rop\TiglilN"^il[ COFYRKUIT DKl'OSIT. WAYS OF MEN / WAYS OF MEN BY SAMUEL HARLEY LYLE. JR. Author of "Leaves of Life". FRANKLIN, N. C. SAMUEL H. LYLE. JR.. Publisher 1911 Copyright, 1911, by Samuel H. Lyle, Jr. Franklin Job Printery Franklin, N. C. 3CI.A28'3918 TO MY FATHER CONTENTS PAGE Proem 10 Fame 15 The Work of God 16 Callof theSea , 18 A Song of the Road 19 Tout Le Monde A Moi 21 ' 'And Wintry Milk Is In Her Breast' ' 22 Where Fairies Play 23 A Plain Man's Prayer 25 At the Setting of the Sun 26 Vain Questioning 28 My Ship of Dreams 29 Remorse 30 Aux Armes 31 Outside of Books 32 Incomprehension 33 Orthodoxy 34 Life's Victors 35 My All 36 A Cry In the Night 37 A Kiss 38 Little Heart BeStill 39 Love and Desire 41 CONTENTS— Continued PAGE We Know Not Why 42 The Altars of Greed 43 Awakening 45 Viola Gordon Here's to You! 46 Surcease 47 Vague Rememberings 48 We Shall Return No More 49 A Prayer 50 Love's Sacrifice 51 A Man's Charity 52 Moral Weakness 54 A Letter From You 55 A Dead Day 56 A Blithesome Knight Was He 57 Many Many Years Ago 59 The Poet's Plaint 60 Lost On the Desert 61 To A Friend I Have Never Met 62 The Craven's Part 63 One Ship Sails Home 64 Daybreak 65 Dead 66 Pax Vobiscum 68 CONTENTS-Continued PAGE Sundered 69 Somewhere the Day Is Bright 70 Quatrains I— Response 71 II-A Brother to the Ox 71 Ill-Futility 71 IV— A Parting 71 V — Incomprehension 72 Vl-Contrast 72 VII— Tears 72 L'Envoi 73 PROEM By the untrod ways at the base of the hills Where lymphs and Fairies play. And the nights come on with a rush of stars At the close of the sunlit day; By the drowsy drone of the village lane^ Where a lass and her swain have met In the dew-dright dawn of Love's first dream, And Life is true to them yet; By the restful fire of furnace light Where Toil, and Lust, and Fame Have brought no tears in the passing years. And there is no blight, no stain; By the evening glow of farm-house lamp. And the Quiet and Plenty there. By the men who rise to the taslc at dawn. And the women ever fair; By the God-given peace of the home-hearth fire, With Love, and Purity, and Light, Where the little ones pray at Mother's hue. And baby lips lisp, '' Good-night F' By the fear-fed halls of Pomp and Fame Where dark men, power-spurred, Send forth the Lie that rules the world. And mould the Untrue W^ord; By the rcd-dycd fields of battle strife Where Hate and Bloodthirst reign. By flash of steel and powder-reek. By horror -stricken Pain; By Vie shriek and roar of factory wheels. Where the Altars of Greed are red. Where the sacrifice is Human Flesh, And the Gods arc never fed; By the way ward paths of Sin and Hate, With naught to bring surcease, Where wanton men are wont to stray. And mar God's work of Peace; By the maddening roar of city streets. The gloss, the glitter, the glare. By all the pools of Stagnant Filth That men must needs deem fair; By the crimson lure of Red- Light Hells, Wliere Love is a putrid name. And FLonor is bound to the God of Lust, And Purity is sold to Shame; By waving palm, and spreading fir. By mountain height and plain, By all the untracked ways across The ever-boundless Main; By rushing waters in the South, By white-flecked plains of the West, By the somber wastes of Xo-Man's Land, And the Cities of Unrest; By many ways with many men Throughout this wayward earth. By paths of Sorrow, deeds of Sin, By Pain or riotous .Uirth, Much evil in the mystic maze I find, and much of Hate, And I have wept with hreaMng hearts, And laughed where Joy hath sate, — But in it all I find one fact Of man's Eternal Right, As in the darkest night appears Somewhere a ray of light; And I can smile upon the world. The talcing and the giving. While in my heart swells high and full The wild, fierce joy of living! WAYS OF MEN FAME When I consider all the works that men Have wrought, and how they vanish like the sands Of castles built by careless childhood hands Along the shore, —the toil, the pain, and then A little breeze from out the starless night, And all that's left is but an empty name In after years that other men call Fame, And pause to marvel at the wondrous sight, - My heart grows sad and heavy in my breast To see what gods the world bows down before, And how men honor, not the well done task, But cry out to the thing still unexprest, And do not learn from all their boasted lore That Death parades behind Fame's flaunt- ing mask. 15 THE WORK OF GOD God took the nothingness of space And made the universe; then paused, And looked upon His work, and found It good. But God was discontent, Perceiving how His great dream-world Lay masterless— and God made man. Man stood beneath the stars, and felt The awful mystery of life. And feared, and fell upon his face And worshiped God; then rose and went His way, and soon forgot. And man Waxed great in wisdom of the world. And rose up in his littleness Of soul, and mocked the work of God, And cried, ''Behold! The thing is wrong; It should be thus!'' And he hath played. The weakling man, at being God Himself, and shouts his arrogance Throughout the earth, and worships at The shrine of his own vanity. But God is great, and wise, and just, And, pitying, looks down upon The sin-led race, withholding still His dread, eternal wrath. 16 And man Walks on in wrong-, and scorns the right, Unheeding that the work is God's, The punishment and the reward; He hails the sun, looks out across The broad, fair land, stands by the sea And hears the angry waters roar, And finds no promise in them all— And in the blindness of his soul Cries out that God is but a name. An empty name to trick the world! 17 CALL OF THE SEA The lapping waves that plash along the beach, Incessantly they call to me In murmuring cry that breaks upon my sleep. Calling, calling back to the sea. The little silver fishes trekking through Dim ocean aisles where mermaids rest, They beckon through my dreams, my night-sprung dreams, Calling, calling the sea's white breast. The wild, fierce winds that fret across thy wastes, Thy gale-fed wastes, they pause a-roam. Pause, and hail at the gates of sleep, Sea, Calling, calling thy storm-tossed foam. Up-breathed from the deep thy clear- toned cadence has come, Bringing a message of power to me, A message of strength, of scope, — thy great heart's cry Calling, calling to mine, Sea! 18 A SONG OF THE ROAD A lashing fringe of dripping hedge Along the wet roadway; The night shuts in with thunder's din. And lightnings flame and play. A wanderer over the world am I, With never a tie to bind; I sing a song as I swing along, Nor care for storm or wind. Oh, what avails the wild wind's roar, Or lightning's flash and flare? Somewhere, I know, a light burns low. And a woman is waiting there. Somewhere beyond the Hills of Doubt, In the Valley Where Dreams Come True, Flowers are bright as the starlit night. And skies are clear and blue. The Past is dead in the dust of things, The Present an empty cry; We may weep to-night, but the morrow's light Will bring a cloudless sky. 19 Beyond the hills a light burns low, And a woman is waiting there; A laugh for the rain, the stress and the pain, The morrow, I know, dawns fair! 20 TOUT LE MONDE A MOI You are all the world to me, dear heart, — A rose that glows the morn's delight, A song that cheers the road by day, A star to guide me through the night. There is no world but you, dear heart, — No dew-gemmed morn could dawn so fair, No way could be so sweet with song In any world, were you not there! 21 "AND WINTRY MILK IS IN HER BREAST'^ Returning after many years, I gaze Across the wide-spread fields my boyhood knew, The fields I once had roamed from morning's dew Till evening furled her softly shadowed haze About the earth. —Ah, how the old-time days Come trooping back, and all the ancient ways Are crying to my feet, and call anew The heart, far-strayed, that still is pulsing true. Across my throbbing brain a dark, dim sheet Seems spread, on which is graved a burning word, The word of striving greed that I had heard. Ambition's spur, exhorting Love's defeat In struggling fight to fame. — And I have won— Would I were still a boy with God's warm sun! 22 WHERE FAIRIES PLAY When sunset shadows fall across The glade, and bees are homeward bound, And all the forest rings aloud With evening's symphony of sound; When birds are singing good-night songs, And swallows come on circling wing. And from the marsh the frogs' deep lays In hoarse and rumbling cadence ring,— *Tis then I lie beneath the trees. Where golden moonbeams glint and glance; And from the forest glides a troupe Of fairies in a mystic dance. In maddest riot of reckless glee They whirl and trip about the vale; And some are dandies in fine silks. And some are knights in tested mail. And little lady-fairies, too. Are there, pretty beyond impeach; And they can coquet with a fan, Or blush before a whispered speech. 23 Each little lady has her knight, Each knight his winsome fairy lass; Their voices rise in gayest mirth, Tripping about the warm, sweet grass. All night beneath the brooding moon The fairies play, and pleasure rings, Till at the dawn they slip away, And leave the world to baser things. 24 A PLAIN MAN'S PRAYER Not for the riches men have sought, Lord, to Thee I pray. Not for the fame dishonored brought. Nor yet the rose-strewn way. Give me but strength to meet the task That falls my humble share; 'Tis this great boon, God, I ask. And wisdom to forbear The things that have not Thee in awe. Teach me to know the Light, To guard unstained Thine Ancient Law, And battle for the Right; To face Life's blows with sturdy heart, Scorning the evil bent. Teach me how well to do my part. And, Lord, I am content! 25 AT THE SETTING OF THE SUN Ssems like the old sun's sorter hitched Up in the sky some way; She ain't got more'n half the clip She had jest yesterday. She kinder fools and fiddles along— Oh, there's a reason plain!— My Mary's goin' to come at dusk To meet me in the lane. And Mary she's the finest girl That ever trod the earth- There ain't no langwige yet been writ That'd half tell Mary's worth. Jest fire away, old sun, and shine, You've got to set sometime; And Mary's goin' to meet me when The sheep-bells homeward chime. There ain't no other girl like Mary; They never made but one. And she'll be waiting in the lane At the setting of the sun. 26 Oh, she's my only girl, and Fm Her steady man, you bet! And- Well, Fm blowed, it's comin' night- Blamed if the sun ain't set! 27 VAIN QUESTIONING The tale to tell,— a few bright years, Winged in with fire of flowers, A lure of light, not many tears. Love's mead of wanton hours. And youth has passed on flying feet. Then calm shall come; not yet Has dawned the hour of Love's retreat. The years, should we regret. Could pour no balm to soothe a pain That is of joy, not strife, A pain of loss, seeking to gain A deeper touch of Life. What more the years may mean of gain We shall not know; 'tis good That we have learned a quiet disdain Of things not understood By little men, blind ants, who preach Skyward, earth facts behind. Expounding creeds beyond the reach Of man's quite earthly mind. We have no answer; what avail The doubt, since Life is so? No man can know the mystic tale. Nor has he need to know. 28 MY SHIP OF DREAMS Wearied by all the wild brain-shapes Crowding the silent hours, At dawn I fell into a sleep, And dreamed a world of flowers. I stood beside a silver stream That poured into a sea; And over the water a ship sprang up, Sailing home to me. My ship of dreams! The years cried back. Cried back and memory fled — Breasting the waves with joyous prow, Onward the fair ship sped! Did the brave bark wharf? Out of the dawn A bird-cry broke my dream. I turned to the sun athwart my floor — But where was the silver stream? My ship, my long-sent ship of dreams, Has she gone on some fierce shoal, Or, warring still the turbid seas, Will she make, at last, the goal? 29 REMORSE And you, dear woman of the past, whose eyes Turn back asross the blurring years to meet Me at the door of yesterday, if skies, Were angry storm-kings now their wrath repeat. Had still gleamed blue after we passed the gate Of human love, divinely true and tried. Could you have followed then, laughing at fate. Through barren lands where world-whipped men abide? It was enough that we should love, and then Forget, life having shown only the way Where flowers blow, and Nature wields the pen That writes the joys of little fools each day; And we drank to the depths, submerging all In one great passion riot— and then the fall! AUX ARMES Oh, tell me not the hope recedes That held of former years; Life is not made of idle deeds, What need for idle fears? We may not always meet the blows As would, perhaps, seem fit; But brave hearts do not know to lose. Only the cravens quit. What boots it if the foe to-day Has beat us to the earth? The morrow brings a newer fray, A newer strength has birth. We cannot lose, if win we will, Brave hearts shall never die. To arms! The foe is with us still! Who cares what flag he fly? 31 OUTSIDE OF BOOKS I ain't so good at 'rithmetic, And reading's pretty slow; But there's some things not writ in books, And they're the things I know. When I have worked hard all the day Out harvesting the grain, And the sun has set behind the hills That bound the western plain, And I walk home through the falling dusk, And hear the crickets call. My heart begins to swell and swell. And I'm mighty glad for all The blessings that I've got; and life Seems only fair and bright When I climb up the hill and look Down to the streaming light Where Mary's got the supper hot. And kettles steam and hiss — And at the door I know she waits To meet me with a kiss! I'm not much of a hand at books. And things like that, I guess; But when it comes to living, —well, I just know happiness! 32 INCOMPREHENSION When I consider all my years of life, — The days of mystic sunlight, shadow barred, The nights of wanton joy, of pain, of strife. Blue skies that whispered love, divinely starred. Commingled with the sting of deeds misdone, The evil thoughts that lived when ways were dark. The years of doubtful waiting, yet unwon. And the eternal end a question mark, — When I have pondered thus until the night Grows into dawn, passing a fevered hand Across my brow, I marvel were the fight Once won if I should know to understand; For I have tested life, and comprehend No part, its aim, its scope, its final end. 33 ORTHODOXY The folk who dwelt beside the sea Climbed up the mountain wall, and gazed Out o'er the spreading land; and they Were mightily wrought up by what Their eyes beheld. And one, the chief Of all the clan was he, rose up And spoke the wisdom of his race: "Behold! How lowly have we dwelt! Too long our sight has been obscured; Shut in by barren cliffs, we lived In blindest ignorance of God, Who does not stoop to lowly things. Else we be damned, let us return In haste, take all our goods, and climb Up to the mountain height. 'Tis here, And here alone, we walk with God!'' 34 LIFE'S VICTORS For these, the world-applauded ones, the few Who dream, and, waiting, realize the dream In full fruition, finding all things true In Life; the seekers of the rainbow gleam, Whose feet have trod the smooth and rose-strewn way That lies through lands of joy, and leads along The fields that bloom with everlasting May, — For these. Life's favored ones, I have no song. 'Tis those who strive, and find the striving gall. Replete with failure all the toiling years. Yet face the blows and smile, knowing the fall. And have no part with cravens or with tears; The victors they of Life, counting the cost. Who fight, unbeaten still, when all is lost. 35 MYALL No mansion mine of regal state, With grounds of rich display, No swinging arch of bronze-built gate. No pebble-strewn driveway. Just a tiny cot among the trees. Where evening shadows play. And the whisper of each scented breeze Is sweet as a song of May. I count no riches, own no gear, Or lands, or sheep, or kine; My all, the love of one held dear. And this small cot of mine. And men may strive great wealth to gain, And master the heavens above; 'Tis mine, this cot on a wayside lane, And one small woman's love! 36 A CRY IN THE NIGHT heart of mine, the years have spelt In letters wild the Words of Fire; In Temples where Pure Love once dwelt Burn bloody altars to Desire. heart of mine, what brings the day In transient mist of fleeting light? The Mind is one with crumbling clay, A part with man's Eternal Night. heart of mine, is there no good Where Ignorance lays a craven's ban? The Giants have sunk, misunderstood, To depths below mere Human Man. heart of mine, what means the Deed, What is the Unknown Word to say? If we have heard we did not heed; Lost in the night, groping we stray! 37 A KISS Back in those other years, Dim, dying years that furl About remembrances. As flying streamers curl In fleecy white above the hills When August drives a sultry sun, It was our lips first touched — And Life had just begun! We kissed — and radiant day Flashed into mystic light. And years were naught, and died. As stars die in the night! Dumb lips that hungered, clung. Parted in quivering cry — And Fate has drawn a world between, Breathing one word— good-by! 38 LITTLE HEART BE STILL Ah, little heart, be still J Your fleeting hour of bliss Has gone, as sudden tears May go beneath a kiss. Ah, little heart, be quiet! The years have brought you pain. And you have learned to doubt — But, little heart, refrain! Ah, little heart, why weep? Your love was pure as snow; You gave it all — and weep! — Ah, heart, all love must go! Ah, little heart, why grieve? You knew no life but love. And love has given hate, And skies seem dark above, — But, little heart, 'tis life, And hearts will ever break That trust too far in love — Ah, little heart, awake! 39 Ah, little heart, be still! Be still and weep no more; The years are yours to make, And joy is yet before. For, little heart, 'tis best, First love to bring you pain; And, oh, how sweet when life Shall give you love again! 40 LOVE AND DESIRE Love reached her white arms out to me, Her pure eyes deep with holy fire; But the Serpent whispered in the grass, 'It is the voice of hot Desire!" I came to Love, and in my hand I brought a rose of crimson red. Love placed the gift upon her breast— I looked, and, lo, the rose lay dead! 'It is Desire," the Serpent hissed. ''Sweet Love, alas! lies slain long hence." But Love stretched out her arms to me,— "And this," she sighed, "doubt's recompense!" 41 WE KNOW NOT WHY Oh, the years of life and the tears of life, And the love of you and me! 'Tis but a call at evenfall, A fleeting memory. The days of strife with danger rife, The nights of joy and pain, Are only cries through empty skies, Links in an endless chain. We know not why we laugh or sigh Along the tortuous way; We know but this, —a blow, a kiss. Black night, and golden day. To-night your breast— and this is rest!— Love, somewhere lilies blow! We may not say what brings the day, And do not need to know! 42 THE ALTARS OF GREED I stand at dusk beside a smoke-marred lane That leads down to a low-built factory town, And watch, with aching heart, this man-made hell That feeds on human souls. A siren tears The night, and all the whirring, red-eyed hulks Pour forth their spawn of mortal flesh. From out The crowd a woman-child comes slowly up The hill to me, her head bent to the road. Her step a slow and dragging tread. Her form Is twisted as by some dread malady. She pauses at my voice, and raises up Her wasted face to mine, her listless eyes Blank as a stagnant pool, and on her brow. Graved deep in lines of never-ceasing toil, I read the dumb, unanswered question of The centuries, a question that must rise Some day to face the world. She speaks no word, But gazes down again, and wearily Climbs on the everlasting hill, and knows No reason why it is, and could not know Or understand. Has charity died out From all the world that man shall rise to boast 43 His works, and such things be? Remember Him Who trod the thorn-strewn way, and speaking said: ''Whoso offends one of these little ones, 'Twere better that a stone were hanged about His neck, and he were cast into the depth Of all the sea!'' The prophecy, a Damoclean sword. Hangs flaming drawn above the heads of those Greed-driven men who do this monstrous thing; The everlasting wrath of God is poised. And men walk boldly on in fiendish wrong. Unknowing, unafraid! 44 AWAKENING With all the nights to grow around me, And bitterness of hours foregone, With low deceit to stoop and wound me, To-night, my heart, the years seem lone! And all the vows my lips have made. And all of love that brims your eyes. Is false — and Truth is never paid — Yet had we deemed the world our prize! Lean years to pass, forsworn of laughter, With icy hand may touch my heart, But 'though we quaff Love's draught — what after? There is no Love with Truth apart. 45 VIOLA GORDON HERE'S TO YOU! Oh, here's to you, Viola Gordon! Your laughing eyes and blue. Your siren's smile, your witching hair- Viola Gordon, here's to you! I've pledged my faith in sparkling fizz, I've steeped my heart in wine. All to your star, Viola Gordon- Long may its radiance shine! Oh, here's to you, Viola Gordon! Full many brave hearts and true You've wrecked upon the Sea of Life- Viola Gordon, here's to you! 46 SURCEASE It is finished, the task of all the years, The never-ceasing toil; Her weary heart knew naught but tears. Her days were all turmoil. Smooth back the hair from her cold brow, And fold the work-worn hands; Her days of pain are ended now, She dwells in brighter lands. Ah, lay this rose upon her breast, — In life 'twas hers to give; — She is not dead, she only rests, And learns at last to live! 47 VAGUE REMEMBERINGS It was a song at eventide, Just when or where I cannot say; Only— it rings back through the years, That song of some forgotten day. Forgotten — yet remembered still; It once had thrilled my sleeping heart. Would that I knew the refuge where Memory, unbidden, dwells apart! Remembering, can I forget; Was it of pleasure, grave, or gay? There is so much that I regret. So many years have slipped away. Leaving an ache, a pain, perhaps,— Naught else than that this life along— Yet I would fain recall to-night Who sang that long-forgotten song! 48 WE SHALL RETURN NO MORE We shall return no more along This way; passing, a phantom throng, We fall apart, each one alone. And none may say where we have gone. And Life is this, —a starless night, A crying toward a distant light With none to answer when we cry, A laugh that whispers with a sigh. And, parting, we shall meet no more On mist-dimmed paths beside the shore. Where, creeping blind in childlike trust, We mated souls with flesh and dust. Our day is done and all our earth Sleeps into death — or is it birth?— And moulders low — and nothing more! Who knows what lies beyond that door? 49 A PRAYER God, to-night to Thee, Master of Life's eternity, 1 make this humble prayer: Give me but light to see, To know what lies behind the mask. If this friend be true, this joy a grief, But hidden by the dross; To-night— God, how much I ask! — The guidance of Thy gentle hand. The knowledge of the pure and true, The fear of all that's false- Let me but understand! 50 LOVE'S SACRIFICE Were I a king on a gilded throne, And you alone in the world so wide, I would fain despise the things men prize To pluck Life's thistles at your side. Were you a Goddess on the heights, And I of the reeking depths below, I would dare Death's guile to win your smile, And find joy with the pain, I know. To be with thee through all the years, 'Tis this my prayer, of heart, of mind; And though Fate bring no crown of king. The throne of Love, your breast, I find! 51 A MAN^S CHARITY That I would find the flower unbruised 'Mid all the filth and stain, It was too much that I should hope— For life has brought you pain! And I had loved you, years before— The world was young those days! — Yet still I wonder that you found So many tortuous ways. Life held her hand, with blessings filled; 'Twas yours the choice at last. You laughed, and went your careless way- Must I forget the past? Those years cry back? A sweet young girl, Pure as a summer morn, Your feet found only sunlit ways, Your roses knew no thorn. The tale of tears— what need of words? Your eyes, unasked, may tell, — A wanton toy of wayward men, Shut in a man-made hell! 52 It is not mine to blame. No doubt A prayer from me were lost. Only— the thing seems stranger still, For you had known the cost. You must have known that once begun, 'Twas this, this to the end. And calling me to-night, was it. You thought, to find a friend? You ask my aid? The thing is done; What hope is there in me? The world forgives very much; not this- That, surely you must see! You could not blot those years away. For men would always know. 'Tis done; I would that I could aid; Good-by! There — don't cry so! 53 MORAL WEAKNESS Weak, weak! A brain to know, Without a will to do; a power To see the thing that is, sharp-drawn, Unfettered, clear, without the strength Of moral choice! Vision to grasp, to know the good, The bad, to clarify life's web Of doubt, joined with a weakness that Fights but to lose, a will that fails Beneath the first foul blow of Fate. Weak, weak! The losing years,— Desires, temptations srought in deeds, A failing grip, a narrowed scope, A weakening of mind to flesh Unleashed,— the years of rotting ruin, Decadence, death in life, they stretch Ahead, to meet, to live, to lose; And at the end— a closing door! 54 A LETTER FROM YOU A letter from you is like a ray Of sunlight through an April rain, — Promise of some fair future day, , Remembrance of an old, old pain. A letter from you,— a clear, bright smile, Your laughing eyes, violet blue, Luring in the old gay style Through the haze of dreams, — a letter from you! 55 A DEAD DAY This day, I fear, has been but dead to me. I woke with dawn, and found no joy in all The morning songs the birds were trilling in The orchard trees; the sun a-peep between The window blinds but added to my mood Of surly boorishness ; the breakfast meal I ate in sullen quietude, and to The cheer of those about the board I brought No answering smile; outdoors I met the world All out of tune, and when I reached my desk I found the routine work but galled the more Upon my raw and fretted spirit. Thus The whole day went, till now to-night beside My fire I see the reason why the hours Have lain so useless on my hands; the world Has rendered me that which I gave to it. Not one jot more, and I have given naught. 56 A BLITHESOME KNIGHT WAS HE He rode down from the Mountain Crest, And a blithesome knight was he, His heart was set to a world-end quest, His colors flew jauntily; And gaily he sang old minstrel lays. And his steed pranced gaily along; The years brought hard and tortuous ways. But the road was sweet for song. Over the plains in springtime bloom, With birds and flowers of May; Beneath the crags of the Hills of Doom, By the pits of Hell's Highway; Down the rose-fringed paths that lead to the sea, Where sunset zephyrs toy. He journeyed along with a heart care-free. And a laugh of sparkling joy. A gallant knight was he and bold. He met each foeman's lance; In summer's heat and winter's cold He followed the flag of Chance; He followed whither the flag should lead. Nor ever questioned why. His only friends his faithful steed. And the blue of God's clear sky. 57 He braved by night wild mountain streams That roar down from the west; He stormed by day the Castles of Dreams Wherein were found his quest; The years for him held never a sigh, The highway never a thorn, In all the nights his only cry Was for another morn. Through all the world he gaily passed— And slowly his heart learned pain— Till dread Age brought his feet at last To the old time paths again; And climbing upward, sad, dry-eyed, To the long-left Mountain Crest He paused, and looked, and wondering cried: '' 'Tis here— my far-sought quest!'' 58 MANY MANY YEARS AGO We wandered, you and I, Across a field where roses blow, (Many, many years ago!) And as we laughed the moments by You murmured, sweet and low, Sighing, *1 love you so!'' (Many, many years ago!) Beside a crystal brook. Where willows whispered to and fro, (Many, many years ago!) You knelt upon the grass, and took A dying flower; and, ''Oh!" You cried, ''Shall love die so?'' (Many, many years ago!) Ah, they are gone, those days Of sunlit fields where roses blow! (Many, many years ago!) My feet have strayed on darker ways Than your young heart could know. Breathing, "I love you so!" (Many, many years ago!) 59 THE POET'S PLAINT When I have laid my pen aside, No more to chronicle the tide Of man's existence, —toil and play, Blended and woven into one Long, ever-changing, mystic lay,— When it is finished, the work begun And ended with the scorn of men, Tell me, ye who have sneered, what then? Will they who scoffed speak low my name Throughout the streets, no sting of shame To drive the red blood to a brow Where sat before but greed of gain; And will men gather to hear how One, whose life was priceless pain. Had found the word that men denied. Had sung unheard, unknown had died? 60 LOST ON THE DESERT Gray dunes and barren, shifting sands, And a hot wind from the west; Overhead a burning sky— And, oh, for an hour of rest! No living thing in all the waste Save my weary horse and me; And the molten sun drops down the sky, And the stars crowd out to see. Lost, lost! And the throbbing night Comes on with a thin, pale moon, Wanton white as a harlot's throat, That sways to the wind's weird tune. No hope in all the trackless void— And the white of a dead man's bones !- And the ghost of all my wasted years Comes out and moans, and moans! 61 TO A FRIEND I HAVE NEVER MET We two have never met, and never will Perhaps, and yet to-night I feel that I Have known you many years, that in the past We twain have oft clasped hands, and felt the depth And fulness of that magic word— friendship. Wherefore I write to you to-night these crude But heartfelt lines, and in my soul I know There is a bond that reaches out across The void, sweeping aside the little rules Of petty man, and welds between us two The subtle link that draws together those Who know the light, and who can understand. 62 THE CRAVEN^S PART If I had loved you less, my heart, Loving as humans do, I could not play the craven's part, Finding your vows untrue. My world is one grand edifice. And you the fragile prop; To take your love away from this My universe would stop. And yet that love is false as hell. Your smile a serpent's lure; 'Tis strange that I desire the shell, Knowing the heart impure! The craven's part is mine; I take You thus — what could be worse ?- How fair a thing was life to make- And you have wrought a curse! 63 ONE SHIP SAILS HOME Alas, together I launched the ships, My dream-ships out to sea; Alone to-day by the sounding shore, One ship sails home to me. One ship sails home to me to-day. Back through the blurring years. Sails back from the Land of Might Have Been, With freight of bitter tears. One ship was bound for the Isle of Hope— Oh, where can that brave bark be? — One ship fared forth o'er the Sea of Sorrow, To-day she comes home to me. One ship sails back through the wasted years, With freight of searing pain; That brave bark tossed on the Sea of Hope, Will she never sail home again? 64 DAYBREAK The night is still, and o'er the earth a dark And voiceless mystery, half boding, lies. It is the hour of coming day; now mark The stars that one by one fade from the skies, As on the hills appears the dawn's first gold. By brazen day the night's black flag is furled. And to the east my eager eyes behold The sun's first rays flash o'er the sleeping world. 66 DEAD And you are dead to-night! And all the years Rush down from out the golden past like some Great panorama spread, a mystic sheet That throbs and flames with multi-colored light— And then, a blank and barren wall across The sky, a sudden shutting in of night. And this dumb feeling of eternal loss. My whirling brain gropes back into the years, The dimly vistaed aisles of years long gone, And meets the phantom smile of other days Of bright and glorious hope, the days that meant The testing of a love that should endure Through ages countless as the sands that drift Beside the sea — and, oh, the yearning ache Of heart that cries back to those vanished years. Those dim, dead years of light and love! And now. Across the lowering sky, a blank, bare wall! And you are dead to-night! The brow that flushed But yesterday with warm and throbbing life Is white and cold; the lips that whispered low, Sweet words of softly murmured love are still And silent as the grave; the little hands 66 Are folded o'er the quiet and pulseless breast. They've placed a wreath of lilies on your head, Of cold, white lilies. Dead! And all the days, The golden days that stretch out to the past, Have crumbled into mocking nothingness Before my eyes. And God is not, and Life Is but a cry, a voiceless echo of A cry that floats out o'er the weary wastes Of Time, and whispers to the wandering winds That moan through all the everlasting years! 67 PAX VOBISCUM Still, blind darkness of the night; Quivering, low, in the valley afar, Luring gleam of a distant light— My guiding star! Whisper and stir of winds that move At night in the mystic, vast unknown; A touch of gold, clouds breaking above - Purity's throne! Sleep, and peace be in thy heart Through all life's dark and weary way! Thy chamber light— so near— apart— And dawns the day! SUNDERED Clustering white at your breast to-night, Lilies and violets blue— Is there no sigh as I say good-by, A long good-by to you? Never to know how the years may go, Or joy or measure of pain, In all your days on Earth's dark ways — Never to know you again! You stand to-night in the altar light— Ah, the days that went before! — Give heart and hand, 'tis Life's demand- And never to see you more! 69 SOMEWHERE THE DAY IS BRIGHT The world seems very dark to-night, Oh, very dark and drear, my love; But somewhere, dear, the day is bright. And skies are clear and blue above. Though wrong may triumph a little while, Right is not vanquished, never fear; And as we pass each wsary mile. Hour by hour the goal draws near. We need but trust, and, dear, we know That it will all at last come right; The way is dark, our steps are slow. But somewhere, love, the day is bright! 70 QUATRAINS I— Response The snows that strewed the winter wastes Are gone, like visions of the night; A warm south wind blows o'er the hills, And sudden violets spring to sight! II- A Brother To The Ox I saw a man in ball and chain Toiling above a mass of stone. A jagged edge cut deep his flesh; He gave no heed, nor once made moan. Ill— Futility A little boy stood beating at a door; And once he paused to cry his anguish through The lonely room ; but no one came with aid. And, sobbing, he began to beat anew. IV — A Parting A lightly spoken word, a smile; Here part the roads. A laughing while We journeyed hand in hand. The end. Who knows? Good-by— you were a friend! 71 V— IncompreheTision I shot a doe one winter's dawn, My heart set to the hunter's prize — From out the brush stepped a little fawn, And gazed at me with wondering eyes. VI— Contrast I dreamed that I had found the land Of Peace and Joy complete; I woke and heard the mob's hoarse cry For bread down in the street. VII— Tears As on the calmest day there comes A sudden rush of rain and wind. So in Life's hour of deepest joy A trace of tears oft we may find. 72 L'ENVOI If I have made a few gay songs, Singing, as Life has bid; If I have found a few bright truths Beneath the evil hid; If I have cheered an aching heart That faltered by the road, Or made the rough way seem less hard, Easing a pilgrim's load; If I have served, in hours of stress. To calm some fretting brain, To lighten some o'er-heavy cross, Or soothe some burning pain, I am well pleased to leave it thus Finished, my humble task; Having relieved some brother's need. No greater boon I ask. These songs will perish; the feeble hand That touched the pulsing string Will cease to quicken with the years, The joyous note will ring No more along the evening way. As violets, dew-sprung. That bless the banks of early May, While summer yet is young, 73 And fade when June has brought the rose, Their modest duty done, Losing, though memory holds them close, The chalice scarcely won— Let these songs bring but one hour's cheer To one sad heart, forspent. Then may they die, not born in vain. And I am well content. 74 PR 3 m\ One copy del. to Cat. Div. •fri 191 =