PS 3537 
 .C275 
 F3 
 1913 
 Copy 1 
 
 aint Chords 
 
 popma 
 
 B 
 
 y 
 
 GEORGE SCHEFTEL 
 
Faint Chords 
 
 PoptttB 
 
 By 
 
 GEORGE SCHEFTEL 
 
 RADICAL PUBLISHING CO., 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
 
"T5355J.3 
 
 Copyright, 1913 
 By George Schefteu 
 
 -:^ 
 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 At the request of several of my friends, I have com- 
 piled in this humble volume a few of my poems, the 
 majority of which have appeared in the Daily People 
 during the last two or three years. 
 
 It is with a beating heart, that I launch this work 
 into the sea of Literature, already so overcrowded, but 
 yet with the hope that my little bark will not be wrecked 
 upon the reefs of criticism or the shoals of indifference. 
 
 I hereby wish to acknowledge my debt to comrade 
 Solon De Leon, who, while Literary Editor of the Daily 
 People, has helped me greatly with his kind advice, and 
 also my sincere gratitude to many more of my friends 
 who have made the publication of this volume possible. 
 
 G. S. 
 
 Brooklyn, N. Y., August, 1913. 
 
 3 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Ty My Muse 7 
 
 Tile Dreamer 8 
 
 Of Her 9 
 
 The Flowers 9 
 
 Spring 10 
 
 Winter 10 
 
 Eain Drops 11 
 
 The Oak 13 
 
 At An ih-'Au ]Jeeit il 14 
 
 Songs 14 
 
 Lines to Music 15 
 
 To Lydia 15 
 
 To Dresden 16 
 
 To E 16 
 
 To S 17 
 
 To Elizabeth 1^ 
 
 The Palisades 18 
 
 Abandon 20 
 
 The Poet 21 
 
 The Conqueror , 21 
 
 Ode to Pen and Paper 23 
 
 Outcast 24 
 
 The Sickly Youth 26 
 
 The Waif 28 
 
 Stanzas ....,.,....,., ,.,,,,,..,. 30 
 
 5 
 
Thru the East Side 31 
 
 Freedom 34 
 
 Traveling Uphill 34 
 
 A Bird and a Flower 35 
 
 Chained By Greed 36 
 
 The Wind's Mission 30 
 
 Life 37 
 
 Sarcastic Answer 38 
 
 The Bluff-Bird 40 
 
 My Ideal 43 
 
 Reminiscences 44 
 
 Onward We Go 45 
 
 The Empty Chair 4(i 
 
 The Castle and The Valley 47 
 
 What the Moon Saw 48 
 
 The Wanderer 48 
 
 A Letter to a Friend 49 
 
 The Magician 50 
 
 On Seeing "Vision Ultime" 51 
 
 To My Friend 51 
 
 To You 52 
 
 Lincoln 53 
 
 My Sorrow 53 
 
 Brooklyn Bridge 54 
 
 In a Cemetery 56 
 
 Wrung from Above 58 
 
 Translations from the Russian 59 — 64 
 
 6 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 TO MY MUSE. 
 
 Inspiring Muse, spread thy etherial wings 
 And as thou passest, rustle thru the strings 
 Of my faint lyre, for I would fain 
 That thou inspire my sad refrain. 
 Com'st darkling?. . .As I gaze above, 
 tJpon tlie heavenly blue, where stars their love 
 Are whispering to the suffering Avorld; 
 I see thee faintly, with thy wings unfurled. 
 
 What cans't thou do among the silent skies, 
 AYliere swims the melancholy moon alone 
 And sighs forsaken, 'midst the crowded stars ? . 
 Here man's conceiving inspiration dies 
 And he becomes a brother to a stone, 
 Lost in the turmoil of a w^orld of lies. 
 0, let us rouse him with our melodies 
 Of fiery music full of flaming bars! 
 
 Thou'rt here at last ! My sensual lips proclaim 
 Thy kiss upon them, and my teeming brain 
 Begins to form the framework of my lay, — 
 But holds thee feebly . . . stay, 0, stay 
 Until my lyre has sung its feeble song; — 
 And do not fly away and roam among 
 The planets, where thy form I spied, 
 Invoking thee to come. . .and thou replied. 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Ah, how my soul pines for a hreath of air: 
 To live, to love, create and to advance. 
 To be with thee, to kiss thy lips fore'er 
 And to devour with insatiate eyes thy glance . . 
 Thou canst not stay, thou exile of the day. 
 The day-gates close against thy beating wings, 
 With yearning eye, I watch thee fly away . . . 
 But hark ! My lyre sings ! My lyre sings . . . 
 
 THE DEEAMER. 
 
 Yes, I can dream ! My fancy, taking flight 
 
 Beyond the clouds, beyond the moon's sad beams. 
 Can wander far away beyond the night 
 
 With all the world into the land of dreams; 
 And conjure forth such pleasant harmonies, 
 
 That the surrounding clamor faints away 
 Bewitched ; and million suns in radiant skies 
 
 Upon the universe begin to play. 
 Yes, I can dream and happy is my soul; 
 
 The things I vision forth are happy things; 
 So wondrous happy and so free from dole, 
 
 That in ecstasy my spirit sings, — 
 
 But, Oh what pain ! What sadness and what pain, 
 When stern Reality comes back again. 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 OF HER. 
 
 She's gone away from me 
 
 Ne'er to return; 
 Ne'er her again to see 
 
 Now must I learn. 
 Shattered her hope of life, 
 
 Broken her heart ; 
 Bended by bitter strife ;— 
 
 We had to part. 
 Life's bitter suffering, 
 
 Long she withstood, 
 She brought her offering— 
 
 None understood . , . 
 Such is the recompense 
 
 For her bright mind: 
 So much the world is dense, 
 
 So is it blind. 
 Gone now, forever gone. 
 
 Ne'er to return; 
 I am a lonely one . . . 
 
 Ah, Life is stern ! 
 
 THE FLOWERS. 
 
 First came the spring and the flowers were born; 
 
 All thru the summer they bloomed ; 
 When autumn arrived, it found them w^orn 
 
 And waiting for winter, to die ; — 
 But deep in the ground, their seeds abound, 
 
 Awaiting a smiling sky. 
 
 9 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 SPEING. 
 
 The feverish, lotus-laden breath of Spring, 
 
 Now warm, now cooled by breezes from the sea. 
 
 Comes, swiftly borne upon the sun's warm wing, 
 And wafts its newborn longings unto me. 
 
 A drowsy feeling presses on my brain. 
 
 And hateful turns the city's life and scent; 
 
 Air wants my breast, some shady vale to gain, 
 Eoom to expand, and breathe in full content. 
 
 But ah, this happiness is not for me, 
 
 For life is formed in quite a different way; 
 
 And tho my soul is pining to be free. 
 In these confines I still am doomed to stav. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 The snow fell, fell, fell, 
 The white flaky snow fell ; 
 
 Oh how chilling it fell. 
 
 On the hill and dell. 
 
 How it sparkled all over the grass. 
 
 B-r-r-r-r — How 'tis frosty cold ! 
 Pshew — How the wind is cold ! 
 
 And the frost, and the wind 
 
 As it wailed behind. 
 
 Froze the mere into opaque glass. 
 
 lO 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Glance at the trees, 
 They were once green trees; 
 What a glorious sight, 
 They are all turned white ; — 
 Each branch in a glove of snow. 
 
 b' 
 
 Look up at the sky, 
 
 At the white, sifting sky, 
 How the snow-moths dance. 
 How they play and prance, 
 Unaware of their end below. 
 
 RAIN DROPS. 
 
 Little rain drops jumping 
 
 At my window pane, 
 Drumming, beating, thumping. 
 
 Dancing like insane. 
 
 Seem to be a-telling 
 Of this wordly strife, 
 
 Of the strong, impelling 
 Forces in our life. 
 
 Little raindrops creeping 
 Down my window pane 
 
 As if they are weeping 
 Tears of deepest pain; 
 
 II 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Still a-flowing, flowing, 
 Catching other drops, 
 
 And in volume growing. 
 Flowing without stops; 
 
 Seem to tell a story 
 Full of pain and woe. 
 
 Full of sadness, worry^ 
 That still grow and grow, 
 
 Still, they are inspiring 
 In their ceaseless noise. 
 
 In their tireless firing. 
 In their earnest voice. 
 
 For they seem a-telling 
 Of a patient mind 
 
 With a voice compelling. 
 Hammering at the blind. 
 
 12 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE OAK. 
 
 There stands the tall, bare oak. His withered arms 
 Are stretched to heaven in resigned despair; 
 
 All vanished are his greenish, 3'outhful charms, 
 And left him standing like an outcast there. 
 
 A tumor 'round his trunk, a fungus growth. 
 Had like a spider sucked his very sap; 
 
 Embracing him in treacherous arms and loth. 
 To liberate the victim in its trap. 
 
 x\round him lay the prints of Autumn's trail: 
 Leaves fallen, trees uprooted, lying low; 
 
 As if there passed a great destructive gale. 
 And dealt to every twig its mortal blow. 
 
 Poor tree, surrounded by such havoc great. 
 
 And dying slowly, food for parasite; 
 Ah, that I could relievo thee from thy fate. 
 
 And bring thy long-lost beauties into sight ! 
 
 13 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 AT AN ORGAN EECITAL. 
 
 Sad is my heart. Enraptured organist, 
 Play once again that melody divine ! 
 
 My soul can scarce its plaintive tune resist 
 And pours hot tears upon your mystic shrine. 
 
 0, what an outpour in one melody ! 
 
 As if the whole world yearned in that one song; 
 My heart seems rent asi if in sympathy. 
 
 Which does its yearning and its pain prolong. 
 
 But still I long for it, and ask you play. 
 
 It chimes right in with my poor troubled heart ; 
 
 It drives all else but mine own pain away; 
 For all its pain becomes of mine a part. 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 When'er I hear those sweet, melodious songs, 
 That thrill the heart and water eyes with joy, 
 
 A gladness comes for which my spirit longs 
 And makes me feel again — a boy. 
 
 Enchanted, as a prince in fairy tales, 
 
 I drink the heavenly music with my soul; 
 
 That spreading wings around and 'round me sails. 
 In chains of bliss enthralls my spirit whole. 
 
 14 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 LINES TO MUSIC. 
 
 Sweet iiiu;?ic gently sails into my ear, 
 Like some i'air vessel urged by the wind 
 
 Across the waters to its haven near. 
 
 Bringing glad news and driving cares behind. 
 
 sounds, that soothe the soul, coax pain away, 
 And witch around a paradise of bliss, 
 
 Keep on a-floating on your wavy way ! 
 
 Sweep cares and sorrows that have made me grey, 
 
 And feelings of an empty void, away ! 
 
 Make me forget what my poor heart doth miss : 
 The love, the kindness, gentleness of man. 
 With Poverty away, beneath a ban. 
 
 Fill up the aching, longing heart, that craves, 
 Tho disappointment throw a sure-eyed sling. 
 To do, to help, some happiness to bring 
 
 To the poor fools that know not they are slaves. 
 
 Keep on ! My ears are thirsty ; every sound 
 
 Seems liJvC a treasure that is newly found. 
 
 TO LYDIA. 
 
 To thee, Lydia, whose very name 
 Sounds like the music of an angel's lyre; 
 To thee, who kindled in my heart a flame. 
 As constant, as the bright celestial fire 
 That virgins burned in temples to their gods; 
 To thee I write this song; to thee who art 
 The sweetest of thy sex; and when I see 
 Thy lovely hand, my heart's in ecstasy. 
 My breath is held as 'twixt two iron rods ; 
 And from thy tapering fingers ne'er my eyes depart. 
 
 15 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 TO DRESDEN. 
 
 When first I gazed into thy wondrous eyes, 
 Where mischief hirks and glances from beneath 
 
 Those long dark lashes of most beauteous size; 
 When first I gazed with wonder-charmed breath 
 
 At thy voluptuous beauty, sweetest maid ; 
 Thou did'st remind me of a gypsy queen, 
 Whom once on motion pictures I have seen, 
 
 Where she the part of heart-breaker had played ; 
 
 And Cupid straightway smote my beating heart 
 And sent the amorous flushes to my brow 
 
 With all the force of his enchanted dart. 
 And as I sit and think about thee now, 
 
 I wonder, as I tremble with delight: 
 
 Is this what poets name, love at first sight? 
 
 TO R 
 
 Oft, as I sit alone and dream 
 
 Of those two dark and longing eyes^ 
 Into my heart to creep they seem 
 
 And take it wholly by surprise. 
 Oft, as I think of that sweet face. 
 
 With its bewitching, dimpled smile. 
 And of those movements full of grace. 
 
 Like Cleopatra's of the Nile; 
 My heart begins to doubt and sigh, . . . 
 
 I love; but is my love returned? 
 0, you sweet beauty, tell, am I 
 
 To live and hope, my love's not spurned? 
 
 i6 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 TO S- 
 
 Remember once I heard you play? 
 
 Those sweet and soft enchanted strains 
 
 Have lighted up my heart, as rays 
 Light up the night for coming day; 
 My heart awoke in ecstacy ! ! . . . 
 
 x\nd then the music died away . . . 
 But still that wondrous fantasy 
 
 Clings to my mem'ry to this day. 
 
 TO ELIZABETH. 
 
 0, sister mine, thy tender heart 
 Is like the moonlight on the sea : 
 Soft, mellow, sensitive and free, 
 
 Thy tender heart. 
 
 0, sister mine, thy loving eyes 
 Are gentle, wistful, like a dove's ; 
 0, how they mirror all thy love ; 
 
 Thy gentle eyes. 
 
 0, sister mine, thy mellow voice 
 Is like an organ's soothing sound: 
 It drives my trouble to the ground; 
 
 Thv mellow voice. 
 
 J7 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE PALISADES. 
 
 Beneath the sombre, silent Palisades, 
 
 That loom like giants on the rocky shore; 
 
 Upon a hillock, in their gloomy shades, 
 We built a tent to rest till night were o'er. 
 
 They sleep. I can not ! Sleep seems far away. 
 
 The joy of life to ecstasy has grown ; 
 And night seemed only to succeed the day 
 
 For me to sit in silence and alone. 
 
 Alone ? No, not alone ! All lives around : 
 
 The noises in the grass, the glimm'ring lights, 
 
 And many a strange and oft-repeated sound 
 
 With now and then a "caw" "caw" from the heights ; 
 
 And like a fairy-flute, unseen, tho near, 
 
 The answering warble of another bird. 
 Whose music sounds the sweetest to my ear — 
 
 So very, very seldom is it heard. 
 
 And here I sit upon my moored boat, 
 
 Beneath the vast and silent starry sky. 
 And watch the moon in peace and silence float 
 
 Upon her undisputed course on high. 
 
 And there upon the flowing waters deep 
 She throws reflections of her swaying light 
 
 And watches little waves that playing leap 
 Their tiny way to Liliputian height. 
 
 i8 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 The boat is gently swaying to and fro, 
 And hugging tenderly the rugged rocks. 
 
 A quiet joy upon me seems to grow; — 
 
 The boat a cradle seems, which Nature rocks. 
 
 There is a spot some hundred yards away, 
 
 Where a rushing stream conies running down the 
 hill- 
 Thru darkness, rocks and trees, I felt my way 
 To drink the water of the pure clear rill. 
 
 And then returned again to watch and wait 
 And see the moon her patient path improve, 
 
 And marvel at mankind for all its hate, 
 
 When Nature breathes of softness and of love. 
 
 0, Solitude! With Nature and with Thee, 
 
 And not a mortal to disturb my muse; 
 Forgetting cares and sorrows that were free 
 
 Thruout my heart their aching to diffuse, — 
 Ah, that is bliss, that rarely is my lot. 
 Ah, if I could, I'd ne'er forsake this spot. 
 
 19 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 ABANDON. 
 
 I live in a land of bliss ! 
 
 A land where Cupid reigns ; 
 
 A land where his shaft is blown b}^ a waft 
 
 Of the Zephyr's loving kiss. 
 
 And all the hearts and all the veins 
 
 Pulsate and beat with bliss. 
 
 Palaces great are there ! 
 
 Gardens and fountains fair ! 
 
 Forests of faun and the golden dawn, 
 
 And the perfume of the air; 
 
 But my delight are the eyes so bright 
 
 Of my loving lady fair. 
 
 I live in a land of bliss ! 
 
 Mv life is one ereat delioht ! 
 
 My darling fair with charms so rare, 
 
 Makes the world look happy and bright. 
 
 And I have no care for her love is there ; — 
 
 I livCf in a land of bliss ! 
 
 ^o 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 A poet he, who feels a pang of pain 
 
 For every suff'ring creature in the world; 
 
 A poet he, who feels in every vein 
 
 An impulse sending him to fight the wrong 
 At which his voice and pen are ever hurled 
 
 In sorrowful or stormy angry song. 
 
 A poet he, whom neither fame nor power 
 Can lure away from his uprighteous road; 
 
 Whose mind and heart a^ like an iron tower 
 
 Kesist attack of all alluring lust. 
 
 Who'll fight for truth, nor fear a chide or goad, 
 
 Until his body goes again to dust. 
 
 THE CONQUEROR. 
 
 Look yonder, son, with what grandeur the sun 
 Mounts yon gray steed upon the heaven's bend ; 
 
 See how he throws his lances, one by one, 
 
 x\nd conquers sleeping earth, from end to end. 
 
 And watch the shadows vanish, one by one, 
 As pierced thru they sneak away in fear: — 
 
 And still he rides, — the glorious champion, — 
 While all the world reflects his bright career. 
 
 21 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 ODE TO PEN AND PAPER. 
 
 WTien sitting all alone at night, 
 
 With gloomy, cloudy thoughts devouring 
 All youthful visions light and bright, — 
 
 My sorrows must my pen be pouring 
 To relieve the aching of the heart ; 
 
 As if the paper tears receiving. 
 Keeps them — perhaps a little part 
 
 Of truth, to all my brothers, giving. 
 
 precious pen ! Without thy body long. 
 Without thy point fed by the flowing fluid ; 
 
 How could a poet sing his light or tearful song 
 And millions sip the sweetness of his flute! 
 
 paper white ! Thou recorder of thought ! 
 
 Thou memory of the world ! So many 
 Deeds upon thy surface smooth are wrought. 
 
 And thou complaining not, never protesting any. 
 
 Thou bendest not beneath Titanic weights 
 Of battles and of woes retold art not aware 
 
 Of history yet untold that thee awaits: 
 Of strife, of war, of worry and of care. 
 
 Thou art the whole wide world in pantomime, 
 Thou spreadest evil, it is very true; 
 
 But all the truths that thru your pages shine, 
 Will in the end our life with bliss bestrew. 
 
 22. 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Ah ! That I could like thee, look blandly at the world, 
 
 Smiling at all its struggles and its strife. 
 Unmindful of its lusts, injustice that is hurled 
 
 At those who are unfortunate in this life, 
 Feeling how small and base those are 
 
 Who take advantage, for their selfish use, 
 Who strip the beggar of his rags, and mar 
 
 Our lives, for jDOwer and rags of better hues. 
 
 Alas ! I can not ! Every wrong that's done 
 Stabs like a knife each vital, aching part. 
 
 0, brother love, 0, love where art thou gone ? 
 Why have you not enfruited every heart? 
 
 23 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 OUTCAST. 
 
 Huddled up, in shabby clothes. 
 Thin from want and cold, 
 
 Stood a woman — like a rose 
 Stemless, worn and old. 
 
 On a corner — wind was blowing — 
 
 Stood she in despair; 
 With large, pleading eyes, not knowing 
 
 Whether she should dare. 
 
 Xot a passer-by was stopping; 
 
 She had grown too old. 
 Only looks of scorn were dropping, 
 
 Looks so heartless, cold. 
 
 Yes ! When she was young and pretty. 
 
 All would turn her way. 
 All would call her dainty, witty, 
 
 Buy her night and day. 
 
 Now, by all she is forsaken, 
 
 Hunger grips her tight. 
 She would bless a soul if taken, 
 
 Kept for over night. 
 
 She would not want any payment, 
 Just some bread and tea. 
 
 Better than to walk the pavement — - 
 She'd so thankful be. 
 
 24 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 iieacler, now 1 know, you're thinking, 
 
 ''That is but her due! 
 'Tis the consequence of drinking. 
 
 Of her business, too V 
 
 Ah, but you are wrong, my reader. 
 
 She is not to blame. 
 'Twas your system drove her thither, 
 
 System full of shame ! 
 
 Want and hunger, baby crying. 
 
 That's the reason why, 
 Eather than to see it dying. 
 
 She let honor die. 
 
 Noble was her deed, dear reader 
 
 Noble was her shame ! 
 They are thru, no more they need her. 
 
 She bears all the blame. 
 
 My heart boils to see the power 
 Which on such life thrives. 
 
 Safely guarded in its tower 
 By your foolish lives. 
 
 25 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE SICKLY YOUTH. 
 
 As like a Turkish maid, who dolt's her veil 
 Her lover's kisses with her lips to hail, 
 Fair morn unveiled herself before my eyes, 
 As she came smiling from the azure skies. 
 And I was winding on my weary way 
 To toil in factory all the livelong day. 
 
 There grazed the cows upon the grassy field 
 
 And munched the fresh, the sweet, and juicy yield ; 
 
 While some: were lounging on a plashy place. 
 
 Or stood around with noses face to face. 
 
 And I was plodding on my toilsome way 
 
 To moil and grind my sickly youth away. 
 
 The sea was near. 0, how I longed to roam 
 Its vast domains, upon its billowy foam. 
 0, how I wished to man some sailing boat 
 And thru its waves with rested oars to float ! 
 But want kept urging me upon my way 
 And tore perforce my longing look away. 
 
 The flowers on the way were sweet to smell. 
 But at my touch their glistening tear-drops fell; 
 I wished to pick a few to take with me. 
 But pity smote my hand reproachfully. 
 
 At last the factory gates loomed tall and grim, 
 Just like a prison frowning cold and dim. 
 And there all day, from early morn till night. 
 Like a machine, I worked with all my might. 
 
 26 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Slowly the sun sank in its golden hues, 
 Sweet fragrance did the evening air diffuse, 
 Tired out and hungr}^, head upon my chest, 
 I dragged on home to eat my meal and rest. 
 
 0, God ! Will these my years drag on like this, 
 Without a Joy, without a single bliss? 
 Will I forever slave and slowly die 
 With longings unfulfilled ; forever ply 
 
 The wheel of fortune for somebody else, 
 And never be rewarded for my work? 
 0, god ! 'Tis better then to ring the bells 
 And start to dig the earth with burial dirk. 
 
 27 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE WAIF. 
 
 On the street a boy was standing ; 
 
 Little, thin and poorly clad ; 
 In his tiny hands were papers, 
 
 And his face looked wan and sad. 
 
 And his little back was crooked; 
 
 And the cold went thru and thru. 
 And the tears still trickled, trickled, 
 
 Down his cheeks so cold and blue. 
 
 And his little body shivered; 
 
 But he bravely wiped each eye, 
 Stamped his feet, and shouted "Extra !'^ 
 
 Fainth', at the passer-by. 
 
 And the men and women passing, 
 In their hurry, glanced and went; 
 
 But a few, who felt some pity. 
 Bought a paper for a cent. 
 
 But the most paid no attention 
 To the voice so frail and thin, 
 
 Scarcely heard above the tramping, 
 And the city's usual din. 
 
 What cared they for others' children? 
 
 What cared they for others' grief ? 
 What cared they for others' mothers. 
 
 Who were sick without relief? 
 
 28 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Sueli sad si^ihts to llieiii wltc cuiinnoii. 
 They liad seen tlie like before; 
 
 Thev liad steeled their hearts to sorrow. 
 Did not wonder any more. 
 
 But I saw a young man watching, 
 Poorly dressed, with yearning eye; 
 
 And I saw him leaving, heaving 
 Many a helpless, tearful sigh. 
 
 29 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 So monot'nous is the life 
 
 That we live here every day, 
 
 I am weary of the strife 
 And I fain would fly away. 
 
 Work from morning until eve, 
 
 But a trifle leisure time; 
 0, how I would like to leave 
 
 Like a little bird, this clime. 
 
 I would fly so far away, 
 
 That my way, I'd, back forget. 
 
 0, forever I would stay 
 
 There away and never fret. 
 
 0, just for a little tent 
 In the middle of a wood. 
 
 With the green limbs downward bent 
 With their shades so wondrous good. 
 
 0. for grass and leaves and flowers 
 And the singing of the birds ! 
 
 0, for golden, golden hours, 
 
 Watching happy grazing beards. 
 
 0, just for the little bees. 
 Buzzing, flying all around; 
 
 And up high among the trees. 
 Little bushy squirrel's bound. 
 
 30 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THEU THE EAST SIDE. 
 
 'Twas drows}' drizzling drearily, 
 As I was walking wearily 
 
 Thru streets unclean, midst pools of rain. 
 Sad was my heart and gloomily 
 
 Sad thoughts were dragging thru my brain; 
 
 Were dragging thru my weary brain. 
 
 The buildings, high in a foggy sky, 
 Dreary abodes of misery. 
 
 Stood looming all along the way, 
 Seeming the weather to defy ; 
 
 But cold and uninviting gray. 
 
 Of cold and uninvitino- o-rav. 
 
 'Twns chilly to the very bone ; 
 
 And all the roadways seemed to groan 
 
 Beneath the roU of passing wheels, 
 Splashing dirt from crevice and stone 
 
 Upon the passer-by, who heels . . . 
 
 His way across the roadway heels. 
 
 And in the gutters, garbage heaps . . . 
 
 On which the little sparrow leaps; 
 Or tramping, sickly, wretched dog, 
 
 All shrinking, at the passer weeps; 
 Then follows thru the murky fog, 
 Follows, till chased, thru the murky fog. 
 
 31 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 And pushcart venders with their ware, 
 Shouting their goods as cheap and rare; 
 
 And peddlers swarming everywhere, 
 Covered with rags, that fairly glare; 
 
 With haggard faces and grayish hair. 
 
 With haggard faces and grayish hair. 
 
 I passed a beggar, Against a wall, 
 White-bearded, blind, of stature small. 
 
 Standing with grayish, outstretched palm; 
 Shivering, almost ready to fall; 
 
 And his face in a grimace of deepest qualm. 
 
 His haggard face in a grimace of qualm. 
 
 Ah, what a yearning thru my heart, 
 Passed with a longing pain and smart- 
 
 A mad desire to be away; 
 From all this misery to part; 
 
 And to a better land to stray. 
 
 0, to a better land to stray. 
 
 But then a better thought : to fight. 
 To work, to help to spread the light, 
 
 To banish misery from the earth 
 And make things look joyous and bright 
 And hopeful, and make living worth. 
 And make the earthly living worth. 
 
 32 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Slowly, the fog began to clear, 
 
 The rain had stopped, and heav'n seemed near. 
 The autumn sun then showed its face, 
 
 Sad thoughts began to disappear 
 
 And bright ones vaulted in their place. 
 And bright ones vaulted in their place. 
 
 33 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 FREEDOM. 
 
 Each Imman heart to happiness aspires; 
 
 Each soul for beauty seeks, exalting self thereb}'; 
 For beauty, beauty breeds and high desires. 
 
 And happiness at beauty's door does lie. 
 
 But not all hearts have strong will in possession. 
 Nor every soul is free to do its will; 
 
 Succumbing to the fine and vain oppression, 
 Of fiendish hearts, whose souls are hardened still. 
 
 Should this be so? Xot in a thousand ages! 
 
 Eend all the chains that hold you fast to dark ! 
 For every soul, that in this strife engages. 
 
 Must be as free as the enchanting lark. 
 
 TRAVELING UPHILL. 
 
 Whatever be our earthly lot; 
 Whether a good one, whether not. 
 This truth should never be forgot: 
 We're traveling uphill. 
 
 We might be low as ships that sank 
 Or high upon a river's bank, 
 Poor, or have millions in the bank, — 
 The world grows better, still. 
 
 For knowledge pushes all ahead; 
 
 Our minds, the Truth, are grasping fast. 
 The Tyrant's restless in his bed; 
 
 He knows that he must go at last. 
 
 34 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 A BIRD AND A FLOWER. 
 
 "0, little flower, so frail and tender, 
 
 You can not brave the storms alone ; 
 The pine is strong and yet winds bend her, 
 
 And even; oaks in terror moan. 
 0, let me pluck you little flower. 
 
 And let me shield you in my nest; 
 And every little, fleeting hour 
 
 With kisses press you to my breast." 
 "0, pluck me not for I am slender, 
 
 And in my" bower T feel best ; 
 Your kisses — , 0, they may be tender. 
 
 But I will wither in your nest. 
 The winds are strong, the storms are sweeping. 
 
 But I will brave them, never fear, 
 For watch, how fast the sun is creeping 
 
 To give me life and strength and cheer. 
 0, fly away you little starling 
 
 And be as happy as you please ; 
 And every morning, 0, my darling, 
 
 I'll watch you singing in the trees.'' 
 
 35 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 CHAINED BY (IKEED. 
 
 Why is this world so full of woe. 
 
 Of misery and strife? 
 It's sorrows like a Gulf stream flow 
 
 Thru zigzagged seas of life ! 
 
 Because it's chained by heartless greed, 
 
 By selfish use of power. 
 Because true love, that godly seed 
 Which earth from sorrow could have freed. 
 
 Has not bloomed forth in flower. 
 
 THE WIND'S MISSION. 
 
 The eyes of heaven are no more brightly peeping 
 Thru the heavy seas of dark and billowy clouds ; 
 
 Perhaps it's they who are in torrents weeping 
 Because they can't see thru their heavy shrouds. 
 
 Weep not, stars ! If it be you who're weeping, 
 Shed not your tears upon the dormant earth ! 
 
 Unconscious, in oblivion deep, 'tis sleeping 
 
 With hunger, strife and slav'ry 'round its girth. 
 
 Weep not because the clouds obstruct your vision. 
 Weep not; the mighty wind is on his way. 
 
 He comes resistless^ with his ardent mission 
 To sweep the darkness and the clouds away. 
 
 36 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 Life is nothing but a struggle 
 
 To uplift the human mind. 
 To ennoble human hearts. 
 
 And from hard to make them kind. 
 
 ^Tis a struggle full of danger, 
 
 Full of manly sacrifice; 
 'Tis most hard to be accomplished. 
 
 Being sheathed b}^ many a vice. 
 
 Hunger stops its way a little, 
 But takes leadership again; 
 
 Darkness hinders its advancement, 
 But the light shines brighter then. • 
 
 And in spite of all the darkness. 
 And in spite of vice and sin. 
 
 And in spite of hunger banging 
 At the door we have within; 
 
 Life will reach its destined pasture 
 And will graze till all is gone, 
 
 Then again resume its travel. 
 Till a higher goal is won. 
 
 37' 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 SAECASTIC ANSWER. 
 
 0, how I'd like to wander to some quiet nook, 
 Far, far away from this uproarious world; 
 Alone with birds to dwell and hear them sing 
 Their happy concerts on the boughs of leafy trees; 
 Or with the insects lie upon the teemingi grass 
 And listen to their gossip and their noise, 
 Oi* gather flow'rs and draw their perfume in 
 Deep, like a long draught of sparkling ruby wine. 
 Then sit me down beneath a flow'ry summer bower 
 And write, my pen with fluid of Nature filled. 
 Outpouring all my singing heart upon 
 The kind old album's pages hungry for my verse. 
 
 But hark ! There comes a voice sarcastic, from the 
 
 depths : 
 "No, dreamer, thou canst not!" 
 
 Or I would like to go to some far beach and lie 
 Upon the sand and watch the curved line 
 On which the swelling sails, as white as gulls, 
 Are swiftly passing one by one to distant lands. 
 Or draw upon the sand fantastic castles, knights. 
 And dream, with open eyes, of tournaments 
 With ladies fair, who golden crowns bestow . . . 
 Then with a sweeping hand, like Destiny, destroy 
 My own creations. And then, run into the sea 
 With outstretched hands and swim far, far away. 
 Where boats are drifting idly to and fro . . . 
 And float beneath the azure skies and smiling sun. 
 
 38 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 But hark ! There comes a voice sarcastic, from the 
 
 depths : 
 '"No, dreamer, thou canst uot." 
 
 0, how I pine to run away from this great city 
 
 With all its bridges curving thru the air, 
 
 With all its buildings tall and chimneys high. 
 
 With all its bellied gas-tanks and its myriad lights, 
 
 With all its noise and hurry on its teeming streets, 
 
 With all its petty, foolish tasks and cares. 
 
 Where children lose their souls 'midst prison walls 
 
 And pine away for want of food and play ; 
 
 Where there is much for all, yet Hunger tramps the 
 
 streets. 
 And life is burdensome and full of woe, 
 I wonder sometimes why almighty God 
 Had taken pains to build this Universe, giving 
 Us aspirations to a higher life and then — 
 To see them all destroyed by human weakness. 
 As, like a vessel built as high as BabePs tower, 
 Sailing with pride upon the angry sea, 
 Breasing the waves with joyous ecstasy. 
 By giant icebergs sunken to the dephts below. 
 0, how I hate this strife, and 'death meseems 
 A doubly welcome friend to put me at my ease . . . 
 
 But hark ! There comes a voice, sarcastic, from the 
 
 depths : 
 "No fool ! You yearn to live and fight.^' 
 
 39 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE BLUFF-BIED* 
 
 In the southern wilds of Georgia 
 
 Dwells a curious looking bird ; 
 ^Tis a mixture of a parrot 
 
 And an owl — as I have heard. 
 For it sees in darkness only, 
 
 And it blabbers day and night — 
 And repeats just like a: lesson : — 
 
 "Eight is wrong and wrong is right !'" 
 
 Once it had a few adherents — 
 
 Such as ravens, bats and jays, 
 Who did listen to its falsehoods. 
 
 Told in hundred diff'rent ways. 
 And it liked to tell them stories 
 
 Of its gentle, loving wife, 
 Of its wisdom and its glory. 
 
 And its never ceasing strife. 
 
 But, it's only an'mal nature, — 
 
 Bats and jays get tired too 
 Of a ceaseless, prattling Bluff bird — 
 
 So they spread their wings and flew. 
 ''Holy Moses ! I^m in badly ! 
 
 What the Dickens should be <lone?" 
 Croaked the Bluff bird almost madly. 
 
 As its tears began tq run. 
 
 ''Who will listen to my stories, 
 
 Xow that all my friends are gone? — 
 
 40 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 To my pretty little speeches, 
 
 That their praise so often won?" 
 
 So it closed its eyes in sorrow 
 And it thought of what to do; 
 
 And at last with owlish wisdom 
 Found a plan to help it thru. 
 
 At the same time thought, quite shrewdly, 
 
 "Those rich, mighty birds will say, 
 That I'm helping them immensely, — 
 
 And of course I'll get some pay." 
 So it opened up its crooked. 
 
 Little beak, and loudly croaked: 
 "Listen, all you birds of wisdom ! 
 
 These words ne'er will be revoked. 
 
 "Far away, beyond this forest, 
 
 Where the light shines very bright, 
 (So we cannot well reside there. 
 
 For we straightway lose our sight) 
 Lives an eagle, claiming power 
 
 That nobody can withstand. 
 Well, I challenge him to fight me — 
 
 Let him come and fe,el my hand !" 
 
 Every eye was strained in wonder, 
 As they gazed upon that bird ; 
 
 For so bold a challenge issued, 
 Had by them been seldom heard. 
 
 xAnd the news spread just like wild-fire, 
 Till it reached the eagle's nest — ■ 
 
 41 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 He arose and cried in anger: 
 "I will fly and kill that pest!' 
 
 He arrived. But lo ! The Bluft' bird, 
 Fearing for its worthless life, 
 
 Like a coward got so frightened, 
 That it hid behind its wife. 
 
 But the eagle fished the Avorthy 
 Out, and quickly stilled its dope — 
 
 Well, the Bluff bird will be silent 
 For a while at least, we hope. 
 
 *NOTE: This poem was written after Thomas Watson 
 refused to accept Comrade Daniel De Leon's articles for 
 publication in his magazine, altho he had invited such 
 articles, having advertised that lo pages of his magazine 
 were to be devoted to the discussion of Socialism by a 
 Socialist of recognized standing. 
 
 42 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 MJY IDEAL. 
 
 Let those who will, 
 Let those who can, 
 Sing praises of 
 The Superman. 
 My simple song 
 Will ever say, 
 I love the man 
 Of everyday: 
 A man of noble 
 Soul and heart, 
 With unpretentious 
 Glorious part; 
 No boastful upstart 
 Wins my soul, 
 Nor God nor Jesus 
 Is my goal; 
 Give me the man 
 Of everyday. 
 Who slaves forever 
 For his pay. 
 But let him be 
 A thinking one, 
 Who has a goal 
 That's to be won. 
 And I will say: 
 God's work is done. 
 
 43 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 EEMINISCENCES. 
 
 My fancy roams to lands I left behind, 
 When still a boy I lived in joyous bliss; 
 
 And to the World's iniquities was blind, 
 As Jesus was to traiterous Judas' kiss. 
 
 Those were the days I knew nor war nor strife; 
 
 My only care, the schoolhouse and the play; 
 As smoothly as a sail swam on my life. 
 
 On j)lacid waters, 'neath the heaven's ray. 
 
 So, I remember how each little blade 
 
 Upon the field, however it were plain, 
 Its joys into my boyish heart conve^-ed. 
 
 While glancing brightly with its drops of rain. 
 
 So, every little flower that I found, 
 
 However simple, joyously would yield 
 Its fragrance. There the daisies most abound, 
 
 Dotting with their white heads the picturesque field. 
 
 And with tlieir fragrance garlands I would weave 
 And carefully would place them on my head; 
 
 Then in my fancy, my surroundings leave 
 And find myself in fairy lands instead. 
 
 But now, Ah^ wliere's the joy of former days ? 
 
 In memory alone, have they a nook. 
 Now, that I've trod the world's wormeaten ways, 
 
 In vain I search with anxious, yearning look, 
 
 44 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 For now 1 know the worries of a t^lavc. 
 
 Now can I hear the chmg bf unseen chains, 
 
 Now clearer sounds the world's tumultuous rave, 
 And I can feel, this strife our life-blood drains. 
 
 ONWARD WE GO. 
 
 As like a train, starting at some large town 
 Of misery and strife, of hunger and despair, 
 Diseases and foul air, and westward bound. 
 Encounters on its way, first fairer life 
 And purer air, then as it swiftly winds 
 Its way thru mountains once impassable, 
 Goes thru a better land, where life is green, 
 And birds still sing in all their glory; 
 And nature still holds sway, showing a beauteous aspect 
 In wild scenery; and stops at last 
 At some fair town, where life and nature coincide, 
 Where everything seems fairer and more free, — 
 So do our lives pass on thru time. First we 
 Start out with ignorance upon our backs 
 And are opprest; and misery and dark despair 
 Find refuge in our hearts, and we are trod upon. 
 Then as we learn by stern experience 
 And as the light doth dawn upon, us. 
 And we see possibilities of better life. 
 We sever our connections with the land of Greed, 
 We pass the barriers considered once impassable. 
 And onward march, passing tbru fairer life 
 Where joy begins to show its happy face. 
 Until we reach the land of our desires 
 Where Greed is buried and Freedom reigns supreme. 
 
 45 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 THE EMPTY CHAIR. 
 
 There stands an ancient, empty chair 
 
 Behind the open door; 
 My grandma used to sit in there — 
 
 But now she is no more. 
 
 No more her old and wrinkled face 
 Looks with a kindly smile; 
 
 'Tis quiet in the lonely place, 
 'Tis quiet all the while. 
 
 Ah, how we loved to sit beside 
 Her chair and hear her talk. 
 
 She sat all day; for she was frail 
 And scarcely could she walk. 
 
 She sat, and with a loving smile 
 
 Told tales of olden days; 
 She told them in her homely style; 
 
 Uncultured, tender ways. 
 
 But now she is forever gone, — 
 
 0, how we mourn the day 
 When grandma fell into a sleep 
 
 And slowly passed away. 
 
 Away, away, far, far away 
 
 Beneath the earthen sod; 
 With face so yellow and tightly drawn 
 
 Uplifted unto God. 
 
 46 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 She went away. Forever will 
 
 Her spirit dwell with us ; 
 Forever will that empty chair 
 
 Eemind us of our loss. 
 
 THE CASTLE AND THE VALLEY. 
 
 A castle stood upon a hill. 
 Impregnable ; so solemn, still, 
 Not e'en the rustle of a tree 
 Broke in, however silently. 
 And not a bird did care to sing, 
 But slept with head beneath its wing. 
 And oldish owls were sitting still, 
 Staring, tlio sightless, down the hill. 
 
 The valley underneath (so fair. 
 Full of sweet flowers, balmy air. 
 Of rivulets and skipping brooks 
 All full of cheery, smiling looks. 
 Bathing the rays of the happy sun 
 As in the morning its journey begun.) 
 
 Looked up aloft with pleading air. 
 Opened its arms, so warm and fair, 
 Murmured these words to the castle drear 
 Which gentle zephyr brought to its ear: 
 "Come down to us ; don't be so strange, 
 Each passing year must bring a change. 
 Wliy stand so gloomy, all alone? 
 Be one of us, you heart of stone !" 
 
 47 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 WHAT THE MOON SAW. 
 
 Sadly looks the yellow moon 
 
 On this earth of ours; 
 Pityingly it travels on 
 
 Thru the evening hours. 
 
 Does it pierce the quiet sleep 
 
 That is now upon it, 
 Seeing sorroAvs wide and deep — 
 
 Grief and weeping on it? 
 
 Why should else the quiet moon 
 
 Glide along in sadness? 
 It ean mirror but the gloom, 
 
 Where there's little gladness. 
 
 THE WANDERER. 
 
 Forlorn, I wandered thru the heavy mist; 
 
 A wanderer in search of Living Light; 
 And let my footsteps roam where'er they list; — 
 
 As like, in olden days, th' adventurous knight. 
 Who lost his way in forests sans a road, 
 
 Dropt reigns and let his stallion's instinct find 
 The nearest path to reach a night's abode. — 
 
 And so I let my weary footsteps wind; 
 G'azing before me with a tired eye; 
 
 Searching forever for the infinite goal; 
 Until at last, I looked upon the sky . . . 
 
 And there — as if a single glance it stole — 
 I sa\V a star ; to her I fain would fly ! . . . 
 
 Alas! She vanished, twinkling out her soul. 
 
 48 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 A LETTER TO A FRIEND. 
 
 Your letter, Mack, is long to hand; 
 Forgive my long jjrocrastination 
 In not replying. Understand, 
 That I'm the product of a nation 
 That loves delay. Like they I roam 
 In halls of mere imagination, 
 Forgetting in this occupation 
 Friends from afar and those at home. 
 But now, no more your patience trying, 
 I in respectful imitation 
 Of Pushkin, poet of that nation. 
 That from misrule is ever crying. 
 Send my reply, dear friend, to you. 
 You speak of Solitude, and writing. 
 You show your poet's heart so true; 
 You write, as if you were reciting 
 Some poem from the pen of Poe, 
 Or from some noble Jewish writer. 
 My Muse is listening, you invite her 
 To wander 'midst the long ago; 
 For know, dear Mack, that solitude 
 For me just now has no attraction; 
 Yes, once I loved to stupefaction 
 To roam with friends forever mute, — 
 Mute, do I say ? 0, no ! They spoke 
 A language that is ne'er forgotten, 
 That longings in my heart awoke 
 To change this world that's so besotten. 
 But now, the noise of city life 
 
 49 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Holds me in chains I cannot sever, 
 And it goes hard when I endeavor, 
 To run away from city strife. 
 And that is all. What else to tell? 
 Except that life goes on as ever: 
 The slave is dull, the master clever, 
 And Hunger cries, "'Tis I compel." 
 
 THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 He passes thru the city streets ; 
 Wherever Poverty he meets, 
 Where Hope lies dying on the ground 
 Without a single sigh or sound. 
 
 Where smoking factory-prisons loom, 
 Where Hunger finds her tramping room, 
 x\nd Misery, Despair, Travail, 
 Are following upon her trail. 
 
 And in his youthful, mighty hand 
 He holds a magic fairy-wand. 
 And lo ! Its property is such, 
 That Happiness comes from its touch. 
 
 0, open wide your hovel's door 
 And let the youth stand on its floor ! 
 He'll touch each wall with magic wand . 
 A palace in its place will stand ! 
 
 Then Hope will lift her weary eyes 
 And from her deathbed will arise; 
 And at his magic touch. Distress 
 Will turn to joyous Happiness ! 
 
 50 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 ON SEEING THE PICTURE "VISION ULTIME." 
 
 There stands the bloody, lying priest and clutches at 
 
 his throat; 
 His dagger reeks with human blood of martyrs that 
 
 he smote. 
 A vision stands before his eyes, that makes him shrink 
 
 with fear, 
 For this is what he sees before his very eyes appear: 
 
 The naked truth was marching with unfettered limbs 
 
 and hands; 
 And Liberty, triumphant, spread its light o'er seas and 
 
 lands; 
 While Peace, majestic, stood and held the blind in its 
 
 embrace, 
 And pointed to the martyrs lying on a bloody place. 
 
 TO MY FRIEND. 
 
 My friend. The joy of life has left your face, 
 
 And Melancholia sits in the vacant place; 
 
 And clutches at the faded, smitten night — 
 
 Who hopeless fell, into oblivion base — 
 
 As if 'twere there, your hopes had taken flight . . . 
 
 Not towards the coming new Messiah-Light. 
 
 Ah, cast away your mantle of despair ! 
 
 Come, come with me ! I'll lead you there. 
 
 Where legions fight the battle of the day; 
 
 Where, to the four points. Mars his sword doth bare. 
 
 And Hope extends her hands as if to say: 
 
 "Come, come to me! I'll drive Despair away!" 
 
 51 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 TO YOU. 
 
 A ship without a captain; 
 
 A runner who is lame; 
 Is the man without an object, 
 
 Without a higher aim. 
 
 ^Tis sin to be despondent! 
 
 Come comrade, be a man ! 
 The future lies before you, 
 
 The goal within life's span I 
 
 'Tis laggards, cowards slumber 
 And vegetate in peace, 
 
 Bnt men forever struggle 
 To compensate life's lease. 
 
 And every step you've taken 
 O'er mountain, rock or stile, 
 
 Makes you a better being 
 
 And makes your life worth while. 
 
 LINCOLN. 
 
 Like bells, that chime a vesper tune, 
 His name sounds to each listening ear; 
 His life dipt short, while yet in June, 
 Brought to a nation many a tear. 
 His noble face to memory clings. 
 His noble deeds are never mute; 
 Tho he is gone, his name still rings 
 With all a people's gratitude. 
 
 52 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 MY SORROW. 
 
 0, if you would know my sorrow ; 
 
 0, my God, where can I borrow 
 
 In a language, seeming narrow, 
 Words enough to tell my woe. 
 Words enough to tell my woe. 
 So that you alone should know. 
 
 How my very soul they harrow, 
 
 Draining all the sap and marrow; 
 
 Piercing, piercing like an arro^^ 
 To the very inner glow, — 
 To the very inner glow. 
 Where the spark of life is low. 
 
 Like a mighty wind dispelling; 
 
 Irresistible, compelling. 
 
 Blowing, blowing from its dwelling 
 All the gladness that wa^ there. 
 All the gladness that was there, 
 Blowing, blowing out for'er. 
 
 And I wish my hour were knelling. 
 
 Mighty Death begin her shelling; 
 
 Shelling, shelling at my dwelling, 
 For my heart is in desjiair; 
 For my heart is in despair, 
 Since my love is gone for'er. 
 
 53 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 BEOOKLYN BRIDGE. 
 
 Viewed from afar. 
 The Brooklyn Bridge 
 Looks like a string 
 Of sparkling beads. . . . 
 As, arched across 
 The waters dark, 
 (Save where they mirror 
 Light subdued) 
 From shore to shore 
 It shines at eve. 
 Each little bead 
 Tries to outshine 
 The glances bright 
 Of brother-beads; 
 Each envious of 
 The other's flare, 
 As thru the mist 
 They brightly glare. 
 So sees the toiler. 
 Coming home 
 Across the river 
 From his work. 
 In every glance 
 Of their wild eyes, 
 He sees their strife; 
 He sees their woe; 
 Their triumph sees; 
 And their despair. 
 And every gleaming 
 
 54 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 Little light 
 That pierces thru 
 The mournful air, 
 Seems like his own 
 Wild, slumb'ring soul 
 That yearns to pierce. 
 To break the dark. 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 IN A CEMETERY. 
 
 I stood beside a cemetery green 
 And gazed upon its well-kept, winding walks; 
 Upon its tombs and monuments and graves, 
 Upon its lawns and flowers and benches green— 
 And thoughts were wandering deep in my soul; 
 Thoughts of the dead that slept there peacefully, 
 Caring not for the world and its turmoil. 
 For all its teeming, trifling, towering towns. 
 For all its noise and splendor and its crime. 
 For all its misery and dark despair. 
 And all its fight for petty, prowling pelf. 
 There they all lay in slumber Ksound, serene. 
 Beneath the sod, unseeing and unseen. 
 
 I entered, for my heart was sad and sere. 
 
 And longed for silence and thought-breeding air; 
 
 I looked u|X)n the graves and tombs so white 
 
 And monuments that lined the quiet way. 
 
 I read monotonous inscriptions, dates 
 
 And epitaphs and sacred Bible verse. 
 
 And the contagious cemetery air 
 
 Pressed on my troubled, yearning, crying heart. 
 
 And I, some day, will lie with you, dead ! 
 
 There, "neath the soil, in never-ending sleep. 
 
 Far and forgotten by the lurid world. 
 
 Mayhap my last abode will also bend 
 
 With grass and flowers planted by some friend. 
 
 56 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 But what is this? There, where the graves lie thick, 
 
 Huddling together in their poverty, — 
 
 Side by side, there stands a carriage black, 
 
 And weeping men and women all around 
 
 A new-dug grave, wherein a coffin black 
 
 Is lowered in a slow and measured way. 
 
 Eejoice, ye dead; ye silent symbols of 
 
 Our fate ! Another one has journeyed on 
 
 To join your happy company. Dance, dance. 
 
 Ye ghosts ! Join hands, ye corpses, dance ! Fast, fast 
 
 Your ranks are swelling 'neath the dismal earth. 
 
 Weep not, ye fools; weep not, ye women; men, 
 
 Weep not ! 'Tis but another urn for wrong 
 
 Has gone to join the happy buried throng. 
 
 0, happy, happy corpse, no more thy back 
 Will bend beneath a heavy, leaden load. 
 No more will dire Oppression wiring thy heart, 
 And chains will never, never clank forlorn 
 Upon thy aching hands. Thou wilt not see 
 Cruel Hunger tramp the dirty, teeming streets; 
 Thou wilt not gaze on helpless infancy 
 Slaughtered upon the altar of vile Greed; 
 Thou wilt not pine for forests and for fields, 
 Nor mountains, nor the healthy air and sport; 
 Nor wilt remain unanswered by the world. 
 And ne'er will Disappointment's deadly sting 
 Thy heart with never ending anguish wring. 
 
 57 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 WEUNG FROM ABOVE. 
 
 . yearning like a God in pain . . 
 
 Keats. 
 
 Have I not sent the sun to spread the light? 
 Have I not sent the moon and stars at night? 
 Then why such darkness all the world pervades, 
 And grief and sorrow cast their gloomy shades? 
 
 Have I not spoken from the Holy Mount? 
 Have I not gushed from rock, a saving fount? 
 Have I not dropped as manna from the sky ? 
 Then tell me, tell me, why such misery? 
 
 58 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 FROM THE RUSSIAN OF PLESHEEV. 
 
 Why have you hung your head, 0, you green willow tree ? 
 
 Sighing so sadly and low? 
 Seems you are grieving with me in your sympathy, 
 
 As if my sorrow you know. 
 
 Your silvery leaves with the clear wave are whispering. 
 
 What are the secrets I hear? 
 Is it about me, in tones so mysterious, 
 
 You're murmuring into its ear? 
 
 Seems that my dismal thought, painful and sorrowful, 
 
 From you I could not disguise; 
 You have divined in some manner mysterious 
 
 Why these tears flowed from my eyes. 
 
 And in your whisper I hear all your sympathy, 
 
 Listening, happy I feel; — 
 Seems but to Nature, the power is given, 
 
 Invisible suffering to heal. 
 
 59 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 MY GARDEN. 
 
 From the Russian of Pleshecv. 
 
 0, how fresh and green my garden ! 
 There, their way, the lilacs made, 
 From the bird-cherry so fragrant 
 ■ And the leafy linden's shade. 
 
 True, there are no pale-white lilies, 
 Nor geraniums proud and fair; 
 
 Only variegated poppies 
 
 Lift their heads up in the air. 
 
 And a sun flow'r at the entrance 
 Like a trusty watchman true. 
 
 Guards the winding little pathway, 
 Where the grass unhampered grew. 
 
 But 1 love my modest garden, 
 It is dearer to my heart 
 
 Than the cities' gloomy gardens, 
 With their shades of alleys smart. 
 
 And all day I'd love to listen, 
 In the tall grass, 'neath the trees. 
 
 To the buzzing 'round the blossoms 
 Of the thoughtful, busy bees, 
 
 60 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 A FLOWER. 
 
 From the Russian of Pushkin. 
 
 A flower, odorless and withered, 
 ■ Forgotten in a book I see; 
 Into my soul strange fancies gathered 
 And musings filled me instantly. 
 
 Where did it bloom, that flower sere? 
 
 How long? Which Sjjring and in what land? 
 Who tore it off, and why laid here? 
 
 Plucked by a known or stranger's hand ? 
 
 As a reminder of a meeting 
 
 Or destined parting in the glades? 
 A lonely walk, a tender greeting 
 
 In silent paths, 'midst forest shades? 
 
 Is he alive and is she living? 
 
 And where is now their little nook? 
 Or have they also faded, grieving, 
 
 Like this dead flower in the book? 
 
 6i 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 "THE CLOUDS/' 
 
 From the Russian of Plesheev. 
 
 At the clouds, as they swam in the skies, 
 I gazed long, as I lay 'neath a tree ; 
 
 And the wind thru the maple-leaves sighs, 
 While a-bending them slightly to me. 
 
 And above me the clouds raced ahead, 
 Disappearing and melting away; 
 
 O'er the sun they would jealously spread. 
 Oft depriving the earth of its ray. 
 
 Seemed as if to the sun they would say, 
 "Send no rays to the earth from above ; 
 
 Cease, cease, sun, we fervently pray. 
 Still to gladden the earth with your love ; 
 
 Where so thick lies the mist all along, 
 Where your fiery beam had expired. 
 
 So much evil is done, so much wrong. 
 
 Many dark deeds and crimes have transpired. 
 
 Is it worthy of your sweet caress? 
 
 Does the sinful one love you, we pray ? 
 Us alone with your smile you must bless, 
 
 Us, the pure ones, embrace with your ray." 
 
 Swept the clouds o'er the limitless plain, 
 One by one disappearing on high. 
 
 But it seemed that they pleaded in vain, 
 For the sun paid no heed to their cry. 
 
 62 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 And their purity passionless, gray, 
 
 'Twoukl not take in exchange for the earth ; 
 
 And again with its passionate ray, 
 
 Hugged the sinful, the wrong-doing earth. 
 
 6.^ 
 
FAINT CHORDS 
 
 SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. 
 
 From the Russian of Plesheev. 
 
 After storms and after thunder, 
 After dark and dreary days, 
 
 Sunlight tore the clouds asunder, 
 Brought me gladness on its rays. 
 
 But for long? . . . Upon the morrow 
 New clouds float upon their way . . . 
 
 Sunshine, clouds and joy and sorrow, 
 Near each other seem to stay ! 
 
 THE CUP OF LIFE. 
 
 From the Russian of Lermontov. 
 
 With covered eyes we ever drink 
 
 Out of the Cup of Being; 
 And with our tears its golden brink 
 
 We wet, with eyes unseeing; 
 
 But when the cover from our eyes, 
 (Before the hour of dying) 
 
 Falls oft' 'midst disappointed sighs. 
 Our dreams unsatisfying, — 
 
 Then only, do we see, it seems. 
 
 How empty were its lures; 
 And that its contents were our dreams, — ^ 
 
 And that it was not ours. 
 
 64 
 
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