Book I ?> By bequest of William Ltikens Shoemaker A PAGEANT AND OTHER POEMS. Miss Rossetti's first voluute of Poems^ containuig '•''The Goblin Markety'' "-The Pri7ice's Progress^'^'' (Sr-v., iit 07ie volume, i67?zo. Price $1.50. ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, BOSTON. A PAGEANT AND OTHER FOEMS BY CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI BOSTON ROBERTS BROTHERS 1881 T3 AUTHOR'S EDITION. Gilt. W. L, Shoemaker 7 S '06 University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. OONNETS are full of love, and this my tome ^^ Has many sonnets : so here now shall be One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home, To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome ; Whose service is my special dignity, And she my loadstar while I go and come. And so because you love me, and because I love you. Mother, I have woven a wreath Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name : In you not fourscore years can dim the flame Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws Of time and change and mortal life and death. CONTENTS. PAGE The Key-Note ii The Months : a Pageant 13 Pastime ^;^ " Italia, 10 ti saluto ! " 34 Mirrors of Life and Death 35 A Ballad of Boding 42 Yet a little while 52 He and She 53 MoNNA Innominata 54 "Luscious and Sorrowful" 69 De Profundis 70 Tempus fugit 71 Golden Glories 72 Johnny 73 " Hollow-sounding and Mysterious " . , , yy Maiden May 79 Till To-morrow 84 viii CONTENTS, PAGE Death-Watches 85 Touching "Never" 86 BrandcTns both Z'] A Life's Parallels 92 At last 93 Golden Silences 94 In the Willow Shade 95 Fluttered Wings 99 A Fisher-Wife 100 What 's in a Name ? . . loi Mariana 103 Memento Mori 104 "One Foot on Sea, and one on Shore" . . 105 Buds and Babies 107 Boy Johnny 108 Freaks of Fashion 109 An October Garden 113 "Summer is ended" 114 Passing and Glassing . 115 "I WILL arise" 117 A Prodigal Son 119 ScEUR Louise de la Misericorde 120 An "immurata" Sister 122 "If Thou sayest, Behold, we knew it not" 124 The Thread of Life 127 CONTENTS. ix PAGE An Old- World Thicket 130 '^ All Thy Works praise Thee, O Lord " . . 140 Later Life ' . 154 "For Thine own Sake, O my God" .... 182 Until the Day break 183 "Of Him that was ready to perish" . . . 185 " Behold the Man ! " 187 The Descent from the Cross 188 *'It is finished" 189 An Easter Carol 192 "Behold a shaking" 194 All Saints 196 "Take care of him" 199 A Martyr 201 Why ? 207 " Love is strong as Death " 208 THE KEY-NOTE. ■\T THERE are the songs I used to know, ^ ^ Where are the notes I used to sing? I have forgotten everything I used to know so long ago ; Summer has followed after Spring ; Now Autumn is so shrunk and sere, I scarcely think a sadder thing Can be the Winter of my year. Yet Robin sings through Winter's rest, When bushes put their berries on ; While they their ruddy jewels don, He sings out of a ruddy breast ; The hips and haws and ruddy breast Make one spot warm where snowflakes lie They break and cheer the unlovely rest Of Winter's pause — and why not I ? THE MONTHS: % IJageant. PERSONIFICATIONS. Boys. Girls. January. February. March, April. July. May. August. June. October, September. December. November. Robin Redbreasts; Lambs and Sheep; Nightingale and Nestlings. Various Flowers, Fruits, etc. Scene: A Cottage with its Grounds. [A room in a large comfortable cottage ; a fire burning on the hearth ; a table on which the breakfast things have been left standing. January discovered seated by the fire.] January. Cold the day and cold the drifted snow. Dim the day until the cold dark night. [Stirs the fire. 14 THE MONTHS: Crackle, sparkle, fagot ; embers glow : Some one may be plodding through the snow Longing for a light, For the light that you and I can show. If no one else should come, Here Robin Redbreast 's welcome to a crumb, And never troublesome : Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb ? Here 's butter for my hunch of bread, And sugar for your crumb ; Here 's room upon the hearthrug. If you '11 only come. In your scarlet waistcoat, With your keen bright eye, Where are you loitering? Wings were made to fly ! Make haste to breakfast, Come and fetch your crumb. For I 'm as glad to see you As you are glad to come. [Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at the lattice, which January opens. The birds flutter in, hop about the floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar A PAGEANT, 15 thrown to them. They have scarcely finished their meal, when a knock is heard at the door. January hangs a guard in front of the fire, and opens to February, who appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand.] January. Good-morrow, sister. February. Brother, joy to you ! I Ve brought some snowdrops ; only just a few, But quite enough to prove the world awake, Cheerful and hopeful in the frosty dew And for the pale sun's sake. [She hands a few of her snowdrops to January, who retires into the background. While February stands arranging the remaining snowdrops in a glass of water on the window-sill, a soft butting and bleating are heard outside. She opens the door, and sees one foremost lamb, with other sheep and lambs bleating and crowding towards her.] February. O you, you little wonder, come — come in, You wonderful, you woolly soft white lamb : You panting mother ewe, come too, 1 6 THE MONTHS : And lead that tottering twin Safe in : Bring all your bleating kith and kin, Except the homy ram. [February opens a second door in the background, and the little flock files through into a warm and sheltered com- partment out of sight.] The lambkin tottering in its walk With just a fleece to wear ; The snowdrop drooping on its stalk So slender, — Snowdrop and lamb, a pretty pair. Braving the cold for our delight. Both white. Both tender. [A rattling of doors and windows ; branches seen without, tossing violently to and fro.] How the doors rattle, and the branches sway ! Here 's brother March comes whirling on his way With winds that eddy and sing. [She turns the handle of the door, which bursts open, and discloses March hastening up, both hands full of violets and anemones.] A PAGEANT, 17 February. Come, show me what you bring ; For I have said my say, fulfilled my day. And must away. March. [Stopping short on the threshold.] I blow an arouse Through the world's wide house To quicken the torpid earth : Grappling I fling Each feeble thing, But bring strong life to the birth. I wrestle and frown, And topple down ; I wrench, I rend, I uproot ; Yet the violet Is born where I set The sole of my flying foot, [Hands violets and anemones to February, who retires into the background.] And in my wake Frail wind-flowers quake, And the catkins promise fruit. I THE MONTHS: I drive ocean ashore With rush and roar, And he cannot say me nay ; My harpstrings all Are the forests tall, Making music when I play. And as others perforce, So I on my course Run and needs must run, With sap on the mount And buds past count And rivers and clouds and sun, With seasons and breath And time and death And all that has yet begun. [Before March has done speaking, a voice is heard approach- ing accompanied by a twittering of birds. April comes along singing, and stands outside and out of sight to finish her song.] APRn.. [Outside.] Pretty little three Sparrows in a tree. Light upon the ^ving ; Though you cannot sing You can chirp of Spring : A PAGEANT. 19 Chirp of Spring to me, Sparrows, from your tree. Never mind the showers, Chirp about the flowers While you build a nest : Straws from east and west, Feathers from your breast, Make the snuggest bowers In a world of flowers. You must dart away From the chosen spray, You intrusive third Extra little bird ; Join the unwedded herd ! These have done with play, And must work to-day. April. [Appearing at the open door.] Good-morrow and good-bye : if others fly, _0f all the flying months you 're the most flying. March. You 're hope and sweetness, April. 20 THE MONTHS: April. Birth means dying, As wings and wind mean flying ; So you and I and all things fly or die ; And sometimes I sit sighing to think of dying. But meanwhile I 've a rainbow in my showers, And a lapful of flowers. And these dear nestlings aged three hours ; And here 's their mother sitting, Their father 's merely flitting To find their breakfast somewhere in my bowers. [As she speaks April shows March her apron full of flowers and nest full of birds. March wanders away into the grounds. April, without entering the cottage, hangs over the hungry nestlings watching them.] April. \ATiat beaks you have, you funny things, What voices shrill and weak ; Who 'd think that anything that sings Could sing through such a beak ? Yet you '11 be nightingales one day, And charm the country-side, When I 'm away and far away And May is queen and bride. A PAGEANT. 21 [May arrives unperceived by April, and gives her a kiss. April starts and looks round.] April. Ah May, good-morrow May, and so good-bye. May. That 's just your way, sweet April, smile and sigh : Your sorrow 's half in fun, Begun and done And turned to joy while twenty seconds run. I Ve gathered flowers all as I came along, At every step a flower f Fed by your last bright shower, — [She divides an armful of all sorts of flowers with April, who strolls away through the garden.] May. And gathering flowers I Hstened to the song Of every bird in bower. The world and I are far too full of bliss To think or plan or toil or care ; The sun is waxing strong, The days are waxing long, And all that is, Is fair. 22 THE MONTHS: Here are my buds of lily and of rose, And here 's my namesake-blossom, may ; And from a watery spot See here forget-me-not, With all that blows To-day. Hark to my linnets from the hedges green, Blackbird and lark and thrush and dove, And every nightingale And cuckoo tells its tale. And all they mean Is love. [June appears at the further end of the garden, coming slowly towards May, who, seeing her, exclaims] May. Surely you 're come too early, sister June. June. Indeed I feel as if I came too soon To round your young May moon And set the world a-gasping at my noon. Yet come I must. So here are strawberries Sun-flushed and sweet, as many as you please ; A PAGEANT. 23 And here are full-blown roses by the score, More roses, and yet more. [May, eating strawberries, withdraws among the flower beds.] June. The sun does all my long day's work for me, Raises and ripens everything ; I need but sit beneath a leafy tree And watch and sing. [Seats herself in the shadow of a laburnum. Or if I 'm lulled by note of bird and bee. Or lulled by noontide's silence deep, I need but nestle down beneath my tree And drop asleep. [June falls asleep ; and is not awakened by the voice of July, who behind the scenes is heard half singing, half calling.] July. [Behind the scenes.] Blue flags, yellow flags, flags all freckled, Which will you take ? yellow, blue, speckled ! Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow, Each in its way has not a fellow. 24 THE MONTHS: [Enter July, a basket of many-colored irises slung upon his shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled full of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals up to June, and tickles her with the grass. She wakes.] June. What, here abeady? July. Nay, my tryst is kept ; The longest day slipped by you while you slept. I 've brought you one curved pyramid of bloom, [Hands her the plate. Not flowers, but peaches, gathered where the bees, As downy, bask and boom In sunshine and in gloom of trees. But get you in, a storm is at my heels ; The whirlwind whistles and wheels, Lightning flashes and thunder peals. Flying and following hard upon my heels. [June takes shelter in a thickly-woven arbor.] July. The roar of a storm sweeps up From the east to the lurid west, The darkening sky, like a cup, Is filled with rain to the brink ; A PAGEANT. 25 The sky is purple and fire, Blackness and noise and unrest \ The earth, parched with desire, Opens her mouth to drink. Send forth thy thunder and fire, Turn over thy brimming cup, O sky, appease the desire Of earth in her parched unrest ; Pour out drink to her thirst, Her famishing life lift up ; Make thyself fair as at first, With a rainbow for thy crest. Have done with thunder and fire, O sky with the rainbow crest ; O earth, have done with desire. Drink, and drink deep, and rest. [Enter August, carrying a sheaf made up of different kinds of grain.] July. Hail, brother August, flushed and warm And scatheless from my storm. Your hands are full of corn, I see, As full as hands can be : 26 THE MONTHS: And earth and air both smell as sweet as balm In their recovered calm, And that they owe to me. [July retires into a shrubbery.] August. Wheat sways heavy, oats are airy, Barley bows a graceful head, Short and small shoots up canary. Each of these is some one's bread; Bread for man or bread for beast, Or at very least A bird's savory feast. Men are brethren of each other, One in flesh and one in food ; And a sort of foster brother Is the Htter, or the brood, Of that folk in fur or feather. Who, with men together. Breast the wind and weather. [August descries September toiling across the lawn.] August. My harvest home is ended ; and I spy September drawing nigh A PAGEANT, 27 With the first thought of Autumn in her eye, And the first sigh Of Autumn wind among her locks that fly. [September arrives, carrying upon her head a basket heaped high with fruit.] September. Unload me, brother. I have brought a few Plums and these pears for you, A dozen kinds of apples, one or two Melons, some figs all bursting through Their skins, and pearled with dew These damsons violet-blue. [While September is speaking, August lifts the basket to the ground, selects various fruits, and withdraws slowly along the gravel walk, eating a pear as he goes.] September. My song is half a sigh Because my green leaves die ; Sweet are my fruits, but all my leaves are dying ; And well may Autumn sigh. And well may I Who watch the sere leaves flying. 28 THE MONTHS: My leaves that fade and fall, I note you one and all ; I call you, and the Autumn wind is calling, Lamenting for your fall, And for the pall You spread on earth in falling. And here 's a song of flowers to suit such hours : A song of the last lilies, the last flowers. Amid my withering bowers. In the sunny garden bed Lilies look so pale, Lilies droop the head In the shady grassy vale ; j If all alike they pine In shade and in shine. If everywhere they grieve. Where will lilies live ? [October enters briskly, some leafy twigs bearing different sorts of nuts in one hand, and a long ripe hop-bine trail- ing after him from the other. A dahlia is stuck in his buttonhole.] October. Nay, cheer up, sister. Life is not quite over. Even if the year has done with corn and clover, A PAGEANT. 29 With flowers and leaves ; besides, in fact it 's true, Some leaves remain and some flowers too. For me and you. Now see my crops : [Offering his produce to September. I Ve brought you nuts and hops ; And when the leaf drops, why, the walnut drops. [October wreaths the hop-bine about September's neck, and gives her the nut twigs. They enter the cottage together, but without shutting the door. She steps into the back- ground : he advances to the hearth, removes the guard, stirs up the smouldering fire, and arranges several chest- nuts ready to roast.] October. Crack your first nut and Hght your first fire, Roast your first chestnut crisp on the bar ; Make the logs sparkle, stir the blaze higher ; Logs are cheery as sun or as star. Logs we can find wherever we are. Spring one soft day will open the leaves, Spring one bright day will lure back the flowers ; Never fancy my whistling wind grieves. Never fancy I 've tears in my showers ; Dance, nights and days ! and dance on, my hours ! [Sees November approaching. 30 THE MONTHS: October. Here comes my youngest sister, looking dim And grim, With dismal ways. What cheer, November? November. [Entering and shutting the door.] Nought have I to bring, Tramping a-chill and shivering. Except these pine-cones for a blaze, — Except a fog which follows. And stuffs up all the hollows, — Except a hoar frost here and there, — Except some shooting stars Which dart their luminous cars Trackless and noiseless through the keen night air. [October, shrugging his shoulders, withdraws into the back- ground, while November throws her pine cones on the fire, and sits down listlessly.] November. The earth lies fast asleep, gro^vn tired Of all that 's high or deep ; There 's nought desired and nought required Save a sleep. A PAGEANT, 31 I rock the cradle of the earth, I lull her with a sigh ; And know that she will wake to mirth By and by. [Through the window December is seen running and leap- ing in the direction of the door. He knocks.] November. [Calls out without rising.] Ah, here 's my youngest brother come at last : Come in, December. [He opens the door and enters, loaded with evergreens in berry, etc.] November. Come, and shut the door, For now it 's snowing fast ; It snows, and will snow more and more ; Don't let it drift in on the floor. But you, you 're all aglow ; how can you be Rosy and warm and smiling in the cold ? December. Nay, no closed doors for me. But open doors and open hearts and glee To welcome young and old. 32 THE MONTHS: A PAGEANT Dimmest and brightest month am I ; My short days end, my lengthening days begin ; What matters more or less sun in the sky, When all is sun within ? [He begins making a wreath as he sings. Ivy and privet dark as night, I weave with hips and haws a cheerful show, And holly for a beauty and delight, And milky mistletoe. While high above them all I set Yew twigs and Christmas roses pure and pale ; Then Spring her snowdrop and her violet May keep, so sweet and frail ; May keep each merry singing bird. Of all her happy birds that singing build : For I 've a carol which some shepherds heard Once in a wintry field. [While December concludes his song all the other Months troop in from the garden, or advance out of the back- ground. The Twelve join hands in a circle, and begin dancing round to a stately measure as the Curtain falls.] PASTIME. 33 PASTIME. \ BOAT amid the ripples, drifting, rocking, "^ Two idle people, without pause or aim ; While in the ominous west there gathers darkness Flushed with flame. A haycock in a hayfield backing, lapping, Two drowsy people pillowed round about ; While in the ominous west across the darkness Flame leaps out. Better a wrecked life than a life so aimless, Better a wrecked hfe than a life so soft ; The ominous west glooms thundering, with its fire Lit aloft 34 ''ITALIA, 10 TI SALUTO T' '' ITALIA, lO TI SALUTO ! '' 'T^O come back from the sweet South, to the North Where I was born, bred, look to die ; Come back to do my day's work in its day, Play out my play — Amen, amen, say I. To see no more the country half my own, Nor hear the half famiHar speech. Amen, I say ; I turn to that bleak North Whence I came forth — The South lies out of reach. But when our swallows fly back to the South, To the sweet South, to the sweet South, The tears may come again into my eyes On the old w4se. And the sweet name to my mouth. MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH. 35 MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH. 'T^HE mystery of Life, the mystery -^ Of Death, I see Darkly as in a glass ; Their shadows pass, And talk with me. As the flush of a Morning Sky, As a Morning Sky colorless — Each yields its measure of light To a wet world or a dry ; Each fares through day to night With equal pace. And then each one Is done. As the Sun with glory and grace In his face, Benignantly hot, 36 MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH, Graciously radiant and keen, Ready to rise and to run, — Not without spot, Not even the Sun. As the Moon On the wax, on the wane, With night for her noon ; Vanishing soon. To appear again. As Roses that droop Half warm, half chill, in the languid May, And breathe out a scent Sweet and faint ; Till the wind gives one swoop To scatter their beauty away. As Lilies a multitude, One dipping, one rising, one sinking, On rippling waters, clear blue And pure for their drinking ; One new dead, and one opened anew, And all good. As a cankered pale Flower, With death for a dower, MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH, 37 Each hour of its life half dead ; With death for a crown Weighing down Its head. As an Eagle, half strength and half grace, Most potent to face Unwinking the splendor of light ; Harrying the East and the West, Soaring aloft from our sight ; Yet one day or one night dropped to rest, On the low common earth Of his birth. As a Dove, Not alone. In a world of her own Full of fluttering soft noises And tender sweet voices Of love. As a Mouse Keeping house In the fork of a tree, With nuts in a crevice, And an acorn or two ; 38 MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH, What cares he For blossoming boughs, Or the song-smging bevies Of birds in their glee, Scarlet, or golden, or blue ? As a Mole grubbing underground ; When it comes to the light It grubs its way back again, Feehng no bias of fur To hamper it in its stir. Scant of pleasure and pain. Sinking itself out of sight Without sound. As Waters that drop and drop, Weariness without end. That drop and never stop, Wear that nothing can mend. Till one day they drop — Stop — And there 's an end. And matters mend. As Trees, beneath whose skin We mark not the sap begin MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH, 39 To swell and rise, Till the whole bursts out in green : We mark the falling leaves When the wide world grieves And sighs. As a Forest on fire, Where maddened creatures desire Wet mud or wings Beyond all those things Which could assuage desire On this side the flaming fire. As Wind with a sob and sigh To which there comes no reply But a rustle and shiver From rushes of the river ; As Wind with a desolate moan, Moaning on alone. As a Desert all sand, Blank, neither water nor land For solace, or dwelling, or culture, Where the storms and the wild creatures howl ; Given over to Hon and vulture. To ostrich, and jackal, and owl : 40 MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH. Yet somewhere an oasis lies ; There waters arise To nourish one seedling of balm, Perhaps, or one palm. As the Sea, Murmuring, shifting, swaying ; One time sunnily playing, One time wrecking and slaying ; In whichever mood it be. Worst or best. Never at rest. As still Waters and deep. As shallow Waters that brawl, As rapid Waters that leap To their fall. As Music, as Color, as Shape, Keys of rapture and pain Turning in vain In a lock which turns not again. While breaths and moments escape. As Spring, all bloom and desire ; As Summer, all gift and fire ; MIRRORS OF LIFE AND DEATH, 41 As Autumn, a dying glow ; As Winter, with nought to show : Winter which lays its dead all out of sight, All clothed in white, All waiting for the long-awaited light. 42 A BALLAD OF BODING, A BALLAD OF BODING. nr^HERE are sleeping dreams and waking dreams ; What seems is not always as it seems. I looked out of my window in the sweet new morning, And there I saw three barges of manifold adorning Went sailing toward the East : The first had sails hke fire, The next like glittering wire, But sackcloth were the sails of the least ; And all the crews made music, and two had spread a feast. The first choir breathed in flutes. And fingered soft guitars ; The second won from lutes Harmonious chords and jars, With drums for stormy bars : But the third was all of harpers and scarlet trumpeters ; Notes of triumph, then An alarm again, A BALLAD OF BODING. 43 As for onset, as for victory, rallies, stirs, Peace at last and glory to the vanquishers. The first barge showed for figurehead a Love with wings ; The second showed for figurehead a Worm with stings ; The third, a Lily tangled to a Rose which clings. The first bore for freight gold and spice and down ; The second bore a sword, a sceptre, and a crown ; The third, a heap of earth gone to dust and brown. Winged Love meseemed like Folly in the face ; Stinged Worm meseemed loathly in his place ; Lily and Rose were flowers of grace. Merry w^ent the revel of the fire-sailed crew, Singing, feasting, dancing to and fro : Pleasures ever changing, ever graceful, ever new ; Sighs, but scarce of woe ; All the sighing Wooed such sweet replying ; All the sighing, sweet and low, Used to come and go For more pleasure, merely so. Yet at intervals some one grew tired Of everything desired. And sank, I knew not whither, in sorry plight, Out of sight. 44 A BALLAD OF BODLNG, The second crew seemed ever Wider-visioned, graver, More distinct of purpose, more sustained of will; With heads erect and proud, And voices sometimes loud ; With endless tacking, counter-tacking. All things grasping, all things lacking. It would seem ; Ever shifting helm, or sail, or shroud, Drifting on as in a dream. Hoarding to their utmost bent, Feasting to their fill, Yet gnawed by discontent, Envy, hatred, malice, on their road they went. Their freight was not a treasure, Their music not a pleasure ; The sword flashed, cleaving through their bands, Sceptre and crown changed hands. The third crew as they went Seemed mostly different ; They toiled in rowing, for to them the wind was contrary. As all the world might see. They labored at the oar. While on their heads they bore A BALLAD OF BODING. 45 The fiery stress of sunshine more and more. They labored at the oar hand-sore, Till rain went splashing, And spray went dashing, Down on them, and up on them, riiore and more. Their sails were patched and rent, Their masts were bent, In peril of their lives they worked and went. For them no feast was spread. No soft luxurious bed Scented and white, No crown or sceptre hung in sight ; In weariness and painfulness. In thirst and sore distress, They rowed and steered from left to right With all their might. Their trumpeters and harpers round about Incessantly played out. And sometimes they made answer with a shout ; But oftener they groaned or wept. And seldom paused to eat, and seldom slept. I wept for pity watching them, but more I wept heart-sore Once and again to see Some weary man plunge overboard, and swim 46 A BALLAD OF BODING. To Love or Worm ship floating buoyantly : And there all welcomed him. The ships steered each apart and seemed to scorn each other, Yet all the crews w^ere interchangeable ; Now one man, now another, — Like bloodless spectres some, som.e flushed by health, — Changed openly, or changed by stealth, Scaling a slippery side, and scaled it well. The most left Love ship, hauling wealth Up Worm ship's side ; While some few hollow-eyed Left either for the sack-sailed boat ; But this, though not remote. Was worst to mount, and whoso left it once Scarce ever came again, But seemed to loathe his erst companions, And wish and work them bane. Then I knew (I know not how) there lurked quick- sands full of dread, Rocks and reefs and whirlpools in the water-bed, Whence a waterspout Instantaneously leaped out, Roarino: as it reared its head. A BALLAD OF BODING, 47 Soon I spied a something dim, Many-handed, grim, That went flitting to and fro the first and second ship ; It puffed their sails full out With puffs of smoky breath From a smouldering lip. And cleared the waterspout Which reeled roaring round about Threatening death. With a horny hand it steered, And a horn appeared On its sneering head upreared Haughty and high Against the blackening lowering sky. With a hoof it swayed the waves ; They opened here and there. Till I spied deep ocean graves Full of skeletons That were men and women once Foul or fair ; Full of things that creep And fester in the deep And never breathe the clean life-nurturing air. The third bark held aloof From the Monster with the hoof. 48 A BALLAD OF BODING, Despite his urgent beck, And fraught with guile Abominable his smile ; Till I saw him take a flying leap on to that deck. Then full of awe, With these same eyes I saw His head incredible retract its horn Rounding like babe's new born, While silvery phosphorescence played About his dis-horned head. The sneer smoothed from his lip, He beamed blandly on the ship ; All winds sank to a moan, All waves to a monotone (For all these seemed his realm). While he laid a strong caressmg hand upon the helm. Then a cry well nigh of despair Shrieked to heaven, a clamor of desperate prayer. The harpers harped no more. While the trumpeters sounded sore An alarm to wake the dead from their bed : To the rescue, to the rescue, now or never, To the rescue, O ye living, O ye dead. Or no more help or hope for ever ! — The planks strained as though they must part asunder, A BALLAD OF BODING, 49 The masts bent as though they must dip under, And the winds and the waves at length Girt up their strength, And the depths were laid bare, And heaven flashed fire and volleyed thunder Through the rain-choked air, And sea and sky seemed to kiss In the horror and the hiss Of the whole world shuddering everywhere. Lo ! a Flyer swooping down With wings to span the globe. And splendor for his robe And splendor for his crown. He lighted on the helm with a foot of fire, And spun the Monster overboard : And that monstrous thing abhorred, Gnashing with balked desire. Wriggled like a worm infirm Up the Worni Of the loathly figurehead. There he crouched and gnashed ; And his head re-homed, and gashed From the other's grapple, dripped bloody red. I saw that thing accurst Wreak his worst 4 50 A BALLAD OF BODING. On the first and second crew : Some with baited hook He angled for and took, Some dragged overboard in a net he threw, Some he did to death With hoof or horn or blasting breath. I heard a voice of wailing Where the ships went sailing, A sorrowful voice prevailing Above the sound of the sea. Above the singers' voices. And musical merry noises ; All songs had turned to sighing, The light was failing, The day was dying — Ah me. That such a sorrow should be ! There was sorrow on the sea and sorrow on the land When Love ship went down by the bottomless quick- sand To its grave in the bitter wave. There was sorrow on the sea and sorrow on the land When Worm ship went to pieces on the rock-bound strand, And the bitter wave was its grave. A BALLAD OF BODING. 51 But land and sea waxed hoary In whiteness of a glory Never told in story Nor seen by mortal eye, When the third ship crossed the bar Where whirls and breakers are, And steered into the splendors of the sky ; That third bark and that least Which had never seemed to feast, Yet kept high festival above sun and moon and star. 52 YET A LITTLE WHILE. YET A LITTLE WHILE. I DREAMED and did not seek : to-day I seek Who can no longer dream ; But now am all behindhand, waxen weak, And dazed amid so many things that gleam Yet are not what they seem. I dreamed and did not work : to-day I work Kept ^\ide awake by care And loss, and perils dimly guessed to lurk ; I work and reap not, while my life goes bare And void in \™try air. I hope indeed ; but hope itself is fear Viewed on the sunny side ; I hope, and disregard the world that 's here. The prizes dra^^'n, the sweet things that betide ; I hope, and I abide. HE AND SHE. 53 HE AND SHE. " ^ HOULD one of us remember, ^^ And one of us forget, I wish I knew what each will do — But who can tell as yet? " " Should one of us remember, And one of us forget, I promise you what I will do — • And I 'm content to wait for you. And not be sure as yet." 54 MONNA INNOMINATA, MONNA INNOMINATA. A SONNET OF SONNETS. Beatrice, immortalized by " altissimo poeta . . . cotanto amante ; " Laura, celebrated by a great though an inferior bard, — have alike paid the exceptional penalty of exceptional honor, and have come down to us resplendent with charms, but (at least, to my apprehension) scant of attractiveness. These heroines of world-wide fame w^ere preceded by a bevy of unnamed ladies " donne innominate " sung by a school of less conspicuous poets; and in that land and that period which gave simultaneous birth to Catholics, to Albigenses, and to Troubadours, one can imagine many a lady as sharing her lover's poetic aptitude, while the barrier between them might be one held sacred by both, yet not such as to render mutual love incompatible with mutual honor. Had such a lady spoken for herself, the portrait left us might have appeared more tender, if less dignified, than any drawn even by a devoted friend. Or had the Great Poetess of our own day and nation only been unhappy instead of happy, her circumstances would have invited her to bequeath to us, in lieu of the " Portuguese Sonnets," an inimitable " donna inno- minata " drawn not from fancy but from feeling, and worthy to occupy a niche beside Beatrice and Laura. MONNA INNOMINATA, SS I. " Lo di che han detto a' dolci amici addio." — Dante. " Amor, con quanto sforzo oggi mi vinci ! '' — Petrarca. /^~^OME back to me, who wait and watch for you : — ^"^ Or come not yet, for it is over then, And long it is before you come again, So far between my pleasures are and few. While, when you come not, what I do I do Thinking '^ Now when he comes," my sweetest ^^when:" For one man is my world of all the men This wide world holds ; O love, my world is you. Howbeit, to meet you grows almost a pang Because the pang of parting comes so soon ; My hope hangs waning, waxing, like a moon Between the heavenly days on which we meet : Ah me, but where are now the songs I sang When life was sweet because you called them sweet? 56 MONNA INNOMINATA, 2. " Era gia I'ora che volge il desio." — Dante. " Ricorro al tempo ch' io vi vidi prima." — Petrarca. I wish I could remember that first day, First hour, first moment of your meeting me, If bright or dim the season, it might be Summer or Winter for aught I can say ; So unrecorded did it slip away. So blind was I to see and to foresee, So dull to mark the budding of my tree That would not blossom yet for many a May. If only I could recollect it, such A day of days ! I let it come and go As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow ; * It seemed to mean so little, meant so much ; If only now I could recall that touch. First touch of hand in hand — Did one but know ! MONNA INNOMINATA. 57 " O ombre vane, fuor che ne I'aspetto ! " — Dante. " Immaginata guida la conduce." — Petrarca. I dream of you to wake : would that I might Dream of you and not wake but slumber on ; Nor find with dreams the dear companion gone, As Summer ended Summer birds take flight. In happy dreams I hold you full in sight, I blush again who waking look so wan ; Brighter than sunniest day that ever shone, In happy dreams your smile makes day of night. Thus only in a dream we are at one, Thus only in a dream we give and take The faith that maketh rich who take or give ; If thus to sleep is sweeter than to wake. To die were surely sweeter than to live. Though there be nothing new beneath the sun. 58 MONNA INNOMINATA. " Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda." — Dante. " Ogni altra cosa, ogni pensier va fore, E sol ivi con voi rimansi amore/' — Petrarca. I loved you first : but afterwards your love Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most ? my love was long, And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong ; I loved and guessed at you, you construed me And loved me for what might or might not be — Nay, weights and measures do us both a ^\Tong. For verily love knows not " mine " or " thine ; " With separate " I " and " thou " free love has done^ For one is both and both are one in love : Rich love knows nought of "' thine that is not mine ; " Both have the strength and both the length thereof. Both of us of the love which makes us one. MONNA INNOMINATA. 59 5- " Amor che a nulla amato amar perdona." — Dante. " Amor m'addusse in si gioiosa spene.^' — Petrarca. O my heart's heart, and you who are to me More than myself myself, God be with you, Keep you in strong obedience leal and true To Him whose noble service setteth free, Give you all good we see or can foresee, Make your joys many and your sorrows few, * Bless you in what you bear and what you do. Yea, perfect you as He would have you be. So much for you ; but what for me, dear friend ? To love you without stint and all I can To-day, to-morrow, world without an end ; To love you much and yet to love you more, As Jordan at his flood sweeps either shore ; Since woman is the helpmeet made for man. 6o MONNA INNOMINATA. " Or puoi la quantitate Comprender de Tamor che a te mi scalda." — Dante. " Non vo' che da tal nodo amor mi scioglia." — Petrarca. Trust me, I have not earned your dear rebuke, I love, as you would have me, God the most ; Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost, Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look Unready to forego what I forsook ; This say I, having counted up the cost, This, though I be the feeblest of God's host. The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook. Yet while I love my God the most, I deem That I can never love you overmuch ; I love Him more, so let me love you too ; Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such I cannot love you if I love not Him, I cannot love Him if I love not you. MONNA INNOMINATA, 6i " Qui primavera sempre ed ogni frutto/' — Dante. " Ragionando con meco ed io con lui." — Petrarca. "Love me, for I love you" — and answer me, " Love me, for I love you '^ — so shall we stand As happy equals in the flowering land Of love, that knows not a dividing sea. Love builds the house on rock and not on sand, ' Love laughs what while the winds rave desperately ; And who hath found love's citadel unmanned? And who hath held in bonds love's liberty? My heart's a coward though my words are brave — We meet so seldom, yet we surely part So often ; there 's a problem for your art ! Still I find comfort in his Book, who saith, Though jealousy be cruel as the grave, And death be strong, yet love is strong as death. 62 MONNA INNOMINATA. 8. " Come dicesse a Dio : D'altro non calme." — Dante. *' Spero trovar pieta non che perdono/' — Petrarca. "I, if I perish, perish " — Esther spake : And bride of life or death she made her fair In all the lustre of her perfumed hair And smiles that kindle longing but to slake. She put on pomp of loveliness, to take Her husband through his eyes at unaware ; She spread abroad her beauty for a snare, Harmless as doves and subtle as a snake. She trapped him with one mesh of silken hair, She vanquished him by wisdom of her wit. And built her people's house that it should stand : — - If I might take my life so in my hand. And for my love to Love put up my prayer. And for love's sake by Love be granted it ! MONNA INNOMINATA. 62, " O dignitosa coscienza e netta ! '' — Dante. " Spirto piu acceso di virtuti ardenti/^ -^ Petrarca. Thinking of you, and all that was, and all That might have been and now can never be, I feel your honored excellence, and see Myself unworthy of the happier call : For woe is me who walk so apt to fall. So apt to shrink afraid, so apt to flee, Apt to lie down and die (ah, woe is me !) Faithless and hopeless turning to the wall. And yet not hopeless quite nor faithless quite, Because not loveless ; love may toil all night. But take at morning ; wrestle till the break Of day, but then wield power with God and man ; So take I heart of grace as best I can, Ready to spend and be spent for your sake. 64 MONNA INNOMINATA. lO. " Con miglior corso e con migliore Stella/' — Dante. " La vita fugge e non s'arresta un' ora." — Petrarca. Time flies, hope flags, life plies a wearied wing ; Death following hard on life gains ground apace ; Faith runs with each and rears an eager face, Outruns the rest, makes light of everything, Spurns earth, and still finds breath to pray and sing ; While love ahead of all uplifts his praise, Still asks for grace and still gives thanks for grace. Content with all day brings and night will bring. Life wanes ; and when love folds his wings above Tired hope, and less we feel his conscious pulse. Let us go fall asleep, dear friend, in peace : A little while, and age and sorrow cease ; A little while, and life reborn annuls Loss and decay and death, and all is love. MONNA INNOMINATA, 65 II. " Vien dietro a me e lascia dir le genti." — Dante. " Contando i casi della vita nostra." — Petrarca. Many in aftertimes will say of you " He loved her " — while of me what will they say ? Not that I loved you more than just in play, For fashion's sake as idle women do. Even let them prate ; who know not what we knew Of love and parting in exceeding pain, Of parting hopeless here to meet again, Hopeless on earth, and heaven is out of view. But by my heart of love laid bare to you, My love that you can make not void nor vain, Love that foregoes you but to claim anew Beyond this passage of the gate of death, I charge you at the Judgment make it plain My love of you was life and not a breath. 66 MONNA INNOMINATA. 12. "Amor, che ne la mente mi ragiona." — Dante. " Amor vien nel bel viso di costei." — Petrarca. If there be any one can take my place And make you happy whom I grieve to grieve, Think not that I can grudge it, but believe I do commend you to that nobler grace, That readier wit than mine, that "sweeter face ; Yea, since your riches make me rich, conceive I too am crowned, while bridal crowns I weave, And thread the bridal dance with jocund pace. For if I did not love you, it might be That I should grudge you some one dear delight ; But since the heart is yours that was mine own, Your pleasure is my pleasure, right my right, Your honorable freedom makes me free. And you companioned I am not alone. MONNA INNOMINATA, 67 13- "E drizzeremo gli occhi al Primo Amore." — Dante. " Ma trovo peso non da le mie braccia/' — Petrarca. If I could trust mine own self with your fate, Shall I not rather trust it in God's hand ? Without Whose Will one hly doth not stand, Nor sparrow fall at his appointed date ; Who numbereth the innumerable sand, Who weighs the wind and water with a weight, To Whom the world is neither small nor great, Whose knowledge foreknew every plan we planned. Searching my heart for all that touches you, I find there only love and love's goodwill Helpless to help and impotent to do, Of understanding dull, of sight most dim ; And therefore I commend you back to Him Whose love your love's capacity can fill. 68 MONNA INNOMINATA. 14. " E la Sua Volontade e nostra pace." — Dante. " Sol con questi pensier, con altre chiome." — Petrarca. Youth gone, and beauty gone if ever there Dwelt beauty in so poor a face as this ; Youth gone and beauty, what remains of bHss ? I will not bind fresh roses in my hair, To shame a cheek at best but little fair, — Leave youth his roses, who can bear a thorn, — I will not seek for blossoms anywhere. Except such common flowers as blow with com. Youth gone and beauty gone, what doth remain ? The longing of a heart pent up forlorn, A silent heart whose silence loves and longs ; The silence of a heart which sang its songs While youth and beauty made a summer morn, Silence of love that cannot sing again. 'LUSCIOa^ AND SORROWFUL.'^' 69 B "LUSCIOUS AND SORROWFUL." EAUTIFUL, tender, wasting away for sorrow ; Thus to-day ; and how shall it be with thee to- morrow ? Beautiful, tender — what else ? A hope tells. Beautiful, tender, keeping the jubilee In the land of home together, past death and sea ; No more change or death, no more Salt sea-shore. 70 DE PROFUNDIS. DE PROFUNDIS. /^H why is heaven built so far, ^-"^ Oh why is earth set so remote ? I cannot reach the nearest star That hangs afloat. I would not care to reach the moon, One round monotonous of change \ Yet even she repeats her tune Beyond my range. I never watch the scattered fire Of stars, or sun's far-trailing train, But all my heart is one desire, And all in vain : For I am bound with fleshly bands, Joy, beauty, lie beyond my scope ; I strain my heart, I stretch my hands. And catch at hope. TEMPUS FUGIT. 71 TEMPUS FUGIT. T OVELY Spring, "■"^ A brief sweet thing, Is swift on the wing ; Gracious Summer, A slow sweet comer. Hastens past ; Autumn while sweet Is all incomplete With a moaning blast, — Nothing can last. Can be cleaved unto. Can be dwelt upon ; It is hurried through, It is come and gone. Undone it cannot be done, It is ever to do. Ever old, ever new. Ever waxing old And lapsing to Winter cold. 72 GOLDEN GLORIES. GOLDEN GLORIES. THE buttercup is like a golden cup, The marigold is like a golden frill, The daisy with a golden eye looks up, And golden spreads the flag beside the rill, And gay and golden nods the daffodil, The gorsey common swells a golden sea. The cowslip hangs a head of golden tips, And golden drips the honey which the bee Sucks from sweet hearts of flowers and stores and sips. JOHNNY. 73 JOHNNY. FOUNDED ON AN ANECDOTE OF THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION. TOHNNY had a golden head Like a golden mop in blow, Right and left his curls would spread In a glory and a glow, And they framed his honest face Like stray sunbeams out of place. Long and thick, they half could hide How threadbare his patched jacket hung ; They used to be his Mother's pride ; She praised them with a tender tongue, And stroked them with a loving finger That smoothed and stroked and loved to linger. On a doorstep Johnny sat. Up and down the street looked he ; Johnny did not own a hat, Hot or cold tho' days might be ; Johnny did not own a boot To cover up his muddy foot. 74 JOHNNY. Johnny's face was pale and thin, Pale with hunger and with crying ; For his Mother lay within, Talked and tossed and seemed a-dying, While Johnny racked his brains to think How to get her help and drink, Get her physic, get her tea, Get her bread and something nice ; Not a penny piece had he. And scarce a shilling might suffice ; No wonder that his soul was sad. When not one penny piece he had. As he sat there thinking, moping, Because his Mother's wants were many, Wishing much but scarcely hoping To earn a shilling or a penny, A friendly neighbor passed him by And questioned him : Why did he cry ? Alas ! his trouble soon was told : He did not cry for cold or hunger. Though he was hungry both and cold ; He only felt more weak and younger, Because he wished so to be old And apt at earning pence or gold. JOHNNY, ys Kindly that neighbor was, but poor, Scant coin had he to give or lend ; And well he guessed there needed more Than pence or shillings to befriend The helpless woman in her strait, So much loved, yet so desolate. One way he saw, and only one : He would — he could not — give the advice, And yet he must : the widow's son Had curls of gold would fetch their price ; Long curls which might be clipped, and sold For silver, or perhaps for gold. Our Johnny, when he understood Which shop it was that purchased hair, Ran off as briskly as he could, And in a trice stood cropped and bare. Too short of hair to fill a locket. But jingling money in his pocket. Precious money — tea and bread. Physic, ease, for Mother dear, Better than a golden head : Yet our hero dropped one tear When he spied himself close shorn, Barer much than lamb new bom. 76 JOHNNY. His Mother throve upon the money, Ate and revived and kissed her son : But oh ! when she perceived her Johnny, And understood what he had done All and only for her sake, She sobbed as if her heart must break. ''HOLLOW-SOUNDING &^ MYSTERIOUS^ 77 "HOLLOW-SOUNDING AND MYSTERIOUS.'* npHERE 'S no replying To the Wind's sighing, Telling, foretelling. Dying, undying, Dwindling and swelling. Complaining, droning, Whistling and moaning, Ever beginning, Ending, repeating. Hinting and dinning. Lagging and fleeting — We 've no replying Living or dying To the Wind's sighing. What are you telling, Variable Wind-tone? What would be teaching, O sinking, swelling. Desolate Wind-moan? Ever for ever ^Z'' HOLLOW-SOUNDING &- MYSTERIOUS:' Teaching and preaching, Never, ah never Making us wiser — The earhest riser Catches no meaning, The last who hearkens Garners no gleaning Of wisdom's treasure. While the world darkens : — Living or dying, In pain, in pleasure. We Ve no replying To wordless flying Wind's sighing. MAIDEN MAY, 79 MAIDEN MAY. 1\ /r AIDEN MAY sat in her bower, In her blush rose bower in flower, Sweet of scent ; Sat and dreamed away an hour, Half content, half uncontent. *' Why should rose blossoms be born, Tender blossoms, on a thorn Though so sweet ? Never a thorn besets the corn Scentless in its strength complete. *' Why are roses all so frail. At the mercy of the gale. Of a breath? Yet so sweet and perfect pale. Still so sweet in life and death/' 8o MAIDEN MAY. Maiden May sat in her bower, In her blush rose bower in flower, Where a hnnet Made one bristling branch the tower For her nest and young ones in it. '^ Gay and clear the linnet trills ; Yet the skylark only, thrills Heaven and earth When he breasts the height, and fills Height and depth with song and mirth. " Nightingales which yield to night Solitary strange delight, Reign alone : But the lark for all his height Fills no solitary throne ; " While he sings, a hundred sing ; Wing their flight below his wing Yet in flight ; Each a lovely joyful thing To the measure of its delight. MAIDEN MAY, 8i " Why then should a lark be reckoned One alone, without a second Near his throne? He in skyward flight unslackened, In his music, not alone." Maiden May sat in he^ bower ; Her own face was like a flower Of the prime, Half in sunshine, half in shower, In the year's most tender time. Her own thoughts in silent song Musically flowed along, Wise, unwise. Wistful, wondering, weak or strong : As brook shallows sink or rise. Other thoughts another day. Maiden May, will surge and sway Round your heart ; Wake, and plead, and turn at bay. Wisdom part, and folly part. 6 82 MAIDEN MA V. Time not far remote will borrow Other joys, another sorrow, All for you ; Not to-day, and yet to-morrow Reasoning false and reasoning true. Wherefore greatest? Wherefore least? Hearts that starve and hearts that feast ? You and I ? Stammering Oracles have ceased, And the whole earth stands at ^Svhy? " Underneath all things that be Lies an unsolved mystery ; Over all Spreads a veil impenetrably, Spreads a dense unlifted pall. Mystery of mysteries : T/iis creation hears and sees High and low — Vanity of vanities : TAis we test and f/iis we know. MAIDEN MA V, 83 Maiden May, the days of flowering Nurse you now in sweet embowering, Sunny days ; Bright with rainbows all the showering, Bright with blossoms all the ways. Close the inlet of your bower, Close it close with thorn and flower, Maiden May ; Lengthen out the shortening hour, — Morrows are not as to-day. Stay to-day which wanes too soon. Stay the sun and stay the moon, Stay your youth ; Bask you in the actual noon. Rest you in the present truth. Let to-day suffice to-day : For itself to-morrow may Fetch its loss ; Aim and stumble, say its say. Watch and pray and bear its cross. 84 TILL TO-MORROW. TILL TO-MORROW. T ONG have I longed, till I am tired ^-^ Of longing and desire ; Farewell my points in vain desired, My dying fire ; Farewell all things that die and fail and tire. Springtide and youth and useless pleasure And all my useless scheming, My hopes of unattainable treasure, Dreams not worth dreaming, Glow-worms that gleam but yield no warmth in gleaming, Farewell all shows that fade in showing : My wish and joy stand over Until to-morrow ; Heaven is glowing Through cloudy cover, Beyond all clouds loves me my Heavenly Lover. DEA TH- WA TCHES. 2>s DEATH-WATCHES. T^HE Spring spreads one green lap of flowers Which Autumn buries at the fall, No chilling showers of Autumn hours Can stay them or recall ; Winds sing a dirge, while earth lays out of sight Her garment of delight. The cloven East brings forth the sun, The cloven West doth bury him What time his gorgeous race is run And all the world grows dim ; A funeral moon is lit in heaven's hollow, And pale the star-lights follow. 86 TOUCHING ''NEVER: TOUCHING ^^ NEVER." IT) ECAUSE you never yet have loved me, dear, Think you you never can nor ever will ? Surely while life remains hope lingers still, Hope the last blossom of life's dying year. Because the season and mine age grow sere, Shall never Spring bring forth her daffodil, Shall never sweeter Summer feast her fill Of roses with the nightingales they hear ? If you had loved me, I not loving you. If you had urged me with the tender plea Of what our unknown years to come might do (Eternal years, if Time should count too few) , I would have owned the point you pressed on me, Was possible, or probable, or true. BRANDONS BOTH. By BRANDONS BOTH. /^H fair Milly Brandon, a young maid, a fair maid ! ^"^^ All her curls are yellow and her eyes are blue, And her cheeks were rosy red till a secret care made Hollow whiteness of their brightness as a care will do. Still she tends her flowers, but not as in the old days. Still she sings her songs, but not the songs of old : If now it be high Summer her days seem brief and cold days, If now it be high Summer her nights are long and cold. If you have a secret keep it, pure maid Milly ; Life is filled with troubles and the world with scorn ; And pity without love is at best times hard and chilly, Chilling sore and stinging sore a heart forlorn. Walter Brandon, do you guess Milly Brandon's secret? Many things you know, but not everything, With your locks like raven's plumage, and eyes like an egret. And a laugh that is music, and such a voice to sing. 88 BRANDONS BOTH. Nelly Knollys^ she is fair, but she is not fairer Than fairest Milly Brandon was before she turned so pale : Oh, but Nelly 's dearer if she be not rarer, She need not keep a secret or blush behind a veil. Beyond the first green hills, beyond the nearest valleys, Nelly dwells at home beneath her mother's eyes : Her home is neat and homely, not a cot and not a palace. Just the home where love sets up his happiest memories. Milly has no mother ; and sad beyond another Is she whose blessed mother is vanished out of call : Truly comfort beyond comfort is stored up in a mother Who bears with all, and hopes through all, and loves us all. Where peacocks nod and flaunt up and down the terrace, Furling and unfurling their scores of sightless eyes, To and fro among the leaves and buds and flowers and berries Maiden Milly strolls and pauses, smiles and sighs. BRANDONS BOTH. 89 On the hedged-in terrace of her father's palace She may stroll and muse alone, may smile or sigh alone, Letting thoughts and eyes go wandering over hills and valleys To-day her father's, and one day to be all her own. If her thoughts go coursing down lowlands and up highlands, It is because the startled game are leaping from their lair ; If her thoughts dart homeward to the reedy river islands. It is because the waterfowl rise startled here or there. At length a footfall on the steps : she turns, composed and steady, All the long-descended greatness of her father's house Lifting up her head ; and there stands Walter keen and ready For hunting or for hawking, a flush upon his brows. 90 BRANDONS BOTH, ^' Good-morrow, fair cousin." " Good-morrow, fairest cousin : The sun has started on his course, and I must start to-day. If you have done me one good turn you Ve done me many a dozen. And I shall often think of you, think of you away." '' Over hill and hollow what quarry will you follow, Or what fish will you angle for beside the river's edge ? There 's cloud upon the hill-top and there 's mist deep down the hollow. And fog among the rushes and the rustling sedge." " I shall speed well enough be it hunting or hawking. Or casting a bait towards the shyest daintiest fin. But I kiss your hands, my cousin ; I must not loiter talking. For nothing comes of nothing, and I 'm fain to seek and win." " Here 's a thorny rose : will you wear it an hour. Till the petals drop apart still fresh and pink and sweet ? Till the petals drop from the drooping perished flower, And only the graceless thorns are left of it." BRANDONS BOTH. 91 '' Nay, I have another rose sprung in another garden, Another rose which sweetens all the world for me. Be you a tenderer mistress and be you a warier warden Of your rose, as sweet as mine, and full as fair to see." " Nay, a bud once plucked there is no reviving, Nor is it worth your wearing now, nor worth indeed my own ; The dead to the dead, and the living to the living. It 's time I go within, for it 's time now you were gone." " Good-bye, Milly Brandon, I shall not forget you, Though it be good-bye between us for ever from to-day ; I could almost wish to-day that I had never met you. And I 'm true to you in this one word that I say." '' Good-bye, Walter. I can guess which thornless rose you covet ; Long may it bloom and prolong its sunny morn : Yet as for my one thorny rose, I do not cease to love it, And if it is no more a flower I love it as a thorn." 92 A LIFE'S PARALLELS, A LIFE'S PARALLELS. "VTEVER on this side of the grave again, ^ On this side of the river, On this side of the gamer of the grain, Never, — Ever while time flows on and on and on. That narrow noiseless river, Ever while corn bows heavy-headed, wan, Ever, — Never despairing, often fainting, ruing, But looking back, ah never ! Faint yet pursuing, faint yet still pursuing Ever, AT LAST, 93 AT LAST. TV /TANY have sung of love a root of bane : ■^ -^ While to my mind a root of balm it is, For love at length breeds love ; sufficient bliss For life and death and rising up again. Surely when light of Heaven makes all things plain, Love will grow plain with all its mysteries ; Nor shall we need to fetch from over seas Wisdom or wealth or pleasure safe from pain. Love in our borders, love within our heart. Love all in all, we then shall bide at rest. Ended for ever life's unending quest. Ended for ever effort, change and fear : Love all in all ; — no more that better part Purchased, but at the cost of all things here. 94 GOLDEN SILENCES, GOLDEN SILENCES. ^THHERE is silence that saith, '^ Ah me ! " There is silence that nothing saith ; One the silence of life forlorn, One the silence of death ; One is, and the other shall be. One we know and have known for long, One we know not, but we shall know, All we who have ever been born ; Even so, be it so, — There is silence, despite a song. Sowing day is a silent day. Resting night is a silent night j But whoso reaps the ripened com Shall shout in his delight. While silences vanish away. IN THE WILLOW SHADE, 95 IN THE WILLOW SHADE. T SAT beneath a willow tree, Where water falls and calls ; While fancies upon fancies solaced me, Some true, and some were false. Who set their heart upon a hope That never comes to pass, Droop in the end like fading heliotrope. The sun's wan looking-glass. Who set their will upon a whim Clung to through good and ill, Are wrecked alike whether they sink or swim. Or hit or miss their will. All things are vain that wax and wane. For which we waste our breath ; Love only doth not wane and is not vain, Love only outlives death. 96 IN THE WILLOW SHADE, A singing lark rose toward the sky, Circling he sang amain ; He sang, a speck scarce visible sky-high, And then he sank again. A second like a sunlit spark Flashed singing up his track ; But never overtook that foremost lark, And songless fluttered back. A hovering melody of birds Haunted the air above ; They clearly sang contentment without words, And youth and joy and love. O silvery weeping willow tree With all leaves shivering, Have you no purpose but to shadow me Beside this rippled spring ? On this first fleeting day of Spring, For Winter is gone by, And every bird on every quivering wing Floats in a sunny sky ; IN THE WILLOW SHADE, 97 On this first Summer-like soft day, While sunshine steeps the air, And every cloud has gat itself away, And birds sing everywhere. Have you no purpose in the world But thus to shadow me With all your tender drooping twigs unfurled, O weeping willow tree ? With all your tremulous leaves outspread Betwixt me and the sun, While here I loiter on a mossy bed With half my work undone ; My work undone, that should be done At once with all my might ; For after the long day and Ungering sun Comes the unworking night. This day is lapsing on its way. Is lapsing out of sight ; And after all the chances of the day Comes the resourceless night. 7 98 IN THE WILLOW SHADE. The weeping-willow shook its head And stretched its shadow long ; The west grew crimson, the sun smouldered red, The birds forbore a song. Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves, The ripple made a moan, The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves ; And then I felt alone. I rose to go, and felt the chill. And shivered as I went ; Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still, What more that willow meant ; That silvery weeping-willow tree With all leaves shivering, Which spent one long day overshadowing me Beside a spring in Spring. FLUTTERED WINGS, 99 FLUTTERED WINGS. THE splendor of the kindling day, The splendor of the setting sun, These move my soul to wend its way, And have done With all we grasp and toil amongst and say. The paling roses of a cloud. The fading bow that arches space. These woo my fancy toward my shroud j Toward the place Of faces veiled, and heads discrowned and bowed. The nation of the awful stars, The wandering star whose blaze is brief. These make me beat against the bars Of my grief; My tedious grief, twin to the life it mars. O fretted heart tossed to and fro, So fain to flee, so fain to rest ! All glories that are high or low. East or west. Grow dim to thee who art so fain to go. lOO A FISHER-WIFE, A FISHER- WIFE. 'THHE soonest mended, nothing said ; ■^ And help may rise from east or west ; But my two hands are lumps of lead, My heart sits leaden in my breast. north wind swoop not from the north, south wind linger in the south, Oh come not raving raging forth, To bring vdy heart into my mouth ; For I Ve a husband out at sea. Afloat on feeble planks of wood j He does not know what fear may be ; 1 would have told him if I could. 1 would have locked him in my arms, I would have hid him in my heart ; For oh ! the waves are fraught with harms, And he and I so far apart. WHAT'S IN A NAME? loi WHAT'S IN A NAME? "TT 7HY has Spring one syllable less ^ Than any its fellow season ? There may be some other reason, And I 'm merely making a guess ; But surely it hoards such wealth Of happiness, hope and health, Sunshine and musical sound, It may spare a foot from its name Yet all the same Superabound. Soft-named Summer, Most welcome comer. Brings almost everything Over which we dream or sing Or sigh; But then Summer wends its way. To-morrow, — to-day, — Good-bye ! 102 WHAT'S IN A NAME? Autumn, — the slow name lingers, While we likewise flag ; It silences many singers ; Its slow days drag, Yet hasten at speed To leave us in chilly need For Winter to strip indeed. In all-lack Winter, Dull of sense and of sound. We huddle and shiver Beside our splinter Of crackling pine. Snow in sky and snow on ground. Winter and cold Can't last for ever ! To-day, to-morrow, the sun will shine ; W^hen we are old, But some still are young, Singing the song Which others have sung. Ringing the bells Which others have rung, — Even so ! We ourselves, who else ? We ourselves long Long ago. MARIANA. 103 MARIANA. TV TOT for me marring or making, ^ Not for me giving or taking ; I love my Love and he loves not me, I love my Love and my heart is breaking. Sweet is Spring in its lovely showing, Sweet the violet veiled in blowing. Sweet it is to love and be loved ; Ah, sweet knowledge beyond my knowing ! Who sighs for love sighs but for pleasure. Who wastes for love hoards up a treasure ; Sweet to be loved and take no count. Sweet it is to love without measure. Sweet my Love whom I loved to try for. Sweet my Love whom I love and sigh for, Will you once love me and sigh for me. You my Love whom I love and die for ? 104 MEMENTO MORI. MEMENTO MORI. T)OOR the pleasure "*- Doled out by measure, Sweet though it be, while brief As falling of the leaf; Poor is pleasure By weight and measure. Sweet the sorrow Which ends to-morrow ; Sharp though it be and sore. It ends for evermore : Zest of sorrow, What ends to-morrow. « ONE FOOT ON SEA, 105 '^ONE FOOT ON SEA, AND ONE ON SHORE.'' " /^H tell me once and tell me twice ^"'^ And tell me thrice to make it plain, When we who part this weary day, When we who part shall meet again." *^ When windflowers blossom on the sea And fishes skim along the plain, Then we who part this weary day, Then you and I shall meet again." " Yet tell me once before we part. Why need we part who part in pain ? If flowers must blossom on the sea, Why, we shall never meet again. " My cheeks are paler than a rose, My tears are Salter than the main, My heart is like a lump of ice If we must never meet again." lo6 AND ONE ON SHORE:' " Oh weep or laugh, but let me be, And live or die, for all 's in vain ; For life 's in vain since we must part, And parting must not meet again " Till windflowers blossom on the sea And fishes skim along the plain ; Pale rose of roses let me be, Your breaking heart breaks mine again/' BUDS AND BABIES, 107 BUDS AND BABIES. MILLION buds are born that never blow, That sweet with promise lift a pretty head To blush and wither on a barren bed And leave no fruit to show. A Sweet, unfulfilled. Yet have I understood One joy, by their fragility made plain : Nothing was ever beautiful in vain, Or all in vain was good. io8 BOV JOHNNY, BOY JOHNNY. " TF you '11 busk you as a bride And make ready, It 's I will wed you with a ring, fair lady/* *^ Shall I busk me as a bride, 1 so bonny, For you to wed me with a ring, O boy Johnny?" " When you Ve busked you as a bride And made ready, Who else is there to marry you, fair lady?'' " I will find my lover out, 1 so bonny. And you shall bear my wedding-train, O boy Johnny." FREAKS OF FASHION. 109 FREAKS OF FASHION. OUCH a hubbub in the nests, ^^ Such a bustle and squeak ! Nestlings, guiltless of a feather. Learning just to speak, Ask — " And how about the fashions? " From a cavernous beak. Perched on bushes, perched on hedges. Perched on firm hahas. Perched on anything that holds them, Gay papas and grave mammas Teach the knowledge-thirsty nestlings : Hear the gay papas. Robin says : " A scarlet waistcoat Will be all the wear, Snug, and also cheerful-looking For the frostiest air, Comfortable for the chest too When one comes to plume and pair." no FREAKS OF FASHION, " Neat gray hoods will be in vogue/' Quoth a Jackdaw : " Glossy gray, Setting close, yet setting easy. Nothing fly-away ; Suited to our misty mornings, A la negligee. "^^ Flushing salmon, flushing sulphur, Haughty Cockatoos Answer — '' Hoods may do for mornings, But for evenings choose High head-dresses, curved like crescents. Such as well-bred persons use.'* ^^ Top-knots, yes ; yet more essential Still, a train or tail," Screamed the Peacock : " Gemmed and lustrous Not too stiff, and not too frail ; Those are best which rearrange as Fans, and spread or trail." Spoke the Swan, entrenched behind An inimitable neck : " After all, there 's nothing sweeter For the lawn or lake Than simple white, if fine and flaky And absolutely free from speck." FREAKS OF FASHION. iii "Yellow," hinted a Canary, " Warmer, not less distingue ^ " Peach color," put in a Lory, " Cannot look outreT •' All the colors are in fashion, And are right," the Pan-ots say. " Very well. But do contrast Tints harmonious," Piped a Blackbird, justly proud Of bill aurigerous ; "Half the world may learn a lesson As to that from us." Then a Stork took up the word : " Aim at height and chic : Not high heels, they 're common ; somehow, Stilted legs, not thick, Nor yet thin : " he just glanced downward And snapped to his beak. Here a rustling and a whirring, As of fans outspread. Hinted that mammas felt anxious Lest the next thing said Might prove less than quite judicious. Or even underbred. 112 FREAKS OF FASHION, So a mother Auk resumed The broken thread of speech : " Let colors sort themselves, my dears, Yellow, or red, or peach ; The main points, as it seems to me, We mothers have to teach, ^^ Are form and texture, elegance, An air reserved, sublime ; The mode of wearing what we wear With due regard to month and cHme. But now, let 's all compose ourselves, It 's almost breakfast-time." A hubbub, a squeak, a bustle ! Who cares to chatter or sing With delightful breakfast coming ? Yet they whisper under the wing : " So we may wear whatever we like. Anything, everything ! " AN OCTOBER GARDEN, 113 AN OCTOBER GARDEN. TN my Autumn garden I was fain To mourn among my scattered roses ; Alas for that last rosebud which uncloses To Autumn's languid sun and rain When all the world is on the wane ! Which has not felt the sweet constraint of June, Nor heard the nightingale in tune. Broad-faced asters by my garden walk, You are but coarse compared with roses : More choice, more dear that rosebud which uncloses Faint-scented, pinched, upon its stalk. That least and last which cold winds balk ; A rose it is though least and last of all, A rose to me though at the fall. 114 ''SUMMER IS ended:' " SUMMER IS ENDED.'^ 'T^O think that this meaningless thing was ever a rose, Scentless, colorless, tJiis ! Will it ever be thus (who knows ?) Thus with our bliss, If we wait till the close ? Though we care not to wait for the end, there comes the end Sooner, later, at last. Which nothing can mar, nothing mend : An end locked fast, Bent we cannot re-bend. PASSING AND GLASSING. 115 PASSING AND GLASSING. A^ LL things that pass Are woman's looking-glass ; They show her how her bloom must fade, And she herself be laid With withered roses in the shade ; With withered roses and the fallen peach, Unlovely, out of reach Of summer joy that was. All things that pass Are woman's tiring-glass ; The faded lavender is sweet, Sweet the dead violet Culled and laid by and cared for yet ; The dried-up violets and dried lavender Still sweet, may comfort her, Nor need she cry Alas ! All things that pass Are wisdom's looking-glass ; ii6 PASSING AND GLASSING, Being full of hope and fear, and still Brimful of good or ill, According to our work and will ; For there is nothing new beneath the sun ; Our doings have been done, And that which shall be was. "/ WILL arise:' iiy "I WILL ARISE." T T 7EARY and weak, — accept my weariness ; Weary and weak and downcast in my soul, With hope growing less and less, And with the goal Distant and dim, — accept my sore distress. I thought to reach the goal so long ago, At outset of the race I dreamed of rest, Not knowing what now I know Of breathless haste, Of long-drawn straining effort across the waste. One only thing I knew, Thy love of me j One only thing I know. Thy sacred same Love of me full and free, A craving flame Of selfless love of me which bums in Thee. How can I think of thee, and yet grow chill ; Of Thee, and yet grow cold and nigh to death ? Re- energize my will. Rebuild my faith ; I will arise and run. Thou giving me breath. ii8 "/ WILL arise:' I will arise, repenting and in pain ; I will arise, and smite upon my breast And turn to Thee again ; Thou choosest best, Lead me along the road Thou makest plain. Lead me a little way, and carry me A little way, and listen to my sighs, And store my tears with Thee, And deign replies To feeble prayers ; — O Lord, I will arise. A PRODIGAL SON. 119 A PRODIGAL SON. "r\OES that lamp still bum in my Father's house, "^^ Which he kindled the night I went away ? I turned once beneath the cedar boughs, And marked it gleam with a golden ray ; Did he think to light me home some day? Hungry here with the crunching swine, Hungry harvest have I to reap ; In a dream I count my Father's kine, I hear the tinkling bells of his sheep, I watch his lambs that browse and leap. There is plenty of bread at home, His servants have bread enough and to spare ; The purple wine-fat froths with foam. Oil and spices make sweet the air. While I perish hungry and bare. Rich and blessed those servants, rather Than I who see not my Father's face ! I will arise and go to my Father : — " Fallen from sonship, beggared of grace, Grant me, Father, a servant's place." 120 SCEUR LOUISE DE LA MISERICORDE. SCEUR LOUISE DE LA MISERICORDS. (1674.) T HAVE desired, and I have been desired ; -■- But now the days are over of desire, Now dust and dying embers mock my fire ; Where is the hire for which my Hfe was hired ? Oh vanity of vanities, desire ! Longing and love, pangs of a perished pleasure, Longing and love, a disenkindled fire. And memory a bottomless gulf of mire, And love a fount of tears outrunning measure ; Oh vanity of vanities, desire ! Now from my heart, love's deathbed, trickles, trickles, Drop by drop slowly, drop by drop of fire. The dross of life, of love, of spent desire ; Alas, my rose of Hfe gone all to prickles, — Oh vanity of vanities, desire ! SCEUR LOUISE DE LA MISERICORDE. 121 Oh vanity of vanities, desire ; Stunting my hope which might have strained up higher, Turning my garden plot to barren mire ; Oh death-struck love, oh disenkindled fire. Oh vanity of vanities, desire ! 122 AN '' IMMURATA'' SISTER, AN ^^IMMURATA'^ SISTER. T IFE flows down to death ; we cannot bind -^^ That current that it should not flee : Life flows down to death, as rivers find The inevitable sea. Men work and think, but women feel ; And so (for I 'm a woman, I) And so I should be glad to die And cease from impotence of zeal, And cease from hope, and cease from dread, And cease from yearnings without gain, And cease from all this world of pain, And be at peace among the dead. Hearts that die, by death renew their youth, Lightened of this life that doubts and dies ; Silent and contented, while the Truth Unveiled makes them wise. Why should I seek and never find That something which I have not had? Fair and unutterably sad AN ''JMMURATA'' SISTER, 123 The world hath sought time out of mind ; The world hath sought and I have sought, — Ah, empty world and empty I ! For we have spent our strength for nought, And soon it will be time to die. Sparks fly upward toward their fount of fire, KindHng, flashing, hovering : — Kindle, flash, my soul ; mount higher and higher, Thou whole burnt-offering ! 124 " IF THOU SA VEST . ^^F THOU SAYEST, BEHOLD, WE KNEW IT NOT." — Proverbs xxiv. ii, 12. T HAVE done I know not what, — what have I done ? My brother's blood, my brother's soul, doth cry : And I find no defence, find no reply, No courage more to run this race I run Not knowing what I have done, have left undone ; Ah me, these awful unknown hours that fly Fruitless it may be, fleeting fruitless by Rank with death-savor underneath the sun. For what avails it that I did not know The deed I did ? what profits me the plea That had I known I had not wronged him so ? Lord Jesus Christ, my God, him pity Thou ; Lord, if it may be, pity also me : In judgment pity, and in death, and now. "/F THOU SAYEST . . ." 125 Thou Who hast borne all burdens, bear our load, Bear Thou our load whatever load it be ; Our guilt, our shame, our helpless misery. Bear Thou Who only canst, O God my God. Seek us and find us, for we cannot Thee Or seek or find or hold or cleave unto : We cannot do or undo ; Lord, undo Our self-undoing, for Thine is the key Of all we are not though we might have been. Dear Lord, if ever mercy moved Thy mind, If so be love of us can move Thee yet. If still the nail-prints in Thy Hands are seen. Remember us, — yea, how shouldst Thou forget ? Remember us for good, and seek, and find. 126 ''IF THOU SAFEST . . ." Each soul I might have succored, may have slain, All souls shall face me at the last Appeal, That great last moment poised for woe or weal, That final moment for man's bliss or bane. Vanity of vanities, yea all is vain Which then will not avail or help or heal : Disfeatured faces, worn-out knees that kneel. Will more avail than strength or beauty then. Lord, by Thy Passion, — when Thy Face was marred In sight of earth and hell tumultuous, And Thy heart failed in Thee like melting wax. And Thy Blood dropped more precious than the nard, — Lord, for Thy sake, not ours, supply our lacks. For Thine own sake, not ours, Christ, pity us. THE THREAD OF LIFE, 127 THE THREAD OF LIFE. nr^HE irresponsive silence of the land, The irresponsive sounding of the sea, Speak both one message of one sense to me : — • Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band Of inner solitude ; we bind not thee ; But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free ? What heart shall touch thy heart ? what hand thy hand ? — And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek, And sometimes I remember days of old When fellowship seemed not so far to seek And all the world and I seemed much less cold, And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold, And hope felt strong and life itself not weak. 128 THE THREAD OF LIFE, Thus am I mine own prison. Everything Around me free and sunny and at ease : Or if in shadow, in a shade of trees Which the sun kisses, where the gay birds sing And where all winds make various murmuring ; Where bees are found, with honey for the bees ; Where sounds are music, and where silences Are music of an unlike fashioning. Then gaze I at tlie merrymaking crew, And smile a moment and a moment sigh Thinking : Why can I not rejoice with you? But soon I put the foolish fancy by : I am not what I have nor what I do ; But what I was I am, I am even I. THE THREAD OF LIFE. 129 Therefore myself is that one only thing I hold to use or waste, to keep or give ; My sole possession every day I live, And still mine own despite Time's winnowing. Ever mine own, while moons and seasons bring From crudeness ripeness mellow and sanative ; Ever mine own, till Death shall ply his sieve ; And still mine own, when saints break grave and sing. And this myself as king unto my King I give, to Him Who gave Himself for me ; Who gives Himself to me, and bids me sing A sweet new song of His redeemed set free ; He bids me sing : O death, where is thy sting ? And sing : O grave, where is thy victory ? 130 AN OLD-WORLD THICKET, AN OLD-WORLD THICKET. . . . " Una selva oscura." — Dante. A WAKE or sleeping (for I know not which) I was or was not mazed within a wood Where every mother-bird brought up her brood Safe in some leafy niche Of oak or ash, of cypress or of beech, Of silvery aspen trembling delicately, Of plane or warmer- tinted sycamore, Of elm that dies in secret from the core, Of ivy weak and free. Of pines, of all green lofty things that be. Such birds they seemed as challenged each desire ; Like spots of azure heaven upon the wing. Like downy emeralds that alight and sing, Like actual coals on fire. Like anything they seemed, and everything. AN OLD-WORLD THICKET, 131 Such mirth they made, such warblings and such chat With tongue of music in a well-tuned beak, They seemed to speak more wisdom than we speak, To make our music jfiat And all our subtlest reasonings wild or weak. Their meat was nought but flowers like butterflies, With berries coral-colored or like gold ; Their drink was only dew, which blossoms hold Deep where the honey lies \ Their wings and tails were lit by sparkling eyes. The shade wherein they revelled was a shade That danced and twinkled to the unseen sun ; Branches and leaves cast shadows one by one, And all their shadows swayed In breaths of air that rustled and that played. A sound of waters neither rose nor sank. And spread a sense of freshness through the air ; It seemed not here or there, but everywhere. As if the whole earth drank. Root fathom deep and strawberry on its bank. 132 AN OLD-WORLD THICKET. But I who saw such things as I have said, Was overdone with utter weariness ; And walked in care, as one whom fears oppress Because above his head Death hangs, or damage, or the dearth of bread. Each sore defeat of my defeated Hfe Faced and outfaced me in that bitter hour ; And turned to yearning palsy all my power, And all my peace to strife. Self stabbing self with keen lack-pity knife. Sweetness of beauty moved me to despair. Stung me to anger by its mere content. Made me all lonely on that way I went. Piled care upon my care. Brimmed full my cup, and stripped me empty and bare ; For all that was but showed what all was not, But gave clear proof of what might never be ; Making more destitute my poverty. And yet more blank my lot, And me much sadder by its jubilee. AN OLD-WORLD THICKET, • 133 Therefore I sat me do\vn : for wherefore walk ? And closed mine eyes : for wherefore see or hear ? Alas, I had no shutter to mine ear, And could not shun the talk Of all rejoicing creatures far or near. Without my will I hearkened and I heard (Asleep or waking, for I know not which), Till note by note the music changed its pitch ; Bird ceased to answer bird. And every wind sighed softly if it stirred. The drip of widening waters seemed to weep. All fountains sobbed and gurgled as they sprang. Somewhere a cataract cried out in its leap Sheer down a headlong steep ; High over all cloud-thunders gave a clang. Such universal sound of lamentation I heard and felt, fain not to feel or hear ; Nought else there seemed but anguish far and near ; Nought else but all creation Moaning and groaning wrung by pain or fear. 134 AN OLD-WORLD THLCKET, Shuddering in the misery of its doom : My heart then rose a rebel against light, Scouring all earth and heaven and depth and height, Ingathering ^vrath and gloom, Ingathering wrath to wrath and night to night. Ah me, the bitterness of such revolt, All impotent, all hateful, and all hate, That kicks and breaks itself against the bolt Of an imprisoning fate, And vainly shakes, and cannot shake the gate. Agony to agony, deep called to deep. Out of the deep I called of my desire ; My strength was weakness and my heart was fire ; Mine eyes that would not weep Or sleep, scaled height and depth, and could not sleep ; The eyes, I mean, of my rebellious soul. For still my bodily eyes were closed and dark : A random thing I seemed without a mark. Racing without a goal. Adrift upon life's sea without an ark. AN OLD-WORLD THICKET. 135 More leaden than the actual self of lead Outer and inner darkness weighed on me. The tide of anger ebbed. Then fierce and free Surged full above my head The moaning tide of helpless misery. Why should I breathe, whose breath was but a sigh ? Why should I live, who drew such painful breath ? Oh weary work, the unanswerable why ! — Yet I, why should I die, Who had no hope in life, no hope in death ? Grasses and mosses and the fallen leaf Make peaceful bed for an indefinite term ; But underneath the grass there gnaws a worm • Haply, there gnaws a grief — Both, haply always ; not, as now, so brief. The pleasure I remember, it is past ; The pain I feel is passing, passing by ; Thus all the world is passing, and thus I : All things that cannot last Have grown familiar, and are born to die. 136 AN OLD-WORLD THICKET, And being familiar, have so long been borne That habit trains us not to break but bend : Mourning grows natural t® us who mourn In foresight of an end, But that which ends not who shall brave or mend ? Surely the ripe fruits tremble on their bough, They cling and linger trembling till they drop ; I, trembling, cling to dying life ; for how Face the perpetual Now? Birthless and deathless, void of start or stop, Void of repentance, void of hope and fear, Of possibility, alternative. Of all that ever made us bear to live From night to morning here. Of promise even which has no gift to give. The wood, and every creature of the wood, Seemed mourning with me in an undertone ; Soft scattered chirpings and a windy moan, Trees rustling where -they stood And shivered, showed compassion for my mood. AN OLD-WORLD THICKET. 137 Rage to despair ; and now despair had turned Back to self-pity and mere weariness, With yearnings like a smouldering fire that burned, And might grow more or less, And might die out or wax to white excess. Without, within me, music seemed to be ; Something not music, yet most musical, Silence and sound in heavenly harmony ; At length a pattering fall Of feet, a bell, and bleatings, broke through all. Then I looked up. The wood lay in a glow From golden sunset and from ruddy sky ; The sun had stooped to earth though once so high ; Had stooped to earth, in slow Warm dying loveliness brought near and low. Each water-drop made answer to the light, Lit up a spark and showed the sun his face ; Soft purple shadows paved the grassy space And crept from height to height, From height to loftier height crept up apace. 138 AN OLD-WORLD THICKET. While opposite the sun a gazing moon Put on his glory for her coronet^ Kindling her luminous coldness to its noon, As his great splendor set ; One only star made up her train as yet. Each twig was tipped with gold, each leaf was edged And veined with gold from the gold-flooded west ; Each mother-bird, and mate-bird, and unfledged Nestling, and curious nest, Displayed a gilded moss or beak or breast. And filing peacefully between the trees. Having the moon behind them, and the sun Full in their meek mild faces, walked at ease A homeward flock, at peace With one another and with every one. A patriarchal ram with tinkling bell Led all his kin ; sometimes one browsing sheep Hung back a moment, or one lamb would leap And frolic in a dell ; Yet still they kept together, journeying well, AN OLD-WORLD THICKET. 139 And bleating, one or other, many or few, Journeying together toward the sunlit west ; Mild face by face, and woolly breast by breast, Patient, sun-brightened too. Still journeying toward the sunset and their rest. 140 ''ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, "ALL THY WORKS PRx\ISE THEE, O LORD." a processional of creation. All. I ALL-CREATION sing my song of praise To God Who made me and vouchsafes my days, And sends me forth by multitudinous ways. Seraph. I, like my Brethren, burn eternally With love of Him Who is Love, and loveth me ; The Holy, Holy, Holy Unity. Cherub. I, with my Brethren, gaze eternally On Him Who is Wisdom, and Who knoweth me ; The Holy, Holy, Holy Trinity. All Angels. We rule, we serve, we work, we store His treasure. Whose vessels are we, brimmed with strength and pleasure ; Our joys fulfil, yea, overfill our measure. o lord:' 141 Heavens. We float before the Presence Infinite, We cluster round the Throne in our delight, Revolving and rejoicing in God's sight. FlR]MAMENT. I, blue and beautiful, and framed of air, At sunrise and at sunset grow most fair ; His glory by my glories I declare. Powers. We Powers are powers because He makes us strong ; Wherefore we roll all rolling orbs along, We move all moving things, and sing our song. Sun. I blaze to Him in mine engarlanding Of rays, I flame His whole burnt- offering, While as a bridegroom I rejoice and sing. Moon. I follow, and am fair, and do His Will ; Through all my changes I am faithful still, Full-orbed or strait, His mandate to fulfil. 142 ''ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, Stars. We Star-hosts numerous, innumerous, Throng space with energy untumultuous, And work His Will Whose eye beholdeth us. Galaxies and Nebulae. No thing is far or near ; and therefore we Float neither far nor near ; but where we be Weave dances round the Throne perpetually. Comets and Meteors. Our lights dart here and there, whirl to and fro, We flash and vanish, we die down and glow ; All doing His Will Who bids us do it so. Showers. We give ourselves ; and be we great or small, Thus are w^e made like Him Who giveth all, Like Him Whose gracious pleasure bids us fall. Dews. We give ourselves in silent secret ways. Spending and spent in silence full of grace ; And thus are made like God, and show His praise. LORDy 143 Winds. We sift the air and winnow all the earth ; And God Who poised our weights and weighs our worth Accepts the worship of our solemn mirth. Fire. My power and strength are His Who fashioned me, Ordained me image of His Jealousy, Forged me His weapon fierce exceedingly. Heat. I glow unto His glory, and do good : I glow, and bring to life both bud and brood ; I glow, and ripen harvest-crops for food. Winter and Summer. Our wealth and joys and beauties celebrate His wealth of beauty Who sustains our state, Before Whose changelessness we alternate. Spring and Autumn. I hope, — And I remember, — 144 ''ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, We give place Either to other with contented grace, Acceptable and lovely all our days. Frost. I make the unstable stable, binding fast The world of waters prone to ripple past : Thus praise I God, Whose mercies I forecast. Cold. I rouse and goad the slothful, apt to nod, I stir and urge the laggards with my rod : My praise is not of men, yet I praise God. Snow. My whiteness shadoweth Him Who is most fair, All spotless : yea, my whiteness which I wear Exalts His Purity beyond compare. Vapors. We darken sun and moon, and blot the day, The good Will of our Maker to obey : Till to the glory of God we pass away. o lord:' 145 Night. Moon and all stars I don for diadem To make me fair : I cast myself and them Before His feet, Who knows us gem from gem. Day. I shout before Him in my plenitude Of light and warmth, of hope and wealth and food ; Ascribing all good to the Only Good. Light and Darkness. I am God's dwelling-place, — And also I Make His pavilion, — Lo, we bide and fly Exulting in the Will of God Most High. Lightning and Thunder. We indivisible flash forth His Fame, We thunder forth the glory of His Name, In harmony of resonance and flame. 10 146 ''ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, Clouds. Sweet is our store, exhaled from sea or river : We wear a rainbow, praising God the Giver Because His mercy is for ever and ever. Earth. I rest in Him rejoicing : resting so And so rejoicing, in that I am low ; Yet known of Him, and following on to know. Mountains. Our heights which laud Him, sink abased before Him higher than the highest evermore : God higher than the highest we adore. Hills. We green-tops praise Him, and we fruitful heads. Whereon the sunshine and the dew He sheds : We green-tops praise Him, rising from out beds. Green Things. We all green things, we blossoms bright or dim. Trees, bushes, brushwood, corn and grasses slim, We lift our many-favored lauds to Him. o iord:' 147 Rose, — Lily, — Violet. I praise Him on my thorn which I adorn, — And I, amid my world of thisde and thorn, — And I, within my veil where I am bom. Apple, — Citron, — Pomegranate. We, Apple -blossom, Citron, Pomegranate, We, clothed of God without our toil and fret, We offer fatness where His Throne is set. ' Vine, — Cedar, — Palm. I proffer Him my sweetness, who am sweet, — I bow my strength in fragrance at His feet, — I wave myself before His Judgment Seat. Medicinal Herbs. I bring refreshment, — I bring ease and calm, — I lavish strength and healing, — I am balm, — We work His pitiful Will and chant our psalm. 148 "ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, A Spring. Clear my pure fountain, clear and pure my rill, My fountain and mine outflow deep and still, I set His semblance forth and do His Will. Sea. To-day I praise God with a sparkling face, My thousand thousand waves all uttering praise : To-morrow I commit me to His Grace. Floods. We spring and swell meandering to and fro, From height to depth, from depth to depth we flow, We fertilize the world, and praise Him so. Whales and Sea Majvdials. We Whales and Monsters gambol in His sight Rejoicing every day and every night, Safe in the tender keeping of His Might. Fishes. Our fashions and our colors and our speeds Set forth His praise Who framed us and Who feeds. Who knows our number and regards our needs. o lord:' 149 Birds. Winged Angels of this visible world, we fly- To sing God's praises in the lofty sky ; We scale the height to praise our Lord most High. Eagle and Dove. I the sun-gazing Eagle, — I the Dove, With plumes of softness and a note of love, — We praise by divers gifts One God above Beasts and Cattle. We forest Beasts, — We Beasts of hill or cave, — We border-loving Creatures of the wave, — We praise our King with voices deep and grave. Small Animals. God forms us weak and small, but pours out all We need, and notes us while we stand or fall : Wherefore we praise Him, weak and safe and small. 150 ''ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, Latvib. I praise my loving Lord, Who maketh me His type by harmless sweet simplicity : Yet He the Lamb of lambs incomparably. Lion. I praise the Lion of the Royal Race, Strongest in fight and swiftest in the chase : With all my might I leap and lavish praise. All Men. All creatures sing around us, and we sing : We bring our owti selves as our offering. Our very selves we render to our King. Israel. Flock of our Shepherd's pasture and His fold, Purchased and well-beloved from days of old, We tell His praise wliich still remains untold. Priests. We free-will Shepherds tend His sheep, and feed ; We follow Him while caring for their need ; We follow praising Him, and them we lead. o lord:'' 151 Servants of God. We love God, for He loves us ; we are free In serving Him, who serve Him willingly : As kings we reign, and praise His Majesty. Holy and Humble Persons. All humble souls he calls and sanctifies ; All holy souls He calls to make them wise ; Accepting all. His free-will sacrifice. Babes. He maketh me, — And. me, — And me, — To be His blessed little ones around His knee, Who praise Him by mere love confidingly. Women. God makes our service love, and makes our wage Love : so we wend on patient pilgrimage, Extolling Him by love from age to age. 152 ''ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE, Men. God gives us power to rule : He gives us power To rule ourselves, and prune the exuberant flower Of youth, and worship Him hour after hour. Spirits axd Souls — Lo, in the hidden world we chant our chant To Him Who fills us that we nothing want, To Him Whose bounty leaves our cra\dng scant. OF Babes — With milky mouths we praise God, from the breast Called home betimes to rest the perfect rest, By love and joy fufilling His behest. OF Women — We praise His Will which made us what He would, His Will which fashioned us and called us good, His Will our plenary beatitude. OF Men. We praise His Will Who bore with us so long. Who out of weakness wrought us s\vift and strong, Champions of right and putters-down of wrong. o lord:' 153 All. Let everything that hath or hath not breath, Let days and endless days, let life and death, Praise God, praise God, praise God, His creature saith. 154 LATER LIFE, LATER LIFE: A DOUBLE SONNET OF SONNETS. I. T) EFORE the mountains were brought forth, before '^^ Earth and the world were made, then God was ■God: And God will still be God, when flames shall roar Round earth and heaven dissolving at His nod : And this God is our God, even while His rod Of righteous wrath falls on us smiting sore : And this God is our God for evermore Through hfe, through death, while clod returns to clod. For though He slay us we will trust in Him ; We will flock home to Him by divers ways : Yea, though He slay us we will vaunt His praise, Serving and loving with the Cherubim, Watching and loving with the Seraphim, Our very selves His praise through endless days. LATER LIFE, 155 2. Rend hearts and rend not garments for our sins ; Gird sackcloth not on body but on soul ; Grovel in dust with faces toward the goal Nor won, nor neared : he only laughs who wins. Not neared the goal, the race too late begins ; Or left undone, we have yet to do the whole ; The sun is hurrying west and toward the pole Where darkness waits for earth with all her kins. Let us to-day, while it is called to-day. Set out, if utmost speed may yet avail — The shadows lengthen and the light grows pale : For who through darkness and the shadow of death. Darkness that may be felt, shall find a way, Blind-eyed, deaf-eared, and choked with failing breath? 156 LATER LIFE, Thou Who didst make and knowest whereof we are made, Oh bear in mind our dust and nothingness, Our wordless tearless dumbness of distress : Bear Thou in mind the burden Thou hast laid Upon us, and our feebleness unstayed Except Thou stay us : for the long long race Which stretches far and far before our face Thou knowest, — remember Thou whereof we are made. If making makes us Thine, then Thine we are ; And if redemption, we are twice Thine own : If once Thou didst come down from heaven afar To seek us and to find us, how not save ? Comfort us, save us, leave us not alone, Thou Who didst die our death and fill our grave. LATER LIFE. 157 So tired am I, so weary of to-day, So unrefreshed from foregone weariness, So overburdened by foreseen distress, So lagging and so stumbling on my way, I scarce can rouse myself to watch or pray. To hope, or aim, or toil for more or less, — Ah, always less and less, even while I press Forward and toil and aim as best I may. Half-starved of soul and heartsick utterly. Yet lift I up my heart and soul and eyes (Which fail in looking upward) toward the prize ; Me, Lord, Thou seest though I see not Thee ; Me now, as once the Thief in Paradise, Even me, O Lord my Lord, remember me. 158 LATER LIFE, Lord, Thou Thyself art Love and only Thou ; Yet I who am not love would fain love Thee ; But Thou alone being Love canst furnish me With that same love my heart is craving now. Allow my plea ! for if Thou disallow, No second fountain can I find but Thee ; No second hope or help is left to me, No second anything, but only Thou. O Love accept, according my request ; O Love exhaust, fulfilling my desire : Uphold me ^\^[th the strength that cannot tire, Nerve me to labor till Thou bid me rest, Kindle my fire from Thine unkindled fire. And charm the mlling heart from out my breast. LATER LIFE. 159 We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack : Not this, nor that ; yet somewhat, certainly. We see the things we do not yearn to see Around us : and what see we glancing back? Lost hopes that leave our hearts upon the rack, Hopes that were never ours yet seemed to be, For which we steered on life's salt stormy sea Braving the sunstroke and the frozen pack. If thus to look behind is all in vain. And all in vain to look to left or right, Why face we not our future once again, Launching with hardier hearts across the main, Straining dim eyes to catch the invisible sight. And strong to bear ourselves in patient pain ? i6o LATER LIFE. To love and to remember ; that is good : To love and to forget ; that is not well : To lapse from love to hatred ; that is hell And death and torment, rightly understood. Soul dazed by love and sorrow, cheer thy mood ; More blest art thou than mortal tongue can tell : Ring not thy funeral but thy marriage bell, And salt with hope thy lifers insipid food. Love is the goal, love is the way we wend. Love is our parallel unending line Whose only perfect Parallel is Christ, Beginning not begun, End without end : For He Who hath the heart of God sufficed, Can satisfy all hearts, — yea, thine and mine. LATER LIFE. i6i 8. We feel and see with different hearts and eyes : — Ah Christ, if all our hearts could meet in Thee How well it were for them and well for me, Our hearts Thy dear accepted sacrifice. Thou, only Life of hearts and Light of eyes. Our life, our light, if once we turn to Thee, So be it, O Lord, to them and so to me ; Be all ahke Thine own dear sacrifice. Thou Who by death hast ransomed us from death, Thyself God's sole well -pleasing Sacrifice, Thine only sacred Self I plead with Thee : Make Thou it well for them and well for me That Thou hast given us souls and wills and breath ; And hearts to love Thee ; and to see Thee, eyes. i62 LATER LIFE, Star Sirius and the Pole Star dwell afar Beyond the drawmgs each of other's strength : One blazes through the brief bright summer's length Lavishing hfe-heat from a flaming car ; While one unchangeable upon a throne Broods o'er the frozen heart of earth alone, Content to reign the bright particular star Of some who wander or of some who groan. They own no drawings each of other's strength, Nor vibrate in a visible sympathy, Nor veer along their courses each toward each : Yet are their orbits pitched in harmony Of one dear heaven, across whose depth and length Mayhap they talk together without speech. LATER LIFE. 163 10. Tread softly ! all the earth is holy ground. It may be, could we look with seeing eyes, This spot we stand on is a Paradise Where dead have come to life and lost been found. Where Faith has triumphed, Martyrdom been crowned. Where fools have foiled the wisdom of the wise ; From this same spot the dust of saints may rise, And the King's prisoners come to hght unbound. O earth, earth, earth, hear thou thy Maker's Word : " Thy dead thou shalt give up, nor hide thy slain " — Some who went weeping forth shall come again Rejoicing from the east or from the west, As doves fly to their windows, love's own bird Contented and desirous to the nest.^ 1 " Quail colombe dal disio chiamate Con I'ali aperte e ferme al dolce nido Volan per Taer dal voler portate." Dante. i64 LATER LIFE. II. Lifelong our stumbles, lifelong our regret, Lifelong our efforts failing and renewed, While lifelong is our witness, " God is good : " Who bore with us till now, bears with us yet, Who still remembers and will not forget, Who gives us light and warmth and daily food ; And gracious promises half understood. And glories half unveiled, whereon to set Our heart of hearts and eyes of our desire ; Uphfting us to longing and to love. Luring us upward from this world of mire, Urging us to press on and mount above Ourselves and all we have had experience of, Mounting to Him in love's perpetual fire. LATER LIFE. 165 12. A dream there is wherein we are fain to scream, While struggling with ourselves we cannot speak : And much of all our waking life, as weak And misconceived, eludes us like the dream. For half life's seemings are not what they seem. And vain the laughs we laugh, the shrieks we shriek ; Yea, all is vain that mars the settled meek Contented quiet of our daily theme. When I was young I deemed that sweets are sweet ; But now I deem some searching bitters are Sweeter than sweets, and more refreshing far. And to be relished more, and more desired. And more to be pursued on eager feet. On feet untired, and still on feet though tired. i66 LATER LIFE. 13- Shame is a shadow cast by sin : yet shame Itself may be a glory and a grace, Refashioning the sin-disfashioned face ; A nobler bruit than hollow-sounded fame, A new-ht lustre on a tarnished name, One virtue pent within an evil place. Strength for the fight, and swiftness for the race, A stinging salve, a life-requickening flame. A salve so searching we may scarcely live, A flame so fierce it seems that we must die, An actual cautery thrust into the heart : Nevertheless, men die not of such smart ; And shame gives back what nothing else can give, Man to himself, — ^then sets him up on high. LATER LIFE, 167 14. When Adam and when Eve left Paradise Did they love on and cling together still, Forgiving one another all that ill The twain had wrought on such a different wise ? She propped upon his strength, and he in guise Of lover though of lord, girt to fulfil Their term of life and die when God should will ; Lie down and sleep, and having slept arise. Boast not against us, O our enemy ! To-day we fall, but we shall rise again ; We grope to-day, to-morrow we shall see : What is to-day that we should fear to-day ? A morrow cometh which shall sweep away Thee and thy realm of change and death and pain. i68 LATER LIFE, 15- Let woman fear to teach and bear to learn, Remembering the first woman's first mistake. Eve had for pupil the inquiring snake, Whose doubts she answered on a great concern ; But he the tables so contrived to turn. It next was his to give and hers to take ; Till man deemed poison sweet for her sweet sake, And fired a train by which the world must burn. Did Adam love his Eve from first to last ? I think so ; as we love who works us ill, And wounds us to the quick, yet loves us still. Love pardons the unpardonable past : Love in a dominant embrace holds fast His frailer self, and saves without her will. LATER LIFE. 169 16. Our teachers teach that one and one make two : Later, Love rules that one and one make one : Abstruse the problems ! neither need we shun, But skilfully to each should yield its due. The narrower total seems to suit the few, The wider total suits the common run ; Each obvious in its sphere like moon or sun ; Both provable by me, and both by you. Befogged and witless, in a wordy maze A groping stroll perhaps may do us good ; If cloyed we are with much we have understood, If tired of half our dusty world and ways. If sick of fasting, and if sick of food ; — And how about these long still-lengthening days ? I70 LATER LIFE. 17- Something this foggy day, a something which Is neither of this fog nor of to-day, Has set me dreaming of the winds that play Past certain chffs, along one certain beach, And turn the topmost edge of waves to spray : Ah pleasant pebbly strand so far away, So out of reach while quite within my reach, As out of reach as India or Cathay ! I am sick of where I am and where I am not, I am sick of foresight and of memory, I am sick of all I have and all I see, I am sick of self, and there is nothing new ; Oh weary impatient patience of my lot ! — Thus with myself : how fares it, Friends, with yoU ? LATER LIFE. 171 18. So late in Autumn half the world 's asleep, And half the wakeful world looks pinched and pale ; For dampness now, not freshness, rides the gale ; And cold and colorless comes ashore the deep With tides that bluster or with tides that creep ; Now veiled uncouthness wears an uncouth veil Of fog, not sultry haze ; and blight and bale Have done their worst, and leaves rot on the heap. So late in Autumn one forgets the Spring, Forgets the Summer with its opulence. The callow birds that long have found a wing. The swallows that more lately gat them hence : Will anything like Spring, will anything Like Summer, rouse one day the slumbering sense ? 172 LATER LIFE. 19. Here now is Winter. Winter, after all, Is not so drear as was my boding dream While Autumn gleamed its latest watery gleam On sapless leafage too inert to fall. Still leaves and berries clothe my garden wall Where ivy thrives on scantiest sunny beam ; Still here a bud and there a blossom seem Hopeful, and robin still is musical. Leaves, flowers and fruit and one delightful song Remain ; these days are short, but now the nights Intense and long, hang out their utmost lights ; Such starry nights are long, yet not too long ; Frost nips the weak, while strengthening still the strong Against that day when Spring sets all to rights. LATER LIFE, 173 20. A hundred thousand birds salute the day : — One solitary bird salutes the night : Its mellow grieving wiles our grief away. And tunes our weary watches to delight ; It seems to sing the thoughts we cannot say, To know and sing them, and to set them right ; Until we feel once more that May is May, And hope some buds may bloom without a blight. This solitary bird outweighs, outvies, The hundred thousand merry-making birds Whose innocent warblings yet might make us wise Would we but follow when they bid us rise. Would we but set their notes of praise to words And launch our hearts up with them to the skies. 174 LATER LIFE. 21. A host of things I take on trust : I take The nightingales on trust, for few and far Between those actual summer moments are When I have heard what melody they