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 Book X4-_3XV+ 
 
 Copyright N° i3_0 8 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
WEEDS AND WILD 
 FLOWERS 
 
 By 
 MOWRY BELL 
 
 Boston 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 The Gorham Press 
 
 1908 
 
Copyright 1907, by Mowry Bell 
 All rights reserved 
 
 LIBRARY »f CONGRESS 
 Two CoIm RMflived 
 
 DEC 27 1907 
 
 Copyrif ni tntry 
 
 CUSS 4 XXc/ng. 
 COPY 8. 
 
 753^3 
 If** 
 
 A few of the poems are reprinted, by 
 permission, from The Century, Harper's, 
 The Youth's Companion, The Cosmopolitan, 
 The Independent, The Los Angeles 'Herald, 
 The Land of Sunshine, The Pacific and Mr. 
 Stedman's American Anthology. 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 WOODS AND HILLS 
 
 The Loon 9 
 
 The Yuccas 10 
 
 Strawberry Hill 11 
 
 A Summer {Visitor. 1, 12 
 
 In Exile .....: .\ . . ....... f 14 
 
 Old Mother of the Shadows! 16 
 
 Some Days* ... V: .*....'... j. 18 
 
 B7 HEDGE AND HIGHWAY 
 
 A' Ordinary Man 21 
 
 Tides 22 
 
 The Conflict 23 
 
 Our Fairy Palace 24 
 
 Joy 25 
 
 At the Glass," 26 
 
 A Wearer of the Purple 27 
 
 The Lost Lyre 28 
 
 The Clue 29 
 
 Retrospect 30 
 
 Disillusionment 31 
 
 In the Afterglow 32 
 
 The Immutable 33 
 
 Mores Mutantur 34 
 
 'Twixt Entering and Outgoing 35 
 
 The Hungry Heart 36 
 
 'Twere Easier Often 37 
 
 Discovery 38 
 
 The Parting Wall 39 
 
 The Genie of Gold 40 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE PINES 
 
 The Tutelage 43 
 
 The Agnostic 44 
 
 We Shape Us Gods 46 
 
 The Resistless 47 
 
 The Plunge 48 
 
 The Summons 49 
 
 World to World 50 
 
 The Coming of Peace 51 
 
 Salvage 52 
 
 Father Love 53 
 
 The Second Volume 54 
 
 Stages 54 
 
 The Guest 55 
 
 Law 56 
 
 For Cuba 58 
 
 The League of Gold 59 
 
 Song of the Army of the Second Revo- 
 lution 60 
 
 Shadows 62 
 
 THE BLUE MEADOW 
 
 The Hermit 65 
 
 The Living Record 70 
 
 Visitors 72 
 
 The Seeming 73 
 
 From Hesperus 74 
 
 The Great Void 78 
 
 NIGHT RAMBLINGS 
 
 Song of Euphasia 81 
 
 The North Tower 82 
 
The Shores of Sleep 85 
 
 The Night Moth 86 
 
 The Gray Dawn 87 
 
 Rhapsody 88 
 
 By Gathering Glooms 89 
 
 To a Ghost 90 
 
 Night Vision 91 
 
 The Wizard's Son 92 
 
 Norma 98 
 
 SUNNY MEADS 
 
 Moonshine 107 
 
 Huro's Song 108 
 
 Love Song 109 
 
 The Grounds of the Grind 110 
 
 My Lady's Eyes 113 
 
 As Wings the Bee 114 
 
 Old Acquaintance 115 
 
 Little Wild Rose 116 
 
 At Three Months 117 
 
 A Toast to Joy 118 
 
WOODS AND HILLS 
 
THE LOON 
 
 I lie on the bank of the lake 
 
 In the balmy breeze of June, 
 And listen, half awake, 
 
 To the waves' monotonous tune; 
 When I hear with delight, in his headlong 
 flight, 
 
 The eerie call of the loon. 
 
 He glides to the lake's cool breast 
 Down the feathery planes of air, 
 
 And sports with a joyous zest 
 That mocks at my haunting care. 
 
 In his wanton glee he laughs at me, 
 As he dives for his finny fare. 
 
 "Ho ho! for the man from the town, 
 
 To his cultured needs a slave! 
 Who trembles when dark skies frown, 
 
 And toils from his birth to his grave; 
 Who never can know," he laughs, "ho ho ho! 
 
 The joys of the winds and the wave!" 
 
 The clouds float lazily on: 
 
 The ripples are lapping the shore. 
 
 A dragon fly comes, and is gone: 
 There's the distant sound of an oar. 
 
 And farther away from across the bay 
 Gomes the laugh of the loon as before. 
 
You have left, cheery friend, as we part, 
 (He is now but a speck in the blue,) 
 
 A yearning that fills my heart 
 For a life more simple and true: 
 
 I would flee from the strain of the strife for gain, 
 And at luxury laugh with you! 
 
 THE YUCCAS 
 
 (Antelope Valley, California) 
 
 The wind is in the yuccas, like the roll 
 
 Of mimic waves upon a hill-girt mere, 
 
 Or sea of tossing boughs: the night, star-clear, 
 
 Shows yet unmoved each rugged branch and bole, 
 
 As from a world unseen that murmur stole: 
 
 Weird in the gloom these uncouth forms appear. 
 
 Is night but the day's absence? Surely here 
 
 There is a presence: night has gained a soul! 
 
 Is it the spell that this fantastic tree 
 
 Has put upon the plain? Star speaks to star: 
 
 Northward to where the dusk-hid mountains are 
 
 The gossip-laden wind is coursing free. 
 
 It is a goblin world, and faint and far 
 
 Sound the spent echoes of reality! 
 
 10 
 
STRAWBERRY HILL 
 
 This morning at daybreak I woke up and said: 
 
 "I'll be off to the orchard while all are in bed." 
 
 And there, as I dressed, just as still, just as still, 
 
 Came a bird to the window and perched on the sill. 
 
 He twisted his head, then he flew to a tree: 
 
 " Tr-r-r-r-r tee, tit-a-wee!" 
 
 Do you know what that meant? "Oh, the berries are 
 
 red, 
 The berries are rip'ning on Strawberry Hill!" 
 
 For I and the birds we are pretty good chums: 
 
 I've many a secret to pay for my crumbs. 
 
 I think it's more fun to make friends than to kill; 
 
 And I've squirrels I call from their holes when I will. 
 
 All the wood folks are shy folks, but many know me: 
 
 "Tr-r-r-r-r tee, tit-a-wee!" 
 
 Each summer some sort of a messenger comes 
 
 Saying dinner is ready on Strawberry Hill! 
 
 When the woods are all green and the sky is so blue, 
 It's fun just to lie in the grass and look through 
 At the water beyond, when you've eaten your fill, 
 With a pail to take home and a plenty left still 
 For the birds and the insects. For berries are free. 
 " Tr-r-r-r-r tee, tit-a-wee!" 
 Go get you a pail and I'll show it to you. 
 Hurrah! for a ramble on Strawberry Hill! 
 
 ii 
 
A SUMMER VISITOR 
 
 Softly the mellow air 
 
 Breathes as it passes 
 Scents that are sweet and rare 
 
 Caught 'mongst the grasses. 
 
 Calm in their azure sea 
 White clouds sail over: 
 
 Wee voices call to me 
 Out of the clover: 
 
 Buzzing from bees afield, 
 
 Gay wards of summer, 
 Gathering what blossoms yield 
 
 Free to each comer. 
 
 Bird-songs from every bough, 
 Bright fancies fusing: — 
 
 What was that sound just now 
 Startled my musing? 
 
 What that quick, shadowy gleam 
 Here 'mongst my flowers, 
 
 Poised like a passing dream 
 In young Love's bowers? 
 
 Cloud-spirit, come from far 
 O'er my sweets hovering; — 
 
 Guest from a distant star 
 Earth's joys discovering? 
 
 12 
 
Lo, the wee whir evolved! 
 
 From mists engirdling 
 Will-o'-the-wisp resolved 
 
 Into a birdling! 
 
 There on yon twig he sits; 
 
 Pert, self-reliant; 
 Puzzling his tiny wits 
 
 O'er me, rude giant. 
 
 Sipper of coy delights, 
 
 Ruby-throat, prattle! 
 How may such tiny sprites 
 
 Face the world's battle? 
 
 Mouths to feed dainty fare, 
 Foes to be shunning, — 
 
 Surely a load of care 
 For thy small cunning! 
 
 Why tilt thy bill so high? 
 
 Is't a misgiving 
 As to how wingless I 
 
 Get me a living? 
 
 Idle it is to stand 
 
 Doubting each other: 
 Both by the same free hand 
 
 Are fed, wee brother! 
 
 Off to thy sweets with thee 
 Where the whim snatch thee! 
 
 Emblem of Fantasy, 
 Care cannot catch thee! 
 
 J 3 
 
IN EXILE 
 
 The odor of orange blows 
 
 Comes heavy from over the way, 
 And winter looks down from his mountain 
 snows 
 On a morn as of May, 
 Where gardens their wealth of palm and rose 
 Display. 
 
 The earth and the sun have done their part 
 
 In glories of color and scent, 
 And callous the man to decry an art 
 
 So lavishly spent. 
 Is there something amiss that there lacks in 
 my heart 
 Content? 
 
 I hear them extol the worth 
 
 Of the changeless, peaceful clime, 
 And pity the pains of their friends of the 
 north 
 In the winter time; 
 And I see the buds of the almond put forth 
 And the lime. 
 
 'Tis vain! I long for the sturdier life, 
 And a winter's stress unstayed: 
 
 I love the grandeur of storm-cloud strife 
 With its cannonade, 
 
 And a changing scene as the flowers grow rife 
 And fade. 
 
 H 
 
The loon and the wild goose break 
 
 The calm as they northward roam: 
 I smell the breeze from the woods and the lake 
 
 And the thawing loam. 
 They call me: "Why didst thou, brother, forsake 
 Thy home?" 
 
 A child of that other clime, I know 
 
 The charm of the boom and crack 
 Of the ice, and the glistening fields of snow 
 
 On the blizzard's track. 
 They call me: "0 brother, the quick years flow: 
 Come back!" 
 
 M 
 
OLD MOTHER OF THE SHADOWS 
 
 In the woods, in the ferny gloom 
 Where trilliums bloom, 
 
 Afar and away from here, 
 There tarries an ancient crone alone, 
 
 With never a neighbor near. 
 
 And oft when the foot of Care 
 I hear on my stair, 
 
 I steal by a postern gate 
 Where wooed by the wandering breeze my 
 trees 
 
 Lisp low, and my coming await. 
 
 And oft when the day-star fades, 
 Through the whispering shades 
 I follow my well-worn way, 
 / And toward the red spark of her fire draw 
 
 nigher, 
 Aglow through the twilight gray. 
 
 My foster-mother is she, 
 With a welcome for me 
 
 That I feel though she speak no word, 
 And over her fire with a frown bent down 
 
 Seem never my step to have heard. 
 
 The secret I'm sure she knows 
 Of all that grows, 
 
 And keen through the jealous dark 
 With an eye undimmed by the years she 
 peers, 
 Through the tangle of leaf and bark. 
 
 16 
 
I sit at her feet and list, 
 Like an alchemist 
 
 In his search for the baffling gold, 
 To the marvels of curious lore that pour 
 
 From her lips so pursed and old. 
 
 In a crooning song she sings 
 Of all wondrous things 
 
 That quicken the world's dull zest, 
 Till, lulled by her magic art, my heart 
 
 Is eased of its old unrest. 
 
 Once all but asleep I lay 
 At the close of day, 
 
 Abask in the sunset's gleam, 
 When fair and young in the wood she stood. 
 
 I know it was not a dream. 
 
 Aye, I feel that her shape uncouth 
 Is a mask of youth, 
 
 And it cries to my soul, "Rejoice!" 
 From the depths of her eyes it springs, and 
 rings 
 
 In the tones of her silvery voice. 
 
 Ah, motherkin, what care I 
 If the wolf be nigh, 
 
 Or the world at my fancies flout! 
 My peace no care shall consume till the 
 gloom 
 
 Shall show me thy watch-fire out! 
 
 17 
 
SOME DAYS 
 
 There are some days when Nature seems to brood 
 In doubt and gloom: a look her features wear 
 As when from hollow eyes peers forth despair 
 With glance of mute appeal. In somber mood 
 The clouds hang threatening, and the woods, sub- 
 dued, 
 In dread expectance lift their arms in air. 
 The songless birds the prevalent sadness share, 
 And ply half-heartedly the search for food. 
 Fitfully wail lorn gusts: the crisis nears, 
 When Nature's heart, o'erburdened with its pain, 
 Swells till it bursts in floods of relieving rain. 
 The next morn breaks : with face still bathed in tears, 
 She smiles at her despair, her faithless fears, 
 Draws back her veil, and greets the sun again! 
 
 18 
 
BY HEDGE AND HIGHWAY 
 
A' ORDINARY MAN 
 
 My mother thought I's smart 's a whip 
 
 When I was still a kid; 
 And so did I. 'Twas long before 
 
 I waked, but wake I did; 
 And see that 'twas in her, not me, 
 
 That estimate began; 
 That after all I'm what you'd call 
 
 A' ordinary man. 
 
 I fooled my wife too. 'Spose 'twas love 
 
 That made 'em both so blind; 
 But now 'f I say I'm no great shakes, 
 
 She says she likes that kind. 
 She seems contented too, and yit 
 
 She ought be'n rich and gran', 
 And not the wife all through her life 
 
 Of a' ordinary man. 
 
 This little gal upon my knee, 
 
 Her dad, you may depen', 
 She thinks is one o' the 'way-'way-ups 
 
 Among the sons o' men. 
 When she finds out — she'll love me still, 
 
 Though on a different plan; 
 Fer find she must that I am just 
 
 A' ordinary man. 
 
 21 
 
By gum, there's times when Providence 
 
 Just rubs it in! No paint 
 Can't cover up the spots. You see 
 
 What y'ought to be but ain't. 
 To think what you should do fer 'em 
 
 And then think what you can: 
 It makes you sore 'at y'ain't no more 
 
 'N a' ordinary man! 
 
 TIDES 
 
 Says the blindly heaving sea: 
 "There's a power that masters me; 
 Coming, going ceaselessly, 
 
 Through ages vast. 
 With a longing vague oppressed 
 Heave the surges on my breast: 
 Never, never may I rest 
 
 While earth shall last." 
 
 In man's breast in silence courses 
 Power from celestial sources; 
 Sluggish depths to action forces; 
 
 From rest debars. 
 While he toils or while he sings 
 Come yearnings after higher things; 
 Lifting from earth to which he clings, 
 
 Toward the stars! 
 
 22 
 
THE CONFLICT 
 
 Time was all land lay prisoned 'neath the surge 
 
 Of shoreless seas. Old ocean, ruling all, 
 
 Anon sees, frowning, on his watery ball 
 
 With slow uplifts or sudden throes emerge 
 
 His ancient slave, as whom pent passions urge. 
 
 Soon continents, exulting at the fall 
 
 Of their late master, laugh at his hoarse call 
 
 To yield, his ceaseless thundering at the verge. 
 
 Tet still he fumes and threatens far and near; 
 
 Like a shrewd general at the foeman's van 
 
 Making fierce onslaught, while with careful plan 
 
 He sends a force attacking in the rear. 
 
 So stealthy clouds creep landwards, and the rain 
 
 Captures the hills unnoticed, grain by grain. 
 
 23 
 
OUR FAIRY PALACE 
 
 In what enchanted palace, by the might 
 
 Of genii uplifted, could we be 
 
 So circumgirt with breath of mystery 
 
 Or wildering beauty as to the blest sight 
 
 Of those that love her earth reveals? The night 
 
 Has marvels all undreamed of witchery 
 
 To charm her children: day with footsteps free 
 
 Leads them through scenes o'erbrimming with 
 
 delight. 
 And court and corridor and vaulted hall 
 Men tread, and know but cobweb and decay; 
 Yon crystal stream passed by, whose waters stray 
 Through these our palace grounds, and quick recall 
 The sight to eyes grown dim; there laving, all 
 These dead had cast their cerements away! 
 
 24 
 
JOY 
 
 The world hath lived long, long, 
 One burden to its song. 
 
 Tet sons of earth ne'er doubt 
 Joy's from without; 
 
 And seek, while the years flit, 
 The source of it. 
 
 With every wish supplied 
 'Tis still denied. 
 
 The while the lowliest cot 
 It scorneth not, 
 
 And greeteth from each breeze 
 Him who can seize. 
 
 25 
 
AT THE GLASS 
 
 My lady sat before her glass 
 
 The while her maid arranged her hair: 
 She gazed upon a face more fair 
 Than one may see at Michaelmas 
 Within an hour, while hundreds pass. 
 Yet at the graces pictured there 
 She sighed, "Yea, even this I'd spare 
 To know me fair within, alas!" 
 Ah, lady, pools and brooks may vie, 
 
 Assisted by the art of man, 
 To show thy beauty to the eye; 
 
 But neither thou nor friendship can 
 Sound thy true self, in part or whole: 
 There is no mirror for the soul! 
 
 26 
 
A WEARER OF THE PURPLE 
 
 I sat, a monarch, in my own domain, 
 
 Receiving tribute levied from a crowd 
 
 Of neighboring potentates. My head deep bowed, 
 I marked the absent, and with stern disdain 
 Scowled dark at flatteries breathed my smile to gain. 
 
 Gloom, like some huge, vile bird, with smothering 
 cloud 
 
 Of swarthy plumage, from my heart once proud, 
 Now self-sick, hatched black thoughts in dismal train. 
 There came a lightning flash. My night it rent; 
 
 And showed my court in all its tinseled state. 
 Straightway I hurried forth with soul unpent. 
 
 At other courts a wanderer now I wait, 
 And render lowly service. Yet, content, 
 
 I revel in the sun and bless my fate! 
 
 27 
 
THE LOST LYRE 
 
 I knew her not when in Love's guise she came 
 And from my yielding fingers slipped my lyre: 
 So fair she seemed, in simple, sweet attire, 
 
 That lost in her eyes I did not ask her name; — 
 
 Lost in those eyes that gave no hint of flame 
 To burst relentless from a smouldering fire! 
 Through field and grove I followed, to the mire, 
 
 Where she eluded me and mocked my shame. 
 
 And now 'mongst youths and maids she wandering 
 sings 
 A song seductive from a heart of stone: 
 
 Her plunder, smiles of innocence, the wings 
 
 Of aspiration; these and such like things. 
 
 The notes of my stolen lyre blend with her own 
 In silvery cadence. Ah, I should have known! 
 
 28 
 
THE GLUE 
 
 What if, dearest heart, upon a day 
 When I had left thee smiling, death should break 
 The bonds that bind my soul, and I should wake, 
 And hastening to thee lorn, find but thy clay; 
 Thy spirit loosed as mine and fled away, — 
 Away into the void! Thee to o'ertake 
 Amid those myriad worlds were task to slake 
 The fires of hope, and bid the faint heart stay! 
 Yet whisper, Love, if to such starry quest 
 Through lingering ages I be doomed by fate, 
 Some clue, that I may know thee, dispossessed 
 Of bodily features, or reincarnate 
 In some strange form. Ah, must I learn thus late 
 That but thy house I know, not thee, its guest? 
 
 29 
 
RETROSPECT 
 
 From out the roseate Past the breezes bring 
 Sweet sounds and odors, as of the woods in 
 spring. 
 
 Round me the arid Present lies, its face 
 Thick covered with the dust of commonplace. 
 
 Yet, touched by the wand of Time, this scene 
 
 like that 
 Will beam with a beauty I shall marvel at. 
 
 Ah! for the clearer view that will have 
 
 dawned 
 When I look backward from the hills beyond, 
 
 That daily to my soul there might appear 
 The hidden glory of the Now and Here! 
 
 30 
 
DISILLUSIONMENT 
 
 The desolation of the childish heart 
 
 When through the robe of fancy there appears 
 
 The framework of gaunt fact, the sorry tears 
 
 When Santa Glaus proves false and fays depart, — 
 
 Ah me, 'tis but a presage of the smart 
 
 Of disillusionment in after years, 
 
 When cherished idols fall, 'mid critics' jeers, 
 
 And shadows linger over mead and mart. 
 
 But, as in some old tale, there comes a day 
 
 When the sad scene takes on a livelier hue ; 
 
 Moss-covered mounds and tree-trunks old and gray 
 
 Prove gnomes and dryads, hiding from our view; 
 
 For we have learned to spell old charms anew, 
 
 And earth turns fairy-land, wherein we stray. 
 
 3i 
 
IN THE AFTERGLOW 
 
 in some sequestered chamber of the mind 
 
 Are stored our dreams from out the long ago, 
 
 Which fancy, some day, wandering to and fro 
 
 Through those deserted halls, shall haply find, 
 
 And from their prison loose. To fate resigned, 
 
 Then shall we sit in life's calm afterglow, 
 
 And nodding note, scant moved by grief or woe, 
 
 The past's unwearying procession wind. 
 
 Tea, now in memory's cloisters day and night 
 
 Toil clever artists to design and weave 
 
 Stuffs for that pageant, tinct with the old delight; 
 
 Treasures the pilfering years shall never reave; 
 
 Gay banners all with blazonry bedight, 
 
 And paintings that not Raphael could achieve. 
 
 32 
 
THE IMMUTABLE 
 
 Ephemerally fair 
 
 On summer-scented air 
 Rides the winged thistledown with undulant 
 motion: 
 
 Age-long the stubborn rock 
 
 Defies the tempest's shock, 
 The blundering, booming cannonade of ocean. 
 
 Soul, what wilt thou take 
 An abiding nest to make? 
 Gold is the wind's toy, fame but shadows 
 waving. 
 Fleeting are rocks and seas: 
 Dreams are realities: 
 Man will not read the rune of Nature's 
 graving. 
 
 Upon the cloud that yields 
 Rain to the thirsting fields 
 
 Fasten thy gossamer with faith endurinsr: 
 Upborne o'er earthly ills 
 When quake the riven hills, 
 
 And tempests drive, secure shall be thy 
 mooring! 
 
 33 
 
MORES MUTANTUR 
 
 Time was from churchly council and consistory 
 Rang but the tones of hate, self-righteous thundering 
 Against foul heresy; when prelates' blundering 
 Filled life with fear, and stained the page of history; 
 When bigot's lance and theologic bistoury 
 Probed to the quick, and shrank not back from sun- 
 dering 
 Belief and life, God-joined; rapine and plundering 
 Winked at, if but revered each monkish mystery. 
 Though oft with our incense still past arch and oriel 
 Rise heathen prayer and theologic platitude, 
 Though men still live with hearts inquisitorial, 
 Sectarian bigots, narrow and malevolent; 
 Yet minds have broadened, changed is the general 
 
 attitude, 
 And thought is free and tolerance is prevalent! 
 
 34 
 
'TWIXT ENTERING AND OUTGOING 
 
 What means the endless throng, whose jostling 
 
 masses 
 Pass through this narrow vale? I sit and ponder 
 Beside the highway, while my comrades wander 
 From hill to hill, where yawn two gloomy passes, 
 The entrance and the exit. Here sweet grasses 
 And lowly flowers are blooming, ever fonder 
 To my rapt vision; down the valley yonder 
 Are strife and danger, pitfalls and morasses. 
 And many burdened come into this valley, 
 Or suffering leave, knowing scant joy or laughter; 
 While others here with song and pastime dally. 
 A lawless rout it seems; yet who, not knowing 
 What was before or what shall follow after, 
 May judge this step 'twixt entering and outgoing? 
 
 35 
 
THE HUNGRY HEART 
 
 Leagues of unresting tide 
 
 Hold us apart; 
 Years leave unsatisfied 
 
 The hungry heart. 
 
 Earth's endless grain-fields lie 
 
 Spread to the sun: 
 Such care for the body, aye: 
 
 For the soul, none? 
 
 36 
 
'TWERE EASIER OFTEN 
 
 'Twere easier often, when an adverse tide 
 
 Seems to resist all skill of sail and oar, 
 
 And bear us, storm-tossed, from a long-sought shore, 
 
 Rather than struggle on when hope has died, 
 
 To seek oblivion from the vessel's side: 
 
 When we read doubt in eyes that loved before, 
 
 To sink beneath the waves and rise no more 
 
 Were easier far than still to strive and bide. 
 
 But nobler 'tis, and worthier of a man 
 
 Than leaving task undone and sullied name 
 
 For friends to whisper with a blush of shame, 
 
 To bear our buffetings as freemen can, 
 
 Bravely and cheerily through our little span, 
 
 Undaunted by adversity or blame! 
 
 37 
 
DISCOVERY 
 
 Age upon age had passed 
 Before men found 
 
 At last 
 That the earth was round. 
 
 And men have often died, 
 
 Perchance, 
 And have not known 
 Of any other side 
 
 To circumstance 
 Except their own. 
 
 Self to ignore 
 
 And take another's view 
 Of deeds and days 
 Is to know more 
 
 Than Galileo knew 
 Of the earth's ways. 
 
 38 
 
THE PARTING WALL 
 
 I know not, dearest, when the time may be 
 That I shall follow thee through the dark door, 
 But when it comes, Love gone on before, 
 Gome back for me! 
 
 God is not cruel, stern though his decree: 
 Joys he took from us he has still in store! 
 He cannot mean that we should meet no more: 
 Gome back for me! 
 
 A task is set me here. When I am free, 
 When the last rites are said and partings o'er, 
 Leave me not desolate by that trackless shore: 
 Gome back for me! 
 
 39 
 
THE GENIE OF GOLD 
 
 A genie of an eastern tale he seems, 
 
 The imp of gold, a grinning, round-faced wight, 
 
 Who gains his master every wished delight: 
 
 Food, princely garb, the maiden of his dreams; 
 
 Brings to fruition all his treasured schemes; 
 
 Erects a fairy palace in a night, 
 
 Succors the poor, relieves the orphans' plight; 
 
 With royal gifts a doubtful past redeems. 
 
 But if he gain the upper hand, ah me! 
 
 His weary victims, knowing no peace, yet nod, 
 
 Soul-starved, sense-fed, in dull satiety. 
 
 What wearying, aimless round is theirs to plod! 
 
 Yet see this gaping rabble bow the knee! 
 
 Fools! 'tis a truckling slave, and not a god! 
 
 40 
 
IN THE SHADOW OF THE PINES 
 
THE TUTELAGE 
 
 In the coiled shell sounds Ocean's distant roar: 
 Oft to our listening hearts come heavenly strains; — 
 Men say, "That was the blood in our own veins, 
 And this, — but the echo of our hope; no more." 
 And yet, the murmuring sea exists, which bore 
 That frail creation o'er its watery plains; 
 And on Time's sands full many a shell remains 
 Tossed by Eternity upon its shore. 
 Its tongue our hope from Nature's self has caught. 
 Matter nor force is lost as eons roll; 
 And mind? — Love life conserves and death abates, — 
 Through the long ages this has Nature taught. 
 Under the stars she plights the wistful soul: 
 "Life ruled by Love nor dies nor dissipates!" 
 
 43 
 
THE AGNOSTIC 
 
 God hath hid his face. Shall I despise 
 My reason, which (when there is less at 
 stake) 
 In all things save these highest men so 
 prize, — 
 The Word shall I take 
 
 For guide, much altered, writ by man at first? 
 Should one bear light by day to view his 
 path 
 And quench it, when by night he stumbleth 
 worst, 
 And most need hath? 
 
 If by the light God gave I go astray, 
 
 Deny him and the myths men weave before 
 him, 
 He will not chide, but grieve should I flee 
 its ray, 
 E'en to adore him. 
 
 So I must say his face is hid from me: 
 Perchance to others he hath seen fit to 
 show it. 
 
 Behind the veil love ruleth — it may be: 
 I do not know it. 
 
 44 
 
His presence yet I seem to feel, and yield 
 To the feeling: though 'twere false, I 
 would be hoping. 
 
 This sure: if he is, 'tis purposely afield 
 He hath left us groping. 
 
 My duty still is plain and at my hand, 
 
 Though over things most dear close drawn 
 the curtain. 
 
 So much the wise of many an age and land 
 Have held as certain: 
 
 That to know truth one must be pure in heart; 
 
 Self-love is cankerous; pleasures of vice 
 are hollow; 
 Love leadeth highest. God, if thou art, 
 
 Help me to follow! 
 
 45 
 
WE SHAPE US GODS 
 
 We shape us gods, not out of wood and stone, 
 But of the clay of thought, in the dim light 
 Of earth-drawn fancy, forms to awe or fright, 
 Or fair, but aye less fair than men we have known. 
 So Omar fashioned his, then cynic grown, 
 Mocked his grim gamester, godlike but in might. 
 Yet glows like faint aurora through the night 
 From his dark lines a hope he would not own. 
 Small glimpse of the divine as yet we've caught: 
 Nature, too lightly read, has given men 
 Less wisdom than the child, by rude alarms 
 Waked from his sleep, who, understanding naught 
 Of smoke and glare and tumult, sleeps again, 
 Content that he can feel his father's arms. 
 
 4 6 
 
THE RESISTLESS 
 
 Upon a summery tide I lie and float. 
 Above, the blue sky smiles: a soft wind brings 
 Perfume from sunny isles. I hear the note 
 Of birds, and see the flash of radiant wings. 
 
 I am adrift upon a wintry sea. 
 
 Wildly the tempest shrieks: the clouds roll 
 
 dark 
 In serried columns, hurrying sullenly. 
 The fierce waves threaten to o'erwhelm my 
 
 bark. 
 
 There is a current underneath my keel: 
 I ride, I know now, on the whirlpool's breast! 
 Summer and winter pass: nearer I feel 
 The center. Vexed no more, at peace I rest. 
 All rudderless, and ever with speed more 
 
 swift, 
 Into the vortex of God's love I drift! 
 
 47 
 
THE PLUNGE 
 
 Two stood upon the world-brink wonderingly 
 Ere the momentous plunge. Said one, "I 
 
 fear 
 The glitter of false aims may blind my eyes: 
 I would God made my lot an arduous one. 
 Hardship and pain, seeing 'tis but a life 
 And the end great, I crave that I may learn." 
 The other, "So self-evident it is, 
 This dire mistake of men, life's sacrifice 
 For that which perishes, no fear have I 
 Of failing thus; and 'twere the sterner test 
 With chance for self-indulgence to stand 
 
 firm. 
 I would have wealth to prove me what I am!" 
 Then at the door of infancy they knocked, 
 And entered life and life's oblivion. 
 
 Fate brought to each the gifts he had desired. 
 
 And after years again, as it befell, 
 
 They met, the work-worn plowman in the 
 
 field, 
 And on his velvet steed the man of wealth. 
 The worker sighing, "Ah, his happy lot!" 
 Turned to his holy toil, God's husbandry, 
 Unknowing his high task, but thereby 
 
 schooled. 
 The other seeing, pitied the poor serf, 
 Himself most pitiable of all God's works; 
 
 4 8 
 
Living for pleasure, yet least sensible 
 
 Of men to pleasure of the mind or sense, 
 
 The cup of earth's delights drained to the dregs; 
 
 A sailor of smooth seas, living in fear 
 
 Of rumored storms, to him as yet unknown. 
 
 THE SUMMONS 
 
 A sad soul peered into the night without, 
 
 Whom sudden a grim shape faced. "Behold me — 
 
 Death!" 
 "Woe, woe is me! Oh, grant for a deed devout 
 One short day's respite ere my final breath! " 
 "No moment! Come!" "Grant me an hour's delay, 
 That I may pay to love a debt I owe! 
 I cannot leave it thus!" "We must away. 
 'Tis vain, soul!" "No word to kindred? " " No! " 
 "I would repent!" "Too late to make amends!" 
 "Now, now must I account for years ill spent?" 
 A smile to the angel's face rare beauty lends: 
 "Nay, soul," he says, "Fear not! Thy life was meant 
 To teach, not try. Each flower its lesson hath, 
 And thou'st had thine. Now cometh love, not 
 
 wrath!" 
 
 49 
 
WORLD TO WORLD 
 
 The child that peers abroad into the dark, 
 
 Where mystery broods and fear is coiled to spring, 
 
 Feels no more terror than such souls as cling 
 
 Close to tradition's robe, when first they hark 
 
 To whisperings of worlds beyond the arc 
 
 Of their hemmed vision. "Welcomer the sting 
 
 Of death, than this sad blight on everything!" 
 
 They cry, fearing to quench Faith's waning spark. 
 
 To the mind's playthings we like children all 
 
 Cling fondly, to their imperfections blind; 
 
 But childhood once outgrown, its pleasures pall, 
 
 And we, when world to world we pass, shall find 
 
 A purer joy, be sure, for those let fall; 
 
 A sweeter hope for each one left behind! 
 
 50 
 
THE COMING OF PEACE 
 
 A dreamy languor spread from bourne to bourne: 
 The birds sang soothingly: hushed was the blast 
 To amorous sighs. "Could this," I cried, "but last, 
 That going leaves us only more forlorn!" 
 Thereat my soul rose up in sudden scorn. 
 "Fool! has thy lot in better worlds been cast, 
 That aye with this, which pleases God, thou hast 
 Some flaw to find, some blot on eve or morn?" 
 Lord of his fate indeed is he who wills 
 His life into accordance with God's ways: 
 For him sunshine or rain sweet peace distils; 
 And by the light of unremorseful days 
 He finds those heights, whence seen all earthly ills 
 Shine fiery golden in the sunset rays. 
 
 51 
 
SALVAGE 
 
 When winds were moaning in the dreary wastes 
 Of night's slow hours, a grim thought held me bound. 
 "0 soul," it whispered, " thou that truth wouldst 
 
 know, 
 What of these warm affections that seem part 
 Of thine own self, — hold'st thou them aught but 
 
 flesh, 
 And of the flesh? Think'st thou to bear them forth 
 To worlds beyond? Behold, when thou putt'st off 
 Thine earthly robes, all love evoked by sex 
 Thou putt'st off too; yea, and the love for clan, 
 And closest kindred, even wife and child 
 In greater part. With all the beasts and birds 
 Thou sharest these. Of earth and flesh are they; 
 God-given surely, yet of that great corps 
 Of men and things, of talent, circumstance, 
 Which are thy ministers, to teach thee truth. 
 But this remains: as much as thou hast learned 
 To feel of love for those to thee unbound, 
 And unattractive to thine earthly sense; 
 The poor, the foolish, those that thwart thee oft, 
 Love toward God, and through him toward all his: 
 If thou hast aught of this, that shalt thou hold." 
 Heart-sick I heard, and answered not again. 
 
 52 
 
FATHER LOVE 
 
 I stood beside my darling as she slept: 
 Simply from love of her I could have wept. 
 Simply from love of her, 'twas hard to keep 
 From marring by fond embrace her child- 
 hood's sleep. 
 
 Within my breast, with father love aflame, 
 Two voices spoke, but not from me they 
 came: 
 
 "Ah, that she might remain so pure in heart, 
 And ne'er grow wayward, ne'er from my 
 
 side depart; 
 That I might shield from shocks and rude 
 
 alarms!" 
 
 '"Tis so God feels, and has her in his arms! 
 With deeper love than thine, through every 
 
 ill, 
 Through doubt, through sin, be sure he holds 
 her still!" 
 
 53 
 
THE SECOND VOLUME 
 
 In the groined alcoves of an ancient tower 
 
 Amid a wealth of treasured tomes I found 
 
 A little book, in choicest vellum bound; 
 
 Therein a romance of such magic power 
 
 It held me rapt through many a tranced hour; 
 
 And then, the threads of interest all unwound, 
 
 Abruptly closed. I searched that palace round, 
 
 And for its mate still earth's preserves I scour. 
 
 Perchance that was the whole? Then purposeless 
 
 The pain of conflict, and the bitter doubt 
 
 But half resolved; love in a dire distress 
 
 Deserted, baffled, with its joy left out. 
 
 Could life so end, half told; its school so fail? — 
 
 Soul, soul, there is a sequel to thy tale! 
 
 STAGES 
 
 Said she of the jewels and lace 
 
 Of her of the rags and dirt: 
 "This beautiful world is sure no place 
 For a thing so vile, with its sin-stained face 
 
 And a soul inert!" 
 
 Said the angel to one by his side 
 
 "Who the depths of God's love can tell! 
 We love the poor mortal by misery tried, 
 But the other, who scorns her in virtuous pride, 
 He loves, as well!" 
 
 54 
 
THE GUEST 
 
 There came a man across the moor 
 Yestre'en when the west was red: 
 
 He turned aside to our house door 
 To ask for bread. 
 
 Cheery he was, with clothes all torn, 
 
 Out elbow and bare knee: 
 He was not to the begging born, 
 
 As one might see. 
 
 Long time we spake. To bed and board 
 
 I bade him: who could less? 
 A messenger sent by the Lord 
 
 My hearth to bless! 
 
 He came, he said, to our burn-side 
 Seeking for work and bread: — 
 
 Ah, 'twas for me he hither hied, 
 Who was as dead: 
 
 Me, who with cot and cow and land 
 
 In fear of want must fret: 
 He, naught in purse or future, and 
 
 Unconquered yet! 
 
 Now in thy presence stand I, Lord, 
 
 My faithless past confessed, 
 And praise thee that thou didst accord 
 
 Such angel guest! 
 
 55 
 
LAW 
 
 Crystal within my tube, 
 Forming before my face, 
 
 How buildest thou thy cube, 
 Each molecule in place? 
 
 Without or lime or sand 
 Thy ramparts rise compact: 
 
 Without or eye or hand 
 Each angle is exact. 
 
 Nay, here I see a flaw. — 
 No mind to judge thou hast: 
 
 Thou followest blind law, 
 
 Which binds and holds thee fast! 
 
 Wee cell my lens below, 
 
 In vain my thought is stirred 
 
 To grasp how thou canst grow 
 To form the perfect bird. 
 
 Each feather, every tint 
 To child from parent steals 
 
 Through thee. Hast thou no hint 
 Of structure that reveals? 
 
 Yet, when by circumstance 
 Set wrong, thou provest blind: 
 
 No power to right mischance! — 
 Law rules in thee; not mind! 
 
 56 
 
Behold this mighty law 
 
 That governs all things here: 
 
 The mountain and the straw, 
 The atom and the sphere; 
 
 That smites missteps with death, 
 Yet stoops man's whim to meet: 
 
 That gives the infant breath 
 
 And speeds the murderer's feet! 
 
 Ah, 'tis but surface play, 
 
 This dumb and heartless show; 
 
 These animals that prey, 
 This pain and grief we know! 
 
 It is the blinding mist 
 
 That hides the sun above. 
 
 Life's higher forms exist 
 But by their spark of love. 
 
 Love is conservative: 
 Malice and hate destroy. 
 
 Those only gain who give, 
 
 And naught but love breeds joy. 
 
 Storms rage and souls grow strong 
 
 In buffeting with doubt, 
 By battling with the wrong 
 
 Within us and without. 
 
 Deep searching still we feel 
 
 That tenderness abides; 
 Behind the mask of steel 
 
 A love that lives and guides! 
 
 57 
 
FOR CUBA 
 
 (April, 1898) 
 
 No precedent, ye say, 
 
 To point the glorious way 
 Toward help for one downtrod in blood and 
 tears? 
 
 Brothers, 'tis time there were! 
 
 We bare our swords for her, 
 And set a model for the coming years! 
 
 This act, to end her pain, 
 
 Without a hope of gain, 
 Its like on history's page where can ye read? 
 
 Humanity and God 
 
 Gall us to paths untrod! 
 On, brothers, on! We follow not, but lead! 
 
 5« 
 
THE LEAGUE OF GOLD 
 
 (April, 1898) 
 
 God of the nations, speak! 
 
 We who would fain do right, 
 We who would succor the weak 
 
 Pray for thy guiding light! 
 We, by these two beset: 
 
 A nation in craft grown old, 
 And at home, more potent yet, 
 
 The sway of the league of gold! 
 
 Is it, as men maintain 
 
 (The wise), but a lust for land? 
 Have we no thought but gain? 
 
 Shall we our pay demand? 
 Nay, we will hail them free; 
 
 Yield them a place and a name! 
 Carve they their lot as we, 
 
 Freed from the leash of shame! 
 
 Give them a title clear! 
 
 Well have they fought their fight. 
 God of the nations, hear! 
 
 Help us to seek the right! 
 Us, by these two beset: 
 
 A nation in guile grown old, 
 And at home, more potent yet, 
 
 The sway of the league of gold! 
 
 59 
 
SONG OF THE ARMY OF THE SECOND 
 REVOLUTION 
 
 Too long, too long have we suffered ill, 
 Oppressed in the land that bore us: 
 
 We have dropped the scepter and bowed our 
 will, 
 Till our sin has risen before us; 
 
 But kings are we between sea and sea: 
 Let us brook no despot o'er us! 
 
 We have conquered our foes by field and 
 flood, 
 
 To suffer with tame submission 
 The growth at home of a tyrant brood 
 
 That stifles each loved tradition: 
 We have loosed our hold to the hosts of gold 
 
 And the parasite politician! 
 
 In vain was the blood of our fathers spent 
 
 The fetters of old to sunder? 
 We have paid small heed to their government: 
 
 Who would, we have let him plunder. 
 But risen like grain from the hill and the plain 
 
 We come to retrieve our blunder! 
 
 In a muffled march, with cannon nor drum, 
 
 With our silent pact unbroken, 
 We come, in the power of God we come! 
 
 The doom of the spoiler is spoken! 
 Ye may hear in the beat of a myriad feet 
 
 The sure, implacable token. 
 
 60 
 
And him who barters a public trust 
 We hound to the country's borders: 
 
 And shame be his lot till his flesh be dust! 
 Aye, these are our sovereign orders. 
 
 Be "traitor" his brand; through an angry 
 land 
 Pursued by the nation's warders. 
 
 God of the battle, of heart and field, 
 Give strength to our high endeavor! 
 
 To gold or fear may we scorn to yield 
 Till body and soul dissever: 
 
 May we seek acclaim for our country's name 
 Though our own be lost forever! 
 
 61 
 
SHADOWS 
 
 June's witchery on this meadow lays its spell: 
 
 A thousand insect lovers pipe content: 
 
 The south wind, with intoxicating scent 
 
 Lulls the soul's doubts and whispers, "All is well!" 
 
 Away with surface shows! I know the hell 
 
 Of misery beneath, untouched by this 
 
 World-rapture of the summer; where life's bliss 
 
 Is bale, and naught but pain and hardships dwell. 
 
 And yet — how shallow was the moment's doubt; 
 
 Far shallower than the peace it spurned! Shall we 
 
 Defer all joy until we can make out 
 
 The plan that shall resolve life's mystery? 
 
 sweet caressing airs! blest repose! 
 
 Evil and sufiEering — ah, he knows, he knows! 
 
 62 
 
THE BLUE MEADOW 
 
THE HERMIT 
 
 I lived a hermit: for the fault of one 
 
 Fled from my kind, and housing 'mongst 
 
 the hills. 
 One day — a chance misstep upon a crag, 
 A slip, a plunge — I knew that life no more; 
 For when I waked I found another world. 
 
 Behold, I lay upon a mountain peak, 
 Or so at first it seemed, and stillness reigned; 
 A silence unconceived pressed on my sense 
 Through the black night. The stars, more 
 
 brilliant far 
 Than yet my eyes had seen, unclouded shone 
 From out an ebony dome. Upon a bed 
 Of down I lay; but restless was my thought, 
 And quick I turned to rise and seek my home. 
 Lo, it was rock, this bed that seemed so soft! 
 But at the move, as one might push a ball 
 Swung on a cord from rafter far above, 
 Which first recedes, then gently comes 
 
 again, — 
 So I, the ball, rose from my stony couch, 
 And floated in the air a moment's space, 
 Then slowly sinking, half supported lay. 
 
 And when amazement granted power of 
 
 thought, 
 I rose, with caution, that I might peer down, 
 
 65 
 
As much as star-light and keen eyes would 
 
 serve, 
 Over the mountain side, and know what place 
 Was this strange spot; and walking as one 
 
 walks 
 Neck-deep in water, barely touching ground, 
 Which gives scant hold to the body's 
 
 buoyancy, 
 I went a space, striving to pierce the gloom. 
 It seemed no nearer to the circular bound 
 Of this apparent plain could I approach; 
 For ever as I went it stretched beyond, 
 And still beyond, and stars rose o'er the edge 
 And rose and rose. I watched Aldebaran 
 Rise from the bourne and slow ascend the 
 
 vault, 
 And other stars I knew: yet some were 
 
 strange. 
 My feet like velvet trod the rocky ways: 
 My voice when, weary of the silence, I 
 Sought to cry out, was muffled to a faint 
 And far-off whisper. Hungry for a sound, 
 I knelt and seized a stone large as myself, 
 And lifting it with all too little strength 
 With both hands hurled it to the floor of rock, 
 The violent motion sending me aloft. 
 As bubbles bursting, such the sound it made. 
 
 And to my mind not yet the truth had sunk; 
 But of a sudden through my dull amaze 
 Blew a chill blast of horror, quenching hope: 
 I knew myself upon a pygmy world 
 Afloat in space! Ah me, that such a fact, 
 
 66 
 
Repugnant to the reason, all opposed 
 To logic and experience should yet be! 
 Never a sun rose o'er that orphaned world, 
 Unless its mother, careless of her child, 
 Were some far star no larger than the rest; 
 Or nearer, may be, crossed the inky vault, 
 Unseen and silent as a passing ghost; 
 Like this her daughter, dead and cold and 
 drear. 
 
 Through time incalculable there I stayed, 
 Ages it seemed, nor ate nor breathed, yet 
 
 lived. 
 Not e'en the frightful cold could touch my life. 
 But aye the hunger grew within my soul 
 From year to year for sight of living thing. 
 The shapes which first I pictured creeping 
 
 slow 
 And springing on me from the horrid dark, 
 And dreaded with a fear unspeakable, 
 I came to long for; yet they would not come. 
 But lo, one time when weary consciousness 
 Had shrunk and hardened to the barren fact, 
 Feeling long since benumbed, and weariness 
 Itself seemed petrified, methought I heard 
 A whisper in my ear and felt a hand 
 Upon my brow. Then in a flash returned 
 My old lost self with all its hopes and loves; 
 And "Is it you?" I cried, or tried to cry, 
 My voice dissolving in that mocking void. 
 Ah me, I knew her form, her voice I heard, 
 Although I could not answer. Thus she 
 
 spoke: 
 
 67 
 
"Beloved, I am come a little space 
 
 To cheer your heart, age-worn and sore 
 
 beset." 
 Then in a spasm of joy I stretched my arms, 
 Not knowing what I did, and would have 
 
 clutched 
 And held her, fearing loss; but in a trice 
 She vanished and my arms grasped empti- 
 ness. 
 Too mighty was the strain: my mind 
 
 dissolved, 
 And that world too had vanished. 
 
 Yet again 
 I woke, and found me in a world like this, — 
 One of the myriad worlds that float and turn 
 About far suns and manless bloom and fade. 
 Beside a rippling, dimpled brook I lay, 
 And blissful should have lain in the warm sun 
 Forever, glorying in the sights and sounds, 
 Had not the insatiable hunger of the heart 
 For view of human face and sound of speech 
 Roused me, and spurred me on my pil- 
 grimage. 
 Years, life-times did I tread that globe alone. 
 Perpetual spring thrilled in the vibrant air, 
 And countless glories of the woods and fields 
 Tempted and fed the eye, and every sense. 
 Creatures there were, resplendent birds, 
 
 queer beasts, 
 All gentle, and unknowing fear of man, 
 But never human form afar or near. 
 Once I had been content with such a world, 
 But now my soul would not be comforted. 
 
 68 
 
There came a day, when, resting by a wood, 
 I watched the clouds, and thought of what 
 
 had been. 
 And suddenly my sick heart throbbed and 
 
 leapt; 
 For strange, familiar footsteps sounded near. 
 Out from the slumberous shade of the still 
 
 pines 
 Stepped smiling she whom yet my heart 
 
 enshrined. 
 And that fair world seemed as a withered leaf 
 Beside the vision; and for very bliss 
 I could not speak, but sat and watched her 
 
 come. 
 But when I trembling rose, oblivion 
 Once more enwrapped her, and submerged 
 
 my sense. 
 
 When I again awoke, a shepherd's hut 
 On this old earth and near my old abode 
 Greeted my gaze, therewith glad human 
 
 forms; 
 And human speech my ear drank greedily, 
 Uncouth and rude, but welcomer to my soul 
 Than rain in drouth, or ship to cast-away. 
 For weeks my reason wandering, they said, 
 Here had I lain, and raved in broken words. 
 
 Now have I left those hills, and dwell with 
 
 men; 
 And she that drove me forth dwells by my 
 
 side. 
 
 6 9 
 
THE LIVING RECORD 
 
 The calm of the summer night 
 Has come to my window-sill, 
 Where I sit and dream while the old stars 
 gleam 
 And the wailing wind is still. 
 
 A face from a past long dead 
 Has risen to haunt my sight, 
 
 And I seek relief from a buried grief 
 In the bosom of the night; 
 
 A balm for my heart in the slumberous folds 
 Of thy comforting robe, night. 
 
 The light from those countless eyes 
 Is not from the stars of today, 
 
 But stars that shone in the ages flown: 
 'Tis the past, the past, alway. 
 
 Its eyes are upon us at every turn, 
 Its sorrowful eyes, alway. 
 
 'Twas hundreds of years agone 
 Yon beacon sent forth this light; 
 Though it speeds so fast through themeasure- 
 less vast 
 That fancy shrinks from the flight. 
 
 7° 
 
Had I the eye to see, 
 
 There are worlds beyond man's 
 thought 
 Whose history old, while the years are told, 
 I could view as its deeds were 
 wrought; 
 Strange forms of its days of eld discern, 
 
 As before me their lives were wrought. 
 
 Ah me, the light from earth 
 Is leaping the gulfs of space, 
 With bound nor bar or near or far 
 
 To limit its endless race: 
 When the years have gone and the centuries 
 fled 
 It speeds in its endless race. 
 
 The past, entombed, forgot, 
 Still lives in the fleeing ray: 
 Its days as they flit in light are writ, 
 Alive with God for aye! 
 
 7 1 
 
VISITORS 
 
 I heard a sound of laughter in the gloom, 
 
 As through dark pines I sought my way at night, 
 
 Lost in the fastness of a mountain height. 
 
 From out the solemn calm, as of the tomb, 
 
 Broke this unearthly mirth, with hint of doom, 
 
 And chill to the blood. I saw a flickering light, 
 
 And tremblingly crept near. Burst on my sight 
 
 Strange fleeing forms, aglow with fiery bloom. 
 
 But one remaining, gazed as I hid at me, 
 
 And spoke with lingering laugh: "0 manikin vain, 
 
 Some ages since, coming this earth to see, 
 
 We found man cowed by Nature's mystery. 
 
 Now mystery's gone! 'Science' makes all things plain! 
 
 Ho man! What new thing when we come again!" 
 
 72 
 
THE SEEMING 
 
 Often the cloud-drift and the filmy show 
 Of mere appearance to the unlettered mind 
 Picture a truth more real than hard-won facts 
 Of science can portray, or learning teach. 
 Then fact misjudged is truer than fact half- 
 known. 
 
 Slowly the night, with furtive glances cast 
 Toward the faint east, sniffing the breath 
 
 of morn, 
 On velvet steps begins to steal away. 
 A score of somber clouds, foolhardy, strive 
 To barricade the hills 'gainst day's attack; 
 Then, courage waning, stop faintheartedly 
 And die by the outpost rays. The stars alert, 
 Grouped in expectant circles, open-eyed 
 To view the approach of dawn, turn one by 
 
 one, 
 And satisfied depart. The smiling day 
 Has come to deck the earth for man's delight. 
 
 So man, in ignorance arrogant, has thought 
 Since his first dawn put forth; deeming 
 
 himself 
 The acme of created things, the end 
 And object of God's sole solicitude; 
 And this poor world, stage of his pygmy acts, 
 The cynosure of the great universe. 
 
 73 
 
And it is well. Else, dazed and terrified, 
 Uncomprehending how one mighty love 
 Should all enfold, yet single out each life, 
 Despair had seized his soul, a deadening 
 
 blight 
 Of insignificance, could he once grasp 
 The wealth of worlds, the infinite multitudes 
 Of being, and of interests paramount 
 To his ; the endless, yawning gulfs that bound 
 His fearful isolation, as he clings 
 In cringing helplessness to his wee ball; 
 A mote within the sunbeam of God's grace. 
 
 FROM HESPERUS 
 
 There came a spirit to a foaming brook, 
 Where prone I lay, cursing my wretched lot. 
 "Is there then sadness in this world?" he 
 
 asked. 
 "Yea, surely," answered I, "What else, 
 
 indeed?" 
 "Tell me," said he, with look incredulous, 
 "How that may be. I had not so conceived." 
 "It rains full oft," said I, "and skies are dull." 
 "That surely is no hardship — rain," said he, 
 "Which brings unmeasured benefits to man." 
 "Then poverty," I added, "has its pang." 
 "But flowers bloom," he cried, "and gay 
 
 brooks sing!" 
 "Ah, flowers," said I, "There's death and 
 
 cruel pain!" 
 
 74 
 
Then softer grew his speech, and with a sigh, 
 "Do you fear those?" he asked. "Earth is 
 
 so fair, — 
 The fairest of all, I think, — I had not guessed 
 That in such boundless store of sweet 
 
 delights 
 There had been one with heart to find a fault. 
 Where woods are lavish with resplendent 
 
 green, 
 And flowers, self-planted, grow unguardedly, 
 Where clouds of their own motion sail the 
 
 skies 
 In dazzling whiteness, — one could drink 
 
 and drink 
 Unceasing joy and ne'er be satisfied. 
 Where winds blow here and yon at their 
 
 sweet will, 
 Where the great dome of night, with stars 
 
 beset, 
 Forms the flow'red pathway of a wandering 
 
 moon; 
 Where to all these are added rainbows, 
 
 storms, 
 Majestic in wild fury, sunsets, seas; 
 No moment twice the same, change following 
 
 change, — 
 A marvelous panorama wrought for man, — 
 One scarce can speak for rapture. Then 
 
 the voice 
 Of birds and waves, the whispering of the 
 
 grain, 
 
 75 
 
The sounds, the myriad sounds that charm 
 
 and thrill! 
 Oh, such a world! happy man! Thank 
 
 God 
 That I have been allowed to hear and see! 
 For there be worlds where things are not 
 
 as here; 
 Where year by year and age succeeding age 
 No change of season comes, nor day and night, 
 But ever and unceasingly the glare 
 Of the huge, merciless sun upon one side, 
 Where all is trackless desert, and no life 
 Could hope to exist; and on the other half, 
 Turned to the stars, great continents of ice. 
 There, only in the intervening zone 
 Between the ice and desert, with the sun 
 On the horizon's verge, immovable 
 While the slow years swing round, are living 
 
 things. 
 And men are dulled with toil; a ceaseless 
 
 strife 
 For bare existence straining every power. 
 The steady ice-wind harnessed helps to bring 
 Ice for the starveling crops a niggard soil 
 Brings forth; and many a curious device 
 Has been employed to help, and wrench the 
 
 land 
 To sunward from the burning, ravening 
 
 waste. 
 No cloud that world beholds, and earth's 
 
 glad rain — 
 
 7 6 
 
How eyes would start and hearts o'erflow 
 to bless 
 
 The Giver, were such marvel to occur! 
 
 Yet flowers are there: — myself have seen 
 a flower, 
 
 Choice nurtured by an ancient, withered 
 crone, 
 
 With powers unfit for toil, allowed the ex- 
 pense 
 
 For such pursuit; but growing wild as here, — 
 
 He sure were held a madman who would give 
 
 Time and an inch of soil for such a thing. 
 
 Still, men live on, nor often rail at fate, 
 
 Knowing naught else. Were such a world 
 as this 
 
 Portrayed to them, they could not compre- 
 hend 
 
 But quick would brand the tale an idle 
 dream." 
 
 Then as he spoke, a bluebird from the wood 
 
 Flashed for a moment. With a quickdrawn 
 "Oh!" 
 
 The spirit disappeared and left me lone. 
 
 And I lay gazing at the smiling sky. 
 
 77 
 
THE GREAT VOID 
 
 Said one last night: "'Tis thought that Mars 
 
 is dead; 
 A lifeless hulk, a burned-out, barren world!" 
 And suddenly there came across my soul 
 A dreary sense of lost companionship; 
 A weight of loneliness in the great void. 
 I felt the earth pursue her silent course 
 Amid swift gliding ghosts of comrade worlds, 
 That pass and repass in an endless round: 
 Poor passionate Venus, of the fiery days; 
 Mars of the whirling moons and tempered 
 
 sun, 
 And ripened intellectuality, 
 (As one may guess) each but a shrivelled 
 
 corpse; 
 And circling still as in the happier years, 
 A ghastly smile upon the wan dead face, 
 The moon, lorn wraith of earth's primeval 
 
 love. 
 Now age is stealing on, and creeping cold 
 Invades the vitals of our weary world, 
 Dulled by the ancient horror, as she turns 
 To warm her at the sun's slow cooling fires. 
 
 78 
 
NIGHT RAMBLINGS 
 
SONG OF EUPHARIA 
 
 The hollow crashing 
 Of dark waves dashing, 
 The night wind rushing over wilds and 
 waters 
 Make music glorious! 
 Through the tree-tops Boreas 
 Shrieks fierce and furious till each dead 
 trunk totters. 
 
 The loon's laugh, hear it! 
 Like the storm spirit 
 When rude blasts bear it. In a lull birds 
 twitter. 
 Storm-waked or dreaming, 
 Herons are screaming: 
 'Mid. black clouds looming a rift and starry 
 glitter. 
 
 With eye-balls glowing, 
 With white fangs showing, 
 Some fiend pursuing him, rushes a gaunt 
 wolf by me. 
 Amid leaves fluttering 
 Voices are muttering, 
 To the elf sprites' gathering up this hill I 
 hie me! 
 
 81 
 
THE NORTH TOWER 
 
 Last night, in some strange wilderness of 
 thought, 
 (Where dreams embodied wear the guise 
 of Fate,) 
 Again for my poor slain Ideal I fought, 
 I and the self I serve, yet serving hate. 
 
 Once more I slowly scaled the North Tower 
 stair; 
 (Whispered the ivy and the dim stars 
 shone), 
 When hard by a narrow window I was 
 ware 
 Of a shadowy form that stood like sculp- 
 tured stone. 
 
 Quickly I halted, held by ghostly fear: 
 (Out, bats, from the haunted place, in 
 hurried flight!) 
 
 Yet stood I firm, and presently drew near 
 To scan the figure in the uncertain light. 
 
 Suddenly in my soul the whole truth rang. 
 (Was 't she that told me in the night 
 wind's sigh?) 
 Knowledge brought action: at his throat 
 I sprang, 
 Resolved that one or both of us should die! 
 
 82 
 
In his vile, thieving hands my gems he bore: 
 (Ah, she the brightest gone, what boot 
 were they!) 
 Her hands had given them me, that never- 
 more 
 Might rise from the ebon couch where 
 now she lay. 
 
 And I had seen her in her winding-sheet, 
 (And I had kissed her ere the moon had 
 set.) 
 
 Now from the chapel, with reluctant feet 
 Turning, her murderer in his guilt I met. 
 
 "Fiend, thou hast slain her!" cried I, hot with 
 
 wrath, 
 
 (And she so cold, that lay in peace below!) 
 
 "I know thee, that for years hast crossed 
 
 my path, 
 
 To rob me of my best! Aye, now I know! 
 
 "Thou, whom I trusted; thou, whom I 
 deemed true!." 
 (Too late, sweet spirit, is my sight un- 
 sealed.) 
 "Blind, and thrice blind, that ne'er till now 
 I knew! — 
 Viper! prepare thy loathsome life to 
 yield!" 
 
 83 
 
Oft had she warned me, yet I would not hear: 
 (Pure one, that heav'nward drew'st all 
 thoughts with thee!) 
 
 My boon companion of the hunt why fear? 
 I, though I loved her, kept his company. 
 
 Fiercely we struggled: never word he spoke, 
 Till (cold, unsullied brow, blush not for 
 shame!) 
 The word that spurred me to the last fell 
 stroke, — 
 A foul aspersion on her maiden name. 
 
 I thought him dead when to my room I stole. 
 (Hark to the stag-hound's bay: the east 
 is red.) 
 A groan was't from the stair without? Peace, 
 soul: 
 What reck'st thou if he lives, when she is 
 dead? 
 
 O'er the low hills the morning steals apace, 
 
 (Is this the world I loved, so cold and 
 
 gray?) 
 
 To the wall, my glass: I would not see that 
 
 face, 
 
 So like to his whom I have sought to slay! 
 
 8 4 
 
THE SHORES OF SLEEP 
 
 Often while waiting on the shores of sleep 
 Sweet visions come to me with outstretched hand 
 And smile of welcome: from a far-off land 
 Draw fairy barks, swift coursing o'er the deep: 
 From out the waves blithe, laughing maidens leap, 
 And dancing intertwine. Or o'er the strand 
 Veiled forms approach, and write upon the sand, 
 While awe and dread upon my spirit creep. 
 Then rise the waters, and oblivion 
 Carries me seaward, slowly, lullingly; 
 While the great tide, coursing resistless on 
 Obliterates all traces e'er the dawn 
 Of rune or footprint; and there come to me 
 New-born, but gleams from the untroubled sea. 
 
 85 
 
THE NIGHT MOTH 
 
 The night moth, sailing with nor goal nor chart 
 The wastes of air, recks not impending doom, 
 Her silken sails wove on a fairy loom, 
 And broidered in soft colors, every part 
 Designed with strange, inimitable art. 
 The worm's fruition, these few hours, the bloom 
 Of growth which did a weary while consume. 
 What aimless waste of power! — Is it, dear heart? 
 Who knows what souls there be, what forms conceal? 
 So to come perfect forth, full-fledged at birth, 
 Yet a child's charm in new sensations feel, — 
 Were it not ecstasy, think'st thou, and worth 
 An ordinary life, so we might steal 
 Its ineradicable stamp from earth? 
 
 86 
 
THE GRAY DAWN 
 
 Between my prison bars the gray dawn steals; 
 I feel the breath of morning on my hair: 
 The birds' gay greeting startles the still air, 
 As toward another day the glad world wheels. 
 day that brings earth joy, my doom that deals, 
 The beauty of thy hills is past compare, 
 Where happy creatures flit, all free of care, 
 And of such burden as my breast conceals! 
 Hard is the world, that o'er its morning cup 
 My fate will read, with never twinge nor start; 
 Yawn and read on. Yet, soul, I would give thee up, 
 (What have I else?) if 'mongst the insensate throng 
 Were one more such! God, make hard her heart, 
 Like these cold stones, that feel not shame nor wrong! 
 
 87 
 
RHAPSODY 
 
 I have a tryst to keep! 
 Gently the poplars sway, 
 And hear'st thou not a voice along the shore? 
 I leave thee books and sleep: 
 Thou wilt not bid me stay! — 
 Wind, through the welcoming dark I come 
 once more! 
 
 Dear Wind, another kiss! 
 Enfold me in thy love! 
 Hast memory, comrade, of a night long past, 
 When on a shore like this, 
 Lone, save the stars above, 
 Thou foundest me, and I thy heart, at last? 
 
 In love aroused by thee 
 
 The ripples kissed the sand: 
 The leaves like lips atremble murmured low 
 Of night-brought mystery. 
 From lake to waiting land 
 Thou bor'st a gift of perfume, — long ago. 
 
 Ah, Wind, thus hast thou sued 
 Through ageless time, and gained 
 A legion loves beneath the moon and sun. 
 Thou prototype of mood, 
 Of fury unrestrained 
 And gentleness — I love thee, fickle one! 
 
 Here while the forest sleeps, 
 Life in a mask of death, 
 Give me thy message from the starry pole. 
 Out of the luminous deeps 
 Gomes with thy living breath 
 A touch from the world-spirit to my soul! 
 
 88 
 
BY GATHERING GLOOMS 
 
 The noise upon the street grows less: 
 The day's insistent cares retire: 
 Beside my hearth my one desire 
 
 I sadly to my soul confess. 
 
 The huddling shadows round me press, 
 And unaccustomed dread inspire: 
 The flickering demons of the fire 
 
 Seem mocking at my loneliness. 
 
 "Love like a flame must disappear! 
 This void a foretaste of thy lot, 
 
 Which weary years will bring," they jeer: 
 "She spurns thy love: she loves thee not!" 
 
 And through my soul it echoes drear: 
 "She has forgot! She has forgot!" 
 
 89 
 
TO A GHOST 
 
 What is this strange, unreasonable dread 
 
 Roused by unearthly sounds at noon of night: 
 
 Why should a stalwart soul be chilled with fright 
 
 At the light footfall of the unbodied dead? 
 
 Is it an instinct that the race has led 
 
 To flee from danger, as a fowl seeks flight 
 
 When the hawk looms, lest the wan phantom might 
 
 Usurp the form we have inherited? 
 
 But thou that in thy life-time held'st me dear 
 
 Hast not so changed that thou would'st drive away 
 
 My soul, even to escape thy wanderings drear 
 
 Among the tombs, fleeing the light of day. 
 
 If it may comfort thee, poor ghost, draw near: 
 
 My spirit shrinks not, but the ancestral clay! 
 
 9° 
 
NIGHT VISION 
 
 All day, like children shut within a room, 
 
 We've played beneath our tent, the arching sky; 
 
 Performed our tasks beneath the Father's eye, 
 
 Unknowing why we did them or for whom. 
 
 But now the earth swings round into the gloom; 
 
 The canopy is furled, and we descry 
 
 The boundless plains of space wherein we lie, 
 
 Which distant watch-fires flickeringly illume. 
 
 So our soul's vision, blinded now, perchance, 
 
 By life's too great intensity, may be 
 
 Enlarged when life has faded, and the expanse 
 
 Which lies around us hid, clears to the view 
 
 Through that grim, dreaded dark; and we shall see 
 
 What place we occupied, and never knew. 
 
 9i 
 
THE WIZARD'S SON 
 
 The torch laps greedily, the wood is piled; 
 And for the wickedness I wrought, 
 though blindly, 
 I bide my doom, convicted, reconciled, 
 Beside my mirror; yea, and thank you 
 kindly 
 That it burns with me; and for this my lute, 
 That once more it shall sound ere it be mute. 
 
 No blasphemy shall my poor story hold. 
 
 Though Satan's maid had her dominion 
 o'er me, 
 I would entice no sheep from the Lord's fold, 
 
 His holy tabernacle here before me. 
 My grievous sinning I would but confess, 
 And paint a warning in my wickedness. 
 
 My father, much I fear, his soul had sold 
 
 To fathom mysteries forbid a mortal: 
 We all were certain that he made red gold, 
 And me he left this mirror, elf-land's 
 portal! 
 But many a year lay hid its mystic power, 
 Till All Saints' Eve, once, at the witching 
 hour. 
 
 Established in my father's room at home, 
 I gazed without: black was the night and 
 dreary; 
 I had been brooding o'er a mighty tome, 
 Full of strange spells and of enchantments 
 eerie. 
 
 92 
 
The mirror pictured somberly the room, 
 With but the forge-fire lighting up the gloom. 
 
 Wide-eyed I listened: mutterings dark and 
 dire 
 In the wind's wailing seemed to threat 
 and flout me; 
 For that I'd read that book and lit the fire, 
 
 With all my father's instruments about me. 
 Sudden I turned me from the night and 
 
 storm: 
 Within the mirror moved an unknown form! 
 
 Awe-thrilled I saw a maiden enter there: 
 Down by the mirrored fire she quickly 
 sat her 
 In the twin image of my easy-chair, 
 
 Though never a shadow occupied the 
 latter. 
 Her beauty — ah! it filled my sinful heart, 
 For never did I dream 'twas Satan's art. 
 
 Silent I hid me in the curtain's fold, 
 
 Tet hoping, tremulous, that she might 
 spy me; 
 But re very-rapt she sat till the bell tolled; 
 Then in the mirror seemed to glide close 
 by me. 
 I hurried to the glass. She'd gone! Still 
 
 swung 
 The cord that by the outer portal hung. 
 
 93 
 
It swung and stopped, but ever my heart 
 thrilled on, 
 And still I waited for her glad returning: 
 The slow weeks passed, till a full year had 
 gone, 
 With ne'er a token to assuage my yearning. 
 My duties lapsed, and oft I stayed from mass; 
 Which doubtless proves she was the devil's 
 lass. 
 
 But all Saints' Eve and the hushed noon of 
 
 night 
 Out of the darkness brought a new 
 
 assurance: 
 She came, in a very halo of delight. 
 
 Thoughts of her going pricked me past 
 
 endurance: 
 And to the glass I strode: — my hand went 
 
 through: 
 Naught but thin air there was between us 
 
 two! 
 
 Awe stopped me, and I stood a moment: then 
 Stepped through the mirror, for I dared 
 not dally. — 
 The room had vanished, with the world of 
 men, 
 And we two were alone in a green valley. 
 I saw no mirror when I turned my head, 
 Only a cave's mouth looming black instead. 
 
 94 
 
There sat my lady on a mossy stone: 
 
 The noon sun poured a golden radiance 
 o'er her: 
 She turned not round, but spoke in silvery 
 tone, 
 Gazing half shyly at a brook before her. 
 Sweeter her words were than cathedral song: 
 "0 dearest love," she said, "I have waited 
 long!" 
 
 Like lovers, hand in hand we wandered free; 
 Yet she was mistress, and I served her 
 pleasure: 
 Difficult were the tasks she set for me, 
 
 But truth she paid them with a brimming 
 measure. 
 A measure of meed, ah me! a brimming bliss, 
 For which a thousand times I would suffer 
 this! 
 
 And many a day those devious paths we trod, 
 While my whole soul seemed raised to 
 a loftier level, 
 
 And rendered in its ignorance thanks to God; 
 For little did I deem her of the devil! 
 
 Yea, till this very hour I should not know, 
 
 Had not his reverence plainly told us so. 
 
 We strayed through groves and meads of 
 fairest flowers, 
 And ate of honeyed fruits from fields 
 elysian: 
 
 95 
 
Bliss of a life-time in a few short hours 
 
 Was mine, in many a fleeting, fairy vision, 
 Odor of asphodel and joy of song. 
 How could I ever dream her heart was wrong! 
 
 Do you remember songs that I have sung, — 
 Some air so sweet that in the ear it lingers? 
 
 All, all were hers, caught by my feeble tongue, 
 And taught me by her dancing, dimpled 
 fingers. 
 
 Did a suspicion cross my heart or yours 
 
 Of Satan, master of a thousand lures? 
 
 For she was gentle, kind to high and low, 
 And had for children sweets and tales 
 unfailing. 
 'Tis true she frowned not on the church's foe: 
 
 Him too her magic cured if he were ailing. 
 One day the bishop's maid she healed with it, 
 Who had been scourged for doubting Holy 
 Writ. 
 
 Merry she was, her laughter silvery sweet; 
 
 Her smile all coy, yet maidenly inviting. — 
 Answering questions, I would here repeat 
 
 That never was I asked to sign a writing. 
 But as the reverend bishop says, this shows 
 The deeper cunning, and he surely knows. 
 
 9 6 
 
Thenceforth the mirror's gate I passed at 
 will, 
 If but the stars were bright at the night's 
 summit; 
 Though oft I stepped out on a rocky hill 
 
 Into a desert world, my maid gone from it. 
 A memorable once to me she came, 
 And woke me by the murmur of my name! 
 
 But I repent me of each evil deed, 
 
 That thus with Satan's chain I rashly 
 bound me: 
 Thrice cautioned by the priest, I gave no 
 heed, 
 Her magic coils wound round and still 
 around me. 
 Blind as I was, and blind as I am; undone 
 By the foul cunning of the Evil One! 
 
 Gome, light your faggots! Well are they 
 
 deserved. 
 I loved this witch-maid; yet ye shall 
 
 discover 
 I take the doom I merit not unnerved! 
 I loved her, — God forgive me! — still 
 
 would love her! 
 Her voice, her smile my soul would still 
 
 entice: 
 She seemed an angel out of Paradise! 
 
 97 
 
NORNA 
 
 Those souls whose blind decision 
 Rejects the higher vision, 
 Souls in whom not as yet, through fault or 
 fate, the spirit thrives, 
 Furthered by pa n still wander 
 Toward the same goal out yonder, 
 But deeper in shadows and perchance through 
 
 tenfold lives. 
 Oh, foolish ones, to barter wings for gyves! 
 
 The sun was on the clover 
 
 And morning mass just over 
 As I wandered home with Angela through 
 fields aglow with June. 
 
 Her calm, supernal beauty 
 
 Made me in love with duty: 
 The commonplace was glorified, all life atune. 
 Ah, why is bliss so frail beneath the moon! 
 
 Regretful winds were sighing 
 And night-clouds wildly flying 
 When I rode to meet dark Noma of the saucy, 
 hazel eyes. 
 And the clouds grew black and larger 
 As I urged my willing charger, 
 Remembering her laughter and her low 
 
 replies; 
 Her sweet, low laughter, blent with little 
 sighs. 
 
 9 8 
 
My heart could not forget her! 
 By the trysting tree I met her, 
 And we wandered near the haunted river in 
 the whispering night. 
 Unseeing I felt the burning 
 Of her eyes: her lips upturning 
 Met mine, and made me drunken with 
 
 a fierce delight; 
 Bewitched all senses but my cheated sight. 
 
 Swift hours flow by unheeded 
 
 When lovers meet as we did, 
 Lit by the gleams from their own eyes, the 
 stern stars overcast. 
 
 We'd left the chiding river, 
 
 When I heard, with inward quiver, 
 Low voices near us in the forest as we passed. 
 Was it? Or but the muttering of the blast? 
 
 The rising tempest found us 
 When the rocks closed in around us: 
 We seemed its fiery nucleus: at us its wrath 
 was hurled. 
 The lightning's flashes blended 
 And fierce the rain descended. 
 What ho! I seek a shelter from a drowning 
 
 world; 
 A nitch for Noma, where the storm is furled! 
 
 99 
 
The thunder rolled unceasing 
 And the deluge was increasing, 
 Amid the crash of stricken trees. I glanced 
 at Noma's face. 
 No fear had she! She reveled 
 In the storm: with hair disheveled 
 And wind-blown cloak, she seemed a sprite 
 
 of some elfin race; 
 No mortal, but a weird of that wild place! 
 
 In glee her lips were parted, 
 When I touched her arm, — and started. 
 "Why Noma, are you witch indeed? Your 
 very cloak is dry!" 
 What thought lights up her features? 
 She speaks to two odd creatures 
 Approached in an interval of dark, and 
 
 going by; 
 Strange, uncouth words, and gruesome: I 
 know not why. 
 
 These seem a man and woman, 
 But sure they are not human! 
 See how the haggard faces leer! They've 
 wickedness in mind! 
 Immediately after 
 Their shrill, unearthly laughter 
 Congeals my blood, in spite of reason, dumb 
 
 and blind! 
 Black is the lightning's lapse, with those 
 behind! 
 
 ioo 
 
"Noma, am I a dreamer?" 
 I ask, with sudden tremor; 
 ''Shall all these blissful, baleful fancies 
 vanish with the day? — 
 See now, they follow, follow, 
 Their staring eyes all hollow, 
 And hungry as the tomb. Now tell me, who 
 
 are they? 
 How is't you know these shapes that cross 
 our way? 
 
 "See, everywhere they linger. 
 Look! Look!" My trembling finger 
 Points to a dark form here and there, 
 crouched like an evil bird. 
 But Noma taps my shoulder, 
 And we seat us on a boulder, 
 While on her lips there is a smile, but not 
 
 a word. 
 Nearer the crackling of the brush is heard! 
 
 The tempest had subsided, 
 And at times the calm moon glided 
 Between the clouds. The eldritch shapes 
 drew nearer and more near. 
 Of a sudden they rushed around me 
 With a shriek, and caught and bound me, 
 Though I fought with desperation and a 
 
 mortal fear, 
 And shouted, vainly, far from human ear! 
 
 IOI 
 
By hand and foot they tie me 
 Flat on the rock, and eye me 
 With a horrid light in dull, dead eyes, all 
 greedy for my life! 
 But heaven steals my senses 
 Ere the grim feast commences, 
 For I swoon when from her bosom Noma 
 
 draws a knife! 
 Noma, near thy heart, with murder rife! 
 
 * * * * 
 Is't I, so weary, weary? 
 Where are those creatures eerie? 
 Lightly my withes I loosened when I woke 
 in the chill dawn. 
 My clothes are old and tattered, 
 And with my blood are spattered, 
 Above my wounded breast, and all my 
 
 strength is gone! 
 Liefer were death than this, all strength 
 withdrawn! 
 
 My steed is at his tether, 
 Safe kept in the June weather. 
 'Tis only I have seen the flight of years in 
 a single night! 
 See, Noma's hand waves mocking 
 As I pass her, feebly rocking 
 Upon my weary saddle, home-bound in 
 
 sorry plight. 
 She laughs at lovers stricken by her blight! 
 
 102 
 
The sun is on the clover, 
 But the summer, passing over, 
 Gives back the vigor charily which laughing 
 Noma stole. 
 Pure Angela's existence 
 I touch but at a distance; 
 Fearing my pallid cheek betray a sickly soul; 
 Fearing her scorn if she should guess the 
 whole ! 
 
 103 
 
SUNNY MEADS 
 
MOONSHINE 
 
 In spectral blue and in ghostly white, 
 By the feeble beams of a crescent moon, 
 
 In the forest depths of a summer night 
 Dance half-seen forms to a half-heard tune. 
 
 Scarcely the leaves by the breeze are stirred; 
 
 Slowly the mists from the marsh-grass rise. 
 In the boughs there's the chirp of a drowsy 
 bird; 
 
 In the thicket the gleaming of fairy eyes! 
 
 Under the shadow of elm and oak 
 
 Two wanderers passed ere the moon had 
 set; 
 One saw no sign of the fairy folk, 
 
 And the other one saw — what he'll ne'er 
 forget! 
 
 107 
 
HURO'S SONG 
 
 Like the mirage, enticing 
 
 Across the burning plain, 
 Like the rainbow rising 
 After days of rain 
 Is she I love, whose image my heart doth 
 
 bear, 
 So unattainable is she, so fair! 
 
 Like the starry glimmer 
 
 Of a summer night, 
 Like the snowy shimmer 
 On some mountain height 
 Are her soul's beauties, e'en as her features 
 
 are, 
 So pure, so fair, but ah, from me so far! 
 
 108 
 
LOVE SONG 
 
 A peace celestial broods over lake and 
 woods 
 As the long shadows mark the day's 
 declining: 
 From depths below, above, all earth breathes 
 love, my love, 
 And bids me woo thee, all my heart 
 divining. 
 
 "Love her!" the rushes sigh as the boat 
 slips by: 
 So call the keen-eyed birds that o'er us 
 hover. 
 "Will this peace last for her if I my love 
 aver?" 
 Softly the south wind answers, "Love 
 her! Love her!" 
 
 Under the fostering rays of this day of days 
 All love might blossom as the lilies 
 yonder. 
 Woo her, sky and lake! Love in her 
 heart awake, 
 My love to prove when through dark 
 ways we wander. 
 
 In a resplendent glow now the sun sinks 
 low, 
 A lavish golden flood o'er all outpouring. 
 Love, in thy dear eyes, ere the daylight 
 dies, 
 Let me read yielding to my fond imploring! 
 
 109 
 
THE GROUNDS OF THE GRIND 
 
 A woman set a darnin' wunst on her hus- 
 band's Sunday socks, 
 And her tabby laid and watched her, perched 
 
 on a lofty box. 
 Sh'she, a speakin' to herself: "It's most 
 
 a quarter to: 
 I must be gettin' supper, or there'll be a 
 
 how-de-do. 
 And thisher mendin's not half through, and 
 
 lots o' ironin' yet 
 To do, and when the plates is washed and 
 
 that I'll have to set 
 Up half the night to finish this. Tomorrow 
 
 I must bake, 
 And do a heap. Tomorrow's full enough, 
 
 for pity's sake! 
 With all this fret and worry" sh'she, "I hope 
 
 I'll be forgiven 
 'F I say that I can't fairly see how life is 
 
 wuth the livin'!" 
 And she kind o' leaned back, weary like, and 
 
 sort o' closed her eyes; 
 When a voice beside her made her jump 
 
 and start up with surprise. 
 Said the fat, yellow cat: "What makes you 
 
 slave like that?" 
 She turned around and eyed him, and she 
 
 says: "I guess you'd see 
 
 I 10 
 
If you'd meals to get, and mendin', and no 
 
 end o' work, like me. 
 If I could loaf around like you, and get along 
 
 without 
 So many sorts o' victuals fixed just so, and 
 
 go about 
 In plain clo'es; if they wa'n't no stoves, no 
 
 starch, nor flats, nor a heap 
 0' dishes and of furniture, and things to dust 
 
 and sweep" — 
 Said the fat, yellow cat: "It's entertaining, 
 
 that, 
 For man, the king, is suffering, a slave to 
 
 things: that's pat!" 
 "Well, I should like it mighty well," sh'she, 
 
 "if I could lie 
 And sun myself and let things go awhile 
 
 afore I die. 
 But that's a lazy feelin', and I'd ought to be 
 
 ashamed; 
 And I better keep it to myself, or get most 
 
 tumble blamed. 
 It ain't improvin' to the mind to loaf round 
 
 in the sun: 
 I'd better go on slavin', if it ain't a deal o' 
 
 fun." 
 Said the cat, kind o' flat: "Is your mind 
 
 improved by that? 
 Are your morals any better for a feather in 
 
 your hat? 
 Is your intelleck less slow 'cause you eat your 
 
 food just so? 
 
 m 
 
Are you much less of a sinner for three 
 
 courses at your dinner? 
 Since we chat," said the cat, "would you 
 
 kindly prove me that?" 
 And then he yawned and squinted at her, 
 
 kind o' sleepy-eyed, 
 And how she'd better answer him she 
 
 couldn't quite decide. 
 And she went to sleep while ponderin' on 
 
 this weighty theme she set, 
 When her husband he comes in and says: 
 
 "Ain't supper ready yet?" 
 
 112 
 
MY LADY'S EYES 
 
 There are two windows o'er the way, 
 Each with a half-closed blind: 
 
 My lady, sunny as the day, 
 Peers blithely from behind. 
 
 Often my roving glance she's met: 
 She knows (for the world may see) 
 
 How humble is my lot; and yet 
 She sometimes smiles at me. 
 
 Little she guesses that I keep, 
 
 Locked in an inner room, 
 Her portrait, from all eyes hid deep: 
 
 Ah, that I dare presume! 
 
 If I should bring it to her sight 
 Would those fringed curtains rise 
 
 And let a scornful angry light 
 Break from my lady's eyes? 
 
 JI 3 
 
AS WINGS THE BEE 
 
 As wings the yellow bee her beat 
 
 Where harebell nods and sunbeam dances 
 
 So day by day I seek my sweet, 
 
 For honeyed smiles and mocking glances; 
 
 And home my burden bear of bliss 
 Through dewy eve and fields elysian, 
 
 And seem to skim the earth with this 
 My treasure, hid from mortal vision. 
 
 south wind, toying with her hair, 
 
 robin, warbling in the arbor, 
 Spread not my secret to the air: 
 
 A sweet discretion pray you harbor, 
 
 While in her bower I seek my sweet, 
 For loving look and playful sally, 
 
 As wings the yellow bee her beat 
 Through shadowy copse and flowery valley. 
 
 114 
 
OLD ACQUAINTANCE 
 
 I saw just now upon the street 
 
 Amid the passing stream 
 A face seraphically sweet, 
 
 With eyes from the land of dream. 
 An old familiar look she wore, 
 Whom yet I never saw before. 
 
 I never saw, I said? No no, 
 
 We met the other day — 
 An eon more or less ago — 
 
 Upon the milky way. 
 Then she'd a star upon her brow; 
 Methought I caught its radiance now! 
 
 US 
 
LITTLE WILD ROSE 
 
 The little white rabbit lies snug in his bed 
 
 Away from the frosts and snows: 
 The trees are all sleeping till winter be fled, 
 And fast asleep 'neath her downy spread 
 Is the little wild rose. 
 
 The fields lie white in the silvery moon: 
 
 A star on the hilltop glows. 
 The winds of winter a sleep-song croon; 
 But winter will vanish and spring come soon 
 
 For the little wild rose. 
 
 Sleep, sleep, my darling: grow strong and 
 true 
 In the love that about thee flows. 
 Thou shalt wake, and drink of the sun and 
 
 the dew, 
 And give of thy gladness to all anew, 
 My little wild rose! 
 
 116 
 
AT THREE MONTHS 
 
 There are bright things that glitter and 
 glance, 
 
 And dull ones I like but ill: 
 There are things that wiggle and dance, 
 
 And things that are always still. 
 
 I gaze and I gaze, at will, 
 But no pleasure like this can arise, 
 
 As I lie and take my fill, 
 And gaze in my mother's eyes! 
 
 What wonderful things befall! 
 
 What visions rise and sink! 
 Can I touch that bright spot on the wall 
 
 With my finger, do you think? 
 
 I can scarcely take time to wink 
 Lest something new might arise; 
 
 But I do love to lie here and drink, 
 And gaze in my mother's eyes! 
 
 The things that the big folk do 
 
 Are funny enough, say I: 
 One has to gurgle and coo, 
 
 When they twist their faces awry. 
 
 My mother's my source of supply. 
 How good she is, and how wise! 
 
 I drink it all in as I lie 
 And gaze up into her eyes! 
 
 117 
 
A TOAST TO JOY 
 
 Our care to the air we fling 
 And a bumper to joy we drain! 
 
 Misfortune, like snow in the spring, 
 May bury the sprouting grain; 
 
 And life may be chill, and hope seem dead, 
 
 But soon it is certain to raise its head. 
 And it's good for your soul, you know: 
 There is nothing for crops like snow! 
 
 J°y> j°y> 3°y 1S tne primitive, protean stuff 
 Of the world and the stars and the angels' 
 wings; 
 
 And here's to the man that is wise enough 
 To gather it in as he works and sings, 
 (The joy that fills up the chinks of things!) 
 
 Undaunted by Fortune's bluff! 
 
 man is a groveling mole, 
 
 That skulks in his burrow from birth: 
 He treasures the thought of a soul, 
 
 But he loves the smell of the earth. 
 Though flowers are bright, and sunny the 
 
 skies, 
 It's seldom he ventures to raise his eyes. 
 
 He's practical, there is the rub! 
 
 He's nosing around for a grub! 
 And it's joy, joy, joy, etc. 
 
 118 
 
Old Care is a merry buffoon, 
 
 Whose favorite butt is man. 
 He plays him a doleful tune, 
 
 And gets him to dance if he can. 
 "One would think that the birds would 
 
 remain unfed 
 And the world stop short if he bowed his 
 head, 
 Such airs has the midget," says he: 
 "He's legitimate prey for me!" 
 But it's joy, joy, joy, etc. 
 
 119 
 
inUf •;$% 
 
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 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 
 
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