r ^' V .^ ^u.i wliJlilj LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. f"^^-^ if/ap Q>mv\xs\{ T^a. ~ /^9s- UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. A BANK OF VIOLETS t^ a^ a^ VERSES BY FANNY H. RUNNELLS POOLE •JUN 4 1895 i G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK LONDON 27 West Twenty-third Street 24 Bedford Street, Strand XCbe Tknfcftcvbocfjer iprcss 1895 ^-^a^ .0^' \^^ Copyright, 1895 BY FANNY H. RUNNELLS POOLE [all rights reserved] Ubc TRuickcrbocfter press, mew li^orf; C?, it cafne o'er my ear like the stveet south. That breathes upon a batik of violets. Duke Orsino in '■'-Twelfth Night. Were Poetry the sweet south breeze, To breathe upon my violets, Delight would thrill the neighboring trees Of Helicon ; and Fancy ease Her heart in far-heard triolets, Were Poetry the sweet south breeze To breathe upon my violets ! F. H. R. P. TO ETHEL Of late when in a May walk's resting-space, I placed you on a knoll of budding green, Impressioned on your brightly-answering face, Slept the calm air, the scene ; Till wonderingly your wee, expectant hands Alit like new-embodied butterflies And shone your eyes on violet-drifted sands, In gladdest baby-wise. May time restore to you that perfect hour ! In some fair future, haply may you trace Some faint and fleeting beauty in each flower Herein, with loving grace. MID-MAY, 1893. CONTENTS PAGE Triolet iii Dedication iv PARTLY FANCY Preludes 3 June 6 Beauty 7 A Marechal Niel Rose 9 The Heart of a Rose 10 The Bobolinks 11 Dream-Wings 13 A Disguise 14 A Peri 15 Love's Jewel 17 Song and Memory 18 A Contrast 20 V CONTENTS PAGE A Persian Episode 22 Bernard De Ventadour 25 Daphne . . .27 Lake Winnipiseogee 29 In the Cemetery at Frankfort .... 30 The Late Year 32 AMONG FRIENDS Reality 37 An Eighty-Sixth Birthday 38 In Her Album 40 A Marriage Morn 41 A Child of Summer 43 In Autumn 46 To the Lyrist of " Let the Dream Go" , . 47 After Reading '* Spain and the Spaniards" . 49 On Reading " Underwoods " .... 52 In the Garden of Keats 53 The Poet OF June 54 Hail and Farewell 55 vi CONTENTS FAITH PAGE Service 59 " One Thing I Do " 60 Reflections . . . . . . . .62 God's Ages 64 Dream of a Toiler 66 Looking unto Spring 68 Christmas Eve 70 Light in Darkness 71 Passing the Portal 73 Heilbronn (Holy Fountain) • • • • 75 A Sunset Thought 76 partli? Jfanc? O Fancy, if thou flyest, come back anon, Thy fluttering wings are soft as love's first word ! — Jean Ingelow. o PRELUDES FEARLESS little brook, fling out your utmost forces, The greening cresses hasten at your shining hem ! Beside, that every heart may drink joy at its sources, Bid all fair weeds come forth to our full need of them ! II And Robin, is it you whose song comes up the hollow ? Trill upon trill, a song whose meaning I would follow, 3 PRELUDES Again as when a child, full wond'ringly I listen, While o'er the timid grass the tears of April glisten ; The clouds bend low in sorrow ; Loved Robin, that you borrow Joy from the darksome day wherewith to bid '* Good-morrow ! " HI Sweet is the sound of Spring to the heart wintry and waiting. Sweet, ah sweet ! Blithe from the building nest is the Robin's note in mating. Sing, for there 's never a space for sighing or for hating, Sing and repeat ! PRELUDES Fleet is the round of joy in the Spring hours gayly flying, Fleet, ah fleet ! Up and follow the breeze ere its buoyant pulse be dying. Sing, for there 's never a space for hating or for sighing, Sing and repeat ! JUNE ■\ TORTHERN May 's a coy, sweet maiden, ^ ^ Blithe of voice, arbutus-laden, But the beauty that we seek is beauty's queen ; She will tune our hearts to singing. Melodist of joy up-winging. We will know her for her breath is eglantine ! When the royal earth discloses Her fond heart in giving roses, And the thrush and swallow warble all in tune, And the hill and meadow smiling Beckon us with looks beguiling. Then from Orient (or Eden) comes the June ! Foam and wave, O emerald grasses. Make a pathway as she passes ! List, how madly wings the bluebird far and near With the tune we can but capture ! — 'T is the universal rapture. And a yu/ie, of queens the fairest^ yune is here ! BEAUTY I I THOUGHT on Beauty, but could not con- * tain My soul, her limit or infinity ! Methought, Where she is not, reveal to me, Conceive her utmost bound my soul would fain ! In mountain solitudes she roams unbound. Her breath but stirs the brook and it is given To curved smile and keen delight of sound. While in untrodden fastnesses, rock-riven, She reigns, august in splendor, far and lone. Surmised of, yet except in dream unknown. II In the immeasurable shadows of the hills Are undulant, dream-tranquil intervales, BEAUTY Wherein to muse, this raptured heart regales, Till all forgot are life's encircling ills. . . . The afterglow, the twilight and the dew Of unworn even pass before me now, And Nature's soul of sweetness me doth woo ; Her nectared breath, dusk form and star-lit brow Would beckon me unto the Life Ideal, Thro' Beauty's ministry, divinely real. A MARECHAL NIEL ROSE "I 1^7'OULDST thou to some lone triumph ' ' marshal us — Some sphere of endless sun Above dim death — some Eden marvellous — Thou dauntless one ? For Rose, succeeding him whose name thou hast, Thou couldst not brook defeat, In our heart's Solferino win at last Victory complete ! THE HEART OF A ROSE TXT" HO knows the inmost heart of a rose, ' * Treasure hidden of sun and dew ? — Knows ere the wizard June unclose Her magical meaning, who ? Ere the lightsome, eager wind doth woo And waft her fragrance, heart of a rose Who knows ? Altho' in my heart thy beauty grows. Purely, my Love, and still more true. Not yet of thy deepest heart disclose, Till I, of the longing view. May wear thee worthily, without rue. My June — the fairest that nature knows — My Rose ! THE BOBOLINKS T^HE buoyant music of the bobolinks -■■ Outpours upon the June ; Now is the high-tide of the year, methinks, With love and joy atune ! Yet more, I ween. Than heard or seen, Is that which back to fancy brings The presence of remembered things. The air is filled with melody, And so, my heart, with memory ! Once more and now, O playmate of my choice, Only to live is SAveet ! Thro' the billowy open floats your voice, Too happy at your feet, THE BOBOLINKS Kingcups, daisies, In grassy mazes, Sway low at your undulant tread ; Hush ! you are calling, " Just ahead. Something soft to keep and to hold, Hurry ! all ebony and gold, " On the brier-rose, there ! O Constantin But off with arrowy flight, Never a moment our grasp within, Gleameth a ray of light. Its way along A daring song ! . . . Ah well ! adown these after-years, Fair is the gold and few the tears. Playmates, we follow yet — and then Here are the bobolinks again ! 12 DREAM-WINGS A CHILD — untrammelled curtains of the '^*- sun fall o'er it In shimmering folds, brown hands reach tire- lessly before it To gain, on restless wing Yon transitory thing ; Believing one, agleam With hope, fast-flying now behold it, Your eager palm cannot enfold it, 'T is but a dream. Sweet tearful child, we feared in vain that you would chase it. We lost a full hour yestermorn, who can re- place it ? And butterflies, and bright romances. The fairest are uncaptured fancies. Are but a dream ! 13 A DISGUISE " f HAVE had joy in life," she said, " and ^ sweet protection Of shielding arms, since o'er my sheltered way A mother's holy presence and supreme affection Passed to be Memory's divinest ray. " O yet new bliss ! my child's pure love to keep the sky bright " — She paused. An angel with melodious breath Whisp'ring, drew o'er her eyes the soft, cool touch of twilight, " I too am Love, but men have called me Death." 14 A PERI /^H, to dream by this dappled stream, ^^ Tuned to thy rune, seolian beeches ! Low the rioting sunbeam reaches, Chasing the trout with wanton gleam. High in the boughs a thrush is hidden, Voicing a rapture free, unbidden. Save the stray angler passing just without — His pathway tracked where coverts lure the rod — None other wanders. Wild azaleas nod. And grudging not, give their heart-perfume out. How deftly moss and clematis do drape This tempting couch the tangled oak-roots shape ! 15 A PERI Full happiness in life doth here abide. Such fragrant calm imparts the wilding grape, Would it might penetrate yon hovel-side ! — What joy, what hope one woman might betide, Haply to stitch, throughout stern morrows. Something — not hunger's garb, nor sorrow's ! i6 LOVE'S JEWEL TTOLD this opal to the light, '■' * Maiden, each tint glows — Violet and rose. Flame of ruby, diamond white. I can see at clearest view Your pure heart, beside, — Each fond charm denied Save to one who 's nearest you. 17 SONG AND MEMORY /^^H, song for the sadness of life ^-^ As for the bird its wings ! But oh, my heart, that bears a dart For beauty of past things ! — For the gleam of a vanished day, A far-receding shore, The sweetness of a rhythmic lay That fills the soul no more. One haunting face of other-while, The passion of a tear, Remembered radiance of a smile That now suns other sphere ; A half-revealed, shy caress. The magic of a word, The flutter of a faded tress. By breath of fancy stirred. SONG AND MEMORY Oh, Song for the sorrow of life, As for the bird its wings ! But why, my heart, to bear a dart For beauty of past things ? Such vital joys can never die, They are as hope to love. They sing themselves in Memory As angels sing above. 19 A CONTRAST l~^ORIS at the piano, so eager, with eyes a- *~^ glisten, Bent on a witching melody, pauses a space to listen, Just outside In the madcap wind the branches moan and shiver. All thro' the storm-blown dell comes the driven spray of the river. Everything 's bright within. Life leaps in a keen desire ! Grandchild Ruth with her quaint doll-wisdom regales the Squire, Youth makes swift to explore the beautiful, wise and strange, Art and science lure the mind on their un- bounded range. 20 A CONTRAST Brother Ralph for the nonce surrenders his geometric plan, When a Viking shouts from his blazoned niche, " Draw me, if you can ! " While Doris, speeding the attack by a storm of thrilling sound. Wakes at the fireside citadel the faithful, dream- eyed hound. Thus as the storm-king rideth the night that heavily trembles, Stepping within, methinks the scene a heav'n of joy resembles ; One with Doris and Ralph, attune I gladness for Nature's weeping. Leaving the unsolved problem of life to God's most gracious keeping ! A PERSIAN EPISODE Violet : A H me ! sits he within the oaken chair, -'*■ Deep-buried in a tale of Persian lore ? Or at the easel-shrine doth he recline, Scanning a wood-nymph sweet beyond compare ? My lord, whose nearness makes the day divine, I see him thro' the jealous-guarding door. Oh, if I were an houri, lotus-fair, I would steal in, as wave upon the shore, To clasp him ! and arise incarnadine. As 't were from out that mystic-breathing prayer, The Yazna^ which amid the Zend doth shine ; (He would not marvel, and I glad him more.) Nay, nay ! to break the charm I should not dare. Over the Zend-Avesta he doth pore ; A few weeks since, he said my eyes were wine, And now, grown picturesque in my despair, 22 A PERSIAN' EPISODE Beside his name I stitch a silk Gulnare. Too-happy scarf of sheen ! for you will twine Around my hakim j he will understand And think me Rob : Violet ! Violet, where are you ? Prithee, leave broider-work and come to me ! Copy this treatise in your firm, clear hand. The publisher may then more plainly see The beauties of the doctrine, brought to view, Of Zoroaster Why, my sweet, 't is true. You grieve. What, tears ? Yes, heavily the dew Doth shroud my Violet. It gives me pain. And why ? I do insist, pray, Love, explain ; I cannot bear it, — if you weep, woe 's me ! Violet (sobbing) : O Rob, you are so noble — learn'd and grand — 23 A PERSIAN EPISODE If I — were — Zoroaster — I might gain — Your love — for which I long — to-day — in vain — Because — I love you ! Rob (enclasping her) : Is that all ? My own ! Why he, poor fellow, is a great unknown ! Believe me, I declare Violet : Well Rob : On the strand The breeze comes tenderly. Let 's walk alone. {JSxeunf.) 24 BERNARD DE VENTADOUR 1169 SHINE out in mediaeval lore, In proud chateau and abbey hoar, Like violets on a barren moor, The love-lays of the troubadour, Bernard de Ventadour. 'Mid kingly wrath and feudal wrong, In truth what lives so sweet as song ? What knight but finds his fairest prize In love-light of his lady's eyes ? And doughty deeds may well enhance Acceptance of the fair one's glance, While, for the kiss withholden long, Thy pleading eloquence of song, Bernard de Ventadour. 25 BERNARD DE VENTADOUR If thou be fled, we follow thence Thy peerless witchery, Provence ! As the Inrushing years full sweet The miracle of morn repeat. From love's unquiet gloom not less Sj)ring fire and strength and tenderness. And we would speed a shaft of song To quell the indefinable wrong, Perchance to glad the world once more- Our Agnes and our Eleanore, Thro' smile or scorn, undaunted, sure. While love and life and time endure, Like thee, O sage and troubadour, Bernard de Ventadour ! 26 DAPHNE "1 )[ THEN comes the drowsy milking-time, ' ' Beside a sweet-breathed cow She sits, the Daphne of my rhyme, With grave but winsome brow. The redbreast calls his happy mate, The partridge sounds his drum, While 't is for Daphne's smile sedate That hillward I am come ; And if my love I cannot speak, 'T is she who knows the whole, Oh, 't is the blush on Daphne's cheek That lingers in my soul. And Oh, to win her love I '11 dare. Whoe'er may chide or chaff me ! It 's moonlight fair and fresh the air. And o'er the hills to Daphne ! DAPHNE One eve a kiss I did surprise ; Sure, I had guessed her then, But no, there 's magic in her eyes Not read of gods or men. I wonder not I often sigh, A-following my teams, To think that such a bore as I Should dare disturb her dreams ! All round Chocorua's friendly peak The dazzling sun-clouds roll. But 't is the blush on Daphne's cheek That burns into my soul. The village lads — because she 's not For them, they oft will chaff me, But be my lot a simple cot And long sweet life with Daphne ! 28 LAKE WINNIPISEOGEE \ 7[ /"E know not which is fairer, the repose ^ ^ Of verdured islands, or the tremulous foam That guards them, as the ancients cradled Rome — Cherished in sjDlendor. To the heights gleam those Majestic sentinels that silence knows And the proud heavens ; — Chocorua's lofty home, Ossipee, Whiteface, Belknap's double dome, Lone Washington and Lafayette, where glows A grandeur that exceedeth mortal ken. Lake of the hills, thou art the link to bind Yon mountains and our souls! thy beating breast, Less equable, endears the humble mind ; For had ye. Hills, no human bond confest. Ye were the shrine of gods and not of men ! 29 IN THE CEMETERY AT FRANKFORT I WANDER in a city, tranquil, fair. Upon whose towers the sun's departing beam Betokens the sweet bound of mortal care ; Below, the music of a winding stream, Above, birdsongs in the dream-laden air, And still above, blue heavens of which we dream. And souls of them who sleep the glory wear. They sleep, to wake unfettered of the clay — Dear forms who bore unknown life's better part And softly stole upon the heavenly way ; The brave, enshrined within the nation's heart — 30 IN THE CEMETERY AT FRANKFORT Are they unmindful of our love to-day ? Each soul, well-rounded howsoe'er thou art, Eternity be good to thee, we pray. I wander in a city, tranquil, fair, I can but think, of all earth's joy 't were best To sleep amid so much of beauty there, Resigning all on Nature's tender breast. Far from the strife of worlds that do and dare, O blest foreshadow of most perfect rest ! O heights of God, the soul's eternal share ! 31 THE LATE YEAR OAD is the vanishing year, ^^ But sweet her farewell glancing. Oh, the squirrel chirps good cheer From his full granary dancing, His conscious head a-toss ; He knows all ruddy mirth, But not the pain of loss. She 's weary — the gray old earth. Sing ho, and fair be her dreaming ! Sweet the ling'ring scent of flowers, But sad their vacant places, Oh, the browning woodland bowers Laugh with jubilant faces ; — The frisk hare and field mouse, And otter near the brook, The newly-feathered grouse With his wise, prophetic look. Sing ho, for the warm life teeming ! THE LATE YEAR Oh, the downy, drifted ground, — Shy, furry folk they delve it, And often tread a gay round As 't were on princely velvet, Between, the frosty boughs The amber sunset glows, Such wealth the day allows, On, on to its starry close ! Sing ho, the exultant gleaming ! It is only we who yield Sorrow the parting season, The simple life of the field Hath instinct 'bove our reason ; On such the snow doth fall — Joy's benedicite. But Spring's inspiring call For the souls that dream with me ! Sing ho, and fair be the dreaming ! 33 Hmong frienbe Neither is life long enough for friendship ; that is serious and majestic affair. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 35 REALITY "I A THAT joy to breathe the air by thee made ' * sweet, To tread the woodland ways by thee made dear ! Almost I fear me, trembling, art thou here — Lurks here the rhythmic cadence of thy feet ? With what a pure, proud rapture wouldst thou greet Me as of old ! Yet for the whelming tear. The rush of blissful pain to feel thee near, I scarce could brook thine ardent eyes to meet. Forgive, dear heart, alone is mine the blame ; E'en to the over-world, thou like a star Doth rise to claim the homage of my heart ; What though unsought, O claimant, be thy claim ! Thou reignest o'er my life from realms afar, Inspirer of my nature and my art ! 37 AN EIGHTY-SIXTH BIRTHDAY TO H. S. B., JUNE I, 1883 T^O one whose long and busy years -■- Count many a noble action done, Who in the race of life appears Victor, with triumphs bravely won. And triumphs yet to wun are thine. Ere victor's crown upon thee shine. For steadfast souls the world hath room, Them, flatt'ring fortune cannot foil. Such souls are sunlight to the gloom ; Are sinew to the arm of toil ; Are to the suffering friend no less That they themselves have earned success. Such is thy life, O brave and fair ! And thou, upheld by love and truth, 38 AN EIGHTY-SIXTH BIRTHDAY Dost ever in a world of care Maintain thy gladsome heart of youth — A heart that winter may not guess, But fraught with June's own loveliness ! While peerless June on either hand, Proclaims the joy-time of the year, Laden with goodly bloom, how grand Thy six and eighty years appear ! As June with flowers, so is thy life Fragrant of deeds with kindness rife. And when thy heart shall cease to beat — The life that dawned with dawning June When ceased — what memory more sweet, To aching hearts what richer boon, Than that each coming June shall start Some fresh remembrance of thine heart ? 39 IN HER ALBUM OTILL go thy way, sweet friend, ^^ Garner rich thoughts to lend Food to the fainting, vision to the blind ! Finding all beauty where thy footsteps tend, " Haunted forever by the eternal Mind." 40 A MARRIAGE MORN TO H. N. K. WELCOME to this thrice happy morn, The gladdest of a glad young life, Since first it breathes with joy new-born The hallowed name of wife ! Heaven's richest gifts be ever strown, And flowers of purity and truth For her who linketh with thine own The beauty of her youth. Unfold in beauty, hills and fields, Beam forth in light, in bloom and song ! While earth her fairest foliage yields And bright hours speed along. 41 A MARRIAGE MORN Unite thy radiance with the sky, Thou earth, so old yet ever young ! Let love be twofold melody, Be twofold bridals sung ! Let the stern years, a motley throng. Unbroken find thy dream of bliss, Find the old love still ever strong — A world outlasting this. 42 A CHILD OF SUMMER ''T^ WAS in the time of golden-rod, -■> When o'er the woodland's changing green A faint September blush is seen, When up and down the teeming sod Tawn bees are clover-banqueting, When swallows mount on Southward wing, When latest Summer's winy cheer Uplifts the full heart of the year. Just in the year's enchanted prime, An angel with invisible wings. Fairer than all imaginings. She came, and set our lives to rhyme. Starred with grave wonder, shy surprise, Shone clear the midnight of her eyes, And there suffused her face swart gleams Of lately-hovering tropic dreams. 43 A CHILD OF SUMMER Now, longer strayed from that far land Where Summer doth not bid adieu, Still to her birthright is she true, A wood-nymph — lingers in her hand The goddess Summer's ardent touch, Summer leans to her overmuch ; She hath the haunting croon of brooks Subdued in leafy, slumbering nooks. She knows the mystic harmonies — Composite music of the breeze At play thro' silver birchen trees — And oft her voice doth echo these. For her, grow soft the tones of birds, That she may comprehend their words. She knows the twinkling showers that pass, The wind that waves the upland grass. Thro' storm and calm of seasons' change. Companioned still by Summer's grace, 44 A CHILD OF SUMMER About her fresh and radiant face The purest fancies charmed range. God grant no cloud of doubt may dim His child's unbounded faith in Him, Nor ever sorrow, nor unrest Make her less summer-fair and blest ! 45 IN AUTUMN HAST thou forgotten, heart of love, How fair the beauty fled, That thou dost see around, above, The glory of the dead — The passing splendor that must only Desert us, thus bereft and lonely ? Thou Friend who fadest from my clasp ! Around me blossometh Thy greatness, my poor mind would grasp. Thy very life in death ! Let past be past ; I can but guess thee, 'T is Nature's self who doth confess thee ! 46 TO THE LYRIST OF "LET THE DREAM GO" ANNE REEVE ALDRICH \ T OT as an infant, reaching timid hands -*• ^ To unknown darkness, didst thou greet the lands Lit by the wisdom of thy heart and brain, Foreseen and sung by sight and music fain, With faith's own clearness And loving nearness Breathing throughout thy message unmistaken. Pure heart, by death not crushed, nor even shaken, Only hast left the song-lit halls awhile Where I yet pause, remembering thy smile, Remembering the radiance of thy face. Knowing thine echoed voice, thy spirit's grace. 47 TO THE LYRIST OF ''LET THE DREAM GO" Thee did Thought's couriers hail on restless feet— Their hope, their joy to me thou didst repeat. Then earnest Death, even with feet of love ! * Who said that thou art dead ? Hark, from above Floats some rich thought of thine To other hearts than mine ! So fair thy life, enthroned in memory so, Who evermore couldst let the bright dream go ? * The Feet of Love is the name of a novel written by Miss Aldrich. 48 AFTER READING "SPAIN AND THE SPANIARDS " TO EDMONDO DE AMICIS "\ X /"E thank thee, O traditioner and sage ^ ' Worthy of Marco Polo and his land, Dispenser of delight, at whose command Grave History unfolds a glowing page ! Caliph and odalisque, of some dim age, — King, painter, poet pass — a stately band — Zorilla, Espronceda, and the grand Cervantes who inspires our noble rage. Ourselves we 'd barter for a lightsome rover In many-mosqued and rose-perfumed Cordova, Stray Andalusian airs anon to hear 4 49 ''SPAIN AND THE SPANIARDS" The while we sail the fair Guadalquiver ! By gay kiosk, by Moorish palaces, High-towered Seville and dazzling-white Cadiz. II O tireless traveller, we follow thee Where dreamed the great Columbus with the eyes Far-seeing, which divined a New World rise ! Deep in that old Sevillian library Felt he the deathless honors yet to be. We too, with growing tenderness would prize The annotations masterful and wise Upon this parchment rich with prophecy ! Bright roamer, friend, we cherish thy impres- sions. To all brave deeds our soul would make con- fessions, 50 ''SPAIN AND THE SPANIARDS" Till truth and beauty into being grow Bold with Velasquez, calm with Murillo. . . . Speed on ! E'en while th' Alhambra charms our view, Thoughts of Columbus shape our life anew ! 51 ON READING " UNDERWOODS " And strains there are That whoso hears shall hear for evermore. — Robert Louis Stevenson. SOMETIME ago 'mid Underwoods I pon- dered, Feeding upon the morn, While from fields newly shorn Fragrant south winds round me dreamily wan- dered. Somewhere made melody A tranced spirit, Ever I hear it Stilling life's threnody. Was 't the voice of the hermit thrush ? I pon- dered, Or likewise, pure, apart, Stevenson's boundless art ? When amid " Underwoods " charm-bound I wandered. 52 IN THE GARDEN OF KEATS " I can feel the flowers growing over me," Keats said to friend in his last springtime. OUCH wealth of Poetry divine ^^ Doth ease love's darkling sorrow. Then, primrose, ope thy sunlit hope, For joy doth wait the morrow ! Pass classic shapes of quiet bliss. Passes to dream, Endymion. Then back to Truth, O beauteous Youth, Call thy reveille clarion ! Ah, Heaven, that not to him the winds Might whisper thy foreknowing. Deathless the bays of love and praise My Keats felt o'er him growing ! 53 THE POET OF JUNE WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT T^HOU Poet, crowned with song's supremest ''• powers, Who, in that realm from pain and death aparf, Dost link, responsive to our longing heart, The infinite with some stray chord of ours ! As waiting nature greets the wondrous showers Bidding a barren earth in beauty start, Oh, would that we, by thine inspiring art. Might weave thee garlands eloquent in flowers ! And June is here, Interpreter who fled. Her halo still upon thy laurelled head To be divinely bright while ages roll ; Thy pure eyes glow a June-day's temperate fire, A June adagio sweeps thy " living lyre," With stately rapture to enthrall our soul ! 54 HAIL AND FAREWELL ! MAKE the hours jocund with rout and was- sail, The goodly board heap high ! My fancy it paints a gleaming castle Where fairest life flits by, Where youths and maidens foot it madly Under the mistletoe ; The Old Year joins the mirth right gladly There 's minstrelsy, but Oh, When comes the young day *t will be sung or said : Ail hail to tJie blithe and kingly corner^ But here 's a sigh for the Year that is fled ! Oh, a knightly train, with old-time graces Sweeps o'er the palace floor. With high-born beauty and flower-sweet faces ; Us they may charm no more ! 55 HAIL AND FAREWELL There 's the gay jester, Joy-in-despair, Slain of a broken heart ; But heavenly Charity lingers there, (Hers is a deathless part). List, while at the dawn 't will be sung or said All hail to a blithe and kingly corner^ But here 's a sigh /or the Year that is fled ! Hey the New Year, the frolicsome fellow ! Pleasure his reign foretells, Pledge him the wassail, fruity and mellow. Pledge — Hark, the chime of bells ! Ah ! when our dream of life is ended — Lost in the Higher Will, May one fond heart we have befriended Hold us in memory still ! At morn may it one time be sung or said : Love will yet be^ J^oy^ a frequent corner^ But here 's a sigh for the friend who is fled! 56 jfaitb Still shall I climb, Even though the stars shine not on my steep way ; Sometime — sometime — That upland I will gain, and find the day. — Robert Burns Wilson. 57 SERVICE NOT in the possibilities of power, Nor grand, vague theories of truth and right. Not what were ours had we attained the height Of culture, wisdom-crowned, with art a-flower, Nay ! but the service of the present hour Enlists us, claims our life's supremest might ; In what we are is triumph or delight. In what we are lies our immortal dower. And it is glorious — this gift of life, More glorious that He, the chiefest man. Forsook heaven's throne to tread these human ways. His the high passion, His the nobler strife Shaping and strengthening our spirit's plan ; To us perfected life, to Him the praise ! 59 ''ONE THING I DO" " I press on toward the goal, unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." SAINT PAUL, thy ringing words shall rouse the soul To all brave action ! Nobler far the strife Shall be accounted to attain the goal Of Christian truth, than to devote this life To fame's achievement, or some worldly prize. Still Godward shall the mark of manhood rise. " One thing I do " — how few of us can say — Amid the checkered toil of brain and hand, The fall of high ideals, and the sway Of masters who feel not, nor understand. The many feeble and the mighty few, Who lives can truly say, *' One thing I do " ? 60 ''ONE THING I DO'' And yet 't is possible, O heavenly thought, Life-giving hope, the soul's enduring test ! — To keep the faith for which th' apostles fought. And afterward receive their blessed rest. Through persecutions let the echo roll — "One thing I do, I press on toward the goal ! " 6i REFLECTIONS T T NCONSCIOUSLY we write upon our faces ^^ The feeling and the fancy of the hour, Whether our hearts possess love's kindred graces, Or hatred's power. Whether our lives are broadened by brave daring — Strife against sin and selfish, sordid greed, Or hardened by the heart-felt truth unsharing. Into mere creed. If human eyes be quick to pierce the splendor And solve the secrets of the starry skies, They must irradiate a mind full tender. Strong for surprise. 62 REFLECTIONS Fair Science binds our inner sight with beauty, Philosophy the sluggish brain doth start, — Varied and lovely makes the path of duty, Nature is Art. Ill Noble must be the motive that befriends us, Action alert to follow Heaven's commands ; Never some dream of destiny defends us From life's demands. So in the mirror of our deeds that cluster About us, and our thoughts like stars of night. No dimness be recorded in their lustre. But growing light. . . . Our hearts do burn within us, earth is waning. We follow in the way Thy feet have trod. So would we live the life of Thine ordaining. Thou Man of God. 63 GOD'S AGES TTERE in the broad fields of the busy West, *- *■ A generous harvest waits the tireless hand ; With peaceful trust the palmy days are blest, And sweet, unbroken rest the nights com- mand ; Amid brave toil and hope and courage strong, God's ages roll along. In other lands, the calm expanse of heaven Is ofttimes rent by clash and cloud of wars. To seething strife humanity is given, Till pitying earth the ebbing life-tide draws. Yet who can doubt, serene above the wrong, God's ages roll along ? Whether the glad earth blossom, teem with fruit, Or her fond bosom bear the load of death, 64 GOD'S AGES Whether the soul in dark distrust be mute, Or from its woe give forth melodious breath, Whether defeat, or victor's joyful song, God's ages roll along ! 65 DREAM OF A TOILER J\ yi ORN'S varied music ^ ^ ■*■ A child rejoices, Chanting of brooks and bird-songs And faint wind-voices. Such music woke me From peaceful sleeping, The home-angel hovered near, Loving watch keeping ; Her dear arms round me, The rose-dawn breaking, Her sweet accents, '' Wake, my child, The flowers are waking." That was the old time ! Ah, but once only 66 DREAM OF A TOILER Can such bliss revisit me Toil-worn and lonely. Once will a twilight Bloom into morning, When hush ! within slumber steals Softly — a warning ; Fore-gleams of heaven By dim eyes taken, God's voice, " Wake, little dreamer ! And I shall waken. 67 LOOKING UNTO SPRING "\ TOW fade the wreathed fires of fragrant -*■ ^ clover, Now ebbs the high-tide banqueting of bees, The purple bloom for heaviness hangs over, Nor lures the wing of bird, or lightsome breeze. There falls a burden in the lap of ease. While, O my heart. How hard to watch the flush of joy depart ! Silent the thrushes' deep and mellow numbers, Low lies the sun of hope along the West, The squirrel treads where yet the violet slum- bers, Her waning life Earth gathers to her breast. 68 LOOKING UNTO SPRING Not yet, O Earth, thy deep, foreshadowing rest ! But why, my heart, Should seasons move thee, steadfast as thou art ? Such eloquence abides in blossom lowly. In branches bountiful and cool of breath, So full yon fountain-flow of meaning holy — A human good to him who travelleth, 'T is given to look beyond the grasp of death, Believing heart, To be of Spring's awakening the part. O God, how can we brook thy loving favor ! The humblest rill doth cheer the solitude. And shall we, suppliant of Thy mercy ever. Forbear to quell the wrong, diffuse the good ? Only the burden borne, the self withstood May hope to start Th' eternal spring of God within the heart ! 69 CHRISTMAS EVE HRISTIANS, behold upon this blessed c ^^ night, Far upward from the yule-log's festive greet- ing, The star of peace, the angel clad in light. And heavenly hosts the Gloria repeating ! O world-wide joy, with thee our hearts are beating ! Christians awake ! there yet is rayless night In hearts that ache beneath the midnight glory ; Bear we to them good gifts, restoring light, — The least of them, — we know the Nazareth story. And we have reached the Christ in all His glory ! 70 H LUX IN TENEBRIS OW beautiful is everything but sin I wondered if to lives in prison hordes Any pure morning ray may enter in, — Lives that unyielding fate no joy affords, But which, led forth in chains by tens and scores, Are to harsh toil immured and goading guard. And yet, methought, the dull reluctant doors Some stray delight of dawn cannot retard ; Albeit the full daytide should hold aloof, Still must all nature free itself of night. Still must the image of the God bear proof Of His divine command. Let there be light ! To each must fall th' allotted destiny — The greater or the less — nor come to naught The soul's invincible immortality 71 LUX IN TENEBRIS Which is our birthright. Vainly did my thought Aspire to mount yon vast, mysterious wall, And solve such dread beyond. Oh, could I ease One aching load, or lift the heavy pall. To cheer by word or deed one heart of these — God's creatures, madly toiling out their lives In living death — in dearth of all glad things ! Nay, nay ! the Land of Endless Good survives Wherefrom there flew a bird of sunlit wings ; It cleared the massive close, while voicing free, No longer hushed, the universal song ! Some prisoner's answ'ring throb of melody Blent with the paean, I know, and borne along In swift, convincing harmonies was heard The message I had sought, without, within — The miracle of morning and the bird. How beautiful is everything but sin ! 72 PASSING THE PORTAL T T OW terrible is death ! '*' "*■ The hush, the pall, the farewell softly taken, The sleep mysterious, love can no more waken, The well-beloved enwrapt in icy calm, And ours no power to break the cruel charm. How terrible, how wonderful is death ! How beautiful is death ! All human life doth seem an idle story, The mortal doth put on immortal glory ; O Gone Beyond, whose memory endears A word, a look, recalled with rush of tears ! How beautiful, how wonderful is death ! Beauty and wonder, majesty and awe. From out the closing dream of life we draw ; PASSING THE PORTAL Yet who can say that life and love are ended ? By all sweet hope, though dimly comprehended, Undying intimations of the soul Will yet reveal the whole — ineffable whole. " It doth not yet appear what we shall be," We trust ourselves to One more wise than we. A blinding, speechless joy will take our breath, And we shall pass the portal which is Death. 74 HEILBRONN He that would make life free, true and beautiful should go to Heilbronn. — Schubarth. QCHUBARTH, thy words decree swift elo- ^^ quence ! An inward light consuming outward thought Two-orbed as Virginis by Herschel sought, Wherein he gave the brighter, precedence Of sun to its immediate earth. With sense Binate and clear, like to this star inwrought, Schubarth, thy bold persuasion we have caught And echoed from our soul's pure eminence. Like Leon, we impress the land and sea. We pilgrims, mocked as by mirage of youth ; Yet not in vain our wayfaring, in truth The Love supreme is with us, crowning peace. And the divine Source of life which maketh free — Our Heilbronn, thro' all ages not to cease ! 75 A SUNSET THOUGHT /^^ RADIANCE mine when day is o'er, ^-^ O sunset reach of thought to dwell On joys that linger at heaven's door ! And calm the introspective view Of what is given me to do, For if I fail, with purpose true, God knoweth all, and it is well. And be it mine at close of life — This rapture given, whate'er befell. Of yesterdays not filled with strife, — This gleam of the Unlived to lend Foreglory. Truth the Godward trendy Were imperfected life's great end, God knoweth all, and it is well. 76