Class / c C; t^O%j Copyriglit^J?- /^/(^ CQESRIGHT DEPOSm A Sweet-Scented Rose UC-! ilA^iyo^ , A Sweet-Scented Rose By Jean de Eosin -i^ Lakeport, N. H. 1916 o,^^'^ V \^ Copyright 1916 By Adelbert Clark SEP -5 1916 ©CI.A4;n55>3 To my friend '^ George Le Guere i whose splendid work as the young priest in the photo- play, ** Destiny or The Soul of a Woman'* prompted me to write the poems, **A Sweet- Scenled Eose** and "Destiny** this little book is inscribed. Jean de Eosin CONTENTS A Sweet- Scented Eose 8 Seaward 13 Eoses 15 Encouragement 18 Madonna 21 The Violets Blue 23 Beauty's Song 26 The Lily of France 29 White Asters 33 Bells at Eheims 35 A Song 38 The White Dove 40 Lilac-Scented Midnight 45 The Cloister 47 The World's Need 50 The Hills of Gascony 51 A Bouquet of Flowers 57 My Captain 63 The Wayside Shrine 65 Make a Song 71 My Crucifix 74 A Legend of the Pearl 77 A Weaver of Sonnets 80 Kingdom of the Heart 82 '* Le Chant de la Cloche '' 85 Elysium 90 The Tansendechon Eose 93 Pete 97 A Sonnet for My Lady's Garden 100 The Poet's Dream 102 Songs at Eventide 105 Autumn 108 Just Goldenrod 111 On the Mousam 114 A Belated Rose 119 An Autumn Day 123 The Hall of Flags 125 The Coming of Night 128 *' Somewhere in France" 129 A Legend of the Lace 131 Joan d*Arc 136 Dusk 138 The Rosary 141 Lady Mary's Picture 146 The Pines 151 The Cathedral 153 Destiny 159 The Dying Priest 162 A Song of Faith 167 The Messiah 169 The Sanctus 174 A SWEET-SCENTED EOSE ***Tis here on my desk in a crystal vase All wet as with sparkling dew, For I gathered the flower from my garden bow'r After the shower was through. 'Tis a rose bloodred, and its petals smooth, Are soft as the morning- close, And I drink in love, the while I dream, Under the sweet red rose. 8 **I stood in a garden — a convent-place Where a fountain rose and fell, And the flowers were rare and the birds sang sweet, And I heard a silver bell. And a young man dressed in a priestly gown Came near for an hour's repose, And he touched my soul with his kindly grace — He gave me a sweet red rose. 9 ** There was light, there was love & question, too, In that face divinely- fair; In my dreams I have seen him again and again. But lo! I cannot tell where. But sometime, I'm sure, I will see once more That place that no evil knows. And that saintly soul in the priestly gown That gave me the sweet red rose. 10 **Each year it grows in my garden bow'r With one little fragrant bloom That opens for me when the waning year Is hinting of frost and gloom. And I place it here in the crystal vase While the wind of Autumn blows, And dream of the youth in the priestly gown Who gave me the sweet red rose. 11 ( A year later. ) Last night she died in the chapel old; She had wandered there in the night, And her storm-tossed soul went out to God, Just under the chapel light. As the good priest touched her lips sin-soiled With the way of life she chose, She smiled and said: *'*Twas you, who gave To me, the sweet red rose!'* 12 SEAWAED I turn my weary eyes at night, seaward, And breath a fragrant o*er the billows free. From gardens where old- fashioned flowers grow, Where one, a slender maiden waits for me. Ah, such a little cabin worn and gray. With roses blooming 'round it pure & white! But Eosa comes to woo me in my dreams — She fills my soul with worship and delight. 13 I turn my weary eyes at night, seaward, And hear her sweetly singing on the shore; She sings a song of love that haunts me still— Her song will dwell with me forever more. The pleasures of the world can never drown The glories that I knew in days gone by, They come to me with every dream and sound — They cheer me with each morning's sun-kissed sky. 14 ROSES You ask me for the sweetest roses? They grow in human hearts; They do not shatter in a day, They have no poison darts. They live in every garden, too, In spite of wind and rain, They blossom cloudy days and all. And smile 'mid loss or gain. 15 The beautiful, is often frail, And f adeth in a day; The sweet too, often leaves a sting That endeth in decay. Then choose the kind and faithful ones — The ever tried and true; Give to the world the best you have, And the best will come to you. 16 These are the sweetest roses friend, That I have ever known; They blossom when the year is cold, And other friends have flown; When Wintry days of doubt and fear Draw near with shadows long, And nights are filled with darkest gloom, These friends can make us strong. 17 ENCOUEAGEMENT The little crosses that we bear Would not seem half so great, If we would loosen up the chains Of envy and of hate; If we would sing the happy song that others love to hear, Even though it did not bring to us A grain of hope or cheer. 18 The cross is not so heavy, when We help another sonl, We're on a higher plane and stand Much nearer to the goal. Take heart, dear friend, and sing the song That other souls would hear. And the singing of the song shall be The sunshine of the year. 19 The little crosses that we bear Will lessen in their weight, And strength will come renewed to us Before we reach the gate. A smile will take the place of scowl When we have reached the morn. The sweetest lilies ever grew, In blackest soil were born. 20 MADONNA Gray mist and purple clouds Hang o'er tlie wintry sky, And lo ! a mother sings A tender lullaby. A love-star through the clouds Is twinkling in the west, The while the mother sings, Her babe upon her breast. 21 Violet mist and gray clouds, And here and there a rose, A cross, a bleeding form, A host of bitter foes. But still through Wintry- hours That blur a dreary sky, A mother to her babe, Sings low, a lullaby. 22 THE VIOLETS BLUE 'Tis violet time, and in the vale The birds are sweetly- singing; From twig to branch they flutter by, Where diamond dews are swinging. And -underneath the mighty trees Where warm south- winds are blowing, The straying sunbeams light the way Where violets blue are growing. 23 From out among the withered leaves Of last year's blooming glory, The violets blue are waking up With faces full of story; A story of new coming joys To crown Life's way adorning, Though storms and sunshine will appear To greet the coming morning. 24 They'll bring to many a mothers' heart, A soldier lad that's sleeping In far off France, beneath the stars — ^ Eternal watch is keeping. But to one and all, the great and small. O'er meadow-lands a-blowing, A loving message comes from where The violets blue are growing. 25 BEAUTY'S SONG There's a singing in the garden Like the songs of other days, There are flowers rich and fragrant All along the country ways. There is sunshine where the shadows Used to linger deep and long, There is love-light, there is sweetness, In my Beauty's happy song. 26 There is roses in the garden, Like the ones of other days, There is silver in the fountain And along the winding ways. There is faith and prayer & question, And a heart that's full and strong, There is glory, there is Heaven, In my Beauty's happy song. 27 There's a singing in the garden Like the songs of other days, There is love that knows no parting In life's deep enchanted ways. There is joy and peace eternal, Free from doubt and guilt and wrong, There is love-light, there is sweetness, In my Beauty's happy song. 28 THE LILY OF FEANCE A bluebird sang in sunny- France, A song of love — an old romance, Of how a king once wooed a maid Who lived within a violet glade. But ere their happy- wedding-day. Which was the first of flowery May, They found her dead upon the stair — A broken flow'r, pure and fair. 29 The king, he placed her in his tomb, A form so like a lily bloom; He kissed her lips and turned away To seek the chancel-rail to pray, And lo ! there lay before his feet, A sacred lily pure and sweet, He picked it up and vowed 'twould be An emblem of her purity. 30 A bloodred moon was hanging low Above the hills of drifted snow, And looked like blood against the sky- Where noisy rooks were flitting by. But still across the frosty air The vesper-bells called all to pray'r. But lo ! the king was sad and lone; 'Twas mockery — his royal throne. 31 The kiDg is dead & sleeps beside The sacred dust, his would-be bride, And many years have passed they say. Since that first sad evenful day. And still the lily blossoms sweet Amid the summers rain and heal, And still an emblem it will be For France, through all eternity. 32 WHITE ASTERS Like stars in a purple setting, And veiled in filmy sheen Of cloudlets whose snowy whiteness Lies fluent and cold between Me and the loved ones in Glory, Is the asters pure and white That bloom in my lonely garden, At the kiss of the morning light. 33 They seem like the friends of childhood, I knew in by-gone years: They look like the flowers of Heaven That were lain on those sable biers. But they cheer and fill me with glories; And when I am called to go, I hope friends will bury my Sorrows, Where the snow white asters grow. 34 BELLS AT RHEIMS The bells at Rheims sadly tolls A requiem for France's bravest souls. They make a sweet and solemn song That lingers till the shadows long Have deepened on the lowland drear — The fertile field and misty mere, And many a mother waitinjg there, Pours out her heart to God in pray'r. 35 The bells at Rheims sweetly ring For rich and poor, for priest and king, And as the twilight shadow^s slant. The good priest in his holy- chant, Looks out upon the dull gray sky, Where dusky bats flit swiftly by. And there is love-light in his face That tells of life and peace and grace. 36 The bells of Eheims sadly ring— Her maidens bravely try to sing, The distant thundering of the guns, Are like Death's cruel orisons, The bloodred sky for miles afar Is broken but by one bright star. And many a mother waiting there. Pours out her heart to God in pray'r. 37 A SONG Across the hills the slanting rays Of dying sunbeams strayed Until across the meadow- lands, The mountains stood arrayed — Ablazing like the roses red, Or fair as tourmalines Reflecting on the waters breast, Above the stately pines. 38 But soon they lost their splendid pink, For sunset glory dies. And in its sea of gold, a star Illumed the quiet skies. And from the west the zephyrs blew. And from the whip-poor- wills. My soul rejoiced and I sang too. Among the fragrant hills. 39 THE WHITE DOVE The good priest from his window high, Looked out upon the night, And saw the clouds go drifting by Like shreds of garments white. His thoughts were of the blessed Christ, The Prince of Peace who died, Who suffered all the pangs of Death — By men was crucified. 40 The wind blew cool upon his brow, And from the cloister close, The night-wind fanned his heavy scrow — He breathed the scent of rose. And lo I a vision of the cross As white as drifted snow. Appeared upon the windy hill, Like that of long ago. 41 He saw the Christ — he heard His prayer, He heard the mock, the sneer, He saw the bleeding Christ up there, He saw a mother's tear. ** Father, forgive them*', he heard from lips That fast were turning blue. He listened! yes, 'twas from the Christ — **They know not what they do.'' 42 The good priest from his window high, Looked out upon the night, And saw above the cloister fly. A dove with wiugs of white. He saw it shape its course away, O'er field and wooded pine, And knew it journeyed back again. To far off Palestine. 43 The good priest told his people how The white dove came to him, Of how he saw the blood- stained brow Of Christ, a vision dim. And lo! before the altar- rail, They knelt them down to pray, For God had sent a blessing there, That holy Sabbath day. 44 TflE LILAC-SCENTED MIDNIGHT Out from the lilac-scented midnight Rich with the countless stars, The roses broke from their prison Of green and shell-pink bars. Love tapped at my chamber- window — I threw the lattice wide, And into my soul came sweeping, The joys from the Other Side. 45 The horizon, gray as the mother-of-pearl, Bent low to touch the plain, As the breath of the roses and lilacs Came back to my soul again. The moon flooded the garden with glory^ Silver and white like a bride, While into my soul came sweeping, The joys from the Other Side. 46 THE OLOISTEE Alone with God I talk and dream In gardens sweet with fern and rose, I count my blessings and I muse In this sweet calm and deep repose. And when I look upon His face, The blessed Christ who died for me, I pray that I may teach some soul. The vast, the broad, eternity. 47 The slender blades of the morning sun Tipped the bright founting with its gold, And lingered on the budding rose; — I watch its crimson leaves unfold. The mignonette and lavender A.11 breathe a life of holy peace, And when I say my beads to God, The things that made a discord cease. 48 'Tis sweet, this life of endless peace, Where not a hint of evil falls; I walk ths quiet courts of God. I worship in the sacred halls. And when I look upon his face, The blessed Christ who died for me, I pray that I may teach some soul, The vast, the broad, eternity. 49 THE WOELD'S NEED Speak a little word of kindness, When a soul is going wrong, Don't live life as though in blindness, Sing some happy- song. Take some weak & fallen brother As a brother, by the hand; Let him feel there is another, Who can rightly understand. 50 Why should we be always dreary When a soul is going wrong? Why should we be always weary When the world is full of song? Life is now, too much in .blindness, Reeking in the ways of wrong; O, we need so much of kindness ! Kindly words, good cheer and song. 51 Speak a little word of kindness, When the days are dark and drear; Lead the shadowed souls from blindness And the doubting paths of fear. Try and mend the hearts nigh broken That you meet from day to day, Give out love, Life's sweetest token — Scatter sunshine while you may. 52 THE HILLS OF GASCONY Among the hills of Gascon y The birds are sweetly singing, The roses blossom all the day, The convent-bells are ringing. And I am very far away — From my dear home I'm straying, But for the hills of Gascony, My soul today is praying. 53 Among the hills of Gascony I see a cabin gleaming — Among the stately trees it stands, A low-roofed cabin dreaming. The sheep are grazing on the slope, Gay butterflies are playing, While for the hills of Gascony, My soul today is praying. 54 Among the hills of Gascony Those purple hills of glory, Where many a silver brooklet flows, Love weaves a sweeter story Than I had dreamed — alas! My foalish mind went straying; But for the hills of Gascony, My soul today is praying. 55 Among the hills of Gascony, A mother's voice is calling, The morning-glories touch her face — Her tears for me are falling. Dear mother I of my dreams of God Who marks the lad that's straying, For you and hills of Gascony, My soul is ever praying. 56 A BOUaUET OF FLO WEES A heavy shower is raging; It beats against the pane, The swaying ivy taps the wall Again, and still again. And here before me as I write, A pack of letters lie, With loving thoughts, from loving friends, As pure as azure sky. 57 Like flowers they cheer me night and day; I read them o'er and o*er; I often dream those happy friends Are knocking at the door. I start, as if to let them in, When lo ! they seem to flee. The night-winds come and they are gone — Save memory and me. 58 They are like flowers, I love them all, And talk with them by day; At night I read them — every one Brings calm and peace my way. I call one rose, because 'tis sweet With sentiments divine, And one I call the marigold, . Because it seems to shine. 59 Then here is one, forget-me-not — 'Tis tinted rayal blue, And came from one, a sweetheart, yes, A charmer, through and through. Then here's a score of daisies white — For pretty girls I know. And one like myrtle, emerald green, A friend — a year ago. 60 A bouquet of flowers to me — Methinks they come at night, When moonbeams on the distant hill, Is soft as candle light. They lightly tap upon the door, And climb the creak- ing stair, But if I go to welcome them, I find no one is there. 61 But someday, I shall find them there; I know not when 'twill be. They'll come when Death shall bid me go — I'm sure they'll follow me. My friends — they will not leave me then, But follow in my train, And with them near forevermore, I shall not fear the pain. 62 MY CAPTAIN My little boat is sailing Over the quiet sea Of Time, with all its troubles And calms, that may- come to me. I fear not the storms assailing — I know my captian knows. He knows the course I'm taking — I'm sure, my captain knows. 63 My little boat is sailing And though the night is long, And the billows tower like mountains, I sing my sweetest song. For although the sea is madd'ning, I know my captian knows. He knows the course I'm taking — I*m sure, my captain knows. 64 THE WAYSIDE SHEINE In dear old France, beneath the stars, The earth is torn and scarred; The churches where so many prayed, By shot and shell is starred. Debris is everywhere for miles, And near a shattered pine, The moonbeams fall on Christ up there — The marble wayside shrine. 65 Full, in the silver light He stands Nailed to the cruel cross. A sacrifice for wayward men; Indeed, a proud world's loss. But still the cannons boom and roar, And still red blood runs deep, While mothers tell the story of The Shepherd and his sheep. 66 The sky is crimson in the east — 'Tis not the heaven's glow ! 'Tis but the glare of raging Hell That struggles to and fro. The air is filled with sickening smoke That mar the things divine, But still the moon reveals the Christ, The marble wayside shrine. 67 His feet are stained with bloody hands, For soldiers perished there; They came to seek forgiveness, and Breathe a little prayer. They lie around the sacred spot With faces pale and wan; They lived and loved, yea worshiped Him, The righteous Son of Man. All through the night of fire and smoke, Is heard the vesper- bell, And mothers clasp their babies close, And still the story- tell! How long, dear Lord, how long, how long, Must this destruction be? How long must France be scarred by war And mockery toward Thee? 69 The marble form of Christ stands dumb; The moonbeams on his face, Shows not the sign of one sweet smile, In that benighted place. Yes! there's a sign, for lo I he stands Pure white, against the pine. The Purity ! the blood- stained Christ! The marble wayside shrine. 70 MAKE A SOXG Make a little song as twilight Falls across the summer sky; Let it be in sweetest measure, Like a mother's lullaby. Let it down the years go ringing, Spite of all the ills and wrong; Weave into it all the sunshine, For the world would hear a song. 71 Make a little song when trouble Starts a-brooding on your way; Let it be in sweetest measure, And 'twill glorify the day. Let it through your life go ringing, Sweeping every doubt along; Round it up with love and sunshine, For the world would hear a song. 72 Make a little song when twilight Brings its balm for every sigh; Let it be in sweetest measure, Like a mother's lullaby. Let it down the years go ringing, Baffling the ways of wrong; Weave into it all the sunshine, For the world would hear a song. 73 MY CRUCIFIX Out from the dust of the faded years, The years that were blurred with bitter tears, My crucifix one morning arose Out from the depth that sorrow knows. And into my heart a great joy came, That burned and glowed as with living flame, For the Master was there with love and song, And a balm for the heart that had wandered wrong. 74 I heard the call & looked to meet The thorn-crowned head and bleeding feet; The dust of years blew across His face; He moaned, but bore a noble grace. Then to my heart that long had erred To things of doubt where sorrow lured. My cracifix, pure, spotless, white, Arose to greet the morning light. 75 The dust of years was swept away; My heart was calm, that perfect day. I raised my eyes to the hills of song, And turned my feet from the paths of wrong. My crucifix with its bleeding form. Stands high in the world of darkest storm, And I need its charm — its holy pow'r — I need its guidance from hour to hour. A LEGEND OF THE PEARL Once, 'twas said a fisher- maiden Loved a sailor lad in blue; Ah^ she loved this Navy- laddie, With a love sincere and true. But a duty stern and pressing, Called him forth across the sea, So he clasped her close and whispered: "Dearest, I will liva for thee." 77 Every night she walked the seashore Till her hair was silver- gray, Waiting, watching for the lover, Many, many miles away. And 'twas said her teardrops falling, EoUed into the restless sea, As if searching for the lover — ''Dearest I will think of thee/* 78 By the magic of the ocean, And the warm true love she gave, They were gathered by King Neptune And were hidden in his cave. One by one the sly young Oysters, Found and brought them all away, This is how we have the beauties, And are wearing them today. 79 A WEAVER OF SONNETS He wrote a little sonnet, sweet, With Love and happy song, And in it wove some violets blue To make it double strong. He found two souls a-dri£ting, And brought them back again. And taught them how to worship right, And smile 'mid loss or gain. 80 Next day he saw them watching close, The sunset's golden glow, Upon the peaceful river bank, Within the vale below. And so his sonnet outlived wrong, To bless the weaver with its song. 81 THE KINGDOM OF THE HEART The heart is a mighty kingdom Where love and hatred dwell; Where pleasure reigns in sunshine, And evil weaves its spell. It is like this grand old planet, Of which we are a part; It takes the storm and sunshine, To make a human heart. 82 The heart is a mighty kingdom, And filled with countless wrongs; There are sacrament and solace, Well rounded up with wrongs. There are storms & griefs and anguish, And worries to annoy, For without these — troubled reader, We could not taste the joy- 83 The heart is a mighty kingdom, Love reigns upon the Throne, But in its loyal splendor, It does not rule alone ! Behind its purple giory, Our pomp and pride still stand. And death and hate and envy. Is in its outstretched hand. 84 The heart is a mighty kingdom Where love and hatred dwell; Where pleasure reigns in sunshine, And evil weaves its spell. It is like this grand old planet, Of which we are a part; It takes the storm and sunshine, To make a human heart. 85 'LE CaANT DE LA CLOCHE*' Softly through the woodlands stealing, Bang a note so sweet and long, That it seemed to fill the forest With a symphony of song. And a master of the anvil Tried to imitate the theme, And he made with clanging silver, Something that was like his dream. 86 Then he placed it in the treetops 'Mong the slender branches long, And it sounded like an angel In a happy summer song. And the world since then has labored Imitating wood and dell, And we call it just the ringing Of the master's silver bell. Softly through the woodland stealing, Kang a note so sweet and long, That the fairies interwove it In their symphonies of song. But the master of the anvil Died, and lo! they heard a knell, But his foes they laughed and prattled: **'Tis the master's silver bell!" 88 If you listen in the woodland Where the trees stand all arrayed, You will hear it softly- pealing O'er each cool and ferny glade. For the master still is living In some quiet fragrant dell, And you'll hear his anvil ringing As he forms a silver bell. ELYSIUM Deep within my heart there's a little fragrant garden Where the flowers of love are blooming all the day; There is a cool and quiet corner where I muse, And watch the yellow butterflies at play. Elysium, I call this quiet restful spot Where the fragrant breezes from my garden blow. And where a marble fountain's crystal waters toss And light winds wave the roses to and fro. 90 'Tis here I love to sit when day with all its toils are done, And weave the blessings I have had in gentle rhyme That they may quicken other souls less frail than mine, No matter what their station be— or clime. Elysium, a quiet place to rest in peace, and dream Of glories that shall make the heart rebound with love And calm, so like the great and infinite calm of Heaven, That we are told lies just beyond the realms above. 91 No mocking phantoms ever come to mar this holy peace That in my quiet garden ever reigns, Nor is there any sorrow among the roses fair and sweet, Nor anything that hints of nettling pains. Elysium, I call this green secluded spot, Where birds so sweetly sing at eventide, *Tis here I find my Heaven where I can talk with God And look beyond the shadows far and wide. 92 THE TANSENDEGHON EOSE A shaft of dying sunbeam Was scarlet on the hill, And a robin at the fountain Was perched to drink his fill. The south wind bore a message, A hint of coming rain, And the fairest rose to blossom, When the morning dawned again. 93 An angel came and planted A green and thrifty fiow'r With dark green leaves that glistened; *Twas as the midnight hour. And lo ! when golden morning Lit up the garden - close, There stood arrayed in beauty, The promised sunset rose. 94 It had the sunbeams' beauty; It had a queenly grace, And made the garden's glory, A kind of sacred place. 'Twas gemmed with rain that jeweled O'er night the garden- close. They called the lovely flower, The Tansendechon rose. 95 The bride of blushing summer Was never half so fair. 'Tis like a soul from Heaven; A mother's answered prayer. And still in rarest gardens Where love and beauty- goes, Araid the rarest flowers, You'll find the sunset rose. 96 PETE *'When I am no longer lovely, Pete, Will your love be as true?" **Yes, my dear," he whispered *'I will Love and worship you." They were standing 'neath a starlit sky, The month was balmy June, They drank deep from Love's flowing cup Beneath a star-crowned moon. 97 The years went by and still the flow'rs came And blossomed by the way. And she grew old and blind and lame — Her hair was silver gray. And by and by she died and left Pete A stranger on the hill; The winters came with all their bitter storms, But he was faithful still. 98 One cold stormy night they found poor Pete In his dingy cabin old; He had died there of grief and hunger, Long before the morning's gold. In the little village churchyard where The roses blossom sweet, There stands a little cross that bears A single name — 'tis *'Pete". 99 A SONNET FOR MY LADY'S GARDEN You'll find geraniums and hollyhocks, And lavender and larkspurs, too, And marigolds and ten-weeks stalk, And Scotland's bonny bells of blue. Yoii'U find the yellow roses there, Beside the high stone garden - wall, A bridal- wreath and daisies white, And salmon lilies fair and tall. 100 And in the fountain's crystal pool Where fishes love all day to play, You'll find the water lilies white, And fragrant for the summer day. All these within my lady*8 garden grow f(.)r me In sunny France, across the sea. 101 THE POET'S DEEAM Last night the sea was smooth — a calni Lay on the mighty- deep; The moon that spread a silver flame, A silent watch did keep. My soul was singing all the while, And lo! there came to me, The vision of a happy face, From o'er the quiet sea. 102 Eed roses veiled in moonbeams pale, Lay on her marble breast. **I gathered them for thee, my love — To peaceful make thy rest/' And then I saw a phantom ship With sails all snowy white, It seemed to come — I know not where, In floods of morning light. 103 And then I woke — the sea was calm, And on the mighty deep, The moon a magic potion of Its silver, seemed to steep. For lo! behold, the haunting breath Of roses came to me — Her presence seemed to fill my soul. Last night upon the sea. 104 SONGS AT EVENTIDE In deep shadows and purple haze, Rose-pink petals and woodland ways, 'Neath twinkling stars and soft moonbeams, By babbling brooks and silver streams, And bosky dells where vapors glide, Are songs more sweet at eventide. 105 When all the house is hushed and still, And there are whisperings on the hill Of zephyrs in the branches long, A-crooning like a cradle- song,— The fireplace's glow with hearthstone wide, These are the songs at eventide. 106 Where one can sit and dream and muse, And rid his soul of earthly ** blues'', When love comes back through all the years In myrrh and lavender and tears, From silent shadows deep and wide, Come sweetest songs at eventide. 107 AUTUMN The wind was in the crimson leaves, Like some lost soul was sighing; I climbed the hill at sunset, And watched the sweet day- dying. All pink and silver gleaming — Like rose leaves in the morning, Or like the coming of a bride, Prepared for Love's adorning. 108 The breath of dying roses Brought back one day of splendor; One autumn day of green and gold, When love was young and tender. We parted ne'er to meet again — The day was slowly dying, And from that hour my soul was changed, Like autumn-time — 'twas sighing. 109 I climbed the hill at sunset, A shaft of gold was beaming, And fell across a lowly grave Where frost-flowers were a-gleaming A little cross of white — alas! Tells of a blighted glory, Of shattered hopes and haunted dreams — Life's sad autumnal story. 110 JUST GOLDENEOD There's a ray of golden sunshine That the morning has forgot, In a cool and shady corner Of my little garden plot. And it formed a yellow flower, From the rich untrampled sod, And it blossoms every season. Just a spray of goldenrod. Ill There's a ray of golden sunshine Beaming in my soul today, For a sweet and loyal friendship EoUed the heavy clouds away. And I found a wonderous flower, Where kind souls have rarely trod — *ris the emblem of God's kingdom — Just a spray of goldenrod. 112 There's a ray of golden sunshine For the weary passer- And it borders field and woodland, When the Autumn days are nigh. *Tis a gift of matchless beauty From the harvest teeming sod, And it blooms for you, my brother, Just a spray of goldenrod. 113 ON THE MOUSAM Across the quiet waters The silver moonbeams lay, And now and then the zephyrs Would dance in youthful play. The aroma of summer — The ghosts of long ago, Swept on across its bosom, Whose tiny wreaths of snow, 114 Go laughing to the ocean, The ever restless sea, Who claims them for its treasures, Deep-bound in mystery. O ! quiet peaceful river, The hours I've spent with thee, Is precious to my soul tonight, 115 And sweet its meinory. The starlight soft reflecting Upon thy silver breast, Brings with a haunting glory, A calm and peaceful rest. The far-off call of songbird — The breath of Summer past, The moonbeams on the water, 116 Ah ! memory holds me fast. My tiny boat is gliding The while I dream and muse; The twilight still is deepening Into a kinder blue. I love this quiet splendor! Its glory never dies; 117 I love to watch the sunset That paints the autumn skies, But most I love the twilight That deepens all along Thy silver flowing waters, So full of rhythmic song. 118 A BELATED ROSE My love and I were walking Along the woodland ways; The month was mild October, And veiled in violet haze. She found a rose belated From Summer's torrid heat Among the weeds half- hidden, That tangled at my feet. 119 ** Sometime when life is ended, And joy makes up for pain, I'll come to you from Heaven, And live with you again. Not in a dream — a fancy. But in another form; We'll face the world together; We'll smile through calm and storm." 120 *Tis years since last we parted, And I am old and gray, And that dear form I worshiped, Has moldered back to clay. But one, who followed after, When life seemed at its close, Has placed within my fingers, A sweet belated rose. 121 Her hair like mine is silvered With time and grief and care, But over life's dark turmoils, A smile she seems to wear. And so I know my first-love Has never died in vain; She lives! She live forever ! She's here with me again. 122 AN AUTUMN DAY Red leaves flutter through the giant trees, Scent of wildflowers waft on every breeze, Sunbeams stray through shadows deep and long, And bird-notes fill the day with sweetest song. White fleecy clouds in scroll-patterns lie Softly across the deep torquoise sky, And everywhere, a quiet peaceful joy reigns, And love makes up for all the rankling pains. 123 Sumac's with their gold and crimson hues, Mingle with the frost- flowers gentle blues, And there's a scent of vintage-flowing wine Well blended with the breath of fir and pine. And through it all a golden-robin sings. As on the rose-bush he sits and swings Among the fluttering of crimson leaves; That day of sunshine and breeze. 124 THE HALL OF FLAGS I stand today in the hall of flags That noble hands have made; I hear the cry of the world's brave sons, Who faced death unafraid. As I look upon the tattered folds That tell of conflicts won, My heart goes out to the mothers of men — The good that they have done. 125 I stand today in the hall of flags As autumn's sunsets glow, And dream of the souls still marching on In robes as white as snow. I see beyond the sunken graves That tell of **dust to dust*', I see beyond the flint-locks, too, And swords begrimed with rust. 126 I stand today in the hall of flags And view beyond the tomb, The mighty works of the sons of men — Proud liberty in bloom. But who shall tell what the future days Of countless glories hold, Or dream of the mysteries, beyond The sunset's blazoned gold? 127 THE COMING OF NIGHT The shadows creep across the wold, The sky is like a sea of gold, And not a sound is heard along The haunts, that used to ring with song. The garden where the roses grew. Is veiled with frozen beads of dew; The naked trees stand mute and still, And icy fingers touch the rill. 128 **SOMEWHEEE IN FRANCE" Somewhere in France amid the ruins, A little girl and boy Are hanging their stockings up tonight, For a Christmas gift — a toy. I wonder will Santy visit them With a doll, a fife and drum? The little boy weeps, the little girl sighs, ** Gaston, will Santy come?" 129 Somewhere in France, the ruined homes Are charred and black and grim, While here and there, a cheery light Is bravely shining dim. I wonder will Santy visit them With the things they so much need? I wonder will the Christian hearts Eeraember the "kindly deed/' _ 130 A LEGEND OF THE LACE The silver frost upon the pane A dainty pattern formed, The while old Boreas bolder grew, And screeched and raved and stormed. But Betty at the casement stood, With rosy cheeks aglow, And watched the flakes come whirling down — The first of Winter's snow. 131 Then up she caught her finest thread, And tried to imitate The pattern that the frost- king wove, That told of Autumn's fate. Her needles turned this way and that, 'Till flashing in the sun, The filmy work she tried to make. Behold! at last was done. 132 Since then, her pretty work has spread From hovel unto halls, In stately castles grand and great. And dark and dingy walls. The bride has trailed it in the dust Of Love's forgotten years; Its misty folds have often hid Her sorrow and her tears. 133 Long years have passed and Betty dear, Has mingled with the dust; Her spotless soul has passed the stars Where love doth never rust. But other maidens love to watch With rosy cheeks aglow, And imitate the frost-work with Fine laces, like the snow. 134 And everywhere you go you'll find This silver misty sheen; The spiders try to weave its like, Upon the village green. The dews of midnight border it With crystal diamonds rare, And morning sunbeams brighten it, Like Betty's golden hair. 135 JOAN d'AEC O lily of Orleans that ever grows As white and spotless as the mountain snows, You bring to mind the shepherd-girl of yore That used to watch you growing more & more. The grace you bear I'm sure was hers alone — A queenly grace well fitted - for a throne, But who in days of youth did die for France, The land of loyalty and sweet romance. 136 But in the heart of every peasant true, Who wears the soldier red and gold and blue, She lives and reigns upon a greater throne Than aristocrats of France have ever known. She lives in patriot hearts from day to day. To bless and cheer her brothers on the way; The banner that she bears, is lily white! The sword she wields, is lo! a sword of Light. 137 DUSK When twilight kissed the eastern hills With tints of violet hue, And twinkling stars were shining bright, Within a deeper blue, I watched the flickering shadows glide Across the frozen bay- To where the solemn pine trees wave And sighed, the live long day. 138 The blacksmith's smouldering embers died, The anvil ceased to ring, The hammer leaned against the wall, For night was on the wing. The icicles like fringes hung Along the sloping eaves, Where snowbirds twittered in their sleep Among the withered leaves. 139 From cottage windows here and there, Eich lights of amber spread, Until it seemed the silver stars Reflected over- head. And thus it died, that Winter day. As dies a Summer rose; And the beauty of the violet tint. Soon faded from the snows. 140 THE EOSAEY **My boy, you're twenty-one today, But ah, it seem it can't be true, Since you and I have walked life's way — Since God has given love and you ! A mother's love, oh, who can tell What she would not give to her boy. What thorny paths, yea, down to Hell, What gems in Heav'n, to make his joy. 141 **And then, my boy, 'tis Christmas Day, And see! these lovely emerald beads. Each one a pray'r to bless your way, And each will stand for kindly deeds. And when you say your prayer, dear one, And come at last unto the cross. Through starless night or morning sun, The rosary will bear your loss/' 142 Ten years have passed and she is dead, And he is saying still his beads. The flowers blossom white and red, And thistles grow & thrive with weeds. Down through the mountains dark and wild, His engine plunges through the night, No matter though the way is mild, Or storms break through with pow'r and might. 143 He knows beyond all pain, a love Will lead him still from day to day; The same dear mother from above, Has ever taught him to obey. The rosary, with beads and cross, Has led him through some dismal nights, And saved him from eternal loss, By lending faith & heavenly lights. 144 And when each Christmas Day comes 'round, He thinlcs of mother's gift to him, And seeks the churchyard's hallowed bound, And prays, 'till night falls cold and dim. And when at last he's called by Death To pass down through the barren lands, I'm sure he'll pray with his last breath, — His rosary clasped in his hands. 145 LADY MAEY^S PICTURE Lady Mary's picture hangs Up in the attic close, With herbs of myrrh and lavender And petals of a rose. An old and faded parasol, Hangs from a rafter brown, A figured muslin rich with lace — 'Twas Lady Mary's gown. 146 Her picture is a lovely bit of painting rich and rare; She wears a gown of azure blue; A rosebud in her hair. A necklace, too, of coral pink, About her neck is clasped, Her slim white hands are twined with flowers, As if to hold them fast. 147 She was the belle of Paris, then, In eighteen-thirty- three. And had a lover of the Court, A son of royalty. The royal son of Count de Forge — Who fought and died for France* She found him on the battlefield Upon a broken lance. 148 They carried Lady Mary home — She died ere died the day. They placed her in her father's tomb Upon the Sabbath day. But this was in the long ago, The days of old romance, When hearts were given to bleed and die, As now they are in France. 149 Her picture used to grace the walls Of Castle Marr, 'tis said, Before the fields were marred and flowed With riverlets of red. But just as sweet she seems to smile, As on the happy day- She kissed her soldier lover true. And watched him ride away, 150 THE PINES I love to go where the tall pines grow In the heart of the wood- land dim, And watch the flowers in the quiet hours, And hear the brooklets evening hymn. For there is rest and the soul is blest, And beneath each spreading tree, I learn of God from the fragrant sod. Yea, I learn of His mystery. 151 I love to go where the tall pines grow- When the wintry days are here, And watch the trees in the balmy breeze, Nod with the waning year. I love the sweet scent — 'tis time well spent For it gives me health divine; The poet may sing of the oak as king, But I crave the evergreen pine. 152 THE CATHEDEAL. It stands in the morning's holy light, The cathedral grand to see; Its marble walls are divinely white, And its lofty spires are three. The golden rays of the morning sun Through the rose-stained window stream, 'Till a row of rubies deeply bathed In a martyr's blood, they seem. 153 A crucifix of the Christ stands high, In a lofty niche of gold, And methinks I hear a feeble sigh From the marble lips so cold. The sigh is lost in the gleaming light That comes like a crimson flood, And stains the steps of the altar, white, Like the Master*s precious blood. 154 And then, as if from the world beyond, The priest in his holy chant Of Christ who died and today is born. Draws nigh as the sun- beams slant. Draws nigh in a rich crescendo grand, That soars to the highest dome. And comes as if from the Promised Land — From the white Celestrial Home. 155 Caught in the sweep of a thousand prayers, It pours through the marble halls, As sweet as the songs of the seraphim, From the azure heavenly- walls. And then from the spires the bells ring clear And sweet, o*er the misty wold. And the rich and the poor from far and near. Are saying their beads of gold. 156 Now the crimson stain has reached the side Of the Master standing there, Above the white altar rich and wide, In the midst of song and prayer. O, harken ! nor drown that sweet low voice; O, be not so deaf — so blind! The words, are but the words of His choice — **Be gentle, be just, be kind/' 157 It stands in the morning's holy light, The cathedral grand to see; Its marble walls are divinely white, And its lofty spires are three. The golden rays of the morning sun Through the rose-stained window stream, *Till a row of rubies deeply bathed In a martyr's blood, they seem. 158 DESTINY Deep within the shadows of a quiet day, Love and I sat dreaming alone; It was November, yet *twas fair as May, For Life's beauty was on the throne. A perfect day — no cloudlet marred the blue; We dreamed of glories yet to be For us who loved as perfect lovers do, In true soul- unity. 159 O, happy day ! how often I have prayed That you might come again; How often through the long dark hours I*ve strayed Amid the sunshine and the rain. How many joys we reap in one short hour, Before we face Eternal night ! How often too, we crave for Love's sweet ilow'r Arrayed in beauty spotless white ! 160 The tide of destiny will bear us far Until we reach the boundless sea ! But Love will be our light — our guiding star, If rough or smooth the journey be. The memory of the pleasant dreams we've had In olden times— alas, those happy days, Will teach us patience as the sunset's red Must veil the valley of our parting ways. 161 THE DYING PRIEST At eventide I climbed the steps Where saints have often stood before, And viewed the sunset's splendor rare, Like sand upon a golden shore. I heard sweet anthems while I stood Amid the glory of it all, I heard the priestly message given — It sounded like a shepherd's call. 162 **He seeks the lost ones of the fold That wander in the mist of sin; That hear no music save the call Of worldliness and blatant din/' I little thought he called for me, The good priest in the chapel old, As I stood there beneath the dome And watched the sunset sea of gold. 163 How little in our rush for Life, We heed the glories close at hand, Until some cherished one is gone To join the ones in Spirit Land. The priest is dead — before he died. He said, **My boy, I called you long. I prayed for you— -I wept for you — I plead for you, in chant and song." 164 He placed a crucifix of gold Beneath my trembling fingers close, And with it, velvet petals red — Stray petals of his favorite rose. And then I felt the thread of life Run out from those slim fingers cold That placed within my own, the bits Of rose, and crucifix of gold. 165 At eventide I climbed the steps Where saints have often stood before, And viewed the sunset's splendor rare, Like sand upon a golden shore. I heard sweet anthems while I stood Atiiid the glory of it all, I heard the priestly message given — It sounded like a shepherd's call. 166 A SONNET OF FAITH If we should live from day to day The best we knoweth how, Would not the eventide*s cool breath Bring peace and quiet to each brow? Would not the love-star light our way Through dreamland*s silent glade, And give us faith and boundless love To keep us unafraid? 167 Would not a purer, holier faith Rise from the things now dead, and gone, And sanctify and magnify Our souls, ere comes the dawn And lead us from the paths of Night, To those of Love and Right and Li^ht? 168 THE MESSIAH Bloodred clouds hang o*er the hills, Darkening shadows slowly fall, And three crosses dark and drear Stand outside the city- wall, While the lightning cleaves the sky, And the bats dart swiftly by- 169 **The Messiah!" cries the voices Near the crosses, stark, above, For a golden light — behold ! Crowns the Christ— the King of Love, As the night with shadows long, Hushes all the hills of song. 170 Up the steep, the King of Earth Rides upon his charger white, For he fain would see this Christ And the glory of the light- Hidden in the dusk— draws nigh, As the bats dart swiftly by. 171 *'*The Messiah!" sounds the voices, That his soul remembers well. His horse — his favorite steed draws back And rears, as if by magic spell, While the night with shadows long. Hushes all the hills of song. 172 In his face burns guile and shame, And his spirit quails within; He is caught within the snares And the swift whirlwinds of Sin, As he sees the Christ on high. Though the clouds obscure the sky. 173 THE SANGTUS Sweetly from the lofty- spire, Hark! the bell is ringing, And I hear a chant divine; 'Tis the good priest singing **Holy, holy, holy,'* And I cross myself in pray'r, As I stand and listen there. 174 Slowly from my soul they pass, All the sorrows chiding, For the spirit of the Master Leads the chant abiding — *-Holy, holy, holy,'* And I see on Calvary's tree, Ohrist, who died, alas, for me« 175 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 Preservationlechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724) 779-2111 / illKiii niR 906 302 1