P s 
 
 3513 
 
 I»8Tc 
 
 I90Z 
 
■ Class Ts_aj:Q__ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
Poems of 
 
 Frances Guignard Gtbbes 
 
Poems of 
 
 Frances Guignard Gibbes 
 
 Washington 
 
 The Neale Publishing Company 
 
 431 Eleventh Street N. W. 
 
 MCMII 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 @ONGRESS, 
 
 Two OopiB* KeoEivea 
 
 MAR tg"1902 
 
 COPVW«HT ENTRY 
 
 0LAS3 (V XXo. Nu. 
 
 COPY a 
 
 7€)35I3 
 
 Copyright, 1902, by The Neale Publishing Company 
 
Dedicated 
 TO MY Father and Mother 
 
These pages were written during moods when my 
 only aspiration was to grasp more completely the 
 insights to which they pertain, and I have not subse- 
 quently attempted to alter or rearrange them. These 
 sketches are integral parts of a larger fulfillment in 
 which they will find their chief justification and fuller 
 meaning. 
 
CONTENTS 
 ¥¥ 
 
 PAGX 
 
 A Crisis 18 
 
 A Miracle 57 
 
 Brotherhood 58 
 
 Distribution 11 
 
 God's Erect 61 
 
 In Minor Tonk 21 
 
 Interpretation of Titian's " Assumption " . .33 
 
 Invocation 38 
 
 Joy 64 
 
 Justice 63 
 
 Law 56 
 
 Love's Tribute 31 
 
 Making a Masterpiece 25 
 
 Might 53 
 
 My Inwardness 24 
 
 Mysterious Light 40 
 
 Opportunity 34 
 
 Recognition 50 
 
 9 
 
PAGE 
 
 EOYALTY 48 
 
 Serenity 62 
 
 Shorn Wings 23 
 
 Sketches from Nature 47 
 
 Sonnet 46 
 
 Stars and Eyes 12 
 
 St. Bruno and His Six 19 
 
 The Angel of Unrest 49 
 
 Tee Fields of Love 43 
 
 The Ideal 17 
 
 The Initiate 30 
 
 The Imminent 68 
 
 The Mocking-Bird 35 
 
 The Novitiate 28 
 
 Two Passions 15 
 
 Vastness 22 
 
 Waning Lights 16 
 
 Wherein the Wrong ? 59 
 
 Youth 32 
 
 10 
 
POEMS OF 
 FRANCES GUIGNARD GIBBES 
 
 Distribution 
 
 " I NEED thee," said a poet as he passed 
 And plucked the single immrose from a stem, 
 So proud to only hold its burden there ; 
 " I need thy loveliness to grace my verse, 
 Which move a wider range of hearts than here 
 Thy subtle beauty in this lonely woods." 
 
 " I need thee," said the Universal One, 
 Plucking a human flower from a heart 
 That seemed to only beat because it bore 
 The love and beauty of one being there ; 
 " I have a wider purpose for that soul — 
 I need her love to grace my Universe." 
 
 11 
 
Stars and Eyes 
 
 O MYRIAD stars, steadfast stars, ye shine, 
 
 Forever changeless while the myriad eyes, 
 
 All yearningly upturned, fain to divine 
 
 Some height or depth of Being's mysteries, 
 
 Have through the ages furled those lustrous spheres, 
 
 The rivals of your mystic, shimmering rays. 
 
 With all those pleading questionings 
 
 Unanswered still, the tears 
 
 Mayhap unrecompensed, they pass to ways 
 
 Unseen, to meet — who knows — what reckonings ? 
 
 II 
 
 Sweet eyes of love have sought ye ever, stars, 
 
 As finding there, within your steadfast gleams, 
 
 A sympathy — unmixed of mortal fears — 
 
 With love's immutability. Soft dreams 
 
 Of passion's endlessness float, like a haze, 
 
 Enswirling all the spaces of the sky — 
 
 Each nucleus a changeless star 
 
 Insinuating ways 
 
 Of love, immortal ways ; satiety, 
 
 A human thought that wings of love outsoar. 
 
 12 
 
Ill 
 
 Crazed, anguished eyes of love betrayed have sought 
 
 Within your cruel, dizzying heights, cold stars, 
 
 Redress for deadly desolation wrought 
 
 Through treachery ; and breasts that brutal scars 
 
 Of change have seared, have cursed your changelessness 
 
 Which holds alluring promises for love 
 
 That end in shuddering perfidy 
 
 And reeling hollowness. 
 
 Those twisted, tortuous ways of life that prove 
 
 The endless Universe a mockery ! 
 
 IV 
 Some star, soft mother eyes have watched, and prayed 
 With invocation for a tender thing. 
 In motherly adjustment closely laid 
 Within her sheltering arms. The years that bring 
 Maturity and change shall rob her arms 
 For life or death, yet close within her heart 
 And eyes she clasps that tenderness. 
 No chilling fortune harms 
 Her passionate maternity ; no hurt 
 Of searing time may age its agelessness. 
 
 V 
 The seeker's dauntless eyes, from star to star, 
 In ranging, tireless search upturned to pierce, 
 Perchance, some truth from out those glinting, far. 
 Free lights of God that flash a Universe 
 Unfathomed, where the straining, craving mind 
 May sight the beaconing, boundlessness of space. 
 Content if from the spangled night 
 Its steadfast vigil find 
 
 Some bounded truth, since limits still embrace 
 The limitless — a star, the infinite. 
 
 13 
 
VI 
 Up past ye, stars, into the vast Unseen, 
 Swift prayers of passion rise like leaping fire, 
 Imploring some faint sign from God. Between 
 Your points they seem to pass, each fond desire, 
 Up to an Infinite suggested here 
 In miniature by spirit-summoning stars. 
 Outposts of heaven, our prayers ye guide 
 On past the starry sphere. 
 And send sweet hope to mortal worshipers 
 Of days to come when prayers are satisfied. 
 
 VII 
 
 Stars, o'ershadowing stars, your steadfast beams. 
 
 Age after age, illume the shifting days 
 
 And fleeting passions of our mortal dreams ; 
 
 Each star of light, each heart of love obej's 
 
 Some law, some purpose of the Infinite. 
 
 O constant stars, not more of heaven ye hold 
 
 Than souls of human restlessness. 
 
 Shine on refulgent light, 
 
 One truth your rays and mortal hearts unfold : 
 
 An everlasting change in changelessness. 
 
 [A scientific critic has objected to stars being classed as change- 
 less, when, as a scientific fact, changes are noticed. This fact was 
 considered while the poem was being written, yet it was outweighed 
 by the poetic fact of human experience, that stars for ages shine on, 
 apparently the same, while myriads of human eyes pass away.] 
 
 14 
 
Two Passions 
 
 Vast ocean, beating like a throbbing heart 
 
 With some deep, passionate, tumultuous love, 
 
 As though the uttermost depths within thee strove 
 
 Thy \A'ild, pulsating fervor to impart 
 
 To thy great Mistress. Should her pulses start 
 
 In answer to thy motion, should she move, 
 
 AU-ardently, to meet thy fervent love. 
 
 What havoc to the world would then be wrought ! 
 
 With all her immobility, she knows 
 
 A calm, deep passion fiercer than thine own. 
 
 Great raging fires lash about her soul. 
 
 And yet, with strength indomitable, she shows 
 
 No sign in answer to thy restless moan, 
 
 But teaches life the might of self-control. 
 
 15 
 
Waning Ligfhts 
 
 The light is waning into shadowy night ; 
 The gleaming answers of the earth are still ; 
 The shimmering flowers and the glittering rill 
 Alike have furled their signals since no light 
 Aloft is calling in bright fellowship ; 
 The songs of eve are silenced, and the earth, 
 Awaiting morning with its quickened birth, 
 Has sunk into that sweet, deep rest of sleep. 
 
 The light is waning from beloved eyes ; 
 Those mirrors of the myriad sights of life. 
 Outworn and weary, seek a sweet relief 
 And wait until the last faint glimmer dies 
 Of earth, their biding place ; the flickering breath 
 Grows fainter as grows dim the tired eyes, 
 And to the murmur of half-uttered sighs 
 They sink into that sweet, deep rest of death. 
 
 16 
 
The Ideal 
 
 Mine eyes were yet aglow with baby gleams 
 
 Empyreal when first thou earnest to me, 
 
 Great angel, guardian of my soul ! I see 
 
 Thee standing now as first I saw in beams 
 
 Of purple, in the twilight there ; all seems 
 
 A vision radiant ! When charging thee 
 
 To guard, my mother left — I opened free 
 
 My baby soul, and soared to thee in dreams. 
 
 In thy great eyes I felt a look I 'd caught 
 
 Within my mother's face when I was ill 
 
 And waked to find her watching me. The song 
 
 I 'd wept for sounded with thy wings and brought 
 
 Anew the tears. Thou comest to me still 
 
 With eye-depths deepening all I feel and long. 
 
 17 
 
A Crisis 
 
 There is a time in early womanhood 
 
 When all the forces of her soul arise 
 
 And range themselves before her awakening eyes 
 
 All in a tremble, as a suitor stood 
 
 To watch the inclination of her mood. 
 
 So stand they, showing possibilities 
 
 Unformed of life, in all its subtleties, 
 
 Like him who waits reply of her he sued. 
 
 Should she reject them, lo ! they waste away 
 
 And leave her to the realm of commonplace. 
 
 Grow weaker with the waning of her days ; 
 
 But should she clasp them closely, bid them stay, 
 
 Their swelling forces with her life advance. 
 
 Increasing ever their intensities. 
 
 18 
 
St. Bruno and His Six 
 
 An aimless drifting in luxuriousness 
 
 To men with serious understratum brings 
 
 At last revulsion violent with strained 
 
 And overwrought yearnings for austerit}^ 
 
 Since 't is the soul in desperation cries : 
 
 " One further jot in easefulness, I die." 
 
 'T was thus with Bruno and his Six who chose 
 
 That mountain-top with naked walls of rock, 
 
 With ice-glazed floors : a region desolate, 
 
 Where elemental demons wreaked their spite 
 
 Since those majestic walls immovable 
 
 Stood, as in stubbornness and mockery. 
 
 Defiant to the powers of the storm. 
 
 For seven years this mystic band of seven 
 
 Lived here in heartless huts all comfortless ; 
 
 Each pledged himself a living scourge to sting 
 
 The other six should any skirk a vow 
 
 Or swerve a spider's thread from rigidness. 
 
 This place — a plague-spot on the breast of earth - 
 
 They chose to purge their hearts of feebleness 
 
 And gain a tone and vigor for the soul. 
 
 'T was here, in place of soothing melodies. 
 They chanted hymns of warning, dire and fierce, 
 And ominous, that bloodhound-like outsprung 
 The kennels of the heart, then crouched a space 
 With sudden yelpings in the crevices — 
 
 19 
 
On-leaped in fury o'er the jutting crags ; 
 
 Ketrieving thence with whetted fierceness, home 
 
 Returned to breed a sterner brood of sound. 
 
 'T was here, in place of silken-sheeted down, 
 
 They slept on hard and roughened boards, with shirts 
 
 That pricked their ease-enfeebled flesh, to ensure 
 
 That even their dreams were shadowed by a scourge. 
 
 Instead of draperies with heavy fold. 
 
 The broidered arras with its blazoned scenes, 
 
 The rich-toned paintings, splendid to the eye. 
 
 The lawns of emerald with gorgeous flowers, 
 
 The outward eye encountered walls of gray 
 
 Which gave a sombre tincture to the soul. 
 
 Their wine, that in the days of luxury 
 
 Was mellowed juice of lucious grape, was now 
 
 The keen and acrid draughts of ice-toned air. 
 
 In times of yore their mistresses had been 
 
 Soft women, golden-haired, and languorous-eyed ; 
 
 One mistress now alone the seven knew, 
 
 And she was rigid-eyed Austerity. 
 
 But He, the High One, speaking through the sky, 
 
 Where evening sunsets made a golden path ; 
 
 Through lichens tentacled upon the rock ; 
 
 Through birds that from the valley dared the height ; 
 
 Through fervid heart-beats 'neath the jaded flesh, 
 
 Again a warning knelled in Bruno's soul : 
 
 " My beauty is thy need, thy heritage." 
 
 And Bruno heard these messages from High 
 
 And knew — so true his nature's earnestness — 
 
 To cramp the soul, excluding joy and love, 
 
 Is death as surely as through easefulness. 
 
 20 
 
In Minor Tone 
 
 Outside, the elm twigs beat the window-pane, 
 Like some poor anguished hand, in ceaseless woe ; 
 The darkness thickens and the slanting rain 
 But adds a minor tone in mournful flow 
 And deepens bj' a note the wailing wind. 
 
 Some lone, sad-crying bird, lost in the storm, 
 Flies through the thicket with a startled sweep, 
 The casement shutters crash as in alarm, 
 Insinuating still another deep 
 And direful cadence to the waiUng wind. 
 
 The shadowy shapes seen through the thickened air 
 Seem brooding o'er some ominous event ; 
 The very tree-tops quiver in a fear, 
 And saplings, as in stricken misery bent. 
 Send each an echo to the wailing wind. 
 
 A minor strain strikes inward to my heart 
 And, shuddering, quickens shattered dreams of old. 
 Lost faces, friends foresworn, from memory start, 
 In mocking sweetness tantalize my soul. 
 Which sends its echoes to the wailing wind. 
 
 21 
 
Vastness 
 
 God doth not give His vastness through the sea, 
 
 And plain, and mountain-height alone, nor through 
 
 The lofty silence of the star-lit sky 
 
 At eventide. All these are great and show 
 
 Him in a symphony majestical. 
 
 But best He shows Himself when lavishly 
 
 Creating, makes a universal man 
 
 Who sees not merely as the passions in 
 
 Him see, but lets the Universal see. 
 
 Espying facts, he sends forth energies, 
 
 Bird-like, to soar, and dart, and dive, then bring 
 
 Him sprigs of truth with which He twines a wreath 
 
 Of Universal Truth to crown the brow 
 
 Of all humanity. 'T is then that best 
 
 Is shown God's vastness : through a human soul. 
 
 22 
 
Shorn Wings 
 
 Thou wast so swift and strong a moment since, 
 
 Bright bird, when thou wast flying past my window with 
 
 Thy mate ! What evil chance gave impulse to 
 
 Thy wings to turn from where the roofless vast 
 
 Would let thee soar forever still resistless if 
 
 Thou couldst? Yet thou didst swerve to enter where 
 
 Man binds by walls his dwelling place, too low 
 
 And narrow for the aspiration of thy wings. 
 
 Now thou hast beat thy life out, and lie there 
 
 Nought but in form a bird. How I acclaim 
 
 Thy wild nobility that made thee, will, 
 
 Thy freedom or thy death ! Not so with him, 
 
 The Human One, who holds thee but a lower life, 
 
 Yet lets the comforts of the fire-side, 
 
 The food, the drink, the ease of those four walls 
 
 Content him with trite custom's narrowness. 
 
 Faint-hearted one ! who trims his own wings with 
 
 Convention's shears for fear he might be led 
 
 To fly too far and wander from the Tried. 
 
 23 
 
My Inwardness 
 
 Thou who in thy great heart my deeds e'er dost 
 Embosom deep, and seest me through love's Hght, 
 Canst thou my Ufe most truly read aright ? 
 Perchance the keen and cruel rapier thrust 
 Of enemies best bares my heart — I trust 
 The Inward Vision's verity, then might 
 Myself best know myself? Complete insight 
 Comes not to those encompassed here with dust. 
 The sum of all our measures yet should be 
 A total truthfulness. Thine eyes would glean 
 The good, mine enemies the evil. Shard, 
 Emerald and opal form an occult three, 
 Too great the balance, yet the most unseen ; 
 Then what I am is what I am to God. 
 
 24 
 
Makingf a Masterpiece 
 
 I 
 
 It was wrought, the first flute, by a soul who had heard 
 
 the Great God, 
 Who had caught a blest note from that wondrous voice 
 
 which mufit sound 
 Evermore through his life to the life of the earth. The 
 
 marked soul 
 Who thus fatally hears is endowed with a trust, and he 
 
 knows 
 All his life is this trust ; thus atune to the Infinite One, 
 He knew that he, Seth, was elect to create just this flute. 
 
 II 
 
 Imbued with his trust's sacredness, Seth forsook all his 
 
 kind 
 For a time, chose to dwell far remote from the man-made 
 
 world. 
 To preserve the pure sense of his ears innocent from the 
 
 cry 
 Of despair or the curse of rage ; knew before he might 
 
 frame 
 A rare instrument, he must be in himself all the force. 
 All the fineness, the sweetness he would have issue 
 
 forth. Elate 
 With the truth, Seth worked with a toil that was joy ; he 
 
 hearkened 
 To sound with a sensitive ear and its meaning he learned 
 Through a sensitive soul. 
 
 25 
 
Ill 
 
 He would go to the Nile-bank and list to its flow from the 
 
 sands 
 Through the reeds, where the palms came between, with 
 
 his ear on the earth 
 Or astrain from the trees, and so gradually guaged the least 
 
 change 
 In the tone, from a boat on the breast of the Nile, where 
 
 the waves 
 Swished and lapped, to the sigh faint and low at the 
 
 vanishing point 
 Of the sound. Thus he toiled till he knew, with his eyes 
 
 bound around. 
 If a bird or a palm were the thing intervened twixt his ear 
 And the source of the sound. Even so hearkened he to 
 
 the birds' 
 Morning songs ; even so did he list to the wind through 
 
 the reeds, 
 To the call of each beast for his mate, till he learned every 
 
 voice 
 In its tremors and tones, where he dwelt in this wild of 
 
 the woods. 
 
 IV 
 The most perfect of reeds then chose Seth that had grown 
 
 to the song 
 Of the swift-flowing Nile, and he wrought his rare flute 
 
 with a care 
 Almost pain, for he made every length, every breadth, 
 
 every stop, 
 Every notch, each to each of its kind, with regard not 
 
 alone 
 For itself, but the rest. 
 
V 
 
 With his flute, Seth went back to the world and he blew 
 
 all he learned 
 Through his toil ; the harmony fraught with accompanying 
 
 chords 
 Which the Universe gives, forever attune to its parts. 
 The melody sang Seth's own heart, sang the strain of his 
 
 life. 
 And the mingle flowed forth with vibrations which pierced 
 
 the mere man 
 As he is to the world, and fixed the deep soul at its source. 
 Hark ! the innermost ear of each man then discerned 
 An echoing, answering strain, which arose from his heart ; 
 Thus Seth taught them to list — not to him — to the song 
 
 of their souls ; 
 And they heard, forced to hear, 't was God's voice that 
 
 Seth blew through his flute. 
 
 27 
 
The Novitiate 
 
 Scoff not thou, honest toiler of the earth, 
 If thy late comrade, with his eyes aflame, 
 Should pass along the field thou tendest there 
 And heed thee not, thou or thy noble toil ; 
 Know he is treasure-bearer to the King 
 New-made, unused as yet with steadfast calm 
 To bear those priceless treasures which he holds. 
 So late emerging from the commonplace, 
 He fears lest some nide jar will cause him lose 
 The charge intrusted with him by the King. 
 Once he was with thee, toiling even as thou, 
 Nursing the very earth thou turnest there, 
 Tending the growing crops with patient care ; 
 No difference might be found twixt him and thee, 
 Until once when the mid-day's heat beat fierce 
 He leaned upon his plough to wipe his face, 
 Then by a sudden chance upturned his ej'es 
 And saw a field-lark soaring through the blue 
 To take her noontide rest among the trees 
 High on the hill-top where the wind blew cool. 
 Those rising wings disturbed his native peace ; 
 A want unfathomable crept within 
 His heart ; nor could he plough his furrows straight 
 Since restless longings drew his thoughts away. 
 Thou dost recall his hasty leave from thee 
 And all his fellow-workers of the fields ; 
 
Thou thoughtst it hard that unexplained he went ; 
 
 Yet what had he to say, since naught he knew 
 
 Save one all-urging fact that he nuist go. 
 
 What difference was there, then, twixt him and thee? 
 
 None ; save that with his soul-eyes he had seen 
 
 The upward flight of two aspiring wings. 
 
 In other lands he found new hills and dales, 
 
 New atmosphere, and arduous, untried tasks ; 
 
 Oft did he pause, disheartened in his toil. 
 
 To wish himself a laborer still with thee. 
 
 Until once, through unlooked-for light, he found 
 
 He held possessions more than common man 
 
 And knew them as the treasures of the King. 
 
 If in thy heart thou still hast tenderness 
 
 For him who was thy comrade in old days. 
 
 Wait thou but patiently when he shall learn 
 
 Those treasures which he bears can ne'er be lost 
 
 When once possessed ; then will he come to thee 
 
 To seal a closer union than before. 
 
 Shall raise thee where he stands ; through thee, himself 
 
 Shall raise ; since from thy heart alone he wins 
 
 The uttermost-prized treasure of the King. 
 
 29 
 
The Initiate 
 
 Soft, through portals of the stillness pealing 
 For hearing ears, sweet angel music swells ; 
 Clear, through ])rison bars of darkness stealing. 
 For seeing eyes, God's radiant glory wells. 
 Yet still grope on the human herd, feeling 
 The way head down, nor upward heed for fears. 
 And cry aloud for light nor see through tears. 
 From out this starless night of black despair 
 Comes one from God, with truth divine and free ; 
 Head thrown erect, he walks and knows no fear — 
 No clangor in his soul bars angels' plea. 
 Attuned, he hears, and all the people hear ; 
 Through his pure eyes Heaven's light may enter free. 
 Undazed, he sees, and all the people see. 
 
 30 
 
Love's Tribute 
 
 Play me no songs on wailing violin 
 
 As lovers do in rising serenade 
 
 Sound wooing sighs that with the music fade 
 
 And leave a longing where the song has been ; 
 
 Fling me no lilies, sweet, to weave within 
 
 My hair's luxuriance, to grace each braid 
 
 A space, then drooping leave a stain that made 
 
 A glory once, sad emblem dark of sin ! 
 
 For thou must sing just thy pure heart to me 
 
 And let its motive ever be thy name, 
 
 Its measured rhythm but thy steadfast love 
 
 That beats deep with my life. My flowers, see, 
 
 Are thy caressing eyes that shine the same 
 
 And 'luminate my being as I move ! 
 
 31 
 
Youth 
 
 I HEED no count of mortal years, my heart 
 Is young as yonder song — his first love-song 
 That bird is singing as he soars, with strong, 
 Swift wing-beats, mighty in his love ; my heart 
 Loves with his, soaring, too, and is a part 
 Of his deep joyousness. I sit among 
 The grasses, 'mid the new-blown buds, and long 
 Till longing makes all sense of self depart, 
 And I am young and tender with the bloom 
 Of spring. Out in the world there form debars 
 Communion. In the night-time, with the sod 
 For resting place, I soar from spirit's tomb 
 To feel the grand, hushed stillness of the stars 
 Till I am Youth Eternal, one with God. 
 
 32 
 
Interpretation of Titian^s *^ Assumption'* 
 
 She rises through a perfect womanhood 
 
 In floods of mupic floating up to God ; 
 
 Herseems an age ago she had withstood 
 
 The yearning arms of those below so hard 
 
 To leave, but now upon a rosy cloud 
 
 She rests, her sweet lips parted, wondering, 
 
 While baby-angels, tender-eyed, there crowd 
 
 Around and radiantly triumphant sing 
 
 Her Motherhood. Scarce heeding, though, their strain, 
 
 Her gaze is fixed upon the Father's eyes 
 
 As if to satisfy the wonder, fain 
 
 To ask His ways. Hovering in higher skies, 
 
 Two seraphim who shining crowns secure 
 
 To crown her shrined the Mother of the Pure. 
 
 33 
 
Opportunity 
 
 The day is waning silently, 
 The shadow creepeth steadily. 
 Since each day holds a special good, 
 See that to thee 't is understood. 
 For gone it will be presently. 
 
 34 
 
The Mockingf-Bifd 
 
 Sweet poet of the air, whose notes reflect 
 Thy singing fellows in the world of tone, 
 From thy starred perch of jassamine, there alone 
 
 In that sweet-scented pine, thou soul elect! 
 A bird philosopher with sight divine. 
 To penetrate and hold the Great Design, 
 
 Interpreting as one of intellect. 
 
 The melting love-note of the mourning dove 
 From thy vast repertoire sings forth again. 
 In those low, mellowed sighs, devoid of pain, 
 
 Where grief grows pleasure to the voice of love 
 So sweet, so passionate, so full of sobs ; 
 Replete with pleading eyes, with pulsing throbs 
 
 The heights and depths of sad and sweet inwove. 
 
 Thou hast divined the honest-ringing chime, 
 Pealing, full-toned, from the clear-voiced lark, 
 Like chants of clean-souled reapers as they work, 
 
 So wholesome and complete, suggesting time 
 Of perfectness ; the call and counter-call 
 In rondure and in cadenced rise and fall, 
 
 Of morning melody, of evening hymn. 
 
 35 
 
The merry frolic of the Bob-o-link * 
 
 Thou renderest upon thy stage of song, 
 And skimmest o'er the notes with tripping tongue, 
 
 As he, thy jocund jester, with his cUnk 
 Of cymbals and the hint of cap and bells. 
 Acted in tones suggestive ; sound which tells 
 
 His life-theme — blithe and merry Bob-o-link. 
 
 With innocence and trusting purity 
 
 The Pee-wee sings her wistful song through thine, — 
 
 Thou wondrous songster of the gleaming vine, — 
 Suggesting helplessness and infancy ; 
 
 A tender immaturity, which pleads 
 
 A heart compassionate to fill its needs 
 And makes of motherhood divinity. 
 
 That wailing, anguished cry thou utterest, 
 Perchance some mateless sea-bird shrieked in dole ; 
 A haunting cry which speaks a muffled soul, 
 
 Forced outward by the stifled, heaving breast, 
 That home of mighty hopes all unfulfilled. 
 Where ecstasies were born but to be stilled, 
 
 So strange, so wild that cry, so comfortless ! 
 
 Amid the rest, not separate but attune, 
 
 The Thrush's low, serene religious call, 
 
 Which lucidates the holiness of all 
 And adds a loveliness, like yon festoon 
 
 Of gold-starred blossoms, to the swaying pine ; 
 
 So one in sympathy and love divine 
 Those rising sounds where all the songs commune. 
 
 And thou, sole singer of the vine, from thee, 
 Thy vibrant throat alone, these songs arise, 
 Portraying sound in all its mysteries, 
 
 As wide as life in life's immensity. 
 
 36 
 
In thy glad caroling thou dost unite 
 Full many voices in one deep delight 
 And makest oneness of diversity. 
 
 Illumed interpreter of life, that life 
 Which sings as one through many songs, 
 What inspiration to thy soul belongs 
 
 Which makes an inward vi^hole the outward strife! 
 Thou dost in thy sweet, mingled melodies 
 Outsing the tenets of philosophies 
 
 And carol truths that dive as deep as life. 
 
 37 
 
Invocation 
 
 I, THROUGH my soul's great wail to know its kind, 
 
 To strain its royal kindred to itself, 
 
 Ask yearningly, ask pleadingly, that Thou 
 
 Through all thy varied ways make manifest 
 
 With greater depth, unswerving surety, 
 
 A mellower fullness, all that calls my soul ; 
 
 Thy wind with rushing tumult through the trees 
 
 Sings with a cry, wild, free, untamable, 
 
 " Come, sister soul, to join my song and me ! " 
 
 Thy deep-voiced ocean, wondrously intoned, 
 
 Chants, ever restlessly and ceaselessly. 
 
 All Nature's poems of the fields and sky: 
 
 The adoration of the arbutus flower. 
 
 Cloud symphonies, ascending forest prayers — 
 
 While singing up to Thee I catch their strain. 
 
 The many-throated voice of joyous day, 
 
 The silent, awesome voice of mystic night. 
 
 That craving soul-cry from the human heart, 
 
 Each tells my inwardness, "Thou art of me." 
 
 To every call my soul with answering cry 
 
 Leaps outward, upward, fain would claim its own 
 
 In freedom's fullness ; yet some stifling power 
 
 Compels it backward, even while it springs 
 
 To take the uttermost bound wherewith to blend 
 
 Itself in harmony inseparable 
 
 With all the royal kindred of its clan. 
 
 38 
 
" A greater depth " ! The very words dive deep 
 
 Into the tumult of my soul, arrest 
 
 Its longings for a space ; but there outside 
 
 A singing lark stirs some unknown, some strange, 
 
 Unfathomable want ; not through the notes 
 
 Which ring aloud, but through the throbbing tones, 
 
 The undertones beneath the song, which sing 
 
 The more by leaving most unsung. Ah, then 
 
 My soul would tinish what he leaves unsung ; 
 
 But as the lark so its aspiring voice 
 
 Tries, wails low, then dies away in sobs. 
 
Mystcfioos Ligfht 
 
 Mysterious lights, elusive as a breath, 
 
 As some fine vision born of sleep as rare, 
 Yet strong to rule the destinies of death, 
 
 Of life, of mortal passions — dark despair 
 Or shining joyousness. The deadened light 
 
 Of dungeons, limpid, tranquil light of streams 
 And lake, the lurid lightning's streaks that smite 
 
 To cruel desolation, or the beams 
 
 Of tender stars are fine in essence as dim dreams. 
 
 II 
 
 Mysterious lights of sunset, when soft gold 
 Through floating clouds of violet and rose 
 
 Shines vibrantly, and beauties manifold 
 Of earth unseen at blazing noon disclose 
 
 Their looming loveliness, like some shy soul 
 Who shuns the glare of life to shine subdued 
 
 By her loved fireside. Ah, bountiful 
 And varied universe, that doth include 
 Affinities of light for life's beatitude. 
 
 40 
 
Ill 
 
 Mysterious lights reflected, of the earth, 
 Of glassy leaves and grasses, gleaming flowers, 
 
 Of butterflies, and bubbling springs where mirth 
 Seems laughing out to light the fleeting hours, 
 
 Or beaded, pearly lights the passing showers 
 Have hung upon the spiders' gossamer lace 
 
 In woodland dells sweet with azalea bowers. 
 And golden jassamine hung in flowing grace 
 On gentlj' swaying pines that guard this elfin place 
 
 IV 
 
 Mysterious lights, through vast Infinity, 
 
 From sphere to sphere in space each sentry sun, 
 
 Sending its message of immensity, 
 Is answered by a glory like its own — 
 
 A glory wresting from the dark unknown 
 The truth of endless being. On they send 
 
 Their lights compassionate, illuming moon 
 And planet ; these their whirling paths attend 
 And gather radiant bounties but to flash again. 
 
 Mysterious lights, in colored tints and shades, 
 Sending their loveliness to deck the world : 
 
 The flash of golden fire-flies from glades 
 
 Of wet, sweet woods, the flaming trails, as hurled 
 
 Through space, a meteor leaves in flight, the pure 
 And hallowed aureate glow, that through tall pines 
 
 In dim and vistaed forests, all secure 
 From man's profanity, serenely shines 
 To light with hallowed peace these God-erected 
 shrines. 
 
VI 
 Mysterious light, pure from the soul of God, 
 
 With immortality suffusing life 
 As softly as a golden mist the sward, 
 
 The flowers and trees in dreamy summers rife 
 With melodies of birds and perfumed air. 
 
 mystic soul, in autumn leaves aflame. 
 Subdued in violets, in lilies fair 
 
 And gleaming, soft in eyes and yet the same ; 
 
 Thatdeepest ray of all which speaks the soul supreme. 
 
The Fields of Love 
 
 My soul, beloved, like the rising sap 
 
 Leaps up and yields to thee thu^ fatally 
 
 All bared yet unashamed. Mine eyes have asked 
 
 A question and thine own, as pure as dew 
 
 Upon the bride-white rose, have answered me 
 
 And I am satisfied. 'T is thus alone 
 
 All purged of grosser sense I let them drink 
 
 The welling love from mine and call thee to 
 
 The fields with me and love. 
 
 MORNING 
 
 The fields are living with the spiinging grass 
 O'ershadowed by the flush-tinged Kalmia-flowers, 
 Azaleas duster 'mid their tender leaves ; 
 Our love is as the unstained love of flowers. 
 The trees are quivering with tiie flight of birds, 
 The air is trembling with ascending songs ; 
 Thy love and mine is as the song of birds. 
 The morning sun is spangling all the fields 
 Thy love and mine like sparkles of the sun. 
 A bridal veil of haze has draped the earth, 
 White-blossoming cherry-trees her garlands make ; 
 A bridal veil of love falls on our hearts, 
 Our garlands are white thoughts of purity. 
 Into one subtle harmony the mist 
 On yonder sloping orchard blends the rose 
 Of peach-bloom and the apples silver-green. 
 
 43 
 
'T is thus that love has mingled thee and me, 
 Two separate lives, into one harmony. 
 The sunbeams shower on the answering trees, 
 So thy sweet looks are showered on my heart, 
 Mine eyes responding like the answering trees. 
 Those pulsing songs are beating through the air, 
 Our hearts are throbbing like those pulsing songs. 
 The dew refle(;ts the tints of all the fields, 
 Our souls reflect the haloes of bright love. 
 So we and this fresh morning live as one. 
 
 Here 'neath the shadowy pines a mellower light 
 
 Is stealing, making lace-work of the earth ; 
 
 In twinkling patterns gold and purple blend. 
 
 Subdued is now the morning's gayety. 
 
 The flowers droop beneath the noontide sun. 
 
 So I, beloved, would be still awhile 
 
 To let my thoughts float like those butterflies, 
 
 And see half dreamily the wedding-rings 
 
 Curled on thy fingere with my yellow hair. 
 
 Or upward glancing where the radiant leaves 
 
 Touched by the sun-gold hover as if free 
 
 In air, their fragile stems unseen, so deep 
 
 The shadow there made by the zenith sun. 
 
 Or else to watch the hazy atmosphere 
 
 Which seems as made of tiny silver rings 
 
 Encircling and inweaving languorously 
 
 In soft mesmeric motions, each with each. 
 
 The pines sway to each other lazily 
 
 And linger, whispering ere they part again. 
 
 Against their rich and mellowed foliage 
 
 The young and tender syrays of sassafras, 
 
 Of birch and dogwood glisten airily. 
 
 44 
 
A subtle, mingled fragrance fills the wood ; 
 Azalea, sassafras and pine unite 
 To laden all the sense with languidness ; 
 The stream below is murmuring soothingly 
 And all this noontide life is poised in rest. 
 
 KVKNING 
 
 The golden flush, beloved, fades away. 
 
 That sweeping angel's wing is darkening like 
 
 A fallen angel now. Unrivalled by 
 
 The colors of the sky, the clustered grape 
 
 Leaves shine in all their gentle roseate tints 
 
 And bright, new candles of the pine fulfill 
 
 Their wonted office cheerfully. This faint 
 
 And tender twilight, like some loving soul. 
 
 Reveals the beauties of the field, unseen 
 
 By day, in all her dazzling gayety. 
 
 So I, in this sweet evening time, have found 
 
 A deeper, calmer meaning to our love, 
 
 Inspired by the still serenity. 
 
 See, one star low and luminous appears, 
 
 Shining from trembling ether steadfastly, 
 
 And fixes, 'mid upbracing spirit, thoughts 
 
 As luminous and grandly still in me. 
 
 That star is like thine eyes that promised mine - 
 
 Serene and pure and tender as the star, 
 
 Both hinting secrets of eternity. 
 
 45 
 
Sonnet 
 
 Her nature, like that rare transparent flower 
 Which takes its color from the butterflies ; 
 From bright-winged insects with their myriad eyes, 
 And answers to the day whose moving showers 
 Of spangles change its mood with every hour. 
 Again, in evening, when the daylight dies, 
 Its petals darken, trembling with the sighs 
 Of winds vibrating o'er the grassy bower. 
 So grows this maid with nature sensitive. 
 Who weeps with all the sorrows of her kind, 
 Who laughs and dances with their joy and mirth — 
 A quickened instrument attuiie to life ; 
 A living sympathy with heart and mind 
 Sharing the light and shadows of the earth. 
 
 46 
 
Sketches from Nature 
 
 A GIANT cherry-tree stretches a tent- 
 Like canopy with fruit and leaf of green 
 And through the interstices the silver sky. 
 In front its purple shadow on the grass 
 Flecked with the sun-gold. 
 Bees are buzzing around ; 
 The butterfly is floating with his love 
 In this soft, golden, hazy afternoon. 
 
 A sensuous drowsiness o'erhangs the earth. 
 And here 'mid the clover and the briar, 
 And daisy blooms, myself am laden with 
 The afternoon, and heai- as in a dream 
 The answering call of birds, and see as through 
 A mist the sunshine on the hill, and smell 
 As from afar the sweetlv-scented grass. 
 
 47 
 
Royalty 
 
 To-day I am a queen npon a throne ; 
 
 To no dust-mouldered kings I owe descent, 
 
 But thy great living heart whose love has lent 
 
 My blood its royalty. Each tender tone 
 
 Thou speakest to me fills anew mine own 
 
 Glad heart, and pulses through my veins intent 
 
 On filling every fibre with its pent 
 
 Up bliss which tells, " I love not now alone." 
 
 Is any queen who reigns so great as I ? 
 
 What though her crown emblazon jewels brought 
 
 From Orient shrines — I need no jeweled means 
 
 As symbols of my queenly claims ; for by 
 
 Sweet angels were my crown and sceptre wrought. 
 
 And thy great love has crowned me Queen of queens 
 
 48 
 
The Angel of Unrest 
 
 Onck in a midnight, stricken through a cry 
 
 Of woe, I held to stern account the Soul ; — 
 
 In petulance, demanding as my right 
 
 To know, why evil was, and misery 
 
 Inflicted ? And the word was hurled in scorn 
 
 To mock and taunt the Soul. So I, like some 
 
 Ingrate, a pensioner — disgruntled since 
 
 For only half a day the sun shone through 
 
 His window-pane — stung by that cry of woe, 
 
 Complained and would not hear, nor did I wish 
 
 To hear the answer which I knew was there, 
 
 Up in the heights of Self where Justice is. 
 
 But when the Self was calm the answer came 
 
 Uusought. I saw the motive of the life 
 
 Of him who mourned before the woe had come ; 
 
 A sweet content, a willingness to float 
 
 In circles like the Dragon-fly and let 
 
 The swift-winged sky-lark soar to heights that he 
 
 Had never dreamed of from that stagnant pool ; 
 
 But when the Pain twinged, lo ! he flew aloft 
 
 And made his goal the topmost pine-tree bough. 
 
 Illumed, with wider vision I beheld 
 
 The cleansing revolutions of the earth 
 
 How goaded on by that arch-mover, Pain, 
 
 Who like the voice that urged the Wandering Jew 
 
 Hunts out the laggard in his slothful sleep 
 
 And by the shoulder shakes him till he move 
 
 To join the onward workers of the world. 
 
 49 
 
Recognition 
 
 This recognition is our heritage 
 Forever ranging from the small to great 
 In endless meeting, endless parting, each 
 With each. The glad suffusing thrill to meet. 
 The aching empty pang to part ; from birth 
 To death the flood of fulness soon to leave, 
 A void of yearning once again to fill. 
 
 Spring with her cyclic call, that call of quick, 
 Eefreshing sprightliness, awakes the sleep 
 Of winter, and a myriad answers come 
 In recognition from each glade and hill. 
 With all their quickened being, every cell 
 Of violet, arbutus, daffodil. 
 Replies, absorbing from the earth and air 
 Each part to fill the varying needs of form, 
 Of color, perfume ; each doth recognize 
 His own, and takes it from the elements. 
 All tending in one growing unity 
 To satisfy the coming fruit and flower. 
 
 The summer-fledgling knows the spring, and sings 
 A melody replete with bud and bloom 
 And rising joyousness ; a love-tone steals 
 Amid, and mingles with his caroling, 
 
 50 
 
And singp, in answer from another throat, 
 In subtle tones, the sign of mating time. 
 So when the brood is hatching songs grow soft, 
 Subdued and gentle, then the mother's chirp. 
 In recognition of creation's law. 
 
 Two new-met mortals look each unto each, 
 Then sinking to the heart that look which tells 
 A need, the heart sends back a love-light to 
 The eyes, which look again, illumined now 
 AVith yearning fire, which draws sun-like each soul 
 The other till that throbbing want in full 
 Is recognized and love is satisfied. 
 
 The child new-born feels for her mother's breast 
 Untaught, untold, finds not with eyes or ears 
 Those fountains growing into life with her, 
 But with a subtle sense, a sense from some 
 Defineless Source, doth recognize the breast 
 Her royal board, partakes, is satisfied 
 Till hunger wakes a need to grow again 
 And add to living through another's life. 
 
 The new-made mother at that tender touch 
 Thrills rapturously to find a want fulfilled. 
 Matured are now the uses of her breasts. 
 Thus satisfied in sweet adjustment they 
 To circling baby lips, lips formed from her 
 To round her woman-nature and her love. 
 Suflfiising tenderness leaps into life 
 And floods her being into gentleness 
 Through recognition of a law complete. 
 
 51 
 
Thus at each seeming new, untried event 
 
 There comes this recognition, and the need 
 
 To meet and cope it is supplied from some 
 
 Unfathomed source within the depths of Ufe. 
 
 What is this recognition of the bird, 
 
 The flower, and the human heart that binds 
 
 All in a common sympathy ? The buds 
 
 Take to themselves all needful for their life ; 
 
 The birds, with somewhat wider needs, absorb 
 
 Their own ; the human heart, with cravings deep 
 
 And tireless, forever strives to find 
 
 And fill its needs, from baby hearts, on, on. 
 
 Expanding to some all-including soul 
 
 Who craves all things and holds them with his love. 
 
 The truest, deepest thoughts seem never new. 
 
 Since far from out that deep Divine there wells 
 
 A common source, elusive, unexplored, 
 
 Wherein this fatal recognition dwells 
 
 As imminent, and manifests alike 
 
 Through bird and blossom and the human heart. 
 
 52 
 
Might 
 
 As I MUSED on the strong of the earth, a wild wish to feel 
 
 strong 
 As the mightiest beings had felt in their one-time supreme 
 At the zenith of life ; when the heart is o'erflowingly full 
 With the might of the Self; when the earth, and the sea, 
 
 and the sun. 
 And the powers, the whole universe blends to expand and 
 
 uplift 
 Till there surges the force of the Whole in the being of 
 
 One. 
 
 So I took as the three types of strength that I 'd have for 
 
 my own : 
 First, the might of the life of mere living, obeying the 
 
 laws 
 Of the nature intrinsic, the way that the young lion does 
 When he snatches his prey with no pang of the wrong, 
 
 since his right 
 Is to satisfy hunger with blood lately quick in a heart ; 
 Then, the might of the human who lives from his heart to 
 
 his kind, 
 Through uplifting, and giving, and loving, compassion his 
 
 law, 
 While the realm for his work is the heart-throbs of pain 
 
 and of joy ; 
 
 53 
 
Last, the God-might in man as the nearest that mortals 
 
 attain, 
 When the brain, and the heart, and the soul all unite to 
 
 exalt 
 That High Same that is rife in the living of earth, is aware 
 Of the Self as creator, created — the One and the All. 
 
 I arose at the break of the dawning and went where the 
 
 grass 
 Grows the thickest, and laid me, all bare of my garments 
 
 so close 
 To the earth that I felt she was giving me succor she 
 
 gives 
 To the oak. There, upfacing the young sun, I drew down 
 
 the force 
 That he sends through his love for the earth to create a 
 
 quick world. 
 While each pore of my body sucked in the live air that 
 
 encircled 
 SuflFusingly sweet, fresh and soft, till filled full with the 
 
 strength 
 Of the morning I leapt with a cry wild and glad, fresh and 
 
 strong. 
 For I felt in the fulness of living a lion in might. 
 
 I went forth again in the noon-day, the time when the 
 
 sun 
 Is direct overhead, as a type of compassion, since he yields 
 Not his favor to one more than all. Among the starved 
 
 lives 
 In a hovel I found an ill baby whose mother had died 
 At his birth ; my heart swelled great with pity to see that 
 
 pinched face 
 
 54 
 
And those pure baby eyes as though pleading with pain. 
 
 I held him, 
 And hushed him, strained close to my breast with a 
 
 yearning to give 
 Unto that weakened life a fresh impulse that came from 
 
 my own. 
 Then I desperately strained all my being to transmit my 
 
 love 
 For his succor, and lo ! as I gave there came back unto me 
 A great deluge of love, as if flowing from that tiny life 
 With incentive to love all the life of the earth, so I loved 
 All that lived with thanksgiving since he smiled up to me 
 
 free from pain ; 
 And I felt through that infinite love as a Saviour in might. 
 
 Still again at the tremble of twilight, when there 's a waver 
 
 twixt day 
 And the night, I went forth with the Soul to a plain free 
 
 from strife. 
 Far from man. All alone in that wonderful stillness I 
 
 watched 
 How the stars coine, each one to that place which is his in 
 
 the plan ; 
 Then my thoughts of the High came to me, and they 
 
 ranged them as stars 
 Of the night, and I knew them as real, and I felt them as 
 
 true, 
 For the soul surged above to confirm it "awake and 
 
 aware," 
 To create me in glory transcendent a God through the 
 
 Truth. 
 
 55 
 
Law 
 
 I WILL not have thee bind my Ufe with chains 
 The world has wrought to fetter men. I break 
 My being free, defy thy shackles, make 
 The laws that govern bird and bloom and rain 
 My sovereignty, and as the wind disdain 
 All rule save Self's wild law. Again, I '11 take 
 Me where the shy arbutus hides, forsake 
 Conventions; — when no fettered limb remains 
 I '11 lie relaxed upon the throbbing earth 
 To drink the deep, glad secrets freedom draws 
 From All That Is, Avhich vast creator brings 
 Intrinsic laws to govern every birth ; 
 To Nature then I '11 go, and win my laws 
 Of living from the great deep heart of things. 
 
 56 
 
A Miracle 
 
 Beloved being, wilt thy glory shine 
 
 Forever steadfast as it shineth now, 
 
 And shed its ray refulgent on my brow 
 
 Made consecrate and pure through love of thine, 
 
 Which I hold sacred as a priest the wine 
 
 Or chrism in Holiest of Holies. My head I bow 
 
 In all humility and ask that thou 
 
 Annoint and hallow with love's mystic sign. 
 
 Rapt in a wonder tremulous I stand, 
 
 Not doubting, but amazed, for at my birth 
 
 God only gave twixt others' stars a space ; 
 
 But even as I gazed in gloom He planned 
 
 A miracle and thy star loomed, then dearth 
 
 Was joy that spii'its feel in Paradise. 
 
 57 
 
Brotherhood 
 
 Thou truth-entrusted poet pure and free, 
 Swelling each heart with pride and power to say, 
 E'en in thy master-song thou singest of me. 
 Whence comes thy mystic, all-alluring way, 
 That did his low estate know " I," the bee, 
 Would in thy mirror know himself and say. 
 With proud acclaim, "My heart," rejoicingly? 
 Doth God in thy vast heart find purity. 
 And even as the angels thee entrust 
 To minister His truth in sweet security 
 Thou holdst it treasure 'bove the common dust ? 
 His law supreme, revealed in power through thee, 
 Each spirit to all life doth life adjust — 
 One shining soul illumes diversity. 
 
 58 
 
Wherein the Wrong ? 
 
 The Queen had returned from the pla)', and she paused at 
 
 the casement half robed ; 
 Paused to muse on the thoughts that the play had inspired. 
 
 AVhat a picture she made ! 
 With her forefinger caught in a chain at her throat, where 
 
 a great ruby heart 
 Dropped, all red as with blood, and the gold of her hair 
 
 clinging close to caress 
 The faint rose of her shoulders and breast, her young eyes 
 
 agaze with a wide, 
 Wistful light ; in her face was a mingle of sweetness and 
 
 yearning and pain. 
 For the pride of the queen was her great purity; to be true, 
 
 thought and deed. 
 To the King who was old and sedate, while with passionate 
 
 youth all her life 
 Was aglow, albeit no thought of a difference had come till 
 
 to-night 
 At the play, when her girlhood swept back with a rush ; 
 
 all the longing she had 
 For ideal Galihad, who would be only purer in loving but 
 
 one. 
 She gazed at the pictures that hung on the wall ; the old 
 
 King in his robes, 
 
 59 
 
Large as life, was surrounded by vestals and mothers of 
 
 Christ, with but one 
 Other rival, the pure Galihad, brave and young, in that 
 
 small print beside. 
 This was the thought that had sway for awhile, as she 
 
 leaned with her cheek 
 On her hand: Was she wrong? was the question she asked 
 
 of her heart, since she wished 
 Galihad was the King. 
 
 60 
 
God's Erect 
 
 I SPOKE with one who never knew the joy 
 
 Of motion and the varied transports gleaned 
 
 Thereby ; when still a child, with wistful eyes 
 
 He watched his nimble-footed playmates climb 
 
 The slender branches of the bounteous trees ; 
 
 From thence to him with glee would shower nuts, 
 
 Or else would spring across the field to catch 
 
 Bright butterflies, and bring to him, with flushed 
 
 And radiant faces, all the gayest ones. 
 
 What heart-aches came with these kind gifts! He 'd give 
 
 Them all to know the joy of one free bound, 
 
 With lithesome motion, o'er the luring fields. 
 
 Even when to manhood grown, with manhood's health, 
 
 Like some poor captive slave he still was bound 
 
 By crippled limbs, to watch while others knew 
 
 The keen delights of hunting and the chase. 
 
 His proud and sensitively-fashioned soul 
 
 Felt sore their looks of pity as they passed. 
 
 Yet when I saw his true and unstained glance 
 
 I scorned to mourn for him, knew he was one 
 
 Of God's erect, whose soul goes through the world 
 
 With manly stride ; and through the light his life 
 
 Had thrown across my path, I saw full many 
 
 A lithe-limbed earthling whom I mourned as lame — 
 
 ReaJ cripples of the world through crippled souls. 
 
 61 
 
Serenity 
 
 Skrbne and still the aoftly-shadowed glade ; 
 
 The songs of morning have a silence grown, 
 Yet some sweet, silent anthems still pervade, 
 
 Like scent of olive with the olive gone. 
 
 Serene and still, the first appearing star 
 Hung low and luminous in trembling air, 
 
 A blessed benediction from afar, 
 A singing message through the silence here. 
 
 Serene and still my spirit as the glade ; 
 
 Amid upbracing soul my thoughts arise 
 Like stars, fraught with a peace the silence made. 
 
 Filled with the music of the singing stars. 
 
 62 
 
Justice 
 
 Thou sorceress of God, with chastening eyes, 
 Soul-burning eyes, look into mine and charm 
 My senses with terrific trance ; no harm 
 To truth canst thou inflict, scorch, than the lies 
 That crouch within my heart. Unheeding sighs 
 My weakness heaves, I '11 stand unflinching, calm, 
 Beneath thy gaze, feel free each throe and qualm 
 Of writhing sins and choke their coward cries. 
 On cringing knees, and heads based low with sobs, 
 "VVe ask the " gentle rain of mercy " sweet, 
 Nor ween that storms must rage and lightning start 
 Soul-purging fires. Unarmored, dare the throbs 
 Of ruth ; unquailing, God's avenger meet — 
 Justice is mercy to the pure in heart ! 
 
 63 
 
Joy 
 
 I 
 Arise, thou innermost that is my soul, 
 
 And tell to all the world thy joy, 
 That deep, deep joy which, 'mid life's manifold 
 
 Perplexities, no griefs destroy. 
 
 Not fleeting pleasures, those which please a child, 
 Through toys that while the passing hour. 
 
 Nor flush of gladness unto maids beguiled 
 With praise ; nor flatteries to power ; 
 
 But joy which glows sustained and lambent while 
 
 The fluctuating fires of life 
 Leap up, then smoulder, flutter, and grow still, 
 
 Obedient each, to ease, to strife. 
 
 II 
 
 Unfolding time, when dawn thrills into day, 
 When motherhood floods through the heart, 
 
 When songs of poets flash to ecstasy, 
 Then joys their rarer gifts impart. 
 
 A pale, faint pearl beneath the dome of night 
 
 Pauses a space to soften earth, 
 Like thoughts of absent friends, then flooding light, 
 
 Like friends united, laughs in mirth. 
 
 64 
 
Expectant hopes, wlien new, sweet thrills of love 
 
 Reveal a hidden latency 
 Half guessed till womanhood's fulfillment prove 
 
 A full and ripe felicity. 
 
 The stored-up sights and subtleties that rise — 
 A blending of the soul and brain — 
 
 And sing themselves in soaring ecstasies 
 From poets' lips — a rapturous strain. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The joy of first-impassioned love, delight 
 That changes child to womanhood, 
 
 An ecstasy of youth and beauty, bright 
 As moulted bird or bursting bud. 
 
 Ah, pure delight, when plumes are growing gay, 
 When buds are bursting into flowers 
 
 And mating birds pour forth a rondelay 
 Of love from out the leafy bowers!; 
 
 Or when from out the careless, sporting child 
 
 Woman emerging at love's call, 
 With radiance and with wondering rapture^filled, 
 
 Glows in a beauty mystical. 
 
 IV 
 
 The joy of those oasis days. The sun 
 
 Some winter morning rising soft, 
 The feathery arabesques of frost upon 
 
 The grasses fade away. Aloft 
 
 The lark is soaring as in May, and sings 
 As though the tender spring were here 
 
 W^ith love's own buoyancy to lift his wings 
 To loftier realms of finer air, 
 
 65 
 
When all the hazy, circling atmosphere 
 
 Suffuses earth with saffron gold 
 And steals within the heart, implanting there 
 
 Pure Being's joy, its beam's infold. 
 
 Deep joy, when anguish conquered by the might 
 
 Of some strong soul invincible 
 Finds pain intensifies the inner sight, 
 
 Is but a mortal crucible 
 
 To fuse those mystic powers of life 
 
 And free to wider scope a flight 
 Of angel couriers who search from cliflF 
 
 To gulf, unveiling to the light 
 
 Of mortal apprehension truths of God 
 Unguessed in days of dreams and ease. 
 
 The anguished soul who comes to joy has trod 
 Bright realms unknown to lives of peace. 
 
 VI 
 
 The silent joy of twilight, when a flush 
 Of stillness seems to flood the world, 
 
 As if to silence God His earth would hush, 
 When lights are dim and flowers are furled, 
 
 To better whisper to the listening soul 
 Some secret from His mysteries ; 
 
 Then mortal natures are the flowers unfurled, 
 Suffused with God's divinities. 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
VII 
 
 Beauty, that fleeting ministrant who feeds 
 
 The flame of passion, vanishes ; 
 Light love gives place to scorn, as flowers to weeds 
 
 In plots no watcher cherishes. 
 
 Dark skies and winter winds banish soft suns 
 
 Of Indian summer, bringing snows 
 And shivering need, while cold and illness stuns 
 
 Bread-earners to o'erwhelming woes. 
 
 The ecstasy of yesterday has flown 
 
 Away like some elusive bird 
 And leaves the poet in a mood forlorn — 
 
 The strain is gone he erewhile heard. 
 
 The quiet twilight peace leaves nights of tears, 
 
 When restless shapes, intensified 
 In darkness, crowd the tired brain with cares 
 
 Of life and wants unsatisfied. 
 
 Death takes the child and leaves the mother's breast 
 Untouched where baby-fingers played ; 
 
 Her anguished arms reach outward in unrest, 
 But clasp the air — the child is dead ! 
 
 YIII 
 Ah ! but in loving we reveal a love, 
 
 A joy within, beyond the cause. 
 What though we love a craven we have loved. 
 
 No sorrows hide what joys disclose. 
 
 Deep source of joy, whate'er the circumstance 
 
 That pierces to your ecstasies. 
 The outward cause may live, may die, perchance, 
 
 And yet thy changeless glory stays. 
 
 67 
 
The Imminent 
 
 I 
 
 As ON a summer's day we look afar 
 
 And yearn to meet the distant glade or stream, 
 All mellowed by the azure atmosphere, 
 
 Like landscapes of confused and hazy dreams ; 
 
 Nor heed the roses blooming at our feet, 
 Nor hear above our heads the trilling song, 
 
 Nor breathe full breaths of olive fragrance sweet. 
 Since fancied scenes and scents our senses throng. 
 
 And yet the golden rose is ruby-tinged, 
 The song is pulsing with fresh joyousness, 
 
 The olive, in impassioned fragrance fringed 
 And drooping, hangs in creamy tenderness. 
 
 Man doth not find the beauty in the near, 
 But ever wanders in a strained unrest ; 
 
 A search whose end is but a deep despair, 
 For lo ! the imminent conceals his quest. 
 
 II 
 We dream a dream of friendship's perfectness, 
 
 Scanning ail-ardently each new-met face 
 With mutually suing eyes, in hopefulness 
 
 Our dreams within that heart find resting place. 
 
Perchance one tantalizing glimmer strays 
 Through some uncovered crevice of the soul, 
 
 Yet preconceived ideals clog up the ways 
 And bar the suitor his envisioned goal. 
 
 Thus hope soon dies, dies to be born anew 
 In ever fainter tints for each new guest 
 
 Who denser covers faith with dust of rue 
 Until it lies deep-buried in the breast. 
 
 Human hearts throb near us every day, 
 Warmer and sweeter than those hearts of dreams 
 
 Souls, flower-like, that open in a May 
 
 Of love, expansive as the sun's young beams ; 
 
 For us, the hearts that beat the nearest ours 
 Hold subtler beauties than the saints aftir. 
 
 Who scent the fragrance of the olive flowers 
 When northern lands and wintery winds debar ? 
 
 Fancy disguises, like a painted face, 
 
 Gives standards all her own, and from the real 
 Takes off" a subtle bloom but to deface, 
 
 With care concealing what she should reveal. 
 
 Mortals are we that ask a mortal test, 
 
 Mortals inwove with inmiortality. 
 Whose tense vibrations whisper, " truth is best," 
 
 Transcending every ideality. 
 
 Ill 
 That stinging cry that echoes down the years, 
 
 " Unfaithfulness ! unfaithfulness ! " which makes 
 Young eyes of joy the haunt of scalding tears, 
 
 Stifles the ardent breast that love forsakes. 
 
For love betraj'ed with traitors fills the earth 
 And looks askance upon the world of men, 
 
 Makes fertile gardens arid wastes of dearth 
 And castles hovels, since his hut is mean. 
 
 Yet, has the soul who finds the world awry 
 
 Searched for the nearest truth in his own breast 
 
 And hearkened to the meaning of that cry 
 Which hurls a curse against unfaithfulness ? 
 
 The heart protesting is a human heart 
 As surely as the heart that did betray, 
 
 Involving some occultly-laid rampart 
 Profounder than the frailty of the clay. 
 
 IV 
 Like fleecy summer clouds or butterflies, 
 
 Suggestions from the soul float through the mind. 
 And all unheeded by the dreamer die, 
 
 Impressionless as whifls of summer wind. 
 
 We hear the quail's call from the woodland glade, 
 For whims of appetite our snares we set ; 
 
 A silver gleam darts through the water's shade, 
 We bait the luring hook and cast the net. 
 
 The opal glowing in the yellow earth, 
 
 The shimmering cocoon's thread, the glint of gold. 
 The rosewood with its rich and mellow growth. 
 
 We recognize and grasp within our hold ; 
 
 Yet shining thoughts float through the mind unheld : 
 Few watchers wait who turn them as a gem 
 
 Light-wise to lay their loveliness revealed 
 Nor guess them from a royal diadem. 
 
V 
 
 In finely-painted words we read of pain, 
 
 A feted reveler in some far-off land ; 
 Straightway the ever-restless heart would fain 
 
 Find there the work of good it once had planned. 
 
 The distant fevered form, diseased, forlorn, 
 The wounded warrior, a city's wretched poor. 
 
 Brings pity to the erratic heart of one 
 
 Who turns the needy beggar from the door. 
 
 As wave to wave upon the fusing sea, 
 Our heart amid the universe of hearts, 
 
 Each heart to each in fixed fatality, 
 Each to the next profoundest force exerts. 
 
 Heart unto heart, as wave to wave immerged, 
 May fuse its pain or pleasure as it will ; 
 
 Each near unnoticed breast some pain has scourged 
 And mutely asks the sympathy we feel. 
 
 VI 
 
 The poet longs for mountains and the sea 
 Or some expanding soul to free his verse. 
 
 The painter for some rugged scenery 
 Or masterpiece his talents to enforce. 
 
 Scant is the poet's soul who finds not themes 
 For myriad poems in the every day ; 
 
 The painter meagerly endowed who dreams 
 Of gaining inspiration far away. 
 
 The master elevates the commonplace. 
 Employs as ministers the dark and light, 
 
 And genius finds that every day's embrace 
 Potential poems from the Infinite. 
 
 71 
 
VII 
 
 As 'mid encircling clouds one span of sky 
 Shines blue and clear behind the dingy gray, 
 
 Amid the misty present men descry 
 The future promise of a brighter day. 
 
 And stud those future days with incident 
 
 Of mortal mutability ; of love 
 Fulfilled, of laurels gained ; not permanent 
 
 Endowments which no time nor change remove. 
 
 The wished-for circumstance arrives and brings 
 The love or laurels, each involving still 
 
 A wider yearning with its deeper pangs. 
 And wants no present ever may fulfill. 
 
 VIII 
 
 The end of all these yearnings, wants denied, 
 TJnrestfui wanderings and strained desires 
 
 For satisfaction, never satisfied, 
 These stifled hopes of all the heart aspires ? 
 
 Struck through some subtle beauty of the skies. 
 The low, sweet moon, the stars that overshine, 
 
 Or pure, sweet soul-lights from the deeps of eyes 
 Grown calmly tender through a sight divine. 
 
 The eflTulgent stillness of the imminent 
 From out the viewless fastness of the soul 
 
 Dispels the fevered sense of discontent 
 And satisfies the craving want we feel 
 
 With intimations that the strained unrest 
 Of mortal hearts, outworn and overspent, 
 
 Is stilled at last to find the luring quest 
 Awaits the wanderer in the imminent. 
 
 72 
 
WAR 
 
MAR 26 1902 
 
 COP\ DEI. TOCAT.DiV, 
 ;\-' ^"^ 1902