PS 3507 . 632 S4 1905 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ooooE^sTisa .'ft'' <*» "»x..^**n* **\. '-mil?* ^X v^ v 1 »L^L'* <>• v v*cr 4* ,vl^% *V '° -*°" ■J Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/santalessiootherOOdodg C2P1 Sant' Blessto anD ©tber poems Sulia £it3abetb Dofcge X IRew Jtjorfc Ube Tknfcfeevbocfeer lpress 1905 o— Bn Bnacbrontsm 17 Where twice twelve high Corinthian columns rose Of richest marble, pious spoil perhaps Of Juno's earlier fane ; then turned aside Where o 'er a dim side chapel's altar hung A picture, sought by devotee of art And pious worshipper and dear alike To both, Madonna del Rosario called, Sassoferrato's masterpiece, who here More than in all his lesser works had caught The spirit of the earlier master's art. With heavenly sweetness, from His mother's lap The Holy Child leans forward graciously, With tiny, dimpled hands a rosary To Santa Cattarina proffering Who lowly kneels in meek, adoring love. As from the central figure Gualdo's glance Rose carelessly, a sudden lightning flash Of wakened interest gleamed in his eye. A something, an expression in the look The holy mother bends upon her child Recalled, though all unlike, that countenance tf (Suai&o— an anachronism Which made ere while the sunlight of his life. Another look, he saw it not ; again 'Twas there, more marked. Ah, life might hold once more The ghost at least of joy, shadow of hope, Seeking from day to day this miracle. From day to day in truth this pilgrimage Gave Gualdo occupation, aim, and hope. Kneeling before the picture he would wait The fleeting likeness now and then vouch- safed To his rapt sight, which seemed a miracle, Though born in truth of his own changing mood, No less than those which many a tale of old Had fixed upon his childhood's memory. And as he gazed one morning waiting thus, Upon the Holy Infant's face there grew That selfsame look, and to his wondering eyes The blessed baby hands seemed offering The rosary to him, to him whose lips Had long ago forgotten how to pray ! <3ualDo— Bn Bnacbronism 19 Abashed, he left the spot, yet when again The haunting vision drew him thitherward Upon the morrow, still the selfsame look, The selfsame gracious proffer startled him. Again and yet again the same, till now, — The mother's face unnoticed — all the force Of sweetness irresistible and mute Appeal insistent centred in the Child And made Him seem the love-compelling source Of love and centre of all life and thought. Awe and amazement grew in Gualdo's soul. 11 For me, so all unmeet, a miracle ? To me the dear Lord tenders such a gift Who for long years have quite forgotten Him?" In trouble which would not be set aside, In vain self-questioning that knew no rest, He sought his boyhood's teacher, mentor, friend, So long neglected, Padre Giacomo, And poured into a sympathizing heart His tale of love, grief, wonder, mystery. A holy man was Padre Giacomo, Superior of the pious brotherhood 20 Oualfco— Bn anachronism Dwelling contiguous to Sabina's church And founded by the great Saint Dominic. He walked in faith and pious offices, As much convinced it was the will of Heaven That bands of godly men should dwell apart From earthly cares and common toils of life As was the founder, Dominic himself. " A miracle, my son ? Why not, in truth ? Think not the day of miracles is past. Through all the ages many a sinful soul — Many beside the darkness of whose lives Thine gleameth like the scarcely sullied snow — Hath God by miracle brought to Himself, His eye omniscient seeing through the veil Of folly, sin, or vain indifference A spark which needed but the breath divine To kindle into bright, consuming flame Of utmost consecration. Nay, I see In all thy life a heavenly providence, Shaping through earthly love a love divine, Through selfish grief a holy grief for sin, Through passion's strife the rest of heaventy peace ; K'en through a worship all idolatrous ©ualDo— Bn B-nacbronfem 2 Drawing thee to thy infant Saviour's feet. Accept the miracle, my son, receive The token that thy life henceforth shall be A life of prayer, all consecrate to Him." True was the padre's word, for Gualdo's heart, By passion's plough and pain's sharp harrow stirred, Softened by rain of unavailing tears And warmed by sunshine of a stainless love E'en but remembered, proved a soil indeed Fitted for blossoming of love divine. Few better than the padre could portray That wondrous Love Incarnate which had borne For us all bitterness of life and death ; Few with more simple faith than Gualdo hear, Or with more fervent self-surrender cry, "Henceforth, dear Lord, now and forever Thine ! " Unknowing of that blessed liberty Which is his heritage whom Christ sets free, For Gualdo's feet opened one only path, 22 <3ualDo— Bit Snacbroniem That in which generations frocked and cowled Had blindly sought by vain self-sacrifice To earn His favor who already loved, Who age on age held out to them a hand Their foolish blindness would not let them see. Name, title, fortune gladly laid aside, Before the altar Fra Gregorio Took up the holy service which he craved, And clasped for life the proffered rosary. A score of years had passed. No need to tell The doubts, fears, agonies, which made at first Of the bare soul of Fra Gregorio Their battle-field. Yet since no seed of faith Sown in God's soil, howe'er unskilfully, Shall fail of fruitage in that garden fair Which holds both worlds, so now the peace of Heaven Had stilled the tumult, and the convent's life Of prayer and sacred song and pious works Filled up the measure of a sweet content <3ualDo— !Hn Bnacbrontem 23 Which had no taint of the dull apathy, The slavish superstition, or the base And foul hypocrisy which hid beneath So many a monkish garb. A faith serene Filled and possessed his heart, nor could he guess The strange untimeliness of his own life Midway in this tempestuous century Of action, strife, unrest. A love refined And purified by fire had grown to be Life of his life, a golden cord which bound That life to Christ, the Master whom he served So singly, and approached so closely, that Had Padre Giacomo still read his heart As in those early years, he might in sooth Have feared lest saints and Holy Mother lose Worship and reverence due ; but that good man Had passed from mortal sight, and later rule Took little heed of doctrine. Lonely cell, Fair convent gardens where the roses bloomed 24 (BualDc— Bn Bnacbvontsm And violets breathed perpetual fragrant prayer, The cloistered walks whose narrow arches, raised On slender marble columns, oft recalled The stately growth of sunny Lombard plains ; Whose orange grove enclosed brought back sweet da}'s Of happy youth in light-bathed Sicily ; The doorway at the cloister's farther end Through whose strait space the whole fair outer world Lay stretched before his gaze, Rome at his feet, And across Tiber's yellow, sluggish flow The dome of great St. Peter's looming high— These were his world, and in its narrow round Lay all his dream of life, his hope of Heaven. But now this quiet world is strangely stirred, For thickest conyent walls exclude not sound Of booming gun and martial trumpet blast> Nor rumor stirring up a vague unrest. (BualDo— Bn Bnacbroniem 25 At last comes news, how strange, how terrible, The Holy Pontiff flouted, set at nought, Besieged within his own Sant' Angelo By him styled King, forsooth, of Italy ; Till, moved by pity for the blood outpoured, The Holy Father bids resistance cease, Along his covered gallery slow retreats And in his own imperial Vatican Becomes a prisoner, and this Savoyard, This bold Sardinian usurper, sits Within the Quirinale's palace walls And Rome, all renegade, shouts Viv* il Re! So came the tale with fear and wonder fraught. Next, news more dread, more near: "The King requires For pressing needs his faithful servants' house " ; And ere the slower minds have understood The warning rumble of the earthquake shock, The convent has become a hospital ; And where for centuries in frock and cowl Its monkish occupants have offered up 26 (SualDo— Bn Bnacbtontsm Incense and prayer and hymn and canticle, Soldiers, in stained and ragged uniform, With pain and fever racked, fill cell and hall With groans and curses, jest and ribald song. Of all the brotherhood but three remained, Why chosen, who can tell ? And of the three One was Gregorio. Beloved of all In bygone years, so now again did all Revere and love him, humble though his task, To keep the convent door and now and then Serve by the sick in lowly ministries. A tender hand in service and a heart Brimming with sympathy for grief and pain, A cheerful spirit, simple courtesy Sweet and unfailing, and a calm, clear mind, — These were the gifts men named in naming him. Again the years rolled by, not quiet now, Yet filled with willing service, wrought in love. <3ualDo— Bn Bnacbroniem 27 'Twas a wild night. The winds raved ceaselessly Across Campagna's waste, and rain-waves beat Incessant 'gainst the casement of a cell Where lay, by fitful slumbers lightly held, A fever patient, grizzled, wasted, old With more than years, while Fra Gregorio, Alone in charge, alternate prayed and watched. A restless tossing, then a muttered oath Broke through the silence, and a voice attuned To the hoarse din of war more than to note Of any music, rang upon the air In broken snatches of rough battle song Or roystering chorus as with mess-room mates, Till, softening erelong to sweeter strain, It seemed some echo of forgotten sounds. Carina mia, sleep thou in peace. Clatter of war horse and rattle of arms Pass 'neath thy window, grow distant and cease, 28 ©ualDo— Bn anachronism Nor trouble thy dreaming with vaguest alarms. Morning shall rouse thee with carol of birds And faint ringing chimes from the far purple hill, With song of the vintage and lowing of herds. Till then, happy dreams all thy slumber time fill. May grief ne'er approach thee, nor discord affright ; May evil pass by thee unheeded as now. Afar from thy life be the stress of the fight And the angel of peace drop a kiss on thy brow. At last the song had wholly died away And as a ray from the one flickering lamp, Held for a moment in the watcher's hand, Fell full across the face, his sight confirmed The witness of his hearing, and he knew That helpless there before him was the foe Who robbed him once of earth to gain him Heaven. ©ualfco— Sn Bnacbrontsm 29 Then, while a thousand feelings surged and strove, The heavy eyes with slowly opening lids Followed the light which showed that gazing face, Free for the moment from its lifelong mask Of self-forgetful calm, in strong relief Marking its delicate lines, and the weak voice Cried, " Gualdo ! Spare me!" " Spare thee ? nay, my friend, As brothers do we meet. In all my heart Is there but love and pity for thee. Sleep." And the eyes closed and the lips framed " A dream ! " And while his watcher prayed once more he slept. I^ater, when morning's earliest twittering notes Rang intermittent from the orange boughs, The faint voice asked, "Gualdo, is't truly thou? And thou forgiv'st ? I knew not 'twas in man To pardon thus the murder of a life. And yet methinks I see within thine eye 30 ©ualfco— 2ln Bnacbroniem A fire that even murder could not quench Burning within thee. It were strange in- deed If this tame cloister life have brought to thee The joy that all my freedom never found. " My life, ah basta ! 'twas not quite a monk's ! Che vuole ? But it brought me little joy Save joy of battle and the pride to know And vaunt my share in the accomplished deed Of Italy united, powerful, free. And now 't is almost ended. This old wound I brought from Aspromonte saps my strength; This cursed fever caught in Pontine swamps Clutches my life and will not loose its hold. 'Tis well. A soldier shrinks not from his foe, Even the last and worst. Is it not strange That in this latest fight, thou, Gualdo, thou Shouldst be my friend and ally, who hast cause To hate me rather ? Foolish, were we not ? For the sweet English rose hung far too high ©ualDo— Bn anachronism 31 For either. Stay, I once — 't was years ago, A score, methinks— I saw her once again. Time had but ripened all the budding charm That witched our youthful hearts, and at her side Sat a fair replica of her young self, Sat, all unconscious that the Pincio's crowd Had eyes but for her beauty. Dost recall The wonder of those eyes, that hair of gold ?" "Nay," cried the monk, " for thee earth fadeth fast ; For me 't is long since dead. No woman's name May cross thy lips or mine, save only hers Who pleads for us above. Sanctissima, Ora pro nobis / Jesu, send Thy grace And fix our hearts on Thee, alone on Thee." Thou, who on Heaven's exalted Throne Wouldst be not Son of God alone, Of glory King from all eternity ; But who for sinful man to earth Didst come through lowly human birth 32 (Sualfco— Bn Bnacbronism To dwell with us and very Man to be, Incarnate Love, deliver lis ! Thou who upon the bitter Cross Did suffer every woe and loss E'er known to mortal heart since time be- gan ; O Christ, enthroned once more on high, Still in our sorrows be Thou nigh, Saviour, Thou Son of God, yet very Man, Eternal Love, deliver us ! Spring w T as abloom along Campagna's wastes And breathed in cloying sweetness from the boughs Of the old convent trees whose golden balls Hung still amid their blossoms. Tinkling peals Of the old portal bell gave notice oft Of stranger guests, the most from foreign shores, Who, turning from this modern, strange new Rome, Would seek the past within Sabina's walls. And one sweet morning came a fair young ©ualDo— Bn Snacbronfsm 33 By older friends attended, one who seemed Herself a bright embodiment of spring, With the same eyes and gleam of golden hair And curve of lip that once in long past years Had burned their imprint deep in Gualdo's heart. With halting speech which rang in sweeter tones Than purest Tuscan from another tongue She would know all the legends of the place, Would see the Virgin of the Rosary And the famed orange tree Saint Dominic With his own hands had planted. And with grace Of sweetest reverence for the kindly guide Who plucked for her an orange from the tree And fragrant violets from the garden bed, Loosed from her belt a rose, and smiling said, " You have no roses 'mid these gray old walls ; May I not give you this? It came, moss- packed, 34 (SualDo— an anachronism This morning from my own dear English home. My mother's mother plucked it ; she is Rose And I am Rose. Nay cousin, " to the soft Reproof that fain would check her artless speech, " Nay, cousin, I am sure this kind old man Will pardon if my words too forward seem. " And Fra Gregorio received the rose With thanks and murmured blessing and a smile That sealed the blessing. And the vision fled. When next the morning light came steal- ing in Through the high windows of Sabina's shrine, They touched a motionless and kneeling form Before the altar del Rosario, And from the prayer-clasped hands a faded rose ©ual&o— Hn Bnacbrontsm 35 Dropped one by one its petals, and the lips Returned the morning's smile with answer- ing smile Of hard won triumph and of perfect peace. BY LAND AND SEA 37 KAUSTA IS she not fairest ? Come, see her stand On lofty Akropolis, pure and sweet From the shapely urn-upbearing hand To the soles of her sandalled feet. In marble, aye, but she lived in truth More than a score of ages ago, And the radiant charms of her deathless youth Through the sculptor's genius glow. I fancy her roaming the Attic plain By the swift Ilissos she loved so well, Fairest and first of a virgin train With their chaplets of asphodel. Or seated demure mid the half hushed din Of girlish voices and shuttle and loom, Her slender fingers enmeshed within The mystical pallium, 39 4o Iftaltsta Meekly happy to do her part In service to high Athena paid, Athena, queen of her fresh young heart, Great maiden-honored Maid. What knew she better? The world's one Wgbt, Not yet arisen, threw a twilight dim Into such pure hearts, bearing through the night Unconscious witness to Him. I see her again with the sculptor's eyes When the long procession onward rolled — While the air was soft and blue the skies And the light was flecked with gold — Soldier and gift bearer, minstrel and sage, Bellowing victim and rearing steed And rumbling chariot, slow paced age And youth with its ill curbed speed, Winding up the citadel's side Past spear-sharp aloes, o'er soft young grass, To the Propylaea's marble pride And the glittering gates of brass ; IKalieta 41 Praying for blessings on people and town, Chanting praises for blessings rife : " Pallas Athene ! Spare thy frown ; Thy smile to us is life." O pride of Hellas, my peerless maid ! How the master's wonderful, godlike power Brings to my vision, so long delayed, The glory of that hour. It gives to my heart the joy to know How fair and fragrant a flower once bloomed In that old dead world of long ago Whose glories and gods are entombed ; And I love to dream, as my fancies stray, How she lived here once a life as sweet As the farewell token I bring her to-day, The jonquils I drop at her feet. A LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA IN 1453. 1 FAR stretching as the eye can roam The shadowy, vaulted aisles extend, And the lofty, angel-guarded dome Seems with the sky to blend. O'er surging billows of holy song Prayer laden mists of incense rise, While blue robed priests swell deep and long Anthems of sacrifice. What heeds the terror stricken crowd ? The tumult swells to sullen roar Of mad despair and wailing loud — " The Turk is at the door ! " From homes polluted and blood-defiled, From fire and rapine and death they flee, Prince and beggar, saint, sinner, and child, A woful company. 42 B Xe^enD ot St. Sopbta in 1453 43 Shall God's elect not triumph, though late? Shall not their prayers prevail at last ? " Allah il Allah ! " The sacred gate By Islam's host is passed. Through prayers and curses, through groans untold, They hew their way with Moslem cries, Till the great high altar's gems and gold Dazzle their greedy eyes. But ere a foot of those Moslem bands Had pressed the steps of the holy choir, A massy wall, by unseen hands Built high and ever higher, Hid noiselessly from earthly sight Priests and altar and saints of stone, And the foe fell back in rage and fright. The Lord had saved His own. II Ages have passed, but the sacred shrine Still echoes never to Christian tread. God's chosen people have tears for wine, Stones and ashes for bread ; 44 B XegenD of St. Sopbia in 1453 For the blessed Cross, the Crescent's rule, Muezzin-cry for holy song ; And proud Byzantium is Istamboul — O Christ ! How long, how long ? Cometh it never, that promised day When the L,ord shall bare His arm to save, And free from Islam's accursed sway Church, city, and Christian slave ? When the Heaven- built wall shall vanish in air At the sound of a Christian conqueror's tread, And the priests who slept in its sheltering care Waken, as from the dead ; And smoldering incense and long-quenched song Flame up together instantly, And arches echo and aisles prolong Anthems of victory ? Cometh it soon ? For the northern blast Bears on its wings a sound of war. B XegenD of St* Sopbia in 1453 45 Our masters tremble. Hear they at last Their death-doom from afar ? Sweep down, O host ! from the icy North. Stay not and spare not till these dim eyes Have seen the Prophet driven forth And the day of the Lord arise. AN ATHENIAN REMINISCENCE 1 ""P WAS spring. 1 lay, 'T was Greece. I drowsy Just as the dawn was breaking, In that delicious border-laud 'Twixt morning dreams and waking. *T was Greece at last. The dream of years Had found a late fulfilling. Sleeping or waking, hope come true Through every pulse was thrilling. Soft on my ear there stole a strain Of pipe and bell commingling, Of shepherd's pipe with reedy note, Of herd-bell softly jingling. Sure Pan doth lead his flock adown The slope of Lycabettus. Hear I not e'en the drowsy hum Of bees on far Hymettus ? 46 Bn Btbehfan IRemfniscence 47 Were they then true, those tales of eld ? These newer years but seeming ? Still high on near Akropolis Is Pallas* spear point gleaming ? Still bows the world to Grecian arms ? Do Grecian gods still rule her, Still Venus charm, still Hermes cheat, Plato and Zeno school her ? True Greeks are we ? (Not simian shams, Pseudo-aesthetic pagans, Scarce knowing if a choice there be 'Twixt Pallas' cult and Dagon's !) Is life in truth a vine-wreathed dream, Stern duty's rule a fable, The world our playground ; honor, love, But guests at pleasure's table ? So mock my soul those siren notes ; Yet nearer, louder droning, Sleep's last reserves they scatter wide. Pan's rustic, sweet intoning Becomes the hackneyed organ's strain, Gay Pan a Iyatiu rover, 43 Bn Btbenian IRemtniecence His flock the goatherd's clattering swarm. My pagan vision 's over. To saner joys and nobler charms This Attic sun shall light us, And sweeter spells of bygone Greece For lost, false dreams requite us. Yet now across the widening years Sometimes in mood ideal I and my dream seem still to meet ; I hear once more Pan's pipe-notes sweet, Tinkle of flocks and hum of bees And rush of vanished deities, And half believe it real. HEIMWBH TWILIGHT, soft falling, veils the moun- tain's brow ; Slow gathering shadows deepen on its breast ; Far tinkling herd bells faint and fainter grow; Gently the weary day sinks to its rest. O land ! O home ! so far beyond the sea, Out through the darkness yearns my heart for thee. Cool Alpine breezes waft me from the lake Ripple of laughter and rhythmic plash of oar, Soft sobbing music of tiny waves that break, Tireless, forever, on the white pebbly shore. O land ! O home ! so far beyond the sea, Sweetest of music were one chime from thee. 4 49 50 Ibeimweb Pale golden flushes linger in the west, Lighting my fancy's path across the ocean's blue. There lies the home land, the fairest and the best ; There waits the " welcome home" of hearts tried and true. O land ! O home ! so far beyond the sea, Swift speed the happy hour that brings me to thee. AT SKA AULi day I sit and watch the tireless waves Of drear mid-ocean 'neath a leaden sky. They surge and mount and toss their foam on high, Then sink in sullen wrath to hopeless graves. Aimless and vain, an ineffectual strife, A weary whirl it seems that leads to nought, And gloomy fancies press the chilling thought : Behold thyself— a picture of thy life ! Not thou the shoreward wave whose fruitful haste Stores up rich spoil to strew along the sands, 5i 52 m Sea Of pearl and shell and wreck from far off lands, Found drifting here and there upon the waste. Nor the bold breaker thou, whose madden- ing shock Dashes its life out into surging spray, Nor heeds nor halts, so it but find a way To carve its message on the waiting rock. But look ! Quick breaking the horizon's A sudden burst of sunset spans the sea. A golden bridge it seems that even for thee Brings near a glorious goal and is the way. ON DECK AND BELOW SWIFT gliding over summer seas, Lulled by the South' s caressing breeze, With slow drawn breath of languorous ease Rocked upon sleeping ocean's heaving breast, With comradeship of kindred mind, — Work, care and strife left far behind, — What fairer image can'st thou find Of cloudless pleasure and consummate rest? Far down beneath the furrowed waves, Deep in the fire-fiend's glowing caves, The gasping, panting, toiling slaves, Chained bondmen of this strenuous cen- tury While time and space it vanquisheth, Sweat in the furnace's fierce breath, Brave for scant wage untimely death, And minister to thy felicity. 53 CARPK DIEM FROM each day's scenes some pleasures must thou borrow, Ivike friends of travel, met with by the way, Who unknown yesterday, and gone to- morrow, Form yet so fair a part of bright to-day. 54 THE LONG DISTANCE TELEPHONE GLEAMING against the sky, thy bur- nished chords Are framed in autumn's fiery, golden hues, Harp of these latter days ; and whoso choose May strike them into music set to words Voicing the passion and the rush and heat Of this fast dying century and beat The measure of its march, its dance, its knell. Yet may soft tones of gentlest music swell Along those strings, O harp, and strains of love Seem echoes of angelic harps above ; And separation lose its keenest sting, Since voice to ear, as heart to heart, doth sing. 55 THE MOONLIGHT PATH ACROSS the dark wide sea a goldeu street Of rippling sheen invites whom space doth part. There dainty-footed thoughts trip to and fro, Swifter than messages that come and go Along the cable lying deep below. Would't thou not gladly follow, and thy heart Empty of all its treasures at her feet ? 56 IN DEEPER VEIN 57 RACHEL COMFORTED O SIMEON, my husband, help me my vigil keep ! A wondrous dream and comforting hath roused me from my sleep. 'T was the first sleep mine eyes have known since Herod's cursed crew Our pride, our joy, our dear first-born, our darling Eli, slew. Oh, how my heart hath missed him not even thou canst know. My empty arms, my lone, cold breast, my hopeless mother-woe ! Mind'st thou my playmate, Mary, in Naza- reth, my home, Who, with her spouse, to Bethlehem did for the taxing come, 59 60 IRacbel ComtorteD And mind'st thou all the marvels that mark- ed her baby's birth, The strange, bright star, the shepherds' tale of angels seen on earth ? Well, in my dream I saw her all in a soft white light Which streamed from that fair Babe she held, and glorified the night ; And at her knee were clustered a group of children fair, A halo round each little head, all singing sweet, and there, Foremost amid that radiant band, close by sweet Mary's knee, Her Baby's hand upon his curls, whom think'st mine eyes did see ? Our baby, our lost Eli ! Then my heart stood still for joy ; And Mary turned and spake to me: " O friend, behold thy boy. '"Twas for the Christ he suffered ; behold his martyr crown. IRacbel ComforteD 61 One of the Holy Innocents, his glory and renown "Shall last through all the ages, and where'er is told the story Of the blest Babe of Bethlehem, he shareth in its glory. " Oh, cease thy lamentation. Thou grievest not alone. The sword that made thy heart to bleed one day shall pierce mine own. "But great as is the sorrow, greater shall be the joy, And some glad day thy loving arms shall clasp once more thy boy." Then I awoke. 'Twas but a dream ; yet from this hour shall cease My hopeless lamentation, and my soul shall dwell in peace. OUR DAILY BREAD WK pray not, Lord, that we may never lack, Nor that Thy bounty may our garners fill. Not such the daily prayer that echoes back From minster's vault or hermit's lonely hill. What hast Thou taught us? " Give to us this day Our daily bread." We need not ask for more. Another dawn may find us far away In that rich land where hunger's pains are o'er. And dream we then our spirit's food to store And gather manna for the coming days, Or trust to high resolve, that nevermore Our feet may stumble in life's rugged ways ? 62 ©ur Baflg 3Btea5 63 Or fear we, falling once, no more to stand, Or, straying now, our way no more to find ? Shall we not trust that bounteous, tender hand That feeds the hungry and that leads the blind? New every morning are Thy mercy's dews, New every noontide Thy warm, ripening beams, New every evening through the sunset hues The bright reflection of Thy glory streams. Grant us then, Iyord, in childlike faith to live, Nor care o'ermuch our future way to see, Trusting Thy love our daily bread to give For soul and body till we rest in Thee. THE DREAMER HE dreamed his voice in patriot speech should ring, Senates and peoples swaying at his will ; He dreamed his bow to breathless crowds should fling Music which every vibrant heart should thrill ; He dreamed of leading on a hard-fought field, Dying, a conqueror, 'mid a nation's cheers ; He dreamed one high, pure heart to him should yield Iyove's crown of bliss through happy circling years. But his weak voice fell back upon his ear ; His steadfast vote was all his patriot deed ; In the great orchestra he scarce could hear His faint notes following the master's lead ; A musket safely through the fray to bear Was all his part upon the stage of war ; 64 tTbe 2>reamer 65 Friendship and love of kin his meagre share Of love's deep flood brimming beside his door. And lying down his last long sleep to take, He mourned his vanished dreams with long- pent tears, And prayed, " O Father, when Thou bidst me wake Grant me fit work for Thine eternal years ! " And a Voice whispered to his failing heart : "A steadfast vote for right speaks loud and clear ; In the grand symphony each softest part Distinct and true reaches the master's ear ; Bach faithful soldier, honored or obscure, Strengthens his captain's arm and nerves his breast ; In loving service, self forgetful, pure, With rich returns the loving heart is blest. " But thou in noble tasks shalt work with Me, Shalt more than conqueror be o'er every foe, Shalt swell the glad new song of victory And in the bliss My love reserves for thee Thy dreams' fulfilment myriadfold shalt know." 5 THE ALL-SUFFICIENT PRESENCE Exodus xxxiii., 14. " /^ARRY us not up hence," the prophet's V^ cry Rings out in prayer, " unless Thou with me go!" Before his vision stretching out, the slow, Long, toilsome march of Israel's host doth lie. War, pestilence he sees, slave fears and woe, Idolatry, revolt, presumption high, Death ending all. For him more dread, more nigh, That solitude which greatest souls must know Unless the Lord go with them. Not alone, Though nerve of steel obey the master will, Can human strength endure such awful test. 66 Zhc BlUSufficlent presence 67 Must God's great servant fail ? The Voice once known In Sinai's thunder breathes, " My Presence still Shall go with thee and I will give thee rest." HELP, LORD! I PERISH I FAINT with hunger. Where, O Christ, art Thou Who by the lakeside didst Thy thousands feed ? Pain racks my frame. O mighty Healer, how To Thy sick servant canst Thou give no heed ? My load lies heavily ; my shoulders ache. Where is Thy easy yoke ? My sightless eye Waits for Thy hand its healing clay to make, And my mute tongue demands Thy loosening sigh. My dearest lieth low. O Thou whose breath Raised up the widow's son, the sisters' stay, Canst not hold back the crushing feet of death ? Almighty then, art powerless to-day? 68 SKPTUAGESIMA THK last sweet echo of the Christmas chime Fades on the air and dies ; And looking on, the shadow of the Cross Upon our pathway lies. A twilight shadow deepening to the dark Where erst the noonday shone, A path of sorrow, bitterness, and death Our Iyord hath trod alone. Dear I,ord, I follow, shrinking first and weak. Must I too go alone ? " IvO ! I am with thee," and the groping hand Is safe within His own. The bitterness to honeyed sweetness turns, The dark to glorious light ; "Drink, and be thankful; eat, and thou shalt live": The weakness turns to might. 6 9 7o Septuaaesima No shrinking more. Close clinging to my L,ord, Joyful I journey on. And faith, triumphant, in the distance sees Beyond the Cross the Crown. THROUGH DEATH YEAR by year through centuries Easter joy-bells have been ringing, Hushing sorrow's bitterest cries, Comfort, hope, and triumph singing. Slow of heart and dull of hearing, Hark to that ecstatic strain, Doubt dispelling, anguish cheering, " Christ who died is risen again ! " Precious dust in earth is sleeping ; Aye, His form in earth hath slept. Sick and weary with your weeping, Think ye not His mother wept ? Death and hell and sin o'erthrown, Utterly destroyed forever, From His love in fulness known What henceforth hath power to sever ? 7i 72 Gbrougb Deatb He " through death " hath wrought it all, Wondrous work of love redeeming ! What can now your hearts appal ? K'en through death see glory streaming. Christ is risen ! Still your weeping. Since He lives we too shall live. Calmly to His holy keeping Can ye not your treasures give ? Alleluia ! Tell the story Day by day and hour by hour. Alleluia, praise and glory ! Hail His Resurrection's power. SATISFIED I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with Thy likeness. — Ps. xvii., 15. OBUSSFUIy promise to the faithful heart, Sure on Thy word, whate'er may here betide, It shall awaken from life's troubled dream In Thy blest likeness, and be satisfied. False, empty hopes and dreams no more delude, Fair Sodom-apples, bitter dust inside ; Vain strivings after holiness and peace, Fruitless on earth, shall then be satisfied. No more on broken reeds I lean and fall ; No more frail idols shall Thy throne divide ; Secure from sin, triumphant in Thy love, Resting in Thee, I shall be satisfied. 74 Satisfies Cleansed by Thy blood from earthly stain and wound, Clothed in Thy righteousness, their scars to hide, From death's corruption in Thy likeness raised, When I awake I shall be satisfied. Then shall my faith be changed to perfect sight. No darkening glass Thy glory then shall hide. Knowing as I am known, when I behold Thee face to face, I shall be satisfied. TO A NIGHT-BLOOMING CKRKUS OFI.EBTING wonder ! Glory of a night ! Only less evanescent than the gleam That marks the lightning's track, or some swift dream That comes and, vanishing, eludes our sight ! How canst thou be content, thy whole rich stream Of life to lavish on this hour's delight, And perish ere one morning's praise requite Thy gift of peerless splendor ? It doth seem Thou art a type of that pure, steadfast heart Which hath no wish but to perform His will Who called it into being ; no desire But to be fair for Him ; no other part Doth choose but here its fragrance to distil For one brief moment ere He bid — " Come higher ! " 75 LIVING AND DEAD God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.— Matt, xxii., 32. WHY call we them " our dead," The blessed ones who have but gone before ? Hath not the Spirit said They live unto the L,ord forever more ? God of the living He, Yet God of patriarchs dead when Time was young — Dead to what eye can see, Alive to that which eye, nor ear, nor tongue, Nor heart can apprehend Or image forth of glory, grace, and bliss. Ah ! who dare call his friend Dead in that blessed world, alive in this ? 76 "FROM SUDDEN DEATH " TO him whose loins are girt and staff in hand No call comes suddenly. Fain would I thus be ready and so dare To offer Thee this once avoided prayer, Full flowing from my heart : From sudden death, Good Lord, deliver me. 77 TO HIM THAT OVERCOMETH Rev. ii. and iii. TO him that overcometh Is the gracious promise given Of gifts most rare and wonderful, And new to earth and Heaven. For he that overcometh, While resting from the strife, Shall in the Paradise of God Bat of the Tree of Life. And he that overcometh — Hark what the Spirit saith To the waiting, listening churches — Shall fear no second death. And he that overcometh Shall on hidden manna feed, And a white stone shall be his own, 78 Zo 1btm tbat ©\?ercometb 79 Graved with name which he alone Receiving it may read. And he that overcometh Shall rule with iron rod O'er nations, and his gift shall be The morning star of God. And he that overcometh Shall be clothed in raiment white, And in the Book of Life his name Shall gleam forever bright. And Christ Himself confess him In God's and angels' sight. And he that overcometh Shall be made a pillar fair In God's own temple, and God's name And Salem's name shall bear, And the new name of Christ his Lord Upon his brow shall wear. And to him that overcometh, Great gift of all the seven, To sit with Christ upon His throne Forevermore is given, 80 Go 1bfm tbat ©vercometb As He, too, overcame, and shares His Father's throne in Heaven. Grant us Thy grace, O Saviour, Through Thee to overcome, And bear Thy name and see Thy face Forever in Thy home. FRIENDS 81 J. S. D. TRUE, faithful, tender, patient, strong, Thou lov'dst thy children well and long. Distance nor time nor fault prevailed, against that love contending. No thought of self did it one moment's wrong ; And now it waits them in a life unending. Now see we why when God would show So much as man's weak thought could know Of His own love ineffable, unguessed, un- dreamed of rather, He chose the name which thou hast taught us so To love, and bade us say to Him, " Our Father." 83 DEFERRED SOME day, in that far country, one will say : " Why, when we lived on earth, were we so cold As almost to forego this inmost play Of heart with heart which now so dear we hold, My brother, or my friend ? " And in reply A wiser one will say : " Dost not recall That even in dullest moods an instinct high Said, * Once at home, we shall have time for all'"? And one, whose thought e 'en here doth wisdom reach, Asketh, " May not another reason be That here we know not the colloquial speech Of the high language of eternity ? " 84 CHANCK TIDINGS DEAD and I knew it not ! How couldst thou go Away from earth, And not one moment's passing shadow throw Across my mirth ? Methought I should have heard thy parting sigh, Or felt the chill of sorrow drawing nigh If thou shouldst die. 85 REQUIEM "Then shall the lame man leap as an hart and the tongue of the dumb sing." — Isaiah xxxv., 6. REST, weary feet that slow and halting trod Your short rough path. Rest, till that blessed day When ye, upon the eternal hills of God, Shall run with strong, firm step your joyful way. Fold, patient hands, upon the quiet breast. Faithful ye toiled, a humble place to fill. Hereafter called to do His high behest, Ye shall work out your Father's glorious will. Close, dreamy eyes, out from whose depths there shone Longings in this poor life unsatisfied. Ye shall behold the King upon His throne And life and joy and beauty multiplied. 86 IReQuiem 87 Peace, throbbing heart. Nor pain, nor care nor grief, Hopeless desire nor powerless zeal shall more Trouble thy pulses. Pain shall find relief And hope fulfilment on that deathless shore. Rest, where soft shadows lie and grasses wave, While summer birds sing round thy lowly bed. Sleep, when the snow falls gently on thy grave And winter winds sigh hoarsely o'er thy head. " Blessed the dead who dying in the Lord, Rest from their labors." That sweet rest be thine. Rest in the promise of His gracious Word. Rise in the likeness of the life divine. QUIS DICAT? TWO 'mid the hillside's clover Silent are sitting, Birds singing round them and over, Honey bees flitting, And below them and before Lie river and sea and shore With sunset glory streaming over all. Brighter than summer's beams One hope is beaming ; Fairest of life's fair dreams Two hearts are dreaming. What needs there of vow or of sighing, Sweet asking or sweeter replying, Or any sound from happy lips to fall ? The bee and the bird are fled — The autumn chilled them ; And the hope and the dream are dead — The winter killed them ; 88 (Sluts 2>icat? 89 And the two who sat together In the glowing summer weather Are parted farther than from pole to pole. Yet with each spring's returning The birds are coming, With each new summer's burning The bees are humming, And who may say that never In all the long forever Shall come a day rejoining soul to soul ? SHIPS AT SEA FROM different ports in countries far away Two ships set forth upon life's ocean wide, Unknowing each of each, till one fair day They met and hailed and lingered side by side. And many a day of that bright autumn weather In converse sweet and happy friendship flew; And sailing slowly on, they drew together Rich treasure up from out the depths of blue. A night of storm, and day's first dawning showeth To each an empty, sailless, surging main. A cry of grief from each to Heaven outgoeth : "Part we forever?" And, to calm their pain, A far, faint answer from the sky down floweth, "Ye seek one Port. There ye shall meet again." 90 EARLY VERSES 91 SPRING SONG GREEN is the grass, green is the grass, Yellow as gold are the cowslips. Sweet is the violet's breath as we pass And the apple-flower's heart where the bee sips. Oh, winter is past. Come thou at last, Beautiful, glorious springtime ! Over his grave Green banners wave. Joy, joy, joy ! Murmurs the breeze, whisper the trees, Soft is the fall of the fountain. The sun's ardent ray kisseth away The snow from the brow of the mountain. O spring, thou art come, Bursting in bloom, Beautiful, glorious springtime ! 93 94 Spring Soxxq Sweet sunny hours Blossom like flowers. Joy, joy, joy ! In green shady nook, close by the brook, The fairy-like wind-flower smileth, And the sweet note from the wild bird's throat The heaviest heart beguileth. O spring, thou art here, Queen of the year, Beautiful, glorious springtime ! Hailing thy reign, Sing we again Joy, joy, joy ! FORTUNE-TEIvUNG SONG SITTING mid the daisies, Buried in the clover, Pulling them to pieces, A-thinking of my lover, Asking of the robin Upon the cherry bough, " As I love him always Does he love me now ? " " Sweet,'' says the robin, " I 'm busy with my cherry. Ask of the clover-top Or daisy blithe and merry. They '11 surely tell you true, dear, Truer far than I. Loves me, loves me not — Aha ! Dare you try ? " ,. 95 9 6 jfortune^aellina * ' Loves me, loves me not — ,: I pick them one by one, "Thinks of me, hates me," Till every leaf is gone. The last word, O robin ! Guess it, if you care — He loves me, he loves me. Doubt it if you dare ! SEPTEMBER MEMORIES SEPTEMBER'S golden sunbeams through My vine-clad window pour, And dancing shadow garlands play Hither and yon, on wall and floor. Without, the hills and meadow-lands And stretch of waving corn, Slow ripening, and the lazy cloud That scarce its length hath sailed sine morn, Bathe in the all-embracing flood Of autumn's yellow light, Refined in summer's crucibles From rosy June's most rich delight. Ivike wine of all the summer's fruits Through soul and senses stealing, That golden glory warms the heart To ope its doors, its wealth revealing ; 97 98 September Memories And lights its galleries, long and dim And stored with pictures rare, Sun-pictures of Septembers dead, Dead and forgot save only there. Steal but one glance. Ah, well we know Kach landscape's hill or river, Kach dear loved face, now hid in death Or coldly turned from us forever. Is there no charm to call to life Those still and pictured faces, No magic word to take us back To those lost joys and well loved places, To make those tide-waves ebb and flow, Those moons to wax and wane, To wake those forests' gushing songs, To bring us youth and hope again ? In memory's light, O friends of yore ! Tread we those paths together, And for one moment feel the old Lost charm of bright September weather. September Memories 99 But see, even now they fade and pale, They vanish one by one. There is no spell to hold them fast. Their blessed ministry is done. The sun, fast westering, cries, " O heart! Close quickly up thy door. Let not the night thy treasures steal, But keep them hid, safe evermore.' ' Close locked they hang, and though e'en I Henceforth may see them never, I know them mine and keep them close, Safe hidden in my heart forever. LofC. AUTUMN PARTING SONG OUR gay, bright summer is ended, The leaves grow yellow and sere, And autumn breezes are sighing A dirge for the parting year. Yet breathe we no note of sorrow, No word of the parting pain, But only the song of the summer flowers, 4 ' Good-bye, till we come again." ioo A WISH BRIGHT as the sunlight of the summer skies, Sweet as the south wind's rustling, whis- pering sighs, Pure as the holy stars that o'er us glow, Deep as the wave that mirrors them below, Full of all precious things of God's bestowing, Free from all sin and sorrow, care and strife, Through happy days and peaceful nights on- flowing, Attuned to angel music be thy life ! Until when evening shades are closing o'er thee And the faint spirit all expectant waits And earth is fading from thy darkened eye, The arms of love divine shall open for thee And Heaven receive thee through its golden gates To crown and palm and bliss that cannot die. BAIvIvAD RAISING THK FI,AG OVER FORT SUMTER April 13, 1865 'HP WAS a cloudless day of springtime 1 And the early sunlight lay Ivike a golden veil on the pleasant shore And the ripples of the bay. It shone on grim old Sumter As it shone four years ago On the gallant seventy in the fort And the storming rebel foe. Hushed now the booming cannon ; Stilled are the sounds of war ; For a glorious peace is won at last. Raise the old flag once more ! A goodly band are gathered The grand old flag to raise, Dallas 103 With bounding heart and ringing cheer And heart-deep songs of praise. See, see it rise victorious, K'en fairer than of old, For the last black stain by patriot blood Is washed from every fold. Praise God, O ransomed people ! " Praise God ! " the nation cries. Hear million-voiced thanksgiving O'er all the land arise. All pray His grace to keep us Henceforth from sin and shame, A nation free and righteous, To bless His holy name. All pray God bless our President, God bless our gallant Grant ! And the sun went down that April night On a nation jubilant. REDIVIVUS 105 RBDIVIVUS (Written for a meeting of the Mediaeval Club after a cessation of several years. This club, once quite famous in a well-known suburban town, received its name be- cause composed of middle-aged persons. Its fortnightly- exercises consisted of the reading of original papers, anonymously, and various other amusements, excluding only cards and dancing.) ASTIR abroad upon the wintry air Startles the passer-by to wondering stare. What are those varied sounds inexplicable ? " It is alive again ! " some eager cry. " Alive again ? " the languid idlers sigh. 11 What is it ? " all demand, but none reply ; More than twice " twenty questions " rend the sky. Is ' t min'ral, animal, or vegetable ? Is it a giant stirred from age-long rest ? A new, sharp twittering in a last year's nest? 107 108 IReDipfxms Some half-dead party faction roused to act ? Some general "hope deferred' ' reduced to fact? Follow the crowd as down the street they shout, And see what all th' excitement is about. But nearer now approached th' excitement's centre, The crowd becomes confused. Some, turning back, Exclaim with rueful faces, "Ah, good lack ! No use, unless you 've got the inner track. Only the favored few are bid to enter." 'T is true. With sternness that belies her mien, A gracious figure at a gateway seen, Armed — O ye gods ! with what most strange appears, A huge portfolio and a pair of shears, While giving to the few kind invitation, Dismisses crowds of various sorts and ages. But why ? 'T would puzzle Solon and the sages To tell the grounds of the discrimination. To winsome youth no favoring grace is shown : 11 Tarry and dance until thy beard be grown ! " IReDfvivus 109 To girlish beauty's debonnaire assumption : " What ! not a single wrinkle ? What pre- sumption ! " The hoary graybeard seeks to enter in ; " In vain ! " she cries ; " too late thou seek'st to win What years ago had easily been thine. If thou, so late, to social joys incline To mimic pasteboard warfare turn thy face ; Console thee with thy court and trump and ace." The minstrel pleads, " For music and for me Is there no place in thy high company ? " 11 Ah ! let me see ; the notion were not ill ; Perchance some vacant corner thou mayst fUl.** In vain I listen, strive to catch some mutter Of shibboleth which all th' elect must utter, Some favoring difference in vain to trace Of speech, complexion, dress, demeanor, race. At last, aha ! it must, yet can it be ? Bach one who enters wears a weapon tiny Called mightier than the sword ; and dull or shiny, Well worn, or thick with rust, scarce matters ; he no 1fteDtv>i\M6 Who enters, without liberty to choose Must use that weapon, or pretend to use. So armed, the ranks advance, with flag un- furled Whose waving folds to an admiring world Display this motto, terse and cabalistic : "Do right !" or is it write? Those folds obscure the spelling ; 'Tis sure some mystic sense too deep for vulgar telling Cunningly hid 'neath phrasing realistic. But now, all told, the cry is still, What is it ? No better known the object of this visit, What meaning all this pomp and circum- stance may bear. What hides from common gaze that envious portal Within which disappears this host immortal ? What rich and rare delights await them there In which poor we, (t oi polloi" may not share ? Is 't a symposium of that mystic band Founded by Solomon's own royal hand, 1ReDiv>f\ms m And with his temple's corner-stone coeval? Is 't the fulfilment of some myth primeval Handed adown the ages ? Can it be Some old Hellenic game of mystery Altered and purged to suit our modern notion And quite remodelled since it crossed the ocean ? Or some aesthetic rite, intense and silly, The quite too utter worship of the lily ? I can no more ! I'm really out of breath. Have you no pity ? I am guessed to death. Well, stop your guessing. 'Tis an easy matter. Why always to extremes direct your chatter ? Is there no mean betwixt aesthetic and prime- val? Why, friend, 't is a revival of the Mediaeval ! TRANSLATIONS "3 I.OVE AND IvIGHT A FRAGMENT FROM THE ITALIAN OF ALEARDO AI/EARDI ERE first the dark waves With deep, hollow roar Broke ou the silence Of ocean's lone shore ; Ere earthquakes and whirlwinds In desperate strife Had furrowed the earth In the dawn of her life ; Ere the beasts of earth, Ere the woods had birth ; Ere to the numberless Bright orbs of heaven A clear shining pathway Their Maker had given, In circles harmonious n6 %ox>e anD TLigbt Ruling the night, — Shone forth the light. II Ere yet were laid In their last resting-place The patriarchs, laden With years and with grace ; Kre to earth's noble monarch Eve had confessed Love's sweet, secret anguish Which hid in her breast Among the immortal flowers Of Eden's happy bowers ; Ere the archangels, maddened With pride overgrown, Would hurl down Jehovah From Heaven's high throne ; Before the first throb By the first heart was given, I