(1;iss /^S?>S~0^ 
 
 Book ■ (V?.^ H Z 
 Coimolil \" if^ 
 
 6 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Tr"*") 
 
 or 
 
 by 
 STANLY COGHILL 
 
 ^ 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 a. iW. 3aol)ert£(on 
 
 M CM VI 
 
LiBRAKYotCONQlRESS 
 Two CtpJcs Rwflvod 
 
 HOV 24 1906 
 
 CLASS A XX<., N«. 
 
 oori K ■ 
 
 
 Copyright applied for 
 
 Printed by 
 San Francisco 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 PREFACE . 
 
 POEMS OF HATHOR 
 
 A Memory 5 
 
 Quatrain 6 
 
 Hathor 7 
 
 Love 9 
 
 Hathor 10 
 
 A Fragment 12 
 
 Love 13 
 
 Amor Resurrexit 14 
 
 A Song from Nilus Banks 15 
 
 Quatrain 17 
 
 Sunset 18 
 
 At Parting 19 
 
 Absence 21 
 
 To Him ...... .22 
 
 Ghosts . 23 
 
 As the Dead Love 24 
 
 Gods Who Fashioned Me ... 25 
 
 Morning in Alaska 27 
 
 The Song of the Purple Sea .28 
 
 To a Skull 30 
 
 Thoughts of a Skull .... 31 
 
 The Realm of Memory .... 34 
 
 Song 35 
 
SIMON MAGUS 39 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 To Edwin Markham .... 47 
 
 To C. L. G 48 
 
 To S. L. H 49 
 
 To Miss Pauline Fore .... 50 
 
 Alma Mater 51 
 
 To the Graduates of the Class of 1900 52 
 
 "Great is Diana of the Ephesians" 54 
 
 The Priest of Saturn 55 
 
 The Mystic 57 
 The Birth of Christ . .61 
 
 Recompense ...... 62 
 
 Murzapur ^. . .65 
 
 Mazatlan 67 
 
 The Farewell of the Old Year . 68 
 
O make this book of Hathor a 
 human life was lavished. For 
 these pages contain the chief ac- 
 complishment and expression of 
 the few mortal years lent a rarely 
 poetic spirit. To those whose 
 burden is now one of memory of 
 a perfect friendship, these poems 
 are become the overtone of a strangely beautiful 
 soul that was always seeking for a half-remem- 
 bered and perhaps, in this world at least, un- 
 attainable glory. Ancient Egypt, with her eternal 
 magic of years and unspeakable glory of the 
 Hathor, was the inspiration and land of heart's 
 desire, as the name of her great love-goddess was 
 often the title, to these poems. Therefore the 
 book is called Hathor. The story of a life is told 
 in the poems of Hathor. Added to these are cer- 
 tain other poems which were less intimately 
 related to the beauty of the Hathor. No man 
 need be told who Hathor is. 
 
 Acknowledgment is made to the Overland 
 Monthly, the Oakland Enquirer and the Univer- 
 sity of California Magazine for their kind per- 
 mission to reprint several of the poems. 
 
 February, 1906. 
 
 B. K. 
 
POEMS OF HATHOR 
 
The temple of the ancient faith I sought 
 That splendored all the morning of my soul. 
 I saw an owl light on a fallen god; ^ 
 
 I heard the wolf howl from the distant wood. 
 
A MEMORY 
 
 HOUGH Lethe holds its dead 
 
 forevermore 
 And iron bands are weaker than 
 
 the grave, 
 Yet from the cold and silent 
 
 brooding wave 
 That laps the tearful and the 
 moanless shore, 
 I hear the echo of an ancient song 
 And catch a fleeting vision of her eyes. 
 Perchance it was a star within the skies, 
 Perchance that melody of Love and Wrong 
 Was but the night-wind crying from the sea. 
 Yet in my heart reverberating still 
 It wakes the sleeping hounds of Memory: 
 Through forest wild and over dune and hill 
 The huntsman seeks for what can never be. 
 
 [Page 5 
 
QUATRAIN 
 
 A burst of song melodious and wild; 
 
 A rush of angels through the waiting air; 
 
 A flash of light breaking the growing dark; 
 
 And then a death like calm, and then Thy face. 
 
 [Page 6 
 
HATHOR 
 
 ROM what far gulf of Time hath 
 she arisen 
 
 To haunt me with her spirit 
 beauty now? 
 
 How hath she crossed the fath- 
 omless abysm, 
 
 The olden glory on her face and 
 brow? 
 
 Does she yet know how I did once adore her 
 In that far land where the old river flows? . 
 Remembers she how there I knelt before her 
 And crowned her with the lotus and the rose? 
 
 The rose the symbol of her deathless beauty, 
 The lotus of her fateful spells the sign. 
 Of charms that lured us from the paths of duty, 
 Of love that poured forth blood as free as wine? 
 
 Remembers she the temple by the river. 
 
 The line of white-robed priests that by her passed, 
 
 The deathless adoration we did give her, 
 
 The longing looks of love toward her cast? 
 
 [Page 7 
 
And sees she one upon the pylon kneeling, 
 Watching the white moon sweep across the sky? 
 Hears she the wild and agonized appealing, 
 The prayers to look upon her face and die? 
 
 Hears she the murmur of the ancient river, 
 A flowing, crooning thro' the Nilus reeds, 
 And wonders she if he can yet forgive her 
 Who slew his people and his ancient creeds? 
 
 Regrets she e'er the olden love still flies us. 
 And new Gods rule us in the old Gods' stead? 
 Hates she the grim Time Spirit who defies us, 
 And sweeps away the memory of the dead? 
 
 [Page 8 
 
LOVE 
 
 MEASURED Love and Hate as 
 
 equal powers 
 But now I know that Love is all 
 
 supreme. 
 It is the one fulfilment of the 
 
 dream 
 In silence dreamed throughout 
 the aeon hours 
 Before with light He touched the formless void, 
 And willed the stars and worlds and whirl-wind 
 
 rush 
 Of suns and planets, and the thundering 
 Of ocean waves, and the soul stilling hush 
 And quiet on the mountain tops and plain; 
 And music-laden Day by Night destroyed. 
 As Joy by Sorrow, and the pulsing ring 
 Of morning song that welcomes Day again. 
 
 [Page 9 
 
HATHOR^ 
 
 O THE Lady Hathor greeting, 
 Greeting, Lady, Time is fleeting. 
 Time is fleeting from the endless 
 To the endless, swiftly fleeting. 
 
 Time is fleeting. Love immortal. 
 
 Love weaves garlands on the 
 portal, 
 On the portal of Life's dwelling. 
 On the cypress shaded portal. 
 
 And the garlands, cypress stranded — 
 Have the kindly Fates commanded 
 That the cypress in the garlands 
 Lend them beauty, cypress stranded? 
 
 Argive Helen is departed. 
 And the heroes, faintly hearted. 
 Stumble, falter thro' the darkness. 
 Stumble, falter, faintly hearted. 
 
 ^Written in collaboration with D. Alexander Gor- 
 denker. 
 
 [Page 10 
 
And tho' doubting, fearing, yearning. 
 Peace deserted, passion burning, 
 From the portal to the portal 
 Haste they on, the Passion-burning. 
 
 And they seek the sacred altar. 
 Seek and stumble, fall and falter. 
 Call on Hathor, Aphrodite. 
 Cold the ashes on her altar! 
 
 Dead is Hathor, Aphrodite. 
 And the heroes, battle mighty. 
 Seek her ever in the Silence, 
 Seek the Hathor, Aphrodite! 
 
 'Neath the -waning moon, cloud trailing. 
 Hark! The night wind's plaintive wailing! 
 Bears it echoes from the distance? 
 Mourn the ghosts the* Hathor, wailing? 
 
 Ah, do Love and Time contending 
 Mock us in the Never Ending? 
 In the dimness of the Silence 
 Mock us in the Never Ending? 
 
 [Page 11 
 
A FRAGMENT 
 
 HERE came a Vision of Eternity. 
 A wind blew from the north, and 
 
 all was chill 
 With fear of silence and the still 
 
 of things: 
 And Time moved slow as over 
 
 Arctic snows, 
 Then ceased the travail of his 
 endless age 
 And lay entombed in rich sarcophagus 
 Of Genii-chiseled ice and snowy pall. 
 And there, alone beside the silent tomb 
 Of aeon-burdened Time, beyond all space, 
 My spirit waited. 
 
 Then a mystic light 
 From out the empty voids of nothingness 
 Cast a cold splendor like the dead moon world. 
 
 There I saw thee stand. 
 
 Thou goddess dream, triumphant o'er thy dead, 
 The old smile dreaming on thy silent lips, 
 Thy voiceless silence sweeter than all sound 
 Of speech or rhythm of revolving worlds. 
 Thy calm eyes fixed beyond the guess of God 
 On thine own secret. 
 
 [Page 12 
 
LOVE 
 
 HEY called him God, but well I 
 knew him Demon. 
 Alone and in the silent hours of 
 
 night 
 Waged I, a mortal, war against 
 
 his might 
 To free my soul that she be not 
 his leman. 
 And at the dawn, black winged against the sky, 
 I saw him fade, if fiend yet hierarchy 
 A cloud, a mist, slow in the western dark. 
 And then I sank to wake and know thee nigh. 
 
 [Page 13 
 
AMOR RESURREXIT 
 
 THOUGHT Him dead, but o'er 
 
 the Sea of Sleep 
 There came the rushing of a 
 
 mighty wind, 
 And in my heart the tomb be- 
 trayed its trust. 
 Is there no rest or safety I can 
 find? . 
 
 He buried lay — the grave was dark and deep. 
 I raised a temple o'er His mouldering dust 
 And chanted requiems to His ancient runes; 
 But Asur opened wide the Gates of Hell, 
 And as I hummed the half forgotten tunes 
 His glory burst upon me and I fell. 
 
 [Page 14 
 
A SONG FROM NILUS BANKS 
 
 HISPERS the Horus to the 
 
 Hathor sighing, 
 The tale that brings the blushes 
 
 to the dawn, 
 That mystery of love that time 
 
 defying 
 Crimsons the heavens at each 
 
 successive morn. 
 
 He rises — let the heart be bowed before Him! 
 He rises, Horus of the Eastern sky. 
 Now let the Gods and sons of men adore him, 
 Low bow ye as his sacred bark goes by! 
 
 Here from the temples by His ancient river 
 Rises the swelling sound of morning song. 
 The adoration of the great Light Giver, 
 The Lord of Life, the Conqueror of Wrong. 
 
 But in Amenti where as the Osiris 
 He reigns, ah, there are hymns we cannot hear! 
 In dreams alone the passion song of Isis 
 Breaks with the sistrum music on the ear. 
 
 [Page 15 
 
And there it is the ghosts o£ the departed 
 Worship the Hathor to the runes of old. 
 There they have found, the heroes mighty hearted, 
 The ancient secret that the aeons hold. 
 
 Ah, could I learn that old mysterious story 
 And teach it to her in a modern song, 
 Would she not then unveil to me her glory ' 
 And love's great rhythm lose the notes of wrong? 
 
 [Page 16 
 
QUATRAIN 
 
 My heaven thou hast been and thou my hell, 
 An angel once and then a fiend — ah well! 
 But now the highest honor in the end 
 I pray thee take, the sacred name of friend. 
 
 [Page 17 
 
SUNSET 
 
 HE mystic yellow tinting in the 
 
 sky, 
 That pond of fiery, glowing, neb- 
 ulous, 
 Love-weary sunlight dying in the 
 
 west; 
 Ah, Love, if thou must perish it 
 were best. 
 Forgetting all my sorrow's over plus, 
 I say a last grief-sanctified "Goodbye." 
 Then sink with glories that thy reign yet mark. 
 Sink beauty-faint into the swelling dark, 
 Thy Lethe and thy rest. 
 
 [Page 18 
 
AT PARTING 
 
 CYPRESS-SHADED memory of 
 
 the past, 
 Yew-shrouded and suffused with 
 
 mist of tears, 
 Is Hfe to me, and all the coming 
 
 years 
 Turn backward, groping for the 
 
 overcast 
 Dead Faith in thee; and tho* the Reason spurn. 
 Yet still will Love triumphant claim his due. 
 And all the worlds seem but a throne for you. 
 The earth is but an altar-stone where burn 
 The fires I lit to lost and perished creeds 
 Of thee; thro' night's dim waste of Joy in Pain 
 You come to me a crowned Queen again. 
 And then the Sun, malignant, eastward speeds 
 And daylight with its mocking memory 
 The arid stretch of Time makes desolate. 
 Too brief is life that I should consecrate 
 New Goddesses and Faiths in place of thee: 
 And even Eternity that Time survives 
 Is all too weak that it should conquer this, 
 The memory of that despairing kiss 
 Pressed on thy lips at parting of our lives. 
 
 [Page 19 
 
So must I live, sadder than throneless king, 
 A priest of perished creeds and fallen shrines. 
 Muttering prayers disjointed, — broken lines 
 Of the full song that I must never sing. 
 
 I Page 20 
 
ABSENCE 
 
 HERE is no light since thou art 
 gone, 
 But all is chill and drear; 
 There is no breaking of the 
 morn, 
 No sunshine on the mere. 
 
 The silent elms a vigil keep. 
 
 The waters mourn above 
 The place where some fond memories sleep 
 
 Of unforgotten love. 
 
 [Page 21 
 
TO HIM 
 
 
 >> /^^yi 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 «^^^^HHr^ 
 
 HOU hast won to thee the glory 
 of the ages, 
 Odysseus come again! 
 Thou hast blotted out the fairest 
 of Life's pages 
 And left me nought but pain: 
 I shall see thee lead her to the 
 altar ; 
 My courage shall not fail, 
 Bearing proud and step that will not falter, 
 
 And face that will not pale. 
 For I look beyond the ending of this battle; 
 
 Mine is the coming war; 
 Thy knowledge is the Grecian's childish prattle, 
 
 But mine a deeper lore. 
 War between us twain can ne'er be equal, 
 
 The dead Gods fight for me. 
 Thine is the present drama, mine the sequel. 
 My time. Eternity. 
 
 Page 22 
 
GHOSTS 
 
 OT clad in white, nor bound with 
 clanking chain 
 At midnight in some haunted 
 
 room they glide; 
 For it were easy then to mount 
 
 and ride 
 Far from the cursed spot, and 
 leave them reign 
 With bat and owl, to point at ghastly stain 
 Of murder done, or stalk in gloomy pride 
 Thro' castles by some lonely river side — 
 'Twere easy then to leave them to their pain. 
 
 But by the light of day and dark of night 
 They haunt the prison chambers of the mind. 
 The clanking chains of good immured from sight, 
 A Pride of Old Days fallen to the ground. 
 God! Is there no oblivion I can find — 
 No place of rest the weary world around? 
 
 [Page 23 
 
AS THE DEAD LOVE 
 
 CANNOT drive thee from my 
 
 memory, 
 I close my «yes and all the gulfs 
 
 of Time 
 Are populous with ghosts that 
 
 speak of thee; 
 And mighty spirits of the ancient 
 dead, 
 Whom once I knew and fought beside and loved, 
 Bid me remember that I live again 
 In expiation of the deathless wrong 
 I wrought them for the beauty of thy face. 
 I see thee clad in purple, but the red 
 That mingles with the purple's midnight blue 
 Is blood of those I loved in other days. 
 I love thee as the dead alone can love. 
 They hate thee as the dead alone can hate. 
 
 [Page 24 
 
GODS WHO FASHIONED ME 
 
 UT of the depths I cry, 
 Gods who fashioned me, 
 Out of the earth and sky 
 And rush and roar of the sea; 
 Fashioned me fierce and strong 
 In the bitter mold of hate, 
 And hurled me through years of 
 deathless wrong. 
 To my endless war with fate. 
 
 Gods who fashioned me 
 Where the waters flow and croon, 
 What bitter jest filled the hearts of ye 
 As ye laughed 'neath the scornful moon? 
 Ye whispered each to each, 
 'Neath the moonlight bright and cold ' 
 When ye molded the clay and taught it speech. 
 And a secret grim and old. 
 
 [Page 25 
 
Say, was there never nigh 
 A higher God than ye? 
 
 Why did you work 'neath the midnight sky 
 On the night ye fashioned me? 
 Why when a Shape did pass 
 Between ye and the glittering moon 
 Did ye hide in the jungle's tangled grass, 
 Where the waters flow and croon? 
 
 And ye sent me forth to war, 
 Filled with the lust of hate 
 Of the lesser Gods who dread the Law 
 And who wage the war with Fate. 
 
 [Page 26 
 
Il p 
 
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 g 
 
 W.; 
 
 /^ 
 
 1^ 
 
 z^^ 
 
 ^^^S^l 
 
 ■v^^^^ 
 
 y^^. ... 11 
 
 'K_& 
 
 i^i)'"/^'-!! 
 
 ssss^ 
 
 
 MORNING IN ALASKA 
 
 HERE is a day of Silence— watch 
 
 the dawn 
 - Break at midnight upon the 
 snow-clad hill, 
 And all is light as day, and all as 
 
 still 
 As some forgotten world that has 
 outworn 
 
 Its life, and waits in silence for the morn 
 Of Resurrection to arise and fill 
 Its silent vales with life again, until 
 New lives arise to mock the days agone. 
 
 Such is Alaska's midnight. Over all 
 The strange sun broods in mystic majesty. 
 Its cold light gleams upon the sullen sea. 
 Its cold beams with no touch of color fall 
 Upon the snow that like the funeral pall 
 Of a dead Innocence lies silently. 
 
 [Page 27 
 
THE SONG OF THE PURPLE SEA 
 
 (To the imaginative mind the color purple presents 
 itself as a whelming sea, wherein are mingled red, 
 the blood and passion of men, and blue, their higher 
 hopes and aspirations. This poem is dedicated to 
 Benjamin Kurtz, Esq., of the University of Califor- 
 nia, who once read me a poem of his, never published 
 and nowy-I believe, unfortunately lost, called "The 
 Song of the Purple Sea," the name of which sug- 
 gested to me the follov\ang "color poem.") 
 
 AM a child of the Purple Sea, 
 The blood of Man runs through 
 
 my veins, 
 Sensuous, pulsingly. 
 
 From afar, 
 
 From the wavering sea of blue, 
 
 From a distant star, 
 Comes the light that changes its hue 
 To the purple of royalty. 
 
 The blood of many kings 
 Fierce from the carnage of the battle red, 
 Lust of gore and lust of death. 
 Strong to the song of the dying breath, 
 
 [Page 28 
 
Leaps to the skies o'erspread, 
 
 Leaps to the blue above, 
 
 And there where the sound of battle rings, 
 
 The blue and the red unite 
 
 In the mystery of love. 
 
 This is the mystery / 
 
 Of the saga that you wrote ; ^. 
 
 This is the song of the Purple Sea, 
 
 Strong from the dying throat, 
 
 Red with the blood of men, 
 
 Soft from a lover's lips 
 
 Breathing a whispered prayer 
 
 In a temple where the incense clouds arise. 
 
 The blue of the incense dark with the temple 
 
 gloom. 
 Under the midnight skies 
 
 The heart of the soldier priest is breaking there 
 For the love that he laid in the tomb. 
 
 This is the saga of the Purple Sea, 
 
 This is the why of its moaning through the night. 
 
 Through the cypress boughs o'erhanging, there 
 
 Falleth the pale moonlight 
 
 On a shaft of marble fair. 
 
 [Page 29 
 
TO A SKULL 
 
 k 
 
 HOU grinning emblem of our 
 
 Destiny! 
 And we have fought and worked 
 
 and schemed and sinned, 
 Piled on our treasures all the 
 
 wealth of Ind, 
 Cynic for what? That we may 
 even like thee 
 Symbols become of man's impotency? 
 Forsooth be neatly packed in glass, and grinned 
 And stared at, by a crowd whose dust the wind 
 Will spread o'er plains where cities used to be. 
 
 And yet grin on! To us there yet remain 
 The Days that Are. Perchance that fixed smile 
 Is but the memory of some ancient pain. 
 Drowned in the rich red wines of sunny Spain, 
 Midst laugh and jest, by comrades who the while 
 Sought each to kill some secret grief — in vain. 
 
 [Page 30 
 
THOUGHTS OF A SKULL FOUND 
 NEAR THE PYRAMID OF CHEOPS 
 
 HAVE witnessed the fall of a 
 
 people; I have witnessed the 
 
 fall of creeds. 
 New faiths in rich profusion rise 
 
 like the tangled river reeds. 
 I shall see the fall of the Present, 
 
 as I saw the fall of the Past, 
 And the Gods ye boast are 
 
 eternal — those Gods I shall 
 
 outlast. 
 
 A wiser race than ye I loved, and I sav^ that 
 people die. 
 
 A war cloud came the Persian and a fading mist 
 passed by. 
 
 And the Greek came after the Persian and the 
 Greek is but a name, 
 
 And the Roman trod his destined path from vic- 
 tory to shame. 
 
 [Page 31 
 
In the whirling rush o£ the Ages one faith alone 
 
 remains, 
 The faith of the God of Mammon, the faith of the 
 
 God of Gains. 
 The faith of the Galilean is but a mask to ye; 
 Ye can blind the eyes of a people, but the heart of 
 
 man I see. 
 
 I waited in the Silence for the coming Gods to 
 
 save, 
 And they come and pass to the Distant; for a 
 
 time the prophets rave. 
 And the wise men smile upon them and borrow 
 
 enough from their creeds 
 To blind the eyes of a people and to meet their 
 
 purses' needs. 
 
 So I wait no more for the Gods to come, for the 
 
 Gods have come and gone; 
 And I wait no more for the rising sun nor the 
 
 breaking of a morn. 
 But I watch through the Night of the Ages old 
 
 Evils die and decay, 
 That Evils new may rule instead as the Good and 
 
 God of a Day. 
 
 [Page 32 
 
And this is the endless Cycle, and this is the story 
 
 of Man, 
 Now it is and ever shall be as it was since Time 
 
 began; 
 One God alone is eternal; one God alone remains, 
 And He is the God of Mammon, and he is the God 
 
 of Gains. 
 
 [Page 33 
 
THE REALM OF MEMORY 
 
 OW strange this realm of 
 
 Memory! I wander 
 Down the gray vistas of the 
 
 vanished years, 
 Alone and poor. No longer mine 
 
 to squander 
 Rich thoughts with careless ease. 
 A toll of tears 
 The bankrupt spirit now must needs deny. 
 A vain regret, an aching heart, a sigh, 
 Poor tribute, with a grudging hand it grants 
 Pale Memory's wan and shivering mendicants. 
 
 [Page 34 
 
SONG 
 
 ULLABY, the crickets cry, 
 'Neath the eaves the south winds 
 
 sigh. 
 God, a groan? Nay, 'twas the 
 
 trees 
 Softly swaying in the breeze. 
 
 Lullaby, dear, lullaby, 
 
 Love is dead, yet do not cry. 
 
 Lullaby, ah God, a moan? 
 
 Nay, my heart, you break alone. 
 
 Strange it is when love is gone 
 
 Soulless lives the body on. 
 Lullaby, dear, lullaby, 
 Love is dead, yet do not cry. 
 
 [Page 35 
 
SIMON MAGUS 
 
SIMON MAGUS 
 
 BOUT your head I weave a 
 
 spell — 
 Now, maiden, watch, beware! 
 For I have learned the arts of 
 
 Hell, 
 Have wandered where the lost 
 
 ones dwell * 
 
 And breathed another air. 
 
 Your face is fair, your heart is true. 
 
 What have I, maid, to do with you? 
 
 My form is comely maidens say; 
 
 Know they the worms crawled thro' this clay 
 
 Whilst I and Jambres wandered far, 
 
 From star of ice to fiery star? 
 
 Was it a month or but a day 
 Or centuries this body lay 
 Cold in the spell-wrought tomb, 
 Which men who know our mystic art 
 Reared in that Indian forest's heart 
 By muttered words of gloom? 
 
 [Page 39 
 
Your time and mine are not the same, 
 
 Your years are but my day. 
 
 But in your years 'twas long I dwelt 
 
 Where man to God has never knelt, 
 
 Where woman's voice was never heard. 
 
 There in the Lands of Ice and Flame 
 
 My spirit jnade its way, 
 
 And never heard a singing bird, 
 
 Nor pine trees rocking in the gales. 
 
 The only sound that reached those vales 
 
 Was when some avalanche of snow 
 
 Broke from its place with thundering roar 
 
 And smote upon the shuddering shore 
 
 Where Ahrimanes dwelt. 
 
 And then the muffled shriek of woe 
 
 Ascending from the settling snow 
 
 Showed well that he was tortured sore 
 
 And that the blow was felt. 
 
 [Page 40 
 
But to those Lands of Ice and Fire 
 
 There followed me a fierce desire 
 
 To see your face again, 
 
 To gaze upon you hour by hour, 
 
 To watch you sink beneath the power 
 
 Of muttered spell and charm, 
 
 To feed myself upon your youth, 
 
 To feel the speech of men, 
 
 Dance like the Ghosts of Vanished Truth 
 
 Upon my lips, while e'er my tongue 
 
 Whispered the words that Eblis sung 
 
 Ten aeons past when Earth was young 
 
 And free from dread of harm. 
 
 And, maiden, so beware! 
 
 It is not well that mortal maid 
 
 Should play this game with him who played 
 
 The Princes of the Air. 
 
 But is it not too late, O maiden? 
 
 And is not now your spirit laden 
 
 With chains that bind you to my throne? 
 
 The charm is said, the spells are spoken — 
 
 Move and struggle, weep and moan, 
 
 You will find the chains unbroken. 
 
 [Page 41 
 
I have wandered far. 
 
 Where the fire dwells, burning thirst 
 
 Rent my spirit; tortured, anguished, 
 
 There a thousand years I languished 
 
 In the blood red star. 
 
 In the realm accurst. 
 
 And a sweet girl's face enchanted 
 Followed me through regions haunted. 
 Longing then to win her seized me, 
 Drain her truth and virtue up. 
 Fiercely hold her while it pleased me, 
 Gather all her beauty to me, 
 Drain her wine, the life-blood red. 
 Then when all her life were sped 
 Tho' her prayers for mercy sue me. 
 Cast her by — a broken cup. 
 
 This the vision then that haunted 
 Me among the realms enchanted 
 Till I spoke the Word of Dread, 
 And the tortured flames subsided. 
 And my weary spirit glided 
 From the regions of the Dead. 
 
 [Page 42 
 
Then unto the forest olden, 
 
 Where my earthly corpse was holden, 
 
 Hastened I to set it free. 
 
 But the demon thirst still haunted 
 
 And I passed o'er land and sea, 
 
 Seeking for the pure faced maiden 
 
 Who should give up hopes of Aidenn, 
 
 Give up all she was or could be. 
 
 Give up all she could or should be. 
 
 Give it all for love of me, 
 
 Quench with blood the fires enchanted. 
 
 And I found you in this city. 
 
 And I know not ruth nor pity. 
 
 Maiden, maiden, so beware! 
 
 I must quench my spirit's yearning. 
 
 Then thy prayers and beauty spurning 
 
 Seek again the Realms of Air. 
 
 So once more I give thee warning. 
 
 Knowing well 'twill meet thy scorning. 
 
 Ah, maiden, so beware! 
 
 It is not well that mortal maid 
 
 Should play this game with him who played 
 
 The Princes of the Air. 
 
 [Page 43 
 
\ 
 
OTHER POEMS 
 
TO EDWIN MARKHAM 
 
 INGER of songs and dreamer of 
 fine dreams, 
 I would thy poet prophecies were 
 
 true! 
 Ah, if for some brief nfioment I 
 
 might, too. 
 Drop Reason with her sense of 
 "Is" and "Seems," 
 And with Song's magic vision catch the gleams 
 Of light breaking the clouds that dark our view, 
 Might see the lilies where I see the yew, 
 Might hear the lark where now the vulture 
 screams! 
 
 But God! How many poets lived and died 
 "Since first Apollo touched his tuneful lyre?" 
 And the grey world, unheeding, rolls along 
 Through its phantasmas all of sin and wrong, 
 The world-heart clinging still to its own pride. 
 The poet-heart still warmed by its own fire. 
 
 [Page 4 7 
 
TO C. L. G. 
 
 GALLANT gentleman, heroic 
 
 friend, 
 Of courage calm, unflinching and 
 
 serene; 
 As in a mirror, in his soul are 
 
 seen 
 The virtues of the old chivalric 
 
 days. 
 When life meant honour and its mead was praise 
 And high unselfish service was its end. 
 
 [Page 4 
 
TO S. L. H. 
 
 H listen, Love, as in the olden 
 days 
 
 I whisper words of praise. 
 
 The words of love that you were 
 wont to hear. 
 
 It cannot be that all of this is 
 dead, 
 
 That love is fled — 
 Not at midnoon the sun may disappear. 
 And unto love all time is but midnoon. 
 Only the spirit's death could quench his light. 
 There is no night; 
 
 And if there were, the silver of the moon. 
 With pale light softening the broken lines, 
 Would m.ake it whole, 
 This shattered temple-palace of the soul; 
 And heaven is nearer 'neath the waving pines 
 When garish day has flown. 
 And in the scented temple-aisles of night 
 Love holds his solemn service — wild delight 
 Subdued to plaintive moan. 
 
 [Page 49 
 
WRITTEN ON READING A POEM 
 BY MISS PAULINE FORE 
 
 HAT god has led thee to his 
 
 forest home 
 And shown thee glories hidden 
 
 from our ken. 
 Unveiled the beauty of the world, 
 
 as when 
 The gods met gods beneath the 
 starry dome, 
 And oread and nymph were wont to roam 
 Where Alpheus flowed, and all was holy then, 
 Divine the woods and half divine were men, 
 Sacred the hills, the seas, the rushing foam. 
 
 Or of the gods is one alone thy choice? 
 Perchance thou art beloved of Pan — from him 
 This vision of the forests old and dim, 
 And in thy song its laughter and delight, 
 A music like the echo of his voice, 
 A peace as quiet as the solemn night. 
 
 [ Page 50 
 
ALMA MATER 
 
 ORGETFULNESS must conquer 
 
 in the end, 
 For Time is versed in subtle 
 
 alchemy; 
 And all the passion of our love 
 
 will blend 
 With fading years to fading 
 
 memory. 
 
 But from the vistas that in the distance wane 
 Still glide the silent ghosts of olden dreams. 
 Ah, Memory is ever kin to Pain, 
 And in her smile the tear drop ever gleams. 
 
 Upon the fairest flower still shines the dew, 
 It is a tear, but we would have it there. 
 And tho' we think with aching hearts of you. 
 Perchance the sorrow makes the dream more fair. 
 
 Ah, Alma Mater, mother, fostering one, 
 Beloved now, thou'rt but a name too soon. 
 The fires that lit the sky when day began 
 Fade in the purples of the afternoon. 
 
 [Page 51 
 
ODE TO THE GRADUATES OF THE 
 CLASS OF 1900 OF THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 BREATH of wind will touch the 
 
 pendulum, 
 And time is older by a year or 
 
 twain. 
 These years, with vivid coloring 
 
 of pain 
 To some of ye and happiness to 
 
 some. 
 
 Will fade as distant things fade in a dream, 
 A vague remembrance and a flitting show 
 Of puppets counterfeiting joy and woe, — 
 Fantastic and ghost-shrouded they will seem. 
 
 And ye will enter in the larger life 
 With young hearts saddened by a glimmering 
 Of all the sorrows that the years may bring 
 And frightened at the distant sounds of strife. 
 
 And ye will turn a wistful glance upon 
 
 The fading, flitting Shadows of the Past. 
 
 Lo! From their midst a white light will be cast 
 
 Upon ye, and a Voice will urge ye "On!" 
 
 [Page 52 
 
 I 
 
And in the fiercest battles that will come 
 The Ghosts of Yesterday will fight beside 
 In weakness or in strength, will cheer, deride. 
 A reverse movement of the pendulum 
 
 Will make the good deed blossom forth in flowers, 
 Or wake a serpent lying 'neath the weed 
 Whereof a sin forgotten was the seed. 
 'Tis so the vengeful Hours guard the Hours. 
 
 So Life must tally to its last account. 
 
 For Cause and Sequence are the only laws,. 
 
 Cause breeding Sequence, Sequence breeding 
 
 Cause, 
 The Karmic law whereby we fall and mount. 
 
 [Page 53 
 
"GREAT IS DIANA OF THE 
 EPHESIANS" 
 
 |||HERE is the God of Britain, and 
 the God 
 Of France, and the distinctly 
 
 better Lord 
 Of this star-spangled banner of 
 
 the free. 
 But now a strange weird thought 
 has come to me. 
 Perchance a greater God, if such there be, 
 Laughs at these petty godlings of the sword, 
 These bearers of his vengeance and his rod. 
 And dreams in silence of His heart's great loss. 
 And of a glory that His world once missed 
 When it forgot to keep a certain tryst 
 Made with it in the shadow of the Cross. 
 
 [Page 54 
 
THE PRIEST OF SATURN 
 
 POLLO sinks in most majestic 
 splendor, 
 And Zeus, aweary, lays aside his 
 
 crown. 
 O'er Hera's eyes the lids droop 
 
 slowly down 
 Veiling the light now soft, now 
 fierce, now tender. 
 Now is the time come for the ancient priest. 
 He moves towards the woods and casts his eye 
 In malign menace towards the darkened East 
 Where soon Apollo will deface the sky. 
 He lifts his voice in low and solemn prayer: 
 He names no names whereat man bend their 
 
 knees, 
 Nor Zeus nor Hera win of worship there. 
 But there within the silence of the night 
 He lifts his eyes unto a distant star, 
 Glimmering in the voids of space afar. 
 Revealed alone unto the priest-hood's sight. 
 Unto that star has mighty Saturn fled; 
 There Saturn reigns whom all our worlds hold 
 dead. 
 
 [Page 55 
 
But there are worlds that Zeus has never trod 
 That hold old Saturn's name in honoi" yet, 
 And there are stars that never shall forget 
 The placid reign of the discrowned God. 
 But still the heart of Saturn ever yearns 
 To sad earth hearts that sadly yearn to him, 
 And in the poet's heart, shrouded and dim 
 The fire of Saturn glimmers, glows and burns. 
 And from that star beyond e'en Zeus' ken. 
 When cities all are dark and Gods asleep. 
 There falls a voice unto the sons of men. 
 To priests and poets who the secret keep. 
 And to that star the ancient priesthood pray 
 Who hold by Saturn and the golden reign. 
 The priesthood of the cosmic natal day 
 From whom high Zeus has nought but high dis- 
 dain. 
 
 [Page 5 6 
 
THE MYSTIC 
 
 IS eye has pierced the Shadow of 
 the Seeming, 
 
 His lore is not the logic of the 
 crowd, 
 
 The frothing world with discords 
 harsh and loud, 
 
 That strives to break his har- 
 mony of dreaming. 
 
 II 
 
 Life is a shadow of dead lives behind it. 
 It throws its shade again on lives before. 
 And "Why" and "Wherefore" are too long a law 
 
 For plumb, or square, or rule to ever find it. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Only the spirit sees the spirit's glories; 
 
 And Indra hides his heaven from our eyes. 
 
 We lift weak gaze unto his ancient skies. 
 And prate and tell each other pretty stories. 
 
 [Page 57 
 
IV 
 
 Lo! We are wise. Our navies win the battle. 
 
 Where are our fathers' fathers? They are gone. 
 
 We follow at the breaking of the morn, 
 Confused our wisdom to a childish prattle. 
 
 And yet unmoved amid the Wrath of Ages, 
 The rise and falling of a people's tide, 
 Heedless of Lethe rolling on beside. 
 
 He stands, the Mystic, with his brother sages. 
 
 VI 
 
 How has he pierced the falling of the Shadow? 
 
 We pause, and in the darkness falter, fall. 
 
 We see the coffin and the funeral pall. 
 Then madly seek some phantom El Dorado. 
 
 VII 
 
 Urged by Unrest whose name we call Ambition, 
 We build us navies, conquer realms afar. 
 We waste our people in a foolish war. 
 
 A pyramid brought Pharaoh to perdition! 
 
 [ P a g e 5 8 
 
VIII 
 
 And still they stand and point beyond our seeing, 
 Adown the fading vista of the years, 
 Lone sentinels they stand, these poet-seers. 
 
 The guardians of some secret of our being. 
 
 IX 
 
 They have found rest in their strange contempla- 
 tion. 
 We find no rest. We seek it everywhere. 
 Turn to our use the earth, the seas, the air, 
 
 And for pastime exterminate a Nation. 
 
 We shriek of progress, struggle madly forward. 
 
 Our priests cry raven from their pulpit stairs. 
 
 We blaspheme God with murd'rous, bloody 
 prayers. 
 The Cross of Peace is raised to lead us warward. 
 
 [Page 59 
 
XI 
 
 Among the Nations, we are greatest, proudest, 
 A breath of wind and then our task is done. 
 A race is dwelling somewhere 'neath the sun 
 
 Who'll crush us when our boastings are the 
 loudest. 
 
 XII 
 
 And yet unmoved amid this Wrath of Ages, 
 This falling, of a People in their pride, 
 Heedless of Lethe rolling on beside. 
 
 He stands, the Mystic, with his brother sages. 
 
 [Page 60 
 
THE BIRTH OF CHRIST 
 
 HROUGH all the isles of Greece 
 was heard a moan, 
 
 "Great Pan is Dead," 
 Through the Olympian groves 
 an anguished groan, 
 
 "The gods are dead." 
 
 Then all the air was rapture, and a voice 
 
 Spoke softly, "All the gods shall live in me, 
 For I am Love and Fate and Beauty, more 
 
 Than all the high Olympian hierarchy; 
 I come to bid the broken heart rejoice. 
 
 The tangled web of creeds aside I draw • 
 And ye shall look me in the face and know 
 
 That I am Love and Love is all the law." 
 
 Then through the isles of Greece a whisper 
 spread, 
 "The gods are gone, and God has come instead." 
 
 [Page 61 
 
RECOMPENSE^ 
 
 H THOU, whose potent will we 
 
 trace 
 Wherever nations rise and fall 
 And ceasing lay their petty all 
 Upon the altar of Thy grace, 
 
 Lord! make 
 hour 
 
 us mindful of the 
 
 When all our battlements are dust 
 
 And we are mute beneath the crust — 
 
 Our graves the well-spring whence a Power 
 
 Now sleeping in the womb of Time 
 Shall draw its wisdom and its lore, 
 And serve Thy holy purpose more 
 Because of all our fault or crime. 
 
 Thy will and Nature's law are one. 
 And Nature's path is thick with blood. 
 And yet each morn a greater good 
 Lifts up in answer to the sun. 
 
 ^Written in collaboration with D. Alexander* 
 Gordenker. 
 
 [ Page 62 
 
The nations rise and on Thy page 
 They scroll their wills and sink to rest, 
 And that one serves Thy purpose best 
 Which leaves the richest heritage. 
 
 And what are all our boasts of might 
 But echoes of forgotten cries, 
 Of savage shouters in whose eyes 
 Thou hadst no glory in the fight? 
 
 The ages roll, and in their train 
 The nations, whirled upon the blast 
 Aloft awhile, to earth are cast, 
 To rise aloft and fall again. 
 
 Where Thebes once reared her queenly head 
 And ruled the peoples from her throne, 
 The desert sand has left a stone 
 To mark the City of the Dead. 
 
 We stumble thro' our petty span. 
 We wreak our evil, wreak our good. 
 We knead our ashes with our blood, — 
 Yet somehow Thy creation plan 
 
 [Page 63 
 
Is ever better for our tears, 
 
 And ever shapes the fleeting ill 
 
 Unto the purpose of Thy will, 
 
 And moves through alchemy of years. 
 
 Page 64 
 
MURZAPUR 
 
 
 N Murzapur above Benares 
 . In Murzapur the quiet, fair, 
 Ah, love of mine, the nights of 
 pleasure. 
 The tranquil nights of love 
 spent there! 
 
 To Murzapur above Benares, 
 When the city's din was still. 
 
 And swift summons to the council 
 Came not from the King's high will, 
 
 When the soldiers on the ramparts 
 Lightly chatted — all was peace — 
 
 Then I saddled in Benares, 
 Happy in the hour's release. 
 
 Then I saddled and I cantered 
 
 O'er the level shining road 
 To Murzapur above Benares, 
 
 Thine and Krishna's sweet abode. 
 
 [ Page 65 
 
In Murzapur above Benares, 
 Hark, the timbrel's tinkling far! 
 
 And thine eyes glow in the silence, 
 While we dream of Murzapur. 
 
 [Page 66 
 
MAZATLAN 
 
 STARS that shine o'er Mazatlan, 
 Brilliant and glorious, throned 
 afar, 
 Eyes of a maid in Mazatlan 
 Glow brighter far than any 
 star. 
 
 Twin stars that shine upon the heart 
 And witchcraft work in subtle way, 
 
 Eyes of a maid in Mazatlan, 
 
 Shine on my spirit night and day. 
 
 Shine until Sirius grows pale, 
 And fades the fierce Aldebaran, 
 
 Shine on my soul, oh light divine, 
 Eyes of a maid in Mazatlan! 
 
 [Page 67 
 
THE FAREWELL OF THE OLD YEAR 
 
 LEAVE you with the burden of 
 your sadness, 
 I leave you with the memory 
 of your tears. 
 I carry hours of love and hope 
 and gladness 
 Adown the pathway of the 
 vanished years. 
 
 With all your sorrows my old heart is aching, 
 
 With all your pleasures I am still afire. 
 Strange wares are mine: sad hearts in sadness 
 breaking, 
 Young hearts hot flushed with hope and love's 
 desire. 
 
 I leave to you the last born of the ages — 
 
 The New Year — youngest child of Father 
 Time. 
 
 How will you keep his yet unsullied pages? 
 What record write of royal deeds or crime? 
 
 [Page 68 
 
He bears his deathless scroll — each day a'turn- 
 ing 
 
 New leaves, the record of your wills ye write. 
 Patient he waits — then seals it and, returning, 
 
 Bears it unto the changeless Halls of Night. 
 
 There eager faces peer between the covers. 
 
 And read the record of the Book of Days, 
 And there the hearts of perished friends and 
 lovers 
 Grieve with your shames and glory in your 
 praise. 
 
 rPage 69 
 
DEC 24 l^^