II l!l!l III! liiilliil Class _rps_^5n2> Book J: ^ gC g> Ciopight>I°. iSAS COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Copyright 1903, by Edward W. Barnard. ^U Rights Reser-ved. THE LIBRARY OF CONbRESS, Two Copies fteceiveti OCT 9 1903 Copyoght fcntry CLASS 'a K(c. No '1 / ^ -L^ ! COPY b. |! With a few exceptions these verses are familiar to at least a part of the Public. The Author's grateful acknowledgment is due the Editors and Publishers of The Bookman, Broivning' s Magazine, The Criterion, The Critic, yudge. The Land of Sumhine, (now Out West) Lt.'lie's (Veehly^ Life, (New York) Life, (Brooklyn) Lippincott" s, The Literary fVo'ld, The Munsey, The Neiv England Magazine, Outing, The Pbilisttnt, Puck, The Smart Set, Toivn Topics, The Transcript, (Bostpn) Truth, Vogue and fVbat To Eat, for their courtesy in per- mitting the re-print of those lines which first appeared in their columnsj also to Messrs. Oliver Ditson & Co., Boston, for the privilege of using the words of the songs "Falila" and **I Didn't Mean To," published by them. The collection includes as well contributions to Chips, The Fly Leaf, Godey'' s Magazine, The Jester, (Boston), Kate Field'' s Washington, The Lotus, and other Journals of lesser note now defunct. Printed at The G or ham Press y Boston. : ;c To Flora Loyal Friend, Devoted Sweetheart and Ideal Wife— this Book is Lovingly Dedicated Much Memory — more Imitation; — Some Accidents of Inspiration; — Some Essays in that finer Fashion Where Fancy takes the place of Passion; — And some {of course^ more roughly wrought Id catch the Advocates of 'Thought, — Austin Dobson. Ohyfor the Poet-Voice that swells To lofty truths, or noble curses — / only wear the cap and bells. And yet some Tears are in my verses. I softly trill my sparrow reed. Pleased if but One should like the twitter; Humbly I lay it down to heed A music or a minstrel fitter, — Frederick Locker, CONTENTS CELEBRATING MINE OWN Flora's Playing - - - - 15 A Fair Example - - - 15 Anacreontics - - - - 16 Falila - - - - 17 To My Affianced - - - 18 To an Old Year and a New - - 19 Consistency - - - - 20 When Stella Came - - - 20 What Stella Sees - - - 21 I Didn't Mean To! - - - 22 A Small and Early - - - 23 The Measure of Stella's Love - 24 A Typical Sunday - - - 25 A Lenten Ballad - _ - 26 IN DIVERS MOODS Consolation - . - - 31 Impressions - - - 31 Heart of the Woods - - - 32 When Middle Age Has Older Grown - 32 Le Calme - - - "33 At the End _ _ . ^^ To a Little Apostate: Aetat Seven - 35 The New Circe - - - 36 Bitter Memories - - - 36 Betty to Herself - - - 37 On New Year's Eve - - -38 Old Valentines - - - 39 A Winter Song - - - - 40 A Ballad of Old Skates - - 41 For the Eye of Hortense - - - 42 Of Gretchen, Who Comes With the Ale 43 LITTLE FLINGS AT LITTLE FOLLIES His Waterloo - - - - 47 The Deduction of Misogynist - 47 Where Culture Failed - - - 47 Hairless and Heirless - - 48 A Misconstruction - - - 48 If John Alden Came to New England 49 Assertion and Proof - - - 49 An Awakening - - - 50 Three Old Birds - - - 50 There's a Time for Everything - 50 A Father Speaks - - -51 A Verification - - - 51 Two on the Camel - - - 5 2 The Omnipresent Pessimist - - 53 The First Clouds - - "53 On Circumstantial Evidence - - 54 Ceramic Melancholy - - - 54 The Old and the New Athenian - 55 The Clothing of Cupid - - - 56 February Weather - - - 57 In the Age of Fancy Bosoms - 58 A Tale of Three Cities - - 59 Average People - - - - 60 Little Lyrics of Sorrow - - 61 Emancipated - - - - 62 The Matron Soliloquizes - - 63 The Confession of a Mean Man - - 65 To G. W. on His Birthday - - 66 An Easter Soliloquy - - - 66 A Forecast - - - - 67 An Even Thing - - - - 68 A Lay of Modern Millinery - - 69 Upon Saying Good-bye - - - 70 Reversing the Positions - - 71 Exercising Their Prerogative - - 72 Making Her Task Easy - - 73 The Questions of the Day - "73 The Division of a Thanksgiving Bird - 74 Past, Future and Present - - "75 Winter Sports — A Contrast - - 76 An Appreciation - - - - 11 THE CONCEITS OF A GENERAL LOVER ^ inter Roses - - - 81 Leigh Hunt Revised - - - 81 In Doubt - - - - 81 The Captious Fair - - - 82 Her Valentines: 1898-9 - - 82 A Drive and Its Consequence - 83 How Times Have Changed! - - 83 The Thrift of Alicia - - - 84 The Conceit of a General Lover - 84 The Proxy of a Saint - - - 85 At the February Tea-Party - - 87 A Lenten Wish - - - -87 At Vespers - - - 88 Natalie Looks Forward - - - 89 At Easter - - - . g^ A Plan that Worked too Well - - 90 A Lenten Address to Cavillers - 91 Where I Come In - - - 92 Of April Sunshine - - - 93 The Ways of Blanche in Spring - - 94 A Song of Seedtime - - 95 Urbs in Rure- A Moving Tale - - 96 Upon Bernice in May - - 97 A Small Admission - - - 97 Hazards - - - - 98 Lines to Hortense in June - - - 99 Showing Cause - - - 100 The Magic of Drusilla - - - 100 Of Summer Reading - - loi The Little One Man Wants - - 102 Polliette on Thanksgiving - - 103 An Avatar of Yule - - - 1 04 The Transit of Mars - - 105 Mary's Spinet - - - - 106 The Specialty of Prue - - 107 The Lover Finds a Way - - - 108 Heigho! - - - - 109 An Aggravated Case - . - iio The Ballad of an Ultra Girl - - 1 1 1 SONNETS ^ Patience - 115 Indifference - - - - 115 Ingratitude - 116 Diana's Baths 116 Sea Dow^ns - 117 The Road to ** Paradise" 117 In Autumn Lanes - 118 When Winter Widows All the North - 118 Palmistry _ _ _ - 1^9 La Coupd'Essai _ _ _ 119 Spring - - - - 120 The Sop to Cerberus 120 To Constance in a Picture Hat 121 To Constance on All - Hallow Eve 121 La Chrysantheme 122 The Dyspeptic to His Familiar 122 To a Wishbone - - 123 A New Year Sonnet in Dialogue 124 [ GALLIC BONDS (Quatrains - - - - - 127 Unrecognized _ _ - 127 Wolf! Wolf! - - - - 127 A Modern Instance - - - 127 A Marital Necessity - - 127 On a Poetaster - - - 127 An Optimistic Tailor - - - 128 The Influence of Art - - 128 And There Are Others - - - 128 The Power of Slang - - - 128 The Nation's Birthday - and Mabel's - 128 Triolets Winter Violets - - - 129 Hope Springs Eternal - - - 129 Converts - - - " I3<^ Rondels On Her Kitchen Apron - - -131 When Wound a Forester so Blithe a Horn? 131 Rondeaus Reflections - - - - 13^ My Chiffonier - - - - 132 The High CoifFurc - - 133 To Skate with Hermia - - -133 An Explanation - - 134 To Bernice in Lent - - - 134 On Myra's Heart - - - 135 What Harrie Said - - -135 When the Kiss Had Been Taken - 136 The Tea She Brews - - - 136 Of a Fancy Skater - - I37 Has Lent a Charm? - - - ^37 As Grace Unpacked - - - 138 What Could She Do? - - - 138 A Dissembler - - - 1^9 The Maidens to St. Valentine - - ^39 Two Rondeaus _ . _ As the World Goes 140 141 Rondeau Redouble Under White Apple Boughs - - .142 Pantoum The Tribulations of Tryphena - - 143 BALLADES Ballade of Entreaty - - - 147 Ballade of Longing - . - 148 Ballade des Papillons - - 149 Ballade of Modern Love - - -150 Ballade of the Tenth Muse - 151 Ballade of Chivalry - - - 152 Ballade of Many Loves - - - ^53 Ballade for Bedtime - - - 1 54 Ballade of Frocks and Pinafores - '^55 Ballade of Acadie - - - 156 Ballade of Annisquam - - - 157 Ballade of the Golden State - - 158 Ballade of Falila and Western Days ■ i 59 Ballade of the Avenue - 160 Ballade of March Winds - - 161 Ballade of the Borrower Month \ 62 Ballade of April Weather - - - 163 Ballade of Shrovetide - 1 64 Ballade of a Summer Night - - 165 Ballade of Blue Seas - - 166 Ballade of a City Bower - - - 167 Ballade of the Summer Park - - 168 Ballade of the Yacht - - - 169 Ballade of October Dusk - - 17° Ballade of Thanksgiving - - - i?' Ballade of the Mistletoe Bough - 172 Ballade of White Year - - - 1 73 Ballade against the Utopian Screed - 174 Ballade of the Reviewer - - - 175 Ballade of Current Fiction - - 176 Ballade of the Contemporaneous Drama - 177 Ballade of Her Bonbonniere - - 17^ Ballade of Business Letters - - ^79 Ballade of Age and Youth - - 180 Ballade of Snobs - - -181 Ballade of a Modern Witch - - 182 Ballade Penseroso - - - 183 Ballade of the Snowdrop - - 184 Ballade of the Evergreen and True Friendship 1 8 5 Ballade of the Song and the Plaint 86 ''More Poets yet P^ — / hear him say, Arming his heavy hand to slay; — ** Despite my skill and 'swashing blozVy^ They seem to sprout where'* er I go; — 1 killed a host but yesterday /" Slash on, O Hercules I Tou may. Tour tasF Sy at besty a Hydra-fray; And though TOU cut y not less will grow More Poets yet ! Too arrogant ! For who shall stay The first blind motions of the May? Who shall out-blot the morning glow? — Or stem the full hearths overflow? Who? There will risey till Time decay. More Poets yet ! — Austin Dob son. CELEBRATING MINE OWN FLORA'S PLAYING She played. Apart we sat in rapt delight. All chatter hushed and gossip put to flight. What was the piece ? I really forget ! A fugue perhaps, a nocturne, canzonet — In music-lore I am no learned wight ! But this I know, withal my learning* s slight. Deft was her execution and aright; And later, in a rollicking duet She played a part. All done, she turned about, and then despite The distance of my seat — distracting plight — I caught a flash of lace, a gleam of jet — A long-drawn, sweet, deep sigh — our eyes had met ! And in all Life's best things from that dear night. She played a part! A FAIR EXAMPLE Add to the thousand little lights That play in Flora's hair. The thousand thousand in her eyes That burn so constant there: To these the marble curves of brow And neck, the warmer lines Of ears transparent, delicate, — Shells set in sunny shrines. To these the milk-white seeds that gleam In her pomegranate mouth That speaks with such a winning lisp The language of the South. 15 Set down the dimples, if you can Count such elusive things. That twinkle in her cheeks, as in Her sky, the lamps Night brings. Then choose a figure to express The amplitude of hers, (A graceful one of speech will serve So it but truth avers. ) And if in summing you are skilled A deal or not at all. The footing of these myriad charms You'll find is very small ANACREONTICS Dele from the pledge my name. Writhing 'neath a drift of blame. Where but now I wrote it fair. When my hand inscribed it there My slow eyes had not beheld Flora's charms. The mist dispelled. Now, though all light fades from mine. From her eyes I'll drink the wine! Dele from your scroll my name. Blot it out, nor cry me shame. Prate not of sobriety — Prithee, what's your cant to me.? I'll be sworn that you must needs Fashion more alluring creeds Ere less oft her lover sips The red wine of Flora's lips! i6 Drop my name, and in its place Put some wight's whom Flora's face Has not turned a Bacchanal. I see but equivocal Virtue in your abstinence When such eyes and lips dispense. Cheering as the blue above. The life-giving wine of love. FALILA (song) Once I worshipped orbs of blue, Falila, 'Twas long, long ere I knew you, I would say. For since in your deep, dark eyes Cupid took me by surprise. Not a charm in others lies Falila. Theirs is dear and constant light Falila, That transcends the stars of night As the day. And the blue eyes cease to be Limpid lakes of witchery When they softly beam on me, Falila. Refrain : Fa/i/a, Falila, dear Falila,, Coy, unassuming, unvain : Love does not blind us as sage fe hows say But rather makes Beauty more plain. Once I held the golden hair, Falila, 17 Beautiful beyond compare. But to-day In your wealth of tresses brown I behold a fairer crown Fitter far for world renown Falila. Yet if Fate had giv'n in place Falila, Of dark eyes and gypsy grace. Sweet as they. Golden hair and eyes of blue. To first tenets I'd been true Seeing so much good in you, Falila. Refrain: Falila^ Falila y dear Falila^ Coyy unassuming^ unvain . Love does not blind us as sage fellows say But rather makes Beauty more plain. TO MY AFFIANCED Should you fail me, O dear heart! What were then Life's pleasance to me? Smile, with hope my pulses start; Frown, my sweet, and you undo me. Let all good of Earth be mine. What would gold and fame avail me? Nectar would be dregs of wine. Should you fail me! Should you fail me, O dear heart ! Cursed would be the years I knew you: Cursed the days from you apart. When in dreams I came to woo you. i8 I would sorrow and repine Though men as their chief might hail me: Ah! the sun would cease to shine Should you fail me! Should you fail me? No, dear heart! God and fate together drew us. We'll be true through smile and smart While the life-blood courses through us. Though our day to dark decline. Doubts o( you shall ne'er assail me: Love to Lust will sell its shrine Ere you fail me! TO AN OLD YEAR AND A NEW Good-bye old year that wert so kind. You leave me richer far to-night In all the goods the world holds dear Than when you gladdened first my sight. Indulgently you granted, too, A tittle of the fame I sought; But, greater than repute or pelf. Another treasure still you brought. And when I speak of you I'll say: ''The year that gave me Falila.^* And you, wee stranger, at the gate Whom presently we must let in. How shall one have his welcome run Your favor and your smiles to win? A greeting! May it be your will To keep us as you find us, blest; But if to me, so happy now. Some measure of distress seems best. Take gold and name, but O I pray Leave me my loving Falila! »9 CONSISTENCY My wife defines athletics *' Brute force upon parade," And downs their staunchest champions with A lingual fusillade. She's wrong, but quite consistent. For, loyal to her views. She even shuns the study when Pm wrestling with my muse. WHEN STELLA CAME (song) When Stella came I thought my heart was full to over- flowing Of Her, but little more than child herself, who gave me Stella, But Oh! the heart's capacity is past all mortal knowing. For mine holds Stella now and, in the old place, Stella's mother ! Refrain: There' s always a place for one more in the hearty The store-house of love is as wide as the sea. And all it demands of its tenants is part Of theirs that shall always in readiness be. And though my heart to-day appears to be a well-filled dwelling. Whose owner looks nor right nor left to find him other tenants. It has, perhaps, a chamber wide and ample — there's no telling ! — For yet another stranger, should one come, if like my Stella. Refrain: There^ s always a place for one more in the heart. The store-house of love is as wide as the sea. And all it demands of its tenants is part Of theirs that shall always in readiness be. WHAT STELLA SEES "Papa, I see a baby in your eyes!'''* Though all day long the sun his light Sheds on us at a lavish rate. The noon of my content's at night Just when the short hand's nearing eight. For that's the hour my witch of four Claims for her very, very own! The paper drops ! — she's at the door ! — Then presto! she is on her throne And whispering in that voice so dear. Aye with the same shy, sweet surprise. Her tiny mouth close to my ear: **I see a baby in your eyes! " A baby in my eyes! Ah! yes. And that is all xh^x Stella sees: She vaguely knows when they caress. And by their gloom when things displease. But naught appears upon the glass Which mirrors her bright face, to tell What complex feelings crowd each pass Behind its smiling sentinel. Anxiety for future years. What's that to Stella? She descries No token of my hopes and fears. But just ** Who bashless revileth his age. Decrying its sons to a man. He soureth and soileth his page As no hack's indecency can. If he in our favor would grow And finds in our pleasure a meed, 'Twere folly, or much I mistrow. To write a Utopian screed. And whoso essays to engage With dry psychological bran The reader: who toils for his wage On verses that never will scan. Of themes to verse mal a propos. Leaves heritage none to his seed Of Fame. And 'twere vainer, sweet foe. To write a Utopian screed. The pessimist is not a sage To put the World under a ban: Heroics are shallows of rage — To rant is a horrible plan! — The rhapsodist, yet doth he so! A fig for their air-castle creed. Who all their best talents bestow ••' To write a Utopian screed! My Prince, to all lengths do they go, And sates with fool's gold each his greedy. Who Reason and Right overthrow To write a Utopian screed. 71 BALLADE OF THE REVIEWER I've read critiques for many years All in an easy-going way; The serious, that move to tears. The truly heartening and gay. And I have marvelled (as you may) That volumes come from every source Which bring this estimate in play: **His latest book's a tour deforce!'''* If faint praise damns, as it appears. To what does overpraise betray? 'Twould seem that the reviewer fears Against bad writing to inveigh. One recently — to my dismay — A *maiden effort' to endorse. Wrote: * 'Here's an author come to stay^ His latest book's a tour de force !'^ A tale of travel in Algiers As prosy as the badger's gray; A 'verse collection' hinting shears, A *sea romance' as dry as hay! Of politics a warped survey, A "Dissertation on Divorce" — I read of each in this array: "His latest book's a tour de force f^ Golf weather: Copy due to-day; None ready — but he plays, of course! Knowing 'twill be quite safe to say: "His latest book's a tour de force V 17: BALLADE OF CURRENT FICTION In the Gulliver days of my youth, (O the Baron was dear to me, too!) I heard people pair fiction and truth In a figure familiar to you. The deduction was sound, that I knew. But I say, fearing no contradiction. With a current romance in review. Truth no longer is stranger than fiction ! Time was when I'd given a tooth For a tale of the West — of the Sioux Or Apache — that thrilled in good sooth As no fine fancy could, through and through. Ah! but taste that much favored ragout — The ''Historical Novel". Its diction And chronology prove, both askew, Truth no longer is stranger than fiction. Monte Crista wrote Dumas, sans ruth For them that excitement eschew; M. Verne piled up book-shelf and booth With deep mysteries none could undue. But 'twas not till the still growing crew Of biographers brought down affliction That, sighing, we fostered the view: Truth no longer is stranger than fiction. -As I read the new books (for I do) Strong and stronger becomes my conviction Despite what may once have been true. Truth no longer is stranger than fiction. 176 BALLADE OF THE CONTEMPORANEOUS DRAMA Though badly involved be the plot. The action deplorably slow. The sentiment imbecile rot. Your Public will crowd to the *show' And make it the veriest *go' If the star exploits gowns and a hat Designed by some Frenchman & Co. The Costume Play's where we are at! A man may O'Connor * a lot Through a piece whose sanguineous flow In Bowery parlance is *hot' And shock the least captious, but so He wears plumes in his jaunty chapeau, A sword at his side and all that. His row is dead easy to hoe. The Costume Play's where we are at ! The Play with a Purpose is not The power it was, and I trow We've each mother's son clean forgot The Problems discussed con and pro. (Mostly con!) We're at present aglow With frippery worship. (It's flat The playwrights are out for the 'dough' — The Costume Play's what they are at!) (Addressed to conscientious but unsuccessful aspirants for dramatic honors.) It's needless to have, you should know. Your lines down so terribly pat: More care on your dressing bestow ! — The Costume Plaj* s where we are at ! *Reference is made here to the methods of James Owen O'Con- nor, one of New York's most noted (!) Tliespians. 177 BALLADE OF HER BONBONNIERE Now Cupid said he pitied my lone state, {lis freedom envied he, else I mistrow!) And bade a maiden come to my heart's gate Pull at its latch-string hard, nor quarter show. And there she stands, deep in disfavor's snow! Her brindled locks of sometime bleaching hints. And that I could forgive the girl; but O Her bonbonniere is filled with peppermints! I'm not o'er-eager for a priest-bound mate [blow. While twenties' winds from Pleasure's play-ground And whe7i I wed no Quakerish-sedate, Be-wimpled prude shall mix my biscuit-dough! This Cupid' s-choice wears figured frocks that throw In shade for loudness old-year bed-quilt chintz — And that I could forgive the girl; but woe! Her bonbonniere is filled with peppermints! Imagine sitting at a play with Kate. (That is her name.) You hear a smothered **pho!' Mouchoir to face your neighbor sits, distrait. While Kitty munches on and doesn't know. I might forget in time — a year or so — The sad illusion of her cheeks' false tints: This is the straw that bends the camel low: Her bonbonniere is filled with peppermints! Dan Cupid, bundle up your darts and go ! And prithee take the damsel with you, since I cannot love her if I will or no — Her bonbonniere is filled with peppermints ! 17S BALLADE OF BUSINESS LETTERS Dear Sir (or Sirs) : — they're started so — Your valued favor of — (the date) — Has come to hand. We give below Our prices, and beg leave to state Upon the terms you indicate Your order will (no ifs or ands!) Receive attention adequate. Awaiting your esteemed commands, — Dear Sir: — (or Sirs, if there's a Co.) — To-day we're very pleased to slate Your kind commission. Goods will go A month hence by the fastest freight. We trust you will not hesitate To order in our other brands — Each one is better than its mate! Awaiting your esteemed commands, — Dear Sir (or Sirs) : Please let us know How long we must anticipate The payment of account you owe. Now long past due. While we should hate (Collection to accelerate) The matter in our lawyers' hands To place — we cannot longer wait! Awaiting your esteemed commands, — Prince, ballads' burdens celebrate Themes sumless as the Ocean's sands: Trade, one refrain sings early, late, — **Awaiting your esteemed command .'' 179 BALLADE OF AGE AND YOUTH I'm forty past. There is a tinge of gray Upon my beard that tonics can't displace; And as I shaved to — yes, it was to-day. The mirror hinted to my very face That I am aging; eke that it could trace Crowfeet at either eye; I should be told! But while this heart of mine keeps its young pace **My glass shall not persuade me I am old!" I'm portly grown; but not too stout to play An inning now and then; can bag a brace Of any feathered things that come my way; Or take a five-bar gate upon the chase. For me there's still excitement in a race; Nor have I yet begun to count my gold — Until I cannot tell the deuce from ace, **My glass shall not persuade me I am old!" I'm grown a trifle stiff — a stick, some say — (My gaiters have grown harder to unlace !) But manage still to mount and ride away In saddle or a-wheel with old-time grace. And I can pirouette if I've the space, Or waltz till Bud's mama is prone to scold; Can flirt a very — well, in any case, **My glass shall not persuade me I am old!" She owns to twenty-three. Ah, fickle, base! Who jilted me, as many years grown cold. Time, while you sour her with no wry grimace, **My glass shall not persuade me / am old!" 1 80 BALLADE OF SNOBS {^Ir regular^) He brings his garb over the ocean That some Cockney hack has created; At; 1 cherishes, somehow, a notion iiroadway should not be cultivated. The while Cousin Snip, much elated. Ships his tweeds as ill-cut as you please, — Ah! how would its dainties be rated If Dresden were not overseas? Madame, her soap, salts, perfume, lotion. Gowns, lingerie, hats overweighted; The missal that's half her devotion, (By some frowsy Celt consecrated,) — The head of her house, dissipated. She must needs go abroad for all these! Ah ! how would its dainties be rated If Dresden were not overseas? Your girl. Sir, will sip no love-potion Ofhome-make, and yonder's mis-mated, My boy shows a deal of emotion If here he must be educated. And we, you and I, have debated Our Land's right to any degrees, — Ah! how would its dainties be rated If Dresden were not overseas? Europa, your trap is well-baited: We swallow both hook and the cheese! Ah! how would its dainties be rated If Dresden were not overseas? i8i BALLADE OF A MODERN WITCH {^Irregular') I'll warrant you Kate is a witch. For when she so much as displays A dimple I've straightway a stitch Somewhere near my heart that dismays. And pains that no ointment allays. Nor lotion, nor liniment nips — It's well she's too late for the gaze Of Endicott, Bradstreet and Phips! I'll warrant you Kate is a witch Though 'gainst all weird things she inveighs My hopes to their uttermost pitch Her eyes, if she wills it, can raise: Or dash them, if so she essays. To depths of eternal eclipse As Stygian dark as the ways Of Endicott, Bradstreet and Phips. I'll warrant you Kate is a witch In spite of her positive nays. And still with each twinge and each twitch Her craft takes a pleasanter phase. Whatever in me this betrays. In truth of romance it quite strips The most undesirable bays Of Endicott, Bradstreet and Phips. Prince, if in the old Salem days As Kate's, there were pleas from such lips, I can't say enough in dispraise Of Endicott, Bradstreet and Phips! 182 BALLADE PENSOROSO Oh ! dreary twelvemonth that has crept With laggard steps the seasons through. Thy cruel clouds have coldly kept Their sweeter side close from my view. Within thy skies no tender blue. No dancing sunlight on the bay, — As when thou dawned, my grief is new. My Love is dead a year to-day. With no dear joy my heart has leapt As in old time 'twas wont to do: No flow'rs on May's young bosom slept With redolence and charm of hue; And June was garlanded in rue. Mid- August's brightest days were gray. And with each hour my sorrow grew. My Love is dead a year to-day. Then autumn's dreadful tempests swept Across her grave, where sombre yew And writhing willow groaned and wept In trist accord with me. Less true Hadst thou been, bleeding heart, say vv^ho Would merrier be than W Yet, nay ! Beat loyal on, true hearts are few ! My Love is dead a year to-day. Friend, naught with brightness can endue Th' incessant winter of my way: Nor light I seek, nor mirth pursue, — My Love is dead a year to-day. iS3 BALLADE OF THE SNOWDROP *'Out of the snoWy the snowdrop — out of death comes life:' After everness of days White with fleece from countless bales Piled breast-high along the ways Shroud-like, — when the wind bewails Earth's dead glory, — loud All Hails Greet not least of God's dear gifts. This, whose promise never fails. Pale, sweet snowdrop 'tween the drifts. Bloom-deep boughs and budding sprays; Quick release of snow-bound swales; Glad, new notes of woodland praise. Green-clad groves and gentle gales: Summer light on silver sails, — These it promises and shifts From the heart all wintry ails. Pale, sweet snowdrop 'tween the drifts. Harbinger of earthly Mays; Symbol of celestial vales. And the life One's blest hands raise From the dark of Death's chill gaols: Spirit in the gloom that quails Reach your lute and close its rifts. Here is come that Hope entails, — Pale, sweet snowdrop 'tween the drifts. Dear my sister, graveyard pales Lose their awe when winter lifts And the new life's sign unveils, — Pale, sweet snowdrop 'tween the drifts. BALLADE OF THE EVERGREEN AND TRUE FRIENDSHIP Now to the rigors of this aguish plain Who will address a verse of worshipment? Whose winds are Mistral-wild, and whose slant rain Is keen and cold as summer show'rs are gent: Whose brook, a wanton and incontinent. Intrigues with Fresco, though late did she shine With Sunbeam's warmest kiss. Who do incline To sing this widowed heath, shent of all sheen? None? None will do this? Then the joy be mine — There is our Friendship's type, the evergreen. It was but yesternight, inconstant swain. That you the frail, blue myosotis sent Enfolded with a gushing quatorzain Unto your newest dear, yet is it spent. And you the ardor of your runes repent. Though whea you wrote, fret did you and repine Because you could not promise in each line Eternal truth. And this was but yestreen! Fit emblem of your faith, this faded sign! There is our Friendship's type, — the evergreen. Knights of idlesse who dominate Cockaigne, And who indenizen the vast extent Yclept Bohemia, you do profane The holy name of Friendship that invent A chance to call it where you most frequent: You, whose best joy is all cocottes and wine. Pledge sweet good-fellowship in bitter Rhine, Then in an hour you curse the cup and quean! What symbol has this fellowship divine? There is our Friendship's type, — the evergreen. Time, crave we this, who owed you much lang syne: To ever kneel before a spotless shrine To honor consecrate and candor clean. That we may tell it of the constant pine — There is our Friendship's type, the evergreen! 185 BALLADE OF THE SONG AND THE PLAINT Where comes Orsino of a tristful mien. Cheeks wan with languishment and fingers cold. To voice his love anew in dole and threne, — Mark you, where comes Orsino unconsoled. None stay to hear his bitter grievance told; But flee in haste his rueful presence, lest His low lament disquiet ev'ry breast. Unwisest swain is he who woos his saint With threnodies full of his heart's unrest: Who loves the song whose burden is a plaint? Mark you the sweet young year whose skirts of green Are stitched with harebell blue and crowfoot gold: Is there a churl who can so much misween As think her fairer when she has grown old And all her rivers sigh? When winds o'er-bold The good trees ravish, desecrate the nest Of shiv'ring birds and sough their sorriest? Give me of Maying measures, dulcet-faint. These of all twelvemonth melodies are best: Who loves the song whose burden is a plaint? Wherefore, my poet, is thy pen so keen To write of tragedies? And ye who hold Euterpe first of all the Nine, ye glean What good, what pleasure of the dirge ye scrolled? Men love not tears, nor knells for being tolled ! Go emulate the thrush who have transgressed And given monody for mirth! A pest Be to the knave whose grief knows no restraint ! Sing us a ditty that is full of jest: Who loves the song whose burden is a plaint? Prince, 'tis as you have said, we all attest. The minstrel should not leave us sore distressed : The world with woe is all too well acquaint ! He surely of a de'il is possessed Who loves the song whose burden is a plaint. i86 en's I ii^