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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap.-..-r. ropyright No.. 
 
 ShelLLkUS-^ 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
The Scarlet-Veined 
 
 Hnt> ©tber poems 
 
 / BY 
 
 I.UCY CLEVELAND 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 ' Lotus Life and other Poems," " The Dog of the Old Guard, 
 "My Lady's Strange Girdle," etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 A. D. F. RANDOLPH COMPANY 
 
 103 FIFTH AVENUE 
 1897 
 
 TWO COPIES HEGEIVED 
 
20H0 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by 
 The a. D. F. Randolph Company. 
 
 Composition and Presswork by 
 
 M., W, & C. Pennypacker. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE SCARLET-VEINED, 13 
 
 II. 
 VOICES : 
 
 From Hei<i.as — for Hei.i,as, 67 
 
 Voices from Hei,i,as, 68 
 
 From Mount Oi,ympus, 70 
 
 Mors Janua Vitae, 72 
 
 Cceur de Lion, 73 
 
 The Slavic Bird 75 
 
 For Crete and Armenia, 77 
 
 Voices, 79 
 
 On History's Wall 81 
 
 III. 
 PATRIOTIC POEMS : 
 
 The Flag in the Dardanelles, ..... 85 
 
 Nature's Vote, 87 
 
CONTENTS. 
 In Memoriam Maceo 88 
 
 To GrOVER Ci,EVEI,AND (chief executive), . . 90 
 
 England's Pet Bird, 92 
 
 The Prize-Winner, 94 
 
 Expectations, 96 
 
 The Loftiest Word 98 
 
 IV. 
 POEMS OF NATURE : 
 
 The SKYI.ARK lOI 
 
 In the Orchard, 104 
 
 Robin's New Song 106 
 
 The Fountain, 108 
 
 The White Rose, 109 
 
 The Lightning, no 
 
 The Night-Bi<ooming Cereus, in 
 
 Centripetal, 114 
 
 The Mayflower, 116 
 
 June, 118 
 
 Pour Elle, 119 
 
 Her Girdle, I '. . 120 
 
 Her Girdle Unclasped, II., 121 
 
 A Rose 122 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Poet's Winnings, 123 
 
 The Karnak Lily, 124 
 
 The Egyptian Obewsk, I., 126 
 
 The Egyptian Obewsk, II 127 
 
 Revele ! 128 
 
 For Whom? 129 
 
 Transfiguration, 1 130 
 
 Transfiguration, II., 131 
 
 One MoonIvIGht, 132 
 
 A Prayer, 133, 
 
 A Meeting, 134 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
Ube Supreme poet. 
 
 O Thou who o'er the chasm's ink 
 Of the abyssmal Void didst move 
 In rhythmic breathings ; on the brink 
 Of the song- worlds all lyife all L<ove 
 Were Thine, O burning heart of the o'er- 
 brooding Dove ! 
 
O my Scarlet - Veined a-fluttering and a-kin to 
 God's great aznre, 
 Stretching stro7igly, strangely, sternly to dawn, 
 to dusk to-day, 
 Within each palm an ocean, and the sun itself 
 obeisant 
 In crimson beaker pledging, ere it laughs at 
 old Bombay ; 
 The stars are trooping, envious, over tosses of 
 veined oceans 
 To anchor in thy lightnings, and to hearken 
 at thy knees, 
 O my Standard, stand thou strong and worthy, 
 worthier yet, a beacon 
 Against God's upper azure to the darkening 
 dynasties I 
 
Ubc Scarlet*lt)eine^. 
 
 December 25th, 1776. 
 
 THE day was ebbing slow into that Vast 
 That spreads its arms, a sudden darken- 
 ing blur 
 lyike an o'ersweeping wave of eagle's wing 
 Around an hour moving towards the dusk 
 To pass into the Night, from whose great breast 
 Beating with blood of stars it shall arise 
 New- voiced, fed with a meteor's battle-breath 
 Of utterance prophetic hurled from heaven 
 To startle nations and illume a world. 
 
 The night is needful for the mellowing 
 Of all great purpose. 
 
THE SCA RL E T- VEINED. 
 
 On the camp it lies, 
 The silent outposts on the Delaware 
 Where a young nation waited for a morn. 
 The river glances with dread gleam, a white 
 That curdles through the silence, and strikes 
 
 chill 
 Upon the threshold of the valiant hearts 
 That watch beside her waters' corpse-like calm, 
 Her speechless lips that part, but speak no 
 
 word, 
 Her long gray spectre-face — Is it the ghost 
 Of years to come, come Now? The spectre-form 
 Of a great people's hopes doomed in this night 
 To die? Will that dread ghastliness arise 
 In sheeted horror that dries up the blood 
 Of e'en the boldest in the van of life, 
 And calls men's eyeballs out. Moving it comes, 
 Moving a-down the night, this sheeted Dead, 
 Its long bleached finger of dread bone out- 
 stretched, 
 
 14 
 
THE SCA RL E T- VEINED. 
 
 Still looming awful, e'eu above the pine 
 That holds the rim of moonlight. The dread 
 
 White 
 Smiles. And the smile's more hideous than a 
 
 curse. 
 The finger beckons to arise and come. 
 The long and long perspective of stacked guns 
 Seem, in this gray chill mist, to move and move 
 A ghostly caravan of corpses dread 
 Across the leagues of distance, a grim band 
 Whose bones are whiter than the moon's amaze 
 That crept and searched along the ground last 
 
 night. 
 And quick withdrew, with lips of horror pale, 
 Behind a gibbous cloud that bulged to laugh 
 With swollen cheeks at the lean band of men 
 Who plan to plant a nation now, and turn 
 Thy plethoric scorn, O Britain ! on thyself. 
 
 The bivouac at midnight of the men 
 15 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Who, from the wasted troops, have mustered 
 
 grit 
 In grasp of one staunch purpose : To plough 
 
 through 
 The ice of obstacle, yea, and to meet 
 Great Death himself, and from his hideous hand 
 Wrest the dread scythe and wield it in dread war. 
 
 'Tis bivouac at midnight. The low wind 
 Swaj's the black straps upon the cartridge-box 
 That's hung upon the sword; and that's the 
 
 Cross. 
 It's planted firm, and watches dauntless souls. 
 God moves, the Infinite's Humanity, 
 Towards the magnet irresistible — 
 Great men. To-night you'll trace the word 
 
 they wrote 
 Across the snow's long ghastly chronicle 
 (Death's mirror). From their worn feet drop- 
 ped blood 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 As on and on they marched, yea, though a 
 
 Gates 
 Has turned his back on danger, duty ; yea, 
 Though a Wilkinson's from Bristol fled, 
 Yea, though a Grifl&n who should plant his grip 
 Of iron mould, that sudden spurts in fire. 
 Within the flesh of the great enemy — 
 Yea, though these men have fled the surge 
 That mounts in fiery foam along our lines — 
 Terraced on terror, lo ! they sit aloof 
 From this night's wave of opportunity, 
 Yet the great heroes marched. Heroes sublime, 
 What bell will ring to ages your great shout? 
 Heroes sublime, I envy ye that Night. 
 Ye planted the red seed we reap to-day 
 In golden harvest on our land's lit soil. 
 That blood has moistened history's old face 
 Flushed with new life this pregnant Christmas 
 
 night, 
 As when, along the old Judea-roads, 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 The light from Joseph's lantern dropped red 
 
 flecks, 
 A drip of blood along the moonlight snow, 
 As slowly with pained feet he plods along 
 And holds the lantern high to illume the face 
 Of her who'll bear the Christ in Bethlehem's 
 
 cave. 
 Christ's hazard-road is marked with flecks of 
 
 blood. 
 Thus must it ever be, O signal soul ! 
 'Tis greater, verily, to sow the seed 
 Of all a grand Hereafter, yea, in start 
 Of muscles' giant agony, than to sit 
 In sun-crowned plenty yellowing all the fields. 
 Whose is the crown when God's voice calls 
 
 the Roll? 
 
 Darkness upon our forces. There's no hint 
 Of the great shout when the great sky caught 
 fire, 
 
 i8 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 And Gloria in Excehis to the I,ord 
 
 Rushed like the roseate stream from opal-wings 
 
 Of the great Cherubim. 
 
 The night shuts down; 
 No standard has this nation save the light 
 That gleams in great men's eyes, like planets* 
 
 fires 
 When the pall'd clouds part on the acres vast. 
 And the great purpose of Immensity 
 Writes its star-alphabet of record down. 
 But night is needful for the mellowing 
 Of their great purpose. They are veterans. 
 Their veins are Puritan. Their muscles bred 
 To hoist new standards o'er an ocean's toss ; 
 Sinews of granite, carved from out thy hills, 
 O thou New England ! nurse and mother dear, 
 Who from thy breast's milk mad'st the men 
 To cleave a path through the Impossible, 
 To open shining doors for shuddering slaves. 
 19 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Though France hold back, and Philadelphia 
 
 fall, 
 New England will hold on — and climb by knee, 
 By fist, by teeth, and grapple up the slope. 
 Yea, though this very night she meet and close 
 With those imposing massive lines of men 
 Haloed with steel, a bayonet- torrent broad 
 That sweeps with irresistible smooth swirl 
 And levels e'en the mightiest. Britain, thou. 
 Thy haze of giant faces, foam of plumes. 
 Thou hurricane of valor round a world ! 
 
 But Pennsylvania's woods send forth her men 
 Who stand as solid as her beechen trees 
 Down this supreme of storm. Yea, Hand is here, 
 And holds in giant palm his veterans 
 He'll dash upon thine outposts, Britain, soon. 
 Virginia, too, at whom colonial lips 
 Have sometimes curled: "She breeds but court- 
 iers, 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Who' re warm (in wooing) ; skill' d in handling, 
 
 fine, 
 The perfumed fans of ladies. Courtiers 
 Who're busy with grave cares (that make 
 
 them stoop) 
 For their knee-buckles. Cavaliers, you see." 
 
 "You see." — What see you near the Delaware? 
 The ' ' velvet ' ' of good blood dyes the strong 
 
 limbs, 
 The "shapely" limbs of Old Virginia's sons. 
 Its signet on their signal march to-night. 
 The powder of God's storm, the ice-wind's lace 
 Trims their rent clothes. Their naked feet 
 
 grasp ground, 
 And wrest it, thus, for all the ages' gaze — 
 These "cavaliers" along the Delaware. 
 
 This "Cavalier" along the Delaware — 
 
 Who is that man who walks alone, out there, 
 
THE SCARLE T- VEINED. 
 
 Beyond the distant edge of bayonet-gleam? 
 Quarried from out the black he looms erect, 
 The black of care, of disappointment, loss — 
 A silhouette against the rocks of chance. 
 The crystal strong that gathers to its breast 
 The colored leaps of fire from out the dark 
 And binds them for a torch unto a people. 
 Quarried from out the strain of all the life 
 Lived in the open 'neath God's lamps alone, 
 Inured to hardship, bivouac, to risk, 
 To self-dependence midst the fiery wreath 
 Of savage eyes. Thus, the man's made. He 
 
 stands, 
 A silhouette against an old world's smile: 
 "George the Surveyor !" sneered the English lip 
 As it "sur\'eyed" its George-phylacteries 
 Of kingly bulk. Has it "sur\-eyed" with care? 
 Methinks that ermine sweepeth leprously, 
 Its silken rustle cried "Unclean, Unclean!" 
 "George the Surveyor !" Let's consult a Book : 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 One Adam's taste for landscape gardening 
 Had been of some use to his sons since Eden 
 In laying out the parterres for a people 
 Along (the former) mudslopes of a world 
 Whence they may gather nosegays. I recall 
 That e'en the Heavenly Garden set on heights 
 Is laid out, measured oft, by One — a man — 
 You'd call him "a Surveyor." He's called 
 
 Christ 
 Up there where value finds its estimate. 
 And mark, this old word Value means Valeur, 
 A fighting quality. Red to the rim 
 Of his great life stood Christ, with battle 
 
 splashed. 
 As he hewed his way through. He now "sur- 
 veys" 
 The wall-environment around His park 
 (Or camp). "It is the measure of a man!" 
 He cries. Of what man think you ? of Himself? 
 Of any man who's wall around a people. 
 
 23 
 
V 
 
 THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 "George the Surveyor." Yes, the term will 
 hold. 
 
 The Blue Ridge mountains with their dip and 
 
 dare 
 Stretched their cerulean curve and climb o'er 
 
 thee ; 
 What thoughts and projects, Washington, arose 
 To that grand forehead's democratic crown 
 (The only crown for which 'tis worth to sweat) 
 The Dare to free a people didst thou dream? 
 The Pause to bend and wait till the great 
 
 hour? 
 Be resolute, be noble thou, O soul ! 
 Canst thou fortell when some great hour shall 
 
 call 
 Its summons to great deeds across the soil 
 Where vacant now thy days slip by, the sun 
 A scorching eyeball in the heavens to blind. 
 Strike deeper in the arid wastes thy roots. 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 O soul ! whose pulse springs Palm-like to the 
 
 Blue, 
 And wait — till the great God-thrill through 
 
 thee run, 
 Creative. 
 
 Thou art destined for the Dare. 
 The touch that wakens thee to azure air 
 Sweeps o'er thy branches with the living Breath 
 That fructifies to quench the thirst of men 
 As through the tawny desert's death- mist dread, 
 They urge their flagging way — lo ! their wild 
 
 cry — 
 The undulant blue shadows lace the Vague, 
 The enchanted murmur of the Morning Calm 
 Breaks, like the illumined chorus after death — 
 They see thy date-palm's Crown soar o'er her 
 
 streams ! 
 
 Thy thought leaps high as God's great sentinels, 
 25 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Those lips, O Washington, would match great 
 
 Mars' , 
 Thy forehead answers to thine eye to-night, 
 It flames and searches the perspective's gloom, 
 Thine eyes, O Washington, that see the streak. 
 The silver dawn-streak light that grows and 
 
 domes 
 Into the soaring of the Blue, the arch 
 Above that throne, — the land where every man 
 Sits crowned because he's man. Yea, doughty 
 
 men 
 (The dynasties Columbia counts and counts 
 Upon her rosary of stellar might) 
 Out-rank the dynasties of fibril kings. 
 
 Alone on thee, George the Surveyor, hang 
 
 The hopes of a whole people in this hour. 
 
 And A-et thou standest silent and aloof. 
 
 The brook that chatters spends itself in froth. 
 
 From out the awful hush where Ocean thinks, 
 26 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Depth upon depth in folded silence dread, 
 Ascend the giant words that plunge and hurl 
 Their battle-cry around a blanching world. 
 
 Still the reproach grows: "He's so silent! 
 
 look ! ' ' 
 The statue stands, a silence. Cold, you say? 
 It's thought. The fire-heats in artist-soul, 
 And white heats in the marble's snowy breast 
 In fusion met. Passion divine ! and Thought 
 Was born — this Thought that stabs you sud- 
 denly. 
 What fires wed in thy great soul to-night. 
 Thou silent man ? What Thought discloses now 
 In thee, Columbia's Caesar, its august? 
 Alone on thee, O Washington, this hour 
 The hopes of a whole people hang. On thee 
 Who'rt left to-night with just two thousand 
 
 men, 
 And gallant sheaf of generals who stand firm. 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 The life of the United States dies low, 
 
 A flickering flame. No flag e'en have these 
 
 troops 
 To bear before them in great war. And strong, 
 Sting the proud words from out the Parliament 
 Where England sits in storied might of men. 
 The varied lights of statesmanship, like panes 
 Of annal'd glass down her great Minster's 
 
 aisles. 
 Their hands yet hold the leash that's bit in 
 
 mouths 
 Of a tempestuous tribe out there, "the States, 
 We'll rein in soon and feed with tea-leaves." 
 
 lyion, 
 Whose ocean-roar is heard around a world, 
 Three words of thine thunder through Parlia- 
 ment : 
 "Can Britain fail ?" The man who walks alone 
 Beyond the edge of bayonet-gleam out there. 
 Beside the edge of icy corpse of stream, 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 With no proud banner shaking out its Hght 
 Of promise for the morrow, bites the words 
 Between his teeth. I would beware of lips 
 lyike those, O Britain, for they're very dread. 
 And then, that Eye, that's long accustomed 
 To unimpeded horizons, sees — what? 
 Columbia fail? She who may belt her path 
 With dew-light glory and with scarlet dusk? 
 Columbia fail? She who from east to west 
 May sweep her gaze that fronts the eternal foam 
 Of seas which rock in thunderous murmurings 
 Around a world? Ocean will bate its breath, 
 And lay its golden flecks of foam, its coins, 
 At feet of Her who studs one golden word 
 Upon her brow for nations : XibCtt^. 
 Columbia fail? 
 
 Yes, but the night dies down. 
 
 And fold on fold its awful wing creeps on. 
 
 No hope to lift its glory, sheen on sheen, 
 29 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Looms as the land to homesick eye's return 
 Across the sunset wave, and strong tears roll 
 Down stalwart faces that have faced the bleak ; 
 No flag to flame its force, its beckoning, 
 Looms in its grandeur, o'er our gaze to-night. 
 Art Thou not there? The stellar dust that 
 
 whirls 
 In pathless space, from Thy lit chariot-wheels 
 It sprays, each drop a world that breaks to 
 
 height 
 Of being, held by Thee whose Hand is rein 
 O'er the blue vault of the sun-systems' swirl 
 Lo, as Thou movest on the Infinite, 
 Watchman of Israel, who slumberest not. 
 Art Thou not there ? Dost Thou not send Thy 
 
 word 
 Thy plunging meteor-word to say to earth 
 " ' Tis God the Timeless, to thy knees to- 
 night, 
 Worship the Might that can deliver man." 
 30 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 The cannon's roar shudders across the night 
 From distant darken' d heights of Morristown. 
 Its eye of flame rips shadows. Through its 
 
 glare 
 Dead eyeballs stare upon a vacant sky, 
 While gurgling down the Dark, prophetic voice 
 Of heroes' blood speaks to the greater Vast: 
 
 Stand forth, O God Almighty, in this night ! 
 Our cause is just, give us a sign, 'tis just ! 
 Look how the nations gather 'neath the beck 
 Of each dread finger looming as their hosts 
 March on beneath its shadowed garment's power, 
 "Our lighthouse," shout their voices in the van. 
 Yet, Orient's crescent waxes to no moon. 
 England's proud standafd shows the lion fierce 
 To fall upon his prey; the claws distend. 
 Beneath her standard crawl three abject men 
 And cling. They sign their names while na- 
 tions laugh: 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 The Turk, who whets his promising scimetar 
 Upon the long, bleached bones of steadfast men 
 Who held thy faith, O Britain, the same faith 
 That says " I'm Christ's," as lo ! the gold cross 
 
 looms 
 Above thy crown's height where a ruby rocks 
 And restless tells of great blood spilt in vain. 
 The Turk, who's sponsor for his scimetar; 
 The Egyptian gentleman, whose haul (in sport) 
 How many concubines to stock his harem? 
 Whose haul (in sport) how much of thy gold- 
 drops 
 O Britain, wrung from sweat of thy earth's 
 
 sons? 
 Yet, 'tis the Egyptian gentleman. Be fair, 
 Fair with fine manners, Britain, and protect. 
 Take care of the Sick Man, the Yellow' d Shah — 
 Upon thy insular pivot, Britain, turn 
 And watch the dupes to whom thy guns dic- 
 tate. 
 
 3a 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Stand forth, O Judge of nations, in this night. 
 Our cause is just, give us a sign, 'tis just ! 
 The sweep of Slavic bird moves o'er lone snows 
 That shroud the cautious on-come of the Bear; 
 The " Gott ?nit tins'' stares with white eye- 
 balls dread 
 Upon the standard whose background is black 
 With belchings of hot war, a spectre-gaze; 
 The throes of nations streak upon their flags 
 The earthquake-mutterings under which they 
 
 fall; 
 Imperial ermine's spotted with black flecks 
 That ooze upon the bland of regal gaze ; 
 The scorpion crawls on immemorial walls 
 Of China hoar, standard to sting her hosts; 
 Through Vale of Roses where the nightingale 
 Pours to the night his love-rill lit with moon, 
 That moon whose tears are pearls dropped down 
 
 the Gulf 
 As slow o'er its lit billowing she moves 
 
 33 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Seeking her love the Sun — her soul, herself 
 Libation to his light ; across this Eden 
 Passes that flag whose rude primeval roar 
 Blanches the blush of rose — the Lion stalks, 
 And woman's hopes sink with each sinking sun. 
 
 The land whose soil was fed from Marathon, 
 Whose Thought hath opened paths to deathless 
 
 June, 
 Pink dawn along the old, gnarled, branching 
 
 years, 
 The makers of new Meadows mad with morn 
 Where men yet bend and drink of mazy springs, 
 In epic draughts or lyric wine or cruse 
 Filled by a golden hand, the Academe's, 
 At doors of immortality ; the Land 
 Whence sway of Gods still dictates to a world 
 In vocal silences where Art divine 
 Rules from the brow of Zeus or lips of Love — 
 This Land, the jewel of ^gean spray. 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Who wore an Orient as a victor-star, 
 Great Hellas ! once again thou standest forth 
 The champion of the Idea; and this, the Thought 
 That grooved itself in Letters of thine art 
 First, in the kingly signature of Christ 
 Titled on shuddering conquest of His Cross. 
 
 Thou, gazing through the sightless eyeballs, 
 
 wreck 
 Of crumbled empires, Britain's Orient toy, 
 The shattered golden Crescent that erewhile 
 As moon of Mahomet re-lit the brows 
 Of Egypt's marble gods, pale with great Past; 
 Nightly with silver mellowings, bent rapt 
 Above the voice of immemorial stream — 
 Isis divine the lotus-breast Ideal ; 
 And, as the glittering arc, electric span 
 Binding barbaric Asia to the West, 
 Flashed will of Sultan down its scimetar 
 (That mirrored deep England's acute consent) ; 
 
 35 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Thou, gazing o'er God's whitening moon-re- 
 vealed, 
 The Ottoman's ghastly distance of decay — 
 Shalt lift thy standard of the God of gods, 
 Veined from the empyrean, on that height 
 Where once great Pallas war- wreathed stood, 
 
 her eyes 
 A threat, blue lights of war that menaced worlds. 
 
 The Kalpas', ages seven, the ages vast 
 That climb on India's standard, what say they 
 To this age battering at her eflfete doors 
 For entrance? 
 
 God, Ancient of days, the Now, 
 Veil of the All, the Timeless in all Time, 
 Before Whose glance the ages flit like globes 
 Of iridescent foam a-down the roar 
 Of cataracts that kneel 'neath mountain's Eye; 
 Thou, Alpha and Omega of Thy worlds 
 36 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 The stars are stairways only, vestibule 
 Unto Thy Vast, Ancient of mysteries. 
 The constellations' epic Chronicles 
 Tell but the rim unto Thy radiance ; 
 They, golden portals of untravelled shrine, 
 The belfry trembling with the Voice whose peal 
 Upbuilds the dazzled dome-reach of those suns 
 That countless crowd, and carve one Orient 
 
 aisle 
 Whirling its incense-cloud up, up, still up — 
 The vaporous silver of adoring worlds 
 At foot of the great Altar's golden — God. 
 
 Stand forth, O God of armies, in this night ! 
 Thou hast a standard to lead on to light, 
 That standard is the star-hosts' broidered gleam. 
 Across each night it streams in fiery mist 
 Held in the hand of cohorts infinite, 
 Whose grip upon the staff untightens ne'er. 
 Whose thirst in this dread march alone is slaked 
 
 37 
 
777^ SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 At source of Thy soul's wine. Thunder their 
 
 voice, 
 Their finger's lightning indicates the goal 
 Towards which Thou movest, Mightiest, the goal 
 Of Armageddon where Thy judgments fall. 
 Stand forth, O God of cohorts, in this night. 
 Our cause is just, give us a sign, 'tis just ! 
 Is there not sign along Thy Heavens to help? 
 
 Lo ! in that night's renown when Pharaoh's 
 
 hosts 
 Encamped beside Red waters, vast on vast, 
 Perspective dread of war-bred chariots. 
 Warriors whose way mowed down old worlds, 
 
 and wrote 
 New hieroglyphs of blood on Chaldea's dust, 
 A Cartouche kingly ; lo ! in that dread day 
 When Pharaoh's serried spears held the great 
 
 glance 
 Of his great gazing sun-god Amen-Ra, 
 
 38 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 A sparkle that sent shouts above the Blue — 
 
 The obelisk of God, His pillar' d cloud, 
 
 Yea, God Himself, moved through the awful 
 
 hush 
 That fell, as slow the night of Egypt welled ; 
 Nay, God it was who trod down suns, 
 And blotted out the bloom of Nile's great shores. 
 Pressing upon the River 'till it fled 
 An ooze of darkness dread, an Ethiop' streak 
 From cataracts to sea. Still welled that Dark, 
 Stealing along the knots of dazzled spears. 
 Blackening the guard and rear-guard of the 
 
 king- 
 Pharaoh ! thy horses' crests are darkening ! 
 Help ! for the Pharaoh, help ! his phalanx-veins 
 Date from the throes of gods, e'er Egypt was, 
 They're red with the veined raiment of great 
 
 Ra ! 
 They're black from one dread touch, O king 
 
 of kings, 
 
 39 
 
THE SCA RL E T- VEINED. 
 
 Pharaoh, thy horse's crests are darkening, 
 I^ike those gaunt plumes which wave on fun- 
 eral car, 
 The dead goes by ! 
 
 The living God goes by 
 And drowns in dusk the power that crumbled 
 thrones. 
 
 Stand forth, O Watchman dread, in this our 
 
 night ! 
 
 Rip from Thy heavens star-veins of galaxies 
 
 That roll in restless waiting round Thy throne. 
 
 To pulse forever as our onward lamp. 
 
 For pilot as for ploughman, sea or land, 
 
 lyO ! is Thy hand not ready to indite 
 
 A message new writ from Thine azure Vast, 
 
 A message new leaping in scarlet veins, 
 
 Pinn'd with thine own star-promises? the 
 
 chords 
 
 40 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 lyike strings upon an instrument profound 
 Whence floats a music whose one theme 
 In endless harmony of blended voice 
 Sings to a world the symphony — XibCtt^. 
 
 A silence awful holds the land. A pause. 
 The creak stupendous of the earth was felt 
 As slow with awful words of prophecy, 
 She rocks from red to red, from sunset's path 
 To dawn-aisles where the Face of God is sun. 
 Darkness upon our forces. Midnight black, 
 A hand of Dark whose fangs are smeared with 
 
 death. 
 Is there no hope, Eternal, Who once mad'st 
 The wrath of man to praise Thee? 
 
 Through the great Dark whose clutch steals 
 
 close, a voice — 
 The guns of England streak their flame-wrath 
 
 red 
 
 41 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 In bands npon the sky. Britain ! thy wrath 
 The Lord Almighty takes for His own plan 
 And belts a Standard on the thunder-cloud 
 Through which the eyes celestial crowd and 
 
 crowd, 
 Star-nebulct of worlds, of forming worlds to 
 
 be— 
 For, out this stellar mist that wreathes the 
 
 night. 
 States, peoples, powers arise like fountaiu-foam 
 That springs perennial from the earth's dark 
 
 breast, 
 Renews itself in sparkle, globe on globe, 
 An atom measuring Immensity. 
 The Flag for nations ! Lo, Britain's gun-streaks 
 
 red 
 Toss their renown upon God's platform. Night ; 
 Promethean breath of Britain rolls white mist 
 As belts upon the forming banner, Liberty ! 
 And God's own hand tears constellations up, 
 
 49 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 And pins their promises upon this Blue. 
 Nations shall look to It. Their fading eyes 
 Gather new gleams of hope. The hour has 
 
 rung. 
 Star-veins that part the sea, shout Harborage ! 
 And their united voices' spheric tones 
 Still leap in lyric chant as once they sang 
 In their great orbits' fire : II n (50& WC UrUSt. 
 
 The man to lead in vanguard of great men 
 Stands up. His gaze is awful down this night's 
 Great eagle-wing of overshadowing. 
 Stand still, ye nations, for the hour has rung. 
 There is a Standard. God's Might and one Man 
 Who hurls his heroes o'er the Delaware. 
 
 June 14, 1777. 
 
 The shadow vast of death that clutched the 
 shores 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Of the long river's answering pallid face 
 
 Has passed away. Down in the trenches' 
 
 depths 
 One stood, and grappled with a Form 
 Dismounted, hideous, whose laugh played loose 
 Among the dead, whose breath blew orchestra 
 Across the fleshless hands that streaked the air. 
 They closed in vital grapple, the great Two — 
 Thou Washington, with those fore-ordained lips, 
 And thou gaunt Shadow, moving awfully. 
 The great result stands pillar' d on all Time. 
 The man who dares face shadows, merits sun. 
 You'll see him in a moment where he stands 
 And does a deed that's fraught with conse- 
 quence 
 In this fair city, Philadelphia call'd. 
 
 Two rivers, yea of life, encircle her. 
 The belt of land that's stretched from gleam 
 to gleam, 
 
 44 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Forms, in its streets, the chords upon a lute 
 Whence martial music floated, in the ring 
 Of great men's steps this good year 'Seventy- 
 Seven. 
 The quaint old city's birth dates from afar. 
 The feet of Hudson, Stuyvesant, De Vries 
 Smoothed out the savage furrows, partially. 
 And then thou cam'st, serene and sun-lit face, 
 With thy great project for this belt of land 
 To found a commonwealth, self-governing, 
 Whose roots draw sap from the great principles 
 Of fundamental faith ; whose branches wave 
 Free as God's air to spread where'er they list. 
 Still hold the quaint old city's forest streets 
 Her forest names, in echoes sylvan, sweet, 
 Of the far Time where God invited first 
 His birds to sing upon the sunlit air 
 The outward music of the tree's great heart. 
 
 The quaint old citj^'s name dates from afar, 
 
 45 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Penu named it Philadelphia. Its great root 
 Once grappled deep on shores of the Levant 
 To whom God's message to His churches 
 
 came, — 
 The Seven (you'll find them writ within the 
 
 Book), 
 Among them, Philadelphia, the name means 
 The love of brotherhood. Well-named, great 
 
 man, 
 Whose policy towards the savage — Peace ! 
 Two words stand out on thine escutcheon proud: 
 Mercy and Justice, the initial steps 
 By which thou mounted'st to the Indian's 
 
 heart. 
 The highest throne in all God's measurements: 
 Steadfast dominion o'er the hearts of men. 
 
 The quaint old Quaker city on the streams 
 Inherits still mild faces (that yet know 
 Good cheer. Their taste's a relic, Anglican). 
 46 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Its sleepy, dreamy, say you ? Not the speed 
 Of great New York, or brain - spin of the 
 
 "Hub." 
 Most surely, Philadelphia's not New York 
 Where, with a headlong rush, we hurl our- 
 selves 
 Against — His smile that says, ' ' Go back, my 
 
 child. 
 Begin again more quietly. It took 
 How many aeons to enrich the mud 
 Whereon the cxVy of Manhattan rests ? ' ' 
 Nor Boston, that spins round upon her hub, 
 And sometimes stands stock still and loses 
 
 time 
 Through gaze at her domed forehead in the 
 
 Bay. 
 There have been peacocks who lost wondrous 
 
 chance 
 Of succulent sweet crumbs spread for their fare 
 By spreading to the fair their Vanity, 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 And standing vaster than King Solomon 
 Before a travell'd lady, Sheba call'd — 
 While homely little squirrels gobbled All. 
 
 Most surely Philadelphia's not New York : 
 But Gothic is not Greek, nor Byzantine, 
 Nor yet the old Gigantic whence they drew 
 Their nutriment, — the temples on the Nile. 
 Enjoy the Egyptian, Karnak's awful might. 
 The work of men who worshipped. And the 
 
 Greek 
 The work of men who thought. And down 
 
 to-day 
 The Gothic, work of men who dreamed. Be- 
 ware 
 Of climbing up into God's Judgment-seat. 
 You could not, surely, see as far as He, 
 E'en if you climbed. 
 
 Along the stream of Time 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Leapt God's great word of message to that 
 
 town 
 Of Philadelphia, yea, from Him who held 
 The seven stars — His churches, in His hand. 
 He that hath ears let him hear what God says 
 In His great message now, in this good year 
 Of 'Seventy-seven. A word writ with a pen 
 Dipp'd in His sunrise-veins. His moon's path 
 
 hoar, 
 His cauldron of the stars where worlds swim up. 
 
 You see that sunny cloud along the Blue? 
 Follow its pointing finger as it floats 
 Still on. It stays to-day and wreaths itself 
 Above a Tower, from whose quaint galleries' 
 
 height 
 The vistas wind through many murky ways 
 Of this complex existence — MAN, and find 
 The one strong civic citadel within. 
 Surrendering never to the shocks of chance, 
 
 49 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Building above, howe'er down-crushed, subdued, 
 Finding its way still up through clods or kings, 
 The one supreme in all my manhood's urge — 
 The Love of Freedom— 1In&epcn^Cnce call'd. 
 
 In Independence Hall one year agone, 
 One year before this good date 'Seventy-seven, 
 A future hung upon a breathless pause, 
 As, slow, a massive parchment was unrolled. 
 And great men's eyes glittered across its blank. 
 Shall we throw down, with iron hand, the 
 
 glove. 
 The gauntlet of our signature? Around 
 Belts Britain her stupendous — men who're 
 
 carved 
 In tactics of bright steel, flanked with the 
 
 shell 
 That tore its way to conquest in two spheres. 
 They tilted, yea, at Time, those warriors, 
 Time the great shadow of the Infinite 
 50 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 That e'er unrolls its boundless azure line, 
 The sky-liue of the Ever-New, the View 
 Expanding in soul-ardor's light to heights. 
 Time whose recording hand is held in God's, 
 Held the great pen above the parchment's 
 
 blank. 
 Think you the dim papyrus-groves on Nile 
 Whispered in ages gone momentous words 
 The generations were to carve for e'er 
 Upon their page, from Mena to the Man 
 The Word, through Whom the furrowed ages' 
 
 thought 
 Voiced its supreme, the Ao'709, Christ ? 
 
 The New 
 That's still the Old, recorded its great birth, 
 In eastward room of Independence Hall. 
 Name after name sowed its immortal, wrote 
 Its shining track upon that bleak — the Un- 
 known. 
 
 .51 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 But they knew. They felt (in signing that 
 
 great Roll 
 The Magna Charta of our liberties), 
 Those prophets stern, the very pulse of God 
 Who holds the hand of Time upon that lock 
 That opens a new doorway up the day. 
 
 To-day, to-day this good year 'Seventy-seven, 
 A doorway open stands in Independence Hall. 
 Wait at the threshhold with bowed, reverent 
 
 head, 
 I counsel it, before this Council in the room. 
 Your eye sweeps round the circle brave of men 
 Who've stood the strain of being quite sincere — 
 America's j^oung Congress. Nay, they're old 
 These men in knowledge of tradition, law 
 The Lord laid down ; His first-born : Light, 
 
 that's free. 
 They gravely wait upon a central word. 
 The table's strewn with quite a curious mesh 
 52 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Of colored, light. Is it prismatic gleam 
 
 From storied windows shredding their great 
 
 rays? 
 Nay, but the panes are plain white glass 
 Like windows in the poor man's simple hut, 
 White as the mountain-breath of smoke that 
 
 curls 
 From cabin of the pioneer afar. 
 No accessory frames these faces strong, 
 These carvers of our Life. From out their lives 
 Will sweep the mighty aisles where men may 
 
 kneel 
 And worship God who steadied them in storm. 
 
 Yes, but this mesh of colors ? rainbow-gleam 
 From somewhere, somehow, saying ' ' Night is 
 
 past. 
 Shout your great shout, the Lord's a man of war 
 And has led on ? Your Miriam-timbrel clash ? 
 In one great moment, pivotal, you'll hear 
 
 53 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 "They fought from heaven, the very star- veins 
 
 fought. ' ' 
 Wait the result. 
 
 The tints that tinge this board 
 Are the old flags of the old colonies : 
 Connecticut's, her motto stamped in gilt ; 
 Putnam's, — well-done thou grand old Puritan, 
 With thy "Appeal to Heaven" in brave relief! 
 Thy "Trust in God! (but keep your powder 
 
 dry)"; 
 Moultrie's blue flag, a crescent in the bend ; 
 Virginia's Yellow, with its menace-coil. 
 Its serpent legend "Do not tread on me!" 
 And Massachusetts' with its Evergreen, 
 Its Pine unfading on whose bark is cut 
 For Unbelief to scan, just "Old Put's" words, 
 (The present proves that they have quite 
 
 avail' d). 
 Dare to rely on Heaven when all is dark, 
 
 54 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Her stars will laurel thee with aureate light. 
 The lyiglit, the first-born Light, streams through 
 
 the panes, 
 And focuses its flash upon a Web 
 Of iridescent sheen — a dew-light belt, 
 A scarlet dusk, paths that stretch east, stretch 
 
 west — 
 Repeated o'er and o'er. And silver flecks 
 Of foam are they? from out the Ocean-war 
 Of elements? Nay, look! look closer yet, 
 And see the stars roll their perennial fires 
 Upon this standard. 
 
 Once again there's hush 
 In the old Hall. The eyes of Congress turn 
 Towards a Man who sits in their great midst ; 
 For on his word a beetling moment waits. 
 
 As when, along the crags and storied cliffs 
 That hold the history of the Ocean's face 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 In seam and scar — the fastnesses of Thought, 
 One spur lifts up beyond the di£f- path's streak, 
 And holds the sudden smite of the great sun, 
 And echoes back the shout of salt- wind's voice — 
 Spray'd with Immensity, kin to God's sky, 
 The eagle mount amongst the crested crags ; 
 Arises in the midst of granite men 
 One Man. 
 
 In vanguard of great men he towers, 
 A silhouette against an old world's quake. 
 You see him : Washington. Three syllables 
 That wrote a new word in the book of life, 
 It spells the All that makes life any worth — 
 Home, Country, Liberty. 
 
 With onward look 
 That eyes of genius own, his gaze commands 
 A future. For to-day, in this good place, 
 A standard must be chosen for a people. 
 Slowly, as when before the prophet's eye 
 Trained in aloneness, silence, to arrive 
 56 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 At God's great ventures, yea, in Bethlehem 
 The little town that bourgeons like the soul 
 Apex of all creation's symmetry — 
 The sons of Jesse passed, and the Voice said 
 "This is not My anointed ;" the great hand 
 Of Washington puts by the flags and flags 
 Which Congress lifts to meet his onward gaze. 
 The iron hand of the great warrior 
 Grasps one great fold. It is the Word 
 Writ to the City Philadelphia by the Pen 
 Dipped in the sunrise-veins, the moon's path 
 
 hoar, 
 God's cauldron of the stars where worlds swim 
 
 up— 
 The message to the land that He elects. 
 
 The iron hand of the great warrior, 
 The lordlier hand of the great man 
 Tarries. On him who marched breast-high in 
 blood 
 
 57 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 And hew'd our way right through, decision 
 
 hangs. 
 I hear the heart-throb of a wheeling world, 
 I hear the greater heart-throb of great men. 
 
 Above, in the graj^ Tower a gray-haired man, 
 A patriot sits. His hand is on the cords 
 That hold the Bell, the great Bell— XibCttp. 
 It thundered out, one year agone, the Word 
 That spoke around two waiting hemispheres, 
 As name by name went down, in tossing 
 
 shouts, 
 Upon the Page that severed us for aye 
 Unto ourselves. 
 
 The old man's face recalls 
 That day : millennial moment on Time's clock. 
 
 A spot of fire like spurt from a star-wheel 
 Burns on his cheek just now, this patriot old. 
 
 58 
 
777^ SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Closer he grasps the cords. And, solemn, waits 
 I^ike dawn's gray face that feels the advance 
 of fire. 
 
 A voice leaps bound on bound the Tower's 
 
 stairs : 
 "Ring, Ring, they've chosen. Washington 
 
 has said. 
 Ring, Ring, we have a Standard from the 
 
 stars — ' ' 
 The old bell rocks and sways against the 
 
 walls, 
 The pulse of patriots pours its leaping fire 
 In clash of iron voices : Ring, O Bell, 
 Ring, Ring, Ring out the vast horizon's light — 
 Thou rock'st men's chains on lone Siberia's 
 
 snows 
 With utterance prophetic. Through the rose 
 That blooms upon the breast of woman, bound, 
 A hope thrills up, of sacred home and child. 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Across the heats of Asia, crawls the snake, 
 The scorpion, within its walls. Thou Bell 
 Doom' St it to die, thou ring'st an era new. 
 Dash great desire and dare in hearts of men, 
 Bind in one common weal, one commonwealth, 
 The rich who reaps, the poor who sows the 
 
 seed. 
 Enfranchise man where'er he groans and waits. 
 Ring, drop on drop, the rounded verity : 
 One blood unites the ploughman and the prince 
 Yea, as one scarlet fire threads through the 
 
 spheres. 
 Ring, Ring O Bell, the Flag's full fluttering 
 
 voice — 
 (From night 'twas born, the night was needful, 
 
 see. 
 For mellowing of a star-purpose vast). 
 Ring out O Bell, its tidings down the tides 
 That mount in sapphire glory foamed with 
 
 stars : — 
 
 6c 
 
THE SCARLET-VEINED. 
 
 Fear ye no night, O ye United States, 
 Each dusk is witness on great Heaven's dome 
 Ye' 11 stand. The stars nail it along the night. 
 Fear ye no night, O ye United States, 
 The night of party jealousies, of strife, 
 Where factions war, and thunders roll their car, 
 Where the live tongues leap from the light- 
 ning's mail. 
 And the vast Void is vocal round your sail — 
 Your prow, your Scarlet- Veined ploughs up 
 
 the stars. 
 Those harbor-lights of God's great Common- 
 wealth, 
 The bubbling lights for nations round your 
 Barque. 
 
 6i 
 
Ibis ^ajest^ 
 
 GEORGE THE FIRST 
 KING OF HEIvIvAS 
 
 The Inheritor of her giant Past 
 The Herald of her garlanded To-morrow. 
 
 UpocfyrjTeia 
 
 The Morning Star above the scythed moon 
 
 Crowns the great dawning' s brink, 
 Hellas ! thy stellar Past upon thy brow, 
 Re-throned through throes of night upon the 
 Now, 
 Dost watch the Crescent sink ! 
 
 63 
 
VOICES. 
 
VOICES. 
 
 ifrom MeUas— 3for Mellas. 
 
 ONCE more thine ancient fires burn, Hel- 
 lenic might, 
 
 On Athos' height. 
 And face, with lurid forehead o'er the blue 
 expanse, 
 
 The Orient's lance. 
 On Cretan Ida's fountained peak the watch- 
 man waits. 
 
 ^gean's gates, 
 The portals of thy crimson-hearted heroes, ope 
 In sunrise-hope. 
 
 Forward ! With memories red of Marathon's 
 great gaze 
 
 Through Asian maze, 
 
 Face Britain's vaunted brawn, great Europe's 
 treachery, 
 
 Thews of Thermopylae ! 
 
VOICES. 
 
 IDoices jfrom IHellas. 
 
 THEIR shout went up to the Sun 
 Ages gone, 
 To the white brows, recording, of gods, 
 When Herodotus read of The Fight 
 That fashioned those Hellenes a might 
 In the teeth of a fulgurous dawn, 
 
 The Orient buttressed on brawn 
 
 Ages gone, 
 Pale like the peopled haze of hell, 
 A whirlwind, edged, o'er the shuddering main 
 It swept, it clashed. It shall meet again 
 lyittle Hellas buttressed on brain. 
 
 Her shout goes up to the sun 
 In this dawn, 
 
 68 
 
VOICES. 
 
 To the heart of the great God of gods. 
 Alone midst Europe's craven gun-light, 
 Alone to lift the Christ-jflag aright, 
 Veined with the ancient ichor of might- 
 Little Hellas buttressed on right ! 
 
 69 
 
VOICES. 
 
 jfvom /IDount ®l\?mpus. 
 
 ONCE more ye whirl your glance a-down 
 that height, 
 The fount of the idea — of gods for man. 
 See ! through the valley's serpentining light, 
 Dread mirror of the horned moon, the wan 
 Thin daylight looks. Fuller and faster still 
 The Orient pours. Her hordes' vermilion 
 
 Hope, 
 Fire-sheeted from great Tophet's fanned anvil, 
 Roars a red rain. The devil's gate is ope. 
 Nay, whirl our shout round the great stars, we 
 
 men, 
 The beaked hearts of great Hellas hold the hour. 
 No more as once the war midst gods again 
 Contending, calls. The one who blends their 
 
 power 
 
 70 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Into one cause of man for man stands out — 
 Christ with the human eyes has led the shout ! 
 
 71 
 
VOICES. 
 
 /iDors Janua Ditae. 
 
 STAND, O ye Hellenes, stand ! 
 "Three Hundred" against All; 
 Stand in the rocky clefts of your will, 
 The thin red line of great Hellas still. 
 Stand ! 
 
 Stand, O ye Hellenes, stand ! 
 
 Your thirty centuries 
 Are glowing before ye, and ray ye all o'er 
 If ye' 11 smite as never and never before — 
 Stand ! 
 
 Stand, O ye Hellenes, stand ! 
 
 Of fiery transport born. 
 Grapple onward with knee, with fist, with teeth, 
 Wrench out from disaster immortal wreath — 
 Stand ! 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Coeur H)e Xion U89. 
 'C:be Xion*mearte& 1897. 
 
 OH, for one steel-strong Presence at thy 
 prow, 
 England, finessing while Christ's flag goes down ! 
 Where is thy vaunted C(£ur de Lio?i now 
 To answer with its roar the Orient's frown? 
 Plantagenets thou countest, royal roll 
 Buzzing o'er Turkish sweetmeats wrapt in pelf ; 
 Plantagenet is not : Great scarlet soul. 
 Who for thy Thorn-Crowned flung away himself. 
 To-day thy coeur de Lion crouches, pale 
 From prowl of Bear and scream of Teuton bird ; 
 Arise, dead Cid ! * our manhood's hoarse "All 
 hail ! ' ' 
 
 * The reader will recall how the prayers of the faithful and 
 the tooth of St. Apollonia having failed, they set the dead Cid 
 from his tomb in Burgos at the head of the host, and routed the 
 red Orient. 
 
 73 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Awaits thine awful face, thy silent word. 
 Arise, thou gaunt but gauntleted red Might, 
 And hurl thine ICnghind on the Orient's fi"ht ! 
 
 74 
 
VOICES. 
 
 XTbe Slavic JBirD. 
 
 ABOVE those ancient hill-tops, where the 
 dove 
 Panted its message bright of irised rain, 
 A vulture-cloud wheels darkening, above 
 The solemn Vast — the unmeasured mounds 
 of slain. 
 Armenia ! arching o'er thy crimsoned lands 
 Two dread wings stretch ; steady they wait, 
 their sweep 
 That Standard's double eye whose move com- 
 mands 
 From Stamboul's silent chess-play to the leap 
 Of the Pacific sea. Is it to help, 
 
 Thou Russian might? to succor, save? and led 
 By thee the nations learn ? for thy dread 
 self 
 
 75 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Thy Standard's dark advancement o'er the 
 dead? 
 
 Is this thy power ? lo ! thy huge wings un- 
 roll. 
 
 A nation's bulk consists in her great soul! 
 
 76 
 
VOICES. 
 
 jfor Crete an& Hrmenla. 
 
 FORWARD, ye nations, in the name of 
 Heaven ! 
 The Cross that wrapped your hosts in fiery 
 swathe, 
 Saint George's gleam, thou England to thee 
 given 
 Down thine illumined Past, to-day 'twill bathe 
 Thy unsheathed steel. I^eap from your bond- 
 aged sheath, 
 Ye swords of Albion, to avenge the hands 
 Stretched in a white appeal to ye, where death 
 Streaks the gaunt air in Islam's defamed lands. 
 We men, whose flag claims Heaven's great star- 
 ship dread 
 For pilot, in our veins rocks the red blood 
 Of brotherhood with Britain's life, faith-fed. 
 
 77 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Is it not forward in the name of God? 
 One took the greater risk upon a Cross 
 And saved a world in Calvary's red loss ! 
 
 78 
 
VOICES. 
 
 IDolces. 
 
 WHAT voices swing with the wild bird's 
 wing 
 Fluttering on Stamboul's shore, 
 Sweeping along the red twilight's trail, 
 
 Calling, and o'er and o'er 
 Flinging on Mosque and Seraglio's domes 
 Their utmost plaint at the door? 
 
 On the Dardanelles' breast in infamous rest 
 
 The guns of England lie, 
 A holiday Red at the halliard's head. 
 
 The Cross of Christ on high ! 
 Idly a breath curls the crimsoning wave: 
 
 The ennui of Britain's sigh. 
 
 Like a giant wound, without cry or sound, 
 
 79 
 
VOICES. 
 
 The red sun falls and falls, 
 An awful drop on the dead, dumb day, 
 
 A requiem that calls 
 To every drop of red manhood's blood 
 
 In that fleet at the Sultan's walls. 
 
 It utters to-day and to-morrow's to-day 
 
 The Orient's crimson shame ; 
 The Orient's shame, did I rashly cry? 
 
 'Tis Christians' scarlet shame 
 That hears the wild surge of its brethren's blood — 
 
 And plays the diplomatists' game ! 
 
 And idly floats like the painted boats 
 
 That children set adrift, 
 While the blood sobs on with each falling sun; — 
 
 No hand leaps forth to lift 
 From the soddened woe. But, ye nations, hark! 
 For this red sun moves up the Orient-dark 
 
 And speaks to Him who will sift ! 
 
VOICES. 
 
 ®n mistor^'s Mall. 
 
 So fallen, so lost, 
 England to-day ! 
 Thy guns plough the moonlight 
 At Crete with their noonlight : 
 lyit infamy's ray. 
 
 So fallen, so lost, 
 
 England in might ! 
 Thy faith? in the Prophet 
 Whose sons dip in Tophet 
 
 Their hands of red light. 
 
 So fallen, so vain, 
 
 England, thy vaunt ! 
 Thy Christ shudders, dying, 
 
 8i 
 
VOICES. 
 
 Thy colors a-flying 
 
 At Crete toss their taunt. 
 
 So fallen, so shrunk, 
 
 Britain ^^ sans homes'" ! 
 In Turkish bonds grappled, 
 Thy conscience? a dappled, 
 Dead-gold, a God's scorn. 
 
 For the hand, trembling, stretched 
 
 (Thou, Britain, know well) 
 On Crete's Calvary, writes 
 From its crimson's dread heights 
 Thy Mene Tekel. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 TLhz jflao in tbe H)art)anelles. 
 
 OF all the wonders that the Old World 
 shows, 
 Of storied heights, Imperial gloom or gleam, 
 One sight stupendous, growth of a grand dream, 
 lyifts in the crimson haze of Orient-beam, 
 
 The Flag of Washington leads empires on. 
 
 Fprtressed upon his crimes the Sultan sits, 
 A smile triumphant bridges the blue straits, 
 Where, impotent, the might of nations waits. 
 The smile Sultanic its red scheeming sates? 
 Not while the Scarlet- Veined leads empires 
 on. 
 
 Unfurled to thunderous haze of Moslem might, 
 O Flag of Washington, in this great hour, 
 
 85 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 A challenge, thou, in teeth of storied power; 
 
 No lust of empire tempts thee, golden dower — 
 
 The cause of Man is thine, O Flag, sail on ! 
 
 On ! where the ' ' Powers ' ' are powerless to pass, 
 In van of empires thou the guiding rod. 
 On ! for the cause of Man is cause of God ! 
 God swept His stars one morn thy face upon — 
 The cause of God is thine, O Flag, sail on ! 
 
 86 
 
PA TRIO TIC POEMS. 
 
 IRature's IDote. 
 
 GOD'S great big golden Dollar rises daily 
 on the dawning, 
 And scatters golden plenty to Uncle Sam's 
 vast fold, 
 Tell me why this fuss on voting? God's poli- 
 tics are chosen ! 
 The darkness claims the silver, the moon 
 that's fed from gold. 
 
 87 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 IFn /iDemoriam /iDaceo. 
 
 "'He being dead, yet speakethy 
 
 AT Punta Brava hast thou fallen to-day, 
 Leading thy Star through the red car- 
 nage-haze ? 
 Upon Spain's lip a Judas- smile finds way, 
 
 Broadening to laughter and to triumph-lays? 
 From Punta Brava shall thy star ascend, 
 
 O Cuban patriot, thy standard's star 
 That with great Freedom's galaxy must blend 
 
 And burn before the dark of nations far. 
 Shall the Castilian smile from camp to king? 
 Not while on Brava soil there lives a 
 soul. 
 Not while the alchemy of Freedom's ring. 
 Married to man, gleams toward one golden 
 goal. 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Thy meteor-purpose, Maceo, shall burn 
 Upon thy comrades' souls, the battle turn ! 
 
PA TRIO TIC POEMS. 
 
 XTo (trover Clevelant). 
 
 Chief Executive. 
 
 OTHOU who waitest at the helm this hour, 
 Thou whom Columbia honored with her 
 trust, 
 To voice her will, to represent her power, 
 
 Why on thy pen Executive this rust 
 When the great cry of man for I^iberty 
 
 Obliges thy great torch to light his land? 
 O shaker of the L,ion and the sea, 
 
 Thou who didst fetter Anarchy's red hand, 
 Thou from the Putnam battle-blood that 
 knew 
 Nor danger, nor dishonor, nor delay 
 When the fair Right lifteth her face to sue 
 For manhood's instant arm, cost what it 
 
 may — 
 
 90 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Carve out, with Pen, a path for Cuba free, 
 Oh, seize to-day thiue opportunity ! 
 
 91 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 BuQlanD's pet Birt). 
 
 IN the Zoo of the nations a marvellous sight 
 On the sands of Time appears, 
 Madam Europe stands up with her lorgnette 
 deep, 
 At the crested vision leers. 
 
 A trainer of animals great and small 
 
 Struts forth in the garish light, 
 His crow rhyming on with the death-clock's 
 tick— 
 
 And fair Europe's cheek turns white. 
 
 He faces the bear with the grizzled hair, 
 
 Four hundred }'ears older than he, 
 
 Quite ancient enough this bird to instruct — 
 
 The Turkey instructs Brother B. ! 
 92 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 He eyes the two-headed Kaiser-bird, 
 
 With his one old-sinner head ; 
 The Eagles of Rome that o'er Asia screamed, 
 
 Coquet, then shiver — they've fled! 
 
 But marvel of marvels, the biped that once 
 Caressed him (caged in the South), 
 
 I^ook ! To-day he has got a hitching-strap 
 In the English donkey's mouth. 
 
 93 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 [HAD a large prize for the Zoo, 
 For the denizens of the den, 
 I slowly strolled through the garden's fold, 
 And, quite anxiously, scanned each pen : 
 
 There was the British lion 
 
 With a bluster in every blare ! 
 Yet he feared to fight for the Hellenes' right, 
 
 Can't he bear The Prize to his lair? 
 
 Our Eagle was posing well 
 
 For a new dollar-greenback die, 
 Yet no quill from his wing has writ the Grand 
 Thing 
 
 To sustain Oiba Libre as I. 
 
 The monkey was mincing the airs 
 
 94 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 Of a Dreibtind member, quite pale, 
 SnifBing well to the organ was plaintive Jack 
 Morgan, 
 Quite Red, White and Green to his tail. 
 
 I heard two big buzzards talking : 
 
 ' ' Mille pardons / " ^ ^ " Entsdmldigen Sie ! ' ' 
 On the walls that were Alsace, a good deal of 
 tall "sass," 
 
 An Eagle (or eager) war-glee. 
 
 Just look at that grandiose Bird ! 
 
 He sweeps from the lands of the Pole, 
 But his glance it is double, 'twill give nations 
 trouble 
 
 From Scotia to Corea's ro/e. 
 
 The sick Turkish paroquet 
 
 On the Sultan-odalisque's arm 
 Is really quite well : the "Powers" are pell-mell ! 
 
 95 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 That red on his wing is Blood, warm ! 
 
 They all really deserve my prize ; 
 
 To whom shall I give it, you think? 
 But I've made up my mind, and I'm quite far 
 from blind. 
 
 You can guess. One guess in a wink ! 
 
 There he comes, the Prize-Winner, sure ! 
 
 A waller, spelt W-e-y-1-e-r, you say? 
 My Booby Prize-Winner without triumph's din- 
 ner : 
 
 The real Spanish donkey to-day. 
 
 96 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 ]£rpectations. 
 
 WHOM do you pray for, darling, to- 
 night?" 
 Mamma said to the curly toss 
 Of childhood's ringlets upon her knee. 
 The arch little face looked up with glee : 
 "For McKinley and Santa Klaus!" 
 
 97 
 
PATRIOTIC POEMS. 
 
 xrbe Xoftiest Mort). 
 
 FROM the magnet-touch of the great To-day 
 That tosses them up to their starry way 
 The flags are writing along the sky 
 In the quivering Red and White and Blue 
 
 (The Liberty-ink that nations sue) 
 The loftiest word in the circling hum 
 Of Life — that volume of smile and sigh : 
 Americanus Sum ! 
 
 July 4th. 
 
 98 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Ube Sft^larft. 
 
 u 
 
 P ! 
 
 Through the dew-light when Dawn holds her cup 
 
 To the rim of the scarlet sun, 
 
 O'er the sparkles that float and run 
 
 To a zenith whose breath's begun — 
 
 Up! 
 
 Up! 
 
 With thy beak in that Deep, in a wine 
 
 Whose brim is a blooming divine, 
 
 Upwelling for this thirst of thine 
 
 To mount the blue Infinite line — 
 
 Up ! 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Up! 
 
 O'er the woodlands that fill their green cup 
 
 With the gurgle of birds and streams, 
 
 With the sunlight in tangled beams, 
 
 The forest's dawn-echo of dreams — 
 
 Up! 
 
 Up! 
 
 The thunderous octaves of ocean, 
 
 The Infinite's epic to man. 
 
 Grow lessening and less. The blue span 
 
 A vaporous streak, thinning — wan — 
 
 Up! 
 
 Up! 
 
 The shimmer of silver worlds, star flight. 
 
 Falls a cloud wreath on azure light, 
 
 Up ! thy wild wing aspires the height, 
 
 What margins of mystery in sight } 
 
 Up! 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Up! 
 
 And thy shower of song in the cup 
 
 Which to mortal Hps is given 
 
 For a moment of unveiled heaven — 
 
 The cry of an utmost Eden ! 
 
 Up! 
 
 »03 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 Iln tbe ©rcbart). 
 
 FULL-DRESS the apple-tree ladies, 
 Pink glistenings on their heart, 
 Wide-spread society's flounces. 
 The orchard's uncaptured art — 
 For the bumble-bee band is humming. 
 
 Senor Lark has sung first solo, 
 "Where did it reach?" and low 
 
 The breezes stammer, breathless : 
 "Only the lark doth know "— 
 And the clouds are pale with that echo. 
 
 Miss Hawthorne in grand tier boxes, 
 Peeps, pink, — a glance over there, 
 
 She sees her colors are burning : 
 
 Mr. Robin's boutonniere ! 
 
 And the bumble-bee band is humming. 
 104 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Now Baritone Bobolink's roulade 
 
 Is met with a rain of cheers, 
 The star-flowers' eyes grow misty, 
 The buttercups hide their tears, 
 And the bumble-bee band is sobbing ! 
 
 Intermezzo. Full-dress ladies 
 Salute (Eden's manners fine). 
 
 Their powdered heads bend together 
 As if they were taking wine — 
 And the bumble-bee band is drinking. 
 
 But once more a solo maddens — 
 "Where did it reach!" and low 
 
 The Orchard whispers, trembling :" 
 "Only the lark doth know." 
 But a world is held with that echo ! 
 
 105 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 IRobin's IRew Sona. 
 
 TILTING on the hawthorne 
 White, with love of May, 
 Robin climbs his ladder : 
 
 L,adder-trills of lay ; 
 Brown beak dipped in summer, 
 
 Heart as red as rose, 
 Bud that on her lattice 
 In the May-breeze blows. 
 
 At her lattice-window 
 Where the linnet builds, 
 
 Where the vines are glistening 
 In the dawn's sun-rills, 
 
 Waits my ladye Wynneth 
 Fair as dawn's pale flush 
 
 io6 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 When the sun's wild wooing 
 Wakes a crimson blush, 
 
 Robin waits, and watches 
 
 (Ah, that brown eye keen !) 
 The fair ladye Wynneth 
 
 At the casement's green ; 
 Slowly through the hedge-rows 
 
 Starred with flecks of sun. 
 Rides Sir Knight, rides slowly, 
 
 Morn's but just begun ! — 
 
 Robin ! what's that madness 
 
 In the sudden verse 
 From thy red heart trembling? 
 
 Song, the larks rehearse. 
 Robin's caught, and tasted 
 
 Her first kiss, above, 
 
 Tossed from casement-window, 
 
 Her first kiss of love ! 
 107 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 TTbe ^fountain. 
 
 Frotn the Arabic. 
 
 AFAR, I behold the silver sheen 
 Of the white rose rise o'er the garden's 
 queens 
 lyike thy moonlight-self o'er the Torrid, love. 
 Hastening, I hear the white rose speak, 
 L,ulling like leaves of ihy moonlight-voice 
 When thy lips o'erpetal my parched lips, love. 
 
 108 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Ube Mbite IRose. 
 
 ON that first blush of Eden 
 When the moon looked in 
 At the love-glow of the garden 
 
 Burned his gaze to win 
 Love like that deep of Heaven 
 When the moon looked in. 
 
 On two unfolding rose-lips 
 When the moon looked in 
 
 Stayed his ivory light, infolding, 
 "All thy life I win ! " 
 
 White is the rose forever. 
 For the moon looked in. 
 
 109 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Ube 1/igbtnfna. 
 
 ^OWARDS the moon's cruse it leaps, 
 
 it bends and drinks, 
 And, quafl&ng heaven, desire 
 
 with distance links. 
 
 T 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 Ube 1Fli0bt*Blooming Cereus. 
 
 THE stars are out and the green-lipped moon 
 in shroud. 
 The wind that's knocking, soul, at thy door? 
 Along the marge the moan of the sea, 
 Circumference of spheric agony, 
 
 What knell is knocking, soul, o'er and o'er? 
 The world is out in wake of the skeleton cloud. 
 
 Thy Hope is out, soul, hell is a-lit and a-leap. 
 God over gods of hell ^^ ^ ^ my white face in 
 their deep? 
 
 On a branch of the world a silver star ! 
 A flake from the foam that the moonbeams are 
 As they crawl into cadence over the bar 
 That's haunted with shriek of lost souls afar? 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 God over gods of hell * >i< ;;; my white face 
 that they reap ! 
 
 On a branch of the world a silver star ! 
 From pavement untrodden but by God, 
 Glassing, alone, the great antiphons, 
 Petal on petal, pearled, spheric tones 
 That wake from the opal word of God ; 
 
 On a branch of the world a silver star 
 Tinged with angels ! — not far, not far ! 
 
 On a branch of the world a silver star, 
 
 Soul of my soul ;i< ^ :); in this cosmic war 
 Wrenched, beckoned, wreathed, a door that's 
 
 ajar 
 For the yellow laugh of devils that are — 
 Soul of my soul, in thy whitening fight 
 Ponder it, down on thy knees to-night 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 As the devil's dice rattles farther, a-far, 
 Falls through the black for the nations' toss — 
 that's war — 
 
 Soul, that art gripping on God to-night, 
 On a branch of thy world this silver star 
 Tinged with angels — not far, not far — 
 Upbreathes their song-sea, its enringing God, 
 A word in the wake of His step star-shod ! 
 
 "3 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Centripetal. 
 
 REVERENCE for the atom, dew-drop, 
 Shaping self in spheric order, 
 Reverence for the soul begetteth, 
 For that supreme work, God's Human : 
 Dawn of Eden on the forehead. 
 Dawn of self's august revealments, 
 " God's own Infinite within me, 
 Destiny swings in her portals 
 To my will." The ages prove it. 
 Once, in wing-sweep o'er the Azure, 
 It is said the grave archangels 
 Held the hand a frolic cherub 
 Stretched towards a drop of fire-mist, 
 Golden dew-light down the pathways 
 Constellations tread. The cherub 
 Stretched his hand towards the sparkle : 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 "Little ball! a game! I'll toss it!" 
 Leaped the word of lit archangel ; 
 "Sou! Hold thy hand! And kneel!— 7"/^^ 
 Earth!'' 
 
 "5 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Ube /iDapflower. 
 
 AMElvLOW delight is the meadow 
 Mad with May, 
 Through the green heave the wind's 
 
 Singing its way, 
 Unfolding and blowing 
 
 In riot and roam 
 On hedge-row and hill-top 
 
 Its silvering foam, 
 Through tint and through patter of summer 
 shower, 
 
 Mayflower ! 
 
 A-dream was the Blue of the midnight, 
 
 Dream of Day, 
 Through the Star- weave the gold's 
 
 Mirrored in May. 
 
 ii6 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Upholding its tapers 
 
 Of light on the land 
 The buttercups glister 
 
 On violet strand, 
 Through rose of the sunset and rhyme of shower, 
 
 Star-flower ! 
 
 A-dream was the nebulous ocean 
 
 One gray Day. 
 Through the green heave a ship's 
 
 Ploughing its way. 
 Painting the Infinite 
 
 With soul-prompted star, 
 A sail 'gainst God's azure 
 
 Grows over the bar ! 
 
 O'er rocks and o'er storm-beat one crystal comes. 
 The blossom whose hues are a nations' homes : 
 Mayflower ! 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 5une. 
 
 DAWN of her tangled strains 
 May-breezes babbled of through flushing 
 
 lanes ; 
 Day of her harmony, 
 Heaven bending deep: "Thy warm, sweet 
 eyes for me ;" 
 Night of her bloom, moon-led, 
 June liftetli up her lips, a rose, love-fed. 
 
 iiS 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 pour Bile. 
 
 Cupidon s'asseyait 
 
 Dans un jardin de pense'cs, 
 De son aile pi ante 7ine plume : 
 
 ^' Petit arbre pour V enchanter ! ^ 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 Met (BirDle. 
 
 IT is an orbit in whose zone a star, 
 Her woven heart-beats' tune, 
 Moves with the melody of gods afar 
 In permanence of June. 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 IHer 6irMe IHnclaspet). 
 
 As when a goddess turns the lock 
 On her illumined lands of night, 
 The traveller worn for one sweet rest 
 Gleaming afar, like Naiad-light 
 On waters chiming with death's clock — 
 
 Sees haven ! through moon-dawn of her 
 breast. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 a IRose. 
 
 A BREATH of God's summer, 
 O crimsoning new-comer 
 Whom mortals call a rose? 
 A spirit-plumed maiden, 
 A moment pulse-laden 
 
 With heaven's red lip that blows. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 S THOUGHT by thought drops like the 
 silver's seven 
 On rosary, along the poet's vision, 
 He kneels and listens still within the Elysian 
 Where roses rhyme their lyric breath with 
 Heaven . 
 
 A 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Ube TRarna!? XUi?. 
 
 DOWN the colossal majesty 
 Of Karnak's road I rove, 
 Pillared on splendor loom the forms 
 
 Of gods, the Theban Jove, 
 The sacrifice, the mystic rite — 
 
 Vague hieroglyphs of heaven 
 Foreshadowing ecstacy beyond 
 
 The sacred columns seven. 
 The vocal glooms of solitude. 
 
 The thunderous silence speaks, 
 The roll of ages mounts, — its voice 
 
 The soul of man. It seeks 
 Some boon from awful Amon-Ra : 
 
 "To me, thou Sun-god, come!" 
 
 The shadows sweep the solitudes, 
 124 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 The fervent lips are dumb. 
 
 * *. * * 
 
 On the still breast of Heaven's blue, 
 
 Anchored in seas of light, 
 Crown of the column's majesty, 
 
 The lotus floats in sight, 
 The lotus-lily to the sun 
 
 I/ifts lip, and has the god's kiss won ! 
 
 135 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 XTbe Bai^ptian ©belisft. 
 
 STERN staying Index on the clanging turn 
 Of dappled Time, pointing to One — man's 
 bourn. 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 Ube BGPPtian ©belisft. 
 II 
 
 HAT word of old stayed thy bright bound 
 towards firmaments of One, 
 Thou mystic fount from fathomless, 
 
 thou Prism of the sun ! 
 
 W 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 IRevele. 
 
 Je 7no7ite, et je vois 
 
 Stir les ailes de V Amoiir 
 L' horizon qui se cache 
 
 Pour les autres en piein jotir. 
 
 128 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 for Mbom? 
 
 THE misted moon had bared her breast. 
 The star-strong steel of warriors seven 
 Anointed in the sunset's crest, 
 
 Waits maddened, trembling ou Heaven's rim. 
 
 Her smiling tips 
 With fleicr de-lis their lance. Still dim, 
 Unquaffed those lips, 
 They wildly stare upon Madonna-maid in Heaven. 
 
 129 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 Uransfiouratfon. 
 I. 
 
 THE sacred raiment I put off 
 So soon her smile hath gone 
 That clothed me with that clime that holds 
 The deathless rose of dawn. 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 XTransfiguratfon. 
 
 II. 
 
 SHE comes, my lady comes, 
 I tremble, I, a man. 
 Yet when her lips cross my soul's sill, I 
 Know what Immortals can ! 
 
 131 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 ®ne /IDoonliQbt. 
 
 From the Persian. 
 
 HE kissed a crescent on my lips, 
 Half-circle sweet, if small, 
 It burns a Heaven upon the night — 
 It holds an Orient's All. 
 
 132 
 
POEMS OF NA TURE. 
 
 H prater. 
 
 SAY ye one word down the dread silences, 
 O angels great of God who bend and lift 
 Those murmurous vesture-folds of Time 
 Whose voices stir from out an Infinite ; 
 And give to soul, not sense, one thrill of Him 
 The Word, who waits within the Eternal Veil 
 With eyes intent upon our manhood's life 
 In all its leap and lift, its strife, its storm. 
 Its currents counting slow through the great dark 
 To that lit Vast whose stars are harbor-lights. 
 On manhood's pulse with all its possible, 
 Lift, messengers of God, one thrill of Him 
 Whose eyes are vistas of man's ultimate — 
 For lo, in His, our veins do rhyme ! 
 
 133 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 a /iDeetiuQ.* 
 
 HE stands to-day upon the street, 
 The Infinite street of many lights, 
 Shadows have sunk into the night — 
 Shadows, and the Four Hundred lights. 
 
 Silence along the Infinite Street — 
 The burning gaze of the Expanse 
 
 Bends but one way ; upon two men 
 
 Who meet. There's silence in the advance. 
 
 Of moments in the Eternal Day 
 
 ("Good Form" obtains in highest Heaven), 
 
 One of these men is speaking, see ! 
 
 A hush through the great Trumpets seven, 
 
 • One of Mr. McAllister's maxims is said to have been : " I/you 
 see a man with a shabby coat, cross the street to avoid him." 
 
 134 
 
POEMS OF NATURE. 
 
 He stands upon the Eternal Street 
 Of wide-ascending, argent light, 
 
 A dazzle "Patriarchs" never dreamed, 
 Nor Prophets, nor a Pope in white. 
 
 He stands upon the Eternal Street, 
 The radiance is of hue unpriced — 
 
 What form is this that faces him? 
 
 The poor storm-shattered serge of Christ ; 
 
 The Man who wore the "shabby coat" 
 For the long space of heavj' years 
 
 For this man, all men. Once, cast out 
 By a "Four Hundred's" cultured sneers. 
 
 What canst thou do, O soul? Decide! 
 
 He faces thee, the Nazarene. 
 Thou canst not "cross" the Eternal Street, 
 
 Thou canst not shirk that Face once seen. 
 
 135