ro!^^:^^g;:cQC^^g3^::?^g^2^gc;g^^ 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. % 
 
 Chap. , _ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. \ 
 
 J 
 
<* 
 
LOVE'S HYMNAL 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 BY 
 
 F. ROENA MEDINI 
 
 ^ 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
LOVFS HYMNAL 
 
 dSonnct^ 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 F. ROENA MEDINI 
 
 T 
 
 CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 
 1896 
 
 UV)'^^^'^'^''^ 
 
t 
 
 
 vAjv<fi^ 
 
 Copyright, i8q6, 
 By F. ROENA MEDINI. Ci^-V 
 
 \\jSuuna.y 
 
 
 TA^ Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Ca 
 
TO 
 MY HUSBAND 
 
 HENRY JERROLD CASEDY 
 
T OVE'S Hymnal this, as found on Cupid's 
 
 -L' pyre, 
 
 Where burned the hearts of hopeless manhood 
 
 — age ; 
 These tender plaints, this closely written page 
 Illumined by the gleaming flames of fire. 
 Burned not away, but sang its song to lyre 
 Attuned to simple lay. O'erlooked by sage, 
 A throbbing heart there paused, as if to gauge 
 The pains of others with its own, — as dire 
 Misfortune ever turns to like for aid 
 In time of need, — best comforted to find 
 That others' pains are keener than their own. 
 Some comfort here the lover found, nor stayed 
 To quench the flame that round the altar twined, 
 And love hath since far dearer grown. 
 
HobeV i^pmnal 
 
 MY love, my better self, read line on line, — 
 It is my soul that speaks, so, dear, fold 
 down 
 The leaves I send, to be my heart's renown. 
 Within the temple of thy heart, if mine 
 Hath raised with others there a holy shrine. 
 Am I to hush my whispered prayer, or drown 
 With tears the arches high, at love's mute frown ? 
 If there an alien I should prove. Oh ! twine 
 The altar I have raised with chaplets fair. 
 To be my tomb, and love the grave that none 
 Shall see, for love's dear sake. Imprisoned there 
 I still shall live as memory lives, to shine 
 Adown the pathway of thy life's decline, 
 Till out of death, again life's victory 's won. 
 
 I 
 
%abe*i S^gmnal 
 
 II 
 
 IF my poor heart leaps forth in rhythmed line, 
 And lips dare breathe what fluttering heart- 
 throbs tell, 
 Think not the utterance came at birth, — or fell 
 From lips unwittingly. Long time the sign 
 I strove to stifle in my breast, — the wine 
 That ferments in the darkness of its cell 
 Is not at times more bitter in its well 
 Than I, denouncing this mad love of mine. 
 The wondering world would say, full well I know. 
 If once it read the passion of my soul, 
 " 'T were late," but not for torturing pains that 
 
 grow 
 To tempests that o'erwhelm like bitter fate. — 
 IVit^ weary brow a7id heavy feet ^ the goal 
 I sought is known and reached^ alas, too late. 
 
Hflbc*^ l^smnar 
 
 III 
 
 AND if thy beating heart the truth tells not, 
 Believe no words of mine. Or if they start 
 No echoing sigh, compassion's weary part 
 I would not ask of thee. Such mournful lot 
 Were sadder than these heavy tears that blot 
 The page whereon I write. If thy warm heart 
 Be dumb to throbbing of my own, apart 
 From tender pity that some need begot, 
 I am no more to thee than yonder moon 
 That, why, thou canst not tell, within thy breast 
 A sadness drops, that passes ere 't is noon. 
 I am no more than they, once friends, who 've 
 
 learned 
 Thy bitterness through trust betrayed, — more 
 
 blest 
 I 'd be by far, to know my friendship spurned. 
 
^abs*i l^emnal 
 
 IV 
 
 SINCE halting verse hath breathed this secret 
 care, 
 Mine eyes refuse to master thine. One time, 
 I held thee so — aloof, and deemed it crime 
 In that my pulse beat high, but now I dare 
 Not stir the bubble of a thought, aware 
 We both must strive for mastery to climb 
 To summit of a life we 'd make sublime. 
 And so, when thy dear eyes seek mine, I share 
 With thee thy thought, yet will not look to read 
 Thy heart's desire, lest that my lips lean hence 
 To drink sweet nectar with true lovers' greed. 
 Sternly I set our task with Art above 
 All else, and hold in leash each quivering 
 
 sense. 
 To meet thy glance and chain with duty — love. 
 
E0b^^ D^gmnal 
 
 NOT joy, the cymbals strike to sound my 
 heart. 
 To hymn my thoughts, is bitterness the meed. 
 Some sharply darting pain, the birth's sad need : 
 Some growing doubt, that I who stand apart 
 To catch the glow of morn, denying Art, 
 Have reached too far, and so must stand indeed 
 With empty hands, which, pricked with thorns, 
 
 do bleed. 
 But I, that, gazing, felt the poisoned dart 
 Sped from thine eyes, had gladly swooned with 
 
 pain, 
 When trembling fear I had not read aright 
 Crept in to strike a chill through every vein. 
 And yet love turned no brighter page of fate 
 Than just to love thee. /, to morning light 
 Awoke too sooft, — and thou^ awoke too late. 
 
Enbe*^ l^gnmal 
 
 VI 
 
 "\ T O vain desire speeds with the flash of wit, 
 -*- ^ The sympathies that reaching out gain 
 
 friends, 
 Till 'round my woman's shrine, there kneeling 
 
 bends 
 A goodly company where queen I sit. 
 Each conquest made, on memory's tablet writ, 
 Is thought of thee, and added lustre lends 
 To prove, in pleasing others, that amends 
 It makes for pleasing thee, and if I flit, 
 A restless bird, what better proof is thine 
 Than that my heart, oft sad, its time beguiles ? 
 If changed (I know the art), thou ne'er shalt 
 
 see 
 How deeply I may grieve. The bitter brine 
 Of tears unshed, I '11 hide beneath the smiles 
 The world found glad, because beloved by thee. 
 
^ahei lilsmnal 
 
 VII 
 
 LAST night I sat amidst a gallant throng 
 When suddenly, my love, thou cam'st to me 
 In thought ! Thy presence, thou, electric — thee, 
 In plenitude of will, as forceful, strong. 
 Thy melting eye held mine a moment long, 
 No more ; yet in that instant all to thee 
 Had yielded sway, and faint, I could not see 
 The surging faces of the crowd. The song 
 A graceful singer sang, I had not heard. 
 Beside me, some one spoke, and marveled much 
 At pallor of my face ; I spoke no word, 
 But wanly smiled. The spell, alas, was broke. 
 A dream — you were not there, and oft from 
 
 such 
 A vision, sweet with pain, I am awoke. 
 
JLabt*^ ^yimnaX 
 
 VIII 
 
 DEAR heart, I dare not dream of what our 
 lives 
 Might be, if we were free to love, we two. 
 As freely as the earth loves sun, the dew 
 The flowers, — when at thy fancied coming strives 
 The soul for mastery, and almost rives 
 In twain the body and its sense. To thee 
 Grants God my ardent soul enslaved, and free 
 Or bound, as thine, nor life nor death deprives. 
 What then, if through the temple of the soul 
 (Made meek by blights mankind can only guess) 
 There shone a hope that heart to heart our years 
 Might drift to peaceful calm — that tangled mesh 
 Of life unraveled, swift to us appears 
 The blessed haven of that longed for goal. 
 
Eobe'tf f^gmnal 
 
 IX 
 
 IN loving thee a little, can it harm ? " 
 Saidst thou ? The guerdon of a love is won 
 By risking all, by giving all. Not one 
 In this wide world hath loved, if love's alarm 
 Held Cupid's bow in bondage, or the warm 
 And beating heart its mercury limits run. 
 To flee, to crowd out thought, if it be done 
 And so to " little love " be dwarfed, we arm 
 The will and teach the heart, through chill of 
 
 world's 
 Calm reasoning, that love can buy or this, 
 Or that, where Fate rules all. When she unfurls 
 The scroll whereon is writ thy name and mine. 
 Shall we there find a withered rose to kiss 
 With tears, or deathless tendrils, love doth twine ? 
 
3LaU*i l^pmnal 
 
 X 
 
 \ T THEN first the fingers of our hands had 
 
 But touched, I felt from thine electric stream 
 Like lava through each limb. My thoughts which 
 
 teem 
 With fancies, much I blamed, and strictly set 
 Unbending watch o'er folly, which, to let 
 Unchidden go, disgraced, I thought, the dream 
 I held of noble womanhood. The beam 
 Of thy soft eye with loyalty I met. 
 My duty done, no thought could e'er intrude ; 
 Yet when emotion in our hearts awoke 
 Again, I chided mine, and said : " Be still. 
 There 's danger here for him. My sufferings rude 
 Must not o'ercast his spirit 'gainst my will." 
 And so, my heart I on my honor broke. 
 
 lO 
 
JLabt*& l^gmnal 
 
 XI 
 
 ^ T THEN intuition taught me that to gain 
 • ■ Sweet peace, thy heart waged struggles 
 fierce, there waked 
 No thought of self. For thee my peace was 
 
 staked, 
 As guerdon of the wish to save you pain. 
 But what of self ? I sought the path in vain. 
 When o'er my lips the anxious flood escaped 
 In sentences half formed, or voice enlaked 
 In tears, that years of grief had left like rain, 
 Unwept, thine eyes, true mirrors of thy soul, 
 Cried out to me, " Thou for thyself dost plead." 
 But when my lips had tremblingly turned mute, 
 Thou saidst, " Give speech unto our souls, to roll 
 The stone away and chide, is like a lute. 
 And sweet as praise, what wots if I take heed." 
 
 II 
 
Eab^i^ i^gmnal 
 
 XII 
 
 TO chide I feared, for in my heart there grew 
 So swift a consciousness of love, — delayed 
 Till now, I shrank within my soul dismayed, 
 And coldness barred my heart from self, till 
 
 through 
 The weary hours of night, no mother knew 
 More holy longings, nor more humbly prayed, 
 Than I for thee, whate'er thy life essayed. 
 Again we stand unveiled to each, and true 
 As magnets, sweep our souls in one, for time 
 Eternal, and through space. Yet, gathering force, 
 We utter words belying speech of eyes : 
 Our honor staked 'gainst love, we know no course 
 Beside, and bondsmen to ourselves, arise 
 To stem the passion of a love sublime. 
 
 12 
 
Eflbc*^ il^emnal 
 
 XIII 
 
 WHAT though my pulses thrilled like 
 mighty flame, 
 That seething round half blinded me, I held 
 At bay the prayer within thine eyes, — impelled 
 By powers above, beyond — who knows ? (The 
 
 same 
 Hath guided us o'er pitfalls deep, we came 
 Upon all unaware, when, still upheld 
 By powers unseen, the raging storm is quelled, 
 Before we 've asked for strength through heavenly 
 
 name.) 
 In vain ! I stood confessed unto my soul, 
 That nothing stood between my life and thee, 
 But just so much of doubt that might be sin, 
 To give thus much,were meant to give the whole, 
 And then no more to self, denied, " to be " 
 Was written on my heart, and burned therein. 
 
 13 
 
Habeas? I^gmnal 
 
 XIV 
 HAT greeting shall be given thee, my 
 
 w 
 
 own, 
 
 When, listening rapt, I hear thy step, and think 
 That all the world has heard the sound to link 
 Its bounding echo with my changed tone ? 
 Shall I so steel my looks that thou alone 
 Canst note the blood from out my lips doth 
 
 sink 
 To level of my heart, and o'er its brink 
 The throbs rebound till, 'gainst my temples 
 
 grown 
 To thousand anvils, I but hear my voice 
 An icy tone, that utters civil words 
 In phrases rounded well for other ears ? 
 So, greeting thee, my inward sense as birds 
 Made tremulous, there rests no other choice, 
 And opposite of that I am, appears. 
 
 14 
 
%abt*i l^gmnal 
 
 XV 
 
 OR if thy coming find me quite alone, 
 And, unaware, I ope the door to find 
 Thee there enframed, and flame of joy behind 
 The slower courtesy of speech, upthrown, 
 Leaps forth from shining eyes, they swift atone 
 By hiding in such offices the mind 
 Conceives to mask itself, — a spool to wind. 
 To drape a curtain, — this or that, till grown 
 More calm, mine eyes can look in thine and 
 
 speak 
 Of trivial things, as if 't were they, not thee, 
 Made up my sum of life, — or else, turned weak, 
 I scarcely dare give speech, lest lips too bold 
 Such truths shall yield, I stand unveiled, 
 
 and be 
 Unworthy thee, and all thy heart may hold. 
 
 15 
 
%abt*^ Hfittinal 
 
 XVI 
 
 TT THEN oft the longing for thy presence 
 
 • ^ sweeps 
 Like chilly blast across my aching heart, 
 And, throbbing to its core, all else is part 
 Of chaos, standing still in icy deeps 
 Of space, wherein Time's dial mutely weeps, 
 Refusing more to move, since we apart 
 Must stand, — in visions comest thou, to start 
 The universe in rhythmic beat, . . . upleaps 
 My soul to rest in thine its piteous care, 
 And once again, by vision pacified, 
 I mingle with the world, speak light, am gay, 
 And teach my heart it illy does to wear 
 A grief that burns earth's uses from my day, — 
 But swift returned, my. grief is magnified. 
 
 i6 
 
%aW^ ^^mtml 
 
 XVII 
 
 WHAT though thy tenderness like cloak 
 enfold 
 Me round, and soft as dew thy kisses fall 
 Upon my face ? my doubting heart must call 
 It pity's proof, not love's, thy heart doth hold, 
 Lest ardor of my own, which, grown too bold, 
 Interpretations make, and wrong to all 
 The rarer tenderness thy speech let fall, 
 Begot by no such flame as mine, — if told 
 At morn, at noon, at night thy love, — if held 
 The idol of thy heart, I still these fears 
 Must court, that, self-deceived, thou lov'dst me 
 
 not. 
 And so, 't is best this love of mine (impelled 
 As flowers to hide when noonday's sun appears), 
 Beyond the joy of loving thee, — asks nought. 
 
 17 
 
ILDbE'g l^gmnal 
 
 XVIII 
 
 WHEN first my mocking lips were brushed 
 by thine 
 More soft than breezes kiss the flowers at morn, 
 I know not how my life awoke newborn ; 
 Within thy arms, thy lips enshrined in mine, 
 I had forgot, and blushed, that, like a vine, 
 I clung to thee as if to part had torn 
 Love's rapture from my heart. So long I 'd worn 
 The mask indifference, that to now incline 
 My head unto thy will, and on thy breast 
 To sudden trembhng take, was yielding quite. 
 But brief such dream to woman, who awakes 
 To danger of her love. For her the test. 
 To rise to strength, and from such joy take flight 
 For her is left the pain brief rapture makes. 
 
 i8 
 
?L0bc'^ l^gmnal 
 
 XIX 
 
 AT Venice, in the centuries now past, 
 Near entrance to the Doge's palace, stood 
 A lion, 'twixt whose lips, for worldly good. 
 The people placed each plaint or prayer. . . . 
 
 Thou, cast 
 Before the palace of my heart, as fast 
 The secrets, mute as he, receiv'st my brood 
 Of plaints, my vows, my prayers, that, often sued, 
 Outnumber drops within the ocean vast. 
 Swift on thy ruby lips with blessings kissed 
 Is laid my prayer, with repetitions soft, 
 And then I speed away with guilty face. 
 As they, too, sped from urgent prayer, which oft 
 Had wronged their gracious rights withal ; but 
 
 list. 
 Still unrepentant, here my prayer I place. 
 
 19 
 
Hflbe'^ ?^gmnal 
 
 XX 
 
 WHEN once thy hand outreached sought 
 mine, awaked 
 By tenderness, my own poor hand crept in, 
 And like a rose with folded leaves, its thin 
 And taper fingers, that full long had ached 
 To know such loving joy, lay still and slaked 
 Their burning thirst for loving touch therein, 
 Till, pulses calmed, no fluttering bird within 
 Its nest could fold its weary wings (though 
 
 waked 
 Ere dawn) with gentler restfulness. My hand 
 Since then hath grown more gentle to mankind, 
 Hath seemed as if for lofty purpose planned. 
 In other grasp it hath not long remained, 
 As if once sanctified, it shrank to find 
 Itself in heedless clasp o'ermuch detained. 
 
 20 
 
%Qbt'^ i^gmnal 
 
 XXI 
 
 X T 7HEN first I knew thee, swiftly words of 
 
 ■ ^ praise 
 My lips would pass, as men give praise to 
 
 men; — 
 Or women, each to each, now and again 
 Will frankly praise a son's, a father's ways. 
 Quite innocent of deeper sense than weighs 
 Beneath our idlest words. I found that when 
 We least expect, love's fetters hide, and then 
 Are welded fast through all our future days. 
 Since when, I scarce can say thy name, so fast 
 My pulses bound, and others chance in speech 
 To say or this, or that of thee. — To frame 
 Thy praise I coldly speak, or seek to cast 
 Aside the consciousness of love, to reach 
 That calm control indifference may claim. 
 
 21 
 
Eofec*^ I^BittnaT 
 
 XXII 
 
 ' I ^HOU hast assured me oft I need not fear 
 -^ Thy loss, and yet, 'twixt thought and 
 speech there lies 
 The subtle field interpretation. — Wise 
 And chosen words mislead the heart, a tear 
 Belies a phrase, and so, grown glad while near, 
 When gone, swift fears that I mistook thee rise 
 Like haunting ghosts, and then within me dies 
 The comfort thou hadst left. My duty clear, 
 Again I chide my heart for loving thee, 
 Lest that I lay upon thy spirit aught 
 Of weight that draws unto itself a sigh, 
 A tear, nay any melancholy thought 
 That might in loving service, bold and free, 
 More happily be given were I not nigh. 
 
 22 
 
Eflb^fi l^smnal 
 
 XXIII 
 
 IF I do wrong my love and thee, to sow 
 Such unbelief, an abnegation this 
 Of love's great joy, — sorely its good I miss ; 
 Yet, placing far away the hopes, 't is so 
 An adamantine wall 'gainst bitterer blow 
 Of disappointment. But I love thee, — kiss 
 Thee as my spirit's good, and feel such bliss 
 Must overtop by far a worldly show 
 Of reasoning. I love thee ! Love thou me. 
 But love me as thou lov'st the sun, — no less 
 Thine own, if missed a day, and wakes no fear 
 Its beams will fail to shine again on thee. 
 Or, love me as thou lov'st the stars, that, near 
 Or far, do glow with tender watchfulness. 
 
 23 
 
^abfs l^gmnal 
 
 XXIV 
 
 AND how, my heart of hearts, shall I love 
 thee? 
 What plenitude of words could tell thee how, 
 And never falter, never err. I vow 
 My love, and yet the pictured speech, I see 
 When done, hath outlined merely. Drawn as 
 
 free 
 As artist's hand, but still I must allow 
 'T would fit a hundred loves that humbly bow 
 Before the throne of Cupid. Mine must be 
 I know not what, — the gladness of the spheres, 
 The sadness of the grave, — the light of heaven. 
 The pains of hell. The joyous laugh, — the tears 
 That ope the floodgates of the soul, the songs 
 Of tenderness and mirth, the fears that leaven 
 Every bliss, and trust which rights all wrongs. 
 
 24 
 
lS.abt*S iggmnaX 
 
 XXV 
 
 I LOVE thee with the childlike faith of one 
 Believing God, — with purity that shines 
 Above an angel's brow ; with love that binds 
 Our hearts in simpler deeds of life, that run 
 On level of its arduous duties done. — 
 Its talks, its walks, the glance, the sigh, it finds 
 Swift sympathies in each. — A love that blinds 
 Us so, we scarce beneath its dazzling sun 
 Can choose the path, for O, I love thee too 
 With woman's struggling heart, whom love doth 
 
 wound 
 Till oft she falters o'er the brink of wrong 
 For him who doth her heart's desire imbue. 
 And right for God. What more but to be strong .> 
 For love debased, alas, is love uncrowned. 
 
 25 
 
il0bc'^ ^gmnal 
 
 XXVI 
 
 IN all the years I lived, not knowing thee, 
 Amidst my griefs there dwelt a soulful sight. 
 Upholding me as one that seeth a light. 
 There waked no sound, unthrilled from thee to 
 
 me, 
 No sadness could I know, that *neath it, free 
 As chimes of bells, did not thy coming bright 
 Ring out. How could my griefs bring blight 
 When it was writ thy light mine eyes should 
 
 see ! 
 Philosophy hath bitter laws ; we grow, 
 And reach, and yearn for what we scarcely know ; 
 Then Cupid, perching unaware, his tip 
 Speeds forth, to shatter castles high as air. 
 So strong, grave science hath no art nor care 
 To fill, yet Cupid's bow the whole can trip. 
 
 26 
 
Eotic'^ ^gmnal 
 
 XXVII 
 
 WHEN, years agone, a sudden conscious 
 thought 
 Passed through thy mother's heart th' unwritten 
 
 word, 
 I bless the quickened pulse that in her stirred 
 The knowledge of thy sacred charge, which 
 
 naught 
 But God's own will could her gainsay ; where 
 
 aught 
 That blessed or beautified her sight, or bird 
 That soared, each glorious song or sound she 
 
 heard 
 Was cherished for the sake of life she sought 
 To nourish with her being's tenderest care. 
 I bless her for her daily thoughts that grew 
 To hopeful love ; I bless her for the dreams 
 She wove into the garb she 'd have thee wear. 
 I can but think, of all the brood she knew, 
 Thy advent, rich with love, the dearest seems. 
 
 27 
 
iCfltje*^ ^gmnal 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 I LOVE the earth whereon thy shadow 's laid, 
 The sun that kisses thee, the moon that 
 peeps 
 Into the casement where my loved one sleeps. 
 I love the book wherein the letters fade 
 That bear the name thy boyish fingers made. 
 I love the ivory which forever keeps 
 The impress of thy staying touch, or leaps 
 'Neath mine to hopeful sounds, when, sore afraid, 
 I sighed that only these remain to me. 
 I love a voice in certain tearful song. 
 Grown sacred since one day it spoke of thee. 
 And should the grave cast o'er thee noisome 
 
 breath, 
 I 'd love the mound that sheltered thee, and long 
 To meet, while blessing it, th' embrace of death. 
 
 28 
 
3iabt*^ ilgmnal 
 
 XXIX 
 
 I BLESS the maidens who have loved thee 
 well, 
 (I cannot blame the ones who tempted thee). 
 Each rose-leaf round thy footsteps cast must be 
 The memories tender, whose sweet perfume tell 
 The fateful, dearest love that thee befell, 
 Was last among the roses on its tree. 
 It with rare fragrance hung there lovingly, 
 A little shook by storms that sweep the dell, 
 A trifle pale from tears the night doth start ; 
 But when, at look of thine, it blushed again. 
 New life suffused its ardent veins, and leaf 
 By leaf the history of sweet love's belief 
 Is written softly there, with Cupid's dart. 
 And waits alone for thy dear heart's Amen. 
 
 29 
 
EotJC'^ l^pmnal 
 
 XXX 
 
 IF these my written words, with love aglow, 
 Were all that in thy life remained of me, 
 I wonder if thy heart, at last set free. 
 Might not forget ? Then be it so ! 
 What greater praise than that the notes that grow 
 More sweet with love awake thy heart, and be 
 Forgot the singer, not the song ? When we 
 Give love, and ask no counterpart, we know 
 The joy of worship is our recompense. 
 When joy's sweet pain outlives its parent stem. 
 As must the thorn outlive the fragrant rose, 
 Full oft the fragrance o'er our dreaming sense 
 Will swift recall the happier day, and so 
 Be born that perfect peace, love's diadem. 
 
 30 
 
llDtjc'^ ^VimnRl 
 
 XXXI 
 
 IF I remained content to hear thy name, 
 To see thee pass afar, though thou mightst 
 yearn 
 To see my face, thou soon unmoved wouldst turn 
 Away without a sigh. It is the same 
 With graves we pass each day: when sorrow 
 
 came, 
 The mourner grieved ; accustomed grief will burn 
 And sear the heart, till much alike, we learn. 
 Is sad indifference, which, to gentler frame, 
 We call the " healing o'er of time." Farewell ! 
 Necessity to part is ever sad, 
 Yet worse the love that of the grave hath breath. 
 So then I flee, when to have stayed, with glad 
 And tender touches of thy hand to tell 
 Of love, were bliss ; to go, a living death. 
 
 31 
 
llot)r*iS l^smnal 
 
 XXXII 
 
 ALAS, alas, for youth's dear sake, I ought 
 Not sing such sad refrain, but guide my 
 song 
 Until, triumphant, it might ring so strong 
 That heaven would echo to the gladness caught. 
 No life so sad it hath not light inwrought 
 With sombre woof ; no heart so dead, the wrong 
 It suffered may not hope reward. The long 
 And dreary road hath aye an end, and, sought 
 Or anxiously evaded, death will free 
 The soul from endless striving 'gainst a fate 
 We vainly seek through life to subjugate, 
 With hope to grow in attributes, that, done 
 With earth, the higher joys of heaven will be 
 Conceded recompense for perils run. 
 
 32 
 
ILflbt*^ l^gmnal 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 T WONDER, if beholding me thus worn 
 -*- And shaken with the weary years, a tear 
 Will not, beneath thine eyelids, dim thy dear 
 And kindly sight ; and if so loved, though born 
 To less of joy than all the world, my torn 
 And bleeding heart were not repaid the fear 
 It held, by thee forgot, that year by year 
 Must heavier prove than could be easy borne ? 
 Nay, nay, I would not have thy love at cost 
 So dear to thee ; that I be tempest-toss'd. 
 It is enough, and better far the thought, 
 To stand aside, if thou wert passing by. 
 To gather to my heart the pain it brought, 
 Remain unseen, and bless thee with each sigh. 
 
 33 
 
3LaW^ Hgmnal 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 ONE time I thought, when griefs grew old, 
 my face 
 Would claim again its tender outlines, glow 
 With all the light that once reflected so 
 The happiness within ; for oft the grace 
 Of years may softer beauty interlace 
 Than youth hath ever known ; but though my woe 
 Be banished from my face, and waking grow 
 To brightness with the interests of our race, 
 Asleep, the angel Sorrow draws her lines 
 Deep in wherever she hath cast her shade. 
 And only grief remains. At morn the brines 
 Of bitter tears hath washed therein so deep, 
 Nor youth nor hope, one vestige more doth keep, 
 And joy handmaiden of dire woe is made. 
 
 34 
 
^aW^ l^gmnal 
 
 XXXV 
 
 WHEN some one spake thy name, to say, 
 " He comes," 
 My soul took courage ; yet, last night, so dark 
 The way, I wondered how, with not a spark 
 Of light about my path, no meagre crumbs 
 Of comfort, I could bear this grief that numbs 
 The heart to common joy. Death, grim and 
 
 stark. 
 Holds not the dread that loveless life doth mark 
 The years withal ; so, when they said, " He 
 
 comes," 
 I joyed, although I wished my weary face 
 Might be forever hid, as one long dead : 
 Remembered ever with its youth, its light. 
 And rosy tints ; remembered with no trace 
 Of age or care ; beloved because so bright, 
 Not cherished for the beauty that has fled. 
 
 35 
 
ilflbc*iS f^gmnal 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 IN all the shipwrecks of earth's stormy life, 
 Thine eyes still beam the beacon o'er its sea. 
 When others fail, thou, steadfast, art to me 
 God's truth, the gleam of sun that 'midst the 
 
 strife 
 Doth light my path when bitter doubts are rife. 
 When all seems false and hollow, then I see 
 Thy face, I feel thy touch, and know in thee 
 Those virtues which true manhood claims ; thy 
 
 life 
 The one just thing that weary days have known, 
 The rest as false as happiness we dress 
 The face withal, or smiles one scatters round 
 To hide the wounds that bleed within, now grown 
 Too old and deep for surgeon's knife to sound. 
 I thank thee, love, for Faith's sweet happiness. 
 
 36 
 
Eobe*^ l^gmnal 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 \T THEN through me thrilled the conscious- 
 
 ' ^ ness of power 
 To move in thee emotions that thy glance 
 Alone could wake, I shuddered at the chance 
 Temptation, seeking to dispel the hour 
 Of glamour which too ardent souls o'erpower, 
 I scarce dared touch thy hand when in the dance 
 We moved to rhythm sweet that e'er enhanced 
 The wondrous charm. " Not love, true love, my 
 
 dower. 
 How could he find in this world-beaten shell 
 The ideal love a poet seeks ? I wield 
 Some power, perhaps," I mused, " yet time would 
 
 tell 
 How fleeting transient passion's reign can be," 
 And worldly wise, I saw, but would not yield ; 
 Yet futile all my struggles to be free ! 
 
 37 
 
Unbc*? llgmnaX 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 FOR when we sing I see the blood recede 
 From out thy face, my own to follow it, 
 A-vibrate with the thrilling tones that flit 
 From note to note, soul-stirred by words that 
 
 lead 
 To sense of sad farewell. The sudden need 
 Of strength breaks o'er my heart. Aroused, I 
 
 sit, 
 Thy critic stern, — a word, rebuke, admit 
 No faltering, till back we 're swept and freed 
 From slumbering passion that would overleap 
 Control. O dreaming hearts, back, back to 
 
 earth, 
 H3T)ocrisy, to falsehood, which sweet eyes 
 Gainsay, but spell me not with lovers' sighs 
 To ask if I do love, or else I keep 
 The truth in leash, denying Cupid's birth ! 
 
 38 
 
3iabt'^ l^gmnaX 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 Is AID, " To part is better for us both ; " 
 Yet, love, while granting danger, great to 
 thee. 
 What boon in all this life is left to me 
 So sweet as tender love, whose daily growth 
 I battled with all laws of mind, and loath 
 To yield e'en then, I fled because, to see 
 Thee knowing it a wrong, could never be. 
 The purer love we 'd choose to give in oath. 
 Is it enough that thou canst see beneath 
 This outward form of me some flame 
 Akin to thine, though worlds would mate us not ? 
 If sometimes selfish earth's desires bequeath 
 The pains of longings vain, they only came 
 To prove (when overcome) their blessed lot. 
 
 39 
 
fLabt'^ I^Bmnal 
 
 T 
 
 XL 
 
 HE joyous bells of hope and deathless love 
 Are waked this morn to sound such ring- 
 
 ing songs, 
 I scarce can spell the one that most belongs 
 To calmer beat of love's repose. Above 
 Their broken music, like a restful dove, 
 My heart in gladness sweet with memory throngs, 
 Forgetting quite the bitterness and wrongs 
 That Fate heaped high to check true love. 
 Mine own, when glad I read the crowded page 
 Whereon thy love and hopelessness doth wage, 
 I am not saddened by the maze of pain 
 That tripped our wary feet ; if they deceived 
 Two earnest hearts, 't is past, and ours the gain, 
 Believing, and regretting not that we believed. 
 
 40 
 
%aWS l&gmnal 
 
 w 
 
 XLI 
 
 HEN thou art nigh, I have no words, no 
 
 speech, 
 
 For swiftly chasing thoughts ; I only know 
 That thou art mine for space so brief, I throw 
 Away much tender joy within my reach. 
 In dread of that grim spectre who to each 
 Will swiftly come and say, " 'T is time to go." 
 And then, thou gone, my thoughts with tumult 
 
 grow 
 To words I might have said when eyes could 
 
 teach 
 My meaning, or thy lips with swifter kiss 
 Had sealed my own with " Yes, I understand." 
 O love, my king, thou knowest this, all this, 
 That love is deathless 'midst the chaos life. 
 Nor reasoning cold, philosophy, nor strife 
 Can bury love, or love withstand. 
 
 41 
 
Jlobc*fii f)2mnal 
 
 XLII 
 
 DOUBT thou a love that fears the sun, 
 Or shames itself to speak thus heart to 
 heart, 
 But not of love that hath no thought apart 
 From thee. Each heart-beat of the past was 
 
 one 
 Of longing for the joy that is, — we run 
 The gauntlet of emotions that up start 
 Alert to recognize dear Cupid's dart, 
 But how atone for wrong that has been done 
 When errant Fancy left sore wounds behind ? 
 Let cautiousness o'ermatch the cunning jade, — 
 If we mistook for love her thin disguise. 
 Evaded and unsought came love when Cupid 
 
 blind. 
 Unmindful of his mark, the murderer played 
 And pinioned us, midst tears and sighs. 
 
 42 
 
lobe's ^pmnal 
 
 XLIII 
 
 AS on the threshold of fruition sweet, 
 I pause, and question yet, if right toward 
 thee, 
 How stubborn dual egos are to free 
 From doubt the aye and nay my heart must 
 
 meet. 
 Can love's great boon be realized, nor fleet 
 The happiness once disbelieved ? In fee, 
 One might accept a taste of joy ; but see 
 The goal too dear to hope in dreams, I greet 
 Its semblance with a doubt. 
 
 Forgive, O love, 
 Long time it is, since in the spirit, thine 
 I vowed myself, take also thou the blame 
 Of holding me, as I hold thee. The dove 
 Of Peace, in loving trust, our hearts shall tame, 
 And earth a heaven become in life's decline. 
 
 43 
 
Inbe'g 5)pmnal 
 
 XLIV 
 
 LOVE wedded, adds to sleep the blissful 
 sense 
 Of Presence, and the heart o'er-fuU oft wakes 
 To joy in joy, or midway slumb'ring, takes 
 A gladsome comfort stretching thence 
 A hand inertly, sleepily where dense 
 The darkness lies, to touch, as light as flakes 
 Of snow, the dear one's cheek, who mayhap, 
 
 wakes. 
 Or, sleeping still, imprints the seal intense 
 Of lips' devotion, or detains the hand 
 With loving replications of its touch. 
 As if to say, " God bless thee, dear, 't is planned 
 That sleeping, waking, or in death, thus much 
 Thou knowest well, through this unerring bond, 
 Shall each to each our soul's pure love respond." 
 
 44 
 
lobe's {)pmnal 
 
 XLV 
 
 AND I, grown fonder with the years and thee, 
 Must wonder that the dial Time, so swift 
 With griefs for others, yet has left no rift 
 In summer of our hearts. I feared to be 
 Content ; to find myself thus truly free 
 To love, and be so loved. That I may lift 
 A thankful heart, receive the treasured gift 
 And call it wholly mine, is marvel glad. 
 And so I hold my happiness in trust, 
 Half fearing that, like angel visitant, 
 It prove as brief. This joy, if I make sad 
 With less than heaven's confidence, I must 
 Deny its God and sin, — a militant. 
 
 45