Still tow'ring walls stood firm across hsx way, 99 Still many frowning forts held him at bay. His struggle for a bride had scarce begun. Almost he wished to foreign climes to run When of her friends and relatives he thought ; But, when he had her parents meekly sought To make confession there of what he'd done, His face turned white, his heart climbed up his throat. He softly mumbled in her father's ear "Your girl and I do on each other dote. " But as her father laughed, quick fled his fear. Almost upon the air he seemed to float, As with light heart, he hurried to his dear. 6. Love's Young Dream The hard, stem world of fact seemed far away. And life appeared to them — so seldom seem Things what they are — a long and charming dream. Such as to mortals comes when sleep holds sway. And visions bright, that fade 'neath light of day. Float through the mind. An endless world of bliss Seemed brought before their eyes at every kiss, A world where life was always bright and gay. A thrill went through each frame as hand touched hand ; Each heart with rapture throbbed as eye met eye ; Each tender sigh from beating bosom fanned The flame, which Love had lighted with his brand. In bliss days seemed like hours brief to fly,' In bliss love seemed born nevermore to die. 100 7. The End 'Tis doom of mortal things that they should end. And yet it need not be a time of gloom When mortal things go to their common doom ; For bliss, now past, with coming joys may blend. The greater happiness to come may lend A brightness to those ended joys, and throw A halo round those pleasures as they go ; Just as the fading sun bright rays will send. And all the charms which courtship's days can bring. Sweet though they be, cannot be merged too soon In joys of wedded life, love's chiefest boon. Yet, as we end the past with wedding ring. O'er courtship's vanished days love seems to fling A halo, borrowed from the honeymoon. HER KERCHIEF Dead on the field, just where he fell, they found him. When Shiloh's fight was o'er. Where wounded, bleeding, dying lay around him A thousand soldiers more. A comrade, seeking if his friend were dying. Tore coat and shirt apart. And found a dainty broidered kerchief lying Upon his silent heart. A dainty kerchief with her name upon it. Traced with her girlish art. And given with her love, when he had won it, To wear upon his heart. 101 Bestained with blood of him she had loved dearly Her kerchief crimson red Still showed her name, embroidered on it, clearly, Though he lay with the dead. His comrade left the kerchief where he'd found it ■Upon the dead man's breast. And gently drew the soldier's coat around it, And left him to his rest. Beneath the sod, upon that field they laid him, Among his comrades dead. That was the tribute which his country paid him, For which he'd fought and bled. But happier he than she, who, in some hour Of love, that kerchief gave : For woe and misery exhaust their power On this side of the grave. Long years must pass of weariness and weeping Fre Death will give her rest ; While he, beneath the sod, is calmly sleeping, Her kerchief on his breast. A KNIGHT OF TODAY Who comes, who comes with gentle step across the meadow green. So listless in his motions, and so haughty in his mien, So very languid in his speech with so few words to say? Adolphus 'tis who slowly comes, the hero of the day. 102 And bevies of fair damosels all crowd around the youth, And listen to the words he drops as golden words forsooth ; And they would gladly kiss the lad, or crown his locks with bay; For with the current hero that is lovely woman's way. But mark his form so slender, and his face without a hair, Except a very frail mustache he nourishes with care, And mark his placid features, and the glasses o'er his eyes! Is such a knight for derring-do and chivalrous emprise? Goes he against the heathen tribes to lay the Pay- nim low? Sails he his country's ship of war where mighty breezes blow? Takes he the Bible to the lands where darkness rules today? Soothes he the sick in hospitals where misery holds sway? Or crowd those damsels round- the lad because the youth has won Some triumph in the Senate, or some noble deed has done, By which the country of his birth in honor has been raised, For which his land o'er all the earth has rightfully been praised? 103 Go to, you ancient questioner, you stranger in this land! Do you not see yon net still stretched, that racket in his hand, Those courts, wherein the gilded youth their noble pastimes play? Adolphus won the tennis match, and he is king today. THE CHARGE On our breasts we lay At a turn in the road, for we knew the foe Must speedily pass along that way, And we hid where the bushes were thick but low, Where lilacs were in blow. I can smell them to this day. For our nerves were tense, And our blood beat fiercely in our veins ; So the bell of the cow beyond the fence. And the smell of the lilacs in the lanes Were seared upon our brains, So alert was ev'ry sense. Like a flash came the word, And we sprang to our feet. For a moment's space In that lovely dell not a sound was heard. We could read their surprise in each foeman's face. But our leader gave no grace. And so "Fire!" was his word. Then the bullets flew From our guns through the ranks of the startled foe. 104 Like the storm that unlocked for comes from the blue, And they aimed their guns, but their motions were slow, As they surged in their ranks to and fro, 'Neath our volleys, quick and true. And our leader cried : ' ' Fix bayonets, charge ! ' ' And we leaped ahead. But the foemen scattered far and wide: And we followed them as they swiftly fled, Leaving behind their dead Just where they fell and died. 'Twas the bugle's sound That stopped pursuit ; and back again We tramped where the dead encumbered the ground. I can smell to this day the blood of the slain, So deep was it seared on my brain. Where lilac blooms abound. 105 BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS Oh, I sometimes think In the eve, as the moon in the West sinks low, That when the East wind dies away in the night. And the stars in the sky seem exquisitely bright, As they slowly sink. Then the flowers are going to blow, Then the buds on the vines will ope in the mom. And the flowers of summer be bom. And I sometimes dream, — But its only the dream of a girl heart-free, — That when I arise from my couch in the mom. The flowers I love will all have been born 'Neath the sun's first beam. And that then on their leaves I will see The diamonds of mom, till the dew fades away In the glory of new born day. THE THAMES AT LONDON I start at far off Iffley, and wind down to the sea Past town, and church, and hamlet, green fields and grassy lea. And so I've flowed for ages, and borne upon niy breast. Sometimes a foreign foeman, sometimes a welcome guest. The Celt, the Dane, the Roman has had, each race, its day. And passed, with French and Saxon, yet I go on my way. 106 And ever I flowed calmly, whatever folk might reign. What recked I was it Roman? What cared I was it Dane? I've seen fair ships a plenty sail outward to the sea; I've seen fair ships a-plenty that ne'er came back to me. I've seen the boats that carried the folk who sought a crown. And oh, and oh the difference, if they went up or down. For sometimes they sailed upward to lie in royal f' ite; hey went downward toward the Traitor's Gate. And many lovely ladies and many gallant beaus I've borne upon my bosom where quietest it flows. And oft, and oft some sinner, in search of earthly rest. Has drowned his bitter sorrow deep in my friendly breast. But boats and ships have vanished, that floated on my tide. And folk of many races have lived, and loved, and died. And towns have gone and churches, that once looked down on me. Yet still I flow from Iffley, with windings, to the sea. 107 AT THE WINDOW Some one's tapping at the window, maiden fair, And he says : " If you're there Throw the lattice open wide. For I fain would come inside, Come inside, if you're there, And I'm tapping at your window, maiden fair. " But the maiden at the window will not hear; And she says: "There's no fear That he'll from my window stray. If I let him go away He will soon reappear," So the maiden at the window will not hear. Very soon the maiden drops her haughty air, And she says: "If you're there I have oped the lattice wide, I would have you come inside. Come inside, if you're there;" — No one's tapping at your window, maiden fair. A CANVAS OF ISRAEI/S There's a chance that you've seen it: so many folk have. We're a nation of globe trotters now. And if there's a picture that can be seen. We'll manage to see it somehow, And this hangs in the Amsterdam Ryks, quite free For all the world to see. Of course there are Rembrandts and Steens galore Hung up in the Ryk's vast halls. 108 And perchance all these, and the Potters and Cuyps, That glorify all its walls, May have used up your time and wearied your eye, And you passed this picture by. Yet that scarcely can be for it hangs up high At the end of the "Modern Hall ;" And the roof is arranged so the Ight of day Will straight on this picture fall ; So your eyes on this painting were bound to stray, And you must have paused on your way. It's one of great Israels' master works ; And little more need be said, For he put on his canvas a bit of the soul That inspired the mightiest dead. What he mixed with his colors no mortal can tell, But his picture holds like a spell. It shows but a man with a babe on his arm. And a lad moving close by his side, And a fisherman's nets, and weeds, and sand, And a hint of the rising tide, And the man and the boy, striding over the sand With hand closely clasped in hand. That desolate scene, with no house in sight. And the sand and the rising tide. And the gloom that has spread o'er the fisherman's face. And the wondering lad at his side Have been put on the canvas with consummate art. And somehow they grip one's heart. 109 'Tis a father no doubt, but where is the wife? v.- Ah doesn't his face, tell where? For the father's eyes see not his lads. But into black vacancy stare : And his face shows signs of that bitter woe. That only the mourners know. The babe's but a babe with a chubby face, The lad at his father peers. But the face of the man with his sad, sad eyes That will not, but should, shed tears Makes that fisherman seem, with his lad at his side, Desolateness personified. The artist could seize the moment of time, When a change in a man takes place. When the iron enters the innermost soul And the soul flashes up in the face. And could paint it so clear that the world can see The deeps of a man's misery. What is the story the canvas depicts? Ah, that is not easy to tell. You cannot get down to an artist's soul As a bucket is dropped in a well. There's a guide-book of course, but each picture I see Its story must tell to me. And to me it seems that the fisher came home, And found that his wife had died. That his home and all he had gathered therein Had been wrecked by an angry tide. 110 And that, then, he'd gone forth through the drear world to roam. With his babes, in search of a home. But think of the mind that could dream that scene. Of the hand that could paint that face. Of the soul that could look in another's soul. And then on the canvas trace The signs of its woe, and could make them so plain That they sear themselves on one's brain. I TOLD HER Though I feared I'd never dare, Yet she looked so sweet and fair. And had such a piquant air That I told her. Oh, my heart was throbbing so That my words would scarcely flow. And I spoke quite soft and low When I told her. Still she heard what I had said ; On my breast she laid her head. And then all my terrors fled, As I told her. Now why add to my distress, Why stiU urge me to confess. When so quickly you can guess What I told her? Ill THE LOVER'S LANE "Who raps, who raps, " the lady cried, "Who raps on my window pane?" "Tis your true love raps, " the youth replied, "And he came through the Lover's Lane. ' ' And he came to seek the fairest bride To be found on hiU or plain. And to kneel at her feet, and to beg her to ride To the priest's through the Lover's Lane. " "Go back, go back," the lady said, "Go back by your Lover's Lane! Let a year and a day go over your head Before you come back again ! "In heathen lands your kin essay To crush a foreign foe. And where men struggle in the fray 'Tis there you too should go, "And prove yourself a worthy knight. And flesh your maiden blade. And show that you with men can fight Before you woo a maid. "And, when a year and a day have sped. Come rap at my window pane, And tell me that you've fought and bled. And I'll ride through the Lover's Lane. " A year and a day had passed away, A year and a day had sped, And, with eyes open wide, the lady lay, And shivered upon her bed : 112 For the night was dark and the night was drear, And the wind went howhng by, And lightning flashes, far and near, Ivit up the stormy sky : And she heard the clatter of a steed, As it rushed through the Ivover's Lane, And she heard — if 'twere sound she heard indeed — A rap on her window pane. And she rose from her bed as if to fly, But the lightning flashed again In a sinuous flame athwart the sky. And she saw at the window pane A ghastly face with blood besmeared. And wet with the beating rain ; And a gust of wind, while the lady peered. Shattered the window pane. And that ghastly face, with eyes of death, To the broken pane drew near Till there touched her face a dead man's breath, And she shrieked alou4in fear. Her maidens came, and they found her dead Near the broken window pane, And they heard two steeds, that swiftly sped Through the storm down the Lover's Lane. Pitch black is the Lover's Lane at night. The Lover's Lane is drear. And the loitering shepherd, chilled with fright, When it's dark can always hear 113 The clattering of the knight's good steed And another at his side ; And, when it storms, at break-neck speed Down the Lover's Lane they ride. And oft, in the gloom of the black midnight. There rides on the steeds the twain. The lady and her phantom knight, To the priest's through the Lover's Lane. SOME THOUGHTS OF MARCUS AURELIUS Know you man's fate? The old are like the leaves the Autumn strews ; The young are like the leaves the spring renews ; And death to each man's gate Comes soon or late. The Uttle fame You've earned, with care, swift vanishes away. You've lived, you're dead, forgotten in a day ! Won you renown or shame Unknown's your name. Dost seek men's praise? Peer in the souls of those who give it breath ! Wouldst wish for such men's praise beyond your death? Why care you to amaze The coming days? Once thou art dead, Why care that men should say fine words of thee. Whom you know not, whom you can never see? As well wish they'd been said In time long sped. 114 Years quick go by, And like a flowing stream the things that be Into the things that were roll ceaselessly. Fate's shuttle swift will fly Until we die. Life's but a dream. Nature will alter all things in a breath. New things are made from old only through death. And Nature's changes seem An endless stream. From youth to age Men love, and wed, and breed, and riches heap. Sow howling wind and then the whirlwind reap. Play king, or lord, or page Upon the stage, And pass away. And those who follow also play the game, That's ever changing yet's always the same. And they too have their day : None long can stay. So soon things die. They scarcely come to life ere they decay Couldo'er your soul such passing things hold sway? As well love birds that fly Across the sky. The hero dies: His battles are a myth, his body dust, His house is ashes, and his armor rust : No more his name we prize. When dead he lies. 115 Let naught seem great. Thy body's only dust and scraps of bone. Thy soul's a speck ; not e'en thy garb's thy own. AU grandeur will abate, If one will wait. Life's whirling wheel Goes ever up and down, from age to age. In endless sameness, be one king or page. Naught new will it reveal That whirling wheel. And what is death? To cease from action, for, as boy and man. You've slowly died since first your life began. You merely give up breath. And that is death. And whither goes The dead, when he gives up this mortal strife, Unto oblivion or to new life? At least the dead one knows Blessed repose. As words grow old, So names of great men of a former day. And names of mighty nations pass away. The heroes, fierce and bold, Are dead and cold. Fame will not last. Plato and Socrates both had their day. Cato and mighty Pompey are mere clay. Their schemes, their triumphs vast Are of the past. 116 Let's bear in mind We've had the pleasures of this mortal life, The sorrows too, which in this world are rife. And death, mayhap, we'll find Is not unkind. Why should one say I've not as yet played five acts in my day? Ah, yes, but oft three acts make up the play. And death will have his way Whate'er we say. THE INN It's ho the house, and ho the tap, and ho the sta- ble too ! Oh can you entertainment give to him who stops with you? Oh have you here the wherewithal for man to make a feast, And have you in your stable's cribs fit provender for beast? So look within your cellar deep and see if you have wine ; So look into your larder too, ere you are host of mine, And see if you have meat that's fresh, and ale of ancient brew To tempt a weary sojourner to stop a night with you. It's enter in my house, my guest, and try my meat and wine, The best that ever stood on hoof, or grew upon a vine. 117 It's put your steed within his stall, and let him taste my corn. The horse, that will not feast on it, has never yet been born. It's put your overwearied limbs, and lay your tired head Upon the downy mattresses and pillows of my bed And when you leave, to-morrow morn, right joy- ous you will be That you were fortunate enough to stop a night with me. MY AIN COUNTREE Good wind that can be zephyr mild. Or can be Northern blast. That can drive on the willing ship Across the ocean vast, Oh, know you in the far-off West A land that's dear to me? Oh, know you that I fain would haste Unto my ain countree? Good ship, that can sail speedily Upon the mighty deep, Good ship that can breast raging storms. That o'er the ocean sweep. Oh, I would leave this foreign shore. Enchanting though it be. Oh, I would haste by day, by night. Unto my ain countree ! So blow you wind, and sail you ship With all the speed ye may. And swell, and surge, and rise ye waves, 118 And bear me on my way, And bear me on my way good ship, And winds, and tossing sea ; For I would go, oh ship, oh wind. Unto my ain countree. THE IDLER 'Twas an idler strolling on the road. Or halting in some nook. Where through the lovely valley flowed A dainty, placid brook, While all the grass, through which he strolled, was wet with morning's dew. And o'er his head, the summer sky was spotless in its blue. 'Twas early summer, and the trees Were clad in virgin green. The brook, just ruffled by the breeze. Showed still a silv'ry sheen. And by the brook and neath the trees that idler, all the day. Lounged, while the busy world of men went on its bustling way. He found delight in such a sky. He joyed in morning's air. He watched some dainty bird flit by As free as he from care. He lay upon the velvet grass beside the placid stream. And, like a flash, the world was gone, and life be- came a dream. 119 And what cared he that Ufe fled fast, That eternity drew near? The ended years — ^why they were past. The present — that was here. The past should to departed days a fitting burial give. The present one could still enjoy: 'twas all of life to live. No ties bound him unto his kind. He knew nor child nor wife. His joys? Why he could always find Enough of joys in life. His home? It was the boundless earth, where'er he chanced to stray. His friends? They were the passers-by he met from day to day. The sun sank low at eventide, The West was glowing red ; The rosy hue then slowly died ; Another day had fled. And, as the Western horizon slow changed to ev'ning's gray, The idler rose, picked up his stick, went whistling on his way. 120 THERE CAME LOVE I wandered out upon the lea, Where neither folk nor houses be ; The green, green grass was neath my feet, A sky without a flaw above. Yet there a maid I chanced to meet. And there came love. And then I sought the tossing sea. Where sands and rocks and tempests be ; And as I watched the ebbing tide. And saw the glist'ning sands grow bare, I found a maiden at my side. And love came there. Unto the town I went heart free. Where stony roads and hearts there be ; And as in street, in home, in hall I saw enchanting maid or dame. One maid seemed fairest of them all, And there love came. 121 IN MAIDEN MEDITATION The scene, Maud's dressing room, a dainty nest. The season, that which birdling's love the best. The time, when low the sun hangs in the West. The person, Maud in gauzy costume dressed. I wonder how I won my darling's heart ! I have, I'm sure, none of the coquette's art; For when with love his heart began to glow I made it plain that I — well, loved also ; But why with love his heart began to glow Is what I'd give — well, all the world to know. If I were pretty — but — well, there I'll pass Ten minutes gazing in my looking glass Upon what Richard calls his little lass. The form reflected there I know quite well. Ah, shining mirror, can't you, won't you tell With what I wove around my love a spell ? Do, while this problem strange to solve I try, Bright shining mirror give back to my eye » Whate'er I own of beauty or of grace, Reflect eachcharm of which there is a trace Upon my fo m, my limbs, my head, my face ! My form, well that looks rather neat I think, But then I always did look well in pink. Yet I'm aware my friends have often thought I'd have more style, if I were not so short. My arms, which ne'er with jewels I can deck. Look fair, when clasped around my Richard's neck. My bosoms swell with each breath's ebb and flow In dainty curves above my corsage low. And melt into a neck, that's white as snow, 122 My nose — well, though I often at it tug, It still remains without a doubt a pug. My eyes are large, but then some people say A person's greedy, if her eyes are gray. My skin is clear, and, when my darling speaks, I feel the roses blooming in my cheeks. My hair — that's brown. — Of course I know it's true That now, for hair, blonde is the chosen hue. But Dick likes hair of chesnut hue, and fine. And thick — well, hair that's just like mine. My hands are — well, quite small enough I think. The fingers slim — their hue a dainty pink — Are quite — as fingers go — the proper thing : And on the third there sparkles Richard's ring. My mouth — well that is small I'm told by Dick, Although I must admit the lips are thick ; But then those lips have known the wondrous bliss. The wondrous bliss that comes from Richard's kiss. My teeth — oh, ev'ry one among the girls Is willing to admit my teeth are pearls. Expression — well, I may not look too wise. But there's, I'm told, a sparkle in my eyes, And round my lips, somehow, a smile will play Whenever — ^which is always — I feel gay. Oh hark, my Dick has come ! I hear the bell. And I don't care, if I the why can't tell. So long as I am sure Dick loves me well. 123 ENGWSH SONGS Oh English songs, sweet EngUsh songs ! To you alone belongs The melody of warbling birds, Which, through your magic words. Will swift impart The thrill for which it longs To each sad heart. Down all the ages have you come, — No century's been dumb, — And brought us pictures of past life, Echoes of long dead strife. Which Uke the roll Of far-off phantom drum Still stir the soul. E'en now most joyously we greet, When such we chance to meet. The poet, who, in modem days. Can melodize his lays, Who can sometimes Enwrap in music sweet His dainty rhymes. Oh English songs, dear English songs ! Full oftentimes one longs, While sitting calmly at his hearth Or roaming o'er the earth. Your notes to hear. Oh English songs, sweet English songs. So soft and clear ! 124 Oh, what a flock of singing birds Wed melody to words, When sung the poet we love best, Transcending all the rest In dulcet notes. Whose music wed to words, Still round us floats ! Yet as we leave this charming throng. And ages pass along. We find sweet songsters here and there, Though growing much more rare, Whose notes are clear. And sweet enough for song To touch or cheer. 125 I^a H'y^^i