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Poems 
 
 Hildegarde Hawthorne 
 
 
 Boston : Richard G. Badger 
 The Gorhatn Press 
 1905 
 
Copyright 1904 by Hildegarde Hawthorne 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
 
 Two Copies 
 
 deceived 
 
 DEC 19 
 
 1904 
 
 , Cooyriijnt hntry 
 & A 2D.J?9*f- 
 CUSS <fc XXc. Not 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 \<\o5- 
 
 PRINTED AT 
 
 THE OORHAM THEM 
 BOSTON, U. B. A. 
 
TO ROSE 
 
 WITH THANKS AND LOVE 
 
 H. H. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Inspiration .... 
 
 9 
 
 Flower and Thorn [To F. L. H .] 
 
 10 
 
 Music ..... 
 
 II 
 
 Fom Leave no Room to Mourn 
 
 12 
 
 Loss ..... 
 
 *3 
 
 Love's Silence [ To Beatrix] . 
 
 14 
 
 Aftermath {To My Mother] . 
 
 15 
 
 No/ T^ctf, Z?«/ Strife 
 
 16 
 
 Lull ab ye . 
 
 18 
 
 Storm ..... 
 
 ig 
 
 Love's Gifts .... 
 
 20 
 
 J Steta* [To A. St. G.] . 
 
 21 
 
 Loneliness [ To My Father] . 
 
 22 
 
 Reward {To Imogen] 
 
 23 
 
 The Hour .... 
 
 24 
 
 Dismissal .... 
 
 25 
 
 L*7* [To/. F. B. II.] . 
 
 26 
 
 // Riddle .... 
 
 27 
 

 Page 
 
 Devotion .... 
 
 28 
 
 Niagara . 
 
 29 
 
 Summons [To Gwendolen] 
 
 30 
 
 Winter ..... 
 
 31 
 
 Sea [To H. A. H.] 
 
 32 
 
 A Song ..... 
 
 33 
 
 My Rose .... 
 
 34 
 
 Waiting [To E. 5.] 
 
 35 
 
 Gifts 
 
 ■ 36 
 
 A Dream .... 
 
 37 
 
Poems 
 
INSPIRATION 
 
 As sometimes sight is given 
 
 The Artist, and he knows 
 His art was born in Heaven 
 
 And not through him arose — 
 His but the holy duty 
 
 To clothe the Heaven-lent 
 In word or shape of beauty 
 
 That witness its descent — 
 So Mary, in the breaking 
 
 Of that rare Eastern morn, 
 From pain to peace awaking 
 
 Knew, with a joy forlorn, 
 Not hers the Son she cherished, 
 
 Not hers the Light that shone; 
 Hers but the gift that perished — 
 
 The suffering alone! 
 
FLOWER AND THORN 
 
 Blue sky, pink of blooming trees, 
 Clear and high the robin's call ; 
 Fragrance floating on the breeze; 
 Sweet is all! 
 
 Dear, I bring thee blossoming bough, 
 
 Flower and breath of happy Spring; 
 Joy and laughter bring I now — 
 But no more may bring. 
 
 Fields waist-high with yellow grain, 
 
 Dusky shadows of the wood, 
 Purple nights and sudden rain ; 
 All is good! 
 
 Sweet, I bring thee golden love, 
 Summer s passion and delight, 
 Kinship with the gods above; 
 All that's fair and bright! 
 
 Withered leaf and frozen stream, 
 
 Shrouding, softly-falling snow, 
 Bitter end to summer's dream; 
 All must go! 
 
 Faded are the flowers and fled 
 
 Love's great hour. Yet smile and see, 
 Best beloved, lift thy head — 
 Death I bring to theel 
 
 10 
 
MUSIC 
 
 In the wide-moving sea 
 
 Is hid a mystery 
 That the ever-sounding swell 
 
 Whispers of, but may not tell — 
 With its deathless melody 
 
 Guarding the secret well. 
 
 And the wind in its sweep 
 
 Above the mighty deep 
 Breathes a meaning few may know; 
 
 Sings it in a cadence low; 
 Thunders it from steep to steep — 
 
 Farther than thought can go. 
 
 The spirit hath no way 
 
 Its master- word to say. 
 But that chanting of the sea 
 
 And the wind's high harmony? 
 With immortal phrases they 
 
 Invest the mystery! 
 
YOU LEAVE NO ROOM TO MOURN 
 
 When weary of the chatter of the street, 
 Tired of the toiling millions at my side, 
 The bick'ring, the dishonor; when sore tried 
 By dead'ning city walls, a vision sweet 
 Will sometimes come of blowing trees that greet 
 Still meadows, and a deeply moving tide 
 Meeting a primrose sky. Peace doth abide 
 All day, a bulwark strong against defeat. 
 And so, when all my soul is sick of life, 
 Sick of the trammels of this world forlorn, 
 Heartsick of always failing in the strife, 
 The glory of your face is sometimes borne 
 Unto my spirit. Then, though grief be rife, 
 It passes, Love. You leave no room to mourn! 
 
LOSS 
 
 Who that hath lost some dear beloved friend 
 But knoweth how — when the wild grief is spent 
 That tore his soul with agony, and did lend 
 E'en to the splendor-beaming firmament 
 The blighting darkness of his shadowed heart — 
 There surely follows peace and quiet sorrow 
 That lead his spirit, by divinest art, 
 Past the drear present to that glorious morrow 
 Where parting is not, neither grief nor fear! 
 But how shall he find comfort, who sees die, 
 Not the one presence that he holds most dear; 
 But from his heart a hope as Heaven high, 
 And from his life a wish as Truth sublime, 
 And from his soul a love that mocked at Time? 
 
 13 
 
LOVE'S SILENCE 
 
 There are no words in which to tell 
 How fair the moonlight is to me, 
 
 Nor to convey the sea's resistless swell 
 Nor haunting mystery. 
 
 No golden syllables can sing 
 
 The thrush's song for thee or me; 
 
 The fragrance that the summer breezes bring 
 All unexpressed must be. 
 
 I cannot tell thee how I mourn 
 When suffering or loss are thine; 
 
 The delicate wings of joy are bruised and torn 
 By these rough words of mine. 
 
 I strive to tell the love that makes 
 The music of my heart and soul ; 
 
 O Love ! a holy silence breathes and wakes, 
 And that must speak the whole. 
 
 14 
 
AFTERMATH 
 
 When splendid day to sombre darkness dies ; 
 When all the riotous birds have hushed their song 
 And the blue water and the perfumed throng 
 Of flowers are hidden ; when sad shadow lies 
 Where golden sunshine erstwhile filled the eyes, 
 And all is dark and cold the hills among — 
 Oh, then the moon will rise and pure and strong 
 Flood the gray world with silver to the skies! 
 So, when youth's glow and glory fade away; 
 When the sweet laugh and dearer love-words die, 
 The high endeavor and the happy play 
 Alike are past: perhaps in the dark sky 
 Another dawn will bring a lovelier day, 
 More tender, rarer, full of mystery. 
 
 15 
 
NOT PEACE, BUT STRIFE 
 
 (I) 
 
 Sweetheart, I used to question, ere you came, 
 What thing this was that bore the name of love, 
 And, fash'ning from dream fancies, from the fame 
 Of mighty loves now dead, and from above 
 Seeking a light immortal, I at length 
 Built for myself a dainty wild-wood nest, 
 A harmony of beauty and of strength : 
 A fairy spot with fragrant flowers dressed, 
 Where bird-songs echoed in the golden air 
 And summer sunshine gleamed athwart the trees ! 
 There, hand-in-hand with One, knowing no care 
 I wandered happy as the morning breeze. 
 
 (ID 
 
 But now that you are here, 
 
 My love, the truth I see! 
 How God lives in our love, bidding us fight 
 
 Wrong, sorrow, and to rear 
 
 By our own joy the free 
 And holy glory of His loving Right. 
 
 And gladly, with no sigh 
 
 I leave the dream, nor crave 
 
 Aught but, with thee, to try 
 The power of mighty love to help and save. 
 
 16 
 
(Ill) 
 
 Dearest, when we have done what was our best; 
 When the strength of our day is past, and night 
 Comes quietly, and we know that we must rest 
 Leaving the task undone, shall not the fight — 
 Though all unfinished, faltering and weak, 
 Yet, since we loved each other, and held high 
 Above our failing what God bade us seek — 
 Shall not the fight bring peace? And we but die 
 To find the dream is real? Not, as then, made 
 Of careless-happy fancies, but reared strong 
 On selfhood's sacrifice and conquered wrong! 
 
 i7 
 
LULLABYE 
 
 Hush, my sweet, my own, 
 
 Sleep, oh sleep! 
 I will not leave you alone — 
 
 Nay, never weep, 
 
 Hushabye and sleep. 
 
 Hush! the cricket's croon 
 Swells and dies, 
 
 And the flowers breathe a rune 
 Shut, sweet, your eyes, 
 Clear as summer skies. 
 
 Sleep, my baby dear, 
 
 Hushabye ! 
 Angels are watching you here, 
 
 Mother is nigh — 
 
 Sleep and hushabye. 
 
STORM 
 
 Grey skies or blue to me one answer bring; 
 The summer or the autumn or the spring 
 Rustle their leaves and flowers, murm'ring to me 
 77 may not, may not be, it may not be — 
 Over and over, all the whispering leaves, 
 The nodding roses and the garnered sheaves: 
 It may not, will not be. Yet in wild hours 
 When the black earth is drenched with sudden 
 
 showers, 
 When the bent branches groan and the fierce sea 
 Leaps foaming to the shore, lashed by the free, 
 The mighty wind that chanting goes its way, 
 I listen and I hear: It may, it may! 
 
 19 
 
LOVE'S GIFTS 
 
 If I love you, will you give 
 To me the sweetest flowers 
 
 That on breezy hillsides live 
 Or bloom in faerie bowers? 
 
 You shall have them, every one, 
 Loveliest flowers that blow, 
 
 Blossoming in shade or sun — 
 
 (And thorns therewith, I know!) 
 
 If I love you, will you bring 
 The pearls from the deep sea, 
 
 To hang about me as I sing 
 My rarest songs for thee? 
 
 All the pearls from all the seas, 
 I'll bring them to you, dear; 
 
 Lovely as your melodies — 
 (And for each pearl, a tear!) 
 
 If I love you, will you take 
 The bright stars from the sky, 
 
 Crowning me, for sweet love's sake, 
 Your queen and goddess high ? 
 
 I will give the crown to you, 
 Shining stars that will not fade ; 
 
 And a liege's worship true — 
 (With death at last, poor maid!) 
 
A STATUE 
 
 Yea, I have lived ! Pass on 
 And trouble me with questions nevermore. 
 
 I suffered. I have won 
 A solemn peace — my peace forevermore. 
 
 Leave me in silence here! 
 
 I have no hope, no care ; 
 
 I know no fear, 
 For I have borne — but now no longer bear. 
 
 Deep-hid sorrow calls me kin, 
 
 But my calm she cannot break. 
 I know not good — I know not sin — 
 
 Nor love nor hate can me awake. 
 
 Though I have sought, I care not now to find. 
 
 If I have asked, I wait for no reply. 
 My eyes from too much seeing are grown blind. 
 I am not dead, yet do not need to die. 
 Pass on ; ye cannot reach me any more ; 
 
 Pass on — for all is past ! 
 Hush ! silence settles ever more and more ; 
 Silence and night at last. 
 
LONELINESS 
 
 Remote and solemn, with enduring snow 
 Forever hooded, yonder mountain peak 
 Climbs to the shining stars, alone and bleak. 
 And here forever sighs, with ebb and flow, 
 The moving ocean, to whose deeps no glow 
 Of summer sunshine may an entrance seek. 
 And in their isolation lie and reek 
 Those deserts alkaline where no life may show. 
 Lonely all these ! but lonelier still than they, 
 Summing their loneliness into one whole 
 Inviolate and terrible as fire, 
 There passes, on its solitary way, 
 Untouched, unheard, unknown, each human soul 
 Alone for all its loving and desire. 
 
 22 
 
REWARD 
 
 All they who walk in joy or in despair 
 
 The ways of life, through shadow and through 
 
 light, 
 Ask for some boon, some guerdon, some delight, 
 To crown their living. Tempted by the glare 
 Some seek but gold ; for fame some greatly dare ; 
 While nobly others toil to help the right, 
 To strengthen truth, to gain a finer height 
 Of wisdom. But to me this seems most fair 
 And above all life's gifts I would choose this: 
 That one with love's deep voice should turn and 
 
 say, 
 When night drew down and it was time to rest: 
 " Sweet, you have helped me," bending down to kiss 
 My clinging hands, " and but for you the way 
 Would have been barren — you have made it blest." 
 
THE HOUR 
 
 The slow, sweet hour that shrines the setting sun, 
 Or that which broods above the summer noon 
 Perfect in golden beauty — gone too soon 
 After its vanished sisters! Or the one 
 Long looked for, when the heavy day is done, 
 That comes, dim-lighted by the rising moon, 
 And fragrant with the roses born to June, 
 To whisper sorrow past and joy begun; 
 Nor these, nor any, do I name the best ; 
 But if an hour shall dawn that sees us meet, 
 That brings us close, thou, all unknown, yet mine, 
 Stranger, yet most myself ! above the rest — 
 Above that hour which sees us at Love's feet — 
 I'll set it, token of the Power Divine. 
 
 24 
 
DISMISSAL? 
 
 Forgive, you pray, and still, forgive! 
 
 But yet you throw 
 To Stella, passing there below, 
 A glance too lingering and sweet; 
 
 Again you greet 
 Fair Ida with that tender smile — 
 
 Yet all the while 
 Forgive, you say, forgive! 
 
 I love, you sigh, I love but you! 
 
 And still you bend 
 O'er Rose's hand, and will not end 
 From whispering to Isabel 
 
 Quick words that tell 
 In her bright eye and glowing cheek; 
 
 Then me you seek 
 To cry: I love but you! 
 
 Go to, poor trifler ; you should know 
 
 That he who sips 
 Too freely from all pretty lips 
 And finds in every lovely eye 
 
 Cause for a sigh, 
 Dwells but a moment in the thought 
 
 And then, is naught! 
 
 But yet — I do not know ! 
 
 *5 
 
LIFE 
 
 Give me the strength and height 
 
 Of glorious life; 
 
 The dazzling light, 
 The straining and the strife, 
 
 Love, passion, hope, 
 In their divinest scope. 
 
 High winds on mighty seas 
 
 Not sheltered bay ; 
 
 The storm that frees 
 Wild torrents great and gay 
 
 With splendid power; 
 Not the soft springtime shower. 
 
 And if the storm should kill 
 The torrent drown? 
 So be it still. 
 
 Still let me snatch the crown 
 Life has to give 
 
 And cry, but once, I live! 
 
 26 
 
A RIDDLE 
 
 Fair as blossom on a bough, 
 White as moonbeam in the snow, 
 Light as gossamer ablow, 
 Tender as love-thoughts allow — 
 What, think you? 
 
 True as fabled lovers are, 
 Strong as hope in happy youth, 
 Holy as are Good and Truth, 
 Pure as the light from a star — 
 Who, think you? 
 
 27 
 
DEVOTION 
 
 Beloved, as the sun doth lend 
 To lonely deserts grace, 
 
 And on bare rocks a beauty spend 
 As on some fairer place; 
 
 So, too, doth love a glory shed 
 
 As exquisitely rare 
 Where no return is ever made 
 
 For his unmeasured care. 
 
 28 
 
NIAGARA 
 
 Might we but hear the music of God's love! 
 
 If, while the daily toil and narrow care 
 Fretted our souls, there reached us from above 
 
 One deep-toned, solemn note, killing despair 
 And evil with its beauty and its might 
 
 And all its holy depth of tenderness! 
 It cannot be in this world ; to our sight 
 
 The pure light of His truth is only darkness, 
 And to our ears his glorious symphony 
 
 Is utter silence ; yet, methinks, a slight, 
 Far-distant echo sounds eternally, 
 
 Would we but understand ! During the flight 
 Of centuries on centuries it calls, 
 
 Rising to heaven with the rainbow spray : 
 The strong, immortal chanting of the Falls, 
 
 Awing our momentary griefs away. 
 
 29 
 
SUMMONS 
 
 [ feel it call me as no human voices 
 
 Have ever done — the music deep and strong 
 
 Born of the forest when the wind rejoices 
 With tumult of forgotten, ancient song. 
 
 Naught draws me like the scent of the marsh-places 
 In the hot noontide, in the quivering noon, 
 
 When sunlight overflows the blue air spaces, 
 And motion fails into a magic swoon. 
 
 My spirit sweeps aloft with the great mountains, 
 And finds in mighty storms a mystic calm. 
 
 I know the song sung by the hidden fountains, 
 I long for the deep valley's scented balm. 
 
 Deserts grown gray beneath the sun's long shining, 
 Creating loneliness from morn to morn ; 
 
 Forgotten paths through dim, lush meadows twin- 
 ing, 
 Shores where the sea forever moves forlorn. 
 
 Earth voices, sun and moon and shadow calling; 
 
 Growth of the spring and summer's dreaming 
 peace ; 
 Tempest and evening hush and soft snow falling: 
 
 Immortal voices! never will ye cease 
 
 To lead me by strange ways, half-comprehending — 
 Oh, half-rememb'ring what I do not know! 
 
 Beyond all life and beauty that hath ending, 
 Unto that Mystery, whence yourselves ye flow. 
 
WINTER 
 
 Love led her through deserted, frozen ways, 
 
 Yet to her eyes the Spring bloomed free and fair: 
 
 Alone she stood in Summer's purple haze, 
 And her cold heart knew only Winter there. 
 
 3« 
 
SEA 
 
 Harken! it is the Sea, 
 
 The solemn-sounding Sea! 
 Echo of marriage hymn and dirge 
 Wake within its beating surge; 
 But none born upon the land 
 Can understand 
 Its melody. 
 
 Behold! it is the Sea, 
 
 The always-changing Sea! 
 Now it woos with shining wave, 
 
 Now it hides in moving grave ; 
 But none born to earth's estate 
 May penetrate 
 Its mystery. 
 
 32 
 
A SONG 
 
 Sing me a sweet, low song of night 
 
 Before the moon is risen, 
 A song that tells of the stars' delight 
 
 Escaped from day's bright prison; 
 A song that croons with the cricket's voice, 
 
 That sleeps with the shadowed trees, 
 A song that shall bid my heart rejoice 
 
 At its tender mysteries! 
 
 And then when the song is ended, love, 
 
 Bend down your head unto me, 
 Whisper the word that was born above 
 
 Ere the moon had swayed the sea; 
 Ere the brightest star began to shine 
 
 Or the farthest sun to burn, 
 The oldest of words, O heart of mine, 
 
 Yet newest, and sweet to learn ! 
 
 33 
 
 L.tfG, 
 
MY ROSE 
 
 On a green slope, most fragrant with the Spring, 
 
 One sweet, fair day I planted a red rose 
 That grew, beneath my tender nourishing, 
 
 So tall, so riotous of bloom, that those 
 Who passed the little valley where it grew 
 
 Smiled at its beauty; all the air was sweet 
 Above it ; still I tended it, and knew 
 
 That he would come, e'en as it grew complete. 
 
 And a day brought him ! Up I led him, where 
 
 In the warm sun my rose bloomed gloriously ; 
 Smiling, and saying: " So, is it not fair? 
 
 And all for thee, all thine! " But he passed by 
 Coldly, and answered: " Rose? I see no rose," 
 
 Leaving me standing in the barren vale 
 Alone, alone! feeling the darkness close 
 
 Deep o'er my heart, and all my being fail. 
 
 Then came one gently, yet with eager tread, 
 Begging one rosebud — but my rose was dead. 
 
 34 
 
WAITING 
 
 Bare trees and frozen ground and silent stream! 
 
 Do you long for the coming of the Spring, 
 
 For moving leaves, for bird upon the wing? 
 
 You are so patient, it would hardly seem 
 
 You cared. Perhaps because the seasons bring 
 
 So surely to your waiting everything 
 
 You yearn for, as the night the dawn's fresh gleam. 
 
 I, too, stand waiting; but I do not know 
 
 If to my breathless and desiring heart 
 
 (That dreads to find the year once more grown old) 
 
 The changing seasons will bring joy or woe: 
 
 Whether my flowers will bloom or if, apart, 
 
 I still must tremble in the winter's cold. 
 
 35 
 
GIFTS 
 
 If God had given me seme wondrous thing 
 
 Thou shouldst have had it. I had but my song 
 
 That rhymed to the wild music all day long 
 Sung by the chanting sea. I could but bring 
 My laughter, glad as the first sounds of Spring 
 
 And free as are the flowers from pain or wrong. 
 
 But these, and my young hope as Heaven strong, 
 My wish for good, my faith in everything — 
 
 All these thou hast. But when I brought to thee 
 My heart, that with much dreaming was grown 
 great, 
 
 Thou wouldst not take it ; yet it cannot be 
 That thou wilt keep the dying song, or wait 
 
 To hear spent echoes of past joy? Give me 
 My poor gifts back, nor leave me desolate. 
 
A DREAM 
 
 I had a dream of love; 
 
 It seemed that on a sudden in my heart 
 
 A live and passionate thing sprang into being 
 
 And conquered me. 'Twas fierce and terrible, 
 
 But yet as lovely as the dawn and soft 
 
 With a deep power. It roused a longing 
 
 To do I know not what — ah, yes ! to give 
 
 More than myself ; and, failing that, to die — 
 
 (If only death were harder) — could that make 
 
 One moment happier for that other soul ! 
 
 This was the dream. But what is love itself? 
 
 37 
 
Thanks are due the editors of The Century, 
 Harper 's, Scribner's, The Atlantic, and other maga- 
 zines for their kind permission to reprint certain of 
 these poems. 
 
W16 
 
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