Class /^S3Sa7 Rook . ( P^s/^ a. GopightN' JJPS COPYRIGHT DEPOSITS OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON "MOODY MOMENTS" The author is blind, and this fact lends something more than pathetic interest to his verse, for it fiimishes the motif of many of his lines, and, without affectation, enables the reader to enter somewhat into the experience of one thus isolated as, for example, in the moving sonnet, "Bewitching Sleep," and in the verses, "Cherubs, I Follow Slowly," — The Atlantic Monthly. Mr. Doyle has a pleasing way of expressing himself in verse. His songs are simple, tender, and from within, for the most part. Here and there, however, a note of fire is struck, and the thrill of genuine inspiration gives momentary eleva- tion to the effect of his song. Taking his misfortune into consideration, the conclusion is forced at once that here is a talent of high order working its way through the dark, and "remembering the light." — New York Independent. Is not this man a poet? — it would be hard to deny him the name. The lines here and there we have italicized are in a high degree poetical, and the sonnets we have quoted show a rare appreciation of the value and use of that form of verse. — The Springfield Republican. Mr. Doyle is to be cordially congratulated upon the extra- ordinary vividness of his mental vision — without which the best of eyes, aided by a microscope for the infusoria^ and a telescope for the planets, remain only imimaginative re- porters. Among the best poems are the imaginative and powerful "Fire Bird," and the grave and noble sonnet beginning : "Gray, venerable shepherds, who have lost Vast numbers of their flock along the vale." Such work as this shows the author to be not incapable of sustained verse; his talent is genuine, nourished by his brave interest in the world of humanity, from which no loss of a sense can shut out a healthful spirit. — Boston Literary World. The Haunted Temple and Other Poems By Edward Doyle Author of " Moody Moments " ttbe Knfclierboclter pcc«0 I wo Copws rtscuivea APR 19 i«0^ OojJi/wgnt tntrv COPY B. Copyright, 1905 BY EDWARD DOYLE Contente PAGE Dedication i The Haunted Temple S Democracy 27 The Searching Swallow . . . .30 From the Feast I Rise Trustful . . .32 Oft, My Babe! I Fancy So . . . .38 The Star of the Twilight . . . .39 Faith 44 They Were Human Features . . -45 The Song of the Soul 47 Liberty Bell 48 Harlem 50 The Father of Our Naval Glory . . .52 Memorial Trees on Washington Heights . 56 The East River Prison Hulks . . 58 Grant 60 SONNETS By the Door . . . . Beatrice . . . 'T Is Now Three Decades To A Child Reading A Hundred Gates of Brass 65 66 67 68 69 PAGE Wall Street 70 Beyond . -71 Grace 72 The Spirit's Chant 73 When Love It Was 74 Yet Ever Rising Slowly 75 The Ideal 76 To A Child in Heaven 77 To My Sister 78 If 79 Is Life All Downward Root ? ... 80 Mental Orbits 81 A Sunset Scene 82 The Palisades 83 Dame Murray of Bloomingdale . . .84 Erin 85 The Jews in Russia 86 The Arch of Light 87 Beauty 88 The Discovery 89 The Sun's Way 90 Soul . . . ♦. . . . .91 Chime, Dark Bell! 92 *»v Zo m^ Mlfe How awful is the ceaseless roar Of hopes a-breaking on the shore! The breakers flood mine isle. Still, as my spirit has not flown, No empty shell am I to moan; I face the storm and smile. The promontory furthest out, I climb, and thence, at midnight, shout To Dawn that all is well ; For, howso bleak the region where The soul is sent, — oh! how prove there Not a true sentinel ? While watching there I see a form Walk on the billows through the storm And scale my rocky height. 'T is Beauty's confidant and page, Remembrance, who, at the ocean's rage, Can only laugh outright. What is Remembrance? Oft, I ween, 'T is Beauty — ^mother more than queen- Who, masked, absents her throne, Snatching her crown-gems, jewels rare, To give them to her banished heir, Whom she cannot disown. These jewels fondly I entwine To deck, dear Wife, that love of thine That swam the stormy strait, And that, despite the ceaseless roar Of hopes a-breaking on the shore, Smiles at my side, elate. Zhc Ibaunteb tTemple Zbc Ibaunteb ZCempIe The day was dark with clouds and drizzling rain, When, through the town, I took my Sab- bath stroll. The church bell sounded weirdly clear. Again, And yet again, I harkened, till my soul. Awaking from its heavy slumber spell, Stood, glaring, like a frozen waterfall ; For louder and deeper than the steeple bell, Than organ, choir, and anthem, sung by all. Was human anguish, thundering to God's Throne For justice, from the Temple's every stone. II I gazed about bewildered, for I knew No landmark; even the Hudson was ef- faced. The Temple, pointing to the High and True, Stood on an arch above a marshy waste. The grand surroundings held my gaze awhile. A hundred fountains, flashing yellow light On mansions, greenly groved for many a mile, Circled on terraces, the sacred height. The Temple greatened, and, as it enlarged, More dreadful was the thunder it discharged. Ill I shook and had no thought but how to flee The place of horror. Suddenly, a hand. Laid gently on my forehead, strengthened me To hear the low, sweet Voice, that bade me stand, Saying: ** Behold the Truth! make thou it plain. Speak, that the blood of brother be atoned. Tell those there, that they are the kin of Cain. Speak boldly, though with scorn thou then be stoned." ' ' What voice have I ? " I gasped. ' ' Thy hate of wrong Is voice," it answered; "Truth will make it strong." IV I gazed up at the Fane. All arts combined To make it a grand Temple, saving solely The art of living nobly for one's kind, Which, drawing Grace, alone could make it holy. Upon memorial window panes were shown Fata Morganas, marvellous to see. The organ was of so profound a tone, It ran aground along Eternity, Thrilling one, as the grating of the Ark On Ararat, thrilled Noah, when all was dark. The spire was not the angel-luminous stair. Dreamed by the prophet, but the lifeless dross Of heart and spirit, moulded high in air. Nor did the Temple's frame with dome and cross Grow faster than my vision ; for I saw The architect and masons, each with eyes Turned inward, at their work, and that the law Whereby they raise their temple to the skies Was, in its course, antipodal, — not one With that of the ascending stars and sun. VI Tho' brief my glance, I saw, too, that each stone Was hollow, and as black as soot. Yet, soon, The temple sparkled, as tho' diamond-grown With rays in torrents from a sun at noon. This sun was soulless opulence, whose blaze Seemed blessings straight from God; yet, to my ken. This noon-sun that had drawn up for its rays The vital sparks of half my fellow-men, Shone ghastly on the fane, the spectral dead Moting most densely every beam it shed. VII **How could the Lord let such a Temple stand?" I murmured low, mistrusting my cleai sight. 8 My head grew giddy, and my wandering hand Groped for support. I shotild have swooned outright, But for rare fragrance, blown from vines with- out. That whitely clomb the Temple porch and wall. ** Those roses," sighed the Mentor, stilling doubt, **Are child-souls, but for which the fane would fall ; 'T is held up by their tendrils clinging fast To porch and wall, when blows the judgment blast." VIII Then Conscience, out-cast crone, who seemed to twist Her hands off, passed by me, with step cat- soft. And, opening the Temple portal, hissed : ** These hands have pointed out the drear aloft Between ye and your God ; how no oasis Relieves yon desert sands that upward bum! 9 With eyes cast down, and set, averted faces. Ye barkened ; but, ye fools ! ye did not learn The import of my message ; for ye built Your Fane to God on ground not cleared of guilt." IX I trembled, and devoutly breathed a prayer, Which always drives the Evil One away; My Mentor fled not, but smoothed down my hair. I had no fear for what the world might say. But dread of uttering falsehood troubled me; That was abhorrent, as though I should change My human form to reptile, consciously. And, fanged with poison, through the world should range In ambush to way-lay the witless wight. Ah! saw I truly? ^"God," I cried, "Thy light!" X While I stood hesitant, a vivid flare Enveloped me. As soon as I could train My sight to grasp an object in the glare, I saw blue vapor where had been the Fane, lO And, far below, a cavern, all a-swarm With writhing things. A zigzag stairway, rent By lightning for the darkness of the storm And every foulness that, then, found no vent, Led to the pit. A look down made me reel. *' Descend," the voice said; " one to see must feel." XI Faint grew my heart ; my brow began to bum ; I caught some object with my drowning clutch. Hearing : * ' Man is an infant ; he can learn But by experience — the sense of touch. It is by sharing anguish, men grow brothers ; One mother's features, then, they see and know. If thou descend not where the cavern smothers Thy kindred, how conduct those down to woe. Who, truly seeing wrong, would strike it dead? *They know not what they do!' must still be said." II XII Down was I lowered from daylight. Oh, how bright The clouds appeared then, to my eyes astrain! Oh, for a bud for my Spring-hungry sight ! No echo there relinked Joy's broken chain. Down, down I sank. Oh, for a gulp of air. Cupped by the Evening's hands from out the sea! Down, down, still down! — Can this be death? How bear This dissolution, and still conscious be? I felt; the voice replied: ** Descend thou where The coal takes blackness from the Soul's despair." XIII What strata! Nor therein, as I surmised. Was it an ancient forest that was traced ; It was the modem town — ^the grove capsized From sunshine, bloom, bird-song, and fruit to taste. 12 It was the home with all its happy hours, The child as gay as the moth she cotdd not catch, The youth with eyes upon Ambition's towers, The housewife's smile, who e'er might lift the latch. And every face, the bloom of coast or mead — That had been petrified by soulless Greed. XIV Nay, it was Man, with all the links undone. That bound him to fair Nature. These are laws, Like those that bind the planets to the sun; If broken, chaos balks the great First Cause. Here, shattered was Man's sacred chain — ^the sight. The hearing, smell, the taste, the touch, the heart, The mind, and soul from what gave them delight. No longer, of Creation, formed he part, Developing, subliming. Ruined Man Here told in rock, of God's frustrated plan. 13 XV Broader and deeper grew the cavern dim. It was all toil, I saw, where Man must give Heart, soiil, and every gift, ennobling him. To the Few, more mighty, for the right to live ; Nay, must surrender, not alone himself. But darling child, who shyly hides his face Behind his open fingers, — ostrich elf! — Or who, with twig for sword, struts with grimace. And, dimly conscious that he leads a host, — Which he doth truly, — ^boldly makes his boast. XVI Yea, truly, 't is a host — his ragged heirs — The Race, — ^he leads, when, setting out to kill The giant, he lifts high his sword, and dares The monster to appear upon the hill. God! It is sad beyond all utterance That, when the mighty giant does appear, 44 No phalanx moves to check his bold advance. Leader and host — ^where are they? Peated here, Or turned to coal. All round, the strata showed Such armies, strewn on every upward road. XVII On them, and all, there blew a gust of rain. A green-eyed, bat-like monster, flapping, brushed By me and shrieked: ''Give coal a rich, red stain ; It matters not how many hearts are crushed." Then, torrents fell. Ah! whence that awful flood? Inquired my heart. "It is the children, wives. Mothers, and sisters, drained of all their blood — Emptied of joy and hope throughout their lives," Replied my Mentor. How I shook with dread. Hearing dire want, the Crusher, overhead! 15 XVIII "On!" urged the Voice. With pity for my kind For forehead lamp, I crept on hands and knees Through narrow apertures, with many a wind, To where I heard men moan. By slow degrees, And painful, one I reached. I gently raised His form of childlike weight from ofE the floor ; His heart beat, but his eyes, half shut, were glazed. Vainly I chafed his hands. Oh! how re- store A being back to hope, where air was soot? Lifted to walk, he*fell back, dead of foot. XIX Creeping through moaning souls, back oft I shrank From a deep precipice, between steep walls That o'er me shot, as high as those that bank The Colorado's centipede of falls. i6 On leaning o'er the brink, how saw I plain The primal crust that, from earth's Central Fire, Held up the caverns, mansions, and the Fane. "What is that crust?" I queried. My de- sire Was answered quickly : ' "T is the millions who, Bom with God-power, are to themselves untrue." XX Rising, I caused a splash. God ! how I chilled ! The sound sprang up at me, a spectral hound On hunt of him by whom the blood was spilled; Then, what a pack of echoes bayed all round! Seized by a new, strange feeling that could find Relief but in wild laughter, thrice aloud, Laughed I in that dark place. God! was my mind Collapsing? In an instant I was cowed By a great echo mob, who, as they passed My laugh along, flung up their arms, aghast. a 17 XXI No forward step, nor back, did I dare take. Assimilating, then, my Mentor's arm, Round me swung Haughtiness, a mighty- snake. Bearing me upward. Frantic with alarm, My Mentor followed fast; but, as I rose. His voice grew faint and fainter to mine ear. Up, up I shot. Ere long, my feelings froze; For, as I vaulted from the cavern drear. The winged snake's cold blood of proud dis- dain Of man and earth, coursed also through my vein. XXII This flying serpent hissed the question : * * What Cares the Almighty for the mustard seed. Called beauteous earth? Space, heightening, sees it not. Its nothingness can Reason, running, read." I was crushed breathless. One with mighty hands Parted the glaring serpent soon from me, « 18 And said, descending: ''That least seed ex- pands The greatest of the herbs — nay, grows a tree, Among whose boughs shall come and lodge the birds." I saw new meaning in the Saviour's words. XXIII Strengthened, I looked about. Above me flew Grim, bat -like Greed, — half demon and half brute. It was the monster that the mighty Few Had made with their own hands, to sub- stitute A loving God ; — a creature hugely made In their own likeness; one to whom they gave Their every breath, and whom they then obeyed, Though life with him was impulse to de- prave All human nature, and to uncreate The world, that he might flourish ghastly- great. 19 XXIV I swooned headlong. The voice said : * * Why He prone?" I labored to my feet, but fell aback, For down the roof crashed, as tho' tempest- thrown. Up, thro' the rift and Temple, hanging black. Then blood arose like flame throughout the mine. On high it formed a cross. Still did it rise. Revealing shadowy, a Form Divine With arms extended. Lurid grew the skies ; While, from its grave, burst Echo moaningly: *' What ye do to the least, ye do to Me." XXV How credit what I saw? Still, if the eye Shines starry, like the sunken well, be sure, The stars grow not like lilies, but on high Blaze glorious and pierce the space obscure. Oh, Inner Light that cannot pass away! Let suns collide and in one blaze consume, The Word enlightening the Soul shall stay. It was its beam, whereby, through mist, through gloom. Through rock, through earthcrust, and through clouds on high, I saw the Truth, to which I testify. XXVI Yea, did that crimson current, cruciform, Ascend, ascend, till all that could be seen Was the pierced Heart upon it, beating warm For every suffering soul, however mean. In its ascent, the current parted wide From sparkling founts, that, yellowing in hue, Arose like solar geysers. As I eyed The glamour on the mansions of the Few About the Temple, how my veins ran cold; For it was human blood, turned into gold! XXVII Upon the scene a sudden darkness fell — Or, was it anguish that destroyed my sight ? 21 A wind-rush stunned mine ears; nor could I tell The sea-like whirr was countless years in flight, Until the Temple loomed forth, inly dark. It was a ruin ; many a porch and wall Had fallen. It was like the inky arc O'er boreal seas, or cloud about to fall With devastation on the breathless vale. Still, when I looked again, it glowed, tho' pale. XXVIII How strange that glow! A phosphorescent moss Had overgrown the fane. Tho' cold the beam That lighted up the porches, dome and cross. Still I admired. I marvelled at no stream Of people toward the portals, as became So great a Temple. ** People?" said the Voice In mild rebuke ; * ' There are no people ! Blame The Few, who, killing men of hopes and joys, 22 Have sunk their towns in Arizonian sand. The White race, too, has vanished from the Land." XXIX I stood all tremulous. With eyes aglare Paced Conscience there, more piteous than before. Gowned in her long, grave-grown, dishevelled hair, This outcast from the Temple trudged footsore. Into a grave that opened in her shade, She flung herself. There shrank she, knees to chin. And, rocking to and fro, weird moanings made. How sleep with lidless eyes, and 'mid such din? Up leaped she soon, and, rushing toward the Fane, Sought shelter ; but she was thrust out again. XXX Such ecstacy of anguish seized the crone. That she grew levitant. Aloft she rose, 23 Tearing with both her hands, her hair, grave- grown. Her hands grew wings in working thus her throes. The Temple circled she seven times, as though It were a viewless mountain path she clomb ; Then, like the little cloud that travellers know And burrow from, she loomed above the dome, Where she enlarged to sweep, as I discerned. The sand oasisless, that upward burned. XXXI Oh! never was such sound as that which broke Above the desert. Looking up, I saw The Crimson Cross, and heard the Heart in- voke The Fatherhood for judgment by His law. Such was the sound, it shivered into dust The starry firmament ; whereat the dark Was shaken by these words: ''Lord! Thou art just; No heart-beat is so faint, but Thou dost hark; ^ 24 Yet long aloud, my blood has cried to Thee . . . My God! My God! Hast Thou forsaken me? . . . XXXII *'The silence of Thy Heavens is not, indeed, That Justice drifts across celestial space, A soulless carcass, with no ear to heed, And glaring sightless at the human race ! For justice lives, and reaches to the mote. No less than mass, sustaining one and all To do Thy purpose. Lucifer may gloat Defiance, while on earth he stays his Fall, And breaks Thy good to fragments sharp of ill; But he shall sink, confounded; 't is Thy will. XXXIII **Thou knowest. Lord, how for all souls I thirst. The chalice I would pass, were it Thy will, Is the word to any soul: 'Depart, accursed! ' Send unto them Thy Spirit, who work ill. 25 How long, how long, O Father! — oh, how long, This crucifixion by mine own — ^by each, Who, knowing me, yet doth his brother wrong!'* Then, in his own God-tongue, did he be- seech. It was His echo that my soul heard groan For justice from the Temple's every stone. Bemocrac? (Lines suggested by the Grant Monument at Riverside Park, New York City.) Though with each step he spHt the verdant earth To its red centre, starting bursts of flame That, wind-blown, made an ashen wilderness Of forest, field and town, Democracy Moved forward, smiling ; for he warmly felt About his brow, the halo of God's love. And, by its light, saw triimiph through the dark. Could he, the long-expected, long-desired. Be now engulfed? What! he to disappear Forever, as an island in mid-sea, Agleam with cascades and with fruitful groves, Except where, from the sky, the mountain swoops, As with the rage of hunger, and darts steep Upon the grazing, unsuspecting wave, — Sinks with its peak, its cascades and its groves. The laden ships at anchor in its bay, 27 And with the last hope of the watching crew, Adrift with famine, who begin anew To cast the dice for one another's blood; And leaves no trace, except the flocks of birds That rise in columns, like volcanic smoke, And scatter for the land that none can reach? Was thus to perish bold Democracy, The giant who had dashed a kingdom down For meddling with his soul; then, clutching fast The glaring, wild Atlantic 'mid her whelps. Freed not her fury from his grasp, until He reached the region where he walked with God, Unhampered by the whim or craft of Kings? Democracy, that shook the sleeping wilds And woke them into cities with his will ; Then, seized invading despotdom and hurled Its bleeding carcass, like a thunder-bolt. Back to the old world thro' the clouds of war, Declaring with a voice that shook from Heaven, All the ill stars foredooming men at birth: ** In this New World shall thrive no Old World wrong!'* Democracy, to perish in the act 28 Of towering on a mound of myriad men Into the sky, and flinging from our shore, With his fierce, Hfted hands, and all his might, The storm-mouthed monster of the Despot's get, That from its lairs, the caverns in the South, Roamed rashly toward our mountains and broad plains, To crush beneath its soul-destroying wrath, Our brethren, dark of face, in multitudes Beyond all reckoning, except of justice That counts the unshed tear, and asks of Cain : ** Where is thy brother?" though the skulking soul Be but the murmur in the smallest shell. Imbedded in the marl beneath the deep? ''No," spake forth God. Transfigured and refreshed By that almighty voice. Democracy, Haloed of brow, drew back his giant arms Above him, like a bow, and, with a spring, Hurled forth the monster, raising soon, a jet From the abysmal billows into Heaven In such a volume, it will never cease To fall in sunny showers upon our land. And form a rainbow all around the globe. 29 Z\)c Searcblna Swallow Over meadow, hill and hollow, Long of sweep, or eddying, Scuds the twittering, purple swallow, Feathered, restless Soul of Spring. Low he skims. If oft he dips, 'T is to rise a-gleam with dew From his crest to pinion tips. As his soul were shining through. Rest he never takes ; but flies On his search from dawn to night. Storms that drag down scarlet skies, See ahead his twinkling flight. Wherefore scuds the purple swallow. Long of sweep, or eddying. Over meadow, hill and hollow? Why not perch and fold his wing? 30 Finds he not on all the earth, Fare to satisfy his heart? Has he cravings, too, from birth, For what earth cannot impart? Seeks he for the seed his race Fed on, ere the angel flew Over Eden, stem of face, And from heaven the comet drew? 31 from tbe ifeaet II IRtee ^Iruetful On the wreck of his hope — its last remnant — last rafter — Man whirled in a vortex, with planets charred black. One dense darkness was both the Before and the After. Had Creation been merely a hurricane's track, And the sun in the welkin, the Soul in the world. Been but deserts caught up, that took fire as they swirled? II All the human had shrunken to one, and that I! Though a leaf had the strength of its oak, what avail 32 In a whirl that was drawing the orbs from on high! So I whirled till sucked down. Could the human help fail, When Divinity, dogged to the ultimate height, Must have pltmged to his death? He was nowhere in sight. Ill I awoke ! I awoke ! I awoke from the slumber Of mind, and about me were mountains most steep. Ah, what ranges the billions, whose bodies encumber This planet by day as by night with their sleep ! I awoke, and ah, where was the whirl without gleam? It remained — ^where it only could be — in my dream. IV On arising, my impulse was first to awaken The corpses about me, that mountained the ground ; 33 For what wings for the world has our trans- port, when shaken To Hfe by mute blasts from the beauty around, And we list to the lark, as ascends he afar On the breeze from dew-sparkle to twinkle of Star! V As I gathered my thoughts like a garment about me. To meet with becoming respect, One august Who had halted his host in the hills just with- out me, — A herald thus hailed me: ** Withhold not thy trust. What but 'Welcome,' engraven in gold, is the East? All horizons are hands that direct to a feast." VI On a mountain rose beauty, an edifice cloying My spirit afar with its festival glare, And aloud spake a voice: "All is thine for enjoying." What sculptures and paintings ! what crown- gems ! and where 34 A refreshment in phantasy's fruitfulest land, Like the vintages, served by the Monarch's own hand? VII In a chaHce of StarHght, He pours out the strongest Of cordials celestial for me, lest when I Turn my face toward drear death, of all deserts the longest, I faint as the whirlings of dust mount on high. What the wine? It is Harmony, — surely a strength To my mind for that desert, whatever its length. VIII Of His richest, old wines that refreshen my vigor, Unselfishness for an ideal sublime. As of saints who, in plague, or in winter's worse rigor. Relieve the afflicted, is surely the prime. No libation, not even from yonder blue bowl, Effervescent with stars, gives such strength to the Soul. 35 IX What a chalice of music, with lark and with linnet And robins engraven! though fleetingly frail Is the chalice of odor, what tropics are in it! What poetry, then, in a luminous grail! Though I drink of all meads, and, in truth, have my fill. He persists in confirming His kindliest will. If a hint He vouchsafe, though by figure obscurely, That over the Nebulae-resonant roof, There is glory for me, how requite Him so poorly As shut my soul's eyes in His face and beg proof? Nay, extending five fingers, demand that He must Put all Truth in their closure, or forfeit my trust! 36 XI From the feast I rise trustftil. "" I know how abysmal And mountainous, too, is the dark to tra- verse From matter to spirit; but, surely, the dismal Has bounds; and if clouds should be hard to disperse, *T is because, in His goodness, Gk)d wants me, in sooth. To be almost His peer by my Faith in His Truth. 37 Q% flD? Babe I II ifancB So Baby sleeps. How sweet her smile! She awakes, and still it lingers. Is her smile the lambent fingers Of the angel, who, the while, Strokes her cheek and loathes to go? Oft, my Babe ! I fancy so. Serious now is baby's face. Does her waking soul compare Us in shade with sprites in the glare That, from Heaven, through rifts of Grace, Falls aslant on earth below? Oft, my Babe! I fancy so. Zhc Star of tbe zrwUlgbt Come, star of the twilight! 't is time for thy coming. The cow for her loneliness dolefully lows. Astray on the wayside; no bee now is hum- ming, Except one overladen and shut in the rose ; While Eve, like a sightless, sad maiden, be- guiling The pain of her spirit, is beading the dew. With eyelids cast down, yet with cotmten- ance smiling. Because of her trust that her star will be true. II Thou comest, O star, in response to my yearn- ing! Aye, comest, and being of dawn — to my ken — 39 As well as of dusk, I behold in thy burn- ing, A beckoning onward forever to men. How Reverie, moved by thy influence, rises! How swiftly its current, unaided by oar, Bears off from the wrecks of my sanguine emprises. Reflection — my craft, made of hulks washed ashore! Ill Out, over the wonderful depths of forever Where flaring, rich golden, all glorious days Are lamp-fish a-circling, — I wander, but never For more than a moment lose sight of thy blaze. Yetlo! thou art gone! the seas search for thy splendor. Thou tumest from earth in no pallor of flight, But goest above to Jehovah, to tender Thy homage in secret to Him on the Height. 40 IV To gates that ope gray and, behind thee, shut golden, I follow. How stay with the Titans that loom Grotesque, and that grating out jargons, embolden Each other to utterance more harsh in the gloom. Until one, ascending the mountain of madness. Cries out to the races all over the earth : **Come, perish together; rid earth of her sad- ness!" As life were but travail with Horror for birth! For peace so inglorious, surely I long not, Whatever my anguish. Whatever reverse Defeats my endeavor, the Father I wrong not By deeming His prompting incessant, a ciirse. I know it is little that I have discerned ; How count, then, the Total? Before I became, 41 What truths, with their orbits round earth, may have burned? And, when I depart, what new thousands may flame! VI When, therefore, I ponder on Wisdom^s re- veaHng Through nature and prophet, and fancy a void, I doubt not that thither a planet is wheel- ing More fulgent than any the world has en- joyed. How question that orbs of a Roentgen-Ray sparkle Illumine all voids that the mind can con- ceive ? If not, that truths rise, as dost thou, till they darkle In glory to teach us to soar — ^to believe? VII Belief is the flight of the spirit ; and, surely, Wherever the Light in its fulness is stayed, 42 The spirit can soar where thou poisest se- ciirely, And see that the darkness is Substance's shade ; Nay, pendant with thee, it can bask on the far side, In Morning unbroken; and oh! can discern That Substance, though often a night without star-side. Is Love, that for atoms has vistas eterne. 43 Ifaltb Faith, a child with angel sight, Leads the soul through Nature's night. Winds are moths about her light. What the taper that she bears? Reason that, raised Heavenward, flares. Whence the flame? Ask stars whence theirs. Could the hand that lights the sun, Stars and planets, every one. Pass the soul and leave it dun? 44 tCbe? Wcvc Ibuman ffeaturee B S>ceam What legions! coiild an eagle Pass them in a whole year's flight? They thronged the mountains, flashing Like snow from every height. Oh, how mine eye was ravished, How joy streamed forth in tears, For theirs were human features I had not seen for years! On roads, and on steel bridges O'er rivers, dark and fleet, They marched with tread that sounded One hammer's regular beat ; Yet, tho' they forged the mountains A ladder to the Spheres,' What cared I? I saw only Their features thro' my tears. 45 O'er Winter, chained to summits, Adown the glad Spring flew In meteoric greenness That changed to every hue ; Yet oh! what was that splendor, Tho' trebled by clouds and meres, Beside those human features I had not seen for years ! Like lightning, world-wide, halting, How scanned I every face ! And, wild with dread of losing The eye-clasp of my race. How, like a dead man, wakened After a thousand years, I gloated, gloated, gloated, Till joy drained all my tears! What was the martial music, That drew from every coast. Dark forest, swamp, and desert, That mountain-scaling host? The vision of each other. Which stirred them, till, with cheers, They took at Dawn, the places. Held night-long by the spheres. 46 Zbc Song of tbe Soul In joyous, skyey flight I skim along, All day and through the night, With bursts of song. *'A11 through the night," said I? There is no night About me, for I fly From light to light. My shadow may be seen In seas of tears, But I soar on serene And lead the spheres. On, on I soar to learn That Life, in sooth. Is to soar on and yearn • For Boundless Truth. What, then, is Rest? Is Peace Pursuit for ever? *T is God without surcease, Though wholly, never. 47 Xlbcrt? »eU (Written in honor of Caesar Rodney, the Delaware delegate to the Pro- vincial Congress at Philadelphia, whose vote enabled the friends of Liberty to pass the Declaration of Independence, on Thursday, July Fourth, Seven- teen Hundred and Seventy-six.) Liberty Bell without a tongue, Over the Hall of Congress, swung. True was its metal, and wrought well ; Yet, as it swayed, no one could tell Whether it ever, or soon, would sound. ''Find Rodney, — quick!" the cry went round. Far in the field, drear miles away, Rodney was arming for the fray. Learning that he, and he alone. Could give that bell eternal tone, How, through a cloud of wood and weed, He spurred and spurred his lightning steed! Liberty Bell without a tongue, Over the Hall of Congress, swung. 48 Rightward and left, it swung for hours. Whether the Dawn, or Midnight Powers, That wrestled on high, would win the bell For silence, or sound, no one could tell. Out of the cloud of wood and weed. Village and town, dropt Rodney's steed. Into the Hall the rider sprang, Touched the bell, and, God! it rang! Rang ! Rang a grand sunrise of sound, Awaking Man the whole world round! 49 Ibarlem (On its retreat from Long Island, the American Army was saved from annihilation by the gallantry of Colonel Knowlton, Major Leitch, and the men vmder their command, who checked the British at Harlem, September 1 6, 1776. The Columbia University occupies the historic site.) Look! On Harlem's blood-drenched sod, Freedom kneels and pleads with God. Heart-split, how her arms invoke. Like a lightning-sundered oak! II Up she leaps with whitening rage, For her child, the Future Age, With his face hid in her skirt, Tugs in dread of mortal hurt. Ill Circling her, the dauntless few Dash and slash with sabre true. How their every zigzag blow Gleams with souls, wrenched from the foe! 50 IV Knowlton draws his hand, dyed red, From his breast, and waves ahead; Leitch cries, falHng: **0n to the foes! Tend to me at the battle's close." Look! Almighty Justice' form Stands against the greatening storm — Stands, and, sheltering the few, Shows His face to himian view. 5X Zbc ifatber of our IRaval 6Ior? (During the action between the Alliance and the British ships of war, the Atlanta and Trepassy May 28, 1781, Commodore John Barry was so se- verely wounded that he was forced to leave the deck for treatment. While his gaping wound on the right shoulder was being dressed by the surgeon, the officer in charge of the Alliance came below to his commander to say that they were overpowered and would be annihilated, if they did not strike their colors. "Strike my flag? Never! " shouted Barry, and bound- ing up the companionway to the deck, he so inspired his men that after a desperate struggle of four hours, the British ships surrendered. Sir William Howe had offered Commodore Barry ;£2o, 000 and the command of a British squadron, if he would desert the cause of freedom.) ''The foe!" a voice yelled from the mast. The Captain raised his glass and spied Two vessels. ''Give them chase," he cried. He cleared the deck for action fast, And then spake thus : ' ' Howe wanted me To take his squadron; I declined; But, seeing it, I change my mind. Lads, help me take it — from the sea!" "Hurrah! hurrah!" husked out the crew; And faster the Alliance flew. 52 II ' * Fire, lads ! " he cried. What mainyard crash Echoed his cannon! Oh! how blazed His eyes, like battles, when, joy-crazed, He balked the foe's concerted dash! They tacked, and, smoking still, hove nigh. Was Fate to close those ships like shears. On Freedom's pennon which, 'mid cheers, This sailor had been first to fly? Urging his gunners where out-worn. He fell, and from the deck was borne. Ill ** Surgeon," he hissed, "quick with your knot. How lie here while the fight goes on? We are a-whaling, and, anon, Those bulls, harpooned by our sure shot. Will be hauled in. Oh! 't is a catch That will supply the oil to light Freedom's dark camp for many a night!" How his wild eyes lit up the hatch, When a subaltern came, wry-faced From words in his mouth, not to his taste. 53 IV The man, all powder-smeared, bent low To the stretched Captain, as he spake : ''We 're overpowered, and save we take The colors down at once. Sir " ''No! Aloft they stay!" bold Barry roared. Up leaped he from the surgeon's grip. — How hold the lightning? — that dead ship Took life from him. Both sides, it poured Out, crater-like, until, at last. The foes drew their flag from the mast. He manned those ships ; nor, till his men Veered them toward shore, felt he his wound ; And, when, below, the gash was botmd, He hastened to the deck again. Aloft, clouds brewed ; but these were hurled Asunder, and, twin-bursts, they swelled The seas peak-high ; yet he beheld A rarer sight — a rescued world! And knew the arch in Heaven to be His valor shining through the sea. 54 VI How honor him who never struck His Colors, but fought on, though gory, — The Father of our Naval Glory? Hast thou, Old Sea, seen grander pluck? Hast thou in thy memorial deep A purer pearl than Barry's deed? Search with thy million hands and knead The countless ages in thy keep. Lo ! how his soul lives in his sons Where e'er they sail with Freedom's guns! 55 flDemorlal Zvccb on TtClaaMngton Ibeffibte (Thirteen trees were planted by Alexander Hamilton at the Grange, Washington Heights, New York City, in commemoration of the States that took part in the Revolution. The trees have been reduced to seven by the storms of a hundred years.) Not idle is this armless band. They murmur not, with head to head, What only they can understand. Hush, Traffic! Here, walk soft of tread. Without a leafy whisper, where Once camped the dauntless, sorely -tried, They look aloft, and lo! we share Their vision of the glorified. Though Brooklyn's meadow, Harlem's Height And all surrounding hills were erst Steep stairs in Freedom's headlong flight. How shines on high the scene reversed! How, in the air of bright renown. Those battles all are soaring stairs «^6 ^^--r^-.J- To Freedom's feet, till, lo! a crown Of stars she takes from Heaven and wears. With mute star-tread about the throne Of Freedom, move with cheer benign, The bold Thirteen — oh. Glory's own Who worldward beck with wands that shine! In storm, or calm, no idle band — The veteran trees on yonder croft. Before them many an age shall stand, And, reverential, look aloft. 57 Zbc jgaet Vlvcv prteon Ibulfte (During the Revolution fifteen thousand American patriots perished in the British prison-hulks, anchored in the East River.) Haste in your rush, mom, noon, and night. Across these bridges, thoughtless throng! How haste, when from this stream the song Of freeman's scorn of brutal might — The paean raised to freedom, erst, If touched by thought, renews its burst! Below, the dark pest hulks were moored. Where thousands rotted in the hold. Oh! such the horrors daily doled To Freedom's noblest, chain-secured. They heard with more delight than dread, Each morn's salute : * ' Turn out your dead. ' ' Of all the huddled brave, but one Abjured his faith to gain the shore. Beast-like, they licked the hardened gore 58 Within the hulk-hold cold and dun, Rather than let a brooklet clear Reflect their stoop of baseness near. What! do ye grudge a moment's stand, When Fancy touches Freedom's slain? Hark! hear the chords of their disdain Of all thought but to free their land. What music — nay, arch-trumpet call! Echo, ye groves of steeples tall! Wake, O ye dead — ^ye who forget Due reverence to deeds sublime. 'T is a dead country in quicklime That to the past pays not its debt. Halt, then, a moment, thoughtless throng, To hear this river's sacred song. 59 (5rant (At the obsequies of General Grant at Riverside Park the warships in the Hudson boomed at intervals of one minute.) Boom, O ye warships! boom, each minute boom! Ye voice the gratitude we fain would shout. Boom! for ye rouse not from the distant deep, The monster fratricidal war, to rear Its hideous head amid the Heavens, and make The rising, roving and insatiate sun. Its coldly glittering eye to search the land For youth and manhood at the school and plough. Boom, O ye warships! for ye rouse no more The creature that, with coils of chaos, wound About our country, crushing out her life In streams of gore, that, like the Deluge, left Not one green herb; the creature that, for years. Disported storm-like in the crimson flood With such wild rage, its ceaseless splashes drenched ^60 The four horizons to the furthest home. Yea, boom, O warships! ye make audible The heart-throbs of the milHons on the shore ; For they forget not who, at last, struck down The monstrous Thing and cast it in the sea; And, when its carcass of revenge and hate Rose on the waters — Oh! a ghastliness That, high as heaven, would have shut out the sun, And have bred pestilence from age to age — Who loosed it from the swamps and fissured rocks With gentle word, whereat the day and night Became a tempest and a tidal wave Against the horror, so that now it drifts Among the icebergs that chill not the child, Held in the father's arms upon the shore. 61 Sonnets 63 B? tbe Boor If, by the door, at crimson eve, I stand, 'T is not to watch the clouds or sea-fowl fly, But listen, dearest, to thy lullaby Which leads otu* darling, like a loving hand, Down slumber's dark descent, when, zephyr- fann'd By the sweet heaven of knowing thou art nigh, Her blue eyes close, and lost becomes her cry In her red lips' glad smile in wonderland. Thy song is prophecy of days afar ; And oh, as faint and fainter falls thy note, Thy love appears a lark in heaven remote, Companioning from Eve, its peerless star. To Hope's red mom, that bursts all clouds afloat. Ah! how but linger at the door, ajar? 65 Beatrice Oh, while my baby sleeps, what fancies rise! A sparkling dew, all tremulous, she seems, On Sltimber's crimson - opening bud of dreams. Cease, Zepyhr! hold thy breath; nor move thine eyes. Lo! angels deem her sleep auroral skies, And float thereunder from the crescent's beams. Oh, God be praised that, while with woe earth teems, It is on Gideon's fleece my infant lies! O Beatrice! my love spreads azure-wide Above thy sltimber, and, star-lighted, reaches The Father whom no soul in vain beseeches. It craves for thee the joys that cross the tide, When the dark seas that roar along Life's beaches With threat of chaos, hear God and divide. 66 *Z l0 novo ZTbree ©ecabea 'T is now three decades since the shores of light With their green forests, cities, peaks of blue. And wandering birds were blasted from my view. And I have been storm-tossed from blight to blight. Despair, the awful shape that looms to sight O'er the calm waters where, if one pursue His quest, he perishes with all his crew, Has hourly risen, and put my craft to flight. But now I face the monster. Let him loom Above me, with his lurid, gloating eyes. And shake the ocean's surge and clouded skies With thunderous threat of my impending doom. If triumph is the port of my emprise ; My Will harpoons this monster of the gloom. 67 Zo a CbllD IReablrtQ My darling! spell the words out. You may creep Across the syllables on hands and knees, And stumble often, yet pass me with ease And reach the spring upon the stimmit steep. Oh, I could lay me down, dear child! and weep These charr'd orbs out, but that you then might cease Your upward effort, and, with inquiries. Stoop down and probe my heart too deep, too deep! I thirst for knowledge. Oh, for an endless drink ! Your goblet leaks the whole way from the spring — No matter; to its rim a few drops cling, And these refresh me with the joy to think That you, my darling! have the morning's wing To cross the mountain, at whose base I sink. 68 a Ibunbreb (Batea of ffiraee Around me are a hundred gates of brass, At each of which I knock with heart and brain. FeeUng each gate, I make out but too plain The sentence: ''By this way thou canst not pass." With naked feet I walk on molten glass From gate to gate, and shake each bar in vain. Ah ! hearing but too well the martial strain Within the walls, how help but sigh ''alas!" I kneel, and with my finger which I char, I rudely sketch a meditative soul On the white loam, with Nature's Runic scroll In both his hands, and, over him, a star That sheds light on each page. No drum's wild roll Distracts me, then ; the host has marched afar. 69 Mall Street I look up, but find little to extol In these tall structures. They appear to me Great mausoleums ; for, in them, I see Men with shut eyes and without heart or soul. Though on each door is writ in golden scroll, ''The way to Freedom," Greed, who holds the key. Smiles grimly ; for, the Ghoul ! no thought has he To let a mortal out from his control. Vainly the sun cries out: ''Help me to right The human ship, awry in Summer's tide ; Help, help me on the heart and spirit side! " Ah! when the men with more than morning's might To right that ship, help not, how gaze with pride On their entombment to a giddy height? 70 Be?onb The azure is a magnifying lens To angels o'er it, poised in ecstacy. A good grows grander up to where they be, And only good can ever reach their kens. A good deed, hid from us by reedy fens. Or river mist, lights leagues of lake and lea To their rapt glance ; and, oft, 't is bloom where we See only crimson trails to lions' dens. A magnifying lens, 't is truly; still. It bulkens not our selfish meannesses Beyond the worm's small maw, which is their size. No pageantry to Chaos, though it fill The whole world, but the Movement unto Peace, Reaches yon watchers through the lensing skies. 71 (Brace Who that knows Life — the weakness of our Will And fury of temptation — ^will exalt Himself above his brother, stmk in fault? Loose is the soil we grasp, and steep the hill. Oft, when most confident of strength and skill. We fall and reach the frog-pool, ere we halt. Hark! hear the stir of thousands, wild to vault! No soul, wherever srmk, can rest stone-still. Oh! how temptations flash whenever we Attain a foothold on a lofty rock. Stand and look round ! They blind us with their shock. O Grace, whose glint of wing I faintly see Through fog of bat-like fiends that rotind me mock. Break through, break through, and take me up with thee ! 72 Zbe Splrire (tbant With aspirations up the Spirit wings, Beating abysmal darkness toward the Light. Above, poise Angel hosts to watch its flight From out the whirl where downward plunge all things. Born for cerulean soaring, up it sings, Its carol guiding dim-eyed Dawn aright. Up, up it soars ; for ah ! its pinion might Increases with its struggles and its stings. Hark to its joyous chant: ''Let torrents fall; They cannot drown me, nor whirl me adrift ; I scud up through the lightning's zigzag rift And laugh down at the clouds that would appal; Yea, for God gives me pinions, strong and swift. To beat down storms and heed His skyward call." 73 Mben Xove it Mae All nature does my soul assimilate, For what but manna all the things that are? The earth, the sim, the moon, and every star Melt in my mind, and form such nourishing cate, I grow a god. Ah, then, I contemplate My whitherward! for clouds rise, bar on bar. Perturbed with dawn waves by the planet jar Of Infinite Power which I, perplexed, await. Beneath me. Nature's myriad peaks of snow Melt and become the freshet of an hour. I tremble at the roar; but do not cower! Oh ! what have I to fear, when well I know, That Love it was, who breathed me out of nought. And made me god-like with transcendent thought? 74 l?et fiver IRteing SIowI? My soul seems drowning fast; yet, if to-day, I sink down to the bottom of the deep. Where only grim, misshapen creatures creep, And, in its awful roar, I swoon away, I rise to-morrow to the Nebulae, Whence dazzling constellations start and sweep. Proclaiming by the orbits that they keep, A Master whom 't is glory to obey. I catch a trailing star, and, circling space. Behold below a Countenance Benign . Reflected in the billows ; then, divine Down in the darkest depths, the human race Contending with the monsters of the brine. Yet ever rising slowly, stirr'd by Grace. 75 Z\)e ll&eal All men were gathered by the broad, blue stream, When, from the shore, an angel flung a shell. Along the surface, how it rose and fell. Sun-like! It was the Truth. Its glorious gleam Some saw and followed, and, though, it would seem. They sank beneath the storm's terrific swell. The Angel smiled and said: ''Lo! they swim well, Who, though submerged, still struggle toward the beam." Buoyant with joy, the Angel followed them Across ten thousand night-falls of the brine. His crimson shadow made those waters wine. O happy they whom tide, nor storm, could stem! For, when, at last, they reached the shore divine, Each found the shell and got its priceless gem. 76 Zo a Cbllb in Ibeaven It is not thou who art within the tomb This morning, but my spirit, darling child! Thou art arisen; but I, not reconciled To thy departure, feel the damp and gloom Of deep inclosure from the summer's bloom, And the warm sim, now bright, as when he smiled. Beholding thee, a spirit undefiled. Pass him in Heaven from evil and its doom. I rise, for, from the grave, Faith rolls the stone ; And, as Time's shining arch, of which the years Are swiftly-changing rain-drops, disappears. And darkness skulks away to die alone. My grateful thoughts gush forth to God, like tears. That evil, Aubrey! thou hast never known. 77 Zo m? Steter O Sister! truly is thy other name Self -Sacrifice. What years thy tireless eyes Have borne me upward! for, if through the skies My soul has soared above the smoke and flame From earth, reduced to ash and dust, whence came. But from thy sight, my glimpse of how to rise? Whence, too, the vigor for my long em- prise ? Ah! from thy faith in me and in my aim. To whirl in black eruption — ^what a doom! Ah! if not for thine eyes that gave me sight Of azure, and thy faith that urged my flight. How could I have escaped the crater's ftime? I should have fallen headlong, senseless quite. And stirr'd to flame the ashen depths of gloom. 78 Hf Ah! if this Hfe were bounded by the tomb — If Love, Hope, Faith and noble deed were all Dashed back in fragments by the granite wall — If passionate longings were but forms that loom Above the field of battle lost — if doom Gathered all clouds for one dire thunder- fall. That would bring down the heavens and leave no small. Blue space on high for one star-seed to bloom — Then, I should madden at Pelee's blown blaze Turning town after town in ashen heap, And cry out: "God, thou nightmare of my sleep!" But, in the densest darkness, strange light plays On Life's tall mast. Whence comes that flame aleap, But from shore lights Beyond? There we shall praise. 79 16 Xlfe an Dovonwarb IRoot? Ah! there are times I raiss the morning's trail. Hill after hill I climb, but glean no glint. No steps I see, but those of nightfall's print, And these I follow deep, though oft I quail. Where wander I, forsooth? Oh, where the pale. Brief star-sparks, struck by night from azure's flint. Burn out, ere they illumine with a hint That life is aught but gnarled and fruitless bale! Is life all downward root? I soar blue space To find aloft a glimpse of bud, or bloom. Or waft of fragrance ; all is stifling gloom. About to fall headlong, I gasp, when grace, A breeze born by the bursting of Christ's tomb, Revives me, and I lift a trustful face. eo fIDental ©rWte What if bold thinkers, like great planets, swing Beyond my vision and in mirk decline ? Their orbits may be more immense than mine. Our mental orbits — oh, how varying! Some are no broader than a pasture ring ; While others girdle Heaven — nay, seven- fold, shine A halo round the head of God benign; Or trail dark nether space with bloom, like Spring. If, from the mass of mist, a star doth swerve And draw a cluster to the East, or West, Or sweep beyond, it heeds Divine behest. What! if an orb describe a larger curve Than mine can take, know I all regions blest That I should say: *'No good yon star can serve?" 8i H Suneet Scene Oft, on the wall at Riverside, I lean And watch the clouds pass rotind their monarch dead, To take last leave, and some memorial shred. At times they burn with such prismatic sheen And shapes so multifarious that, I ween, The chaos, hurled ablaze on high, is fed By Time's proud Empires, thtmderous once of tread. And all forms monstrous, that have ever been. Oh ! could my soul behold the ruthless wrong Of man toward man, that, clouding earth and sky, Makes blazing Love a rayless orb on high, — Lift, and, transmuted golden, sweep along To meet the clouds, on which the Lord draws nigh With Truth triumphant, 'mid seraphic song! 82 Z\)c palfeabea Bold herd with horns flung back and startled gaze, How ye inspire my fancy! Were ye, erst. So thunder-stricken by the Hudson's burst Among you, ye are still filled with amaze? What! does its meteoric beauty daze Your sight so, ye know hunger not, nor thirst? Nor long to herd unsundered, as at first. And hence, stir not, nor stoop to drink, or graze ? Wild herd, ye are too sacred for the mart! Above you, Beauty, cap-a-pie agleam. Stands guard forever. How with scorn supreme She smites vile Trade that, with blind Earth- quake's art. Would drive you from Manhatta's sight and dream. And leave not of your herd, a single hart! 83 2)ame flDurra? of Bloomingbale The foe was galloping in hot pursuit Of Washington, when from an arbor came, With roses in her hand, a gentle dame, Who stood before the vanguard. Her salute Drew the gay captain from his rearing brute Down to her side. He said: ''In the good king's name," — His voice low, laden more with love than blame, — **Why this rash deed?" She looked up and stood mute. He caught her arm and hiss'd : ' ' Duty to-day. " She pinn'd a rose on him, the whole while chidden ; Then said, heart-choked: ''Good Sir! I do this, bidden By duty — to my land." He dashed away, But not before her countrymen, grove- hidden. Had gained the hill and formed fresh for the fray. 84 firln At early dawn, while yet the earth lay dark In slumber, with no fair or noble dream, The Angel, Inspiration, all agleam. Lowered with a grail containing Learning's spark. On thy green shore, she found such resinous bark, She made thy hill an altar, and its beam Lighted not only thine own lake and stream, But dazzled all the world from stupor stark. There burst a blast, at length, that whirled the fire In black and crimson colimms through the air. Where fell the blaze, up sprang a sunrise glare. Yet, tho' for ages blew the blast most dire, It never, Erin ! swept thy altar bare Of flames to Heaven; nor made them Free- dom's pyre. ^be 3ew0 in IRueeia From town and village to a wood, stript bare, As they of their possessions, see them throng. Above them grows a cloud ; it moves along. As flee they from the circling wolf pack's glare. Is it their Brocken-Shadow of despair, The looming of their life of cruel wrong For countless ages? No; their faith is strong In their Jehovah ; that huge cloud is prayer. A flash of light, and black the despot lies. What thunder round the world! 'T is transport's strain Proclaiming loud: '*No righteous prayer is vain. No God-imploring tears are lost ; they rise Into a cloud, and, in the sky remain. Till they draw lightning from Jehovah's eyes." 86 ZTbe arcb of %\Qbt Across the ocean shines an arch of Light, An Isthmus from the Old World to the New. It is a stretch of peaks, hung high and true, That raise man to a rapt, supernal height. Beneath this arch, Wealth, War, all worldly might, Drift with the stin, the moon, the starry- blue And all huge hates, the clouds of blackest hue. That growl and glare back lightning in their flight. The Arch swings forward. What if lands and seas Change places? It will reach the sea's new lift Of summits, and will draw the human throng To rapt encampments in the azure's peace From all things less than soul, that down- ward drift; For it is Music and the poet's Song. 87 Beaut)? Beauty is Life. It is the growth agleam That sets the floweret and the warbler's wing Upon the march of glad, ascending Spring ; The growth that, while it makes the features beam. Of man and woman, and of deed and dream, Stirs them to move with every vernal thing ; For ah! the life of my rapt visioning Is one with all, approaching Love Supreme. The art that shrinks aloof from bird and flower In inspiration Godward, perisheth; 'T is mock Creation in the mould of Death. What, then, is Beauty? 'T is the upward power. Aglow in man and star, blown by God*s breath, — Creation at its culminating hour. L D)- Zbc Diacover? Illumed with feast and moated far from fret, For ages stood the monarch's citadel. Ah! hardy was the host in fen and fell, That, tho' by famine and by plague beset, Lived on with no mistrust, until they met One night, in answer to the tocsin bell. And, plunging thro' the marshes, fought so well. The castle was relieved from hostile threat. What, then? returning home with fife and drum, The host marched round and round, and each, elate. Entered the castle, whence, precipitate. All fled in horror and with pale lips dtmib! The King had long been dust; his chair of state Had, ages gone, a catafalque become. 89 The sun*s way is the soul's way unto Thee, O Father! thou hast not made for Thine own, A dark and narrow passage to Thy Throne, But the broad highway. No dark pass have we To scale up, jut by jut, where we can see Our way but by Fear's flashes, and the stone Above us, bears, when mounted, one alone. Or, most, a remnant of htimanity. The sun's way is thro* love made manifest. Called Beauty. There he climbs no eremite For rapt aloofness, but to lift mankind; And, bending with wide arms of season's blest. He bears the host, simple of heart, to sight Of Thee, no less than those of subtle mind. 90 Soul When you see darkness roam the world around, Devouring every hving thing below And over him, the constellations' glow As well as tree and plant that tribe the ground, You gasp for breath, though sheltered from his bound; How much more I, who feel his talon's blow! Look! in his jaws he drags me to and fro, Or, pausing, laps my life from many a wound. Yet, there is that in me that baffles him — That heals my every gash — nay, raises me Beyond his teeth and talons' crunch and tear. 'T is Soul that, heightening to seraphim With thought of God, leaves, in its ecstacy. The dark below to growl and sniff the air. 91 Cbime, Darft Belli My life is in deep darkness ; still, I cry With joy to my Creator : '' It is well! " Were worlds my words, what firmaments would tell My transport at the consciousness that I, Who was not. Am! To Be — oh, that is why The awful convex dark in which I dwell. Is tongued with joy, and chimes a temple bell Antiphonally to the choirs on high 1 Chime cheerily, dark bell! for, were no more Than consciousness my gift, this were to know The Giver Good, — which sums up all the lore Eternity can possibly bestow. Chime! for thy metal is the molten ore Of the great stars, and marks no wreck below. 92 PR 19 19C5