n STofjn ILfo Ccontj Class PAiiM. CopigirtN". ■>> \ :s COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr A BOOK OF POETRY AND THOUGHT JOHN LEO COONTZ ARTIetViSRITAn! RICHARD G. BADGER THE GOBHAM PRESS BOSTON Copyright 1913 by John Leo Coontz All rights reserved Tke Oerkam Prm, Boitm, XJ. S. A. MAR 16 i9l4 ©C!.A362895 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THOSE WHO BT THE GRACE OF GOD HAVE INFLUENCED ME TO BE WHAT I AM PREFACE The author of this book, which is presented humbly to pubHc taste, has not much to say for its contents. The work in the following pages is the work of all hours and all seasons, from the heart. The things that follow here were written as they came, and in that measure most pleasing and acceptable to the fancies. The author hopes only, that those who read them may find a little of the comfort and peace that has come to him often, in a recollection of them. Leo Coontz. January 17, 19H CONTENTS The Poet's Theme 18 Memories of South England, Winchelsea . . 14 Beloved Hours of Spring 15 On Burns' Birthday 15 Rejoice Ye Flowers 16 The Sweetest Girl 16 Epigram for a Gift 17 The Vale of Sleep 17 Brighter 18 Sweet Blow the Flowers 18 How Beautiful, O Earth 19 Autumn ^20 After Reading " Lucy Poems " W Fragment — Hymn for Light 21 My Love, She's but a Lassie Yet 22 Jenny's Charms 23 Yet Calm Thyself 24 Near Washington, D. C 24 There is None Like Her, None 25 My Love and 1 26 They Dwell Not in the Stars 26 Lines 27 To Miss 28 Lines 29 Composed in the Field in Spring 30 To 31 For a Valentine 81 Lines 82 CONTENTS My Heart is Filled 32 As Some Pale Visitant 33 Frail Star of Heaven 33 Stars 34 Rosalie's Love 34 A Soft Wind 35 "The Hour I Met Wi' Sue" 35 To a Dead Brown Thrush 36 Dead and Cold 37 The Time is Not Yet Dead 38 Can the Song be Silent 39 High Thoughts 39 The Sun Breaks Gently 40 Sprmg 40 To 41 No More We'll Go A-Roving 41 Whither is the Music Fled 42 Ye Flowers That Come Again on Earth. ... 43 Four Years 44 A Memory 44 Dreams 45 Sitting in the Sun 46 Poetry 46 Reading Shelley 47 An Inspiration 47 How Can It Rain 48 A Knight's Homage 49 My Notre Dame 50 CONTENTS My Hopes ^^ Press Thy Lips to Mine 52 Drink Deep 52 The Bonny Doon 53 Mona Waters 54 Maiden Meek ^^ Who Hath Not Watched 55 'Tis Said that Men 56 Dear Wilhelmme 56 Wordsworth 57 1 Mounted Steps 58 Calm as the Sunshine 58 Sonnet 59 Written to the Mood 60 Baby B ^^ To Miss 61 Trinity 62 WiU-0-the-Wisp 63 O Happy Hours 64 Lines 64 Lines 65 The Sea Maiden 65 Missouri Coon Song 66 Between the Plough Handles 67 While Ploughmg 67 Sonnet to Keats 68 Lispired by Miss 69 The Throstle's Song 70 CONTENTS Another Year 71 At Night... 71 A Red Bird Singmg 72 Sonnet to a Red Bird 72 Summer and Autumn 73 The Eternal Dawn 74 Gethsemani 75 These Thoughts 75 Wind and Waves 76 After Reading Eugene Field 76 Come O'er the Seas 77 The Influence of Nature on Life 78 A Memory 78 To Miss 79 A Memory 79 To Miss 80 Woman 81 I Dream of the South 82 In the Shadows 83 Notre Dame 84 My Soul's Bride 85 A Memory 86 The Years 86 To My Mother 87 Silver Dreams 88 To a Toad 89 Fare-thee-well My Little Lover 90 The Wand'ring Season 91 CONTENTS Goodnight ®* Scottish Dialect ®^ The Cotton Now is Blooming ©3 To ^4 The Year is Dead ^^ On Reading Tennyson 05 Refrain from Kathleen Mavourneen 96 Commemoration ^^ A Beautiful Day ^'^ A Memory ^'^ To Miss Singing 98 A Memory 0® Sacred Heart Church 99 One True Home 100 Where are the Hopes 1^1 Bonny Was the Hour 101 Fragments *0* One by One 104 Kind Thoughts 105 I had a Wish 105 This Spot 106 The Fields are Green lOtJ A Glorious Day 107 Broken Gleams 108 MoUie 108 To Miss 109 To the Seasons HO Sitting in the Sun ' m CONTENTS Benbow 112 The Silver-Chorused Bell 113 Columbia 120 On Leaving School 123 To Poesy 123 Sonnet 124 Inspired by Miss 124 Glide on Sweet River 125 Now Stormy Waters 125 Inspired by Miss 126 The Holiness of Love 126 O Why Should 1 127 Only the Dead Shall Rise 128 Composed While Plowing 128 Inspired by Miss 129 Inspired by Miss 129 Inspired by Miss 130 In the Spring 130 Preface to Philosophical Meditations 131 Philosophical Meditations 133 Beginning 133 Life 136 Principle 139 Understanding 140 Ideas 142 Innate Ideas 144 THE POET^S THEME I saw a man the other day Pick up his pen, and write away. He wrote *'world-thots" and of "world-deeds (Poor fool, he thought to solve our needs.) I want not "cities" in my brain. But waving fields of corn and grain, And human souls, and God on high, And sunset quivering in the sky. A cottage, and a woman there Working and singing, mild and fair. Just Life and Death and God and men, Is all I want, to grace my pen. January 12, 1913 13 MEMORIES OF SOUTH ENGLAND, WINCHELSEA I travelled in a foreign land, Alone, and by a sea, A poppy-garden leaned toward the strand And ships sailed there, O sleeply. The sun was there, a hillside down, And there a warmth crept to my blood. For ages, and the English cro\NTi, — I felt that all was good. Yes, all was good, for then I knew The souls of England's poets; Their mighty dreamings passed to view There where the poppies bloweth. In the garden, by the sea. January H, 1913 14 BELOyfiD HOURS OF SPRING Beloved Hours of Spring that woo Sweet buds and blossoms gay From many an isle of silver hue, That dreameth by the way. Soft, rosy, Hours of mirth and joy, And Spring's bright Fancy wooing All things to life, — who would destroy Or be your Love's undoing! January 25, 1909 ON BURNS' BIRTHDAY If I had a glass of gin And a lass upon my knee, I'd pledge dear Bobby Burns Now born across the sea. January 25, 1909 U REJOICE YE FLOWERS Rejoice ye flowers that ye are living And are not slumbering with the dead As I, who with these thoughts am giving Ye kisses, for your sweetness shed. February 13, 1909 THE SWEETEST GIRL The sweetest girl I ever met It was the springtime, O, When flowers are full o* dewy wet And days for loving, O. The sweetest girl I ever met Was laughing blue-eyed, O, With lips that made one other's wet To taste their sweetness, O. February U, 1909 16 EPIGRAM FOR A GIFT A thousand wishes I thee give, A thousand wishes bright And multipUed, that each may Uve As long as thou dehght. January^ 1909 THE VALE OF SLEEP Pleasant is the vale of sleep, Thou must wake to dream and weep, Slumber on and kiss the clouds, Wavy beams of silver shrouds; Wrap thy hmbs, and spirits fleet Feed thee smiles of slumber sweet. Never leave that dreamy realm, Else the mortal, overwhelm And Thou never dream again But reUve in pangy pain. November ISy 1908 17 BRIGHTER Brighter than the ocean wave, Brighter than the morning star, Brighter than the moonbeams' glance Or the lovely dew-belled flower, Bright as all things here may be Thou art brighter still to me. October 10, 1908 SWEET BLOW THE FLOWERS Sweet blow the flowers that bloom in May, Soft rmi the rivers sweetly tuned, The garden dreameth by the world-wide way, The seasons fall all silver-mooned. Yet with all this my breath is cold, Still with these all, mine eye is dark. They bless my blood a thousand-thousand fold, They leave my spirit pale and stark. August 16, 1911 18 HOW BEAUTIFUL, O EARTH How beautiful, O earth art thou ! How charming are thy woods; thy flowers, Ah, they are Hke some spirits' breath That whispers of a golden death. Immortal vales to bUss confined With love to love immortal twined, Thou, Mary, there forever dear. Why mind I here the dropping tear. September 2, 1911 19 AUTUMN O never May was half so sweet As Autumn in her pensive way, The low, last call of birds that beat Into the hush of dying day. Some wealth to crowns may pass in view, Some lust, for youthful hopes astray When flowers spring to every hue Along some old heroic bay. But Autumn, oh, thy mournful strain. Thy music low, thy breath all moist. There is no thing on earth but vain. All, all, are vain, they do but foist. September 23, 1911 AFTER READING "LUCY POEMS" What is this Love that we must know The beauty and the dreaming? All things on earth are passing show, This Love, I believe but seeming. September SOy 1911 FRAGMENT— HYMN FOR LIGHT Dread spirit that dost weave and consecrate This fleshy form at its conceptive birth With hues of thine own Immortahty. Thou, Great Inspirer of all the forms on Earth Of life — a cloud doth hover o'er the state Of my weak sight; between Immensity And understanding frail, A soul-shadowing veil That leaves me groaning to the stars; like night That droops between that lovely silver sphere And this dull earth, and makes intenser far The longed relation — even does the clear Beginning of my yearnings cry the Light Which will my soul's repressed desires unbar. E'en as a child Immutability Had charms which came like shadows in a dream, Insinuations soon to take a form And shape, distinct, which were in time to gleam Reflected harmonies of Divinity, Revolving with the accent of a storm. On Pegasus upsoaring My soul light-fired exploring. Began to surge the deep ethereal vast, The woods, and night's lone solitude, the wind One moment hung suspended, left upon My soul a deep impress, which fed me fast And brought such things as music heard and gone That leaves forebodings strange within the mind. But what of that.? the frailest form that creeps Can measure circumstance of Being given — 21 MY LOVE, SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET My Love, she's but a lassie yet, A lassie yet, a lassie yet. My Love she's but a lassie yet, And O, and O, and O. Her Eyes are like the sparkle jet. The sparkle jet, the sparkle jet, Her eyes are like the sparkle jet And O, and O, and O. Her bosom like the snowy wet. The snowy wet, the snowy wet. Her bosom like the snowy wet And O, and O, and O. We married soon shall be, and yet, Shall be, and yet, shall be, and yet We married soon shall be and yet, And O, and O, and O. Jvly 17, 1909 m JENNY'S CHARMS 'Tis Jenny's charms that fire my bosom a' The fairest flower that sweetens with the dew, Around her all the others drooping fa' When blushing up she lifts her lovely hue. O what the power my youthfu' heart would drain ! O wha is she that gives me every wound ! 'Tis Love that bids me wofu' deep complain, 'Tis Jenny fair, in youthfu' blush and bloom. August 6, 1909 ^ YET CALM THYSELF Yet calm thyself while long hours creep Cold, unimpassioned to their end, Their passiveness should not make weep The heart no longer Fate can rend. April, 1909 NEAR WASHINGTON, D. C. A pastoral scene as fair as one of old Are these low hills of living glory, green. 1909 THERE IS NONE LIKE HER, NONE There is none like her, none, Though all the stars were one. And that one star alone Was all this earth might be Of dream and phantasy; — She lovelier still would be. There is none like her, none. The Queen — star fairy — kist. Robed in a mornmg mist Or evening amethyst Is beautiful to see. But radiant and divine, More beautiful and fair Was she — uncrowned — a maid Who sometimes lightly played With happy hands, where laid The leaves in downy shade. Not Nature on her throne. Nor anything I've known Or ever dreamed to be More beautiful Than she, The voice of God Made dutiful Tome. May 25y 1912 25 MY LOVE AND I A-la- Browning ivithout apologies My Love and I fell out one day, All in the merry month of May, She, with a pout, (But I was gay) When my Love and I Fell out one day. But we have smiled and kist again. And now we laugh and talk of then, And that's the way My love and I Made up one day. UEnvoi We twa hae met, we twa hae parted And I am left sair broken-hearted. June i, 1912 THEY DWELL NOT IN THE STARS They dwell not in the stars, nor where the breath Of men contaminate, but in the mind are they— Those visitations calm — of thought. 1912 LINES Still sad thoughts come and fill with gloom The ever-struggling heart. And shadows fall Uke rolling doom And once again I start. The spring returns with gay-crowned flowers, The earth, the air, the sky Thrill with a gladness rained in showers, Nor loth am I to die. Thou wert a joy, like One unborn; The breath and hght of days Of introspection here, unshorn Of human darkened ways. Thou wert the purest drop that ever Watered a desert-soul. Thou wert the cloud, the sunbeam, river. My Life, my God, my all ! October 2Jf, 1911 %1 TO MISS Thou hast my heart, but I not thine, Then, pray, thee gently take maiden from this muse of mine The thoughts thou sweetly wake. 1 have nor Life, nor Hope, but thou Hast been to me unknown A Power subtle deep and strong. When flowers to spring are blown. December 30, 19 V2 28 LINES Immortal days of Love, thy youth is o'er, Dead, are the rosy hours that thou mock-crowned With dream-envisioned flowers; and in their graves All silent lying thy most cherished Hopes. 'Tis true, she, whom the earth is not more fair, With all her lily-children and the rare, And radiant stars outspread is, dead, dead, dead! Hath ceased one here. Lament! I know it not If tears have brought relief from sorrow sought; The passive hour has been a guest to me More dear, with more of hirnian and divine Than all the griefs that ever choked the mind. blessings on these calm and even thoughts, And blessings be on all I see and hear, — The sound of vernal showers on the grass. The faint unbosomed flowers and the mass Of folded buds, and all that wakes to pass Within the mind, and leave a holy tomb Rose-showered with a melody of light And vibrant strong delight of sense-repressed gloom. May 7, 1911 29 COMPOSED IN THE FIELD IN SPRING The night stars kiss the evening dew, So I would bid thee, sweet, adieu; The soft winds sigh a love caress. All gently thee to me, I press. Love, goodnight! Lines — 1911 The seasons* joys are thine, O earth. Their lovehness and calm Thine too, the mother-pangs of birth And thine the blessed balm. I envy not what thou possess, I envy not, nor these Thy forms displayed, nor more nor less, Thy innocence or ease. But there was One who late here moved, A mortal, if such be; She whom I cherished, more than loved,— If she were here with me! May 12, 1911 30 TO No voice has passion's stormy wave Within my beating breast, With every fear this side the grave This soul of mine beset ! What mortal pangs poor man must bear, He e'en must sit and think That Fate has bound him to Despair And Misery forged the link! From out my soul forever fled What was my soul's dehght, Thy Spirit on its sweetness fed! — Sweet Poesy lost in night! January y 1909 FOR A VALENTINE To you I send these lines of mine That you naay read and know That your bright sweetness doth entwine My heart with many a bow. 81 LINES Behold yon field, a solitary mass Of sheafed grain where I may walk to pass A contemplative hour, hushed at eve. While the sun's dying rays upshooting weave A glory round the clouds; while yet I feel The stirrings of a heart that doth reveal That one strange im}:)ulse that hath been a law Through my whole life — long time, so be it now. For turn soe'er I may, the light of day. The vision brealdng on a mountain-mist Of gold, the waterfall above the crest, High on the stony ramparts of the sky, Dark pools that in the vale incessant lie, All, all, inform my spirit with a Voice. Fall 1911 MY HEART IS FILLED My heart is filled with sorrow's blood Now streaming through my side, A tempest wild, the gory flood Is ruining with its tide! February U, 1909 32 AS SOME PALE VISITANT Thou art as some pale visitant Descended from the starry night, About thee flows the cold distant Odors from balmy seas of light. Resolve thy self into some form Palpable to human mind, Or I shall die, whirled on the storm Of interest, created blind. October 17, 1908 FRAIL STAR OF HEAVEN Frail star of Heaven thou dost shed An influence soft As music that hath been and fled On wings aloft. Eternal rhapsody of thought Breathest thou To me, until my soul is wrought To one sweet law. October 2Sy 1908 33 STARS Stars at night are bright, Thou art bright too, My soul is the dark night Which thou imbue. Stars are sweetest Love, Thou art Love true. Stars do constant prove Thou wilt Love, too. October 26, 1908 ROSALIE'S LOVE Of all the winds that o'er the earth Do blow, and blow, and blow. The sweetest wind, is the wind that blows My Rosalie's love to me. 34 A SOFT WIND A soft wind On a (winter's?) day Blew these words And the song, my way. February, 1909 "THE HOUR I MET WI' SUE" The skies were ne'er sae sunny, The skies were ne'er sae blue. The skies were ne'er sae bonny; The hour I met wi' Sue. Chorus The hour I met wi Sue, The hour I met wi' Sue, There ne'er was hour sae charming, *S the hour I met wi' Sue. We wandert in the evening, W^e wandert in the dew. We wandert deep in feeling. The hour I met wi' Sue. Tho' Life shall e'er bereave me, Tho' Life I daily rue, That Life shall ne'er yet grieve me. The hour I met wi' Sue. July 16, 1911 35 TO A DEAD BROWN THRUSH To a dead Brown Thrush^ that a neighbor killed for stealing his cherries. The cherries would not have made two pies, — bought with a summer's song. I know that thou art dead, I hear thee not, Thy carols that did sweeten early morn For one bright cherry, they were ruthless stopt, Perhaps it was for thine most latest born. I know that he hath hstened to thy song Like melodies made sweeter by the thought, I know that he hath never felt the wrong That he to thine, or me, by this hath wrought. O man, if thou wert more inclined to be A little thoughtful of who feedeth thee. Thou couldst not slay so wantonly. What harm, What injury, is thine.? All for alarm Of ruin, what not! Enough! That thou, sweet bird, Art dead is grief to me, by silence stirred. June 25, 1911 36 DEAD AND COLD This poem and the three following written between l:Wand2:30P. M. Dead and cold the cheek of Love Since Thou wert parted from my side Like the tender, stricken dove It has died. Dead forever is the fountain Of the wavy surges given, Of that Hght that built a mountain Thought to Heaven. Sealed the light and tongue forever Hope and joy, and aught but pain Till the languishing endeavor Brings thee back again. November 16, 1908 37 THE TIME IS NOT YET DEAD The time is not yet dead When we shall meet again, Or were it so, my heart Would die upon the pain. Tomorrow holds thy love, Hope doth dream and borrow All that child Fancy holds To crush this day of sorrow. Fate kisses down the lids That wake within my sleep. And softness creeps in breath To bid my heart not weep. And vainly seems the longing, Yet smiles o'er mount my tears And moments bring their shadows. Yet Hope o'er climbs my fears. 38 i CAN THE SONG BE SILENT Can the song be silent And the lute be dumb When thy presence shadows My soul, sleepmg numb? Never the waking Sweeter than this, Nor dream more continual Than thou in my bliss. HIGH THOUGHTS High thoughts burning In concepts zone Hath given thee Light, Surpassing thy own. O'er earth, o'er vision To Heaven above It lifts me up On pinions of Love. 39 THE SUN BREAKS GENTLY The sun breaks gently on those distant hills. And once again the flowers come to dwell Within that land for a brief space and die. 'Tis spring and two are walking in the May Of Life, with looks, and lips that silent speak The eloquence of mute despair. 'Tis past And once again my blood runs crimson-cold And once again I stoop to kiss the rod — And I have kissed the rod these many years — But late it seems as though my spirit fell, It seems, there is no God, no Heaven, nor Hell, Nor Life, nor Death, O would that thou wert here! December 16, 1911 These forms of thine, O nature, I behold Are interfused in me a thousand fold. 1911 SPRING I hear, I hear, O Lord, I hear. Come from the mystic deeps thy voice, Return with the revolving year And all my Being cries, Rejoice! May, 1912 40 TO O rapturous vision of my soul, Ethereal spirit I behold, O'er this w41d surging heart preside, Burn swiftly through this burning side. October 3, 1908 NO MORE WE'IX GO A-RO\ ING No more we'll go a-roving By the light of the silver moon, With the ]) right stars shining overhead That live and die so soon. We'll drink no more the sweet air In the balm of evening's cool. We'll laugh not, talk not, kiss not By the leaf -haunted pool. O that the world would fail, It would die upon a breath, Since Thou art gone and honey -dew Is clammy -cold like Death! September, 1908 41 WHITHER IS THE MUSIC FLED Whither is the music fled That once inspired my brain. Like starhght on the water shed, Will it ever be again? Whither are the visions bright. Like storm-clouds madly driven; A moment rolled before my sight With thunder-strokes of levin? In some bright world beyond our ken These things shall blend and be Like aught the dream of souls of men And innnortality. October 2, 1908 4^ YE FLOWERS THAT COME AGAIN ON EARTH Ye flowers that come again on earth In springtime sweetly bloom, Turn back! O hide from me your birth, My soul is filled with gloom! How sweet were ye when we first met, How golden winged the hours, Now all your beauty's turned to jet And every moment lours. Dear little birds that sweetly sing And every pleasure waken. Ye know not what Life's morn may bring Ere dews of youth are shaken. Ye golden hours that I have lived In fondest Love's complainmg, How broken now, how torn and rived With my poor heart's disdaining. 1909 43 FOUR YEARS Four years have passed and I have not forgot Thy smile, thy face, and Time has failed to blot Thy memory from the humble fields of thot. Four silent years, as Time is measured out To Man, yet an eternity of thot Is there, to me, and that is all I coimt. May, 1912 A MEMORY Whatever things mine eyes have seen, Whatever dreams my mind has held, Whatever fields I've wandered in I know 'tis thee I've loved too well. 'Tis thee alone — O do not think One word with me shall be regret, 'Tis thee alone — nor do I shrink Or ask that I might once forget. October 10, 1912 44 DREAMS Memories of England loJiile working in the field . I stood beside the sea and watched the white ships Go sailing up and down, a fairyland Of dreams, white shrouds, and sailing ships and sky— October, 1912 45 SITTING IN THE SUN O blind mine eye forever be And hushed my voice, — forever still When in the sun I think of thee And that sweet time when Earth doth thrill. O happy youth, thus fleets away Thy golden charm. Ere thy full years Are sped, thy })looming, flush as May Wet with the dews of ho})eless tears. O deep is Death, yet deeper Life, We see but cannot understand. The flowers bloom, the warring strife, The lover in a foreign land. O bUnd mine eye forever l)e And hushed my voice — forever still, When in the sun I think of thee And that sweet time when Earth doth thrill, August 20y 1911 POETRY I hold it from the hands of Him, who stars The firmament, and robes the night In pure celestial white — February 20, 1911 46 READING SHELLEY There is a season famed for poet's song. When dreams are bursting from the heart in throngs, And roaming T\dld, the phantom-eyed Dehght Chills, open dancing in the foamy light Of spring, and visionary voices })ring Sweet dreams of happiness, and forming rings The buds, and all frail, fair, sleeping things — The poet opes a book and visions writes therein. February 16, 1911 AN INSPIRATION There's more of Death In a baby's breath Than a thousand swords of men. January, 1911 47 HOW CAN IT RAIN On hearing it whispered it icas raining out, one balmy night in unseasoned February. How can it rain when stars are bright? The very bahniness of whispering night Gives promise of a dawn as fair As ever winged the blue. It is the hour of night When calmness broods beneath the wings of sleep. February 16, 1911 48 . A KNIGHT'S HOMAGE There came a knock to a golden lock And a maid without upcried. They have stolen my roses, A fortune no more The love of my lowly pride. And a youth of lore, bound wed-locked o'er The moon-seared face of the child Leapt to the casement. Then to the ground, Lasht to the chord of a smile. And the maid unwed, and her heart unbled. Knew not the cause, nor why, But clung to him, Nor asked of more Her soul-wide famine cry. And the knight, in eyes of hushed skies. Gazed wath a knight's desire. And in their depths Saw a row of hills Clad in alabaster fire. And he quenched the flame, with a kiss that came Not from his errant heart. But out his soul His homage blew. This knight of the maiden's part. 49 MY NOTRE DAME My Notre Dame, my Notre Dame, The manna-bread of mine, Nor cease my thoughts, nor cease thy name A black-starred pilgrim's shrine. Not once in years, but in all hours Are after-thoughts of thee The fragrance of crushed blooming flowers, The hopes I dreamed to be. My Notre Dame, my Notre Dame, And Hfe will cease to be When ceased my thoughts, and ceased thy name. And ceased IVe turned to thee. 50 MY HOPES My hopes, my joys, my sorrows, I give thee for the asking, What my soul from night borrows I give thee too with gasping. If thou wouldst be Love only, No fault would find thee willing To leave my warm heart lonely When winter ^vinds are chilling. My heart, thy nest, thy cradle, And I to watch thee slumber. Night stars over earth daedal To guard thee without number O clasp me to thy bosom. My spirit faints, it falls, O clasp it while the fulsome Mild-rising spring enthralls. October 29, 1908-1913 51 PRESS THY LIPS TO MINE Sweet, press thy lips to mine and breathe. Though we know not what flows, Our Spirits met together weave Something, for thy cheek glows. Ask not, but ever look on it As something sweet and dread, Time will not, cannot alter it Though years shall find us dead. Ocioher 6, 1908 DRINK DEEP Drink deep from mine eyes. They draw from my soul The spirit that lies Too deep for control. Draw naught from that fount But tenderest love, Pale visions that haunt Its depths from above. October 18, 1908 52 THE BONNY BOON Written on the banks of the Boon in Scotland. I too have roved by Bonny Doon Where oft the sweet birds sang, The rose-red flowers in breaking })loom In wildness round me sprang. The daisies glanced above the })ank Into the rippHng stream, That sunht kissed, and shadowed, sank Into my soul, a dream. The woodbine twining on the bough. The leaf-f)ressed waters flow, I mingled with the sweetest vow The human heart can know. 1908 53 MONA WATERS No more by Mona's stream I'll ponder, By Mona's wave no more I'll wander, The flowers that bloomed so fair are dead; The sweetness from those banks is fled, Where I was wont to wander. How like my heart once happy stream, Bereft of all thy glory's dream, How like my heart in flowery pride, Now^ gasping stiff within my side Without one hope or gleam. O Mona waters lo\'ed I thee, My Mona waters swift and free. Thy flowery banks, alas ! Alas ! My Mona sweet 1 cannot pass But here lie down to die. January 23, 1909 54 O MAIDEN MEEK maiden meek, and mild, and fair, 1 watch thee playing a soft air, And to my mind steals grace and light And gloom departs Hke fleeing night. If thou couldst play through all my years, My soul would cease to know those fears That parting Life and Death must bring Swift circling now on cloudy wing. January 29, 1913 WHO HATH NOT WATCHED Who hath not watched the dying sun close o'er The forest green, and pass l)eyond the seas More distant than the ken of human thought. 1912 55 *TIS SAID THAT MEN 'Tis said that men grow mad when those they love Have taken passage on the flowing sea, Whose ever-constant ebb depopulates And makes decay of all humanity. 1912 DEAR WILHELMINE Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine, With sparkling eyes like Rhenish wine, That in the sunlight or in the shade Reflect within the image made, Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine. Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine, Within the depth of those sweet eyes. Deeper than the summer skies I see VL\y heart doth still recline Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine. 56 WORDSWORTH Written at Orasmere, England. Wordsworth ! when I beheld thy native hills And viewed the lowly cot that sheltered thee, I thought of pomp and pride, and all that fills The circumstantial paths of man. — Here see And know true greatness in its golden sphere And here behold the native strength of man And mind, in all its majesty as clear As Heavenly light that roiind its Being ran. He is the chosen whom the God hath given To lead his fellow-man, and he the noblest, Who living well, hath never thought nor striven Pride's A-aunting ground to gain, and he the lowliest Who serves his stewardship the best, who leaves Long unstained years, each crowned with gold- en shea^'es. July U> 1908 57 I MOUNTED STEPS On some stones back of Dove Cottage leading to an arbor, which Wordsworth had laid. Written at Grasmere, England. I mounted steps immortal hands had laid And mounting gave to Genius her reward, How inspiration sprung from bosom's shade Had left of other steps for my soul, un- starred. July U, 1908 CALM AS THE SUNSHINE Looking over the city to the hills beyond, on a bright early morning. Calm as the sunshine on the hills of Love When every star in dewy slumber lies, Soft as the call of the meek-irised dove To me the sweets of this fair Paradise. Like some bright cloud unto my wayward eye The vision to my shadow-structured soul, About me lovely fields of glory lie, Full flowered, undisturbed, a precioui whole. Ajyril 22, 1909 58 SONNET When I consider what my hfe has been, What is, and what my prospects are, I feel Like one whose gifted eye has clearly seen The setting of a star, and through me steal The pulses of a god, but when I hold A converse with man's heart, its cause for tears A feeling less than godlike — less than cold Chill sweeps my soul, and blinds its end with fears. And then my soul cries to my Reason — Aid O thou ! and Reason sends upon the deep Her dove, and soon I hear, "Be not afraid There is a God, have faith in him and sleep." And so I turn upon a single thought, Man's ends grow less, they blight, and soon are naught. 59 WRITTEN TO THE MOOD O wake me to the world again, Some spirit from beyond, Dispel from me this cursed pain. Despairing to despond! Shake o'er me wings of brighter birth Than any yet I've known, O wake me with the mother earth When fields to flowers are blown. April, 1909 "BABY" B- Reading Burns as a beautiful Trinity girl passed. I'll kiss thee in the spring, my dear, I'll kiss thee in the fall, I'll kiss thee through the whole long year, I'll kiss thee not at all! I'll kiss thee in the summer, dear! — When winter winds blow cold; I'll kiss thee not at all, for fear Thou'lt think me over bold. May 27, 1909 60 TO MISS WJio is this and more, a sweet, lovable girl with a nose she hates. My heart's so deep in love with Mollie 'Twill not go twice together, There ne'er was such a girl as Mollie, — I think to be her lover. No heart so kindly, but 'tis Mollie, 'Tis light as any feather. No e'en so tender e'en as Mollie, 'Twill weep like weepy weather. There's none, has charms so sweet as Mollie, Her smile, 'twill light another. There's none can ere compare with Mollie In this world or one other. No rose so fair e'en but 'tis Mollie, While ling'ring winds round hover, I ne'er loved one like I love Mollie And I'll love but her forever! June 2, 1909 61 TRINITY Inspired by Trinity as I passed this murky closing eve. The doors and windows wide open, but all, all the girls gone. No sound near but a cricket in the grass. There is nothing that tears my heart like bleak barren ivalls, ivhere youth once ran warm and wild. The last, the loveHest now are gone, Forever from those halls are flown, No more upon the dewy lawn To wander in the eve. A pain has wov'n round my heart. Regrets and sighs like fountains start; Time cannot heal the aching smart Where memory must cleave. June 30, 1909 62 WILL-0-THE-WISP Her honey voice in lilting brings A note of sadness to my ear, And in the lowlands where she sings It is the blue-spring of the year, It is the blue-spring of the year, The time the meadow-marshes rise, When daffodils are hanging clear, Midway beneath the folded skies. All through the month of May she went In and out among the blooms. Weaving those of deepest tint, In many, many tiny plumes, And when the harvest time was come, She bound the grain about her feet, Went singing through the fields alone Where Life, sweet Life lay very sweet. It is the blue-spring of the year. With purple paths and misty morn. The scented lowlands far and near Are laden with a breath forlorn. It is the mellow-maiden year Where in the lowlands sleeps a maid. It is the blue-spring far and near And o*er the grave where she is laid. 63 O HAPPY HOURS O happy hours when we were twa And roamed the pleasant woods amang The birds wild-singing from the bough Thrilled every note to lovers sang. Now ceased those hours we twa hae loved As ever mortal lovers proved With smiles and glances unreproved By Heaven in those happy groves. May 8, 1912 LINES These are the flowers of spring, and these Less happy ones, are later born. O little friends, a grief is yours Perpetual as the snows of youth, Thou never heard the spoken word Eternal through the universe Of things: — "Awake, triumphant sing The hand of God upon the bough." March 31, 1912 64 LINES There is an ecstacy of mind, A rapture kenned for lovers' souls, It is the kiss that secret binds, x\ffection's mutual thought that glows. May 21, 1912 THE SEA MAIDEN There's a song upon the shore And a murmur on the sea, iVnd a comely maiden watches Where the shore receives the sea. Not an angel, not a fairy, But a fisher maiden sweet And the water gently murmurs As it ripples at her feet. She is queen of all the isles, She is queen of all the seas. She is happy in her smiles. She is gayer than the breeze. She is sunshine, she is laughter Where she moves along the bay, 'Till the waves that follow after Come and spirit her away. 65 MISSOURI COON SONG A coon sat in a 'simmon tree, And that old coon, 'e looked at me And I looked at that coon, you bet, And Mr. Coon was 'simmon set. Now Mr. Coon, says 'e to me, "O Mr. Man, let us agree, I see that you have got me now For I am treed upon this bough. O let me to the water get And I will show you I can *fit'." ;;0 Mr. Coon," I made reply, "That will not do, for you must die." And then I called the dogs for fun. Old Bess, and Tige and Lulu — One, And roimd that tree they swiftly ran And Mr. Coon they oft did scan. And then I shook that *simmon tree, And that, you bet, was fun for me. And soon we bagged that Mr. Coon And home we went in the bright moon. March 4, 1913 66 BETWEEN THE PLOUGH HANDLES The new rose blooms upon the thorn All-fragrant on this early morn, The redbird smgs high in the tree, And these are happy things to me. The sky is filled with sunset's glow And early evening breezes blow Across the pastures, and the deep Untrammelled silence brings me peace. From night and morn, from scenes like these Arises Nature's grandeur, ease. From flower to rose, from rose to morn The smiles of God this earth adorn. May 27, 1912 WHILE PLOUGHING I dreamed of wealth, great open halls With marble markings, on their walls, And then I turned to simpler things. To that great heart which Nature brings. I smiled as o'er I pondered these, A fife of rest, vexatious ease; The other, native to the soil. An honest man, his God, and toil. May 29, 1912 67 SONNET TO KEATS Thou sweet Bird singing in the wilderness; Among the heathen hearts of men thy little son^ Thou lavisht with a lover's tenderness, And bore the insults of a taunting throng. Thy plaintive note no longer charms the skies, A Stranger passing, drew thee to his breast And calmed the sorrows of thy tender eyes And eased thy troubling to a gentler rest. What glory is there in the wreathe of Fame? Thy heart-torn notes were paeans to thy soul What matters it that thou hadst not a Name? Thy passions never ceased to surge and roll. Ah! there was comfort in that thought to thee Thou wert beloved of Immortality. 68 INSPIRED BY MISS The peer of all creation kind Is women, lovely woman, The balm, the joys, the woes of mind, Is woman, lovely woman. I see the morning spreading bright O'er smiling valleys fair, I watch the evening's way 'ring light Diffuse the noontide glare. But not by these is she compared Is woman, lovely woman. By all of Heaven's graces cared Is woman, lovely woman. thou by whom this theme inspired So graceful wanton carries, 1 know by thee 'tis undesired. And here my nmse now tarries. July SI, 1912 69 THE THROSTLE'S SONG There breathes a wood wherein a tree. Lifts up its form majestically And in its tipmost branches there A song bird sings with blithesome air. It is a songthrush and he sings With choral sweetness as he swings, And when I chance to pass that way And Hsten to his lightsome lay I must believe, do what I will He has a mission to fulfill. A harmony breathed in a note Spun in a tilted throstle's throat Has stolen from a simple heart To scorn the voice that speaks of Art. It left me in minute survey Of all the thoughts at mind's display, To wander on in flooded mood In other paths of solitude. 70 ANOTHER YEAR Another year and we shall meet no more, The flowers that bloom beside the stream Shall welcome stormy winter's frost and hoar That once fed on so fair a dream. AjyrU 8, 1909 AT NIGHT Oh lovely is the moon in trees Kissed by the midnight's l)almy breeze And lovely is the de^^y rose Sleep-rocked by wind in night's repose. And lovely too, the clear-starred sky Where nothing ever seems to die, Yet lovelier far thou all of this And sweeter far l)y one soft kiss Is she, whose Life is my estate Whose soul divine has been my Fate. May 6, 1909 A RED BIRD SINGING O Red Bird singing On a tree bough swinging When all my senses waken to the world like a storm Thou canst not bring To the heart a spring- When the heart is dead from sorrowing. March 5, 1911 SONNET TO A RED BIRD On hearuuj a Red Bird h}/ un/ bedroom irindow in early .sjtrini/. I hear thee gentle Bird this early morn I hear thee, hear thee with the gladness born Of spring. The pulsing ])lood of youth outruns The scarlet age. Wherein such fulness brings A retrospection born of sadder things And heaviness whose drug hath clogged sims. I hear thee, hear thee and a joy returns And momentarily through mj^ Being burns. Thou canst not bring old joys l^ack again. Thou canst not wake new hoi)es for old ones dead, Thou canst not cease the anguish and the pain. Thou canst not any of these do, for fled Are they, like the gold youth that fleets away. And all thy singing canst not make a May. March 7, 1911 n SUMMER AND AUTUMN 'Tis autumn once again returns With sunset skies of purest gold That round the Heaven's bosom hums My Mary hke it was of old. beaut'ous evening calm and clear Ere darkness gathered round the scene 1 gazed on the thee enraptured, dear With little thought of Life's dark stream. Thy look, Time cannot banish e'er Nor mem'ry mar that sainted eve — The Autumn j)rospect deep'ning drear The cloud-like thoughts that ])arting weave. Mary in this human breast One sacred spot shall ever be The presence of an luiseen guest What thou wert, art, and still to me. The Autunm corn lies gathered round. The fields with purple light are sown And autunm murmurs beat the ground. Yet star-like thou art ever flown. O Mary, Death cannot forget That hour spent in parting love The agonjs the fever-fret 'Twill live eternal bliss above. 1911 73 THE ETERNAL DAWN I woke when the bright, bright dawn Struck on my sleeping eyes Woke in a bright, bright world Of beaming skies. Along the border of the world there swung a line There molded from the breaking light The sculpture of a hand divine Of mighty-handed Might. I followed in my breaking sleep That ceaseless line I followed till the boundless deep Engidfed me. Alone, upon the border-realm I stood Of ceaseless Wind. The vision of the world before Struck clear along my mind. It struck and pulsed this broken song — This broken song Upon my mind it pulsed along: — "There is no night upon the Deep No silent night — No night of broken sleep — No night that passes on — No thing, but an Eternal Dawn. I 74 GETHSEMANI O bear in mind that sacred song Come down through endless ages long. Remember you, Gethsemani? "Could you not watch one hour with Me? Recall how late the hour had grown He knelt beside the cold grey stone And near him were the faithless three — "Could you not watch one hour with Me? O bear in mind that sacred song, Nursed carefully through ages long. Remember you, Gethsemani — "Could you not watch one hour with Me?' THESE THOUGHTS These thoughts like flowers above the grave Bring back thy face to me; Thy voice — like sunset on the wave Across an ebbing sea. A maiden fair — not more nor less Than those round whom I move — Ah something yet thou didst possess The wondrous grace of Love. November 25, 1911 75 WIND AND WAVES Wind and waves and waters are Conipan ion pleasant-thoughtted Their loves, their smiles, their glances rare Too often pass unnoticed. November, 1911 AFTER READING EUGENE FIELD The Heavens come down and kiss the hills And the hills reach up to Heaven, The depth of a child's heart, ah never fills — 'Tis likest se\'enty times seven. Decemher 7, 1911 76 COME O'ER THE SEAS Come o'er the seas, come o'er the seas. Come o'er the seas, my sweet Ehnore, There's a castle awaiting by the waves a-mating On the rim of the wide seashore. Come saihng along, come sailing along. Come sailing along o'er the highhorn seas Hearken the meeting — sweeter the greeting — Thy coming through the mist I see. The woods a-dancing, the woods a-dancing, The woods a-dancing in the morning breeze All the waves a-sighing, all the waves a-dy- ing And my Elinore far o'er the seas. Come o'er the sea.s, come o'er the seas, Come o'er the seas, my sweet Elinore, How my heart's a-weeping, by the waves a-leaping On the rim of the wide seashore. 77 THE INFLUENCE OF NATURE ON LIFE Just over the hills Heaven kisses Earth The pale blue Heavens stoop and ever kiss The Mother earth, — It has been since my birth And ever shall be so — always a bliss. how far, far away that distant home And I upon the low step of those hills And in my youth the ranging blood to roam — I rather Life should be as one — who wills. It soon shall l>e the dark and I shall stand Upon those fear-clad distant hills alone 1 then would be as one who holds a hand And rather now would wish to be led one. A MEMORY O do not ask tho' I should give, Unhappy silence is not Love, Tomorrow we must think and live Today, tomorrow, aye must prove. O do not let thine eyes implore, Oh bitter tears are hard to see The anguish and the closing o'er; The fate that severs me and thee. August 31, 1912 78 i ii TO MISS 'Tis thee alone mine eyes behold Tho' others radiant round me throng, 'Tis thee alone can fire my soul, Give to my heart its native song. O maiden couldst thou smile on me. What raptures wouldst thou kindle here. Within this breast, what pleasures be To find the day to day more dear. September 26, 1912 A MEMORY She smiled on me as she stood there, The sunlight on her face and hair And O, the beauty and the grace Of Heaven, in that smiling face. 'Twas likest even ere the sun Has touched the deeps, while radiant one Bright star hangs in a cloudy flame. All nameless for the want of name. July 22, 1912 79 TO MISS My Love, to thee alone, 'tis plighted, My heart, by thee alone, 'tis knighted No other can it pleasure gi^^e For thee alone I dare to live. The smiling earth by morn arrayed, Old Nature's seasons wide-display 'd Deep hold a place i^dthin my heart, But thou alone fiUest every part. August SO, 1912 80 WOMAN An island in a river and below A bar of sand, and below, the yellow curve Of a broad river flowing to the sea, x\nd stretching in a lazy length along The musing stream, a low green sward that dipt And dabbled dewy fingers from the marge. And pacing there, a maiden making moan Beneath the wild melodious moon that pierced The river with its sih^er beams — '*Adown, adown, he will not come Adown tonight. The yellow waves Are sleeping in the light. The silver moon is creeping from my sight. Adown, adown, — why make my piteous moan Beside a river flowing to the sea, Away, away, forever in the night. The night apace, — the stars — ^the moon — no more E'en God and I — no more — not he — why dwell Alone beneath the cold white sky?" Then came The morning sun, that fell among the drops Flung from the night's cool cup of wine that stained The Heaven incarnadine, and edges hung With purple hems — ^the dark-tinged streaks of Death. An island in a river, and below A bar of sand, and on the island stretched Her lover in the ghastly sun, his face Sweet-clothed in smile, and on the bar of sand A little further down — a lesser form And on her lips, and on her cheeks, the smile 81 That lurks when all is lost — below, the curve The yellow curve of water sickened dead, Beneath the burning sun, slow flowing down Into the sea. I DREAM OF THE SOUTH I dream of the South, The beautiful South, The South with its beautiful dreams; I place in my mouth A lute for the South And blow to its winds and its streams. I dream of that Land, That beautiful Land, The Land that is burning with Love; I give to that Land, From my hollowed hand A soimd like the croon of a dove. I dream of my Home, My beautiful Home, Where all of my pleasures meet; Ifhave'for that Home, Beneath the blue dome, A song that is cadenced sweet. 82 IN THE SHADOWS There's a cradle in the treetops as they reach along the lake There's a shadow of that cradle in the wavelet's playful break, Where the water-trees at dawn like an infant bud unborn Lie sleeping in the shadows of the silvery mist of morn, Where the shadows of the evening creeping out the scented west Go slipping from each wa^^elet to the vale of end- less rest. See the golden in the sk3% how it runs into a red And a crushed heart of bleeding o'er the water softly shed; See the stain across the treetops, see the rushlight fade to pink — See it pale into a purple as the shades of evening sink. See the bosom of the clouds, make a rift of filmy shrouds And a blood-red shaft of sorrow through the border swiftly sweep, Leap across the border to the lake of sweet Repose To the lake of mingled waters staining as it goes; Leap across the waters with a grace unsandalled, bold, Out across the waters sinking softly to a close. Love, steal across the waters, nay slip across the rim Nay hide within the shadows, and steal along with them. If singing in the shadows as they merge into a robe Let your song be one of Love, as you steal to this abode And I shall know your ^'oice by its music under- flow As you drift among the shadows, sweet, singing as you go. NOTRE DAME Remembrance of a walk af night at Notre Dame in June. O starlight on a summer's cloud, O silver beams, O Heavenly crowd, Of angels, weaving o'er this earth God's glory round onr humble birth. Descend on me, let me receive Thy precious calm, and on me leave A grace, a glory, and a light Like thine I now behold this night. Jidy 17, 1912 84 MY SOUL'S BRIDE O the red, red lips of a rose I caught In the verge of a vestal dawn As I paced by the side, of my blushing bride On a river-lit edge of lawn. As I paced by the side, of my lovely bride On the sweep of a lonely lawn. O a dark, dark path in the grass was shed Where we sank to the water's edge And we stood on the brink, where the sun- beams sink Like a shaft in the l)roken sedge, And we stood on the brink, where the sun- clouds hnk As they pour down a golden ledge. O the wild, wild lilt of a note I caught From the lips to a pearly lute. Ah! those red-lying lips, with their passion drips — How my soul was at last burnt mute By the hollow spun drips, of those throated- lips — And the cheeks by the pearly lute. O a bleak, bleak path to the edge low lies Where it slips by the running river And my soul is now shut, like a foam-coiled jut- But the river runs on forever — And my soul is now shut, like a bitter-worm nut — And will wake for its bride — oh never. 85 A MEMORY Sweet falls the evening, and the dews descend Upon those flowery paths and fragrant woods. And closing dark, the gathering Heavens bend When round those scenes with thee my memory floods. The early evening wanderers fill the sky The distant rising trees foretell a gloom The swelling anguish in my bosom, high All, all are aspects of an ordered doom. Juhj, 1912 THE YEARS The years that slip from silence into shade Are left to me, the quiet even years In which they face starlike is set, inlaid With marble thoughts to chill the human fears July 17, 1912 86 TO MY MOTHER O Death, touch not that meek sweet flower I charge thee Death, — ^harm not that gem, It guarded me in every hour — And wouldst thou crush that slender stem? Her voice hath taught my Hps to pray, Her hand lay on my throbbing brow, Her heart hath been with me alway And dost thou think I'll leave her now? Her form hath waited at the door Whene'er my footsteps hngered long, My heart enriched and hers made poor And all that I can give — a song. No broken song that I might give Would last or live — l)ut soon dissever The tribute I must pay, is live That I may live with her forever ! O Death, touch not that meek, sweet flower I charge tlun^ Death — harm not that gem Yet, when thou must — may that sad hour, Keep fresh my soul like some sweet hymn. 87 SILVER DREAMS Pale blue di-eams that sleep about the silver moon Float and sleej), float and sleep, Softly, softly, tiny stars with silver shoon Only peep, only peep, Sih'er dreams all hidden in the elfin moon — Elfin moon Sweetly sleep, dark troubled breast, O sweetly rest Sleep nor wake, sleep nor wake \jO\e will steal to thee in milky opals drest 15reathe and shake, breathe and shake On thy slee])ing soul balm from the piny West -Troubled breast. Silver dreams, ])ale silver dreams, and paling moon Kisses press, kisses j^ress Love has shaken o'er thy soul a silvery swoon Low, and less, low, and less, Sleepino- soul, O thou wilt live forever soon — Forever soon. 1908 88 TO A TOAD "On seeing a toad while sitting on the porch tonight/' Unsightly creature to the human eye Just now projected on my thoughtless gaze, Thou sittest there quite unobtrusive, shy Amid the scanty grass and dying rays, A toad! a loathed thing! and some to think That poison, malice, envy bear thy name Unsightly evils drest, from which to shrink Nor know of any virtue to reclaim. Yet there is one, and I will be thy friend Defend thee to the world; thou never did Me harm, and I will vouch thou never hid Thyself from Him who made thee to an end In his creation plan, but serve full well Thy place; that hideousness to me dispels. July S, 1912 FARE-THEE-WELL MY LITTLE LOVER Fare-thee-well my little lover We were met to part forever, Sweet our meeting — like the smnmer Pledging sighs where waters murmur. Brief our love — as leaves here meeting In the fall go palely fleeting, Fare-thee-well, our lives must sever Fare-thee-well, then go forever. Fare-thee-well my little lover Hands here clasped — unclasp forever. Had we never met so lightly We had never loved but rightly, — We were met hut to be parted Life is sweeter — broken-hearted. Fare-thee-well, our hearts must sever Fare-thee-well, then part forever. One soft press, my little lover Ere we part and pass forever. We were met but to be fated — It were weakness to part hated; — Thine be ev'ry showered l)lessing Life's enjoyments all possessing One soft press my little lover Fare-thee-well, then go forever. 1908 90 THE WAND'RING SEASON The wand'ring season once again returns 'Tis Autumn in her yellow weeds, that mourns. The distant prospect round unfolds the eye, The gathered corn, the stubble-field and sky: The rust'ling leaf betrays the hapless wood Where late the flow'ry bank of summer woo'd. While o'er the plain the distant rising moon Lifts chill and cloudless through the closing gloom, Yet dark, as e'er the scene around impress My bosom's anguish darker still than this. Some hope attends upon the gloomy scene The winter past 'tis spring — and flowers again; But O, terrific as my bosom fires In darkest night 'tis doomed and soon expires. July 8, 1909 91 GOODNIGHT Goodnight! and should it be goodnight forever more Wouldst Thou remember me, With thee, I found inhab 'table Life's ray less shore And sang at Destiny. July 29, 1909 SCOTTISH DIALECT Misfortune's face sae dour and lang Hangs o'er me like somebody; I maun bid her gae alang And I'll gae to my toddy. The ugly hussie glowrin stan' Aboon my shouther wa' I maun charge her with my han' To gae wi' sic a fall. But oh misfortune hang aboon Howe'er we sputter-fume, Come, early, late, she'll come, or soon Contentie wi' sma' room. July 15, 1909 92 THE COTTON NOW IS BLOOMING The cotton now is blooming, o'er all of Dixie land. The darkies now are singing to banjoes in their hand, 'Tis eve within the cabin, the moon shines from the door. On all the fields 'tis flooding, as in the days of yore. take me back to Dixie, leave me in that land. To close my eyes in Dixie Amid that happy band. The whippoorwills are calling, O caUing far and wide, The pickaninnies dancing, in dusk of eventide, And O my heart is turning to Dixie land, I love And on my head is falling, the dews from Heaven above. Chorus take me back to Dixie y leave me in that land. To close my eyes in Dixie Amid that happy band. 93 TO — Where art Thou now my lovely bride, No more shall I see thee; Wilt Thou no more by me abide Where once thou loved to be. The waves of Love were mine to give And thou the bosomed shore, No more do I desire to live Since thou art mine no more. January 16, 1909 THE YEAR IS DEAD The year is dead, the dear old year And at its bier, I stood beside And marked its death, and brusht a tear And sighed, and sighed, and sighed. 94 ON READING TENNYSON Men in their prime, In every clime. Forging the world to God. Oh for some longed, and distant voice to come And pipe amid this world a Peace of Song And melt the tears fast chilling in my breast And cease The wild, wild wrong. Januaryy 1911 REFRAIN FROM KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN Why art thou silent, O my heart, Why art thou silent, must we part! O Love will come when least we know And like the faded roseleaf blow When summer wanes, and we are left Rude, passionless and all bereft. November 9 y 1911 95 COMMEMORATION This is the fairest day that ever bloomed In any land or dime; The fairest of them all, and unassumed, The glory and the prime. 'Twas on this day that thou and I were met And face to face we stood, And I gazed in on thy soul's loveliness And felt the power of good. There is a love that does not die with Death Nor ceases, but moves on, Conceived with all the soul's immortal breadth Beloved such was one. And when the years have ceased their surging roll And death shall tide the main, Thou still shalt find the haven as of old; One Love shall still obtain. March 8, 1911 96 A BEAUTIFUL DAY O lovely day, still lovlier yet The flowers, sun, and thy sweet face Up-smiling, in a land thick-set With dreams, and filled with Heavenly grace. The hard hand toils, the mind dreams on The spirit falls, the heart inclines; But lovely day, thou still my own — I somehow to the rest resign. October, 1912 A MEMORY thou to whom my heart is given Thou every joy this side of Heaven, I, wandermg here, still, still adore And agonizing Fate implore. Thou unloA'ed sun that seeks the west, Thou wandering bird to night addrest, Thou barren sky, thou leafless tree, 1 mourn a hapless fate with thee. November, 1912 97 TO MISS SINGING I heard her sing and Life and Death Both vanisht from the earth. I climbed The heights to Heaven, amid a wealth Of bright emotions sweetly twined. December 3, 1912 A MEMORY These little things were thine my love, These household cares, thy touch Was here, and here thy form did move, that I loved so much ! This daily bread, O thanks be given ToHim that givethall! It hath a sweetness likest Heaven 1 thought *twould be like gall ! December, 1912 98 SACRED HEART CHURCH One grey tower rising to the sky A golden cross Anchored in the clouds. Eight grey spires lifting not so high, Sentinels to That tower in the sky. Four pinna<;les rearing nobly by The tower clock Chiming to the clouds. Two steeples, twins, standing nigh Outposts and grey; — Relics draped in shrouds. Grey walls, rising stone o'er stone, on high Parapets in story — Sacred Heart, and sky — ONE TRUE HOME Man hath but one true home, the grave There all his sorrows blend, There o'er him flowers silent wave To mark his end. There in his sable mantle clad His joys all-crowned at last Forgot the whirring world, and mad Forever past. There wmtry winds blow cold and keen He sleeps, nor feels them not, There satire from the tongue and pen Increase his lot. Let Fortune smirk above thy sod Secure beneath, thou rest Await the reveille of God Amid the blest. November 25, 1911 100 WHERE ARE THE HOPES Where are the Hopes that once were mine? As rose leaves shattered by the wind Within the tomb of dying year My Hopes, my dreams, in sepulcher. Forgive not any hand that harms The first red rush of youth disarms; — Alas for youth ! so nobly bred That it must come to a bowed head. December 8, 1911 BONNY WAS THE HOUR O bonny was the hour And bonny was her een. And happy we were then. As any twa hae been. Now winds come frae the deep, And sleep o'er waters, dreary, That Death seems one to greet. Since thou art no my dearie. March 9, 1912 \&i FRAGMENTS I Thy passing like a shadow fell Upon my soul — ah it were well That thou and I hadst never met Since Love must leave us fever-fret And fears — no — welcome is it all. — II Thou art a soul on visions fed. That shimmers with translucent light. Ill What semblance dost thou claim to me — IV What summer meets the visioned dream — V. The light that breathes immortal flowers. VI Speed swiftly night the hour When we shall meet again Love breathes on me a dream With balmy sweets of pain — The violet drinks of dew Night winds kiss still the leaves The stars — VII Thy presence to my senses brings Sweet dreams such as night discloses In— 102 VIII October! when thy sad raiment draws Low musical mourning from the deep Intonal measures of my soul At that strong Power which makes thee wee[). IX Frail flowers — sweetness was thy lo^'liest charm. X Thou art as an unseen Power singing — Thy voice through my soul is winging Its spiritual flight — XI November cold and chill, thou hreathest melan- choly — 103 ONE BY ONE On reading of the death of aviator, Eugene Ely, at Macon, Georgia. One by one they go Swiftly and silent pass Each to his grave below, A crusht and broken mass. Heroic souls that dare Man's conquest to prove A vision, attendant rare, Lures with a fatal love. Their names, blood-carved in glory Flame — fills the western sky. The crags age-stained and hoary Alone, with these shall die. October 19, 1911 104 KIND THOUGHTS Kind thoughts from natures blest like thine x\re simple things that breathe true Love And like the stars encircling shme Within the world in which I move. The gifts of God — the smiles, the tears Of Life, the sunshine and the calm Were thine, to still the human fears, Yes, simple things, but O their balm. January, 1912 I HAD A WISH I had a wish but that is past I had a dream — 'tis now no more Both vanisht, and a closing door Rings in my ear, a world's outcast. Outcast! not one to bless, not one To greet with smiles, and happy tears; The future full of l)itter years ! — My vine a withering in the sun. December 8, 9, 1911 105 THIS SPOT In memory of Sunday evening. May 30, spent with three girls from Trinity , beneath these trees, beside this brook. This spot last held thy matchless grace, Here I saw last thy beaut 'ous face, Ere we were parted since. This brook that now its channel frets, And rising round the greensward wets, And whistling birds, bring deep regrets In truest Love's defense. June Jf, 1909 THE FIELDS ARE GREEN The fields are green, ah very green, The birds rise whistling once again, But round my heart the floods have l)een Since last I wandered o'er this plain. Where art thou now beloved soul What haven of rapt'rous joy is thine. There music must forever roll, And there must love be love divine! June 12, 1909 106 A GLORIOUS DAY A bright glorious sunshiny day, of wind a7id sun, and trees and youth. In memory of a picnic party with three Trinity girls. O youth, thou art a glorious thing. With strained nerve and lovelit eye With bated breath and wearied sigh, Alas, why must thou die ! O heart, heart, heart Beat, beat, beat A thousand throbs in one Of love, and Hope, and Hope and Love i\nd Life so sweet begun, Fair youth shall never die! May 30, 1909 107 BROKEN GLEAMS JUST WHERE THE MOON CLOUD- HIDDEN BEAMS At night watching the moon high in the sonth. come again thou lovely moon Go not behind the clouds, 1 love thee in the open sky Not draped by murky shrouds. I watch thee glide through broken rifts, A moment lighting all, Thou reignest in the balmy night Queen star, immortal! June i, 1909 MOLLIE There's none has charms like Mollie If she could only love me, I'd feel myself divine As angels are above me. ' I asked to be her lover, She said I might deceive her, I'm sure if I could win her, I'd never think to leave her. June 2, 1909 108 TO i^nss — The charms of mind of womankind Are centered all in thee, Those graces rare that make us fair In thee do all agree. The Pleasures bright that all deliglit WTierever they may go Do meet in thee and happy flee, In glances to and fro. The tender cares, that woman bears With sweet gentility Are thine alone to gift a home AYith deep simplicity. December 30, 1912 109 TO THE SEASONS Swift be thy messengers of flight, Time, Swift be they now. The seeds that soon to azure bloom shall blow Are lockt in rime And snow, and frost, and hoar, Descend Thou And swift unbind Their fastness, tell the sphered-music rhyme Of Spring shall flow. Most musical of seasons, thou behind The midnight one. They come, each trailing glory like the sun To thee, yet blind Soon shall they lead thee forth in unison O'er all the earth. To fill with Life all things — O pregnant wind They come, they come ! Swift be thy messengers of Death, O birth, Too, soon descend And half-inclining let the poppy bend To drowsy mirth And all her sisters round her sleepy wend With nodding eyes, TiU kissing folded in the arms of earth That be their end. January 21, 1913 110 SITTING IN THE SUN This day is calm, and warm, and on me falls An influence that creeps into my blood, And feeds the impulse of a Being, tuned In mind, and soul, to all that lies about. I sit here and a breeze, not more than known Now wanders in the leaves, and sounds far off Come droningly within my ear, I hear The cicada high-winding from the tree. But o'er these feelings here imprest by sense Is one, impressed by silence and the sun Upon my person in this noonday heat. My mind expands, and the invisible Influences that Nature doth invoke. On those who love her and who will receive Her nurturings are mine, a thousand fold, They lift me by a reverence to thoughts Of high conceptions of a universe Involved, of duty, and of man, and God. October 18, 1912 111 BENBOW On seeing a postcard sea scene, of a child at a window watching a ship, on a chill day. When ships came in across the seas And on the western window panes The sunset weaves, its wintry sheaves. Then O my heart for homeland grieves. The storm far reaches in the night And roaring, wastes its fitful spite, Then blazing round the ingle bright Ah, happy is the happy night. But Oh ! some pain with these must go When dreaming, homeward points the bow And sunset shadows still the glow Of faces at the old Benbow. October 8, 1911 112 THE SILVER CHORUSED BELL I that you were full Of stony-hearted deceit When I had crowned you Queen Crowned you above the sordid beat Of Time! II The dream I held in my heart of you Was nobler than my inner self. 1 saw the passions of the baser man Become the light of purer laws. I saw your glory like a crowning-star High overhead, through span on span Of the mystically woven gossamer. Ill O wert thou crowned in Heaven, — Stray beam from a broken star ! Or art thou one of the wandering sev'n That thou mayst make or mar.^ So I should rage with anger — Discharge a bitter speech Curse thee and the infant thing And say that the curse had healed the breach; Curse thee and thine forever 'Till the sun is drowned in the stars And nothing is left that ever Was human, or blacked by human desires. 113 IV The whole night long the marshland sleepers waking Call after call announce that Spring is breaking, O will the world not ever drink its fill Of the great spirit-feeding Master- will! Year after year the gentle swelling fills My heart, my hopes, the bosom of the hills, I feel the south air rushing warmer, warmer, It fans my cheek and onward stronger, stronger, Do all my pulses beat till I no longer. Upbraid them for her many-wintered slumber. The year is mellow in the bud. The honeywafted spray of spring Falls round me like a gentle flood And Letheward all my fancies wing. It is the soft reverbrant spring When buds and blossoms waking White cheeks to cheeks in kisses cling In tendernesses mute. When the rain-washed wild cherry bloom Is one delicious long perfume. And every milk-veined chalice holds a tear. VI Just now a bee came wandering in My casement window With the soft breeze of spring. I watched its ponderous bulk 114 Poised on so delicate wing Here seeking for the flower— I marvelled that so little thing Was close onto a Power! VII Why am I, such a paltry thing — Littler than the worm, that crawls Why must I here bruise and beat my wings Behind invisible walls? One moment in the light I seem to stand And then a darkness comes o'er sea and land, My Life is full of murmuring And I am such a little thing That I have sometimes wished to break The half -worn strand. VIII What is this Spirit feeding The brain and every living fibre? O will we never know; it moves Like fiery floods along my veins It smiles on all the pure heart loves It pleases or it pains. In the long years gone by In the long years to come The glory and the dream Has been, will ever be the same. O Christ who promised much Our lot is a little thing Lighted only by the touch Of thy great suffering. Ah Christ! if we Could only for a moment cling To some departing soul! 115 IX I whispered to the great oaks That shade our favorite walk I love her, love her, love her, Will she prove false! false! false! The wind among the leaves Echoed, false! false! false! But I will not leave her For all their pattering talk. X It has left me better, stronger, That weak passion is no longer; Nothing now could move me ever Not an angel starred in Heaven Incense-smiling, breathing-rapture, Passion-clasped, nor Time to sever Us here, or in the long hereafter. XI O heart of mine that's waking Thou shouldst be slumbering low. Why art thou dreaming of the laurel When thy true love is the pine bough. O hearts that lie in sepulchres Like bleached and whitening bones, Where were your own true loves When ye were hearts of stones.'* 116 XII it were sweet if it were love And not this foolish flaunting. If in my brain 'twere interwove With all its madness haunting. If she were not a bold deceit With ample feelings turning, If she were not a roguish cheat With red-lip passion burning. If it were love with mellow surges Tjke slow sweet spring arising, When the whole Being melts and merges Our souls were one devising. Ah! fool at heart, and maddish dream The babble and beguiling, Yet it be true if it but seem — The clouds of shadow smiling. j\[y folly prates, — when youth and hope The blood and spirit mingling, — Recall to action and the scope Of the new- world near, tingling. XIII 1 held thee in my heart, my coral rose, I kissed thee in the eve, at night And first when the I^ve-slar goes To sleep in the arms of her own true Love I kissed thee, — I loved thee with all my might. 117 XIV A college full of girls And I see them every day And she the fairest of the happy rout, She the Queen with downcast pout, With baby smiles and eyes of softest l)lue. She was a cheat out and out — She the fairest of all the girls — She a cheat, — they are all cheats, I say, . XV I gave my heart's since rest thought; I held it honor due to Love My heart was ruined — traj^like caught Yet I am what I dare to prove. 118 XVI I gave my heart's divinest blood To flesh my soul's supremest dream Could it prove less a ruining flood; I deemed it all that it might seem. XVII One silver-chorused bell has been my fate Whose beauty like a star-dilate Communioned with my soul, Slow-sapped the manhood strength I bore So left my spirit galled and sore, To heal a better whole. 119 XVIII Tonight I watched the full moon rise Slow-burning through the clouds. Far to the South, low in the sky, It seemed to promise much of good, O will it ever be — The world as I could wish Then I should feel again her own sweet blood Warm me to Life and Hope! Sprijig, 1909 COLUMBIA No Spartan tube, no Attic shell. No lyre Aeolian I awake 'Tis Liberty's bold note I swell Thy harp Columbia, let me take Burns — Columbia stands ! see where she stands Surrounded by her Empire floods, Her Iviberty enlightening lands Her Freedom-born majestic moods! Behold her, scattered sons of man To every clime addrest! Beliold Colinnbia half the Heavens scan The A^irgin Empress of the West! You British lords of Earth Who strove to force the tyrant's chain About her infant throat While yet within the cradle of her birth, 120 Who since have laughed to scorn her will Behold her now, behold Columbians train And scorn vour fill! II Columbia see! Columbia sweet. There, o'er the waters stealing From every nation Freedom's feet To thy protection reeling! "" Receive all with thine open arms Their life-blood is a glorious thing Ten thousand fold shall be the charms In tribute they to Thee shall bring ! Ill Not thine the fore-lord songs of old Nor thine a rotten-blooded line Nor customs wari)ed; but Manhood's arm and bold Strong-shadowing thy snowy side In youthful, mighty prime! IV Unwedded Goddess of the Eagle Realm Enthroned within the beams of thine own burning rays, Keep thou thy starry throne serene In virgin-glory loved Queen Alone, stand, stand alone Thou wast not born a despot's slave, Thyself alone canst dare to brave; Stand, stand alone. Remember thou w^ert once a prey to spoil 121 Think not those hands would now disdain to soil, Stand; stand alone, thyself alone canst save! Let other nations twine their arms in Love To bear the sacred olive Peace But thou, keep thou thy nest a brooding dove She is the fitter emblem, of thy Ixjve's in- crease. Columbia fair! Thy proudest boast is not in vain! See gathered round thy emblem of the skies Thy children chanting harmonies Of one true Paradise! Land of the free, heart-home of the brave Far-stretching fair, from wave to wave, From summer suns to northern storms Thy rock-bound valleys safe in alarms, O never let injustice creep Beneath that banner streaming high But bid it eagle-oared forever sweep The oceans of the sky! Ye Heavenly Powers that dwell above In unison both great and strong, Who judgest man for acts of liOve And subtle dark intriguing wrong! Whose strength, and guidance I implore! Thy blessings on Columbia I invoke: — Give her thy justice, stern, unbending ire, Teach her thy mercy's unavenging stroke, Her children thrill with patriotic fire To guard, defend, against Oppression's yoke! n^z And O, forget not, in thy grace divine, To teach them when they sing Columbia's praise To chant her Glory, as the will of thine That she may ever be revered and long her days ! Nov. 16, 17, 18, 1909 ON LEAVING SCHOOL The summer sun shall woo again the flowers Gay-spreading in the fields and balmy bowers, But thou alone shall greet the rising day While far from thee forgotten I must stray. O nevermore to see thy face again That charms me still within the midst of pain. Far, far away no wandering thought shall be Though I should sometime wish a thought from thee. May 2S, 1909 TO POESY O Poesy! sweetest child of Heaven Divine in every lineament, Thou whom to mortals once art given Art Life and God and pure Content To gaze within thy beamy eyes. To touch thy velvet — 123 SONNET The gladsome beautj^ of the season wakes Along the streams, the bees are driven down The gale to many a tufted bloom in brakes, Far widely strewn; I hear the piping clown His oaten lute make draw all Nature sounds Where waters murmur in the afternoon, All sunny in the dancing eddy rounds Till swelling past they die with swoon on swoon. Too late; the season soon shall wake to find The cheek of Love as fair as the soft wind That winnows through the golden hair of Spring No more, a melancholy grief shall bring On arbor, fruit tree and the vine, a deep Autumnal color while the dancers sleep. INSPIRED BY MISS If there's a spot on earth that's Heaven 'Tis woman's })reast when man is driven By every storm Life's ocean wields 'Till to a silent fate he yields. His strength, his stay, his guardian child Her Faith unbounded dark eyes mild. Uplifts again the glorious plan The Godmade, fearing, humble man. 124 GLIDE ON SWEET RIVER Glide on sweet river as ye will But O my beating heart be still, And on your bosom sunbeams play But winter frosts be mine in May. Fair flowers bloom above the stream And blushing deeply, deeply dream, Ye birds from leafy bowers make call But let me be where dead leaves fall. NOW STORMY WATERS Now stormy waters round me rave And silent close above my grave I have, nor Hope, nor Life, nor health, Not e'en the cursed smile of wealth. O might some Love on earth be found To still the thoughts that piercing wound, O through and through my breast they drive Till I might A\dsh to cease to live. O he who sings, can never still The beating of his guilt or ill; Some others smiling round declare The basest hearts are free from care. But he alone, the poet soul Is made to weakness and control, A moment driven into hell And then in Heaven he seems to dwell. 125 INSPIRED BY MISS I sing of spring, and flowers, and earth, Of sunshine, and of joyous mirth, Of sorrows, and of broken hearts And Faith that heals the broken parts. And Peace hke that within the sky, When robes of even drifting high O'er all the western world are flung Is mine, that this sweet Fate has sung. THE HOLINESS OF LOVE Serene and beautiful our Hves Here in this high and holy place, Inwoven hei*e by Paradise And suffering and grace. 126 O WHY SHOULD I O why should I give way to care And agonize in wild despair, This fleeting breath rolls through its gate; Each flower blooms to meet a Fate. O dark my bosom wildly rave, While stormy waters round me lave; The parting eye no dream hath ever Returned of hope of Love forever. Still deep the simple current flows, Where woodland flower faintly blows By castle wall or steep on steep, Down murm'ring onward to the deep. Is there no hope to fallen gi^en.^ Is there no rose that buds in Heaven? No rising morn when darkness clings.^ No Peace for anguish, being brings.?^ 127 ONLY THE DEAD SHALL RISE Only the dead shall rise, Only the broken-hearted sing Only in Paradise Is there release from suffering. IVIy tears have lightened not The woes of heart I darkly feel, I must abide my lot, And this is all I know, to kneel. Time heals not any wound Only a change comes o'er the heart. The balm, we dream 'tis found, — O see again the bleeding start. Only the dead shall rise Only the broken-hearted sing Only in Paradise Is there release from suffering. COMPOSED WHILE PLOWING The flowers are spreading through the grove The birds are singing from each tree, The whole of earth is whispering Love But no one whispers love to me. There's not an eye that flashes fire There's not a face that smiling brings Another wish to my desire, Or light the gloom Life round me flings. 128 mSPIKED BY MISS A rose of lovliness she came, And round her glowed the health of youth, And dark her eye with modest shame Her look the godliness of Truth. INSPIRED BY MISS Through every grove the flowers are blooming. And every fragrant bush doth tell, That every heart some Love is wooing, While Spring is dancing down the dell The birds from every bough are tuning Their simple notes to artful lays, While the soft breezes are pursuing The violet with her tender gaze. So I, sweet maid, these words am twining Around thy wild inspiring name. That thou may know my Love is binding, However flickers fortune's flame. \9I9 INSPIRED BY MISS Ever loyal, ever Lillian, These my thoughts shall always be Till the dark, the drear obhvion Of the grave shall close o'er me. Smiling eyes forcast the weather. Hers, the steady beat and true; Mine the resolution whether I am man to meet them too. Am I devil? am I man? — Steal these thoughts, through all my brain Till I languish o'er the plan, God ordained for our soul's gain. Ever loyal, ever Lillian, Noble words, if noble be. Heaven opes above oblivion's Shadows round the grave for me. IN THE SPRING O let it be in kindness said Since we are parting now for aye, The one last word be softly sped While the spring-moon slow drops away. 1913 180 PREFACE TO PHILOSOPHICAL MEDITATIONS The author of what is written in the following pages wishes to say that he has written indepen- dently. The thoughts there arose in his mind, they were pleasing and acceptable to him, and he jotted them down, and lately he has thought to publish them. His only defense of them is that they are true to his feelings. March 17, 191S 181 PHILOSOPHICAL MEDITATIONS BEGINNING To my mind the proper study of Philosophy should begin with the examination of those things first, with which it is vitally concerned. Order is the rule of existence. So the consideration of Philosophy should begin with the least postulate, and rise by order through reason to the highest evidences of human intellect and conception. Void was in the beginning. So I think the Philosopher who considers the relation of mind in man, and God, should return to the vaguest reality of existence. All knowledge is from ex- perience. Now the vaguest reality I can return to, by the only way in which I can know anything (viz. experience) is nothing. That which is noty and is. In seeking the vaguest reality of self, through experience of the least, which it can per- ceive concerning itself, the mind reverts to the state of nothing as far as is possible. Now I hold it true, as being a proposition that is and cannot be, at the same time, that the mind cannot rele- gate itself to an absolute state of nothing, by virtue of the fact that to do so would deprive it of the power to do so, viz. nothing being a state of non-existence, the mind in that state would have no experience, it would annihilate itself, which would be a paradox. Experience is con- comitant with existence only. 19S Then the nearest approach to its original source, the mind can obtain is marked by its nearest approach to nothingness, or to that state which was its before it came into existence, which I think as far my knowledge has experience, to be in the mind of God. Now, as I conceive, the proper manner in which to approach this state is to divest the spiritual nature of its physical one. The clouds then that hover about our mortal sight, will be dissipated, and the soul will stand on a mountain of vision perceiving all things, that are within the power of human comprehension. The soul will perceive there the Alpha and Omega of known human existence within the limitations of finite concep- tions. Nor to me can the mind of man rise above this, for here the intellect perceives the Heaven from whence it comes, and understands its future abode. The soul rises like a star, com- munes with its Maker on the inaccessible heights, and floats through eternity hke a mist over chaos. In this state the mind is awake, through soul-per- ception of an Infinite. This soul-perception is the first evidence of kno^^Tl existence. Since this is soul-perception we may ask, what is soul? Soul as I conceive it, is the manifest w^ill of God, involving all human attributes. More than this I cannot perceive until God reveals his nature. Perception here is used in the accepted term, of what ever comes into the mind that the mind 1S4 acknowledges of having received, by virtue of its admission. This, I think, completes the discourse on Beginning. 135 LIFE Now that our ship has been built and rigged, let us launch it, and venture forth on the great sea of Life. Let us unfurl the sails of thought and wafted by the breezes of imagination make for every harbor and cave about this illimitable sea. These waters are lighted by God, and if we will gaze, always standing in the shadow, His light will penetrate every crook and inlet, every cavern and dark passageway, spill itself over every forest and green shore, so wonderfully, that no labor shall ])e ours, but to jot down the beauti- ful things we see, their fitness and harmony, their sweetness and reasonaljleness. If on the contrarj^ we sail into this Light, we cannot but lose our bearings, to drift wanderers, until stranded upon some barren island of human persuasion, our ship battered and scarred, our sails riven, hopeless and helpless, to remain forever there withhi the narrow confines of unin- spired reasoning. The beginning of all Philosophy is Life. Wlien I coi^«?ider Life I seem to see something as in a dream. Life is the greatest of all phenomenon and upon application of my mental powers to it, all other phenomena passes away, and it is left alone for me to observe. And upon observation of it steadfastly building, from that place where I stood before, still on without rest, until death, 136 do I think of a man as educating himself. It is the duty of the Philosopher to observe Life, and to set down his understanding of its source, its modifications, influences, and govern- ance, in fact all that the mind is capable of per- ceiving about it. It is the duty of the scientist to analyze it, to study its growth, development, in other words, how it maintains its existence. Of the origin and nature of Life, as I perceive it, I have spoken already. It is necessary now only to consider it. Anything that has power of re- production, I consider to be alive, or to possess Life. Conceiving Life to be Principle invoKdng agency of reproduction, I know of only two dis- tinct forms of life. Active Principle, and Con- scious Active Principle. For general considera- tion these may be called respectively. Plant Life and Animal Life. This diagram will not be un- interesting perhaps. RATIONAL PLANT ANIMAL CONSCIOUS TJFE LIFE ANIMAL LIFE Trees Horse Flowers Cow Man etc. Sheep etc. 1S7 Man I consider to have rationality in addition to being Conscious Active Principle. 138 PRINCIPLE It will be noted that in the paragraph on Life, I spoke of Life as being Principle involving agency of reproduction. Now there is, I think, a lesser Principle in existence, than the one involving agency of reproduction. I call it the Principle of Sustentation. It is no less of the will of God than the Principle involving agency of repro- duction, it being the principle underlying the universe. It is in all non-self-reproducing matter. In stones, earth, water, fire, it is the Spirit of Preg- nancy which sustains this universe, and, I conceive the final dissolution of the Cosmos to be no more than the withdrawal of this sustaining will act from the world, and, upon its withdrawal, I believe the earth will dissolve and chaos be. Now I w ould not have you infer as you might, from my ambiguous writing, that this lesser Principle, is different in kind from the other Principle heretofore spoken of. On the contrary, it is of the same source, of the same kind naturally, only different in degree and quality. ISO UNDERSTANDING It is necessary before we can perform any action, physical or mental, that we receive, or consider an idea priorly received, within the mind. It seems then if I were to consider Philosophy in its true order, I should here, or heretofore have considered ideas, or if I consider understand- ing to be the first of human attributes, as I do, I should have considered it, in the paragraph on begiiniing. As it is of necessity concomitant with beginning it should be treated so beyond doubt. That is true. Undoubtedly, I consider Under- standing to be concomitant with beginning. But that it should be treated with it, I can see no reason for. Understanding is not of sufficient evidence imto itself of being concomitant with lieginning at its concomitancy. The gro\^iii of an individual is the gro^\i;h of his Understanding. Understanding is a gift. It is the framework on which ideas are strung. I take it that none of us can form an opuiion of understanding, until he has experienced something concerning it. I can- not recall any experience my mind has had with Understanding, that goes back of this: — I had no knowledge of understanding beyond the time it came into my mind's perspective, as a quality of my mind, and that its blending and ascent was imperceptil >le and natural, from which I reason now, naturally, and without obstinate question - 140 ing, that my Understanding was lodged with me as a gift concomitant with Life. To me the feel- ings are the surest guide. Now as to Ideas preceding Understanding, that can hardly be, when it is necessary before Ideas exist, to have a dwelling place for them. Ml IDEAS We have come now to the greatest of all things relative to the phenomena of Life. Ideas fill the vale of Life with flowers. They bring smishine, light and love. They please or they pain. They are a multitude, like the host of motes that give beauty and splendor to the rising sun. Without them Death is to be preferred. Without them we should be suspended between Heaven and earth, and more than this we should have no knowledge of it. The power of Ideas resides in Conscious Principle. Whence come Ideas? Of what is their complexion? Have they color or bulk, or anything that will identify them ? \Mience do they arise? Whence do they flow? How are they retained? This questioning might go on ad infinitum. It is not my purpose to search or ad- vance, only to present what I know as though I were some instrument that gives forth music, as the fancies of creation wing their flight across its impressionable chords. Of the ideas of which I write they are only as I have known them. They arise in me from thoughts, like winds upgathered to be transformed soon into beauteous flowers. I seemed to lie on the bosom of some Power and an idea came to me; I acknowledged it, and I had thought, I dis- carded it and I had reasoned, I accepted another. 142 and I had used judgment, and the involution was will. I know of two kinds of Ideas. Ideas of sub- stance and Ideas of Fomi. Those in the mind by impression of something, and those in the mind by previous impression, retained, and those through continuity of Ideas. Now as to whence these Ideas come. Their evidence is made apparent through spontaneity. They arise as it were from the mere combination of human faculties admitting of them. There is one thing peculiar to them which I have noticed often. For instance, these very words which I write, the verj- paper before me, on which I write, the pen upon which I am gazing or whatever else that might be, that appears to my sight with the power of formulating an idea, that idea is of a sufficiency to start a succession of ideas, which, if followed will lead the mind gradually, imper- ceptible, or by bounds, always, inevitably though, higher and higher up from the Earth until it is occupied soon, with the thought of God, or a Creator or an Infinite. Do Ideas have bulk, color, motion, or any other qualities of identification? I do not know it if they have. They are only to me evidences of mental perception. They are in the mind by impression, and remain there by retention. To me there was never an idea in the mind but what is there still if our mnemonic system were perfect. 143 INNATE IDEAS There are no innate ideas. I reason thusly: If there were innate ideas there was never a time when there was not an idea. For if ideas be innate how can it be argued otherwise, than, innate ideas have existed ever since the soul was created, unless, it lias heen revealed that innate ideas come into existence in a body, at a certain time, or that the mind at a certain age is capable of recognizing them? If innate ideas are concomitant with human creation, how do we know it, when w^e have no recollection of the first few years of our mortal existence? If they come in a body at a certain age, at what age is that? and how are we to dis- tinguish them from other ideas? And who as- sumes the revelation? These questionings might go on, with never a satisfactorv answer. And to say the least, if experience is the source of all knowledge, and experience confirms nothing in the matter of innate ideas, I think it injudicious and outside my conception of philosophical specu- lation, to profess a belief in them or do more, other than give them consideration, as I think the philosopher should do, of anything that has of worthiness enough, for his attention. 144