©• poeMS mre ADD DA^URG I't^tvtmm^^rvwrmrmr^tmtK mmuex PS/03 Class Copyright N"__.i,5L^.;^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSm POEMS OF LIFE AND NATURE POEMS OF Life and Nature BY MARY CLEMMER (^vwC^. BOSTON '"'^ ^^ JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 1883 -A 3^ Copyright, 1882, By James R. Osgood and Company, All rights reserved. University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. TO MY DEAREST FRIEND. CONTENTS. PAGE Life-Threads '7 The Days ^° Change ^^ A few more Mornings 29 Something Beyond 32 The Yesterdays 34 To-morrow 3 My Wife and I 3° When Baby comes 4^ The Childless Mother 44 The Lost Pet 4° The Little Boot 5i Not Dead 55 Vanished Faces 59 Forever Lives the King ^^ In Memory °3 X CONTENTS. PAGE One Bond 65 The Guest 66 On the Ferry 69 The Sunset 72 Sleep 74 Rest 76 Waste 77 Discord 79 Reproof 82 Silence 83 Loss 85 Knowledge 86 The Yachts 88 By the Sea 90 Room 92 i might have done 94 Two Angels 96 One Death 99 Valery 102 The Good Angel 106 My Place no Idle 114 Last Roses • 118 The Hermit-Thrush 121 The Doves 123 Fall in 127 A Ballad of the Border 130 The Journalist 137 CONTENTS. xi PAGE Words for Parting 145 GooD-BY, Sweetheart 147 Presence 149 Song 153 Good-Night 154 Farewell 157 Injunction 159 Interrogation 161 Mature. Thanksgiving 165 Arbutus 167 The Seed 172 A Perfect Day 175 The Mountain Pine 177 An October Idyl 184 Golden-Rod 186 Nantasket 191 An October Picture 196 Happy Days 200 Alone with God 205 A Woman's Hymn to Christ 208 Waiting 211 xii CONTENTS. PAGE Sabbath Verses 213 Rest 216 An Outcast 219 The Christmas Christ 223 Loss AND Gain 228 Questions 229 Light 233 To AN Infidel 236 Go NOT AWAY 240 A Litany 242 A Conversation 244 The Christ 249 Pray Thou for Me 252 The Message 254 To Ralph Waldo Emerson 259 To John Greenleaf Whittier, 1 260 To John Greenleaf Whittier, II 261 Aphrodite Urania 262 Hera 263 Pallas Athena 264 A Magnolia Grandiflora 265 Fruitage 266 Inadequacy 267 Fate 268 Renunciation 269 CONTENTS. xiii PAGE Opulence 270 Secretiveness 271 Distance 272 Recognition 273 The Friend 274 The Lover 275 Fulfilment 276 The Cathedral Pines, 1 277 The Cathedral Pines, II 278 The Joy of Work 279 LIFE. LIFE. LIFE-THREADS. liUT of life's tangled skein Draw here and there a thread; And one is black with pain, And one with grief is red, To show a heart hath bled. And one is white as youth ; It marks its perfect time, When life, untouched of ruth, Mounted toward Summer prime, Through love, romance, and rhyme. Beside Love's glowing threads. Here one is cool and gray, Where passionate morning weds A neutral-tinted day. And Peace comes down to stay. 1 8 LIFE-THREADS. Imperial purple this, To tyrannize and prey, With hint of loftier bliss Set in its royal ray, Yet calm to hurt or slay. Pallid and paling lines Of youth forever fled. Signs ! They are only signs Of the living joy long dead, — Wraiths for the eyes bespread. Yet, touching them, they glow, — Again the young, warm thrill, The tones all sweet and low, The hushed heart waiting still, As eyes with love o'erfill. Memory her trophy yields To the Present's happier real ; We pace the Summer fields. We move to Hope's ideal. And Faith and Love are leal. LIFE- THREADS. 1 9 We seat us down some day; And from life's tangled skein, That Memory holds alway, We smooth out lines of pain, And love-threads hold pure gain. O myriad-tinted threads ! We gather you all at last ; You mark our whitening heads. You bind us to our past, And we hold you close and fast. THE DAYS. " I ^HE days, the days, the swift, mute days That fly across our fitful ways, That bear us through the tangled maze We call our life, — the days ! the days ! I fain would hold them back betimes ; I would not haste to reach the climes Whose glad inhabitants ne'er say, " To-day, mine own, — O dear to-day ! " I sigh not for the heavenly ways That wait above our checkered days ; I love these days that fly so fast, — These mortal days that cannot last. THE DAYS. 21 'T is made of days, our meagre span, In links that bind for bliss or ban ; They fold us in their shadows dun, They bear the splendors of the sun. They bar our life, the chill, void days That give us naught, — the day that preys And eats our heart, while slow we smile Upon the crowd, with piteous guile. I dread thee in the dawning gray. As slow the long night wanes away, O dark to-day, O dire to-day, That smites so low, and smites to slay. In memory they gloom and shine. Life's symbols sad, — the red-rose sign Of Love's own day ; a leaf or line Tells where it filled or spilled its wine. We bind them slowly in our sheaves. The day that robs, the day that grieves ; Slow-moving on, we cry, " Forget, Forsake the dark land of regret." 2 THE DAIS. Then, on the gardens of our slain, A Hght of joy — untouched of pain, Serene with promise — slow doth shine, Light from a later day divine. The Indian Summer of tlie heart, Its breath of balm heals bitterest smart ; From buried Summer's passionate heat Are born its blossoms pure and sweet. Heart, gather in thine aftermath ; WTiat far. faint fragrances it hath ! WTiat calm broods down the storm-swept waj* ! Wliat beauty veins the fair, meek day ! What music murmurs fine and clear ! What peace pervades its atmosphere ! What love, what dear companionships, Pour from the eyes, the voice, the lips ! What courage, what high patience sweet. What rest, what tenderness complete, — What trust in God, what faith in man. In woman, meet in one da\-'s span ! THE DAYS. 23 The noontide of thy perfect beam Must faint and fail, O day supreme, — Thy bhss die out of mortal skies, To dawn far on in Paradise. Thou day of days ! Thy pulses run Into my life, and we are one ; Far on in deep content I '11 say, " ]\Iy life began that day, tliat day." CHANGE. 'E lay our dear ones in earth's prisoning mould, And, when we see the grasses growing green Between us and the faces that we love, We call it sorrow. Call it sorrow, though The ministering months do tend our sleepers well. Mellifluous Spring, through tender-throated leaves, Rains down her melodies to lull their rest; And Summer, mid her carnival of bloom, Drops tears of dew upon their tired heads. And Autumn, all forgetting to be sear, More pied with splendor than the bowery June, Doth bind her jewels on each low-laid brow; WTiile ber}-l-leave3, bossed on her blazoned vest, Are crimson-stained, as if her heart had bled. And grief's red wound to all the world lay bare. CHANGE. 25 Then Winter softly in her hooded snows Folds every darling. Comfortless we grieve When earth takes back into her gentle arms Her weary children, when the loving Christ Folds on his bosom souls he died for once. When, far from this world's bitter blight and cold, Our lambs are taken, evermore to roam In fairer pastures in the upper fold, 'T is not life's saddest sorrow ; albeit we cry, And blame the Shepherd that he loved his own. To be life's soul and beauty unto one ; To fill the measure of one being's need, Till all love's light and joyance flows from you, — The might to do life's work, to bear life's ill, Springing from inspiration in your eyes, And from the " God-speed " of your loving voice. Low-tuned to tremulous tenderness ; to be The soul of life and loveHness to one, That Change may come and build a wall between You and your idol, — looking down on }'ou With calm, cold, cruel eyes, with taunting tone. Slow-uttering in the silence, o'er and o'er: " Your love will never need you any more, 26 CHANGE. Nor ever, ever need you any more," — This is the saddest thing in Hfe to me. I read one day ('twas in a quaint, old book) That every friendship, Hkc an ancient glove. Doth grow ungainly, waxing loose at last. And finally wears out. We fling it by, And flaunt a newer, suiting newer need. So shall I pull the drawer of memory out? And toss old names about, — as oft old gloves. All moiled and marred, with gaping rent distraught, Yet sweet with lavender, whose tang they stole In lush May morns, to make caressing airs I'^ill fraught with fragrance ^^'hcn they went with me? Shall I forgetful — aye, ungrateful — say. With scornful touch and toss : " O yes, old gloves, You 're soiled, you 're all worn out ; yet sooth I fain Would find a pair among you, cast away, To suit my need upon a rainy day"? Thus search your names for sordid use, O friends ! Thus like a garment seared, sore-worn, tossed by, I fling you up and down my careless way? Ah, nay ! I hold you most religiously, CHANCE. 27 I count your names a rosary in my prayers ; Nor separation, with its saddest change, Can change for me the faces that I love. The twihght purples stain the leaning hills ; The fusing seas of primrose light beyond Hide all the Eden that lies still beyond; But tides of memory are setting in, And flowing downward through the sunset gates. All freighted o'er with treasure. Lo ! I see Face after face float in the water calm ; A knot of faded flowers — a souvenir Of one lost day, serene in peace — drifts by; A ripple of soft sound breaks through the waves, The lingering echo of beloved speech ; The cadence low of most melodious song Thrills through the silence of the past to me. O absent, unforgotten ! If mine once, Mine always. Though no real, sighed-for tone Pierces the stillness ; though I sit alone. And, leaning back, glean every helpful word And scattered joy that I dropped yesterday; And though I 'm fain to fill the gloaming void With loving memories of your dear eyes ; Though never any more, day after day. 28 CHANGE. Your smile's soft sunshine may light all my soul, Your words ring joyful welcomes when I come ; Though Time may rob me, till 'twill die at last, Love's golden iterance, " We love you, — ay. We need you always," — shall I sadly cry: " The love I lived for hath slipped far from me, — Because it is not, it hath never been ? " Nay ! — still I '11 count you sacredly my own : Not mine to hold through lure of voice or eye, Nor spell of presence, nor the quick, sweet thrill Of eager-meeting, slow-receding hands. Nor precious seal of holy lip on lip ; Not mine to have, to bless, to lean on long; Yet through the everlasting years my own, To love, to pray for, and to live for still ! I lift each name into the oriflamme Of God's own love, and say : " Lord, love my friends, And let me love them in thy purer world ! " A FEW MORE MORNINGS. \ FEW more mornings, yet a few more morn- ings, We '11 watch the light's low dawning, dull and gray; A few more mornings, and we 'II faintly murmur To those who love us, " 'T is our latest day." From weary brows will fall the life-worn mask. From tired hands will drop the half-done task. A few more mornings, but a few more mornings, Others will take the work that we laid down, — Will lift it where we left it in the shadows. Will bear its cross, perchance will wear the crown We sighed for, toiled for, all our fleeting hours, — The crown of crowns, that never could be ours. 30 A FEW MORE MORNINGS. A few more mornings ! Amid distant dawnings, They who come after us will softly say : " Where now the labor of those gone before us, The recompense of all their burdened day? They are not missed where they were always seen, All life moves on as if they had not been." A few more mornings ! Still will be forever The heart that thrills to-day with love's dear pain. Its suffering done, all done the long endeavor, The far-out yearning of the lofty brain, — There '11 be in the low house where we lie down No love, no hate, no dream of high renown. A few more morns ! 'Twill all be told, our story, So sweet, so brief. Why war with changeless fate? Why cry for love? Why spend our strength for glory? Why pray to God with prayer importunate? His centuries go ; we still must come and pass But as the shadows on the Summer grass. A FEW MORE MORNINGS. 3^ A few more mornings, — then again in beauty The earth will wear the splendor of her springs ; While we, within the universe of spirits. Will wander somewhere among viewless things. Where'er it be, in all the heaven of air. We still must see our human home is fair; Wondrous must be God's gift to compensate For all we miss within our human fate. SOMETHING BEYOND. O OMETHING beyond ! Though now, witli joy unfound. The life-task falleth from th}- weary hand, IV^ bravo, be patient ! In the f;iir Beyond Thou 'It understand. Thou 'It understand why our most royal hours Couch sorrowful slaves, bound by low nature's greed. — Why tlie celestivil soul 's a minion made To narrowest need. In tliis pent sphere of being incomplete — The imperfect fragment of a beauteous whole — For \on rare regions, where tlie perfect meet. Siiihs tlie lone soul, — SOA/ETH/XG BEVOXD. 33 Sighs for the perfect ! Far and fan- it hes ; It hath no half-fed friendships perishing fleet, No partial insight, no averted eyes, No loves unmeet. Something beyond ! Light for our clouded eyes ! In this dark dwelling, in its shrouded beams, Our Best waits masked ; few pierce the soul's disguise ; How sad it seems ! Somctliing beyond ! Ah, if it were not so, Darker would be thy face, O brief To-day ! Earthward we 'd bow beneath life's smiting woe, Powerless to pray. Sometliing be\-ond ! The immortal morning stands Above the night, clear shines her prescient brow ; The pendulous star in her transfigured hands Lights up the Now. THE YESTERDAYS. T TAKE your gifts, O Yesterdays, And, safe from all unfriendly eyes, I set them one by one away, Secure from change or sore surprise. I take your gifts, glad Yesterday ; And when I turn from work to pla}'. From care to rest, they'll make my joy, And give my heart its holiday. I take your gifts, sad Yesterday — The better deeds I might have done, The tears I might have wiped away, The his/her heiijhts I mis^ht have won. THE YESTERDAYS. 35 You show, O tearful Ycsterda}-?, I low poor \w\ life's uuxst perfect part; You tear the crown o'i pritle away, And give instead the pit\'ing heart. I sec the wave of Summer woods, I hear the lapse of far-off streams ; The murmur of the hone}'ed pines Runs sweet and low along ni}- tlreams. And still a tender heart enfolds A faded face, a haunting tone — The lingering fragrance of a jo)-. One Yesterday made all its own. I take A'our griefs, rich Yesterdays ! Henceforth may no soul call me poor; Fortune may strip her gauds awa\'. The wealth of all the past is sure. We jostle in the careless crowd, — We meet, we part, we go our wa}-s ; But each, unseen, bears up to God The sum of all his Yesterdays. TO - MORROW. A SHINING isle in a stormy sea, We seek it ever with smiles and sighs ; To-day is sad. In the bland To-be, Serene and lovely To-morrow lies. It mocked us, the beautiful Yesterday; It left us poorer. 0.h, nev^er mind ! In the fair To-morrow, far away, It waits the joy that we failed to find. " With fitful labor and meagre gain. Life is a failure." Be still my heart! To-day — the partial result, the pain ; To-morrow — fruition, the perfect part. TO-MORROW. 37 Time looks from our eyes with tenderest ruth, It touches with silver the locks of gold; It kisses away the tints of youth, Till we say, *' To-morrow w^e shall be old." We think of the countries far and fair, All free forever from blight and frost; Where love lives on in the holy air, We '11 find again the youth we had lost. 'T will still go on — the beloved task, That drops half done from thy weary hand — Thy crown for another! *' Why?" you ask. Thou 'It waken To-morrow, and understand. Nothing is finished. From birth to the pall — Our love, our sorrow, life's dear, brief day — Is a little fragment, that is all. Of the more that wait in the Far-away. Why we are sorry, we shall divine. When the life that is perfect holds its sway, — When peace abides in the Thine and Mine, And To-morrow melts into God's To-day. MY WIFE AND I. 'E 'RE drifting out to isles of peace ; We let the weary world go by ; We sail away o'er Summer seas, My wife and I. We bear to rest in regions fair The faltering spirit of the mind ; The kingdom wide, of toil and care. We leave behind. How poor to us the proudest prize For which earth's weary millions sigh ; Our meed we see in two dear eyes, My wife and I. MY WIFE AND I. 39 This way and that the races go, All seeking some way to be blest ; Nor dream the joy they never know Is how to rest. The travailing nations rise and fall, They lift the palm, they bear the rue ; Yet bliss is this, — to know, through all, That one is true. They perish swift, the gala flowers The lauding people love to fling; Waits silence, dearth, and lonely hours. The once-crowned king. But never shall he faint or fall Who lists to hear, o'er every fate, The sweeter and the higher call Of his true mate. I hear it wheresoe'er I rove ; She holds me safe from shame or sin ; The holy temple of her love I worship in. 40 AfV WIFE AND I. W'c 're drifting out to realms of peace We let the weary world go by ; W'c sail awa\- o'er Summer seas. My wife and I. We sail to regions calm and still, — To bring in time, to all behind. The service of exalted will, Of tranquil mind. The fading shores grow far and dim. The stars are lighting in the sky ; We sail away to Ocean's hjmn, My wife and I. WHEN BAr.V COMES. TT T"! lAT a hush is in the house ! eharloy, lonesome little mouse, Rouuil liis nurscr\- uuisl roam, Tearful alien in liis home, Now l>aby 's eome. " Charley's nose is out of joint," Sad his Aunties sa>', and i)oint To the doleful little man. Headman o( the LMowiui;- elan, Now Ivib}' 's eome. All the world has i;one awry To Charle>''s heart. None heed his cry Potent law until to-day. Charley calls, but none obey, For Baby 's come. 42 IVHEX F.IIW COMES. " Go ! " ho cries ; " Take /:rr away ! I don't like her. She can't pkiy." Quivering grief and tearful joy: " C/tar/ty, he is IManuua's bo\- ! Take her away." Wondrous fan-! The piUowiiii;- kice I'^anies the Knel\- mother's face. Ah ! her heart can hold the two, K\es of brown aiul e}-es oi bhio, When Baby comes. l>aby brins;s all love along, Ever growing. c\er strong; Soundless wells of tenderness, Ne\er ebb nor grow the less \\ hen Iviby comes. What a hint of faint perfume, What a hush is in the room ! All the loud world put to rout. All its vanity shut out. W hen Bab\- comes. WHEN BABY COMES. 43 'T is a temple; on its shrine Trembles cverythini; tli\'ine Unto one. His lle.iven lies In the si^hercs of her soft eyes, When r>aby eomes. Far the wild world's fret and snare, Endless business, weary care ; Once again romance is sweet, Life is young and love complete. When Baby comes. All the earth is made anew, — Far the false, and fair the true, — Where a little life begins. Free of sorrow, free of sins, And Baby conies. THE CHILDLESS MOTHER. T LAY my tasks down one by one ; I sit in the silence in twilight's grace. Out of the shadows, deep and dun, Steals, like a star, my Baby's face. How mocking cold are the world's poor joys ! How poor to me all its pomp and pride ! In my lap lie the Baby's idle toys ; In this very room the Baby died. I will shut these broken toys away Under the lid, where they mutely bide. I will smile in the face of noisy day, Just as if Baby had never died. THE CHILDLESS MOTHER. 45 I will take up my work once more, As if I had never laid it down. Who will dream that I ever wore, In triumph, motherhood's sacred crown? Who will deem my life ever bore Fruit, the sweeter in grief and pain? The flitting smile that the Baby wore Outrayed the light of the loftiest brain. I shall meet him, in the world's rude din, Who hath outlived his mother's kiss, — Who hath forsaken her love, for sin ! I shall be spared her pang in this. Man's way is hard, and sore beset ; Many may fall, but few can win. Thanks, dear Shepherd ! my lamb is safe, — Safe from sorrow, and safe from sin. Nevertheless, the way is long, And tears leap up in the light of the sun. I *d give my world for a cradle-song. And a kiss from Baby — only one. THE LOST PET. I H, where 's my pet, my pet? I dream I see her yet, Playing beside me on the mossy floor ; I turn to find her, but the play is o'er, — Alas, the play is o'er ! Oh, where 's my pet, my pet? My eyes are all unwet. Dried by the fever of my long despair; My empty hands ache for their wonted care, The child that made life fair. Where are the carolling feet, Playing with music sweet, Playing beside me on the parlor floor? Their music dies on the far spirit-shore, Their music 's mine no more. TFIE LOST PET. And still I will forget, And wait their coming yet; Her playthings lie here scattered all about, As if a moment, mid the merry rout, My darling had slipped out. In perfumed drawer I lay Her treasures all away — These little shoes, this gay embroidered dress ; In these silk flowers I wrought my tenderness, My yearning need to bless. Ah, never rioting boys Shall break these pretty toys, My sweet girl-baby played with long before ! Here from all eyes I hide my hoarded store, No child shall use them more. My pet, I see thee yet ! Thine eyes of liquid jet, Untraccd by grief or life's hard history, Brimful of mystery, a prophecy Of riper bliss to be ! 47 4^ THE LOST PET. Then only this, I knew, Shone starHke through their dew — The morning love-Hght of a dawning soul, The woman-love, her guerdon and her goal. Her being, bale, and dole. Oh, was it from some snare. Some slow and sure despair. Some soundless sorrow never to be told. The pitying Christ bore to his upper fold, My lamb from out the cold ? Still, in my weak despair, Through the vast voids of air. My sick soul calls thee with a voice forlorn ; I bleed for the young life from my life torn. The love from my love shorn. I want the warm child-lips. The rosy finger-tips. Nestling in mine once more at twilight fall, — Listening to hear the quick step in the hall, To hear the evening call THE LOST PET. 49 Of the beloved voice, Which made our hearts rejoice. I yearn to see the twinkhng httle feet, All tremulously eager, fly to greet Papa, with kisses sweet. The joy is over now; Bind poppies on my brow, Numb all my senses, that I may not know My baby lies below the winter snow; O God, that it is so ! The long unbroken gloom. The silence of this room. How can I bear it as the days move on, — As years creep on how can I live alone. Shorn of my beautiful one? They tell me I '11 forget. Will cease to need thee yet. While other children round my hearth shall play — When later joys are born, in some far-coming day; They know not what they say. 4 50 THE LOST PET. Child, gone into the sky. To nie thou 'It never die. The mother-Hfe \YiIl never cease to blood. The mother-heart can never cease to need Its missing morning mood. Sta}-. flood of dark regn"ct ! Sad soul, behold her yet. — Behold her, sheltered from life's wild alarms. Behold her, folded from thick-coming harms. In the AU-Lovinsi' Arms. ^' TIIIC LITTLE BOOT. TTOW diinii^y, stubbed, and old — The riiniiu\st little boot, With nieiuleil toe aiul flattened heel, Ever worn by a little foot. Within the children's room The widowed mother stands, Soft-smiling down, with misty eyes, On a little boot in her hands. All carefully laid away, With a mother's yearning care, Are toys with which the children played. And the clothes they used to wear. With loving, longing heart Her gaze is backward cast, As she softly lifts the little boot I'^roni the stillness of the past. 52 THE LITTLE BOOT. She sees a little boy Thrust out his chubb}- foot, And hears his happ}' shout At sight of his first boot; And trudging down the road, Crushing grass and leaves and roots, She sees the solid form Of the little man in boots. A conqucrcr that day, He made the soft airs ring; Mid shoeless lads at school The boy in boots was king. Oh, the stillness of the room Where the children used to play; Oh the silence o^ the house. Since the children went away ! And this the mother-life : " To bear, to love, to lose," Till all the sweet sad tale is told In a pair of little shoes, — In a single broken to}*, In a flower pressed to keep. All fragrant still, the faded life Of one who fell asleep. THE LITTLE BOOT. 53 The boy who wore the boot — While his mother's eyes are dim, In the world's unequal strife, How fareth it with him ? Are the feet of manhood strong For manhood's sacred race, — His hand outstretched, securely calm, To clasp its utmost grace? With love her heart o'erflows, With love her eyes are dim, As she silently wraps the little boot. And sends it far to him. Beside his twilight fire, The eyes of manhood scan The ancient boot ; the far-off boy Talks through it with the man. The hard world's vexing road. The boy's foot never pressed ; The boy knew not of manhood's pain, Nor felt its need of rest. 54 THE LITTLE BOOT. The man sees all things changed. The earth, the heaven above. One thing alone remains the same To him — his mother's love. The battered httle boot He takes as from her hand, And seems all sweetest, purest things, Better to understand. This is the mother-life — To lose with anguish wild. And yet live on. in every pulse, Forever in her child. How dump}-, stubbed, and old, — The funniest little boot, With mended toe and flattened heel, Ever worn by a little foot ; Yet the boot is a bond to bind The man to his innocent past, And to hold his faithful heart To Hfe's first love, and its last NOT DEAD.* nPHOU art not dead, yet when I go to seek tliec, And find thee not where thou wert wont to be, And, Hstening, hear the cadenced melody Of thy low voice — so marvellous to me — No more, no more ! Shall I too call thee dead? Oh, shall I cry Through the void silence, as I moan for thee : "Tell me, my Beautiful, why didst thou die? Why rise to regions where we cannot sec Who love thee, — wh>- ? " * Almina Cary Swift, the youngest sister of Alice and Phccbc Gary. 56 uXOT DEAD. When next I stand in the familiar room, And. half-expectant, by the vacant chair, — Lay back the curtains in their purple gloom, To touch tlie golden shadow of tin- hair. Thou wilt be there. Vet blind me not with tliy seraphic face. Nor seeking fingers thrill with spirit touch ; For I am mortvil, and thine angel grace. In its beatitude, would be too much To see. and live. Show me th\- woman face, — the sweet, sweet face That I must love forever. — strong to bless, Drawing all souls toward thee with the grace Of its unf;\thomable tenderness — Those eyes, those eyes ! The earth is fair. — oh lovelier, fairer far To all-divining sight like tliine, unsealed To spiritual meaning's. Yonder star. Yon blade of grass, its mysterj- had revealed To tliee. to tliee. A\'>T DEAD. 57 Thy soul was one with Xaturo's. I'^xcry vein, That fed the pulses o{ her niiL;ht_\- heart, I'lowed baek to thine with thrill of bliss or pain; Her ehani;ing moods made smiles or tears to start In tin' dark eyes. Now, when the da}'s fade, when the mornini;s dawn, And when the Springs tlieir tender robes shall make, The nuninurons waves moan of a dear voice gone, A s\\ eeter meaning, for thy gentle sake, The world will take. Ah. now I mintl me of a vanisheil June, When we, above the sad, sonorous sea. Sat side by side, and th}- deep gaze drank in A deeper life ; from its infmit}', It spake with thee. You murmured, gazing on the crowning woods: " In such an air, and under such a sky, Lulled b\- the rh}'thm of eternal tloods, 'T would be so hoh' and so sweet to die, — To die, and li\e." 5? A'Or DEAD. I saw the luminous lifting of thine eyes, And trembled. — lest upon the scented sward. Waiting' to bear awa>' my precious prize, Stood the invisible angel of the Lord. All veiled to me. Now as 1 wander from my native North, Thou to full liberty of life hath passed ; The Emancipating Hand hath led thee forth. Enfranchised spirit, thou art free at last. No longer bound ! VANISHED FACES. " I ^1 UC vanished, \anishocl faces Tress on our inner sight; VVe SCO theni in the morning, \Vc SCO thcin in the night. Beloved are the Hving, Who have not taken ilight. l>ut the \-anished, \-anished faces Make the lonely heart's delight. Oh the vanished, vanished faces. — The Baby's fairy face, The Mother's, sweetly human, The IMaiden's airy grace ; Oh the endless, endless patience, Oh the peace upon the face Of the dear old. wear\- Father, As he neared the heavenl)- place ! 6o rAA/SN£I} JFACES. Oh the vanislied. vanished faces. — The ones that Hfe hath ta en And set in passless distance, Be\x>nd our lo\-e or pain ; We see them in our som>\v. We sec them in our pride. But they *re farther from us Than the loved ones who have died. Life, hfe 's the hopeless n^bber, When it sets its iron w'all Twixt eyes that seek each other, Twixt hearts that lo\-e and call. Oh the vanished, vanishevl faces Fill the switVreceviing \*ears. Leaning in upon our visions. Touching all our smiles and tears. i'ORi:vi'.R Livi:s tiiI'. kint..* A S Cdinos b.u-k Siiiniuor niiil those W'iiitor tins, ImwUIuiu; inH>M lis with hcv Lite swoet bro.ith, So CiMu'st thou b.iok iVoiu the luxstciious \v.i}'s, CK^sc on tho IhmiKms i>l the iwihii of ilcath. \Vc lookeil iu>t tor her, wo h.ul s.iiil " h'.uowoll ! " Yet lo, she li\os ! ami wo rojoioiiii; siiii^. We cried: "The King is iload, — farcwoll, faic- weU ! " Init K\ he h\ es to-ilay, still crowiK^il King. Dearer this second Summer than the first; Dearer the j^illid buds the pale suns bring, Out of due season born, b}' cold skies nursed. Than sumptuous flowers in splendor blossoming; Than all the blatant heri>es of the }'ear, Than all the noisy wrestlers of the ring. — With visor c^tV, with broken laneo and spear, Thou 'rt ilearer than thoiu all, (.^ prostrate King! * Wiittcu to S.umiol Ih'wIo.s one wook hcfoic his ilc.Uh. 62 F'OIiErE/i L/l'£S THE AV.VG. Xo, not Farewell ; forever lives tlie King ! If. like tliis second Summer, thou pass on, Truth, thou hast scattered, on ascending wing Will soar to heights tliy eartli-name never won. — Reign on a tlirone thy kingdom gave tliee not ; Yet while witli humblest man it deigns to dwell. ^^'ith care for sorrows of the common lot, Thou livest tlie King, and there is no Farewell. The wear}- Winter of man's dearth and fear Will break at last into the bloom of Spring ; Again, again will Truth bud like tlie year; Then we will er\-: " Immortal lives tlie King! We see him still ; he mo\es from star to star. Yet lives and reigns where transient mortals dwell ; Fast follow we unto the spheres afar. Where parting is not. there is no Farewell." IN MEMORY: WITH LILY AND VIOLETS. AFAR the Northern snow is piled TT 1 • Upon his grave, to us so dear; And yet they blossom in his name, These tender violets of the year. Six years agone, this gray March morn, The life we love was yielded up ; The soul, so dear, to God was borne, Pure as this lily's stainless cup. For us the weary days go on ; He knows the peace for which we sigh ; His only grief that we must grieve, — 'T is he who lives and we who die. 64 /-V -VEAfORY. Onh* a little further on He '11 take thy hand, and, lifting thee From shadow of thy mortal days. His face immortal thou shalt see. Together on the heavenly heights. With no dark widowhood between, Then these void days and loneh* nights Will be as if tliey had not been. The snow lies chill upon his grave. Vet in tliis Southern land tliese flowers Speak sweet for him, and seem to say : ** I wait. Love, through the painless hours, T/iy coming to tlie perfect da}-, — Th\- coming to the perfect joy. Wherein all tears are wiped away; Where, through the fair eternal years. My LiK'i is djift^ none will say." ONE BOND. '' I ^IME cliany,"cs all; and, soon or late, They, who seemed one of heart, Yield unto mightier law of fate, And happier walk apart. Yet sometimes into Memory's land With silent steps they go, And healing waters from her hand Their spirits overflow. Beside a single grave they stand ; The morning glow has fled, — Yet sundered heart and parted hand Clasp o'er the sacred dead. T H E G U E S T. TT^ROM out the great world's rush and din There caine a guest ; The inner court he entered in, And sat at rest Slow on the wild tide of afTairs The gates were closed ; Afar the hungry host of cares In peace reposed. Then through the dim doors of tlie past. All pure of blame. Came bo\ish memories floating fast. — His mother's name. THE GUEST. 6/ "Ah, all this loud workl calls the best I 'd give." ho said, "To fool her hand, — on her dear breast To lean my head. "I cry within the crowni^d day: * That would be jo}-. Could she but bear me far awa}', Once more her boy.' " Man's strength is weakness after all ; He stood confessed. None quite can quell the heart's wild call. None all are blest. Across the face that knows no fear A shade swept fast, As if a lingering angel near That moment passed. The sacred silence of the room Did softly stir ; A splendor grew within the gloom — 0{ her, of Jur ! fiS THE GCEST. Out to the vast world's rush aiid din Hatli gone my g-uost; The battle, blame, the praise men win. Are his. — not rest Far out amid the world's turmoils A strong man stands, Upheld in triumph, in his toils, B}- unseen hands. But who ma}- lift with subtle wand The mask we wear? I only know his mother's hand Is on his hair. I only know, through all life's hanns. Through sin's alloy. Somehow, somrKchcrc, tlie motlier's arms Will reach her bov. ON THE FERRY. /^N the ferry, sailing over To the city lying dim, In the mellow mist of evening, By the river's farthest rim ; On the ferry, gazing outward To the ocean far and cold, While the blue bay dips its waters In the sunset's fleeting gold ; On the ferry, gazing outward, — Motionless the great ships stand. And above, each eager pennon Lures me with a beckoning hand. Leaning on the uneasy water. Flash the sunset bars of flame, Like the legendary ladder On which ancels went and came. 70 ox THE FERRY In another Summer evening;-. On a little way before, I shall reach another ferr}-, Seeking swift a farther shore ; I shall cross a drearier ferry, Crossing to return no more, — Sailing for a fairer city, Lying on a fairer shore. Will God's sunshine lean around me, Fusing every wa\e in gold? Wilt thou row me gently o\-er, Charon, boatman calm and cold? When the earth-airs cease to chill me, When my meagre da}- is done. Boatman, bear me through the splendor Falling from the setting sun ! Bear me outward to the m\'stery The Eternal will unfold, — To the un revealed glor\- Hid within yon gates of gold. ON THE FERRY. 7 1 Life may touch the soul so gently, We cari hardly call it rough; Yet we '11 all say, in its closing, Our brief day 's been long enough. When I stand with gathered garments, Ere the deeper shadows fall ; When my heart drops its last idol. Listening for the boatman's call, — Come ! and by my spirit's sinking, By my shrinking fears untold, Bear me gently o'er those waters, Charon, boatman calm and cold. THK SU NSKr. A KOVIC the roofs of the city. Above its toil and din. The rost^rod tlatne of tlio sunset To my chamber tloweth in. Below is the strife and tumult, Kelow is the gTicf and sin ; Above, the glory of sunset To m)- soul is tlowing in. I tire. I tire of the \\-\rfare ; I tire of striving to win ; The soul of my life's high purpose Calls no high hope its kin. Ambition's bvW-crowned ladder, That leans agxiinst the sky. — I am too tired to climb it. It towers so steep and high ; And I cannot soo abo\ e me. So dense the shadows lie. THE SLXSF.T. \.o\\c\\' 1 ilriu)p ill tin- darkness, Wrai)- I pia)' for tost ; L(i, liidil of a siuUKmi i;lory ImcmUs on niy oloiuK\l breast! Like the kimlliiii; oftlie sunset Above earth's t;looni and sin, Every shadow i;lo\veth 'golden As the splemlor llowclh in. The lii',hl ofC'.od's own promise Shines v>\\ ni\' purpose hii;h ; 1 rise and wrestle upward, With a faith that eannot die. SLEEP. Tl ELOVED Sleep, drop low thy veil. — I would not hear, I would not see ; Let all the daytime pictures pale. And all its voices die to me. Eroni woundini:^ words, the scourging rods That smite the heart in paltry day, O Somnus. gentlest of the gods, Bear thou me iar. oh far away ! Bear thou me on. bo}-ond ni}- fates, To yon dim palace of thy reign ; For where the soul of Silence waits, I may forget my mortal pain. SLEEP. 75 I 'II lie beneath thy dusky plumes, And Night from poppied hand will cast, Far down the void Lethean glooms, The sunless sorrows of my past. And in thy drowsy air will cease The soul's deep cry, the voiceless sigh ; While youth's sweet dreams, new-born of peace, Round all my royal couch shall lie. R K S T. "XT 7F.EP not when I am dead, dear friend; Sweetheart, grieve not when I he low ; While o'er m\- eUiy \our soft eyes bend. Remember it was good to go. When low you press the violet sod, Whose purj^le tears enst;\r my breast. Beloved, think I sleep in God, Remember such alone are blest The perfect silence will be dear. How dear the chance of painless rest; And on. beyond all pain or fear. The perfect \\"aking \\ill be best. How dim this distant day will seem, How far tlie grief we suffer here ! This life the mirage of a dream. Merged to a morning calm and clear. W A S T !<: ? T TOW much niusl i;o for nauL;ht! How many tears, All wept in silence, arc yet wept in vain; Unmoved go on the swift, relentless years; The one we pray for never knows oin- pain. I low much must go for naught! E'en beauteous }'outh Tunis from its kingdom, laying down its crown, Crying for what it yields. It went in sooth. The promised fruitage, with the flower's first down. How much must go for naught! The Summer years. So rich in struggle, rich in hoartled faith ; Even Eulfilment, Failure stings and sears; Slain Expectation dies reluctant death. 78 IVASrEf Yet somewhere, somexvkere, O most tender Lord. Sure Thoii dost count them for us. treasure all Life's futile toil, joy missed, the sweet, lost word. The love that loves in vain, the tears that fall. DISCO R D. OWIFF through the IVaLirant aif it fell, A sin£:jle Avord ; The wouiul it ni.ule no word nia\' tell, — For no one lieard Save one sweet heart, whoso very life Is lo\e and truth. This heart the word piereed like a knife; No pulse of ruth Thrilled him who aimed the eruel word; He willed and spoke; A f:iir f.\ce quivered, soft lips stirred, A fond heart broke. Alas I the springtime air is {\ill Of wrathful words ; They rise to heaven, anil would annul The sweet-voieed birds. 8o DISCORD. That everywhere on glancing wing Fly from the south, New messages of love to bring With open mouth. Nature's glad face the sons of men Doth put to shame. She says : " Poor children of the earth, Why strive and blame? You work and war, — the will of fate Abides the same ! The purposes of God survive Your feeble fray; You cannot change them though you shrive Your sins alway. The name you toil for may outlive Your little day, But you must live when earth and name Have fled away. Drink thou my sunshine, breathe my air, Ere yet too late ; Take thou, with soul serene and fair, Thine higfh estate ! " DISCORD. 8 1 The placid seasons o'er earth's breast Move to and fro ; Unscared its birds brood in their nest; Its wood-flowers blow In peace above its stormiest crest. In God's good plan, His loveliest creatures all find rest Take thine, O man ! K 1- TK 1\ "l^rO WvMd Sviils ^oft upon the air Swoot with approval, — far aloof T would hold ino from the i;riot" I bear; Th>" silence is ihy keen re;Moof. I hear no wounding word ot blame. No mandate with its high behoot", No taunt, with withering fang of t1an\v . — Silence, alas ! is thy reproof. Afar the face of syn\bolled saint Bends low beneath the nwstic roof; I teel, through prayer and praise and plaint, The silence stern of thy reproof. Thy grave, grand words, the holy past Doth hold as jewels in its woof; Thy consecrated speech must last l>e\ond tbv silence, thy repa^of. SI 1.1': NCE T~\()\VN lhnMi;;h tin; slan\- intervals, Vpon this wcaiy-ladcM worlil, How soft Iho scnil of SiK'ncc falls ! How ilccp [he spell when-wilh slu- thralls; How witle her mantle is unl'urled ! She broods c^'er the iH-wikU-iini; street: Lo, ila}''s liinnoil and strivint;s cease; She tolds in sleej) its rushini;" feet; Oil traffic, racini;" loud and lU-et, She sets the sii;net t)f her peace. The workl is full of wear}' noise, The drear)' discords of the air; Their cry, the chaiiii of life destrt))'S, They jar the spirit from its poise, These human voices harsh with care. 84 S/LEXCE. Within the city's prisoning room ]\Iy spirit roams by hill and flood ; Feels twilight's hush, its tender gloom, The silence of the grasses' bloom, The peace of nature deep and good ! Dear Silence, weary soul and brain — In e\-cr}' age with thee apart — Have prayed thee heal the pulse of pain, When friends drop ott. when love lies slain, The low, slow aching of the heart. Of all our loving Father's gifts, I often wonder which is best, And cry: " Dear God, the one that lifts Our soul from weariness to rest. The rest of Silence, — that is best." I deem a little farther on — Though morn or eve I cannot tell — We'll halt, our long da}-'s journey done, And softly murmur: " It is well, — Grod's perfect Silence, — it is won." LOSS. /^NLY so much the less, — One heart has fallen away ; It took no light from the sun, No splendor out of the day. The sunshine seems the same, And the opal tints on the sea. And the golden-rod's }^cllow flame, Yet something has gone from me. One heart, one heart the less When I name the names of my friends ; One love, that seemed born to bless, In a mirage of falsehood ends. The sunshine seems the same, And the opal tints on the sea. And the golden-rod's yellow flame, — Yet something has gone from me. K N O W L E D G E. TN what rare region of the mind Shall I )-ct know thee as thou art, The hoHer self I fain would find, Above the market and the mart? My }'carning life goes forth to meet Thy loftier spirit, all unseen, — Afar, illusive, mocking, sweet. With all the body's veil between. Then, in all lowliness, I W show The gentler life I live apart; But dim thou only seest it glow. Through some inlirmit\' of heart. KNOWLEDGE. 87 Yet, in how many a gift and grace, The inner sight doth catch the gleam Cast from the hidden angel's face, — The lovelier self of whom we dream. The nearest stand and knock without, The dearest w^alk so far apart ; Comes withering fear and cruel doubt 'Twixt life and life, 'twixt heart and heart. All mortal shadow swept away, — The clouded night, the questioning eye, — I deem, in some supernal day, The best in each will each descry. Lo ! lifted from the earth's turmoil, From every curse of care or fate. In yon rare region of the soul Our hearts redeemed must meet and mate. THE YACHTS. "\"\ "''E stood upon the ocean cliffs, And softh- wondered who would w in. As. out beyond the waiting skiffs, We watched two stateK- }-achts sail in. Abreast they spread their eager sail — The gentle southern breezes blew — Till, caught b}* one victorious gale. Far on the lo\-el\- Phantom flew. All gorgeously the evening sun Slid swiftly downward to the bay, And through the twilight's gathering gold Wo saw the Cv\mbria far awa\-. THE YACHTS. 89 All homeward came the racing skifTs, No longer wondering who would win, As underneath the purple cliffs We saw the Phantom gliding in. I stand upon the downs of life, And watch two barks of Fate sail in ; The waves and winds are all at strife, I sadly wonder who will win, — Who, caught by Fortune's favoring gales, Will sail in sooner, proud and fast, And who, with conquered, silent sails, Must Q'ain the blessed harbor last. BY THE SEA. T TPON the lonely shore I lie ; The wind is taint, the tide is low. Someway there seems a human sigh In the great waves that inward tlow. - As if all love, and loss, and pain. That e\er swept their shining track. Had met within the caverned main. And, rising, moaningly come back. Upon the lonely shore I lie. And g\\ze along its level sands. Still from the sea steals out the cry I left afar in crowded lands. /.•)■ rilF. SF.A. 91 Upon the soa boaoli, cool aiul still, 1 pii\ss in\ (.lu'i-k ; aiul \ rt I hoar The iar ot'cailh, ami cati h llu- ihrill Oi human cltort, hot and \\<.\w. Conio, Toaco (^f naturo! \ .owe \ lie Within the ciliu MiilsniunuT noi)n. .All luiinan want 1 tain wouKl ll\', Sini; Sununcr sea in sihoi)' croon I In Noon's i;roat ^Luhu-ss hush th\- moan, In \'ast {H>ssossion nnhoroi't ; No music, hauntini; all thy tiuic, Can make mo want the world [ '\-c loft. ROOM. OLL back, O World, just like the tide. Now wavering outward from my feet ; Leave for mine eyes the margin wide, Where truth and love have room to meet. Roll back, thou World ! — the peering crowd, With eyes attent; sad Envy's lees Filtered through speech, the laughter loud, — Give me the largeness of the seas. On this vast vantage-ground I stand ; The World rolls back, just like the tide, I measure, with unerring hand, Its mite bestowed, its wealth denied. ROOM. 93 Circled by yon horizon vast, How easy to be great and free ! All littleness of life I cast In the great hollow of the sea. '' Roll back, O World ! " I still will cry, When close life presses, strong and sweet. Room is there, 'twixt the sea and sky. For truth and nobleness to meet. I MIGHT HAVE DONE. TS there a sadder word than tliis, •• I mii;ht have done "? I might have tilled life's cup o( bliss. At least for one ! " I might have done ! " So simple jo\- — Love's word or wile — Robs life of half its sad alloy, j\Iakes life a smile. *' I might have done ! " While young life strewed Her prescient seeds, Each folded germ, with life endued, To bloom in deeds. / MIGHT HA VE DONE. 95 O love-fraught Hours, sail mutely on Die, one by one ; 'T is life to sigh, when all are gone: " I migfht have done ! " TWO ANGELS. nnW'O >\ni;ols mot v\bovc my pillow. 0;u^ bore within her arms The fears and griefs whicli haunt my spirit. And all tl\e dead days haniis. The other, bending low above her. Though seeming further flowii, Held all the io\-s and tendernesses My wcar\- day had known. 1 Sviid : " O .uigel of my sorrows, I 'm wx^ary of regret ! \\*hy haunt me still with pang^ and losses M\- heart would fain fore'et? *' TWO .LVu/:/.S. Then softly said tho other angel : "Look higher unto me. And all this luinian pain and passion Thine eyes will cease to see. " Look unto me, Time's grieving daughter Sec, in the midnight air. A vision that will swit'tly show thee That still thy life is fair." Slow-shaping in the purple dimness I saw a distant face ; And the deep eyes were full of sadness And Love's beseeching grace. 't> &' Then gentK^ said ni\- better angel : " W'h}- dost th)- heart repine? Win- dost thou sit in doubt and shadow, While taith and love are thine? " For thou hast strength lor all tin' crosses, Jo\- for thy saddest part. If thou canst live, through pain and losses, Safe in one taithtul heart. 7 98 TIVO ANGELS. " For they alone have need of sorrow, And they alone are poor, For whom, in life, Love's holy angel Hath opened not her door." How near from out the midnight dimness Shone the beloved face ; And the deep eyes were full of gladness — Love's beatific grace. Where now the dark and distant anguish Left by a desolate day? I looked. Lo ! the discordant angel Had fled in shame away. ONE DEATH. "\ /"OID of Faith's ennobling crown, Lies a dead Love in my breast. In its grave T laid it down ; It is dead, so let it rest. Once it gave life richer zest, More than any joy beside ; Yet I buried it — 't was best ; Shall I tell }'ou why it died? Would 't were — better to pretend — Dead ; 't is sacred as it seemed ; But 't is thus — the idol friend Was less noble than I deemed. Love whose love all self transcends, Love, in loving strong as death. Cannot bide a treacherous friend, Dies beside its murdered faith. 100 ONE DEATH. Thus we wake some saddened morn, And, in silence, put aside One for whom we once seemed born, One for whom we could have died. In some morning further on. We shall meet, and I will say : " Thou, my being leaned upon, Nothing art to me to-day." Loved one, lying in the dust, I bewept you with no pain ; For we parted, with the trust, In God's morn to meet again. But a deeper woe is born When we know our faith has fled Dawns no resurrection morn On the love which lieth dead. God's dear world is just as fair — Sky and sea and circling coast ; Glory of the earth and air, Do vou miss what I have lost ? ONE DEATH. lOl No rare form I lay away, Cherished more than all beside ; 'T is a love — it died to-day; I have told you wh}- it died. VALERY. T 7"ALERY gazed toward the setting sun; Fair was Valery, fair to see. She laid her brown hands one on one, And sat as still as a ijirl could be. Far gazed Valery; no one came. Lonely the great red sun dropped down, And the mountain caught its oriflamme, And flashed its radiance, crown on crown. Soft sighed Valery: " Far thou art Over the mountain ; and far away Dwelleth the knight who stole my heart. ' He will never come back,' the people say. VALERY. 103 " Then woe is me," sad Valery said ; "How can I live without my heart? He carried it with him. I 'd better be dead, Than to hve from my hfe and my love apart. " O Summer twihght, O fragrant wood, — Far back in the silence, dear and dim, Where in sweeter words than I understood. He said I was all the world to him ! " The world ! " sighed Valery. " I am afraid Of yon grand world where my hero dwells. 'T is full of jeweled and beautiful maids, And riches and honors, the story tells." What, in the splendor of all his days. Can Valery be? Such a lowly one — With her work-brown hands and homely ways — Will soar and sink like a mote in his sun. " Ah, woe is me ! " sweet Valery said, — And fair was Valery, fair to see, — " I would that I had been safely dead Before my heart had gone out from me — 104 lUIuuK}\ •* To an alien world with an idle knight. Gone ;md left me to moan and moan. I \1 go and lie down in the river to-night. But I fear to sin and to die alone." The mountain glows to an ameth\->?t ; The tree boughs vein the sky's deep gold. Under the maples, unto his tryst, Cometh a rider swift and bold ! " Swccl. my \\\!oiy. waiting alone! Fair, my Wilor)-. fair to see ! One. tw^ Valery in the world. And she is all of the world to me ! '^Afnttdf Afraid that the great world might Lure me awa>-. swcoiheart. from you? That jeweled maidens, in splendor dight. Could be more than one woman pure and tnie? *' Perchance lo many ! never to him Who loveth one for herself alone ; Your hair may fade and your eyes grow dim. And you will be, Valery, motr my own." VALERY. lOS Still in the rays of the setting sun Sitteth our \''aler}', fair to see; Her brown hands, folded one o\\ owe, Are lying in peace on her husband's knee. THE GOOD ANGEL. /^ GOOD angel in the air. Lovely soul, redeemed and holy, Come you from your mansions fair To this earth-home, poor and lowly? Yester-eve one softly said : " Rare the dower you inherit ; Evermore above your head Floats a pure celestial spirit. ** Hidden from the common sight, Hidden from the world's derision, — Help for you, by day or night. Shines she on my inner vision." THE GOOD AXGEL. lO/ Now the sunset spills its red, Now the twilight gokl is paling, In the silence o'er my head Is the silent angel sailing. In the dimness on me shed. In the darkness round mc falling, In your human voice's stead. Do I hear )our soul-voice calling? I have never seen j'our face Since it wore its earth-light tender ; Veiled for me your angel-grace, And your eyes' seraphic splendor. I no more can cry for pain That }'our life-bark from me drifted; I shall never sigh again That \-our veil of life was lifted. Not alone that \-ou have gone From the tempting and the sinning; Not alone that you ha\e won, Past all wanting and all winninsz! I08 THE GOOD AXCEL. Weak and \\a\crini;", the will I'alters in the tlark conic o'er nic; O dear angel, near nie still, Show the true way on before nic ! All of evil, all of ill. From the gold y^i good you 'vc sifted. With your light anoint me till I. too. see the veil uplifted. Human fear will cease to prey On a soul so held and tended ; Souls of evil drop awa}' From a spirit so defended. All the human, fainting still, You can kindle and inspire; All the faltering spirit till With your fme seraphic fire. Seek I ne'er to see )-our tace. Nor }'Our ex'cs' supernal splendor; All enough that God's dear grace INIade a seraph, me to lend her. THE GOOD ANGEL. 109 'T is enough that all the air Trembles with your still evangel, That my narrow house of care Yet hath room to hold an angel. ]MY PLACE. OTILL keep my place for me, dear friends, While absent days wane wearily ; Though lovelier eyes their love-light lend. Still keep my place for me ! I keep your places, every one, When gala-days with beaut\' bless ; When lonely days move slowly on, I love you more, not less. The precious presence, needed much, Low love-words set to silver}- speech, Love's glance of eye, love's thrill of touch, Have passed to memories each. A/y PLACE. I II And now I mind mc how 't is said That hearts that love apart grow cold ; .'Vnd ycX 1 lind no newer love That 's dearer than the old. Though still I take from every hour The task it giveth me to do, And love and nurse joy's tiniest flower, That blossoms in its dew ; Something of bcaut\- from the day, Something of perfume from the flower, I seem to miss, — and sigh and say, " I miss my love's lost dower ! " I mourn the e}'es I cannot see, I mourn the tones that used to bless ; For only rich this life can be In love and tenderness. I rob no other heart ; I flee All love save mine by claim divine, — The lavish love poured out for me Only because 't is mine ! 112 MY PLACE. My life- til roads, nnriad-tintod, sec ! I seek to weave, widi patient hand, To beauteons woof of harmony. The many-shaded strand. Sometimes, amid the silent dearth, T 'm tired : 1 say. *• The tv\sk is lonj;." Oh, do you miss me in your mirth. And miss me in your song? And need nu\ as in dear gone da\"S? Whose lovelier e\es. whose fairer face, Whose h»mds fulfil my ministries? Who tills nu- vacant place? The sunset's limpid amber blends With flowing axurc of the so.i ; Far g^nxing out, 1 cr\- : "" Sweet friends, StUi keep nw place tor me ! " And gating upward to the sky. Where all God's gvlden glories be. The many-mansioned house on high I strain niv e\ cs to see. J/J' J' LACE. >13 " 1 w ill [)roparc a place for thoc ! " Ucai" i)rc)iniso o^ iho loiulcr W'oixl ! TJicir place 'riiinc exiled children sec Willi Thee, beloxcd Lord! Thus, when my human spirit faints, And tired feet drooj) \vearil\-. Still with the lowliest of Th)' saints, Lord, keep a i^lace for me ! IDLE. ■T^HE flush of Autumn on the woods. The Autumn splendor in the sk}'. The strong rush of its risen floods, — Idle I see these days go by. I shut my e)'es. How close I see I\Iy long-time haunts: the cedar grove, The hollows where the fme ferns be. The maiden-hair. — the leaves 1 love. Ye wait in vain in hush or hum, O fairy ferns. O leaves of gold, O pinev paths so sweet and dumb ! Your lover comes not as ot old. * IDLE. 1 1 5 But here beside the dissonant sea, I list its chant, its plaint of pain, And ask if ways so dear to me Will ever know my feet again. Thou cr}-ing sea, thou hungry main, — How like this world's unresting mass ! Vaulting desire that 's never slain, And moaning want that cannot pass. Give me the silence of the hills. Their calm uplifting deep and vast, The timbre of the mountain-rills. Glories of Autumns that are past. The Winter pallor on the world, The Winter splendor in its sk}', White banners of the frost unfurled, — Idle I sec these days go by. I hear the thunder of the mart, See scheming sparrows scold and fly ; I trace, within the heaven's rich heart, The primrose dawn, the twilight dye. Il6 IDLE. 1h^)'oik1 thctn all, )ot close and clear. Come echoes of the workl's ^a}- feet; The iminmir of ni}' wotUl 1 hear, 1 see its phantoms far .\\\A tleet. T feel the rush of i;"raiKl ailairs, — The eaL;er quest, the careless crowd. The hea\>' cross of secret cares, I'he da)tinie dance, the laughter loud. I watch this far-otT world go by; It needeth not o>!(- tender heart. C^ne lnis\- hand, one worker's sigh, — 1 know it as I sit apart. I chafe not at its hckle shows ; Dear is this silence, full of peace, This foretaste of the long day's close. \\ hen work and hate and love shall cease. Spring's firstling tlowers in spict^d hoods. Spring's iridescence in the sky. The life-throb of her mutlled buds. — Idle I see these da\'s uo bw IDLE. TI7 Vet dear the calm that loiiiul nic ihrills. The other of this upper sk}-; I'or she who waits, as she who wills, Is (.lear to IkuI, 1 know not \\\\x. LAST ROSES. T PLUCK from pale November air The last, sad roses of the year ; Roses of June were not more fair, Whose bloom of joy evoked no tear. Alas ! in chillness, in the frost. Ye darlings, woke your pallid bloom ; Yet not a hint of fragrance lost Floats through the stillness of my room. The last, the last ! To-morrow's snow Will fall upon your Summer bed, And homeless winds despairing flow Where rose the radiance of each head. LAST ROSES. IIQ Close-folded in your emerald hoods, What loving quest, what tender gloom, Is yours, yc mute, appealing buds, In beauty born, but not to bloom. Triumphal blossoms of the June, I see your iridescence stain The limpid azure, hear the tune A bird then sang, — hope's gay refrain. O sweet was Summer, — sweet the word The roses in the garden spoke ! The prophecies, the faith, they stirred In thee, O heart, as high noon broke. Yet here is Autumn lone and late ; And here its roses, fair as Spring, And sweet as if no alien fate Had touched with frost their blossoming. Their lovely petals fall apart, All trembling at my word of praise ; In fragrance deep each sweet, void heart Its cup of blessing mute doth raise. 120 LAST ROSES. Like June, yet different, — here is all; No hope waits hidden in these buds. No promise, as these petals fall, The space with all its splendor floods. Heart, — thicker than these fallen leaves Cluster thy hopes, born all too late ; What sunless morns, what long, cold eves, What frost hath sealed their piteous fate ! Accept thine Autumn, bare and gray, Its wounded life, its tender gloom, — Its roses reft of June's warm ray. Its folded buds that cannot bloom. Dearer than heraldry of Spring, Than fruitage glad of all the years, The love that cannot lift its wing. The faded flower wet with tears. The blossom, of earth's promise shorn. Still sends its incense to the sky ; And Love, of heavenly patience born. To Love of Love at last must fly. THE HERMIT-THRUSH. r^ HERMIT- THRUSH, one August day, I heard from out thy golden throat ('Twas long ago and far away) Thy song supernal fall and float. A weary pilgrim by the road, I deemed some passing seraph's strain Was falling on my heavy load — In heavenly music sweet to pain. 'T was long ago and far away ; The life I lived that hour has fled ; The pang that pierced, that Summer day. Has ceased to hurt, forever dead. 122 THE IIERMIT-'llIRUSH. Yet lo ! once more by leafy way I hear thy lone, seraphic strain ; The pomp of all the Summer day Thrills with thy music sweet to pain. What if youth's Spring be early gone, — If joy be tardy, dawning late, — Thou singest of Summer joys unknown, Of higher heights. Lo, calm I wait ! O bird, from off Heaven's inmost shrine Adown to earth thou bearest to me One note from out the strain divine. Prophet of love, of life to be ! Yet further on, some later even, I '11 catch once more thy matclcss strain. Thou lovely messenger from Heaven, Bearing its music sweet to pain. 'T will reach me on my lowly road, Thy call. Heaven's last, so far, so fine, Lifting my heart from mortal load, From love in loss, to love divine. THE DOVES. T TNDERNEATH the homestead window Flock the doves ! Tremulous-crested, opal-breasted, Household doves ; Just as when a little maiden Fed and called them once her loves. Underneath the homestead window Low they grieve ; Looking, nodding, with a timid Make-believe Of a welcome to the wanderer, Calling in the purple eve. 124 THE DOVES. Like the doves unto my window Flocking home, All the memories of my lifetime Thronging come, Once more brooding in my bosom, Here in the old household home. Far against the dim horizon See they soar, — Hills of home, far mountains crowning, , Far-off shore ! Distant as my native hilltops Seems the child-life gone before. 'Tis the old, oft-murmured story, — Lost or dead ! Doubly dead are many living. Further fled ; I, at high noon, stand a stranger, With the homestead overhead. THE DOVES. 125 Flock the doves beneath my window Just the same, Tremulous-crested, opal-breasted, Shy and tame ; Who is she who calls and feeds them, With far sight and soul of flame ? Back unto the city's rattle Slow I go ; 'T is the bivouac, not the battle, I would know; Peace of God and peace of Nature Feed me in their overflow. Underneath my Southern windows Rolls the world. Glancing eyelids, flowing tresses. Ribbons furled ; Flashing onward through the sunshine. Dreamed-of, ever-longed-for world ! 126 THE DOVES. Through the city's shifting splendor I shall see, Near and clear, this twilight picture, Dear to me ; I shall stand in all the tumult Solitary, still, and free. I shall know unto this window Still you come; I shall see you, household dovclings, Flocking home ! I will leave the loud world for you, How so far my feet may roam. Flock the doves unto Thy window, Lord of love ! Call us, feed us, fold us safely, Lest we rove. Crowding home, Thy wandering children, Hungry, seek the hand above. FALL IN.* OEE, sec, yon gleaming line of light! The enemy's bayonets bristle bright; O boys, there'll be a fight to-night; Fall in ! Under these woods of frozen larch, Under the night sky's icy arch, It ends at last, the dreadful march; Fall in ! Fall in ! No bivouac to-night. Beneath the stars so still and bright, The glistening bayonets glitter white ; Fall in ! * Written within sight of the two American armies, in the midst of battle, 1S63. 128 FALL IN. i Fall in ! we 're hungry, bruised, and torn, — With snow and rain, beaten and worn, — Yet " ready for duty," we 've proudly sworn ; Fall in ! A second for dreams ! Under our eyes, Oh see, how softly they seem to rise, The hills of home, and her Summer skies ! • Fall in ! One sigh for home, — for the fair face prest Close to the heart, 'neath the rugged vest, The face of the one we love the best ; Fall in ! O say, — for a flash shall the brown face pale, The quick young nerves in their warm life quail. To meet the thud of the leaden hail? Fall in ! The storm of shells, the bullet's whir. The clash of sabre, — no fear can stir ; We fight for freedom, for home, for /ler ; Fall in ! FALL IN. 129 Ever with steady step we go, With rifles ready in serried row, Into the face of the insolent foe ; Fall in ! Our hearts upleap in passionate pain, — Oh see, they fall, our heroic slain ; The enemy's masses charge and gain ! Fall in 1 Fall in ! the eager bugles beat ; Fall in ! march on with prescient feet ; Smite low the foe where the armies meet ; Fall in ! To front ! its ranks are red and thin, The victor flaunts his banner of sin ; O comrades, forward ! to die, or win ; Fall in ! A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. 'nr^ELL you a story, Johnny, my knight? A story of what? Of the march, or the fight? I '11 fasten the shutter, and pile the brands higher, And banish the storm in the flame of the fire. Johnny, my darling, you 're sheltered and warm ; Hear in the valley the voice of the storm ? One year ago the winds and the damps Crept through the crannies of circling camps, And the frozen ground was the only bed Where the war-worn soldier could lay his head. A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. 131 And all night long, on the breastwork's " beat," Wc heard the sound of the sentinel's feet. Beside the Potomac's echoing flood, Through pitiless storms our pickets stood. Grim guns from the mountain-tops looked down, Solemnly guarding the ancient town. All our defenders their watch would keep, That little Johnnies like you might sleep. Now for the story ! Johnny, my king. Shall it make tears run, or your merry laugh ring? Here in the valley there used to be Two young brothers, most fair to see. They were born of a stately and lofty race, — Grew tall, and straight, and strong in their grace. As gay as their steeds, and as free of care, Were Allen and Algernon IMonclare. 132 A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. They had grown to young manhood's power and state When Virginia rushed to her traitor-fate, And broke the bond of her ancient troth, Because CaroHna was foohsh and wroth. " I '11 fight with my State," said Algernon fair ; " I '11 die for my Country," said Allen Monclare. Each turned his face, went his separate way — One in Loyal blue, one in Rebel gray. Over the river, on Loudon's height, The boys in blue pitched their tents one night. The white camp gleamed on the rugged steep. That we in the valley in peace might sleep. For we knew the guerillas were coming down, To fire at will on the sleeping town. A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. 1 33 Low on the edge of the wooded hill Stood the waiting pickets, alone and still. B\- the smouldering camp-fire every one Was lying at watch, each man on his gun. "■ Fire ! " Then the foe, with a sudden yell, Broke the ambush like hounds of hell. " Fire ! They 're upon us ; up, my men ! Fire ! What they give us give back again." Face to the foe in the woody lair. He fought with his men, Allen IMonclare. "I die for m}- Countr>- — far better so," He said, and fell at the feet of his foe. •' Thus perish each Northern mother's son — Cursed invaders ! " cried Algernon. Alas, the dead ! in the starlight dim The fair young face looked up at him. 134 A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. " O God ! My brother ! O terrible fate ! I loved you well. Too late, too late ! " I 've murdered my brother ! What now can be Southern freedom, or State, to me? " With our buried braves on yonder hill Allen Monclare lies white and still. In a foreign land, afar from his slain, Algernon carries the curse of Cain. Johnny, my boy, you 're sheltered and warm ; Hear in the valley the voice of the storm. To-morrow the sun, serene and bland, Will kiss the mountain of Maryland. The cruel scars on its brave old head Will bloom as if they had never bled. A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. 1 35 Thus the tempest of war down the valley passed, But the morning brought sun and song at last. The pangs of Virginia's wounds will cease, And her scars all heal in the balm of peace. No longer the clear stars hang their lamps Over the dreamers in comfortless camps. No longer the homesick pickets stand Under the Heights of Maryland. No longer the clear, sweet bugles call At the dawning morn and the starlight's fall. No longer we wake in the midnight still To the tramp of troops on the stony hill. No moaning drums, with their low, slow beat. Sob for the lost in the sad defeat. Many a brave young heart is still, Under the snow, on the lonely hill. 136 A BALLAD OF THE BORDER. Many a gallant boy to-night Tells at home the tale of the fight. So, Johnny my hero, the war is done, And at last a holy peace is won. High on the Heights of Maryland, see ! It waves over all, the Flag of the Free ! Virginia, 1865. € THE JOURNALIST.* IV /TAN of the eager eyes and teeming brain, — Small is the honor that men dole to thee ; They snatch the fruitage of thy years of pain, — Devour, yet scorn, the tree. What though the treasure of thy nervous force, Thy rich vitality of mind and heart, Goes swiftly down before thy Moloch's course, — Men cry, " It is not Art ! " The Poet, — dallying with his fitful Muse, On lagging Pegasus, whose halting stride Sometimes gives out, — he scorns "the man of news," — Cries, " See ! we 're parted wide ! " * Written by request, and read before the New York Press Association, Utica, New York, June 8, i8Si. 138 THE JOURNALIST. The Novelist — elate from lofty crest Of Fiction's lovely palace of the air — Looks down and sighs: " Only a Journalist! My height is his despair." The jays minute of feebler Literature — Who lightly chatter, on its outmost rim, Of naught but of their small position sure — Point scornfully at liini ! The Statesman — smirched, with pallid malice grim, Or red with wrath — doth in the morning read Of fair faith bartered, of fine honor dim, Li his recorded deed. Lo, look for thunder then ! His fierce reply In House or Senate, as he leads the van ; Time-server and place-seller — loud his cry: " Down, cursed Newspaper Man ! " Who takes the daily journal, cool and damp, And weighs its ceaseless toll on nerve and brain? Nor morning sun, nor genial evening lamp, Reveals its birth of pain. THE JOURNALIST. 1 39 " Only a newspaper! " Oiiiek read, (|iiiek lost, Who Slims tlie treasure that it carries hence? Torn, trani[)lecl under feet, who counts thy cost, Star-eyed Intelligence? And ye, the Nameless, best-belovetl host! My heart recalls more than one vanished face, Struck from the rank (jf ttjilers, — early lost, And leavini;" not a trace. Martyrs of News, young martyrs of the Press, — Princes of giving from largess of brain ! One leaf of laurel, stt:epctl in tenderness, Take ye, O early-slain. Though in the Authors' Pantheon no niche obscure Your waning names can hold f