mrijmi sMGm.1 1 
 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap... Copyright No, 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
An Autumn Singer 
 
An Autumn Singer 
 
 'By 
 
 George M. Gould, A.M., M.D. 
 
 -^ 
 
 Philadelphia 
 
 J. B. Lippincott Company 
 Mdcccxcvii 
 
 

 Copyright, 1896, 
 
 BY 
 
 Gborgb M. Gould. 
 
 PWMTED Bv J. B. L1PPIN00TT Company, Phiiadelphia, U.S.A. 
 
Table of Contents 
 
 An Autumn Singer, 9 
 
 Sonnets 
 
 The Sonnet, 12 
 Night-Mysteries, 13 
 Rejected, 14 
 
 A Vision of Peace and Rest, 15 
 Banished, 16 
 Her Laugh, 17 
 The World's Orchestra, 18 
 The Soul's Masque, 19 
 Unrest, 20 
 
 An "Mutter Erda," 21 
 De Novo, 22 
 The Life that Now is, 23 
 Life's Philosophy, 24 
 The Love of God, 25 
 Await the Blowing of the Rose, 26 
 The Sceptic's Consolation, 27 
 Reality, 28 
 Immortality, 29 
 5 
 
Four Failures, 30 
 
 The Men of Mars, 31 
 
 The Matterhom, 32 
 
 Independence, 33 
 
 Age, 34 
 
 The Ocean, 35 
 
 La Cruche Cassee, 122 
 
 Nothing — Everything, 151 
 
 Once More, 155 
 
 Songs 
 
 Absence, 47 
 The Secret, 48 
 Love's Day, 50 
 A Song in the Night, 51 
 Bend, bend lower, Love, 52 
 The Unknown Love, 53 
 O sing, my Heart, 54 
 Joy and Care, 55 
 The Happy Ploughman, 56 
 Jealous, 57 
 Life, 59 
 
 Surely Love is in the Air, 60 
 The Wedding, 61 
 Seasons, 63 
 June, 64 
 
 Use and Beauty, 65 
 6 
 
The Message, 152 
 Give Love Thy All, 153 
 The Consolation, 159 
 Good-Night, 160 
 
 Of Ethical Import 
 Action, 66 
 Contemplation, 69 
 Aphorisms, 72 
 The Open Secret, 74 
 Earthly Immortality, 76 
 The Mountain Brook, 83 
 Blind, 85 
 The Word of Life, 156 
 
 Society Verses 
 At the Play, 86 
 His Explanation, 94 
 Aftermath, 97 
 A Flirtation, 99 
 Inter Arma Leges Silent, 102 
 The Bachelor's Ballade, 104 
 Satisfied, 106 
 
 Poems of Sentiment 
 The Lost Mate, 107 
 "Woods-Secrets, 113 
 7 
 
Motherhood, Ii8 
 Migration, 126 
 Day-Dreams, 128 
 The Fence, 130 
 The Mediator, 131 
 My Critic, 132 
 
 In the Nursery 
 Baby, 133 
 
 Cradle-Crooning, 137 
 Doll-Philosophy, 138 
 Marriage and Divorce, 139 
 
 At Sunset, 141 
 
 Notes, 162 
 
AN AUTUMN SINGER 
 
 A BIT of sunshine, warmed by spring, 
 A heart of song, a fluff of feather, 
 
 A wing put there, and here a wing, 
 
 A breath blown in, — all kissed together 
 
 With sweet, low croon of half-heard words, — 
 
 This was the way Love made his birds ! 
 
 A world of sunshine, wooed by spring. 
 
 Breathed down on meadow, field, and wood, 
 
 A brooding sense in everything 
 Of benediction soft and good 
 
 O'er ripening old and blithe new-comer, — 
 
 And this the way Love made his summer ! 
 
 A wise, good bird who can't be mother 
 The next best chooses, mightiest, metest, — 
 
 Close by her nest, some place or other, 
 He sits and sings to her his sweetest, — 
 2 9 
 
Sings all day long, and summer long, — 
 'Twas thus that Love made summer-song ! 
 
 With nestlings flown flew confidence. 
 And then he felt how poor his singing — 
 
 To silence shamed, and penitence ; 
 
 Ah ! no ! The dear one said, close winging. 
 
 Your song my comfort was^ defence ! 
 
 And thus Love brought song's recompense ! 
 
 All through the spring, the summer through, 
 Dear birds, you filled and thrilled the air 
 
 With song that only God and you 
 Could make together, each his share 
 
 Of utter best and sweetest bringing, — 
 
 Thus Love filled all his world with singing ! 
 
 And then when summer's work was done 
 And Love no longer needed you, 
 
 A death-like silence fell, till one, 
 Aggrieving, wondered what to do 
 
 With life when all its good had left, — 
 
 Such was the world of love bereft. 
 lo 
 
When autumn came, lone here, far there, 
 
 Were heard want's tremulous notes, and wrong's 
 
 Weak rilling tones of tuneless air, — 
 Such pale, pathetic, songless songs 
 
 To silence melting faint above ! — 
 
 Thus Love mocked singing without love ! 
 
 When all the air was music, one. 
 Untaught of song, unskilled in tune, 
 
 Sat silent until, startling, run 
 
 And stirred Life's great migration rune, — 
 
 Then burst and gushed the long-stored flow, — 
 
 An autumn-singer's want and woe ! 
 
 O Love ! knit well our wings, and fill 
 To brimming all our hearts with song; 
 
 Migration past, assure shall thrill 
 
 New spring, new life, atoning, strong ! 
 
 Ah ! Shall we find new world above ? 
 
 And thee, thee. Love ? O Love ! O Love ! 
 
 II 
 
THE SONNET 
 
 The sonnet is a photograph of one 
 
 Rich evanescent moment of Life's face, 
 Whose beauty subtly to a differing grace 
 
 Each instant glides, o'er which fleet-footed run, 
 
 Like shine and shadow alternate of sun 
 
 'Cross goldening corn-fields, the elusive chase 
 Of smiles and tears, and joys and sorrows race. 
 
 Till shower and shine have end and day is done. 
 
 A photograph of soul by spirit light 
 Flashed in the world's impermanence, — 
 
 The glance that passes and the phase that 
 flies, — 
 Revealing man, unfrightened by time's flight. 
 With faith and mind transcending doubt and 
 sense, 
 A heart that cries, / live^ to heart that dies. 
 
 12 
 
NIGHT-MYSTERIES 
 
 The midnight moon at sky-edge pauses, swings, 
 To view her world with pale wan darkness 
 
 bright. 
 The silence deepens ; quivers unseen light, 
 
 And half-heard, hover whirring wondrous wings ; 
 
 The sighs and breaths of mystic bodiless things 
 Against the air-wove walls of being smite. 
 While broods the hush and mystery of the 
 night, 
 
 Soft pressing on the spirit's inner springs. 
 
 Are we, are we, of night, and life, and time. 
 Awaiting birth-hour ? Do we subtly feel, 
 Enwombed and mothered of Eternity, 
 Her pulsing heart-beats rippling through us 
 rhyme ? 
 Among our dreams thy love's low crooning 
 steal, 
 Dear Mother, thou, who yearnest till we be ? 
 
 13 
 
REJECTED 
 
 Twin mountain pools, her eyes, filled from far 
 springs. 
 Hid in cool, sweet, and quiet wood, with shade 
 Of bordering mosses, and with palisade 
 
 Of flowers. Even now I hear the bird that sings 
 
 His gush of wildwood song that limpid rings, — 
 And hearing that rapt, holy serenade 
 Stills Silence all the lisping leaves, and glade. 
 
 And holds her heart, while day to nightfall wings. 
 
 Life's question once I asked those mysteried eyes 
 Of gaze impersonal and unabashed ; 
 
 And peering down their depths I saw there — 
 God, 
 Who looked at me with pitying love, o'erwise, 
 As she referred my wish to Him : quick flashed 
 Responsive back His stern dissenting nod. 
 
 14 
 
A VISION OF PEACE AND REST 
 
 As hurled by Titan-wrath roars on the train, 
 And swift past windows whirl hot gleams of 
 
 things 
 Which tire the wearied monotone that sings 
 The Soul, life's journey through. Startled, I 
 
 strain 
 To see far under noble trees, where reign 
 
 Deep sunflecked shades, cool silences, and 
 
 springs. 
 Sweet mystic murmuring leaves and brooks and 
 wings, — 
 A glance of Paradise with eyes of Pain. 
 
 As once, in rush of doubt and heart-distress, 
 I saw Eternal Peace and Rest supreme ! 
 One instant let my aching eyes explore 
 The cool, green, silent depths that hush and bless, 
 Where God's dreams shimmer, fall asleep, and 
 dream, — 
 I heard their muffled pulses, then — no more ! 
 
 IS 
 
BANISHED 
 
 In world awaked the soul looks out along 
 The coming years, — halts sorrow-hushed, and 
 
 thrilled ; 
 The eyes far-seeing, fear and wonder-filled, 
 
 Catch hint of coming love, or waiting wrong, 
 
 Perhaps of both combined, in one life-long 
 Desire that dies not, and cannot be stilled. 
 Or hope that lives not, yet cannot be killed. 
 
 By Life more weak than Death, than Death more 
 strong. 
 
 Then backward runs the lost world-fleeing child 
 Along the road that inward leads to God, 
 Falls at the awful gates, implores, and clings. 
 Between his stifled sobs rains kisses wild 
 
 On bolts, with tears and fondlings begs each rod 
 Of the relentless, silent, iron things. 
 
 i6 
 
HER LAUGH 
 
 I'm sure God's favorite angels laugh just so, — 
 Or, when she goes to heaven, she'll teach them 
 
 to! 
 Perhaps a memory 'tis of their adieu 
 When she came thence to us ! At first a slow. 
 Soft gurgle in the heart of gladness low 
 
 An instant bubbles, then quick gushes through 
 The sweetest throat, to break in air and strew 
 The limpid music of joy's overflow. 
 And then half frightened, down and back she 
 calls 
 The truant notes escaped, which flash and go 
 Home to her heart with little lisp and coo 
 Of love's delight, and little gasps and falls ! — 
 I'm sure His dearest angels laugh just so, 
 Or that when she goes there, they'll learn 
 how to ! 
 
 17 
 
THE WORLD'S ORCHESTRA 
 
 All history seems as if the players tried 
 
 Their instruments, the keys and strings ran o'er, 
 Essaying modulation, bar of score, 
 
 Until with each they should be satisfied. 
 
 While waiting and expectant they abide 
 A dominant will that shall to all restore 
 The unity and purpose planned before, 
 
 And discords melt to music glorified. 
 
 O Love ! Of cosmic orchestra and choir 
 The leader, master, thou awaited long. 
 
 Come seize our wills, command to harmony 
 The notes discordant of our life's desire ! 
 Make nations sing the antiphonal song 
 
 Of Peace, the world play thy grand sym- 
 phony ! 
 
 i8 
 
THE SOUL'S MASQUE 
 
 The soul is like the man in visored steel 
 Whose face by strange mysterious decree 
 He dare reveal to none, none live and see. 
 
 The body is the masque whose folds conceal, 
 
 More absolute than iron's locked anneal, 
 
 Soul-prisoner hid within. Whate'er the plea, 
 Self's secret deep is kept more utterly 
 
 Than were it doom of death should we reveal. 
 
 And hence our piteous, awful loneliness ! 
 Alone we live and die, and cannot tell 
 
 The truth although the secret kill ; unshown 
 Soul's face to dearest friend I More merciless, 
 Fate makes us mysteries to ourselves — in cell 
 Of flesh unknown of all, by self unknown ! 
 
 19 
 
UNREST 
 
 The mountain spring o'erruns to rivulet, 
 The brook to river, hurrying, onward goes. 
 Yearns river toward the sea, and as it flows 
 
 Dreams ending there of all life's want and fret. 
 
 But vainly seeks the ocean to forget ! 
 Pain's note, subdominant of woes, 
 Moans ever in its heart's adagios, 
 
 Remorseless, sleepless, as divine regret. 
 
 So run our Hves and doings, pitiless. 
 
 To infinite ocean of humanity ; 
 
 But still at heart of nation, world, we see 
 Insatisfaction's hunger, soul's distress. 
 
 To tide of passion, storm of battle, roll. 
 
 While prays for peace and rest the warring 
 soul. 
 
 20 
 
AN "MUTTER ERDA" 
 
 For this a million years the world-soul wrought ; 
 And history strained the wedding not to miss, 
 When Earth, the bride, all hungry for the kiss, 
 
 Should proffer lips, lift face, and be upcaught 
 
 In God's down-stooping love. In world is not 
 So great, so pure, so sweet a thing as this : — 
 The darling child enthroned in mother-bliss, 
 
 And ecstasy of lambent love and thought. 
 
 A silent song of victory is her smile ; 
 
 Her eyes past yours look into God's own eyes ; 
 'Tis Love's soft hands that push each pulse- 
 beat fine 
 From mother-heart into the girl-face, while 
 The baby-sphinx propounds Life's riddle wise 
 Which makes the answerer, as these two, 
 divine. 
 
DE NOVO 
 
 How poor I was ! And only yesterday ! 
 
 I had no heart great things to do or dare. 
 
 My faiths or hopes were shadowed or were fair 
 As drifted, or did not, across my May 
 Of Hfe, the clouds of chance their aimless way. 
 
 And then your eyes blazed into mine a share 
 
 Of Love's own soul, your lips ! — O rich and rare 
 Is now the air I breathe, the life I play ! 
 
 Ah, Love, Love, Love ! Thy miracle is new 
 However old it be ; thy sweet more sweet 
 
 Than ever other knew. Truth now is true, 
 And Beauty beautiful. Dear face and feet. 
 
 Turn not henceforth away from me ! Dear hands. 
 
 Draw closer evermore the holy bands ! 
 
THE LIFE THAT NOW IS 
 
 For intellect that loves, and heart that knows, 
 All other faith is naught except it be 
 This faith, this knowledge, of the life we see 
 And are. Why not enough? Strong, sweet it 
 
 grows. 
 With infinite plenitude ; all pains and woes 
 Of matter's incarnation-mystery 
 Weigh not a perfumed petal falling free 
 From this divinely splendid cosmic rose, — 
 Our one world-blossom from God's own rose-tree 
 Abloom in all the gardened fields of space, — 
 Whose flower dies not though fall its leaves 
 to death. 
 Its leaves are souls. The flower eternally 
 
 Draws truth and beauty from the Gardener's 
 face. 
 And Love, its fragrance, is His very breath. 
 
 23 
 
LIFE'S PHILOSOPHY 
 
 With ever-varying color, mystic, strange. 
 
 Two rainbowed streams of light from far-off 
 
 skies 
 Unroll into our dark, and flash as with the dyes 
 
 Of day and night, of heaven and hell, they change. 
 
 And weave in nearer-greeting, recognizing range. 
 And then they interweave and blend, while rise 
 And flood the earth, and fill all seeing eyes, 
 
 The incarnate wonders of life's interchange. 
 
 Our world is fusion of the single lights 
 Of me and thee in marriage-death divine. 
 And beauty is God's benediction-sign ; 
 
 Our Freedom is forgetfulness of rights, 
 The Truth is our forgetfulness of wrong. 
 And Happiness is Love's own weaving-song. 
 
 24 
 
THE LOVE OF GOD 
 
 What mean we when we say we must love God ? 
 
 Contentment with thought-fashions, creeds ? 
 
 Atonement idle for our idle deeds ? 
 If love we have we pass beneath His rod, 
 And tread the lonely ways His feet have trod ; 
 
 We heal and bind the wounded heart that 
 bleeds, 
 
 With life and love fill full the heart that needs, 
 Till breaks to spring our world, as flowers from 
 sod. 
 
 How tireless does He woi-k by day and night, 
 To loose the bonds of Fate and set Love free ! 
 
 He gladness sheds, as does the sun its light. 
 On child and bird and flower. What artist He ! 
 
 In all His work laughs Beauty's holy, bright. 
 Immortalizing Benedicite, 
 
 25 
 
AWAIT THE BLOWING OF THE ROSE 
 
 Our childish science plucks the budding rose 
 Of knowledge, pulls its leaves apart to spy 
 What hidden secret at its heart may lie. 
 
 We find a wondrous living flower that glows, 
 
 Within hid leaf enfolding leaf, and grows 
 New mysteries forever. Then we cry 
 With pain of baffled hope, or worse, deny 
 
 The beauty, life, the flower itself, that blows. 
 
 But why not wait the natural day of bloom 
 Of Evolution's Rose divine ? Because 
 
 It takes a million years, and waits death's 
 hour? 
 But listen ! Hear God laugh at time and doom ! 
 He bids you by His courier loves and laws 
 Come see the Universe about to flower. 
 
 26 
 
THE SCEPTIC'S CONSOLATION 
 
 What then abides in all this mystic dance 
 Of seeming real and unreal, me, not me ? 
 Our firmest faiths, the surest truths, we see 
 
 Illusive fade, — our sole inheritance 
 
 The accident of fate, or fate of chance. 
 The eye creates the thing it sees, yet we 
 Slow learn that eye and subjectivity 
 
 Are woof of dream and warp of circumstance. 
 
 The dream abides ! The law and fact of change ! 
 The surety too that woven warp and woof 
 Has loveliness for infinite delight. 
 Know all mutation's laws, let range 
 
 The eye their glories o'er, — enough the proof 
 Of world perdurable, in beauty dight. 
 
 27 
 
REALITY 
 
 The beauty of the wondrous world and sky, 
 Their color, light, the bitter and the sweet 
 Of subtile sense, the harmonies that greet 
 
 The ear, or jars that hurt, — all seem to lie 
 
 Without. But only seem; for they by ear and 
 eye 
 Are made, — or powers that senses make and 
 
 mete ; 
 From crude material hint or quiver fleet 
 
 The mind creates the world we deify. 
 
 Ah, Truth and Love ! Fear ices all my heart, 
 
 To think ye too may be phantasmic plays. 
 
 Born of our wants. Illusion's aureole ! — 
 
 But then no anodyne could reach our smart. 
 
 And threadless evermore the infinite maze. 
 
 Were not reality enthroned in soul. 
 
 28 
 
IMMORTALITY 
 
 You hunger for eternal life, and fain 
 
 Through death would bear the group of vani- 
 ties, 
 Of weakness, wants, and waste inanities, 
 You fondly cherish as yourself. How vain ! 
 Pray, rather, for kind death to end your pain. 
 Your love of self, of pleasure, and of ease ; 
 Not Him, not Him, your worthless gift may 
 please, — 
 Must lose one's life, I've heard, true life to gain. 
 It were malignant, not beneficent. 
 
 Our starveling wants and weakness to endow 
 With awful doom of perpetuity. 
 Just wisdom and true goodness both consent 
 Will certain find God there who finds Him now. 
 Who not immortal is, will never be. 
 
FOUR FAILURES^ 
 
 The eaglets oft missed aim and fish, but won 
 Sometimes, and screaming bore aloft their prey- 
 To stuff their maws — the old accustomed way. 
 
 One failed, learned well miscalculation none 
 
 Dare be when life is staked in hazards run ; 
 His talons could not leave, his wings not sway 
 The victim, soon the victor of the fray, 
 
 Which dragged him living, dead, till hfe was done. 
 
 The story's old with men who devil's game 
 Of " politics" or " business" play 'gainst soul ; 
 
 Most lose ; some win their pitiable wealth or fame. 
 But one I saw, endowed for nobler goal. 
 
 Swoop conscious down, find talons locked in shame. 
 And he of beast tormented, carcass-troll. 
 
 30 
 
THE MEN OF MARS 
 
 O Martian men, my mind is tired with strain 
 And eager fancy to catch hint what you 
 May be, how act, of what you think, as through 
 
 The awful depths of space I peer, till fain 
 
 To you I'd leap across the ethereal main. 
 Ah, if what you know, we but surely knew ! 
 Have you found God ? Are you just, pure, and 
 true? 
 
 What is your reading of life's riddle, what your 
 pain? 
 
 With all our doubts and wonderings this we 
 
 find:— 
 You are what we shall yet become when mind 
 Shall conquer sense, and from white pole to 
 
 pole, 
 The streams of universal peace shall roll. 
 We wait, content to know, however far, 
 Life's heart and love's beat warm in far-off star. 
 
 31 
 
THE MATTERHORN 
 
 Thy bases rooted in the immobile deep 
 Of earth, with giant buttresses of rock, 
 Scorn Titan's blow, heed not the earthquake's 
 shock. 
 
 Lured on, the eyes climb up the dizzying steep 
 
 To rest upon the beetling heights that keep 
 Eternal watch above the world, and mock 
 The littleness of man. About thee flock 
 
 Thy tribute-mountains. Silence sinks to sleep. 
 
 'Twas said who reads life's riddle not aright 
 Quick finds himself bereft of life's own breath. 
 Dost thou, O Sphinx of Mountains, mitigate 
 Our doom, and from us hold by mastering might 
 The eternal eyes whose awful glance is death ? 
 Thy gaze meets full the gorgon-stare of Fate. 
 
 32 
 
INDEPENDENCE 
 
 The world loves honor only in dead men, 
 
 And crowns them as its kings at last when they 
 Are past delight of duty, joy of day ; 
 
 In life it gives success to servant when 
 
 Good tool he's been of end ignoble, — then. 
 The dupe dismisses on Oblivion's way. 
 Who dares such master scorn and disobey 
 
 Must seek reward beyond all earthly ken. 
 
 But fears no revolution who is king 
 
 Of self, sole subject true, — more undesired, — 
 Whose kingdom's Hmits touch nor sea nor 
 shore. 
 No fame or power that might the great world 
 bring 
 Is worth the proud content and joy inspired 
 By his own soul's Well done / What needs 
 he more? 
 
 33 
 
AGE 
 
 It is so long between the thought and doing, 
 So weary long between the deed and crown, 
 That runs the fount of Youth to Age slow down. 
 
 And bubbles low, sleep only half subduing. 
 
 How strange now seems our ardent young pursu- 
 ing, 
 So worthless is the o'er-belate renown. 
 So harmless is stern Disapproval's frown, 
 
 And charmless the long-wooed now come a-woo- 
 ing. 
 
 *Tis Death that waits us when desire runs low ; 
 
 Then sad we smile at youth's delusions sweet. 
 And, weary, long eternal sleep to know ; — 
 
 'Tis Death, whom once we feared and shrank to 
 
 meet. 
 Whom now we trust, and reach forth hand to 
 greet; 
 He loving draws the hand : we rise to go. 
 
 34 
 
THE OCEAN ^ 
 
 As it once was, so it again shall be ! 
 
 As it once was ! Ah, then o'er world and 
 'round 
 
 No line of shore rose up to mock, no bound, 
 No rock's or mount's impertinence ; free, free 
 Of limit and of will, we mighty three 
 
 Then ruled the universe alone ; no sound 
 
 There was except 'round all the world the sound 
 Of my wild waves in wild hoarse whirr of glee. 
 
 We mighty three ! The children of old Fate, 
 Who died of grief, and willed eternal hate 
 
 To his presumptuous heirs, star-crowned Night, 
 And Day, who took from him his sun and light. 
 And me, who seized the world, and over these. 
 His Titans and his mountains, spread my seas ! 
 
 35 
 
11. 
 
 How little dreamed or recked I of their hate, 
 Those cumbrous minions of my father's sway, 
 In caverns prisoned, hid from night and day ; 
 
 Their groans I heard not, thought not of their state, 
 
 Their plottings, or their just or unjust fate. 
 Enough for me the swift and splendid play 
 Of wind with wave, of sun with wave and spray. 
 
 The swell and sweep of tide importunate. 
 
 I sported with the lightning, and the stroke 
 Of thunder on my face, the lash of storm. 
 
 Caresses were that me from slumbering woke 
 To answer elemental boasts with roar enorme 
 
 Of laughter, till earth's caves and deeps profound 
 
 Reverberant rocked with muffled boom of sound. 
 
 36 
 
III. 
 
 They heard the laughter, felt derision's sting ; 
 Through all the caverns of their gaols and hearts 
 Pierced sharp the shame, — till shame o'ergoaded 
 starts 
 
 And roars of hate and vengefulness outring. 
 
 Defies not power, nor fate, nor anything, 
 Despair made desperate ; it strength imparts 
 To weakness, giants makes to gods, gives arts 
 
 Unto the dull, — to power an end may bring ! 
 
 Through all their prisons rang the awful word ; 
 
 One mind of hell in myriad limbs was hurled ; 
 Firm-braced they strained, until afar was heard 
 
 The ominous splintering of the riving world. 
 Then thunder filled and deafened all the air, — 
 And mountain-mounting Titans mocked despair. 
 
 37 
 
IV. 
 
 When circumstance o'errules and fate denies, 
 When unto will is set unconquerable will, 
 Then sinks the great mind in itself until 
 
 By subtle means remote it wins allies 
 
 Which work to hidden end that none descries. 
 At last, the loyalty of things to skill. 
 The world await for all-resolved will 
 
 Give victory to the enemy of lies. 
 
 Heaped continents of rock based deep in earth. 
 Star-neighboring mountains, miles on miles of 
 shore, — 
 These all are doomed ! Sport of my mighty mirth 
 
 They yet shall be ; high over them and o'er 
 I yet shall ride as once I rode when free 
 Was given light to Day, night Night, my world to 
 me! 
 
 38 
 
Were loyal, brother Day, and sister Night ; 
 They swore me help, and we true royal three 
 Swore as it once was it again shall be. 
 
 We set great tasks to all our servants : light 
 
 With darkness alternates ; fire and frost unite 
 To melt and burst and crumble down to me 
 All haughty heights, till sunk beneath my sea. 
 
 Blown waves shall chase and laugh above them 
 white. 
 
 There is no granite bulwark anywhere 
 
 That shows not deep the markings of my teeth ; 
 
 'Gainst every shore-line wash, and waste, and wear 
 My tireless waves, and leave the frothing wreath 
 
 Of their mad lips, thus fresh reiterate 
 
 Eternal proofs of my eternal hate. 
 
 39 
 
VI. 
 
 Day's chiefs, the sun and winds, are noble 
 friends ; 
 
 They take my breath and carry it in cloud ; 
 
 The lands and mounts as with a shroud 
 Are covered, drenched ; each loyal drop descends 
 To clutch its mite of earth, and hurrying blends 
 
 With others into brooks, and brooks to rivers 
 crowd. 
 
 To roll relentless down the pride o'erproud 
 Till world of land in world of water ends. 
 
 Most fine shall all be ground ! I pulverize 
 And spread so wide that neither force nor fire 
 
 May rouse to union death that dies and lies 
 So deep, and far, and fine, none may conspire ; 
 
 In scorn I fling the unground pebbles back 
 
 To show earth's children my design and wrack ! 
 
 40 
 
VII. 
 
 Relentless as fate, 
 Forgetless as hate, 
 Resistless as time, 
 My work shall go on, and go on ; 
 All things I dissolve, 
 To me all devolve ; 
 
 Deep down in my slime 
 I bury them all, all, anon. 
 
 The glacier is mine, 
 The snow is my sign. 
 Delay is not rest ; 
 Each shows me or early or late. 
 Outworking command. 
 Downfall of the land. 
 
 The end of the quest, 
 The law and my reign vindicate. 
 
 41 
 
My avalanche knells, 
 My earthquake foretells, 
 My cyclone unchains 
 The doom ever nearing and dire ; 
 The tide and the flood 
 Are pulses of blood 
 
 In my eager veins, — 
 The ardors of my fierce desire. 
 
 Each day they sink lower. 
 Each day it runs slower, — 
 
 These mountains, that life; 
 Submerged past all rising or breath, 
 Soon lie land and shore 
 'Neath waves evermore. 
 
 Where end want and strife. 
 Where Time waits and wishes for death. 
 
 42 
 
 1 
 
My lakes to me call, 
 Fain, fain would they fall, 
 Again with me rest, 
 Or eager fulfil water's work ; 
 They soon shall be freed. 
 Released to their deed, 
 
 Recrown Dispossessed, — 
 O'er land and its parasites bask. 
 
 Dissolve every island. 
 Eat lowland and highland, 
 
 O Rain, Storm, and Flood, — 
 Again to me bear the proud earth ! 
 Sun, burn them with fire ! 
 Night, freeze them entire ! 
 
 Streams, bring them as mud, 
 For burial fitting their worth ! 
 
 43 
 
Relentless as fate, 
 Forgetless as hate, 
 
 Resistless as time. 
 My work shall go on, and go on ; 
 All things I dissolve, 
 To me all devolve ; 
 
 Deep down in my slime 
 I bury them all, all, anon. 
 
VIII. 
 
 The giants long are dead ; these too shall die, 
 Their starveling heirs, called men, who eat and sin 
 A dreary round of days before they win 
 
 The death they seek and fear with dread and lie. 
 
 A brief respite I give ere I deny 
 
 Them food and foothold at their earthly inn, — 
 I scorn to kill ; I take my own ; no kin 
 
 Are these of mine, — let them their fathers cry ! 
 
 Content while sure the fateful centuries fall 
 I wait, enjoy my victory every hour, 
 As grain by grain I melt their mountains 
 down, 
 Gnaw hills away, through ruined valleys brawl, 
 With spoil of conquered continents and power, 
 While hiss my storms, and driven waters 
 drown. 
 
 45 
 
IX. 
 
 At last shall flash the glitter and the glance 
 Of lambent sunshine luminant and swift, 
 Among my limpid waves, the sheen and shift 
 
 Of mystic moon-path shimmer dance, 
 
 Across the whole pure landless world's expanse. 
 Then boreal streamers high shall dart and lift 
 Their signals from white snow and pole-ice drift 
 
 To tell of peace and of deliverance. 
 
 Her covering, then, moon-wove and star-im- 
 pearled. 
 Will spread the slumber-bringing, soft, sweet 
 Night, 
 Till, 'round and 'round the wondrous water-world. 
 Day's sun shall chase the fleeing morning's 
 flight. 
 And then ! Eternal, lifeless, deathless, free. 
 Shall rule the glad, wide world we mighty three ! 
 
 46 
 
ABSENCE 
 
 O SOFT, insistent breeze that homeward yearns, 
 Each leaflet here atremble is and turns 
 To fly with thee ; its pulses passionate stir, 
 And fond it whispers low, Take me to her ! 
 
 Go, go, and kiss her hair, 
 Winds that run and woo ; 
 
 Kiss her eyes, wonder-fair. 
 Say her lover's true ! 
 
 O homing wind, o'er all the far way glide. 
 And tell who waits her at the window-side. 
 The curtain fluttering, — beg her open free 
 The blinds, her arms, her heart, to us — to me ! 
 
 Blow, blow, and stronger blow. 
 Wind from out the south ; 
 
 Kiss her eyes, and, below — 
 Tenderly — her mouth ! 
 
 47 
 
THE SECRET 
 
 The Breeze whispered it to the Cloud, 
 
 Half aloud ; 
 The Clouds told it all to the Moon, 
 
 Just as soon ; 
 The Moon hid it not from her Star, 
 
 High and far ; 
 The Stars could not help telling Night, 
 
 Love's delight ; 
 At sunrise the Night told the Day — 
 
 Blushed deep they ! 
 
 So every one knew it but one, 
 And she was too happy to care, 
 
 Perhaps with her love so undone. 
 Or in her proud beauty too fair. 
 
 48 
 
In some way, far south, got the birds 
 
 Mystic words, 
 And straight started northward to see, 
 
 In great glee ; 
 Dropped snatches and hints of the song 
 
 All along ; 
 And when they arrived, found it true, — 
 
 Same as you ! — 
 That Spring had said " Yes," to her June, 
 
 Married soon ! 
 
 A sweet tripled, low-rippled word. 
 The secret that everywhere purled ; 
 
 Lips waiting, the bliss — no one heard ! 
 But quivered with rapture the world ! 
 
 49 
 
LOVE'S DAY 
 
 Before the day begun 
 Through flushing East forerun 
 A trembling sense of sun, 
 And yearning to be won, — 
 Confession's sweet confused delight 
 Of scarlet deep transfusing white. 
 Till bloomed the earth undone. 
 To morning flowered like none. 
 And blossomed day from bud of night. 
 
 Then day wrought on to noon, 
 And hope waned all too soon 
 To fall of afternoon, 
 To sunset's dream and swoon, — 
 Till starts aroused the tear-filled eye 
 And hears tired heart the long-hid sigh, 
 That love's and life's great tune 
 Has softened down to croon 
 Of life and love that sleep and lie. 
 
 50 
 
A SONG IN THE NIGHT 
 
 I DREAMED of thee deep in the night star-filled, 
 
 And of my wrong ; 
 Heard clear a call I thought was thine, that thrilled 
 
 My soul along, — 
 And woke to find the cry a passion-filled 
 
 Lone lark's night-song. 
 
 From night, O love, of thy denial go 
 
 My yearnings strong, 
 In night-song of desire and heart-o'erflow 
 
 Of night o'erlong, — 
 Ah, will it waken thee from dream, and, lo ! 
 
 Find answer-song ? 
 
 51 
 
BEND, BEND LOWER, LOVE 
 
 Bend, bend lower, love. 
 Bend thy face to mine ! 
 
 Raise, raise higher, love, 
 Raise my face to thine ! 
 
 Purse my waiting lips 
 
 With thy finger-tips, — 
 Kiss me long ! 
 
 Deep, deep, deeper, love, 
 Deep within my eyes. 
 
 See, see, see, my love, 
 How my whole soul dies 
 
 If thou do not bring me 
 
 Home to thee and sing me 
 As thy song. 
 
 52 
 
THE UNKNOWN LOVE 
 
 As April longing burns toward perfect June, 
 As waits the bud for its sweet flowering time, 
 
 Or as a straying note for its lost tune, — 
 
 So yearns my soul, O dear unknown, for thine. 
 
 To thee I send my greeting, unknown love ! 
 
 O'er years and miles, where'er, whoe'er thou 
 art, — 
 I send it forth to search like an ark-dove, 
 
 Ah, shall it find a haven for my heart ? 
 
 Then haste thy coming, thou my unseen love ! 
 
 For like a spirit from the flesh set free. 
 That errant, hoping, seeks the gates above, 
 
 So seek I rest and peace, — a heaven in thee ! 
 
 53 
 
SONG 
 
 O SING, my heart, as blithe wood-bird, 
 
 From heart o'errunning, sing ! 
 Although forgotten be the word, 
 The melody will still be heard. 
 For song's the only thing ! 
 
 O wing, my heart, as wings the bird. 
 
 Me to my sweetheart bring ! 
 She will not say a single word. 
 But " I love you" will plain be heard. 
 For love's the only thing ! 
 
 54 
 
JOY AND CARE 
 
 The little mother's work at last was done, — 
 
 Their wings were strong, 
 
 Their hearts with song 
 Were filled, and sun, and summer ; Love had won 
 The sweet, glad race with Time, in spring begun. 
 
 And then she sang to Care, at window high. 
 
 Her farewell song, — 
 
 Good-bye, and long. 
 Dear neighbor Care, Good-bye, good-bye, good- 
 bye! 
 Afar I must with flying summer fly. 
 
 But why have you no mate to call and take 
 
 You to the South ? 
 
 No baby-mouth 
 To fill and kiss ? Why does my singing make 
 You cry as if your breaking heart would break ? 
 
 5$ 
 
THE HAPPY PLOUGHMAN 
 
 Breakfast was a daisy ! — 
 
 Gee up, Ben, gee ! — 
 Sue will drive me crazy ! — 
 
 Get up there, Lee ! — 
 Crazy with her smiles and ways, 
 With her cakes and jams and plays ; 
 My, how short these days the days !- 
 
 Wake up there, gee ! 
 
 Who can plough a furrow — 
 Ho, haw, now, Ben ! — 
 
 Straighter or more thorough ? — 
 Get along, then ! 
 
 Baby — you can see him grow ! 
 
 What a little cuss to crow ! 
 
 I'm the luckiest dog I know, — 
 Jog along, men ! 
 
 56 
 
JEALOUS 
 
 Countless lovers kneel before you, 
 
 Beg you choose ; 
 All devoted, all adore you. 
 
 Claim their dues ; 
 Whisper cloud and wind from o'er you 
 
 Not refuse ; 
 E'en the stars, I think, implore you 
 
 Interviews. 
 
 Jealous I of all and fearing 
 Bird and flower ; 
 Envious of all endearing 
 
 You them shower ; 
 Tired of always overhearing 
 
 Of their power, 
 While you give no hint of cheering 
 My lone hour. 
 5 57 
 
Mad I'd rather be or gay with 
 
 Pets that crawl ; 
 Dog would be or bird you play with, 
 
 Come at call ; 
 Eyes, indeed, that me you slay with, 
 
 Such your thrall ! 
 Far more lips that you say nay with, 
 
 Nay to all ! 
 
 58 
 
LIFE 
 
 Life is a woman who is to us sweet 
 If we so will it, and lay at her feet 
 Heart's adoration and loyalty sure, 
 Hiding command under guise most demure. 
 
 Life was my sweetheart, capricious but true, 
 While I was true to her, bore with her too, 
 When she was unjust, or wayward or cold — 
 Soon she came round again same as of old. 
 
 Life is my wife now, 'tis better that way ; 
 Fate's hard to fight against, harder to play ; 
 Coquetry's over, love's game is for life, — 
 If you'd be happy make sweetheart your wife ! 
 
 59 
 
SURELY LOVE IS IN THE AIR 
 
 Surely love is in the air, 
 
 In the wind, or shine of sun ! 
 
 Faint before me everywhere, 
 
 Soft and subtle, fond and fair. 
 Tender eyes elude and run, — 
 
 Surely love is in the air ! 
 
 Murmuring breezes hint caress ; 
 
 Bird-songs waken wants within, — 
 Wants to hungers grow, distress ; 
 Tears will come and tears confess 
 
 Love's old wayward wondrous sin, 
 Conquering all my willingness. 
 
 60 
 
THE WEDDING 
 
 June sends to his longed-for bride, 
 
 Budding little May, 
 Compliments that waken pride, 
 Askings she " can ne'er abide," — 
 
 But she'll kiss her " nay." 
 
 Hear him call, then listening, wait, 
 (Answer, answer, dear !) 
 
 Tenderest love he sends his mate ; 
 
 Spring kneels to congratulate, 
 " Wed him !" murmurs clear. 
 
 As the shine-flecks fondly chase 
 
 Shadows over hill. 
 So her smiles and blushes race, 
 Sweet across the sweetest face, 
 
 Full her pulses fill. 
 6i 
 
" Marry, marry !" sing the birds, 
 
 " All the earth's in tune !" 
 Winds and woods whirr eager words,- 
 May with flowers and garlands girds,- 
 May has married June ! 
 
 62 
 
SEASONS 
 
 'TwAS long ago my spring 
 Passed summer on the wing, 
 And heard the autumn sing 
 The soft sad preluding 
 Of wintering months and days that sere, 
 Of song that hears song disappear, 
 While tears fill eyes and bring 
 Far memory of spring, 
 Faint scents of blighted flowers and year. 
 
 So love, long, long ago, 
 Broke from the springtime glow. 
 To autumn ripened slow, 
 Till came the winter's snow — 
 White mocker of that early gush 
 When reckless broke the wild sweet rush, 
 The ecstasy of woe 
 And life and love. Now, lo ! 
 Age whispers both her silent. Hush ! 
 
 63 
 
JUNE 
 
 As soft as silence is the noon ; 
 
 The leaves of every tree are stilled ; 
 The trees are full of love, and swoon 
 
 To joyous sleep, with dreams fulfilled. 
 While high and faint the half-heard croon 
 
 And lullaby of day, distilled 
 To monotone of ending tune, 
 
 Drops softly down to dream, unthrilled 
 Of aught except the bliss and boon 
 
 Of Heaven that broods, and God who willed 
 That Earth beloved should be of June. 
 
 64 
 
USE AND BEAUTY 
 
 A LITTLE alien thing, a humble blade, 
 
 Sprang up among the corn, 
 Which mocked in haughty pride and hid in shade 
 
 A weed so lowly born ; 
 But Day and Night and Love a compact made, — 
 
 It blossomed as the morn. 
 
 The winds blew wide apart the envious grain 
 
 So sun could come to it; 
 From many lovers fond on hill and plain 
 
 The bees with offerings flit; — 
 And in the reaper's heart God whispered fain 
 
 Its beauty's benefit. 
 
 65 
 
ACTION 3 
 
 Oh, sing the song of life with deeds ! 
 Their silent music richer is 
 Than chorals, poems, symphonies, — 
 
 And all the world that music heeds. 
 
 When dies the singer, ends the song ; 
 When is no reading, then is none 
 To tell of love, or lost, or won ; 
 
 Even brass and marble teach time's wrong. 
 
 Not all the universe could hold 
 
 World's wishings from the world effaced 
 Far better gold with stamp debased 
 
 Than in earth's depths ungathered gold. 
 
 Belief to feeling quick transform ; 
 
 Turn feeling to volition bold ; 
 
 Crowd life into the matter-mould. 
 Till all the earth with life is warm. 
 
 66 
 
Let players play with words and thought, 
 Do thou the deed, its telling shun ; 
 Not God Himself undoes what's done ; 
 
 Is potter by the pot forgot ? 
 
 Fling forth your act then into fact, — 
 And reckless of all consequence ; 
 One moment or a million hence 
 
 Who can foresee what will react ? 
 
 The rule of law he only rules, 
 
 Breaks in between cause and effect, 
 Who can his deed, himself inject 
 
 As cause of cause, effects his tools. 
 
 The ethic-books of destiny grant 
 The pride of god to him who bears 
 Prolific child ; with scorn it glares 
 
 At sterile and at dilettant. 
 
 They who strong life, great deed and fact 
 In texture of the world-stuff weave, 
 Death cannot harm them nor aggrieve : 
 
 They are immortal by their act. 
 67 
 
Who life in statues incarnate, 
 
 Who with real blood, real flesh-tints, draw. 
 
 Who make religion into law, — 
 Forge freedom-links in chain of fate. 
 
 68 
 
CONTEMPLATION* 
 
 Sing not the song of life with deeds ! 
 Their music more discordant is 
 Than chorals, poems, symphonies, 
 
 Which finer ear attuned heeds. 
 
 When singer dies, ends not the song, 
 But lives to tell a world to come 
 Of love and truth the added sum ; 
 
 The spirit laughs at all time's wrong. 
 
 Not all the universe could hold 
 
 World's evil deeds from world effaced ; 
 Far worse the gold with stamp debased 
 
 Than in earth's depths the virgin gold. 
 
 With passion rend not reason's peace. 
 Wreck feeling not on doing's rocks ; 
 Who mind in matter thoughtless locks 
 
 Imprisons her beyond release. 
 
 69 
 
The wise contented are with thought, 
 And boasting pride of action shun ; 
 Not God Himself undoes what's done ; 
 
 Unbeauteous work is not unwrought. 
 
 Guard then to fling your will to fact, 
 Like fool unrecking consequence ; 
 One moment or a miUion hence. 
 
 The thoughtless deed will full react. 
 
 The rule of law he only rules 
 
 Who knows between cause and effect 
 No thing can God or man inject, — 
 
 To break the sequence teach no schools. 
 
 The ethic-book of destiny showers 
 Its curses on the man who bears 
 Impotent children as the heirs 
 
 Of ill, — with sin the sinner dowers. 
 
 Who keep from matter's rule their life 
 Serene and pure, — their souls are free 
 From death and all world-mastery, 
 
 Untouched by time's ignoble strife. 
 70 
 
Who lighten woe with song and art, 
 
 Who heal our wounds, not make them bleed. 
 Who lessen lust and ruth of deed, — 
 
 Uncoil Fate's chain from Freedom's heart. 
 
 71 
 
APHORISMS 
 
 Our fate goes with us where we go ; 
 
 However fast or far 
 
 We follow fondly star, 
 No nearer, warmer, is its glow. 
 
 Fear not the recompense of hell ; 
 
 Of heaven expect no gain ; 
 
 Atonement seeks in vain 
 Who does not in atonement dwell. 
 
 Not there or then our heaven awaits, 
 But deep behind our eyes. 
 Inferno, Paradise, 
 
 Our doom or blessing now creates. 
 
 The good of money is the gaining, 
 The good of knowledge, seeking. 
 Engagement and bespeaking 
 
 Refuses joy, — will no constraining. 
 
 72 
 
Forever by your side is beauty 
 And happiness if you 
 Turn never them to view, — 
 
 Eyes forward fixed alone on duty. 
 
 The singer's guerdon is the song, — 
 Because joy wills it so ; 
 The heart's glad overflow 
 Makes pain forgotten, right of wrong. 
 
 True lovers lovers are of love, 
 More than of hint or her ; 
 They god to priest prefer, 
 
 And rate the wine the cup above. 
 
 For life is life's reward and fee ; 
 
 The sum of good outweighs 
 
 The evil of her days. 
 Or then, or now, or time to be. 
 
 And life is life's full frank excuse ; 
 If we've not happy been. 
 We've loved our secret sin 
 
 More than the gift God gave for use. 
 6 73 
 
THE OPEN SECRET 
 
 Conceal not your evil, my brother ; 
 Tis writ in your face, 
 Each glance shows its trace. 
 Each word speaks disgrace : 
 
 Oh, hide not your sin from another ! 
 
 There's ever a subtler than you 
 
 Who knows your deep thought, 
 Your plot, counterplot. 
 Your would-be forgot. 
 
 And all you may think or may do. 
 
 Eyes you see not still see you ; 
 
 Detectives are tracking, 
 
 No use turn or tacking ; 
 
 No cue or clew lacking, 
 Your " case" shall stand clear to all view. 
 74 
 
You cannot deceive the All-wise, 
 Who fixes in flesh, 
 In bone and brain-mesh. 
 Fate's seal and stamp fresh 
 
 On thought, wish, or will, as they rise. 
 
 75 
 
EARTHLY IMMORTALITY 
 
 We victims or of sin or ill's mischance 
 
 Who do not forge our lives in Destiny's chain, 
 Who choose to end the wondrous woven strain 
 
 That through a million years has wrought ad- 
 vance, — 
 Atoning recompense may hope in vain. 
 
 Too long in blinded self-delusion we 
 
 Have mocked the living Deity of Deeds 
 With empty words, philosophies, and creeds, 
 
 With eyes that looked but still that did not see, — 
 While life's great work proceeded and proceeds. 
 
 What God is there in world of peace and strife. 
 What proof of intellect, of love, or good, 
 What show of kindness, or of fatherhood, 
 76 
 
Except the living, laboring God of Life 
 
 Whose will and worship we ignored, withstood? 
 
 In every blade of grass Himself He brings 
 
 To light ; of plant or tree the pure white blood 
 He fashions, draws it to the preformed bud, 
 
 To flowering pushes buds, wherefrom well springs 
 Of beauty and of sweet in perfumed flood. 
 
 How perfect is His workmanship in horns, 
 
 Fangs, teeth, and stings, in hands, and feet, and 
 
 wings ! 
 Through throats of His dear birds His gladness 
 sings ; 
 Despair of artist, what His art adorns ! 
 
 Our science is relearning His known things ! 
 
 His deputies He has appointed us 
 To use the finished products of His skill ; 
 And all the wrong of all the world's sad ill 
 
 Is our misuse of power, — His overplus 
 Of pain to heal self-hurts of our self-will. 
 77 
 
As best He can He heals, but scars are — scars ; 
 And what is broken, soiled, and worn is not 
 So strong and pure again as what has caught 
 
 Its goodness fresh from Him ; His avatars 
 
 Are childhood, youth, and their ideals untaught. 
 
 For our perverted fancy, craving, He 
 
 Recks not, but plain His work the lesson shows 
 That only incarnation-sweets and woes 
 
 Insure the gift of immortality ; — 
 
 On egotists such gifts He scarce bestows ! 
 
 Stand therefore on the bank, O childless one. 
 And watch the stream of life glide by 
 To wondrous lands you may not see, that lie 
 
 In future world, beneath a warmer sun 
 That rises now, and shines from bluer sky. 
 
 Failed, failed, have you, disguise it as you will ! 
 Not even He, the great Forgiver, can 
 Your sin forgive. He must outwork the plan ! 
 
 Play out your idle day, its evening fill 
 
 With wasted hours, as you its morn began. 
 78 
 
The birds more loyal are than you, they fly 
 With song and love full-filled, o'er continents, 
 Obeying that divinely-whispered subtle sense 
 
 Which disobeyed, too late find you and I 
 
 Gives all the wrong of laboring life's expense. 
 
 'Tis easy making our small virtues great. 
 To magnify our little fact of worth 
 Till hid all duty, even the whole wide earth ; 
 
 Too exquisite were we, forsooth, to mate 
 
 With those of such crude fashion, such great 
 dearth ! 
 
 'Tis even labor slight to dress up sin 
 
 In guise of goodness, — " Families now too 
 great !'* 
 
 We hear (the dower too small), and, " Procreate 
 Those most unfit," — poor way for " fit" to win 
 
 The race of numbers, — and cut short debate. 
 
 Rome argued somewhat so, precisely, France, 
 And lo, hurls down the irresistible Hun 
 To prove once more to each new age begun, 
 79 
 
By logic answerless of death's mischance, 
 That war's god and the god of love are one. 
 
 His way with one or two is letting sin 
 Work out its own results, in its own ways ; 
 And peace is good so long as peace obeys ; 
 
 But war fulfils then virtue's discipline 
 
 When o'er-ambitious greed 'gainst destiny 
 plays. 
 
 With blazing eyes intense, indignant Life 
 Cries out from every struggling living thing : 
 " Who aids me, life eterne to him I bring ; 
 
 But child disloyal in my awful strife 
 
 Let Death him guerdon. Death he chose as 
 king. 
 
 " My purpose clear runs past and onward through 
 The form you have to-day, all form and phase ; 
 Think you that I who fill with life and raise 
 
 A million forms care aught for fatuous you. 
 Who hug your paltry self some petty days ? 
 80 
 
" My peril greater with your danger grows, 
 As fashion, polity, and law cement 
 Self-seeking into system, government ; 
 
 Crime multitudinous, rebellion shows, 
 Whose answer is wild war's arbitrament. 
 
 " Incorporate guilt that hides, hides not from me 
 And manifolded, grows not therefore less ; 
 Lusts institutionalized more clear confess 
 
 How fierce the purifying fire must be 
 To burn out all the secret noisomeness. 
 
 " One sin there is that cannot be forgiven, 
 All lesser wrong from this alone derives : 
 Who with me works, for my plain purpose 
 strives. 
 
 Need fear no fate ; but never shall be shriven 
 Disloyalty, while heaven or hell survives. 
 
 " All happiness is my warm gratitude ; 
 
 When pained my loyal child, from farthest sky 
 I come to bring sweet sleep and justify. 
 
 Rewards innumerable wait, unguessed, renewed. 
 My brave coworker, or my least ally. 
 Si 
 
*^ Then beauty, God's own smile, shall lighten, run. 
 And break through all the world's face, shine 
 With far-near loveliness, divine. 
 
 Like morning over sea, o'er land the sun. 
 
 His love's triumphant blessing, seal, and sign !" 
 
 82 
 
THE MOUNTAIN BROOK 
 
 Except the Master's will 
 You have no wish, no other pleasure know ; 
 At slightest hint from Him you fall and go, 
 
 Or wait, commands to fill. 
 (If thou, O heart, such wise obedience knew !) 
 
 " Be pure !" — Each pool and nook 
 Transparent, limpid, still, invites one see 
 The far blue heaven it loves and mirrors free, — 
 
 Ah, blessed, blessing brook ! 
 (Wert thou, perturbed soul, so frank and true !) 
 
 " Be kind !" — To you, for drink. 
 Crowd roots of flower and tree ; on confident 
 
 wings 
 There flutter down sweet wild-eyed gracious 
 things ; 
 
 In depths your fishes shrink. 
 (Thy loves and givings, soul, how poor, how few !) 
 
 S3 
 
" Be happy !" — Joyous, free, 
 Your ripples run with breezes, dance with hght, 
 Down hurrying pebbles laugh, or, hiding flight, 
 
 Gurgle away in glee. 
 (O heart, we once were little children too !) 
 
 " Must lose thy life !" — Countless 
 The drops for you renouncing self, and thence 
 Your beauty all, and your beneficence, — 
 
 Yourself their fused caress. 
 (For all thy greed what gained the world anew ?) 
 
 Through soiled, sad world of man 
 Leads down your destined way. Accept your 
 
 fate! 
 And unto purifying sea translate 
 
 All human wrong you can. 
 (Hast thou cleansed world as has one drop of 
 dew?) 
 
BLIND 
 
 With gliding, soft, caressing touch 
 His fingers lingered long to find 
 
 Some hint of orchid-beauty. " Such 
 
 May be/* he sighed. My friend was blind ! 
 
 "This flower is very God," I said 
 
 To Beauty's priest, trained artist-mind ; 
 
 He praised, but pitying shook his head ; — 
 This friend, I fear, was also blind ! 
 
 85 
 
AT THE PLAY 
 
 The stage-play was not half so prized 
 As drama that was played near by 
 
 By neighbors four — quick recognized 
 Two lover-pairs, though wondered I 
 
 Why elder man chose younger maid, 
 
 And boyish fellow his court paid 
 The girl whose years began to cry. 
 
 No matter ! Who these days is fool 
 Enough to doubt love's ways or art ? 
 
 The poorest scholar in his school 
 
 His lesson learns and knows by heart ; 
 
 He questions not nor disobeys, 
 
 Sings or recites when teacher says. 
 To young or old maid, sweet or tart. 
 86 
 
Twas clearly seen the little play 
 
 " Full-dress rehearsal" was, leastwise 
 
 Suspected not the actors they 
 Had audience of other eyes, 
 
 Deep interested in the plot — 
 
 The old, old way, but clean forgot 
 By love, too happy to surmise. 
 
 The old way too of wily one 
 
 Who watches sly the innocents. 
 And, seeming blind, sees all the fun — 
 
 Thinks " what fools these !" — but longs, repents 
 The vanished day when he so acted. 
 When he, as they, was wild, distracted, 
 
 With glorious love's improvidence. 
 
 The dear side-comedy of four 
 
 Was pantomime, — best sort of play 
 
 For sense alert ; though the encore 
 Is oft demanded, yet obey 
 
 The gracious actors every time, 
 
 As if they loved themselves the mime 
 More than whate'er spectator may. 
 87 
 
The plot was deep and intricate, — 
 
 Just what it was I need not tell 
 If I found out, — it's overlate 
 
 To care now for the plot, when — well ! 
 When th' acting is the one great thing 
 To make smiles, sighs, and tears upspring 
 
 From hearts that age — and yet that swell ! 
 
 Most perfect was the acting here, 
 And exquisite beyond compare 
 
 In those great nothings that are near 
 To everything, and make despair 
 
 The poor stage-mock, — the gesture, tone, 
 
 Nuance and hint, half hid, half shown, 
 That captivate, bewitch, ensnare ! 
 
 Each one, 'twas plain, felt deep his part. 
 
 And acted as if real the play ; 
 The cheek's soft flush came from the heart 
 
 Of both the maids, so pleased were they 
 To have such perfect lovers, — not 
 Too much insistent, yet who caught 
 
 Least hinted call to meet, convey 
 
Deliciously ignored caresses ; 
 
 (Had they been noticed, quick repelled !) 
 Desirings masked in bashfulnesses ; 
 
 Deft make-believes, and doubts, soon quelled ; 
 Tense little soft, half-slipped suggestions, 
 Remonstrances arousing questions — 
 
 (Sneer not, old mumbler, late rebelled !) 
 
 The tell-tale flush in elder maid 
 
 Less riant was, the eyes* bright gush 
 
 Not quite so artless, unafraid, 
 
 As in the flowering bud the blush ; 
 
 It smiled its victorj' more than laughed, 
 
 And drank its joy in long, slow draught, 
 With reveried, inner, happy hush. 
 
 It seemed somehow as if she had 
 
 Suggestion faint, a merest touch 
 Of mother-way for the dear lad. 
 
 Unschooled in love — you know — just such 
 As we, old man, in truant days. 
 Felt kindly o'er us fondle, graze. 
 
 When boy-love bothered her — not much ! 
 7 89 
 
But placid, calmly happy, she, 
 
 In long-sought, sure-found blessedness 
 
 That fills all spaces full and free 
 Of inlet, nook, and shore-recess, 
 
 With roll serene of mastering tide 
 
 That bathes, floods, drowns all, in its wide 
 High, limpid, splendid lordliness. 
 
 The " bud" was like, yet different — 
 
 She had (again similitude !) 
 The self-same sweet abandonment 
 
 Once your own girl had (how subdued 
 She mopes beside you now !) when you 
 Her — years ago — much closer drew — 
 
 (After the play, 'tis understood !) 
 
 Her eyes were luminous with delight ; 
 
 A little tremble quivered deep. 
 And Joy ran fluttering, half-affright, 
 
 Back to her heart, where Love, asleep, 
 Lay nestled and awaiting time 
 When she should call, and he should chime 
 
 And ring his bells in reckless sweep. 
 90 
 
But she low-whispered him, " Not yet ! 
 
 Wait just a little longer, sweet !" 
 And, hovering o'er him, with regret 
 
 And gladness mixed, she hushed, discreet, 
 The dreamer down, — " Not yet, dear king, 
 I give you leave to rouse and ring ; 
 
 Sleep now ! Soon come my hurrying feet !" 
 
 Her " escort" also had the air 
 
 Of slight protectorship, a feint 
 Of father-right, submerged, as 'twere, 
 
 Beneath the wooer's great constraint ; 
 His dignity could not control 
 His tenderness, which peeped and stole 
 
 Through eager smile and gesture quaint. 
 
 Indeed, the younger lover showed 
 More plain his bolder consciousness 
 
 Of strong-armed duty that he owed 
 His gracious gentle sorceress ; 
 
 'Twas surely genuine, old-time love 
 
 That held so fondlingly her glove, 
 But proud, too, in roused manliness. 
 91 
 
Each with the other seemed to vie 
 In pleasing most his chosen maid, — 
 
 A race of wish, and hand, and eye, 
 To meet wish unexpressed, repaid 
 
 With grateful smile, or dainty tease, 
 
 Superfluous both, yet pleased to please — 
 Such love's old merry masquerade ! 
 
 No chance was lost of touching hand, — 
 Quite needless, true, but recognized 
 
 By each as necessary, — and — 
 
 'Twas noticed that, howe'er disguised, 
 
 There were sometimes long lingeringnesses, 
 
 Faint little squeezes, or impresses — 
 Nay, once, I'm sure, hers sympathized ! 
 
 One play was over — not the other : 
 
 Adjusting wraps gave prized permission 
 
 Quick-granted, taken, again to smother 
 Caresses five, without suspicion. 
 
 In passing down the aisle I heard 
 
 Ironic question, answered word. 
 
 Revealing how I missed my mission. 
 92 
 
'Twas elder man asked elder maid, — 
 " What think you of the actor's part ? 
 
 And did you better much by trade ? 
 You see I've won your daughter's heart !"- 
 
 " Your son, sir, is almost the beau 
 
 That you were twenty years ago, — 
 But you played with too earnest art!" 
 
 And then her eyes began to water — 
 " This trading years for youth is sweet, 
 
 But is too dangerous for our daughter ; 
 You surely were too indiscreet." 
 
 " I see," said he, " how matters run ; 
 
 Hereafter I'll watch out my son 
 
 Shall not with me for wife compete !" 
 
 93 
 
HIS EXPLANATION 
 
 You beg me tell you how it came 
 That I could do such foolish thing ! 
 
 How could one be again the same ? — 
 I spoiled your dinner, — who could wring 
 A smile (except in sleeve) or bring 
 
 To life again joy's watered flame ? 
 
 Now when one makes himself an ass 
 I know he should go far away 
 
 To eat his thistles or his grass, 
 
 And farther still when he would bray, — 
 But whom, dear madame, let me pray. 
 
 As much as me hurts my trespass ? 
 
 Too plain indeed was the constrain 
 
 I brought among your guests and laughter, 
 The kind ignoring of my pain, 
 94 
 
The gay before, the forced thereafter, 
 Looks fixed in plate or glance to rafter, — 
 The secret all concealed in vain. 
 
 You thought it safe, I thought so too, 
 'Twas after these so many years — 
 
 Inviting me to dine with you, 
 
 For who could have a hint of tears — 
 One's sweetheart's husband kills such fears 
 
 And leastwise guests and children two ! 
 
 But then men's hearts have strange diseases 
 ( Your health of us has little heed) 
 
 Old battle-scars a scratch displeases. 
 Condition met they burst and bleed 
 And tell the tale to them that read 
 
 Of old-time woe no time appeases. 
 
 You guess the rest, why need I maunder ? 
 Your head half-turned revealed that curl 
 
 Of which I once was witched and fonder 
 Than — no matter ! — what a whirl 
 Again comes in my brain, dear girl, 
 
 As I upon that evening ponder. 
 
 95 
 
Who would have thought 'twould grow once 
 more 
 That wild, sweet, wondrous, wicked skein, 
 
 Precisely as it was before. 
 And like the one these years has lain 
 Against my heart since that far vain 
 
 And maddened hour upon the shore ? 
 
 To question, hint, assenting say, 
 
 Whate'er you may, whate'er they will. 
 
 The blind (hearts too) must have their way, — 
 But sob may gush and eyes o'erfiU 
 Despite all laughter and all will 
 
 If rise the ghost of buried day. 
 
AFTERMATH 
 
 Down lover's lane well shaded o'er, 
 Walked wife and I, as years 
 
 And many a happy year before 
 We went, when love and tears 
 
 Came quicker and were easier swore 
 Than now our tears and fears. 
 
 A couple half as young as we. 
 
 Slow sauntering toward us came, — 
 
 Of two, at once knew secret, three. 
 Her tell-tale glance and flame, 
 
 Concealing made more plain to see — 
 Sweet proof of sweeter shame. 
 
 Ah, blissful face and furtive eye 
 Of captive, conquering maid ! 
 
 Sweet mix of pride and meekness shy, 
 By hidden blush betrayed, 
 97 
 
A hint of tears and many a sigh, 
 Desiring yet afraid. 
 
 But bud will yearn to flower, His grace 
 
 God writes in feature fair. 
 While prophecies with promise race. 
 
 And eager to prepare. 
 Works happy love in form and face, 
 
 In breast, and everywhere. 
 
 The meaning of that flush suflused 
 
 By heart's soft palpitance. 
 Caught, half with scorn and half amused. 
 
 The wifely eyes* mischance : — 
 " The jade ! her very lips accused 
 
 Their kissed inheritance !" 
 
 " Dear girl, — my girl !" I laughed with glee, 
 " Years, years ago, you had — " 
 
 (Those other two turned, hearing me) — 
 " That selfsame look, egad, 
 
 When here, as now, I kissed you — see ! — 
 Angry again, yet glad !" 
 98 
 
A FLIRTATION 
 
 Though past, sweetheart, it was, you know, 
 
 Such perfect sweet ! 
 Like all delights, alas, 'twas, oh ! 
 
 Too short and fleet ! 
 
 Yet while the charm endured, we gave 
 
 Our best and all. 
 Disdained reserve, to hold, or save, 
 
 Whate'er befall. 
 
 And con amove played our parts 
 
 The old mad way. 
 Concealing well we risked our hearts 
 
 In reckless play ; 
 
 And license gave the glorious hour 
 
 To wreck or rule. 
 While lasted "run" and "drawing power," 
 
 Of our " Love's School." 
 99 
 
We would not let suspicion rise 
 
 To check or warn ; 
 Our hearts (and lips !) were shrewd and wise 
 
 To outwit scorn. 
 
 We knew that destiny would send 
 
 Quite soon enough 
 And smooth would shape the drama's end, 
 
 Or hew most rough ! 
 
 We kept our consciousness well hid 
 
 Like expert ones, 
 And in " rehearsal" we forbid 
 
 All skips and shuns 
 
 Of " business," for so, we knew — 
 
 At least sure, I ! — 
 You'd better thus at your debut 
 
 Act, kiss, and sigh. 
 
 Your first rehearsal 'twas (my last ?) 
 
 Yet, 'pon my soul, 
 'Twas Cupid picked you out and cast 
 
 You for the role. 
 
 lOO 
 
Dear Ingenue, I trust that he 
 
 Who'll take my part 
 On Life's great stage (passee, you see, 
 
 Alas, my art !) 
 
 Will love as pure and warm (what ! — Tears ?) 
 
 As I of late 
 With all my fifty gathered years 
 
 Have loved your eight ! 
 
 lOI 
 
INTER ARMA LEGES SILENT 
 
 Four feet rest upon the fender, 
 (Two are clumsy, two are neat) ; 
 
 Four eyes silent gaze and tender 
 (Two are serious, two are sweet) 
 
 At the pictures in the fire, 
 
 Made of wishes, dreams, desire, 
 
 Burning ever rosier, higher. 
 
 One foot slips against another, 
 (One insistent, one discreet) ; 
 
 One hand glides across to other, 
 (Hands more foolish are than feet) ; 
 
 One chair draws the other nigher. 
 
 Brighter are the flames and higher, — 
 
 Is it not a dangerous fire ? 
 
 i 
 
Two feet now have left the fender, 
 
 (Which two would you have supposed ?) 
 
 Two eyes earnest fix two tender, 
 (Two wide-open, two half-closed) ; 
 
 One hand firm another wedges. 
 
 One mouth protests while one pledges, — 
 
 Silent inter arma leges ! 
 
 103 
 
THE BACHELOR'S BALLADE 
 
 The wife of neighbor number one 
 Hath found her husband is a bore, 
 
 For books he careth, she for none ; 
 He readeth, writeth, evermore, 
 While she receptions, teas, galore 
 
 Doth do, — and him she maketh go 
 
 Sometimes, though he do swear, implore, — 
 
 For Life and Love will have it so ! 
 
 The wife of neighbor two's undone. 
 Her heart it acheth grievous sore 
 
 Because he to the club doth run. 
 And doth society adore. 
 
 While she home stayeth, thinketh o'er 
 
 Her wrongs — " Neglected wife," you know. 
 And all the rest oft heard before ; — 
 
 And Life and Love will have it so ! 
 104 
 
What hath been done remaineth done, 
 The law doth say. But as I pore 
 
 It wondereth me why husband one 
 Did not in courtship days afore 
 The wife of number two adore, 
 
 And wife of one find proper beau ; 
 
 If Life were wise and Love knew more. 
 
 Then Life and Love would have it so ! 
 
 ENVOY 
 
 Be wise, O lovers, I implore, 
 
 As wise as I to choose, and slow ; 
 
 Full fifty years I've sought, or more, 
 For Life and Love shan't have it so ! 
 
 105 
 
SATISFIED ! 
 
 I'm satisfied, regardless aught 
 That fashion wills, or wills it not ; 
 Sweet eyes are sweet, or sweeter far, 
 To serf than they can be to Czar, — 
 And Czar of serf may covet cot. 
 
 For ladies great tie true-love-knot 
 No more expert than maids whose dot 
 And coat-of-arms their faces are ; — 
 I'm satisfied ! 
 
 One bird in hand for two uncaught 
 Of sweetest singers in the grot 
 Would be exchange upon a par 
 With canvas-back for caviar, 
 Or rich Miss V. for girl I've got, — 
 I'm satisfied ! 
 
 io6 
 
THE LOST MATE 
 
 Already far below the shadows gloamed, 
 
 While still upon my mountain-home up there 
 The sun's gold rays yet shone, and, high o'er- 
 domed. 
 The sky flushed deep with luminous hues so 
 fair 
 The startled heart stood rapt with subtle dreams 
 Of paradise, such pure, unearthly gleams 
 Shot through the rose-empurpled sea of air. 
 
 The miracle of sunset so filled full my eyes 
 
 I failed almost to note far down below 
 A lone brown bird from out the valley rise. 
 
 And toward me wing with weary beat and 
 slow; 
 He lighted near, and without wait for breath 
 Pealed out a throbbing cry that seemed of death 
 Presageful, and of hopes that deathward go. 
 107 
 
Full well from childhood I had known the bird ; 
 
 In all the yellowing fields and summers long 
 His call courageous, bright, and clear, had heard 
 
 Commanding, " Up, Bob White !" — as, soft and 
 strong, 
 The caressing shine and shadow of the sun 
 Chased o'er the ripening grain in waves that run 
 
 Like love and laughter undulant along. 
 
 But this was not the old familiar cry ; 
 
 Although of notes the same, it had a clang 
 So different, so palpitant, and high, 
 
 As if from heart half-breaking it outrang, 
 Stabbing the silence of the evening air. 
 Reverberant of desperate despair, — 
 
 "My mate! oh, Httle mate! where art thou, 
 where ?" 
 
 Alas ! To that alert and listening ear 
 No answer came, and circling half around 
 
 The crest again, he stopped, — again I hear 
 The unutterable pathos of that sound ! 
 1 08 
 
Once more half down the precipice, enthralled, 
 I caught it, — then no more, no more it called, — 
 That last lone cry of love in sorrow drowned. 
 
 Back to the nest again, dear little brother, go, 
 Empty of mother-breast, the eggs all cold ! 
 
 Thy grief than mine less poignant is that so 
 Thou dost not understand my pain that's old. 
 
 Nor thine that's new ; from thee is wisely kept 
 
 The knowledge, memory, we must fain accept, — 
 The while one fate and love us both enfold. 
 
 Thy hurt's enough : I would not have thee know 
 
 A hunter killed thy mate, and that returned, 
 As thou, twelve others to lone nests below ; 
 
 Thy pain were sharper yet if thou hadst 
 learned 
 I cursed the man who brought them all to me, 
 Thy limp, dead sweetheart one, for me to see, 
 While calling thou with throat and heart that 
 burned. 
 
 109 
 
We wingless ones our mates have also lost — 
 The hunter Fate is merciless to all — 
 
 And sometimes, when too passion-torn and tossed, 
 We wonder if the woes and wants that thrall 
 
 Are not the orphan's gifts we got at birth 
 
 From our dear, dying, widowed mother Earth, 
 Who, wanting God's love, found life's sweet was 
 gall. 
 
 By misery stung, from our lone valley dim, 
 With weary-winged and long forefelt despair, 
 
 We send our souls to cry about the rim 
 Of heaven answerless, our hungry prayer 
 
 Of endless and unsatisfied desire. 
 
 That burns in hidden heart with hidden fire, — 
 Soon back they wing to homeless home of 
 care! 
 
 Your wiser, better world, I trust, dear bird. 
 Knows no example more unfortunate. 
 
 Who never answering-call of mate has heard. 
 Who feels no grief grow lighter, pain abate. 
 
Far better lot is his whose mate has died 
 Than his whom love has never sanctified, — 
 
 Kissed lips may mourn, but curse not later 
 fate. 
 
 Thy hurt's enough : I would not to thee show 
 How pitiable are our wretched minds and ways, 
 
 How poisons in our pulses beat and flow, 
 Mock all endeavor, eat and end our days. 
 
 Go mourn thy wasted summer, mourn thy mate, 
 
 Nor be of our strange griefs importunate, — 
 Another love may come, and other Mays. 
 
 But not to us ! We ease, perhaps, our pain, 
 Disguise, but not forget it, in our work, 
 
 Refight old battles, not, we trust, in vain. 
 And hope behind the mystery and the mirk 
 
 That God's will, free and full and final, brings 
 
 An answering of all the questionings 
 
 Which now beneath our thought and dreaming 
 lurk. 
 
But not to us ! To us but once comes love, 
 
 And then escapes if welcome wait too long, — 
 True bird of Paradise, God's homing-dove, 
 
 With wings of splendor and with throat of 
 song,— 
 Home flies and leaves us, what we'd fain forget, 
 Only ourselves, — while infinite regret 
 
 Broods in our hearts the memory and the 
 wrong. 
 
 112 
 
WOODS-SECRETS 
 
 Here rest ! Nor vulgar eyes, nor echoing 
 From our far garish world will reach us here ; 
 
 Here only come the pure, — no note they bring 
 Discordant of the harmony so clear 
 
 Of stillness, waters, leaves, and birds that sing, 
 
 And gladness at the heart of everything. 
 
 • 
 
 Here Silence stealthy slips and softly glides 
 Among the trees, with white wan hand to ear. 
 
 The heart pressed down whose noisy beating hides 
 The words that seem to come from far and near, 
 
 In mystic murmur, subtle, sweet, profound, 
 
 As if the air were flowering into sound. 
 
 Rest here ! The leaves make perfect our retreat ; 
 
 Their arches form a cool, green, mimic sky, 
 Through which the sun's bold glances cannot 
 beat. 
 Nor curious clouds peer in as they drift by. 
 113 
 
Both sun and cloud are mad to know, I fear, 
 What strange mysterious thing is doing here. 
 
 What stupid things are these same clouds and 
 sun! 
 
 The other sky-folk, they of wing and song, 
 Attend their own affairs ; the squirrels run, 
 
 After a moment's glance, while low and long 
 The rusthng leaves sursurant lisp and sigh, 
 To hide our secret from profaning eye. 
 
 The brook's our dearest friend, O sweet sweet- 
 heart; 
 
 She too has loved, and loves, and still will love 
 When we are gone and others play our part, 
 
 Forgetting earth below or heaven above. 
 Forgetting other loves and lovers true, — 
 
 Or false,— as now are reckless I and you. 
 
 The brook, your sister, knows the secret wise, 
 And talks of it between her banks of moss 
 
 That almost overdose, as when your eyes 
 
 Are brimmed with pleasure, fall the lids across ; 
 114 
 
Delight with rippling shivers hides remote 
 And little gasps and gurgles fill her throat. 
 
 Beyond, the streamlet widens, and there rests, 
 A placid pool that upward strains to reach 
 
 The boughs and grasses which, at her behests. 
 Bend down to catch across the tiny beach 
 
 The pouted profferings, love's thirst to slake 
 
 With lips that linger long in give and take. 
 
 And there the ribbon-grass has found the wooing 
 Beyond resistance, and has fallen fair 
 
 Into his mistress' arms, — most dear undoing ! — 
 Renouncing earth with all its light and air, — 
 
 As sometimes, sweet, do men, — are they unwise ? — 
 
 Forsaking worlds for one loved pair of eyes. 
 
 Drowned, but in bliss, far down the slumbrous 
 green 
 Cool depths it waves, in slow lithe monotone 
 Of dream, whose undulations roll serene 
 Upon her pulses, coursing down the prone 
 "5 
 
Soft, sinuous limbs, whereon it lies and metes. 
 Its whole life answering each of her heart-beats. 
 
 Let fall and flow your hair, love, where it will, 
 
 And let your head fall down upon my arm, — 
 I shall not heed the arbutus-buds that spill 
 
 Their fragrance in my face, and seek to charm 
 My eyes from yours, as through your scattered 
 
 hair 
 They spy, — a flower-framed face than flowers more 
 fair. 
 
 Ah, love ! there come great seasons in our 
 lives 
 When feeling finds our souls so small that 
 they 
 Must burst with all the ache and strain, as drives 
 
 Relentless in our being's homelike bay 
 The thunder of the ocean- mothered tide, 
 Whose conquering waters o'er all shore-lines 
 ride. 
 
 ii6 
 
And now we know the secret, full, entire, 
 
 Beloved, the wonderful and mystic word 
 That subtly creeps, then runs, like soft sweet fire 
 Through roots and buds, through veins of beast 
 and bird : 
 Tis Spring! God's breath, that in us His life 
 
 starts. 
 And Love ! God's secret, told in our two hearts. 
 
 117 
 
•3i> 
 
 5*£r -^ 
 
 hie: g» 
 

 One Tjglr cK tkaf^ucai: 
 
 Toaps^s 
 
 _- ite i«*fnfy 
 
 O** --in. mc ttlue jf rignt. 
 
 R>-?tHin of I- r^nng li^im 
 
 A2l ^dns^ hiishanti, notfriTTg' t&o« 
 
New-born beside her, play the lambent, free, 
 Warm lightings of her love's emprise. 
 
 No proofs of logic firm, than truth more sure, 
 No summary of science, Bibles, creeds. 
 No lesson of world-wisdom, hero's deeds, 
 
 Refute as do those limpid eyes and pure 
 The atheists' unbelief, — one glance succeeds ! 
 
 Two fathers, God and man, her lovers are, 
 And naught of all their dual loves that flow. 
 Their riches through her heartways wide and 
 low 
 
 She keeps, e'en adds her own, saved from afar. 
 Till, surfeited the babe sleeps long, and slow. 
 
 Who thus, as she, their wills subordinate 
 Find, far beyond all understanding, peace, 
 An end of striving, lessening pain's release. 
 While in their hearts the joy of conquered fate 
 Shall nestle down and sleep till dreaming 
 cease. 
 
 1 20 
 
Effulgent glows the crimsoned living blood 
 Of love's grail and of life's, leaps strong 
 From mother-heart, through nursling's veins 
 along, 
 
 A tide mysterious at ebbless flood — 
 
 A grail in every household, righting wrong. 
 
 Recalling duties, hope's inspiritings. 
 Still stronger making strong, still fairer fair, 
 By simply what it is, and being there. 
 
 Makes fathers Josephs, mothers Marys, kings 
 Bring gifts, and angel-songs fill all the air. 
 
 121 
 
LA CRUCHE CASSEE 
 
 Two things there are that make the whole world 
 bright, 
 That down to our poor earth draw heaven 
 
 divine, 
 That up to their pure heaven lift earth, that 
 shine 
 In joy and woe alike with quenchless light, 
 And make all wrong less wrong, all right more 
 right :— 
 The child and mother ; — in each face the sign 
 Of God's soft seal is fresh ; His love benign 
 Laughs in their hearts all day, broods there all 
 night. 
 
 O little maid, thou interblended gleam 
 Of child that was, of woman yet to be, 
 Which sweetest is we know not of the three — 
 
 The hope, the memory, or the painted dream. 
 
 Thou only, Art, canst changeless keep the mild 
 
 Faint evanescence of the woman-child. 
 
 122 
 
But thee of pulsing love and life, dear child, 
 Not even Artist of the Living Clay- 
 Could keep from going thy predestined way, 
 
 The woman-bud from flowering unbeguiled 
 To rose as perfect as the bud might pray. 
 
 If flower, alas, it must ! But I, I fain 
 
 Would pray that God's immortalizing kiss 
 Might hold the charm of thy unopened bliss 
 
 In bud for aye, from blooming keep the pain — 
 For naught that blooms can pain and fading 
 miss. 
 
 So strict the law that even Sacred Art, 
 
 The gladsome and serene, life's pain reflects ; 
 And I, too, catch in thy sweet face suspects 
 
 Of tears, on-coming griefs, perplexed heart 
 Awonder what strange thing it is dejects. 
 
 Like thee I question, too, all arguments. 
 
 And marvel why from thee He does not keep 
 All woe away, awaking or asleep, 
 
 Thy face the glass of joy's improvidence. 
 Nor day find reason, night no cause to weep. 
 123 
 
For thee, indeed, I cannot help but think, 
 Despite my will, as somehow not of us. 
 But as a dream of God miraculous. 
 
 Or statue He as Artist does not shrink 
 To fill with His life's breath, o'ergenerous. 
 
 And place it smiling here — or suffering — 
 Example of His craft and handiwork. 
 Of what His angels are where grief nor ill 
 
 Becloud, nor waiting sorrows come to bring 
 The disappointments that our days fulfil. 
 
 I see thee standing timid as shy bird 
 Upon the threshold of thy womanhood, 
 Uncertain if the doubtful coming good 
 
 May trusted be, or if thou wilt have erred 
 In singing more than life's soft, faint prelude. 
 
 I see thee also, fear and wonder-filled. 
 
 Pushed on the pathway of receding youth. 
 Thy tender eyes regretting still the ruth 
 
 Of all the girlhood joys thy heart have thrilled, 
 Presageful of the sadder joy of truth. 
 124 
 
And I the pathos of their mute appeal 
 
 Would answer with my hand enclasping thine, 
 And back thy steps unto thy home divine, 
 
 And Father, leading, we would pray repeal 
 Of banishment to earth and fate's design. 
 
 125 
 
MIGRATION 
 
 The migrant birds I loved, the hopes, the loves, 
 Like time and life, for other lands take wing ; 
 
 Pleasures and faiths, the thrushes and the doves, — 
 Far off I hear them fly, and sing, and sing. 
 
 As on their way to summer lands they fly. 
 
 Winter and age they leave with me behind ; — 
 With strong, fleet wings why may not also I 
 
 Follow away to climes more warm and kind ? 
 
 The sun shines cold and lower burn the fires 
 Of youth and trust, ambition, and delight ; 
 
 Snow covers now the earth, as age desires, 
 
 While disappointments crowd and joys take 
 
 flight. 
 
 126 
 
The songs of birds and those of my young heart 
 Sound faint and ghostlike, die away, and sigh ; 
 
 Their hushed adieu is soft, — I start. 
 
 And listen, as if, O God, 'twere Thy good-bye. 
 
 The lids fall shut, the evanescent dream. 
 Like nestling bird in distant tropic grove, 
 
 Broods silent, wistful, — till renascent seem 
 
 Fond life and hope beneath the breast of love. 
 
 Sweet singers, lovers of His love and light, 
 
 Shall I like you once more find hope and youth. 
 
 Where life's sweet springs shall be renewed and 
 bright, 
 The heart relearn to love, reflood with truth ? 
 
 As spring is ever in the world somewhere, 
 
 When buds break into flower, birds nest and 
 sing, 
 
 May wintered lives not also find that there 
 Is spring divine for souls, — if souls find wing ? 
 
 127 
 
DAY-DREAMS 
 
 Farther, purer, grows the sky, 
 Wan and paler fades the sea. 
 Dies to zephyr now the breeze, 
 Listless hang the leaves of trees 
 And the clouds o'er where I lie, 
 
 Dreaming present hopes that flee. 
 Past regrets that do not die. 
 
 Time is flying, day by day, 
 
 Month by month glides into years,- 
 Life we ever mourn or wait, 
 Too soon coming or too late, 
 Shirking work and losing play, 
 
 Feigning laughter, hiding tears, — 
 Just the old and weary way ! 
 128 
 
All the griefs that will persist, 
 All the things I might have done, 
 Stare with large, reproachful eyes. 
 Mocking wisdom most unwise. 
 Proffer lips I might have kissed, 
 Want I have for love unwon, 
 World I have for world I missed ! 
 
 129 
 
THE FENCE 
 
 Build quick, O farmer, a fence there for me ! 
 Build it as old as one ever could be, — 
 One of those old-fashioned fences, you know, 
 Made out of rails, twisty, criss-cross — just so ! — 
 One "staked and ridered," but dangley and 
 
 weedy. 
 Moss-grown and tumble-down, patchy and seedy. 
 Build it from nowhere to nowhere, — say, here 
 From this lot-center down where disappear 
 Rushes and cat-tails and alders and brook 
 Off in the woods-edge with winding and crook. 
 Scatter big stones too, and where there's a tree 
 Let it wind round it, scraggly-like, free ; 
 There where that old one blew down, run along, 
 Hit all the stumps sure, for they all belong 
 To a good fence — the poor rails like to squeeze 
 Close as they can to the old mother's knees. — 
 Thus 'mong the trees and the bushes and trunks. 
 Homes I'll make, run-places, for my chipmunks. 
 Holes for my woodchucks, nests for my birds, — 
 Ghmpses for me of the world without words ! 
 130 
 
THE MEDIATOR 
 
 By chance, or accident divined, 
 
 A little seed toward the sky 
 Was wafted by a gust of wind, 
 
 And left on ledge of window high. 
 It found a chink where lone, uncheered, 
 
 It waited the predestined hour, 
 When life's sweet miracle appeared 
 
 Of root and growth, leaf, bud, and flower. 
 
 And then despair with death-intent 
 
 To that long-closed window came, — 
 The human o'er the flower-face bent 
 
 And heard a soft low whisper — " Shame !" 
 Then straight despair to honor grew 
 
 And wore, life-through, a daisy brave 
 Above a heart, as daisy, true, — 
 
 And thousands now grow on his grave. 
 
 131 
 
MY CRITIC 
 
 I READ my poem to a critic wise and kindly, 
 
 And truer none ! — 
 Of how I loved, and how I gently, madly, 
 blindly 
 
 Had wooed and won ! 
 My critic wept, and murmured low — " An echo, 
 clear. 
 
 Of long ago !" 
 And then between her kisses, said, " Your 
 father, dear, 
 
 Loved me just so !" 
 
 132 
 
BABY 
 
 A SENSE of his far-coming, 
 Faint perfumes sweet, 
 
 Inaudible fine humming, 
 About him meet, 
 
 As if one caught the whirring 
 
 Of unseen wings. 
 The whispering and conferring 
 
 Of mystic things ; 
 
 A feeling too of waiting 
 
 Predestined hour. 
 Preparing and creating 
 
 A strange new flower. 
 
 His glance is made of wonder, 
 
 And half of fears. 
 As if behind or under 
 
 Were waiting tears. 
 133 
 
He looks with mixed surprises 
 
 At these strange things, 
 Desires with doubt's surmises, 
 
 Half-lifts of wings. 
 
 A teasing hint of laughter 
 
 Eludes to smile, 
 Then mocks you hurrying after 
 
 With solemn wile. 
 
 Most marvellous things are doing 
 
 Right there in air ! 
 Or mighty thoughts are brewing, — 
 
 To judge from stare. 
 
 To music he may listen 
 
 We cannot hear, 
 His eyes so strangely glisten, 
 
 And persevere ; 
 
 The little fingers clinging 
 
 About yours curled 
 As if afraid of swinging 
 
 Back out of world. 
 
 134 
 
Surprising awkwardnesses, 
 
 And aimless jerks, 
 Up-caught forgetfulnesses. 
 
 Tell how brain works. 
 
 Through eyes of her who bore him 
 
 Gleams love divine, 
 You see as she bends o'er him 
 
 How God's eyes shine. 
 
 The mellowed marble's sweetness 
 
 Of her breast 
 He drinks, till, with completeness 
 
 He sinks to rest. 
 
 What building, then, and working, 
 
 Goes on in sleep ! 
 What mysteries are lurking ! 
 
 Preparings deep ! 
 
 While God is happy weaving 
 
 Hid mechanism. 
 For suffering and achieving 
 
 Far crown or chrism. 
 135 
 
She too has fond still dreamings 
 
 Of future dim, 
 Hushed hopes and secret schemings,- 
 
 All, all, for him ! 
 
 " How proud will be the mother 
 Of her boy-man ! 
 And then — will she — that other ? — 
 What woman can?" 
 
 136 
 
CRADLE CROONING 
 
 Before you came my bosom's drouth, 
 Within, without, yearned long and still, — 
 
 The empty breast sought for your mouth, 
 The empty heart for you to fill. 
 
 And now you're here, dear heart and mouth, 
 How deeper is my yearning still 
 
 To drain my bosom's wealth to drouth, 
 With milk and love your breast to fill. 
 
 lo 137 
 
DOLL-PHILOSOPHY 
 
 I LOVE my dolly and then she loves me ; 
 When she's not naughty she's good as can be ; 
 When she is naughty I scold her, and then 
 Harder I love her, to make up again. 
 
 Over in China the babies have eyes 
 With curious corners, most wonderful wise ; 
 They're so good always and nice that their queues 
 Grow down to their knees or their queer little 
 shoes. 
 
 African babies and dollies are black ; 
 
 They have no clothes on their breast or their 
 
 back; 
 Their heels they kick up as high in the air, — 
 High as they want to and nobody care. 
 
 Have angels babies, and these babies dolls ? 
 I'd Hke to climb up and peek o'er the walls 
 Mammas and babies and dollies to see, 
 Mary with Jesus — ah, would He love me ? 
 138 
 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE 
 
 Lucy said Walter, of all she had had, 
 Was the best husband, — he never was bad ; — 
 Promised to bring him right over to me, — 
 Try him I might for myself and then see ! 
 She introduced him — and most stylishly ; 
 I said, " Good-morning, will you marry me ?" 
 He answered " Yes" by a nod of his head ; 
 Quick then I put him straight on to my sled. 
 Hauled him for wedding-trip all round the square ; 
 All of our neighbors made compliments rare ! 
 When we came home Walter said he was tired, — 
 Something more added seeming much like " all- 
 fired." 
 Slippers I got him and also his pipe, — 
 Business was awful these days ; and the type 
 Of the newspapers so bad really 
 He could not read a bit longer, not he ! 
 139 
 
Then I was frightened he might go away, 
 Off to the club, or else down to the play, — 
 Perhaps to Lucy! — and then I jumped up, 
 Made him some tea in my sweet china cup, 
 Sang him " Over the Garden- Wall, Ha, Ha !" 
 Told him he was the best, nicest papa 
 My dollies said they ever had had, — 
 Would not he love them ? Please not be so bad !- 
 That ended the matter ! Off he went quick 
 To Lucy again. I cried myself sick ! 
 
 140 
 
AT SUNSET 
 
 Fling wide the windows, nearer draw my bed, 
 That I may rest my head upon the window-sill ; 
 And with the dying day now let me die. 
 If you have pity, kindness, leave me here 
 Alone, unwatched. 'Tis shame enough indeed 
 To live in others' eyes one's whole life through, — 
 But die! Why even brutes do this alone, 
 And they know naught of all this glorious thing, 
 These darkening splendors filling world and soul. 
 Let death and sunset work their will with me ! 
 
 My Aimee call that I may give to her 
 
 And take love's old, unfailing good-night kiss. 
 
 Through rifts of shattered clouds shine shafts of 
 
 light,— 
 The sun's last looks of love upon his world. 
 Throughout the day his pathway has been clear, 
 141 
 
No thoughtless or impertinent cloud has dared 
 Before his face appear ; but now, alas ! 
 They press upon the hero dying, weak. 
 But even in death he will not brook contempt, 
 And with the last poor remnants of his power 
 He rives and breaks them, burns their edges white, 
 Bursts clefts and openings through them every- 
 where 
 Through which glance far o'er land and sea and 
 
 sky, 
 His love for all his sky and sea and land. 
 
 Dear god of light ! 'Tis so with me, your child : 
 Throughout my morning, during noon that burned, 
 Down all the long, delicious afternoon. 
 This wondrous mechanism of thought and sense, 
 This friend and servant, lover and beloved. 
 Knew not of pleasure other than my will. 
 But now I must crush through its pressing cloud. 
 See past, not with its fast-obscuring eyes. 
 Without the cold benumbed fingers feel, 
 And hear with ears not tuned to this hushed air. 
 Oh ! there are colors in the soul-sky, pure 
 142 
 
As ever found the cunning retina 
 
 In fjord Norwegian or in Orient sky ; 
 
 The spirit too has ears to music tuned 
 
 Of air ethereal and more subtly soft 
 
 Than sleeping silence of the Alpine peak. 
 
 I walk with spirit feet on spirit earth 
 
 Touch ghostly hands with other hands than these. 
 
 The mountains are for gods to live on, free 
 From mortal need or care or company ; 
 High hills the godlike man will love and know, 
 And when the sun goes down and life has end 
 A supernatural beauty lights him then, 
 The outer vision answering glow within 
 Until the world sublimed to beauty pure, 
 Incorporate and incommensurate, 
 Is met by spirit at the threshold wide 
 Of body-temple, passion-freed and passion-filled, 
 When God and matter lose themselves in one 
 Long-lingering nuptial thrill of blended kiss. 
 
 Poor slave was I of tyrants Time and Fate, 
 But I failed not to wrench from them at last 
 
 143 
 
My " Calvary Hill," and there upon it death, 
 My drop of time lost in eternal sea. 
 
 Unerring, accurate, as Fate itself, 
 
 Cuts half the broad horizon-edge around, 
 
 The line of light that marks the limit set 
 
 Of sea and sky. Above, the conquered clouds 
 
 Melt into deeper shades of blue and dark 
 
 And stand afar in mute and sombre awe. 
 
 Below, the shiver and the sheen sweep down 
 
 To shore-curve sheer and sharp, like drawbridge 
 
 dropped 
 Straight o'er and down from brilliant Paradise, 
 Which seems to open and invite us come. 
 So iridescent glow the splendors there 
 That invitation meets our doubt and fear, 
 For braver, purer than is human heart 
 Must be the spirit that would dare such pass. 
 
 Far, far, and faint, to either side there stream 
 Revelant soft translucencies of light 
 In color robed, deep dreams of green and blue, 
 Revealing yet concealing azured blush 
 144 
 
And glory of far-coming mysteries, 
 The splendid secrets of lit heaven beyond 
 Slow fusing, fading to the dark that gains. 
 
 Within the shore-line billowing valleys gloam, 
 And upward stretch to where I lie and wait, — 
 A height wide-braced and buttressed by long 
 
 slopes 
 Of rolling foot-hills where the cattle feed, 
 While dark still lines of living shades between 
 Mark where the brooks fall down to seek 
 Their mother sea, the loving and beloved. 
 Surrounded by their friends the forest trees. 
 
 Oh, I have hoped and feared and waited this 
 
 Large kiss of sun that now has come ! 
 
 I knew you would break through that broken 
 
 cloud 
 And o'er me your last benediction shed. 
 I bare my breast, turn face, wide open eyes 
 For you to burn your images in their depths. 
 Whence deeper as these pierce into the brain 
 I watch refine to spirit, blend and fade 
 145 
 
Through scarlet crude, on, on through all the 
 
 scale 
 To soul's own deepening blue, life's purpled 
 
 death, — 
 Your message. Sun, has reached my spirit's soul ! 
 
 If I this color-music could but follow on 
 And see-hear all its harmonies and chromes 
 That subtly sing their silences above 
 The noise of even our finest tones and tints ! 
 To feel direct what now we cannot feel, 
 The infinite overtones and octaved hues 
 Of music in the immaterial world ! 
 
 A whirring flash of shadow past me shoots. 
 With certainty divine of confident wing, — 
 A tuft of feathered sunshine or of thought — 
 Were I that bird, instead, — instead of this ! 
 The humming-bird, perhaps, is God's own glance, 
 Enfleshed, and winged, on round to see, per- 
 chance. 
 If any flower more perfect may be made. 
 Once came one close before my face, stood still 
 146 
 
With wondrous wing-beat, peered into my eyes 
 With eyes that stung me with their piercing jet; 
 Strange luminous gleams of weird unearthly tints 
 Refulgent quivered, flashed about its head : 
 From that revelatory instant I knew God ! — 
 I knew what He could do, would like to do. 
 And in some ransomed world has done I hope. 
 Where matter's obstinate crudeness does not bind 
 As here to fatal indirectness, want. 
 And pathos of our all-imperfect life. 
 
 As any, once I had the springing foot, 
 The eye infallible, and leg, and arm 
 That dared and held command of circumstance. 
 What joy in life and doing then ! What pride 
 Of muscle answering mind, of conquering will ! 
 Alas ! the loyal hand is trembling now 
 Lest it may fail in brushing off the tears 
 Self-pity springs in disobedient eyes. 
 
 It seems but only yesterday, not years. 
 When baring head and breast to catch the breeze 
 I ran exulting o'er the wind-swept hills ; 
 147 
 
With bending trees I laughed, and billowing 
 
 grass ; 
 I shivered with the whispering of the leaves, 
 And held my breath to hear the silken, soft. 
 Sweet murmured hush of stately far-off pines. 
 
 The sun now touches the horizon-line ; 
 The clouds stand far and silently regret ; 
 The mystic light-path down to shore is gone, 
 And in its place a fine translucent blue, — 
 A phosphorescent memory and a dream. 
 To north and south green fades to nothingness, 
 And deeper fall the shadows in the woods. 
 
 In health we cannot stare at perfect form. 
 Full-filled with perfect life, unflinchingly. 
 Nor at the midday sun, unblinded, straight ; 
 Both life and light, the world's two things divine, 
 At incarnation-plenitude, permit 
 No mortal eye of mind or sense to see 
 Effulgence more than mortal of their face. 
 Wherever Life works out her mysteries 
 She hides herself from curious gaze o'er-bold ; 
 148 
 
Her nude Shekinahs blindness strike in them 
 Who are not priests of Love, and hence of God. 
 O'er libertine and life-deriding scientist 
 His curses laugh in bitterest mockery, 
 Who through the barriers crush of modesty 
 And reverence about all things divine. 
 To call that love or knowledge, what these get ! 
 'Tis piteous that we cannot pity them ! 
 
 Ah, child, I did not know that you were here 
 Until — your way — I found your Httle hand — 
 Just like your mother's — slipped between my two. 
 And I was maundering bitter stuff, untrue. 
 With my poor head, because — perhaps because 
 You did not come to keep me true and good. 
 My darhng one, in all the coming years — 
 You need not let him know you know it, 
 
 though — 
 And whether life bring joy or still more tears. 
 Forget not that, however strong, however 
 
 wrong. 
 Still, still, man's strength and power come clear 
 
 from you, 
 
 149 
 
His wrong because to this you were untrue. 
 You're young, I know, to tell of such old things, 
 But tears have pushed your budding plant 
 Of life to hurried flower ; besides, — weep not — 
 I must go far and leave you here alone. 
 Oh, did I say alone ? Ah, no, no, no ! 
 Dear God has wrought a milHon years for you, 
 Their summers all are melted in your spring ; 
 The bloom of all their fruits is flushing soft 
 Beneath your cheeks and lips and skin. The sun 
 Did surely weave your hair, and in your eyes 
 I see the mysteries of the stars and skies. 
 
 First with your hand and then more sure with 
 
 lips 
 You close my mouth, as if to say. Say not! 
 My brain I know is fevered, but works true 
 In what I would have said. Or what or who 
 Hath made you out of sunshine, years, and tears, 
 Compacted resume of myriad hopes and fears, — 
 And His the grief and joy as well as ours, — 
 Will guard you still and guide you on, most sure, 
 Thou gladsome essence of a thousand loves 
 150 
 
That lit the world's dark ages past, — not so ! — 
 I mean 'twas only one love filling all, 
 Life's chiefest instrument — nay, very Self! 
 
 Good-night, my child, I'm overtired, would sleep — 
 Good-night ! Again ? Good-night ! — And — now 
 — good-night ! 
 
 NOTHING— EVERYTHING 
 
 The sun thy playmate be, and stars thy nurse ! 
 Fill full thy heart with every day's sunrise, 
 Thy blood recrimson with the sunset dyes ; 
 
 Drink hill-top winds, with brooks and woods con- 
 verse, 
 
 And all wild living things with love coerce. — 
 In some still hour, before thy startled eyes 
 Will then, serene and sweet. Truth smiling rise, 
 
 Life's riddle read, make friend the universe ! 
 
 No other way ! With hungry eyes and sad 
 Philosophy and Science confess defeat. 
 
 Crawl disappointed from their graves and fling 
 151 
 
Their Nothing down,^ while swell the bird-songs 
 glad, 
 And over graves, in hearts and harvests 
 sweet. 
 And everywhere, Love write his Everything. 
 
 {A song is heard from the next room) 
 
 THE MESSAGE 
 
 From tropic land where day was long. 
 Where sun was warm and life was sweet, 
 
 A tiny seed by some strange wrong 
 
 Was brought to clime where cold and fleet 
 
 Were days and sun, and life and song. 
 
 It grew, for grow it must and would. 
 
 Though bitterer was each growing hour, 
 
 Misdoubting, mocked, misunderstood. 
 In pain it wrought exotic flower. 
 
 For flower brings love, and love, life's good. 
 152 
 
One day with eyes of humming-bird 
 God looked in on it, stopped, and low 
 
 He whispered some soft wondrous word, 
 And flying south, cried out, You know! 
 
 And nodded south the flower — I heard I 
 
 (After a silence^ the voice again sings,) 
 GIVE LOVE THY ALL 
 
 Love will find thee and will bind thee, — 
 
 Follow thou his feet ! 
 He will chasten and will hasten 
 
 Bitter days and sweet ; 
 Ripening sorrows, hurrying morrows, 
 
 Life so slow, so fleet. 
 
 Give him thy all, beyond recall, 
 
 Cherished, utter last ! 
 Soon back to thee like tide of sea. 
 
 Filling, thrilling, vast. 
 Will come thy love, with God's above, 
 
 Hold thee ever fast ! 
 " 153 
 
My child who sings my songs to comfort me ! 
 I'll ask her mother, she who sang them first, 
 To sing them there for me, or we'll come here 
 And hand in hand we'll hear the orphan sing. 
 
 Like stare of dying man grows stern the sun ; 
 Resentful of our gaze, controlling fate, 
 He hurries on to death, sinks rapid down, 
 With steady eye unconquered and unclosed. 
 Then, like the deeds and life of a good man 
 Illuminating world that he has left, 
 Glows all the regions of the vanished orb 
 With reflex of the light it knows no more. 
 
 I follow soon, but till the darkness come 
 I hold my eyes and heart full to their work ! 
 
 I cannot see the East, but well I know 
 Already flushes there each roseate hue 
 The eye can revel in, tongue not describe ; 
 From orient to zenith deep suffused 
 The pale cloud-depths are vision, memory-filled ; 
 They tell the mystery of his morning-love, 
 154 
 
The dazzling splendor of his glorious noon, 
 The after-lights of his long afternoon. 
 
 That love-revealing, love-concealing blush 
 Arouses recollection of the day 
 When o'er me swept, high over me, and through 
 The wondrous passion-flood of wild sweet woe 
 That reckless fills, and drowns, and overfills 
 Our farthest waiting bays and thirsting shores, 
 With might of ocean's irresistless tide. 
 
 ONCE MORE! 
 
 Within her home of heart Song lingers still. 
 And begs for voice her longing to relate ; 
 But palsied age is inarticulate. 
 
 And reminiscent of the old-time skill. 
 
 Song sits adreaming of the riant will, 
 
 Of days when love was sweet and passionate. 
 When flower, and bird, and beauty, warned too 
 late 
 
 That day was passing and that Death would kill. 
 
 155 
 
Once more, O Life, let pulses throb and flood 
 With recklessness and eager hungry blood ! 
 
 Once more, O Love, give back the dear torments, 
 Desire insatiate, the tender, wild 
 
 Firm cling of mouth to mouth, — th' omnipotence 
 Of life, by world, nor time, nor fate beguiled ! 
 
 The hour slipped past, as glides the life away — 
 The offered once is quick replaced by never^ 
 If indecision fail to grasp and hold ; 
 Then time becomes a vanishing regret. 
 And grows regret to bitter lesson's pain — 
 As once I wrote ere yet I knew how true 
 The words, how near I was to know them so ! 
 
 THE WORD OF LIFE 
 
 When Life was set the task of making here 
 
 A home for God, 
 He whispered one great word into Her ear. 
 
 With warning nod, 
 156 
 
This word Life puts at heart of whate'er breathes- 
 
 Her death parole, 
 To grass and tree, to beast and man bequeathes 
 
 Their virtue sole. 
 
 'Tis this command that makes each tiny cell 
 
 Our unknown slave ; 
 Let one of all the millions once rebel, 
 
 We find our grave ! 
 
 'Tis known of no ascetic, wounded, sore, 
 
 Stifling his breath. 
 But only by the loyal who ignore 
 
 Or hate all death. 
 
 Obedience to it makes all truths and rights, 
 
 Makes evil good, 
 And disobedience is the sin that blights 
 
 All brotherhood. 
 
 By thousand words men seek to say this word. 
 
 But all are vain ; 
 'Tis lived and loved and felt, by no ear heard, 
 
 No science fain. 
 * 157 
 
'Tis Love and Live, KnoWy Forward, and Endure ! — 
 
 Than these far more ! — 
 'Tis heroism, coward-scorning, pure 
 
 Deep science-lore. 
 
 The hint of it is caught in silent night 
 
 When heart-beat wakes. 
 In eyes of child hides shy and sweet its light, 
 
 In mothers', breaks ; 
 
 In healing wounds of flesh and tree, in surgeon's 
 knife. 
 
 In battle cry — 
 Auvergne, here! And Drink thy blood !^ — 'tis life 
 Of Beauty's eye. 
 
 It quivers passion-fired the nerves along 
 
 In love and hate. 
 Burns sharp in pain and prayer, sings poet's song, 
 
 Binds mate to mate. 
 
 The mystic word of Life, which no one saith, 
 
 Which in all glows. 
 Learns each, one moment after earned death, — 
 
 None other knows ! 
 
 158 
 
{After a pause Aimee again sings from the next 
 room.) 
 
 THE CONSOLATION 
 
 When sun goes down and night is nearing, 
 When no more fears are left for fearing, 
 When world fades out and time is flying, 
 And no more tears remain for crying, — 
 What comfort then has heart that dies ? 
 
 When Love refuses more endearing, 
 And ghosts of dead hopes bring no cheering. 
 When weariness is tired of trying. 
 And Fate has even ceased denying, — 
 What use has then or truth or lies ? 
 
 Ah, death is opened heaven nearing. 
 And self that dies is life appearing ; 
 The truth is mind's sure deifying, 
 Sweet love is God's sweet prophesying. 
 And sunset here is there sunrise ! 
 159 
 
Up from the dewy darkening woods below 
 Floats clear the thrush's limpid good-night song, — 
 Ah, no ! 'Tis bird that sings, the song is God's ! 
 Dear Father, they who think Thee solemn, far, 
 Know not Thy birds, Thy children, gladsome, 
 
 free 
 And filled with Thine own tenderness and glee. 
 
 {Again the voice ^ as before^ 
 
 GOOD-NIGHT 
 
 Good-night, dear bird, and warm beneath thy 
 wing 
 
 Thy nestlings keep, 
 Till morning come with light and song to bring 
 
 An end of sleep. 
 
 Good-night, dear day, the twilight 'neath night's 
 wing 
 
 Nestles to sleep, 
 And stars will watch till sun shall morning bring 
 From orient deep. 
 1 60 
 
Good-night, dear world, beneath life's infinite 
 wing 
 
 I softly creep. 
 Till earth to heaven morn, and ending bring 
 
 Of death's sweet sleep. 
 
 The song to silence trembled ; soft and slow 
 The twilight hush stilled down to hush of night, 
 Then noiseless steps approached, the door ajar 
 Was held, and forward leaned a pale, sad face 
 That seemed a child's and yet a woman's too, 
 So sweetly poised was life between them both : — 
 " Asleep, dear father ? Shall I bring a light ?" 
 
 i6i 
 
NOTES 
 
 1 . Page 30. By travellers the zoologic fact upon which this 
 sonnet is founded is said to occur somewhat frequently in the 
 Norwegian and Swedish lakes. The fact is as old as the 
 Mabinogion, in which the eagle Gwern Abwy answered Gwrhyr, 
 "And when I came there I struck my talons into a salmon, 
 thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But he 
 drew me into the deep, and I was scarcely able to escape from 
 him." P. 247. 
 
 2. Page 35. It seems unnecessary to refer to the incompre- 
 hensible string of figures given by physiographers of the esti- 
 mated number of tons of solid material brought to the ocean 
 by the rivers. 
 
 3. Page 66. These verses are a paraphrase of the next, en- 
 titled Contemplation. 
 
 4. Page 69. See note 3. 
 
 5. Page 152. The allusion is to the famous tomb and inscrip- 
 tion, in which a figure is represented as crawling from the grave 
 and scrawling upon the side the word Nada — " Nothing." 
 
 6. Page 158. "In the autumn of 1760, Louis XV. sent an 
 army into Germany. The Marquis de Castries despatched a force 
 of twenty-five thousand men toward Rheinberg. They took up 
 
 162 
 
a strong position at Klostercamp, On the night of the 15th of 
 October, a young officer, Chevalier d'Assas, was sent to recon- 
 noitre, and advanced alone in the wood at some little distance 
 from his men. He suddenly found himself surrounded by a 
 number of the enemies' soldiers. Their bayonets pricked his 
 breast, while a voice whispered in his ear, " Make but the 
 slightest noise and you are a dead man!" In a moment he 
 understood the situation. The enemy were advancing to sur- 
 prise the French camp. He called out as loud as his voice 
 could convey the words, " Here, Auvergne ! Here are the 
 enemy!" The words decided his fate. He was at once cut 
 down. But his death had saved the army. The surprise failed, 
 and the enemy retreated." 
 
 The battle-cry of Roland : " Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir, 
 and quench thy thirst !" 
 
 163 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 015 973 317 8 
 
 ■j