PS LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. UNITED STATES OF AMERKA. TEN SONNETS AND OTHER VERSES TEN SONNETS AND OTHER VERSES BY / MARGARETTE A. HOARD PrinteU for Pritjatc Circulation NEW YORK: ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH AND COMPANY (INCORPORATED), 182 FIFTH AVENUE ^^ ^^ 95 ^^'X Copyriirfit, 1S94, Bv Anson D. F. Randolph & Company (iN'CORPORATED) Saniijasitg press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. CONTENTS. Page Sunrise 9 Eclipse lo The Compass ii Law and Lawgiver 12 Unanswered 13 PicciOLA 14 Mater Dolorosa 15 St. Martin's Summer 16 Motherhood 17 GOOD-Nl-GHT . . , 18 5 Page Dumb Singers , . 21 A May-Flower 24 Asleep 26 Chiaroscuro 29 New Year's Gifts a . . . ., 32 In Memoriam . -34 Finis 36 6 TEN SONNETS. I. SUNRISE. 'T^HE pearly fringes of the eastern sky Redden to rubies at his touch, afar, Who opes the world's shut doors. At his bright eyej Abashed, Night's Queen hastens her silver car, And draweth after her each paling star. Lost in effulgence lesser glories are, When, in the splendor of his majesty, Day's monarch takes his glorious throne on high. So rose on earth with all-absorbing blaze The '* Sun of Righteousness." Man, who had trod With awful wonder Nature's mystic ways, Sees all her lights lost in diviner rays; Nor more he sings his *' Vedas " to her praise, Nor rears his altars to an " Unknown God." 9 II. ECLIPSE. T3ETWEEN men's eyes and yonder steadfast sun A meaner presence oft doth interfere, — A stealthy shadow, creeping first upon The outer margin of his perfect sphere, Breaking the form while still the light is clear; Yet, once the baleful work hath been begun. Erelong encroaching darkness doth o'errun Yon golden disk, till day is turned to night. Calmly we wait its passing, with no doubt Which shall prevail, shadow or living light ; Nor do we fear, while hidden from our sight The glorious sun hath been quite blotted out: So Truth, obscured by things of transient might, Shines brightly on, in unbeliefs despite. III. THE COMPASS. TT 7HEN the worn mariner, at close of day, Sees his frail bark drive o'er the ocean wide At mercy of the wind, some unknown tide Seeming to bear it from true course away. How shall he hope the ship to safely guide? Piled in the west, the angry clouds array Their sombre, threatening masses, canopied With gloom, through which no starlight makes its way. Ah ! yonder is his guide ! The lamp's red ray Falls on a finger that still points aright True to her polar star, whate'er betide ! By this he steers, and ere the morning light Doth gain the haven where he fain would be. Soul, tempest-tossed, Faith is such guide for thee ! IV. LAW AND LAWGIVER. TF Nature's order only means to me Blind force, to keep contending powers from wrack ; If, pondering her resistless laws, I lack The firm belief in God which bids me see His powerful hand, holding in ordained track Each circling sphere of yon immensity, — 'Twere best if all my wasted years rolled back To the blest moment at my mother's knee, When stars to me were angels' eyes, that watch Above my little pillow nightly kept. And when the weak " Our Father," ere I slept, I doubted not God's bending ear would catch : Man's utmost reach of knowledge nothing hath To give me in exchange for childlike faith. 12 V. UNANSWERED. 'T^HIS mystery of Life, whose current warm ^ Fills all my veins, philosophers engage To trace for me back to remotest age, — First, vital atom of the simplest form. Delivered unto elemental rage ; Now purged by fire, now drenched by primal storm. Anon of frame complex the heritage ; Still upward tending, till its highest stage Informs this body, where I feel it glow. Yet when I ask them whence the other me, Not subject to my body's tyranny. Supreme o'er higher realms of joy and woe, There is no answer. They have said the whole, And found no reason for my God-breathed soul. 13 VI. PICCIOLA. A S the poor plant, springing from prison-blight And nourished on the bosom of decay, Stretched all her branches out to where the light Shot in between the bars a struggling ray. Till, crowned and recompensed, she bore one day A fragrant blossom of the purest white ; So thou, my soul ! fast rooted in the clay. Behind Earth's prison-bars, where Error's night Hides the full sunlight of the Truth Divine, If through the darkness but one ray doth shine, One feeble reflex of the Light Supreme, Reach out thy longing tendrils to that beam. And, waked to life by its transforming power. Thy barren stalk may boast a heavenly flower. 14 VII. MATER DOLOROSA. l\/f OTHER of sorrows! wounded through thy son, — No way so sure to find the mother-heart, — Thy breast must bleed from tJp same cruel dart Which in the bosom of the '* Sinless One " Set its rude barb. From his pierced side runs down No crimson drop, but faithful counterpart It takes in ruddy life-blood from thine own, And thy fair forehead feels his thorny crown. Yet, even so, methinks such grief-filled eye Should not o'erflow upon such pallid cheek, Nor should such bloodless, parted lips bespeak The long-drawn sigh of hopeless agony. These best befit the mothers who must feel Thy pangs for sons whose own hands drive the steel. ^5 VIII. ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER. ARTIN, a saint of blessed memory, Went forth too thinly for November clad, Yet, alms being asked, his sword, with motion free, Cut the poor cloak in two. Ungrudgingly A part he gave the beggar, and was glad To give a needier brother half he had. Nature, observant of the generous deed, Tempered her season to the saintly need. Calling the summer back to her embrace. She sent across the dull November showers Sweet recollections of June's sunny grace, Hint of blue sky, and breath of vanished flowers, — " St. Martin's Summer," — Nature's gentle speech. The blessedness of charity to teach, Martinmas, November ii. i6 IX. MOTHERHOOD. A MYSTICAL compound of joy and sorrow, '^^ A night of anguish, of unbounded pain. Then dawn of untold happiness again : For precious gift hath blessed the painless morrow. And by the mother's side there hath been lain A wondrous being, from whom stars might borrow Immortal light, a soul that will remain When stars have set, and so instinct the whole With God, who breathed upon that new-made soul, The trembling mother feels her joy a pain, Remembering He claims His own again; With close embrace, to her fond breast doth strain The tiny form, like that God's Son did take When born of woman for a lost world's sake. 17 L X. GOOD-NIGHT. OVE, if on mine those faithful lips might lay A dying kiss, to meet my dying breath ; If the fond arms encircling me to-day, Still closely wrapped about my senseless clay, Might keep their tender clasp, in spite of Death ; And if the kindly grave would so bequeath Unto my dreamless head, pillow alway On the true heart now throbbing underneath. Till from our mingled dust some future May Might pluck her Easter-crown of lilies white, — Then the '' pale King," robbed of his worst affright. Were welcome though his summons came to- night ; For oh, a blessed messenger were he Who set this hour to eternity ! VERSES. DUMB SINGERS. 1\ T Y pretty thrush flies to the highest perch ^ ^ Of his small prison. As he flutters there, He turns his eager head, as if to search Expression rare Enough to fit his thought,— holding the note Already captive in his swelling throat, Waiting in liquid melody to float Upon the listening air. But though his willing soul be all aglow To send abroad its tuneful ecstasy, His utmost efl"ort falls far, far below Expectancy ; And one poor strain, all tremulous and sweet, From morn to morn, he doth in hope repeat, — Song's distant echo, broken, incomplete, His best of minstrelsy. My poor " dumb singer " ! We are both denied Free utterance of the melodies we hear So plainly in our souls. When we have tried To sing them clear, That listening sorrow might forget its pain. Our best endeavor caught but a refrain Of the far grander music of the strain Blessing the inward ear. If thou couldst pass the door which bounds thy world, Would thy freed body set thy spirit free? And as thine unused wings were straight unfurled Would melody 22 Ring downward, from thy flight toward heaven's blue dome? Ah ! for us both, perhaps, such day may come, And our imprisoned song, no longer dumb, Break from captivity. 23 A MAY-FLOWER. /^ HAPPY Earth, bright May on tiptoe steals ^^^ To lay her flower-crowned head upon thy breast ! Her soft embrace thy frozen bosom feels, And her shy kisses break thy wintry rest; Thy waking woods with merry voices ring, While eager hands thrust mould and leaves away, And from the friendly shade triumphant bring The trailing pink-white harbingers of May. No need have I dead leaves on thy cold breast To part, and seek Arbutus blossoms small. For on my own I hold a daintier guest, The very sweetest May-flower of them all ! 24 And my full heart this precious gift receives With trembling joy, that touches close on pain, Lest the celestial beauty of its leaves Tempt Heaven to call the blossom home again. All springtime sweets these happy arms enfold : Cheeks that have caught the apple-blossom's hue, Hair that has learned the crocus' shining gold. And eyes the violets have steeped in blue. Sure never dawned a May-day so divine. Never did Nature with such gladness ring! Dear Mother Earth, my thankful heart, like thine. Forgets its winter in the joy of spring. 25 M ASLEEP. Y baby sleeps. Through the long, dreadful night, While her cries smote upon our shrinking ears, In agony I prayed that morning light Might bring her rest. She has it. O my tears ! Well may your bitter, falling floods attest I had no thought to crave this perfect rest For her who sleeps. Turn back the sheet ! O darling baby- face! Each polished temple shaded by one curl Of flossy gold. How could such angel grace 26 Be merely mortal? Hush, poor heart! A girl Would be a woman ; and we mothers know How o.ft that name 's synonymous with woe. 'T is best she sleeps. How can I tell But that in coming years There might have touched this flower at my side Some blighting breath; when even my bitterest tears Could only fall to know it had not died, Sweet blossom ! and been bound up in the dear Lord's sheaves, Heaven's morning dew still fresh upon its leaves, Like this that sleeps. God's ways are best. Here by the little bed Where she now lies, on whom His seal is set, I, who *' was once a mother," o'er my dead 27 As o'er my new-born babe, may bless Him yet! He saw the future hidden from my eyes, And with a love all-tender and all-wise. Sent her this sleep. 28 CHIAROSCURO. IN THE GARDEN. *' QISTER," I said, "summer's brightness is over; ^ No longer our garden love's story repeats ; No more doth the lily's gay humming-bird lover Here bend his bright head to her bosom of sweets. A change hath befallen the colorings tender ; The greens have grown lifeless, the crimsons look dun. "Nay," she cried, " 't is the dawn of the autumn's full splendor. You stand in the shadow; come out in the sun." 29 Where the sun's broadest ray could not but find her, Bringing out boldly each grace of her form, Stood my fair sister; the soft hair behind her Streaming in lines of gold, ruddy and warm. Marvels of light touched those tresses unheeded ; They and the sunshine already were one. Better to burnish the brown locks that needed, Steeped in the shadow, as hers in the sun. Standing thus, all Nature's best with her blending, Beauty she borrowed, and beauty she gave. Suddenly down the broad walk toward us tending, Came the firm step I should know in my grave. Aye ! and she knew it. Why else, rosy sister, Should those shy glances my questioning shun? She said, if she blushed, 't was that Phoebus had kissed her; For I was in shadow, she full in the sun. 30 She for light; I for shadow. I should have be- lieved her, And spared my sick heart all its passionate strife, When the arms I had thought my own shelter received her, And the sunshine I missed warmed and bright- ened her life. Thank Heaven ! she never has guessed of my sorrow, Nor dreamed of my loss in the prize that she won; And so from the joy of her days I may borrow, Content in my shadow, since she has the sun. 31 NEW YEAR'S GIFTS. 'T^IME on a winter morning sought my door. ^ " Open," he cried, '' and tell me what shall be The friendly gift of my New Year to thee? Choose at thy will from the unbroken store." " Ah ! Time," I said, " thy power and kind intent Not always match, else had thy last gift brought Less disappointment, and less pain been wrought By what, in asking, seemed so innocent. " Keep not thy New Year waiting to unfold Deceptive treasures, as she hath of yore, Since thou, alas! can nevermore restore Youth's glamoured eyes, to take her dross for gold. 32 " Pass on, old friend ! There is no wish I dare, Lest Hstening Heaven to my choice should yield. And, like the Roman maid 'neath Sabine shield, I die of answer to my special prayer. 33 IN MEMORIAM. N. M. H. /^H, weeping friends, were ours the task ^"^^ God's best for her to crave, What is the blessing we could ask So rich as that He gave? Called ere the evil days drew nigh, Followed by nights of pain, When the worn soul impatiently Drags at its mortal chain ; Called while her ready feet were bent On Mercy's heavenly ways. While still her lamp of service sent Far on the dark its rays ; 34 Called from a world of pain to know- Rapture of souls forgiven; Called from the Master's work below To His " Well done" in heaven. 35 FINIS. T7RIEND, who believest this poor Hfe is all, What word of comfort is there left to say? Look on thy dead till Nature's swift decay Doth work dread changes in the lovely clay, Then cover closely with the kindly pall, Since mortal elements composed the whole, And only perishable powers combined To form the steadfast heart and noble mind, Since the fair body never has enshrined A better something, which we called her soul. The golden door of Hope for thee hath closed. Shutting thee in to Sorrow's rayless night ; Between thine eyes and heaven's refulgent light, 36 Death, working so his bitterest despite, A cruel hand hath darkly interposed. Must mighty Love within the grave abide When his fair ruined temple enters there? Was her last sigh, that bore thy name in prayer, Only a mortal breath on empty air? Ah ! had the Lord been there, she had not died ! He only can command the stone away Before our sepulchres ; 't is He who saith, " She is not dead, but sleeping," — giving faith Such full and glorious victory o'er Death As gilds grief's night with dawn of endless day. 37