STAR-DUST I 
 and GARDENS I 
 
 ^ 
 
 Virginia 
 Taylor 
 
 McCoRMICK 
 
 ^ 
 
Glass r 8 r^ <S"a'. i? 
 BoofcAZi^. 
 
 faffligiif F / 9 ;?. O 
 
 CQBOIIGHT DE^SH^ 
 
STAR-DUST AND GARDENS 
 
STAR-DUST AND 
 GARDENS 
 
 BY 
 
 VIRGINIA TAYLOR McCORMICK 
 
 Vincit qui patitur 
 
 1920 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
 VIRGINIA TAYLOR MCCORMICK 
 
 OEC -3 1920 
 
 THE PLIMPTON PRESS 
 NORWOOD'MASS-U*S-A 
 
 ©CI,A601802 
 
TO ONE BELOVED 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Foreword 9 
 
 Belief 10 
 
 Memory's Garden 11 
 
 Ballade of Wind and Sand 13 
 
 Song of the Desert 14 
 
 Purple Lilacs 15 
 
 When Spring Returns 16 
 
 Poplars 17 
 
 God Walked in a Garden 18 
 
 Dandelions 20 
 
 Hyacinth 21 
 
 The Hermit 22 
 
 The Elm 24 
 
 Flood-Tide 25 
 
 A Prayer for Life 26 
 
 Rondeau 27 
 
 The Painters of the Sky 28 
 
 Vision 29 
 
 The Land of Heart's Desire 30 
 
 Song of the Blue Bird 31 
 
 To A Flowering Peach 32 
 
 The Good Gray Years 33 
 
 Us] 
 
The Sail Boat. . . 35 
 
 Faith 36 
 
 A Child's Garden 37 
 
 Poet's Narcissus 38 
 
 Long Ago 40 
 
 Cries of the Street 41 
 
 Voici ! 42 
 
 Eve's Dream 43 
 
 Spring Calls to May 45 
 
 The Lonely Garden 47 
 
 The Baby 49 
 
 The Dragon 50 
 
 The Birth of the Flowers 51 
 
 Hoar Frost 53 
 
 The Forum 54 
 
 The Rose and the Star 55 
 
 Dawn 56 
 
 Life's Joy 57 
 
 Faith Resurgit 58 
 
 Shakespeare 59 
 
 The Moon Passes 60 
 
 Robert Service 61 
 
 Henrik Ibsen 62 
 
 A Poet's Thought 63 
 
 She Walks Serene 64 
 
 The Mocking Bird 65 
 
 The Empty Chair 66 
 
 The Shell 67 
 
 [163 
 
Rheims 68 
 
 Norman Prince 69 
 
 1917 71 
 
 1918 72 
 
 Mammy's Farewell 73 
 
 The Aviator 75 
 
 Resignation 'j^ 
 
 n?] 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 iyAWN! and the waves of crimson light 
 Arouse the sleeper to work and fight, 
 For the wheels of life must busily run 
 And man must toil beneath the sun. 
 
 Night! and the golden lamps are lit 
 To pour their splendour where lovers sit 
 And dream the dreams, exquisite, rare. 
 Which grow from the star-dust scattered there. 
 
 C93 
 
BELIEF 
 
 JL HE time of golden hours and song is here, 
 The hawthorn is in bud beside the stream, 
 We see again the morning of the year 
 Returning Hke some fragrant, cherished dream. 
 The cardinal, amidst the apple bloom 
 Pours from his throat a song of fire and dew, 
 I breathe the purple lilac's sweet perfume 
 And send a winged thought across to you. 
 
 Nor time nor distance makes my love grow 
 
 cold, 
 Where'er you are, what Infinite Beyond 
 Has lured you with its beauties manifold. 
 No matter what strange garb your soul has 
 
 donned. 
 My homing spirit straight shall take its course, 
 Swift as a seagull flies with outstretched wings, 
 To mingle through Eternity with yours 
 And wait the coming of eternal springs. 
 
 Cio] 
 
MEMORY'S GARDEN 
 
 FOR M. H. McG. 
 
 X HERE'S a garden in my memory 
 Where the choicest flowers grow, 
 And the time is always summer, 
 Not a hint of ice nor snow. 
 
 Daffodils and crimson tulips 
 
 With blue phlox about their feet. 
 
 Pheasant-eyed narcissi filling 
 All the air with incense sweet. 
 
 There are larkspurs in my garden 
 
 Mirroring the heaven's blue, 
 Where the bees are gently humming 
 
 Songs I listen to with you. 
 
 Tapestries of green and purple, 
 Fragrant as the breath of spring, 
 
 Violets, o'er whose upturned faces 
 Golden-hearted roses swing. 
 
 Though the years have bent and aged me 
 With the sorrows in their train. 
 
 And my eyes are dimmed with weeping 
 Tears that fall hke summer rain. 
 
 When I walk with you at evening 
 
 In my memory's garden fair. 
 We are always young and happy. 
 
 Gay our steps and debonair; 
 
For the perfume of the flowers 
 Which the ghstening dew distils 
 
 Is your spirit breathing through 
 The violets and daffodils. 
 
 1:12] 
 
BALLADE OF WIND AND SAND 
 
 I 
 
 KNOW the music of the spheres 
 And why the year must have its spring; 
 I know the dearest thought that cheers 
 And why each sorrow has its sting; 
 But naught can quell this joyous thing 
 Which courses in my heart today, 
 And sets my feet a-wandering 
 Where wind and sand together play. 
 
 I love the mists of April-tears 
 
 Which o'er the earth their mantles fling, 
 
 I love the summer which endears 
 
 Itself to me by covering 
 
 The woodlands where I walk and sing, 
 
 With carpets made of blossoms gay; 
 
 I love the wild, sweet whispering 
 
 Where wind and sand together play. 
 
 I long for autumn with its tiers 
 Of sumac crested like a king, 
 I welcome winter which appears 
 All cloaked in white and hovering. 
 Like robin with a broken wing. 
 Above her nestlings brown and gray; 
 But happiness is echoing 
 Where wind and sand together play. 
 
 ENVOY 
 
 Dear Love stay with me, listening 
 For breezes filled with salt sea-spray, 
 And I will lead you wondering. 
 Where wind and sand together play. 
 
SONG OF THE DESERT 
 
 X LIE beneath the midnight skies 
 And hear the tramp of passing feet; 
 The gold of star-dust fills my eyes, 
 The Desert's breath is sweet. 
 
 An Arab of the Desert born, 
 Her burning breast has held my head 
 Through long nights, till the rosy morn 
 Her panoply has spread. 
 
 A mother's love I never knew, 
 I was the child of wind and sun; 
 Of golden sands and heaven's blue 
 My web of life is spun. 
 
 No kinship with the world I hold, 
 There is no price upon my head. 
 The Desert will no tale unfold 
 When I am dead. 
 
 Yet lying under Allah's lamps 
 My soul has bridged the years which span 
 From now to days of crowded camps 
 And Singing Caravan. 
 
 Mine were the echoing feet which rang 
 Adown the passion-haunted path. 
 Mine was the golden voice which sang 
 Before Death's swath. 
 
 ChH 
 
PURPLE LILACS 
 
 X NEVER smell the sweet perfume 
 Of purple lilacs in the spring, 
 I never see their nodding bloom 
 But that my heart begins to sing. 
 
 The years fall from me in a trice 
 And I am young and gay again, 
 The world becomes a paradise 
 And I forget the world-old pain. 
 
 I dance upon the velvet green. 
 My arms with purple fragrance piled, 
 Of childhood's kingdom I am queen, 
 Though long years I have been exiled. 
 
 Ah! sweet to die, to leave the earth 
 When purple lilacs are in flower, 
 To wake again to a new birth. 
 Incarnate with dreams of this hour. 
 
 Plant purple lilacs by my grave 
 And let my spirit come at morn 
 To gather sweets which lilacs gave. 
 Dear purple ones, when I was born. 
 
 ITiS] 
 
WHEN SPRING RETURNS 
 
 I 
 
 WONDER why spring comes again 
 To earth with you not there, 
 And why the sunshine and the rain 
 Should bring us flowers as fair 
 As those your gentle hands have pressed 
 In all the springs now gone, 
 And why the willows stand new-dressed 
 To greet the fragrant dawn. 
 
 You can not see their beauty pale. 
 Nor smell the cowslip's breath; 
 The violets purple all the vale 
 While you keep tryst with Death. 
 You come no more, but know you this, 
 If thoughts your spirit find. 
 In every flower we feel your kiss, 
 Your nearness in each wind. 
 
 Cien 
 
H. 
 
 POPLARS 
 
 FOR JEANNE 
 
 OW tall and slim and straight they stand, 
 Yet bending to the summer breeze 
 Like gracious ladies, sweetly grand, 
 Incarnate once again as trees. 
 
 In gala dress of shimmering green 
 With silver lining peeping through. 
 They beckon to the sun or lean 
 To gather freshness from the dew. 
 
 Their arms are stretched toward the sky 
 In upward yearning for a soul, 
 On moonlight nights I hear them sigh, 
 Envisaging that distant goal. 
 
 But sometimes there is deep content. 
 Maternal croonings lull to rest 
 With music low and eloquent, 
 The turquoise in a robin's nest. 
 
 Dear friendly visitors, the rains 
 Come down to cool a fevered earth, 
 Linked drop by drop in pearly chains. 
 Whose beauty fills the trees with mirth. 
 
 Shy laughter shakes the rustling leaves. 
 Green, dainty fingers count the beads 
 Upon a rosary which weaves 
 For growing things a creed of creeds. 
 
 1:173 
 
GOD WALKED IN A GARDEN 
 
 FOR KATHARINE 
 
 G 
 
 rOD wandered in a garden fair 
 Where flowers bloomed about His feet; 
 The violets held the dewdrops clear, 
 White lilies breathed a fragrance sweet; 
 Blue harebells, bending to the wind, 
 Rang out a tender vesper call. 
 The rose her royal head leaned down 
 To whisper with the foxglove tall. 
 
 Between these lovely sentinels 
 
 God walked and pondered what He saw; 
 
 "A garden is a wondrous thing. 
 
 Divinely sweet and full of awe. 
 
 But wherefore should I come to earth 
 
 To wander in the cool of even? 
 
 I'll plant a garden marvelous 
 
 To grow about the door of Heaven.'' 
 
 And then He sowed the sky with seeds 
 Of all blue flowers that earth has known; 
 Delphiniums and iris pale, 
 Fringed gentians of deepest tone; 
 Forget-me-nots He planted there 
 To make a footstool for His throne, 
 And God sat down to view His work 
 At even when the sun was gone. 
 
 Ci8 3 
 
<( 
 (( 
 
 Methinks there something lacks/' he said, 
 
 I'll make a coral-reefed lagoon, 
 With milk of human kindness filled." 
 We mortals think it is the moon. 
 "And still there is a need of light 
 Where all this perfect blue unrolls;" 
 So where we see the stars at night 
 God laughs with little children's souls. 
 
 1:193 
 
DANDELIONS 
 
 FOR L. C. W. 
 
 A HE dandelions fill the field 
 Like troops which march by night, 
 And every one a golden shield 
 Holds up against the light. 
 
 A hybrid thing of weed and flower, 
 At heart both shy and bold, 
 They come like Ophir's golden shower. 
 Go, ere their tale is told. 
 
 But they are really never gone, 
 They only change their guise. 
 For when the glowing night is born 
 They blossom in the skies. 
 
 Now when I walk through meadows bright 
 Their glistening bloom unbars 
 A thought which thrills me with delight, 
 My feet are on the stars! 
 
 Cio] 
 
HYACINTH 
 
 LJNDER the snow and the ice, 
 In the womb of Mother Earth, 
 I dream of evolution 
 And my next incarnate birth. 
 
 Shall I rise again in the springtime. 
 Or He through an aeon here? 
 Shall I grow a soul in the darkness 
 And learn the meaning of fear? 
 
 Am I reaching out to eternity, 
 Or just to the hfe of an hour? 
 Shall I come as the soul of a baby, 
 Or the bloom of an exquisite flower? 
 
 m- 
 
 1:21] 
 
THE HERMIT 
 
 FOR A. C. W. 
 
 M 
 
 EN pity me who pity them, 
 Shut in by walls of more than brick, 
 Where custom closes roads to thought 
 And man's desire grows faint and sick. 
 Where each is like his fellow one. 
 Striving for gold in worldly mart, 
 The sense of beauty dulled and dim. 
 No joy of living in his heart. 
 
 "Poor Hermit !'* so they say of me: 
 "He dwells in bitterness alone." 
 They do not dream the world and all 
 Its beauty brings is still my own. 
 In houses built by men for men 
 They cannot know the deep delight 
 Of forest's green and heaven's blue 
 Which make my dwelling fair and bright. 
 
 They can not know the furry things 
 That scamper round me unafraid, 
 Nor feel a thrill to hear the bird 
 Who wooes his sweetheart in the glade. 
 I know the music of the winds. 
 The song the brook sings as it goes. 
 And where the robin hides her nest 
 And why each star must love a rose. 
 
 I know where spring's first violet blooms, 
 Her loveliness deep-hidden there, 
 
 1:223 
 
And why the sun gets up so soon 
 While summer scents are in the air. 
 And when the winds of winter blow 
 And all the trees stand gaunt and stark, 
 I know why God sends gentle snows 
 To keep the earth-seeds warm and dark. 
 
 At night when I lie down to rest 
 I see the pale moon's silver beams 
 Which hide from you the lady fair, 
 Who smiHng, comes to me in dreams; 
 And as the little stars in groups 
 Make festas for their queen, the moon, 
 Beneath her rays a fairy brood 
 Doth dance for me in elfin shoon. 
 
 So every day brings fresh delight 
 Of bird and beast and tree and flower; 
 A fuller understanding grows, 
 A new song comes with every hour 
 To sing within my heart of hearts, 
 To bring me hope, to still my fears, 
 Till I lie down to sleep at last 
 Lulled by the music of the spheres. 
 
 1:233 
 
THE ELM 
 
 Li 
 
 JKE plumes against the starry night, 
 While in your boughs a zephyr sings, 
 Your beauty fills me with delight 
 And makes me think of wondrous things. 
 
 Of pastures green and running brooks 
 Of mountains with their pine-clad tops, 
 Of fancies I have found in books 
 Of pearls a summer rain-cloud drops. 
 
 Of love's young dream and motherhood. 
 Of sorrow's deep and poignant pain, 
 Of crystal springs in fragrant wood 
 Where I might find my youth again. 
 
 1:24] 
 
FLOOD-TIDE 
 
 FOR N. L. M. 
 
 J^ ROM the heart of the mystic ocean 
 
 Comes the call of the Infinite, 
 
 As I stand on the shore and listen 
 
 In the summer dark, star-lit. 
 
 I stretch my arms to the billows 
 
 That break on the sandy beach, 
 
 And I guard in my soul the lesson 
 
 That only the sea can teach. 
 
 The message is not for the many 
 
 But only the strong, whose souls 
 
 Have passed through the world unshackled 
 
 And never lost sight of their goals; 
 
 Whose feet have never stumbled, 
 
 Whose heads have never been bowed, 
 
 Who, dauntless have steered their passage 
 
 Where the deepest furrows plowed. 
 
 The Infinite calls me ever 
 
 And I pray when my body has died, 
 
 I may wait for the new life somewhere 
 
 As a part of the great Flood-Tide. 
 
 1:253 
 
A PRAYER FOR LIFE 
 
 A H ROUGH every passion-haunted path 
 Which marks the checkered way of Hfe, 
 Lord let me walk unfettered, free 
 To play my part, with instinct rife 
 To feel each rising thrill of youth 
 Or drain the bitterest dregs of truth; 
 
 To know no fear that night may bring. 
 
 To face undaunted each day's sun. 
 
 To feel as youth is left behind 
 
 That I a goodly race have run; 
 
 Have drunk hfe's cup of joy and sorrow, 
 
 Yet undismayed await the morrow. 
 
 Give me a mind with knowledge stored 
 That age may hold no terrors dark. 
 But each succeeding day and night 
 May gleam with memory's kindling spark; 
 And when I've done with joy and pain. 
 Oh Lord, let life begin again. 
 
 Cze] 
 
RONDEAU 
 
 vy SINGING Bird! I go upon a quest 
 Of joy and o'er your finely woven nest 
 
 I bend to see the jewels lying there; 
 
 Turquoises meet to make a necklace rare, 
 To shine in beauty on my Lady's breast; 
 
 That warm, sweet place where I have longed 
 to rest, 
 
 My heart stripped bear and all my love con- 
 fessed, 
 The while I hear your music on the air, 
 
 O Singing Bird! 
 
 I see you poised in flight toward the West, 
 Vibrant with passion, strong and unsuppressed; 
 Ah me, to have a soul so free from care! 
 A heart unfettered which would bid me dare 
 Straight to my Lady's bower, that haven 
 blest ! 
 
 O Singing Bird! 
 
 1:27] 
 
THE PAINTERS OF THE SKY 
 
 X3EY0ND this world of beauty and delight 
 There is a place where ships make into port; 
 Where artist souls may work with all their 
 
 might 
 That evening skies with glory may be wrought. 
 
 Today perhaps a Turner used his brush, 
 The sky all crimson-gold and flecked with 
 
 light, 
 While scattered pink clouds in the evening 
 
 hush. 
 Were hurrying from the chill and dark of 
 night. 
 
 And then tomorrow a gentle, pastoral soul 
 May paint a sunset full of home and peace, 
 Where grays and blues and violets shall un- 
 roll 
 The harmonies of light that never cease. 
 
 But I have seen the heavens all piled with 
 
 snow, 
 Behind whose pure delight of sculptured line, 
 I know the hand of Michael Angelo 
 And felt his master spirit in the wind. 
 
 C^s] 
 
VISION 
 
 I 
 
 PRAYED for vision of the future. Lo, 
 It came! And through the length of aching 
 
 years 
 I looked with bursting heart and burning 
 
 brain, 
 The horrors there too great to dim with tears. 
 And now I pray for blindness. Not enough! 
 Forgetfulness alone can ease my pain; 
 Wipe Thou my sullied slate of memory clean 
 And make me fit to face the world again. 
 
 1:29: 
 
THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 
 
 s 
 
 OME long for distant mountains bleak 
 And see in dreams the stunted pine, 
 Lone sentinel upon each peak, 
 With arms upraised as at a shrine. 
 
 And some there are who hear the call 
 Of rolling plains, where deep blue skies 
 Dip down like a cathedral wall 
 And heaven itself is in your eyes. 
 
 And one I know, a gentle soul. 
 Loves mountain streams where silver trout 
 Keep tryst within a great blue hole. 
 And flash like lightning in and out. 
 
 No matter where my feet may roam 
 For me the land of Heart's Desire 
 Is by the hearthstone of a home. 
 Where crisps the crackling oak-wood fire. 
 
 cso: 
 
SONG OF THE BLUE BIRD 
 
 FOR ROSALIE 
 
 X BRING to you dreams of springtime, 
 
 As my song floats out on the air; 
 
 I drop you seeds from the southland 
 
 To grow in your garden fair. 
 
 ril build my nest in your willow 
 
 Whose branches trail in the brook, 
 
 I'll sing to you through the summer 
 
 From my swaying, leafy nook. 
 
 ril flash through the dewy morning 
 
 With a glint of the blue of heaven. 
 
 On my breast the glowing colours 
 
 Of the sunset sky at even. 
 
 But when autumn winds are blowing 
 
 With the wife and birdies new, 
 
 ril follow the sun's course southward 
 
 To the land where dreams come true. 
 
 1:313 
 
TO A FLOWERING PEACH 
 
 I 
 
 PASSED you in the park today, 
 Your beauty warmed my veins like wine, 
 You stretched your arms to bid me stay, 
 And breathed a fragrance half divine. 
 
 Like bride upon her wedding morn 
 Your limbs are veiled in mystic lure, 
 With grace as of a startled fawn 
 And charm half haughty, half demure. 
 
 But you are false as you are fair. 
 Your beauty but a passing show, 
 Your painted lips a honeyed snare. 
 Like courtesan's of long ago. 
 
 CsO 
 
THE GOOD GRAY YEARS 
 
 FOR T. H. W. 
 
 Ti 
 
 HE shining years behind me 
 Lie Hke a winding road, 
 Up which I travelled gaily 
 No matter what my load: 
 
 And there were gleaming rivers 
 By which I longed to stop, 
 But the steepest hills allured me 
 With a promise at the top. 
 
 It was a goodly company 
 
 I led upon the way, 
 
 Old hands reached out for guidance, 
 
 Wee feet would sometimes stray; 
 
 But always close beside me 
 There walked a presence dear, 
 Which filled the day with gladness 
 And drove from night the fear. 
 
 The paths my feet have beaten 
 
 Ring to the sturdy tread 
 
 Of coming generations, 
 
 While the good gray years ahead 
 
 Spread like a country road-way 
 Where one may walk at ease, 
 Or sit with friends at evening 
 In the shadow of the trees. 
 
 C33 ] 
 
In quiet hours of musing 
 The wonders of the age 
 Tramp by in great procession 
 Upon my memory's stage. 
 
 No matter what of pleasure, 
 No matter what of tears, 
 All things have come as blessings 
 On my glowing road of years. 
 
 n34ll 
 
THE SAIL BOAT 
 
 FOR M. M. B. 
 
 X\ SAIL boat lay at anchor in a sea 
 Unrippled by a wave and seemed to me 
 A symbol for the purity of Hfe, 
 So white it was, so far removed from strife. 
 
 But now the breezes stir and waves ride high. 
 Gray gulls are white against a blackened sky, 
 The Httle boats run in with quick alarm 
 To seek a hiding place before the storm. 
 
 Ah me! The sail I thought so virgin fair 
 Is dark and drab, which fills me with despair 
 Because I know that there has been no change, 
 I only view life at a closer range. 
 
 C353 
 
FAITH 
 
 s 
 
 TARLIGHT and silence and a silver sea 
 Where rests a dying moon; 
 Darkness envelopes me 
 
 With scents of June. 
 
 Into the Infinite my soul is driven, 
 Where I must kiss the rod; 
 Thence I return shriven, 
 Having found God. 
 
 1:363 
 
A CHILD'S GARDEN 
 
 FOR GERTRUDE 
 
 I 
 
 SEE your merry, dancing feet 
 At play upon the lawn; 
 I hear your voice clear and sweet, 
 Like piping birds at dawn. 
 
 With tiny spade the warm, fresh earth 
 You dig to plant your seeds. 
 Then sit to watch the flowers' birth 
 Without a thought of weeds. 
 
 There's lavender for Grandma's sake 
 And violets deeply blue, 
 With buttercups which nod and shake. 
 While pansies smile at you. 
 
 Pink poppies flutter in the air 
 Like balls of fairy wool, 
 A lady-slipper, frail and fair. 
 Brings dreams of woodlands cool. 
 
 And over all I hear your voice 
 And see your laughing eyes. 
 Which always make my heart rejoice. 
 Wee mirrors of the skies. 
 
 t37l 
 
POET'S NARCISSUS 
 
 I 
 
 WANDERED into a pine wood 
 One glorious day in May; 
 The spicy breath of the forest 
 Wafted me far away. 
 
 I shipped on an ancient galleon, 
 Whose bellying sail set straight 
 For a port that I know in Dreamland, 
 Where we enter a golden gate. 
 
 The streets of this fairy city 
 Are malachite, clear and green, 
 With houses of lapis lazuli 
 And gardens of bloom between. 
 
 I heard the patter of footsteps 
 
 And children's voices clear, 
 
 I stretched my hands to the playmates 
 
 Which my childhood held so dear. 
 
 Then suddenly o'er my senses 
 Stole an odour, heavenly sweet, 
 Which banished my Dreamland fancies 
 And brought me again to my feet. 
 
 So pressing into the pine wood 
 I came to a lonely dell. 
 Where I found a poet's narcissus, 
 With its secret ready to tell. 
 
 ts^l 
 
And now from the far-off Country 
 Where in dreams I love to roam, 
 I come with my blessed secret 
 To you, Sweetheart and home. 
 
 n39 3 
 
LONG AGO 
 
 TO A LITTLE BOY VISITING ME 
 
 I 
 
 FOUND him at the door one day, 
 Quite unafraid and full of joy; 
 He said, "I've come with you to stay, 
 Because you have no little boy." 
 
 He entered and the house was changed, 
 It was the place of Long Ago, 
 Whence I had been so long estranged; 
 His presence set my heart a-glow. 
 
 We played at games to childhood dear, 
 From Long Ago my playmates came, 
 Their eager voices, shrill and clear, 
 Rang down the years with glad acclaim. 
 
 He was my other self, I wean 
 And I would fain have made him stay; 
 His laughter bridged the years between 
 Old age and youth to make me gay. 
 
 Now he is gone I call in vain 
 My playmates from the Long Ago; 
 They do not hear me and again 
 Life takes its uneventful flow. 
 
 1:401 
 
CRIES OF THE STREET 
 
 VV ITHIN my garden cool and green, 
 I sit and hear the vender's cry, 
 "Sweet oranges! the best you've seen, 
 Sweet oranges! please come and buy." 
 
 I hold a tome of ancient lays 
 
 Where knights and dames in pageant pass, 
 
 And while I dream of other days 
 
 An echo calls, "Fresh sparrowgrass!" 
 
 "Strawberries here and new green peas!" 
 Is mingled with the Old Romance; 
 "Bring rags and bones, ma'am, if you please" 
 Where chevahers and ladies dance. 
 
 "Fish, fish, fresh fish!" the raucous cry 
 Breaks in upon a sylvan scene 
 Where tilting knights in tourney vie 
 To crown the fairest Beauty's Queen. 
 
 So ever and again Today 
 
 Across the pages of the Past 
 
 Recalls me from Romance's way 
 
 Where winds the huntsman's morning blast. 
 
 Ui] 
 
VOICI ! 
 
 Wi 
 
 ITH bobbing heads the dafFodils 
 Sway in the passing wind, 
 A lover-bird with music fills 
 The air so softly kind. 
 
 The tulips stand stiff and sedate, 
 Each row precise and trim. 
 In new green coat the garden gate 
 Swings to the breeze's whim. 
 
 The dawn is lit with flaming torch, 
 While spring displays her wares 
 And in the shadow of the porch 
 Aunt Mary paints the chairs. 
 
 U^] 
 
EVE'S DREAM 
 
 E 
 
 ^VE stood beside the bed of boughs 
 Where lay her dearest, last-born child, 
 Before her deep, clairvoyant gaze 
 The pageant of the years defiled. 
 Bowed at the shrine of Motherhood, 
 Instinct with Eden's knowledge won 
 At cost so dear to earth-bound eyes. 
 Her heart's blood leapt to greet her son. 
 
 With swift God-given vision she saw 
 Him grown to manhood, strong and great, 
 Seeking among the paths of life 
 The perfect woman for his mate. 
 Quickened to beauty's tender lure. 
 Wrapped in the haze of earth's new morn 
 Faint mystic sounds smote on her ear, 
 Voices of women yet unborn. 
 
 Eve dreamed and lo! she saw her life 
 Fade into clouds without a trace 
 Upon the path by which she went; 
 No temple rose to mark her place. 
 Not man's companion but his slave! 
 Revealed to her own mind she stood; 
 Her anguished heart sent out a cry 
 Which soared into Infinitude. 
 
 And now to her awakened soul 
 New vision came, crystaHine bright: 
 An azure sea spread wave on wave, 
 Great ships rode clothed in rays of light, 
 
 C43 3 
 
Freighted with all earth's treasures rare, 
 Their goal the Land of Heart's Desire, 
 Whose purpling twihght beckoned them, 
 Her setting sun a beacon fire. 
 
 The crimson West in glory called 
 
 To grappling navies of the world; 
 
 The heavens filled with splendour 
 
 As their starry flag unfurled; 
 
 From Eve's eyes the scales had fallen. 
 
 Compassed she Infinitude, 
 
 Saw the Greatest Ship make harbour 
 
 With triumphant Womanhood. 
 
 C44] 
 
SPRING CALLS TO MAY 
 
 I 
 
 WILL arise right early 
 And go to the woodlands green, 
 For such a maying as we'll have 
 There never yet has been; 
 I'll fill my arms with blossoms 
 And load me down with boughs, 
 I'll call a greeting through the world 
 Young May from dreams to rouse. 
 
 For she must enter blithely, 
 
 With bird-song in the air, 
 
 With canopies of flowers 
 
 And sunshine everywhere. 
 
 Last night the Goddess Flora, 
 
 With fairies in her train, 
 
 Set all the blooms anodding 
 
 And quenched their thirst with rain. 
 
 The mysteries of dawn unfold 
 In waves of shimmering light. 
 The sun in majesty appears 
 To banish thoughts of night. 
 The birds send out a matin call 
 As they arise from dreams. 
 The bees and butterflies awake 
 And pass like golden gleams. 
 
 The wee folk of the forest come 
 To make a fairy ring 
 Around an iris may-pole, 
 Ablaze with blossoming; 
 
The gentle little furry beasts 
 Slip out to join the dance 
 And skip among the violets 
 With mischief in each glance. 
 
 Anemones are ringing 
 
 Their spicy bells and sweet, 
 
 As May-Day comes in splendour 
 
 Her flowery train to greet; 
 
 The lark from out of heaven's blue 
 
 The welkin makes to ring, 
 
 And I am here to lead you, May, 
 
 Your elder sister Spring. 
 
 n463 
 
THE LONELY GARDEN 
 
 X WALKED about your garden 
 In the dew-drenched early day, 
 The sun hung o'er the mountains, 
 The mist was Hke a spray. 
 
 The cardinals and robins 
 Poured music on the air 
 But their songs were sorrow laden 
 Because you were not there. 
 
 The grass upon the hillside, 
 A mass of tangled gray. 
 Had lost its velvet greenness 
 Because you were away. 
 
 The flowers in your borders 
 Looked pale and wan to me; 
 They would not bloom their brightest 
 With you not there to see. 
 
 A flash of crimson beckoned 
 
 From a corner quite apart; 
 
 Where choked by weeds and brambles 
 
 I found a bleeding heart. 
 
 I bent my head in anguish 
 To kiss the blood-red stain, 
 Libation for the Princess 
 Who will not come again. 
 
 1:473 
 
So I left your lonely garden 
 While my wonder waked anew 
 That the sun should go on shining 
 When the grass grew over you. 
 
 1:483 
 
THE BABY 
 
 FOR M. McC. R. 
 
 \J BABY with the laughing eyes 
 
 And dimpHng rosy cheek; 
 
 You look so very, very wise 
 
 I wonder could you speak 
 
 If you would prate of far-ofF things 
 
 Like dreamy Persian nights, 
 
 Or tell us why the starling sings 
 
 Beneath blue heaven's lights. 
 
 Perhaps if your wee tongue could tell 
 
 The secrets of your heart. 
 
 The wooly dog you love so well 
 
 Would play the leading part. 
 
 To us who worship at your shrine 
 
 And bask within your smile, 
 
 You are a little god divine, 
 
 Who laughs at us the while. 
 
 n49 3 
 
THE DRAGON 
 
 "His Hand hath brought forth the Winding Serpent." 
 
 VJREAT Golden Dragon crouching in the sky, 
 Before whose gleaming eyes small planets flee, 
 God gazed upon the starry dome so high 
 And from His Spirit could have fashioned thee 
 To garnish that dark beauty with thy light, 
 But rather chose to wrench a constellation 
 From out the womb of deep, eternal night 
 By His Own Hand, for future adoration. 
 So ever when we kneel before thy shrine 
 We see God's great obstetric Hand Divine. 
 
 n5o3 
 
THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS 
 
 A LEGEND OF OLD JAPAN 
 
 VV HEN blustering winds of March still blew 
 And snow lay thin in deepest vales, 
 Sweet gentle Rain came down to earth 
 With hesitating steps and new, 
 As if she feared the wintry gales 
 Might chill her heart or kill her mirth. 
 
 So gentle and so merciful 
 
 She poured her benediction sweet. 
 
 The March Wind bowed his head and went 
 
 Whither all winds go when they lull: 
 
 The snow that lay about her feet 
 
 With kisses pure and reverent 
 
 Her misty, trailing robes received; 
 But all too cold that icy breath 
 To blow upon the spark of life, 
 The heart of Rain was not deceived 
 For Snow's caresses bring but death 
 To passion in its youth's fresh strife. 
 
 And now a wooer, bold and free. 
 
 Comes joyously upon the scene; 
 
 The Sun breaks through the clouds of gray 
 
 And casting smiles on every tree 
 
 Whipped bare by winds so fierce and keen, 
 
 He bids them don their spring array. 
 
 CSi] 
 
With tender little ways and sweet 
 He wooes the Rain, that virgin maid, 
 And with strong rays of golden thread 
 He binds her close, feels her heart beat 
 As one with his; all unafraid 
 They seek the earth, their marriage bed. 
 
 Their life together swiftly flown 
 The one goes east, the other west. 
 While fairy children spring to earth, 
 Their flower faces gently blown 
 By summer winds whose dear unrest 
 Renews from year to year their birth. 
 
 Now ever when the March Wind blows 
 The Sun and Rain awake their love. 
 And over all the wood and plain 
 The violet and the briar rose, 
 Anemones and fragrant clove 
 Come out to deck the earth again. 
 
 1:52] 
 
HOAR FROST 
 
 A; 
 
 .ROUND the house all night I heard the 
 
 tramp 
 Of footsteps lighter than a fairy tread; 
 A cloudless sky with stars was overhead; 
 The moon hung like a Pagan temple lamp 
 And all the world seemed marked with beauty's 
 
 stamp. 
 A faint, crisp sound as if an arrow sped, 
 A brown leaf falls which yesterday was red. 
 The wind has gone and left no hint of damp. 
 
 At dawn I gaze upon a virgin world 
 Of crystal clearness, gleaming in the light 
 As if a shadow cast by some pale ghost 
 Through time and space its whiteness had un~ 
 
 furled, 
 Or dropped a heavenly mantle in its flight; 
 Oh, magic gift of autumn. Silver Frost! 
 
 C53 3 
 
THE FORUM 
 
 o 
 
 NE still, fair evening under summer skies 
 I stood and drank my fill of beauty rare; 
 A warm, caressing wind stirred in the air, 
 The great Campagna stretched before my 
 
 eyes 
 And whirling groups of pigeons seemed to rise 
 Like memories, from out those ruins where 
 The glory that was Rome would fain ensnare 
 Our hurrying feet and bid us solemnize 
 This last, sweet hour of quick-departing day; 
 To hold within our hearts a little while 
 A silent service for those warriors gay. 
 Who bore such treasure rich from long exile 
 On ringing footsteps down the Appian Way, 
 To make this glorious, immortal pile. 
 
 1:543 
 
THE ROSE AND THE STAR 
 
 B 
 
 'ENEATH your flaming petals, heart of gold, 
 You bear a hidden secret, sweet and rare; 
 Soft whispers stir and perfumes linger there 
 Which time itself can not make stale nor old. 
 A radiant butterfly, marauder bold. 
 Is hovering o'er you in the wind-tost air, 
 As if he fain your honeyed sweets would share 
 Or seek your crimson beauty to unfold. 
 
 But you have seen the vision of the world 
 And felt the presence of your avatar; 
 Before you all Infinity unfurled 
 To draw you as a loadstone from afar. 
 And reaching out to heaven's dome star- 
 pearled. 
 You found and hold for e'er one gleaming star. 
 
 C553 
 
DAWN 
 
 Ai 
 
 .BOVE the black of night the colours peep 
 So gently, and without a sound they slide 
 Into the sable sky where pale stars hide, 
 Or seek for little clouds where they may weep 
 With covered heads through long, dull hours of 
 
 sleep. 
 For Dawn insistent, comes with glowing stride, 
 Her strength increasing like the ocean tide. 
 Her colours changing now from pale to deep. 
 
 Pearl passes into blue and maize to gold, 
 Faint springtime pink is warming into flame 
 And crimson waves across the skies unfold: 
 One purple island, like some dainty dame. 
 With shimmering mists would fain shut out 
 
 the cold. 
 But day is here, bright, luminous and bold. 
 
 Cse] 
 
Wi 
 
 LIFE'S JOY 
 
 HEN I am gone dear Heart, remember 
 
 this, 
 That while I lived the joy of life was mine, 
 Its richest pearls of pleasure gifts of thine. 
 When clouds obscured the sun I did not miss 
 Its glowing light, because thy burning kiss 
 Made brighter gleams within my heart to shine; 
 My veins were filled with love's warm-flowing 
 
 wine 
 And surely death can not destroy this. 
 
 For death is but the keeper of the door 
 Through which we seek in serried rank and file 
 The great adventure, with its deep allure. 
 Or wearied sit beneath blue skies a while 
 To wait for loved ones, who with footsteps 
 
 sure, 
 Come joyously up life's highway mile on mile. 
 
 lS7l 
 
FAITH RESURGIT 
 
 T) 
 
 HE frenzied tumult of the war still sings 
 And seethes within my horror-tortured brain; 
 Too numb to think, all effort is in vain. 
 My reason flies on swift ascending wings; 
 Night has no Lethe, darkness whips and stings 
 With memories which ebb and flow amain, 
 And wake to life pale ghosts which long have 
 
 lain 
 Asleep. And yet the pearl gray morning brings 
 One hope of saneness, one clear, pregnant 
 
 thought 
 Evolved from out a faint and twisted wraith, 
 My naked soul, its independence bought 
 Through risking all against the dice of death. 
 Thus pain an altar in my heart has wrought, 
 Whereon I Hght anew the flame of Faith! 
 
 Css] 
 
SHAKESPEARE 
 
 FOR F. H. 
 
 w, 
 
 ITH beauty deeper than perfection's 
 
 dream, 
 With power that lesser souls may never reach, 
 The songs you made like sparkling crystals 
 
 gleam, 
 Or drop like bird-notes, subtler far than speech. 
 No earthly taint your joyous gift may mar. 
 Through vast untrammeled ways your fancy 
 
 free 
 Once flung a laughing challenge to a star 
 And waves of sound, throughout eternity 
 Shall bring and bring again, these echoes 
 
 sweet 
 Like silver bells upon the frosty air 
 That call to vesper-song high hearts that beat 
 With hope to catch and hold such treasure 
 
 fair: 
 While you across the silver bars of heaven 
 Shall lean and listen to your songs at even. 
 
 1159 3 
 
THE MOON PASSES 
 
 -ZVLOFT the heavens the great moon swings 
 
 tonight, 
 No cloud obscures her, nor a trembhng leaf; 
 It is the harvest moon; on golden sheaf 
 And ripened grain she gazes with delight 
 And peeps at lovers hiding from her sight; 
 At shy young wood-things, happy past belief, 
 She smiles; her face shows not a trace of grief, 
 Benign and calm she rides her way of light. 
 
 Before the moon life's passions are outspread; 
 
 Birth, death and all the littleness between 
 
 Must quicken her to suffer or rejoice; 
 
 A woman's anguished weeping for her dead, 
 
 The happiness of motherhood serene, 
 
 And love and hate are hers without a choice. 
 
 ceo] 
 
ROBERT SERVICE 
 
 H 
 
 E'S gone! We can not understand his flight; 
 Across that path our vision may not strain, 
 As with unseeing eyes and throbbing brain 
 We force compelHng thought into the night 
 And seek to bring him back into earth's light; 
 Ay, back into this world of tortured pain, 
 Where we walk blind and can not see the gain 
 To which Death points the road all shining 
 bright. 
 
 But he had seen the way; with that last smile 
 Like Indian summer, warm amidst the frost 
 Of winter, he would fain our hearts beguile 
 Into the knowledge that no friend is lost, 
 But waits for us and grows in that exile 
 To fellowship with the Imperial Host. 
 
 cei] 
 
HENRIK IBSEN 
 
 G 
 
 REAT Master, through the long and hon- 
 oured years 
 When you Hbation poured to form and art, 
 Appeahng to the mind and not the heart. 
 Too subtle and too perfect to bring tears. 
 Your fame had echoed through two hemis- 
 pheres, 
 Where ever and again your words impart 
 Deep learning, wisdom gained in travail's 
 
 mart. ^ 
 But voices in the air now fill your ears 
 With mystic sounds and murmurings of strife; 
 Since death has crept so near you unaware 
 Art fades into the past, it is to hfe 
 You burn your sacrificial flame so fair. 
 With tear-dimmed eyes and souls where hope 
 
 is rife, 
 Men kneel and hght a thousand tapers there. 
 
 / 
 
 n62 3 
 
A POET'S THOUGHT 
 
 TO JAMES STEPHENS 
 
 INaKED and unashamed a thought is born, 
 A fledgUng thing which can not walk nor fly, 
 Yet knowing not its mission it is shy 
 And must be coaxed to strength, not Hghtly 
 
 worn 
 Where jarring sentiments or subtle scorn 
 Its tender youth may crush or mortify; 
 But rather let it nestle warm and dry 
 Beneath your heart, the while you would adorn 
 So dear a thing with raiment fitting fair; 
 Wrap it in garments made of words so bright 
 All eyes are dazzled by the splendour there; 
 Deck it with jeweled words whose glistening 
 
 light 
 Shines Hke the glory of a woman's hair; 
 Give it a sword of words with which to fight. 
 
 1:633 
 
SHE WALKS SERENE 
 
 s 
 
 'HE walks serene, so calm and unafraid, 
 Her head held high, her vision straining through 
 The clouds which seem to hang 'twixt her and 
 
 you. 
 New hope is in her light elastic tread, 
 Her soul shines through her eyes as if it fed 
 On heavenly food, sweet manna wet with dew. 
 Which morning's rosy dawn brings fresh and 
 
 new. 
 And ever and again her feet are led 
 By devious ways and steep, where stumbling 
 
 souls 
 Less strong must fall and all unheeded lie; 
 And I who know that through the bitter night 
 Her broken heart is torn, her spirit rolls 
 And mourns in grief because you are not nigh, 
 I bow my head before her glorious fight. 
 
 [164 3 
 
THE MOCKING BIRD 
 
 FOR M. C. M. 
 
 o 
 
 N fragrant summer days when heat lies 
 white 
 Upon the meadows, in the bowered glade 
 He sings the songs that other birds have made; 
 Each vibrant note where pain and joy unite 
 Comes from his heart which doth his soul in- 
 vite 
 Through music's language to a great crusade: 
 The haunting sweetness of that serenade 
 Sends waves of sound to heaven in happy 
 flight 
 
 And wakes within my soul the deep desire 
 
 To soar on swiftest pinions far away, 
 
 But night comes through the blaze of sunset 
 
 fire; 
 The silver moon sweet secrets would betray 
 To you, O Mystic Bird! with you conspire 
 To make the song which teaches me to pray. 
 
 1:65] 
 
THE EMPTY CHAIR 
 
 L 
 
 ^AST night I dreamed half sleeping, half 
 
 awake, 
 Of that time which I know must come to you, 
 When I am gone and your dear heart so true 
 To me in this sweet life must throb and ache 
 With memories whose anguish needs must 
 
 shake 
 Your faith in God. The years have been so 
 
 few 
 That we have spent together; in review 
 They pass like pearly mists which seem to 
 
 make 
 Of life a splendid pageant to be played 
 Beneath deep skies which gleam with lanterns 
 
 fair 
 Through burning nights whose radiance can 
 
 not fade. 
 But glows into the days of dark despair. 
 When down the aisle of years, through sun 
 
 and shade, 
 I see the vision of my empty chair. 
 
 [166: 
 
THE SHELL 
 
 jTxN elemental thing of air and earth, 
 Close-welded by the ocean's briny tears, 
 The sun god stood beside you at your birth 
 To fit you for the music of the spheres. 
 I hold your lovely pinkness to my ear 
 And hear the songs of far-away Japan; 
 The evening call of shepherds, sweet and clear, 
 Or echoes from the lilting pipes of Pan; 
 The springtime chant of many a mating bird. 
 Blue swallows chirping at the close of day, 
 And lovers' whispers by soft breezes stirred; 
 The while a viohn sobs and seems to pray. 
 
 A thousand years you lay beneath the sea 
 
 To gather songs from moon and stars for me. 
 
 1:673 
 
RHEIMS 
 
 ■ Rheims will become a Pantheon ' 
 
 Ti 
 
 HY stones on which the gods have breathed 
 And artists died to make more fair, 
 Shall take the brave who die for France 
 And guard them with a mother's care; 
 While o'er their sleep, in ceaseless watch. 
 The Mystic Maid with shield and lance 
 Shall wait to lead those gathering hosts 
 When God shall call the roll of France. 
 
 1916 
 
 1:68] 
 
NORMAN PRINCE 
 
 s 
 
 OMEWHERE in the infinite space of blue, 
 Your spirit is winging its endless flight; 
 You couldn't rest or it wouldn't be you, 
 Till the France that you love has won her 
 
 fight. 
 Some day on the skies' uncharted seas 
 The bird-men sailing by ways unknown. 
 Shall hear a leader's call on the breeze 
 And follow the path to the victor's bourne: 
 While you who have given your gay young 
 
 hfe 
 Shall find it again in the battle's strife. 
 
 1:693 
 
igi? 
 
 S 
 
 HE sits with her delicate head bent low 
 As the blue day fades into evening gray; 
 Her hands still measure and fold the gauze 
 But her thoughts are winging miles away. 
 And we, who are watchers see only this — 
 Just well-made rolls of a virgin white, 
 The bandages made by a mother's hands, 
 A mother whose son is making his fight. 
 
 In her dreaming eyes these plain white rolls 
 Form a tapestry woven of pictures rare, 
 Whose groups are drawn by the artist Love 
 And her man-child walks in his beauty there. 
 Her golden babe with his crown of curls. 
 His face a-beam with the light of youth. 
 Gives way to a boy whose clear gray eyes 
 Look out on the world in his search for truth. 
 
 And now dear God, there are tramping feet, 
 
 As stalwart figures in khaki clad 
 
 Have covered the canvas before her eyes 
 
 And her sorrowing heart would fain be glad; 
 
 For there in the surging waves of brown. 
 
 As she eagerly bends each face to scan. 
 
 Is her golden youth and her proud heart sings, 
 
 "I thank Thee God, I have borne a man." 
 
 And somewhere out on the plains of France, 
 When life is ebbing and day grows dark. 
 These bandages wrought by love and skill 
 
Shall snatch from death his shining mark. 
 For this mother-love is a wondrous thing, 
 An arrow sped through time and space, 
 Which carries its message beyond the world 
 To the course where the stars and planets race. 
 
 Cyi^ 
 
W] 
 
 I9I8 
 
 HO goes there?" "A Mother." 
 "There is no place for you 
 In the battle's rendez-vous." 
 "And who are you, O Brother?" 
 "I," quoth the voice, "am Death; 
 I follow in war's wake 
 Her choicest gifts to take, 
 My sword I never sheath." 
 "Take what you will of joy. 
 By the path Mary trod. 
 Straight to the throne of God 
 I go to find my Boy. 
 Out of my way, O Death ! 
 My love was born of pain, 
 Joy and sorrow alike my gain, 
 I claim the victor's wreath. 
 You know not love like mine. 
 Each pang is keenest joy. 
 If it but save my Boy." 
 Death gave his place in line. 
 
 CrO 
 
MAMMY'S FAREWELL 
 
 FOR C. F. McG. 
 
 VV HY sho' Mars' George, dat cyan't be you 
 All dressed in soger clo'es, 
 An' honey chile, ain't dat a sword 
 What's clinkin' as you goes? 
 
 It wan't no mo' dan yiste'day 
 Ah helt you on mah knees. 
 Ah members well yo' cuddlin' ways, 
 Yo whispe'in, ** Mammy please." 
 
 Ah members yo' firs' fishin' rod 
 An' de day yo' went to school. 
 Ah seen yo' steal dat sweetheart kiss 
 By de elm tree at de pool. 
 
 Yo' look jes' lak yo' Gran'pa 
 
 In eighteen sixty one, 
 
 When he tuk his ole squir'l musket 
 
 An' went out to see de fun. 
 
 \ 
 
 An' yo' Gran'ma set an' waited. 
 
 She sca'cely wept or spoke. 
 
 But when de news come he wuz killed 
 
 Her heart jes' tuk an' broke. 
 
 An' now yo's gwine oflF to fight. 
 Away acrost de sea. 
 An' yo's gwine to wed Mis' Mary 
 Wha' you kissed behin' de tree. 
 
 C73 3 
 
Yo' look so big an' hansome, 
 
 Yo' face jes' shines wid joy, 
 
 But Gawd! Mars' George, Ah t'ink yo' still 
 
 Am Mammy's li'l boy. 
 
 Ah's sons an' gran'sons ob my own, 
 But dey all Stan's outside, 
 Yo's alluz filled ole Mammy's heart 
 An' be'n her gre'tes' pride. 
 
 So now Ah'll tek Mis' Mary 
 An' gyard her safe an' true 
 An' pray de Lord to let dese eyes 
 When dyin' res' on yo'. 
 
 n74 3 
 
THE AVIATOR 
 
 o 
 
 H, you who have circled on magic wings 
 Through the infinite chambers of cleansing 
 
 blue, 
 Can you ever come back to earthly things, 
 Can you find down here any work to do? 
 
 Perhaps in the pathless flights through space 
 Your spirit is quickened, your body freed, 
 And we who are bound by time and place 
 Unreasoning say that you are dead. 
 
 Somewhere in the sky, unshackled, free. 
 Through Time's unending, voiceless deep. 
 Your spirit soars to victory. 
 While earth-bound, we the vigil keep. 
 
 n7s3 
 
RESIGNATION 
 
 I 
 
 NEVER thought that I should come 
 To meet the world with smiles again, 
 I dared not hope to feel surcease 
 Of bitterness and frenzied pain; 
 My heart so long had been at war 
 With Fate which took my all and gave 
 Naught but a cross in far-off France 
 To mark my Dearest's lonely grave. 
 
 Great Heart, so strong and sure in life. 
 
 Yet gentle as a little child; 
 
 What wonder that I stumble on 
 
 The path your love has once beguiled? 
 
 With breaking heart I lay aside 
 
 Your cross with palms, your shining sword; 
 
 Not these the things my spirit craves, 
 
 One touch of flesh! One whispered word! 
 
 "But give him back to me, O God! 
 Broken in body, lame or blind/' 
 This was the prayer I made nor knew 
 Fate's bitterest blows are sometimes kind. 
 Today before my gaze there passed 
 A train of wounded men from France; 
 Some had no legs, some had no arms, 
 Some stared ahead with sightless glance. 
 
 Trembling I turned my face away. 
 Salt, stinging tears suffused my eyes. 
 As in a vision, Heaven-sent, 
 
 1:76] 
 
I saw that Death had been your prize. 
 Dear Love, along the golden road 
 To which Life held the open door, 
 I saw you reach perfection's goal, 
 Triumphant, whole for evermore. 
 
 1:77]