Rnnk U ^O COPYRIGHT DEPOSnv THE SINGING HEART THE SINGING HEART BY ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE BOSTON R. H. HINKLEY COMPANY 1912 COPYRIGHT, I912, BY ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE THH-PLIMPTON-PRHSS [ W • D • O] NORWOOD'MASS-U«S«A ■V" -■ r» o /^ 1 To her who went with me life's journey long, Cheered all life's rugged road with courage strong, I dedicate in tenderest memory This wreath fresh-woven of a full heart's song. CONTENTS PAGE Overture 2 The Singing Heart 3 Invocation 4 Birth of Song 5 Carol of the Heart 6 A Thought 7 Good Cheer 8 Flower of Song 9 Heart's Content 10 Idle Songs 11 Unmentioned Deeds.... 12 From Age to Age 13 Why Sing? 14 The Stricken Heart 15 Where Song Begins 16 Where Song Ends 17 Songs of the Heart ... 18 Source of Song 19 Stout Heart 20 Life's Litanies 21 With Happy Heart 22 Stream of Song 23 Time and Place 24 The Dorian Strain 25 Happy-Hearted 26 Mission of Song 27 Heart-Husbandry 28 I page The Heart's Harvest... 29 Life's Rain-Song 30 To MY Happy Heart .... 31 Song of the Human 32 Life's Weaving 33 The Heart's Fidelity ... 34 The Song-Sailor 35 Child of Nature 36 Song Variations 37 Taking Leave 38 Song — Essential 39 Youth and Age 40 The Poet's Call 41 A Little Song 42 So Would I Sing 43 Gain of Song 44 The Common Bond 45 Song's Appeal 46 Minstrelsy 47 Fragments of Song 48 Suggestion 49 Winged Song 50 Farewell to Care 51 Songs of Life 52 Between Dawn and Night 53 Evensong of Praise 54 Repeated Song 55 vii] PAGE The Heart's Sovereign . $6 Song Survival 57 For All 58 Song of Songs 59 Sea Shells 60 Life-Song 61 For Interpreting 62 Songs Unsung 63 Of the Spirit 64 Weft of Song 65 Why Sad? 66 For Remembrance 67 In Wider Sphere 68 Song and the Voice 69 Idle Thoughts 70 Apollo's Lyre 71 Return of Orpheus 72 In Dreamland 73 Magic of Song 74 From Year to Year 75 Harmonies 76 Boyhood 77 Only Two 78 To THE Singer 79 Heart of Youth 80 The Last Song 81 At Hostelry of Thought 82 Heritage of Song 83 The Unheard Choir 84 In Harmony 85 Singing of the Soul ... 86 Love and Faith 87 In Poverty 88 Time's Anthology 89 The Finer Sense 90 Themes of Song 91 [ page Soul of Silence 92 So Long 93 Heart of Gladness 94 Age of Song 95 The Happy Heart 96 Song and Echo 97 Footfalls of Thought . . 98 Day Comes with Song ... 99 Silence 100 Absent-hearted loi Hospitality of the Heart 102 Pictured Song 103 The Singer 104 Singer and Hearer 105 Power of Song 106 Singing and Toiling 107 Sadness of Song 108 Silence of the Soul . . . 109 Sing On! no In Simple Phrase in Ministry of Song 112 Dear Heart 113 Songs 114 Twin Sisters 115 Wings of Song Song of Linus 117 Lesbian Song 118 Heart Hunger 119 Sing Care Away 120 Abode of Song 121 Heart's Coinage 122 A Song 123 From the Heights 124 Land of Song 125 Heard Silences 126 A Little Song 127 viii] PAGE Heart of Song 128 Mystery 129 Heart Silence 130 Plainsong 131 Excellence of Song ... 132 Love's World 133 Twilight Song 134 Thought and Feeling . . 13s Old Songs 136 Heart of Humanity 137 Silence and Song 138 Song of Sorrow 139 The Lost Song 140 In Memory 141 Song of Love 142 page Nature's Voices 143 The Singer's Task 144 Shadows 145 Songs and Singer 146 All Ends in Song 147 After the Song 148 The Lyre Unstrung 149 At the End 150 The Last Good-bye .... 151 Apology 152 For Sorry Heart 153 Have thou Good-Night . 154 The Last Good-Night . . 155 Fmis 156 IX THE SINGING HEART OVERTURE (jrO, Heart of Truth, go, Heart of Love, Into a waiting world of beauty. Where steadfast Truth may cder prove Herself best comrade is of Duty; And may she come along with me, Rich blessing of her guidance bringing. That notes of her sincerity Be heard through my faint numbers ringing. Heart of Truth, Heart of Love, So constant through long course of ages! — Lovers praise, all other praise above. Shows fair upon the Muses'' pages ; — May both your gracious presence lend Through what is left as Lifers to-morrow, Keep with my own heart to the end. Join in its songs of joy and sorrow! THE SINGING HEART I F only it were given us to know That little world for which the singing bird Makes melody, and it were ordered so That we could understand the notes we heard, Then might we comprehend To what remoter end Was given to us the unity of music and of word. The little ones beneath the mother's wing By linnet's song are softly soothed to rest, A world is hushed to hear the linnet sing Besides the fledglings slumbering in the nest And some one stops to hear That song of happy cheer. To find his heart relieved of care by which it was oppressed. If song of happy bird so soft and low, — A song that's careless of directing art — Has that sweet grace of sympathy to go So far from blameless life of bird apart, Here may it dwell with me In perfect harmony With strains of soft delight that well up from the singing heart. [3 INVOCATION G O, Heart, when wakes at morning bright The World to conscious being! Go, Heart, and share the World's delight To watch the shadows fleeing ! Behold with rapture-flooded eyes The sun in gorgeous splendor rise Into full glory of the skies! — Dear Heart, be glad with seeing. With Nature's heart agreeing! Go, Heart, when thrushes call elate. At royal Day's appearing! Go, Heart, when veery sings his mate In simple notes endearing ! — List how the woods around us ring With songs these happy minstrels sing, What joy do beams of morning bring ! — Dear Heart, be glad with hearing What Nature's heart is cheering! 4] BIRTH OF SONG W. HEN heavenly planets by the Primal Force At first were ordered into empty space, They entered gladly on the appointed course Their orbits' pathway evermore to trace; And as each took its place To mark the passing of unreckoned years, The change of seasons as these come and go, The time when Summer in her pride appears And Winter regal in his robes of snow, They fixed the numbers so That Nature keeps her course with rhythmic flow. There were so many of that heavenly host ! — Enough of them to fill infinity, — And yet as each went singing to his post Their several voices did so well agree There was full harmony That should remain unbroken through all time, Through all the movements of that countless throng. Repeat the mellow cadences of rhyme And blend the feebler measures with the strong So these might keep along Together in rich melody of song. [si CAROL OF THE HEART /\B0VE the din of crowded street, Loud roar of traffic through the day, Above the sound of hurrying feet, Of rumbling wheels along the way. Above the chatter of the gay And idle throng, — of gossips old That sit and shiver in the cold, — Of bargainers in busy mart; Above them all a song is heard, A song without one spoken word. The song that's singing in the heart. It may be that a childish voice In merry tone is singing there. It may be that our souls rejoice To see a face that's young and fair, As yet unmarked by any care Such as do older looks reveal And such as our own spirits feel When we are overborne in part, And only keep our feelings young By listening to the music sung, A low sweet carol of the heart. 6] A THOUGHT O: 'NLY one single thought, One happy thought Out of the stores of memory brought, A thought so precious of itself that all the rest were nought; Of one dear soul alone That left alone The shadowy, far-off unknown. And in its flight across this life joined sweetly with my own. A soul that on its way. Its quiet way, Was calm as is the summer's day, Content to take the upw^ard road or in the vale to stay. And now within the gate. The pearly gate That closes on all soon or late, I think that soul with blessed thought of me is fain to wait. [7 GOOD CHEER X HE songs that in the fields and woods we hear Ringing a tuneful melody so clear Through all the long, long year, Are full of hearty cheer. There is no note of sadness when for me The song-sparrow, hid in the hedgerow tree, Rehearses merrily Her simple melody. The robin keeps on singing in the rain, Nor does he of the chilliness complain; He tells us in his strain The sun will come again. So in the song of chickadee are told The peace and comfort of December's cold; The frost-bands cannot hold A spirit half so bold. To heart that is to heart of Nature near. Of him who is accustomed to revere, Do Nature's songs appear O'erflowing with good cheer. FLOWER OF SONG A HE fairest flowers of Nature's gentle brood Ask not for any care of gardener's hand, But in the friendly sheltering of the wood, Chance-sown and overlooked, they shyly stand And look out on the world some April day, A world just waking from a slumbering long, These find all things about them glad as they To hearken to the blackbirds' April song. Pure as their winter coverlet has been Pale delicate anemones Swing in the breeze Beneath the snow-white birches budded green. Song needs as little of the singer's art As need anemones the gardener's care. Such songs as bourgeon from the singer's heart Themselves are typical of beauty there; The solitary spinner at her wheel Sings to herself a measure sung of yore, The tender cadences of voice reveal Some part of life that will be lived no more; But such the magic power of simple truth That let the spinner's song be heard In note or word It wakes responsive chord in age or youth. [9] HEART'S CONTENT M: EN push their shallops off the shore And spread their sails new kingdoms to dis- cover; Much having, but yet wanting more, Not realizing that Desire, When it has led their quest all oceans over, Would scorn the world's empire; — Would come at last to care So little these adventurous paths to dare; Vain efforts having spent, Make sheltering port at last, with resting-place content. The final blessing of our lives Being content, his fortune is the greatest Who soonest at that goal arrives; — 'Tis not so much from adverse gales Another comes into the harbor latest As how he trims his sails; — Who seeks a land remote Must count on being for long time afloat, But who will be content At home shall stay and have his blessing promptly sent. 10] IDLE SONGS Jl he idle singer of an idle song Goes musingly along Where centuries before Went singing so the idle troubadour. As fledgling swallows leave their native nest Songs flutter from his breast, Take their adventurous flight Careless of praise, — careless as well of slight; But he, the singer, hopes his song may meet Some heart that's warm to greet The wanderer, bid it come Beneath the shelter of a loving home; There entertain with cheerful fire and rest The stranger as a guest, And, asking for its name. Learn from whose heart the simple music came. So shall the idle songs that now wq hear Sing on from year to year. And from the joy they give The memory of the singing heart shall live. II] UNMENTIONED DEEDS Wi HO on the page of History reads Of victories by Valor won, Should call to mind unmentioned deeds Of kindness that the World has done; These have no record cut in stone, No blazonry of shining gold. To classic art have not been known. Nor yet with eloquence been told. These unrecorded acts of men To help their fellow-men along. Well worthy of the poet's pen. Well worthy of the praise of song; — Let these small actions be the theme Of which my Muse would sing to-day, And may these simple numbers seem A slender tribute I would pay. The World forgets, or never learns What ministries the poor man bless, How ready is the heart to turn To other hearts when in distress; What comfort in a soothing tone Heard in a season of despair! A sentiment of pity shown At once makes all our living fair. [12] FROM AGE TO AGE p ACE to face the reader stands With the author in his hands, On that open page appears Smile of Joy and Sorrow's tears. As a far mirage it seems Or dim vision of his dreams, Somewhat like that image given By still waters unto heaven. Looking on that silent word, Language of mute lips is heard; Now the page grows eloquent Of the master thought was meant; Of high purpose bold and strong Right to shield, to banish wrong; Of a heart was warm and kind. Of an ever-living mind. Thus it is we come to know Him who wrote so long ago Better than the friends are near. Living words of whom we hear. [13] WHY SING? W, HY sing? — Go ask the sparrow's mate Who singeth all day long, Who hath no means to celebrate His happiness but song; He sings for only one to hear The music of his voice, Yet there are scores of others near That in his song rejoice. That gift of sweetness is from Heaven, — Gift of surpassing worth — And as it was in measure given It is again poured forth. The sparrow is the harp — no more — On which a Hand is laid, As by the reed on river shore A melody is made. The sparrow sings unconsciously From impulse of the heart, But yet his singing brings to me Of mine the better part; So to my lips the song will spring Unbidden and unsought; — Who asks of me wherefore I sing Would better ask, Why not? [14] THE STRICKEN HEART >ONG is not of the voice alone, Nor is it wholly for the ear, It lives not in the word or tone, Not in the melody we hear; What leaves the lips with liquid flow Is of the song the minor part, What those who listen cannot know Abides within the singing heart. The water running from the hill Gives music only when it falls, The ledges all around are still And silent save when echo calls; It takes the hammer-stroke to bring The music from the anvil's breast, So closely do sweet concords cling To native sources while at rest. The tempered steel has richer tone Than iron mass as yet unwrought, The soul that has keen sorrow known Lives in a purer air of thought; So is it that the stricken heart Yields what is rhythmically fair, Yet all its song is but a part Of that sweet music harbored there. [15] WHERE SONG BEGINS H OW shall one find the origin of song, How trace it to what puts the air in motion, Detect the pulse that sends the note along And feel it throbbing with intense devotion? Can we divine the pleasure That gives its rhythmic measure To song of wood thrush musically falling? Or can we know what feeling Is voice of bird revealing When to its near-by mate 'tis softly calling? We feel while listening to thrush's note Our souls upborne on wings of adoration, May it not be the wood thrush tunes its throat To some remote, diviner inspiration? It may be there is ringing In thrush's vesper singing Some joy our thought has not yet overtaken, A harmony of numbers That soothes her young to slumbers Yet comes to us with power our souls to waken. [i6 WHERE SONG ENDS I N stillness of a summer afternoon When hushed is all of Nature's happy chorus, The dozing bird forgets her gentle croon, But yet the pines repeat their music o'er us; There are no breezes blowing, No waving pine boughs showing That anything in nature sympathizes; We know the whispered sweetness Is in the full completeness Of harmony composed of lost surprises. It may be in the song w^e try to sing, It may be in the song of thrush or linnet, That round a thought of summer there will cling A mystery of the pine tops living in it; In memory unfading The realm of song invading, That whispered monotone can perish never; If there be aught immortal Outside of Heaven's portal It is the note that's least regarded ever. [17 SONGS OF THE HEART I T lingers long Among remembered things of old, In the sweet melody of song, The sweetness of what never yet was told. Within the heart That still the sacred past doth hold, Remains to-day the better part Of what was treasured as a prize of old. Dear memories Still waken with the pulsing strings; And all their music's burden is The beauty and the joy that Memory brings. Love dwells apart. The common things of life above; Above the wishes of the heart. Within the quiet hermitage of Love; And there Love stays With patient feet and folded wings. Giving to Constancy all praise. And making songs the heart forever sings. i8 SOURCE OF SONG OING thou to me, shy little bird Close hiding in the hedgerow near, The sweetest song was ever heard To fall upon the enchanted ear! Sing thou to me that I may know The secret mystery of thine art, May have this one truth proven so, The source of song is from the heart! Sing thou to me thy simple strain Of goodwill and of hearty cheer. That song sung o'er and o'er again For one that loves thy voice to hear! Sing thou to me, and so will I Drink draughts of woodland music sweet, And on a slender reed will try Those Hquid numbers to repeat! Sing thou to me, that I may hear What charms the spirit of the wood, Makes for itself a little sphere Of melody in solitude! And I will haunt this magic ring, Will listen to thy music long To hear the inspired minstrel sing That from the heart is source of song. [19] STOUT HEART "S' •TOUT heart to brae that's steep," The old Scotch proverb says, Stout heart must worn wayfarer keep On dry and dusty ways. When do long summer days Wear out the weary feet. When, pitiless, the burning heat On Nature silence lays. Stout heart to northern blast. To wintry winds that blow, When skies above are overcast And fields are white below With blanketing of snow; — When kedge and cable fail, Ships run to sea before the gale; — Hearts are not frightened so. Stout heart to breast the hills. To face the tempest's rage, With fortitude to bear life's ills, Infirmities of age; A vigorous war to wage Against embattled wrong, And in the worthy cause of Song Most loyally engage. [20] LIFE'S LITANIES /Across the dark pine- wooded hills Between me and the belfry tower, Across the meadows and their rills I used to hear at service hour On quiet Sabbath days The call to prayer and praise, — A pulsing of the air that thrills The soul with magic power. I have not heard that swelling peal Ring out above the meads and meres Since Fate has led, for woe or weal, Far from my home of early years; But still on silent ways Of quiet Sabbath days The memory of that bell will steal To the fountain-head of tears. I hear it sounding soft and low With murmuring of the pine-wood trees. That distant Sabbath bell as though It were in harmony with these; — Those overtones still chime As measured words in rhyme, And, blending in the memory so, Repeat life's litanies. [21] WITH HAPPY HEART O SONG that with a happy heart, That with a sweet, a winsome voice. Comes down the street and through the mart To bid a weary world rejoice! — O Song with gladness in your eye, And on your lip the word of truth, We watch your phantom form go by As vision of immortal Youth! — We wonder at your happy heart, Are charmed by that enchanting voice. O Song that wanders down the lane With light of morning, pilgrim-wise. That chimes in with the happy strain Of larks that from the meadow rise ! — O Song with beauty in your soul, Deep tenderness within your heart, We listen till we hear the whole Of what our song is but a part, And find this strolling down the lane Is but a sauntering pilgrim-wise. 22 STREAM OF SONG 17 ROM brimming fountain fed by winter snows Through summer drought when pansies wilt and wither, Fresh mountain streamlet through the meadow goes Its winding way as if not caring whither, And in its course it brings From depth of rocky springs Refreshing coolness to the drooping flowers; Beneath deep slumberous shade By leaning alders made It dreams away long drowsy noontide hours. From off the highest pinnacles of thought Comes trickling down a stream of vagrant fancies, Into our life a freshening is brought As mountain coolness comes to fainting pansies; There do they bide a while. Our wandering thoughts beguile. In eddying currents for long time they linger; In choral movement so Will they to rhythm flow And cheer the heavy heart with song of singer. [23I TIME AND PLACE W] HEN do the angels come to me? Whenever I see Lilies unfolding in purity; When in the fair face Of a child, its innocent thought I trace; Or its hand I feel Into my own hand trustingly steal; For well do I know That only an angel would love me so. Where do I with the angels meet? Where violets sweet Look up from the grasses about my feet; Where, walking alone, The song of the wild bird becomes my own; Or on crowded street Do the kindly voices of comrades greet; And these must all be Of angels a goodly company. [24] THE DORIAN STRAIN W^ HAT lip shall breathe again To Dorian pipe the simple Dorian strain That taught wild echoes of the wooded dell What speech must fail to tell, And what must Art alone strive for in vain? What singer will essay To give to melody thoughts of to-day, Thoughts of the market, of the quoted price Of watered stocks — of ice? Whereto frown Muses with emphatic "Nay." The world has lost all zest For that which to its youth appeared the best; To-day to antiquated page belong The happiest strains of song That to Apollo ever were addressed. When will the Fates once more Bring back the healthier appetite of yore, Give to mankind the relish of its youth For just the simple truth, To life the rhythm of the years restore? 25 HAPPY-HEARTED A: S the lark upon the wing, As the robin on the tree, All the happy-hearted sing Songs of simple melody Just as sweet as these may be. As the song of early prime Greets the glad incoming day So the song of evening time Tells that hearts are light and gay, Nowise weary of the way. In the measure of the song We can trace the happy mood Ruling all the summer long In the orchard, in the wood. Sung for mate and sung for brood. So the happy-hearted sing To my faithful memory As the lark upon the wing, As the robin on the tree Sang all summer long to me. 26 MISSION OF SONG I yFT poets in fair words express The pictured beauty of their dreams, And let sweet notes of music dress Those forms in color that beseems; Then shall the ear, Enchanted, hear What beauty and what grace it brings, The voice of minstrel bard who sings The praise of that pure loveliness Revealed to him in passing gleams. Let poets sing of sword and shield With words of praise as they can find, Rehearse brave deeds on battle-field, Proclaim proud triumphs of the mind;- We listen yet Cannot forget Some sunny thought in song may bless Poor aching hearts with happiness; The poet's art its best will yield When it is practised for mankind. [27] HEART-HUSBANDRY O UR hearts are stored with memories Kept sacred through so many years, With tender thoughts that rest with these, Too fond for words, too deep for tears; Their preciousness is many fold What wealth of silver and of gold Did miser's coffers ever hold. These choicest treasures of the heart Are from its keeping never lost; With them will owner never part. They're garnered at too great a cost; — They're thoughts of those were very dear, Unto our hearts were very near, And now — and now — but memory here. Life brings no harvest from its toil More heavy than its yield of grief, Affection is a fruitful soil That bears of sorrows many a sheaf; — This reaping of heart-husbandry Our sole viaticum shall be While faring to Eternity. 28 THE HEART'S HARVEST 1 HE heart, — what harvest does it yield Of simple joys from year to year? Its sunward-looking slopes a field Of untold fruitfulness appear; — In ripening ear Of the heart's harvest is revealed Full mystery of our being here. They have no season of their own, The sowing and the garnering, Whenever is a kindness sown Increase a hundred fold will spring; — All seasons bring To reaper's sickle what has grown And ripened unto harvesting. No biting cold of winter there. No beating of the frozen hail; Those sunlit slopes forever wear Fresh burden for the thresher's flail; On hill and dale Of the heart's country everywhere Love's harvest home shall never fail. 29] LIFE'S RAIN-SONG W] HEN noonday sun is shining brightly On flashing streams and blossoming meadows, When wanton winds are racing lightly Over the hills with swift cloud shadows; Then in the low-grown alder bushes The peacefulness of Nature hushes Melodious voices of the thrushes, Their service song is then suspended. But let the heavens be overclouded, And let the summer rain be falling. Let hills in veil of mist be shrouded. The yaffel from his ash tree calling; Then will go on the thrushes' singing, Through all the noontide hours ringing, Unto the temple service bringing Their choral song that is unended. So is it when our feet are weary. And up-hill lies the way before us; When all the scene around is dreary. And heavy hang the heavens o'er us; When eyes downcast and dim are tearful. When thoughts of daily cares are fearful, Then is the singing heart yet cheerful By rain-song of our tears attended. [3°] TO MY HAPPY HEART JL O my happy heart I sing an idle song, Singing to my comrade all the way, As my heart and I go thoughtfully along Cheering each the other all the day, Singing now of champions adventurous and strong. Singing now of minstrels light and' gay. When across the meadows we are going hand in hand. Then we both are silent from our joy, Round about us lilies in their beauty stand, Coming through the daisies are a girl and boy, Oh, the charm of youth and the charm of sunny land When the sun is bold and violets are coy! There we go together beneath a sunny sky. Cheering each the other all the while; Heart is strong the journey in all its length to try Though my feet should falter in a mile; And when my braver comrade shall turn to say, ''Good-bye," It will be the words are spoken with a smile. [31 SONG OF THE HUMAN A SONG of merry cheer Full of light-hearted mirth and gay, Of children happy in their play; A song to charm the listening ear Of God or man to hear. A song of faith and trust, Of youth's unbounded confidence In Heaven's o'erruHng providence To save the righteous cause and just Out from the battle's dust. A song of courage high, Of readiness to face the foe, To ward the thrust, to deal the blow, Of resolution not to fly. To conquer or to die. A song of victory won. Of right defended on the field. Of honor saved with dinted shield^ With torch alight the long course run, All of life's duty done. 32 LIFE'S WEAVING O UR human feelings blend, The seasons that are glad Have comrades that are sad; — Sorrow abides with Joy unto the end. The happy moments pass So hurriedly away When we would have them stay ! — The hours unhappy are slow-paced, alas ! Pleasure stands next to Pain, And victory is at cost Of a field that has been lost; Triumph involves defeat, loss goes with gain. So is it one must see The web of life is wide. There is the figured side And its reverse crude as in tapestry. It is for us to weave After the rich design Traced by the Hand Divine, And to the World a finished fabric leave. 33 THE HEART'S FIDELITY \JNE name seems doomed to oblivion, Another seems given to Fame; But after the labors of life are all done, The wearisome course of the years has been run, The long struggle ended, the victory won. Then the two have ended the same. The one has a quiet obscurity found In a heart that is tender and true. The other, with praise of the populace crowned, Has been carried all of the wide world around, On mortal lips has been heard to resound The ranks of the people through. But Love, the undying, will never release What treasures the heart may hold. And when the pulses of life shall cease, The years to their ultimate limit increase, There yet will remain in that chamber of peace The name that was dear of old. 34 THE SONG-SAILOR H E is a sailor from the first, His boat launched on a sea of dreams, His travel-longing is a thirst That never can be quenched, it seems; He sails at once into the light That brings the morning on its way, The tender watchfulness of night. The smihng cheerfulness of day. He later sails into the west Sweet magic of its charm to learn. Find where the day goes to its rest, Where evening's vestal fires burn ; The splendor of the painted skies, Rich purple shadows on the shore Show what a wealth of beauty lies His light, adventurous craft before. Day after day, year after year His course is laid by stars are true. From time to time fair isles appear Fresh as if bathed in morning dew; Thus sailing on time's ocean vast, When all life's voyaging is done. His shallop frail shall come at last Where morn and eventide are one. [3S] CHILD OF NATURE O H, heart of nature, heart of boy How closely are related! When one is bubbling o'er with joy The other is elated; There is no creature, low or high, Can run or jump, can creep or fly, That can escape the lad's quick eye. But though he use it as a toy So is he educated. The cloud moves slowly o'er the skies, Below, its shadow follows As that of some great eagle flies Across the hills and hollows; — The boy looks on, his fancy goes Where flies the cloud, where water flows. Nor any rest nor halting knows Until it wakens with surprise In the winterland of swallows. [36] SONG VARIATIONS X HE Muses will not always bring What I beseech them to repeat, And when I would of triumph sing The song is rather of defeat; Although the singing heart be glad, The song itself is often sad, For they who rule the measured verse mark it with slow-paced feet. Not always will the selfsame chord Respond aUke to player's hand. Not always will the fitting word Be ready at the thought's command; Much less will note of song reveal What sentiments our bosoms feel. Nor can the heart of him who hears the singer's understand. And yet will song of minstrel fare As it has journeyed down the past; — The thistle blooms as native where By chance the thistle-down is cast. Forever in the heart will spring New melody from trembling string. And that which charms the world to-day is not to be the last. [37] TAKING LEAVE H . ARK to the music, hark ! 'Tis the singing of the lark To welcome dawn; Though yet the sky be dark, Now night is gone I journey on." "Nay, nay, do not, I pray. So promptly break away From love and me; Here is splendor while you stay More bright to me Than lark can see." "How quickly hours fly When joy and love are nigh, — Day comes apace! My heart will Unger by This charmed place Of last embrace." "Here through the day I wait Outside the Eden gate For your return; So late, so very late Will Vesper learn Her lamps to burn!" [38] SONG — ESSENTIAL T IS not the form alone Nor yet the singer's tone That gives its music to the cadenced line; 'Tis not the rhythmic flow Of numbers swift or slow That gives to verse its quality divine. 'Tis not the plaintive word In Sorrow's song is heard, It is the hush laid on the bated breath; Words of themselves were vain To tell the spirit's pain, Only the sigh that anguish uttereth. 'Tis not for mortal ear The minor strain to hear In song as through a meadow winds a rill; We cannot see its tide, But blossoms by its side Show what life-giving floods the channel fill. The hand that strikes the string. Its music wakening, Must lay thereon emotions of the soul. So that the lyre may heed A voiceless spirit's need And yield itself to that supreme control. [39] YOUTH AND AGE Y] EARS of youth and years of age, Years of play and years of duty Have this common heritage, — Through all life's long pilgrimage Happy heart is filled with beauty. Heart of honor, heart of truth. Strong in every bold endeavor, Heart of pity, heart of ruth, Happy, cheerful heart of youth, Be with us the same forever. Years of gambolling and joy. Filled with merriment and laughter, Years that dreams of life employ. Let bright fancies of the boy Be realities long after. What the dreams of childhood send To the youth and to the maiden. Let these to their young lives lend What will tarry till the end Come with richer blessing laden. 40 THE POET'S CALL A HE poet calls to the world to stay Its steps for the beauty along the way The world is going from day to day; The poet calls, — but the world heeds not The message that out of a heart is brought, Heeds nothing that's neither sold nor bought. And what does the poet bring to sell? Nothing; — he has but a story to tell, And his only care is to do this well. And what should the poet come to buy? Around him all of earth's riches lie, Above him the splendor of the sky. But though the poet may bring no gain To the open market, he yet is fain To ease, if he can, a poor World's pain. He would find a solace to check its tears, A word of courage to calm its fears And memories sweet for the later years. And when at last shall the evening fall To the evensong then sweetest of all Shall be heard the notes of the poet's call. 141I A LITTLE SONG Jl\. little song framed to a melody That takes its cadence from the closing rest Of veery singing through the mystery Of stealthy Twilight drawing silently Deep-curtained darkness round the veery's nest. Wherewith she brings her little ones to rest, In peace and joy to slumber trustfully From every care and every sorrow free Within the sanctuary of her breast. A little song attempted timorously As the first venture of a new-fledged bird That makes its trial flight from tree to tree And looks about him for security If slender twig on which he lights be stirred; A little song to bear a single word, But if, dear Love, its meaning come to thee In the full measure of sincerity No matter if by all the rest unheard. 42 so WOULD I SING ^O would I sing as linnets sing In tent of orchard tree; As goldfinches upon the wing And swallows coming in the spring With song enrapture me Until none other sound I hear Of any voices far or near Than their sweet melody. So would I sing that singing bird Might deem the song his own, Might fancy that had Echo heard His wildwood notes without a word And practiced them alone, And yet confess that in the sound A deeper feeling still was found Than he before had known. So would I sing for hearts to feel Of song the magic sway, So would I sing as to reveal What language cannot say, and steal From Grief its pains away, To charm the Summer of the year To bide with us, contented, here; — So would I sing to-day. [43] GAIN OF SONG H OW much of beauty is there shown In places where no mortal eye Will ever come; how little known Are glories of the earth and sky! How many gems are never found, Bright crystals hidden under ground; Charged with excess of flashing light Yet treasured in dark vaults of night ! How much of melody is made That never comes to mortal ear, How many symphonies are played Our duller senses never hear! As sweet the song of singing bird When by its mate alone 'tis heard. And if the mate be there no more The song is sweeter than before. And yet there is no beauty lost, No crystal has been formed in vain. Though fashioned at so great a cost The making of it was a gain; The song that comes to me to-day Will in my soul forever stay Whether I wing it with a word Or never be its music heard. [44] THE COMMON BOND D EEP peacefulness of growing things Rests on the farm and wood, From happy heart the sparrow sings Unto her fledgUng brood; This chirp of crickets in the grass Is warm with greeting when I pass, The cheerful message that it brings Saves all from solitude. I wonder if the grasses hear These friendly crickets greet, I wonder if the daisies fear Rude trampling of my feet; There are in Nature thoughts too fine For our dull insight to divine, We cannot to her haunts draw near Nor with her favorites meet. Between that blameless world and me The tie is close and strong, It holds us both in amity As it has held us long; And since I feel in every part The heart of Nature is my heart, It seems the common bond must be In the lineage of song. [45] SONG'S APPEAL OOMETIMES it is a smile that cheers Dull sorrow of the heart, Sometimes a low sweet tone appears To soothe a bitter smart; Another time a simple strain Of music soft and low Will ease a bosom of its pain, Bereavement of its woe. It is enough, — the kindly tone, It matters less, — the word. The feeling of the heart is shown In accents faintly heard; Fond heart that beats in sympathy Its neighbor heart will stir. And this unto itself will be Its own interpreter. So is it that a little song May help a world in tears, Repeated as it lingers long In memory of years; Though faint may be the song's appeal, If only it be true, Unto the gentle hearts that feel It is forever new. [46] MINSTRELSY H E who in sympathy has heard The low soft trilUng of a bird, To loved one singing, Is privileged to learn by heart Coy secret of the minstrel's art, His wild notes flinging Upon a world given o'er to care Yet leaving lonely places where Are harebells clinging. It is the art from Nature caught, From shore and field and forest brought. From sky and ocean; The minstrel's rhythmic numbers are In measured movement regular As tides in motion. And with their beating rise and fall The gentle pulsing musical Of Love's devotion. 47 FRAGMENTS OF SONG I N the stillness of summer is heard Sometimes the soft notes of a bird From the borders of cloudland singing; So in silence the heart may be stirred By the echoing sound of a word From the belfry of memory ringing. It may be the broken string With a cry stops its vibrating, Voiceless to be forever; It may be the birds that sing Have tired the venturesome wing And will come to their song-land never. But yet on hill and on plain Will the magic of music remain With a power that is unbroken; For it holds in the simple strain That voices love's pleasure and pain What can never, never be spoken. Only fragments of song are these Broken chords of earth's harmonies, Begun and then later suspended; But coming as solaces Into hearts their sorrows to ease In paeans of praise are they ended. [48 1 SUGGESTION A FRAGMENT of a song, One single silvery strain, — It haunts me all day long, At night it comes again. That echoing note I hear Chime with the vesper bell. So musically clear As if from heaven it fell. It blends with gladsome note Across green meadows heard Poured from the tuneful throat Of early morning bird. The thrushes, singing late At evening hour alone. Have this one strain to mate With melodies their own. I know not whence 'tis brought Nor where its charms belong; It comes a happy thought, It goes an idle song. [49] WINGED SONG JL HE heart of singer is the home of song Wherein has this with others had its birth, And where the brood have fondly nestled long, Have passed most pleasant days in blameless mirth; When now one leaves the nest, Escapes the singer's breast, It makes a timid flight on untried wings. Nor will it yet attempt life's loftier things. It may be that the fledgling on its way Shall come to one who hears it with delight, And, bidden with another heart to stay, Shall tarry there and rest throughout the night; Shall find a welcome warm. Safe shelter from the storm, And there perchance the song may come to be Most happy strain in some sweet symphony. Were there in all the world no other heart To which the song would be most welcome guest, Then were it from its home loth to depart. Or, leaving, would come back at night to rest; And thus the world indeed Of song would be in need. And many an hour of life would then be long That now most happily is winged with song. [sol FAREWELL TO CARE I T rains — a heavy shadow broods Over the meadows and the woods, A deep gloom bringing All Nature's chorus to a hush Except that evensong of thrush Is left still ringing; It is as if all, far and near, Had stopped — as I have stopped — to hear That sweet voice singing. Sometimes the faint soul feels the strain Of anxious thought and silent pain, The day is dreary; Our life is burdened with its cares, And with the load of grief it bears The heart is weary; Then let us give to care the wing Of song, and in our freedom sing As sings the veery. SI SONGS OF LIFE X HE songs our voices raise Are sung in hearty praise Of what was fair And was gladsome there, In our childhood's happy days. We sing of fairy gold, Of men who were wise and bold When life was new And all hearts were true In the far-off days of old. But now and then a strain In the minor key will plain, — Will tell how near Are together here Our seasons of joy and of pain. The heart cannot forget Its youthful joys, nor yet Can it forego Outbursts of woe When the sorrows of life are met. [52] BETWEEN DAWN AND NIGHT H, OWEVER long or short the day, However bright or dark the skies, It is a matter of surprise How much that's sad, how much that's gay Between the dawn and evening Hes. With beauty is the heart made glad, — With beauty of the fields in May When fields appear in fresh array. And yet the same heart must be sad To see that beauty fade away. The heart in singing takes delight, In morning hymn of hermit thrush When feelings into rapture rush; But when the descant falls at night Then comes upon the heart a hush. As with the day so with the years Of life, beginning bright and fair. When toward the evensong they wear And from the heavens day disappears, Yet faithful stars are shining there. 53] EVENSONG OF PRAISE A HE wood thrush sings and will not stay Its one familiar strain; Soon as the music dies away That song begins again; It runs as runs a meadow stream Through all the twilight long, Refreshing blossoms of a dream With dewiness of song. Those cadences are soft and low As evening's curfew bell, And falUng into silence so Again to triumph swell; Through drowse of day the wood thrush sings In that same minor key. Yet soul of listener upsprings To loftier ecstasy. O silvery-fluting Voice of thrush That leads the day to close. That leads all chirping to a hush, AU chirpers to repose; Be thou, sweet Voice, a Muse to me, Most gracious one to raise My soul to Heaven's full harmony. An evensong of praise. [54] REPEATED SONG W, E cannot have the year without the spring, We cannot have the spring without the song Of bluebirds coming on impatient wing, Of countless other choristers that bring A service lasting all the summer long. We cannot have the year without the throng Of daisies mustering on sunny lea, Anemones come out in numbers strong, By willow-bordered brookside troop along CowsHps and dafl&es dancing merrily. We cannot have the year without the fall, The later season of decadent leaf; The crimson-tinted sumac by the wall And in the field the cricket's plaintive call Tell of a closing year whose course is brief. We look upon the pageantry of mirth, And mark its passing with a sense of pain, So much of gaiety goes out from earth, Of music and of dance is so great dearth! And yet we know that spring will come again. 55 THE HEART'S SOVEREIGN JL/OVE dwells apart In purity of thought, Of word, of all that's wrought Within the heart. There Love is lord, Full mastery acquires. Brings all the heart's desires To sweet accord. Within that sphere Love holds supreme control O'er matters of the soul, Casts out all fear. Who Love obeys Goes on life's journey long Singing a happy song. Of Love the praise. When this shall cease, We know at last our friend Has come unto that end That's perfect peace. [56] SONG SURVIVAL I T is not to the ear alone The song is sung; — its music dies Into a low pathetic tone That cloistered in the memory lies Once more with other songs to rise. As in the silence of a wood We hear the wind among the trees, According to our present mood The melody made by the breeze Is softly plaintive by degrees. A mountain cUff high up and steep With moss is slowly overgrown, There toiling lichens cHmb and creep, At last in crevice of the stone A harebell by the wind is blown. And so it is in human lives Some tone of feehng lingers long; Through generations it survives. And when at last 'tis rooted strong It buds and blossoms into song. 57 FOR ALL N. OT for that heart alone, The heart that keeps on singing all day long, In gladness of its own And in a merry tone Is made the winsome melody of song. Another heart is near, It may be of companion or of friend. Or stranger may appear, May stop a while to hear The cadenced music falling to the end; It may be no one stays His steps to listen to the singer's voice, But yet the note of praise That hearts rejoicing raise Must help to make the Giver's heart rejoice. The Eternal Presence knows What grace the harmony of music yields; By that same order grows The beauty of the rose, The royal-mantled lily of the fields. S8] SONG OF SONGS H. E who sang the Song of Songs Knew to whom that strain belongs; To Love, the all-deserving; To Love aye drawing soul to soul As turns the needle to the pole, From that course never swerving. This the song that's sung in praise Of the love that with us stays Throughout life's journey ever, — Love that casts no shadow here, Knows no winter in its year And fails in duty never. We who timidly essay Singing songs of love to-day. We hesitate and falter; Let us then in theme and tone Make that Song of Songs our own, And not one accent alter. [59 I SEA SHELLS /jLRE songs of Ariel ringing clear, Do sirens sing enchantingly? — We hold the sea shell to the ear And from its lip of pearl we hear The low sweet music of the sea. Poor empty shells ! — upon the beach We find them when the storm is o'er; And now beyond the billows' reach Those vocal lips yet strive to teach What moans the ocean evermore. They call to where sea-gardens sleep In quietude of tropic seas, And in their cadenced music keep The secret longing of the deep For earth's primeval harmonies. Poor exiled shells that still repeat Their nature song in undertone; Responsive still to pulsing beat Of ebb and flow, of cold and heat; — What rhythm has creation known ! 60 LIFE-SONG Wi ITHIN the heart the life-song singeth low As at the border of the summer wood All day unseen the veery singeth so To quiet down her restless callow brood; — It singeth low and long The love-inspired song That cheers the toilsome, up-hill way we go Yet is by Nature's fondhngs understood. It is a song for other hearts to hear Within their choir repeated o'er and o'er As in the wood is heard from year to year The mother bird her song of soothing pour, Until, the world around. That selfsame song is found Fining the days of mortal hfe with cheer And keeping hearts in concord evermore. A song it is of peace along the way, Of triumph as we come toward the end; There is no pause the even step to stay. No note that to impatient haste would tend. Heaven is so very near The way we journey here We take the blessings offered day by day And make them greater, sharing with a friend. [6i] FOR INTERPRETING O SINGER of the lonely wood Within the dark and hollow glen Of clustering mountains which include Space rarely trod by feet of men, Sing on in your deep solitude In pensive mood, Nor fear I will within your haunts intrude, — And yet my songs — it seems to me They could not be Other than sweet if they were sung by thee ! Ah, singer knowing what is song And knowing what is melody. What things to our sober thought belong And what belong to ecstasy, Let your unstudied strain be short or long, Feeble or strong. You cannot in its rendering go wrong; But let me try hard as I may The simplest lay, To Heaven's heart I fail to find my way. 62 SONGS UNSUNG A wo spirits meeting on the narrow way Of mortal life are both divinely thrilled, Each with the other's presence, and yet they Can find no utterance by which to say With how much of delight their hearts are filled. So is it that the soul is lacking speech When most it feels of utterance the need. The gift of language lacks the power to reach Words of a meaning large enough to teach What means from friend to friend the heart's "God-speed." Too late one realizes it has passed, — The chance that he may with the other meet, Remembers when they were together last. Would give the world if he could life recast And that fond session of two souls repeat. It were in vain, — the words that we would say Would linger yet on charmed lip and tongue. The fluttering heart our eager speech would stay, And still in silence should we turn away; — Thus do our sweetest songs remain unsung. 63 OF THE SPIRIT I T is not the sunshine bright Upon the burning sand, It is not the tempest's might On the imresisting strand, But it is an action tender As if a grace it would render Removes the veil from our mortal sight, And then we find that we stand In the glory of Heaven's splendor. It is not the music heard Outringing loud and clear. It is not the spoken word That we are so glad to hear, But it is that tone of feeling Into our own hearts stealing From hearts that by our grief are stirred To the trembling of a tear Their tenderness reveahng. 64 WEFT OF SONG X HERE is need of more than the will, Of more than the sprightliest thought, There is need of more than the skill With which are madrigals wrought. To make such a song as will live Wholly free from the w^ll-measured line; — 'Tis the touch of a hand that will give Somewhat of a spirit divine. But the singer — he never can know Full meaning of that which he sings, For, whatever feeling may flow, Yet more to his bosom there clings; And he never can fathom the source From which his own soul is supplied. Nor ever will measure the force Of his passion's outflowing tide. Of a kindred soul is there need If the currents of feeling shall flow. For the rill would not run if the mead Were not beckoning it from below; But the thoughts which no words can express To the heart of the singer belong; Only what the heart feels in excess Goes into the weft of a song. [65] WHY SAD? A HIS later age sings oftener of sorrow, Laments its grief and pain; From themes of sadness now our singers borrow Their most familiar strain. High notes of joy in song are heard no longer, — Of joy in singer's heart, But all the time is sad complaining stronger Of life in every part. It was not so — there was no thought of sadness, Our race felt it was young When out of hearts that overflowed with gladness The earlier minstrels sung. Men count their years as in their far recession The years are by them seen, A course of winters following in succession With not a spring between; Forgetful that all spiritual existence Is not of years or days, That the immortal with divine persistence Somewhere forever stays. 66 FOR REMEMBRANCE CiARELESS if it be heard, Or if no one be near Its simple song to hear, The sweetly singing bird Out of a tuneful throat Gives most enchanting note Till all the woods with melody are stirred. And so it is that one Who sings to his own heart Employs his highest art E'en though there may be none In his delight to share; — He finds his guerdon there In what remains after the song is done. So is it now with me While here I stroll along, Sing to myself a song; I pray that this may be Kept as a souvenir, For the singer's sake held dear And treasured long in Love's fond memory. [67] IN WIDER SPHERE V^N boughs of orchard trees in early spring In pink and white most delicate appear Full, tender buds so shyly opening, And promising rich fruitage of the year; Beyond the vision of that early bloom We scent the fragrance of its sweet perfume, And while the beauty of the blossom clings Within the shelter of its winter's rest The spirit of that loveliness takes wings, And my dull sense is with its presence blessed. In thickets dense with osier twigs and leaves By streamlet side the wood thrush makes her nest. And here in holy hush of summer eves She sings in peace her little ones to rest; We may not catch the flash of mottled wings, We may not watch the singer while she sings, •• Night after night we sit and listen so. Expectant of that voice all summer long. Nor can the enraptured singer ever know How many hearts are charmed by her sweet song. 68] SONG AND THE VOICE A HE song and "the Voice," — they are one, "The Voice" that says to me, "Sing!" There is nothing more to be done But heed the low notes as they ring ; What may be to others a word Of distress, of sorrow and pain, When it comes to my hearing, is heard As a chord of a musical strain. Loud shoutings of gladness and mirth Move humanity only in part, It is the sharp cry of the earth That reaches and quickens the heart; The sunlight is warm on the hill, And cool is the shade of the tree. Each has its fine purpose to fill. To give service to you and to me. For the day, — it is followed by night The wide circuit of our earth around, Deep shadows are born of the light As echo is ofi'spring of sound; The shades owe their lives to the sun. To the sun all their graces belong. So the song and "the Voice," — they are one, Both abiding with us in the song. [69] IDLE THOUGHTS I KNOW not if it be Some waif of memory Out in the world astray, Or if it be a thought Out of the future brought Into our own to-day. Under the open sky I watch white clouds go by, Drifting along, wind-blown; Whence come they, whither go? Is not for me to know, Yet is their errand known. These idle thoughts delay Their course a while and stay With me through hours long, And I would keep them near To me through all the year, Inwoven into song. 70] APOLLO'S LYRE B 'ETWEEN these mountain slopes of rugged form That hold the plain as two confronting foes, Their towering heads close-helmeted with snows, Undaunted faces channeled by the storm; Between these ledges piled In broken masses wild As golden stream the evening sun shines through; With threads of living fire And rain is formed a lyre Such as persuasive hand of the god Apollo knew. What though the strings be mute to mortal ear, And human hand to touch them strive in vain? Those strings of golden light and amber rain Make in their colors harmony appear; Of blending light and shade A symphony is made That runs between the hills as a river sweeps along; And in that glow we see Tones of a melody Moving the reed-like heart as with a flood of song. 71 RETURN OF ORPHEUS H E came in gladness on a pathway dim That leads out from a realm of mystery, With noiseless footsteps slowly followed him The shadowy form of his Eurydice. The singer touched the string by which his skill Had charmed the dog beside the iron gate, Had overcome the adamantine Will That fixes firm the hard decrees of Fate; He touched the string, he greeted light with song Such as the world had never heard before; With sorrow had his heart been burdened long, But now with gladness was it running o'er. His song was one of joy and victory That he had wrought the purpose of his soul, Had entered on the lists with Destiny And had in triumph proudly reached the goal. At length he turned his head aside to see If she, his comrade, did applaud the theme, Only to find the loved Eurydice Had vanished as the vision of a dream. 72 IN DREAMLAND Ui NWEARIEDLY we go a pathless way Through dimly lighted land of dreams to seek Some clearer, wider vision of the day From towering summit of a lonely peak; It is a shadowy land that we behold Half -hidden by dark clouds that trail along Beneath our feet, The middle distance — an enchanted wold — Is over flooded with impassioned song Divinely sweet. We know that we shall never reach again That silent peak beneath the silent skies, That music to recall we know is vain Soon as the morning light unseals our eyes; But there we stand enchanted, listening long To untaught music of a fancied host Of singing birds; Half-conscious that the witchery of song Must with the vanishing of dreams be lost, Unwed to words. 73 MAGIC OF SONG X HE song that has been sung so many times, Has lived in memory through so many years, Set to a plaintive air in simple rhyme, Falls with its charm of music on the ears And moves the soul to tears. Is it the vibrant sympathetic word That's spoken in a fondly loving tone. Or strain of music once in rapture heard, Stealing its way into the heart alone With magic of its own? Ah, who can tell from what deep-hidden source The tenderest feehngs of our nature rise, Or by what channels they will take their course? We only know their silvery current lies Close bordering Paradise. The thoughts that with the simple strain have birth Are kindred with the heart's first dream of love. They Hft the impassioned spirit from the earth And all the soul's enraptured feelings move On flower-strewn paths above. 74] FROM YEAR TO YEAR 1/ ROM year to year, from spring to spring, Soon as I hear the bluebird sing, There comes to me the memory Of what the dear birds used to bring. A promise clear of brighter skies That Winter here to us denies On azure wings the bluebird brings Our hearts to cheer with glad surprise. How have I heard that song to-day! The little bird, so bUthe and gay. From its full throat poured simple note That without word charms me for aye. It leads me back through many years Along a track that's marked wdth tears Until I reach the tideless beach Whereon the wrack of time appears. Here I remain and listen long To hear again the bluebird's song. O could I make for his dear sake My simple strain as clear and strong! 75 HARMONIES T IS not alone to cadenced song, To strains of music that we hear, The sweetest harmonies belong That bring the heart its brightest cheer; It may be that a floweret, seen Among the grass with happy face. Gives added beauty to the green Where God has set it in that place. We hear the sound of village bells Across wide space of waters float. The pulsing music fails and swells With idle rocking of our boat; Upon its way that chiming stole Some portion of the lily's dower. And now we know how sweet a soul Is wedded to how fair a flower. These harmonies to outward sense Are faintly typical of those That come to us, we know not whence. And charm our spirits to repose; Identities of wish and thought That unto kindred souls belong. Form, when they are together brought, An unheard, unrecorded song. [76] BOYHOOD On orchard slope, in bordering wood, The birds are singing clear A gladsome song of happy mood It is a joy to hear; — To hear the blackbird calling shrill, The wood-thrush calling low, Song-sparrow singing by the rill Soft as its waters flow. The liquid notes of morning song Fall soft as falls the dew On ferns and grasses all night long The field and meadow through; It sets the current of the stream With pulsing air in tune. And UHes on the water dream Of river-banks in June. So is it that the morning breaks With every sign of joy, So is it that the world awakes To wake the sleeping boy; For him the pleasure of the eyes, The blessing of the ears. The beauty that around him Ues, The music that he hears. [77] ONLY TWO D O you, dear Heart, do you recall One morning when the world was young, The bloom of spring was over all And gates of Eden outward swung To let a happy pair go through, — Do you recall that one was you? They were alone — that happy pair — That new-made world was all their own; For them it had been made so fair, Its fields with flowers thickly sown ; — Made beautiful for only two, And one of these, dear Heart, was you. The splendor of the morning light. The glory of the crowned day, The steadfastness of sable night Whose altar fires are lit for aye; — So much of beautiful and true. Of God's great gifts for only two ! Wrapped in an atmosphere of bliss As sculptor's dream in smiling stone. Do we forget ourselves to this. To see the universe our own ! — All this delight for only two, Your own fond love, dear Heart, and you! [78I TO THE SINGER V>«EASE not, O Singer, do not cease thy song; Mine ears have Kstened to its music long, And now my heart as well Would own the magic spell Of its low melody that is though sweetly clear yet strong. Sing on, sweet minstrel of the wayside choir, Content with gratitude for hire; Content your gift to share. Content to lighten care. To help some other gifted soul to loftier heights aspire. Cease not, O Singer, do not cease thy song; Thy gifts of magic to mankind belong; The sweetness of thy voice May help the world rejoice, Remind it of the good and true and serve to banish wrong. Sing on, sweet minstrel of the happiest birth, Whose calling is to cheer the home and hearth; Sing of a higher home To which the soul shall come And learn at last how poor this Ufe and yet how great its worth. [79] HEART OF YOUTH O HEART of Youth, forever young, For sweetest strains divinely strung; How do those chords, vibrating still, The soul with tenderest feeling thrill! And how to memory has clung The music of our earlier years. How have those chiming accents rung To shifting moods of smiles and tears, To songs no other singer hears! Dear Heart of Youth, forever strong Against all violence of wrong. That faints not from the length of way Nor from the burden of the day; Go with me all life's journey long. Support of your fine courage lend, And cheer me with your happy song; Be thou my faithful constant friend, My fellow- traveler to the end! 80 THE LAST SONG X HE play was over and the music ended, The Ughts were burning low, And vanished all the glittering pageant splendid That ruled short time ago; Now empty were the benches which were rendered Tumultuous with applause That to the gentle singer had been tendered Unstinted at each pause; — 'Twas but a child, last one of all in leaving. Now turning at the door As if in faith of childish soul believing There must be one note more. The singer saw those tender eyes appealing Unto a tender heart. She sang one strain of lofty song revealing More than all skill of art. Transported with her joy, the young girl listened To music such as this; Then, smiling thanks from deep blue eyes that ghstened, Sent back a good-night kiss. [8i] AT HOSTELRY OF THOUGHT W] HO builds the mansion of his mind Seeks strongest timber he can find From olden forests brought; Lays the foundation strong and deep The stately edifice to keep For sheltering of thought. Here will he entertain with rest The stranger and the bidden guest, — With rest, good-cheer and wine; Here host with guest and friend with friend Will meet and in sweet converse blend The human and divine. When here a thought at fading light May seek a shelter for the night Worn by a journey long, 'Tis given warm bath, rich feast in hall, The very softest couch of all In bed-chamber of song. 82 HERITAGE OF SONG N. OT on cold lips of stone As those of Memnon old, Of which is marvel told That when the sun first shone At morning hour his rays Awoke a hymn of praise Sung in exultant tone, O'er leagues of desert rolled; Not thus has Song appeared When first upon the earth Has she had glorious birth. Has hearts of mortals cheered. But on fair lips that smiled Sweetly as dreaming child Has Song been bom and reared To her immortal worth. softly warbled Song Led by Apollo's lyre, Whose heart does Love inspire, To whom does Art belong, Thou hast thy heritage In that far Golden Age When hearts of men were strong, Were noble in desire. [83] THE UNHEARD CHOIR Wi HO listens to the passing winds may note, Day after day through year succeeding year, A sigh of sadness on the breezes float, With falling dew see drop a silent tear; Far bitter cry of anguished soul may hear Across the wave as if now Charon's boat To that unlighted shore were drawing near. Who wanders by the river on its way From lake among the mountains to the sea May fancy that the waters are at play Where they leap over ledges, bounding free; May hear them laughing in an ecstasy Of pure delight, and where they idly stay Their course, hear an unsouled Undine's glee. The one in sympathy with Nature feels More than to soul of man sense ever brings, With what he sees into his being steals Yet clearer vision of diviner things; With note of woodland songster faintly rings Another note responsive, that reveals What melody an unheard choir sings. [84] IN HARMONY A HE burden of winds that blow From the chilly west, The burden of drifting snow That will never rest; The rhythmic beating of wings As they sweep along, And the voice of the maiden who sings A low, sweet song; These are but voices of earth, Of earth and of sky. Children's shouting in mirth And the sea-mew's cry; Many the hymns of praise And the songs of woe; Many and varied the lays From hearts below. But these to the Infinite Ear Blend in one strain, Both what is pleasing to hear And what is pain. For the Grand Composer takes, Of dirge and of glee, Notes discordant and makes Sweet melody . [85] SINGING OF THE SOUL A HE cricket puts so much of hearty cheer, So much of summer gladness in his song That, walking in the fields, I seem to hear The selfsame cricket singing all day long So merrily The world must seem to be A world of light and joy for him and me. The cricket keeps up his low monotone While on the birch white-throated sparrow sings, In dusk of twilight cricket sings alone Regardless of the hush that evening brings; He has no care If you or I be there, Or song be wasted on the silent air. So is it with the singing of the soul That goes its way in quietude of peace. Its heart once fixed upon the distant goal. From song of gladness never will it cease, But all the way Whether by night or day Will make life happy with its voice so gay. 86 LOVE AND FAITH X S there love that shall last through the years, With increase of their numbers grow strong? Is there hope that is shadowed by fears And grief that is softened by tears? Then is there a need for so long Of the sweet ministration of Song. Is there faith that holds fast to the truth While truth bears the scoff and the scorn? Is there wisdom that's comrade of youth And companion of age? then forsooth Will the world turn again toward the morn, Exult in a Song newly born. For a faith that is simple and just, For a love that's unselfish and strong, The world waits in confident trust Believing these two pillars must To the beautiful gateway belong That admits to the temple of Song. 87 IN POVERTY A HE Singer himself is poor, He was born to no higher estate, His infancy played round the cottage door, Not inside the palace gate; — He had for his childhood mate The Muse who is ever young, And she to his heart and soul has sung What songs are yet lingering late; Has sung of the sweet content That is found on the countryside Where lives in the quiet of home are spent, Where pleasures of youth abide; The Muse has kept close by his side. Repeating of home-life the praise; — To mingle her notes in his lays Evermore the Singer has tried. And not unhappy the song Nor plaintive the simple strain He carols forth as he trudges along Over Hfe's dusty plain; — In a world of sorrow and pain To have the fond Muse by his side Is to have her a joy-bringing bride. And himself to be youthful again. [88 1 TIME'S ANTHOLOGY H ERE from the sifting of the years, From all the product of the past, The finest of its thought appears, What Fate declares that it shall last. Upon these pages softly glow What lights have burned in former years, We read these tender words and know They have been often read with tears. With ease the devious ways we trace By which has singers' fancy gone, And joining those of equal pace With them we proudly follow on. So in the future there shall be Those who in our to-day shall find That in the realms of Poesy There is a brotherhood of mind. A word of truth, if it be new, A word of faith, if it be strong. Shall last the coming ages through And be the inspiring theme of song. 89 THE FINER SENSE O THAT one might be given so fine an ear That he could hear The growing grass at opening of the year! Hear violets creep Out of their beds after a winter's sleep Dreamless and deep ! What pleasure would the heart of mortal gain To hear the strain Of exultation from upspringing grain ! To hear the sweet Low childish voices of young blades of wheat Each other greet! Was not this to our earliest parents given, The gift of Heaven Before they were from Eden's garden driven? Thus making Eve So tenderly, so passionately grieve Her flowers to leave? Our gifts are portioned to us as our need. Our longings lead The soul to venture on some worthy deed; — Enough is fair. Enough of melody is everywhere Were w^e aware. [90] THEMES OF SONG JL HE painter chooses subjects for his brush From what around him most Hfelike appears, A boy, it may be, Hstening to a thrush. Enchanted with the melody he hears; Or it may be where age with youth at play Puts off the sober mask of care and pain, And going back o'er many years to-day Becomes at heart a happy child again. It is not always that of far-off things, Of half-forgotten battles long ago. Nor of heroic deeds the minstrel sings; — More oft his songs from nearer fountain flow. Fond pressure of a hand, fond look of love. May lead him life's long pathway to retrace, Care of the intervening years remove. And bring him with his childhood face to face. His are again the unspoken thoughts of youth, Bright scenes are round him, fairy-like, to bless. He has once more the friendship that is truth, The smile of Nature that is loveliness; And finding that of all this pleasant earth The goodliest portion to himself belongs. Within his heart most generous thoughts have birth, And these he puts into his happiest songs. [91] SOUL OF SILENCE 30UL of Silence, standing near At the opening of the year When the winds of April blow Over fields of melting snow, What of heartiness and cheer In the bluebird's song you hear! Song with gladness running o'er, Telling Spring is here once more; TelHng heart of bird was true All the silent Winter through. That the dream of bud and bough Is made good in beauty now. Soul of Silence, waiting still For the echo from the hill, Waiting for the song to be Outburst mad of revelry, You will wait in patience till Mingled songs the woodland fill. 92 so LONG OO long as Love remains, So long Will sound the silvery strains Of song That tells of joys and pains, Of losses and of gains That unto Love's domains Belong. So long as Love is here, So long Shall we in rapture hear His song Ringing so loud and clear. Free from all notes of fear, As borne from sphere to sphere Along. So long as Love is fair. So long Will Joy and Sorrow share That song; For love is bold to wear The warrior's helm, to bear Arms in the fight, to dare Be strong. [93] HEART OF GLADNESS O HEART of Gladness, Heart of Joy, Dear happy Heart of happy boy ! The skies above are bright and clear. The world around fair to the sight, Sweet songs of birds for one to hear, And life nought but a pure delight; What need of greater happiness Glad heart of happy boy to bless! He lives to Nature very near In things to see, in things to hear, In beauty of the oriole's wing. In melody of linnet's song; To him soft airs of summers bring A query he has pondered long, — What land beyond the water lies To which the summer swallow flies? Can it be fairer than his own. With more to charm than he has known? If so, why should the swallow fly So far across the sea to bring Its prophecy of summer nigh While yet it is our chilly spring? And this the only weight of care Light-hearted boyhood has to bear! [94] AGE OF SONG J. HERE was a time when waiting mortals heard Some notes of song that came from higher sphere, More musical than any spoken word From human Ups has ever fallen here; Then walked Apollo on Cyllene's height, Woke with his voice the lyre's reponsive string, Then joined the maiden Muses with delight In choral dance around Pierian spring. There was a time when tuneful waters ran With merry laughter reedy banks between, From time to time were heard sweet songs of Pan, Although the singer of them was unseen; The winds upon the river's face were still Yet reeds were trembling all its banks along, What could it be but that the master's skill Was waking these to harmony of song. The age of song was ended long ago. Its time among mankind was very brief. It went as soon as men to hear were slow And lost the ease of childhood for belief; — We hear no more the streamlet's rhythmic flow, The reeds' entrancing music without end, Because we do no longer care to know To make the low, soft notes of Nature blend. [951 THE HAPPY HEART ± HE happy heart goes all the day A quiet grass-grown path along, With smiling face it cheers the way, It makes the burden Hght with song, At coming of the morn 'tis gay, At evening is with labor strong. The happy heart of happy boy Goes all the way with toiling man, Whatever heavy tasks employ His hand he does them as he can; At their completion finds the joy That all his hopes and dreams outran. Unlike the halting tired feet. The heart ne'er feels the need of rest; Repose to weary limbs is sweet And that given by the heart is best; Where merry heart and duty meet, There is the life of mortal blest. 96 SONG AND ECHO A HE singer puts his heart into a song And sends this forth to wander at its will, To follow bank of meadow stream along Or clamber up the slope of wooded hill To where does Echo in her rocky cell Receive the visitor with ecstasy, And practising the novel measure well Give back the song anew in melody, and melody, and melody. Or it may be the vagrant one shall meet Some lonely heart that has been waiting long. That now is glad another heart to greet. Give entertainment to a homeless song; And there the wanderer contented dwells. Hostess and guest in perfect harmony; — Echo and song chime as do marriage bells Their happy tidings ring in melody, and melody, and melody. 97 FOOTFALLS OF THOUGHT 1/ OND thoughts that to the poet's soul appear But steps of unseen angels going by, Whose footfalls to his senses ringing clear Reveal to him a heavenly presence near Although denied his vision to descry. Those steps seem always coming from above, Seem never, never from him to depart. He hears them on the ladder-rungs of love From Heaven descending, and their hurryings prove They find warm hostelry within his heart. Nor do they venture forth, again to stray. Until there comes an eager soul to hear, And then as in a choral dance do they Repeat harmonious numbers in the lay Sung by the poet to enchanted ear. And thus it is that one inspired thought Goes on its destined way around the earth; Its music some impassioned soul has caught, Has into melody its footfalls wrought; — Song, of immortal youth, has come to birth ! 98 DAY COMES WITH SONG D AY comes mth song, Soon as the morning breaks Over the crest of low, gray eastern hills, Its gentle footfall wakes The tuneful choir that makes Sweet melody of joyfulness that fills The woods around, that sends clear limpid rills Of softly flowing song With lulling lapse of murmuring stream green meadow's marge along. Day goes with song, When down the glowing west The sun goes to his chamber for the night, Leaving the world to rest, The swallow in her nest Pavilioned o'er with evening clouds all bright With gold and amber of day's fading light; — Then does the hour belong To simply artless cadenced close of veery's vesper song. [99 SILENCE 3hE comes before us oft, we know not whence, No footfalls of her coming do we hear, So softly will she leave us, going hence, No farewell utterance falUng on our ear, No word of vain regret nor word of cheer; No rustling of her dress Nor benison to bless The heart of Feeling, to relieve the sense Of that which in her presence most we fear, — The sense of loneliness. And this is Silence, — of all comrades best When we are with her in the world alone, When in the stillness of an hour of rest We hear a music hitherto unknown, A harmony of sentiment and tone That doth express the whole Entrancement of the soul When, with a consciousness of selfhood blest, It feels a tide of rapture all its own Into its bosom roll. [ loo] ABSENT-HEARTED I LOVE my Love; — far as his feet may go There shall my love outrun him on his way; Or let him loiter by the streamlet slow, Or let him linger where the violets grow, There shall my love beside him fondly stay; How can he — thus attended — fail to know That while I live, and while I love him so. My life is lonely, for my Heart's away With loving Thought to-day! My Love loves me, and that is all I care, To have his love that I may call my own; Let others have all that is bright and fair, Let others joy in love, — they cannot share That which I feel is felt for me alone ; How do I — thus attended — everywhere Find Life a gladsome thing of beauty rare, And all her paths with fragrant flowers strewn. Tree-shaded and grass-grown ! [ lOI HOSPITALITY OF THE HEART A HE early-rising sun of summer throws Upon the mountain's brow its golden light, It overspreads the field of winter snows With blushing of the rose, Lending a ruddy radiance to the white. In bringing up the glory of the day To give low eastern cloud its fringe of gold, The beams that round the mountain summits play That lavish gift display In tenderness of tint a thousand fold. We see the wealth of color in the tone Of light that has come through the falling rain, And so is beauty of the morning shown In radiant sunbeams thrown Back from the high snow-mantled peaks again. The joys of life, too, have their greatest zest Not in those things that are directly given; — The most delightful and most welcome guest That comes to human breast Is he who is by stress of weather driven. [102 ] PICTURED SONG A HE man who painted sang as well, So do the olden stories tell; He sang of beauty, sang of grace The while he limned the lady's face; He sang the valiant deed and brave Whene'er he wished the expression grave, But love inspired his song the while He painted that bewitching smile Which lingers yet through ages long And still rewards the artist's song. O could those lips round which there plays The sunshine of departed days, Could they repeat the tender strain. Those touching words of song again. How would our souls with music fill. Our hearts with noble passion thrill ! Then should we hand of artist bless, The artist's charming voice no less; — But no, — song on our earth delays Only in smile that song repays. 103 THE SINGER Wi HAT is the poet's aim? Some wounded heart to reach That he a truth may teach Of comfort to the same. What is the poet's thought? It is of noblest worth, Of virtue here on earth From heights celestial brought. What is the poet's dream? A vision of the Right Prevailing over Might And made the law supreme. What is the poet's prayer? That in another sphere What is the rarest here Be found most common there. What is the poet's faith? In some fond memory His simple song shall be Kept sacred after death. [ 104] SINGER AND HEARER X HE figure in the block of marble hidden From every eye except the artist's own Will, by the magic beck of Genius bidden, Step from the stone. And so the beauty in the rosebud's keeping Through mnter snows, away from mortal sight, Is ready at the touch of Summer, leaping Into the light. Beyond the chimes from village belfry ringing, Adown the silence of the evening air. We hear from wooded slope a bird song bringing The worship there. So in a verse melodiously flowing In lines composed of harmony complete. Are heard the pulses of a heart throb shoTving Music more sweet; — Showing how vast that Delian possession, How far beyond the inspired one's control, That it should find a still more full expression In other soul. 105 POWER OF SONG I T may be that some heart has felt, When it was very sore from wrong, Blest anodyne of sorrow dealt So sweetly, gratefully by song, And it has blessed the art divine That poured the balm of oil and wine Upon a spirit suffering long. It may be that some kindly word Joined to a soft, melodious strain, In time of grief and trouble heard, Has had full power to ease a pain; Then who shall say the singer's voice May not in its high art rejoice. Nor deem that it has sung in vain? O power of song to raise the soul When this in deep dejection lies, — As deep as was of Eve the dole When she went out from Paradise; What fadeless laurel wreaths belong To those who having gift of song Its sweet enchantment exercise! 1 06 SINGING AND TOILING I HAVE a life in common with the shy And wary creatures of the field and wood, A life withdra^\Ti from the World's curious eye, And by the indifferent little understood. My waking hours belong To artless song As that is warbled by the hedgerow bird, And in my slumber dreams The dear Muse seems To sing the sweetest songs were ever heard. I have a life in common with the throng Of busy toilers in the mart and field, With working men have made my muscles strong In garnering what the furrowed soil would yield. To me the evening hush And song of thrush Have often come as welcome call to rest; And yet I cannot say With yea or nay Whether is singing or is toiling best. [ 107 ] SADNESS OF SONG X HE bird sings o'er and o'er Its one unvarying score Repeated day by day And sung year after year, One softly warbled lay So musically clear That when its notes we hear Unto our Souls we say, ''Come to the hills, away; Now is the Summer near!" Not so with what belongs To the music of our songs; Sometimes a cry of pain Comes from vibrating strings. Breaks the melodious strain, A note of discord rings; Unto our heart it brings. As south wind brings the rain, Full sense of effort vain Oft as the fond heart sings. io8 SILENCE OF THE SOUL I LISTEN to the singing of a bird Not for the sweetness of the music heard Though charming be that song, But for deep silence that shall follow soon Made sweetly tender by a haunting tune To be remembered long. How will that simple lay come back to me And dwell at peace within my memory, Sweet as it was of yore; When as a boy I listened at the spring To hear what songs the happy wild birds sing Repeated o'er and o'er! So may it be with hours we idly spend In joys that seem with flight of time to end, Or pass from our control; It may be that these hours of idleness Are garnering some gracious thought to bless The silence of the soul. 109] SING ON! &ING on, sweet Voice so fondly heard By mate of yours from neighboring tree; Sing on, glad Heart of happy bird. Your cheerful song to gladden me; Sing o'er and o'er That simple score Of love conveying all the lore. Sing on, dear Songster of the wood. That gives to melody your best; Sing on, to quiet little brood That chirp and flutter in the nest; Sing o'er and o'er That simple score Was sung to linnet brood of yore. Sing on, O Heart so full of joy To hear a strain remembered long, A note that charmed me when a boy, To which would I attune my song; Sing o'er and o'er That simple score As if 'twere never sung before. [no] IN SIMPLE PHRASE I N simple phrase Such as our fathers used in earlier days, The spinner at the door Sings o'er and o'er To hum of wheel her old familiar lays. Her songs beguile The weariness of spinner's toil the while Do shadows on the ground Creep slowly round, And noon's fierce ardor softens to a smile. Those ballads old Tell of the past all that is to be told; Stories of love and faith Outlasting death. Of deeds heroic — of adventures bold. Sweet homely lays, They win for her who sings no lasting bays. But move the one who hears E'en unto tears. His heart touched by a song in simple phrase. [Ill] MINISTRY OF SONG 50NG sweetens toil, it makes all labor light, To gentle heart of Sorrow gladness brings, It cheers the hour of gloom with radiance bright As if the shadow were from angel wings; — The weaver at his loom in clear tone sings Some ballad rhythmic with the shuttle's flight, That o'er his web a mystic pattern flings Of deeds heroic told of vahant knight. To flowing verse and melody belong The nobler words and actions of the past, Defence of Right, the bold attack of Wrong As with a war-cry and with trumpet blast; — The minstrel's songs all memory outlast, Outlast the bastion and the bulwark strong; The history of war and conquest vast Is long outlived by simple peasant song. And so it is some tale of pity told In humble verse and set to simple strain, Some tale of Hecuba or Priam old. Of Hector dragged upon the Trojan plain, Or of some chivalric crusader slain. Of our compassion takes enduring hold. All efforts to forget the song are vain. Its cadences and rhythm our being mould. [112] DEAR HEART H. . W many springs that once were new, Were fresh with bloom, with promise fair, Before they to their ageing grew, Before they any fading knew, Or felt the shadow of a care; — How many were they ! — yet too few For me to spend along with you, Dear Heart, and learn your virtues rare. How many summers have grown old. Have sadly vanished from the earth. How many harvests ripened gold, How many winters with their cold Have built the fires upon the hearth! — How many are they! yet too few For me to spend along with you. Dear Heart, and come to know your worth. The many seasons we have known Each other's presence, being near. Have brought a blessing of their own. And now that they as birds are flown Still bides that blessing with us here, — That we in springs and summers new. Not less in cheerless winters, grew Each to the other yet more dear. [113] SONGS X HERE are songs for days that are bright, And songs for the days that are dull, Songs for the days that are filled with light And for days that of darkness are full ; There are songs for hearts that are young, For hearts that are weary and sore. And these are the songs that will still be sung When the makers of them are no more. There are songs for the friends who are here. For the friends who are far away, And songs that the hearts of the weary may cheer In the burden and heat of the day; There are songs of a tenderer chord That may tell of a holier love. And they need of our speech not a single word To be known by the angels above. There are songs for the great and the small, Those of high and of low degree. For the heroes of war who in battle fall And for those who are lost at sea; There are songs for our smiles and our tears. For our seasons of sadness and mirth. But what in the songs to the coming years Shall tell of their maker's worth? [114] TWIN SISTERS COMPANIONS close upon their lonely way Two graceful figures slowly move along, One richly clad and one in sober gray, — Silence unshod and her twin sister, Song. One looking downward as in thoughtful mood, The other looking to the heavens above ; One pondering matters feebly understood. The other singing joyously of love. There was no cloud nor shadow on the face Of either comrade as they journeyed on, But as they passed they left upon the place An air of loneUness where had they gone. One missed the music of the singer's voice That rang out to the morning loud and clear. Its full tones making heart of youth rejoice That so much melody of song was here; But more he missed the silence that had passed As runs a river's current deep and strong. For of its unheard harmonies at last Was woven to the soul most perfect song. [iiSl WINGS OF SONG Wi EAVING figures most intricate Over the background of the sky, Summer swallow and summer mate Up with the clouds together fly, Or over green meadows below, Unweariedly to and fro Swift as a thought they go Bright sunlight through On wings of blue. So do the thought and the vision appear Coming silently into view, Showing somewhat of graces here. Some of the beauty they have come through. How does that vision glow As after the rain does the bow, How brighter does beauty show When borne along On wings of song! [ii6] SONG OF LINUS Ml AR slope of upland shows a spacious field Now growing into gold with ripening corn, And beaming as a warrior's ready shield Full in the glorious light of early mom; We see at work the reapers bending low, Their crescent sickles flashing in the light, Behind them kevils lying in a row, The husbandman rejoicing in the sight. They sing — those laborers together sing A song by Linus made for men of yore, A song of gladness when 'tis sung in spring. Of sadness, sung when summer time is o'er; They sing the coming of a radiant boy. The ecstasy of childhood in his eyes. At his appearance here they sing what joy ! What grief and lamentation when he dies ! O song immortal in the heart of man, And still repeated in an echoing strain. Sweet song for men at reaping that once ran Along the border of a field of grain ! Sweet song of Linus' making by which he Through passing years has been remembered long, So that by sight of toiling reapers we Are yet reminded of that ancient song. [117] LESBIAN SONG X wo Lesbian maidens, toiling at the mill In the morning still, Before the day Comes over eastern hills full-robed in gray, Sing in soft measure of Pierian phrase Apollo's praise; In notes of joy They sing of Aphrodite and her boy; So do the Lesbian maids in music mask Laborious task To make it seem A festival they're keeping in a dream. For centuries the noise of Lesbian mill At morn is still; At temple shrine Apollo is no longer held divine; To Venus and her boy do men to-day Small homage pay; The Muses now Are seldom honored with a thought or vow; But yet that Lesbian song lives evermore As sung of yore, And hours so long Are yet made swifter by the wings of song. [ ii8 ] ^ HEART HUNGER N, OT with wine and not with bread Heart of man is cheered and fed, — Not with common fare, Something more than Hfe can give Needs the human heart to live And its burdens bear. Heart of childhood, heart of youth Needs the sturdy strength of truth Manhood may attain; In its doubts and in its fears Needs companionship of years. Counsel wisely sane. So the weary heart of age Needs upon its pilgrimage All the mirth and joy It remembers to have had When the old man was a lad, Mischief-loving boy. All life's way of loneliness. Needing more or needing less, Other wants above; In its smiling and its tears Gloom that saddens, light that cheers, Heart of man wants love. [119] SING CARE AWAY OING Care away, say her "Good-bye!" Give her " God-speed with gladness!'* Too long she may not linger nigh With gloomy thought of sadness ! Sing to her measures soft and low To lead her whither streamlets flow, That she, beguiled by music so, May hasten downward to the shore, Herself and comrades hurried. And, taking ship, sail quickly o'er To those who will not be worried. IBid Care begone, nor let her stay With all her crew annoying. So sing as to charm Care away, Your sweetest notes employing; Sing what is lively, what is gay. What lightens toil, what heightens play, The joy of living day by day; — Sing what will hasten Trouble's flight, His heavy burdens winging. What will as well give you delight The while that you are singing. I20 ABODE OF SONG X^ ROM mountain side bursts forth the impatient spring, It leaps the broken ledges at a bound, And on their way the happy waters sing A song of gladness to the rocks around; They lead my fancy to the unmeasured sea Where they will be With that immensity of waste at home, Where round the mainland with its rock-bound shore Forevermore Will they be fretting in a fringe of foam. They lead my fancy by a sunlit way Up to the clouds that drift across the sky, That bring across the fields the shadows gray And to the mountain springs their fresh supply, 'Tis thus the singing streams forever go With steady flow In eager haste to meet the rising tide, But here alone with Echo and with me For company The happy songs choose ever to abide. [I2l] HEART'S COINAGE JL HE years are full of pleasure, Joy is the heart's best treasure Kept in its coffer strong, As is the miser's money, The store of hoarded honey Kept through the seasons long; But were the heart less wary. Were of its wealth less chary. This were given forth in song. The metals of our mining Have need of a refining And need of an alloy To help them in the bearing Of service hard and wearing For commerce to employ; But all the merry ringing Of the heart's exultant singing Is that of native joy. [ 122 ] A SONG l\ song of words but few Repeated o'er and o'er, To you, dear Heart, to you So often sung before! The music can have nothing new. But, having grace, may wander through Your heart with memories for a clue To heart of hearts once more. A song of words but few In which would Love complain, To you, dear Heart, to you So often sung in vain ! To tell of faithfulness as true As heart of mortal ever knew. Of force as strong as that which drew The tide across the main. A song of words but few Sung in a minor strain. To you, dear Heart, to you Sung o'er and o'er again! To win your pitying sight to view The latest flower in Eden grew. Was watered by Contrition's dew, Of Sorrow's tears the rain. [ 123] FROM THE HEIGHTS r ROM the hills, the silent hills, Come the merrily laughing rills Bounding along With mirth and song That wakens the echoes from their sleep and with gladness the valley fills. Down from the hills they bring That song of triumph they sing When over the edge Of the broken ledge They leap in a frenzy of mad delight and the spray to the sunshine fling. Down to the meadows below They bring the coolness of snow, A refreshing draught That is eagerly quaffed By the noontide-resting fleurs de lys among which the streamlets flow. So into our lives are brought From the upper ranges of thought Full harmony Of minstrelsy By the magic charm of whose cheerfulness our quiet of soul is wrought. [ 124] LAND OF SONG Bi •ENEATH the smiling of Arcadian skies That make of all the year a summer long, In restful quietude of Nature lies The happy Land of Song. Amid the peacefulness of growing things That help to fill with joy the passing days, There sits the Muse of Melody and sings Of Love and Song the praise. The wings of fancy fan soft ambient air By which fair flowers of thought are gently wooed, And faithful Memory indulges there A meditative mood. The Past and Present greeting pleasantly Along a common shore together run As bits of wreckage meeting on the sea Thenceforth are only one. Around these shores the sea of passion flows In tidal currents running swift and strong. Its hoarser accents blending yet with those From happy Land of Song. [125] HEARD SILENCES W] E do not note the ticking of the clock That through the years has marked the steps of Time, But let it stop, our ears receive a shock — The silences to startling loudness climb; So 'tis when in the singing of a choir At intervals does measured cadence fall, Then does responsive feehng mount the higher, Unwhispered music ruling over all, Then do we realize that Heaven is nigher From having heard its clear unspoken call. There is that lingers on the mortal sense, As faint impression of an undertone, A still small voice that ever follows whence At birth we came an unmarked way alone; A voice we hear the same however far On life's uncharted ocean waste we roam; Heard clearest when there is no sound to mar Sweet harmonies of accents as they come, And evermore unto our souls they are A cordial bidding of our spirits home. 126] A LITTLE SONG A LITTLE song Heard from the hedge along The roadside where our way Winds up the hill, With lapsing trill Cheers the hot, dusty day; — That singing low Entrances so It charms all sense of weariness away. A word of cheer Heard from a comrade near Amid the din of strife, Of spear and shield On battle-field With toil and danger rife; — That word may mean More than we glean From all the discipline of Fate and Life. [127] HEART OF SONG D< 'OWN the noisy, crowded street Comes the voice of young girl singing Some old pastoral low and sweet From Sicilian hill-slopes bringing Breath of music that was sung In the soft Italian tongue When Proserpine was young, Fadeless flowers on Enna springing. Few the passers-by that care For the singing of the maiden, Few of all this crowd that share Weight with which her heart is laden ; She, an alien, singing here In a voice that's ringing clear, — Hardly she keeps back the tear; — Lonely soul, true-hearted maiden! Charm pathetic of her song Lies not in the words are spoken, Notes of music quavering long Are of grief and pain the token; Who along the street will say As he goes upon his way, "Heart of Song is sad to-day Because the singer's heart is broken." [128] MYSTERY Wi HO cannot find Within the realm of thought Some fit employment of his mind On lessons Life has taught, Would he be happier, brought Whence he might view the whole Created universe from pole to pole, Or any happier be Knowing the secrets of Eternity? Heaven has revealed So much as we need know. And wisely from us has concealed What is the better so ; The years will quickly go And then it will appear For what good purpose we have sojourned here, And we at last shall see Our faith was grounded fast in mystery. 129 HEART SILENCE W] HEN lips are mute, when all the breath is spent, When words are wanting, tears begin to start, Then are unspoken feelings eloquent. Then are we moved by silence of the heart. It may be but a look now turned away, It may be but the pressure of a hand. And yet this tells us more than words can say, More than another heart can understand. Heart silence calls to us from out the past In tones of deepest wretchedness and woe, The anguish of the Grecian chief will last Far as the immortal tale of Troy may go. As Ariadne watched the lessening sail That from her side her faithless husband bore, There still is seen a ship to fade and fail Nor yet quite vanish from the Naxian shore. Beyond all limits that our thoughts embrace That sympathetic silence softly steals Wherever there is given the human race A mind that ponders and a heart that feels. [ 130 1 PLAINSONG J\T peep o' day The robin's voice I hear Sing blithely gay The plainsong of the year, And ringing clear Join in song-sparrow's short melodious lay. O morning light That comes as joy to me, So warm and bright And beautiful to see! How happy we — Birds and myself — to say good-bye to night! How happy we, Each for the other's sake! The birds for me The utmost pains will take. And I will make In praise of them my sweetest melody. [131] EXCELLENCE OF SONG I T is for gladness that we sing, For sorrow that we weep, The joys that in our bosom spring — Our lips — they cannot keep; No more can we command our eyes That they hold back the tears that rise. The overflow of grief that lies Within our being deep. We can but weep when we are sad. When overcome by grief, Then let us sing when we are glad Although our song be brief; It is in nature that we show Our keen enjoyment as our woe. And give to daily living so Its shading and relief. Life's happy hours fly on apace, Her sad ones linger long; We meet the glad with shining face. To brave the sad are strong; Then while we live these pleasant days, And while we go these pleasant ways, Let all our singing be to praise The excellence of song. [132] LOVE'S WORLD A-/OVE has a world its own Outside all other spheres In time and space; Wherever Love is known, There Joy in Life appears With sovereign grace. Love has no limits set More than the winds that sweep O'er land and sea; It runs still farther yet Over that vaster deep, Eternity; Will evermore abide With living and with dead By Heaven-given right; As it was given to guide Creative Voice that said, ''Let there be light!" 1^33 TWILIGHT SONG W] ITH no pretence of art, No thought with other singer to compete, The bird sings from his heart A song of love and melody complete; There are the trills Of running rills, The full-toned symphonies Of winds among the trees; — To him who listens, standing just apart. The cadence of that song is very sweet. Most sweet that song to hear When day is weary of the hours of light, When shades are drawing near And vanishes the tired world from sight; The starry host Are at their post A constant guard to keep While birds and mortals sleep. And one sweet heart that's to the singer dear Shall find in that low strain a fond " Good-night." 134] THOUGHT AND FEELING Jr AR, far away Into an unknown land With Fancy hand in hand Will Thought unthinking stray; There would it tarry day and night So is it lost in wonder and delight. But Feeling stays About the old hearthstone With those were earliest known Playmates of childhood days; She calls on Memory to bring The smile of childish friendship while I sing. So is it Song To later seasons gives The best of all that Uves Through life however long, And lengthens out the closing years Until a promise of the spring appears. 135 OLD SONGS A HE fashion of the world may change, And life be cast in other mould, But never will those airs grow strange To which were sung the songs of old; They hymned the praise of warrior bold Who perils oft and Death defied, In strains of tender feeling told Youth's maiden love that never died. Far off may seem the death of kings In battle slain on bloody field. But still in minstrel song there rings The steely clang of sword and shield; In notes triumphant are revealed Undying passions of the heart. We seem ourselves the brand to wield And in the conflict take our part. Far softer strains than these are heard Come floating down the flood of years, Wherein with tenderness of word Is chiming low the fall of tears. In simple melody appears The joy, the sorrow of the earth; — What flame of fond affection cheers The cottager's domestic hearth! [136] HEART OF HUMANITY B] ►E it heart of man or woman, Heart of strength, or heart of child, ''Every human heart is human" In the town or in the wild; Feels the same insatiate yearning For compassion and for love. In its hours of trouble turning To the pitying Heart above. Through world shadows dimly seeing. Blindly groping e'en by day. Conscious that a higher Being Leads along a destined way; In the gloom of darkest hour Stranger in an unknown land. Feels the heart a staying power. Touch of God's almighty hand. As that feebleness grows greater With the years and what they bring So to hand of its Creator Closer does the creature cling; Certain that through every danger, Through the storm and through the night, It will lead the weary stranger Into rest and into light. [137] SILENCE AND SONG All of this happy world around Does Morning go with her torch alight, And where have gathered the shades profound In the long and lonely hours of night, There is the day with splendor crowned, And the timid phantoms are put to flight. As the Morning comes with a smiling grace And Night in the shadow has lingered long, It is easy in one the desire to trace In the other to see the purpose strong To gain and to hold that charmed space, The meeting-place of Silence and Song. Night stands with her breathing all a-hush, On her dewy Hp is her finger laid. She would stay the brook in its downward rush, If only the waters could be stayed. To hear the matin song of the thrush. To hear the greetings of Morning made. And at eventide when the day is done, When daylight is fading adown the west, When the shadows at draping the hills have begun, Have hushed to slumber the brood in the nest, Then Silence and Song together as one Stand rapt, — twin forms of one soul possessed. [138] SONG OF SORROW Wi HEN too heavy for the morrow Is foreboding in my breast, Then I give the note of sorrow To a song and it has rest. Then sinks pain as sink the billows When the angry storm is past, And the heart its trouble pillows On the peace of God at last. In the soul's high chantry never May that music cease to ring, Nearer to the Eternal ever May it the sad spirit bring; Leading by the silent river Of forgetfulness along To the unforgetting Giver Of the passion and the song; And I would my moan of sadness Should become a hymn of praise Chiming with the notes of gladness Which untroubled spirits raise. [139I THE LOST SONG ± HE notes escape me, I have lost the score Of song that once I heard In ecstasy of Ufe, sung o'er and o'er By an unconscious bird; — Unconscious of the sweetness of his voice, And only glad he could that way rejoice. I cannot now recall that simple song I heard when I was young, But still my heart responds in pulses strong To tone in which 'twas sung; The thought of what I felt is with me still. It moves my soul with just as warm a thrill. It is not wholly lost, — that woodland song That charmed my childish ears, Its music has been with me through the long. Long flow of lapsing years; — Perchance in my own song that song may still Be heard as echo from a distant hill. 140] IN MEMORY D EAR Heart of the many years that have fled As an evening and morning since we were wed, Were we one in the far-off, bygone years. Or were we apart in separate spheres? Ah, could we that mystery know Then were it easy to say Whether our Uves were happy so And we were content to stay. Or whether a mutual longing drew Our feet to this common path of life. And I became chosen husband to you And you were my chosen wife. Dear Heart of the years since first we met While the pathway of life with dew was wet, How has the love that with us has gone Kept the wayside fresh and the blossoming on! There have been places, indeed, That were steep for a tiresome length. But the handclasp, always closer in need. Has been of how wonderful strength ! — And now when we look to what lies ahead Or backward look to what has been passed, We see the whole way with blessings spread, — We pray it be so to the last. [141] SONG OF LOVE X O me the thought of childhood brings Some idle dream remembered long; This Fancy furnishes with wings, With pinions wide of sweep and strong, Soft downy wings of song. As brood of full-fledged swallows leaves At early morn its homelike nest And comes back to the cottage eaves From north and south, from east and west, At evening to their rest; As went the dove from friendly hand Out over an unbounded sea. And, wearied with vain search for land, Came to the window wearily. My songs return to me. They all come back but one alone Of those I counted at the start, The song of love has farthest flown. Long since has learned to lodge apart. Sing in another heart. [ 142] NATURE'S VOICES JL HOUGH mortal lips were mute, And dumb the human voice, Though silent strings of harp and lute Yet would our world rejoice; A thousand voices on the wing, On bended reed and orchard bough, Would still of love and pleasure sing As they are singing now. Earth needs not any skill Nor art that we possess Wide spaces of her lands to fill With song's delightsomeness, — Dark pines forevermore repeat Their solemn symphony so grand, And ocean waves with rhythmic beat Fall on responsive sand. It may be that the trees, The grasses and the flowers Grow to entrancing melodies For finer ears than ours, That to all motion everywhere Harmonious numbers must belong. And every sentient being share Sweet ministry of Song. [143] THE SINGER'S TASK A HE singer has his task Assigned him at his birth, 'Tis not for him to ask Aught different on earth But just to try and make his song of all-surpassing worth. The singer has his aim That's never lost to sight, His object is the same As eagle's in its flight; — It is that he some time may reach of song the greatest height. The singer has reward For all that he may try, Wee bit white-daisied sward On which, when tired, to lie. And, when his last is sung, 'twill^bloom between him and the sky. [144] SHADOWS A HE shadows came and went Over dark wooded hills, Across far-sloping fields of bent And meadow-loving rills ; How swift were they in flight, How quickly were they gone; — A glorious pageant to the sight, A memory anon ! That was when life was young. Just starting on its course, Then clouds close round the mountain clung Till torn away by force; How quickly did they fly Woods, fields and waters o'er! The shadows passed and left the sky As it had been before. But now the shadows stay. They close the scene around. Shut out the pleasant light of day In mystery profound; That veil will never lift Along the horizon line Nor will it ever show a rift Through which the sun may shine. [i4Sl SONGS AND SINGER J7 ROM the cloudlands far astray, Through the pine-tops going, With the poplar leaves at play, Summer winds are blowing; Of the passing winds we know From the leaves' revealing In a music soft and low Their mysteries of feeling. Winds the slowly eddying stream Through the grassy meadow. Silently as in a dream Comes and goes a shadow; To the reeds the eddies bring Audibly a shiver, Low the flaggy sedges sing The longing of the river. Thus it is that every breeze. Every stream that passes. Wakes the music of the trees, Voice of tender grasses; And thus we find it, you and I, With the songs and singer, — He, the singer, passeth by. The songs, the songs, — they linger. [146] ALL ENDS IN SONG J\LL ends in song, Whether it be of pain Or of woe the stifled moan, A sad lament for the slain Or of the wounded a groan; Be it weak or strong, Be it short or long, At last must the mournful strain Fall to an undertone. And out of the notes again As a flower newly blown Arise a song. All ends in song, Whether it be for the right Is the shout of victory. For the glory of the light The people's praise may be. Or it be the wTong Upheld by the throng. Soon must that tumult cease, The din of faction end. And the low sweet notes of peace Harmoniously blend Into a song. [147] AFTER THE SONG Oi 'NLY a low sweet note After the song is done, A call from the sparrow's throat, Made to her little one; Only a cloud afloat Between me and the sun. And a cloud shadow remote Over the fields to run. All that is left to me Of the glory of the year, Of the tender sympathy With Summer's smile and tear, Is the glorious memory Remaining to me dear Of what I was glad to see And of what I was glad to hear. Now that the song is done, Now that the pageant is past, There's a shadow in the sun On the way before us cast; Now the call to the Uttle one Is heard in a silence vast; The course of life is run. It is rest and slumber at last. [148] THE LYRE UNSTRUNG 3WEET are the songs that are as yet unsung, That are composed without or note or word, Whose rhythm has never flowed from mortal tongue Nor has it yet by mortal ear been heard; Sweet are the songs that blend the harmonies Of human life with Nature's gentle course As this runs on through long eternities To end remote as is its unknown source. Sweet are the songs that linger long behind. That wait a happier time to come to birth, That sometimes visiting the poet's mind Help him interpret voices of the earth; With strain ecstatic and with magic word. Will come at times an even softer note By which the souls of listeners are stirred, — It comes as from the heart, not from the throat. As when one hears the warbHng of a bird So high aloft the songster is not seen One gathers easily from what is heard The rapture of delight those warblings mean; So will there come unto the thoughts of men Reverberations from what has been sung, These will they hear with deeper rapture when The voice is silent and the lyre unstrung. [ 149] AT THE END jlFTER a long, rough road is passed, The weary pilgrim comes at last Unto his journey's end, and there He finds all toil and trouble cease, A room prepared for him with care, — The name of that is peace. Its windows look out towards the morn, To where the morrow will be born; He turns his face that way, and keeps A patient hope within his breast; And as a cradled infant sleeps The pilgrim takes his rest. The hours of that last night will run. The stars will go out one by one, The sun above the hills will rise Day break the eastern ridge along. And he, regaining Paradise, Will waken with a song. ISO THE LAST GOOD-BYE G< 'OOD-BYE, dear Heart, for one short season only, The summer of our year; To me, when I am far away and lonely. How long must it appear ! At night my soul in dreams will be returning Along the lengthening way. And altar-fires of my heart keep burning. Rekindled day by day. Good-bye; — again must farewell word be spoken, Our hands must clasp anew. And lips be pressed to waiting lips in token The heart is always true. Now must it be for Memory to treasure Through weary hours and long The last fond word until in cadenced measure 'Tis w^oven into song. Good-bye, — the word by us is often needed Long as we sojourn here; Where it with greetings glad is superseded Will be most blessed sphere. [iSi] APOLOGY /jLS artist soul, when artist hand has failed Some fleeting dream of beauty to express, Will feel aggrieved to see at length unveiled More rapturous vision yet of loveliness. Will feel the utter helplessness of Art — Handmaiden she in service of his kind — How slight her skill, her power to impart To others' thought the thought that holds his mind; As idle player, piping at his ease Some simple ditty of a country love, Will find that theme familiar fail to please When sound the winds through laurel boughs above. Will find his heart respond to loftier strain. To paeans chanted after victory won, To hymns in honor of heroic slain Whose praises through the lengthening ages run; So must the poet, in his vain despair. Grieve that his art can serve his thought but ill, That let him touch the keys with utmost care Sounds to his soul diviner music still. [152] FOR SORRY HEART " For sorry herte I may not tellen more." Chaucer B ►ECAUSE my heart is sore My lips may tell no more What they have told; The brands are burning lower, Live shadows creep the floor, The room grows cold. We have been busy long In ballad and in song With stories old; Stories that tell of wrong, Oppressions of the strong, Adventures bold. Now will we say "Good-night," Take each his taper light; — The tale is told; We turn to visions bright Which to the inner sight Do dreams unfold. 153 HAVE THOU GOOD-NIGHT! H AVE thou good-night! the fading light Goes with the setting of the sun, The stars come forward one by one To hold their watch; — have thou good-night! Have thou good-night! the heron's flight Sinks low adown the western sky Into the dim obscurity Of evening dusk; — have thou good-night! Have thou good-night! beyond the sight Of mortal eye the heavens brood Above a vast infinitude Of other worlds; — have thou good-night! Have thou good-night ! the day is bright Where it has gone into the west To give our weary world its rest, — 'Twill come again; — have thou good-night! Have thou good-night! let dreams delight With their enchanting visions brought To greet the early-waking thought Of him who prays, "Have thou good-night!" 154 THE LAST GOOD-NIGHT W. ITH lighted lamp held in her ready hand, One foot now resting on the upper stair, Does our retiring friend yet lingering stand . As if delayed by haunting memories there ; Again she slowly turns with thoughtful air Her features half in shadow, half in light, And while her lips a smile of sweetness wear. She bids her fellow-guests a fond "Good-night." We who with her have formed a circle here Before the fire of life, now burning low. We draw our chairs together yet more near And watch the embers in their dying glow; The burning brands that waste to ashes so From time to time flash into blazing bright As each guest, rising up, prepares to go And from the upper stair sends back "Good-night." To good-night wishes from withdrawing guest "Have thou good-night," our own hearts make reply, Although they are with heavy thoughts oppressed, And though the voice be burdened with a sigh; Though swelling tears may overflow the eye And words sink down to broken sobs of sorrow. The sobs will hush again, the tears will dry When we are greeted with a glad "Good-morrow." [iSS] FINIS -OEAR up, dear Heart of mine, sore burdened with sorrow ! — Though dreary may be the day. Though weary may be the way It shall lead thee at length into a blissful morrow. Elated the heart should be that 'tis mounting higher; — Though the feet of the wayfarer go On their pilgrimage painfully slow Yet shall the heart at last attain to the heart's desire. What though a mountain may rise rugged and broken ! — Look higher yet — to the skies. Watch the course of the stars as they rise; — The stars that are of Heaven's own steadfastness the token. As higher and higher we mount into an air that is clearer. The more of our road traveled o'er The less of it's lying before, And day by day do our peace and our rest draw nearer. [156] So do we read of our life the eventful story, Turning the leaves one by one, And, the simple chapters all done, Finding "Finis" printed in gold 'neath a crown of glory. FINIS OPUS CORONAT 157] AY TO lyiii ,,, LIBRARY OF CONGRESS liiilililliiB 016 211 673 3 .■'■"•i^m