Class F^ ^55^ Book Q^ry 71 GopghtF L^fS COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. TWILIGHT AND OTHER VERSE ®toilisi)t AND OTHER VERSE By Walter Clarke Rodman %^'^'^s, % I'M \rC ^ ^// \S^ ^v( ih ^ \1 y/% »!>V^ %^% 2^ PHILADELPHIA PrmteD tor |)ntoate Cirralatian By J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 1915 6-^ < COPYRIGHT, 19IS, BY WALTER CLARKE RODMAN AUG 20 1915 ©Ci.A411151 To L. N. R. TO ONE WHOSE GENTLE SPIRIT IS TO MINE COMPANION STILL, THOUGH SIGHT AND TOUCH NO MORE MAY RECOGNIZE HER PRESENCE, I DEVOTE AND DEDICATE THIS RECORD OF MY THOUGHTS CONTENTS PAGE Twilight 9 Faith's April 10 Lost, A Day H Angels 12 The Word Eternal 13 Faith and the Voice 14 His Narrow Way 15 Ask Him 16 Grapes, or Wild Grapes? 17 Jesus Wept 18 In Adria 19 At Bethany 21 Esther 22 Hannah 22 Mary 23 Out of Doors in the Holy Land 24 At the Cross Roads 25 Old and New Year 26 The Coral Isles 27 Grass, Leaves and Wistaria 28 The Sunset Sea 29 Sleep 30 Christmas 31 The Greatest of These 32 Compensation 33 Faith Effective 34 Seeing and Believing 35 The Trysting Place 36 May Time 37 The Cipher 38 7 Contents PAGE The Philosopher 39 The Last Mosquito 40 My Sweetheart, Spring 41 To Mother at Seventy 42 Lovers' Hearts 43 Stolen Sweets 44 The Mound 45 Across the Table 46 Home's Queen 47 At Midnight 48 Lasting Love 48 The Clock Strikes 49 Away 50 March Winds 51 Madonna , 52 Night and Morning 53 Loved and Lost Awhile 54 Forgiven, not Forgotten 55 Petition 56 A Rhyme of Days 56 When I Pass On 58 Finis? 59 TWILIGHT Soft shadows gather in the afternoon; And as the mellow sunlight wanes and fades, There comes a grateful stillness. Twilight falls, And Nature, in her myriad motherly ways Invites to peace and quiet. Oh how sweet Is rest, contented rest, when work is done! No more the burden of the blinding day; No more the tiring task, the anxious thought. The restless longing and the feverish haste; No more the greed of praise, the fear of blame; No more the care, the worry — nay, no more Of anything that frets; only sweet rest. How hushed the air; the earth, how strangely still; But see, there faintly glints a friendly star. That brighter glows each moment, as 'twould say, *'Fear not the night, I'll bide and watch with thee. FAITH'S APRIL One dreary April day, Spring dropped asleep And dreamt of Winter; and in tender showers Fell unrestrained her tears, till bird-voiced May With cheery carol chased the dream away. Then Spring delighted woke, forgot to weep, And smiHng, crowned her blest ally with flowers. Faith's April 'tis, when bold in dreams, unsought. Called from the wintry past she knows not how, Doubts conquered once, in wild rebellion throng. Faith weeps in fear, but Hope, with soulful song Routs the grim troop, and Faith with flowers of thought, Glad, pure and holy, decks her sister's brow. LOST, A DAY "Lost, lost, lost, a day Out of my life on earth. Ho, crier, haste and clang thy bell; Speed through the crowd; Cry long and loud My loss, and tell Its priceless worth. Here's thrice thy pay!" "Nay, friend," the crier said; " Keep in thy purse thy gold. Oft have I cried the loss of days, Cried far and wide, But vainly cried. Nay, go thy ways; The tale is old; Thy day is dead." Dead, lost, wasted day! Yet shalt thou live again In many a sad tomorrow still; Thy words and deeds, Like noxious weeds Bear fruit of ill Through life — and then For aye and aye! II ANGELS Oft in some kindly face we see A pledge of immortality, As in the gleam of gentle eyes We catch a glimpse of Paradise. What's Heaven? A realm remote, as far As yon dim, coldly distant star; With lofty gates that ne'er unlock Save at the self-assurant knock Of saints elect? Nay, never so! Heaven's homely door is near and low; And one may enter there, nor guess The portal passed; yet none the less May bide within, though plodding still With patient footsteps, up the hill. He dwells in Heaven, whose heart-beats chime With Youth's ideals; whom Care and Time Would age in vain. His soul is young. For joy is his own mother-tongue. Simple his life; his only arts — The word of cheer to drooping hearts; The ready smile; the generous hand; The sympathy to understand, The grace to soothe another's woes; His own, forgetting to disclose. He who thus loves to live, 'tis he Has Heaven's Open Sesame! 12 THE WORD ETERNAL Isaiah xl, 6-8. Cry, said the Voice; and answering the call, What shall I cry? said he. Cry that all flesh is grass, and cry that all Its goodliness shall be As is the field-flower. Withered is the grass, And faded is the flower. Because the Spirit of the Lord doth pass Upon them in their hour. The grass must wither and the flower must fade; The Word of Him whose hand The grass, the flower, and mortal flesh hath made, Forevermore shall stand. Ye mote-discerning scribes of latter-day, With misused eyes who look Through earth-made lenses, keen to steal away God's sanction from His Book, Whereof one jot or tittle shall not pass 'Till He fulfilleth all; To Him ye are but upstart blades of grass. And at a breath ye fall. Know this, that when ye too shall fade and die, What time the Lord may will. His Word, in spite of critics low or high, Shall stand unshaken still! 13 FAITH AND THE VOICE Faith from the heights Looks down and sighs; For to her eyes Come saddening sights. Beneath her feet she marks a weary mass Of men with muck-rakes, groping in the mire For chance-gold; there she sees the idlers pass With empty hands, and rags for scant attire. Lurking in yonder shade Waits desperate Crime, With Misery, his maid, And bides his time. Lust, Vice and Fraud Ride f^auntingly abroad, While Virtue plods the byways, half afraid. "How long," again Sighs Faith, "How long Shall Want and Wrong Rule over men? Is that Millennium all a myth? Can God Forget His children?" Soft a Voice replies, 'Did I not suffer too, and kiss the rod?" Faith lifts her face to the illumined skies And whispers "It is He! Complaining heart, be dumb And wait, for thou shalt see His Kingdom come. Day conquers Night, And Wrong shall yield to Right; Thou seest Time; God sees Eternity." 14 HIS NARROW WAY Matt, vii, 14 I've trod Thy narrow path all day. I'm heartsick, footsore, weak; So steep and stony is the way Thy Scripture bade me seek. With vague regret I think on those Who laughing, idling, pluck the rose Along the highway That is not Thy way. My prisoned soul shall soar, I know At last on Heavenward wings; Meantime, with painful steps I go, And long for earthly things; Doubting if endless peace requites A lifetime barren of delights — Rest everlasting This mortal fasting. O self deceived ! My way is strewn With violets; arched with vine. That rugged hill-road is thine own, A travesty of Mine. Though found by few, for thee it wends Through pleasant pastures, and ascends A path of flowers To Zion's towers. IS His Narrow Way An easy yoke, a burden light I promised tiiee. What need To doubt if Heaven can requite A penance self-decreed? Go, seek again; nor shalt thou miss On earth, full meed of human bliss, Treadst thou the byway That's truly My way. ASK HIM Johnix, 21 Shall we presume to say how those blind eyes — Eyes we have loved and pitied in their plight. Have on a sudden opened to the light. And seen God's sunshine out of blackness rise? We knew our son was blind, and we have wept To see him wandering, stumbling, falling oft. We tried to lead him, with persuasion soft As love can make it; but an anguish crept Into our hearts and dwelt there. He was blind, Aye, from his birth he saw not. But today He sees! No longer shall he miss the way; No longer fall or stumble. He shall find Safe guidance, though our own eyes maj^ grow dim. But ask not us the means; we know no more Than that he sees, whom we knew blind before. Lo, there he stands; he is of age; ask him! i6 GRAPES, OR WILD GRAPES? Isaiah v God fenced His vineyard all about. And all the stones He gathered out. He -planted there the choicest vine. A tower He built; a press for wine. He looked to bring forth grapes, and lo. Wild grapes zvere all it would bestow. Thou heart of mine, fair vineyard proudly set Upon a fruitful hill; so blest, and yet So prone to failure! God hath guarded thee From inward menace and from outward foe; Hath planted in thy midst a living tree, Thine easy task to merely let it grow. Useless the winepress, for so hard thou art, The grapes it bears are wild, thou flinty heart. ' Twixt Him and His, implored He them Of Judah and Jerusalem To judge, and say what could He more Have done; and why His vineyard bore Wild grapes instead of grapes; and why His vine should thus His hope deny? God asks thee why? What answer canst thou make? O heart, thou idly slumbering heart, awake! Drink the soft rain, the fervent sunshine which He daily sends thee, and with all thy strength Give to His vine a life so warm, so rich With good, that when thine Autumn comes at length, His hand shall gladly gather from the vine Good grapes that pressed shall yield Him perfect wine. 3 17 JESUS WEPT John xi, 35 He was a man of sorrows, and acquaint With grief, and when they led Him where one lay Whom He had loved, He wept; and who can say How ached His human heart? But not for this, That Lazarus had died. Nay, how could One Who knew the grave a door to greater bliss. Have wept at such promotion? 'Twas that none Believed in Him, but inly made complaint Of His indifference, as Mary cried "Hadst Thou been here, my brother had not died!" Yet He was glad He was not there! How curt A saying, out of lips that breathed but Love; For had He hasted, He had spared the hurt Of parting, and the hours of tearful grief, Bitter no less because they were so brief. Nay, to have saved him were indeed a sign, But thus to raise him proved a power above All earthly ken, the strength of Love Divine! For thus He loved, and so He loves to-day, When but to give again, He takes away. IN ADRIA Acts xxvii, 29 "Then fearing lest they should have fallen upon rocks, they cast four anchors out of the stern, and wished for day." The Men. How dark the night; the sea, how fear- some high; The wind, how furiously keen! In Adria's deeps 'twere easier to die, Than hurled on rocks unseen, To perish twice. The Master. Out with our anchor there, Endurance named. A mighty strain 'twill bear. I've proved it oft in raging tempests when Death walked expectant on the leeward shore. The Men. We're lost; the anchor drags! The Master. Then try again, And speak that word no more. For here is Hope, an anchor good and strong. It grips to anything That seems to offer foothold, and as long As night endures, 'twill cling. 19 In Adria The Men. Hope fails us too — see how we drive — Come, Death! The Master. Try Resignation. All but lost, I cast this anchor, and in one long breath It found a hold, and though 'twas rudely tossed. Our ship thus cheated Death. The Men. All three are dragging. Let's give o'er and wait The end inevitable. It is Fate. The Master. Peace! I've a sure deliverance here at hand; Its name is Faith. It cannot fail. 'Twill make Its bed below the seething, shifting sand And hold till morning break. The Men. Shall morning come? Oh, for the day- light! The Master. Yea; Safe, by four anchors held, our ship shall ride. But still the night is dark, and rough the tide. Trusting, yet longs the heart for break of Day; In Adria The day when all to endure has been endured; When, to the worst resigned, we've gained the best; When Hope fruition finds, and Faith has cured The heart of longing, and the soul finds rest. AT BETHANY John xi, 5 Luke x, 38 Beloved of Jesus were the three He visited at Bethany. Martha, with serving cumbered, full of care. And troubled over many things, dwelt there; Mary, the teachable, whose trustful heart Inevitably chose the better part; And Lazarus, who died that he might show The power that LOVE possesses to bestow The gift of life. We too may entertain At home that royal guest. Care frets in vain When at His feet we kneel, who can restore Our buried souls to life, forevermore Blest, like the little family He visited at Bethany. 21 ESTHER Esther ii, is Hadassah, quaintest name in Jewish lore, Discarded for that stately duplicate, The Persian Esther; men shall celebrate Her virtues until Adar is no more, And Purim lost to mind. One deed before All others, least remarked, most proves her great; 'Twas that she chose all unadorned to wait The king's decision. Other maidens wore Whate'er they would of costly ornament When to the royal presence they were sent; She wisely chose upon her brow to show, By womanhood's pure instinct well advised, No gem but virgin modesty, and lo. She was beloved, enthroned, immortalized! HANNAH I Samuel i, ii Hannah, beloved but childless, sobbed a prayer Unspoken, that her yearning arms might hold A son; but after Ell's word foretold Her hope's fulfilment, she forgot her care And wept no more. Yet she did not forswear Her vow. By loyal gratitude controlled She led her son into the sacred fold And lent him to the Lord. 22 Hannah Can anywhere Except In Mary's noble song, be found Such words of praise majestic as resound Through Hannah's invocation? Not despised Her sacrifice; for Samuel, her son, Anointed kings; in him was realized The greatness of the deed that she had done. MARY Luke i, 46 Mother of Jesus! Who could breathe her name With less than reverence? The call divine To motherhood she answered with no sign Of maidenly confusion or of shame. But with a simple eloquence that came From pure humility. One deathless line — "Afy soul doth magnify the Lord'' — so fine, So dignified it is, that Mary's fame Might rest secure upon those words alone, Had not the greater honor been her own Of bearing HIM, the Saviour of us all. Hail, Mary, by all generations blest! Of women whom the Holy Books recall, Dearer thy memory than all the rest. 23 OUT OF DOORS IN THE HOLY LAND (Inscribed in a copy of Vandyke's Book of that Title] In that far sacred land Where trod the Saviour's feet, Grow field flowers fair and sweet. Olive and cedar stand Upon the mountain sides. There gleams blue Galilee, And to the sunken sea The hastening Jordan glides. Ah to be there and look On scenes that met His eyes, Feeling the spell that lies On all! To know His Book As only one can do Who sees the happenings, The folk, the very things Its pages bring to view! 24 AT THE CROSS-ROADS A New Year Fancy Footsore, I halted where the travelled road, That mire-encumbered highway called To-day, Confronts the velvet-pathed, inviting way That's named To-morrow. As I loosed the load From off my long vexed shoulders, "Lie thou there,' I cried, "thou hateful, chafing weight of care! I'll carry thee no further." For 'tis known That at this station makes the Old Year pause To greet the New. I tarried there because I planned to meet the ancient all alone And cast my burden on him, and I smiled To think of the poor dotard thus beguiled. At midnight came they both, to meet — and part. I grasped the Old Year's tattered cloak; he fled And left me holding but a parted shred. The aching of my disappointed heart Was like to break it; but I stooped to raise Again my load of care and go my ways Despairing, when behold, the proud New Year, Turning his godlike face, that seemed to shine With faith and high resolve, looked into mine. 'Come," he said, beckoning; "be of better cheer; I'll help thee bear it." Thus, with lightened load And hope renewed, I took the mornward road. 25 OLD AND NEW YEAR Begone, unsightly shape, I'm tired of thee; I hate thy grizzled poll, thy wrinkled brow; I hate thy cavernous, accusing eyes, Thy ragged garb; but most of all I hate This pack of troubles I have borne for thee. With it and thee this night I'll part — begone! And thou, fair stranger, welcome to my door. I love thy smiling face, thy merry glance, Thy golden locks, thy spotless robe, thy step — So light it falls upon the path; come in And be my favored guest. So; there he goes — Patient and unresentful, tottering Oblivionwardj beyond my wearied ken. Why throbs my heart as if he took with him Something I miss, some part of me, and left A strange, self-pitying ache in place of it.? Sighing, I turn to entertain my guest, But wondering, find myself alone. With haste I seek the window, and behold, far off. Turning a mocking face he hastens on. Yet beckons "follow me;" and so I must — Into what unknown region? Oh, forgive. Thou parted year, the hasty gibes I spoke. Old friends are best; old troubles easier 26 Old and New Year To bear than new; familiar blessings more To be esteemed than bliss that is not yet Except in dreams; old faiths more nourishing To hungry souls than crude experiments. I turn, and there upon the floor I mark The same old pack of troubles, left behind! Courage; I know its weight; 'twas never yet Beyond my strength. I'll on my way again. THE CORAL ISLES Green isles there are in southern seas. By graceful palm trees nobly crowned; The waves, coquetting with the breeze, Play harmlessly the shores around. And yet each isle, that now appears As old as Earth, first came to light When through long myriads of years Had lived and died the zoophyte. Each tiny creature heedless came To being, and as heedless went Through life, and dying left its frame To be its lasting monument; Until at length, o'er surging waves, An island reared its modest head, And verdure decked the hidden graves Of countless generations dead. 27 The Coral Isles So is our own existence wrought; Each dying day bequeathing still, Deep hid below the waves of thought, Its legacy of good or ill. And when at length our little isle Above the sea shall rear its crest, The setting sun shall kindly smile Upon a verdant shore of rest. GRASS, LEAVES AND WISTARIA [For an Eightieth Birthday] Outside my window there, lies fairyland; For May, the queen, has with her sceptre's touch Transformed the world, A million million fays, Drest in bright green, are ranked upon the sward; Ten million more swing saucily above, Where lifeless, leafless branches hung before; And see, where late that crumbling tree-trunk drooped, Clasped by a dingy parasite, a burst Of purple glory crowns it now, as fair As dreams of Heaven, and perfumed like The breath of angels. Thou, Memory, Art Fairy Queen of life. At touch of thine. The common things of thought are glorified. That magic word Remember works a change In things that are, and makes them things that were; Yet not just as they were, but mellowed; clad In softer colors, and of rarer scent. The years Roll b^ck; the Winter's gone; 'tis May again! 28 THE SUNSET SEA Unto the great sea toward the going down of the sun.' Jos. i, 4 Our way is westward, and beyond the ring Of our horizon lies the Sunset Sea. However long the journey, it must bring Our footsteps to the shore, and then must we Take ship on that unknown immensity. How shall we fare upon its heaving flood? No wonder that we shiver on the brink, And that with trembling lips and chilling blood We stand aghast and fearsome, as we think Into what depths abysmal we may sink. But Death, our helmsman, beckons us aboard. Reluctant, we embark, and so depart — For what arrival.^ Anguished by a horde Of sombre memories, the fluttering heart Is charged with apprehension from the start. Better such honest dread, than self deceit; What of the comfortable souls that know And boast their sure salvation; shall they meet Fulfilment of their hopes, or gasping go Astonished, into everlasting woe? Or fear or confidence, 'tis all too late! We leave the world, but with our fatal past We cannot break. The things we love or hate Through life, are loved or hated at the last; Already the deciding die is cast, 29 The Sunset Sea And our arrival shall be such as we Ourself have destined it. The port we find Is not appointed by the stern decree Of Deity; our inmost thoughts divined, Death lands us in the country of our kind. SLEEP The wonder of it! Nightly we compose Our minds to slumber, and with soft caress Good Mother Nature, as our eyelids close, Lulls us to drowsiness. We know no more until we wake, renewed In strength and courage, to another day; Eager to cope with Fortune; in the mood To conquer, come what may. Greater the wonder, that foreboding naught That in the darkness of the night may chance, We yield ourselves to sleep without a thought, In trustful ignorance. "This night thy soul shall be required of thee;"- Who thinks of this at bed-time? Otherwise A curse were sleep, so fearful should we be To close our wearied eyes. Thou best of blessings! Hard the lot of those To whom thou art denied; how happy they Whose nights are thine, in comforting repose. Till breaks Eternal Day. 30 CHRISTMAS Led by a Httle Child, the heart Goes forth at Christmastide To scenes from baser things apart, And Love walks on beside. Gifts and caresses; tender thought, Soft smile and gentle speech, Are freely to the altar brought By dear ones, each for each. Oh for the time when Jesus' name Our hearts may occupy Throughout the year's full round, the same As now, with Christmas nigh. Lead on, dear Child; and Love, be thou Beside us all the way; So may we keep not only now But always, Christmas Day. 31 "THE GREATEST OF THESE" [For a Wedding Day] "Faith, Hope and Love; these three abide;' Thus the apostle, long ago; And may it with you two be so, Whatever else betide. FAITH in each other always, and In Him who doeth all things well, Be yours, as happily you dwell And journey hand in hand. May HOPE be ever at your door. To say, when clouds obscure the blue, "Be sure the sun will soon shine through Still brighter than before." And as a fondly cherished guest May LOVE abide with you, for he — So says The Book — is of these three The greatest and the best. 32 COMPENSATION Time, with an hourglass and a scythe, Stands ready at the stile, And for each pilgrim, sad or blithe, He marks another mile. Poor wearied limbs, ah, how they ache! But every step counts one. And leaves one step the less to take Before the journey's done. Time turns his glass, year in, year out, As every hour goes by; Then with his scythe he lays about 'Mid roadside grasses high. What if the wild-flowers cringe and fall, The daisies and the rest.'' Dame Earth will make a place for all To lie, upon her breast. Let Winter come, and gently spread His soft white mantle o'er Their faded beauty; they are dead, Yet shall they live once more. They died to mark Time's ruthless track, But Winter cannot bide Forever; Spring will bring them back. And fairer flowers beside! 33 FAITH EFFECTIVE 'The substance of things hoped for." — Heb. xi, i What we aspire to be And with all faith essay, That beyond question we Shall be some day. The things we would possess, Believing, we acquire; Fate's NO is turned to YES By strong desire. To know this must give pause To him of sober mind And humble heart, because "Who seeks, shall find;" And what is sought, is found; So let him seek the best, And blessings without bound Shall crown his quest. 34 SEEING AND BELIEVING Heb. xi, I If Faith be, as the Scriptures tell, The evidence of things not seen, What may not to believers mean The marvels visible as well? Life; death; the starry skies; the sun; The birds' return; the seed which dies That fruit may from its grave arise; The dawn that breaks when night is done;- The doubter takes for granted these; To all beyond his ken, is blind; The faithful one delights to find God proved in everything he sees; But Earth's horizon does not bound His vision; things beyond the skies Are known to his believing eyes. And fill his heart with peace profound. 35 THE TRYSTING PLACE We lingered in tiie wood, My love and I; None else was nigh, And she, in generous mood, Gave kiss for kiss. Oh, happy, happy day. So far away. We loved, and we were young. Let none gainsay Young Love's old way. By poets gaily sung, When lips crave toll, and willing lips respond In payment fond. We loitered through the wood. My wife and I; And passing by That love-blest neighborhood. Our eyes met meaningly; we stayed our pace At the old place, And there again we kissed. And whispering clung. Must Love be young? Nay, for we nothing missed Of Youth's joy-laden, unforgotten day. Or Love's old way! 36 MAY-TIME Never upon the willow hung His harp; and when the year was young And all the roadside bloomed aflame, Along the way the poet came; Yet while entranced he swept the strings, The music was not his, but Spring's. Joy in the heart will out in song; Nor verse nor lilt can go far wrong When Love elated beats the time And bids the poet mate his rhyme With melody; yet when he sings, The lyric is not his, but Spring's. When May inspires the poet's heart With faithful purpose to impart To earnest souls the meaning clear Of that great hope which every year Dead Nature's resurrection brings, The message is not his, but Spring's. 37 THE CIPHER I SEE him now, dejected, bent With worries, more than years; Garb threadbare; eyes downcast; intent — Not on how he appears, But — how to pay some paltry debt; The chance of his next meal; The thousand cares and one, that fret The honest ne'er-do-weel. I see him growing shabbier still; His footsteps faltering, slow, As 'tis when tottering down the hill Life's luckless failures go. Time was, when love and hope and youth Were his, and dreams, alas! Of things to be achieved. In sooth, They never came to pass. Over his lonesome grave is kept No satire carved in stone; No eyes remark the spot except The sexton's and my own. Let me his epitaph condense To this; He nothing brought Into the world; took nothing thencey And left behind him naught. 38 THE PHILOSOPHER What though he have no cheese to lay- Between his fragments of dry bread? He will not care; And if the moon be overhead, He'll slyly peep at her and say "There's plenty there!" Or possibly his playful mind Recalls "the plans of mice and men;" "The mouse and I Will not grow fat," he sighs; but when All's done, some crumbs he leaves behind — The mouse knows why. But should nor bread nor cheese appear, He gives his belt another pull, And looking up Observes, "At least the moon is full;" In water then, to her good cheer He quaffs a cup. 'Gainst such a man says Envy naught, Nor Malice taunts him with her laugh. The world well lost. He dies without an epitaph, Knows not what lesson he has taught, Nor counts the cost. 39 THE LAST MOSQUITO Nay, live, thou slender, flighty thing, Frail relic of a fleeting past; Stern Winter all too soon shall bring Thy ruin in his chilly blast. Live! let no heartless mortal wreak A mean revenge on thee because Thou tookst, forsooth, in playful freak, His cuticle within thy jaws. I harm thee? No! be not afraid. Such gay conceits from thee I glean! Who knows? Perchance thou mayst have played Upon the bosom of the Queen ! Perchance thy veins convey a stream Of princely blood. Well may it be Thy tuneful voice has been the theme Of beauty and nobility. But stay. 'Twere sacrilege to blend Blood royal with plebeian. Why, Still mayst thou, dapper knight, descend E'en to such humble game as L Avaunt the thought! I reverence Thy lofty past; but earth is rife With pleasures that degrade, and hence With loyal hand I take thy life. 40 MY SWEETHEART, SPRING I HEAR her call, My sweetheart, Spring. How soft, how clear The far notes fall, My ravished ear Enrapturing. Make haste, my own! Too slow thy flight. With thee away, I've grieved alone Through lagging day And lonesome night. She'll come — and fly; Too swift her wing. A smile — a kiss — No more; then I Must mourn and miss My sweetheart, Spring. She's here, she's here — My sweetheart, Spring! Staying her flight, She hovers near; Her pinions white All quivering. 41 My Sweetheart, Spring She's here — she's mine! Her pure lips cling To mine, and tell Of joys divine. At last all's well- She's here, my Spring! TO MOTHER AT SEVENTY 'Tis true thy snowy hair and furrowed brow Tell their own silent story; yet with eyes Bright and courageous as of old, see'st thou Thy seventieth milestone in the pathway rise. Thou look'st not back; for now thine eye may note The goal before thee, and thine eager ear Catch the first murmured welcomes as they float On waves ethereal, exquisitely clear; Welcomes from loving lips, for at the Gate, Standing with hands outreached and eyes aglow With love-light, see how many dear ones wait To fold thee close, remembering long ago. But stay — be not too eager to be gone ! Still may'st thou rest awhile as 'round thy knee Young faces cluster, shining just as shone Thy children's own. Still may'st thou wait and see 42 To Mother at Seventy How fares it here with loved ones thou must leave To follow thee. But be thy later years Full of sweet peace. May no new loss bereave Thy heart, nor dim thy dear bright eyes with tears. Be sunshine on thy pathway to the end; And be it thine to know, from first to last, That loving hands thy steps will fondly tend Until thy days of journeying are past. LOVERS' HEARTS When lovers' hearts are warm and true, A word, a glance will set them beating. And start the trembling cords anew Love's own delicious tune repeating; And when the word, the glance, are past, Dear memory will backward wander, And make the fond heart, to the last, Grow moment after moment fonder. When lovers' eyes enchanted dwell On eyes that bear the gaze unchiding, They need no spoken word to tell The thoughts that in their breasts are hiding. Yet from the heart's abundant store The ready lips are ever taking. And though they've told it o'er and o'er. Their tender theme are always waking. 43 Lovers* Hearts When lovers' hands no longer press Each other fondly at their meeting, Ah, then 'twere better to confess The mournful truth that love is fleeting. For faithful hands will never let The past grow old; there ever lingers The warmth of young affection yet In the soft pressure of their fingers. Oh joyous Youth! When thou art fled, Say not that Love, beside thee flying, Will leave Devotion cold and dead, And Hope despondent, crushed and dying! Say rather, that though life be long. And all begirt with loss and sorrow, Love still shall chant his tender song, And Hope still wait the glad tomorrow! STOLEN SWEETS The Heart is like the honey bee. All summer long he hovers over The sunlit field, and sips the sweet Of wild-rose, thistle-flower and clover; Yet garners all at home, and when Rose, flower and blossom droop and wither His treasure-house is brimming full With pilfered store. Then flies he thither, And there, beside his chosen queen, He recks no more of summer's pleasures, But only seeks to heap on her The best and sweetest of his treasures. 44 THE MOUND "What is to love?" I asked the maid Whose hand I held as on we strayed Through field-flowers high. "'Twas you who taught me," answered she, "And you should know. What may it be But happily to stray Hke this, Through Hfe, my hand in yours?" A kiss Was my reply. "What is to love?'^ I asked my bride. She nestled closer to my side And whispered low — "It is to know that you are mine To have and hold and keep; to twine For aye and aye about your heart And cherish you till death do part — Is it not so?" God gave another sweet young life Into our keeping. To my wife Again I said, "What is to love?'^ She fondly pressed The sleeping infant to her breast And said "To suffer and to yield One's selfhood up, to guard and shield This precious head." 45 The Mound We knelt one day upon the ground Beside a little tear-wet mound, Her hand in mine. 'What is to love?" each asked of each, Only this little grave could teach God's lesson. Love is not our own To give or take, but His alone — His best of gifts — . Ah, this is it; To love is only to submit To His design. ACROSS THE TABLE A Valentine Across the table now and then I steal a glance; Your eyes perchance. Dear Valentine, Smile into mine And gently fall again. God grant that as the years pass o'er, Your eyes and mine. Dear Valentine, May ever meet With meaning sweet Until they meet no more. • And then if part we must awhile, God grant that when We meet again Your eyes in mine. Dear Valentine, Forevermore may smile! 46 HOME'S QUEEN Crowned with a sweetness all her own; Content to grace a lowly throne; With kindly sceptre reigns O'er her domains The gentle queen of every heart That in her little realm has part, And such is her mysterious art That Love, a willing thrall, Comes at her call. Small wonder that we yield her thus Our homage, for she gives to us Full measure, nothing less, Of tenderness. Rule on, sweet queen. About thy throne Thy dear ones gathered fondly own Thy sway, and led by Love alone, Gladly to thee they bring Love's oiTering! 47 AT MIDNIGHT Twelve strokes of the bell! 'Tis midnight, and all's well; Though dark the night, Soon comes the morning light. Mark now the dial. Close together lie The hands, as if to say, "When thou art nigh, The dark is not so fearful." So it is When trials come to hearts that love; a kiss, A tender clasp, a smile, a word of cheer. Beguile the gloom and bring the day more near. Twelve strokes of the bell — 'Tis midnight, but all's well; Though dark the night, Soon breaks the morning light. LASTING LOVE Childhood's love is sweet and pure; Boyhood's love is warm and earnest; Youth's fond love grows only truer When the frowns of Fate are sternest. Manhood's love is brave and strong; Pain and danger curb it never; But though life were ages long. None of these could last forever. 48 Lasting Love Married love is best of all; Ever patient, ever tender; Pure devotion's willing thrall, Virtue's proudest, best defender. Married love is argus-eyed, Watchful, wistful, hopeful ever; Hearts in God's own love-knot tied, Death itself shall not dissever! THE CLOCK STRIKES Twelve strokes! 'Tis midnight; but another day- Is born as dies the last, yet sleeps awhile And waits for dawn. I too must go to rest. Ah, if I had the cunning to beguile From sleep the dream I've wished for, and might stay All through the night in that illusion blest; I'd meet my love again in some green dell Profuse with wild-flowers, merry with the song Of mating birds. I'd clasp her close, and press To mine again the lips I've missed so long; And though the morn must come to break the spell, I'd wake remembering that happiness! 49 AWAY I KISS the little folks goodnight, as one by one they pray; I'd like to kiss their mother too, — but she's away. 'Tis not for long; just for a night — no more — she means to stay. I wish 'twere not so lonesome here, when she's away! Somehow as I sit here, I feel the anguish of that day When from my sight for the last time she'll go away. A foolish fancy! Just a night; Tomorrow'U dawn, and then My sunshine, missed so wistfully, will come again; But oh, the lonesomeness to be, when from my stricken door My love shall one day hasten out — to come no more! SO MARCH WINDS Blow, March, and if thou crack thy chest I shall not mind. So that the one I love the best Escapes the wind; And were thy rudest, bleakest blast To rage aroused. Within my heart I'd hold her fast. All safely housed. Blow rather, winds of March, to chase Away her cares; To dry the tears from her dear face With gentlest airs. But March, whatever be thy mood. Be mine the part To keep her, blow thou soft or rude, Within my heart! March comes again. I bade him blow To crack his chest. So that untouched he let her go Whom I loved best. No wind can touch her now, unless In Heaven should stir Some daring zephyr, a caress To offer her. SI March Winds Kiss her for me, Immortal Wind, And with it, see Thou whisper her to keep in mind Fond thoughts of me. Blow, March, unchidden. Have thy way! Thy buffetings I'll bear for her dear sake whose Day Thy coming brings. MADONNA Over and over, The Child and His Mother — None like another — Look from the walls of my chamber, and keep Watch while I sleep. She who so loved them has gone from their ken, Nor shall again Sleep in their keeping, and after the night Wake in their sight. Gone; but her image is there with the others. The beautiful mothers; Holding her child in a loving embrace Close to her face. So shall she too be the guard of my sleeping, Tenderly keeping Watch of my soul all the night through, and making Happy my waking! S2 NIGHT AND MORNING Comes there in Heaven a time like night, When angels rest, And on her breast My dear one lays Her hands and prays For him she used to love the best? Ah, if she might! In Heaven, when breaks the morning light, Does she awake, And for his sake One moment pause And sigh because Of that fond kiss he may not take? Ah, if she might! 53 LOVED AND LOST AWHILE 'And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile." {Lead, Kindly Light.) Loved — ah, so fondly loved — thy face, Thou cherished one, and lost so long; How shall I find it in that place So vast, amid that myriad throng? Timid and trembling at the gate, Faint with the fear of missing thee. Hoping, despairing, I must wait Unless thou come to welcome me. And thou wilt come; thy heart will feel The call of mine, and I shall see The parting multitude reveal Thy face, alight with love for me. Come, day of days, or far or near, When turns to me its tender smile The face, unutterably dear That I have loved, and lost awhile! 54 FORGIVEN, NOT FORGOTTEN "To whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little' Perhaps if I were conscience clear Of sins remembrance must condemn, I should not hold that one so dear Who proved her love by shriving them; The heart so generous, that was brave To bear my hurts of heedlessness; So true, that lovingly forgave Whatever fault I dared confess. "He loveth little," says the Word, "To whom but little is forgiven." To love unstinted is he stirred Whose many sins are freely shriven. Such love is mine, and shall be so Forever, but my conscience yet Rebukes my sins of long ago. Which I, forgiven, cannot forget. 55 PETITION Lord, let me not grow old! If years increase, Let not my heart turn cold Until I cease. . And oh, at Thy behest Let me with Love be blest Till my release. To all my dear ones bring Love's accolade. Cherished and cherishing, Let them persuade Life's dearest gift from Thee- Love, that shall never be Dimmed or betrayed! A RHYME OF DAYS Dear days gone by! Remembered with a sigh For pledges made and kept; For lips that closer crept; For love confessed in kisses, long and sweet; Fair yesterdays, Lost in the purpling haze Of the horizon's verge, Where memories fade and merge In shadowy shapes, as Night and Twilight meet. 5^ A Rhyme of Days Imperative To-day — Tyrannical thy sway As Noon's insistent glare; No mortal dost thou spare From his appointed task. Thy spurring goad Compels him on, Whether be lost or won The tempting prize Thou holdst before his eyes To lure his faltering feet along the road. To-morrow — shall it be? And shall its coming see Fulfilment or despair? Surcease from crushing care, Or greater burdens? Hope and Doubt contend, The while the Morrow waits The opening of the gates. Or this, or that must come; Meanwhile, tense lips, be dumb, And thou, tempestuous heart, await the end. Time, thou art wise To hide from mortal eyes Thy secrets. Not for me To know what is to be. I love my memories of yesterday. To-day's compelling bond Has Morrow's hope beyond. Then Time, stay not thy flight; I'll bid this world good-night, That brighter world good-morning, when I may! 8 57 WHEN I PASS ON When I pass on, I hope to leave Green memories behind me. I would not have my dear ones grieve; Rather they'd fain the wish achieve Some day to come and find me; Some day with philosophic mind To sense the Beckoning Finger; Eager to find what they may find, Willing to leave the world behind, Without a wish to linger; Hoping to meet in the Beyond Their loved ones gone before them; Giving and taking greetings fond. Keen to renew the welcome bond Such meeting shall restore them; First passing on to those who'll miss Their going, some such token Of cheer and courage as is this, To emphasize the parting kiss When "Au revoir" is spoken. When I pass on! How I receive My call, or when it find me I care not, so that no one grieve, And so that passing I may leave Green memories behind me. S8 FINIS? There is no end that does not bring Beginning. Winter ends in Spring; Night's darkness dying meets and blends With dawn; the mortal in us ends In immortality. Not yet Failed any ending to beget A potent progeny that bore Unending generations more. ****** So with my book; may every page Be blest with happy parentage To fruitful thoughts, provoked by mine In some by-passer's mind to shine. Thus wishing, let me not pretend To say of it, "this is the end." 59