* « » LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Chap. Copyriglit No. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/perenniaOOhans PERENNIA PERENNIA ^^ ALICE E. HANSCOM ^ f|? The Helman-Taylor Company Cleveland, Ohio mdcccxcviii 2n v»;, 1098, ' *--M.4: Copyright 1898 The Helman-Taylor Company Cleveland, Ohio TWO COPIES RECEIVED. Ctrnt^nts January In January _ _ _ _ _ i February Under the Amethyst - - - 2 Valentines - _ _ _ ^-7 Late February - _ _ _ 8 The Herald _ - _ _ g March A Spring Processional - - 10-12 April April -- - - --i^ Easter - ~ - - 14-15 May June July Spring Rain - - _ i6 In May-Time - 17 Flower Day „ _ _ - 18-19 Victory - _ _ _ 20 Defeat - - _ - 21 Her Birthday _ > - 22 le Hymn - _ _ - 23 June - - - - - - 24 Rose -Charm ~ - - 25 Midsummer Day - - 26 With a Pillow of Rose-Leaves 27 Wars of the Roses 28-29 Midsummer Day Dreaming 30-31 Y July - - - - 32-33 Color-Change - - - - 34-35 In the Cloud and in the Sea 36-37 igust The Shadow-Leaf - 38 To E. M. T. - - - - 39 August The Lover's Cloud of Witnesses - 40-41 Forget-Me-Not _ - - - 42 August Noon - - - - 43 September September Songs - - - 44-45 Diminuendo - - - _ 46-47 On the Church Steps - - - 48-49 October Snow _ _ « 50-51 November The Lights of the City - 52 Monotones I 'In the Far Country' 53 " II 'Rain' 54-55 Blind ----- - 56 Satisfied - - - - _ 57 December The Nativity _ , - - 58-59 A Miracle ----- 60-61 PERENNIA Time, circling, slips from Old to New, — Ever does Thought respond, pursue, Follow the fleeting of the year. With each fresh season re-appear. And breathe in broken echo-sound Vibrations from the noiseless round. lEnuarg In January. Does the bud of the flower that is to be Now sweetly stir in its sleep, And the brown earth thrill to a prophecy Of bloom under snow-drifts deep ? Is the elm-branch, etched against the sky. Half-conscious of that day When joy shall spring in each passer-by For the grace of its leafy spray ? Perchance the nymph of the summer ponds Has heard the skaters' glee. And murmured within her icy bonds, "The sun-god summoneth me !" Does Robin under a southern sky Feel the homeward flight in his wings, Is he swelling his throat of the ruby dye With his chorus practicings ? A sunnier space parts dawn from eve. All paths to the springward slope, Not now may the spirit remember and grieve, The gift of the season is — Hope. F:eb:rxtarg Under the Amethyst* An earlier light shines in a brighter east And lingers westward in clear rose and gold, Wild winds may sweep from out the realms of cold, But night's eclipse has once again decreased. Not yet the white-winged flight has ceased Of frolic snow-sprites, tiny mimics bold Of happy birds, whose songs seem new though old, The poet-guests at Summer's wide-spread feast, But by poetic faith of elder day Is February crowned with Amethyst Which gem bestows the gift, desired alway. Of peace on mind and heart. Let us desist From discontent, though snow with sun doth play, And winds unhappy wander as they list. F^ebruarg Valentines* I. P*or the years that are gone And the gifts that stay Your lover counts the beads On this Saint's Day. For the year that is With hopes in rich array Your lover's heart is glad On this Saint's Day. For the love that is to be When years have passed away Your lover giveth thanks On this Saint's Day. Fchrwarg II. You will not know whose daring lends Itself to fancies of the day, And herewith unsigned greeting sends From distance near though far away. To me is not vouchsafed the prize Your friendship's royal gift to own ; I pass, a stranger in your eyes. My name and face alike unknown. And yet I know your spirit fine How bright the aureole it wears ; Your tones and looks are oil and wine To hearts sore-bruised by cruel cares. —4— FjehrwErg I know you walk the ways of life To music from a holier sphere Whose harmony, with blessing rife, Brings joy to all whom you hold dear. Your friends are many. I, apart, Have throned and crowned you queen and saint ; Supreme, your presence In my heart Bids loneliness cease its complaint. Perhaps your smile will shine to-day Above these quiet words of mine, The tribute which they do not say Lies liquid in each conscious line. —5— F]ehrxxErg III. The folded flower now dreams of June And sighs, asleep, " The time is long." The bird now finds his heart in tune And longs to fill all space with song. Thy lover's fate is happier still Than that of bird or dreaming flower, For in his thought of thee at will He has a golden hour. The bud will sun its wings of bloom Then droop to dimness and decay ; The song to silence will give room Dying in plaintive note away. But in the tides that sweep towards thee Do tenderness and strength combine, They know no ebb in constancy, — This from thy Valentine. -6- FjehrwHrg IV. For a Rowfanter — Who Hath Greatly Honored the Good Saint. From his high place in the Celestial Rose Where victors of the Faith resplendent shine, Bends forward, wondering, Saint Valentine To gaze where Earth, a small star-jewel, glows, Scene of his happily-forgotten mortal woes : "Whence this new music, voiced above my shrine Breathing of incense spirit-sweet and fine. Which in ethereal melody to me up-flows ? But why need ask ? My Rowfant votary Sole maker of this gladness is, I deem. What heart's-delight for him shall token be Of a Saint's friendship in this Court Supreme ? — To him shall be this rare felicity, — Book-lover's joy beyond his dearest dream !" -7— F:ehruErg Late February^ Light snow-dust to the far field-line Like star-enamel spread, Vapor-of-pearl in the air a-shine, Sun-brightness overhead. A look of life yet in the dream The songless woodland shows, A ruddy tint, Spring's first foregleam, Under brown sheathing glows. The young wheat veils its green the while A fairy frost below, Already summer harvests smile Through silver-shining snow. WtXnxth The Herald* " We note the arrival of Robin Redbreast. ' ^— Local News. Though earth be swept by wild snow showers And winds breathe threatenings drear, The surest pledge of spring is ours — Robin is here ! Though March may urge his boisterous sway We listen without fear And, smiling, to each other say — "Robin is here !" His presence means a world made new In days now closely near. He's ever been a herald true, — Robin is here I We know that joy will come this way, Familiar, but most dear — For him the nest, for us the May — Robin is here ! march m A Spring ProcessionaL I. Despite the springwinds' bluster And pretence of wintry power. Flower-forces are a-muster For their Coronation-hour. ' How do I know ?' The pussy-willow tells me so ! II. A short, soft struggle in the dark 'Twixt courage and shy doubt, Then everybody makes remark, " The crocuses are out !" — 10— ItlErth III. Little Hepatica In the dim wood Waits for the storms to pass 'Neath her gray hood ; Veils face and heart Awaiting the sun, Offers pure pearl tints Then, one by one- Storms could not win What sun-glances could. Heart of Hepatica In the dim wood. IHarth IV. At low brown doors the spring rain knocks And sunbeams warmly woo, The flower-folk undo the locks And in a troop come through. Some scamper softly through the wood, Some hide in last year's leaves. But each in dainty gown and hood A cloth-of-beauty weaves. -12— <^prtl April. The growing year has reached its April age, And plays Undine's part without her soul, Its mischief moods beyond the sage control Of any wisdom left as heritage From elder Aprils ; sun and cloud engage To shine or frown, as suits their changeful role And cupid breezes, feigning deepest dole. Or, dimpling with delight, act each as page. The trustful leaves slip from their sheathings deep, Believing that their dreaming-time is done, But April coaxing cannot wake the sleep Of folded buds, — a princess in each one — Where roses do their honey-secret keep Till comes their fairy-prince, the summer sun. —13— ^prtl Easter* I. The llly-bulb was burled in the mold, — Behold the risen lily's pearl and gold II. Does faith show richer flowering Than in the vanished year. And does the inner witness sing In triumph-tones more clear ? Should not the heavenly vision seem More real, more dear, each time Earth wakens from the wintry dream, And Easter joy-bells chime ? —14— ^prtl HI. With lilies would I you this morning greet. Their honeyed breath should softly change the space Around you into sanctuary place For thoughts with veiled face and reverent feet. Thus would I have your Easter morning sweet With lily-lesson on the heirship of our race To hope eternal, gift of that great grace Which for our sakes endured and is henceforth complete. But out of distance far, instead, my friend, I share with you the heavenly triumphing. More sweet than lily-bells the words here blend And are caught up by seraphim who sing, " He loved His own, He loves them to the end. O'er death and time is Love immortal King." —15— Spring Rain* The sky sends down on silver lines A pearl-and-opal dew, Each drop an open secret shines, Each holds a rainbow hue. Young plant-life as these jewels pass Its cup with color fills. Glory of emerald for the grass. Gold for the daffodils. The trees spring sweetness deeply drink And joyful-hearted grow. The peach becomes a cloud of pink. The apple scatters fragrant snow. Spring rain may come a silken mist To blur with gray the scene, It fades from sight in amethyst. Or film of crystal sheen. — 16— mn^ In May-Time. The youthful year of sweeter spirit grows, And greets us with an incense offering Fine as the gift an Eastern prince might bring. A two-fold kindly thought the soft air shows In flower-leaf clouds of white and pinkish snows : — A gracious pity of the discrowned king Whose sway dissolved before the smile of spring, — A graceful tribute to the coming rose Whose queenship all the lands of summer own. The outer world becomes a warm green tent. And our chill North turns to a beauty-zone Where festival is kept by glad consent. And life grows rich in color, fragrance, tone, — Those fairest fancies Nature could invent. —17— IHEg Flower-Day* Clouds come and go, stars do not pass, Great truths are true through all the years, And one of such we read through tears In these low billows in the grass. Here Nature keeps the memory green Of loyal faith more strong than death And whispers in aeolian breath Her song of praise through shade and sheen. To-day the billows break in bloom As we with slow and reverent tread Approach the still homes of the dead To crown with flowers the soldier's tomb. Think of the father, son and friend Who might be here to-day in life Had they not hurried to the strife Our peace, our safety to defend. -i8— iriag Remember those who died alone With uncomplaining fortitude, 'Twas for our sakes they thus withstood, And sleep afar in graves unknown. Think how the world to-day has need Of that high spirit not afraid To show, though fine, how strong 'tis made^ And prove its truth by valiant deed. And they are absent. We remain To do the great work of the age. To set the seal on History's page That they for us died not in vain. Honored the more from May to May, No time in all the circling year Should be to faithful hearts more dear Than Memory's sacred Flower-Day. —19— IfttEg Victory. *'Manibus data lilia plenis.*^ As fire leaps upward towards the heavenly lights, In unavailing hope to reach the dome Where stars serene shine steadfastly, at home Above earth's sheltered vales and breeze-blown heights ; As waves thrill with a longing that incites A ceaseless beating of their strength to foam, That they may reach the shore and cease to roam ; As trees bend from the tempest that affrights. Fixed in their leaning towards the point of calm ; So thought is drawn by loyalty and love In upward gaze on triumph crowned with palm, On hero-souls star-high our ways above, Who followed Honor over fields of flame. Who crossed with Death and, smiling, overcame. -20 — Ittag Defeat. He that fallen may rise to his feet If Truth but standeth by, He knoweth the only real defeat Who maketh or loveth a lie. The gold of life shall be saved from loss Though fires may test and try, To that nature remaineth pitiful dross Which maketh or loveth a lie. Heaven lends itself to the cause that is just And fixed are the stars in its sky. His shining success is ashes and dust Who maketh or loveth a lie. On that outer verge where hope grows dim Shall falseness utterly die, — No place in heaven or earth for him Who maketh or loveth a lie. fHag Her Birthday* All white and gold is her life-book Made up of years so fair, White for her lily-thought and look, Gold for her shining hair, And for the brightness in each nook If she has but been there. So may her year begun to-day Until its May-time close Be golden in its gift-array. And sweet as the white rose Whose generous heart breathes grace away On every wind that blows. — 22 — gnnt Hymn^ Rejoice before the Lord, my soul, rejoice ! Within His courts lift up thy thankful voice ! His righteousness stands like the mountains, sure, Like the great deep His judgments shall endure. Thy mercy, O our Lord, doth reach the skies, Unto Thy faithfulness we raise our eyes ; Continue loving kindness to impart Unto the grateful and the true of heart. So shall they be with plenty satisfied And drink Thy pleasures as a brimming tide ; In Thee life has its fountain-sources bright, And in Thy light, O Lord, shall we see light. From the Psalter for the Seventh Day. June, 1893. -23— §nnt Fond Mother-Nature's sweet device Her dearest secret half discloses :- She still remembers Paradise And tells us through the roses. —24— inttB Rose-Chann^ Who can translate this wonder-thought Of sway so sweet, so strong ? Can melody be color-wrought Or perfume breathe of song ? Is music so with fragrance fraught Its sweetness overflows To quicken visions spirit-sought, And haunt us through the rose ? —25— §xint Midsummer Day. The year has come to coronation-time ! With what a splendor does this day of days wheel its circling hours, from the silvery space of long twilight preluding early dawn to the slow fading of the lingering sunset's transparent flame, from high noon's fiery luster to midnight's pearl-like translucence ! To him who keeps reverent watch at this Vigil is revelation given. Before the poet's fancy Titania and Oberon with all their fairy train shall rise to flit by blossoming bank and leafy lane into the soft darkness of enchanted groves. But better still, upon the spirit-sight shall be laid a touch bestowing interpretation of the heavenly saying, " And there shall be no night there." Out of the luminous, dewy peace of the earth-night, dim enough for rest, but softly lighted from an un- seen dayspring, shall rise the vision of the celestial night, not darkness, but transfiguration. —26- §nnz With a Pillow of Rose-Leaves^ A shower of rose-leaves falling on the grass To dark oblivion do quickly pass. These, softly shaken out of dreams and dew While yet the June-time of the year was new. Have happier fortune for their fate Since on your gracious presence they may wait. Finding therein a second summer sweet Whose gladness goes not with the season fleet. —27— ^nnt Wars of the Roses. The Red Rose like a trumpet calls To praise and high renown ; The Queen of Hearts from castle-walls On combat looking down Would wish for this imperial flower To grace her victor-knight, So worthily of princely power It speaks in color bright. With thought of court and royal name, Of chivalry and splendid fame. It fitly goes, The red, red rose ! -28- §xint The White Rose seemeth like a star Fallen on earth's low ground. Its leaves celestial tokens are, No earth-stain there is found. It shelters in a spotless heart A store of incense-leaven, That plays unseen an angel's part To make us dream of heaven. With thoughts of peace perpetual, pure, Of holy hours w^hose vows endure. It sweetly goes. The white, white rose ! — 29 — §xmt Midsummer Day-dreaming. A gently-sloping hillsidej a tall wide-spreading tree drooping its lower branches to play with high grass, as yet unacquainted with lawn-mowers ; within the tent thus lightly pitched a hammock swaying peacefully, its occupant finding his chosen volume of summer reading, though warranted light, growing heavy to the hand ; the sunlight filtered of dazzle and glitter making soft illumina- tion in the hollow space ; everywhere the color of green, — along the hillside, in the hedges, on the rows of grape-vines, — unless it be for some neg- lected rosebushes that carelessly scatter a shower of crimson leaves across the grass ; everywhere the blessing of stillness, save for sleepy-sounding chirpings from bird-throats and the light lisp of a lazy breeze pretending to be going somewhere; -30— ixtnt the far-off sound of wheels rolling farther away along a country road, and then — and then — all sounds blend to a lullaby and the dreamer floats off to the Land of the Heart's Desire. Is it worth while to disturb this sweet repose with remarks about the black ants whose presence speaks approval of the same green tent, of the pleasing variety of unnamed insects that drop from the branches to taste of the dreamer when his dream is at the sweetest, of the songful mosquito that hovers airily, but faithfully, above the ham- mock ? No, none of these things belong to dreaming, only to reality. —31— iMlg July. No lily-light of midnight star or moon Is this deep splendor-tide whose brilliant play Floods all the spaces of the wide blue day, 'Tis golden summer's sumptuous hour of noon! True, shadows will grow longer all too soon, But listen now the sound of far-off streams, And breathe the air's soft poppy-gift of dreams. While in the meadow grass contented insects croon. —32- Sttig Where'er the humblest footsteps, aimless, stray, A field-of-cloth-of-gold is freely spread. For once Time hastens not, but seems, instead. Well pleased, to loiter, dreaming, by the way. Though this illumination may not stay To light the onward passing of the year. We will remember when the days grow drear, July fulfilled the promises of May. —33— Ixxlg Color-Change. Flower-bloom in ether, deepening as it glows From pink of palest petal to richest heart of rose. The color-gift of morning, but who among us knows The secret of its blending, the fountain whence it flows? Sapphire-shine above us, our dowry in the sky, Whene'er we have the vision for splendor passing by. Exhaustless wells of azure, made free to every eye, But who hath seen the color-spring where their primal sources lie? Radiance of ruby flaming in the west. Red-gold and amber, wine-hues that attest Degree and rank imperial to a parting guest, Do such torch-lights kindle at a king's behest? —34- Brilliance born of whiteness that puts the snow to shame, Crystal-clear, yet vivid, a hue without a name ; Who among magicians the charm supreme dare claim To breathe through stainless lily-light the pearl- soul of pure flame? Paleness as of waning moon, filling to the brim Earth's uplifted cup of space with a grayness dim. Soothing sense and spirit like a holy hymn Before the new dawn flushes the far horizon-rim. Thus the color-changes run through a perfect day. Ceaseless witchery of light, a shifting jewel-play. Shall we find this treasure ours, spared from time's decay When the former earth and heaven have vanished all away? -35- Iwl2 **In the Cloud and in the Sea/^ The cloud with grayness folds me in And shuts the world away, The great deep lifts its surging din In shifting lines of gray. Its waves their hurrying forces form, Somber, but strong of will. On what far shore felt they the storm Sternly remembered still? Closer they press about my feet, Hushing, as they come near. Their proud song of the sunken fleet, The lonely heart's death-fear, -36- To bring as from another clime A message, instant, clear, Whose meaning at this only time The listening soul can hear. Graywalled against the summer's glee, From all the world apart, I hear a voice from cloud and sea A solemn charge impart. Whose truth may not be disallowed, Inland will go with me The sacred shadow of the cloud, The secret from the sea. Plum Island, 1897. -37- ^gust The Shadow-Leaf* What other token of the summer is so ethereal as the shadow-leaf dancing on the grass? It is, or is not, at the concurring caprice of breeze and of sunbeam. The green leaves securely held on the sheltering arm of the tree spread light wings sky- ward, or toss off the saucy zephyr-touch, all unaware of the soft counterfeiting going on below. This troop of tiny mimics might be likened to a swarm of butterflies, of darker race than our darlings of the summer, flitting about in a field of light, or to downy wings shielding the sweet grass from the lances of the sun, — to elfin weavers flecking with relief-tints a brocade of gold and green, — a dusky will-of-the-wisp dance madly circling the round of a favorite haunt. A stately argosy comes sweeping by in shining vision upon the blue sea overhead, whitely eclipsing the golden sun. The little phantoms swiftly dis- appear, swallowed up in the greater shadow fallen from the sky. Like the tale that is told and for- gotten in the telling is the little life of summer^s shadow-leaf. -38- ^wgttst To E. M. T. What need to bring our wishing-words To her whom all the happy birds Of Arcady in carol-song Salute as sister to their throng? To her upon whose life looks down The City of the Violet Crown ; Who in this modern life yet hears, — Its music mellowed through the years, — The hum of old Hymettus' bees ; For whom the Dryads in our trees Shake singing-leaves on every breeze ; Who knows each day the flavor fine Of Hybla's honey and of wine More potent for the tuneful line Than growth of old Falernian vine ; Who owns the signet-jewel clear To weave of common days a Poet's Year? -39- ^tgust The Lover^s Cloud of Witnesses. The poet has but read your thought To tell it o'er to me, Its unvoiced meaning music caught For themes in melody. Whene'er the breeze seems perfume-play Then does it testify That it was soul-touched on the way By passing you close by. The elm-tree whose lithe line betrays Its Dryad's hiding-place But copies your elusive ways, Their pliant, stately grace. —40— ^ugwst White clouds and sunshine in the skies Exchanging grace for grace, So have I seen in your deep eyes Looks grave to gay give place. The mellow music of the bee Between his honey-sips Suggest in daring dream to me Flower-sweetness— on your lips. The sky's soft curve doth earthward bring Token and proof to me, How sacred and how sweet a thing Your tenderness would be. -41- ^ugwst Forget-Me-Not. 'Twas finished — the fair flower-world — And fringed with pearls of dew Was every glossy leaf, close-curled, Each bud of fairy hue. And God in wise and tender speech Had called from fragrant sleep And given His choice of name to each With charge that name to keep. All smiled, well-pleased. But soon there came One colored like the sky, Whose tiny voice confessed with shame In faltering accents shy, " Forgive, dear Lord ! Deep is my blame, But I've my name forgot I" — "Dost thou soon forget thy name ? Nay, then, forget Me not !" Abashed, but glad, the little flower To a green bank withdrew Where yet she smiles in beauty-dower The golden summer through. She bids the eye and heart rejoice That seek her quiet spot. And echoes still the Tender Voice That said " Forget Me not." —42— ^gust August Noon» Now siience and heat have rule o'er the world. Thin banners of dust are straightway unfurled If a step but invade the truce of the road Enjoying its rest from the wheel and the load. So potent the sense of repose everywhere That intrusion it seems to be out in the air. Hill, woodland and bridge show, mutely, surprise At the loitering foot on their pathway that lies Between farms and the village, asleep in the sun As if for the season its work were all done. I cross its white streets, unmet and unseen. And reach the straight walks all bordered in green Where silence more deep and the hush of a rest Unhaunted of dreams, the dwellings attest. No loneliness felt under midnight's dim moon Could more touch the soul than this of high noon. Whence started this wind, low-voiced in its sigh As if tired of heart-ache and hopings put by, Blowing straight from the past, unresting and fleet To stir the dry grass on this grave at my feet ? And when will it rest from its old monotone. Its murmur persistent, "Alone, all alone " — "43— Styittmhtx September Songs* I. With purple all the highways shine To honor passers-by, And spires of yellow drawn in line Show princely courtesy. Soon will these tapers in the trees Triumphal torches blaze, And bronze and ruby at each breeze Sprinkle the country ways. The heart should votive tapers burn For wine and oil untold, Yearly it may the truth discern That beauty grows not old. -44- S:ept]mthBr II. Through city street and country glade High tides of radiance run, The air seems sapphire in the shade And red-gold in the sun. Are jewel-colors magic-made Or are they rainbow spun ? With royal hues the roadside glows, With russet the fields afar. With a sleepy song the river flows Over its low-water bar. And the floating down of the thistle shows One of earth's dreams of a star. A chorus band of breezes fleet Rustle the leaves of corn. Or weight their wings with honey-sweet Of purple grape-bloom born. Or moan aeolian measures meet For months of hope forlorn. —45- ©tt^tor Diminuendo* I. Leaves flutter downward one by one, Sweet Summer's " P. P. C." She's going southward with the sun, His lady-love is she. The birds without her will not stay. Their flight they now prepare. What shall we do while they're away For gladness in the air ? II. A radiance as of silver mist Transfigures grass and tree, A jewel-rain, when sunbeam-kissed. — " The first white frost," say we. -46- &dn\xtx III. Now, little people, all run in, 'Tis time to close the door. Your slumber-song should now begin, Twilight has come once more. Lay down each pretty silken head Upon the mother-breast. Don't think of what Jack Frost has said. He cannot harm your rest. Now shut the tired, sleepy eyes, Beneath the covers creep. Then will you give us glad surprise After your beauty-sleep. The fires burn low, the night grows chill. Its dark hours may bring storm. But mother-love will shield from ill And keep her darlings warm. -47— ©jct^tor On the Church Steps. Under the Gothic arch of stone Girl-figures grouped together, Hither for refuge swiftly flown In the rainy autumn weather. Unmindful that 'tis sacred place, They laugh, complain and chatter. And scan the clouds with flower-fair face The while the raindrops patter. Restless they move their space about, Gay flecks of color showing. As flower-stalks sway in and out In summer gardens growing. ~48— ©jct0tor Perchance beneath this very arch At no far distant dating, The first notes of a wedding march They'll be demurely waiting. Anon the car rolls down the street, And though it yet is raining. Thither they dart on flying feet. Still laughing and complaining. The clouds now hasten to pass by And show a smile in going, A golden blessing from the sky On the church door bestowing. —49- ©ttflhoer October Snow. Morning descends in floating gray To find her pathways near and far With petals strewn since yesterday Shaped Hke the tokens of a star. First flowering of the winter's spring Whose drifting bloom ere long shall fly Across our world on airy wing To join the fields of earth and sky. The splendid banners late displayed By forces of the hill and plain Their color-pride aside have laid, Saluting thus their victor's reign. —50— ©tJ^tox: The little river rippling by No longer dimples to the breeze, Upon its joyless surface lie Dim etchings of the drooping trees. Undaunted, still the meadow grass Is faithful to its summer hue. As blithe at heart while storm-clouds pass As when the fading year was new. In clouded space the groves behold Illumination die to gloom. They know full well these star-flecks cold Are heralds of a nearing doom. -51— ^nntmbzic The Lights of the City. Outlined on space between the sky and earth In glittering figure like unto a crown, True stars are they though of a mortal birth. Flashed into being as the night comes down. The brighter for the deepening of the dark. Faithful, they shine into the noon of night. And eyes that cannot sleep for sorrow mark Above the city hush their steadfast light. In that dim hour between the dusk and dawn Like lonely sentinels on guard they stand, Lest, trooping back, the shades almost withdrawn Should charge upon the gates of morning-land. But when the Day has come unto his own In shining raiment without stain or blot. We seek the stately sentry of his throne Their lofty place is starless, they are not. —52-- ^nvu^mixtx Monotones* I. " In the Far Country." Though not remote by space or street, An exile's ban I bear ; Our eyes in passing sometimes meet, You know not I am there. My thoughts find ceaseless, sweet employ In bonds to you, yet free, Even your grief would bring me joy If then you turned to me. But alien to your sigh or song And stranger to your sight, I am but one amid the throng Outside your day and night. And shall I find, denied in this. Some other world more glad ? Can Heaven be Heaven if there I miss The friend I never had ? —53- i^nvirnihtx II. Rain. The years grow sadder and fuller of tears. Less lavish of song and shine. Whither have vanished the beautiful years I used to dream should be mine ? I never fancied the time would be When I should sit from the world apart, Feeling that life held nothing for me But a tired brain and a heavy heart, And to hear without on roof and pane The hopeless sound of November rain. Earth*s harvest-fields lie brown and sere Awaiting their winter rest, To them this gray night is not drear, For them this rain is best. I who had hoped to reap in joy -54— ^xtnmthtx From fertile plain and sunny slope, Have seen a slow, sure blight destroy The fairy bloom of springing hope, And to me 'tis a knell for dreams that were vain, This mournful plash of November rain. But the end comes not with learning the truth That life's finest gold must blend with alloy. Endurance replaces the dreamings of youth. And patience remains where once there was joy. Life still must go on though no longer akin To the blush of the rose and the song of the lark, As homes must be lighted and warm within Though their dearest ones sleep in the outer dark. Many the sorrows on earth's broad plain That revive at the sound of November rain. —55— ifltxntmhj^y: Blind. A marble statue, without stain or flaw Upon its whiteness or its noble grace, Serves well the world, set in a public place. By testimony to the worth of Beauty's law. What if some gazer, of dull thought and low Finds therein only mark for missile-blight ? Just by its whiteness and its lofty height The stately figure drew the coward blow. Should we not pity, rather than despise The one who, having eyes, still fails to see ? From malice-mark the marble soon is free. And by uplifted thought it blesses worthy eyes. -56- J^ja)3::emter Satisfied* Ps. XVII., 15. Not here, where bitter tears are wept in vain For sorrow o'er the victor-foe within, That oft-repented and repeated sin ; Where perfect peace blooms only out of pain And then falls under blight of doubt again ; Where dreams forbidden daily re-begin From haunting memories of what has been. Like last year's weeds fresh growing in spring rain. But there, beyond these dreams within a dream. Where faith and hope and love at home abide. Where the Celestial City-walls will gleam. And, — dearer promise than all else beside, — The look divine through human spirits beam, — Yes, then and there we may be satisfied ! —57— ^ttmihtx The Nativity* Unto every year belong The holy star, the angel song. Every heart may yearly hear Evangel-message, sweet and clear As w^hen upon a watch by night A glory shone for earth too bright. So long as good must strive with ill To gain dominion of the heart. Which to the higher vision would be true, But weakly chooses the ignoble part By yielding to a traitorous will. And falters, falls, — in shame aspiring still The bitter upward struggle to renew ; — Until the flesh is subject to the soul And we in free and happy choice commit them. Body and spirit both, to the divine control, Need have we, to attain that shining goal. Yearly to go to Bethlehem. -58- ^i^tmihu So long as pride wills not to learn The lesson of the little child, — So long as fires unholy burn On secret altars thought-defiled, — So long as hearts repressed in lonely silence grieve, Yet trust amid their grief, — So long as faith just failing to achieve Trembles toward unbelief, — So long as human nature fails to claim Its heritage in the divine. To rise responsive to its nobler name. Its true ancestral line. Yearly our patient Father will renew Assurance from on high, (In this dear feast brought nigh). Of His supreme and final plan. Which even the angels may not scan. The dream impossible in love grown true. Our common clay made kindred with the sky. The Son of God with us as Son of man ! —59— ^zttmbtx A Miracle^ A brooding darkness lies upon the land, though the dial-plate announces that the morning hour is near. The whiteness of a light snow-fall dimly re- lieves the gloom of hollow space, showing here and there as a blur upon the white expanse a farm- house roof or a stretch of bare woodland. There is no breeze abroad, yet the air thrills with consciousness of expectation ; thought throbs with wish to share the mystery evidently in process of revelation to the hearing ear. There is no other hint of life than this un- spoken language of the air. No one is passing along the country road, the street of the little vil- lage is dumb. Even the trees are silent, their few sere leaves for the time unmurmuring of the sum- mer, uncomplaining of the wintry chill. The lake ^ztzmhzt lies quiet, its pulses beating so low that the powder- drift of ice-sparkles is unstirred along the shore. Suddenly, by an unrealized brightening, dis- tant outlines come nearer. With the primeval fire-worshipper's instinct, the eye seeks the spaces of the southern east to find a translucence in the sky, silver at first, soon flushing lightly into rose, or glowing softly into gold. Straightway expec- tancy becomes knowledge that the deepest shadow- mark upon the circle of the year is passed, that the longest nights are over. Despite the deference of the calendar to wintry names and tokens, the days henceforward will look sunward and lead by daily growing brightness from December darkness to the long light of midsummer. Again is wrought the miracle of resurrection, the old year has become the new. — 6i— The year that was, the year that is, The year that is to be, — A round of thought-recurrences Flows through the blending three; Till Time and Life part histories. Thus will it ever be. —62— t^m^l 1B98 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proce; Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologie A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATII 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 (724)779-2111