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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
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 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 3551 1 00 
 
AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARD 
 
AS THE SPARKS 
 FLY UPWARD 
 
 "Poems and "Ballads 
 
 BY 
 
 DORA SIGERSON SHORTER 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ALEXANDER MORING 
 
 AT THE DE LA MORE PRESS 
 
 298 REGENT STREET, W 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 As THE Sparks Fly Upward I 
 
 The Mother 3 
 
 The Child 4 
 
 The Deer-Stone 8 
 
 Sweet Marie 16 
 
 Kathleen's Charity 21 
 
 The Storm z6 
 
 Cecilia's Way 27 
 
 The Rain 28 
 
 My Pretty Child 29 
 
 To Monica 30 
 
 I 
 
 The Lover's Almanac 31 
 
 Love in Disguise 33 
 
AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARD 
 
 THE little babe I held upon my knee 
 Had not yet banished from its sleeping eyes 
 The dreams of some lost world from which he came, 
 Nor missed some angel-choired paradise. 
 
 Strange little soul that claimed me not his own 
 By glance or smile, but with no seeing gaze 
 Looked to me who, all timid, dared to call 
 This wonder mine, and held it in amaze. 
 
 I prayed — " when comes the light of consciousness 
 Of things that be to hold him so he seek 
 To know what place life now had set him in, . 
 And at whose mercy left, so young and weak." 
 
 "Let it be mine, the face he first shall see 
 Bent on him, full of welcome and of joy. 
 So that his smile on thus beholding love. 
 The pain of coming tears shall half destroy." 
 
 " Or if some day he looks to learn, and I 
 Am not beside, oh ! let it be the Sun 
 Or some fair thing shall greet his seeing eyes. 
 So he shall find life good and well begun." 
 
AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARD 
 
 Beside the fire I held him close, and sang 
 Some sweet child ditty, bidding him to sleep. 
 And broke the log to make it flame and glow ; 
 Then in his eyes I saw a wonder creep. 
 
 Now peeped the soul from out his startled gaze, 
 " Look first on me," I cried, " my little child ! " 
 But from my kiss he held his face away, 
 And as the sparks flew up he saw and smiled. 
 
THE MOTHER 
 
 " T TO!" said the child, " how fine the horses go, 
 I I With nodding plumes, with measured step 
 and slow. 
 
 Who rides within this coach, is he not great ? 
 
 Some King, I thinic, for see, he rides in state!" 
 
 I turned, and saw a little coffin lie 
 Half-hid in flowers as the slow steeds went by. 
 So small a woman's arms might hold it pressed 
 As some rare jewel-casket to her breast ; 
 
 Or like Pandora's box with pulsing lid. 
 Where throbbing thoughts must lie for ever hid. 
 "Why this? why this?" comes forth the panting breath, 
 " And was I born to taste of nought save death ?" 
 
 " Ho ! " said the child, " how the proud horses shake 
 
 Their silver harness till they music make. 
 
 Who drives abroad with all this majesty ? 
 
 Is it some Prince who fain his world would see ? " 
 
 And as I looked I saw through the dim glass 
 Of one sad coach that all so slow did pass 
 A woman's face — a mother's eyes ablaze 
 Seize on the child in fierce and famished gaze. 
 
 " Death drives," I said, and drew him in alarm 
 
 Within the shelter of my circling arm. 
 
 So in my heart cried out a thousand fears, 
 
 " A King goes past." He wondered at my tears. 
 
THE CHILD 
 
 LONE played the child within the magic wood, 
 Where fountains sang and sunshine ever 
 glowed ; 
 Half-hid among red roses on his way, 
 He came at last upon a dark abode. 
 
 He knew not sorrow, and when cries came forth 
 Of bitter grief, he could not choose but stay. 
 And turned from joyous paths his dancing feet. 
 To see what, wonder in that dim house lay — 
 
 Met at the door a woodman stern and cold. 
 Who looked into the sunshine with blind eyes. 
 And saw behind him, with a hidden face. 
 One who made sad the wind with sudden cries. 
 
 * And who are you,' the man looked up and spoke, 
 'Who comes thus singing to the home of grief?' 
 
 * I am a babe,' the little child replied, 
 
 ' Who finds the world all fair beyond belief.' 
 
 And at his voice the woman stayed her cries. 
 And at his laugh she raised her hidden face. 
 ' Dark is the day and drear the world,' she said, 
 ' And lives no beauty in this barren place.' 
 
 ' Drear is the earth,' the man spoke with a sigh ; 
 ' Cold is the sun that long has ceased to shine ; 
 Chill is our house set in a desert place, 
 And Grief and Sorrow on our hearth repine.' 
 
THE CHILD 
 
 * I see the roses blossom on the roof,' 
 
 The child replied, and raised a wondering gaze ; 
 ' I hear the birds' glad singing in the woods. 
 The sun shines ever through the long, sweet days.' 
 
 He laid in each sad grasp his fingers small. 
 
 * Lo, there,' the woman said, ' the roses see ! 
 They cling upon the roof like amber rain : 
 For them the birds do sing a melody.' 
 
 ' And see,' the man replied, ' how fair the sun 
 Doth warm the earth into a thousand flowers ; 
 See the long shadows of the poplars move : 
 Short is the day that hath such golden hours.' 
 
 ' Will you not stay and teach us to be glad ? ' 
 The woman cried, ' We then indeed were blessed.' 
 ' I am but little to go forth alone,' 
 The babe replied, and nestled to her breast. 
 
 And so he stayed for many years to play 
 Beside her hearth, and at each purple eve. 
 When came the man soft singing from his work. 
 All full of dreams he could but half believe. 
 
 The woman met him on their threshold, spoke 
 In solemn wonder, with a ' Hush ! ' and ' Hark ! ' 
 ' To-day he drove out Sorrow from the door : 
 With his small hands he shut her in the dark.' 
 
 5 
 
THE CHILD 
 
 Or, ' Go you soft : he slumbers like a bird 
 That nests, half-singing in his pleasant sleep : 
 To-day from our hearth-side he thrust out Grief — 
 This wonder-child did laugh to see her weep.' 
 
 So stayed the child and played before the door, 
 And if a rose in languor over-sweet 
 Would fall upon his way, the woman kissed 
 The dimpled arches of his little feet. 
 
 Or if a leaf in loving leaned too far 
 
 From her high branch, and whirled upon his hair, 
 
 The woman ran to break it in her hand 
 
 And raise the sunny curl it lit on there. 
 
 And oft she kissed his throat all full of song — 
 Without excuse, to hear his laughter go. 
 Caught by some echo sung from tree to tree. 
 Into the distance like a streamlet's flow. 
 
 So went the hours until one morn she rose 
 To find him gone, and sought him all the day. 
 And when at purple eve the man came home. 
 All loud with weeping she did stop his way. 
 
 ' He is not lost,' the man said with a smile. 
 And proud of heart he held her by the hand, 
 ' He lingers but a little, for his feet 
 Are on a strange road still in manhood's land.' 
 
THE CHILD 
 
 She looked and saw a youth upon the path, 
 With axe upon his shoulder, and his eye 
 All strong and clear to meet the world and fight 
 A victor's fight, should one his claims deny. 
 
 Quick to her side he came with joyous step 
 To kiss her cheek that was so pale and wan ; 
 And yet she saw his gaze go past her face, 
 Some stranger maiden so to rest upon. 
 
 But as he stood, the man soft murmuring 
 Looked, saying slow, ' It is my son, my son, 
 So straight of limb, so comely thus to see ; 
 Now is the glory of my life begun.' 
 
 But when the night was still the woman went 
 Where slept the youth in his small room alone ; 
 And from a hiding-place a casket drew. 
 With now a tear, and oft a stifled moan. 
 
 And from its perfumed hollow quick she brought 
 Two little shoes, and held them to her heart. 
 Stained them with tears, with many kisses cried, 
 * O little feet that strayed from me apart.' 
 
 ' Oh, little child that I shall see no more,' 
 She laid the casket in its hiding-place — 
 Then bent in prayer above her sleeping son. 
 Who smiled in dreaming of another face. 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 A LEGEND OF GLENDALOUGH 
 
 IT was the bride of Colman Rhu 
 In Glendalough sat down, 
 She hashed the babe upon her breast 
 Beside the lake so brown. 
 
 The mountains steep about her rose 
 All glad in green and gold. 
 The heart of all the waters deep 
 Again their glory hold. 
 
 Now had the bride of Colman Rhu 
 Looked long towards the west, 
 She there had seen the glowing sun. 
 Slip slow towards his rest. 
 
 But had she looked towards the east, 
 A maid there was to see. 
 Who bore two daggers in her eyes — 
 Black hate and jealousy. 
 
 She did not look towards the east. 
 Nor looked she to the south 
 But closed her two white lids in sleep, 
 A smile on her red mouth. 
 
 Oh, had she seen the evil maid 
 Who death so stealthy bore, 
 She had not closed her lashes long 
 She now would raise no more. 
 
 8 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 Slow crept the witch unto her side, 
 And saw with furious eye 
 The smiling two in slumber deep, 
 Who did so helpless lie. 
 
 " And for the tears, O Colman red, 
 That I have shed for you, 
 I'll drive a sorrow in your breast 
 To break your heart in two. 
 
 " And for the words that you have said, 
 To crush me with disdain, 
 I'll hush the laughter on your lips 
 That shall not smile again." 
 
 Within her hand a deadly draught 
 She raised a moment up, 
 " And shall it be your little son 
 Who first must taste the cup ? " 
 
 " Ah, no ! For should your bride awake, 
 Her grief would mend your moan. 
 For you in pity at her tears 
 Would half forget your own. 
 
 " But if death lies upon her heart. 
 The two are surely slain, 
 The little babe must thirst and die, 
 And you are mine again." 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 She looked upon each lovely face 
 That held a soul asleep, 
 " And one shall drink of deadly wine, 
 A draught both long and deep." 
 
 She looked upon the baby lips 
 
 That curling 'neath her eyes. 
 
 Sought some sweet fountain in his dreams. 
 
 And fed with gentle sighs. 
 
 Then with a frown and muttered groan 
 Quick to the other crept. 
 And raised the cup in her false hand. 
 To slay them while they slept. 
 
 Ah, gentle Nature, at the deed 
 You quenched within the west 
 Your golden lamp, so none might see 
 The murder stand confessed. 
 
 Then thrice upon the frightened air. 
 The dying lips drew breath. 
 Twice in they drew the wine of life. 
 And once the draught of death. 
 
 Now Colman, with his spear in hand, 
 Late coming from the chase, 
 Heard the low weeping of a child 
 Within a lonesome place. 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 " Oh, hard your mother's heart," he said, 
 " Your cries she will not hear ! " 
 Quick from his steed he sprang, and saw 
 His wife and child so dear. 
 
 Soft came the weeping of the babe 
 Whose font had grown so cold. 
 He flung himself upon the earth. 
 And did his wife enfold. 
 
 All silent was she to his cries. 
 Her cheek was cold as death. 
 And to his hot impassioned kiss 
 Came no responsive breath. 
 
 And when he saw that she was dead 
 He rose up to his feet. 
 And wrapped her in his hunting coat 
 To make her winding sheet. 
 
 " Mo Croide," he said, " your bed to-night 
 
 Shall be both dark and cold. 
 
 On what new island shall you wake. 
 
 Or what strange face behold i " 
 
 " Asthor," he said, " lest you should fear 
 To wander forth alone, 
 I'll follow through the gates of death 
 To claim you for my own." 
 
 II 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 Into his fond and loving heart 
 He drove his hunting knife, 
 And by his bride's chill side he lay, 
 And soon gave up his life. 
 
 It was the good saint Kevin went. 
 All bowed and lost in prayer, 
 And as he paced his lonely path 
 The young witch met him there. 
 
 And in her gown the poison cup 
 She did most quickly hide, 
 But spoke the good saint unto her. 
 And would not be denied. 
 
 " What evil thing is this ? " he said, 
 " That you must put away i 
 It is no gracious act indeed 
 That fears the light of day." 
 
 " It is but bread," the witch replied, 
 " From my small store I take. 
 To feed a poor deserted babe, 
 I go for pity sake." 
 
 " Now, be it bread," the priest replied, 
 " I pray it multiply ; 
 But if it is an evil thing. 
 Full heavy may it lie." 
 
 12 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 And then the priest, all deep In prayer, 
 Went forth his lonely way, 
 While stood the witch upon the path 
 In wild and deep dismay. 
 
 For in her robe the poison cup 
 Did all so heavy grow. 
 She scarce could stand upon her feet. 
 And could but slowly go. 
 
 Now when she reached the rugged rock 
 That held her hidden home. 
 The waters threw their magic up 
 And blinded her with foam. 
 
 She gave a sharp and sudden cry 
 And fell within the lake, 
 And so may perish all who sin. 
 And evil vengeance take. 
 
 But good St. Kevin, deep in prayer. 
 His holy way did go. 
 Soon came to him the sound of grie^ 
 Soft cries of bitter woe. 
 
 There in a dark and lonesome place 
 A little babe he found, 
 And, close beside, a lovely pair 
 All cold upon the ground. 
 
 13 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 " Movrone, Movrone," the good saint cried, 
 " What evil deed is here ? " 
 And for their beauty and their youth 
 He shed a bitter tear. 
 
 He dug for them a lonely grave, 
 A grave both wide and deep, 
 " And slumber well," he softly said, 
 " Till God shall end your sleep." 
 
 He knelt him down upon his knee 
 Their lonely bed beside, 
 And then he saw the little babe 
 That weak in hunger cried. 
 
 He raised it up in his two hands, 
 And held it close and warm, 
 " O Christ," he said, " your mercy give 
 To keep this child from harm. 
 
 " Oh, pitiful indeed is this 
 
 Poor little one alone. 
 
 Whose dead lie peaceful in their sleep 
 
 While he doth make his moan. 
 
 O Mary, who in Bethlehem 
 Held once upon thy breast 
 A tender babe, look down on this 
 Who is so sore oppressed. 
 
 H 
 
THE DEER-STONE 
 
 " I have no food for this poor child, 
 
 Who must with hunger die. 
 
 Thy mercy give," the good priest prayed 
 
 With many a piteous sigh. 
 
 He looked across the waters deep, 
 
 And to the hills so brown, 
 
 And lo ! a shy wood creature there 
 
 All timidly came down. 
 
 And thrice it sprang towards the west. 
 
 And thrice towards the east. 
 
 It was as though some hand unseen 
 
 Drove forth the gentle beast. 
 
 But when the little child it heard, 
 
 That still with hunger cried. 
 
 It sprang before the guiding hand. 
 
 And stood the babe beside. 
 
 And in a hollowed stone it shed 
 
 Its milk so warm and white. 
 
 And then, all timid, stood apart 
 
 To watch the babe's delight. 
 
 And at each eve and every morn 
 The gentle doe was there. 
 To find the little babe, and see 
 The Saint, all deep in prayer. 
 
 In Glendalough the stone lies still. 
 All plainly to be seen. 
 And many folk will point the place 
 Where once the milk had been. 
 
 IS 
 
SWEET MARIE 
 
 YOU were very fair to meet once, Marie, 
 With your eyes like some blue hiding flow( 
 Now where the sun would ever seem to be, 
 Now glowing purple through a diamond shower. 
 
 But it was the wonder hair that you had. 
 With its strange changing colours, gold and red, 
 Now brown, now amber — guessing drove men mad 
 All for the sudden sight of your young head. 
 
 Once down amongst the vine-fields stood a youth, 
 Sweet singing of its auburn, till arose, 
 A fool to match him, swore it was the truth. 
 Gold of all gold, until they fell to blows. 
 
 Oh ! red gold of the sun it was to me. 
 
 The very sun itself, indeed, the day 
 
 Lost all its light when you I might not see. 
 
 Shone at the gloaming if you chanced my way. 
 
 But yet you passed us by and had no smile, 
 For all our foolish loving, nor a look 
 To check our thieving glanCes — chide our guile. 
 That made us linger on the path you took. 
 
 Like some proud queen you went thus treasu 
 
 crowned, 
 Quick bearing, well we knew, all your sweet gold 
 To one who was beloved, there, loose unbound. 
 The yellow wealth lay ready to his hold. 
 
 i6 
 
SWEET MARIE 
 
 Cursed be he ; did he kiss, then, tress by tress, 
 And so beneath the hiding glory seek 
 Those smiling lips, that only spoke to bless 
 All I did curse, in accents low and meek. 
 
 Fate has such ways of laying plan and plot, 
 And heart to heart that are not over wise, 
 Why did you choose a braggart and a sot 
 From those who loved you, held you as a prize ? 
 
 Did my deep curses fall ? For stricken he 
 
 Found death's black gate, and waited while you prayed 
 
 All the great saints of Heaven kind to be. 
 
 Thus bargained for his life, all undismayed. 
 
 As once beside a wayside shrine I hid 
 
 And saw you coming, trembled at your tear, 
 
 I read your anguish 'neath each swollen lid, 
 
 So raised from eyes that could not hide their fear. 
 
 There, from her niche, the Virgin, gazing down. 
 Appeared to watch you as you loosed your hair. 
 And oh the glory of that red and brown. 
 For all the sunlight seemed entangled there ! 
 
 " Sweet Mother, for his life I, tress for tress, 
 Shall cut this beauty which God gave to me. 
 Wilt thou my pleading hearken to and bless. 
 And pray thy Son to grant this boon to me." 
 
 17 
 
SWEET MARIE 
 
 You raised your eyes expectant, and I, too, 
 Gazed at the carven face until it seemed 
 The figure smiled, and then it forward threw 
 Its head to bowing, this — unless I dreamed. 
 
 But, Marie, lock by lock you flung your hair 
 Upon the knife that seemed to pierce my heart. 
 At each slow-parting strand I cried " Beware," 
 And looked for blood upon the tress apart. 
 
 You laughed upon me " Did you see her bow i 
 My boon is granted, he shall live, shall live ! " 
 Before the Virgin low you bend your brow, 
 " Behold, sweet Mother, all my gold I give." 
 
 "And this must die," — 1 kissed each tangled lock, — 
 Laid it in sorrow on the altar stone 
 "That he may live" — your laughter came to mock 
 The evil hope that held my heart its own. 
 
 And then you left me smiling in your glee, 
 I stood before the Virgin eye to eye, 
 "What, jealous of her hair !" I cried. But she 
 Stiff, painted, wooden, did not heed my cry. 
 
 But who would say the Virgin was not wise 
 To weigh the value of men's love with this 
 Gold heap of hair ? For scarcely were my cries 
 Of anger over than your voice of bliss 
 
SWEET MARIE 
 
 Came backward to me, " He is whole again, 
 And walks toward me, hold me lest I fall," 
 And so with lowered eyes of grief and pain, 
 With giving hands I offered him my all. 
 
 But this shorn lamb had no soft tempered wind 
 To bless her sacrifice and bid her live. 
 For sudden laughter, scorn, and jeers unkind 
 Were all the welcome that your love did give. 
 
 Stricken we stood a moment, facing him. 
 And the false woman leaning to his side. 
 With her stiff pointing finger, and her dim 
 Hard eyes upon us. Laughing now they cried : 
 
 "You once were very fair and sweet, Marie, 
 With all your wonder locks of gold and red. 
 Now brown, now amber : men went mad to see 
 The endless glory of your shining head." 
 
 All still you stood a moment with your eyes 
 Fixed on him for some mercy, but his face 
 Half turned in scorning ; so, like one who dies. 
 You moaned, and ran to hide in your disgrace. 
 
 And I had struck him, but he fell to tears, 
 And loud lamenting, crying " Oh, the gold 
 That was my life. O death-inflicting shears 
 To rob the perfumed locks I loved to hold 1 
 
 19 
 
SWEET MARIE 
 
 I spurned him, told the sacrifice and bid 
 Him go and seek you, praying you forgive. 
 But he with laughter scorned me as I chid, 
 " I'll seek some other tresses, so I live." 
 
 I struck him then, for I was sick, in truth, 
 Of my long hatred ; he went down to lie 
 Beside his dog, who was the nobler brute, 
 And wept that he was slain and soon to die. 
 
KATHLEEN'S CHARITY: 
 
 A BALLAD 
 
 " X""^ OD bless the work," said young Kathleen, 
 ^Tf She bent her golden head, 
 And in her cheek that was so pale 
 The blood crept rosy red. 
 
 Quick flew the humming spinning-wheel, 
 
 The thread was all but done. 
 And like the pale shafts of a star 
 
 The gleaming strands she spun. 
 
 " And when the cloth is mine," — she smiled. 
 
 The wheel sang soft and low — 
 " I'll make a robe all straight and white. 
 
 That I a bride may go." 
 
 " The world is good," she said, and laughed, 
 
 A-turning of her wheel. 
 Then by her stood a beggar maid. 
 
 Who prayed with faint appeal. 
 
 " I have not gold," sighed sweet Kathleen, 
 
 " Nor silver you to give. 
 Yet if you go so pale and wan 
 
 I fear you scarce can live." 
 
 " So take my thread, 'twill weave a gown 
 
 To keep you from the cold." 
 The beggar kissed the giving hand, 
 
 And blessed a hundred-fold. 
 
 21 
 
KATHLEEN'S CHARITY 
 
 " My work is done," said poor Kathleen, 
 
 And put her wheel aside, 
 " Yet like God's Mother sweet she looked. 
 
 So fair and holy-eyed." 
 
 " And though no silken gown I wear 
 
 To deck me as a bride, 
 I yet can pray with grateful heart. 
 
 For we have much beside." 
 
 " To-morrow in the bare-brown earth 
 
 We set our golden seed. 
 The yellow corn we scatter wide. 
 
 To make us rich indeed." 
 
 Now as she spake beside her stood 
 
 A man all weak and frail. 
 And there all piteous to her ear. 
 
 He told a woeful tale. 
 
 " I have not silver now nor gold. 
 
 Nor cloth to robe you in, 
 Yet should I giftless drive you forth 
 
 It were a grievous sin." 
 
 She gave the sack of golden corn 
 
 That was her father's store. 
 And in her breast her frightened heart 
 
 Was beating wild and sore. 
 
KATHLEEN'S CHARITY 
 
 " Oh, woe is me," she turned and cried, 
 
 " My father stern and cold, 
 Oh, cruel will he be to her 
 
 Who robbed him of his gold." 
 
 She took the chaff in her two hands 
 With many a moan and sigh. 
 
 And spread it on the bare brown earth 
 Before her sire went by. 
 
 " Ahone," she said, " to so deceive 
 
 My father blind and grey, 
 For little store shall bear the seed 
 
 That I have sown to-day." 
 
 She bent to weep, but by her side 
 
 A child stood all alone, 
 " And 'tis in vain," poor Kathleen cried, 
 
 " That here you make your moan." 
 
 " For I have left no gifts to give. 
 No cloth, no food, no gold ; 
 
 So I must drive you forth," she said, 
 "To perish in the cold." 
 
 She took the child unto her heart. 
 
 And then her tears let fall, 
 " Oh, woe it is to bid you go. 
 
 And you so weak and;small." 
 
 23 
 
KATHLEEN'S CHARITY 
 
 She set him down upon his way 
 And kissed his cheek and chin, 
 
 And then she saw a golden thread 
 He held his hands within. 
 
 " I met a lady on the road." 
 
 The little one replied, 
 " She said this thread would weave a gown 
 
 To robe a happy bride." 
 
 "She bade me when I met with one 
 
 Whose mercy was so great 
 She'd give her very tears away 
 
 In pity for my state." 
 
 She said, " Give her this silken thread 
 
 A wedding gown to weave." 
 Fair Kathleen took the golden ball, 
 
 But yet her heart did grieve. 
 
 " For I have robbed my father dear. 
 
 My father old and weak. 
 And Oh, what shall I answer him 
 
 When he his grain shall seek ?" 
 
 "And Oh, what shall I say to him 
 
 That he could me believe 
 Who sowed the chafF upon the ground, 
 
 His dim eyes to deceive i " 
 
 H 
 
KATHLEEN'S CHARITY 
 
 And, woeful looked she to the north, 
 
 And woeful to the south. 
 And there she saw a little child 
 
 With laughter on his mouth. 
 
 She looked into her father's field, 
 Where once the chaff had been, 
 And lo ! the sprouting grain was there, 
 With ears all high and green. 
 
 "The world is good," said young Kathleen, 
 
 And knelt her down to pray, 
 "I know that some of God's sweet saints 
 
 Did visit me to-day." 
 
 25 
 
THE STORM 
 
 THEY say it is the wind in midnight slcies 
 Loud shrieking past the window, that doth 
 make 
 Each casement shudder with its storm of cries, 
 And the barred door with pushing shoulder shake. 
 
 Ah, no ! ah, no ! It is the souls pass by 
 
 Their lot to run from earth to God's high place. 
 
 Pursued by each black sin that death let fly 
 
 From their sad flesh, to break them in their chase. 
 
 They say it is the rain from leaf to leaf 
 
 Doth slip, and roll into the thirsting ground. 
 
 That where the corn is trampled sheaf by sheaf 
 The heavy sorrow of the storm is found. 
 
 Ah, no ! ah, no ! It is repentant tears 
 
 By those let fall who make their direful flight, 
 
 And drop by drop the anguish of their fears 
 Comes down around us all the awful night. 
 
 They say that in the lightning-flash, and roar 
 Of clashing clouds, the tempest is about ; 
 
 And draw their chairs the glowing hearth before, 
 The casement close to shut the danger out. 
 
 Ah, no ! The doors of Paradise, they swing 
 A moment open for a soul nigh spent, 
 
 Then come together till the thunder's ring 
 Leaves us half-blinded by God's element. 
 
CECILIA'S WAY 
 
 LIGHTED by the lady moon, 
 Breezes blow and aspens quiver, 
 By the stream's enchanted tune 
 Singing to the distant river, 
 Walks Cecilia. 
 
 Such an hour for love and song, 
 Lover's kiss and maiden's laughter. 
 Who would wish the night less long 
 Or fail to weep it back hereafter J 
 Sighs Cecilia. 
 
 Neath the aspen moves a shade, — 
 Shadow dark ! The saints defend her ! 
 Any lass would fly afraid 
 On the wings that fear would lend her ! 
 Smiles Cecilia. 
 
 Who would brave the'shaping gloom. 
 Hiding form and hidden face. 
 Phantom arms that would entomb. 
 Who dares go to that embrace ? — 
 Why, Cecilia. 
 
 27 
 
THE RAIN 
 
 THIS is the rhyme of the rain on the roof, 
 Tears, all tears, slow falling tears — 
 If this is the warp, then what is the woof? 
 Flesh that sorrows and fiesh that fears. 
 
 Ah ! poor humanity weeping sore. 
 
 Guilt and sorrow, anger and shame. 
 
 Oh ! who could peace on this earth restore ? 
 
 Who shall punish and who shall blame ? 
 
 Here where a God, loved much, was slain. 
 Since He hath failed, then who can win f 
 On the thirsting ground let them fall again. 
 Tears of sorrow and tears of sin. 
 
 28 
 
MY PRETTY CHILD 
 
 ]\/fO pa'tst'in deas, I did not know 
 
 How cold the winter's blast could blow 
 Into her heart, with what despair 
 Earth drew her bloom and blossom fair. 
 How lone a man might come and go 
 When you were here — how could I know ? 
 
 How could I know, my little child, 
 When gracious summer looked and smiled. 
 Soft was the sleeping roses' breath 
 Who did not know or dream of death. 
 Like him who stood in glad surprise 
 At love discovered in your eyes, 
 That fleeting time so slow could pass 
 I did not know, mo paist'in deas. 
 
 My pretty child, I did not know 
 How I had watched you come and go. 
 How I had listened for your song. 
 How short your shy caress, how long 
 Your absence was, till praying I 
 Looked up to heaven with a cry 
 To call you back, there saw a star 
 And knew how far God's gardens are. 
 
 29 
 
TO MONICA 
 
 WHEN dainty Mona walks this way 
 My foolish heart will beat, 
 And leaves me, though I turn aside, 
 To lie beneath her feet. 
 
 It follows her all up and down 
 
 More faithfully, I wis, 
 Than that be-ribboned spaniel which 
 
 She honours with a kiss ! 
 
 And when all chidden by her frown 
 
 My heart creeps back to me. 
 It holds my breast a prison-house. 
 
 And would again be free. 
 
 30 
 
THE LOVER'S ALMANAC 
 
 OH, hearts that wear the willow, 
 To you I tell my woe. 
 Why thus uncared, ungartered, 
 And all so pale I go. 
 
 Come, you wan lovers sighing 
 Who too have felt the thorn. 
 But let none heart-whole linger 
 To laugh my grief to scorn. 
 
 Demure in church on Sunday 
 My love I chanced to see, 
 Amidst her gentle praying 
 I vow she looked on me. 
 
 On Monday in the meadow 
 I lingered by the stile, 
 She did but touch my fingers. 
 And past me with a smile. 
 
 On Tuesday, mute and rosy, 
 I stood upon her way. 
 My heart it nigh betrayed me, 
 "Good-morrow," did she say. 
 
 With blushing cheek on Wednesday 
 Her path she went all slow, 
 How feared I such a fair maid — 
 I could not move to go. 
 
 31 
 
THE LOVER'S ALMANAC 
 
 On Thursday, brave and daring, 
 I vowed I'd speak her fair. 
 She turned her glances from me, 
 And passed me, head in air. 
 
 All pale on Friday morning 
 I waited by her path, 
 She flashed her eyes upon me. 
 And pierced me with their wrath. 
 
 On Saturday, if that day 
 Should ever dawn for me, 
 I'll die for cruel Chloris 
 Beneath the cypress-tree. 
 
 3* 
 
LOVE IN DISGUISE 
 
 I MOURNED beneath the willow tree, 
 And shrouded came a nymph to me 
 And slid her hand in mine. 
 Her boldness I did much upbraid, 
 And said : " Begone, thou wanton maid ; 
 I seek no love of thine ! 
 
 " Nor do I hope to wake again 
 My heart all stricken with disdain, 
 And drive it forth to woo. 
 No 1 no ! Forlorn I sit and sigh. 
 And call on Death to let me die. 
 Since Phyllis is untrue." 
 
 "Ah !" cried the maid, "why therefore, chide, 
 
 Since I indeed am fitting bride 
 
 For one so pale and wan ?" 
 
 She held me in a close embrace. 
 
 Nor could I see her hidden face 
 
 And still I cried: "Begone !" 
 
 "If thou art Love, thy labour's vain ; 
 I hold thy boldness in disdain, 
 I care no more to woo. 
 But be thou death, for whom I cry. 
 Thy lover then indeed am I, 
 Since Phyllis is untrue." 
 
 33 
 
LOVE IN DISGUISE 
 
 " Oh ! I am Love," she whispered low, 
 "And fain I too with Death would go; 
 My lover — cold is he. 
 Who bids me fly the trysting-place." 
 She raised the veil from off her face — 
 My Phyllis smiled on me ! 
 
 34 
 

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