Class, P5 351 1 Book. -R^^DZ (kpighlN^. l^-p^ DRIFTWOOD DRIFTWOOD By DOROTHY WHIPPLE .f'^^ PRIVATELY PRINTED AT THE RIVERSIDE PRESS I916 ^^ COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY DOROTHY WHIPPLE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED / DEG 26 1916 QCI. A 453287 DEDICATED TO MY FATHER CONTENTS Driftwood Driftwood ...... 3 In the Net In the Net . . . . . .9 A Pearl — A Kiss . . . .13 Unanswered 14 Longing 15 Good-night 16 Sleep 18 Dreams are best . . . .19 The Sickle that reaps the Stars . 20 My Soul 21 Fate 22 Just for To-night . . . .23 A Rhapsody 24 Immortal Hours 25 Beyond ....... 27 Hate 28 Thou 30 Penelope's Web 31 vii CONTENTS The Call 32 Their Son 33 Hypnos -34 Tears and Dewdrops . . . . 35 Morning 36 Promise . . . . . .37 Thanks ....... 38 Life's Facets . , . . .39 A Gold Ring ..... 41 Crushed Bay 42 Meeting . .... . .43 The Wrong Dream . . . .44 My Other Life 45 The Cobwebs of Convention . . 46 Souls 47 Silence .48 Radiant Evening Star . . .49 The Last Time 50 Who Passed? 51 Sunrise 52 Rain and Wind . . . • • 53 Antithesis . . . . . .54 Time 55 Dreams and Waking . . . .56 viii Bubbles 1 Il>iM 1 .3 . 57 Soul of my Soul . . 58 Candle-Light ' 59 Plymouth Seaweed Plymouth Seaweed . 65 Cranberries . . . , 67 The Farm 70 Haying . 73 Tree-felling 76 Selling the Lot 78 The Telephone , S2 The Swamp . 84 Red-winged Blackbird . 86 Children and Fairies Fairy of the Leopard Lily 89 Sunlight Fairies . . * , 91 Star Reflections 92 Foxglove 93 Fairy Snowballs . . . . 95 The Sleep Fairies 96 The Echo Fairy . . . . 97 Rainbows 98 A Star Wedding . . . . 99 The Angels' Path . lOI IX CONTENTS Hide-and-Seek with the, Stars . 102 The Smelling-Salts at the Dance . 104 Lost . . . . . 106 A Lonely Alligator . . . . 107 Childhood 109 A Sail on the Moon . . . . 1 10 Sunbeam ...... 112 Fairies 113 Morning Mists 114 The Echo of a Laugh 115 The Lost Fairy and the Autumn Leaf 117 Forest Stream 119 A Thought 120 Snow 121 Who calls the Flowers? . 122 The Fast Little Clock 123 The Tradegy of the Umbrella . 125 The Lament of a Feather 127 If I were a Red, Red Cherry 129 I CANNOT UNDERSTAND . . . . 130 The Lost Thought . . . . 131 Mother's Flowers . . . . 132 Dream-Children 133 Mother-Love X 134 CONTENTS Fans, Fancies and Frivolities Why? . . ... . . . 137 Her New Fan 139 A Question 142 The Mirror of a Fickle Girl . .144 Hide and Seek 145 The Rose on her Hat to the Rose ON THE Bush 146 The Stray Lock 148 A Letter 149 Scandal 150 A Pill 151 Alone with Fancy . . . .152 A Fancy 153 The Birth of Venus . . . .154 A Fancy 155 Gardens and Flowers Her Garden — My Garden . .159 Lily of the Valley . . . .161 The Lotus 162 Canterbury Bells . . . .163 White Lily ...... 164 A Garden 165 Heliotrope . . . , , .166 xi CONTENTS Where Lilies grow . . . .167 Forgotten 169 I KNOW 170 A Violet 171 A Path 172 The Brook 173 Tansy and Chicory . . . .174 Crimson Roses . . . . .175 Songs and Seasons Song 179 You 180 Song 181 A Song 182 Her Heart 183 A Mystery 184 Sailing 185 Spring and Fall Spring 189 Spring Ecstacy . . . • . 191 Spring Promise 192 A Bird's Call ..... 193 The Spring Moon . . . .194 A Spring Song 195 Blue Sky overhead . . . .196 xii CONTENTS The Bluebird's Song . . . .197 Fall Flames . . . . .198 Fall Sky 199 A Leaf — A Love .... 200 Change 202 A Dream of the Fall . . . 203 Autumn Contradictions . . .204 Religiosa In the Night 207 Resignation 208 God knows 209 Melrose Abbey 210 Where now stands Trinity . .211 The Golden Cross . . . .214 Solace 215 Shadows of Gold . . . .216 Sonnet 217 In Memoriam 218 An Angel 219 Crucifixion 220 A Prayer 221 Portrayals A Portrait 225 A Girl 226 xiii CONTENTS The Teamster . . . , . 229 The Miner 231 A Romance of the Circus „ . 233 Reminiscence . . . . . 239 Possession 243 Eons Ago 245 Vers Libre To 251 A Fancy 253 Parting 255 Magnolia Blossoms .... 256 Clouds across the Moon . . . 257 Marriage . . *. . . . 259 Pot au Feu 261 A Rhapsody 265 L'Envoi Heart Songs 269 DRIFTWOOD DRIFTWOOD It was night, A night that God had planned before the world began. The moon glimmered in a gold surprise Over a wine-spilled sea. A creature of to-day In all the words he knows could not express What the moon saw, and the moon will not speak of this night. There was one soul on the shore beside the wave- crested sea; I think it was mine own, but the wind could not tell me; Or perhaps it was that I could not understand that night. Far out on the swaying murmurous moontide, I saw mermaids frolicking with the foam in ecstatic gracefulness: Their hair glinted in the velvet moonlight And spread a golden vein into the wine luster of the sea. There were fairies catching the star-pierced spray 3 DRIFTWOOD Of the breaking waves. I heard a child's voice, I think she woke from her sleep And knew that this night was not like others. Children always know such things : It is because they have come so lately from God Who holds the silver cords of the plasmatic world. There was no voice in me. The sea spoke, but I could not answer it, Or understand the words it trampled out. Then morning came out of the sea. One of the mermaids gleaned the exquisite pink Of the conch-shell and threw it to the skies; My soul saluted the dawn : The morning star shivered and glided Behind the curtain of a pearl mist. Then I awoke, and as one in a dream Walked forth from under the wings of that night Which was left over in the oil of centuries. There was driftwood on the beach ; There was the echo of a child's laugh in a shell; And there were fairies held prisoners Under the foam-bubbles on the silvered sand. 4 DRIFTWOOD There must be a beautiful garden under the green sea, Because I found blossoms of spring and summer flowers Of all shades, and the fragrant flowers That come in the honeyed autumnal days. My soul will never forget that night And the things it found in the morning On the lovely long beach. It talks about those things to me in strange echoes now. I have saved some of the driftwood ; Some day I will burn it all, see The blue flame, and hear the echo Of the murmurous sea-thunder. IN THE NET IN THE NET A LONE fisherman Out on the great expanse of the lapis-Iazuli sea. With the millions of glinting gold sunbeams That ride the ecstatic wavelets, His white boat rises and falls on the water Like a recurrent thought, — Now lost in the vast blueness, now dazzlingly visible, Like a speck of foam. There is something flying through the radiance of the morning air; It is not a gull. The gulls gaze on it with lazy surprise; It has wings and it is my soul. It must reach the lone fisherman before his net is drawn. Now he is reaching over the side of the white foam boat, And it tips to meet the blue Till the dull brown floor and sides are visible. With the ropes and pails and shining fish-scales. 9 IN THE NET And the lone fisherman is pulling his heavy net over the side. There is a glinting mass of animation through the meshes of the net, And the slippery sound of captured fish As they lash their bodies about Swimming in the foreign air. There are many fish in the net, but there is more beside From the wonderful ocean-green depths beyond the silence of the sea song. There is a conch-shell with elusive pink tints : One would follow that shade to the heart were it possible. The wind is singing beautifully of the mysteries of the sky, And the sunbeams are playing on the harp of the air. In the conch-shells are the echoes of songs — Beauteous strains vaguely inexpressible. There are rainbow bubbles all about. The occasional flip of a fish breaks one now and then, And the rainbow streams lavishly over his shining scales. lO IN THE NET Then another foam-bubble appears. And the rainbow flows together and becomes a drop of water. It looks like a beautiful tear from the depths of despair, Where it is purple and dark with suffering. Tears are like snowdrops Bleeding out of the ground. A sea-anemone was caught in the net. It had a lost dream in its chalice. Some one out at sea forgot a dream. It fell into the ocean and lay In the anemone's beautiful cup. There was a flash of gold amid the silvered fish- scales. The meshes of the net were lying on it heavily, And a starfish clung to one end. Could it be that the fisherman had caught the crescent moon? It was its reflection. There was a night when the sea was idly calm And the moon threw its reflection down. The moon's reflection is its love; And a beautiful pink starfish Caught the crescent moon's love and held it fast. IN THE NET The fisherman caught them both. The silent tide is creeping in; The fisherman must get home. He empties all but the fish into the dizzy sea again. There is only an occasional flash and flicker of sunbright scales ; Most of the fish are dry and sticky. My soul saw all that came up from the sea's depth In the fisherman's coarse brown net. It has left the boat now, And the gulls float in the vast blueness, And they see my soul passing again. It is coming to me and I shall know all. A PEARL — A KISS A STAR fell into the depths of the sea — A star of golden mystery; And the rainbow flight of the ocean spray Mingled and made it a pearl where it lay. A thought fell into the depths of a heart, And felt its quivering pulses start; The rainbow dreams that arise from our bliss Touched it — and it became a kiss. 13 UNANSWERED Why is It wrong to long for death? She stands gazing at the sun-bright water Asking the breeze, Asking the trees, Why is it wrong to long for death? The waters are beating against the sand; With the same insistent beat, pain throbbed 'gainst her heart Until it saw the life-blood oozing start, Until it left her hopeless on the strand. There is no need to flaunt her suffering — I think that words would fail. Let those who know Life, those who understood it long ago. Realize that sacred silence which bespeaketh all. Why Is It wrong to long for death? She stands gazing at the deep gray waters, Asking the wind, Asking her mind, Why is it wrong to long for death? 14 LONGING There is a longing in my soul For rainbow things Far, far away. There is a rustle on the breeze Of fairy wings Far, far away. Gently my life-pulse beats into the night; Slowly my sleep-soul rises to the light; Gold of the moonbeams shimmering o'er the lea, Heart of my heart, I am calling thee. There is a longing in my soul For mystic things Far, far away. There is a distant echoing voice That murmuring sings Far, far away. My love is throbbing like the evening star, Caught in the purple haze of night afar; Foam-crested waves are breaking near the sea; Heart of my heart, I am calling thee. 15 GOOD-NIGHT Good-night, dear one, good-night. The lily hath let her petals white Close to the murmur of the night, Lulled by a faint star-distant beam, The spirit of a beautiful dream. Good-night, dear one, good-night. Good-night, dear one, good-night. The breeze is whispering to the moon, The harp of night is all in tune, And over the sea where the mermaids glide A path of gold sways with the tide. Good-night, dear one, good-night. Good-night, dear one, good-night. The moon is drawing the sighing sea; My love, thy heart is drawing me, And the flowers droop in the ambient air To breathe on the silver moonbeams there. Good-night, dear one, good-night. Good-night, dear one, good-night. The promise-star in the deep blue sky i6 GOOD-NIGHT Hath gleamed — we shall meet again, thou and I, And I shall know thy smile of light In the lovely land of a fond good-night. Good-night, dear one, good-night. SLEEP Beautiful over the sunlit sea, Dreamy over the hyacinth lea, Drowsy tops of the swaying tree — Sleep — O sleep, thou art come to me. Far in a land of dream-desires. Of rainbow bubbles and fa.iry spires, Where lilies are growing in clouds of white, And breathing fragrance to the stars' light; Deep in the realm of the evening star, Where translucent spirits of mystery are; Sleep, thou hast taken me far away From the life I live in the sparkling day. Beautiful over the morning sea. Lovely the jasamine skies to me; The crocus dawn is warm with light From the shimmering moonbeams of the night. i8 DREAMS ARE BEST It is so fair to dream life, Dream till reality Becomes a mist that trembles Over a seething sea; To lay down the cross we 're bearing, Just for a little while, And after the tears of suffering Feel the warm sun of a smile. It is so fair to dream love. Nor put it to life's acid test; Its anguish consumes the heart so. Oh, dreams are the very best. 19 THE SICKLE THAT REAPS THE STARS Out of the tow'ring cave of night Where the dreams of mortals are, A radiant youth of spirit light Came forth and journeyed afar. Gold as the rays of the setting sun, Shone the moon-sickle in his hand, To reap the trembling evening stars That sparkle like silver sand. Gladly he reaped in the purple field. Gathering star by star; The gold moon-sickle grew fainter — till *Twas lost in the distance far. 20 MY SOUL My soul IS wandering far away Into the crocus of waning day, Into the distant amethyst Of the ever-drooping, fading mist. I watch it shimmering o'er the sea Like a trembling breath of eternity; I see it on a sunbeam far Melt into the evening star. It glimmers like a firefly Into the purple of the sky. The moaning sea to the foam-white beach Answers its echo's utmost reach. And my soul is palpitating still With the pulse of the star over the hill. Where will it be when that golden star Shall fade in the light of the morning far? 21 FATE Fate with a trembling hand wrote this — A line of suffering, a line of bliss, And life glides on in a mist of tears Or a rainbow of hope that hides our fears. But the lines that were written by fate shall be Realized for all eternity. 22 JUST FOR TO-NIGHT Just for to-night, dear, come unto me; Forget all the pains and sorrows that be; Just for to-night, dear, take thou my hand — Let us live life as our two hearts had planned. Just for to-night, dear, take me and say You love me and you will love me alway; Just for to-night, dear, kiss me again, The kiss that I dreamed would never be pain.. 23 A RHAPSODY Blue sky, green fields and fleecy clouds of white! Their strange shaped shadows glide like dreams of night Over the silent fields of swaying grain, Great visions of the spirit of the plain. Under the leafy trees in cool deep glades Soft, golden sunlight slowly gleams and fades. White phantom visions flit before the eyes And vanish in the distance of the skies. Rippling, splashing water on the golden sand, A gently stirring sound, — perhaps Titania's band. And all the dryads of the woodland trees In rainbow circles flit upon the breeze. Dryads robed in purple like the iris light, Opalescent fairies, spirits of dusky night. Fairies, fairies, fairies soaring to the skies. Let us wait a little longer till the moon shall rise. Then the rainbow fairies, combing all the light. Shall shimmer through the darkness into stars of night. 24 IMMORTAL HOURS Hours long I stop and listen To the singing harp of time; And I hear soft, distant echoes Harking from another clime. Echoes of the past are trembling In music through the halls of life; Angel hands that bear loved memories Charm away all sordid strife. As the primrose sky of evening Fades into the purple night, So those memories, softly blending, Mingle in my heart's delight. Memories of such perfect hours Pass like moonbeams o'er the sea; Hours of reading and communing, Soul to soul, upon the lea. Hours that e'er shall be immortal, Ensouled in rainbow memories ; 25 IMMORTAL HOURS Life may take our fond desires, Turn our joys to tragedies. But, like petals of a flower, Velvet soft and misty light, Memories of such bliss shall linger Breathing fragrance through death's night. BEYOND Always a mystic distance luring us on through Hfe; Always a fear immortal after the storm of strife ; Always a vision rising over accomplishment's peak; Always intangible glories for which we may ever seek. And watch, vanishing, vanishing, like gulls over the sea; And our eyes dwell on that distance, fancying what might be. And then comes the end of life, and still the great to be. Something forever beyond our grasp, the last is eternity. 27 HATE When the first flush of rosy light Gleamed through the curtain of the night, And all the flowers of the morn Gazed in the mirror of the dawn, A gentle breeze came o'er the lea, Over the purple jasmine sea, Searching a flower to love and woo, As the light breeze of morning joys to do. A lily trembled and opened her heart, Pure as the golden sunbeam-dart; The wandering breeze caressed her all day Till evening came on her starry way. And the lily closed her petals white To dream of the breeze and day's delight; Under the mystic stars she lay, Like a pure thought when the heart would pray. And in this world where life is so strange All are flower-weak and all things change; 28 HATE Love in a night is turned to hate; We would enter heaven, but find it too late. The evening breeze and the lily white Changed in the span of a mortal night : She heard him roar and sigh and groan And shriek in a moaning undertone. A wind of hate is a wind that kills, And breaks the substance of our wills. Next morning the blossom had drooped her head, — A flower was found in the garden, dead. THOU Star distant all my hopes and all my fears, Silent as death the life-blood of my heart Flows in a purple stream. Pain cannot start The wild sad thrill it used in other years, Nay, nor the bitter bleeding, blinding tears. Oh joy, a hazy memory thou art. Tinged faintly with gleams that could once impart Such raptures ! Dreamy aurora enspheres My being in a golden mesh of light. Pain, longing, sorrow, and a dear delight Are mingled like the breath of a pearl mist, Faintly they touch the senseless cheek, insist, Like beating rain, till, my beloved, pain Withdraws her hand and thou art near again. 30 PENELOPE'S WEB Dearest, I cannot say good-bye to thee. The pallid moon may urge the stars to shine, But, O beloved, lay thy hand on mine. And all the trembling flame of love leaps free. Consumes my throbbing heart, and thus leaves me Helpless in thy sight. I lift my eyes to thine And see the image of a life divine. Lived close to God in beauty still to be. Ah no, I cannot say good-bye, dear heart. The words are vain, and yet I love to part, For all the sweetness of farewell — • I say. Good-bye, and with the first breath of to-day Undo those silver words, as she who spun All day till night and then unravelled all she'd done. 31 THE CALL The sunbeams are glimmering through the trees, The flowers sway in the evening breeze. Why do you hasten on, little brook? Laughing waters, why leave this nook Where the sand is soft and gold And the wild-rose petals fold? Why hasten on to the hungry sea? Is this happiness not enough for thee, With all this beauteous solitude, The water-lily diamond-dewed? The sea is calling for the brook For the echoes of its quiet nook, Rippling, laughing brook so free * Why be lost in that boundless sea? 32 THEIR SON The yellow sunlight flickered through the trees; Slowly the fluttering leaves, gold and red, Fell through the silent air from overhead Upon the twilight of two lives. The evening breeze Mingled its whispers with the drone of bees. Beyond their tear-dimmed vision, far ahead, Lay purple hills with misty light o'erspread; Their vision rested upon each of these. Silent they stood, those two, gazing far away At that lone figure going out to meet the day Beyond the hills, leaving the autumn leaves to fall. Like the hopes of their hearts and taking all. All but a dream of what had ceased to be, Tinged with a longing, aching misery. 33 HYPNOS Fair Hypnos of the peaceful, dreamy brows, Who weary mortals mystic rest allows, Come to me now and lay thy cool, soft hand Over my weary eyes. Unloose each band Of pain's relentless woe that all the day Like coiling serpents strangles peace away. As falls the sunlight on the purple hills, So falls thy comfort on the wayward wills Of men. O'er seething seas a dream of night Is melting into soft radiant light. The evening star will gently draw it soon, Out of the shimmering bosom of the moon, And I shall dream of fountains in the sun. Of summer sunsets when the day is done, Of cloud-flecked skies whose shadows on the grass Glide by the golden sunbeams and pass On to the hills, and then far, far away To wait the dawn of coming day. 34 TEARS AND DEWDROPS The evening breeze wafts o'er the sea, Breathing its fragrance and sweetness to me, And it faints in the flush of the sunset sky While the languorous gulls are soaring by. The breath of my pain is drifting too Somewhere afar in God's heaven of blue. The morning wind is fresh and clear It misses a dewdrop and finds a tear. 35 MORNING Into the mists of sunshine, Into the violet sky, The morning star is waning And our dreams are floating by. Out of the mists of morning, Out of the rainbow dew, The radiant day is dawning And morn is coming anew. Out of the dreams and visions, Out of the purple night. The spirit of mortal is stirring And reveling in the light. 36 PROMISE The lilies are lulled to sleep by the wind, And the glamorous world is left behind As the golden sheen of meteor light, When a star falls into the unknown night. The lilies are breathing soft and low, And their perfume sleeps in the breezes that blow, And over the purple hills far away God is pouring life into the day. With promise of undreamed things to be, Moments of pain and ecstasy, We never know till the day is o'er The mystery God hath planned before. 37 THANKS Dear friend, you sang for her one perfect night, The halo of thy voice wreathed round her heart And quivered there till it became a part Of life to her at best. Her rare delight Was pictured in her eyes from the soul's insight. It is not strange that longing tears should start And tremble in the recess of the heart On hearing those sweet strains again. To-night I thought I felt her presence lingering near, A spirit by thy music bidden, here. She heard; perhaps not as she heard before. But with us still and loving even more. How vain a word of thanks must seem to thee ; Yet thou knowest how deep our thanks must be. 38 LIFE'S FACETS 'T IS a world of childish bliss, Of care-free days and happiness; What could fairer be than this? When hearts are young. 'T is a world of dawning dreams, With its rainbow pain-tinged gleams, And love's tender trembling beams Of our youth. 'T is a world of love and light, Thrilling heart-throbs of delight; Of a new and deep insight Into life. 'T is a world of tender pain. When we feel all strife is vain; There 's a face we '11 see again Never more. 'T is a world of sacrifice In which perfect pardon lies, 39 LIFE'S FACETS With a glimpse of Paradise Far away. 'T is a world of resignation, Of long hours of contemplation, With a dawn of God's relation After life. 'T is a world beyond our sight, Beyond death's grief-darkened night; And we wait on God for light In this world. 'T is a world of blinding grief, When the heart knows no relief; Only prayer and firm belief Shall avail. A GOLD RING Just a gold ring — the moon's mysterious light Hath played with in the forest heart some night And made a gold ring: — it has no ending, Nor beginning, just a mystic blending. Just a gold ring — hovering round I see The misty dream of all life held for me The day, 't was not so very long ago, It clasped my finger. God, I loved it so! That dear gold ring — there Is a vision now Of days that passed like music faint and low; I never knew but faintly guessed They were too subtly sublime to bear life's test. 41 CRUSHED BAY I CRUSHED some bay-leaves with a thoughtless hand ; So is it that pain crushes — you understand ; And yet we love the fragrance of crushed bay And love the visions of a by-gone day. 42 MEETING I MET myself the other day, As I walked through the sunlit fields Where the shadows of clouds float slowly by And the clover her fragrance yields. I walked through the swaying grasses That rippled and bent in the breeze; I listened to lisping leaflets That rustled in bird-haunted trees. And there in the scented meadow, Where daisies and red grass grow, I met myself in the sunshine And I spoke to myself soft and low. I asked myself many a question, But the answers I '11 never tell. It is so strange to meet one's self — But you 've done it, I know full well. 43 THE WRONG DREAM Once through a gold-beamed twilight, Over a murmurous sea, The dream of some other mortal Wafted out to me. I saw in the faint, far distance. Through a mist of opal light. Something trembling and quivering And growing forever more bright. I dreamed that the moon was shining Over a purple plain, And someone was faintly calling, Calling, calling in vain. I would the other mortal Had dreamed that dream last night. And answered the voice on the purple plain Under the moon's soft light. Even the angels of dreamland Once in an aeon or so Touch to life the wrong vision, But few of us mortals know. 44 MY OTHER LIFE When the fire flame is flickering And the wind is sighing low, Visions come and angel voices Whisper of a long ago. Strange the vision that arises Of another life than mine, Other hopes and other longings: What was then this life of thine? Were we both strange different beings Foreign in each other's eyes? No, for I have felt thee near me In these visions that arise. What a world of whims and fancies! In the valley of the moon Long ago I think I wandered And the height of night was noon. Far away the star of evening Glimmered, and I loved to see All its perfect light a-quiver, Dear heart, for I knew 't was thee. 45 THE COBWEBS OF CONVENTION So let us strive to realize our intention And sweep away the cobwebs of convention, Those silver threads of life that hold us here When all the while we feel our ideal near, Breathing, a new soul clamoring for birth, A flower, held by winter in the earth. Let us stretch forth the trembling arm of hope And, soaring, feel the hands that used to grope, Touch a new chord whose echoes vibrant fill The super-soul and tremble there until The vision shall be realized. Then shall start A fresh new life with beauty at its heart. SOULS There are two souls in me that greet the day One here, the other star-distant away, Over the massive hills of night, where sleep And all the mysteries of visions keep Their drowsy vigil. The other soul is near, Crowned with a fragile wreath of fear, And all its whiteness lies in silent peace, Watching the fleet shadows of life increase. 47 SILENCE What if for one brief moment my wild heart Were still, and all the dreams of thee that are So close to it should drift away afar Like white mists drawn by breath of dawn apart. The very pulse within me would be still, I would be dead, and all my love for thee A flower more for God's eternity, A world and a heart in silence at his will. What if for one strange moment all the world Were silent still as the depths of night. Deprived of breath, still as a golden shaft of light. Still as the white rose petals all unfurled. The busy city would stand still a time. The brook would cease to flow, the breeze to sigh, Fair leaves to whisper as it passes by. All lost in silence of a great sublime. 48 RADIANT EVENING STAR The sun of our life arises Behind the white mists of time, In the deHcate opal colors Tinged with our dreams divine. And the mists of time float onward Down to death's deep sea, Till they vanish in mystic distance — We call it eternity. For one last perfect moment The sunset of life is aglow; Slowly the soft shades mingle And the winds of Elysium blow. Ah, bright and radiant evening star, Thy concentrated light Is the soul of life's fair sunset Gathered through death's dark night. 49 THE LAST TIME Were this the last time I could see thee, dear, Were my dreams gathered like mist clouds o'er the sea In pallid whiteness, floating far from me! Though all my hopes were echoed in a tear, Still, dearest one, to feel thy presence near Even for one brief moment — that would be Joy, rare enough for all eternity, And I would then forget all else I fear — Forget the aching pain of loneliness, Forget the silent hours when I stand In anguish, reaching out my trembling hand, Longing, O dear one, for thy loved caress. The lily forgets all but the pure gleam Of tender light from a loved moonbeam. 50 WHO PASSED? I WONDER who passed here just after the snow fell. It's a long, long way from home In the silence, and I cannot tell Who passed. Perhaps a wanderer seeking light — It's a lonely place to spend the night; Perhaps a hunter tracking the deer And yet there are no other tracks near. No, it was none of these that passed And faced the ice and the snowy blast. The tracks are not deep in the drifted snow; Perhaps a spirit, but where did it go? On, on and on through the purple night, Over fields of flake snow banked so white. Perhaps I only dreamed I saw tracks, how Strange and yet, I see them even now. I wonder who did pass here just after the snow fell. It's a long, long way from home In the silence, and I cannot tell Who passed. 51 SUNRISE The dusky night on quiet wings upborne Hath flown far away; The morning star that ushers in the dawn Is budding into day. Far off the first warm petals are unfurled, And wait but the kiss Of the dawn sprite, Elysian; dew-impearled, To blossom into this, This radiant splendor of the rising sun, This promise of a star. This moment of communion with the skies And regions still afar. RAIN AND WIND There are secrets in the whisper of the rain. There is music in a tender, minor strain, Echoes from the heart that throbs in pain For all that ne'er will come in life again. Ah, the whisper of the soft melodious rain. There are secrets in the moaning of the wind, Soul visions that our heart hath left behind, With the music of loved voices, low and kind, And a memory in the recess of the mind. Oh, the secrets of the moaning, sighing wind. 53 ANTITHESIS The poem of the evening star To the song of the purple night; The blending of dreams and thoughts With the ecstasy of delight. The delicate thrill of joy To the tender music of pain; The reflected ray of light In a trembling drop of rain. The tumult of life and love To the dream of its quiet hours; The delicate beauty of life To its virile and perfect powers. The poem of a longing heart To the echo from far away; The dream of suffering night, And love is born with the day. 54 TIME Time held her hands together long ago, And day by day with dreamy eyes watched pass, Slowly like shimmering stars, life's grains of sand That fell unseen upon the verdant grass. But now her lily fingers draw apart; Still she is standing with dreamy eyes, And all the golden sand like shafts of light Slips through and lies in suffered tragedies. This is the end. And yet she stands there still,. A golden heap of life existent near, And all around new grains of sand fall through — But mine is now a heap and sere. 55 DREAMS AND WAKING What is a dream? A breath from the petals of a flower, A perfect moment of one glad hour, The rainbow after a summer shower. The kiss of mysterious night. What is awakening? A dreaming sense of what has been, Of voices heard, loved faces seenr A butterfly moment poised between Mystery and reality. 56 BUBBLES You say that the heart forgets, dear, Forgets the joy and the pain; Stands waiting, an empty bubble, Till life shall tinge it again. There are bubbles that float in the air, dear, Reflecting the sunset shades; There are bubbles that soar to heaven In color that swirls and fades. There are bubbles that fall to earth, dear, And are lost in a sea of dreams; There are bubbles that tremble e'er melting Into pain's deep purple gleams. The heart does not forget, dear, Though frail as a bubble it be; The heart can never forget, dear, Till utmost eternity. 57 SOUL OF MY SOUL Soul of my soul, — life of my life, — I come to thee over the hills of chance, Out of the mists of circumstance; Peace in my heart from all the strife. Soul of my soul, — heart of my very heart, — I heard thy voice throughout the silent night Long, long ago, and saw thy soul light And mine own become a part. Soul of my soul, — breath of my very breath, - Our lives have drawn together as the night Melts into the mystery of daylight We love, and see thus mingling life and death. 58 CANDLE-LIGHT In the candle-light of life, When the sun is set, Come the shadows of the past We tried to forget. Great dark shadows like the clouds That used to bank the sky, But always leave the sunshine When they had passed by. 59 PLYMOUTH SEAWEED PLYMOUTH SEAWEED There was a long shore, And the silver sand sparkled in the moonlight, And the proud crested waves Rose and crashed, groveling on the glinting sand, And the white foam scintillated under the silent moonbeams Beneath the sea. — Under the long golden smile of the moon The spirits of the deep played in swaying grace- fulness. There were long-haired mermaids Who tore the green brown seaweed from the rocks And flung it to the golden moon-ripples. There were fishes with huge eyes and little mouths Darting about in the green gold waters — Old fishes with long fins and sunken gills; They sat in the shadows And told all they knew. They told of the first boat That came years and years ago to these waters; 63 PLYMOUTH SEAWEED How it stayed only a short while and went away Leaving the pilgrims behind. The fishes have never seen just such a boat since. Many other boats have been in the harbor, Bringing many pilgrims, But the fishes remember the first one best. The old fishes remember what the gulls have told them. The gulls float over the land, And their round, bright eyes see many things; Then they soar back again. With long, lazy wings that touch the waters. That is the way they talk to the folk of the sea Of all the mysteries of the land each year. The gulls have told the old fishes of the life there, Of the struggle for existence, Of the flight of some. And of the ones who have stayed there long years, Of their loves, tragedies, joys and sorrows, Of their winters and summers. The old fishes know a great deal, And they love to tell it As they glide back and forth in the long caress- ing seaweed That slips by their glistening scaly sides. 64 PLYMOUTH SEAWEED And still the graceful long-haired mermaids Tear the gold green seaweed And fling it to the smile of the moon. In the morning a young man With an echo of the moon's smile on his lips. And dark brown eyes, Comes and gathers the seaweed, His old horse stands on the beach, Switching his tail at the flies That the sea breezes do not blow off, — Switching it perhaps from force of habit. He is like some of the people the gulls tell about. They have done strange things for years, And still do them and their children do them too in the same way. It is a beautiful sun-clear morning, The wind is fresh and the sky is bright blue; The man has gathered the seaweed, nor Does he know of the beautiful mermaids who plucked it. And of the seon-old fishes of the deep. He is carrying it home now Along the little sandy road With dusty grasses and wild roses bordering it; 65 PLYMOUTH SEAWEED And then through the fields with daisies and clovers, Just before he reaches his home, — The little white house with green blinds Under the shadows of the foothills, The farmers know that seaweed Is good for the grass. CRANBERRIES The pitch-pines are gnarled and sturdy; Glimpses of forget-me-not blue sky- Gleam through the tracery of their needles. The oaks that grow among them Are a wonderful purple brown, in the fall When the nights are dew-cool, And there is a mysterious white mist in the little dells. The flying fairies are held prisoners in the am- bient mist And you can hear their wings rustling all about. The sun rises in gold and purple, And the cranberry bogs are bright almost as though They had caught fire from the coming light; The slender little vines creep over the white sand, Each leaf purpling to the sunrise. There is a great gray hawk soaring over the bog, Marring the fleckless blue of the noon sky; The streams that cut the bogs in squares Are full of frogs and little fish 67 CRANBERRIES That dart on the yellow sand And make little slivers of animated shadows. The water is bright and cool; it ripples so im- portantly ; It is always trying to leap up the vine-covered bank, But it slips gleamingly back again Until the brook is dammed to flood the bog; Then it creeps in silver gloatingly through the vines, To drown the pests or keep frost away. No wonder the little brook ripples so import- antly Over its motley pebbles and silvered sands. The cranberry bogs are beautiful in the morn- ing; All the fairies that were caught in the haze Become tears in the morning; If they do not fall into sad hearts. They glisten in sparkling happiness On the cranberry vines, and they are full of color and light. Fairies are always beautiful and happy Whatever form they take. It will soon be time to pick the hard red berries 68 CRANBERRIES And the pickers with their dark skins And bright fantastic clothes , Look as though they might be some fairy pirates Searching for a buried treasure. And the sky smiles a blueness down upon the Bright pink and flaming red and the Tyrian purple And upon the white barrels Filled with the luscious crimson of the cran- berries. THE FARM I Behind the house is the meadow, And beyond the meadow where clovers grow, And flaming poppies 'mid daisies like the snow, Serpenting through the grasses is the silver lake With sunlight on it and trees that shake Their leaves on to its surface; they float Each with a fairy in the petalled boat Over the golden gleams of shadowed sand On to the great unknown fairy-land. Beyond the river is another field. I never went to it, but the waters say There are daisies there too, and poppies gay; That the bluebird floats and alights to see If his soft breast is clover-red. The bee Buzzes his drowsy monotone In that field just as he does in our own. Beyond the fields and river blue hills rise; Sometimes it is hard to tell them from the skies. And white clouds fold upon them, till we see Visions of cloud-land where hills used to be. 70 THE FARM These hills seem always calling to the flowers, And the spirits of the meadow through the sunny hours Breathe back their answers in the faint per- fume That gently wafts so often to my room — The one just under the roof where the swallows build And the rain beats when the night is wild. I love to hear the storm spirits shrieking loud. The ruler of the storm is fierce and proud ; He lashes all the trees and beats the rain Until it fairly bounces on the window-pane. He rides the lightning and holds the thunder, till The deep sound rumbles on from hill to hill. I love my room with its flowers on the wall There used to be many — the sun has taken nearly all ; They are faded flowers now, pressed and put away — Fragile, but they hold the all of a by-gone day. 71 THE FARM II I think we're having doughnuts to-night; They'll be all sugary and yellow and light; And an apple-pie, I smelled that too, And we '11 have it on the plate with blue Houses and trees and meadows where grow Blue flowers not like the field flowers though. Then the stars '11 come out ; I ' ve always thought That when it was dark the fairies brought All the good daisies up to the sky, And then they were stars — so often I Tried to wait for the morning light. To see the stars in their earthward flight, Gliding down to the meadows fair; They are daisies as soon as they get there. I never could see them, for I fell asleep And dreamed that I was trying to peep; And the flowers' fragrance wafted to me, And the smell of the farm where life is so free. HAYING They are mowing to-day. Yesterday the summer breeze tripped over the field And the grasses bent slightly as it passed And quivered in waves of silver eddies. To-day there is the startling click of the ma- chine As the great bay pair walk slowly about. The grasses are falling like shattered hopes, and The sun is beating down upon the wilting, warm Clover and the ox-eyed daisies with drooping Orange petals. Those daisies wilt so soon after They are cut. There is a little girl, with dark eyes. And brown curls clinging to her warm pink brow, Picking up the flowers — poor wilting flowers : The white daisies melt like snowdrops in spring, And the poppies die like extinguished flames. All the sweetness of the meadow Is charmed forth by the sun, and the birds Are singing sweetly as they flit over the field Where the purple grass is falling. 73 HAYING There is an agitated butterfly fluttering about Like a lost soul — she is soaring over the field And the dewdrops are her tears. She is searching for something — she poises And floats as the hawk after prey; She is not hunting to kill, but there was a clover She loved and it, too, has fallen. She is restless, and her yellow wings flutter Helplessly against the blue sky. She stayed long on the perfumed plume of the clover Last eve, and she cannot find it now. She is stifled by the concentrated sweetness Of the air so full of the breath of warm flowers. There is a little gray mouse scudding like A shadow over the leveled grass and flowers. The mowing-machine does not stop For the nest of a little brown field-mouse. Under the shade of the walnut tree there is A shiny pail filled with molasses and ginger. I think that Ganymede never served to the gods So pleasing a drink. It has a piece of crystal ice in it, And all the flower-sweetness mingles in that pail; 74 HAYING That is why it never tastes the same Anywhere but in the hay-field. It is so Golden brown and so cool. The sun is slowly sinking behind the hills, And it sends out a golden glow Over the field. The men are still at work Just raking the last bits and stacking It in cocks — oh, the sweetest, lightest cocks To jump in and bury one's self in. And listen to the crackle and struggle Of a surprised cricket, and smell the mingled Fragrance of every field-grass and flower Warmed by the delicious summer sun. Oh, there is nothing just like the hay-field. TREE-FELLING On a lonely far-off hillside Where great pine trees grow, Where the clouds hang low in summer And warm breezes blow; Where the dryads and the wood-nymphs Dance beneath the silver moon Till the stars come down to meet them And the night is all in tune — On the lonely far-off hillside Rippled by a silver brook, And the moss was green and lovely — Many a trout-pool, many a nook Where the fairies and the dryads, Gliding from the hearts of trees, Gazed upon a mirror surface Till it vanished in the breeze. To the lonely far-off hilltop. To the fairy-haunted fell. Came a chopper bringing axes; Echoes answered through the dell, And the breeze so warm in summer Shrieked and moaned until the wood 76 TREE-FELLING Answered in a low, deep thunder All the fairies understood. All the dryads in their tree-trunks Trembled till their anguish swayed The great pine trees on the hillside And a deeper moaning made. Click! the axe cuts deep and cruel, And the chopper stops to see That a fitful snow is falling, Turns and chops more steadily. Strange! he thinks the snow is falling, He will never, never know That the dryad of his pine tree Has a spirit like the snow; He will never hear her moaning To the tree that held her long. If he does hear he will tell you 'T is the echo of his song. SELLING THE LOT " Y'er home at last and I 'm glad yer be, I ben waitin' fer ye to come see The cow that was sick, she 's worse to-night A-bellerin' away in an awful plight. Ye'd better go out and see her now, * Cause we can't afford to lose that cow. The summer folks '11 be coming along And the cows and the hens jest can't go wrong. I '11 get yer supper while yer out, And there 's something else I '11 tell yer about. Farmer Stiles was over to-day And told me the news 'fore he went away, But come, yer must be after that cow I can't stop gossiping it seems, anyhow." She went with him to the little door And gazed a moment or so before Turning to cook the griddle cake. And take out the pie she 'd left to bake. The cattle breath and the smell of hay Mingled with the odors of waning day; 78 SELLING THE LOT A stillness threaded the evening air And the breeze ruffled her straight gray hair. A hen with a brood of little chicks Cackled and clucked between her picks; The apple tree by the gate to the road Blew in the breeze till its petals snowed And the ground beneath was pink and white Like hoar frost in the fall twilight. The spring with the old pump, mossy green And verdant grass that oozed between, Stood there in the evening sun Like a traveler when his journey 's done. She stood in the doorway and gazed at this: It always brought her happiness, It always left the shell of a dream And the vision of things she 'd never seen. She turned and vanished in the gloom Of the little farmhouse, took her broom, Swept the floor, and set aright The kitchen table for their supper that night. Then he came in — "Too bad," he said, ** But that cow 's beyond me, she 's lying dead; 79 SELLING THE LOT And we ain't got all the milk we need — Them summer folks is hard to feed. I '11 go to town in a day to two And see if there's anything there I can do. Did you say Jim Stiles was over to-day? How is he and what'd he have to say?" A flicker of pain flashed in her eye As she cleared her throat to make reply: 'Well, Silas," she said, ''Jim told me as how He and the new man had an awful row Over that strip of land, you know, Between us and Jeremiah Snow. It belonged to Jim and that rich new man He's trying to buy all the land he can. I guess he'll be askin' this next thing. Would yer sell it, Silas? it looks good this spring." Silas was silent a moment or two. I '11 sell that land the last thing I do, And never to him as long as I live, And I '11 make the will so 's never to give Him a chance to get it ; look what he 's did ! I wish to heavens the place was rid 8o SELLING THE LOT Of him and his likes a-buying land And struttin' around feelin' so grand. Now 'taint that I 'm nasty, But he shan't have this lot He tells them around here, this house's a blot, — Wall, I guess we'd best be turnin' in, Yer gettin' tired and a-lookin' thin. It 's a long time since yer've left this spot Yer gettin' stale as like as not." Through the weird candle shadows they stole to bed; She lay awake, and thought how he'd said She was gettin' stale — would they ever go Away from the place — she did not know Whether or not she wanted to, But she dreamed of things she never knew. To-morrow would be the very same As the day before — yet they say life 's a game. THE TELEPHONE I ain't lonely now like I used to be; It 's funny how little '11 interest me. I uster sit there day after day And never a soul 'd pass my way, 'Cept onct a month the old mail-man He alius brings me what news he can ; But 't aint so much — now I ken get Morn'n a day than I used ter forget. You see we've put in a telephone, Since they run the wires by Jim Malone's Wall ; the other day I heerd the bell An I run to it — say, yer never heerd tell Sech talk as it was. Yer know Jim Lake And that gal with red hair, I see him take Her to the dance in Jake's barn last night. He called her to-day. Guess he likes her all right "Hello," sez he, "how be yer to-day?" She did n*t seem ter hev much ter say. "All right," sez she, "an* how are you?" "Oh, I'm feelin' fine — I alius do." 82 THE TELEPHONE "How's yer mother, is her cold gone yet?" "Yes, it's most all well, now if she don't get No more, — Say, are yer comin' over to-night? I was thinkin' as how perhaps you might." "I guess not — I ain't milked the cow, An' it 's pretty muddy, anyhow." "Oh, no, come on, it ain't so bad — I wish't yer would, mar'd be awful glad." "Say, why don't yer talk louder, I can't hear; Yer not asleep, are yer, yer voice ain't clear — Well, I guess someone else is listening too." I was just goin' to say as how I knew Better and thet there wa'n't no one. When I thought as how it would n't 'a' done. I hung up all shakin', s'pose they knew That I 'd been a-listenin' to them too! But anyhow I hev a lot of fun. An' most alius they don't suspect no one; An' I hears more news than I heerd before — There 's the bell now — I must run and hear some more. THE SWAMP The spring grass grows green first in the swamp; The elves of the brown earth Chip slivers from a huge brilliant emerald And thrust them up through the oozy black swamp mud And the sunshine makes them warm and soft. It is thrilling to wander through a swamp in spring; There are many odors of the growing things And the sunshine is always deep gold in the swamp ; The cowslips catch the sunbeams as they steal up through the earth, And smile them back into the slimy water. There is a wonderful glisten on the petals of cowslips And their green leaves are fresh and shiny And smooth for the fairies to dance on. There is a beautiful mist that steals over the swamp at night, And in the morning it is all gathered, And lost in the swamp violets. 84 THE SWAMP And the violet fragrance is the love-of-the-mist. The huge veined leaves of the skunk cabbage Sway in the breeze and seem always to try to hide The purple and yellow hood beneath. It has such an ugly smell when you pick it And bring it into the house; But its odor mingles with all the spring sweetness And it just smells swampy out of doors, And everyone loves the odors of the swamp. The fuzzy curled fronds are fast growing Into the beautiful lacy fan of the summer fern, And they smell spicy and sweet. It is always spring-time cool in the swamp In the summer when the riot of flowers come And flash their brilliant colors. Still it is deliciously cool, And fire-flies, the souls of flowers, glint in Deepening shadows and thread the swamp mists. They are gathering dewdrops from the air; In the morning they melt back into the flowers again. Almost every flower has a golden chalice; The ones that have not are soulless And the swamps do not love flowers without Fire-fly souls. RED-WINGED BLACKBIRD Up from the swampy meadow Where the tiger-h'lies grow, And the scarlet cardinal flowers On their slender green stems blow, Where the silver brook is calling And rippling to the breeze, Spot of black and flash of crimson Flitting from the swamp-fed trees, Did you touch that wing a-flying On a maple's blossom red? For the same clear spot of color Flashes as you float o'erhead ; As you flutter bending earthward On the jet-black shiny wing, Orange-red as maple blossoms In the freshness of the spring. 86 CHILDREN AND FAIRIES FAIRY OF THE LEOPARD LILY Fairy of the leopard lily, Dancing on a moonlit sea, With an orange-spotted petal Draped in splendor over thee. All about the bells are ringing, Dainty bluebells silver sweet. Don't you hear a soft, soft rustle, Fairy wings and fairy feet? Fairy of the leopard lily. Gliding in a moonbeam shell, With a sea-sprite pink as sun mists, Spirit of the wildrose dell. See, a golden star is falling From the singing summer sky. Bright within the shell of moonbeams, Glinting, darting fire-fly. All about the moon-mist waters Like a star that threads the blue 89 FAIRY OF THE LEOPARD LILY Glide the fairies in the sea shell Drawn by fire-flies of gold dew. In the morning, by the sea shore, Where the moonbeam shaft was drawn, Someone found a scalloped sea-shell Pink as are the skies at dawn. And the flaming leopard lily Swayed in anguish on the hill, For the spirit of his wild rose Stayed within the conch shell still. . SUNLIGHT FAIRIES Over the sunlit river, To the heart of the silent hills, The fairies of light are dancing Like golden daffodils. They gleam on the silver water And smile to the sea-shell sky; They sway in the evening stillness Like love-thoughts drifting by. They blaze all gold on the treetops In a living, shimmering light, Till the evening shadows deepen That beckon the mystic night. Then into the heart of the massive hills They glide like a river of gold, Until the petals of morning In jonquil light unfold. 91 STAR REFLECTIONS Out of the mist of evening Into the twilight sea, The fairies from dreamland come fluttering In a film of mystery; And the diamond dew is falling On all the sleepy flowers, Velvet petals gently drooping With the music of the hours. The stars in the drowsy silence Shimmer and fade and glow; They love to die in the water, A star reflection below. And the little water-fairies. Who dance with ripples that sway, Take them and hold them for hours Till bloometh the rose of day. Then they kiss each star and it floateth Up through the morning mist, Into the life of the dawning sky And the film of amethyst. 92 FOXGLOVE Last night red fox was naughty, He made faces at the moon, And called the baby foxes To the council rock too soon. He scared the chickens on the roost And woke the wise old owl ; He nosed a woodland fairy, And he made an elf -man howl. To-night the fairy of the glen Chased him far and wide; Red fox was very frightened But he did n't know where to hide. He ran about the forest. And the dryads joined the chase; The elf-sprites were delighted And laughed at his disgrace. But poor red fox kept running Till he was tired out; Then he crawled beneath the garden gate And stopped to look about. 93 FOXGLOVE But there the fairies caught him And held him, oh, so tight, Until they found a flower By the moon's bright light. They put one on each naughty paw, Which made it hard to run — A fox with gloves ! The fairies Thought that was the greatest fun! Then poor red fox got up and walked As good as he could be ; And ever since the flower Has had that name, you see: Foxglove with its pretty spots; And so I 've understood That fairies put it on the hands Of those who are not good. FAIRY SNOWBALLS The fairies had a snowball fight: They made the balls of the moon all night, They threw them about in the purple sky, And laughed as they watched them gliding by But soon they wearied of this wild game; With children and fairies It's just the same; And they left the silver balls lying there, Moon-balls all glinting and gleaming fair. Some people call them stars, you know, But the fairies will tell you it is not so ; And if you watch some moon-strange night, You may see a fairy snowball fight. 95 THE SLEEP FAIRIES From out the valley of the moon With its pale, transparent light, Fairies come floating like soaring gulls, And dance on the hills of night. The fairy of sleep, with her drowsy eyes And beautiful star-jeweled hair. Wanders all dream-flower-laden. And the fragrance fills the night air. And all the fairies from sleep-land In rainbow mists gently pass. Leaving an empty dream-shell, The diamond dew on the grass. And the white moth fairy 's flitting Before the shimmering moon; The frog and the cricket are singing And trying to get in tune. Just as the sky is blushing With a thrill for the love of the day, Thousands and thousands of fairies Float in white mists away. 96 THE ECHO FAIRY The echo fairy's been busy to-day Over the hills and far away: He caught the wind by his streaming hair And held him till he filled the air With moanings loud and angry shrieks That echoed afar to the mountain peaks. Then the echo fairy went over the sea And caught its murmur of mystery. Then back he flew on the breath of the breeze And gave the sea-sound to the swaying trees. Then he flew to the land where the daylight dies And gathered the petals of fading skies. He stole a dewdrop and fiew afar Till it echoed in the morning star. The echo fairy has lots to do Just echoing laughs of girls like you. He tells me he likes that best of all, And he bears them away to the waters that fall. 97 \ A STAR WEDDING We saw them in their earthward flight, A glorious stream of living light; And many thought 't was a comet, but we Knew *t was the star and her moonbeam set free. THE ANGELS* PATH Moonlight over a sleeping world And a misty veil of dreams, Studded with golden starry light And woven of soft moonbeams. Moonlight over a silent sea And a hazy swaying light, A quivering, changing path of gold For the angels of the night. lOI ^ A STAR WEDDING We saw them in their earthward flight, A glorious stream of living light ; And many thought *t was a comet, but we Knew *t was the star and her moonbeam set free. THE ANGELS' PATH Moonlight over a sleeping world And a misty veil of dreams, Studded with golden starry light And woven of soft moonbeams. Moonlight over a silent sea And a hazy swaying light, A quivering, changing path of gold For the angels of the night. lOI HIDE-AND-SEEK WITH THE STARS The daisies last night played hide-and-seek With the stars, and they promised not to peek Till the little star fairies were hid in the sky And the angel of morning was passing by. One poor little daisy shut her petals tight, But she heard all the stars hiding through the night. How could she help but take one peep, And then she said, "I'll go to sleep." She opened her petals soft as could be. Then she looked about, and what did she see? Only one little golden star That was n't yet hid in the morning far. But the angel of dawn, who saw her peek. Laid a dewy hand upon her cheek. The daisy cried, for well she knew That to peek was a naughty thing to do. All day she was sad while the other flowers Trembled and thrilled through the sunlit hours, Waiting for the dusky eve to play Hide-and-seek with the stars so gay 102 HIDE-AND-SEEK WITH THE STARS And tried to find where the night before They'd hidden themselves. But the poor, Sad little daisy could n't play, 'Cause she peeked, and that's not a daisy's way. THE SMELLING-SALTS AT THE DANCE We sat there each day and every night, Forever on a plain cloth of white, And we talked to the brush and the nail-file too, But we longed for something more to do. Sometimes her delicate fingers would touch One of us, and we thrilled so much; But you see we were only her smelling-salts And even we have our grievous faults. My lady was pink and I was blue, And we loved as bottles all must do. It was hard to wait for the silver light Of the swaying moonbeams to come each night. You see it was then we had our fun And the bureau frolic was begun. One night, when all were snug in bed, We had a dance, and powder-box led. The comb and brush were gliding about And all the cologne came leaking out. 104 THE SMELLING-SALTS AT THE DANCE You see the cologne bottle lost his head Over a mirror-lady he longed to wed. And we, my lass of pink and I, Danced till we thought our odor would die. Next morning the lady awoke to see The bureau most disorderly. *T was rather mean, yet we could n't tell When all the blame on her, poor maid, fell. We were all most terribly sleepy next day ; The powder-puff fainted and fell away. The button-hook dropped to the floor with a bang, And told the shoe that it could "go hang." It's terrible after a dance, you know. We 're all so stiff, but we all love it so ! LOST I LOST my temper yesterday, And thought, What shall I do? I hate to go without my temper — Tell me, would n*t you? I looked behind the kitchen stove And underneath the chair, But still I could n't find my temper, No, not anywhere. Then I looked behind the bathtub. Where the brightest sunlight shone, And I saw a fairy smiling At what she was sitting on. An ugly black shadow That tried to get away; But I knew it was my temper And I said. No, not to-day. So I slipped it in my pocket, But I took the fairy too; Because the fairy of a smile Can keep your temper for you. ic6 A LONELY ALLIGATOR Far from the silver water, Far from the wooded strand, They brought him, a crawHng reptile, To a strange and far-off land. Far from the tropic breezes That fan the dizzy air. They brought him, ugly reptile, With dreams of his home so fair. They brought him to his prison — No golden glinting sand. No palm trees to whisper to him, No sun in this foreign land. And he dreamed all night of the tropics, Till a moonbeam gliding by Paused a trembling moment And heard a longing sigh. Then she brought a dream before him, Of a sunlit glittering sea, 107 A LONELY ALLIGATOR And a mate that was calling, calling From under a great palm tree. And he crawled away to meet her, And called the love-call back; What mattered the prison to-morrow After the joy of that! CHILDHOOD I THINK long, long ago, before I learned to walk, I used to hear the fairies and woodland elfins talk. I seem just to remember a fairy bright and gay Who played with me and laughed with me all the livelong day. I wish she would come back again, the fairy of a smile. And play with me till I forgot my sadness all the while. There were fairies in the flowers and fairies in the trees, There were fairies in the whisper of every evening breeze. Dear fairies, come again to-night and play within my heart : The echo of thy voices make childhood visions start. 109 A SAIL ON THE MOON Did you ever hear of the fairy Who rides on the shining moon — A merry-go-round, with the Httle stars All playing their wondrous tune? I saw him one night when the moonbeams Had not reached down from the sky To take their little fairy Up to the moon on high. He sat on a soft brown mushroom Under the sighing trees; He whispered and laughed with pleasure, And teased the evening breeze. At last the moonbeam came streaming Through the branches and lay In quivering golden silence To take the fairy away. I stepped on the beautiful moonbeam While it lay trembling there. And, do you believe me, dearest? It bore me upon the air Into the purple shades of night To the shining orb of the moon, no A SAIL ON THE MOON And I heard the little golden star Playing a wondrous tune. And then the moon began to sail - O, dearest, try it some day: Step on a golden moonbeam And let it bear you away. SUNBEAM Where is the golden sunbeam That came to your room to-day? Did the elf of cloudland come, dear, And carry it far away? Ah no, I see it peeping From out a baby curl ; That beautiful shining sunbeam Is part of my little girl. Should the elf of cloudland come, dear, To take the sun from your hair. Just smile, and the little sunbeam Will hide in your dimples there. ZI2 FAIRIES Fairies, when the moon is high And the stars are passing by, Fairies of the silver sea, Dancing, dancing merrily. Fairies, when the morn is pale And the lily's waking frail, Fairies on the shimmering sea, Dancing, dancing happily. Fairies, when the sun is up Poising on a flower's cup. Fairies on the golden sea, Dancing, dancing merrily. Fairies, fluttering near the rose, Smiling while her petals close, Fairies on a sunset sea. Dancing, dancing happily. "3 MORNING MISTS Fairies with your wings a-quiver Underneath the pale moonlight You have gayly danced and frolicked With the spirits of the night. Purple silence overspreading Drowns the voices of the sea, Till they murmur gently, gently, Echoing fairy revelry. Far beyond the hazy hilltops Rise bright fairies to the day; Morning mists we often call them As we watch them float away. 114 THE ECHO OF A LAUGH Away, way up the mountain-side A beautiful fairy queen Reigns o'er the moonlight fairies, Two bands called Shimmer and Sheen. The shimmering fairies go threading Their golden way in the sky, Till they hear the sound of laughter As they are flitting by. They gather the ringing melody, And before they are even seen, Fly back and give the music To the silvery band of sheen. All night in the heart of the forest, To the music of laughter gay, The moonlight fairies of shimmer and sheen While the hours away, Until the last star-fairy Smiles from the morning sky. And the lovely silver sheen fairies Take the echoes of laughter and fly Back to the children who smile at dawn And lay them on the bed. 115 THE ECHO OF A LAUGH Some children say a sunbeam Is playing about their head. They never guess that the sheen fairies Have brought the echo there, To make the day seem happier When it ripples in laughter fair. THE LOST FAIRY AND THE AUTUMN LEAF A POOR little starbeam fairy- Lost himself last night Along the path of the autumn moon: She dazzled him with her light. Poor little starbeam fairy- Did n't know what to do; So he played he was a sunbeam, And no one ever knew. But at eve, when the golden sunlight Called his children home, The poor little make-believe sunbeam Was left on earth all alone. At first he was terribly lonely, And almost began to cry, When he spied more make-believe sunbeams Peeping at him close by. And then began such a frolic As you never saw before; 117 THE LOST FAIRY The little starbeam fairy Was n't sad any more. He took an autumn leaf by the hand, And danced all that beautiful night, And the moon did n't dazzle his eyes again. But she smiled on such star delight. Next morning the starbeam fairy Danced to the morning breeze; A little girl saw, and said, laughing, '*0h, look at those playful leaves!" FOREST STREAM Where the rippling stream is brightest And the golden sun is lightest, Where the shadows glide and play In rhythmic ripples all the day, Where the cadence of a song Fairy-uttered all night long, Echoes in amongst the leaves Of the murmuring sighing trees; Where the moss is cool and green. Where the moonlight leaves its sheen. And the fairies of the night Dance to ripples of starlight, — Take me there and let me be A fairy of forest mystery. 119 A THOUGHT Through the dark and sombre pine trees Slipped a golden gleam of love; Woodland fairies hovering near it Dreamed a star fell from above. And they fluttered in the pale light, As our visions 'round a thought Quiver in translucent mystery Till reality is caught. 120 SNOW I WISH I knew what became of the snow After the winter is gone. Is it lost in the first white snowdrop When the warm sunlight has shone? No, I see it there in the heavens That used to be cold and gray; Clouds heaped so white and snow-like, And they drift o'er the fields where snow lay. They will fall again next winter, Those beautiful clouds of white. And lie sparkling in the sunshine With diamond stars of light. 121 WHO CALLS THE FLOWERS? Mother, who let the snowdrop out From under the cold, dark ground? And where did the crocus come from. This one that you just found? I think a fairy came to them, And with her wand of light Wakened the pretty flowers From their sleep of winter night. . Do you think it was a fairy, dear, Who brought the flowers of spring? Who talks to the birds at evening Until they gently sing? No, dear, it is God's angel Who kissed away the snow, And called the little flowers To see the sun and grow. 122 THE FAST LITTLE CLOCK 'T WAS the prettiest clock you ever saw When it smiled its charming half-past four ; And it ticked and ticked with alluring tone In the brightest way you have ever known. The great hall clock frowned in despair At the dainty clock with the piquant air. There was one fault that she really had, And grandfather clock thought her very bad. She was fast; yes, alas, we must admit, And besides she did n't care one bit. She tossed her delicate hands 'fore her face. And chimed with glee at the very wrong place. A moonbeam fell in love with her. But grandfather clock would ever demur, Saying, clocks that are fast must never wed But be punished very severely instead. One night the moonbeam trembled near To the fast little clock he loved so dear, 123 THE FAST LITTLE CLOCK And said: "The stars in the sky '11 not be Aghast that you're fast, in the least degree." So she went with him on the moon's gold light And her lovely chiming was heard all night. The fast little clock 's as glad as can be, Yet the jeweler said she was broken, you see. THE TRAGEDY OF THE UMBRELLA There was a green vase in the hall Just behind the door, Where all the canes were left, you know. Instead of on the floor. The tennis rackets stayed there too All through the summer days; But they were elite and went somewhere For the winter months always. But there was one umbrella there, A lady of high degree. She wore green silk and her handle was As shiny as could be. The hickory cane with the golden head Loved her, and every night The two would stroll about the house In the spell of the deep midnight. They were really going to be married, And the hall-clock smiled with glee, For he was going to marry the cane. To the umbrella of high degree. One summer's eve, e'er the nuptial day Was set, the door-bell rang; 125 THE TRAGEDY OF THE UMBRELLA The canes and umbrellas thrilled with delight For 't was then their fun began. They never knew just who would come, And they always loved to see; Perhaps Sir Golf Club or Base-ball Bat Or le Frangais parapluie. To-day, oh, thrills! who should there come To the green vase in the hall. And smile on the canes that languished there, But the lovely Miss Parasol. She was so dainty, all pink and white, With her beautiful ivory head. The gold-headed cane was entranced by her, He forgot he was going to wed. The clock in the hall frowned half-past four And spoke to the frivolous cane; The green umbrella wept as though She 'd just come in from the rain. At last Miss Parasol sweetly smiled And ruffled a lacy good-bye; We never knew what became of that cane. Miss Parasol and L THE LAMENT OF A FEATHER What a sad ending! Packed so tight we cannot hear Our shrill-throated chanticleer, Cannot see the sun's first light That used to wake him after night — What a bother ! Here we are Packed like sardines in a jar: I, who used to glint and shine In the sun, now peak and pine In a pillow. Oh, I hate it! Yes, I knew my life was fated ; For the coxcomb told me so; He 's the soothsayer you must know, And he said my life would be Very dark, and you can see That every word he said was true. I tickled my hen, all feathers do If ever they get excited, and then We ruffle a laugh at the funny old hen. But dear me, those good days are o'er, I don't tickle hens or laugh any more 127 THE LAMENT OF A FEATHER In this stuffy pillow — Never mind, some day I '11 scramble out and get away. My sister did it, but sad to tell A worse fate was hers — she fell Into a dust-pan all shiny and black; Just as she thought she liked shellac, A hurricane blew her with bristly ire Into the hungry flames of the fire. Oh, my poor sister! I heard her cry, As she flew up the chimney, a feath'ry good-bye. IF I WERE A RED, RED CHERRY If I were a red, red cherry Away up in a tree, With lovely, shiny skin And warm sunbeams on me, I think the thing I *d like the best Would be to touch the sky — It comes so near to cherry trees. And, of course, I 'd grow up high Where little boys can't reach, you know, And where the butterflies Please to flutter — Oh I would Just love to touch the skies. And feel the softness of the clouds In banks of snowy white; I 'd love to stay and touch the moon When it comes out at night. If I could touch the soft blue sky, I would never be afraid Of the robins and the crows because They do not dare, it 's said, Eat a cherry if it can but Reach the soft blue sky. Perhaps I '11 be a cherry some day And have a chance to try. 129 I CANNOT UNDERSTAND Papa is very polite, you know, And Mama says I must be Just like him — take off my hat When a lady speaks to me, And always stand when older folks Come in, and tell them all How glad I am to see them. And *t was nice of them to call. Papa is very polite you know: He carries things for Mama. Of course, it does n't make much difference Just how heavy they are. The other day Papa and I Were walking home together; The rain was falling and the wind Just made it awful weather, There was an old woman walking With a big bundle in her hand. Why did n't my Papa help her? I cannot understand. 130 THE LOST THOUGHT Far away in the land of the stars Where the golden moonbeams play, And the starlight fairies hide at night When they hear the whisper of day; Far away from the hands of life, Over the sea of dreams, A beautiful love-thought went astray And was lost in star-land gleams. Long it wandered among the stars And played with the moonbeams light, Till one tender, beautiful moonbeam Brought it to thee in the night. 131 MOTHER^S FLOWERS I HAVE a lovely little garden with lots of pretty flowers ; And they like the nice warm sunshine and they love the gentle showers. It's fun to see their tiny eyes shining, oh, so bright. When it's been raining ever so hard all through the night. Mother has some pretty flowers, roses and pansies too. On a little cloth for the table — it's just about sky-blue ; But those poor flowers nearly died because the rain can't fall On them and make their eyes shine bright, and the sun can't come at all. So I took a pitcher yesterday and gave them water to drink; I don't see why God forgot them and mother was angry, I think. 132 DREAM-CHILDREN Just a bubble; it touched the earth there, see! Just a dream and it touched reality. By the fireside, in the golden flames, Two children are sitting playing games. Soft flaxen curls about her head And his dark brown just tinged with red. Oh, see the soap-bubble floats in the air; The colors are so lovely — rainbow fair; And how they love to watch it ! Mother dear, 'T will touch you and be broken ; look, it 's near! I think it touched ; there 's nothing now to see, But a drop of water where the bubble should be. 133 MOTHER-LOVE The last ember died in the fire-grate; With it her life-light was extinguished; And she left this for her baby child — Perhaps it was because it was all she had, Perhaps she had a reason which God knew. It was a mirror — a little piece of forest brook Where there were no ripples, where it was smooth. The child gazed sadly into the mirror; She saw her mother's face — she was crying: "O Manda, mother is sad and it is raining; I am sad too — I am sad like the evening breeze." Manda looked into the mirror; She kissed the child and the child smiled. "Look again in the mirror," Manda said. "Oh, mother is happy now, her face is smiling." "Yes," said Manda, "mothers are happy when Their beloved children are." 134 FANS, FANCIES AND FRIVOLITIES WHY? Why do your eyes say one thing and your lips another? I hear you speaking of the lightest things in life, Things for a child to say, and laughing as a child. I hear you laugh and see excitement take you By the hand — whisper something in your ear, And you speak of life's most sacred things in A mocking ridiculous jest. And I look into your eyes, beyond the outer blue To thy inner self, thy silent thoughtful self that I love, And your eyes do not say what your lips are saying. Why do your eyes say one thing and your lips another? Why does your mind stay back like a frightened deer In the thicket, while you utter thoughtless vani- ties? Your truthful eyes tell me that you love A sacred thing — sacred of all things, and. Being so, the easiest to revile. It were useless 137 WHY? To say more. I see your eyes say they Are longing for something, — peace, quiet, A sunny field and a grass-banked brook Where cowslips grow and honey-suckle scents the air. Your lips say you are delighted here, Odors of perfume stolen from the fields. Words do not paint the contrast as vividly as I know It is painted in your own heart. Still I Must wonder why your eyes say one thing And your lips another. HER NEW FAN She took me with her last night to the ball ; I was her most favored trinket of all ; For she held me in her hands, you see, And often whispered and laughed through me. At dinner I lay on the cloth of white And blinked in the dazzling shining light. I ' ve never heard such a noise in my life ; I did n't dare speak even to the knife That lay beside me and smiled with glee For he was used to such gayety. My lady was laughing, and talking too About such funny things perhaps she knew; But I, being only a feathery fan, Don't understand all some people can. At ten by the grandfather clock in the hall We started off for the country-club ball. "Hello, Louise, I just love your dress,'* My lady smiled in prettiness; "Oh would you please see if my powder shows - I had to put such a lot on my nose. I love your hair, will you show me how You do it some day? I love the bow — 139 HER NEW FAN Oh come, let's go now. Where's my fan? Can you keep yours? I never can." That hurt my feelings a bit, you know, And I felt my feathers softly blow. Then we went upstairs and she laughed some more With the men who were standing at the door. More glaring lights and a strange loud sound ; I ruffled my feathers and looked around. She said, "Have you seen Louise to-night? Her dress is ugly, a perfect fright. I don't see how her mother can Let her wear it — and oh, her fan! But come, I 'm dying to dance, are n't you? Oh, look! There's Sally, she's dressed in blue, And the way she's done her hair is new." To repeat all I heard in the next few hours Is beyond me and all my fan-like powers; But if you want to know, read this again, For all she said seemed just the same. At last, when morning was almost here, My lady and I came home, — I fear^ A little the worse for wear. She sat by the mirror and looked at her hair. Perhaps the mirror could tell you best Just what she thought and all the rest. 140 HER NEW FAN She put me away with her old, old fan, And we talked together as only fans can, While I told of all that had happened that night Under the glaring electric light. The old fan spoke in a voice soft and low: "My child, it was just so years ago." To-morrow we '11 talk to the minuet fan And see if 't was the same since her life began. A QUESTION Why do you like her? I should love to know. She is very pretty, I grant you that, And your favorite flower's the one on her hat; And she is a girl and very sweet — The kind of a girl all men like to meet. With golden hair either curly or curled And teeth very pretty, white and pearled; Her eyes are lovely, most all girls' are, And they do have brightness like a star, Especially if they like you; but oh, I forgot, it 's why you like her I want to know. Well, that's hard to explain, if you analyze, Love must always take us by surprise. I don't know just why — you say she's a girl. And she 's very pretty with hair a-curl And tender eyes that laugh into mine; I like to watch them when they shine. I don't really love her, not yet anyway, I might, you know, yes, I might some day. She is different from me, but that 's the best way — Something you know, like the night and day; 142 A QUESTION And I like in her what 's lacking in me — Laughter and fun and frivolity. It's such a good change from my prosy Hfe Of everyday work and toil and strife; And she has brains, not the brains of a man, But a bright, quick mind that understands All the delicate lightness of life, And that, too's a change from my strain and strife, But there's no one reason that I like her, you see — Just she's a pretty girl and attractive to me. THE MIRROR OF A FICKLE GIRL She bought a new hat yesterday, With roses pink and a bow of gray. It was very pretty — she thought so, too; Girls always will when a hat is new. The minute it came, in its striped box, She put it on her soft brown locks, And the tissue paper blew to the floor — The mirror smiled — "How many more Hats, I wonder, am I going to see, And reflect each 'as pretty as can be ' ?" How much the shiny mirrors could tell If we listened, for they know too well. Not only what we are wont to say. But they know all our thoughts — gay And sad. She put on the hat and smiled to see How pretty she looked — ''Will he like it on me?" The mirror heard her whisper, and thought, "I wonder for whom this hat was bought." Had ever a mirror so much to do In reflecting and remembering who Had to be pleased by each new hat! Oh, we mirrors are always doing that. 144 HIDE AND SEEK I CANNOT find you ; I have hunted, but in vain. I must call you forth Or else you will have to speak and tell me Where you are. I cannot find your real self; I have searched and thought I found it; But I know it is not your real self now: This tinsel clink of flattery, these light words, They are not uttered by your real self. Is it that you have very cleverly hid yourself, and do not want Me to find you? I have searched long. Will you not speak one true word from your heart And let me know where your real, lovely self is? Others have told and the game is ended. There is no searching after we have found. 145 THE ROSE ON HER HAT TO THE ROSE ON THE BUSH Said the rose on her hat To the rose on the bush, "Good morning, and how is the sun? I Ve stayed so long in the closet dark That I did n't know spring had begun. That 's a beautiful butterfly hovering near - They never will come to me. I wish I were growing just like you: How wonderful it would be ! I never can. feel the breath of spring Or long for the blue of the sky, And try and match it to the shade Of the blue bird fluttering by. It must be so lovely to feel the dew On the velvet of your leaves, And whisper back to the murmur Of the spring in the dreaming trees!" Said the rose on the bush To the rose on the hat, . "I am tired already of spring, 146 THE ROSE ON HER HAT And the butterfly seems so far away. Oh, what can the dewdrops bring? For I must fade and droop in the sun Warm, wilting petals of pink.** I wonder which is the happier rose? Tell me, which do you think? THE STRAY LOCK It was a lock of curly hair: The wind kissed it and thought it fair. Dancing a ringlet dance it went With the playful breeze in soft content. It laughed, and a sunbeam gliding down Mingled its gold with the lovely brown; A little hand gently pushed it back, But the bad, stray lock did n't mind that. It was sick of staying with the rest — The wind and the sunshine were much the best. Besides there was such a dimply smile, 'T was fun to see it once in a while. No, I don't blame that lock of hair For loving the sun and the breezy air. And least of all — for I Ve strayed, too, To see that dimpling smile — Would n't you? 148 A LETTER A LOVE-DREAM sheathed in paper-white Passion the lurid leaping light, And it burns for a moment red and clear, Then vanishes, taking all that was dear. 149 SCANDAL Who started the snow-ball of rumor Rolling down life's hill In precipitous flight That loses sight Of the summit of truth until It lies besmeared with scandal? When it melts and leaves What the world believes. 150 A PILL A GLASS of water Pure as the sunshine on the sea, Clear as the air that sweeps the lea — And a pill. A small white pill, — An unpoetical thing, you say; And yet, pray cast it not away. Think on it. This pill in water — Is it not thus that our thoughts dissolve, In the billows of life as the years evolve And are lost? You'd call them lost? But they flavor the substance in which they melt And grant me their essence still is felt, Like the melted pill. 151 ALONE WITH FANCY Just to be alone, and think under the blue sky; Just to be alone, and see day-dreams floating by; Sunlight over the water, mermaids over the sea, — Alone with sound of breezes and life's wonderful mystery. Just to be alone, and listen to the lisping of the breeze, Trembling kiss near to the branches of the bud- promising trees; Far beyond the lacy hilltops, dreams and dream- trees are floating by. And my thoughts drift out to meet them, as they mingle with the sky. Just to be alone and silent, midst the murmurs of this life; Just to be alone, forgetting that there ever must be strife; Till the shadows of the evening gently quiver over all, I would sit and dream and answer to a far un- known call. 152 A FANCY Like mist-clouds drifting o'er the lea Her garments fell beside the sea, And lay in white foam on the beach, Wind-blown beyond the wavelets' reach ; Far in the shades of the evening sky Sea-gulls, foam-born, floated by. Still she stood like a swaying flow'r, Silent in the twilight hour; A Goddess 'gainst the murmuring sea Wrought so pure and fragilely. The quivering waves reached out to touch The limbs they'd borne and loved so much, And a beautiful fluted sea-shell lay On the sand like rosebuds cast away. 153 THE BIRTH OF VENUS A SUNSET shell beside the sea, Soft flushed with rose-breathed mystery; A rainbow spray that lay in foam On the beach of her Ionian home. And all about the faintest mist, Like a dream of hazy amethyst; Far o'er the sea of silent light Breathed rosebud skies to greet the night. And primrose shadows were mingled too. Fading in the deep sea-blue; A sea-sprite gathered all the light And laid it in a shell this night. Smiled o'er it and she was born, Venus of light and love, next morn. With rose-breathed limbs and hair of gold, Eyes of sea-blue and depths untold. They found the pink shell on the strand, Clasped in the glistening silver sand. And a rainbow spray that fell in foam, On the beach of her Ionian home. 154 A FANCY 'TwAS morn! I looked and saw a face bending over mine; I heard a voice — the voice that Hlies have lost ; I raised my lips to meet thy fragrant lips, And then a mist fell over me and my world. 'T was noon ! I thought warm waves of sunlight fell on me, But when I looked it was thy wonderful hair; Oh, it was like the ripples of eternity; And then a mist fell over me and my world. 'T was eve ! Something in the murmur of the far, far sea, Something unuttered wafted to my ears; I looked into the heaven of thy eyes, to see No mist, but thou in living, trembling glory. *T was night! And a deep dreamy peace was in my heart. With the voice of the velvet-footed star-beams You called me, and my soul leaped apart; It took you, not I, and held you in throbbing love. 155 GARDENS AND FLOWERS HER GARDEN — MY GARDEN With the perfumed breath of each flower Mingling in the breeze; With a jasmine mist over the waters And a whisper of far-away trees ; The primrose sky faint smiHng, Touching the lips of night — Her garden — my garden, I love you In the mist of waning light. In the paleness of moon-lit shadows Swaying to and fro, Where the heliotrope breathes to the silence And slender hollyhocks grow;; Where the fairies dream-winged Are rising out of the dewy grass — Her garden, my garden, I love you In the soft star-gleams that pass. Fresh morning with floods of sunshine Pouring over the hill ; Diamond dew on the flowers, And petals that tremble and thrill; 159 HER GARDEN — MY GARDEN Pink to the morning sunrise The moon-kissed hollyhocks sway — Her garden, my garden, I love you *Neath the fleecy clouds of day. LILY OF THE VALLEY Lily of the valley, with your pretty bells, Can you keep a secret that the spring breeze tells, Of the golden sunshine and the rainbow dew, Of the flower fragrance wafting forth anew? Lily of the valley, with your bells so white, Can you keep a secret of the summer night, Of the glorious sunshine, of the fragrant flowers Breathing into silence of the silver hours? Lily of the valley, from every opening bell Wafts a springtime secret you thought not to tell; All the fragrance of the breeze, the mystery of each star, The beauty of a summer night breathes forth near and far. i6i THE LOTUS Lily of mystery and charm, Lily of ecstasy and harm, Lily of sleep and long forgetting, Consciousness is but a fretting. Beautiful lily of visions and dreams. Thy petals are faded and all life seems But a lingering tear in a soul of delight, Beautiful lotus of lavender light. 162 CANTERBURY BELLS Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white; Ring them, dainty fairies, all the mystic night; Chiming on the waters to the silver moon, Chiming, chiming, chiming, all the night's in tune. Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white; Ring them, pretty fairies, till the dawn is bright; Till the echoes flying far beyond the hills Wake the drooping lilies and the daffodils. Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white; Ring them, little fairies, in the gold sunlight; Till the daisies answer and the heart shall hear Fairy bells a-ringing, chiming sweet and clear. Pink bells, purple bells, bells of purest white ; Ring them, airy fairies, when eve dims the sight ; Chime them to the sunset and the rising moon ; Sweet the air with bells a-chiming in the fairy tune. 163 WHITE LILY White lily atilt on the waters, Smiling gold to the sky, Dreaming of clouds and soaring birds And breezes wafting by. White lily afloat on the waters. Sweet as the joy of a dream. Watching the mystic moonbeams Shimmer and glint and gleam. Lily afloat on the waters, Folding thy petals of white. Life of thy life enfolding. Thou art lost in the love of the night. Lily afloat on the waters. Lovely thy petals of white ; Faint are the golden heart-throbs; Thou art lost in the love of the night. 164 A GARDEN The golden sunbeams linger On the dew of the velvet grass, And the long, long shadows of evening Silently, softly pass. The heart, too, is wont to linger Like the sunbeams here, you know; For 't is such a lovely garden And the flowers are fair that grow, And the long, long shadows of sorrow Melt in the moon's soft light, In this dream-garden made of beauty And love and spirit-light. 165 HELIOTROPE Lacy flowers like the mist Of evening distant amethyst, Breathing perfume to the skies; Charming, passing butterflies, Yellow wings that fluttered far To rest on perfumed lavender; Emerald flashes dart and float Humming-birds with ruby throat, Jewels flashing one by one. Diamond dewdrops in the sun — Lovely, fragrant heliotrope. Emblem of undying hope, By the moonbeams softly kissed Dreaming dreams of amethyst. 166 WHERE LILIES GROW Black as the shadows of the night, Black with a streak of bloody light, Across the smouldering evening sky The flames of fire have serpented by. The trees are naked every one, Like a gnarled and twisted skeleton. Like a thought of consuming pain it swept, Like a viper it hissed and hungrily leapt. And here we stand on a wasted plain, Bespeaking horror, blackness and pain. This one little pool escaped the fire. And from the oozy night-black mire. One lily as pure as the upper air, A water-lily, is floating there. White petals out of a black despair Gold stamens into the sullied air. There was a city as black as the wood. Charred with despair and devoid of good ; 167 WHERE LILIES GROW The blinding sheet of fire and pain Had swept it and left it blacker again. Out of the sin and mire of life, Out from the killing rancorous strife, Another lily lifted her head Out from the rabble of morally dead. And she was as pure as the lily that came Where the greedy fire had leapt in flame. In this life of mystery lilies of snow In sin-black mire and waste may grow. FORGOTTEN The butterfly promised the rosebud To come to her at dawn; He forgot and the rosebud withered With the drooping mists of the morn. And the little butterfly fluttered Over the summer fields, And sipped of the gorgeous poppy And the nectar that clover yields. At eve with wings a-tremble The butterfly came again To the rose, but she had vanished; , How many have known her pain! 169 I KNOW Dear rose, thou wast but a bud last night, Only a dream-tinged promise of the flow'r Before me now, this rainbow sunlit hour. Tell me, dear, of thy most rare delight. Dear girl, but yesterday I saw thee young and fair; What of the new light in thy maiden eyes. Deep as the mystery of summer skies? Yesterday only a mystic promise was there. Dear rose, hath love come unto thee as well And charmed thy delicate petals apart; Mirrored all life in the depths of thy heart? Dear rose, I will not ask that thou shouldst tell. I know. 170 A VIOLET All in a violet — The freshness of the dewy spring, The echoes of the birds that sing, The flutter of a downy wing, — All in a violet. All in a violet — The rays of the warm and golden sun. The pureness of a day begun, The shadows of the evening done, — All in a violet. All in a violet — The loving thoughts that fill the air And breathe their sweetness everjrwhere To make the dream of spring more fair, — All in a violet. All in a violet — The tender love I bear for thee; All that thy life means to me, With a faint, far dream of eternity, — All in a violet. 171 A PATH There was a woodland path — you know The kind, where Indian pipe-stems grow Because they love the darkest place, To stand in ghostlike fragile grace. Silently and lonely I wandered through The deep, black wood where the pine trees grew; And all of a sudden a shaft of light Pierced the depths and shone there bright, Dazzling in its beauty rare; And the grass was green and flowers were fair. 172 THE BROOK What is the little brook saying, Chattering all the day, To the leaves and grass and flowers That bend on its waters at play? I think it sings of the great fields That the wood-flowers never see. And the warm blue sky and sunlight, The brook is so wild and free. It sings of all the flowers That make the air so sweet With the perfume of dainty petals, When the wind is playing fleet. And it sings of love and laughter And yearning longing, too; I think perhaps it guesses then That I am longing for you. 173 TANSY AND CHICORY A SUNBEAM fell to earth and shattered lay Among the swaying shadows of the day. Then evening smiled, a magic sunset smile, And night of mystic dreams came the while. Next morning in a field, gold tansy grew, And here and there a touch of heaven's blue; You 've seen such spots full often, so you know How fair it is to see a sunbeam grow. 174 CRIMSON ROSES Crimson roses in the garden Breathing to the pallid moon; Velvet petals soft and fragrant Warmed by sunbeams gold at noon. She so loved to walk among you, Crimson roses, warm and sweet; And you held the silver hours Of her life that slipped so fleet. Slipped like glimmering mists of morning Out into the great unknown; Gently, gently palpitating, By the wind of death-sleep blown. Crimson roses in the garden Filling all the moon-beamed night, Are the angels singing to you Of her spirit pure and bright? 175 SONGS AND SEASONS SONG, Oh, the music of the sky When the stars are passing by, And the angels up on high Breathe a song when mortals sigh. Oh, the beauty of the night When the moon its splendor bright Sheds in rainbow shafts of light On the fairies of delight. Oh, the wonder of the day When the last star melts away, And the birds with voices gay Sing a joyful roundelay. Oh, the peace of evening when The daylight breathes amen. And the mist o'er vale and glen Charms the day to night again. And the music of the sky When the stars are passing by, And the angel songs on high Echo soft when mortals die., 179 YOU Her robe was the dusk of the evening, Her hair shone with silver starlight, Her eyes were filled with the haze of a dream That spreads its strange way through the night. Her cheek was the blush of dawn skies When the morning star fades from view; Her soul was the spirit that fills the air, And her beautiful self was you. i8o SONG Take me over the hills, dear, Far, far away; Take me Into the distance Beyond the light of day. Into the far, soft shadows Where the daffodil star 's agleam; Where we can love, my dearest, Love and live and dream. Take me into your life, dear, As the night enfolds a star; Take me into your arms, love; The world is pleasing afar. Oh, just for a perfect moment, Bury my pain in thy kiss; The pulse of life is throbbing In this transcendent moment of bliss. i8i A SONG Out of the mists that lie^over the lake The fireflies ghnt and the wood nymphs awake; Out of the primrose evening sky- Fragrance of flowers is wafting by; The silence is bringing a dream to thee From rainbow dell of mystery. Far, far over the lofty hills Sleep the wanderer stops, and fills Her iridescent goblet with light And strange misty fragrances rise through the night. The star of evening far, far away Is glimmering of what the angels say. 182 HER HEART Pale as transparent moonlight That waxeth gold with the dawn, Fair as the spring-fresh morning When roses and violets are born. Her heart, as an evening primrose When the shadows of pain o'erspread, Opens in tender beauty To smile at the night overhead. 183 A MYSTERY Strange life and stranger love ! Who can understand How much pain and joy is fate - How much hath God planned. Strange life and stranger death ! And then — the still to be; Fate is in the hand of God And all is a mystery. 184 SAILING I WENT for a beautiful sail last night, All through the star-lit sky; And the swaying glinting moonbeams Silently shimmered by. The clouds were soft and dreamy And they rocked the boat to and fro, As the pine boughs rock in rhythm When the gentle breezes blow. And I sailed through the golden silence, Where the angels float in mist, My boat, the shell of a lovely dream, Floated in amethyst. 185 SPRING AND FALL SPRING It is spring: There is a beautiful restless sadness in the air; So much that is lovely, And we are so small to enjoy all That makes the soul restless. Lovely spring: It has taken my soul away somewhere — To a cloud, I think, — But it has left me here With the exquisite sense That I am part of this luxuriant dreamy spring. I hear a voice calling. Who is it that calls? It sounds as the evening sounds When it calls out the gold-tipped stars. I love to hear it. Now it is like the voice of the red-lipped poppy Calling serenely sweet to the bees in the fields. 189 SPRING Spring is so dellciously feminine ! It tells secrets as maidens do; It has the faint indecision of a girl And all the luxury of promise; And the stars on spring nights Are maiden-eyed. There Is a sweet convincingness about the spring, A clinging tenderness; And the nights are full of love. There is so much behind the moon on spring nights ! The angels touch a tender chord in spring; That Is why the breeze is so soft. It would be a sacrilege to be boisterous In the dreamy silent silence of a spring night. SPRING ECSTACY Oh, wild and joyous ecstasy, Tinged with the joy of expectancy. How perfect and complete ! I think the world is made of light, With purple stains of rich delight, Of love and harmony. Soul, thou hast reached the height of bliss; What can be more sublime than this! My heart be still. This is the height of dewy spring, When the trees bloom and the birds sing In merry roundelays. The heart answers in throbs of delight To a voice that is calling out of sight, The voice of exultant spring. 191 SPRING PROMISE She was so like a dream of springtime, With its freshness and misty shades ; Her eyes were like the lovely moonbeams, With a wistful shadow that fades. The flowers had breathed on her tresses And the sunlight had sought them there, And loved to stay, for it found them Exquisitely dainty and fair, Like the petal mists of morning When the rose sunrise shimmers through ; A mystery hovered about her, A promise that might come true. Dear little soul of the springtime. In whose world wilt thou fulfil The beautiful promise of love and life That God hath granted us still. 192 A BIRD'S CALL The call of one bird, And over the hills a stirring, Is heard, as though the spirit of spring Were trying each misty fluttering wing. The call of one bird, And out of the ice-freed silver lake The mists of morning rise and shake Rainbow dew over hill and brake. The song of one bird. And in the far, faint echo I hear Thy voice, I see a vision appear Of thee in thy loveliness drawing near. The song of one bird ; The breezes are answ'ring o'er the sea — Thou and the spring come back to be. Each a part of life's mystery. All in the call of a bird. 193 THE SPRING MOON The crescent moon rose over the lea Out of the rippling shadows of the sky, Where dreams and visions floated gull-like by, And lay upon the bosom of the sea. Beneath the waters of aqua marine A conch-shell lay, pink-tinted and curled Like petals of the rose unfurled, Deep in the wonder of the ocean's green. The crescent moon sank into the sea Deep to the heart of the curved conch-shell ; The primrose petals of morning fell, And the conch-shell lay on the lea. An echo of waves on the shore of sleep Deep in the heart of a shell on the strand, And a glitter of gold on the silver sand, The crescent moon that sank into the deep. 194 A SPRING SONG What makes the spring air so soft? Is it the thoughts of love, Or the dreams we have dreamed That vanish into the blue sky above? Is it the whispering flowers Or the breath of the silvery moon, Or is all the spring air sweetness Just that the heart is in tune? 195 BLUE SKY OVERHEAD The soul in me is not yet dead Because the blue sky overhead, The springtime sounds that fill the air, Thrill me still and seem so fair. To-day I saw a little bird. And his sweet caroling overheard ; My heart thrilled like an evening breeze And trembled like the white birch leaves. This eve the air is springtime cool, Sweet as the freshest summer pool. And all the world is full of spring, Full of dainty imagining. 196 THE BLUEBIRD'S SONG Little bluebird of the spring, Tell me, in the song you sing Of the flowers and the trees, To the rippling of the breeze, To the skies of thy own hue — Little springtime bird of blue. Yes, I sing of trees and flowers Through the lovely summer hours, To the breath of soft blue skies, To the water's fall and rise, To the sunshine and the dew. And, little girl, I sing to you. 197 FALL FLAMES I WATCHED the greedy flames of fire Exultant, leaping high and higher, Wild and lawless, ruddy, bright, Full of lurid passion light. It burned an hour like life afire, Thrilling and rising ever higher; Then the glow died in its own wild flame — Died like the vanishing dream of fame. An ember fire smouldered low, Tenderly warm like breezes that blow. It did not die in its own wild light. But glowed with warmth through the long, fall night. 198 FALL SKY That is my life, That gray sky with a gash of red, The one bright spot of a hope that is dead ; You 've seen such skies. And you 've loved most the gash of light. So do I love all my life that 's bright — I love it best. 199 A LEAF — A LOVE A CHEERLESS sky: The wind is high, And the leaves are gone from the tree. One trembling trace Of summer grace Is left for the world to see. A golden leaf To the winds of grief, But the dream of summer is there. We gaze at it, And bit by bit Forget the winter despair. Two souls that part : A broken heart And dead hopes drift on the wind. Love gently clings When life's other things Are lost to the grief-sick mind. 200 A LEAF — A LOVE In love we see Life's imagery, The dream of the purest and best. The leaf on the tree, The love that shall be, Endure all and stand the test. CHANGE How all things change ! Last night the summer breeze Trembled and quivered through the leafy trees; This morning there are murmurs far away, Long, lazy shadows like the ocean sway Across the sunlit grass. I cannot understand: The selfsame scene I saw last night, the strand That smiled unto the summer sun ; But, oh, how changed! The honied fall has come; The air is clear as fairy bells and thrills The throbbing heart, but, oh, deep down fills It with drowsy, aching pain ; The fall of waning life hath come again. 202 A DREAM OF THE FALL Pale yellow leaves of autumn Like warm shadows of the sun ; Petals gently falling From the flowers one by one. Long, long evening shadows Steal across the lea; Flaming sunsets flash their color On the stormy wind-tossed sea. Honey in the scented air, And katydids that call Shrilly in the quiet night, And we dream the dream of fall. 203 AUTUMN CONTRADICTIONS Quiet, golden autumn days When the heart is in a maze; Exultant 'neath the mellow sun, Regretful of the summer done. Quiet, lustrous autumn nights Ablaze with heaven's fiery lights : The splendor of the harvest moon Creates a ghostlike, earthy noon. Quiet, weeping autumn hours; A day of contradicting powers; Flaming leaves that soon pass by; A love within a heart to die. 204 RELIGIOSA IN THE NIGHT In the long, long, silent hours, In the velvet folds of night. Hours that cry out to the darkness And faint within the pale starlight : When the sad heart aches and trembles, Crushed beneath the palm of pain. Soft a voice comes from the silence, 'Bear thy cross; 't is not in vain." In the long, long, silent hours. Wild with soul-consuming grief. Throbs the heart in bitter yearning. Groping, longing for relief. Soul, be patient; in the darkness Thou canst neither see nor hear, But a hand is reaching tow'rd thee — Christ, the sufferer, bending near. 207 RESIGNATION She is at rest — That thought doth fill the heart And quell the bitter tears that fain would start ; She is at rest with God. She is at rest — And for her sake we bear the aching pain Until our hands perchance shall meet again, In God's great peace. She is at rest — Peace, peace, my soul, her spirit is too near. That this unthinking grief should form a tear : Hers is the perfect peace. 208 GOD KNOWS There are times when the heart is o'erflowing With the bitter elixir of pain, When the clouds hang low in heaven And the mist is changed into rain. There are times when the tears from the heart's depths Well up in the longing eyes, Bleed through white lids that tremble, And the butterfly hope-dream dies. God knows these hours of our suffering, And His angels bend yet more near: I think sometimes that heaven itself Is reflected in a pure tear. 209 MELROSE ABBEY Here in the time-dimmed ages of the past, Hearing sweet chimes upon the morning air, Shepherds and good town folk might repair To kneel in unmolested peace, and cast The burden of their sins away at last In the deep, voiceless sea of faithful prayer. The spirit of those souls must still be there. We enter. The great window, stained and glassed So long ago, now frames the green fields, and hills Beyond. The chimes' reiteration fills The air, the dainty bluebells rung By fairy hands, while distant hymns are sung By angel choirs bending o'er us here. What wonder that we hold this spot so dear! 210 WHERE NOW STANDS TRINITY When the golden moon is high, Gliding through the silver sky; When the night is cool and damp As with vapors from a swamp, Where the mists are slowly falling, Where the whippoorwill is calling, And the swamp grass, fresh and cool, Grows within the black mud pool; Here before me I can see A church, men call it Trinity; It is but a shadow now Hid among the leafy boughs; Birch trees bending in the breeze With their palpitating leaves, Flowers breathing in the air Perfumed jasmine-sweet and fair. From the white mists o'er the lake Glinting fireflies awake, Starring all the mist swamp dell Till the Indians of the fell Wakened by their shimmering light Come and dance all through the night. 211 WHERE NOW STANDS TRINITY Here a path leads to a pond And a bright light shines beyond, — Mystic, glittering path where play Water-nymphs with the waves that sway Where the water-lilies float, Like a dream-shell fairy boat. Through the water slowly wading, From the faint mists gently fading, Comes the deer with timid eyes Out of the forest's mysteries, Stands a moment in the shadows Scenting the far-distant meadows. With the dew-damp wilting flowers, Sleeping through the silent hours. Soft the dream is fading, fading, And the fallow deer is wading To a faint, far-distant shore And I see her now no more. Here, where long ago she fed, On her mossy flower-strewn bed. Where the crickets all a-singing Chirped — ah, list! a bell is ringing, And the Christian church is here Where was once the haunts of deer, 212 WHERE NOW STANDS TRINITY And the moon that saw the dell Hears the ringing of the bell — Knows what years have brought from out Love and heresy and doubt: It is strange how oft I see No church, but a dell of mystery. THE GOLDEN CROSS Lost in the vast cathedral of the night My spirit wanders on dream-wings of prayer. And revels in the sacred wonders there; The purple pillars and the shrine starlight That trembles with angelic breath, then bright As palpitating moonbeams, but more fair, Burns to consecrate the holy*air. Reality is far beyond the sight, A dizzy sphere where worry, pain, and loss Are held by faith in a golden cross. And God is on His throne in the skies. Smiling on joy and on life's tragedies. Gazing, yet not sorrowing. He knows That bearing pain and suffering, the soul grows. 214 SOLACE I THOUGHT an angel came to me last night And stood before me in the misty- vision Hght; Her voice was soft as moonshine on the sea And all its splendor melted over me. Thine was the voice, my dearest, from the night, Thine was the vision and the perfect light ; My Mother, thou art ever near to me Since God hath set thy perfect spirit free. 215 SHADOWS OF GOLD How long the shadows linger on the grass, Waiting, perhaps, for her they loved to pass. Soft shadows, I have waited, too, in vain To see her — oh, to see her once again. Gold, sunlit shadows, now you move and sway, I see a vision, too, beyond the day; Far in the shades of evening's rose-soft light ; Shadows of gold, she is with us to-night. 216 SONNET Still there? Or is it but a dream of two Who long ago kneeled in reverent prayer Here by the arm of this fireside chair While night of star-eyes and mystery drew Near and laid her hand gently as angels do Upon them? What of a world of dim despair! Only the tender spirit of prayer was there ; O God, how swift those blessed moments flew! The hands of night must now spread far to reach The aching spirits and to comfort each ; And yet before the dear old chair it seems They two in prayer, hand clasped in hand, Still linger. Life is hard to understand — Reality resolves itself in dreams. 217 IN MEMORIAM Now is the cycle of a year complete, With all the changing light and shade of chance, And all the balancing of circumstance. Ah, me, the white- winged days are fleet! 218 AN ANGEL Silent I sit here in the dead of night; Far off the wondrous mystery of starlight Repeats itself in sparks of trembling gold, A baby lamb bleats in the distant fold ; All else is still, and perfect peace prevails Beneath the pow'r of the Love that never fails. Sacred and holy is the very air we breathe Gently do the unexpressed thoughts wreathe Themselves around a fresh and quivering wound. A voice from out the silence, sweet and low, Mingling with the gentle winds that blow A face; move not, my heart, it is her own — The same dear blessM face that thou hast known And loved so long. To-morrow thou wilt say, " I saw an angel in the night that flew away." 219 CRUCIFIXION We stand once more before His cross to-day, Thou and I, living those three long hours again, The hours of suffering and untold pain. The shadows of the evening steal away And leave a twilight of repose, to stay The throbbing thought. He died for us, what gain, O thou, dear one, was it all — all in vain? We do confess Him, we have learned to pray, And yet our hearts can see Him suffer still. Cleave to our own desires, forget His will. Add one more thorn to that death-plaited crown. And watch the life-blood flowing slowly down. Oh, could we but resist such sin that He Might be rejoiced that moment in some slight degree. 220 A PRAYER God keep thee, dear, Through all the wondrous starlit night; Through all its mystery of light, God keep thee, dearest one. God guard thee, dear. While all the light and shade of chance Sways o'er the field of circumstance; God guard thee, dearest one. God bless thee, dear, thy life and mine, And sanctify our sacred love, Make it more pure and more divine ; God bless thee, dearest one. 221 PORTRAYALS A PORTRAIT She is lovely, see her dainty head Profiled against the sunset golden-red. There is a classic beauty in her face, Madonna-like, exquisite in its grace. Titian dreamed the lily of her arms And rounded neck of maiden charms ; A mist-gold sun of long ago Is all around her — Oh, you know The way Correggio might have seen Her ringlet hair with its golden sheen ; And she is here, an echo of that art, Perfect and lovely with a woman's heart. 225 A GIRL Do you hear a laugh And then look to see Who the merry soul may be? She laughed and I looked about at her And met two shining eyes ; She was not lovely or even clean — Tell me, is that a surprise? Did you think she was really going to be A beautiful girl with golden hair, And warm, pink cheeks that softly blushed And red lips alluringly fair? She was n't, and if you like only that kind Don't read any more or you will be Utterly disgusted. She was sitting on the common bench — You know the kind, where you see 226 A GIRL Every creature that God ever planned, And when the warm springtime comes Lovers sit and coo like doves Sandwiched between the worst town bums. She had a lover — and called him her beau - And she sat there like the rest Chewing gum and pulling it out, And, mildly to say, she was gaudily dressed. With white shoes — once clean, perhaps, But they certainly were n't that day — And a skirt that rivaled the poppy. Because it was so gay. And a hat with a frail pink feather; If it saw the skirt, it looked white And it dropped with very shame, because It simply could not look bright. Her laugh was just like the dress she wore. Loud and gay and bright; And her brown eyes twinkled merrily With a mischievous, pretty light. 227 A GIRL And her fingers, with rings that children find In prize candy boxes, you know. Fiddled with strings and stretched her gum As far out as it would go, And she held the other end in her teeth : She may have been ugly, But she had the whitest teeth in the world And they glistened like pearls from the sea. Her hair was straight as the string of her gum And it blew all over her face; I think she had some gypsy blood Or belonged to the Indian race. I 've seen many girls and I 've loved a few, The pretty ones pink and white, But I envy the lad that sat on the bench With the little gum girl that night. She was n't clean — her hands were grimed — And she was n't pretty at all. You might n't like her, but I did, And what are mere looks after all? THE TEAMSTER The heavy team rumbles along And the teamster is singing a song, Singing in mindless delight; And his song when he 's out of sight Echoes upon the air, Echoes in vague despair. He has come to the end of the day — One more — spent the selfsame way As the one before, with the rattle of stones As he jars along — it would break your bones To ride there with him And to hear the loud din. It is just five minutes to five — It will take him an hour to drive With the heavy horses that walk so slow Back to his home, and the white snow Is just starting to fall. He stands and he 's very tall 229 THE TEAMSTER Against the blue boards of the cart. He wraps the horse blankets about him smart And the horses are still shuffling on, A motor car passes and is gone In a flash — lost in its dust They would not take it — but the teamster must. The snowflakes are melting in his face; The water trickles down to trace The deep wrinkles about his chin ; His pipe smoke rises in a thin Blue thread of smoke, Acid enough to make you choke. He is almost home now; in his eyes If you thought to watch them the tragedies Of life would vanish, giving place To gentler lines in the rugged face. The black door space has taken him in To his home, away from the rattle and din. THE MINER He blinks at the clear sunlight With eyes that have seen black so long, With eyes that no longer are strong To greet the radiant day. He has come out of the earth Where it is blacker than night, Where only a blinking lamplight Flickers a gruesome smile. The coal dust is as his face Streaked white from the sweat of his brow, And his weak eyes see better now In the brilliant sunlight. His muscles are strong as iron And his hand is calloused and scarred; Cramped from gripping the shovel so hard Into a crumpled claw. 231 THE MINER We cannot look at his heart Under the ragged suit of clothes; Under that heaving breast — who knows What his thoughts may be. Forged from the heart of the earth Where onlv a few men can stay, Those thoughts are different, they say, From the thoughts of other men. A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS The tent was close and smelly and hot; The polar bears had the coolest spot, But even their long, red tongues hung out As they wagged their heads and swayed about. The zebras dozed in the sultry air And thought of the grass in Africa; The baby giraffe was munching hay And his mother was dreaming of the day When she was caught in the noose of rope And dragged down the wooded jungle slope. The elephants stood over by the door And their swaying trunks swept on the floor : There were two more this year than there 'd been last — Two more to dream of a jungle past. The children laughed in wild delight: It reminded the elephants of hyenas at night. "Skinny," — one elephant turned his head, — "Look at that little tot dressed in red. The one with the flower on her hat, Do you remember the girl who looked like that? 233 A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS The same sort of sad gazing in her eye, She alius looked like she was goin' to cry. Do you remember her, Skinny, old man?" Skinny swayed his trunk, like elephants can And blew through his nose — "Don't believe I do." He said, "Tell me about her, could n't you?" "Well, 'twas when you first came to join the show ; I 'd come to it — oh, let's see — years ago, But I 've never forgot that girl or the clown Who alius used to take her aroun'. The clown was the tall one they called 'Old Skate,' And he slid on my back and held my slate. When I added two and two, which made four, It delighted the crowd — they used to roar With laughter and fun; then the girl's act came. She was a trapeze girl, and one night she got lame; She 'd been practicing almost all the day And Old Skate was there, he hung round that way Wherever she was — well, this day she fell — She could n't get her balance well, 234 A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS And she hurt her foot; Old Skate watched it all. He turned sort o' white when he saw her fall And went to her and took off her shoe. It was dirty and worn, and she had her blue Dress with the short skirt that day. Old Skate lifted her up and took her away, He in his old white clown suit and she Ail in blue, like a little fairy. She could n't walk, and that night I heard That they'd bounced her. Skate didn't say a word To any of the folks exceptin' me; ' Con,' he sez, * it 's this way; you see They won't have the little girl no more And she 's gone away — she went before I could even tell her I 'd like to go And sort o' take care o' her, yer know. I give her the money to get away, But I reckon I '11 go too — I can't stay Now that she 's left ; there '11 be another clown To slide on yer back and bounce aroun'. I 'm goin' to-night, Con, and I '11 find her too She can't hardly walk, — whatever '11 she do?' He sat there thinking far into the night But he warn't there with the morning's light. 235 A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS I thought of him for many a day. Skinny, I guess that 's the elephants' way. They don't forget when they Hke a man. Well, in three or four months the moving began ; Then the bustle of pitching the tents and all : The circus life 's like the waterfall That rushed and roared in the jungle where I come from — only 't was more peaceful there. Well, first thing I heard when we got to town From one of the horses that goes aroun' And prances and dances through the street To tell folks, 'This show can't be beat.' 'T was Old Bally told me, the best he could Knowing well as how it would Break my heart to hear he was dead. It warn't no use their going off, he said; At first they were happy as could be — They lived together awhile and he '- Cared for her and gave her some things That belonged to his mother — some clothes and rings; Valuable 'nuff, I guess, for she went An' pawned one or two; but afore she spent The money, he had her caught An' all crying and sobbing they brought 236 A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS Her to the judge's place and they made her go To some sort o' prison — not a real one, you know, But Old Skate was nearly crazy. He cried An' raved about; said he wished he 'd died Afore this. A yeller cur heard him say He was goin' to get the girl away. He went to the prison-like where she stayed And tried to tell them that he 'd made A mistake and to let her go. But that's not the way with the law, you know. So then Old Skate he broke his heart ; His face was all white and his lips hung apart. He went next day to the prison again. They would n't let him see her; so when He could n't get in, he sent a word To ask her to marry him. Then he heard As how she 'd said she never would ; So Old Skate he went away for good. The yeller cur followed him all around ; He said he was in some dream and the sound Of his sobbin* wuz pitiful to hear. Well, he went home with all that wuz dear To him in the world, gone. The yeller cur Listened awhile and he thought of her 237 A ROMANCE OF THE CIRCUS In the prison — Old Skate thought too ; Just to sit and think, 't was all he could do. The next mornin' some folks came in and found Old Skate lying stiff and cold on the ground. He 'd shot himself — Skinny, us folks of the zoo Have a queerer life than most folks do. There 's the little tot again in the red With the sad-lookin' eyes — Skinny, look ahead. Is n't that her mother standin' near? She's the trapeze girl, do you hear?" The little one stretched out her hand to say. Welcome — the mother turned and led her away. And the two great creatures swayed to and fro, Reaching out their trunks as far as they 'd go. REMINISCENCE It was a musty old closet, Filled with boxes and things, With funny old bangles for dresses And feathers for hat trimmings. It is funny how they remind us Of the clothes we used to wear; We lived in them and now they tell us The thoughts that have lingered there. They remind us of what we were thinking And whom we were loving then, When we left them there in the closet. If we should wear them again, They never would seem so pretty As we used to think they were. And our thoughts would be foreign to them Because we were so much older. The dust was gray on the boxes. And there was a musty smell. But you must have rummaged through store-rooms So you know the m^llee too well ; 239 REMINISCENCE How the dust streams to the window Where the sun is struggHng through, It gHnts and gleams so prettily, As the wings of bright fairies do. I sat there opening boxes And living over the days That were far out on Time's horizon. Dimmed by an ambient haze. With listless, dust-stained fingers I opened a long, thin box, Thinking to find wrapped bundles Of cloth for the children's frocks. Oh, tell me, have you ever Locked a love away In the deepest spot of your heart's depths And felt it again one day. Stirring with untold longing And yearning for what is past, I opened the lid and found my doll And I took her and held her fast. I had loved that doll with the passion Of the hungry heart of a child ; I had cried to her, sung to her, talked to her, And she always sweetly smiled ; I had kissed her as mothers kiss children 240 REMINISCENCE Till the paint all left her cheeks, And her hair that had once been curly Was matted in yellow streaks. Her eyes had never changed, though, They were just the same china blue, But they used to say they loved me; I think all dolls' eyes do. I had put her little dress on. And then hid her away, Because the folks kept saying I was too old to play With dolls; that I ought to sew And learn to sweep and cook. She had that same dress on to-day And the same sweet, smiling look. Oh, all the love of another day Flooded back on my heart, And all the dreams of my childhood. Till I felt the tear-drops start. I kissed her dear, hard cheeks again, As I kissed them long ago. The angels of Doll Land had guarded her All through those years, I know. And the joys and sorrows of childhood Flooded back again. 241 REMINISCENCE The strange, little childish worries That used to bring so much pain ; I heard a voice that I have not heard now For many longing years, The voice of the one who gave me the doll And used to dry my tears; I know not how long I sat there Holding my darling doll, While the dust streamed to the window And the sunbeams danced on the wall. I did not stay that morning To find the cloth for the frocks. I put all my dear, loved childhood Back in the little doll box, And I kissed the faded cheek again; It was foreign among the rest. I think the doll loved the kisses Given in childhood best. POSSESSION He sought her in the morning, When the sun was shining bright, With eyes of adoration That languished for her sight. And she was like the south wind, Gentle, sweet, and free. She loved, but, ah, thou seeker. Her love was not for thee. He sought her still at noontime, When the golden sun was high. And like the breeze of evening She saw, but passed him by, As oft the swaying shadow Flees the ardent wind. He loved her, longed to win her. Vowed she should yet be kind. He sought her still one evening, She did not fly from him : The wind was gently sighing And the sunset growing dim. 243 POSSESSION They heard a secret breathing All through the sunset haze, Stealing into their fond hearts Until love was ablaze. Like the slender lily she bent Her graceful head, " I love you, dear," and all the trees Echoed what she said. And then her loving heart depths Yielded him love and bliss; He sought her lips and reveled In her pure maiden kiss. The love weeks passed as flowers. Wind flowers on the hill; One morn he did not seek her, He said, "She is mine still. Why strive to hold what stands and waits, I will not seek her more?" Possession strangled what had been Questing love before. EONS AGO She was a creature fair to see, Wild and impulsive, ecstatic, free; And this was eons and eons ago When the world was not the world we know, When the jungle sang to another moon And the nights were all like the nights in June. He was a creature tali and strong. His shoulders were broad and his arms were long, And the fleetest-footed deer that ran Could not outpace this primal man. And they wandered under the great palm trees And waded in water up to their knees, And for many a year they lived close by, But she never came beneath his eye; And he hunted the forest and killed the deer And she lived on berries and fruits that grew near. One morning under the flame-colored sun They met and each feared the other one ; And he was strong and he thought to kill. But an unseen power turned his will. 245 EONS AGO And she fled through the forest, this fleet, wild thing; He followed swift as a bird on the wing. Over the ragged hills they sped And ever the form of the woman led ; And her golden hair streamed in the wind ; He could almost reach it from behind. And the morning sun smiled down in gold (He has often smiled so since I am told), But the warmth of the sun's smile wearied her. Still he rushed on, ever getting nearer, And he caught at the beautiful golden hair. His arm was strong and he held her there. And she turned as the doe turns when at bay, And her eyes spoke what her lips should say. She struggled in vain to be free once more. He held her, but not as he held her before. Not to kill. Have you seen a child hold a butter- fly When it longs to be free and it fears to die? She was still for a moment. He felt his heart stir. Then eons ago as it is to this day, he spoke to her. She could not understand, she tried to run again. He was a man — and to the thing he loved gave pain, 246 EONS AGO Roughly he grasped her wind-caressed throat dried From the chase and clutched it till she cried. Those crystal raindrops bleeding from her eyes He had not seen before, and strange surprise Gripped his heart. What creature could this be, What animal had stirred him thus strangely? He did not know that love was in his heart; He only felt a strange new throbbing start. And the sinking sun saw tear-drops in his eyes. The thing he loved fell to the ground and could not rise. The purple marks of his great hands were there Upon her neck so delicately fair. Gently he lifted her and bore her to his cave, This animal of all he hunted he would save; In a silvered shell he brought her water then From the bubbling stream in the rainbow glen. She lay on the jagged rocks all limp and frail, The cave was black and her limbs were pale, Like moonbeams on a beauteous summer night, And her hair streamed over her in golden light. And the man stood in the door of his cave. The man that was tall and strong and brave ; And this was eons and eons ago In a strange, past world, but we who know 247 EONS AGO Love, know the stirrings the primal man felt As by her side he tenderly knelt And gave her water to drink from the shell. A moonbeam that strayed in the cave could tell How she moved and opened her dizzy eyes And gazed about her in rapt surprise; How he lifted her gently in his arms, The creature he caught, but then dared not harm. And the moon was high o'er the silver lake, And the dewdrops glistened upon the brake. And the breeze was wandering through the wood, Quietly as though it understood. And the moonbeam that strayed into the cave Saw the first kiss that man ever gave To woman. And this was eons and eons ago. The moon has cast its splendor here below Many and many a night since then and seen Many loves and wooings in its silver sheen, And the moon will tell you, if you ask to-day, That we too love in the primal way. That the creatures who sped o'er vale, and hill Are racing, pursuing, and loving still. VERS LIBRE TO Why do I think of you so often now? I did not love you. When we sat together under the white pine tree — I did not love you then. Why do I think now of the time you spoke to me And smiled into my eyes? I thought the sun was shining, But it was the glory of your smile. And I repeat in my heart what you said to me And I love the words now. They were only words then — now they are treasures. The wind can never blow The lovely gold heart of the daisy away, Nor can time waft away the memories of that day, And I am glad. There will never be a day like that again : The next time we meet I shall know that I love you And it will all be different — A beautiful, strange difference. 251 TO— I have a fear in my heart, and yet I know not why. It is a silent fear, But you will lay your hand on mine. And I shall see your eyes gazing into mine As summer skies contemplate still waters, And then I shall not be afraid. But shall only love — Love you with all the strength of my soul — And I will be exquisitely happy. A FANCY It was evening And the purple spirit of the sky Lighted the star lamps; The moth flitted silently before the moon. There was a long beach of glinting sand And it shone in the beauteous light. I sat on the border of the sea, Like a soul on the edge of the land of dreams, And loved. My heart throbbed in my breast There on the moonlit sand, where the Foam waves broke in passion on the shore. I learned how to woo a woman The way the waves wooed the beach Under the moonlight. The sea spoke in the voice God gave The winds eons ago and took from them again. The voice of the wind and waves is much the same. My eyes reached out over the foamy, limitless sea To a far bright spot. And a great gold star came down And lifted the figure of a woman from the sea, 253 A FANCY Held her against the struggling sky And kissed her with the passion Of his soul, held her and Kissed her again. Then he Let her fall back into the sea And her white arms were lost in the foam. To-morrow I shall win thee, Love of my life. PARTING I DID not love to let thee go. It was like going from home, Going to some far-off land That eyes have only glimpsed in dreams. I do not love the foreign, lonely darkness I feel when thou art far from me. The evening had a sad, impressive beauty, And it was a spring evening When the flowers bloomed in fragrance And the stars looked languorously down And the breeze took thee away. Something light stayed near — I felt it — I think it was thy spirit. How long will that stay? The moon With snowy steps is coming out of the hill, And there is a shadow under the cedar tree. I have an exquisite aimlessness in my Sleepy soul and only thy spirit is near me. 255 MAGNOLIA BLOSSOMS There is a sleep flower blossoming in the garden, And there is one blooming in my heart, With exquisite cream-white petals that droop apart In an adorable languorousness. There is a spirit hovering over the magnolia flowers, She is the spirit of dreams, And her soft moon-white hands Are pouring visions into the flowers. When they fall, some one will dream a lovely dream And the pink-tinted petals Will bear away all that might grieve the heart. There is nothing but love and happiness In the sleep blossoms of the magnolia. 256 CLOUDS ACROSS THE MOON The souls of unbloomed roses are on the breeze; There is a drowsy dream-substance in the eve- ning air; Only the garden fountain pierces the silence Like a silver lance of falling diamonds. My soul is the echo of the aspiring fountain, But my heart is asleep on the fragrant couch of eve. I am glad my heart is sleeping, for thou art afar, And it is anguish when thou art not here. There is an exquisite sadness in the tops of the trees. And the wind is shaking it out into the night; And so the tops of the trees are swaying tremu- lously. I see a shadow standing under the linden tree Reaching white, fragrant arms to the lowest branches. And singing to the thousand mysteries of the spirit-night. She is singing the song God taught the valleys long ago, 257 CLOUDS ACROSS THE MOON But they forgot it. It is the song of a passing soul. Half the moon is behind the cloud to-night, And there is a pale-blue light in the skies That fringes the cloud. One of the angels loved With mortal love to-day — that is what spreads a cloud Across the mystery of the silvered moon. MARRIAGE There is a golden circlet about thy finger And one about mine. That is all the change the world may see in our lives. I have a sacred fear within my heart, So many of my dreams have come to earth And broken as a rainbow bubble vanishes. I feel thee near me now — My lips have long sought thine in lotus dreams — Now they may touch and sink into the fullness of a kiss, As the gold-winged butterfly poises on a flower, Then in sublime contentment Sinks into the depths of its sun-warm chalice And lies insensate there. My longing hands do not touch darkness now, Not darkness, but the sublime tenderness of thine own. And only God in his greatness can know Of the infinite vastness of my bliss. 259 MARRIAGE The breeze is fanning the waning stars In an adorable tenderness. Thou and I alone in all the beauteous profun- dity. Two clouds scudding the silent skies and meeting at last, Two shadows blended now beneath the moon, Yet the world sees but a golden circlet about thy finger And one about mine. POT AU FEU There was a kitchen With pots and pans that shone brightly in the sunshine, And in the evenings the copper light of the fire Made them glow flame red. On winter evenings, when the snow was heaped White and soft outside and the wind howled Around the corners of the house. The family gathered about the kitchen stove And talked or read by the old lamplight In the center of the table with a red cloth on it. In its little drawer was the cook-book with recipe papers. Those were cozy winter evenings and the Simple talk of the peasant folk rose above The simmerings of the pot au feu. The pot au feu was upon the stove day in and day out, Year after year, always simmering And unconcernedly boiling. The bubbles rose and broke Like unrealized hopes dream-fed; 261 POT AU FEU All the odors of the cooking mingled in it And scraps from the dishes fell into its turmoil. Long it boiled, the fire was carefully tended So it did not boil over. Those were peaceful, happy days. But there came a day when strange news Reached the family. Strange news that struck terror to the heart, Gripped their lives and paralyzed their inten- tions. Mothers neglected their homes and wept Over a son or a father they were to see soon Departing. Daughters wept over their sweet- hearts Who would soon go from them. It was only A rumor then that war had been declared. The mother neglected the home heedlessly. With mind awander, she heaped fuel on the fire And left it to go to her room and weep In unconsoled despair. And when she came again to the kitchen she found The simmering pot aufeu had boiled over. Clouds of putrid smoke filled her nostrils And blinded her eyes. It nauseated her 262 POT AU FEU And filled her with a dizzy faintness. She flew to the window, With trembling hands tore it open, And little by little the smoke cleared. The objects in the kitchen became visible — The little table with the red cloth, the old oil lamp And the red geranium on the window sill. She went to the stove. The pot au feu was empty — Only a reddish-brown clot that was Almost blood clung to it ; all else was black Like strips of the dead of night, and the Stove was reeking and filthy with the Charred mass from the boiled-over pot. It will be some time before the stove Is returned to its former glory, And the family will not soon gather about it again Because of its putrid odor. It means a good deal when the pot boils over. Should you stop to ponder over this a moment On the simmering pot au feu, on the boiling tur- moil of the pot au feUy 263 POT AU FEU Of the charred black desolation and spoil of the stove, Mayhap it would call to your mind something greater. Nations simmer year in and year out and at last boil over, Then God only knows the charred despair That is left on the blackened field of war : God only knows the months and years — cen- turies of struggle To regain the lost glory of these nations ; And the families for many a year will not as- semble In love and quiet under the shelter of a nation at peace. The charred stove will not soon be clean. But how much longer will it take for the horrible Stench and stain of bestial war to be eradicated and obliterated? A RHAPSODY I HEARD the music of floating clouds, And a butterfly that had not flitted the dew from her wings Passed by. Sorrow lay like Pompeii, silent, Under a mindless sky. Tragedy too was buried, The red-lipped poppy swayed in tranquillity And the clovers breathed in the air. A bird rose from the purple grasses, Scattering wing diamonds to the yellow sun. It seemed strange to be in the world and Yet far away from life. The moon came up, And my heart turned, so did the Flowers; in an exquisite languorousness The moon passed through the temple of night. And there was a voice that spoke From out the hills — yet not the hills' voice — I think it was the voice of God. 265 UENVOI HEART SONGS The birds sing at morn And their songs mingle in the sounds of the day : The flowers breathe all their fragrance to the air And it vanishes beyond the blue ridges of the hills. The sea murmurs of its million mysteries, And the echoes beat on foreign strands, And life speaks to life. The heart sings and its echoes rise And flood the radiant, eager air. There is but one thing that shall hush The singing of the heart on this earth, And after that it shall sing elsewhere, mayhap. Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724) 779-2111