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 O M ' '^' 
 
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Nature's Allegories 
 
 P 
 
 AND 
 
 oems 
 
 >^ 
 
 BY 
 
 MAUD DUNKLEY 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 The PHiLosoPHic Company 
 
 1903 
 
THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS. 
 
 Twe Copies 
 
 Received 
 
 SEP 9 
 
 1903 
 
 Copyfight 
 
 Apr- 9. 
 
 Entry 
 
 CUkSS Cu 
 
 6 '^0 
 
 XXc. No 
 
 COPY 
 
 B. 
 
 
 International Copyright 1903 
 
 By 
 The Philosophic Company 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
To all those who love Nature's ways and 
 see therein teachings of truth, this little hook 
 is affectionately dedicated. 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 I. 
 
 Wild Hyacinth . 
 
 9 
 
 II. 
 
 High and Low Life Among 
 
 
 
 Flowers . 
 
 21 
 
 III. 
 
 The Wild Winds Blow 
 
 33 
 
 IV. 
 
 Night Whisperers 
 
 37 
 
 V. 
 
 The Frost Elves . 
 
 47 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Moonbeams and the 
 
 
 
 Dewdrops 
 
 69 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Birth of the Winds 
 
 . 81 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Icicle . . . . 
 
 85 
 
 IX. 
 
 Worlds that so Bright Appear 
 
 93 
 
 X. 
 
 Thistledown 
 
 97 
 
 XI. 
 
 A White Pansy 
 
 107 
 
 XII. 
 
 Sweetpeas . ... 
 
 111 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Serenata 
 
 119 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Leaf Elves . 
 
 123 
 
 XV.'' 
 
 ^ Norma 
 
 131 
 
WiiXi fl^acinti). 
 
WILD HYACINTH. 
 
 Was it the reflection of the sapphire sky 
 seen through the budding branches of tlie 
 trees overhead, or was it in reahty a hv- 
 ing carpet of flowers, spreading through 
 the wood on every side, tingeing the 
 glades and winding tree-girt glens with 
 an all-pervading blush of the deepest 
 royal blue? 
 
 A fairy land, a transformation scene, 
 burst into life by the magic touch of 
 spring! 
 
 The soft young wind rustled through 
 the early foliage, and, sweeping over the 
 billowy floral sea, set the hyacinth bells 
 a-ringing in a thousand joyous chimes, 
 and murmured gently to the dark bough 
 looking so elegantly slender against the 
 skyey background, till, bursting with exu- 
 
 11 
 
berant delight, they sprouted profusely at 
 the sigh of his tender breath. 
 
 A chorus of birds filled the air as they 
 flew hither and thither in search of ma- 
 terials for the building of their little 
 homes, each singing happily to his chosen 
 mate, of the great joys yet to come. 
 
 A time of youth and spring, a time of 
 love and the mating of Nature's loveliest 
 and best. 
 
 '*Who are those strange creatures?" in- 
 quired a little bird of her mate, as a 
 youth and maiden entered the glade and 
 passed side by side through the winding 
 labyrinth of bloom. 
 
 '^ Mortals," replied her companion, hop- 
 ping to a higher bough that he might 
 better view the strange pair; for seldom 
 was the solitude and privacy of the 
 woods disturbed. 
 
 ^'Mortals," he continued; ''they seem 
 
 12 
 
very happy, and look with appreciating 
 eyes upon our woodland glen; perhaps 
 they also are planning out their future 
 days." 
 
 ''Yes," replied she, "they certainly da 
 look very happy." 
 
 ''Ah," her companion continued, flying 
 down again, "I wonder if they can hear 
 the hyacinth bells ; they say these mortals 
 are very deaf and very blind." 
 
 "0, surely they can hear the chimes 
 the fairy fays are ringing. Hark! how 
 joyously they peal, and yet they have no 
 nests to build, no eggs to lay, and no 
 little ones to rear." 
 
 "We know not of their happiness, but 
 that they are happy is very certain. 
 What constitutes their joy, I cannot say, 
 — unless it is the flooding of the sunshine, 
 the soft kisses of the wind, or the gentle 
 falling of the twilight dew." 
 
 13 
 
''Perhaps 'tis all," replied his little wife: 
 and as the deep blue billows bowed before 
 the fanning breeze, peal after peal of their 
 rich bell-notes rang out. 
 
 "How softly the wind is blowing; how 
 gently and tenderly it stirs the cluster of 
 my bells; they sway before him, but they 
 tremble to his touch — I have to shake 
 them into sound!" 
 
 So sang a tiny fay sitting on one of 
 the blue petals of her hyacinth blossoms. 
 
 "Yes," answered another, swaying from 
 his bending stem, "the wind is soft, the 
 sunshine warm ; my bells, well washed in 
 dew, are rich and sweet ; the world is very 
 beautiful, and I am very happy." 
 
 "They say the world is not so beautiful 
 outside our fairy dell." 
 
 "So I have heard; a bullfinch told me. 
 He says the world is great with cities in 
 whose dusty, flow^rless streets are stones 
 
 14 
 
and dirt and barrenness. The dwellings 
 of men, he says, are dark, heavy and 
 gloomy; sickness and death full oft invade 
 them; brightness and sunshine in their 
 overcrowded alleys are a luxury and a 
 rarity." 
 
 "How can he tell these things?" 
 
 "He was once among them, confined 
 within the glittering bars of a prison- 
 house hung in the window of one of these 
 dwellings." 
 
 "And he escaped?" 
 
 "Yes, he escaped, and after awhile, 
 refound his woodland home." 
 
 "Poor mortals! how delightful a breath 
 and sight of us must be to them in their 
 dusty, cheerless homes." 
 
 "Well, yes, they value us, I have heard 
 it said; we brighten their darkness and 
 help to pierce their blind despair." 
 . A^ this moment there came in sight 
 
 15 
 
the two mortals who had astonished the 
 simple little hen-bird; and one of them, 
 chancing to notice in particular the very 
 hyacinth who had so kindly spoken, 
 stooped, and quite unconscious of the 
 tender-hearted little fay, with a smile of 
 admiration, plucked the flower, placed it 
 with many others in the bunch she held 
 in her hand, and passed on, leaving the 
 little fay's comrade trembling with fright 
 and grief. He had lost his play-fellow — 
 she had passed out of his life ; her faint 
 cry of pain as her stalk had snapped 
 asunder smote his ear long after her fare- 
 well sigh had died away upon the breeze. 
 
 Recovering from her fright, the little 
 stolen blossom began to look about her. 
 She was being carried past fields and trees 
 out into the brilliant sunshine. The two 
 mortals were laughing and talking to- 
 gether, and occasionally paused to gather 
 
 16 
 
a stray flower or leaf to swell their already 
 overcharged bouquet. 
 
 The sun was bright, the way was long 
 and dusty, and the hand that held the 
 flowers was hot and close. The poor little 
 fay felt suffocated, the stiff stalk of her 
 bell- cluster grew limp, the petals of her 
 blossoms drooped, and she hung her head 
 and wept. 
 
 Presently the clasp around her stem re- 
 laxed, and she felt herself gradually slip- 
 ping away out of its pressure. At last 
 she dropped, unnoticed, on the sidewalk 
 of the street, for by this time they had 
 entered the town and left the country far 
 behind them. The pair passed on and were 
 soon out of sight, while the poor little 
 fay lay with her drooping bells upon the 
 hot, dry sidewalk, with the scorching rays 
 of the sun beating down mercilessly upon 
 her unsheltered and unprotected head. 
 
 17 
 
She grew fainter and fainter; limper 
 and limper grew her stem and lower and 
 lower sank her fading blossoms, when, ah! 
 steps approached, someone stooped and 
 picked up the fallen hyacinth, and, screen- 
 ing it from the fierce glare beneath his 
 tattered coat, carried it swiftly and joy- 
 fully away. 
 
 When once again siie opened her eyes, 
 she found herself lying on a rough wooden 
 bench, while a little ragged urchin was 
 filling a broken jar with water. This 
 done, he placed the limp stalk of the 
 hyacinth in the cool, clear liquid, and 
 propped the drooping bells against the 
 window ledge. 
 
 The cool draught of water gradually 
 revived the flower, and the little fay, 
 looking about her, perceived, crouching 
 against the window sill, a poor, thin little 
 figure with a pale, pinched face. She was 
 
 18 
 
regarding the hyacinth with unfeigned 
 dehght, and thanking her ragged com- 
 panion, who stood silently looking on. 
 
 '^It's a real beauty, Jimmy. Where did 
 you get it?'' she queried. 
 
 ''Down the street — someone must have 
 dropped it/' was the reply. 
 
 ''How fine it is! look at those pretty 
 bells. It is reviving — my! what a lovely 
 color." 
 
 The little fay thrilled with delight as 
 she saw the happiness depicted on the 
 pallid face of the child before her. And 
 it was her presence that had brought it 
 there! The pain of her own affliction and 
 loss vanished, chased into nothingness by 
 the absorbing joy created by an unselfish 
 and loving thought. She trembled with 
 pleasure, and drinking long and deep of 
 the cool, refreshing liquid, her stalk grew 
 firm once more, her bells regained 
 
 19 
 
their former lustre and sent forth peal 
 upon peal of fairy music. 
 
 So the hours passed by; night came on^ 
 and closing her petals, the little fay slept 
 the sleep of the kindly-hearted, awaking 
 with the sun next morning to bloom 
 through another day, watched by the 
 eager eyes of the little child. 
 
tgi) anU iLo\» iltfe 
 
HIGH AND LOW LIFE AMONG 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 The dreamy strains of the waltz float 
 through the crowded ball-room, and the 
 air is fraught with the essence of languid 
 exhilaration. 
 
 Of all the beautiful daughters of 
 humanity gathered in that brilliant 
 throng, there is one who by her imperial 
 beauty outshines them all. She is the 
 belle, and against the dazzling snowdrift 
 of her bosom rests a spray of flowers. 
 
 The night advances. The heat and 
 glare of the room begin to tell upon the 
 floral decorations. 
 
 '^ This is insufferable, I am stifling/' 
 sighed a violet in the bouquet of the 
 belle. 
 
 '' The air is foul, though the heat is 
 
 23 
 
agreeable/' responded a gardenia next 
 her. 
 
 ^' The heat agreeable! It is parching/' 
 moaned the violet. " I am becoming 
 weak and limp; it is draining my vitality." 
 
 '^ The impure atmosphere and glare are 
 tarnishing my beauty; I feel my petals 
 begin to shrivel/' bewailed the gardenia. 
 
 '^ 0, for the cool, green glade of my 
 birth/' murmured the violet. 
 
 '^ 0, for the unsullied warmth of my 
 hothouse home/' groaned the gardenia, 
 ^' that I might once more nestle my 
 pearly petals among my parent's glossy 
 leaves." 
 
 '^You surely cannot pine for warmth! 
 Pine rather for the cool, invigorating 
 breath of the fresh, young wind; or for 
 the clear, life-renewing dew which settles 
 in delicious drops upon one's parched 
 and weary frame. The hothouse? Bah! 
 
 24 
 
Why pine for that? You have a hot- 
 house here.'' 
 
 ^^A hothouse here ! Poor flowerlet, you 
 cannot know of what you speak. Have 
 you ever breathed the air of a hothouse?" 
 
 ^' Never, nor do I ever wish to/' re- 
 sponded the violet. " I have heard many 
 a time of your greenhouses, with their 
 hot, suffocating atmosphere and pale, 
 languid beauties. The shady vale and 
 cool, brisk breeze for me. I wish not for 
 the listless life of you sickly aristocrats." 
 
 " Sickly aristocrats, indeed! You 
 speak in ignorance, poor, lowly blossom 
 that you are. But how should you speak 
 otherwise? What know you of the lus- 
 cious intensity of the lives led by our 
 higher grade of flowers? What do you 
 know of the delicate perfection of our 
 tint, the transparency of our forms, and 
 the refinement and delicacy of our 
 
 25 
 
scent? We are, indeed, the aristocracy 
 of the floral world." 
 
 '' I know that with all your delicacy 
 and refinement, your pale beauty cannot 
 compare with the rich tints of many of our 
 members, the perfection of their forms, or 
 the sweetness of their perfume. Nor can 
 you, with all your cultured breeding and 
 luxuriance, outshine the general loveliness 
 of our class." 
 
 " Nonsense! Pure nonsense! Yours is 
 but a coarse plebian beauty, very good 
 in its way, I daresay, but not to be com- 
 pared with the delicacy and refinement 
 of ours." 
 
 '' Not so. Ours is not a coarse beauty; 
 it is vivified with a rich coloring which 
 your pallid loveliness lacks." 
 
 " We are not pallid, we are a fair and 
 palely-tinted race, our color etherealized 
 and spiritualized to a glow of wondrous 
 
 26 
 
beauty. Our very scent is delicate, and 
 steeps the soul of mortals in infinite 
 delight.'' 
 
 '^Your fragrance is overbearing, and 
 mortals find it so ; different to ours, which 
 gladdens the heart of man and sweetens 
 every passing breeze.'' 
 
 ^^ Nonsense again! Your perfume oft 
 grates upon the sense, and in some of 
 your members it is indeed obnoxious." 
 
 At this moment a cold draught of air 
 blew upon the limp, emaciated flowers, 
 and immediately afterwards they were 
 crushed beneath the heavy folds of a 
 wrap. When again they were uncovered, 
 it was to be plucked ruthlessly from the 
 bosom they had in their beauty adorned 
 and carelessly cast aside to ebb out their 
 fleeting lives in the cold grey dawn of 
 morning upon the be jeweled dressing 
 table of the ball's fair belle. 
 
 27 
 
A garden, beautiful as a dream. Its 
 balmy air fragrant with the breath of 
 every species of flower that grows. 
 
 A hazy radiance spreads over the con- 
 fines of this enchanted region in which 
 each season has its own domain and 
 reigns with perpetual, uninterrupted sway. 
 It is the pleasure ground of Flora, into 
 which the disembodied spirits of the two 
 contending flowers are being wafted. 
 
 As they reach the borders of this 
 radiant land, they are enveloped in a 
 thick, white mist, then caught suddenly 
 in the arms of the wind and ushered un- 
 ceremoniously into the domain of Spring. 
 
 Hardly have they entered before their 
 attention is arrested by a faint chime of 
 bells, and they come upon a group of little 
 snowdrops, their white blossoms gracefully 
 suspended from their fragile stems above 
 
 28 
 
the hard, brown surface of the earth. 
 
 But on they are borne, past banks of 
 sad-eyed primroses and gaily-colored 
 crocuses, on into the seclusion of a green 
 and mossy dell. 
 
 '^ My home/' murmured the shade of 
 the violet. ^' Ah! me! the breath of my 
 sisters is upon the gale, their deep, royal 
 purple is decking the grassy banks. How 
 sweet and how secluded is this spot — ah, 
 me, that I might lay my restless spirit 
 down upon the bosom of my parent sod!" 
 
 But on, on, they are borne, on into the 
 summer sunshine. Here many and varied 
 are the flowers that meet their view, and 
 every turn brings fresh species and won- 
 ders to their astonished sight. The tall, 
 graceful lily here blossoms in its sweet- 
 ness and purity, breathing to the wind 
 its gentle whispers of chastity and truth; 
 the queenly rose blooms in its rich 
 
 29 
 
voluptuousness, diffusing upon the air 
 around the flood of its identity — warm, 
 profuse, intense ; the blue-eyed forget-me- 
 not, the innocent daisy, the hardy wall- 
 flower and delicious mignonette bloom in 
 careless profusion and fill with wonder 
 and contrition the conscious spirit of the 
 gardenia. 
 
 ^' That so much sweetness and beauty 
 should exist without one's knowledge! 
 How ignorant and foolish I have been in 
 my boastful arrogance. Here are hun- 
 dreds and thousands of flowers and plants 
 of whose species and very existence I was 
 totally ignorant. Among the middle or 
 lower grade of flower-life I find distributed 
 a loveliness and a fragrance unsurpassed. 
 But, ah! whither are we wafted? I 
 breathe my native air — these wax-like 
 blossoms are familiar, these dark, green 
 glossy leaves — it is — it is my home!" 
 
 30 
 
''How exquisitely beautiful! What 
 world is this?" exclaimed the violet beside 
 her, pausing before a richly blooming 
 orange bough. '' And, 0, whence this 
 delicious perfume? What tints, what 
 glorious tints are these, ethereally trans- 
 parent in their flesh-like hue?" 
 
 She gazed about her in bewilderment. 
 On every side new loveliness met her view ; 
 the wax-like camelia, the rich-scented 
 petals of the stephanotis, the delicate, 
 fantastic orchids; the pure, rich tints 
 of the begonia; the stately calla lily, 
 the azalea, the sensitive mimosa, and 
 many other floral gems too numerous 
 to mention. 
 
 A sweet flowering myrtle next attracted 
 her. 
 
 " Ah, beauteous flower, thou, even as 
 our rose, the type of love. Ah, shame to 
 me, that with untutored mind I scorned 
 
 31 
 
in ignorance the surpassing beauty and 
 merits of you unknown tropic flowers. 
 Our common parent is most wise. In 
 ignorant, boastful pride we ridiculed each 
 other and our different or(3ers, till by 
 a kindly hand we were guided hither to 
 be cured of our willfulness and pointed to 
 
 our error. '^ 
 
 ''You are right," replied the contrite 
 gardenia, '' ours it is to bloom in our 
 allotted sphere, one not better than an- 
 other, all living our flower-day life, simply, 
 cheerfully and contentedly." 
 
 She ceased, and darkness wrapped 
 the spot. 
 
 The following day the dead flowers were 
 picked up from the dressing table where 
 they had lain and were thrown from the 
 window into the garden below. -^ 
 
 32 
 
III. 
 
 Cf)e l^ilti WinU asioto. 
 
THE WILD WINDS BLOW. 
 
 The wild winds blow 
 O'er the bleak moor side, 
 Through the naked forest 
 The stream doth glide. 
 
 The trunks of the trees 
 Are bare and brown, 
 And the twigs by the wind 
 Are shaken down. 
 
 O'er the soft moist earth 
 Where the dead leaves lie, 
 The sharp March breeze 
 Is sweeping by. 
 
 O'er the marshy moor 
 Where the reeds grow wild 
 And the rushes bow 
 To Spring's first child. 
 
 A desolate day 
 Like the desolate heart, 
 'Ere the warn: sun of love 
 Doth life imp ait 
 
 35 
 
:,■■ 
 
 r ,j5- 
 
 fe^— W 
 
 ifiperersi. 
 
NIGHT WHISPERERS. 
 
 The tarn lay still. Its cradle, gloomy, 
 melancholy, and dull, sunk deeply at the 
 base of the mountains, weird and awful in 
 the majesty of might and solitude. Slug- 
 gish and dreamless was the water's sleep 
 beneath the chill bleak twilight sky; gray 
 shadows, phantom-like, stole over the 
 ground; the lingering light of day 
 gleamed fainter with expiring life; the 
 wind moaned piteously and sighed, as with 
 reluctant will he swept with fitful gusts 
 the bleak moorside and mount-locked 
 tarn, and rustled with his mournful breath 
 the rushes 'round the wild duck's nest. 
 Closer pressed the loving bosom of the 
 mother bird upon her sleeping brood 
 of young, and, calling in wonder to her 
 mate who lay as boat at anchor on the 
 
 39 
 
sleepy surface of the tarn, she said. 
 
 '^ Why moans the wind? What seeks 
 he in his night's bleak wanderings? Why 
 sighs he so? His voice is lonesome, sad." 
 
 '^I know not; ask him, when again he 
 comes, what sorrow is it that he carries 
 on his wings." 
 
 ^^I will, when he descends the mountain 
 heights and sweeps with his breath the 
 surface of the mere ; he is too heartlone to 
 do us mischief or to give us pain." 
 
 Once more the mountain hollows 
 echoed with a sigh, once more the surface 
 of the tarn was crumpled into rippling 
 waves, and once more did the rushes bow 
 before the sad night breeze. 
 
 ''Stay, stay ! " the wild duck cried. 
 ''Why moanest thou thus, wind? What 
 sorrow dost thou bear upon thy wide- 
 spread wings? Say, for I feel for thee 
 
 40 
 
thy trouble must be great, or thou couldst 
 not steep the silent night so deep with 
 tearless sighs. What mighty woe is 
 thine?" 
 
 '^What woe is mine?" the wind with 
 plaintive wail replied . ^ ^ What woe is mine ? 
 Ah me! a woe so great that steeps my 
 being in agony supreme. A woe that 
 must find vent, and pour itself in 
 Nature's deepest, choicest solitudes, there 
 to receive the balm of blest relief, there 
 to unburden and discharge some of its 
 overladen and suppressed despair. What 
 woe is mine? The great woe of the Uni- 
 verse, the sorrows of a struggling world! 
 The lonely moor, the mountain solitude, 
 and e'en the vast immensity of ocean's 
 might, all, all have. heard my cry. They 
 take my woe and answer back again, till 
 we are spent, exhausted, calmed — calmed 
 by the soothing magic of a voiceless avm- 
 
 41 
 
pathy, a force supremely vast and won- 
 derful that bids us wail and wail and find 
 relief. Such is my sorrow, tender-hearted 
 bird, and such the reason why I moan." 
 
 ^^Ah! great indeed is thy sorrow. The 
 voice of earth art thou, and bearest in thy 
 sigh the utterance of a universe. But 
 wind, wind of night, one question more 
 is there that I would ask: Earth has its 
 sorrow, true; but has it then no joy? So 
 beautiful it is, so manifold and wonderful ! 
 Joy surely there must be ; nor grief alone 
 hid in its deepmost hollows and ravines. 
 The brightness of the morning sun, the 
 golden warmth and glory of the day, the 
 joy of being and the love of life, and light 
 of love that beats within our wild-fowl 
 breast — are these as naught? And is it 
 in our world, our narrow world alone, that 
 joy and gladness only then are found? " 
 
 ^^Joy? joy? There is no joy. The 
 
 42 
 
hollow shadow called joy endure th not. 
 Joy- joy- what is it? Happiness, delight, 
 but passing fancies of an hour, shadows 
 that melt and fade away in ungrasped 
 and unapproached nothingness and gloom. 
 No; wail on, poor Earth! swept with the 
 throes of deep affliction and despair." 
 
 ^^No joy! no joy! " 
 
 ^^Nay, the night- wind erreth,'^ spake a 
 star, his faint voice trembling from above ; 
 '^his wailing makes him sore. I am above 
 the wind, and from another sphere behold 
 the earth and all things on her bosom. 
 Unprejudiced I behold and judge most 
 differently, wind! The sorrows of the 
 earth are in thy voice, 'tis true; and also 
 anger when the Universe doth rise and 
 shake with tempests in her rage ; but love 
 is there, and joy, and pure delight. For 
 when with gentle touch ye fan the flowery 
 mead, or flap with joy the white sail at 
 
 43 
 
the mast, or rustle with a sweet dehght 
 the leafy foliage of the sun-kissed trees, 
 then, then the joy and love and life break 
 forth from the awakened sod, and cry 
 with many voices to the wind of heaven! 
 Created life re-lives, humanity shakes off 
 the trammels of a dust-worn life and 
 breathes, and cries rejoicing, This is 
 Spring! ' Nay, joy then is on earth, in 
 every form, in every land; and every 
 tongue doth give it forth, proclaims it 
 unto heaven. Sorrow and joy go hand in 
 hand, go side by side, for what is sorrow 
 but the shadow-form of Joy; one, in the 
 great pervading, all-absorbing soul of 
 Harmony? Seek it, wind! and fear to 
 pass it by. Tis there around thee ; bear 
 it on thy wings. Then even thy midnight 
 voices will have a triumphant sweetness 
 in their melancholy all their own. Bear 
 it then with thee on thy wings, and whis- 
 
 44 
 
per o'er the lives and through the souls of 
 earth's great progeny the magic word of 
 Joy! Bid them cherish it, seek to make 
 it theirs — not the mere semblance of a 
 joy, but Joy, pure, undefiled and innocent; 
 the joy within the reach of all, the joy 
 created, nourished, bedded in each tiny 
 living germ. Capacity for love, the power 
 of true delight, teach thou then this, and 
 not the nurture of a self-afflicted grief to 
 darken with a cloud each life. Teach this 
 instead, and whisper of a soul-created 
 Love, a soul-created Joy! ' 
 
 The pale star ceased; the wind, cor- 
 rected, sank to rest and moaned no more; 
 the wild duck's heart grew glad, as the 
 gray dawn broke, and warm rays of 
 yellow light streamed forth above the 
 mountain tops and gilded with golden 
 glory the still surface of the silent mere. 
 Day broke, earth threw aside her sombre 
 
 45 
 
shroud; the heron greeted the golden 
 morn; the wild duck's brood awoke, and 
 led by their tender mother, soon dotted 
 the awakening bosom of the mountain 
 tarn lying bathed in the brilliant blushes 
 of the day. 
 
 46 
 
\'. 
 
 Cf)e jTrost €l\)es. 
 
THE FROST ELVES. 
 
 'Tis a clear, cold, frosty night. 
 
 The town, with its big houses and high 
 church steeples, glistens in the moonbeams, 
 and floods of yellow light stream from 
 countless windows behind whose shelter- 
 ing screen crowds of happy children are 
 enjoying the last evening of the^old year. 
 
 And beyond the town lies the country — 
 a vast expanse of sparkling wilderness, 
 the trees and bushes standing out in 
 white symmetry against the sapphire sky. 
 Silence reigns around, unbroken save by 
 the occasional falling of a twig which 
 some passing breeze shakes from its rest- 
 ing place. And yet the air is alive with 
 motion: myriads of little figures, white 
 and sparkling as the frost itself, and but 
 a fraction of an inch in height, are hurry- 
 
 49 
 
ing with all the speed their tiny silvered 
 wings permit towards the great forest 
 shadowed in the distance. 
 
 Joining a group of them we find our- 
 selves flying swiftly through the air, and 
 at last we enter the wood. It is darker 
 here, for the overarching branches, leafless 
 though they be, are so intertwined and 
 so fantastically clothed in their glittering 
 frost- garb, that the pale moonbeams 
 cannot force their way through the 
 crystal roof. 
 
 On we go, deeper and deeper into the 
 forest, and after proceeding a long distance 
 we reach the entrance of a beautiful glade. 
 Here one seems to be in an enchanted 
 land; frost sprites are hurrying in all 
 directions, and pressing eagerly forward 
 towards the head of the glen, which pre- 
 sently bursts upon our view. 
 
 What a scene is this! A wide open 
 
 50 
 
space surrounded by the frost-clad forest 
 trees. In the background a group of 
 spruce firs spread their feathery arms on 
 high, whilst in the centre of the glen a 
 beautiful silver birch rears itself from a 
 mound of earth slightly higher than the 
 neighboring ground. A holly bush, too, 
 stands near by, rich in its bright red 
 berries and dark green leaves frost-frilled 
 along their peaked and indented edges. 
 
 Under the birch tree are seated rows 
 and rows of the old frost elves — Frost 
 Elders as they are called — little figures 
 with white streaming hair and beards, and 
 long loose robes scarcely distinguishable 
 from the surrounding whiteness of the 
 snow-clad earth. Seated on a knoll at the 
 root of the tree is a venerable elf, notice- 
 able among the others by the shining frost 
 crown which encircles his temples, and the 
 star tipped wand he carries in his hand. 
 
 51 
 
A space is cleared before him, beyond 
 which the frost elves in countless numbers 
 have assembled, and are still assembling. 
 They cover the branches of the surround- 
 ing trees, resting comfortably on the peaks 
 of the holly leaves and even on the red 
 berries themselves; and all are fluttering 
 their wings impatiently for the time to 
 arrive when the old frost king will elect 
 his successor, from a band of chosen elves 
 who have been selected for the purpose 
 on account of their useful deeds and good 
 behavior during the preceding year. 
 
 The time draws nigh, the elves are 
 nearly all gathered, and only arrive in 
 straggling twos and threes. At last the 
 old king rises, and advancing to the edge 
 of the knoll, addresses the multitude 
 before him : 
 
 ''My children! during the past year I 
 have been privileged to rule as your king, 
 
 52 
 
and have monthly held my court and 
 councils in my palace hall in the North. 
 I have sent you forth as bands of commis- 
 sioners with work to do in all parts of the 
 earth, wherever you could penetrate, and 
 withstand the deadly influence of our 
 enemies, the sunbeams. Ah! their power 
 is indeed strong, and many are the frost 
 elves who have fallen victims to their fatal 
 smile, or who have been chased back over 
 the border line of the frigid zone by their 
 ruthless pursuers, the thaw spirits. Many, 
 too, are the victories won by my faithful 
 subjects over that degenerate brood; full 
 oft have you withstood their mischievous 
 inroads; many a time have you turned 
 and locked fast your tormentors in a chill 
 embrace, till the slothful sunbeams came 
 to their rescue. Often during the pa»t 
 year have you made noble sauies into tne 
 southern regions, powdered their fields and 
 
 53 
 
forests with the beautiful garb we so de- 
 light in, and locking their rivers in an ice- 
 bound sleep have so rested their weary 
 waters. 
 
 ''But at the same time you have erred, 
 my children. You have also been mis- 
 chievous ; crept into the houses of mortals, 
 breathed upon their window panes, cracked 
 their glasses, frozen their milk, and other- 
 wise played havoc in their larders! Then 
 you have pinched their noses and ears, 
 bitten their fingers and toes, and, glazing 
 their streets, have caused many a broken 
 limb. 
 
 ''Still worse, you have been cruel, my 
 frost elves! You have frozen many a 
 homeless bird, and hardened the earth so 
 long as to starve many a winged songster ; 
 then you have nipped the young and 
 tender leaf buds. Ah! you have often 
 been careless, mischievous and cruel! 
 
 54 
 
And you know, my frost elves, for every 
 fault you will have to suffer; and each 
 time you abuse your power, the sun- 
 beams and thaw spirits are ordained your 
 chastisers." 
 
 He paused, and looking around, con- 
 tinued : 
 
 ^^ During the past year you have been 
 good, faithful subjects to me, and now 
 that my reign draws to a close, I am here 
 to- appoint one of the chosen band to suc- 
 ceed me as your ruler; then will I take 
 my place henceforth among the Elders.'^ 
 
 He resumed his seat, and all the elves 
 with one accord arose and burst into the 
 following song: 
 
 Fare thee well, dear Father Frost! 
 Naught from thy teaching have we lost ; 
 In the future thou shalt see 
 How kindly we will strive to be. 
 
 55 
 
Fare thee well, our Ruler kind! 
 A better we can never find; 
 Among the elders take thy place, 
 But show us first the new king's face. 
 
 Fare thee well! there ne'er was seen 
 A better reign than thine has been, 
 Honor, glory, praise is due, 
 Ruler Frost, from us to you. 
 
 Scarcely had this song died away when 
 a sound resembling the tinkling of tiny 
 glass bells was heard, and a procession of 
 imps, dressed after the fashion of pages, 
 appeared, advancing towards the spot 
 where the old king was sitting. Each elf 
 carried a tiny ice bell suspended from a 
 long wand, and the motion of their steps 
 as they walked caused the bells to send 
 forth peals of delicious music. Behind 
 these pages came the chosen band of elves 
 
 56 
 
marching two by two, their feet keeping 
 time to the music as they marched. 
 
 They passed in a winding procession be- 
 fore the rows of elders, and finally stood 
 in a semi-circle around the old king. The 
 imps, with their bells, took up their posi- 
 tion on either side of the tree, and stood 
 motionless and silent as he arose and 
 began to examine the elves waiting 
 around him. 
 
 They were twenty-four in number, and 
 all exceedingly beautiful; their little gar- 
 ments, surpassingly white and clean, fitted 
 without a wrinkle to the slender limbs and 
 graceful figures of their owners. Their 
 tiny transparent wings glistened like 
 gossamer in the moonlight, and were 
 nervously fluttering with expectation; 
 their little faces were aglow with excite- 
 ment, and their pale grey eyes anxiously 
 watched their king as he keenly scrutinized 
 
 57 
 
every elf in succession, scanning each from 
 head to foot to see whether there was the 
 slightest spot or stain on either himself or 
 his garments, which would at once inform 
 him that the elf had sinned. For the least 
 wilful error or fault committed by a frost 
 elf leaves a stain upon him that nothing 
 will remove. There were few spots to be 
 seen, still the sharp eyes of the old king 
 noted them, and caused him to inquire 
 into their origin. On two elves alone he 
 could find no stain; so, drawing them into 
 the centre of the ring, he addressed them 
 as follows: 
 
 "Of all the twenty-four elves chosen for 
 me to select a successor from, you are the 
 only two upon whom I can find no stain; 
 it remains to me, therefore, to appoint one 
 of you king — which one I am at present at 
 a loss to say, for both of you being spot- 
 less, are, to all appearances, equally en- 
 
 58 
 
titled to the kingdom. There must, 
 however, be some difference between you, 
 and it is now my duty to find out what 
 that difference is; therefore, I wish you 
 each to relate to me the history of your 
 adventures during the past year. Elf on 
 the right, begin." The king resumed his 
 seat, while the elf began as follows : 
 
 FIRST elf's story. 
 
 "I was sent forth with some thousands 
 of my brothers to go and repair the mis- 
 chief perpetrated by our tormentors, the 
 thaw spirits. They had been unusually 
 busy, so, separating into bands we scat- 
 tered in all directions, some flying to 
 the east, some to the south, and some to 
 the west. 
 
 '^I joined myself to a small party flying 
 eastward and kept along the boundary of 
 the northern sea. On our way we en- 
 countered many icebergs that had broken 
 
 59 
 
loose from their hold and been set afloat 
 by the thaw spirits so that they drifted 
 toward the southern climes and disap- 
 peared before the influence of the sun- 
 beams. Upon these icebergs we breathed, 
 and turned them aside from their course 
 by hardening the waves around, thus 
 making them standing monuments of our 
 power. Whole fields of ice soon marked 
 our track, and before long we touched the 
 northern shores of that great continent 
 whose rivers own our sway, and usually 
 remain for months vast sheets of ice. 
 Here, too, the thaw spirits had been at 
 work, and slowly now the waters ran, 
 while the far-spreading plains were satu- 
 rated with moisture. These we refroze 
 by a breath, and again fast bound their 
 rivers. Passing southward, we powdered 
 the huge mountain ranges, and held their 
 torrents as they would have bounded down 
 
 60 
 
the dark ravines. Moving westward, we 
 crossed the mighty steppes, stiffening the 
 ground and clothing the vegetation in our 
 glorious raiment, till naught could be dis- 
 tinguished in the wilderness of white. 
 Then we proceeded northward, sweeping 
 by great cities and ice-bound coasts, turn- 
 ing our attention again toward the polar 
 regions, leaving a glorious tract behind us 
 and raising glittering monuments in our 
 honor, to astonish the marvelling eyes of" 
 northern explorers by their magnificence 
 and splendor. 
 
 '^On all sides we defeated our enemies. 
 Even the sunbeam's smile waxed pale and 
 wan before us as we proceeded in our 
 triumphal career. 
 
 "And from these northern regions I 
 hurried to be present at this gathering of 
 the frost elves, arriving but just in time - 
 to be selected by the elders as one of the 
 
 61 
 
privileged band honored by your Majesty's 
 most gracious inspection and choice." 
 
 He ceased, and bowing low before the 
 king withdrew a step or so, whilst the 
 second elf, who had remained silent and 
 motionless during the recital, now, at a 
 sign from the king, stepped forward and 
 began : 
 
 SECOND elf's story. 
 
 ^'I was sent forth at the same time as 
 my brother, but joining a band journeying 
 southward, soon found myself flying over 
 ♦ the land of the Lapp, and heard the tink- 
 ling of the sleigh bells ringing out on the 
 frosty air as the reindeer, with the speed 
 of the wind, drew his master over the 
 slippery ground. 
 
 '^Next, a range of snow-capped moun- 
 tains met my view. Descending, we saw 
 a party of men toiling up their dangerous 
 sides; dangerous, indeed, for the thaw 
 
 62 
 
spirits had been busy among the moun- 
 tains, and many a huge boulder of ice had 
 been loosened from its stronghold, and was 
 ready, at the faintest sound, to thunder 
 down the heights into the peaceful valleys 
 below, swallowing up the party in its 
 descent, and destroying many a pictur- 
 esque chalet and honest household in its 
 terrific plunge. To prevent these evils, 
 we regirt the mountains with the fastness 
 of our strength; and having thus secured 
 the safety of the mountaineer, passed 
 eastward, and visited mortals in their 
 great dark cities. 
 
 ''Into one of these cities I flew one night, 
 and passing over the broad squares and 
 gardens of the rich, entered into the nar- 
 row alleys of the poor. Herds of mankind, 
 in the most degraded condition, were con- 
 tinually passing to and fro, discordant 
 sounds filled the air, the streets and houses 
 
 63 
 
were polluted and foul, filth and disease 
 stalked abroad and saturated the atmo- 
 sphere with their obnoxious odors. 
 
 ^'I hardened the soft, miry roads, dried 
 up the noxious moisture, and rendering 
 the murky air keen and frosty, killed the 
 germs of disease that floated on every side. 
 I whitened with snowy feathers the houses, 
 sidewalks, and gutters; then, creeping 
 through a broken windowpane, found 
 myself in a dark attic, bare and empty, 
 save for a broken chair and a filthy straw 
 mattress whereon lay the shrunken form 
 of a little boy. He was in the height of 
 fever, his lips were parched and dry as he 
 lay tossing and moaning in delirium. A 
 broken cup lay on the floor beside him. 
 I looked into it — it was empty. I stooped 
 over him; he was alone and friendless, no 
 one to care for him, no one to soothe his 
 pain. Better to be out of the world than 
 
 64 
 
to live on in it, so I kissed his hot fore- 
 head and burning lips, breathed on his 
 face and chest, and touched the heart that 
 beat so wildly. Then all was still — he fell 
 into that slumber from which there is no 
 awakening. 
 
 '^My work there was done, so on I 
 journeyed. Entering next a park, I froze 
 its ponds so that the children of mortals 
 might enjoy the delights of the season, 
 and passing on by stately mansions, I 
 espied the form of a woman crouching on 
 the broad steps that led up to the en- 
 trance of one of these grand dwellings. 
 Light and laughter poured forth from the 
 many windows, but outside all was dark 
 and drear. I drew near to the woman, 
 and saw that she was dead — some one had 
 been before me; but the babe upon her 
 breast yet lived, its puny face turned 
 upward to the frost 5^ night. I kissed its 
 
 65 
 
lips and drew its breath away — its soul 
 was free to join its mother's. 
 
 '^I arose and behold a frost maiden 
 stood before me. 
 
 '' 'You have finished my work/ she said, 
 'poor things! they are better off now, 
 happier perhaps than those beyond yon 
 lighted windows.' Thus speaking, we flew 
 on together through the night, out of the 
 city, and on toward this forest to which 
 all your Majesty's faithful subjects were 
 summoned to appear." 
 
 So ended the second elf's story. 
 
 Then the old king arose and thus 
 addressed his subjects: — 
 
 "You have all heard these two elves 
 record the history of their adventures; 
 both have done good, useful work, and are 
 entitled to our highest praise; but I com- 
 mend to you the second elf, whose kindly 
 spirit and thoughtfulness for others have 
 
 66 
 
guided all his actions, and directed him 
 to seek his work in filthy alleys and fever- 
 smitten atmosphere. The safety and good 
 of others, the happiness and comfort of 
 the poor and neglected have been his 
 ruling motives. His brother's chief aim, 
 on the contrary, was ambition for the 
 aggrandizement and glory of his race. To 
 the second elf, therefore, I, with perfect 
 confidence and assurance, resign my crown 
 and diadem.' 
 
 So saying, he took from his head the 
 frost crown and placed it upon the white 
 curling locks of the elf before him, and 
 giving the star-crowned wand into his 
 right hand led him to the tree knoll, bowed 
 low before him and proclaimed him king. 
 
 Then, with one accord, all the elves 
 shouted with joy; whilst the young king 
 arose and, bowing his acknowledgments, 
 said he hoped he would prove as good a 
 
 67 
 
king as he who had just resigned, and 
 taking the hand of the httle frost maiden 
 he had met on his journey, he led her 
 before his subjects and claimed her as 
 his queen. 
 
 The band of imps then marched for- 
 ward, their ice bells pealing forth while 
 all the frost elves and maidens rose, and 
 dancing around the tree sang : 
 
 The world is glistening 
 
 On every side 
 With a thousand diamonds. 
 
 This New Year tide. 
 
 The moon is shining 
 
 Over all; 
 'Mong feathery trees 
 
 Her pale beams fall. 
 
 And we frost elves 
 
 With gossamer wing. 
 In a joyous circle 
 
 Dance round our king. 
 
 68 
 
For our king is good, 
 
 And our queen is fair, 
 With her flowing robes 
 
 And her silver hair. 
 
 So we'll dance away 
 
 In the pale dim light, 
 While the ice bells ring 
 
 And the moon is bright. 
 
 And then we'll creep 
 
 Away to our beds, 
 And under the leaves 
 
 Hide our weary heads. 
 
 Our king is elected. 
 
 Our time is o'er. 
 And we must away — 
 
 We msij dance no more. 
 
 The moon waxed pale, but before the 
 last rays had faded the glade was empty 
 and deserted, for the little frost elves had 
 all flown away to their beds. 
 
 69 
 
anti 
 
THE MOONBEAMS AND THE 
 DEWDROPS. 
 
 Lightly play the moonbeams over the 
 quiet surface of the lake, silvering its 
 bosom and flitting with pale brilliancy in- 
 to the deepest shadows. Intensely white 
 and beautiful they stream forth in virgin 
 chastity from their lunar source and 
 speed through the unbroken indigo of the 
 chill, dark night. Earth sleeps peacefully, 
 nor does the faint radiance of the moon- 
 light disturb her repose. 
 
 On the margin of the lake, fringing the 
 water's edge, are grasses and reeds of wild 
 and luxuriant growth. ^^ Ah,'' sighed a large 
 dewdrop, plaintively, as it glistened on the 
 narrow surface of an overladen grass blade, 
 '^how much I would give to drop into 
 the silver bosom of the lake beneath me!" 
 
 73 
 
^^ And why?'' inquired the soft voice 
 of a moonbeam, gliding with her com- 
 panion at this moment over the mur- 
 murer's bending support. 
 
 ^^ Why! Because it is so smooth and 
 beautiful — so wide, so vast, so wondrously 
 fair. Oh, to feel myself falling into the 
 molten liquid silverness, to be swallowed 
 up, to become part of it, and to spread 
 myself out also beneath the lustre of the 
 pale, cold moon? " 
 
 ^^ Do we not shed our lustre on you as 
 you are? Do you not sparkle and glisten 
 like glassy crystals as you hang suspended 
 from every blade and spray and leaflet? 
 Why so ill- content? A happy and a 
 beauteous lot is yours. Why grumble 
 that the task set you is to nourish your 
 green support and to strengthen it 
 against the heat and dryness of the 
 coming day. Be contented with your 
 
 74 
 
present state until you have gained 
 from it all it has to give, nor seek to 
 change your lot till you have exhausted 
 its opportunities and reaped all its 
 advantages." 
 
 ^^But I am not content. Why should 
 I not become that which I would be? 
 Why should I not drop headlong into 
 the silver mirror that spreads so invit- 
 ingly below — 'twould not be far to fall? 
 Oh, that my weight would bend the grass 
 still lower so that I might overbalance 
 and fall, fall with rapture into the bosom 
 of my desire.' ' 
 
 ^Toolish dewdrop, foolish child of 
 earth's production; contrary as the vari- 
 ous sources of your being. Know that 
 you are now even as that gleaming 
 expanse — a drop of water, water the same 
 as that of which the lake there is com- 
 posed. And why do the waters gleam 
 
 75 
 
in silvery whiteness? Their glory is not 
 their own^ but the pure, pale radiance 
 that we children of the raoon shed over 
 the sea and land. Clear and resplendent 
 you yourself at this moment appear, even 
 as the surface of the lake you so foolishly 
 and ignorantly envy." 
 
 In vain did the moonbeam strive to 
 stem the current of the dewdrop's dis- 
 content. Swelling with wilfulness and 
 pride, it grew and trembled on its fragile 
 resting-place. The night wind stirred 
 from sleep, and as he moved restlessly 
 through the trees he caught the sigh of 
 the murmurer and heard its low com- 
 plaint — '^Oh, that I might fall into the 
 lake beneath me and leave this lonely 
 blade of grass." 
 
 ^Thou art foolish," he muttered, '^fool- 
 ish and discontented. Go and learn 
 through experience, wisdom." 
 
 76 
 
Down, down, a drop of liquid light it 
 fell, till with a faint splash it reached the 
 waters beneath. 
 
 '^Ah,'^ sighed the moonbeam, ^^error 
 and self-made unhappiness enter even 
 here." 
 
 A cloud for a moment obscured the 
 moon, and when again the moonbeams 
 glimmered forth they fell with renewed 
 radiance upon the silent earth. 
 
 '^How softly the moonbeams shine,'' 
 murmured a dewdrop, as it nestled in the 
 bosom of a rose-leaf. 
 
 ''And how fair and pure their love- 
 liness," answered another. 
 
 ''Night is gloomy and soulless without 
 them," added a third. 
 
 "Without their silvery smiles, it is 
 weary waiting for the rising of the sun," 
 joined in yet another. 
 
 "Yes," returned the first, gleaming on 
 
 77 
 
her rose-leaf bed, ^'but the leaves have 
 need of us; they would droop and wither 
 in the sun's great heat if it were not for 
 our cool, refreshing moisture." 
 
 'True," another answered, ''night is 
 the great renewer and reviver of the 
 Earth. For my part, I love the silvery 
 moonbeams more even than I love the 
 sunbeam's golden glory; the one draws 
 us out and encourages us; the other 
 chases us away from our leafy resting- 
 places into the darkness of the earth." 
 
 "Nay, they do not so; they draw us 
 into the floating atmosphere. Speak not 
 harshly of the sunbeams; they are glori- 
 ous and needful to the day." 
 
 "I know," returned the dewdrop. 
 "But see, here come two gleaming rays to 
 flood us with their beauty." 
 
 Even as she spoke, the two moonbeams 
 passed from witnessing the fall of the 
 
 78 
 
wilful dewdrop by the water's brink, and 
 shone in all their loveliness upon the 
 cluster of dewbeads gathered upon the 
 wild-rose spray. 
 
 '^A happy group/' quoth the first new- 
 comer, as she wound herself in and out of 
 the delicate leaflets, causing the clustering 
 dew to flash like the diamonds in a lady's 
 tiara. 
 
 ^'A happy group," she murmured as 
 she kissed the sparkling drops. 
 
 ^'How can we fail to be? See how fair 
 the leaves we rest upon, their dainty 
 veins and tenderly clipped edges. We 
 joyfully rest upon their fresh young 
 bosoms, both glad and proud to strengthen 
 their glowing vigor and brighten the 
 verdure of their youth." 
 
 '^Such is the cause and reason of our 
 present existence," continued another. 
 ''A dainty life to lie swathed in the folds 
 
 79 
 
of a rose-leaf, bathed in the halo of the 
 summer moon!" 
 
 ^^You are then contented and happy 
 with your simple lot, and seek no further 
 glories?" And the moonbeam caressed 
 softly the dew-bespangled rose tree. 
 
 '^Contented — how can we be otherwise? 
 What further glories should we seek? ' 
 
 ''None. None is greater than that of 
 fulfilling whatever duty is set before you. 
 Those who seek to change the lot Nature 
 has appointed them invariably go astray, 
 and learn to value wisdom when it comes 
 too late." 
 
 ''Where gleanest thou thy knowledge, 
 daughter of the moon? Do the stars 
 teach thee in thy silent flight? Or is it 
 from this earth of ours thou drawest 
 those draughts of wisdom so profound?" 
 
 "From each and all must one learn 
 something; none are so small or so insig- 
 
 80 
 
nificant but that they have a great 
 truth to unfold. But see, our light 
 grows dim, the gray dawn soon breaks in 
 the east, the time of the sun's awaking i^ 
 at hand. Soon golden heralds will pro- 
 claim the morn, and you will be bathed in 
 the glory of reopening day. Our time is 
 short, and we wax faint and wan; we 
 must again to starry space. Farewell, 
 farewell. Remember this always : a work 
 is yours, a truth is yours, in whatever 
 form you may exist; do with it, deal 
 with it, even in that way in which it was 
 meant. Your drop of existence is part of 
 the whole of existence ; keep this in mind, 
 and live out the existence which is yours, 
 to the fulfillment and glorification of the 
 great and glorious Whole. Farewell, 
 farewell." 
 
 Fainter and fainter waxed their light as 
 they retreated slowly to the far off starry 
 
 81 
 
heights, while the dewdrops heralded the 
 coming day with a chorus of a faint 
 '' Farewell/' 
 
 
 82 
 
VII. 
 
 C|)e astrtf) of t\)t Wimsi, 
 
THE BIRTH OF THE WINDS. 
 
 'Twas the birth of the winds. — 
 
 As they struggled on high 
 
 In the mighty, vast womb of heaven, 
 Creation moaned with impatient sigh, 
 
 "What offspring to us is given 
 That will cause this voiceless life to cry, 
 
 And the mists of earth to be riven?" 
 
 'Twas the birth of the winds. — 
 First issued the north. 
 
 And the universe stood in awe, 
 As with blustering breath emerged he forth 
 
 With the whirlwind's thundering roar; 
 And launched away on his boisterous path. 
 
 Hilarious, exulting to soar. 
 
 'Twas the birth of the winds. — 
 
 Next, the summer breeze fanned 
 And breathed itself into night, 
 
 85 
 
As warm and soft o'er a southern land, 
 
 It weltered in liquid light; 
 Or, scorched with the heat of a tropic 
 sand, 
 
 Warmed the chill of the northern night. 
 
 'Twas the birth of the winds. — 
 
 And when piercingly keen 
 
 From the east a bitter blast blew. 
 Creation shuddered, and sought to screen 
 
 Itself, as the hurricane grew; 
 For he withered all in their freshest green. 
 
 As, a baneful blight, he flew. 
 
 'Twas the birth of the winds. — 
 
 When from out of the west 
 
 Wafted the zephyr breeze free. 
 All earth rejoiced in its balmy rest. 
 
 Its moist soft breath of the sea; 
 Declaring the younger wind was the best 
 
 As it floated o'er town and lea. 
 
 86 
 
Cfje f cicle. 
 
THE ICICLE. 
 
 She was a beautiful thing, clear as 
 crystal, pure and transparent as glass, 
 graceful and fantastic in form, delicately 
 and wonderfully fair in her glittering 
 loveliness and icy beauty. 
 
 She hung suspended from the dark 
 bough of a giant oak in the midst of a 
 sparkling feathery frost world, and she 
 far surpassed her fair sisters who clustered 
 in graceful groups and fantastic assort- 
 ment from every branch and spray around. 
 
 So at least thought the sunbeam, as 
 he wound his way through the overhang- 
 ing boughs, and gradually crept closer to 
 the fair object of his admiration. 
 
 They saw him coming, those ice maid- 
 ens; watched him drawing nearer and 
 nearer into their midst; and each did her 
 
 89 
 
best to outshine her sisters and appear 
 most beautiful to his radiant eyes. 
 
 She saw him; and as the light of his 
 presence fell athwart her, she flashed 
 with a thousand prisms in his sight. 
 
 ^^0, crystal maiden, how fair, how 
 beautiful is your glittering resplendancy!" 
 
 The proud heart of the ice maiden 
 swelled with exultation as the words of 
 the sunbeam fell upon her ear. Cold 
 she was, and cold she had been to the 
 many wooers who had sought her favor. 
 The frost, her cousin, she had scorned in 
 high disdain, though he had pressed her 
 hard in the strength of his attachment. 
 The wintry fog had encompassed her 
 around, but she had remained proof 
 against his encircling charms. The north 
 wind had assailed her and wooed her 
 with his chilly breath. The spirits of the 
 hail and sleet had striven to impress her 
 
 90 
 
with their worth ; but all to no purpose — 
 she had remained impregnable and 
 indifferent to them all. 
 
 But now there comes another, not only 
 equally persistent in his wooing, but more 
 passionate in his ardor, more flattering in 
 his speech, and more dangerous in the 
 heat of his desire. She trembles at his 
 approach, and quails her hard and glitter- 
 ing breast. His voice, soft and seductive 
 as the Summer wind, moves her strangely 
 with its warm impassioned tones; his 
 admiration stirs her soul and breaks 
 down the once firm barrier of indifference 
 and reserve. 
 
 '^Sweet maid, the delicacy of your fan- 
 tastic shape, the splendor of your lustrous 
 beauty delight me ! How bluey white the 
 edges of your jagged form, the drooping 
 fringe of your icy drapery! How you 
 glisten in my eyes ! I saw you from my 
 
 91 
 
parent home; your matchless beauty 
 fired my soul; I craved to see you near, 
 to look upon your loveliness and bathe 
 you in my love. Ice maiden, hear me! 
 Fair daughter of the Winter, let me but 
 touch your snowy lips!" 
 
 ^'Beware! fair cousin," cried the frost. 
 ''A kiss from him is death. Beware! the 
 false deceiver would rob you of your life 
 and beauty!" 
 
 But, quivering with triumph and de- 
 light, the foolish ice maiden listened to 
 the assiduous flatterer, and, heedless of 
 her cousin's words, scorning the warning 
 cry of Nature, yielded to the bright 
 tempter, who, creeping nearer and nearer, 
 at last enveloped her in his encircling 
 rays, and pressed his burning kisses on 
 her fair, white, chilly lips. 
 
 Ah me! his touch was fatal. She felt it 
 sink down deep into her being, draining 
 
 92 
 
her strength, ,'i,i)(l wciakonirifi; Ikt vitnJity. 
 His nrms enshrouded })(!r, \m influ(!nce 
 sucked her very soul. Weak an (J faint 
 she lapsed in his embrace — each burning 
 caress ni(;Itir)f^ body and spirit together. 
 Her sisters groaned and treiribkul on their 
 boughs; the frost, defeated and powerless 
 against the fatal passion of fiis rivaJ, fhnl 
 away, as th(5 once beauteous queen of the 
 ice world, dissolving into liquid, sank 
 undone and uncreated ag.'dn into the 
 watery element whence she sprang. 
 
 93 
 
IX. 
 
 I^orltis tfjat so 9Srtgf)t 
 9lppear» 
 
WORLDS THAT SO BRIGHT APPEAR. 
 
 Worlds that so bright appear, 
 
 Burnished with hght 
 High o'er the waters drear 
 
 Through the long night. 
 
 Worlds of another clime 
 
 Strange to this earth, 
 Long, long before our time 
 
 Dated their birth. 
 
 Worlds hung in sapphire space. 
 
 Vividly clear. 
 Worlds that the human race 
 
 Once did revere. 
 
 Worlds that each sect and tongue 
 
 Marvel to see. 
 Wondering from whence they sprung 
 
 So mightily. 
 
 Worlds, great thy mystery! 
 
 Yet ever to be 
 Shining reality 
 
 Lighting life's sea. 
 
 97 
 
X. 
 
 C|)isteltio\Dn. 
 
 LofC. 
 
THISTLEDOWN. 
 
 Puff! blew the wind, and away they 
 went in a mad medley of delight. The 
 air was filled with them, whirling, float- 
 ing, dancing, rollicking hither and thither, 
 like a flock of downy feathers, the sun- 
 shine bathing them in his splendor, the 
 wind luring them in a thousand different 
 directions with his irresistible and per- 
 suasive breath. 
 
 '^ Foolish innocents," quoth the wrath- 
 ful thistle-tree ; ''keep at home, I say! 
 The wanton wind lureth you to your 
 destruction; be content, nor seek to 
 roam — my bosom is your safest shelter, 
 my weaponed arm your sure retreat. " 
 
 But away they went, heedless of their 
 parent's angry expostulation ; and leaving 
 their fluffy bed amidst her prickles, 
 
 101 
 
launched forth upon the pinions of the 
 wind. 
 
 ^'Whither away? " cried a butterfiy. 
 passing them in her flight. 
 
 'To see the world, and to follow our 
 own sweet wills!" replied they, soaring 
 higher with exultation. 
 
 "Make the most of ^''our time, then!'' 
 returned the bright-winged creature, flit- 
 ting to a distant flower. 
 
 ^^Ah!" responded the thistledown in 
 chorus, '^we will, we will. Blow, wind, 
 blow! and waft us to some stranger spot." 
 
 But the breeze had for the while 
 dropped, and after floating aimlessly 
 about for a space, they sank disconsolate 
 upon the grassy mead. 
 
 But only for a moment. On they 
 went again, caught by the rising eddy, 
 and carried on, on, they knew not 
 whither. 
 
 102 
 
'This is delightful!" they cried, mad 
 with intoxicating revelry; but like all 
 earthly passions, it was doomed at last 
 to cease. 
 
 Down dropped the wind again, and 
 this time for good; the sun sank lower 
 in the west, and then — ah, then? The^ 
 had left their home and shelter — their 
 parent's parting words came back to 
 them, ''the wind lureth you to your de- 
 struction." The dew would fall and they 
 would be soaked, drenched, dishevelled, 
 out of shape and life — their snowy fair- 
 ness gone — their fluffy lightness utterly 
 destroyed — weighed down and dragged to 
 earth — soiled, polluted, and undone. 
 Light and frivolous as they were, the 
 heavy truth bore down upon them and 
 crushed them with its weight. Careless 
 and gay as a mortal's thoughtless word, 
 
 103 
 
they heedlessly left their parent's shelter- 
 ing breast, and now — now ? 
 
 A flock of birds at this moment flew 
 out from some neighboring trees and 
 alighted upon the bushes around. 
 
 '^ See here ! " cried one to her mate ; 
 ^' see here what treasure I have found ! " 
 And she fluttered with pleasure around a 
 knot of thistledown that had clustered 
 about a thorny bough. 
 
 " See here what I have found ! — a soft, 
 warm lining for our little nest ; see here ! 
 a bunch of fluffy thistledown ! Come, 
 sweet, and help me carry it away." 
 
 Fluttering with delight, the little birds 
 then set to work and had soon conveyed 
 the silent yet grateful thistledown to their 
 home in a lofty tree. 
 
 ''Ah, this is fortunate !" it sighed as it 
 was cunningly woven together with 
 
 104 
 
feather-fluff and wool into the warm inner 
 coating of the wild bird's nest. 
 
 " It is very comfortable," remarked the 
 wool complacently. 
 
 '' Yes," joined in the feather-fluff, "and 
 very cozy." 
 
 "It is delightful! — a haven of shelter!" 
 continued the thistledown, warmly; "here 
 we shall be safe from the falling dew and 
 the damp, moist earth; no rain can reach 
 us now, screened by the brown bosom of 
 the gentle bird." 
 
 ^The rain is certainly disagreeable, and 
 the dew is hardly less so," replied the 
 wool; "I feared when the bramble tore 
 me from the back of the sheep that I 
 should be left to the mercy of the ele- 
 ments, but the eager eyes of the songster 
 spied me, and he bore me hither to my 
 great relief." 
 
 "And we," returned the thistledown, 
 
 105 
 
''we left our parent and our home to float 
 upon the sun-kissed breeze; it blew us 
 here and there and we were in delight, 
 when lo ! — it sank, and left us to drift on 
 until we were caught in the toils of a 
 thorny shrub, where the night dew would 
 have drenched us and washed our life 
 away." 
 
 "These terrors of which you speak I 
 have never heard of before ; plucked from 
 the tender bosom I so warmly clad, I was 
 without ado placed here to help line this 
 nest — for what reason I cannot say. But 
 ah! " 
 
 Full soon the questioning of the feather- 
 fluff was answered, full soon the reason of 
 their having been borne hither was ex- 
 plained; — three little blue eggs reposed 
 upon their downy softness. And warm 
 and snug they lay for many a day, till, 
 one b^^ifi^ht morn, the little nest was all 
 
 106 
 
alive — the eggs had vanished, and in their 
 place were three little wide-beaked birds. 
 Ah me ! how they loved their home ; and 
 how cozy the downy lining of the nest 
 would keep them while their parents 
 fetched them food I 
 
 "We have not lived in vain/' said the 
 sheep's wool one day when the young 
 birds had grown and one had left the nest, 
 soon to be followed by the others. 
 
 ^^We have not lived in vain, '' he again 
 remarked when the nest was empty and 
 the birds had flown. 
 
 "No," responded the thistledown; 
 ''Nature saw our repentance, forgave our 
 former wilfulness, and set us other work to 
 do. Our task is now completed, we can 
 do no more." 
 
 "Ah," joined in the feather-fluff sadly, 
 "our time is over, we are not what we 
 were." 
 
 107 
 
"No," said the thistledown, now soiled 
 and flattened with the constant pressure 
 of the new-flown fledglings, ''we are no 
 longer what we were ; still, it is a comfort 
 in our slow decay to feel that our diso- 
 bedience was forgiven, and that although 
 so small and insignificant, we have been 
 after all of some use in the vastness of the 
 great world's wants; and who knows, who 
 knows to what use we may yet be put." 
 
 The summer passed, the rough winds 
 blew, the late rains fell, the thistle-tree 
 was struck to earth, and the little nest in 
 the spreading branches of the sturdy 
 forest elm was soaked, torn and shaken to 
 the ground, where it lay the winter 
 through, sheltering from the bitter frost 
 the delicate roots of a wood violet that 
 grew at the foot of the great elm-tree. 
 
 108 
 
XI. 
 
 ^ Wffitt ^ans?* 
 
A WHITE PANSY. 
 
 'Twas one August morn when earth lay 
 
 fair 
 And blushing with flowers that scented 
 
 the air, 
 That a little white blossom first opened its 
 
 leaves, 
 And drank in the breath of earth's sweet 
 
 scented sheaves. 
 
 A little white pansy, so fair and frail, 
 Too lovely and pure for life's harsher gale, 
 It bloomed for a space, then closed up 
 
 again, 
 And the little white thought passed out, 
 
 to remain- 
 Ill 
 
\Deetpea0* 
 
SWEETPEAS. 
 
 Sweetpeas are a well-known family, 
 easily recognized by the loving affection 
 through which the members cling to each 
 other and to all with which they come in 
 contact; also by the rare gentleness of 
 their dispositions, so remarkable as to 
 have caused Flora, in the days of the 
 flower creation, to pronounce her blessing 
 upon them, and, in addition to their 
 elegant, shapely, and rich tinted beauty, 
 to endow them with a marvelously 
 fragrant perfume, like to the influence of 
 a soul beaming with the radiance of 
 unselfish thoughts. 
 
 The blossoms, the daughters of the 
 tribe, are lovely in the extreme, and noted, 
 in the flower world, for the richness of 
 their beauty. There are the blondes — 
 
 115 
 
fair virgins of spotless hue and simplicity, 
 through whose pure fragile lovehness the 
 golden eye, characteristic of the species, 
 shines mildly and gently forth. Some 
 are robed entirely in white, or with a 
 narrow band of purple or crimson edging 
 the delicate outlines of their light and 
 graceful forms. They stand on the 
 parent stem like downy snow flakes, 
 etherealizecl, and yet materialized towith- 
 stand the smiles and kisses of the summer 
 sun. Others are clothed in pink, from 
 the deepest shades of carmine to the palest 
 and most delicate tints of rose that ever 
 tinged a sea-shell ; others again are tinted 
 with blue and mauve or even a suspicion 
 of heliotrope; and some, dusky maidens, 
 are radiant in a mottled variety of color, 
 or dusty with purple and crimson powder 
 scattered upon their satin skins like the 
 down on the wings of a beautifully 
 speckled butterfly. 
 
 116 
 
Then there are the brunettes; dark, 
 glorious blossoms, whose rich beauty and 
 velvety voluptuousness are so glowingly 
 lovely in the profusion and gorgeousness 
 of their blue-black and crimson-purple 
 tints. Wondrously beautiful, all of them; 
 growing, mixing, clinging together in 
 every conceivable variety of shade and 
 hue, the richness of their perfume pervad- 
 ing the air around and drawing the bees 
 and the butterflies to revel in the delicious- 
 ness and luxuriance of their bountiful 
 sweetness. 
 
 How beautiful they are ! green, sway- 
 ing, curling stems, bending at will and 
 accommodating themselves to all circum- 
 stances, yet bearing their lovely offsprings 
 gracefully, contentedly, happily and 
 proudly. 
 
 No wonder Flora loves them and ranks 
 them among the choicest and sweetest of 
 
 117 
 
her children. Besides, their beauty and 
 perfume often bring comfort and dehght 
 into the careworn hearts and lives of 
 struggling men, who hail them as messen- 
 gers of peacefulness and love, summoning 
 memories of fields and trees, deep blue 
 skies and bright warm sunshine. 
 
 No idle or useless life lead these 
 fragrant blossoms ; and all things living in 
 the role of Nature, whether great or small, 
 each has its allotted task, its share in the 
 great world's movements, workings, and 
 evolutions; and each simple flower, as it 
 glances in the sun, or raises its head grate- 
 fully to drink of the refreshing showers, 
 has a place and a portion in the mighty 
 book of existence, and lives and grows an 
 individual destiny. Not the least of its 
 graceful acts is the loving encouragement 
 which it gives to toiling men and women 
 who strive with even greater cares. In 
 
 118 
 
this is it not indeed a helper and a joy- 
 giving companion? And shares it not the 
 live-giving spirit of love in the human 
 heart? 
 
 IVJ 
 
XIII. 
 
 eretiata. 
 
SERENATA. 
 
 I see thee, maiden, stand before me 
 
 In waves of silver light, 
 The cool night breeze as it sweeps thy hair, 
 
 Sigheth with pure delight. 
 I see the veil of the filmy moon 
 
 Around thy vision cling, 
 And the blue hued stars look down and 
 smile 
 
 Upon so fair a thing. 
 
 The gathering night spreads her cloud 
 afar. 
 
 Though wedded to the moon; 
 In the forest I hear the night owl screech, 
 
 On the shore the ocean's boom. 
 child of earth, with thine eyes of night 
 And figure of sylph-like form, 
 As the elements wild the emotions stir 
 
 123 
 
And burst in terrific storm, 
 Of a passion that like the cyclone swells 
 
 My tongue would tell to thee, 
 Of a love that is great as the ocean wide 
 
 In its vast immensity. 
 The earth is still, and the night wind 
 sighs 
 
 As I my love declare 
 And lay my heart at thy fair young feet, 
 
 My Queen, beyond compare! 
 
 124 
 
XIV. 
 
 C|)e iLeaf Cities, 
 
THE LEAF-ELVES. 
 
 Winter is over; the snow has disap- 
 peared from the ground, and the frost 
 from the pane; the rivers and streams, 
 bursting their prison bonds, bound forth 
 limpid and joyous once more, each rippling 
 wavelet murmuring its jubilant song and 
 coquettishly raising its crested lips to 
 meet the kisses of the wanton wind. The 
 naked forest trees, that for so many 
 months past have stood like giant spectres 
 tossing their gaunt arms in the wintry 
 storm, now spread their branches and sway 
 gracefully before the fresh spring breeze 
 as it rustles through the labyrinth of 
 delicate sprays that form so fantastic a 
 network against the clear blue sky. 
 
 The warm, pregnant beams of the life- 
 giving sun come stealing forth, and 
 
 127 
 
caressing each brown shining leaf-bud, 
 burst it open at a touch, reveahng the 
 wee leaf-elf lying curled up inside, whose 
 pale eyes blink with wonderment as they 
 gaze for the first time on the light of day. 
 
 Such is the birth of the leaf -elf ; and as 
 the leaf that is born with him unfolds, 
 and grows stouter and deeper in texture 
 and color, even so does he himself expand 
 and develop into fullness and maturity, 
 keeping pace with his parental cradle 
 and home. 
 
 At first the Spring breezes strike chilly 
 to the tender little sprite; so, wrapping 
 himself in the tiny folds of his bright 
 green mantle, he awaits the warmth and 
 brightness of the friendly rays before 
 venturing out to sport with his com- 
 panions. Each leaf, we see, has its little 
 fay ; and as the days brighten and lengthen 
 the elves come forth in myriads and perch 
 
 128 
 
upon the twigs and branches, bounding 
 from leaf to leaf, swaying from spray to 
 spray, playing a rare game of hide and 
 seek with the sunbeams. At night, each 
 elf curls his leaf around him, and thus 
 sheltered, sleeps securely, rocked by the 
 night winds as they pass mournfully 
 through the silent labyrinth of darkness, 
 like restless spirits visiting in gloom the 
 land of embodiment and material life. 
 
 As the summer advances, the leaves 
 and their little inhabitants assume a richer, 
 if more sombre tint, for they are scorched 
 by the strong rays of the sun while bask- 
 ing in its sleepy radiance — the languid 
 wind scarce stirring a twig or stem in the 
 voluptuous stillness of the summer heat. 
 
 Many are the duties of the leaf -elves. 
 They must pay unceasing attention to the 
 welfare and appearance of their airy little 
 homes. Carefully they comb out the fine 
 
 129 
 
flbrine down, upon the surface of the 
 leaves, and duly curl and uncurl the deli- 
 cate edges, catching the dew as it falls and 
 tenderly applying it to the sensitive pores, 
 and so cooling and refreshing their vitality 
 after the dust and glare of the day. Many 
 enemies of the insect tribe have they to 
 contend with, against whom they wage 
 perpetual warfare — caterpillars that de- 
 vour their dwellings ; flies and gnats that 
 lay their poisoned eggs beneath the del- 
 icate upper skin of the foliage, and raise 
 a blister on its smooth, fair surface, or 
 sow seeds of disease that soon consume it 
 altogether. So the greatest care has to 
 be exercised to preserve the leaves from 
 the wary attacks of these insect foes ; and 
 should an elf fail in his guardianship, 
 death or disfigurement come upon him 
 and upon the poor leaf which he should 
 have protected ; for disease and decay are 
 
 130 
 
reflected from the leaf to the elf himself, 
 and sad it is when they fall a prey to the 
 enemy, especially before the great event 
 of their life takes place. 
 
 What is this great event? It is nature's 
 carnival, occuring in the autumn, when all 
 the foliage of the earth is dressed in rich, 
 vivid autumnal tints. Then it is that the 
 army of resplendent leaves awaits the 
 rising of the boisterous gale, at whose call 
 they all give answer, and quitting forever 
 their hold upon the parent tree, bound 
 joyously forth upon the wings of their 
 allurer, hovering for awhile between 
 earth and sky, then caught by the next 
 eddy are again spurned wildly aloft, each 
 elf riding astride his individual leaf, laugh- 
 ing and singing and jostling his neighbor 
 in this mad but life-closing revelry; for, 
 at last, the wind subsides, the autumn 
 mists arise and spread their damp breath 
 
 131 
 
around, and the leaves and leaf-elves 
 lie heaped in dank, unsightly masses, 
 slowly going through the process of decay 
 and awaiting the ebbing of their leaf-day 
 life to become absorbed once more in the 
 all-supplying ocean of natural force. 
 
 132 
 
XV. 
 
 i^orma. 
 
NORMA. 
 
 I 
 
 The sun had set. The after-glow 
 
 Gleamed softly with a roseate light. 
 
 In fiery flakes of fleecy foam 
 
 The bosom of the western sky lay veiled. 
 
 O'er all a deep pulsating hush slow spread, 
 
 As though the evening waited for the 
 
 night. 
 When lo ! most rudely broken was the calm 
 Of eve by one low plaintive wail that 
 
 stirred 
 The heart of Nature from her rest, 
 And fixed in keen attention her great soul. 
 
 ''0 Midnight! darker than thy blackest 
 
 shade 
 Is the dread depth of my despair. 
 Ah me! my soul is destitute, 
 
 135 
 
I cry, and drink my bitter tears, 
 
 And choking heart-wrung sighs do burst; 
 
 In visions dark my grief oppresses me. 
 
 My loving, if unworthy heart, is reft 
 
 Of light and joy, of happiness and peace; 
 
 Anguish is now its only food. 
 
 loving nature! in thy wilderness 
 
 Of glowing life my voice shall pour its grief 
 And cry to thee for succor and for aid. 
 
 1 loved, I love and I was once beloved. 
 And sweet the hours that passed for me 
 
 and mine, 
 
 Steeped as they were in Love's delicious 
 fount. 
 
 Each separate being merged in one heart- 
 beat. 
 
 Each line of thought forever twining 
 round 
 
 The other, as the tendrils of the vine 
 
 Do twine. E'en so we lived and loved. 
 
 136 
 
And perfect faith as close as clinging moss 
 Did clothe in vivid verdure our true love. 
 
 And pure it was, e'en though the deepest 
 
 wave 
 Of stirring. soul intensity swept o'er. 
 And carried with it our two struggling 
 
 hearts 
 That loved so strongly, fervently and 
 
 well. 
 Then still more wholly did our souls 
 
 become 
 Into one being blended, riper still 
 Became our love. My life had I laid 
 
 down 
 To benefit my dear one, and he his 
 Would have laid down for me. 
 
 His father's vow, that, 
 Never should he bride bring to his home. 
 Without a dowry, caused us then to live 
 Reluctantly without acknowledged tie. 
 
 137 
 
Alas ! Alas ! 'tis but a few days since 
 There came into our beauteous vale of love 
 A snake, with glittering eyes and jeweled 
 
 scales, 
 That glided through the grass and stung 
 
 me, here. 
 Its cruel fangs sank deep within my heart 
 And left their poison there. My Erza was 
 So dazzled by the beauty of the thing, 
 He did not see my pain, nor did he heed 
 Nor know the danger pending to his soul. 
 
 He gazed and gazed, till, gazing he was 
 
 struck 
 With beauty's poison, deadlier than all. 
 So subtly did the fascination work 
 That by degrees he left me, and for one 
 Who loves him not but who will lead him 
 
 on, 
 Enticing his pure soul with all the charms 
 Of her bewild'ring evil beauty's power, 
 
 138 
 
Alluring him to gain the gold 
 
 And all the riches of his father's lands. 
 
 Once these possessed she'll wither up his 
 
 soul 
 With cold contempt and scornful cruel 
 
 hate, 
 While I, his true love and his faithful one, 
 Have power none to win him back. 
 
 Did she but love him then mayhap my 
 
 grief 
 Would be less keen, my love might brook 
 
 the blow 
 But ! his anguish when with soul deceived 
 He wakes too late to rectify his wrong! 
 Nature, hear! I lay me on thy breast 
 And press my beating bosom to thine own. 
 Mother, soothing, tender, bountiful! 
 Spare unto me of thine abundant store 
 A little calm endurance, patient hope. 
 Persistent courage, and the vital strength 
 
 139 
 
To follow him through all his devious ways 
 That with my woman's instinct I may 
 
 grasp 
 The sense of lurking foes around his path. 
 Grant me the power to shield his life from 
 
 harm; 
 To shroud him with my love, e'en though 
 
 unknown, 
 That I may win his soul at last to mine, 
 If such a thing may be — forevermore. 
 
 Hear this my prayer! for mine he surely is, 
 As is the child unborn both his and mine. 
 I care not through what sorrows I must 
 
 pass, 
 What fearful shadows may enshroud my 
 
 soul, 
 If I may but win him back. — mercy! 
 
 Earth, 
 And grant my soul's petition or I die 
 The worst of deaths — a living, life-long woe. 
 
 140 
 
The voice died out in broken sobs. 
 
 The Wind 
 In keen compassion for her grief, — sighed 
 Then rising on his rustling wings, — wailed : 
 ''Grief! grief! such grief! 
 Would I could comfort thee ! 
 Thy sorrows will I bear to him ; 
 The voice of thy deep agony 
 Shall haunt his soul, — my wings 
 Shall waft it to his ear. 
 Ah ! grief ! such grief ! 
 Would I could comfort thee." 
 
 ''Tears! tears ! such tears! 
 See how they fall ! And he 
 Shall see them thus whene'er he hears 
 My voice, or sees my spray," the cascade 
 cried. 
 
 "And on my bosom shall they surely flow 
 Forever," murmured low the rippling 
 brook ; 
 
 141 
 
"Yea, to a river shall they swell and 
 slide." 
 
 "We'll look at him with thy sad, patient 
 
 eyes," 
 The flowerlets said; "and as the leaves do 
 
 fall: 
 Thy loving words in mem'ry on his heart 
 Shall drop ; the breath of thy true love 
 In our sweet perfume shall be borne to 
 
 him." 
 
 "The story of thy woe, thy heart's sad 
 
 moan, 
 Shall reach him in our songs," — so chirped 
 the birds. 
 
 The mountains lowered, the sea, the sky, 
 
 the plain. 
 Suffused in tearful mist, echoed afar : 
 "Take courage, faithful heart, set to thy 
 
 task 
 
 142 
 
Of self-abandonment, and shield thy love. 
 And in thy proffered breast, bared for his 
 
 sake. 
 Receive the wounds dealt by his hand, 
 
 and prove 
 The capability of thy great love. 
 Take comfort to thy soul, for with one 
 
 voice 
 All things respond to thee; thy grief is 
 
 ours; 
 Acquit thee nobly, and our aid, for sure. 
 Will strengthen every effort that thou 
 
 mak'st." 
 
 The voices ceased ; Night dropped her veil , 
 
 and lo ! 
 The prostrate figure of the maid arose ; 
 And stole, a phantom gliding through the 
 
 shade. 
 So pale, so pure and lone, with such 
 A rapt resolve and sadness on the face, 
 
 143 
 
That like a pearl in ebon frame it shone 
 Amid the masses of her cloud-like hair. 
 
 II 
 
 The scene changed; and broad sweeping 
 
 lawns 
 Rolled out to where rich orange groves 
 
 and sweet, 
 Delicious oleander trees 
 Perfumed afar the moonlit air. 
 
 But ah ! there was a subtler beauty near, 
 Whose magic paled the splendor of the 
 
 night. 
 A white-domed palace rose amid the trees 
 And on the broad, low flight of marble steps 
 That led down to the terrace walk beneath, 
 A woman stood. 
 
 A visitant from the Beauty spheres 
 Of loftiest, loveliest thought she seemed; 
 Her slender swaying lithesome form 
 Was rich in curves ; her hair a crown of gold ; 
 
 144 
 
Her spotless robe took on the hue of night, 
 And gleamed in bluish lustre to her feet. 
 From the piazza's roof a red lamp hung, 
 That shed its dim light down upon her 
 
 face, 
 Staining the steps she stood upon. 
 
 Another to her side drew near, 
 With adoration stamped upon 
 His features as he bent his face 
 To hers, and gently laid his hand 
 Upon her bare, white sculptured arm 
 That lay upon the marble balustrade. 
 Without the slightest start she turned her 
 
 eyes 
 Full upon his. What bliss divine 
 Was there in that deep gaze ? For lo ! he 
 
 quailed. 
 He shuddered and recoiled. Those eyes 
 
 of blue 
 Have yet more magic than they know 
 
 well of, 
 
 145 
 
And, true to the wide sky whose light 
 
 they bear, 
 Unbid, have conjured up to him 
 A vision of his Norma' s face. 
 
 Her calm look deepened, and a set surprise 
 Grew out of its still depth. And then he 
 
 spoke : 
 "Forgive me! dear one," faltered his pale 
 
 lips, 
 ^'Emotion overcame me, but, 'tis past. 
 There is a fascination in your eyes 
 I never knew before. Somehow, I think — 
 But no, let be; thine eyes are perfect, 
 
 Sweet, 
 And very walls of love. Nay, look not so! 
 Have I offended you? 'Twas but the 
 
 shade 
 Of some old mem'ry flashed forth in your 
 
 gaze. 
 And woke a mournful echo in my heart ; 
 
 146 
 
But now 'tis past. Smile on me once 
 
 again, 
 My peerless one — lo! I am at your feet." 
 
 ''How! are my eyes so dull that they can 
 
 bring 
 But shady mem'ries to your quav'ring 
 
 breast ? 
 Is that the only joy that unto you 
 My feeble beauty has the power to give?" 
 She sighed ; a look of softness crossed her 
 
 face, 
 And shone reproachfully and sadly there, 
 E'en though her voice had had a touch of 
 
 scorn. 
 
 ''Nay, nay, Eudora, happiness is mine 
 Whenever I am near you ! Twas but once 
 And for a moment, that there came a face 
 Betwixt my love and you; fear naught, 'tis 
 
 gone. 
 The night seems chilly, and is deathly still — 
 
 147 
 
Why stand you here so coldly proud and 
 
 lone?— 
 The wind stirs mournfully, my spirits 
 
 droop, — 
 I crave of you some love, some little 
 
 warmth 
 To chase away the gloommess of night. 
 Be not so cold ! Your beauty maddens me ! 
 Press your lips once to mine! — 'tis all I 
 
 ask." 
 
 ''All that you ask ! when other faces dwell 
 And linger in your thoughts! Nay! I were 
 
 weak 
 And spiritless as you to take such love, 
 And dream that it was mine. What! is 
 
 regret 
 Mixed in the passion which you say 
 Burns m your breast for me? Nay then, 
 
 return 
 To her! She's fair, though weak, poor wench! 
 
 148 
 
And dowerless, forsooth! Still go to her; — 
 Her nerveless soul entices you, and draws 
 The very manhood from your veins. 
 Go then, and may her pale face comfort 
 you!" 
 
 « 
 
 She moved away in haughty, proud disdain, 
 Yet turned again to see what weight 
 Her icy words had had. He, for a time 
 Stood motionless, then crushed with ruth- 
 less will 
 The rising pangs of bitter keen remorse. 
 And hugged his passion closer as he 
 
 sprang. 
 By her great beauty conquered, to her 
 feet. 
 
 ^'Eudora, sweet Eudora! say not so; 
 Spurn me not from you. my Love! 
 How fair, how very fair you are ! What 
 
 spell - 
 Is there within the magic of your eyes? 
 
 149 
 
See how your sweet enchantment draws 
 
 my soul ! 
 I burn with love, yet are you cold. 
 Eudora, list! what other face can e'er 
 Have charms for me, once I have yours 
 
 * beheld? 
 What form, however sylph-like in its lines, 
 Can e'er compete with yours? Your snowy 
 
 neck. 
 White as the under- wing of floating swan; 
 Your hair, its threads of gold a coronet ; 
 Your azure eyes, deep, clear as summer 
 
 skies — 
 What other maid has glories like to you? 
 
 None, none, you are supreme! That phan- 
 tom-face. 
 
 Pale as a lily, in its shady hair. 
 
 Has not one sparkle of your loveliness ; 
 
 The mournful eyes in their dark depths, 
 reflect 
 
 All shadows that ma}^ fall across the face. 
 
 150 
 
Yours, yours are bright and blue, and 
 
 sparkle keen, 
 And shoot their arrows deep within my 
 
 heart; 
 Your pouting lips are rich and ripe with 
 
 smiles. 
 Be not so cruel ! You but lead me on 
 With your persuasive loveliness, then cast. 
 Me from you in your frozen scorn. 
 Be not so heartless! Turn on me once 
 
 more 
 The favors of your lately-spoken love.' 
 
 M 
 
 He seized her hand — She drew it not away. 
 He stooped and kissed her — and she smiled 
 
 on him ; 
 Then laughing, drew herself aside, 
 '^ 'Tis late," she said, ''your father must I 
 
 see. 
 E'er I retire to rest. Come then with me. 
 We'll tell him of our love, he'll give us joy — 
 
 151 
 
His dearest wish is granted. Come 
 The night is chilly, and the lamp burns 
 dim. ' ' 
 
 III 
 
 ''Alas! my child — my little nameless one — 
 Your father has forsaken us. Poor babe! 
 Your fate has cast you in a ruthless world, 
 With none to welcome you, and none to 
 
 fill 
 Your little cup with overflowing love, 
 Except your mother with her broken heart 
 That spills its fondness and its grief 
 
 intense 
 Upon your new-born soul. Ah, helpless 
 
 one! 
 Poor little sinless babe! Your natal-day 
 Breaks gloomily for you and me, alas! 
 To-day I press you for the first sweet time. 
 With all a mother's yearning in my soul. 
 To-day life's greatest joy do I receive, 
 
 152 
 
And dear heart! its greatest sorrow too, 
 Endowed am I, and the same day bereft. 
 Ah babe! my Httle babel — (his child and 
 
 mine ! 
 Forsaken both) your day of birth, alas, 
 Great Heavens! is too — your father's wed- 
 ding day." 
 
 IV 
 
 Ablaze with light, the white-domed palace 
 
 stood ; 
 From end to end it shone with many stars ; 
 Its domes, its spires, its many pinnacles. 
 Were bathed in colored warmth and flash- 
 ing flame. 
 The banquet hall, chief centre of the light, 
 Was filled to overflowing ; many guests 
 ^Vere seated at the marriage feast 
 Of Erza and his new-made bride. 
 
 "We'll drink their health," the old man 
 cried, 
 
 153 
 
And raised his glass on high. ''We'll drink 
 
 their health, 
 My merry friends: The bridegroom and 
 
 his bride! 
 Long life, Eudora • many years 
 Of wedded life and bliss be yours! 
 May time deal kindly with a brow 
 Where beauty's fairest touch is laid! 
 You are a woman, too, of sense, of strength 
 And influence, the very wife I would have 
 
 my Ezra choose. Long life my son, 
 And health and strength wherewith your 
 
 double wealth 
 You may enjoy' Pledge them again my 
 
 friends : 
 Long life unto the bridegroom and his 
 
 bride!" 
 
 The red wine sparkled in his cup. 
 
 As Erza rose to thank the guests 
 
 For the vociferous applause 
 
 With which they hailed his father's speech. 
 
 154 
 
''I thank you friends, your wishes bring us 
 
 joy; 
 
 Most welcome are the sentiments you show, 
 Both one and all, to my fair wife and me ; — 
 1 thank you in her name and in my own. 
 Eudora, — Ah!" 
 
 The red wine shook and fell 
 
 In drops of blood from off the goblet brim. 
 
 What form was that which glided to his 
 
 arms? 
 Whose sigh was that soft fanning on his 
 
 cheek? 
 What odor, faint and sweet, recalled in force 
 That vision to his soul just then? 
 Was it the perfume of the wax-like flowers 
 Reposing in Eudora's bridal wreath? 
 
 Nay, 'twas not orange blossom , shed the 
 
 scent. 
 Nor tuberose, nor yet gardenia flower ; 
 
 155 
 
Those subtle perfumes, in their richness 
 
 spake 
 Of his bewitching bride alone. 
 Once more he raised the cup and drank 
 
 the toast; 
 Again his hand shook and the wine was 
 
 spilled. 
 He took his seat beside his bride, and saw — 
 A single lily, broken from its spray 
 Among her bridal wreaths, and, pure and 
 
 white, 
 Laid down beside him on the banquet 
 
 board. 
 
 V 
 
 "0 Iris, that upon your fair young head 
 
 Your parents' sin should thus be visited! 
 
 Fair as you are and innocent. 
 
 And pure as snowflake dropt from heaven^ 
 
 You're branded in the eyes of all mankind, 
 
 And shut, an outcast, from the homes of 
 men! 
 
 156 
 
Heaven! the great injustice that doth 
 
 sway 
 The cruel judgment of an impure race! 
 
 My child, by right you hold your place 
 
 among 
 The purest and most virtuous of maids ; 
 Your hopes are theirs too, should be sweet 
 
 and high, 
 Your prospects bright as any cloudless sky. 
 All marred alas! your rich young life 
 
 despoiled, 
 The scorned of men, an object of contempt; 
 And this because the one who loves you 
 
 most, 
 Your mother, who would shield you with 
 
 her life, 
 Loved in her youth a faithless one, and 
 
 doomed 
 Your blameless innocence with her great sin ! 
 This misplaced judgment on your head 
 
 has been 
 
 157 
 
To me the cruelest bitterness of all. 
 
 I sought to shield your life, my sweet one, 
 
 from 
 The consequences of your mother's shame, 
 And for that reason dwelt apart 
 As much as might be from our fellow men. 
 I strove to foster in your soul the love 
 It early showed for Nature's loveliness. 
 I smiled when pleased, when birds and 
 
 beasts and flowers 
 And scenic beauty, hills and sky and sea. 
 Drew words of rapture from your youth- 
 ful lips. 
 Full well content was I to dwell with thee, 
 
 My little daughter, in the solitude 
 And peacefulness of quiet country life. 
 And as the years slid by, and from a child 
 To maidenhood I saw you bud. 
 With joy I watched your beauty grow 
 
 158 
 
Like some grand tree in fairness and in 
 
 strength. 
 But with far greater pride I watched your 
 
 soul 
 Encase itself like jewel in chaste gold. 
 I marvelled and rejoiced that you, my child, 
 Born to such wretchedness, should yet 
 
 become 
 One of earth's fairest flowers. With grate- 
 ful pride 
 I watched you, loved you, guided you, 
 
 and taught. 
 Yea, taught you all that I would have 
 
 you be ; 
 And shielded you from shadow of my sin. 
 Lest it should dull your day, and cloud 
 
 with gloom 
 
 The innocence and brightness of your sky. 
 But still I kept you not in ignorance 
 That black deceit and sorrow stalked the 
 world, 
 
 159 
 
That sin could mar the fairest spot on 
 
 earth. 
 And I am glad, for it has shielded you 
 In your great hour of trial and of need. 
 I little thought that even here to you 
 Would come love's semblance to his foe- 
 man's garb ! 
 
 My child ! love visited your mother once, 
 But not in such a wicked, wanton form; 
 He came in all good faith, and afterwards 
 In bitter conflict fell. But unto you 
 Came foulest treachery, and base 
 Dishonorable intent to take 
 Advantage of your innocence and youth. 
 And when he knew he'd won your heart's 
 
 best love 
 He strove to lower you, through it, to sin ; 
 And failing, flung the stigma of your birth 
 Into your unsuspecting ears, and thought 
 When love failed, shame would drive you 
 
 to his arms. 
 
 160 
 
But rooted in your innocence you stood, 
 And then he broke your heart; and cast 
 
 your love 
 In cold contempt and bitter scorn aside, 
 And asked you who would wed a nameless 
 
 maid — 
 Ah Heaven ! that such men should be free 
 
 to live.'' 
 
 '^My mother, you were more bereft than I; 
 I have your faithful love to comfort me. 
 I'm glad I know your secret trouble, for 
 A greater solace will I strive to be. 
 We'll live the more each for the oth'rs 
 
 sake. 
 And in each oth'rs grief forget our own. 
 I'll ask you naught, my mother dear, of 
 
 him 
 To whom we both belong, but we will love. 
 Yes, love him in our thoughts, and e'en 
 
 forgive 
 
 161 
 
The wrong that he has done us. Even he 
 Must think of us sometimes, and with what 
 
 thoughts 
 We cannot say — perhaps the wrong he did 
 Has borne more bitter fruit to him than 
 
 e'en 
 To you or me." 
 
 a 
 
 My Iris! loving child, 
 If your young heart can thus forgive its 
 
 wrongs 
 I cannot then repine, for greater far 
 The wrong done unto you by each of us. 
 Your father loved me truly, once, until 
 Another wantonly destroyed our peace, 
 And wrecked our lives upon a desert 
 
 strand. 
 But my love has not changed ; I love him 
 
 yet 
 As I have always done, and always 
 
 shall." 
 
 162 
 
Vll 
 
 '^ Oh Norma; Norma, my true faithful love! 
 All earth conspires against me for the 
 
 wrong 
 I did you in my base black treachery. 
 Norma, ever closest to my soul 
 Has your pure spirit clung. Throughout 
 
 the years 
 Spent by deed apart from you, your voice 
 Has held sweet converse through the many 
 
 tongues 
 Of earth; the babbling brooks have echoed 
 
 free 
 Your silvery laughter as it used to flow; 
 As falling leaves your loving words have 
 
 dropped 
 In sweet remembrance on my saddened 
 
 brain; 
 Your smile, bright as the. sunbeam's early 
 
 ray 
 Upon the distant hills, has shone on me ; 
 
 163 
 
Your tender sighs, love fraught as sum- 
 mer winds 
 
 With rich perfume, have blended with the 
 breeze ; 
 
 The shades of night recall your dusky 
 hair, 
 
 The swaying trees your lithe and graceful 
 form. 
 
 The mid-day heat speaks ever unto me, 
 
 Of the intensity of your great love. 
 
 But, ah! when moans the wind and howls 
 
 the storm, 
 When falls unceasingly the weeping rain, 
 I see the tears of your great agony 
 Wrung from the desolation of your heart 
 Pierced doubly by the bitter taunts of all 
 Your unrelenting and self-righteous foes; 
 The grey sky darkens and lowers over 
 
 you. 
 And from the shore I hear your mournful 
 
 moan, 
 
 164 
 
And the faint wailing of your nameless 
 child. 
 
 Ah Heaven! the years go by and still my 
 
 soul 
 Is haunted with your grief and with your 
 
 love — 
 For that you love me, well I know; 
 Yours was a heart that could not change 
 
 its tone — 
 Your love once given, was for aye. 
 I knew it, Norma, and my love returned — 
 Nay, it has never left you from the first, 
 Though blinded was I with a fatal spell. 
 The spell of my own base unfaithfulness; 
 But my great sin has found me out, 
 And through the years agone have I been 
 
 yours, 
 Yet fettered by the deed which brought 
 
 me naught 
 Save bitterness and pain. — And now, when 
 
 most 
 
 165 
 
You need protection, powerless must I 
 
 stand 
 And hear both you and her, my own sweet 
 
 child, 
 Cursed by her father e'er her life began, 
 Made scoff of by the foulest of all men. 
 
 Our child! our Iris as you named her, 
 A child and yet a woman grown, most fair 
 In soul, resembling you, fed by the dew 
 Of truth and purity and love. — Ah! earth 
 Has been a friend most merciful to her. 
 The voices which with keen reproach have 
 
 sung 
 Forever in my ears, have brought pure joy 
 To both of you, have nurtured in your souls 
 The comfort of a sweet companionship. 
 
 My sufferings, howsoe'er intense, are well. 
 Aye, fully well deserved — but ! once more 
 To see you. Norma, and to hear your voice 
 
 166 
 
In loving accents breathe forgiveness 
 
 forth — 
 Ah heaven! the thought of it — all Nature 
 
 swells 
 In the anticipation of my joy, 
 Could such a wild thing be. But yet I feel 
 A peaceful calmness soothing my tired brain, 
 The earth looks kindly at me as 
 At last she softens at my grief — 
 What sweet forgiveness have you breathed 
 
 to her 
 And bade her lay upon my fevered soul? 
 Ah me! what lilies spring about my feet? 
 Whence comes this reuniting of our souls? 
 Earth is our comforter! her breast bursts 
 
 forth 
 With pure white lilies — your beloved 
 
 flowers I 
 I gather them, I press them close again — 
 Their breath, your essence, gives me now 
 
 no pain!" 
 
 167 
 
I 81 
 
SEP 9 1903 
 
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