p s ^554-5 U €tty of T$ and Otber Poems , a » i3y « • » rredericK Milton Willis ClassiS354^_ B00kX.5j!a4(l5_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSiT. Quiet the lake Lay. — The Demon. THE CITY OF IS AND OTHER POEMS BY FREDERICK MILTON WILLIS Frontispiece Dy Ernest C. Piexotlo Mercury Press Odd Fellows Building San Francisco, California Quiet the lake Lay. — The Demon. THE CITY OF IS AND OTHER POEMS BY FREDERICK MILTON WILLIS Frontispiece by Ernest C. Piezotlo Price Si.oo 11 5 > ->•> ) » » a » Mercury Press Odd Fellows Building San Francisco, California THE LIBRAFJVOF CONGRESS. Two Copies Receivers SEP 10 »903 Copyright Entr> CUSS^ Ciy XXc No yr93ox COPY B. COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY FREDERICK MII.TON WILI^LS * • • DEDICATION. To California — California the beautiful, California the potentially surpassingly intellectual and spiritual,— does the author, looking with awe into the dim future, lovingly dedicate these his first glimmerings of feelings of beauty and gropings of thoughts of rational interpre- tation of Outer and Inner. Would that they might be considered aspiring streamers, however tenuous, however indefinite and unsubstantial, forerunning the coming day — leading in, in company goodlier than themselves, the host of brilliant ones of the great era of light that lieth before this western Greece which shall be more than Greece-^ California. Berkelev, California. F. M. W. CONTENTS. PAGE The City of Is i Rich as the Falling of Night lo Saloethe 1 1 To Age 17 The Triumph of Love 18 America, Land of the New Age 22 Through the Valley of Nil 23 Civil Anguish — 27 The Mystic 33 Interpretation, or a Stroll in a Garden 34 Man's Proper Element 38 The Demon 39 Oh, the Free Air's the Mansion to Live in ! 56 The Watcher 60 Soul- Blindness 65 Excess 66 Love-Sonnet 67 The Dawn of Hope 68 Self Comprehension 71 Fire 72 Supremacy 74 O Father of Light! 76 Star Worlds 79 Flee, Flee, O My Soul! 81 PAGK Mother of the Sky 84 The Price 85 Illusion 87 A Vision of Degrees.. 92 Consolation 93 lyOve 94 What Gives the Sufferer Strength ? 95 The Incomplete 96 Sorrow-Laden , 97 Turn, oh Turn those E^^es upon Me! 98 Waltham and Margra 99 THE CITY OF IS> Within the mystic spirit-sphere^ Where do appear and disappear Myriad things of space and time, There's a silent, wondrous clime, Where every day is almost night — A clime, at best, of gray twilight. Tlie lone traveler, traveling here. Whoe'er he be, has much to fear, And his must be a snail-like pace, For 'tis a dismal, dismal place, A place of never-lifting fogs, Of gloomy pools witli bordering bogs Drooped o'er by many a venomous tree, A place of swoon and lethargy, A place of dire inclemency, A place of hateful clogs and stresses,— Oh, woe to him that onward presses Through its perilous wildernesses I ^Pronounced as if spelled Iss. thK ciI^y of is But, thoiigli the yiGlding, mossy ground Oft prove quagmire, seeming sound; And though the delicate cress-like grasses Knot, and trip him as he passes; And tliough misshapen, dripping trees l^^ach out leaf-hidden liinl)S and seize, Ijike tentacles, his slirinking flesh; And though l)efore, l)eside him fresh lni])ressions form and quickly fade — Of feet — l)y nothing inortal made; And though with dainty, glove-like toucli Many an unseen liand with much Deliberation stroke h\^ cheek Or. witli persistent pressure, urge Him to some fearful hollow's verge, Let not the fainter-hearted shriek. Let not the firmer heart despair, — For this humid, lethal air And this dark, miasmal land Contain a city, rich and grand, One Avhose lofty, jealous Avails Enclose the haughtiest kingly halls. Proud temples, palaces and towers (Prouder, haughtier far, than ours). Whose verv slightest glistening spire THE CITY OF IS Doth seem to pierce the sky, in fire (The gentle slvv, in silver fire) ; Whose golden domes and minarets And pinnacles and parapets^ From the shade and vapor there, Seem part of Earth and part of Air. And thither from the wilds ahout Lead many ways, but none without Its open gold-and-marble gate Where sphinxes dream and calculate And, with a calm naught can dispel^ Guard tlr Eternal Secret well. Ere entering, let the Stranger stay A moment and the prospect weigh : Beyond, a Karnak-pillared alley Leads inward far, majestically. And in l)road stretclies, either side. Great temple-archways open wide; And darkening coliimncnl ]nissageway Form many an eye-perplexing maze; And here and tliere, aloft, are seen, Above high roofs that intervene, Grand porticoes of polished stone — The blackest, whitest, ever known — - TIIK CITY OF IS That open into iiol)lo lialls And long, curved galleries with walls Of crystal and liglit balustrade Of finest alabaster made. Xow down that deep, dark Karnak-alley Leading in niajesticallv. Let the Stranger take his way And let his feelings have full play In the solitude sublime Of this town entombed in time. O'er its seeming permanence And Avealth of wild magnificence: — Its mingling of the rich moresque With the graceful arabesque; Its marvelous, fine parquetry And myriad-colored marquetry; Its multi-figured ornament From pedestal to pediment ; Its graven writings, signs obscure, On dado and entablature, On obelisk and wall and shrine; Its porphyry-carved reminder there, 'Mid mortal things, of things divine — THE CITY OF IS The pallid hajul, august and grand,. U}ion yon solitary column, Up-pointing in the solemn air; Yon pillar there, alone before The gloomy, gaping temple-door^ Whose shaft the spiral horror binds — Down whieli the pitch-blaek serpent winds. With dangling head of pearl and gold Deep-worn by votaries^ lips nntold ; Its marble caryatides; Its porches and its balconies ; Its pillared aisles and long arcades; Its void, foot-polished esplanades; Its many a stairflight^ dazzling white, Ascending^ to the mistv shade In many a stately colonnade; Its princely domes of glowing gold, 'Mid halls, large, clustering, manifold; Its great pavilions, gloomy parks. Silent founts, memorial marks: — O'er all this wild magnificence, O'er all this seeming permanence, There broods a feeling of suspense. As if the silence, though unbroken, Contained — were bursting with — a token THK CITY OF IS Of a cloom-word to be spoken; And on the Stranger will obtrude The feeling that a multitude Is moving restlessly, iinviewed. Xear the center of the town Is a gradual sloping-down To a stone-environed lake. Mist-laid, dark, and still as death, So still, no inner stir, no ])reath Of air, it seems, could ever break Upon the raptness of its dreams. Its chill oblivion of dreams. Let the Stranger linger tliere Upon the marble landing-stair; Let him look with sense and soul — Let him see the incorporate whole. Far out within the water-gloom There stands what seems a thing of doom The symbol of a mighty power — A cloud-like, sky-encircled tow^r, A place of solemn sovereignty, Uplifting like another Baliel THE Ci'rV OF IS Its gray, incongruous mass, — unstable Seeming, — whispering mystery And sense of hidden prophecy. A strange place is this lonely tower Beneath which all else seems to cower, Which, seeming eyer falling, falls not; This place where silent, felt yoice dwells, Which, seeming ever calling, calls not; This place witli Heayen or tliousand liells Within its deep tranquillity. Lo! listen. Stranger, brcatlilessly, — What is that lieayenly liarmony — Wliat says that heayenly harmony — What say tliose tuneful shadowings From loye-lutes' liying silver strings — What say those potent golden notes. Like vocal notes from angels' throats? Is! Is! beautiful Is! More beautiful seeming In tliy deep dreaming Or swoon, it man ^^f Tliou art eternal. 8 THE CITY OF IS For lie, the Supernal, Hath dwelling in tlicel Is! Is! beautiful Is! Whilst thou art dreaming. Thy vitals are teeming With living decag : Thy breathing is slowing. Time's end is close growing. Thy heart-beats delay! The space-pervading soiukIs expire. AYhat mean tlie variant lute and lyre? What means this pulsing tremor here, Tliis laljoring uneasiness, Tliis mute though evident distress? Ah, Is, time's end is growing near I . . . Time's end is here — is here. . . . The mist upon the moveless lake Dotli in a wave-like motion wake, — It rolls and rises — spreads and swells,- It sweeps amain, — it all-includes The architectural solitudes; THE CITY OF IS And now, — ^mid sound of distant bells And far-off surges^ — settles down A deepening darkness on the town. wildered Stranger standing there Upon the marble landing-stair. In vain thou peerest tlirougli this night, In vain, for Is liath vanished quite. All-heavenly Is hath vanished quite: Steadfast, fearless, hopeful, stand And listen to the wliispering surges And the bells on far-off verges Of the mist-enveloped land; Possess thy wondering soul in peace, And wait, aud wait; but, pray thee, cease To peer into tliis sightless night. For Is, for thee, hath vanished quite, Celestial Is hath vanislied quite : Possess thy wondering soul in peace — And wait. RICH AS THE FALLING OF NIGHT Rich as the falling of night — nay, richlier — Were wafted to me from afar Glimpses of splendor, of mirth^ of sweet madness, xis if through a door ajar. NoAV, soft as the coming of dawn — nay, softlier — Hither there flows from afar A token of love — ah, me ! — and of joy^ As if through a lu^art ajar. lO SALOETHE ii Jlcavy-hearteil^ still as death, (Just tranced in gloomy, brooding thought; In secret, almost overwrought);, Xight^ prophetic, stays her breath Xow^ anxiously, for to her saith. In confirmation, quite unsought, A voice from some Familiar caught : ^'Alas, sad Xight, thou dupe of Death, Another sorrow f olloweth !" And, too, her now attentive ear The phantom of a cry doth hear: "Saloeihe! Saloethe! Drinlc of Lrthe, sweet-watered Lethe. Saloethe! Saloethe! Ohlivion — sin — dr'uik of Lethe — Lethe!'' Uneasy, slowly fevering, Xight Xow casts her mantling gloom profound The stately mansion tiirice around: Eye-fired space it is, despite The casement's tiny taper-light. 12 SALOETHE Which (too slight to ivadi the ground) The little litful winds have found; — It flickers at its lonely heiglit, — Tlie little winds have clipped it quite! In rustlings soft, the nnseen trees Eelease the sad soul of the breeze: ''iSalodhel Saloethe! SorrotU'haunted Saloethe ! Saloethe! Saloethe! Art thou coming, Saloethe?'' Tlie lieated winds tlie half-oped door Have caught and fiercely inward hurled : Xight seeks to stay iiEPi^ sorrow-whirled, Wlio l)raves the crags on Being's shore, Unstartied by the wild storm's roar — Jim. desolate and miser} -swirled. Who dares tlie might of the deep-stirred world And outward presses. (Ah, heart so sore, Canst thou this awful blast explore? — Doubt undeserved ! daredst thou not sin — Insult thyself and God within?) SALOETHE I 3 ''Salodhe! Sdotthe! Com c — CO m c — Sa JociJi c ! Here's no heartache, here by Leihc — Come — come — Saloethe f Outward under thuiidTous skies She passes, and with step so fleet A dainion's in her dainty feet ; And by the lightning one descries A daimon in her hirge. wild eyes; The wind-rage wrests with wrathful heat Her dark hair from its graceful seat ; Cold rain its vain determent tries, And hail the gentler rain outvies; — Can Night prevent her, if the whole Be but the mirror of hev soul? ''Saloethe! Saloethe! SorroiV'Sinking ! siveet is Lethe, Saloethe ! Saloethe ! Sorro'W'Sunken! come to Lethe/' 5 The well-know^n, neighboring region past, By garden-walk, familiar road, 14 SALOKTIIK And \viii(lin«i' |)alli l1iroiili tlie land Kever])erates the saddening' note of some Sublime despair: from fretful nuirmurino's Of ill impersonal, it rose to tliis. The deep heart-out])reak of pent-up, waitina" an- guish, When hope is o'er, when hope *s no more. The very fountainheads of forlorn life Usurped — the seantv vitalizing rills Shrunk up ])y harpy-natured arrogance O4; doled out, garl)led, poisoned at their source. By sleek and specious opulence, till weakening: ^lembers weaken more the weakened will; Till humanhood, disorganized, forgets It e'er was man and sinks below the brute; Till simple life, o'erburdened, sorrow-whirled. Kind death blots out the world; — The very fountainheads of forlorn life Usurped and this deep anguish in the land. How shall the overborne spirit ever shift ♦Written in 1895, and being a characterization of, and sotne reflections upon, affairs in the United States in that terrible year of panic and ruin, poverty and distress, when employers were most selfish and employed most needy. 28 CIVIL ANGUISH The wearv load of can^ assiiiiu^ \i^ true Supreniacv, llii'ill with vivifying Hope tlie apathetie nerves and urge Tlie faint, parched life up to its lavish sources Engrossed thus and corrupted? Go first to the homes of the yeonianrv, the sinews And sense of tlie State, the source of the civil health. The union of hand and hrain, the primal impinge- ment Of mind on the matter-worhl : the sturdy sons Of God who glean. In their own right, rich, teem- ing Xature's free, rife hounties; — go thither: — hag- aard Poverty leans *neath the lintel, trying to think; And corpulent Mortgage, in passing, complacently nods And rubs his fat hands. Go now to the homes of those who, thews of an alien Brain, fashion for others the unwrought gleanings From Nature, and tangle their heart-fibers fast in their work; — CIVIIv ANGUISH 29 Go tbither : — list to the wastins^ \Yi(lowV sob For him who^ at the hands of fellow-era Ftsiiien Infuriated to a fatal madness ^Xeath the grinding heel of advaneing greed. Perished at the post he could not leave And live; Peer now through the chilly gloom at her wan, still face And staring eves^ as she looks on her feel)le babes And finds their pinched cheeks filled with the ichor And curved wdth the beauty-lines of life — Their dull eyes bright with the fire of noble pur- pose — Their slowly-moving, shrunken limbs alive With the ecstatic fury which shall touch And vitalize the old, cold world ; — ]Y]iile the fever burns her life away, • And her silent babes gaze atvestruclv Into her tearless eyes. The boy — the girl: too young, too tender-plastic. For the harried mother's holy care To have shaped in them, in fixed and lasting lines, 30 CIVIL ANGUISH The lineaments of love — t^hall he ^irrow wild^ A noxious weed, as some malign padrone's Child ? — sliall slic hy soft, persuasive lure Lapse all unconsciously in unsuspecting Maidenliood to woe unutterable. Or, spirit-stricken, drop doggedly from hideouj Penury to the soul-corrosive horror Of dark harlotry? 2 At this despondent time, oh could the State A cherishing mother stand, the source of liope And self-dependent happiness! Ah, half-divine analogon of that Dim God who, having made the world, remaiui Aloof in stern, restrictive might alone, To judge, condemn and punish what his cold Xeglect creates, take to thyself thy real Domain, the well-spring of thy life; permit Xo private seal upon those sanctuaries Where natural potencies await the mastering Spirit; conserve from personal caprice And private greed the alterable or Destructible factors in common, all-embracing Benefits; provide the necessary CIVIL ANGUISH 3 1 ^[eans for geiieral needs and trust tlie l)est Accomplishment to virile individuals Instinctively obeying natural laws: Be true to thyself and thine: and thou — now a Benign and active organism — wih find The wisest eager in thy service and \\]\t foster as thy most elect aud eaiviiest Tlie high, creative self-activities^ Wliich, closely federated, will inakc of tliee A true ]iepul)lic of Free Spirits, likening Thee to what this iiuite mind l)elieves (lod really is — loving, immanent And supereminent. IT/V/ thou, in the face of this, thy deep. Dynamical ideal, fall from each Exalting tendency — forget the living- Elements whose true well-l)eino's thinc^ — Impassively abandon to ambitious Knaves that batten on the needincss Of ]u)uest worth the springs of life and soul- Sustaining hope-.-and direr still, irlH Thou, Titan of the many million minds. Yet blindly tolerate that deeper^ dread, Evasive and persistent ill — the sad CIVIL ANOtflSH triicoiiscioiis shaping, by insinuative, Subtle eilliieiiccs from tlie dazzling Spectacle of regnant Selfishness^, Of those in whom the future lies embosomed And involved? 32 THE MYSTIC. Deep in the lonesome watches of the night, When to the worlcVs far margins down is drawn AYith loving care its canopy of light, Within my soul oft witness I the dawn Of such a day no eye could bear the golden sight. And, too, when ravining tempests come, rend wide The starry canopy, rush howling in And roar and rage aloft from side to side, Xot e'en the deal of this unholy din Doth with my blissful, radiant day its claims di- vide. would that when false pleasures softly lure With cunning semblance of my high delight, Or when black malice into forms impure Provokes my peace with its corroding blight — would my molten golden day might still endure ! Soft, silly creatures of blind circumstance. Did we but will it with a constant mind All things should work for our deliverance. The Light within no obscuration find, — Ourselves as gods work freely in the World-ex- panse ! 33 li^TEKPKEtATIO^, OK A STKOLL IN A GAKDEN. SHE. {Moving liglitly and happily along the path), I love the earnest flowers, They breathe their souls out to me And from their artless beaut}^ A gentle thrill runs through me. HE. Dear like its like aye liketh well. (Sighing) All, Beauty is the master-spell ! SHE. In this bloomy, perfumed bower, This natural grouping of leaf and flower, I hear soft lily-voices, violet-sighs, And I read a wealth of meaning In this passion-flower's wild eyes. HE. Sw^eet Interpreter, thy dark, deep eyes are cunning ears. (To himself:) Can it be tV exalted sense my in- most feeling hears? 34 INTERPRKTATION 35 SHE. What faith hath yonder struggling smilax, Clinging to those dying lilacs ! How doth a steadfast faith upbear Yon ivy on the stone wall there ! HE. (Almost involuntarUy, as he leans vpon a garden urn. ) I crave a most full^ heart-whole faith : It were as if I quaffed the world-w4ne And made the spirit of the w^orld mine, And so inspirited;, did look about me And recosfnize the world within without me! SHE. This morning-glory's opening cup Doth say: "The light of love is up^ When thou dost feel thv heart enlaro;e And warmer life its depths surcharge V^ HE. Some deep source feeds this frail, symbolic cup. (Tlalf-audibhj:) Ah me! the light of love hath long been up. 36 INTKRPRKTATION SHE. (As they approach a dried-up fountain overgroion with vines) That delicate vine — the simple-sweet — Which^ from her pretty, unlaved feet, Doth there entwine, with perfume laden, The form of the marble fountain-maiden, Doth softly say : "ily love will shield thee Prom all the blows that the years can yield thee/^ HE. Intangible love has the power of a soul, And tempers soul to a spirit-whole In which the most caustic vicissitudes pass As inert as fire in a mirror-glass. (Only just audibly and confusedly:) But the tempering, dear, can I — ah, can one en- dure it? Though reason reveals it, I, dearest, renounce and abjure it — I know^ but a sweet fascination, a vacant despair — SHE. (Archly) Yon tiger-lilies' splendor there, Those dahlias' self-s\ifficient air. INTERPRETATION 37 Bemock the genuine beauty of yon rose And clieat the credulous air with surface-shows. HE. (Seriously) What ^s of the surface integrally Is of the center mystically : The spoken word is spirit. SHE. (On their entering the conservatory) And here^ too frail for the sun^s bare sight, The Holy Ghost Flower, fainting quite In the radiant flood of her own rare light, Doth say, underbreath, to the dove in her heart : "^Who is so true, love, and pure as thou art ? Though I swoon in the excess of love, I will hold thee Forever here in my heart. Forever in ecstasy here will enfold thee !'^ HE. Sweet Psychologist, from flower-soul. Oh, turn, — interpret my sad human heart : It is a scroll •Which none but thee can read — thou, dearest, art Therefore its most meet guardian; — it is thine — Translate thy own to me, and make it mine! 38 MAN'S rEOPEE ELEMENT. Man's proper element is men awake^ Alive and giving life to thoughts and things^ Enthusiastic^ throwing — for the sake Of shaping true their deep imaginings — Their very souls into the tasks they uudertake. Life's uot the playtime of a tlioughtless child: Its worth is measured hy the iusiglds gained; The wisdom of tlie larger grasp; the uiild^ Free power from some worthy end-attained; Tlie inner wealtli from minutes full and well be- guiled. And, truly, he with vain^ conceited pride And he who shuns Avith scorn the vital ways Are fellow-travelers without a guide Upon a plain whose barren face l)etrays A lack no knowing eye could view unterrified. Till Ave can stand the Light — and not till then — The Light that sets us from our self-love free, Wq see but shadoAvs as in Plato's den : A man's most perfect function is to be ^ A source of inspiration to his fcUoAvmen, THE DEMOii. 3g 1. One night (the night Most deliriously bright^ The gnomon that measures The limit of pleasures). Again by the lake Where our spirits first spake, But a few hours before. Of the love that they bore, I walked as one seems To walk in his dreams, Palpably nought But the potence of thought, Though alive to the slightest Detail and the lightest Sense-thrill of mild power Of that memorable hour. 2. Still was the night. Yet breathless quite From the spell she liad cast Over all, as Ave passed In the dreamy eve-light. 40 I'HK DKMON In a flutteriDg flight Of mute love, from the manse, Throngli the gloomy expanse Of the park, to the edge Of the lake, to the path Tlirongh tlie grasses and sedge On the edge of the lake, And uttered I know not AVhat mutual lavisliment (In words that will flow not Agaiu) of dear love — In a heavenly tranee — Of dear love like the love That eomes down from al)ove ; And tlien in t^weet ravishment Back to the manse. 3. Quiet the lake Lay (lier little lake), Silent for sake Of the love it eould tell not. For sake of the love It eould tell not, eould tell not, In fatefully facile Soft words, as were mine; THE DEMON 4I But its surface was lit AVith a certain soft glow Transfiguring it — And thus did it show What it never could tell In words that should well Out so freely as mine^ In words that should flow Forth so smoothly as mine. 4. Each l)owery cove And each headland's dark grove Had least of the light Of that radiant night, Yet here I could note, By the shadowy shore, Some lilies afloat, And some tree-tops there Dissolving in air Or sprinkled white With a liquor of light; And so limpid and rare, So pellucid, tlie air. The stars in their darklino: Purlieus were so sparkling 42 THE DEMON They appeared all liquescent^ Madh' liquescent^ And the silver moon-crescent (Though ecstatic refulgence^ As if from indulgence In raptures divine And all-holy like mine^ So intensely ensouled her The sky could scarce hold her)^ The melting moon-crescent^ I saw was pursued By a DEMOX endued With desire but to quench lier Soul-fire and to wrench her Perforce from the sky^ Down out of the sky, — A shadowy demon Bane to the eye Of the credulous seaman. 5. Oh, why, wdiy that shrinking, Instinctive deep shrinking Of spirit, on thinking Of fancy like that. Of trifle like that THE DEMON 43 Of that moon and the demon Feared by the seaman ? 6. Ah^ well^ too well;, Did my memory tell ! Ah^ well, too well^ Does my memory tell ! I, indeed^ might haye known^, Before seeking her loye^, That neyer alone Was to come from aboye, To me, from aboye, The Spirit of Beautj% The Spirit of Loye, The Spirit of Beauty And heayenly Loye. 7. In early youth That, alas, was youth But in name, and, in truth, Was a maelstrom of thought, One day, oyerwrought By long and deep pondering, Listlessly wandering, Thoughtless and wear}^, 44 ^I'Hl^ Dl^MON Out in the hills^ I entered tlie dreary Thick woods where the rills Slidder down In a series of shocks Musical shocks^ Through dark recesses In the mother-rocks^ And slip through the cresses^ Which curtsy and quiver, Perhaps to the river Down hy the town. In the gloom of that place And its dark counterpart. The gloom of my heart, There arose — ah, her grace. Her glory of face And the poise of her form ! How lovingly warm. How subtly alluring. Intense and enduring! ^^0 Spirit,^^ I cried, ^^Be my bride, be my bride ! And the sad realms of thought I will leave to be sought \ THE DEMON 45 But by those that can find All beauty in mind/' 8. Her sweet interference There in my gloom^ Her very appearance, In roseate bloom, In my hermetic gloom, AVas warrant that she — Ah, was only for me ! 9. But, melancholy Me ! Folly, Folly, why, Why mortify Me thus — entreating And sadly repeating ^^0 Spirit of Woe ! Tell me not so, That thou art the maiden With love overladen, Endowed with a beauty It were paramount duty To aspire to — adore — And peril all for I'^ 1 i 46 THE DEMON 10. But, too triie^ too true ! A Circean spell In possession dotli dwell : — This spirit perdue Had lain — this shade Of satiety made — This inadequate creature Of imperfect feature — Beneath the rare And faultlessly fair First ravishing sight Of that creature of light. 11. Then should / not have kuown That never alone Came to me from above^ Tlie Spirit of Beauty^ The Spirit of Love^ The Spirit of Beauty And heavenly Love? 12. In a subsequent year^ When greater my sphere^ THE DEMON 47 Less passion-whirled And more of the world^ A seraphic soul^ Xigh merged in the Whole, Came to incline Chastely to mine. I saw in her eyes The rational skies ; And her every word My spirit stirred To depths unknown When I groped alone: I felt all the glory And grandenr of story; The great world was greater; And He, the Creator^ I well knew to be Ever-present in me — I w^as my maker And kindred partaker In Him who created me Maker, instated me Monarch of self, Disposer of self, In Him, the container. 48 THE DEMON Sustainer, restrainer, The corrector, perfector. ^^0 beloved/' I cried, ^^Be my bride, be my bride! I see now the meaning Of life — 'tis the gleaning Of culture (the essence And true coalescence Of feeling and thouglit) — The gleaning of culture — The soul being brought From toucli with the sod To communion wit' God. beloved — my bride — With thee by my side To interpret, control My conscience, my soul . . . . 1 cannot speak The feelings that come! But why should I seek To 1)0 other than dumb When I certainly know That my meaning will flow To completion, in thee? Oh, there's nothino- for me. THE DEMON 49 Revered one, I find, But beauty of mind!'^ 13. But, melancholy Me I FoUv, Folly, why, Wliy mortify Me thus — entreating And sadly repeating, ^^0 Spirit of Woe ! Tell me not so, That thou art the maiden With love chastely laden, Endowed with a beauty, Intellectual beauty. It were paramount duty To aspire to — adore — And peril all for !'' 1-1. But, a Circean spell In possession doth dwell; x\nd, alas, in despite Of the draught I had quaffed From tlie Fountain of Light, Sun-blind orew mv si^ht. 50 THE DKMON For I searched her blue eyes, And, all, where were their skies, Their rational skies? — Her lack-lnstre eyes. Homogeneous thought Left nought to be sought, And m}^ soul never stirred As before, at a word ; So, palled, and bereft Of my love, what was left? 15. Then should I not have known That never alone Came to me from above, The Spirit of Beauty, The Spirit of Love, The Spirit of Beauty And heavenly Love? 16. But the shrink] no- on thinkino^ Of fancy like that, Of trifle like that. Of the moon and the demon, The dear moon and tlie demon Tlint night by tlie lake THE dp:mon 51 Where our spirits first spake Of their love — ay, love? A dark premonition Was, sans my volition, Sans even my thinking, Inclissoluhly ! inking My soul to the soul. The virulent soul. Of the demon. The pitiless demon ! 17. I hardly am equal To telling the sequel — I droop neath the weight Of my fate, of hek fate : For the demon. . . .the demon. . , . Was / was the demon .... It was I who pursued .... 7, the demon endued With desire to quench her Soul-fire and wrench her, My Love, from her sky, Down out of her sky Of perfection, — 'twas I, Yes, I, unwilling 52 THK DKMON Yet forced to, fulfilling A law of my nature, — AVhat certainly seemed — What I sadly misdeemed — • A law of my nature, That the high legislature Of love could annul not, And God even cull not Clean from the code And not wholly confound And raze to the ground The rute He bestowed. 18. melancholy Me! Folly, Folly, why, Why mortify Me so — entreating. Sadly entreating : ^^0 Spirit of AYoe ! Say where is the maiden AYith celestial love laden (With pain orcrladen). Endowed with a beauty, Inexpressible beauty, THK DKMON 53 It were paramount duty To aspire to — adore — And peril all for V 19. Dark Spirit of Woe, Wilt tliou never forego Thy false disillusioning, Mortal confusioning, Xever eease to pursue me, Thwart and undo me? 20. But why do I ask, So needlessly ask? I who have passed By degrees to the last (The uttermost) station, Tlie full consummation. Of pain — the pain Of a heart that hath lain On the bosom of love, Sweet, innocent love, i\.nd yet (through a flaw In the intimate law Of its nature), self-cursed. But overcome and coerced. 54 'J'HK DEMON Hath cruelly stricken And blighted the tender^ Dear soul it would render Up Heaven^ to quicken ! 21. My life is a cloud And this body a shroud^ Though I still feel the lurking, Loth hearths labored working, As the slow blood would fain Relieve the poor brain And stay the creation, Painful, unsought, The sad fabrication Of feeling and thought, That I might lie down. Quietly down. On the shore of the lake Where our spirits first spake Of their love — lie down. Lie down in the gloom. Alone in the gloom Of the tomb — Away from the laugh. The chatter and laugh a THK DEMON 55 Of the bigots who doubt Absolution from stain By baptism of pain — Lie at rest in the gioom^ The remedial gloom Of the peacefullest tomb. The tomb without An epitaph. OH, THE FEEE ATE\S THE MAXSIOX TO LITE IX! 1. The glint of the southerly sun on the ])lades Of the rank, fresh grass of the years new life; The lines^ through these leafless trees^ of light On tlie limhs^ with a setting of shadow-jet, And the myriad splashes of moUient flame Through thai smooth-faced perennial foliage; The dreamy l)lue of the sky through the lacy And complicate canopied frowze of tliis tree. And the jagged and involute i)lat on the blue, Of the cameo-clear and intricate outline Of that tree; the dark-green and light-green and earth-brown And shadow below — with a mottling of red-brown And umber and silver and gray and a hint Of dark pur2:)le — and the hue of the sky-dome above ; The sight of the various leaf-shapes and ])lant- shapes That spring from a common soil ; The flight of the small birds and ))utterflies; The masterful poise of the hawk in the zenith; 5^ OH, THE FRKE AIR^S THE MANSION TO UVK IN The beauty-liiKS of the crests of tlie liills — The nielodions flowing of curve upon curve Along and adown and across, witli the mild Sensation and pique, for tlie nonce, at the sharp Interruption of fire-cracked or stratified rocks, Which a further and deeper reflection interprets And feels as the cliecks that make melody harmony, As the discord tliat heightens sweet sameness out there To arouse and partake of the spirit's activity Here, for harmony holds from the spirit; The suggestion of God in the far-sweeping dis- tances ; The finding of freedom within and the fixing Of faitli in the infinite reaches of spirit : — Here's no stifling constraint of the feelings, Xo leveling down to alikeness. Oh, the free airs the mansion to live in! 2. The sound of the hastening rill down there In the httle ravine; The hum of the insect ; The song of the bird ; Tlu} l)ark of the squirrel; 57 ott, THE ^RUn Air's the mansion To uvk in The iiiaiiy uncertain^ iiiyslerioiis sifflings Of soiiiul from the depth of the tree, the eleft Of the rock and the midst of the weed-clump : — They tell not of weariness, heartache or woe; Their burden's not malice nor spite nor con- ceit. Oh, the free a'l/s ilie mansion to live in! 3. The tingling, magnetic, cool feel of the earth And the sprinkling of sap-dew lingering still On the veins of the iinshaken leaflets : — Here^s no clammy, dead hand of deceit, No feverish gripe of a fiend. Oil, the free airs the mansion to live in! 4. The taste, as if every skin-pore had a tongue, And the smell, as if function were ended in smell- ing, Of a vaporized liquor of life — Of a sweet and ethereal essence of life — Till the vitalized being dilates to the point Where ecstasy turns into tears — Where the rich, iridescent film-figures of fancy Flash into tears : — 58 OH, THK FREE AIR'S THE MANSION TO LIVE IN Here^s no tang of a sympathy^ hollow^ lialf- hearted ; Xo memorial sad odor of roses, no token Of roses now faded, no token of vows That arc broken, of love that's departed. Oli, the free airs the mansion to live in! 59 THE WATCHEK. ArliiK. arise! arise! Tlie air with an attar-like odor is teeming, ^[ild night-light comes down from the skies, Soft love-light that vies with the light of thy eyes, Tlie light of love in thy eyes: Pale starlight comes down, scarce seeming To fall, ere it faints, ere it dies, In the opal in :^ moonlight silvering, creaming, The garden and inar1)le fount, where it lies. Arline, arise I I implore. The Planet of Love 's in the arms of the ^loon (^Tis the night of all nights in the year — 'Tis the palmary night of the year), The sweet garden flowers are lolling aswoon And the Avarm airs are kissing the ones they adore ; — Oh, drive away Sleep from each frail, silken lid. Pitiless Sleep, from each tyrannized lid (From my thirsting, sad soul I implore!) And full to these tantalized purlieus restore AVith thy presence, Euterpe, the melody hid r the hearts of the trees and the flowers; 6q THE WATCHER 6 1 With the charm of thy presence bring potence once inore To the pain-lulling, lyrical, lovely Xight-Hours! Sweet, here where the radiant wealth of the night Illumines as if with an inward light The .form of the marble fountain-maiden, And the wealth of the garden, perfume-laden, Responds to the fountain's sonody, Xods to the murmuring monod}-. Till all is in sympathy quite (For the maiden mourns. I know, for her lover, And over my heart soft, sweetly-sad unisons hover) ; Here, where the elfm shadows crouch And hide in the grass or sit on the leaves Or, softer than any wind that blows. Kiss the rich cheek of a regal rose, I'll make thee a couch — the daintiest couch ; Here, where the delicate vine interweaves In her arms the loveliest lily-bell That ever hath listened to all the woes That a d(»licate vino can tell. 62 THE WATCHER I'll make thee a couch — ah, the queenliest couch, — Out of flowers each breathing her soul out for thee, Out of violets sighing and dying for thee; And here tliou wilt stay till the love-star goes; And the liglit on tliy clustering hair. The light on thy forehead fair, The smile on tliy lips, the liglit in thy eyes, The joy in my heart, shall declare that he lies Who mitli ill at a slow hell tolls And 0)1 lire nlgld a I'nell rolls. Sweet, here where the Spirit of Love Hath woven the world in a spell. Hath brought down ethereal threads fi'om above And woven the world in a spell, Here will the heavenly visions of night Arise from the soul, Avhere they dwell. And, leading us on from delight to delight, Make us one — ay, one ! — by a marvelous spell , Far out of the confines of night. Far out of this very inadequate world. Far out of this maladjust world — Where no hell tolls ' And on my heart its I'nell rolls. THE ViTATClt^ft 63 Ah^ cloud o'er the moon ! So sooii^ t?o soon, Dost thou wake nie To worldliness, make me Alive to my bitterest woe? All, cloud o'er the moon ! Too soon, too soon, Uost thou wake me And make me Alive to unutterable woe. But how could I sleep And leave tliem to keep Watch o^er my dead — Them only, who kept her — Who from damnable pride — Kept her from me, till she died ! Lo, the purple pane ! The lamp — the purple pane ! Oh, mockery of my woe ! Come, sheety cloud, This cold, proud world enshroud; For all is dead. All virtue here hath vanished : — 64 "tnu WAl'CHKR Ah, I could weep no tear, no tear, Upon von virgin bier — Xo burning tear, — Upon the burthen of von bier ! SOUL-BLIXDXESS. 65 Abysmal deeps, engulf me. And hidden currents, whirl What's worst of me to doubly Dire perdition ! There's little Left in me of that Divine pure fire which solves And unifies in one Essential spirit-whole The actual passing life And the energizing, full, Complete ideal, sublime And archetypal. If conscience, Then, be leaving me. Be quitting now, when most In need, — weak, unstable Me ! — perjured me ! — There's wreck in the moral world. And Antichrist is king ! 66 EXCESS.* Bury me deejD in a grave^ oh, And cover it over with snow, oh, For — a ha, lia, lia, and a lio, ho, ho,- Tliis is too merry a world, oh! Carry me up on a cliff, oh. And off of it heartily throw, oli, For — a ha, ha, ha, and a ho, ho, lio,- Tliis is too jolly a life, oh ! Drop me into the sea, oh, xlnd religiously let me be, oh. For — a ha, ha, ha, and a ho, ho, hof I am too happy entirely, oh ! Build me a funeral pyre, oh. And burn me up in the fire, oh. For — a ha, ha, ha, and a ho, ho, ho,- Tliis glee will be fatal to me, oh ! * SoDg from an unpublished romance. LOVE-SONXET. 67 When aiigr}^ thought-floods seethe within my mind. Thy presence, Cara, always is to me An oil (of roses) on this raging sea ; Thy voice, the wild-birds' warl)ling, soul-refmed, Or soft, melodious psalm borne by the wind, In soothing accents breathes sweet sympathy ; Thy touch, thy glance, — ah, every jot of thee — Is some glad, bowered avenue, flower-lined, Down to the genuine heart I so adore ; And, as a phosphorescent sea when blows A lively breeze from some night-covered shore, Thy face now glows with quiet smiles, now shows An inner nature strangely vague and deep. Where prophecy and intuition sleep. 63 THE DAWX OF HOPE. ;|c ^ ;{: * * ^ To the unfortunate vSelf -seeking and fate- bound person, the thought that the more fortunate, who seem to have reached their attainments or possessions without effort, may also have Umitations, woes and despairs, conies sometimes as a ray of hope indicating undreamt-of possibilities and calling forth from him a free endeavor to rise out of his present enthralment. 1. Tn the shadows of time was a sea, A symbolic, 4ierylli lie sea, Where mist-pliantomed crags jutted o'er Populous stretches of shore Tliat were tliick-peopled reaches of care, Vor sodden-eved i^nerty there Looked lip with a self-seeking prayer^ J.o()k(>(l down and around in despair, And, as ever, its own burden bore. Yet tlie people, uplifted at times, TTeard mellifluous, mystical chimes. Which upfloated airily free From the cavernous cliffs by that sea; THE DAWN OF HOPE 69 But the sweetly fantastical tones Found a sad contrast in the moans, Found a sore contrast in the groans, From the low-lying shore of the sea. They were mimes, unceasingly mumliling And sullenly mutterino- and 2Tuml)lino", Who kept rolling tlie mellow-toned notes From the great bells^ eloquent tliroats; But their muttering, dowai-sweeping where well: Tlie dull-sounding moan, the sound swells, — While the sonorous wealth of the hells Like a seraphic choral o'ertloiits. 4. Still the sliore-dwellers oft lieard the sound Of the hells, as they went tlie old round Of the burdens before which they quailed, Of the life they so sorely bewailed; And they heard, too, back of the chimes. The sullen complaint of the mimes And bethought them, at hyaline times. It w^a$ some like themselves that bewailed. 1 yo THE DAWN OF HOPK Siicji tliought ill thij^ Fate-governed plaee Was a ray from tiie deific graee ; xViid, in tinu% to this sad people^s eyes Hope opened new spheres and new skies : They walked on a more pliant Earth And felt in themselves all the wortli They were wont to ascribe but to birth ; They worked — witli a strange toucli of mirth- x\nd sought not for aught from the skies. 6. Tlie welkin and deep and weird sea^ It had seemed, were ne^er to be free Of the dissonance harbored so long, Of the discord deplored as a wrong; But now out of the erstw^hile despair And into the heart of the air, Dispelling the dissonance there, A melody welled, and swelled heavenward- Thrilled into song ! SELF-COMPEEHEXSiO^^ 7 1 Dull, thunderous mutterings edged the nether worlds At last shrank ^lan aghast — tlie l)lasting shraek Shrieks thought paralytic- — hearts crack — A spastic ]iour ! the spawn shall he outhurled ! But, deep into a secret centre whirled, Enforniing energies, heneath tlie wrack, Soft potencies, 'mid swirl demoniac, N^'ow act, and lo I the Acme of tlie World : Tlr organic life — hrute, swooning Nature's goal; Tlie nohle form — aAvakcned Xature's quest ; The thought-horn speech — i)ond of the civil whole; The Rational Soul — the master manifest. Surmounted Xature passed like thunder-sound: The Soul surveyed itself with glance profound ! 72 FIRE. God is a living fire, old wisdom taught. I take this taper, light with it another — Xo change whatever in the tirst is wTOught : I spend my spirit on a needy hrotlier, Yet is my spirit wliole. its diminution naught. God said, Let tliere l)e Light; and gods awoke And lit a world to life with their pure flame, And shone there'mid in peace, till Something hroke The silent spell ; whereon disturl)ed became Tliey all — uneasy for a cliange; yet ^twas God spok(\ And in the cliange that thereni)OJi began — The lighting of world after world to life — They last a dark, gross, spheral world did plan And passed down into ways of stress and strife. That through all l)eing they might rise free-souled to Man. This darkling globe in which tlu^ gods immured Themselves in search of being, fuller, higher, And which through inyrijid ages hath endured, ] find is even yet sustained by Fire — Ethereal Principle to ken of sense obscured. FIRK 73 Throughout its seeming dead and formless crust The Light-horii atom-eonstellatious swing; And slione into by more of Light, and thrust Forth into form, tlie crystal — thought and thing Xow one — bears- huml)le witness to the Fire august. And so the plant, tlie animal and man — Successive reaches of tlie eml^odied Liglit — Bear witness to the richly ordered plan, Loye-kindled, wliich doth seek to so unite All things that each in other its own self may scan. And that before wliich these do witness bear. The Light itself, doth see itself in all. All in itself, and grow with joy aware That its own generation from the Fall Is rising free, full-wise, immaculately fair. 74 SITrEE]\IACY What though the somhre sequence of a hostile, circumstantial chain of happenings (as if a disincorporating world, filing off upon tlic centered microcosm tlie riffraff of disjointed ill) Assail tlie sacred precincts of tlie princely soul and press upon the citadel, Shall tlie soul quail? Can aught loithont confound the regency that rose and holds from the calm, high spirit? can aught without confound th^ organic fundament and active source of fluent, solvent life and the plastic world, — the delegate divine of a sovereign power that images and interacts with God? 2. AVhat though the fiercely surging tidal impulse of the underlying, turhid source of incarnating and evolving soul, a sea of germic frenzy, SUPREMACY , 75 Af^pirc vandalically — leap like ilvnd of direst evil on the quiet soul — lasli it in a devilish rage— and then^ insatiate, lick with rabid passion-tongues the lambe]it emp3Tean spirit-fire; — Cannot tlic gentle flame insinuate, witli soft iXTsistence, its fine, dividing and disintegrating angles — nullify by essence-eoninunution all the fury of the limbic and matricial sea — and, timeless, spaceless, pulse with purest light. in primal legislative glory ? 76 O FATllEll OF LIGHT! Father of Liglit, thou wlio art and not wat^t, Thou wlio abidest^ with the when and the where in thy bosoni^ Thou who continuest, sublime and inettable, Out of spaee^ out of time: We grope abnost in the nighty in tlie night, — Be with us, Father, our Father ! Thou thinkest, Lord, and thy thought is tliy will ; Thou Avillest, Lord, and thy will is thy love; Thou lovest, Lord, and thy love is the birth of thy creature; Thou thinkest and wiliest and lovest, Lord, And thou art the life and the liglit of his spirit: We stumble, Father ; sustain us ! 3. Forgive us, Father beloved, if we through the mist Of our thinking believe we can pierce to thy wis- dom. O P'ATHER OF LIGHT! 77 \A'e feci we are l)roken and sundered, Our sight is a seeing at night, But we cherisli a spark of thy spirit — We feel we are made in thy image — and say we can It note : Forgive us, Father beloved ! Father, our Father most truly, to thee dotli the heart Of thy creature revert witli an infinite trust. Turn back with an infinite faith; for we know, Father, Our Father, that back of and over our Fall Shone a glory of spiritual light — thy bcnison, Father, — Father, our Father most truh ! 5. And though we liave fallen, Fatlier, we know That the fatal defect arose from tliy fostering love; We see, through the mist of our thinkin: By the light of thy spirit within us, JO* 78 O FATHER OF LIGHT Tliat i]\v \)i\{h\\i\y csscjitinl to glory — is pain^ — Father, our Father most truly ! 6. To be passive receivers of being, Father beloved^ Even from thee, were to render us alien to thee, Dependent and hollow and vain; but to be, iude- feasibly Be, we must traverse the pathway of pain, through earth-lives Of error and sin, to knowledge of self — and of thee, — ^ Father, our Father most truly ! Thus sliould we, Father beloved, bear Avitness indeed To tlie light that shone o'er the primal beginning And will shine o'er thy creatui-e transfigured, thy creature self -knowing. Self-active, self-governing, free, eternally free, One-natured with thee, adoring, and grounded in thee, Father, our Father most truly ! STAE-WOELDS. 79 weird Chaldean star-worlds ! ye To me are more than diamond light To grace tlie brow of mankind's night, More than slavish, drudging spheres For signs and seasons, days and years. Unvarying and without haste, EoUing, rolling, through the eternal. Space-unbound world-vapor waste, Without a place, without a date. Obeying each the word supernal. Fulfilling each the ordained fate; To me, who rise but aye to fall. Ye are liigh symbols of that Cause Whence comes the miglity chain of laws AMiich makes the fate of the meanest one A factor in the fate of all ; To me, who rise l)iit aye to fall, Ye are a universal sun Illuming all the darkness in my soul, Scattering all the wild divinings, P>lind demands and vague n^pinings; 8o STAR-WORLDS To me, who rise but aye to fall, Ye are a mighty open seroU Whereon I read : Be vast, Earth-dweller, Be thou a eircmnstance-compeller, Go grandly onward to the goal. FLEE, FLEE, :\[Y SOUL! 8i 1. Flee, flee, my Soul ! For there's little for thee In this lurid and turhulent world: Its feelings and issues Are alien to thee. Its idols are spirits downhurled. Flee, flee, my Soul ! flee and be free From the raneors that ceaselessly pain thee; For why shouldst thou stay. When thou eouldst be free From the straits and the fates that constrain thee? Flee, flee, my Soul ! AAHiy an eremite be. In a life that is void of achievings? For thy efforts are vain, 82 FI.KE, FLKE, O MY SOUL ! And what good can tliere be In these infinite thwartino^ and arievinos? Flee, flee, my Sonl ! To the light thou dost see, The violet light of yon land ; For as aether to air Js the light thou dost see, To the luridness here on this strand. Flee, flee, my Soul ! To the land thou dost see; ^Tis the land of reliefs and completions, And the fair and the rare AAlio are there thou wilt see And commune with to sweetest repletions G. Flee, flee, my Soul ! What! wilt not ])e free? FLEE, FLEE, O MY SOUL ! 83 Is tluTc auglit in these tliwartiugs and grieviiigvS^ This infinite pain. It's no gain to be free? Dear Soul, reveal thy perceivings ! 84 IMOTHEII OF THE 8KY. Beautiful ^Mother of the Sky^ with thy .silver light make glad the tired eyes of the poor toilers of the weary days; turn for them the hard aspect of common things into a fairyland of glory where the free thouoht mav flasli its Avav liere and tliere and revel in the ravelings of its loosened texture of despair. Jlotlier, ^Fotlier of the Deep Xiglit-Sky, may thy heniguant liglit sink into the hearts hardened hy self-seeking and become there a liglit of love which shall^ like thy lights shine upon all; and so shall the lover of self Iosjg himself^ only to find himself seated^ enthroned with the truly great^ in the world's wide hall. i THE PIUCE. 85 A tumbled mass of jagged, ragged rocks; A wind-swept, dreary plain all round al)out ; A Youth, new come, with genius' noble air; — Three scyawnij, irliishered Imys limij mamhling out! The stranger, shocked, would leave the haunted spot ; — One whistles shrill between her tongue and tooth ; — He turns, — and she in jarring accents screeches : "Stay I and love for love I'll give thee, youth !'' He speechless stands and strives to quell liis scorn; Tliey croucli down in the shelter of a rock; One liolds him witli lier rheumy eyes, and croaks: ^'And I for wealth will wealth to thee unlock I" His fierce disgust has now near warped his soul — He would on them turn back the ills they wreak ; — One skewers him with her pointing skinny arm And hisses : ^'I for fame the fame you seek !'' 86 ruM PRICE A-8hu(ldcT now at tlu'sc symbolic words, His very fear emboldens him to speak; But speak he cannot — a something seals his lips,- His very lieart has grown a-cold and bleak. One leering crone now pulls her flabby ears; Oiu; rul)s luT hanging nose and cackles mocks; ()ne, grinning, claws the bristles on lier chin; — All mumbling, mowing, vanish 'mid the rocks. i ILLUSION. 87 To a 'beauteous isle in a southern sea A restless spirit transported me. An isle o'ercappecl ivitli a pleasure-palace And lapped in languorous airs from the sea Full-laden ivith largess of many a chalice Lolling, stveet-lipped, in garden and lea Here terraced, there sloping far off to the sea. Ere wc had touclied the marble pier Soft music filled the atmosphere^ Foretokening all that isle did hold Of beauties^ radiant^ manifold. I hoped to dwell there evermore, Yet pensively I stepped ashore, Pensively, for naught conld shake The sad trend that my thoughts would take. I wandered here and there awhile, Then sought the summit of the isle. I passed within the palace doors And wondering trod the dazzling floors; I went among the merry crew Whom Pleasure's witchery thither drew, And then, at last, in that maze of folly Tried to lose my melancholy; 88 ILLUSION But, plagued at length l)y a haunting clouht, I soarehed the enelianting ])laee thi'oughout : In air-pitched halcony, flower-scented bower, noney-moiithed lover wooed coy, hlushing dame; In self-centered mood, on a world-scan nlmj lower, A satisfied witling stood, musing on fame : In the l-eep, on a pallet, neglected and cold, A I'in-hereaved grayheard lay driveling in fear, With eyeballs turned sidewise toward Death at his ear; And a scrimp in the hold ivas worshiping gold. Pondering the:^e few types of what Was passing in that ])alaee fair, I slowly left the speeious spot And sought tlie glorious outer air. Wandering tliere, all tliouglitful, lonely, T niurniured, '^ 'Tis illusion only. Wlien spirit-life doth senseward surge. Earth greets a dupe or thaunuiturge.^^ On tlie Jiiarhle eoping of a terraee wall I sat and gazed u})on the sea, And asked myself if this were all ILLUSION 89 This lovely isle could hold for me — This thirst for nectar in a dream, This thirst for things that merely seem. It may, I mused, foretoken clearly The thirst for springs that deeper lie, And to their waters lead more nearly Tliese foolish seekers, hy-and-l)y; But tlie love tliat hums in the finger-tips, Tlie amhition that yearns at host through the lips. The desire for life at tlie soul's expense, Tlie greed for money, hlind, intense, — Oh, what are these to the soul that's free — What, what are these poor things to me ! Here, on this terrace wall, I stand, And oil tlie grandeur of the sea. The peerless heauty of the land. The mystery of the infinite sky, I look with loviug eye and cry: ^^Oli, Sea, Land, Sky, he part of me. Sink deep down in the heai't of me. Commingle with my inward dreams. Displace my longings, lesser lights. That T may — 'mid all this that seems, ^fay — from all foreign fetters free — Eeturn to those rich davs and nio'hts 1/ o 90 II.I.USION Ere "gainst your ph3^sical delights^ Your grandeur^ beauty^ luysterj'^ I learned to set eontrastingly These petty thouglits and doubts of things, Tliese gropings and tliese glimmerings With you as part of me once more ^ly spirit knoAvs no l)ounding sliore : Free! free! I stand, and l)end to none But llim. tlie All-pervasive One, Yet in my s])irit is there naugiit Of pride, but rather is tliere Avrought That iniracle of sympatliy, A tender, calm humility/^ I ceased^ and in my soul did play Tlie streamers of a coming day — I looked again on land^ sky, sea And hnew them but a part of me; They — like the illusory palace-life And objects of desire and strife, Nay, like the builded faery pile Itself^ or like the lover's smile — Were but expressions of a 1)eing Deeper, Taster far than they. From me, me blind but all-foreseeing, ILI.USIOX 91 Tliesc mighty tilings tliat I survey Did come, shall go, may come again ; — Can T, tlien, in tliis pleasure-pen. This dream witliin a dream, a1)ide? Xo, no. let me he side hv side And en rapport witli strenuous souls, Higli-striving, seeing things 1)y wholes ; Let me l^e where across the sweep Of common things deep unto deep May call and with a tender care Work out tliat end heyond compare, The lighting of the aimless way Of those who walk in darkness, nay Tlie adding to the gladdening sum Of things for those who are to come. Leaving then the terrace wall, Unmindful of the hopes and all That led me to this lovely isle. And with a long-unwonted smile — The smile of one whose way is clear— T sought again the marble pier. 92 A VISIOX or DEGREES. I sailed upon a mystic sea. And sad-faced beings^ marked by doom. Clutched their bosoms and kept pace Witli me within the water-gloom. Each strove his neighbor to outdo, Each seemed to look me through and through, As if lie sought to penetrate The meaning of my kindlier fate. A pompous figure curled his lip And looked me loftily in the eye; — In him no sense of fellowship — I, hopeless, left him, with a sigh. CONSOLATION.* 93 Xo more, my dear, 110 more, 110 more, Shall tlie prying eyes of saucy day Ouj- sacred, sweet unrest survey, On love's deep sea or life's disheartening shore; Xo more shall immelodious note In on our living music float. There's little leave for loving here. There's little time for more than tears, But, now tliou'rt gone forever, dear, Ilow^ever wxarily Avill creep Tlie lonely, lingering, tedious years, We'll nightly meet, with faith unfailing, dear, Down in the silent vale of sleep. We'll meet heneath the willow there. The silver willow all alone. Within the silent vale of sleep; Beside the slumberous river there. We'll meet alone, all, all alone, Down in the Idissful vale of sleep. * Song from an unpublished roijiimce. 94 LOVE. Arclimaster of the mightiest niiiids^ Divine attraction^ hol}^ rage^ Love rules the world aud all its kinds, Peoples our life-hermitage With Beauty's forms and shadowings — Projections of diviner things. If you have never loved^ my friend, You little know what living means, You have not looked behind the scenes And outward shows that constitute The common lot that living gleans, You cannot nearly comprehend The music of that cosmic lute Which leads us, willing, in pursuit Of a never-ending end. \ WHAT GIVES THE SUFFEREK 95 STRE Jf GTH ? Life seenis^ indeed^ as certain poets teach^ A futile wandering in a wilderness ; Yet, from this wretched life of mine upreach High yearnings which no soul that suffered less Could feel — no Paradise en spirit into speech. But ye tliat suffer and are silent^ ye Forever straining at the thingy mass That unopposed would your destroyer be^ What brings your fortitude to such a pass That^ cramped and tortured^ ye yet stay to strug- gle free? If I — despite the fact that my sad lot Doth bear high yearnings that enkindle me To rouse their like in those that know^ them no^^^ — At times but little use in life can see^ What gives the silent sufferer strength^ — endur- ance^ what? 96 THE IXCOMPLETl^, In a weird, iiniianiod and shadowy land 1 walked along a winding strand, Slimy strand, thick-strewn witli hones Halt liid within the ooze of years. With sunken ponip^ with hroken thrones^ Sad relics of men's hopes and fears. (Here's matter in pletity to re-arrange, But he ware of the genii, Chance and Change.) I walked tliere ^neatli a grewsome sky And gazed out o'er tlie gloomy water: I too liad songlit Fame — now mused on why 1 had so much desired and sought her; Tlien came a rusli like a geyser's gush, — I felt a shuddering dizziness, — I turned, and there a liuddling press Of haggard forms, who slowed their pace^ Stood still and stared ]ne in the face. Then wheeled around with a sighing sound iVnd hurried hack into murky space. {Where, in the feverish, fruitless quest, Wliere the nepentlie for liaunting unrest?) Alone u]X)n that inystic shore I stayed to muse, and more and more TTpon my sorrowing soul did heat The sadness of the Tncom])lete: The pain intolerahle grown, I then did from that strand retreat And leave to grief and gloom their own. SOKKOAV-LADEX.* 97 '^^Oh;, where is the heart that is sorrow-hiden ?'^ "Here/^ said the maiden^ forlorn^ forlorn^ "Here is the heart that is sorrow-laden : Oh, woe is me ! that I ever was born.'^ "Is there naught that can lighten the load of thy sorrow^ T^ "Ah, no; ah, no/^ cried the maiden forlorn, "There^s naught that can lighten the load of my sorrow : Oh, woe is me ! that I ever was born." "But there's peace in the world God's will to ful- fill." "x\h, yes; ah, yes," cried the maiden forlorn, — "The cliff it is steep, and the wave it is still : Oh, woe is me ! that I ever was born." * Song from an unpublished romance. 98 S01ummit of a flight Buhliiuo LofC. lOO WAI^THAM AND MARGRA I fling my winged soul, through vague out-places, Off into arcane, nascent spaces. In ageless, alphane time. Just as the unfolding spirit doth begin To solve the mystery of the origin Of things, and with unbounded joy I burn, — Constrainedly I turn — And there, in hard outlines, a hideous thing — Stone still, or passing backward, beckoning ! The rearward glance hath cost the angelic sight ! A soft illumination stays, whose light Eeveals a something not myself which ever Beckons onward, outward, starry bright, Adding beauty unto beauty, Pausing never, Waiting for me never; And yet, it seems, the farther out I chase This beauteous phantom in the world-light in me, The stronger rise retarding-things to win me Back — to stare that monster in the face ! {He timis and sees Margra hy the dilapidated fountain tvhere, slightly obscured hy the ranh plants, she has heen standing since he entered the enclosure and began to ivalk, loith folded arms, tli ought fully and sadly to and fro on the WAI.THAM AND MARGRA lOI short path tangent to the circular hasin, he- fore iinbtirdening his tronhled mind in this impassioned soliloquy.) Ah ! Margra^ thou here ? (He hastens to her and takes her hand.) I little thought to see thee here to-day — And thou so near I How was't no subtile sympathies did course From those dark eyes, no potent, speaking force From this superb embodiment, and say: "Thy Margra's here?'^ Margra. I came to Avalk with thee and talk with tliee — I knew I^d find thee here. Waltham. Some sister angel told thee so ; Or, perchance ,last night our souls did meet And rapturously read the rapid come-and-go Of fire-emblazoned thoughts that voiceless rose Within the radiant soul-sphere, and in the sweet Discourse to one another did di:;close Our mingled destinies from day to da}^, And these prophetic visions, dark to me. Still shine in thee with undiminished ray. My Margra, oft I^e thought that thou and T, I02 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA Discarding this earth-treading mask of clay AMiicli plummet- like down from an archal sk}"^ Hatli plunged, the God-born spirit's tenement, Have drifted out into tlie boundless deep, And there the clouds about our souls have rifted, And in the burst of glory o'er us sprent We have awaked as from an age-long sleep, And vision after vision then exalting lis until once more we left behind Our forms, our shadow-forms, tlie Deep o'ervault- ing Us evanished: — a spirit unconfined I was — thou w^ast — and thou and I, my love, Apart no more, were one. Margea. You're too ideal, Henry; you see in me Xot what I am, but what you'd have me be. Waltham. Turn not from me, Margra, listen to me : — I see things as they are, not as they seem ; The world-supporting potencies pass through me From Being's Fountainhead ; the calm, still stream My soul impedes but slightly in its course — It does not strike against me as a wall And pile up W'itli its full, majestic force WALTIIAM AND MARGRA 103 (hxat airy Bothiiigness wliicli, when tlio wall Hath crumbled, once again niust formless fall Into the ever-flowing fountain-stream. How can you lovi^-^— they say tliat lovers a dream. WALTITA:\r. Dost thou not know liow I can love I who before thy first sweot whisperings Of love for ]ne, had touched no book And shunned a lecture for a look From thee, until my pupils, restless grow^n Vrere leaving ]n.e and (lra]j])ling angel-wings In mire of logic, atom, flesh and bone? How caji I lo\x'?— ah, this from thee? They say that love's a dream— a dream— A mere lip-worthy, poetaster theme? Thy beauty, Margra, is to me As real as is thy soul to thee, As real as is that perfect thing Of which thou art a shadowino- — That shining Form which silent lies Out of sight of human eyes; Thy grace and beauty are a part Of my own make-ui3— what thou art Am I ; and Beauty, Grace and Love I04 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA Are one; then what more real can be, My Margra^ than the love I feel for thee ? Margra. I understand you not — I understand you not I {Moves slotvhj aivay.) Waltham. Margra ! what can I say — dearest one^ I bid thee stay ! Margka. Why stay ? To liear you talk — ''\x mere machiue' "— Because you must? Walthai^i. What would you have? This pains me to the heart. Margra. I'd have you ^^stare that monster in the face'^ And learn by contrast human woman's grace! Waltham. K tear? a tear in that dark eye? Tell me^ dearest^ wliv, oh why ! Margra. 1 tell thee^ Henry^ woman's heart is deep — Waltham. Yea, the heart's the well-spring of a world. Margra. And woman's love can life-long watches keep, WAI^THAM AND MARGRA IO5 With patient, circled eyes and broken sleep — Waltham. Yea^ love's the mute word of a mighty will. Margra. And woman's brain can throb with fever-fire^ To grant an underbreath of love's desire — And woman's mind is as a lyre love-strnng. Tense and instinct with wealth of songs unsung— Xay, Henry, she can give up all God gave And lay her down for love's sake in the grave. VrALTHAM. But can she fan to flame the glowing thouglit And lead the inward-centered mind to aught That's everlasting, true^, eternal — Can she light her lamp at fire supernal And set it in that reflex, gloomy den Far down within the immortal hearts of men ? Margra. Woman cannot understand, and would not, A love that calls on logic to defend it; And what a woman's love could do, or could not, 'Tis sure, an act like that is ajDt to end it. Waltham. Can woman understand, or take a part In the proud iuterests of a poet's heart? I06 WAI^THAM AND MARGRA Can woman nnderstand the art that tells Of the wondrous realms of Form and Tlionght — Can she feel its grandenr^ recks she aught Of the god-like power tliat in it dwells? Margra. If that art find a root in my own life, And draw not, like the air-plant, from the air— If I could feel it living, growing, there, — Then could I, Henry, be your loving wife ; But though you scale the highest heights of art, And send no living rootlet to my heart. Then would that lofty art a barrier be Between the sweetening light of love and me : Should I in shadow, like a fungus, grow, I'd grow as bitter as tlie bitter shx\ Waltha:^e. The poet needs a wealth of sympatliy Wherewith to shape his flitting, vague creations And his a tranquil, quiet life must be. His soul to hear the faint reverberatious Of the Word from sphere to sphere. jMargra. The one I wed no voice but mine shall hear. Waltham. Self-wilTs a ]^ower iu this proud world alone; WALTHAM AND MARGRA 107 The world of perfect form and angel tliouglit Doth hold our earthly will or will-not naught: The Perfect Form can haunt a soul downthrown ; The still, small Voice- can reach a heart of stone; Then can the poet liimself in self ensphere And say, I will not sec^, 1 will not hear? IMakgka. Oh, these voices, visions, Henr}^ dear ! Thy hateful books have made thee sick, 1 fear. AA^VLTllAM. No, no, no, my Margra, no, not sick; — Something incongruous pricks jue to the quick. There's canker here, and stinging nettles tliere, xlnd ugly weeds and misgrowths everywhere. Corruption-marks, upon this Garden's face — Sad obsession of a beauteous place Of regal landscape-form and flower-grace! And in yon warping mansion blind decay Doth lurk, and wear the weary years away. The canted chimneys — loosened clapboards — Sagged verandas — broken railings — The displaced steps and blistered door- Yon shutter hanging downward by one hinge- Great dripping stains from rusted nail-heads. Shutter-hooks and shutter-hinges. io8 waltham and margra Like marks of senile teart> upon the livid Visage of a hag — Is this not irritation? Is not this vexation? Margra. What means this gloomy^ nervous mood to-day ? Waltham. Evil beings all about us lurk To eatch us at a nadir-time And trip us in their murk and slime. Margra. (With tears in her eyes) Am I an evil beings Henry ? Waltham. (Steps to her and takes her hand) Forgive me, Margra; pain me not with tears In those soft eyes of thine. If in my spirit rise dark, wildering fears. Grim, elemental shadows, beckoning-things. Eidolons, proffering wings and niagie rings And pointing backward through chaotic years. They're exorcised by this dear self of thine; And if there's aught of clogging, earth-commingl- ing WAI.THAM AND MARGRA 109 Humour in any vein or nerve of mine, ^Tis quickly scattered by the best-outsingling, Subtile aura from this sweet hand of thine. Margra. Thou'rt now thyself^ my Henry ; why^ say why Such thoughts ? Thou mad'st me sigli, thou mad'st me cry — And were it not of all grave acts the gravest, I should have given thee back the ring thou gavest. Waltham. ^Tw^as but my Season's mad intensity Contemplating Love's immensity: The Universal Life my self subverting, 'Twas but my self her freedom still asserting. Margra. Thou lov'st me, Henry? Canst thou of that per- suade me, I'll store thy honey-words within my heart, — I'll live, a queen, within thy jealous Art. WALTHA.M. I, Margra, am what love and thought have made me. Wliat gives my thoughts their spirit-wings? What teaches me deep, world-old things no WAI.THAM AND MARGRA First taiiglit in angcl-visitings? ^Tis but my love and that rejmid me. Dearest^ oft to me it seems That my soul-stirrings, flashings, dreams^ Do augur that the underlying, Universal Mind is trying To assert with foree its own, Plaee an Isis on the throne Of my being and reveal What my intellect alone Must disfigure or conceal. ■^to' At times, it seems I pass the pale Of mere incarnate spirit's sphere ; At times, it seems I ])ierce tlie veil AYhich hides the Keal from dwellers here. I've scoured the Ptolemaic skies, I've risen to the empyrean, I've been where great Archaeus llrs, I've listened to a heavenly paean. But, when o'er our love doth fall Fate's misty darkness, like a pall ; Or as Mnemosyne's starbright night, WALTHAM AND MARGRA I 1 1 With its suns and planets and thou its moon Eclipsed by the counterfeit-death of a swoon : Then^ it seems that I grope and crawl Through a murky world^ witli a glow-worm'^ light ; Or the hideous gloom seems to cover all^ And I feel my way in a slow-worm's night. So^ thinking often a sibyl-thought^ And thinking often that life is nought, Unsunned by thy love^ uncrowned with thy crest, V\e longed — in a maddening, maelstrom wdiirl, In a frantic, dizzying spirit-swirl — I^^e longed for the ever-lessening unrest, I've longed for the ever-deepening thought, Out of the Earth-sphere, on with the best. Margra. Henry, canst thou these things feel and see. Then turn thyself again to only me? WALTfIA]\r. Only thee ! I tell thee, Margra, thou to me Art as the unrun orbit of the Galaxy : With thee, I feel a something grand, but incom- plete — 112 WAI^THAM AND MARGRA A bounded power — ah^ sweetly sad — ah^ sadly sweet I Before I kneAV thee, dear one (was there e^er such time?). When, on the low lake-marge or mountain-top sublime, Within my silent chamber or some cold cleft of Earth, I pondered on the grave, the mystery of birth. And the wondrous scheme of Xature and what it meant to me, I felt a selfish silence the wisest course would be; For, to crystallize my thought in written line Or clothe it, even, in fleeting speech, alive, divine, I felt would be acknowledging my nature bound- ed — In time, would sign with signified become con- founded, x\nd I, with every thinking and unthinking clod. Should come to pass a judgment on my Spiritual God. Was I but man as man is now, daft, reasoning- mad, — Puny groper, clay-chul and reasoning-mad — WALTHAM AND MARGRA II3 Creeping clerk-like here with many a measuring- thing, 'Mid fleeting shadows, labeling, inventorying; Then, by summation, involution, evolution. Deft transposing, elimination, substitution, Eeasoning on (fond mind-and-matter diplomat) To some final, universal this-is-that Which he the Cosmic Formula doth grandly call. The very soul and life-source of the each and all, — Was I but man as man is now, thus reasoning- mad? 'Twas then arose the thoughts that would not then be spoken, 'Twas then my heart, the immortal part of me, gave token Of a potential, demiurgic, world-deep power, A bursting power to 'know, awaiting but the hour : I would rise from weary reasoning's limitation, Imperil selfhood in demonic inspiration. And thus imcinct, recall and live each several part. Once more, of life within the old worlds in my heart ; And thus, and only thus, should I know all. 114 WAI^THAM AND MARGRA Then did my soul an inward strife endure : My intellect — the egoist^ slow but sure — Would creep along for ages to the goal ; My young-old heart would time itself transcend And in a selfless act of alien strength Would unfold all things in a dream's length ; And so^ betwixt the two^ my perplexed will Unstal)le grew^ and more unstal)le still. Then often^ night and day, wishing, fearing Bounds, I cried, at times when in the inward Strife my heart was victor: "^^Oh, would my nature had but bounds! I am not happy — why is it so? Man-child of the Infinite am I — Xought obstructs my range of thought, — My soul is wearied with her ceaseless choosing, Ceaseless chasing of the phantom Out into the mystic spaces, — Influences from the two spheres Pour into me from every side — They come I know not wherefore, I kno^^ not how — Influences of good. Influences of evil — WALTHAM AND MARGRA II5 I al)Sorb them — I sympathize with all — 1 am the human race, The low and the divine V I was then most miserable, Margra, But in my altruistic, powerless state Did I conceive a most strange view of things — The moral phase then forced itself upon me: I felt a loving check and knew the power Which held me, as a part of my own self. Yet more, beyond expression, than myself; And I named the august, cherishing one Divine Augoeides, my Guardian Angel. Oh, I were at that time golden-tongued. Were introspective thought not all of me ! I could not act, for too-deep heart-thought Had rived my world from that of living jncn. And when iiiy in tc fled was uppermost, I cried from out my heart : "Oh, why this dark- ness. This impenetrable, blinding mist; Why this sudden wall impeding, piling Up, with many a huge froth-mass, and turning Backward on myself, the flood of action ?'^ But in those moments when my heart was still Il6 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA I was most happy in the consciousness Of feelings acting and of being that Which I most felt myself to be — a man^ A warm^ substantial, hedonistic man: I was myself, blood-full, self willed and centered. At this dismembered, analytic time Of introspective thought and thirsty life; This time of non-commingling elements, — Antipathetic molecules — with frantic. Centre-fleeing movement — clashing — driven Cent rewards, — with fiery spicula Of passion shooting meteor-like from now! i ere Across the all-containing soul's night : At this disordered, disincorporate time. Into the dark and limitless alembic Of my soul there flowed all-solvent love. Essential aqua-regia, seeking one-ness. Dost know the source, superb one? Margra. Thy Margra's heart — thy Margra's love. WALTHA]\t. Yes, dear; it was; and 'twas most opportune WAIvTHAM AND MARGRA II7 (Spellbound;, I knew my Guardian Angel's boon,) — For, as some comet with elliptic course, Thrown into perturbations wild, perforce Doth seek along a hyperbolic path An issue from the sun-fear that it hath, So I (but for that chance sweet sight of thee Whence rose the subtile force that centered me) Should soon have quit the orbit of all use, Cut myself from all enthrallment loose, And sped along ni}^ freakish, self-willed way In unfree freedom, thinking thus to stay That fatal time w^hen, something higher told me, Self should fall, the great One Life enfold me. I felt an aw^ful pause, and then the growing Centeredness ; it was a silent, selective, Germinative time, and soon I felt With joy a spirit presence hovering near. And turned me here and turned me there at times To catch a glimpse of that I felt beside me. ^^Augoeides divine,'' I one time cried Out from my heart, ^^unseal my sodden eyes; Reveal to me thy grandeur and thy glory; Teach me the mystery of reason, faith Il8 WALTHAM AND MARGRA And love; and say Avliat meaneth this sweet peaec/^ The spirit spoke from deep within my soul: ^'I am not form — seek me in aiding others To a knowledge of themselves. Strive to perfeet thyself, And I will interpenetrate, Become incorporate in, The Avelj of things And make them of a mind with thee, So that thy wdsliing shall be their fulfillment/^ Xow, beloved, unperturbed except By small, eccentric moments from unknown. Incalculable gravities which draw iVt times my life from thine, thou love-adept. Thou heart of my heart, queen I there enthrone; Xow, know 1 the law engrounding law. And realize the sacred depths of grace: The life within, the life in placeless place — Beautiful repose — the gift divine — The wondrous solving of the mine and thine — The love no object for its love demanding — The peace of God, that passeth understanding. The concord of my intellect and heart Doth seem the fountain of a living Art; WAI.THAM AND MARGRA II9 I think with hearty see with prophetic eyes, And to my lips rich thoughts and feelings rise. Demanding for their fullness speech-expression And for tlieir quickening spirit world-possession : I would set free, imprinted with my seal, The imprisoned spirit of the Avorld I feel; And for the culture in mv heart I^n storino; (Ineffable essence of the things inpouring) I would make, as I go, my reckoning And thus avoid That, backward beckoning; For every living, deep, expanding soul. In strict return for each new thought or feeling Its hidden powers and attributes revealing. Part of itself must give unto the Whole. Maegra. Sometimes I cannot understand thee, dear. Yet I believe in thee : in thy soul's sphere (To use thy words) I find for all my strange, Yague woman's fancies, freaks, free scope and range; Of all my wealth of love, in thy dear heart I feel an everlasting counterpart; But what I am and what can be to thee Cannot exceed thy worth. For tliou art all the world to me. I20 WAI.THAM AND MARGRA P.^tT IT. Scene: — The same, Waltham; Alargra, liis wife; and their child, seated beside the old fountain. Waltiiam. (Almost to himself, reviewing the time when he had first met Margra, five years before.) I walked here sadly once — a bright, glad day, A lingering sense did often afterward say; But quite oblivious was I then of all The Nature-pulsing spells which here do fall On delicate ear and natural, sensitive eye : — The meadow-lark^s rich, melancholy call. The wild canary's wealth of note on note. The treasures of our mocking-bird's full throat, Could nothing to my thought -turned ear supply; Tlie flowers and winged things that overfloat, This plant-grown fount, the rustic seats, the walks, The warping mansion, the stately treCvS, the hawks. And even that, our Californian sky. Could not lure out my inward-centered eye. I mind me now that nought to me could flow From things but some harsh theme of carping crow : WAWHAM AND MARGRA 121 The verj^ pattern of the period lay In the restless^ squalling bhie-jay. I walked here sadly^ when^ on yonder path Where sight strains all the virtue that it hath On this strange place^ beneath the oak-tree there Which bids the sun at noon but warm the air xlbout its gnarl-niade^ natural seat^ Two soft eyes — dark^ wild-clustering hair — A mouth so sweet That Art must look^ throb and despair — And in love-pencilled curves, a form complete;, — Eebuked the sluggish outward sense And bade it feel, w^ith reverence, Our glorious world's magnificence; Aud tiiereupon, relaxed the tense-drawn Nerves of thought; Til' expanding pupil, larging nare, The quickened ear, — heard music rare, Breathed Xature in — saw strange, new colors In the genial air; And tingling sympathy revealed Deep natural unisons. To outer sense concealed. Things came closer, through their comprehension, And each glanceful, quick with rapt attention, 122 WALTHAM AND MARGRA Partook, Art-like, of the mind divine. There was no glamour in tliese eyes of mine! Things came closer and the world Avas nearer, Tlr All-harmony centered all, tlie end was clearer. That genuine soiil-shaped outward self of thine First called the world-soul to these eyes of mine; And then, thy whole self, in relation dearer,— Thou dearest mother of this child of mine,— Thou epitome of the spheral world-design, — Evolved a Avorld-soul from that soul of mine. THE END. c^^ SEP 101903 018 482 353 6 p