LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN 
 
 /■ 
 
 EDWARD G. GERSTLE 
 
 " 1 
 
 
 NEW YORK & LONDON 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 1885 
 

 COPYRIGHT BY 
 
 EDWARD G. GERSTL]^ 
 
 Press of 
 
 G. P. Putnam's Sons 
 
 New York 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Growing Murmur I 
 
 A Hero ......... g 
 
 Dolce Far Niente i8 
 
 The Poet's Hour 24 
 
 The Clay— The Man 27 
 
 Then? 30 
 
 Morn, Noon, Night 33 
 
 Nightfall 36 
 
 The Difference 37 
 
 Morning-Glories . . . . . . . . 38 
 
 Auf Wiedersehen 40 
 
 lone 41 
 
 Song 42 
 
 Daybreak , . . . . . . . , 43 
 
 Vesper-Tide 45 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 The Tournament ....... 49 
 
 Carmen 50 
 
 The Test 51 
 
 iii 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 June 12, 1878 52 
 
 The Sweetest Music 53 
 
 Poetry 54 
 
 Success 55 
 
 To Phyllis 56 
 
 Refuge 57 
 
 Sunset , ... 58 
 
 See-Saw 59 
 
 Palma Non Sine Pulvere 60 
 
 Reserve 61 
 
 Ad Infinitum . 62 
 
 Exteriors . 63 
 
 Salvation 64 
 
 Harmony 65 
 
 Puck's Votaries .66 
 
 Drifting 67 
 
 To Eloise, After a Quarrel 68 
 
 Love's Omnipotence ....... 69 
 
 Psyche and Phoenix ....... 70 
 
 Evening 71 
 
 Immortality 72 
 
THE GROWING MURMUR. 
 
 (class poem, c. c. n. y., '79.) 
 
 What is all this busy murmur that is day by day 
 increasing, 
 That with mighty sound is swelling, greater, louder 
 hour by hour ? 
 Can it be the proclamation of Man's glory still 
 unceasing. 
 Of the giant strides of Science, or the Age's won- 
 drous power ? 
 
 Will it bring us joyful tidings of a time of deeper 
 feeling. 
 Of a day when greater reverence will be more 
 and more widespread ; 
 
2 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 Will it train us for the Future by its mysteries 
 revealing, 
 Or make the storms in flying pass more lightly 
 overhead ? 
 
 Will it teach us to live worthier, will it stir our 
 hearts' foundation 
 To the depth of their profoundness to attain to 
 the ideal ; 
 Will it break thro' Nature's barriers to investigate 
 creation 
 For the philanthropic purpose of determining the 
 real ? 
 
 It is but the cry of Sophists who would preach a 
 reformation 
 'Gainst the aims, they say, and morals of a race 
 degenerate, — 
 
THE GROWING MURMUR. 3 
 
 'Gainst the nations who have fallen from their erst 
 exalted station 
 And who now are plunging forward to a most 
 ignoble fate. 
 
 'T is the mumbling of the doubters, 't is the cry of 
 unbelievers 
 Who would tell us that we cherish faiths exploded 
 long ago, 
 That our blind, implicit trusting and our hope are 
 mere deceivers. 
 That they lure us in the thicket like weird phan- 
 toms in the snow. 
 
 For, they say, the time 's corrupted, that our creeds 
 are sham and rotten, 
 That the day must come when Reason, uncon- 
 trolled, must govern all ; 
 
4 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 That a newer faith is coming (of their mighty brains 
 begotten) 
 Which will conquer all Religion, smother her ex- 
 piring call. 
 
 Some who help to swell the discord say there is no 
 God but Nature, 
 Some acknowledge no beginning and anticipate 
 no end ; 
 Some who in each gentle landscape think they see 
 His every feature, 
 But who cannot yet accredit that in Him all 
 powers blend. 
 
 Others build aerial castles in their wild, Utopian 
 vision 
 Of the momentary coming of the blest millen- 
 nium, 
 
THE GROWING MURMUR, 5 
 
 But the sun of Truth, arising, soon dispels the 
 dream Elysian, 
 For the world is still unsettled and the times are 
 troublesome. 
 
 Then they hold that we are selfish, that each preys 
 upon his neighbor, 
 That we lurk in secret places and are waging 
 endless war ; 
 They forget the scroll of History that has told us of 
 the sabre 
 Seldom sheathed — if not in bodies. — Are we cruel 
 as before ? 
 
 Or they claim that we are despots, trampling men 
 in degradation, 
 Making them our ware and chattel, holding souls 
 in servitude : 
 
O VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 That the slaves we make subservient are the bul- 
 warks of the nation. — 
 Who would not assert his freedom with a manly 
 fortitude ! 
 
 So they argue, do these sceptics, drown Belief in 
 scornful laughter, 
 Tear Society's strong fabric as the eagle rends 
 his prey, 
 While we calmly wait and idly for some power to 
 come hereafter 
 Which, the threads together weaving, shall reclaim 
 it from decay. 
 
 We proclaim emancipation both of thought and 
 free opinion. 
 And we teach great Freedom's lesson and her 
 glorious torch ignite ; 
 
THE GROWING MURMUR, 7 
 
 Grant alike to lord and menial, to the ruler in 
 dominion 
 And the humblest slave in serving, each his due 
 and every right. 
 
 We do hold that Thought 's supernal, which is found 
 in Man's progression, 
 That the chime from Reason's belfry will go 
 sounding on thro' Time 
 Till it strike the Future's margin with its forcible 
 expression, 
 Swelling to a grand sonata, to a symphony 
 . sublime. 
 
 No ! the times are not so wretched and mankind is 
 not so shameless. 
 These are but the wild illusions of the prophets 
 of the day : 
 
8 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN. 
 
 By Conviction*s unleashed deluge, by the answers 
 of the blameless, 
 Like the armed hosts of Pharaoh, they will perish 
 in dismay ! 
 
 Fear not, then ! The dawn is coming and the 
 heaven is growing lighter. 
 All the clouds that dim the vision will be banished 
 from your view. 
 Know that life is worth the living ; — then your 
 prospect will be brighter 
 And the morrow full of promise. To your God 
 and selves be true ! 
 
A HERO. 
 
 On Zion's height, where oft the cooling breezes 
 strayed, 
 
 All stood disconsolate, and ruin everywhere ; 
 
 For Roman legions, in their cruel ire delayed, 
 
 Were thirsting for the country's downfall. In de- 
 spair 
 
 Its people thronged the dark and slippery blood- 
 stained streets 
 
 In shuddering crowds, with fear-white cheeks and 
 sunken eyes ; 
 
 Jerusalem's high wall, which first the new sun 
 greets 
 
 All rosy, now stood desolate. The sentry's cries 
 
 Disturbed the stillness of the dark, cold night no 
 more, 
 
lO VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN. 
 
 But all was hushed, save where a starving child's 
 faint moan 
 
 Rose feebly on the murky air ; or, where before 
 
 Had sung the spinning-wheel, was heard a soldier's 
 groan. 
 
 And aged men and wrinkled dames their white 
 locks rent, 
 
 And stilled the plaintive pleading of their dying 
 sons 
 
 With hollow voice. The white and gayly-bordered 
 tent 
 
 Of Titus nestled in the plain, which gently runs 
 
 Beyond the eye's far sweep. 'T was on the yester- 
 day 
 
 A squadron, fierce and brave, the lofty towers as- 
 sailed ; 
 
 When from the gates behind, in numberless array. 
 
 Poured forth the multitude, equipped and strongly 
 mailed ; 
 
A HERO. II 
 
 And, pressing boldly on the plunder-seeking foe, 
 Despatched those near at hand, and straightway- 
 close pursued 
 Until they reached a hillock ; aiid at stand below 
 Let fly their javelins, and a counter-charge with- 
 stood. 
 Then from the ranks a noble Hebrew youth up- 
 
 sprang, 
 And, charging, slew a Roman knight and took his 
 
 horse ; 
 And far and wide his loud and clarion voice out- 
 rang 
 As on they sped ; nor did he waver in his course, 
 But drove them sore dismayed far up the hill. At 
 
 last 
 The foe, shame-stricken, rallied for the charge and 
 
 wheeled 
 Upon their brave opponents. And the legion fast 
 Pursued their hot pursuers 'cross the gory field. 
 
12 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 Then, pierced with many a dart, the gallant charger 
 
 fell, 
 And threw its brave, young rider. Rose an echo- 
 ing shout 
 From out the Roman throats ; and seeing victory 
 
 well, 
 They seize the fallen youth, his valiant ranks they 
 
 rout. 
 And as they firmly bound him, 'cross his stern 
 
 proud face 
 There passed a look of deepest hate. His eyes 
 
 flashed fire. 
 And thus he spake : " My lasting curses on the race 
 That slew my best-beloved, my mother and my 
 
 sire ! 
 But, as there lives a God, my vengeance shall one 
 
 day 
 Be wreaked on Titus and his host. I have no fears 
 For all your torments. But beware ! and what I say 
 
A HERO. 
 
 13 
 
 [Mark well, for Roman blood shall flow for Hebrew 
 
 tears ! " 
 And thus before the presence of their royal lord 
 They brought him ; and the stern centurion straight- 
 way told 
 To Titus of the issue of the fray. His sword 
 He drew, as if to slay at once the warrior bold, 
 Rut haughty Titus stayed his ruffian hand, and bade 
 His body-guard to watch him and to hold him fast. 
 *' O Titus," said the youth, " though I be but a lad 
 In years, I still am strong. My joy in life is past. 
 For all my kindred dear are slain and rest with God. 
 I scorn you and your petty might. I would not ask 
 My life from such as you. And sleeping 'neath the 
 
 sod. 
 My bones will curse you e'en. To die 's an easy task 
 To brave and fearless men. And though a captive 
 
 bound 
 I stand before you here within your own tent door, 
 
14 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 Yet ere yon crescent moon hath gone the earth 
 around 
 
 Thy praetors and thy chiefs shall sleep for ever- 
 more ! " 
 
 Dark frowned stern Titus. " Bind him well and 
 doubly fast ! 
 
 And mark ye that he doth not 'scape ! " loud shout- 
 ed he. 
 
 And in the captives' tent the dauntless youth they 
 cast, 
 
 Lamenting his sad lot and country's misery. 
 
 His brave, though baffled troop regained the city's 
 wall, 
 
 And quick the news they spread, and sorrow deep 
 siezed all. 
 
 Hi Ht Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi 
 
 Far down the narrow street there came a pensive 
 
 maid ; 
 In listless mood was she, nor marked the evening 
 
 fair ; 
 
A HERO. 
 
 15 
 
 Not even for a moment was her quick course stayed, 
 But straightway on she pressed. The thick, oppres- 
 sive air 
 She heeded not, and paused not till she reached the 
 
 gate. 
 And, crouching near the wall, concealed herself from 
 
 view. 
 The sentry slept. She passed, nor did her step 
 
 abate 
 Until she gained the Roman camp. A maiden true, 
 A patriot was she, and loyal to her cause. 
 The moon, as if ashamed so foul a camp to light. 
 Withdrew herself behind the clouds. A moment's 
 
 pause 
 The maiden made, and then pushed forward 
 
 through the night. 
 Now on she sped, and reached the portal of the tent 
 In which her warrior lover lay. And from her 
 
 breast 
 
1 6 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN. 
 
 1 
 
 She drew a bright and keen-edged dagger forth, and 
 
 sent 
 The sleeping guard unto his last, unbroken rest ; 
 And, entering, cut the cords from off her lover's 
 
 arms, 
 And in his hand she placed the cold and gleaming 
 
 knife. — 
 When hark ! the camp is roused ! Now loudly 
 
 sound th* alarms ! 
 The guards surround the tent ! The foremost 
 
 yields his life 
 Upon the warrior's blade ! The captains onward 
 
 press 
 And aim their swords directly at his manly heart, 
 But strike the maid, who, with one lingering caress, 
 Falls lifeless on his stricken breast. The foemen 
 
 start 
 And reel. The frantic warrior, maddened at the 
 
 sight, 
 
A HERO, 17 
 
 Strikes fiercely here and there. His strong arms 
 
 never tire 
 In felling low the murdVers of his heart's delight ; 
 And stretched upon the ground, five Roman chiefs 
 
 expire ; 
 When darts, thrown from behind, pierce through his 
 
 helmless head, 
 And down the hero sinks beside the loved one — 
 
 dead ! 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 
 
 The morn-breeze was cool and refreshing, the mist 
 
 rose o'er valley and mountain 
 In swift-flying cloudlets, like those of smoke when 
 
 battle is ended ; 
 And up rose the sun in its glory, and bathed the 
 
 wood and the moorland 
 And meadow with refulgent light : and glad was 
 
 the heart of all nature. 
 Here and there in the fields of wheat nodding, the 
 
 crows, like spirits of darkness, 
 Were hopping and cawing aloud, like goblins of tale 
 
 and of legend. 
 
 The mountains were brilliant with verdure, all 
 
 tinted and radiant with glory, 
 i8 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. I9 
 
 And seemed, like the well-beloved Joseph, adorned 
 
 with a robe of all colors. 
 For where the great Day-lamp shone o'er it were 
 
 seen great patches of radiance, 
 And the verdant spaces between them were green 
 
 as the waves of mid-ocean ; 
 Or, where the cloud sha.dows fell, unchanging, yet 
 
 never one moment 
 The same as the last, were seen broad spots of 
 
 Egyptian blackness. 
 Then was the stillness disturbed, for over the crys- 
 tal mount-brooklet 
 The noisy kingfisher flew, intent on his prey in the 
 
 water, 
 And, perched on the bough of the elm, the elm of 
 
 the wide-spreading branches, 
 All-watchful he gazed far below, where hurry the 
 
 swift-darting fishes 
 In and out among the smooth stones, covered over 
 
 with long, wavy mosses. 
 
20 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 While just at the base of the elm the marsh-frog, all 
 
 green and all slimy, 
 Sat with uplifted head, with half-closed eye and 
 
 mouth open. 
 Eagerly snapping at flies, that buzzed and that 
 
 hummed round about him. 
 And here a huge spider was spinning — the small 
 
 architect of the forest — 
 Was building a gossamer bridge, that waved and 
 
 swayed in the morn-breeze. 
 Undaunted by failure it worked, an emblem of true 
 
 perseverance. 
 The streamlet's bank was deserted by man, but not 
 
 by Nature deserted, 
 For there the marsh- mallows flourished amid the 
 
 sweet clover-blossoms. 
 And long slender leaflets of ferns out-sparkled the 
 
 emerald in brilliance. 
 And here, o'er a fallen oak drooping, that fell o*er 
 
 the stream in the storm-wind — 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE, 21 
 
 That fell in its pride and its strength, like warriors 
 
 in War's awful conflict, 
 There blossomed the long maiden-hair and daisy 
 
 and tiny Spring-beauty. 
 While aloft the ships of the ether, as white as the 
 
 down of the sea-bird, 
 Like barks on the Great W^ater's bosom, were float- 
 ing with slow, lazy motion. 
 Reflected below in the stream, which, like a true 
 
 mirror of Nature, 
 Gave back to the eye of the Poet the shape and the 
 
 form and the color 
 Of mountain and tree and of cloud, of flower and 
 
 each bough overhanging, — 
 Gave back the whole varied scene in all its charm 
 
 and minuteness. 
 And here, far up in the top of yonder high-reaching 
 
 poplar. 
 Which points to the blue vault above, like an angel 
 
 bright in a vision, 
 
22 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 Sweetly the bobolink carolled in notes melodious 
 
 and liquid, 
 And poured forth its hymn to the day, a sweet, 
 
 simple song of thanksgiving. 
 The purple tops of the mounts, where oft the low- 
 ering mists gather, 
 The same and all undisturbed since first, at the 
 
 great Master's calling. 
 They stood in grandeur, showed forth no signs of 
 
 man's habitation ; 
 But there, nestling snug on its breast, as the babe 
 
 on its fond mother's bosom, 
 At the base of the green mountain side reposed the 
 
 clustering village. 
 Away from the bustle and roar and turmoil of great 
 
 cities' traffic. 
 In peace and in comfort and ease, the heirs of 
 
 the forest and woodland, 
 The gardeners honest and true, dwell happy in 
 
 earth's fairest Eden. 
 
DOLCE FAR NIENTE. 2$ 
 
 From sleep's soft embraces at morn the swallow, 
 
 chattering, awakes them, — 
 To guide the ploughshare awakes them — the ship 
 
 of the field and the farm-yard, 
 Which, just as the great diving-bell regains from 
 
 the bed of the ocean 
 The treasures long hidden there, to the husband 
 
 man gains the rich harvests ; — 
 Awakens them unto the axe, loud sounding at 
 
 break of the morning. 
 The low-felling axe and ringing, the axe of the 
 
 forester sturdy. 
 In dwellings humble and neat, with small and 
 
 white latticed windows, 
 O'er which twines the glory-of-mprn, and twines 
 
 the sweet honeysuckle. 
 They dwell till the Angel of Death, with fingers 
 
 soothing and gentle. 
 Their lamp of existence puts out, and bears them 
 
 home to their Father. 
 
THE POET'S HOUR. 
 
 Down in the vale by the calm brooklet's bank, 
 Where violets bloom ; where weeds, tall and rank, 
 Up-spring round the elm 'neath whose far-spreading 
 
 shade 
 The shepherd reposed, while gambolled and played 
 The light-hearted children and school-free and 
 
 gay :— 
 The poet there witnessed the death of the day. 
 There bathes the old shepherd his brow in the 
 
 stream. 
 And, stretched 'neath the elm, for a nap and a 
 
 dream 
 
 Prepares ; and his flock-dog, great, shaggy, and 
 
 g^ay, 
 
 24 
 
THE POET'S HOUR. 25 
 
 Half-asleep guards the herd through the fast-fading 
 
 day. 
 The butterfly flits from blossom to flower, 
 The robin sings sweet from his cool, leafy bower 
 To his bright, busy mate in clear notes and shrill, 
 To his mate in the elm-grove adorning the hill ; — 
 On the hill on whose bosom the buttercup grows, 
 The daisy, the lilac, and wild mountain-rose. 
 The evening is quiet and naught is astir 
 Save the shepherd ; no sound save the locust's 
 
 swift whir 
 As it lights on the turf, or when sounds from the 
 
 marsh 
 The croak of the tree-toad discordant and harsh. 
 The bulrushes sway to and fro in the breeze 
 On the brooklet's cool side ; and golden-backed 
 
 bees 
 (Their labor complete) seek their honey-stored cell 
 At the vine-covered cot or the bright, bubbling 
 
 well, 
 
26 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 While white, fleecy clouds, floating high in mid-air, 
 Are fringed like a robe by the Sun's dying glare ; 
 But soon they are robbed of their swift-flying hue 
 As the Master of Day 'neath the hills sinks from 
 
 view, 
 And leaves the tired world to his seneschal, Night, 
 Who glides with slow tread o'er this vale of delight. 
 
THE CLAY— THE MAN. 
 
 (a fancy.) 
 
 The great volcano from its crater wide, 
 Unseemly as the Cyclop's glaring eye, 
 Smoked and yet smoked. While all above 
 Its rugged forehead dreary was and bleak, 
 Beneath was glad and smiling : richest groves 
 In their recesses sheltered altars reared 
 To all the godheads ; there narcissus flowers 
 And hyacinths were blended, each in each, 
 To form a gaudy carpet whereupon 
 The dancing Oreads, wreath-encircled all. 
 Their chorus lifted to the echoing moon 
 And listening stars ; or Bacchus, crowned 
 With deep-empurpled clusters, summoned thence 
 
 27 
 
28 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 His Satyrs and Bacchantes, bidding them 
 Awake the stillness with a merry song, 
 Or make the caverns answer to the ring 
 Of ever-tripping feet. Thence Venus came 
 (The archer-god beside her), dove-conveyed, 
 And sent him sporting thro' the shady dell. 
 No mortal being had been formed before, 
 When high Olympus still was young ; no man 
 Yet trod the earth or drew ambrosial air 
 Into his waking breast. There was no life 
 Save that of senseless creatures, roaming far 
 Within the copse's depth and thicket's gloom, 
 Lording Creation. Then the only God 
 Fashioned a clayey shape, as yet inert 
 And spiritless. Resolving to combine 
 In that one form what seemed immaculate 
 Alike in beauty and in soul, He bade 
 His angels bear the last-created work 
 And lay it in the glen ; for there the gods, 
 
THE CLAY-- THE MAN, 29 
 
 His ministers, their various arts applied 
 To beautify and rule the panting world, 
 Still heated from its birth. *T was Cupid's task 
 The form inanimate to vivify : 
 Calling his darling Psyche to his side, 
 He perched her on a barbless arrow, while 
 Her dewy wings of gossamer were tired 
 With ceaseless fiutterings. The god of Love, 
 Drawing the string until the feathered shaft 
 Grazed with its tip the double-bended bow. 
 Pierced thro* the heart the newly fashioned life. 
 Thus soul and love were planted in the breast 
 That drank in life and stirred with quickened pulse. 
 Where yet no wound was left. The mass rose up 
 The noblest work, the wondrous masterpiece, 
 And seized the sceptre and the crown that lay 
 Easy of grasp. 
 
 The clay arose a Man ! 
 
THEN? 
 
 Our hopes, our joys, our aspirations high, 
 
 Our broken pledges, sins and failings end 
 
 When ends this short and strange career. And 
 
 then ? — 
 
 Confounding problem, great and still unsolved ; 
 
 Far from the striving grasp of human thought 
 
 Removed ! O Death ! great arbiter of all 
 
 That storms and frets within our inmost hearts — 
 
 O thou that sparest none thy clammy touch — 
 
 Thou proof eternal of our nothingness — 
 
 What lies beyond thee and thy child, the Grave ? 
 
 True, mother earth will clasp our wearied forms 
 
 (Our forms how grand, yet miserably small !) 
 
 Within her never-ending, fond embrace 
 
 30 
 
THEN? 31 
 
 Until to dust primeval it return — 
 
 To dust, to darkness, and oblivion ; 
 
 But can she hold the God-lent spirit too, 
 
 Nor grant permission that it homeward soar 
 
 Again to mingle with its heavenly source ? 
 
 And shall the soul, incorporate, remain 
 
 A captive in this perishable clay, 
 
 As some proud king, in fetters stately still, 
 
 Confined in loathsome cell ? Or does this soul, 
 
 This imprint unmistakable of God 
 
 In man, clear stamped upon the heart and brow ; 
 
 This yearning for the better things that be ; 
 
 This pledge of reparation for the wrongs 
 
 And sorrows that we pilgrims must endure ; — 
 
 Does this great soul existence yield when Death 
 
 Congeals with icy touch the failing breath ? 
 
 Or does it live when perisheth the shape 
 
 That fools call man ; and, from its bonds released, 
 
 Regain the Fountain-head of Holiness ? 
 
32 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN. 
 
 Appear again, in purer vesture clad, 
 
 Before the great Tribunal of the World ? 
 
 The blemished soul will find redemption there ! 
 
 The blemished soul ? Ah, yes, for it returns 
 
 Not, as it came from God, immaculate, 
 
 But soars with tainted and with spotted robe, 
 
 Returning like a weary prodigal ! 
 
 A lily fair cast in a muddy stream 
 
 Will lose its faultless hue. So with the soul, 
 
 Divine of birth ; for base Corruption's hand 
 
 And Crime's red fingers taint its whiteness rare. 
 
 But ere again it entereth the realm 
 
 Of life eternal, it is made all bright 
 
 And pure and clear ; and, bleached beneath the sun 
 
 Of God's forgiveness, it is taken home 
 
 To live with Him throughout the length of days ! 
 
MORN, NOON, NIGHT. 
 
 On the bridge's modest span 
 
 I linger in the morning gray, 
 While the sighs of Eurus fan 
 Troubles on my brow away. 
 As a dream 
 
 Glides the stream 
 With a laughing, merry greeting, 
 Smoothing wrinkles from the sand 
 With its soothing, gliding hand. 
 With its gentle touch and fleeting. 
 In and out 
 
 Darts the trout 
 'Tween the stones and over, 
 Restless as a lover. 
 33 
 
34 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 In the stillness of the glen 
 
 Shaded by the foliage thick, 
 Far from busy marts of men, 
 
 Far from piles of stone and brick, 
 There I lie ; 
 And the sky, 
 Azure, stormless, tideless ocean, 
 Spotted is with fleets of clouds, 
 Single here, and there in crowds. 
 Floating with a languid motion. 
 All is here 
 
 Bright and clear ; 
 Sounds the merry cricket 
 Gayly from the thicket. 
 
 Now I seek the grand cascade 
 Thundering from its dizzy height 
 
 To its basin in the glade, 
 In the many-tinted light. 
 
MORN, NOON, NIGHT. 35 
 
 Then away 
 Flies the spray- 
 In a foamy, feathered shower, 
 Dancing in the moon-beams pale, 
 Like a chorus in the vale, — 
 Goddesses of field and flower. 
 Echoes call 
 
 From mountain wall, 
 Reverberating ever. 
 Fainting, dying never. 
 
NIGHTFALL. 
 
 Night has fallen on the river, 
 
 Gliding soft and slowly by, 
 And its wavelets dance and quiver, 
 
 Star-lit from an azure sky. 
 
 Night has fallen on the ocean. 
 
 Rough, storm-brewing, uncontrolled ; 
 
 Scene of Nature's wild commotion, 
 Rest of many a seaman bold. 
 
 Down she casts her sombre curtain 
 0*er the city slumbering deep ; 
 
 And her watch-lamps, bright and certain, 
 "Vigils o*er its slumbers keep. 
 
 O'er the country, o'er the mountain 
 
 Still and calm her shadows fall ; 
 
 Covers she the field and fountain. 
 
 With her robe encircling all. 
 36 
 
THE DIFFERENCE. 
 
 " Only a beggar ! ** said the world. 
 The bitter words sank deep 
 In the outcast's broken heart. 
 For years he worked, for years he toiled ; 
 Rich harvests did he reap, 
 But gave the poor a part. 
 
 "A worthy man ! *' so says the world, 
 And smiles as if well pleased 
 To shake the rich man's hand. 
 He robbed the poor, the weak despoiled, 
 The widow's earnings seized, 
 
 And took the orphan's land. 
 
 Which gets the praises, which the curse ; 
 
 And which do people trust ? 
 The world would judge each by his purse, 
 
 But Heaven is more just ! 
 37 
 
MORNING-GLORIES. 
 
 Sweet and tender little flower 
 Clinging fondly to the wall, 
 
 Beautifying porch and tower, 
 Fit to grace the banquet-hall, 
 
 'T is of thee I sing the praises, 
 
 Emblem of simplicity ; 
 Union of the blessed Graces, 
 
 Faith, sweet Hope, and Charity ! 
 
 In thy purple flowers see we 
 
 Royal Faith, that guiding star, 
 
 Which we, desert-wand'rers weary 
 
 In life*s wastes, hail from afar. 
 38 
 
MORNING-GLORIES, 39 
 
 In the crimson morning-glory 
 
 Lies the roseate hue of Hope, 
 Driving off Fear, dread and hoary. 
 
 Teaching with all cares to cope. 
 
 In her robes, so pure and snow-white, 
 
 Shines forth holy Charity, 
 Radiant as the silv'ry moonlight ; — 
 
 Thrice blessed art and wilt thou be ! 
 
 Thou art in my sight far fairer 
 
 Than all blossoms of the sod. 
 For thou leadest me e'er nearer, 
 
 Nearer to our common God ! 
 
AUF WIEDERSEHEN. 
 
 To-night we part, but not for ever, — 
 That thought were full of pain ; 
 
 Tho* chance our firm communion sever, 
 Our hearts will meet again. 
 
 Then give me, love, e'er thou art going. 
 For love's sweet sake a kiss ; 
 
 I should become most blest in knowing 
 Such perfect joy as this. 
 
 I '11 give it back on thy returning 
 
 To hope and love and me, 
 I '11 give it living, glowing, burning 
 
 With holiest thoughts of thee ! 
 
 40 
 
r 
 
 lONE. 
 
 There 's confession in your eyes, lone, 
 There *s a blush upon your cheek ; 
 
 And I know what each implies, lone, 
 Tho' your lips refuse to speak. 
 
 For I know that you love one, lone, 
 
 But not whom it may be, — 
 I *d live as gay as the sun, lone. 
 
 If only I were he ! 
 
 41 
 
SONG. 
 
 Wandering lone on Memory's shore 
 
 In the gloaming dim and sweet, 
 The golden tide its treasures bore 
 
 And gently laid them at my feet : 
 Recollections of fair years, 
 
 Jocund as the springtime dawn. 
 Innocent of care or tears 
 
 As the gleeful face of Morn. 
 
 And I gathered from the waves 
 
 Tokens from the wreck of Love, 
 Storm-tossed from their restless graves 
 
 To the cheerless waste above. 
 Still I walked the barren sand 
 
 With fond hope arising fast 
 That some sail from distant strand 
 
 Might restore my love at last. 
 42 
 
 > 
 
DAYBREAK. 
 
 1^ 
 
 Hast thou seen the gentle blending 
 Of the darkness with the light, 
 
 When the Morn his beams is sending 
 To transpierce the shield of Night, 
 
 And the heavens in prayer are bending 
 O'er the world refreshed and bright ? 
 
 Then the modest moon is fleeting 
 On her silver car through space, 
 
 As if 'shamed to bear a meeting 
 With the sun's hard-staring face, 
 
 And feathered choirs the dawn are greeting 
 At their lofty altar-place. 
 43 
 
44 
 
 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 From their wind-rocked slumber waking, 
 Flowerets flaunt in chaste array ; 
 
 And the brook, its cymbals shaking, 
 Greets with rhythmic praise the day ; 
 
 Whilst, above the hill-top breaking, 
 Dawn dispels the lingering gray. 
 
VESPER-TIDE. 
 
 The eve is dusk and dim, 
 
 The air is still ; 
 I hear the lowly hymn 
 Rise and fill 
 The vesper calmness with its melody ; 
 
 I hear the chime 
 In distant belfry toll its threnody 
 In measured time. 
 The bees 
 Hiveward bring the golden store, 
 Humming as they fly ; 
 The trees, 
 With light and shadow mottled o'er, 
 Stand dim against the sky ; 
 45 
 
46 VERSES OF A COLLEGIAN, 
 
 The soaring lark 
 
 Sings gay, — and hark ! 
 The parting call of some sad bird 
 
 Is heard, 
 And the mimic thunder of the mill 
 
 Grows still. 
 
 11 
 
SONNETS. 
 
 47 
 
THE TOURNAMENT. 
 
 r 
 
 I SEEK, well armed, th' adventurous lists of life, 
 
 My name is heralded in the tournament ; 
 
 My arms, my steed are ready for the strife 
 
 Toward whose dim issue loving eyes are bent. 
 
 Ride forth the champions bravely to the fray, 
 
 Their ready lances poised to strike for Love, 
 
 Whose smiles inspire them, glancing from above, 
 
 Where lovely maidens for their heroes pray. 
 
 I seek the lists. Uncertain is the end 
 
 (The world is set against me to a man). 
 
 Yet, or success or death my trial attend, 
 
 I will win glory if a mortal can ; 
 
 But if I fall beneath th* opposing spear. 
 
 Will none lament me with a pitying tear ? 
 
 49 
 
CARMEN. 
 
 Spirit of Song, incline thy gracious head 
 
 And pour from out thy sweet harmonious throat 
 
 Thy symphonetic and melodious note, 
 
 Which, from its pathos, fain would stir the dead ! 
 
 O heaven-gifted warbler ! soft thy lay 
 
 And soothing as the prattle of the brook 
 
 Or cheery as the forest-whistler's song ; 
 
 Thy power will last when lofty mounts decay 
 
 And crumble, and when Nature's mildewed book 
 
 Shall close forever to the busy throng 
 
 That thumbed its once bright pages. Thou shalt 
 
 live 
 Unchanging ever, bright as golden ray 
 Apollo-darted, and new life shalt give, 
 O tuneful maid, when Chaos rules the day ! 
 
 50 
 
THE TEST. 
 
 Your compliments, your vows I 've treasured up, 
 
 Your protestations, sighs, and phrases fine 
 
 Which overflowed alike a brimful cup 
 
 (When jarred) that spills the ruby-tinted wine. 
 
 All these I Ve gathered in a mass confused 
 
 And heated in the crucible of Truth 
 
 Till thro' it all the testing heat diffused, — 
 
 A fire of criticism but of ruth ; 
 
 And thus I found your friendship but a name, — 
 
 The cloth of gold was tinsel, warp and woof. 
 
 Your love a refuge, — but without a roof 
 
 To shield from storm, for when the tempest came 
 
 I was not sheltered from its breath so cold : — 
 
 The fire that proved you faithless left no gold. 
 
 51 
 
JUNE 12, 1878. 
 
 Weep, Muse of Poesy, weep for Bryant dead, 
 
 Departed to the realms of blameless life ; 
 
 Who walked thy fair domain with magic tread, 
 
 Unblemished and untainted in the strife 
 
 Which biting Envy and foul Malice cause ! 
 
 Dead is the grand old Poet of the Wood, 
 
 Both true to Earth-made and to Heaven's laws ;- 
 
 Fit pattern of a noble heart and good ! 
 
 As pure as incense rose his simple lay, 
 
 Limpid and clear as some unruffled stream ; 
 
 Life seems eternal 'neath his penciFs sway. 
 
 And Death appears an everlasting dream. 
 
 The bark is grounded on the final shore ; 
 
 Its Master's name will live for evermore ! 
 
 52 
 
THE SWEETEST MUSIC. 
 
 Throughout all nature fairy music falls, 
 
 From throat of lark and nightingale and thrush, 
 
 Breathes in the whip-poor-wills* sad, plaintive calls, 
 
 And from the woodland stream glad paeans gush. 
 
 The rolling anthem of the organ's peal. 
 
 The mellow cadence of the silvery flute, 
 
 That, Orpheus-like, can hold dumb creatures mute, 
 
 Are notes that thrill us thro*, that make us feel ; 
 
 So, too, the artless prattle of a child. 
 
 The untrained song of some field-tutored lass. 
 
 The torrent's roar in its commotion wild. 
 
 The winds' soft whisper, murmuring as they pass ; 
 
 But sweeter far, all other strains above, 
 
 The soft confession of a maiden's love ! 
 
 53 
 
POETRY. 
 
 The poet's word is full of charm and grace 
 
 And falls upon the wounded heart like balm, 
 
 Soothing its pain ; it fills a lonely place 
 
 In some soul-desert and shoots forth a palm 
 
 Of branching self-contentment. As a seed 
 
 (Borne by some tropic-seeking bird aloft), 
 
 When cast upon the earth and buried soft 
 
 By pitying rain-drops, downward sends with speed 
 
 Its tender rootlets, so the poet's word. 
 
 Poised o'er the soul on dim Suggestion's wings, 
 
 Leaves a sweet guerdon where its voice is heard 
 
 And in its train fertility it brings. 
 
 The seed once sown, the desolated plain 
 
 Of stricken spirit forthwith smiles again. 
 
 54 
 
SUCCESS. 
 
 Obstructions here and there oppose the way 
 Upon the highroad leading to Success, 
 And Hydra-hideous obstacles increase. 
 Uncertain is the path and dark, no ray 
 Breaks thro' the gloom ; 't is only steadfastness 
 That can lead forward to that Golden Fleece. 
 This is the magical and wondrous stone 
 Whose touch converts the basest dross to gold ; 
 'T is this that leads the aspirant to the throne, 
 'T is .thought of this that makes the weakling bold. 
 All seek it, yet how few are they who win ! 
 What is the secret of it ? Uprightness 
 And purity of purpose, aim akin 
 To true nobility and godlikeness. 
 
 65 
 
TO PHYLLIS. 
 
 To gaze into thy face is joy ; more joy 
 
 To hear thee speak or sing, to see thee smile, 
 
 But 't is a happiness without alloy 
 
 To con the language of thine eyes the while, 
 
 For there I read the secrets of thy heart 
 
 And each emotion scan, each thought surmise, 
 
 From which I apprehend in manner wise 
 
 The confidence thy lips will not impart. 
 
 O for fit words that would my love disclose ! 
 
 Words but declare the shadow of the thought 
 
 E'en though with burning meaning they be rife ; 
 
 Yet know that in my heart thine image grows 
 
 Each moment dearer, that all else is naught 
 
 Save that thy life is love, thy love is life ! 
 
 56 
 
REFUGE. 
 
 Fast thro* the wintery wilderness I ride, 
 
 Feeble from battle, cold and worn and faint ; 
 
 A horrid, gaping wound is in my side 
 
 Thro' which the blood-tide ebbs its mute complaint. 
 
 A trusty knight, I bravely held my ground 
 
 Till lance was shivered and my friends fell dead ; 
 
 Fast fell my mace on breast and shield and head. 
 
 And foes sank low. . . . The bugle's clarion sound 
 
 Aroused me, lying in the chill and dark. 
 
 So I speed hither to thy waiting breast. 
 
 That haven, where alone I look for rest. 
 
 Thy heart my citadel. — But hark, but hark ! 
 
 The ringing horn, the close pursuers* cries ! 
 
 I reach thy gates, am safe beneath thine eyes. 
 
 57 
 
SUNSET. 
 
 Upon a mount I see the sun decline, 
 
 Painting the distant hills in gold and red 
 
 And royal purple ; the faint low of kine 
 
 Comes from the vale, where gorgeously lies spread 
 
 A scene of matchless beauty : rolling groves 
 
 Of beech and poplar clustering on the brink 
 
 Of silver-watered streams, where, knee-deep, drink 
 
 (Slow winding from the road) the straggling droves. 
 
 And comes the vesper song of some gay swain, 
 
 Commingled with the merry reaper's song, 
 
 As he beholds his cottage in the lane. 
 
 Around whose hearthstone all his wishes throng. 
 
 Thus, all is peace ; the sad crows homeward fly 
 
 In noisy flock, and tell me night is nigh. 
 
 58 
 
SEE-SAW. 
 
 We play at see-saw, love, from day to day : 
 
 With buoyant heart you rise, elate and glad, 
 
 The while I sink in cheerless musings sad, — 
 
 When you are grieving I am fairly gay. 
 
 The slanting sunbeams kiss you in their flight, 
 
 Whilst I behold the bare and cheerless plain 
 
 Of level commonplace ; when clears my sight 
 
 With hopeful visions, you are dull again. 
 
 Why then, I ask, should this be ? Shall we find 
 
 Nor common ground where soul can speak to soul, 
 
 Nor talisman to lift the clouds that roll 
 
 Their vapory barriers 'tween the heart and mind ? 
 
 Nay, doubt me not, but leave the fickle cheat 
 
 Of ups and downs, and make my joy complete. 
 
 50 
 
PALMA NON SINE PULVERE. 
 
 Behold the Circus Maximus, alive 
 With speeding chargers in their headlong course ; 
 With wide-distended nostrils how they strive, 
 Urged on by lashes and by yellings hoarse ! 
 Now see the riders spin around th' ellipse 
 
 Enveloped in a cloud of blinding dust ; 
 
 * 
 
 No faltering now, but ever on they must, — 
 Hear the loud calls, the snapping of the whips ! 
 The end is nigh, the goal is near them now, — 
 On, on the victor presses to the lead. 
 See, now he wins ! The palm bedecks his brov/ 
 All dust-begrimed, — a well contested meed. 
 By him alone can Victory's wreath be worn 
 Who nobly hath the brunt of battle borne. 
 
 60 
 
RESERVE. 
 
 Our mother, Nature, tells but half she knows, 
 And guards her secrets with a jealous care ; 
 Her many tongues are silent everywhere : 
 The perfumed breath of every wind that blows 
 Tells but the whisper of the fragrant lea ; 
 The rolling of the breakers on the shore 
 Tells but the murmur of th* unsounded sea, 
 Which guards its speechless lips for evermore ; 
 The nightingales express not all they feel ; 
 The brooklet gossips to its banks but half 
 It has to tell ; the cascade checks its laugh, 
 And selfish buds their sweetest scent conceal. 
 Why say I love thee ? Shall I tell the whole 
 Of all the thoughts that stir mine utmost soul ? 
 
 6i 
 
AD INFINITUM. 
 
 Whatever is, is finite. Ends there be 
 
 To all within th* inviolable law 
 
 Of " so far, but no farther ! " Verily, 
 
 But God and love are boundless. Them no shore 
 
 Encompasseth, no palings hedge them in, 
 
 Creator and created, God and love. 
 
 Around one axial point the planets move, 
 
 The utmost world upon the heaven's rim 
 
 And reverent systems 'yond the ken of man, 
 
 Concentrated for a cycle, — then they pass. 
 
 Alone *t is ours, since life itself began 
 
 By love of God, God's blest love to amass 
 
 In full profusion and its wealth impart 
 
 To every kindred, sympathetic heart ! 
 
 62 
 
EXTERIORS. 
 
 In blushing fruitage oft the worm is hid, 
 
 And Dead Sea fruit, tho' beautiful to see, 
 
 Has ashes for its core and for its lid 
 
 The dust of barren insincerity. 
 
 In priceless caskets oft is found no pearl, 
 
 No ruby, diamond — naught but rattling stones, 
 
 The hollow mockeries and shades of worth ; 
 
 And so among the brilliants of the earth 
 
 Whose outward glare for inward dross atones, — 
 
 Th* empurpled monarch and the ermined earl, 
 
 The heartless beauty in her pride and grace. 
 
 ... I would not love thee, love, did I not know 
 Thy heart is purer than the falling snow, 
 
 Lending its beauty to thine angel face ! 
 
 03 
 
SALVATION. 
 
 Across the grave of memories most dear, 
 
 That were the very essence of my past, 
 
 I fell when none was there to cheer 
 
 My spirit's pinions, which had failed at last ; 
 
 No kindly voice, no kindred self was near, 
 
 No spar unto the sinking soul was cast. 
 
 I rose and looked into the Future's pane 
 
 Of polished waters, there to seek my fate : 
 
 Despair and Doubt, contrarious winds, in hate 
 
 The mirror ruffled — and I looked in vain. 
 
 My gaze alighted on Love's mercy-seat 
 
 (Its angels not more pure than thou !) and heard 
 
 Thy voice say " Hope ! " — thy voice so sweet, 
 
 Whereof the echo, dear, is that blest word. 
 
 64 
 
HARMONY. 
 
 Thro* nave and transept and the vaulted aisle 
 Of my husht soul a harmony steals on, — 
 The softened echo of her cherished voice, 
 A deathless echo. Wherefore, soul, rejoice 
 In that she loves thee ; tho' the^ song be gone, 
 She still will cheer thee with her sunny smile, 
 And cast a living beam thy dark across 
 Of time-surviving trusting ! O my heart, 
 O love, O life, O better self, fear not, 
 Nor tremble on the main of Woe to toss ! 
 The easy task is thine, and light thy part 
 If in thy presence she retain a spot 
 For song and worship. Let the organ peal, 
 The anthem sound, the joyous chorus swell 
 To fitly celebrate the bliss ye feel 
 In knowing this : She loves ye, loves ye well ! 
 
 65 
 
PUCK'S VOTARIES. 
 
 Dear friend, our fairy-time of love is gone 
 
 When you and I were self-created elves, — 
 
 Titania you, and I was Oberon, — 
 
 Tho' love's disciples, gods of love ourselves. 
 
 Together then we chased the butterfly, — 
 
 The wandering Psyche of the scentful meads, — 
 
 Or soared on thistle-down up toward the sky, 
 
 Curbing with cob-web reins our wondrous steeds. 
 
 But some rude tempest of the world's abuse 
 
 Our chariots wrecked and us asunder tore. 
 
 From mutual embrace each other bore. 
 
 And, parted, turned us in the thicket loose. 
 
 O lost one, happy be where'er thou art ; 
 
 In Elfin-land we '11 know each other's heart ! 
 
 66 
 
DRIFTING. 
 
 We two have met on life's adventurous main, 
 
 Alike two barks that hail from different climes, 
 
 And, words of good cheer past, we part again 
 
 Perchance to meet no more in future times ; 
 
 But, if thou only gain th' intended port, 
 
 I reck not what dame Fortune send to me, — 
 
 Whether I drift upon the placid sea 
 
 Or that the billows toss me in their sport, — 
 
 For like a phantom ship I '11 follow thee 
 
 Unseen, yet seeing, o'er the treacherous tide 
 
 Until in moorings safe thy spirit be. 
 
 Soul of my soul, my ward and yet my guide ; 
 
 And when the Goal thy good ship makes at last 
 
 Near thine the anchor of mv soul I '11 cast. 
 
 67 
 
TO ELOISE. 
 
 AFTER A QUARREL. 
 
 When Nature, studying womankind to find 
 
 One faultless all in all, gave up the quest 
 
 As vain, she tried to mould once more 
 
 A being perfect both in form and mind 
 
 And heart. Combining deftly from the rest 
 
 Of all her models what was fair she saw. 
 
 In one she blent perfection of each part 
 
 And made an ideal shape ; but, trusting not 
 
 To find a pattern for a fitting heart. 
 
 Sought from an angel one without a spot : 
 
 And thus she formed thee, dear. When thou shalt die 
 
 (All Nature's means exhausted and combined 
 
 In thee), her bold invention will be blind, 
 
 And there will be no beauty 'neath the sky ! 
 
 68 
 
LOVE'S OMNIPOTENCE. 
 
 The world is ruled by thine imperious hand, 
 
 O wanton Love, omnipotent ! The camp, 
 
 The court, the halls with " Know Thyself '' 
 
 Above the lintel carved, thy sweet command 
 
 (Ensealed with th* attesting, gracious stamp 
 
 Of happiness) obey. The strife for pelf 
 
 And growing treasure dwindles into naught 
 
 Before thine august presence ; love of fame 
 
 No longer is remembered ; all intent 
 
 Upon the quest of thee the heart is bent 
 
 To-day, to-morrow. Man, e*en now the same 
 
 As when the new-born sunbeams first were caught 
 
 And chained by God to brighten Eden-fields, 
 
 (Sun-land of Love !) to thee his homage yields ! 
 
 69 
 
PSYCHE AND PHOENIX. 
 
 All love is, Psyche-like, of painted wings, 
 
 A brilliant many-colored butterfly 
 
 That seeks the meadow where the tree-top rings 
 
 With joyous song, and will as speedy die 
 
 (Tho' lately springing from the chrysalis), 
 
 A dim, ephemeral, and fleeting dream. 
 
 Perchance your love is such an one as this ? 
 
 But no ! I read it in the truthful beam 
 
 Of your candor-speaking eye. 'T is, rather, like 
 
 The ceaseless being of the Phoenix old. 
 
 For, though the chill of Death its spirit strike. 
 
 It springs, re-born, from out its ashes cold : 
 
 It cannot wane, it cannot fade or die, 
 
 But live on constant for eternity ! 
 
 70 
 
EVENING. 
 
 The western sky the setting sun reveals, 
 The lengthening shadows fall on field and stream ; 
 A holy quiet o'er the landscape steals 
 While dims the twilight like a fading dream. 
 But now the crow has sought its lofty nest, 
 The dove no more repeats its soft complaint, 
 The forest-chanter long has gone to rest, 
 And, high aloft, the skylark's song grows faint ; 
 The bee has stored its precious freight of gold, 
 The butterfly has closed her tired wings ; 
 The night-wind rustles over mead and wold. 
 And all is still ; the thrush no longer sings : — 
 'T is then, my love, on pinions gay and free 
 My heart in day-dreams fondly turns to thee ! 
 
 71 
 
4 
 
 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 I HOPE, I long for immortality ! 
 Not for recordance on the scroll of Fame 
 Where names are oft emblazoned by Caprice, — 
 Not this I seek, but that when life shall cease 
 With all its joys and pains my end shall be 
 The consummation of this humble aim : 
 That all I loved shall think with love of me, 
 That those I treasured still shall hold me dear 
 In recoUective moments ; that a tear 
 From alien eyes be shed in charity. 
 But, greatest hope ! I seek th* undying flower 
 I pray shall blossom at the flight of breath. 
 If God so will, to crown the final hour,— 
 The spirit's immortality in death ! 
 
 72 
 
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