iSiWiPli 
 
 J THE MINTH 
 
 I PARADISE 
 
 .t^\M 
 
Class jESHLii 
 Book ^S N5 
 Copyright ]\^"_ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/ninthparadiselifOOwest 
 
The Ninth Paradise 
 
THE NINTH PARADISE 
 
 LIFE -VERSES NEW AND OLD 
 BY JAMES H. WEST : BOSTON 
 
 In the nine heavens are eight Paradises : 
 Where is the ninth one? In the human breast. 
 
 Rather, O man 1 lack those eight Paradises 
 Than be without the ninth one in thy breast. 
 
 — From the Arabic ♦ 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED : BOSTON J 905 
 
 ^' 
 
Typographically designed and printed by the hand and 
 
 heart of the atithor, in small size for convenient 
 
 use, and done into a book by him, in 
 
 his bookshop, February, J 905, 
 
 rUBftARY of OOi^GRESS 
 Copies f^cceivtk^ 
 
 MAR 26 iyU6 
 
 HUSH ft >uc. woi ; 
 
 
 Copyright, 1905 
 By James H. West 
 
 Privately printed. Copies supplied by the 
 
 James H. West Co^tzpany, Publishers^ Boston. 
 
TO 
 
 fonv in One 'Ucet 
 
 THESE SONGS OF DAWN AND 
 NOONTIDE 
 
Revolve, O Earth ! Tou cannot whirl 
 
 And in your pathway not unfurl 
 
 Rare canvases of sky and sea 
 
 And glowing faces, greeting me. 
 
 Thou too revolve, my circling rhyme ! 
 Not yours the art defying Time, 
 Yet canvases of love you show. 
 Where troubled hearts for rest may go. 
 
 Flow on, thou Ocean at my door ! 
 
 Not here alone your billows roar. 
 
 But ^ mid the ice of Arctic seas 
 
 And round the shining Cyc lades. 
 
 Flow too,- my verse, in mobile tide ! 
 On Being ^ s billows rise and ride. 
 Not thine to thunder round the poles. 
 But haply ye may freshen souls. 
 
 In beauty bloom, O tasseled Corn 
 And Wheatlands that the West adorn ! 
 The sunlight 'j kisses crown your head 
 And ye supply the world with bread, 
 
 O soup s high uplands where I plant ! 
 Life 'j simples are your harvest scant, 
 Happy if seekers in your hills 
 Find herbs for healing human ills. 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Proem (" Revolve, O Earth ! ") i 
 
 Soul's Paradise (Prelude) 7 
 
 Thyself Within 9 
 
 Coin in Any Realm 10 
 
 Zeal 11 
 
 Revelation 12 
 
 Ideal Beauty 13 
 
 To Prize Life's Hardness 14 
 
 Hov^ Sing'st Thou, Then ? 15 
 
 The Path, L, II 16 
 
 Detritus, I., II., III., IV 18 
 
 Residuum, L, II 22 
 
 Cypress-Crowned 24 
 
 Indian Summer 25 
 
 In the Blue Hills in November, I., II. 26 
 
 Life 28 
 
 My Feathered Preacher 33 
 
 Man's Opportunity 34 
 
 World-Trust yj 
 
 Alpha and Omega :i^Z 
 
 The Transcendent Possibility ... 40 
 
 The Kiss of Death 41 
 
 The Passing 42 
 
 Known of Old 44 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Eastward Windows 45 
 
 Who Knows ? 46 
 
 Gone 48 
 
 Sunshine 50 
 
 Life's Beauty 53 
 
 "Prepared" 54 
 
 Beacon-Lights 56 
 
 Search 57 
 
 God's Mariners, L, II 58 
 
 " Signs and Wonders " 60 
 
 Worship 64 
 
 "Of One" 65 
 
 The Mother 66 
 
 To Truth — My God 67 
 
 Soul 68 
 
 Platitudes 69 
 
 Uplifts of Heart and Will 70 
 
 Causation 72 
 
 " In Thy Youth " 73 
 
 Self-Made Crosses 74 
 
 Inw^ard Fires 75 
 
 Forever On 76 
 
 Ungrasped 77 
 
 Spirals 78 
 
 And Last of All I Learn It 79 
 
 " A Breath from the Fields " . . . . 80 
 
 Daffodils 82 
 
 Body and Spirit 84 
 
 Mystic River 86 
 
 In a Country Burial-Ground .... 90 
 
 Sunrise in Codman Park 91 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To My Old Wheel 92 
 
 The Earth at Play 93 
 
 Les Camarades 94 
 
 In Suburban Woods 95 
 
 So Like the Spring She Stands ... 96 
 
 Enchanted Ground 97 
 
 Sonata of the Dragon-fly 98 
 
 forelooking 101 
 
 I Feel that I Know Her 104 
 
 Sweetest Songs are Never Sung . . 108 
 
 " When Young Hearts Love " .... no 
 
 A Cane FROM Gethsemane in 
 
 The Great 116 
 
 Lewis G. Janes 121 
 
 The Schoolmaster's Dream 125 
 
 Heart of Youth 130 
 
 Old Timothy John 143 
 
 College Hill 149 
 
 Confessions OF A Voluptuary .... 152 
 
 In Quest to Knov>^ 156 
 
 Up Higher 158 
 
 Star and Cross 160 
 
 Merry Christmas 162 
 
 God and Man 163 
 
 Sage and Clown 164 
 
 The Sorrowing Wind 167 
 
 The Laughing Philosopher 168 
 
 Lowell 171 
 
 To James Vila Blake 172 
 
 Dream-Counsel 173 
 
 The Wail OF Low Humanity 176 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Justice! Freedom! 178 
 
 The Dayspring 179 
 
 Accelerant 180 
 
 To Raymond L. Bridgman 182 
 
 In Admiration of World-Helpers . . 183 
 
 What Are We Here For ? 184 
 
 Up to the Heights 186 
 
 Good Shall Conquer, Never Fear . . 188 
 Man's Best W^ord God's True Word . 190 
 Earth's Golden Prime Lies Infi- 
 nitely On 192 
 
 Fifty Years 194 
 
 The Loved and Gone 196 
 
 '' Look Back at Times " 198 
 
 Work 200 
 
 Love's Predicament 202 
 
 To THE Muse 203 
 
 *' In Grateful Love " 204 
 
 Finished 205 
 
 L'Envoi — "Meteors" 206 
 
 Index 209 
 
Soul's Paradise 
 
 All zones I searched — in pain — /;/ glee 
 For Paradise, sweet Paradise, 
 
 Its stately towers I ne\r could see : 
 Faint Paradise, far Paradise, 
 
 Still on I toiled courageously 
 
 Toward Paradise, dear Paradise, 
 As I approached, its walls would flee : 
 
 Sad Paradise, fool Paradise, 
 
 I ceased my quest ! It then found me ! 
 
 Close Paradise, self Paradise ! 
 Now hourly, where I go or be 
 
 Is Paradise, souP s Paradise, 
 
Thyself Within 
 
 Amid the ceaseless loss and change 
 Of time and friends and all below, — 
 (O things we love ! how swift ye go ! 
 O things that are ! how new^ and strange !) - 
 Ah, whither shall our spirits range 
 A more eternal life to know ! 
 
 In Syria, Ind, or Egypt sought. 
 
 One answer only have the years 
 
 Sent down to banish doubts and fears : — 
 
 Within thyself must Heaven be caught 
 
 And captive held, — or all is tears ! 
 
 For this saints died and martyrs fought. 
 
 Thyself within ! Thyself within ! 
 O soul ! find here thy strength, thy peace. 
 Pray not that loss and change may cease, - 
 Pray, rather, higher heights to win ! 
 Thy spirit's heavenward wings release. 
 And soar thee where thou art akin ! 
 
Coin in Any Realm 
 
 With place, with gold, with power — oh, 
 
 ask me not 
 With these my little hour of life to blot. 
 A little hour indeed ! and I would fain 
 Its moments spend in what is worth its pain. 
 What traveler would faint through troublous 
 
 lands 
 To gather only what must leave his hands 
 The moment that he takes his homeward 
 
 ship ? 
 Earth's goods and gauds give every man the 
 
 slip; 
 But wealth of Thought, and richer wealth 
 
 of Love, 
 Must pass for coin in any world above. 
 The good to others done while here I strive 
 Is all at last that shall my dying shrive; 
 And, setting sail, my slight self-conquest 's 
 
 store 
 Is all my freight if I shall come to shore. 
 
 lo 
 
Zeal 
 
 To Be [ to Do ! To have the zeal to climb 
 O 'er all the shocks of Fate to zones sublime ! 
 To know that Time's successes, — praise 
 
 and blame, — 
 Are transient iires however fierce they flame ; 
 That soon and late are equal, — death and 
 
 birth, — 
 And love's sweet dominance alone of worth; 
 That toil and struggle and pain's agony 
 Are nothing if the inner eye but see ! 
 To realize, though cumbered in earth's ooze. 
 That there are heights with ever vaster views 
 To which the soul is hasting, freed from 
 
 strife ! — 
 This is the spirit's pole-star — this is life. 
 
 It 
 
Revelation 
 
 What hast thou heard, O soul, with inward 
 
 ear. 
 That makes all written Word to thee seem 
 
 naught? . . . 
 Upon the Shore Eternal I have caught 
 The rhythmic murmur : One are There and 
 
 Here, 
 And life and death alike are void of fear. 
 The Power that out of lowliness hath brought 
 The rose to beauty, and man's spirit fraught 
 With godlike aims, still pulsates every sphere ! 
 
 We live, we love, — we vanish. Still we are. 
 And in eternal round we live and grow. 
 And love again, and rise to more and more. 
 O ye who suffer ! all your grief unbar ! 
 Ye suffer only while ye hug your woe. 
 No tempest shatters on this deeper shore. 
 
 12 
 
Ideal Beauty 
 
 Ideal Beauty ! — seers' exhaustless theme 
 Which hath absorbed their eager spirits quite ! 
 Not beauties merely, — of the lustrous night 
 2\nd iridescent day ; but loftier dream, — 
 Beauty embracing beauties. Fair the gleam 
 Of earliest dawn ; a purifying sight 
 The heavens all diamonded : but more that 
 
 Light, — 
 The heavens' heaven, — of worlds and souls 
 
 the Beam. 
 
 O radiant hill-tops ! unto you mine eyes ! 
 O budding violets ! all my sense ye thrall ! 
 O human comrades ! heart o ' me ye thrill ! 
 But Beauty uncreate in earth or skies. 
 Eternal and divine, — soul's ceaseless call, — 
 To thee my prayer, my passion, and my 
 will ! 
 
 ^3 
 
To Prize Life's Hardness 
 
 To PRIZE life's hardness! find delight in 
 
 ways 
 That scale the hill-crest and the loftier air ; 
 To rouse some bird-song in the desolate 
 
 days 
 When winter holds the forest froz'n and 
 
 bare; 
 To wear the cypress as though laurel- 
 wreathed ; 
 To lure a smile from brows that darkly 
 
 frown ; 
 To say to traits of evil, age-bequeathed, 
 '* Ye may be blotted out ! " — and fight them 
 
 down. 
 To take what Heaven or Circumstance has 
 
 sent 
 And bend it to the making of a man ! — 
 This is the aim whereto my days are blent. 
 My fond endeavor, waking vision, plan. 
 O life ! O earth ! I prize ye for your smart. 
 And for your rudeness I am glad at heart. 
 
 H 
 
How Sing'st Thou, Then? 
 
 The daily round of life — man's broken 
 
 faith. 
 The shock of accident, pain's bitter smart. 
 Love's hunger, disappointment's mocking 
 
 wraith. 
 Bereavement's anguish, sudden passion's 
 
 dart — 
 O hopeful soul of mine ! the daily round 
 Of life for thee is no less hard and black 
 Than other mortals in their passage sound : 
 How^ sing'st thou, then, — so often on the 
 
 rack { 
 And soul makes answer : Would it help my 
 
 state 
 To hail Despair? to curse? or knock the 
 
 breast ? 
 Nay ! but a song will direst ill abate. 
 And bring the burdened heart unbounded 
 
 rest. 
 Each threatening ill I boldly turn to greet. 
 And drown its discord in my music sweet. 
 
 IS 
 
The Path 
 
 I 
 
 Shall I not bear my portion of life's 
 
 pain, — 
 Of mind, — of body, — and withhold all 
 
 cry ? 
 Life hath evolved through pain. The 
 
 studious eye 
 Finds here the path of Being's highest gain. 
 Earth's agonies have been .earth's bliss, not 
 
 bane. 
 Then spring the torture, so I grow^ thereby ; 
 Or so the hope of myriads doth not die. 
 And nobler blessing yet on earth have reign ! 
 
 Many have been w^hose flesh hath hailed the 
 
 torch. 
 Whose souls have w^elcomed contumely's 
 
 ban. 
 Devoutly chanting Freedom's songs the 
 
 v^^hile. 
 Making the gates of martyrdom a porch 
 To highest heaven — the growling good of 
 
 man ! 
 Shall I not also bear, and, bearing, smile? 
 
 i6 
 
"The Path 
 
 II 
 
 The Path I The Path ! It has been one 
 
 of pain. 
 But must it always be so : Must the rise 
 Of men and nations tow'rds the Spirit's 
 
 skies 
 Be ever only under Sorrow's reign: 
 Shall not man's growing insight yet attain 
 A thornless pathway up to Being's prize. 
 And Soul's revealing airs anoint man's eyes 
 Till pangless harmony vs'lrh Good lies plain ? 
 
 O happy age^ when Ignorance lies dead, 
 When Want and Greed have iied their 
 
 noisome place. 
 And Passion, thought - redeemed, seeks 
 
 heights above ! 
 In this sweet Path, O Earth, thy sons be led. 
 Till pain's long rule shall pass, and strength 
 
 and grace 
 Be won through sight o't Beauty and through 
 
 Love. 
 
 17 
 
Detritus 
 
 I 
 
 Could they who till the Mississippi's 
 vales — 
 
 Through thousand thousand leagues far- 
 stretched and fair — 
 
 Know well what wealth of distant mountain 
 stair 
 
 Has crumbled to endow their verdant dales ; 
 
 Could they but hear the pounding of old 
 gales 
 
 In lands of Seneca and Crow and Bear, 
 
 Or count the centuries the sun and air 
 
 Have filched from forest-lands with silent 
 flails : 
 
 Did they thus ken how came their rich black 
 
 earth, — 
 By grain and grain from Gardens of the 
 
 Gods, 
 From skyey lines far yonder out of reach 
 Where Alleghany, Yellowstone, have birth, — 
 What new luxuriance would star their sods. 
 How costHer far would gleam each vine and 
 
 peach ! 
 
 i8 
 
Detritus 
 
 II 
 
 O humankind ! From hills where darkness 
 
 hides. 
 From lands of old where lava- torrents hum, 
 Down river-ways tumultuous thou hast 
 
 come, — 
 With yet small lodgment found where grain 
 
 abides. 
 How slow the centuries ! how bhnd the 
 
 guides ! 
 The multitude — how deaf and halt and 
 
 dumb ! 
 Yet steadily Love' s wealth adds sum to sum. 
 And age by age the flood of Wrong subsides. 
 
 O smiling plains where yet the rose shall 
 
 bloom. 
 The rose of Health, the lilies white of 
 
 Peace, 
 And every golden grain and fruitful vine : 
 For thy blest fields we labor to make room. 
 Where bitterness of Dead Sea fruit shall 
 
 cease. 
 And life grow rich on mingled oil and wine. 
 
Detritus 
 
 III 
 
 And thou — Mvself ! Thou, too, in hills 
 
 unknown 
 Hadst thy far rising, and thy lineage 
 Lies dimly writ on equi-distant page 
 With nebulas ere earth knew sea or zone. 
 Dread mystery of Being ! epochs lone 
 Onworking steadily with mete and gauge 
 To urge old Chaos into Cosmic-stage 
 And bring the Age of Man from Age of 
 
 Stone ! 
 
 Thine ancestry — in body and in mind — 
 The fathers of thy healthfulness or pains. 
 The mothers of thy victories and fears. 
 Oh, who shall probe thy secret depths and 
 
 find! 
 Small clue thou holdest whom to thank for 
 
 gains. 
 Or who it is that weepest in thy tears. 
 
 20 
 
Detritus 
 
 IV 
 
 Did some progenitor who loved the lyre 
 Chant to the sunrise in the ages gray ? — 
 Is that, O Self, whenever thou wouldst pray. 
 Why songs ecstatic in thy soul aspire ? 
 Willful, or blindly, did some other sire 
 Cry to his passions, ^^ Have thy fill to- 
 day"?— 
 Came thus thy torture when thou wouldst 
 
 obey 
 The law of virtue — all thy frame on fire ? 
 
 The Past is gone : it is not dead, but past : 
 Its good aggrandize — Time will ease its 
 
 wrong. 
 The Present and the Future — these thy 
 
 quest ! 
 Live that, when gaze of distant years is cast 
 Back to thy time by those whose lives are 
 
 strong. 
 Their tribute be, ^^ By him the world was 
 
 blest!" 
 
 21 
 
Residuum 
 
 I 
 
 Of all who lived aforetime, — hosts on 
 
 hosts, — 
 Dear dark-eyed babes where reedy Nilus 
 
 swings. 
 Sweet Indian maids who danced to vina- 
 
 strings. 
 White souls who peered through Persia's 
 
 sunrise-posts. 
 Meek hordes who drooped on China's 
 
 swarming coasts, — 
 Dread millions upon millions by the springs 
 Of Niger, Ganges, Volga, — slaves and kings : 
 Of all these now where even are the ghosts ! 
 
 And yet they loved and worshiped, smiled 
 
 and wept. 
 Filled full, as we do, life's allotted page. 
 Dreamed dreams of Good, and hoped to see 
 
 its day. 
 When myriad suns have round the planet 
 
 crept. 
 As we of others, so some curious age 
 May seek our line, and wonder, ** Where 
 
 are They ' ' ! 
 
 22 
 
Residuum 
 
 II 
 
 And lo ! should some indeed, when we 
 
 have passed. 
 Attempt to trace our footprints in earth's 
 
 sands. 
 Think not we shall have wholly fled the 
 
 lands : 
 What once hath been doth somehow ever 
 
 last. 
 Dead dreams of Ind and Egypt still hold 
 
 fast 
 And fetter Thought in more than iron 
 
 bands ; 
 The labor of the earliest artist hands 
 Is with us yet and gives our toil its cast. 
 
 O son of man ! Strong daughter of the 
 
 race ! 
 With you to-day the good or ill resides 
 Of myriad souls who yet shall weep and 
 
 pray. 
 What tinge ye give of white or crimson 
 
 trace 
 To thought and deed eternally abides : 
 Ye still shall live — in saint or casta wav. 
 
 23 
 
Cypress-Crowned 
 
 To-day the winds of March are wild. 
 The swallows huddle 'neath the shore ; 
 Their wings are still — they cannot fly. 
 But yonder, whirled about the sky. 
 The gulls are circling, o'er and o'er: 
 The gull is Ocean's passive child. 
 
 The winds of Fate adversely blow. 
 My friends and fellows do not sing ; 
 They sing but when the waves are calm. 
 I look not always for the palm, 
 I take what laurels Fate may bring : 
 With cypress crowned sometimes I go. 
 
 M 
 
Indian Summer 
 
 Back for a day or two are come the glow 
 And warmth of August, as October wanes. 
 The air is languorous glory. The proud 
 
 stains 
 Of ripened verdure signal high and low 
 O'er hill and dale. Soft showers come and 
 
 go- 
 Forgetting yesterday's sharp frosts and 
 
 pains. 
 
 Earth laughs at losses, rich with sudden 
 
 gains 
 
 As magic Hghts and shadows sink and show. 
 
 <' Come out and visit us ! " the Blue Hills 
 
 call: 
 *^From Rattle Rock or Chickatawbut scaled. 
 See leagues of undulating glory spread ! 
 Hourly my crimson curtains rise and fall ; — 
 O come, nor let my pageant pass unhailed. 
 Resounding only to the fox's tread ! " 
 
 25 
 
In the Blue Hills in November 
 I 
 
 In the Storm of Sunday, November ij. 
 
 Where Kitch-a-makin's rocky front up- 
 heaves 
 
 O'er Sassamon's fair notch in rugged lines. 
 
 The clinging fern-growth full as bravely shines 
 
 This dreary day as when the Spring un- 
 weaves 
 
 The first rare fronds that venture. The 
 wind grieves 
 
 And sleet whirls wild : but th' witch-hazel 
 waves me signs 
 
 That tempests daunt it not, and blackberry- 
 vines. 
 
 Still green and red, run riot through dead 
 leaves. 
 
 In Sassamon, through all the Winter's snows. 
 Those ferns from their bleak crevices peep out 
 And hail the hardy wanderer through the hills. 
 They never fail him. Happy he who knows. 
 Amid the city's lonely-populous rout. 
 Where welcome waits which soothes all 
 earthly ills. 
 
In the Blue Hills in November 
 II 
 
 l7i the Sii7ishhie of S^mday^ Nove^nber 20. 
 
 November — fickle monarch — jocund rules : 
 For what a morning ! — air the air o^ May, 
 In Sassamon the chickadees at play. 
 And zephyrs dancing over ice-clad pools ! 
 With melting frosts Nahanton's visage drools. 
 And on its shriveled breast, so lately gay. 
 Dead stalks of golden-rod and asters sway 
 In ghostly caps and bells — poor Nature's 
 fools. 
 
 Alas ! 'tis but an hour or two of sun. 
 And then the freezing night shall lull again 
 To dreamless sleep this dull half-wakened 
 
 bee ! 
 Yet flaunt, O sumach-plumes, till day is 
 
 done ! 
 Your faith, surviving keenest joy and pain 
 Which life can blend, is eke the faith of me. 
 
 27 
 
Life 
 
 Oft, when I have walked at dawning by the 
 
 margin of the sea. 
 Of the hopefulness of Nature it has sung its 
 
 song to me. 
 
 With a soul tow'rd. light determined I have 
 sought its secret word. 
 
 And its accents have been music I have else- 
 where never heard. 
 
 True, the sea itself is *^ cruel" — never 
 
 shrinks it back for pain. 
 But its tide-falls cleanse the continents, its 
 
 mists bring tender rain. 
 
 So throughout the whole of Nature, — there 
 
 is evidence of good. 
 Bringing progress out of chaos, smiling fields 
 
 where oceans stood. 
 
 And 'tis thus — a meaning finding even in 
 
 its harshest strife — 
 That I follow onward cheerly through this 
 
 wondrous thing called life. 
 
 28 
 
L^ 
 
 Life ! whose warp is ceaseless effort, while 
 
 its web is Progress still. 
 As it was through countless epochs ere the 
 
 world knew human Will. 
 
 Life ! the symphony whose harmony would 
 
 languish into death 
 If it never knew the discord which brings 
 
 out its sweeter breath. 
 
 Life ! the fair and boundless continent, amid 
 
 whose sunlit ways 
 We enact heroic dramas, living nobly-eager 
 
 davs. 
 
 • 
 
 True, our petty ^^ titles'' vanish — but we 
 live not for a '' name " ; 
 
 To exist in added world-good were a thou- 
 sand times the fame ! 
 
 And we know we cannot act a deed of good 
 
 or deed of ill. 
 But its ends, accruing ever, through eternities 
 
 shall thrill. 
 
 29 
 
^^/^ 
 
 He who, aching, tills the corniield, in what- 
 ever valley far — 
 
 Nobler he in manhood's best than any war- 
 left living scar. 
 
 Toiling poet, humble scient, seeking Mother 
 
 Nature's best — 
 In the growing good of ages far outweigh 
 they all the rest. 
 
 Nobler he than lords of wealth, who in the 
 
 smart of modern need 
 Reaches lowly hand of help to bridge the 
 
 stream of human greed. 
 
 So on life's unmeasured rim we nobly act, 
 
 nor seek return : 
 While before us, steadfast ever, Hope's 
 
 eternal torches burn. 
 
 And 'tis worth the struggle! . . . Faithless! 
 
 faithless of our Mother Nature's power 
 To sit down with dull despairings, and to 
 
 hopeless wail an hour ! 
 
 30 
 
Life^ 
 
 Are not we a part of Nature ? Then to us 
 
 the new-age call 
 The long prayer of years to answer, and on 
 
 earth bring Peace for all. 
 
 Here no room for '^ floating foam- wreaths 
 wafted down from moonlit shores ' ' : 
 
 Here the summons to work desperate while 
 the hot sun deadly pours ! 
 
 Brothers ! know ye not men languish for the 
 
 help that you can give ? 
 Spend your years in action ! action ! that a 
 
 dead world may new- live. 
 
 Let who careless will ^^ pledge wine-cup at 
 the banquet or the rout ' ' : 
 
 Here our place is — to bring joyance to 
 those hungry eyes without. 
 
 Oh, the happiness of living, when we claim 
 
 a lofty work ! 
 'Tis in faithRil future Doing that the good 
 
 of man shall lurk. 
 
 31 
 
Life 
 
 Life shall then have purpose for us — we 
 
 shall see it is divine; 
 And in fact, not dreamings longer, shall the 
 
 '^ flower-decked Eden" shine. 
 
 Not in vain we seek Life's meaning. If we 
 
 lift our heedful eyes 
 Voices everywhere enthrall us — the whole 
 
 universe replies. 
 
 32 
 
My Feathered Preacher 
 
 All day my maples in the blast have bowed ; 
 The sleet howls lustily through shivering 
 
 limbs ; 
 Yet e'en though ice the creaking branches 
 
 rims. 
 There with high hardihood he hovereth 
 
 proud — 
 Busy and bustling ! Full and sweet and loud 
 His warbling cheer the wintry whistling dims. 
 So amid persecution rose the hymns 
 Of dearest trust from martyrs newly vowed. 
 
 Soul of my soul ! for secret, sheltered nook 
 Must thou forever pray when blasts are nigh 
 And howUng passions, seeking thee, stream 
 
 by ? 
 Nay, O my soul, in the gale's teeth dare 
 
 look ! 
 Still fighting, sing ! lift undismayed thy din : 
 Only undaunted hearts scale heaven and 
 
 win. 
 
 33 
 
Man's Opportunity 
 
 I 
 
 He does not think — he does not know : 
 A wave is breaking on the shore ; 
 A wave surcharged with richest ore 
 
 And tinged with deepest golden glow. 
 
 He heeds it not — he does not know : 
 It scatters pearls athwart his path ; 
 It bathes as in a purple bath 
 
 The boundaries where his feet must go. 
 
 He heeds it not — he passes by : 
 It breaks, it bursts upon the strand. 
 Its wealth is squandered on the sand. 
 
 Its pearls in shattered fragments fly. 
 
 II 
 
 He does not know — he does not guess 
 A flower is blossoming at his feet ; 
 A flower is oiFering incense sweet — 
 
 And fading in the wilderness. 
 
 34 
 
Man's Opportunity 
 
 He heeds it not — he passes on : 
 Its purple petals droop and die ; 
 Its wealth is wasted on the sky : 
 
 It might have bloomed by Helicon. 
 
 Ill 
 
 He does not know — he does not dream : 
 A star is flaming in the sky ; 
 A star that passeth swiftly by, — 
 
 A star of high, transcendent gleam ! 
 
 He sees nor feels its cheering light : 
 It glows and gleams indeed, to-day ; - 
 To-morrow, deepening into gray. 
 
 Shall find it vanished in the Night. 
 
 IV 
 
 He does not seek — he does not think : 
 A fountain gushes at his hand : 
 Its wealth he does not understand : 
 
 He looks nor moves, nor stoops to drink, 
 
 35 
 
Man's Opportunity 
 
 V 
 
 He does not think — he does not know : 
 A song is trembling through the air ; 
 A bird is warbling anthems rare 
 
 And murmuring lyrics sweet and low. 
 
 He hears nor heeds — he passes on : 
 And wings are raised — a birdling flies ; 
 The trembling cadence fails and dies : 
 
 The anthem and the bird are gone. 
 
 VI 
 
 He does not know — he does not take. 
 A wave, a flower, a star, a song, 
 A fountain — all to him belong. 
 
 Oh, when shall he arise — awake ! 
 
 36 
 
World -Trust 
 
 Through thickest sea-coast fog we ploughed 
 
 our way. 
 With added darkness of the night around ; 
 A watery rod or two was all the bound 
 O'er which on either side our eyes might 
 
 play. 
 The ebb and rising of the billows gray 
 Monotonously smote, with scarce a sound : 
 But overhead shone stars on bluest ground. 
 That guided us to safety in the Bay. 
 
 O stars of Hope ! that in the human heart 
 Have always somewhere shone with light 
 
 undimmed ! 
 Through hours begloomed ye strike your 
 
 cheering dart. 
 And with the night-songs trusting saints have 
 
 hymned 
 Cause our anxiety and pain to flee. 
 In peace on-leading us o'er life's dim sea. 
 
 37 
 
Alpha and Omega 
 
 Dim in the dark Eonian caves. 
 
 Deep in the Night of earliest Time, 
 
 There trembled low beneath the waves 
 
 A mimic protoplasmic sphere, — 
 
 A globule small, whose curve severe 
 Bore in its heart a germ sublime. 
 
 Naught else in all the universe 
 
 Such germ possessed as glowed in this ; 
 A germ whose warmth would soon disperse 
 The gloom which bound earth's silent corse : 
 The germ sublime of deathless Force ! — 
 
 Earth's mystery of mysteries. 
 
 Lichens and moss now found a place — 
 Or whence or how, what tongue may tell ? 
 
 And ferns and grasses filled the space 
 
 Where erst dull clods and dust had been ; 
 
 While rustling leaves, with lips unseen. 
 Called to the Ages, '^ All is well." 
 
 Lizards and dragons, monstrous forms. 
 
 Sights that men's eyes would shrink to 
 see ! 
 Shrieks above elemental storms ! — 
 
 38 
 
Alpha and Omega 
 
 x\h I through wha: pain was life evolved 1 
 Onlv through death and conquest solved, — 
 Struggle and blood and agony. 
 
 But see I a kindlier hour should come ! 
 
 Rapine and force sank, shrinking, low ; 
 Thought, invention, showed fairer sum. 
 Hither came Man I — yes, crude indeed. 
 But climbing to heart and mind with speed. 
 
 On him the gods their best bestow. 
 
 Love, aspiration, — powers sublim^e I 
 
 Sympathy, help, — these Now have place, 
 O for the years of Coming Time ! — 
 What shall they bring oi better yet : 
 Courage ! not yet man's sun is set. 
 Good ii in store for all the race. 
 
 39 
 
The Transcendent Possibility 
 
 Amid a treeless prairie vast 
 
 A horseman stayed at set of sun : 
 
 With eyes far strained o'er shadows dun 
 
 He swept the waste his steed had passed, 
 
 x^nd onward, o'er the path to be. 
 And there and here, on every side. 
 But naught in Nature's round repHed; 
 
 His gaze met blank obscurity. 
 
 Yet, ah, the man w^as Nature's child ! 
 He trusted Her who gave him birth : 
 He laid him on the flower-spread earth. 
 
 Amid the grewsome vastness wild. 
 
 He knew not he should wake again : 
 To wake or sleep he knew was good. 
 In love with air and sea and wood 
 
 His eyes he shut with sweet Amen. 
 
 His arm for pillow — this was all ; 
 Uncovered lay he on earth's breast: 
 But rested he with gracious rest. 
 
 And o'er him gleamed the star-set wall. 
 
 40 
 
The Kiss of Death 
 
 My little child lay moaning as she slept. 
 What dream of evil through her slumbers 
 
 crept 
 I knew not — but her forehead I caressed. 
 And to her trembling lips my own I pressed. 
 Smiling, she woke. Her' grief had taken 
 
 wing. 
 The kiss had power to make her sorrow 
 
 sing. 
 
 Is here a parable ? Is life a dream r 
 Doth all our anguish not exist, but seem ? 
 Daily — not sleeping, but awake — we moan ! 
 Yes! but the guest-room — it is Nature's 
 
 own ; 
 And may it be that she, when ends our 
 
 breath. 
 Wakes us to Peace with that sweet kiss of 
 
 Death ? 
 
 41 
 
The Passing 
 
 A MYSTERY? — true; yet I fear not to go. 
 Nothing harsh can be. Indeed, when I know 
 
 We are never alone ; that within us and out 
 Throbs ever the Might that engirds us about ; 
 
 That the Power which developed us reigns 
 
 through all, 
 A limitless Sea — not a vertical Wall ; 
 
 When I learn how the Forces of Death and 
 
 Life 
 Intercircle forever, yet never at strife; 
 
 When I know that the Order and Beauty 
 
 around 
 With the Life of the All-Life ever abound ; 
 
 That every bird on every tree 
 
 Is thrilled a-through with God's own glee; 
 
 That every gleam from human eye 
 
 Is a gleam of the All-Soul's Mystery, — 
 
 42 
 
The Passing 
 
 Fain would I leave this house of clay. 
 To travel with God on his endless way. 
 
 To whirl with the atom, or dance with the 
 
 light. 
 Or glow in a star to illumine earth's night. 
 
 Things fail not. Though earth - life has 
 
 passage like dreams 
 The Order Eternal still pulses and streams. 
 
 We know not ^^soul" passes ! We only can 
 
 know 
 That pass if it must, 'tis to else it will go. 
 
 It cannot be lost. It is bound up with All ; 
 And, while anything lasts, shall the Soul of 
 things fall? 
 
 Come, Death ! For him thou hast terrors 
 
 nor pains 
 Who deems, though he vanish, he deathless 
 
 yet reigns. 
 
 43 
 
Known of Old 
 
 Where walks he — my companion known 
 
 of old. 
 Star bright, with whom I wandered arm in 
 
 arm? 
 Each shielded each at the approach of harm. 
 Each counseled each with loving wisdom bold. 
 He vanished, and the summer lane grew cold. 
 For him, for me, life, death, knew no alarm ; 
 No less, on hill, and by the river farm, 
 I walk alone, while he the Way of Gold. 
 
 Where now he treads what sunrise-glories 
 
 burn ? — . 
 I dream in vain his pathway through the 
 
 blue. 
 Yet feel 'tis on and on, through endless mile. 
 And doth he wait for me at some fair turn. 
 With eager eye expecting me in view ? 
 Be mine to make the meeting worth the 
 
 while ! 
 
 44 
 
Eastward Windows 
 
 No MORE I see them at the accustomed 
 
 pane, — 
 Two glowing faces, fair and full of glee. 
 That always smiled and signaled friendlily 
 As I went daily down the morning lane. 
 Each night when I returned, I looked in vain ; 
 The sash was dark, nor could I ever see 
 Or boy or girl to wave or welcome me : 
 Yet with the morrow they were there again ! 
 
 The morning now is but another night : 
 But all the lane still rings with songs not sad, 
 Down flung from skies with this new bliss 
 
 increased ; 
 And oft I think, since they have taken 
 
 flight. 
 
 Of two bright morning faces making glad 
 Some casement fronting the Eternal East. 
 
 45 
 
Who Knows ? 
 
 What sailor knows, beneath the wave he 
 lies on. 
 
 The secrets of the sea? 
 Who fathoms Time, beyond the dim horizon 
 
 That bounds Eternity ? 
 
 Who knows the depths of the Eternal Spaces ? 
 
 The course the comets run? 
 Who knows what light illuminates men's 
 faces 
 
 Beyond the moon and sun? 
 
 Daily we wonder what they may be doing 
 
 In that fair heaven afar : 
 Nor deem we that their steps are but pursuing 
 
 The space from star to star. 
 
 *' There will be Light ! " Still sounds the 
 Voice Eternal. 
 
 And aye the Light will be. 
 New stars, new suns, new satellites supernal 
 
 Blaze forth continually. 
 
 Whose hands, it may be, clothe the high 
 Sierras 
 Of those new worlds with white ? 
 
 46 
 
Pf^ho Knows? 
 
 Whose kindly fingers dissipate the terrors 
 Of their Antarctic night? 
 
 Invention fails ; imagination falters ; 
 
 We may not read the sky : 
 But this we know : Anigh the heavenly altars. 
 
 Affection cannot die ! 
 
 They love us still ! the beautiful and tender r 
 
 Who early, one by one. 
 Have fled earth's darkness for supernal 
 splendor. 
 
 Earth ' s shadows for the sun ! 
 
 O Angel-Sisters ! have us in your keeping ! 
 
 We know ye are not dead ! 
 We know our hearts might hear, were they 
 not sleeping. 
 
 Your pinions overhead ! 
 
 O Angel- Mothers ! beautiful as Morning, 
 
 And brighter than the Day ! 
 Our earthly doubts with heavenly grace 
 adorning. 
 
 Ye steal our hearts away ! 
 
 47 
 
Gone 
 
 From my sleep I start, and gaze without. 
 What is this load — this load of doubt — 
 This weight, that presses so hard and deep 
 Upon my heart that I cannot sleep ? 
 That presses so hard — with such a heat — 
 That my burning heart will scarcely beat r 
 
 Sunk is the star that beckoned me on ! 
 
 She whom I loved is gone, is gone ! 
 
 I gaze from my window — I gaze on high : 
 Coldly the moon slants down the sky — 
 Cold as the cold and icy weight 
 That lies in the Valley Desolate — 
 That lies in the valley of death and gloom 
 Where earth for its beautiful bride made 
 room. 
 
 Sunk is the star that beckoned me on ! 
 
 She whom I loved is gone, is gone ! 
 
 Faint on my bed falls the light of stars : 
 Red at the door of his tent stands Mars — 
 Red as the lurid light that throws 
 Vesuvius' shade on Italian snows. 
 
 48 
 
Gone 
 
 Faintly it falls on her lowly mound. 
 And reddens the landscape all around. 
 
 Sunk is the star that beckoned me on ! 
 
 She whom I loved is gone, is gone ! 
 
 what to my heart remains of good ! . . . 
 
 1 mind that when last by her side I stood. 
 She pointed her finger — she pointed high : 
 ^' I die," she murmured, '^ yet shall not 
 
 die!" 
 That finger uplifted I still can see ; 
 And it beckons, eternally beckons to me. 
 She whorri I loved — ah no ! not gone ! 
 The star that once beckoned still beckons 
 me on ! 
 
 49 
 
Sunshine 
 
 Wohlauf ! es nift der Sonnenschein 
 Hinaus in Gottes freie Welt ! " 
 
 — TiECK : Zuversicht. 
 
 O SLUGGISH slumberer, awake ! — 
 
 The sunlight calls thee ! 
 Earth's sullen clods beneath thee quake; 
 The promised buds of springtide break ; 
 The green sedge quivers by the lake. 
 No longer winter's gloom appalls thee; — 
 But out where birds and blossoms wake, 
 God's sunlight calls thee ! 
 
 The bobolink beside the brook 
 
 Sings, never weary ; 
 The sobbing pine, so long forsook. 
 Is loud with caw of crow and rook ; 
 And where the snow-hung elder shook. 
 And sighed through all the winter dreary. 
 The robins, as in ^sop's Book, 
 Chant loud and cheery. 
 
 Within the woodland green and wild. 
 
 The fern is springing; 
 And near the maiden-hair so mild. 
 
 50 
 
Sunshine 
 
 And golden mosses high up-piled. 
 The violet. Nature's favorite child. 
 Its fragrance on the air is flinging. — 
 How often hath its breath beguiled 
 My heart to singing ! 
 
 O weary soul ! beset by toil 
 
 From dawn till gloaming ! — 
 
 Like Bunyan's Pilgrim, flee the broil ! 
 
 Forsake the city's ceaseless moil; 
 
 Come out, and tread the tender soil 
 Of Beulah, where no footstep, roaming. 
 
 Fails of the priceless wine and oil 
 Of Nature 's foaming ! 
 
 Pale students ! poring over books 
 
 And musty Latin ! — 
 Shakespeare read sermons in the brooks ! 
 Through far Ionian seas and nooks 
 Old Homer, godlike in his looks. 
 Roved singing of earth's robe of satin ! 
 And Virgil's shepherds timed their crooks 
 
 To Nature's matin ! 
 
 O aching feet ! enforced to tread 
 Hot urban places ! — 
 
 si 
 
Sunshine 
 
 That fain would wander, fain would wed 
 The velvet of some mossy bed ! 
 Ye sometime, as the Prophet said. 
 Shall rove the wide Eternal spaces ! — 
 Rove sometime with the happy dead. 
 In heavenly places ! 
 
 O sorrowing heart ! — for him, for her. 
 
 Who left thee weeping ! 
 Canst thou not deem this wondrous stir 
 Of springtide leaf and gossamer 
 A mild angelic minister? — 
 This wakefulness, where all was sleeping. 
 Is it not heaven's own messenger 
 
 To stay thy weeping? 
 
 Shall not the clouds that roll afar 
 
 On life's horizon 
 Flee too, like winter's broken bar? 
 And in their stead a ghttering star 
 Arise, that Eons shall not mar? 
 This is the hope our heart relies on ; — 
 And such shall be ! when rolls ajar 
 
 Heaven's fair horizon ! 
 
 52 
 
Life's Beauty 
 
 Oh, when often in my bosom 
 
 Glows a longing for life's Beauty, 
 
 Something in me whispers, — urging, - 
 ' Tis incentive to life ' s Duty ! 
 'Tis high impetus to Dutv. 
 
 And I know the voice speaks truly. 
 For high peace finds never mortal 
 
 Save in strong, sublime endeavor 
 Worshipful at Duty's portal; 
 
 Steadfast, meek, at Duty's portal, 
 
 Flame, then, in my bosom. Beauty ! 
 Flame and glow with fire supernal. 
 
 Thou shalt lead me — willing go I ! — 
 To life's blessedness eternal, 
 • Unto joys ideal, eternal. 
 
 >3 
 
^' Prepared " 
 
 I KNOW not why good men should say 
 That he who dreams a dream divine. 
 And seeks it, soulful, does not ** pray '* ! 
 That he who still sees Beauty shine 
 Through all life's ill, and flowers entwine 
 With solar glow to hide earth's gray. 
 Is drunk with ^'irreligious" wine — 
 Because he does not ** pray " ! 
 
 Nor know I why good men should sigh. 
 Deeming him far from good and God 
 Who yet in darkness hears Love's cry; 
 In lambent orb and lowliest sod 
 Progressive Purpose can descry, 
 A Presence broad and deep and high, — 
 Finding alike in soul and clod 
 A '^ very present " God ! 
 
 I know not why good men have sought 
 To speak him ** Christless " who yet goes 
 In paths the Galilean taught, — 
 Seeking what he his neighbor owes. 
 
 54 
 
cc 
 
 Prepared'' 
 
 Striving poor lives w^ith misery fraught 
 To heal of something of their woes. . . . 
 ^* But ah ! he cries not ^ Lord/ — and ought ! 
 This man of ^ Christless ' thought ! ' ' 
 
 Well I o'er him flushes golden sky ! 
 Better than night he loves the day. 
 He dwells in the ^^ divine," say I. 
 And oh, he has no need to pray — 
 More than his w^ant is the supply ! . . . 
 So, ^' doing the Will," and ^^ knowing the 
 
 Way," 
 He Stan deth needy world -souls nigh, — 
 '^ Prepared " to live or die. 
 
 3> 
 
Beacon-Lights 
 
 The brilliant beacon-lights that bound the 
 
 shore 
 Guide safe the storm-tossed mariner to port. 
 What matter, green or gold, or tall or short ? 
 What matter, shown from rock, or bluiF, or 
 
 tower ? 
 He questions not their color, size, or power. 
 But heeds their warning with his every 
 
 thought : 
 He heeds their warning, and the ship is 
 
 brought 
 To home and harbor in a happy hour. 
 
 Along the headlands of life's turbulent sea 
 Aye gleam undimmed the guiding lights of 
 
 Love ! 
 What matter, Jew, Greek, Christian, if the 
 
 Light 
 Be followed faithfully ? It then shall be 
 A Guiding Light indeed, to Ports above : 
 A pillar of cloud by day, of fire by night. 
 
 56 
 
Search 
 
 What thought of God have hungering men 
 
 to-day 
 That they themselves have not sought out 
 
 and found r 
 What spot of earth is christened holy 
 
 ground 
 But where high souls have walked their 
 
 human way ? 
 What laws and precepts by which sages say 
 Life's good is best set free and evil bound. 
 But came from fine endeavors proven sound 
 By loves and agonies of young and grav r 
 
 All faith, all knowledge springs in man's 
 
 own heart, 
 And from his partial sight he molds his 
 
 creed. 
 Not thinking he shall wider know and see ! 
 Henceforth mankind shall learn this wiser 
 
 part : — 
 Who honors Truth in thought and word 
 
 and deed. 
 He best, O mighty Marvel, worships Thee. 
 
 57 
 
God's Mariners 
 
 Written for " Unity " (Chicago), on its Twett- 
 tieth Birthday, March j, i8g8. 
 
 I 
 
 TWENTY YEARS PAST. 
 
 A VOYAGE such as vessel never knew. 
 Forth-starting on a cruise but dimly planned. 
 Provisioned meagerly, though ably manned. 
 And steadfast, as each heavenly beacon grew 
 Revealing whither — through horizons new ! 
 A course with rocks and shoals on every 
 
 hand. 
 And leading, some have feared, to No- 
 Man 's-Land! — 
 Though ever, overhead, God's heavens were 
 blue! 
 
 Yes, and God's winds have kissed the prow 
 
 through all. 
 Till crew and steersman feel the chilly air 
 Grow warm at last, and thus have strength 
 
 to cope 
 With what may yet remain of tidal wall. 
 Far in the wake has faded Point Despair ; 
 Yonder, ahead, looms up the cape. Good 
 
 Hope. 
 
 58 
 
God's Mariners 
 
 II 
 
 TWENTY YEARS TO COME 
 
 On shore — O hungry eyes with yearning 
 
 gaze ! 
 On shore — O eager and beseeching cries ! 
 ** Sail on, ye sailors, where high dreams 
 
 arise, ' ' 
 They call, ^' and bring us to the better days ! 
 We droop amid these sordid works and ways. 
 Where social greed, and hungering for the 
 
 skies. 
 Becloud men's sight to Being's loftiest prize ! 
 Sail on — till entered are God 's palm-fringed 
 
 bays!" 
 
 Yea, gallant barque ! though twenty years ye 
 
 sail. 
 Add twenty more, and twenty more to that. 
 And hungry eyes on shore shall follow still ! 
 For yet shall spirits faint, and faces pale. 
 And many a human dream fall prone and 
 
 fiat. 
 Ere we have fathomed truly God's high will. 
 
 59 
 
"Signs and Wonders" 
 
 I ASK not *' miracles " to guard my faith 
 And keep it from the clutch of grim 
 Despair ! 
 To me a miracle is but a wraith. 
 
 While Gracious Fact is mine in earth and 
 air. 
 
 In Nature 's Constancy I find my joy ; 
 
 I know that Good has been, will always be. 
 And now in manhood, even as a boy, 
 
 I ask but Natural Opportunity. 
 
 I ask but still the rosy light of morn. 
 
 The strength that after rest makes labor 
 sweet ; 
 
 To know the simpler deeds that life adorn. 
 That I may follow with glad, willing feet. 
 
 Beauty doth everywhere paint sights for me. 
 Raising the dead at heart to life divine ; 
 
 I view the dawn-winds walking on the sea. 
 Suns in rich vineyards making water wine. 
 
 Concentric circles of earth, wave, and sky. 
 Cut by the far horizon's purple rim, — 
 
 60 
 
cc 
 
 Signs and Wonders '' 
 
 All come as miracle, — as such go by, — 
 And all compel from me the grateful hymn. 
 
 The laws Mind follows to Thought's far- 
 thest zone 
 In conquest over Nature's secrets vast, — 
 These, too, I know who studieth makes his 
 own. 
 Gaining rare triumphs that his life outlast. 
 
 The fossils in the rocks I count my prize, — 
 
 More eloquent by far than o'erwrit 
 
 ^^Text"! 
 
 They are God's own Epistle for man's eyes. 
 
 Not records ^{ij scribbling monks have 
 
 vext. 
 
 And yonder Lights ! . . . O tireless-swinging 
 Orbs! 
 Not in a trillion years one hair's-breadth 
 free 
 From paths the Energy which all absorbs 
 Marked out from vast eternities for thee ! — 
 
 A ^' Bible " ye indeed ! wherein I scan 
 Forces which never tire, retrace, nor 
 bend ; — 
 
 6i 
 
(C 
 
 Signs and Wonders '' 
 
 From which I solve, or seem to solve, for 
 Man, 
 The law on -urging him to some fine end. 
 
 Nor these alone, but thousand sounds and 
 signs. 
 Around, beneath, within, in soul and 
 clod, — 
 A child's sweet kisses. Summer's purpling 
 vines, — 
 Alike proclaim the ever-present God. 
 
 So onward go I, silent in the crowd ; 
 
 I hear the clamor, but I answer not. 
 What harm to me their whisperings low or 
 loud! 
 
 The Law Eternal can they change a jot ? 
 
 And for the rest, — our own small arc of 
 Time, — 
 Though little know I, much I hope and 
 trust. 
 At any rate, mine nozc^ the Power Sublime, 
 Not into cycles dead and distant thrust ! 
 
 Yea, for the rest I am content to know 
 For ages yet shall Spring nor Autumn cease ; 
 
 62 
 
(C 
 
 Signs and Wonders *' 
 
 While, east or west, — where'er I turn or 
 
 go,— 
 A Voice in pines, in wheat-lands, whis- 
 pers '^ Peace ! " 
 
 Let others in dim child-world dreamings 
 dwell. 
 Still bolstering bravely up their marvelous 
 tales. 
 Roaming through Purgatories, Heavens, and 
 Hell 
 With faith that must have '^miracles " or 
 faik! — 
 
 Ample for me is Nature's hourly wealth. 
 Her Present wonders, — helpful, lavish, 
 sure ! 
 With these, and open eyes, my soul finds 
 health ; 
 Through life and death my victories en- 
 dure. 
 
 63 
 
Worship 
 
 Must fear indeed accept what love denies. 
 And faith receive what reason bids disdain ? 
 Can priestly word wash out hate's caustic 
 
 stain. 
 Or cross or shambles purge a soul of lies ? 
 O signs and symbols by which conscience 
 
 buys 
 An anaesthetic for its soul-birth pain. 
 Too long ye charm a world which seeks to 
 
 gain 
 A listless mansion in the dubious skies. 
 
 Arouse, O child of mystery unguessed ! 
 Put goodness in thy life and in thy creed ! 
 To-day well-lived best wins the day to be 
 And linds it in undreamed-of beauty dressed. 
 Tradition's staif is but a broken reed. 
 While love and truth uphold the skies and 
 sea. 
 
 64 
 
"Of One" 
 
 Jesus, thy teachings oft have made me smart 
 When I have failed in love for fellow-men. 
 Siddartha, grief has been my portion when 
 Thy selflessness has taught my feverish heart 
 Its vain ambitions. When some coward 
 
 start 
 Has seized me, thou, Mohammed, then 
 Hast stirred to bravery. Thy moral ken, 
 Confucius, spurs me when I fail life's better 
 
 part. 
 
 O saviors many, of time old and new ! — 
 
 Alike ye lead from darkness to the light. 
 
 O words as high within my own calm 
 
 breast ! — 
 No less ye summon Wisdom to pursue. 
 Still sound, O clarions oi love and right. 
 Till I win Freedom serving your behest. 
 
 65 
 
The Mother 
 
 Why should we limit Power and Mystery 
 To one poor pronoun of our human speech r 
 Has deity no higher, wider reach 
 Than we can grasp when glibly we say 
 
 ^^He"? 
 The fertile universe at least is ^* She," 
 Fruitful in brain and pinion, flower and 
 
 peach ; — 
 And ever dumb when we its face beseech. 
 It seems but '^ It," it stands so silently. 
 
 O mighty Mother ! — foremost art thou this ! 
 And we thine offspring, clinging to thy 
 
 breast ! 
 Thou givest us the stars and streams for toys ; 
 In thy benignant smile alone is bliss. 
 Though ignorant, in thy wise calm we rest. 
 And when thou frownest, darkened are our 
 
 joys. 
 
 66 
 
To Truth — My God 
 
 Till ages fail. 
 
 And love receives its own ; 
 Till Eons pale. 
 
 And faith is wiser grown. 
 Be Truth my God. 
 
 I may not always live 
 
 My high Ideal, 
 But high resolve I give. 
 Come woe or weal. 
 To Truth — my God. 
 
 And thus,'! feel. 
 
 My soul shall never fail ! 
 The buds that heal 
 
 Pass not with frost or hail, — 
 They grow to more ! 
 
 And though eye may be dim. 
 
 And sense be weak. 
 My heart still chants its hymn. 
 
 Soul joy doth speak — 
 God more and more. 
 
 67 
 
Soul 
 
 Who that perceives the mocking flare of 
 sense. 
 Or catches vision of the orb of Love, 
 Can doubt which glow shines sweetest 
 recompense — 
 The valley murk, the unwavering star 
 above ? 
 
 Yet oh, the paradox ! that those in shame 
 Should dream that they alone encompass 
 bliss. 
 
 When 'tis but fitful, phosphorescent flame 
 To soul-exalting planet-ray like this ! 
 
 vision fair of oneness with the Whole ! 
 In thee alone is blessedness and truth ; 
 
 Insight and strength are thy sweet gifts, O 
 Soul, 
 And lofty promise of eternal youth. 
 
 Give me to rove in the supremer air ! 
 
 Give me the mountain-side to toil and 
 climb ! 
 
 1 shall breathe easier and freer there, 
 
 I shall die calmer on those heights sublime. 
 
 68 
 
Platitudes 
 
 The froth of pleasure quickly sinks to lees, 
 Irs taste soon brackish on the dullest tongue. 
 Only the highest strife brings highest ease ; 
 From self alone is selfhood's victory wrung. 
 
 In every prophet-path rude crosses lift, 
 And nails are ready upon every hand ; 
 Spear-heads and vinegar are all earth's gift. 
 And quarreling the hooting rabble stand. 
 
 Who seeks for blessedness need only drink : 
 Want much, ye thirst, however fast ye 
 
 pour; 
 Seek peace, all heaven is yours before ye 
 
 think : 
 All that makes hell ye knew full well 
 
 before. 
 
 Out on such cursed platitudes ! but, — 
 
 mark, — 
 The truth they hold makes Being bright or 
 
 dark. 
 
 69 
 
Uplifts of Heart and Will 
 
 Uplifts of eager heart and earnest will ! 
 
 Pulsings of soul ! — 
 These, in their high, unintermittent surge. 
 
 Make Being whole. . . . 
 
 Surgings of Spirit tow'rds the unknown 
 Source 
 
 Whence cometh all ; 
 Surgings of Will to Duty, fair or hard. 
 
 Whatever befall: 
 
 Ambitions high, to follow nobly out 
 
 The earthly Real ; 
 Resolves no less to breathe heaven's purer 
 air — 
 
 The far Ideal ! 
 
 Strugglings for self — to win and nobly use 
 
 Time's fairer good; 
 Strugglings sublime for others — to make fact 
 
 Man's brotherhood ! 
 
 Not surgings for an hour to rush and roar. 
 And then subside; 
 
uplifts of Heart and Will 
 
 But higher, holier surgings, that shall pour 
 In endless tide. . . . 
 
 These are the Race, the Goal, the Home, 
 the God, 
 
 In all earth's strife ; 
 These are, and shall be ever, soul of soul. 
 
 And life of life. 
 
 71 
 
Causation 
 
 She played, an innocent darling, 'mid the 
 
 flowers ; 
 Hid ivy foully poisoned her. She sang, 
 A child, on forest edge, — till suddenly rang 
 Her agony from bee-stings 'mid the bowers. 
 Grown to fair maidhood, golden were her 
 
 hours ! 
 Love beatific, holy, filled her breast. 
 A tempter met her. Why reveal the rest ? 
 Above her wave-lapt corse no marble towers. 
 
 Happy and prosperous one, by Fortune 
 
 crowned ! 
 Thee doth thy '^virtue" keep? And was 
 
 it ^'sin " 
 That wrecked her of her all? Nay, world, 
 
 begin 
 More wisely Nature 's secret depths to sound. 
 Man needs a knowledge not yet taught in 
 
 schools. 
 Seek out yet more her laws. Causation rules. 
 
 72 
 
"In Thy Youth" 
 
 What is true manliness? With banner's 
 
 sweep 
 To flaunt abroad that powers have come full 
 
 tide ? — 
 With scornful lawlessness to scatter wide 
 Sweet secrets you and God alone should keep r 
 
 To come full-orbed, yet mightily to know 
 The Titan thrill of holding power in thrall — 
 This is true manliness ! and this the call 
 For thee high-flung which diamond trumpets 
 blow; 
 
 73 
 
Self-Made Crosses 
 
 After the palm and cheer — the scoiF and 
 cross ! 
 
 But his were love and innocence who bore. 
 
 Ah ! what of those, the willfhl, 'mid the roar 
 
 Of passionate ills that mark their pain and loss ! 
 
 Sinning, transgressing, they seem to wear the 
 crown ; 
 
 Joyous they laugh, and dream, ^^ 'T is vic- 
 tory." 
 
 Ah ! but the awful sequence of their glee 
 
 Drags them and strips them, fainting, shud- 
 dering, down. 
 
 There — the world's helper, pierced by 
 
 s corners who 
 With evil hands uplifted him, the pure : 
 Here — the maimed throng whose mangled 
 
 lives endure 
 Only the nails themselves drove thoughtless 
 
 through. 
 Ah, even than that central scaffold drear. 
 Sadder the crosses for ourselves we rear ! 
 
 74 
 
Inward Fires 
 
 My heart would sing for joy ! 
 
 A friendly hand is reached 
 And lights earth's dull annoy ! 
 Kindness is at me flung. 
 Better than song e'er sung 
 
 Or sermon ever preached. 
 
 ' T is not the gift I prize : 
 
 It is the heart behind. 
 O men and women ! rise 
 To understand how more 
 Is love than golden ore ! 
 
 Too long men's souls are blind. 
 
 With nobleness meet all ! 
 
 Thou hast undreamed return 
 In lifting feet that fall. 
 In rescuing the faint : 
 No artist-hand can paint 
 
 The fires that inward burn. 
 
 And inward fires alone 
 
 Are those that warm us long. 
 Nought outward can atone 
 For sinking in the sea 
 Love's opportunity ! — 
 
 Thus sings my heart its song. 
 
 75 
 
Forever On 
 
 I WOULD not look at life's high aim aslant ! 
 Life is for growth ! It is a mountain plant. 
 Its roots descending, but its leaves upspread ; 
 A shoot divine, whose seeds, when we are 
 
 dead. 
 Should spring immortally in other life. 
 Potent in tendencies to nobler strife. 
 Showing the soul's high lure, till Time be 
 
 gone. 
 To Be, to Do, and so forever on. 
 
 i(> 
 
Ungrasped 
 
 On many a marvel which Nature discloses 
 Man's eye never looks, and the daintiest 
 roses 
 Bloom wild where his footsteps may never 
 have stirred. 
 Unseen by man's eye, and untouched by 
 
 his hand. 
 Lie treasures unnumbered awaiting command. 
 If only his heart and his will say the word. 
 With noble realities life is replete : 
 But he who shall seek them with wandering 
 feet 
 Shall never earth's best benediction have 
 heard . 
 
spirals 
 
 Daily we mount them all, from Pit to 
 
 Dome ! 
 Not Dante's circling choirs, nor Raphael's, 
 Nor all the devious aisles of heavens and hells 
 In phantasies of Asia, Egypt, Rome, 
 Surpass soul's fluctuations. Seeking home. 
 The clank of chains, the chime of silvery 
 
 bells, — 
 Shame, Passion, Song, — in turn each sinks 
 
 and sw^ells ; 
 Now Faith soars high — now^ all seems flash 
 
 and foam. 
 
 O fateful circle where I most part fare. 
 Dim Middle Region, — Purgatorial fog, — 
 By equal fears and hopefulness opprest ! 
 At times I fain would wing through clearer 
 
 air. 
 Yet joyful move I — mindless of each 
 
 clog — 
 Tow'rd dreamed - of spheres where dwell 
 
 the pure and blest. 
 
 78 
 
And Last of All I Learn It 
 
 And last of all I learn it ! Yea, O soul. 
 Have patience not alone with those around — 
 Poor will-less beings sin and habit bound : 
 With wealth, that offers but a piteous dole 
 Though fainting worldlings pant for happier 
 
 goal; 
 With statesmen, paltering on patriot ground ; 
 With churchmen, silent though God's trum- 
 pets sound : 
 With all that faileth of the Perfect Whole ! 
 
 Have patience also — full, serene, and free. 
 Lasting and deep, and with as gracious part 
 As that thou showest every wayward elf — 
 When thou hast failed to grandly do and be. 
 And failing, feelest sorrow at thy heart. 
 Have patience, oh, have patience with — thy- 
 self. 
 
 79 
 
" A Breath from the Fields " 
 
 [ To , who sent to me, in the city, a box of 
 
 spring blossoms as " a breath from the fields r\ 
 
 '' A BREATH from the fields ! ". . . 
 
 Ah me ! 
 Could I paint the vision I see ! 
 
 For under the spell of these flowers 
 The avenue, busy and hot. 
 And the office, and v^^ork, are forgot ; 
 
 And these granite and marble towers 
 Quick vanish away, and quick 
 The whole desert of fiery brick. 
 
 '' A breath from the fields ! ". . . 
 
 All day 
 My spirit has languished to stray 
 
 From the City of Turmoil. And now 
 On the magical carpet of Thought, 
 On the pinions these blossoms have brought, 
 
 I am wandering where the bough 
 Of the elm with the maple blends. 
 And the song of the robin ascends ! 
 
 '' A breath from the fields ! ". . . 
 
 The sweets 
 Of a myriad marguerites 
 
 Are flooding with incense the air ! 
 
 80 
 
"yf Breath from the Fields " 
 
 And a dream my heart besets 
 As I gaze on the violets — 
 
 A dream and a splendor rare — 
 Of a brook where the blood-root drinks. 
 And the laughter of bobolinks. 
 
 '^ A breath from the fields ! ". . . 
 
 I catch 
 A view of the leafy thatch 
 
 That waves on the meadow's marge. 
 I roam in the shadows o^ trees 
 Like those in Hesperides ! 
 
 And I pluck from the branches the large 
 White beautiful apple-sprays. 
 Till the pain in my heart allays. 
 
 '' A breath from the fields ! ''. . . 
 
 Thank God 
 For the friend who kneeled on the sod 
 
 To gather such glory for me ! 
 The blossoms shall fade ; but depart 
 Shall they never from out of my heart. 
 
 There, forever, their beauty shall be. 
 Like the blossoms that gladden the eyes 
 Of the dwellers in Paradise. 
 
 8i 
 
DafFodils 
 
 Within the winding woodland aisles 
 
 Which stately crown our northward hills, 
 A myriad wilding daffodils 
 
 Bloom gladly where the sunbeam smiles. 
 
 How they in such unwonted earth 
 
 Found home and blossomed, none may 
 
 know ; 
 But buds of a more beauteous glow 
 
 Ne'er, out of poet's brain, had birth. 
 
 Anigh their vernal, mossy bed 
 
 The pine stands whispering to the spruce; 
 
 The striped squirrel — gay recluse ! — 
 Swings in the branches overhead. 
 
 Around their prize the wondering bees. 
 To such soft sweetness all unused, 
 Buzzingly gather till infused 
 
 With honey of Hesperides ! 
 
 Thither the Naiads also come; 
 Thither the fairies fly in haste : 
 Never more humble courtiers graced 
 
 A Beauty's court in Christendom. 
 
 82 
 
Daffodils 
 
 Even the lady-ferns and sedges. 
 Turning in sweet surprise to greet 
 The beauty nestling at their feet. 
 
 Give the pale strangers welcome pledges. 
 
 Thither I, too, my steps retrace. 
 Seeking the inspiration there ; 
 Meeting within that charmed air 
 
 A benediction face to face. 
 
 83 
 
Body and Spirit 
 
 The fair October sky is clear. 
 
 The summer haze has fled ; 
 The glory of the woods is near. 
 
 The maple's leaves are red. 
 
 The cloudless morning sun is mild. 
 
 The fern its fragrance yields. 
 ^* Come out into the woods, my child. 
 
 Come out into the fields ! ' ' 
 
 'T is thus I hear my mother speak, — 
 
 My mother. Nature dear; 
 And while her breezes fan my cheek 
 
 I linger still to hear. 
 
 *' These perfect days were never meant 
 
 For toil of hand or brain," — 
 But made to roam the continent. 
 
 Or sail the misty main. 
 
 ''The world is too much with us," — Yea, 
 
 For all men but a few 
 Earth's toil and strain from day to day 
 
 Is life's sole residue ! 
 
 84 
 
Body and Spirit 
 
 God ! for what the sun and sky ? 
 For what the leafy wood? 
 
 Shall men forever live and die. 
 And call the worse the good ? 
 
 But ah ! — myself — myself am bound 
 Within the city 's moil ! 
 
 1 cannot break, myself, the round 
 
 Of endless daily toil ! 
 
 In vain the crimson sumach rears 
 
 For me its plumes of red. 
 And while! toil, — 'mid blinding tears. 
 
 The aster's gold is dead ! 
 
 Ah well ! my mind is still my own ; 
 
 My heart no fetters gyve : 
 My soul is monarch of a throne 
 
 Which through all years shall thrive. 
 
 To toil my body Fate may urge, — 
 
 But unconfined and free 
 My spirit roams the mountain's verge. 
 
 And sails the sun-lit sea. 
 
 8s 
 
Mystic River 
 
 O MixiATURE river ! winding tree 
 Through widening meadows to wider sea, 
 Beautiful, beautiful art thou to me ! 
 
 Men look on thy narrow wave, and 
 
 laugh ! . . . 
 Little they know of the cup I quaff ! 
 And what carest thou for their idle chaif ! 
 
 Thou art narrow, and sluggish, and muddy- 
 oft. 
 And thy margin is oozy, and low, and soft ; 
 It is no wonder that men have scoifed : 
 
 For men are thoughtless, through and 
 
 through ; 
 And men are idle and sluggish too. 
 And they laugh at themselves when they 
 
 Thou art wider at times — when the upward 
 
 tide 
 Brings a torrent of brine from the ocean's 
 
 side, 
 And seaweed and kelp on thy current glide. 
 
 86 
 
Mystic River 
 
 Then pleasure-barks on thy surface float ; 
 And fair lips wreathe into joyous note 
 While fair hands hasten each onward boat. 
 
 Thou art wider still — when the tide comes in 
 With a rush and a roar from the sea, and a 
 
 din 
 Like that on the beach when the storms 
 
 begin. 
 
 Then over thy wave the sea-gull dips. 
 
 And screams to his fellows, while slowly 
 
 drips 
 The salt sea-spray from his pinions' tips ! 
 
 And thou takest thy birth in lakes that are 
 
 large. 
 With villages fair on their prosperous 
 
 marge, — 
 And yet almost as lone as when swept by 
 
 the barge 
 
 Of the Indian hunters now lying asleep 
 Where the willow bends low and the larches 
 
 weep 
 On the westering slopes of Walnut steep ; — 
 
 87 
 
Mystic River 
 
 In lakes that are quiet and calm and still. 
 Where the bobolink's laugh and the mavis' 
 
 trill 
 Re-echo o'er forest and meadow and hill. 
 
 But river ! if thou in thy breadth w^ert as 
 
 great 
 As the Stream of the South where it pours 
 
 through the gate 
 Of golden Brazil, and runs separate 
 
 For leagues in the brine, ever fresh, ever 
 
 pure; 
 If thou in precipitous depths didst endure 
 Dark caverns and cliiFs such as oceans immure ; 
 
 If thou in the circling embrace of thy banks 
 Held gardens by hundreds, and castles in 
 
 ranks. 
 And vineyards like those in the land of the 
 
 Francs ; 
 
 If thou with Euphrates and Gihon didst run 
 By the Garden of God, and didst mirror the 
 
 sun 
 As when first over Eden the dawn had 
 
 begun ; — 
 
 88 
 
Mystic River 
 
 Ev'n then thou couldst never peace richer 
 
 impart. 
 Nor ever be dearer, O stream, in my heart. 
 Than thou in thy slumber and sluggishness 
 
 art ! 
 
 For sacred to me, doubly, trebly, thy tide. 
 For the friends now^ far- sundered and scat- 
 tered world-w^ide 
 With whom in my youth I have vv^alked by 
 thy side ! 
 
 89 
 
In a Country Burial-Ground 
 
 I LINGERED in the wayside home of rest. 
 Enchanted by the dream of peace it wore. 
 '^ G. L. — Eighteen ": the marble told no 
 
 more 
 Which marked the turf-mound where I stood 
 
 a guest. 
 A hundred times, perchance, the robin's nest 
 Has swung above his dust, while, o'er and 
 
 o'er. 
 
 The timothy and sorrel locked the door 
 Which shuts him safe within his chamber 
 blest. 
 
 Dear sleeper ! was it ruthless War's alarm — 
 Its demon sacrifice — which in thine hour 
 Of blithesome strength compelled thee to 
 
 the tomb ? 
 Or deed of love to save another's harm? 
 Thou answerest not, contented with thy 
 
 bower 
 And ever wearing youth's transcendent 
 
 bloom. 
 
 90 
 
Sunrise in Codman Park 
 
 [DORCHESTER, MASSACHUSETTS.] 
 
 From hill- top circled by the sleeping town 
 I seaward gaze where gleams the early day. 
 The mists still clothe the valley-lands in gray. 
 But harbor islands wear a gem-set crown. 
 Southward, the Blue Hill summits dofF their 
 
 frown. 
 Reflecting eagerly each new-born ray ; 
 While through the elms the robin to the jay 
 His gauntlet of ecstatic song throws down. 
 
 For me alone is this exalting bliss ? 
 
 For me alone these fugue-resounding walls 
 
 Which flush with beryl and with sapphire 
 
 blaze : 
 O sluggard souls, ye know not w^hat ye miss 
 Who bring not sorrow to these sunrise-halls 
 To find it vanish in these notes of praise. 
 
 91 
 
To My Old Wheel 
 
 Thousands of miles of richness ! lofty joy 
 
 Beyond what noblest verse might hope to 
 swell ! — 
 
 Ungrateful, then, should I not strive to tell 
 
 The benediction of thy rare employ. 
 
 Through thee, Atlantic's edge hath been my 
 toy; 
 
 Through thee, my heart hath danced in field 
 and fell ; 
 
 Through thee, unnumbered draughts at Beth- 
 lehem 's well 
 
 Have sins assuaged and banished world's 
 annoy. 
 
 Through thee, the hills their purple haze 
 
 have lent ; 
 Voices of bobolinks have been the choir 
 Which tuned the grottoes where I found a 
 
 shrine ; 
 Hemlock and larch have swung my studious 
 
 tent; 
 Morning and eve have lit my sacred fire ; 
 Paphos, the Muses, and God Pan were mine. 
 
The Earth at Play 
 
 Acres oi daisies, — buttercups between, — 
 And over them the sunny Sunday sky ! 
 Daisies as thick as stalks in fields of rye ; 
 More buttercups than eyes before had seen 
 Though love had measured tenfold ; spires 
 
 of green 
 The gowans gay uptossing, — straight, awry, 
 
 'erswung, upsoaring, — endless to the eye ; 
 The yellow crow^foot hordes enmeshed serene. 
 
 1 think if I could count those blooms afield. 
 Which yesterday the wanton breeze o'er- 
 
 swept 
 In billows white, green, golden, I could say 
 How many love-lights children's faces yield 
 When kisses greet them after they have slept. 
 And they go out to join the earth at play. 
 
 93 
 
Les Camarades 
 
 I HEAR him calling — I must go awhile. 
 For compact we have made most true and 
 
 strict. 
 When either hails, then ere the sun has nicked 
 Ten seconds on the oak-top's soaring dial. 
 The other — faithful in the loyal style 
 Of souls whose confidence was never tricked 
 By comrades proving dull or derelict — 
 Must answer through the woodland's leafy 
 
 aisle. 
 
 Then shut, my Shakespeare, — Plato, you 
 
 may wait ; 
 My cornfield, sun and rain shall care for you ; 
 Sad world, an hour I leave you to your plight ! 
 Ceaseless the cark of Body, Mind, and State, 
 While love's sweet fellowships are far and 
 
 few. 
 Recalls — I hasten. ''Here's Bob White T'' 
 
 ''Bob Whiter' 
 
 94 
 
In Suburban Woods 
 
 How SIFTS the sunlight through these oaks 
 
 outspread ! 
 And through their boughs what flash of 
 
 crimson wings ! 
 Each cup and fern a fragrant censer swings. 
 Earth's loveliness to me is daily bread. 
 At this rich board I bow my grateful head. 
 And eat and drink, the while my bosom 
 
 sings, — 
 Forgetting, for an hour, the thousand stings 
 Of yonder city — Palace of the Dead ! 
 
 At every living tomb, or South or North, 
 The spirit, hearkening, heareth Nature 
 
 chide : — 
 ^* O souls of men, to Beauty why so slow ! 
 Day's realm awaits you! Lazarus, come 
 
 forth!" 
 And then, to them that stand the grave 
 
 beside : — 
 *' Unbind their cerements ! Loose, and let 
 
 them go." 
 
 95 
 
So Like the Spring She Stands 
 
 [written of my daughter.] 
 
 Again we wander — she, my soul's delight. 
 And I, her dear companion, lover, friend — 
 To hill-tops where the elms and maples send 
 Their first faint greenness through the land- 
 scape bright. 
 The flicker calls us to pursue his flight ; 
 The robin welcomes us to join the trend 
 Of lavish life upspringing, and to spend 
 Improvidently on the ear and sight. 
 
 Once more, as when she plunged her infant 
 hands 
 
 In wealth of Western prairies, — years be- 
 tween, — 
 
 We search and sing and know life still is 
 sweet. 
 
 Yet now, dear girl ! so like the Spring she 
 stands. 
 
 To gaze upon her fairness of eighteen 
 
 My eye forsakes the wind-flower at my feet. 
 
 96 
 
Enchanted Ground 
 
 I AM a Parsee. Thee I praise, O Sun ! 
 
 Squirrel nor thrush is earlier astir 
 
 Than I when, bursting through the upland 
 fir, 
 
 I mount some steep to hail new Dawn begun. 
 
 And when the showery west, all diamond- 
 spun. 
 
 Is pied with flame as dies day's messenger, 
 
 I gaze still rapt, — Light 's loyal worshiper, — 
 
 And hymn the hymns of priests in Babylon. 
 
 Omar ! the earth was all enchanted ground 
 To thee who sold thy rosary for wine — 
 The wine of Beauty, filling Nature's cup. 
 Thy temple's arch the sky alone could 
 
 bound. 
 Scaling its walls, — no narrower worship 
 
 mine, — 
 To heaven each day I climb exultant up. 
 
 97 
 
Sonata of the Dragon-fly 
 
 [The dragon-fly flew in at my open oflice-window 
 in Boston 07te day in summer, a few moments 
 after the receipt by me of a letter from a friend 
 at Vineyard Haven. In the letter the writer 
 of the same, by a strange coincidence, playfully 
 wished himself some winged creature in order 
 that he might fly in at my city window and 
 whisper in my ear the delights of his rural 
 and seaside home! — iS'jS?^ 
 
 I COME, I come from distant shores ; — 
 From where the wide Atlantic roars 
 
 Around my island home; 
 Where pebbly strands unbroken lie. 
 Ringed round with spray-cloud mystery. 
 
 Ringed round with silvery foam ! 
 
 I come from where the trembling pine 
 Chants chorus to the heaving brine. 
 
 Chants sonnets to the sea ; 
 From where the myriad-leaved elm. 
 On brink of wide Neptunian realm. 
 
 Breathes soulful melody. 
 
 I come from meadowy retreats. 
 Where violets and marguerites 
 The livelong day repose; 
 
 98 
 
Sonata of the Dragon-fly 
 
 Where jauntily the golden-rod 
 And tufted stalks of asters nod. 
 
 Mingled with sweet-brier rose. 
 
 I come from where the rippling brook 
 Flows free through many a sylvan nook. 
 
 Then leaps into the sun ; 
 Where ferns and grasses guard the brink 
 Where butterflies descend to drink. 
 
 Their glad life just begun. 
 
 I come from where the oriole's nest 
 Hangs hidden beyond the eager quest 
 
 Of hawk or schoolboy hand; 
 From where the yellow-bird's golden hue 
 Flits by with a flash across the blue 
 
 Of the high arch overspanned. 
 
 I come from where at eventide 
 The stars in majestic beauty glide. 
 
 Outvying Arabia's days; 
 Where nightly the fire-fly's delicate lamp 
 Gleams bright on the background cold and 
 damp 
 
 Of the furry, tasseled maize. 
 
 99 
 
Sonata of the Dragon-fly 
 
 I come from where no thirst of man 
 Encircles the earth with rule and span. 
 
 Or measures the soul with a gauge : 
 From where the rustic may worship God, 
 And fear no threatening beck or nod 
 
 In childhood, youth, or age. 
 
 I come, I come from distant shores ; — 
 From where the wide Atlantic roars 
 
 Around my island home ; 
 Where pebbly strands unbroken lie. 
 Ringed round with spray-cloud mystery. 
 
 Ringed round with silvery foam ! 
 
 100 
 
Forelooking 
 
 Walnut mil, Mid-Summer^ ^^79- 
 
 I SIT beside my window here. 
 
 And dream away the day. 
 The air is calm, the sky is clear, — 
 
 And yonder, down the Bay, 
 
 i\long the silvery rim of light 
 Which marks the Ocean's edge. 
 
 Fair far-off slanting wings of white 
 Sail slow beyond the ledge ; — 
 
 Beyond the ledge of towering rocks 
 Which mark the heights of Lynn ; — 
 
 Beyond to where the Equinox 
 Shall howl with awflil din. 
 
 Oh stay at home, ye stately ships ! 
 
 Oh stay at home as I ! 
 Nor sail to meet but sure eclipse 
 
 Beneath an angry sky ! 
 
 The wandering thought, the impatient heart. 
 The discontented soul. 
 
 lOI 
 
Forelooking 
 
 At best can know of life but part. 
 And not the rounded whole. 
 
 But ah ! ye cannot stay ! — e 'en now 
 
 Your sails are seaward set : 
 E'en now above your burdened bow 
 
 The fluttering sea-gulls fret. 
 
 And soon I too must hence away. 
 
 To skirt uncharted shores ! 
 Already in my ears the spray 
 
 Of ocean conflict roars. 
 
 'T is well ! 't is well, ye stately ships ! 
 
 Ye were not made for calm ! 
 Your keels were laid to bear to lips 
 
 That hunger. Eastern balm. 
 
 'T is well no port of listless peace 
 Enshields your slothful sail : 
 
 The ship that gains the Golden Fleece 
 Must dare the Euxine gale. 
 
 'T is well, O heart, no life of ease 
 Before thee opens fair ! 
 
 I02 
 
Forelooking 
 
 That perfect life would fail to please 
 Which breathed but softer air. 
 
 'T is not when zephyrs kindly blow. 
 
 And calmly, sweetly steal; 
 When waters musically flow. 
 
 And laugh along the keel ; 
 
 'T is in the dashing of life's wave. 
 
 And in the sudden shock ; 
 'T is when the soul, though stout and brave. 
 
 Is ground as on the rock. 
 
 That life's objective port is neared. 
 
 Its noblest courses run. 
 And souls of men the straightest steered 
 
 To Isles of inward Sun. 
 
 103 
 
I Feel That I Know Her 
 
 1876. 
 
 I FEEL that I know her — we smile as we 
 
 meet; 
 We pass every day in the very same street, — 
 She hurrying on — heaven only knows where. 
 And I in pursuit of ambitions of air. 
 
 But who she may be, or the place o^ her 
 
 home. 
 Or why through the city forced daily to 
 
 roam. 
 Or married or single, a maiden or mother, 
 I 'm sure I don't know, any more than 
 
 another. 
 
 Her eyes are a tender and beautiful blue; 
 Her hair is the glossiest, goldenest hue ; 
 Her cheeks are as red as the roses in blow, — 
 And her heart is the garden, I feel, where 
 they grow. 
 
 We never have spoken — we smile and go 
 
 by; 
 No greeting we utter — except with the eye : 
 
 104 
 
/ Feel that I Know Her 
 
 Thank God she is modest, retiring, and 
 
 true ! — 
 And I am as modest and innocent too. 
 
 Full often I wonder her name and her 
 station ; 
 
 I Ve known from the first she is foreign by 
 nation. 
 
 Her language — ah me ! would that lan- 
 guage were mine ! — 
 
 The land oi her birth is the land of the 
 Rhine. 
 
 O Germany ! home o^ sweet music and 
 
 song ! 
 My feet for thy vine-covered terraces 
 
 long ! 
 With her for a guide through thy sun-purpled 
 
 air. 
 How gladly my heart would go wandering 
 
 there ! 
 
 Some castle enthroned in thy hills there 
 
 must be 
 That shelter would furnish for her and for 
 
 me ! 
 
 05 
 
/ Feel that I Know Her 
 
 Some crag overhanging some vine-embowered 
 
 vale. 
 Where beauty might bloom, and w^here love 
 
 would not fail ! 
 
 Ah me ! such a spot it were pleasant to 
 
 see; 
 And pleasanter far in its secret to be ! . . . 
 But flee — flee ! ye castles, and day-dreams 
 
 so fair ! 
 'T is true ye are castles — but castles in air. 
 
 To-morrow I '11 meet her again; and her 
 smile 
 
 Will lighten life's roadway for many a mile. 
 
 That face in my dream, were life's journey- 
 ing done. 
 
 Would lumine the pathway that leads to the 
 sun ! 
 
 Ah well ! and that day — it will come at the 
 
 last. 
 Our eyes will be dull, and our smiles will 
 
 have passed. 
 And never, perhaps, will our voices be heard. 
 Nor ever our souls by those accents be stirred. 
 
 106 
 
/ Feel that I Know Her 
 
 Perchance in the streets that are ntgh to the 
 
 Throne, 
 Where the heart will have voice, though the 
 
 tongue be unknown. 
 We each will discern who the other may 
 
 be,— 
 I better know her, and she better know me. 
 
 107 
 
Sweetest Songs Are Never Sung 
 
 The sweetest songs are never sung, - — 
 
 So the Poets say. 
 The tenderest chords are never strung; 
 The merriest bells are never rung. 
 
 Well-a-day ! Well-a-day ! 
 Let the Poets have their v^ay ! 
 Let them have their v^ay ! — 
 All that sighing Minstrels sing can never 
 me dismay. 
 / can hear sw^eet bells go pealing — pealing 
 
 joyously to-day ! 
 / can hear their silvery pealing — hear their 
 merry roundelay ! 
 
 II 
 
 The fairest pearls are never found, — 
 
 So Professors say. 
 The cheeriest trumpets never sound; 
 The jauntiest vessels go aground. 
 
 Well-a-day ! Well-a-day ! 
 Let Professors have their way ! 
 
 io8 
 
Sweetest Songs are Never Sung 
 
 Let them have their way ! — 
 All that dull Professors dream can never 
 me dismay ! 
 / can see stanch ships go sailing — sailing 
 
 ever proudly by ! 
 / can see tall masts and rigging outlined 
 grandly against the sky ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 The saintliest prayer is never said, — 
 
 So the Preachers say. 
 The daintiest board is never spread ; 
 The loveliest maid is never wed. 
 
 Well-a-day ! Well-a-day ! 
 Let the Preachers have their way ! 
 Let them have their way ! — 
 All that dullard Parsons dream can never 
 me dismay ! 
 I myself perchance know somewhat of the 
 
 lights along the shore; 
 I myself am soon to wed that loveliest 
 maiden they deplore ! 
 
 1880. 
 
 109 
 
"When Young Hearts Love" 
 
 Bright are earth's days, and glad earth's 
 years. 
 When young hearts love ! 
 Many are joys, and few are fears. 
 When young hearts love ! 
 Nor aught the wide earth round. 
 Unto its farthest bound. 
 May equal the intense 
 Unswerving vehemence 
 Of faith, of truth, of innocence, of tears. 
 When young hearts love ! 
 
 Glad are the songs the angels sing. 
 In realms above ! 
 Merry the mock-bird's caroling, 
 In southern grove ! 
 But ne'er may seraph chant 
 The Song of Covenant 
 
 That bindeth twain in one. 
 Or bird of southern sun 
 Repeat the soul's glad triumphing. 
 When young hearts love ! 
 
 lO 
 
A Cane from Gethsemane 
 
 A SIMPLE cane is here, — a pilgrim staff: 
 
 Yet on its polished face. 
 In quaintly graven Hebrew paragraph, 
 
 A sacred name I trace. 
 
 '' Gethsemane. — Mount Olivet.'' The 
 phrase 
 Bespeaks the favored earth 
 Where, ages since, — in unremembered 
 days, — 
 Its sacred tree had birth. 
 
 A traveler brought it — fragrant wdth the air 
 
 Of that clear Syrian sky. 
 *^Here, friend," he said, *^the staff is 
 yours ; you care 
 
 For such things more than I." 
 
 I hold it in my hand, as here I sit. 
 
 And musing close my eye ; 
 And far and fast doth subtle Fancy flit. 
 
 Imagination fly. 
 
 Beneath the swaying bough from which was 
 plucked 
 The olive cane I hold. 
 
 1 1 1 
 
A Cane from Gethsemane 
 
 Dark Hebrew boys have played, and, play- 
 ing, sucked 
 Its fruit times manifold. 
 
 In shorn Gethsemane, even to this day. 
 
 Is show^n the grotto w^ild 
 Where Abraham prepared the wood to slay 
 
 Isaac his first-born child. 
 
 Here David, harp in hand, from yonder hills 
 
 His native Bethlehem nigh. 
 Oft wandered with his sheep, the rippling 
 rills 
 
 And quiet waters by. 
 
 And rested, sweeping with his hand the 
 strings 
 
 Melodious with praise, — 
 Laying his head upon these rootlets' rings. 
 
 Lit by the sun's last rays ! 
 
 Here Solomon had come, with timbrels, 
 flutes. 
 
 And cymbals clashing load ; 
 With solemn sackbuts, fifes, and silvery lutes. 
 
 In royal garments proud ; 
 
 I 12 
 
A Cane from Gethsemane 
 
 With damsels rich in dyes from Tyrian 
 shore ; 
 
 Playing at games of chance ; 
 Laughing to see upon the leafy floor 
 
 The Jewish maidens dance. 
 
 Here Philip's son, great Alexander, came. 
 
 His hands with slaughter wet. 
 And bowed himself before the jeweled flame 
 
 Of priestly coronet. 
 
 The god of Macedon was Mars the Red, 
 
 His empire on increase : 
 The God of Shiloh's olives, overhead. 
 
 Here gently whispered, *^ Peace ! " 
 
 Here Jesus, Joseph's son, a mightier king. 
 Weighed down with woes of men. 
 
 Came praying he perchance their lives might 
 bring 
 To God and heaven again. 
 
 Here, too, while his disciples slept, he sweat 
 
 As it were drops of blood ; — 
 His brow, in agony, already wet 
 
 With Friday's crimson flood. 
 
 113 
 
A Cane from Gethsemane 
 
 And here the angel came, in raiment white. 
 
 To strengthen him and bless. 
 Making a Bethel of the darksome night. 
 
 And joy of his distress. 
 
 Here Judas, jeering, brought the priestly 
 crowd 
 
 With lanterns, swords, and staves, — 
 His thirty silver pieces jingling loud 
 
 And murmuring ^* Paupers' graves ! " 
 
 Here Titus came ! and with his army vast 
 
 Uprooted every tree. 
 Thy glory then, Jerusalem, was past ! 
 
 And thine, Gethsemane ! 
 
 But ere that fatal hour, the cane I hold 
 
 Was plucked from off its tree. 
 And down through monkish cloisters dim 
 and old 
 
 At last has come to me. 
 
 This very bough, perhaps, its portion gave 
 
 For Abraham's altar-fire. 
 When sadly building — deeming nought could 
 save — 
 
 His first-born's funeral-pyre. 
 
 1 1 
 
A Cane from Gethsemane 
 
 This very bough — who knows ? — the 
 bough may be 
 
 That shehered David's lambs; 
 Beneath which Solomon, the Wise, in glee 
 
 Made proverb- epigrams ; 
 
 That Alexander bowed beneath ; that he 
 Of Nazareth sought for prayer; 
 
 That angels' pinions brushed ; that treachery 
 Sought out and made a snare ! . . . 
 
 O sacred bough ! from thy long history 
 
 Some lesson I would learn ! 
 Would that from thee some heavenly mystery 
 
 Within my soul might burn ! 
 
 115 
 
The Great 
 
 Around me often, when the twilight fades. 
 Come figures giant-brained, heroic-hearted ; 
 In ghostly vigil rise the Great Departed, — 
 
 Of earth's most valiant-souled the deathless 
 shades. 
 
 They stand upon a background glory-walled. 
 Returned a little from the fields Elysian. 
 As saw the Tuscan in subhmest vision. 
 
 So see I these — and stand enrapt, enthralled. 
 
 They move before me with majestic tread. 
 Alive again ! for me anew-created ; 
 In mind and figure rehabilitated. 
 
 Though gone from earth the great are never 
 dead. 
 
 The Great? Who are the Great? From 
 distant cHmes, 
 From years that mold with age and tor- 
 ture 's wailing. 
 Within my ken a weary host come sail- 
 ing, — 
 The grave gives up old ^'heroes" of old 
 times. 
 
 ii6 
 
The Great 
 
 Eastward with pomp, from Macedonia's 
 gate. 
 Seeking what Asia to his lust might pander, 
 I see the drunken glutton, Alexander, 
 
 Cruel and vicious, gain his laurel, ^' Great." 
 
 Thin-visaged, thundering at earth's western 
 door, 
 I see great Julius in Transalpine valleys. 
 How flee the Gauls at his majestic 
 sallies ! 
 How faint they at the fearless front he 
 wore ! 
 
 Men hail him as he heads his cavalcade, — 
 *^ O Caesar! where the warrior that can 
 
 match you ! ' ' 
 But, shivering at the base of Pompey's 
 statue, 
 I see the rent the envious Casca made. 
 
 Fighter of battles, not in cause of Right, 
 But to his kingdom to add lands and 
 
 oceans, 
 Peter of Russia — fertile in high notions. 
 
 Fertile in baseness — ranges into sight. 
 
 117 
 
The Great 
 
 Near him, great Frederick, Prussia's lofty 
 man. 
 Great in his will-power — great in his 
 
 excesses ! 
 Little in all that elevates and blesses ; 
 Breaker of treaties, liar and charlatan. 
 
 The slaughterer of hordes unveils his face — 
 Napoleon, the dazzling and tremendous ! 
 What Power, what Progress, did his 
 blood-reign lend us ? 
 
 A ruined country, an impoverished race ! 
 
 Thus sadly come they — from years old and 
 late — 
 A wan, deluded army, vulture-haunted. 
 The host a world's mad dream has hero- 
 vaunted. 
 Playing their life-part out — ^*the brave," 
 'Uhe Great." 
 
 Alas ! how little in them all we see. 
 
 Of what we call the gracious, the diviner ! 
 Than all this brutehood is there nothing 
 finer ? 
 
 Oh, turn we where sublimity may be ! 
 
 i8 
 
The Great 
 
 Yea, hither, hither come, O Persian Saint, 
 O Buddha of Nepaul, O Syrian Jesus ! 
 No longer deeds of blood and conflict 
 please us ; 
 For heights o^ soul — for love — our spirits 
 faint : 
 
 For those who from life's discords brought a 
 tone 
 Of richest truth and harmony to greet 
 
 us ; — 
 Pythagoras, Isaiah, Epictetus, 
 Saviours in every^ era, every zone ; 
 
 For Seneca, Contentment's messenger; 
 
 For Socrates, of all souls lofty, breezy ; 
 
 The Nature-lover, Francis of Assizi ; 
 Aurelius, the inward ponderer; 
 
 The early scientists of Nile and Greece, 
 Our own rare searchers, Humboldt, 
 
 Darwin, Spencer. . . . 
 Above them all there waves the golden 
 censer 
 Whose fragrance stills life's harshnesses to 
 peace. 
 
 119 
 
The Great 
 
 Yea, those are mortal ; these, immortal ones. 
 The world's unselfish, its true blessing- 
 
 bringers. 
 Its painters, sculptors, freedom-lovers, 
 singers. 
 Its Shakespeares, Burnses, Lowells, Emer- 
 sons. 
 
 And so of all the myriad ^^ nameless " men. 
 The faithful women, lovers of self-giving. 
 Who lived for something higher than mere 
 living. 
 
 And, losing, have yet doubly gained again ! 
 
 These are the heroes men to-day adore. 
 These are the valiant ones above all story ; 
 This is the pathway to the modern glory 
 
 Which down the years with added power 
 shall pour : 
 
 The Greatness that the world shall recognize 
 In conquest over all its pain and sinning, — 
 The Love which was not at earth's far 
 beginning. 
 
 But now is here, and saves and sanctifies. 
 
 I 20 
 
Lewis G. Janes 
 
 1844-1901 
 
 Read at the Memorial Service at the Studio 
 HoMse^ Cambridge^ September 8, igoi. 
 
 Not waiting for the evening's shades to 
 
 swell. 
 
 Sometimes at noon she rings her curfew- 
 bell— 
 
 The solveless Mother of whose ^^ hours" 
 we prate. 
 
 Though in her years is neither soon nor late. 
 
 But though his dust lies now amid the 
 flowers. 
 
 His thought persists — his living words are 
 ours ! 
 
 His living words are ours, and show the way 
 To Freedom and to earth's more glorious 
 
 day; 
 His potent words — with manly impulse 
 
 fraught. 
 And pointing to the ever-widening Ought ! 
 His solvent words — with Nature's meaning 
 
 rife. 
 And throbbing with the true Eternal life. 
 
 121 
 
Lewis G. Janes 
 
 He asked the universe for what it had. 
 And held its tenure to be good, not bad. 
 In ferns and fauna he read things To Be ; 
 The stars held strains of secret minstrelsy. 
 He loved her much, and Nature did not 
 
 mock. 
 But fed him manna even from the rock. 
 
 But higher yet he sought his loftier theme. 
 And roved in earth's best groves of Academe. 
 The wisdom of the Past he made his own — 
 Whatever man had dreamed, or guessed, or 
 
 known. 
 And with the scholar's grace and sage's 
 
 art 
 Laid bare its promise for the human heart. 
 
 Around his board he gathered with delight 
 The dusky face with Eastern radiance bright. 
 The traveled seer from Europe's groaning 
 
 lands. 
 The Islander outstretching hopeful hands ; 
 And from the lips of each and all he 
 
 heard 
 The world's one searching, all-embracing 
 
 Word. 
 
 1 22 
 
Lewis G. Janes 
 
 That Word was Freedom ! and he sought to 
 
 trace 
 How freedom might be w^on for all the 
 
 race. 
 For him no freedom was while some were 
 
 bound ; 
 Freedom meant Freedom all the w^orld 
 
 around. 
 So, foremost still, his Word to us comes 
 
 down : 
 *' Freedom for all men, white or black or 
 
 brown." 
 
 And not alone his living word was high : 
 His word w^as lofty when he came to die. 
 He spoke of beauty, whispered of the light. 
 And full of courage entered on the Night, 
 Content to know whatever lay before 
 Would be in line with Nature's finest store. 
 
 His dying word: ''Still beauty reigns on 
 
 earth — 
 Let beauty also in the soul have birth ! ' ' 
 His dying word — so like his own rich hfe. 
 That sought the noble, shunned the needless 
 
 strife. 
 
 123 
 
Lewis G. Janes 
 
 And by his public voice and private pen 
 Brought strength and beauty to the Hves of 
 men ! 
 
 O steadfast soul ! in w^hatsoever star 
 Or realm of ether thou to-day afar 
 Dost wander, — or unseen beside us stand,-^- 
 The world still hears thine accents of com- 
 mand ; 
 And as a ripple widens o'er the sea. 
 So yet shall spread thy faithful ministry. 
 
 I 24 
 
The Schoolmaster's Dream 
 
 Weary with toil at desk and board and 
 
 book. 
 Gladly he dropped the crayon in its nook ; 
 But forcing to his lips a kindly smile. 
 And touching with soft hand his bell the 
 
 while. 
 Said cheerfully, ^^The hour to close is nigh: 
 The setting sun drops down the western 
 
 sky. 
 To-morrow, with new ease, will come ne\\^ 
 
 strength ; 
 We reach, perchance, untiring days at 
 
 length!'' 
 Then rang again, and noting the sweet 
 
 grace 
 And eagerness that lit each fair young face. 
 Dismissed them all into the evening air 
 With fervent blessing and an inward prayer. 
 
 The master's soul was sorrowful with 
 
 doubt — 
 He whose triumphant faith should be so 
 
 stout. 
 His pupils were so sluggish in the arts ! 
 They had such feverish and impatient hearts ! 
 
 125 
 
The Schoolmaster's Dream 
 
 ^^ O soul!" he said, ^^thy toil meets no 
 
 return. 
 Life's cheeriest fires to blackened embers 
 
 burn. 
 No adequate return," again he said. 
 And on the desk before him leaned his 
 
 head. 
 The western windows opened to the blue ; 
 The sinking sun sent slanting shadow^s 
 
 through : 
 He saw it not, nor heard the droning 
 
 flies, — 
 But, lulled by Nature's opiate, closed his 
 
 eyes. 
 
 He sees nor hears — his soul's tired pinions 
 
 sweep 
 The shadowy vale of Death's twin-brother. 
 
 Sleep. 
 All day, sad voices, sounding in his ear. 
 Had filled his spirit with a nameless fear. 
 Surely no followers, in this sunless land. 
 Would jeer and beckon him on every hand ! 
 But ah ! ev'n here, — though with no taunt 
 
 or shout, — 
 A myriad spirits thronged him round about ; 
 
 I 26 
 
T^he Schoolmaster^ s Dream 
 
 And with a soothing sound, as of a wdnd 
 Low-breathing through the fragrant groves 
 
 of Ind, 
 A single angel — not o{ gloom, but light — 
 Said tenderly, ^^ O King, thy wrongs 
 
 recite ! " 
 
 ^^ Alas ! " the master said, ^^no King am 
 
 I! — 
 Even the crown of laurel-leaves is dry 
 Which in my younger years my sister wove. 
 Because at college, among all who strove, 
 I, only, won, and bore away the prize ! ' * 
 '^ Nay," said the angel, *' principalities. 
 States, empires, kingdoms, — these all pass 
 
 away. 
 Forgotten ev^en in an earthly day. 
 The crown immortal, the enduring throne, — 
 These, to be steadfast, m.ust be like thine 
 
 own ! 
 He who the light to one dark soul shall 
 
 bring. 
 Among the sons of men is more than King. 
 
 *^ No word thou utterest, or good or ill. 
 But sounds forever, — wild or soft or shrill, — 
 
 127 
 
T^he Schoolmaster^ s Dream 
 
 Fast held within the vibrant air's embrace. 
 If words of thine shall brighten one sad 
 
 face. 
 Thine accents ease a brother's heavy load. 
 Thy daily task reveal where Truth is 
 
 strowed. 
 Then rest content ! for there shall come a 
 
 year 
 (And soon shall come) when back into thine 
 
 ear 
 With ten-fold power thy words, or ill or 
 
 good. 
 Shall speed with force that may not be with- 
 stood. 
 Then happy thou, if in thine ear shall ring 
 Words that shall crown thee servant, — 
 
 helper, — king ! ' ' 
 
 The master smiled — his face with peace 
 
 was lit 
 Where lately pain had overshadowed it. 
 ** But, sympathy!" he cried. ''Sweet 
 
 spirit, stay ! 
 Fain would I have some token by the way. 
 Daily I toil, nor meet a single smile 
 To ease the burden of one lonely mile ! " 
 
 128 
 
T^he Schoolmaster' s Dream 
 
 ^* Awake ! " the angel answered, — *'thou 
 
 art blind." 
 He raised his head. '^ Please, sir, we stayed 
 
 behind, — 
 You fell asleep, — you would not wake for 
 
 us!" 
 (Two little-ones beside his knee spoke thus.) 
 ** You love us, and try hard, — we know 
 
 you do ; 
 And we have brought this little flower for 
 
 you!" 
 
 129 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 A NOONTIDE sun, in early summer-time ; 
 Low, billowy summits, in their verdant 
 
 prime. 
 Bounding a valley wide and fair and still : 
 And in the midst, the slopes of Walnut 
 
 Hill! 
 
 On all the northern hand, — far-reaching, 
 
 gray, — 
 The heights of Winchester, in rude array ; 
 And trending east, where lakes like sapphires 
 
 burn. 
 The Fells of Middlesex, embowered in fern. 
 Still east, the sea ! a silvery line and thin. 
 Hedged by the rocky heights of distant 
 
 Lynn ; 
 And near at hand, slow-winding, placid, 
 
 blue, — 
 Along whose banks once Paul Revere flew, — 
 The Mystic's narrow tide — expanding soon 
 Into a crystal mere, a broad lagoon. 
 Reflecting far, from morn till evening hour. 
 Gray Bunker's lofty, sun-illumined tower. 
 
 130 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 Southward, the city — dreary desert 
 
 vast ! . . . 
 Haste thee, my verse ! beware the woe ! fly 
 
 fast ! 
 Far, far beyond, see Milton's purple hills. 
 The blue-domed range which every bosom 
 
 thrills ; 
 And nearer, — where the marbles hide from 
 
 view 
 The ashes of a Sumner and Ballou, — 
 Fair i\uburn ! circled by a hundred farms. 
 And clasped in sluggish Charles's sinuous 
 
 arms. 
 Westward, the fertile fields of Alewife 
 
 Brook, 
 Laughing with harvests ripening for the 
 
 hook, - — 
 Flecked by the shadows of vast clouds that 
 
 float 
 Aimless as shipwrecked sails on seas remote, — 
 Edged by low mountains, shimmering in the 
 
 sun. 
 The emerald Heights, far-famed, of Arling- 
 ton ! 
 Enchanted hills, which, when the day is 
 
 past. 
 
 31 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 Are tipt with glory such as Nebo cast 
 When angels hastened o'er its darkening 
 
 crest. 
 Bearing the Hebrew prophet to his rest ! 
 
 II 
 
 Northward and eastward from this favored 
 
 scene, — 
 This Walnut Hill, this college - crowned 
 
 demesne, — 
 Beyond the river flowing at its feet. 
 Beyond the stir of village pier and street. 
 There winds a road through rarest sylvan 
 
 ways. 
 The ever new delight of summer days. 
 Here darkling thickets, densely green, 
 
 abide. 
 Hazel, and oak, and birch, on either side, — 
 Where the brown partridge unseen whirrs, 
 
 and where 
 Gray squirrels lurk, and rabbits have their 
 
 lair. 
 Here blooms the barberry, in yellow sprays. 
 Miles long ! and here, through all the 
 
 summer days. 
 
 132 
 
Heart of Touth 
 
 The sweet wild rose and fragrant wilding 
 
 phlox 
 Vie with the garden pinks and hollyhocks 
 Which shall be crowned the fairer ! And 
 
 the prize 
 No single wanderer, passing with pleased 
 
 eyes. 
 Withholds from Nature's wilding ones, here 
 
 strowed 
 Luxuriantly. 
 
 . . . Along this sunny road 
 
 Two friends were walking at the noon of 
 
 day; 
 And both were thoughtful, though they both 
 
 were gay. 
 They both were thoughtful; but the suromer 
 
 air. 
 The sunshine through the branches here and 
 
 there. 
 The laughing bobolink, the cawing crow. 
 The blue above, the emerald below. 
 Made life that hour so beautiful a dream. 
 That rustling leaf nor onward murmuring 
 
 stream 
 Could less of sorrow feel, or wild despair. 
 Than these companions idly wandering 
 
 there. 
 
 33 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 For both were young ! and in the soul 
 of each 
 Were aspirations deeper than all speech : 
 Ambitions for the honor which the world 
 Stands ready to inscribe on flags unfurled 
 In noble causes ; — aspirations, too. 
 That honor granted should be honor due. 
 
 They dreamed of sacred fire withheld by 
 Gods : 
 They knew of Caucasus, and of the odds 
 Prometheus wrestled with, and all his pain ; 
 And yet they dared it all, and more, again ; 
 And with the vultures' whirr still sounding 
 
 nigh. 
 They dared to rest their ladder on the sky. 
 
 Upon the shore of Time they would not 
 
 sit. 
 The Ocean was before ! and they were knit 
 Unto a firm resolve, by faith upheld 
 To walk the waters ! \^ they boiled and 
 
 welled. 
 The way would be more difficult; if calm. 
 The port were sooner reached — the Isles 
 
 of Palm. 
 
 134 
 
Heart of Touth 
 
 Nor did they hesitate to point their feet 
 To where life's ocean and horizon meet. 
 
 They knew — yet were not daunted — 
 
 wild with spray 
 The vengeful tempest would assail their way. 
 They knew men's bones lay bleaching in 
 
 the sand ; 
 They saw the carcasses tossed high on land 
 Of earnest voyagers who yesterday 
 Had left the beach as buoyantly as they. 
 But these ("they said) had sailed without a 
 
 chart : 
 Or failed to use it : and the human heart. 
 By passion ballasted, to escape the brine 
 A special port must own, and chart divine. 
 
 Ill 
 
 With this they turned into a narrow lane. 
 Half hidden in the leafy underbrush ; 
 A fragrant avenue, whose sacred hush 
 Was broken by the rumble of no wheel. 
 No whirl of dust, no echo but the peal 
 Of sporting bobolinks ; and where the moss 
 A soft rich tapestry spread wide across ; 
 
 "^y^ 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 And all along, as far as eye could reach. 
 The birch and hazel boughs and silver 
 
 beech 
 Threw grateful shade. 
 
 " This winding road," said one, 
 ** Will guide us to the mountain- top. The 
 
 sun. 
 Which hitherto hath flamed upon our way 
 With furious heat, will here its fury stay. 
 And cooling breezes now will fan our cheek. 
 The road is sure : I heard my father speak 
 But yesterday of climbing this same path." 
 
 The other lingered. '* Greater beauty 
 
 hath 
 The wilding thicket for my mood," said he. 
 ** Behold ! a rod beyond this sumach-tree 
 Sharply the mountain's base begins to rise. 
 Why toil we on ! ' Reward of high 
 
 emprise ' 
 Is here at hand ! Behold ! the forest floor 
 Is thick with violets ! And here a door 
 Between the maple - trunks seems opening 
 
 wide. 
 Inviting us to enter. In ! " he cried. 
 
 136 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 And caught his comrade's arm, and sought 
 To lure him. 
 
 But his zeal availed him naught. 
 
 ^^ One moment, brother mine!" his 
 
 comrade said. 
 ^^We started out, the mountain's highest 
 
 head 
 Intent to reach. Shall we be baffled here. 
 By violets ? And yonder buds, I fear. 
 Are not the violets your haste has thought. 
 Those purple petals, delicately wrought. 
 With subtle odor, poisonous, are filled. 
 The deadly nightshade, if your eyes were 
 
 skilled. 
 You would declare them ! And your open 
 
 door 
 Is barred with stone and briar. The forest 
 
 floor 
 To which with sudden frenzy you would 
 
 haste. 
 Look you, is marshy ground — a miry 
 
 waste." 
 
 ** Enough ! " perversely here the other 
 cried. 
 
 137 
 
Heart of Touth 
 
 *^ Give over! Get you up the mountain- 
 side ! 
 Keep to your mossy pathway if you v^ill — 
 The roughest road is soonest up the hill ! 
 I shall stop here awhile, among the flowers. 
 And rest beneath the trees. In after hours 
 I *11 join you on the mountain's topmost 
 
 height. 
 I know not how I shall ascend, but night 
 Will not have fallen ere I join you. Go ! " 
 
 He waited not for answer : but the low 
 And sympathetic voice which oft had held 
 Him humbled with its music, rose and 
 
 swelled. 
 And broke upon his ear in sweetest tone 
 Of friendship, begging, ^* Leave me not 
 
 alone!" 
 In notes of warning, crying, ^^Do not go ! " 
 
 He waited not for answer : but the low 
 Wind murmured in his ear, and seemed to 
 
 say : 
 '^ 'T were better, better, thoughtless youth, 
 
 to stay ! 
 To stay were better!" And as on he 
 
 passed, 
 
 138 
 
Heart of Touth 
 
 Still heedless, — with a deeper, warning 
 
 blast, 
 *^The way is long ! " it sighed, '' and short 
 
 the day!"— 
 It shouted ! and the woodland echoed, 
 
 ^'Stay!" 
 
 He waited not for answer : but a brood 
 Of white-winged doves flew over where he 
 
 stood. 
 Seeming to whisper, as they sped their way 
 On rapid pinion heavenward, ^^ Stay, O 
 
 stay!" 
 
 He waited not for answer — in he strode. 
 At once his friend forsaking, and the road. 
 Mindless of all — of pain or torn attire — 
 He leaped the wall and scrambled through 
 
 the briar. 
 His soul was innocent of thought of ill ; 
 His heart, untried, was buoyant; and his 
 
 will 
 Was steadfast (so he thought) to do the 
 
 right. 
 What matter where he wandered, if the 
 
 night 
 
 139 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 Should not have fallen ere he gained the 
 peak ! 
 
 But surelv, so it seemed, across his cheek. 
 The winds, which kissed him in the sun -lit 
 
 way 
 Where he before had wandered — which in 
 
 play 
 
 Had sported with his hair and fanned his 
 
 brow — 
 Were blowing searchingly and damply now. 
 And when he looked, and saw upon his 
 
 hand 
 The stain of crimson drops — a purple 
 
 brand 
 Where briers had punctured ; when he felt 
 
 the pain. 
 At first forgot, now doubly felt again ; 
 And looking down beheld the dust, the 
 
 burrs. 
 Thick fastened on him — shaken from the 
 
 furze : 
 Backward he cast a lingering glance, and 
 
 stood 
 As one irresolute. The ground was strewed 
 With stubble, broken stones, with last year's 
 
 leaves : 
 
 40 
 
Heart of Touth 
 
 A prospect desolate. As one who grieves 
 For pleasures vanished, and would fain 
 
 return. 
 So stood he now, and felt his pulses burn 
 With shame that he had wandered from the 
 
 way. 
 Again he heard the wind ! It seemed to say, 
 ^^ Repent ! return ! ye have not wandered 
 
 far!" 
 Above his head, from out his golden car. 
 The Sun, Apollo, threw a quickening beam. 
 Back flew the irised host of doves, agleam 
 In every pinion with a golden glow ; 
 And circling in the air, above, below, 
 ** Ye have not wandered far ! " they seemed 
 
 to cry, — 
 *' Repent ! return ! " — then vanished in the 
 
 sky. 
 Again he heard a voice — or seemed to hear. 
 Or voice or echo, sounding in his ear 
 It startled him, as if before his eye 
 His friend deserted had come suddenly. 
 
 He listened, — turned, — had fled the 
 dull abode. 
 And in a moment would have gained the 
 road, — 
 
 141 
 
Heart of Youth 
 
 When yonder field again his eye besets. 
 
 The purple field — to him still violets ! 
 
 '* I will not go," he cried, — and on his 
 
 knees 
 
 Down flung himself, — ** till I have gathered 
 
 these!" 
 A stagnant pool was there. It did not 
 
 flow. 
 But moved to right or left as wind might 
 
 blow ; 
 And on its surface curling leaves careered 
 And severed lily - pads. Dim, withered, 
 
 weird, 
 A ghostly cypress-tree and meadow-larch 
 Above the margin reared a rugged arch. 
 Throwing a slanting shadow on the rank 
 Wet deadly nightshade growing on the bank. 
 
 And here the seeker after purple flowers 
 Knelt fondly down to while away the hours. 
 
 O hours — O days ! O rapid months 
 and years ! 
 O heights ungained ! O unavailing tears ! 
 
 42 
 
Old Timothy John, 
 
 AA'D HIS FREQUEAfT REFRAIN, 
 ''POTATOES! OH, POTATOES r' 
 
 Not all the heroes of the earth 
 
 Have gained their victory with the sword 
 Not every child of noble birth 
 
 Has borne the escutcheon of a lord. 
 
 Full oft, perchance, by crumbling tomb. 
 By darkling waters' whirling flow. 
 
 May star-eyed asters beauteous bloom. 
 And fragrant-everlasting grow ! 
 
 Old Timothy John was a marvelous man. 
 And always a happy one, too, as he 
 ran. 
 In the rear of his load of potatoes. 
 ^' Six dollars, and health, and a hand-cart ! " 
 
 said he ; 
 *' Oh, who in the city can wealthier 
 be! — 
 * Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 H3 
 
Old "Timothy John 
 
 The hush of the morning was stirred by his 
 
 voice. 
 And ever till evening he offered a choice 
 
 Of several kinds of potatoes. 
 '* I v^^arrant them sound as a drum ! " cried 
 
 John, 
 Though this v^as a hollow^ comparison ! — 
 ** Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! " 
 
 Nor ever a wife or a child had he ; 
 
 Poor fellow ! no weight ever lay on his knee 
 
 But a bushel or so of potatoes. 
 His cart was his wife, and his child, and his 
 
 friend ; 
 ^' To a family - carriage^'*'* said he, ** I 
 pretend ! — 
 * Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 Full certainly Tim was a marvelous man. 
 And quite a philosopher, too, as he ran. 
 
 In the rear of his load of potatoes. 
 '* A pox o' your logic ! " cried moralist John : 
 ** Men soon would decease if they did n't 
 live on — 
 ' Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 144 
 
Old Timothy John 
 
 '' An' talk o' your ' Nature ' and ' Physics' ! " 
 
 said Tim, 
 While staring his audience looked at him 
 
 And then at his load of potatoes. 
 *' Ho, ho ! " he said, shoving his cart in the 
 
 pause, 
 **Is n't here an effect that 's ahead o' the 
 cause ? — 
 * Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 Not much of a Christian, perhaps, was 
 
 Tim ; 
 But often his measure ran over the brim 
 As he sold to the poor their potatoes. 
 '* Do n't mind the odd sixpence," he also 
 
 would say. 
 If he saw they were really ill able to 
 pay. 
 *' Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! " 
 
 The boys loved his coming ; and often they 
 
 cried, 
 '^ Oh, please ! dear old Tim ! " — so he gave 
 
 them a ride 
 On the top of his load of potatoes. 
 
 H5 
 
Old 'Timothy John 
 
 The girls loved his coming ; — and one, I 
 
 know. 
 Once threw him a kiss ! though he called it 
 '*a blow!'' 
 *^ Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! " 
 
 Not much of a scholar, perhaps, was he ; 
 Though seldom he passed in an ^*X'' for 
 a << Fr 
 As he paid for a load of potatoes. 
 ^ ^ Oh, where is your grammar ! ' ' cried 
 
 Timothy John : 
 **Two tens and a cypher don't make 
 twenty-one ! — 
 ^ Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 No loud politician was honest old Tim ; 
 Yet no one could purchase a vote of him 
 Though they bought his whole load of 
 potatoes. 
 **I vote for the man I think most of," 
 
 said he, 
 *'And he would n't oiFer a bribe to 
 me ! — 
 ' Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 146 
 
Old 'timothy John 
 
 ^' My choice is the man," cried Timothy 
 John, 
 
 ^' Who '11 help push the world's great hand- 
 cart on ! — 
 And none of your * small potatoes.' 
 
 The man who could purchase my vote when 
 he would. 
 
 Would purchase my liberty, too, if he 
 could ! — 
 ^ Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 Full certainly Tim was a marvelous man. 
 And always a happy one, too, as he ran. 
 
 In the rear of his load of potatoes. 
 He sang from a heart overflowing and free. 
 And never mistrusted Futurity he. — 
 *^ Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! " 
 
 But Timothy John, a few harvests ago. 
 Was noticed as steering unwontedly slow 
 
 With his cargo of new potatoes. 
 *^ In the spring," he would say, *^ I shall go 
 
 under ground ; — 
 The biggest potato the hemisphere round ! 
 * Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! ' " 
 
 H7 
 
Old Timothy John 
 
 God grant that if Tim has indeed since 
 
 found 
 The Garden where fruits are supposed to 
 abound, — 
 Though never, perhaps, potatoes, — 
 God grant that his voice may be heard on 
 
 high 
 In loftier strains than his own old cry, — 
 ^' Potatoes — oh, potatoes ! *' 
 
 148 
 
College Hill 
 
 \W'ntten after Long Absetue^ 
 
 One thought to-day, and one alone. 
 
 Has filled the horizon of my mind : 
 And fairer sunbeam never shone 
 
 On eyes that long had wandered blind. 
 My heart to-day, with happy thrill. 
 Has been with thee, O College Hill ! 
 With thee, with thee, 
 O College Hill ! 
 
 The thunder of far Alpine Hills, 
 
 The storm-cloud of the Southern Seas, 
 The murmur of Spain's murmuring rills, — 
 Of these I 've dreamed — nor dreamed 
 of ease. 
 But happiest thoughts my bosom fill 
 Whene'er I turn, O College Hill, 
 To thee, to thee, 
 
 O College Hill ! 
 
 The room grows wide wherein I sit : 
 These narrow, city walls expand : 
 
 I see again thy robin flit, 
 
 I see thy lawns on every hand, — 
 
 149 
 
College Hill 
 
 As green, as vocal, as the rill 
 That danced adown the sacred hill 
 Of Helicon, 
 
 O College Hill ! 
 
 I see thy rising slopes, — thy halls. 
 
 O Mother-Earth ! thou 'rt greener there ! 
 And gentler be the rain that falls. 
 
 And sweeter, balmier be the air. 
 Forever, and forever still. 
 Upon thy breast, O College Hill ! 
 On thy loved breast, 
 O College Hill ! 
 
 Again I seem to see thy trees, — 
 
 Thy silver-maple, mountain-ash; 
 And dearer to my heart are these 
 Than Eastern vine or calabash ! 
 I would not part with these, to till 
 By fair Euphrates, College Hill ! 
 Or Gihon's edge, 
 
 O College Hill ! 
 
 Again I see, — more blest than all, — 
 Full many a dear, remembered face ; 
 
 Again I hear the laugh, the call. 
 
 The cheer that rang from place to place, — 
 
 150 
 
College Hill 
 
 The laugh and cheer that echo still 
 About thy halls, O College Hill, 
 Could I but hear, 
 
 O College Hill ! 
 
 Again, in thought, I grasp the hand 
 
 Of comrades north and southward gone ; 
 I follow them ! and in the land 
 
 Of Danube, Rhine, and Amazon 
 Again I feel the electric thrill 
 I knew on thee, O College Hill, 
 When hand clasped hand. 
 On College Hill ! 
 
 151 
 
Confessions of a Voluptuary 
 I 
 
 A^OLUPTUARY, I! At dawn's first flash. 
 While wretched thousands are condemned 
 to sleep, 
 
 I rise and in luxurious coolness splash, — 
 Then on my silent courser joyous leap 
 
 To seek the hill-top or the woodland stream. 
 
 Or watch the lighthouse as it pales its beam. 
 The robin and the bobolink and I 
 Have kindred passion for the morning sky. 
 
 II 
 
 While others drudge at kitchen board or fire. 
 Compelled for breakfast's needs to broil 
 or brew, 
 I talk with novelists who never tire. 
 
 Or wing with poets the ethereal blue. 
 I 'd rather bathe my soul than pots and 
 
 plates, — 
 Would barter Wedgwood for a bag of dates : 
 For I have learned that simplest fare is best. 
 And nuts and fruits make mealtime-seasons 
 blest. 
 
 15 
 
Confessions of a Voluptuary 
 
 (Forgive me, flocks and herds, — sweet- 
 breath 'd as Ind, — 
 That range the prairie and the pasture 
 deep ! 
 Forgive me that in ignorance I sinned : 
 
 That you were once my sacrifice I weep. 
 Besides ! men learn that they £nd heahhier 
 
 blood 
 In pulse than flesh, in figs than carnal flood. 
 The soul sincere that seeks mind's regions 
 
 fair 
 Loves fragrant foods that bloom in sun 
 - and air. ) 
 
 III 
 
 When toil begins, and comrades fret and 
 shirk, 
 
 I freshen labor with the spirit's test. 
 Imagination never hindered work. 
 
 In perfect product is completest rest. 
 I take my pleasure as I go along, 
 And try to make my daily toil my song. 
 
 Through half a hemisphere or half a mile. 
 
 The load pulls easiest harnessed with a 
 smile. 
 
 -^t) 
 
Confessions of a Voluptuary 
 
 IV 
 
 At evening's hour, when others haste to 
 dress. 
 Condemned to theatre or fashion's whirl, 
 I sit and give my daughter a caress. 
 
 Or in the wine of thought dissolve a 
 pearl. 
 (The pearl is often art's or history's page. 
 Which thought — on-leading to a Golden 
 Age — 
 Would fain transmute into such Path of 
 
 Fate 
 As blind might follow to Elysian Gate.) 
 
 A Golden Age? I 'm in it even now ! 
 
 For, wanting httle, I have some for others. 
 (If any, hungry, at my feast would bow. 
 My morn or evening's richness is my 
 brother's !) 
 My fond desire is that the world may 
 
 see 
 Earth gives enough for all humanity. 
 Men only need a willingness to share. 
 And all the world would breathe ambrosial 
 air. 
 
 154 
 
Confessions of a Voluptuary 
 
 V 
 
 'T is true I little have of what men prize. 
 And often (like the saints) wear shining 
 garb ; 
 
 But having mirthfulness and open eyes 
 
 I bind wdth velvet life's metallic barb, — 
 
 Holding contentment, though in wooden 
 walls. 
 
 Better than selfishness in tinseled halls. 
 
 While earth's rich Saturnalia still is mine, 
 I shall not fail of spirit's oil and wine. 
 
 I would not change my modest daily lot 
 
 For any wealth that brought with it a care : 
 I love my ease too well to wash to blot 
 
 My freedom of the sky and sea and air. 
 I sink myself in soul and sense each day. 
 And in voluptuous shamelessness grow gray. 
 
 Nay ! — sink myself in joy each hour 
 that 's rung. 
 
 And grow each year voluptuously young. 
 
 155 
 
In Quest to Know 
 
 [Dedication of " The Complete Life " (a small 
 volum,e of moral essays) " To my friend and 
 fellow-explorer^ Harold Eddowes, in grate- 
 ful mem,ory of many happy afternoon rambles^ 
 in sum^mer and in winter^ about Fox River 
 valley^ Illinois, during which — * exploring 
 IVature^ both outwardly and inwardly — we 
 talked not seldom of matters such as those treated 
 of in this little book : 1884-1887:' ] 
 
 Oh, who shall say, my brother and my 
 
 friend, — 
 Shall e'er again our feet together hie? 
 Oh, blest the woodlands, blest the peacefiil 
 
 sky 
 Where oft we two, light-hearted without 
 
 end. 
 Our eager way, as children might, w^ould 
 
 wend ! 
 The first spring flowers were those which 
 
 met our eye. 
 The hurrying, road-edged river running by 
 Ne'er failed us once — its every nook and 
 
 bend 
 
 .56 
 
In ^est to Know 
 
 Fresh corners oiFered for our search and 
 
 growth. 
 But years are flying — though they still are 
 
 grand ! 
 Be ready, friend ! Ere long, perchance, we 
 
 go 
 A farther road than any, where we both 
 
 May solve the mystery of some other land. 
 
 And wander joyous still, in quest to Know. 
 
 DULUTH, Mmnesota, June, 1888. 
 
 157 
 
up Higher 
 
 (Acceptance of an Invitation fro77i S. C) 
 
 Brother and Lover ! whom I soon shall see : 
 Whose call I follow to learn Liberty ! 
 The noon- day terror calleth me on wings 
 To where the pine upon Monadnock sings. 
 I toil and sweat, as thou amid the hay. 
 But lack what gives the beauty to thy day — 
 Fragrance of clover, coolness in the deeps 
 Beneath low branches where the long grass 
 
 creeps. 
 And — most of all — the high horizon's rim. 
 Where, swathed in beauty, the snow islands 
 
 swim. 
 
 Spirit of Nature ! who to me art peace ! 
 
 Happy when thou for me dost speak release. 
 
 And with the call from lowlands by the sea, 
 
 '* Friend, come up higher!" mak'st me 
 
 once more free ! 
 
 Yea, *^ come up higher," — where the 
 mountain's crown 
 Is kissed by coolness as the night sweeps 
 down; 
 
 158 
 
up Higher 
 
 Where darting dragon-fly and cawing crow 
 Alike the wholesome life of Nature know, — 
 Unbound by sorrow, and unstained by wrongs 
 That in the human world drown angels' songs. 
 Ah, is it not a wretched daily plight 
 That with our scheming we hide heavenly 
 
 Hght! 
 We dream our petty plans shall scale the 
 
 skies ; — 
 We know no: we are blinding our own eyes 
 To sights and sounds and spiritual worth 
 A myriad times surpassing those of earth. 
 
 '^ Up higher " then indeed I And as my 
 feet 
 Shall shake from them the dust of city street. 
 May mind and soul both likewise open fair 
 To hints of Spirit's intellectual air. 
 *' Up higher '' not alone from sea to hill, — 
 But higher to the highest heights Oi Will ; 
 Up higher to the peace beyond all strife. 
 Up higher to the calm of God's own life. 
 
 Boston, July 8, i8go. 
 
 59 
 
Star and Cross 
 
 ** The time has come when all men shall be 
 
 free!" 
 Thus in my dream an Angel spake to me : 
 An Angel on whose forehead gleamed a 
 
 star, — 
 Beneath whose feet reclined a shattered spar. 
 
 Bright was her countenance, though dread 
 
 her word ! 
 Raptured I gazed, yet shuddered as I heard : 
 
 *^I am Inspirer of the Modern Seer: 
 Science, — ' Star-eyed,' men call me, — and 
 
 do well ! 
 Secrets of Past and Coming Time I tell; 
 Earth's child - conceptions fade now I am 
 
 here ! 
 In hope foundationless, alterne with fear. 
 Before the central scaffold of the years 
 Full long a time a thoughtless world has 
 
 bowed. 
 Now see we clearer ! clearer still shall see ! 
 Take hence the Cross ! — here, wrap it in 
 
 its shroud ! 
 Haste ye, and bear it — wet with wasted 
 
 tears — 
 
 1 60 
 
Star and Cross 
 
 Futile as sign of Immortality — 
 
 To Arimathean Joseph's rock-cut tomb 
 
 (Where he for Greatness made in love fair 
 
 room). 
 And lay it where its Victim's ashes be ! 
 The Star henceforth be symbol — stars give 
 
 light : 
 The Cross's origin was Lust and Night." 
 
 The vision smiled, and light upon me broke. 
 But some — '^It thundered, not an Angel 
 spoke!" 
 
 i6i 
 
Merry Christmas 
 
 In the roar of the world's busy hive 
 There is better for some than to *' thrive." 
 There are songs in the chill winter air ; 
 They summon to do and to dare : — 
 '^ Peace on earth unto men of good will ! " 
 Above all the pain and the ill. 
 Merry Christmas ! 
 
 O angels who voiced the high dream 
 That had birth beside Galilee's stream ! 
 The cross was not far from the song, — 
 And the thorns to high dreams still belong ! 
 But the peace, the exuberant thrill 
 In the soul of all men of good will ! — 
 This makes Christmas. 
 
 162 
 
God and Man 
 
 Where is Beauty ? Where is Grace ? 
 
 Their strength what Power embodies ? 
 Look within a human face : 
 
 Where love and help are, God is. 
 Seek this mystery to trace ! — 
 Heaven and earth its lines embrace. 
 Souls, and suns, and stellar space. 
 
 Wondrous is the mighty Power 
 In which we have our being ! 
 
 Every day and every hour 
 
 Brings joy for hearing, seeing ; 
 
 Joy of stream and star and flower, 
 
 Joy of sky-flung spectrum -bower. 
 
 Planet-haze and atom-shower. 
 
 Love, no less, of human hearts. 
 Which makes all life worth living. 
 
 From the One, the Only, starts, 
 Man's highest glory giving. 
 
 This to know transcends all arts, — 
 
 From the Whole the partial darts ; 
 
 Man's love God's love counterparts. 
 
 163 
 
Sage and Clown 
 
 I SAW two men as I walked up town : 
 Men called one a sage, and the other a clown. 
 
 I 
 
 The sage had just come from the halls of 
 
 debate. 
 Where his '* wisdom and courage" had 
 
 ^* saved the State.'* 
 Yet I saw him just now, with self-confident 
 
 grin. 
 At doors where true wisdom and strength 
 
 ne'er go in. 
 The crowd at his heels was surging thick. 
 And he, in his pride, with a gold-headed 
 
 stick. 
 Was reviewing again, with much flourish in 
 
 air. 
 How well he had *^ captured the senators " 
 
 there. 
 ^^ And they voted at last," said this wise 
 
 politician, 
 ^* Not according to theirs, but to my 
 
 volition ! 
 I ever can vanquish the men who * think ' ! " — 
 
 164 
 
Sage and Clown 
 
 And then he moved inward to ^^ take a 
 
 drink''; 
 And, stumbling in turning, he tripped o'er 
 
 a child. 
 And greeted him harshly, with threatenings 
 
 wild. 
 
 This, one of the men whom I saw up town : 
 With *^the brain of a sage" — and the 
 heart of a clown. 
 
 II 
 
 Quick struggling forward, with look of alarm. 
 Then saw I the other, just come from his 
 
 farm. 
 That a *' man " could thus rude to a wee 
 
 bairn be. 
 From his cheek drove his soul's calm ecstasy. 
 His brow wore a frown such as one before 
 Must have had who the sorrows of many 
 
 bore 
 While helpless the harshness of men to 
 
 retrieve : 
 Yet his eyes' -light was love, as when angels 
 
 grieve. 
 
 165 
 
Sage and Clown 
 
 The babe he uplifted from where he lay 
 
 crushed. 
 And with words of endearment his sobbings 
 
 hushed. 
 In his strong arms tenderly bore he the child. 
 And pointed where high, golden clouds were 
 
 piled. 
 And bade him hear bird-songs in yonder 
 
 wood : 
 '^Behold, dear! The Mother of all is 
 
 good!" 
 
 This, the other of two whom these rhymings 
 
 would gauge : 
 With '^ the brain of a clown" — and the 
 
 heart of a sage. 
 
 1 66 
 
The Sorrowing Wind 
 
 I SAT awaiting one who did not come. 
 Against my window the November rain 
 Pattered a weird and pitiful refrain — 
 Never dear Mother Nature's voice is dumb. 
 Drearily, as in penitence, the wind 
 Murmured a Miserere — had it sinned ? - 
 Had it been boisterous upon the deep ? 
 Had it been cruel — tossing ships about. 
 And sending sailors to their watery sleep? 
 With aimless fury and disastrous rout 
 Had it been leveling dim forest aisles. 
 And devastating fields for miles and miles ? 
 
 167 
 
The Laughing Philosopher 
 
 [Read to a Literary Chib on a ^^Hohnes " Nighty 
 
 Oh, not do saints and bards alone 
 
 Who speak the high, the solemn verse. 
 
 And counsel but in serious tone. 
 Help on the better from the worse. 
 
 To me it seems, the lighter song. 
 The sparkle and the flash of wit. 
 
 That gurgle, gush, and float along 
 And in and out and yonder flit. 
 
 Not knowing quite what shore they reach. 
 Nor 'neath what bridge, nor by what 
 strand. 
 
 Nor deem that they a '* Gospel " preach. 
 May also guide to Happier Land. 
 
 And so our Poet of to-night, — 
 His verses ripple, gurgle, gush. 
 
 Yet bear us with a charmed might. 
 With here a lag, and there a rush. 
 
 To where we see that lofty deed 
 Doth Life of the Divine disburse. 
 
 68 
 
The Laughing Philosopher 
 
 As every dew-drop on the mead 
 Reveals the rounded universe. 
 
 I saw him once — this poet gay — 
 
 Beside a window in the street : 
 What potent presence there that day 
 
 Could hold so fine a poet's feet? 
 
 I saw his face one beaming smile — 
 Intense enjoyment gleam' d and shone. 
 
 Two mimic dogs, on wires, the while. 
 Were tugging at a worsted bone ! 
 
 He turned — eves met — he smiled the more. 
 
 ''Best thing I 've seen," said he (and 
 bowed), 
 '' Since last I by the Common's door 
 
 Heard Punch and Judy clamor loud." 
 
 Ah, well ! As the odd scene we spurned, 
 ''Life 's seldom harmed," said he, "by 
 fiin. 
 
 I like your apples southward turned ; 
 They ripen mellowest in the sun." 
 
 With him I too am still a child. 
 I love my baby's simplest toys; 
 
 169 
 
T^he Laughing Philosopher 
 
 Can dance or blow the whistle wild 
 With any dozen girls or boys. 
 
 And Deepest Thought nor Highest Hope 
 Is hindered by such moment's dash. 
 
 I 'm helped by sunshine, when I grope. 
 Far more than by the lightning's flash. 
 
 Yet, too, the High we need to spell ! 
 
 The loftiest shown is none too far ! 
 Holmes ? Yes, but Emerson as well. 
 
 To hitch our wagon to a star. 
 
 We need to join the two in one. 
 The happy and the serious air. 
 
 Ah, what of good might not be done 
 By progeny of such a pair ! 
 
 The age demands a nobler race 
 
 Than habits now this whirling ball : 
 
 Be ours the Problem Vast to face. 
 Be ours to answer to the Call. 
 
 I/O 
 
Lowell 
 
 What was thy Message, Poet, to our day ? 
 What call of God, earth's meanness to 
 
 retrieve ? . . . 
 As when one stands upon a hill at eve. 
 And sees rich valleys fade in growing gray. 
 Till blooming field and forest-girdled bay 
 Are lost in gloom, and man and Nature 
 
 grieve. 
 Yet, glancing up, finds splendors that re- 
 lieve, — 
 Star-hosts that hold on high their glowing 
 
 way : 
 So, in an age with richest gainings fraught. 
 Men have seen Greatness fade, and feared 
 
 the worst ! 
 Seen selfishness down-settle like a pall ! 
 But lo ! Man's power divine to reach the 
 
 Ought — 
 This the glad light which on thy \nsion 
 
 burst. 
 Prophetic of Love lord at last o'er all. 
 
 171 
 
To James Vila Blake 
 
 [Printed^ and sent by certain friends to many 
 other friends^ on his Birthday. — ^905.] 
 
 Poet of lofty thought and artist sight. 
 Musician keen, whose ears catch dulcet notes. 
 Wise essayist, whose dullest page is bright. 
 Sane critic — seeing suns, ignoring motes ; 
 
 Preacher whose finest texts are writ in deeds. 
 Impelling nobleness in young and gray ; 
 Teacher whose art allures from listless meads 
 To heights where Song and Masque hold 
 purest sway ; 
 
 More than all these, rich lover and rare 
 
 friend, 
 A thousand times sweet friend and lover 
 
 true ! — 
 Small weight a world's admiring praise could 
 
 lend 
 Of worth or grace to helper such as you. 
 
 Bays are not theirs alone w^hose deeds men 
 
 laud: 
 Wreaths greenest are still theirs whom few 
 
 applaud. 
 
 172 
 
Dream-Counsel 
 
 I DREAMED of thec last night. 
 
 Brother and friend — 
 And all the sky was hght 
 
 And without end ! 
 Thou seemed with wisdom fraugkt. 
 
 Companion mine ; 
 And, joyous, I was taught 
 
 In things divine. 
 
 I came to thee in care. 
 
 From wearying mart : 
 We parted Ught as air. 
 
 And glad of heart. 
 Where disappointment's pain 
 
 Had weighed me low. 
 Thou changed the evening rain 
 
 To sunrise-glow. 
 
 Where I — because my strife 
 
 For Truth and Day 
 Seemed fruitless, and my Hfe 
 
 But thrown aw^ay — 
 Was downcast and in tears. 
 
 With cheering voice 
 
 173 
 
Dream-Counsel 
 
 Thou banished all my fears. 
 And cried, *' Rejoice ! 
 
 *' Rejoice ! it is the quest y 
 'Tis not the art 
 
 Of gaining ends, that best 
 
 Fulfills life's part. 
 What though for thee the rain. 
 
 The briar and burr? 
 Oh, surely not in vain 
 
 Thy strugglings were. 
 
 '^ Through years thy aim, thy call. 
 
 Has been for things 
 Exalted over all 
 
 That ^ Comfort ' sings. 
 * Truth,' *Duty,' 'Good, 'thy words. 
 
 And * Boldness ' too. 
 Beyond what common herds 
 
 Yet ever knew. 
 
 ''In peace, then, sleep, this night, 
 
 O troubled heart ! 
 Though low, yet is thy plight 
 
 The better part. 
 
 174 
 
Dream-Counsel 
 
 And when, at last, immured 
 
 In earth for Rest, 
 Thy soul shall be assured 
 
 The strife was best." 
 
 So spake thou to me, friend. 
 
 Within my dream. 
 Showing the nobler end 
 
 To be, not seem. 
 Content, then, I, to dare. 
 
 Without success ! 
 Though poverty my share, 
 
 I 've blessedness. 
 
 175 
 
The Wail of Low Humanity 
 
 Ah, whither shall we look, and whither 
 turn ? — 
 Life's road is bleak ! 
 About us fiercely wrongs and passions burn : 
 In happier paths our feet would fain sojourn. 
 Where shall we look ? — ah, whither shall 
 we seek? 
 For we are weak. 
 
 Up to the silent heavens in vain we raise 
 
 Our blinded sight. 
 Men through the ages, through long years 
 
 and days. 
 Their supplications fond, in prayer and praise. 
 Have raised with looks like ours, and faces 
 white — 
 Yet sank in Night. 
 
 To You, then, who have fought with Fate 
 like us. 
 And gained a place ! — 
 Who by no gift or aid miraculous 
 Have fled the Woe, the Vale Calamitous, 
 But in Man's natural might alone, and 
 grace. 
 Have won life's race, — 
 
 176 
 
Tihe Wail of Low Humanity 
 
 To You, O Brothers higher up, we turn ! 
 
 Our human kin ! 
 Lend ye the means for us life's heights to 
 
 earn. 
 Uplift with love, where now your brows are 
 stern. 
 Do ye o'erturn for us earth's wrong and 
 sin, — 
 And let us in. 
 
 177 
 
Justice ! Freedom ! 
 
 How SHALL all mankind be lifted. 
 
 Strength be brought to weakness lowly. 
 
 Toil's oppression-clouds be rifted. 
 Right be recognized as holy ? 
 
 Many eras, many sages 
 
 Life's sublimer words have spoken : 
 Flee your blood-stained heritages ! 
 
 Justice ! Freedom ! — these the token. 
 
 178 
 
The Dayspring 
 
 Earth's night is waning ! Beautiful and fair 
 The day-spring flashes gold across the deep. 
 I see the wailing nations cease to weep. 
 For War and Want lie wounded in their lair 
 And know their end approacheth. Stricken, — 
 
 bare, — 
 Bewildered by the Day, — the selfish heap 
 Of woes that thrive in darkness take their 
 
 leap 
 To escape the sunbeams netting in their hair. 
 
 O human race ! whose hope-illumined heart 
 Greets light with light in answering ecstasy. 
 Let Love and Knowledge flame to more and 
 
 more ! — 
 Flame till there shines on every field and mart 
 The longed-for, deathless day of Liberty, 
 And every sea laps sunlit Plenty's shore. 
 
 179 
 
Accelerant 
 
 For evil or for good we live each day ; 
 Accelerant the good or ill speeds on. 
 Brothers and sisters! ere earth's hours be 
 gone 
 What will ye answer while the nations 
 pray r 
 
 His dream was some high gift to Coming 
 Time. 
 But he was powerless — what great deed 
 
 could he ! 
 Modest in name and mien, his brain was 
 free 
 And his heart willing. Was there aught 
 sublime ? 
 
 Temptation came to him. He did not 
 lack 
 The taint of blood from old heredity 
 Urging him — spelling him. Yet valiantly 
 
 On the alluring ill he turned his back. 
 
 180 
 
Accelerant 
 
 Later came one he loved, and they were 
 wed. 
 His children had far less the taint abhorred. 
 While brain and will were trebly in them 
 scored. 
 They led the world on after he was dead. 
 
 Unto himself alone no man may live; 
 
 Accelerant his strength or weakness grows. 
 In blessing or in curse, where 'er it flows. — 
 
 To coming ages what wilt thou, friend, 
 give r 
 
To Raymond L. Bridgman 
 
 [On learning of the popular oppositio7t to his 
 book^ ''^ Loyal Traitors ^ — 1903^ 
 
 ** He means it well," with smile (or frow^n) 
 
 they say, — 
 ** But, lack ! he carries his ^reform' too far. 
 One fails of wisdom who o'erleaps the bar 
 Which prudent hands have stretched athwart 
 
 the way. 
 A yard or two if you would run, you may : 
 But if you race to lengths unpopular 
 Your zeal offends. Who would his Cause 
 
 not jar 
 In reason's middle vantage-ground must 
 
 stay." 
 
 Oh, weak, who make a '^ middle ground" 
 
 for Right ! 
 And doubly weak who, seeing valor wield 
 The axe to topple Wrong, would dull the 
 
 blade ! 
 Who loves his land, against that land must 
 
 fight 
 If she be tyrant ; — traitor if he yield 
 While prostrate Liberty is bound and flayed. 
 
 182 
 
In Admiration of World- 
 Helpers 
 
 O Earnest Fathers ! Sweet-faced Sisterhood ! 
 Martyrs and Saints of whate'er faith or dress 
 Who through the years left no man comfort- 
 less; 
 In thought of others — self in self subdued — 
 Striving to make mankind more pure and good ! 
 Fain by the warning word or breathed caress 
 To stay earth's evil and perfidiousness ; 
 Scourged, censured, lacking bread and hab- 
 itude ! 
 Would " that To - day — this trebly fine 
 
 To-day — 
 We thy helped brothers 'mid the world's 
 
 mad strife 
 Might through thy love and sacrifices rare 
 Be led to walk thy same strong, towering way : 
 Calming the world that hungereth for life 
 By breath of Brotherhood's supernal air. 
 
 183 
 
What Are We Here For? 
 
 [It is said that Saint Bernard every day, on 
 awaking, asked himself the question, " What 
 am I here for ? " ] 
 
 What are we here for, brothers mine. 
 
 Upon this Road of Life? 
 What mean for us the stars that shine. 
 
 The fields with beauty rife ? 
 What power hath Truth to stir our zeal ? 
 
 What cry hath human need? 
 'Mid earth's conflicting woe and weal. 
 
 What voices should we heed ? 
 
 What are we here for? Here to grow 
 
 In every grace divine ! 
 The beauty of the world to know. 
 
 And in its beauty shine ; 
 To follow Truth where'er it lies. 
 
 Through loneliness and scorn ; 
 To hold earth's bounty equal prize 
 
 Of every child that 's born. 
 
 What are we here for in this maze 
 Which no man yet hath solved? 
 
 184 
 
What Are We Here For ? 
 
 Here to achieve the noblest days 
 Since first the sphere revolved ! 
 
 Not ours to dull the soul with mirth, 
 Outdrowning human groan. 
 
 But ours to sublimate the earth 
 And bring Man to his own. 
 
 185 
 
Up to the Heights 
 
 I DREAMED the statuc of a god 
 Stood high in every market-place. 
 That all who thither toiling trod 
 Might see the beauty of a face 
 Noble, and freed in every trace 
 From want, from selfishness, from sin. 
 Yet seemed it of the human race. 
 Nor wholly difficult to win. 
 
 Indeed, thrice daily, morn, noon, night. 
 To all the hurriers to and fro 
 Each statue spake: ^'The Cosmos bright. 
 Each gracious force, above, below. 
 Earth's possibilities but show! 
 Man can attain whate ' er he feels ; 
 Up to the heights ' tis yours to go ; 
 Your gods are but your high ideals." 
 
 Is this the Vision of the Race? 
 This its high nobleness of heart ? 
 Be ours to win that finer grace. 
 Ours to do valiantly our part ! 
 
 186 
 
up to the Heights 
 
 Thus from the race's ranks shall start 
 The sonship truly of the Best, 
 And Love ' s .divine and perfect art 
 Henceforth be man's redeeming quest, 
 
 187 
 
Good Shall Conquer, Never 
 Fear 
 
 [Written for the Tiiite, ''^Triumph By-and-byy^ 
 
 Be we the courage-bringers ! 
 Let laugh the bells, O ringers ! 
 Earth's hero-hearts and singers 
 
 Promise peace. 
 Despair and grief why borrow? — 
 Full long has man had sorrow ! 
 Work joyful for the morrow, — 
 
 Wrong shall cease. 
 
 Chorus, — Never fear ! Light is growing ! 
 Never fear ! Truth is flowing 
 Where humanity shall share it, — 
 
 Never fear ! 
 Never fear ! clouds are fleeing ; 
 Never fear ! men are seeing 
 That the Good at last shall conquer,— 
 
 Never fear! 
 
 With hope and high endeavor 
 Earth's great have striven ever 
 The bonds of ill to sever, — 
 We may trust ! 
 
 i88 
 
Good Shall Conquer^ Never Fear 
 
 The Past's prophetic preaching. 
 The Present's clearer teaching. 
 All ages' forward-reaching, — 
 Win they must ! 
 
 Chorus, — Never fear ! etc. 
 
 Man yet is onward striving. 
 All happy Art is thriving. 
 The Age of Good arriving, — 
 
 Give it scope ! 
 The heights of being call us ; 
 If doubt nor fear appall us 
 Life's splendor shall befall us. 
 
 Work and hope ! 
 
 Chorus, — Never fear ! etc. 
 
 89 
 
Man's Best Word God's 
 True Word 
 
 i8gi. 
 
 The highest Truth is ever Word of God. 
 
 * ' My doctrine is not mine, ' ' said he of old, 
 **But His that sent me." And the fabled 
 rod 
 Which Moses wielded was not his, 'twas 
 told. 
 But '^ symbol " only of a Vaster Power 
 Which feebly he forthshadowed for an hour. 
 
 Ah, much too much ourselves we separate 
 From the Divine Effulgence which is All ! 
 
 A Deity far off we paint, and prate 
 Of God as hid behind dividing wall. 
 
 Nay, such as this is shadow drear and dun — 
 
 A glow-worm dimness, not the wondrous 
 Sun. 
 
 No Word of Good was ever breathed not 
 God's! 
 No stroke for Freedom but God held the 
 arm ! 
 
 190 
 
Man V Best Word God 's True Word 
 
 Lo, then, to-day, these Creeds' o'erturning 
 
 sods — 
 They token Heaven's high shouts, not 
 
 Hell's alarm. 
 O let us deem Man's own best Word of 
 
 Hope 
 Still God's true Word, and Man's best 
 
 horoscope. 
 
 191 
 
Earth's Golden Prime Lies 
 Infinitely On 
 
 '* If ye continue in my word," said he 
 
 Who walked of old through flower-sprent 
 Galilee, 
 
 ^^The truth ye then shall know." Ah, 
 teacher great ! 
 
 Thy word the world's late years still illus- 
 trate ! 
 
 Thy gospel was of simplest thought and 
 
 deed: 
 Two words alone thy all embracing creed, — 
 To seek ! to love ! The truth of God to seek ; 
 In love for man that truth of God to speak. 
 
 ♦* And ye have heard it said of olden time, 
 * Lo, this ! ' ' Lo, that ! ' But, nay ! earth 's 
 
 golden prime 
 Lies infinitely on, where none can see. 
 A new commandment, therefore, give I 
 
 thee." 
 
 192 
 
Earth's Golden Prime 
 
 New days require new thoughts, new words, 
 
 new works. 
 Blasphemer he who those new meanings 
 
 shirks ! 
 Shall men forever only backward glance? — 
 That were to serve but shame and ignorance. 
 
 ^^The truth that is, I come not to de- 
 stroy"; — 
 Truth's service, rather, is divinest joy ! 
 The Past did well — it could but blindly see. 
 To larger knowledge be as faithful we ! 
 
 O lover wise on hills of Palestine ! 
 
 If still the power to seek and love be thine. 
 
 What joy thou hast, though Truth thyself 
 
 o'er- arch. 
 That Man still hastens on his upward march ! 
 
 193 
 
Fifty Years 
 
 [Sung" at a Senii-Centejtnial Church Celebration. 
 Geneva J Illinois^ June^ i8g2.\ 
 
 O TEMPLE sacred to the Past, 
 
 And sacred to the Present too ! 
 
 Thy walls, which Fifty Years outlast. 
 
 To-day we consecrate anew : 
 
 Anew to God, anew to Man, 
 
 To Love, to Helpfulness, to Truth; 
 
 While more in each of these we scan 
 
 Than those who knew thee in thy youth. 
 
 Oh, blest that as the centuries fly . 
 Man's soul doth deeper, higher roam ! 
 Yet feels the more that earth and sky 
 Are but a vaster temple-home : 
 Temple that needs no sun to thrill. 
 So grand its inner, fadeless light, — 
 The Godlike, in the human, still 
 Redeeming it from evil plight. 
 
 Honor be thine, O walls grown gray. 
 That Freedom here was ever given 
 To prophet-souls to point the way 
 To higher God and higher heaven. 
 
 194 
 
Fifty Years 
 
 With Freedom still thy Word be twined, 
 O reverend aisles, to us so dear ! 
 And other Fifty Years still find 
 The voice of Progress echoing here. 
 
 Above the clamors of our day. 
 
 Which fain v^^ould drown the still small voice. 
 
 We hear a mightier Presence say : 
 
 Rejoice, O sons of men ! rejoice ! 
 
 Be open still to prophets' cry ; 
 
 Go on to keener insight yet ! 
 
 Much still remains of Deep and High 
 
 Ere suns and stars of God are set. 
 
 •95 
 
The Loved and Gone 
 
 [Written for an Anniversary?^ 
 
 Glad thought we give, proved true by tears. 
 
 To those, the loved and gone. 
 Who at our side in other years 
 
 Inspired and helped us on. 
 Their presence lingers with us still. 
 
 As stars amid the night. 
 The while they roam the heavenly hill 
 
 Beyond our earthly sight. 
 
 Oh, more than these who greet our eyes 
 
 Are ye with silent feet ! 
 And gratefully we recognize 
 
 Your benediction sweet. 
 We may not whisper loud each name, — 
 
 Too sacred is our thought; 
 But humbly take, of praise or blame. 
 
 The good ye to us brought. 
 
 Be near us still to aid and bless. 
 Ye friends of other days ! 
 
 196 
 
T^he Loved and Gone 
 
 Soul yet doth feel your fond caress. 
 
 Your olden likeness raise. 
 Thus heart doth still respond to heart. 
 
 And ye, though gone above. 
 Are never dead, but still are part 
 
 Of all our life and love. 
 
 197 
 
^^Look Back At Times" 
 
 Each morn, along the dewy street. 
 
 As cityward I went, 
 * ' Part way ' ' with me her eager feet 
 
 My little daughter bent. 
 
 Then, as I hastened from her side. 
 
 And fast the distance grew, 
 *^*Look back, look back at tim.es i " she cried, 
 
 ' * I '11 wave my hand to you ! ' ' 
 
 Look back ? Ah, little did we think 
 Her phrase of childhood love 
 
 In after years my food and drink — 
 
 My soul's delight — would prove. 
 
 Unmeasuredly I now rejoice 
 
 In that sweet earher day ; 
 Nor need I now to hear her voice 
 
 Her summons to obey. 
 
 Yea, oft, my child, I backward look, — 
 
 Again those years are mine ; 
 Their pages are my Golden Book 
 
 With legends all divine. 
 
 198 
 
^' Look Back at Times'' 
 
 Within its leaves, as in a dream. 
 Dear visions come and go. 
 
 Thank God that they are what they seem 
 And ever sweeter grow ! 
 
 Your baby hand still clasps my own. 
 
 Your kiss is on my cheek. 
 Though nearly twenty years have flown 
 
 Their blessing grows not weak. 
 
 O vanished darling ! — still my pride ! — 
 Where roam thy feet to-day ? 
 
 Forever young thy years abide. 
 
 Though mine are flecked with gray. 
 
 Forever young abide her years — 
 Yea, all immortal she ! 
 
 And still — the balm for all my fears — 
 She waves her hand to me. 
 
 199 
 
Work 
 
 To SEEK — invent — discover ! To create ! 
 Mountains to carve, wild zones to subjugate. 
 The seas to merge, rude metals to refine. 
 Harsh sounds to mingle in mellifluous line. 
 Disease to vanquish, famine to repel. 
 World - thought to lift, and peal Wrong's 
 
 passing-bell, — 
 The daily toil of common mill and mart. 
 The humblest toil, if mixed with brain and 
 
 heart, — 
 Lo, 'tis man's angel, — 'tis the Hfe of life ! 
 Pain fails of power, and strife no more is 
 
 strife. 
 Swiftly flies doubt, and grieving follows fast. 
 Blown on the wings of this supernal blast. 
 
 What art thou. Labor ? Nay, what art thou 
 not ! — 
 
 For world's unkindness, soul's sweet garden- 
 spot ; 
 
 Shade if detraction's scorching airs arise; 
 
 Sun to illume fear's direfiil phantasies; 
 
 Lover to give the spirit pure caress ; 
 
 Friend to dispel bereavement's loneliness; 
 
 200 
 
Work 
 
 Quencher of wants if poverty befall ; 
 Narcotic draught for pain tyrannical ; 
 Disdained aiFection 's Lethe ; — magic wand 
 To waft us swiftly, soothingly, beyond 
 Earth ' s every selfishness and meanness dire. 
 And bathe the soul in heaven's own blissful 
 fire! 
 
 Do Nature's forces ever idle lurk? 
 
 Doth she, the Mighty One, not ceaseless work 
 
 To-day as when at her evolving call 
 
 From chaos tow'rd perfection sprang earth's 
 
 ball ? 
 So toil ye also, hands, heart, brain o' me ! — 
 Till latest hour, strive on in ecstasy ! 
 Strive on ? Yea, love on ! — toil and love 
 
 are one 
 To him who toils nor wishes toilings done. 
 Did erst the morning stars with rapture sing ? 
 Is 't writ with peace heaven's echoing arches 
 
 ring ? 
 So human souls through their most secret aisles 
 When Labor, baffling weakness, soars and 
 
 smiles. 
 
 20 1 
 
Love's Predicament 
 
 In lonng I do find such sweet employ 
 That more of love I make each hour my 
 
 quest. 
 Yet presently I find this puzzling joy : 
 Am I Love's servitor — or Love's dear guest ! 
 For while in strowing of my love I live. 
 No less of love remains to quench love's 
 
 thirst ; 
 In truth, to strow is gain, for though I give. 
 Beseems more love is mine than mine at first. 
 Shall I then cease to love, and so give more ? 
 Deny myself, and let the world have all? 
 So be it! Self I '11 hide behind Love's 
 
 door, — 
 Enswathe me fondly in Love's blindfold pall. 
 Oh, reckless venture ! for thus love I most. 
 And Love, thrice over, beams my smiling 
 
 host. 
 
 202 
 
To the Muse 
 
 [Written after long verse-barrenness consequent 
 on iuaterial engross77tents. — ^904^ 
 
 Is YET my penance ended ? Will the Muse, 
 Against whom I offended, come once more 
 And dwell with me, and bless me as of 
 
 yore ? — 
 Fondly, as erst, caress m.e r radiant hues 
 Of gracious dawn throw o'er me? magic 
 
 dews 
 Of heavenly peace outpour me ? Oh, the 
 
 .store 
 Of loftiest soul -uplifting, when heart's door 
 Lies open, and Song's gifting lore ensues ! 
 
 Then come to me. Divine One ! Lo, I 
 kneel 
 
 Humbly where knelt I oft to know thy kiss. 
 How have I lived, not having touch oi thee ! 
 Even as sinking swimmers when they feel 
 Shore's sands beneath them, welcome I this 
 
 bliss ! 
 Thy strength supports — exalts — makes 
 
 much of me. 
 
 203 
 
"In Grateful Love" 
 
 [Dedication, i880y of a collectio7i of verses 
 now out of p7'int^ 
 
 To HER whose sympathetic heart hath been 
 
 my stay; 
 Whose gentle hand hath guided me in all 
 
 my way ; 
 Whose teachings in my childhood's hours 
 
 were love alone; 
 Whose arms of counsel, now in youth, are 
 
 round me thrown ; 
 To her whose bright example is my guiding 
 
 star; 
 Whose love and faith are firmer than the 
 
 hills afar ; 
 Whose presence hovers o'er me like some 
 
 holy dove ; — 
 To HER these little songs are given, in 
 
 grateful love. 
 
 204 
 
" Finished " 
 
 \Epilogtie to the collection of verses 77ientioned 
 on opposite page. — Dece77iber^ 1880.] 
 
 The year is finished — finished is the book. 
 The year was full of days, for good or ill : 
 With us it lay the fleeting hours to fill 
 With noble deeds. Long hours in dale and 
 
 nook. 
 Where haunted pines their odorous needles 
 
 shook. 
 Where fern and flower their dewy fragrance 
 
 . spill. 
 It gave for our delight. 'Tis dying ! Still, 
 New years remain ! With fervor let us look 
 To make them really ours. 
 
 And thou, my page ! 
 As years with days, so thou with words art 
 
 . ' full! 
 Oh, happy I, if on thy friendly way 
 Some thought of cheer thou give to youth or 
 
 age. 
 Some life encrimsoned make as white as wool. 
 Some sorrowing heart allure to dream of day ! 
 
 205 
 
L' Envoi — ^^ Meteors " 
 
 I SIT in the gloom 
 Of my evening room 
 
 On the hill-top high, and gaze on the tomb 
 Of darkness which covers earth's beauty and 
 bloom . 
 
 O'er the river's gray track 
 
 Rise the hill-slopes black, — 
 
 Like peddlers, each holding a house for a 
 
 pack, — 
 Or like Atlas of old, with the town on their 
 
 back 1 
 
 In the northern sky. 
 
 From their throne on high. 
 
 Fair meteors flash on the wondering eye. 
 
 And fall into darkness, and fail, and die : 
 
 Fall suddenly down. 
 
 With the gleam of a crown. 
 
 To fade in the mists and the shadows brown 
 
 Which hazily hang over meadow and town ! 
 
 206 
 
U Envoi — " Meteors 
 
 The villagers sleep : 
 
 Over valley and steep 
 
 Not a household light breaks the darkness 
 
 deep : 
 The pale stars only their vigils keep. 
 
 But look ! through the night 
 (Where a meteor bright 
 Just vanishing seemed to fall in its flight). 
 There shines in a window a welcoming 
 light ! — 
 
 A scintillant glare. 
 
 Rich, luminous, rare, — 
 
 As if when the meteor vanished in air 
 
 It charmed a new star into radiance there ! 
 
 — O soul of mine ! 
 
 When the Angel Divine 
 
 Shall summon thee swift to a region be- 
 nign, — 
 
 Shall summon thee swift, and thou follow his 
 sign, — 
 
 20 
 
U Envoi — " Meteors " 
 
 Thou wouldst not ask more 
 
 Than some heart on life's shore 
 
 Grow bright with a gleam of thy vanishing 
 
 lore, — 
 Grow bright with a luster undreamed of 
 
 before ! 
 
 208 
 
Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Accelerant i8o 
 
 Admiration of World-Helpers, In ... . 183 
 
 Alpha and Omega 38 
 
 And Last of All I LeaiTi It 79 
 
 Beacon-Lights 56 
 
 Beauty, Ideal 13 
 
 Beauty-, Life's 53 
 
 Blake (James Vila), To 172 
 
 Blue Hills in November, In the 26 
 
 Body and Spirit 84 
 
 " Breath from the Fields, A " 80 
 
 Bridgman (Raymond L.), To 182 
 
 Burial-Ground, In a Country 90 
 
 Camarades, Les 94 
 
 Cane from Gethsemane, A 11 1 
 
 Causation 72 
 
 Christmas, Merry 162 
 
 Clown, Sage and 164 
 
 Coin in Any Realm 10 
 
 College Hill 149 
 
 Confessions of a Voluptuary 152 
 
 Crosses, Self-Made 74 
 
 Cross, Star and 160 
 
 Cypress-Crowned 24 
 
 Daffodils 82 
 
 Dayspring, The 179 
 
 Death, the Kiss of 41 
 
 Detritus 18 
 
 Dragon-fly, Sonata of the 98 
 
 Dream-Counsel 173 
 
 Earth at Play, The 93 
 
 Earth's Golden Prime Lies Infinitely On . 192 
 
 Eastward Windows 45 
 
 Enchanted Ground 97 
 
 209 
 
Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Fifty Years 194 
 
 Finished 205 
 
 Forelooking loi 
 
 Forever On ^6 
 
 Gethsemane, A Cane from 11 1 
 
 God and Man • 163 
 
 God's Mariners 58 
 
 Good Shall Conquer, Never Fear .... 188 
 
 Gone 48 
 
 Great, The 116 
 
 Heart of Youth 130 
 
 Holmes (The Laughing Philosopher) . . 168 
 
 How Sing'st Thou, Then? 15 
 
 Ideal Beauty 13 
 
 I Feel that I Know Her 104 
 
 In a Country Burial-Ground 90 
 
 In Admiration of World-Helpers .... 183 
 
 Indian Summer 25 
 
 " In Grateful Love " 204 
 
 In Quest to Know^ 156 
 
 In Suburban Woods 95 
 
 In the Blue Hills in November 26 
 
 " In Thy Youth " 73 
 
 Inward Fires 75 
 
 Janes, Lewis G 121 
 
 Justice! Freedom! 178 
 
 Kiss of Death, The 41 
 
 Known of Old 44 
 
 Last of All I Learn It, And 79 
 
 Laughing Philosopher, The 168 
 
 L'Envoi (" Meteors ") 206 
 
 Life 28 
 
 Life's Beauty 53 
 
 210 
 
Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Life's Hardness, To Prize 14 
 
 " Look Back at Times " 198 
 
 Loved and Gone, The 196 
 
 Love's Predicament 202 
 
 Lowell .- 171 
 
 Man, God and 163 
 
 Man's Best Word God's True Word ... 190 
 
 Man's Opportunity 34 
 
 Merr}^ Christmas 162 
 
 '^Meteors" (L'Envoi) 206 
 
 Mother, The 66 
 
 Muse, To the 203 
 
 My Feathered Preacher ^^i, 
 
 Mystic River 86 
 
 " Of One " 65 
 
 Old Timothy John 143 
 
 Paradise, Soul's (Prelude) 7 
 
 Passing, The 42 
 
 Path, The 16 
 
 Philosopher, The Laughing 168 
 
 Platitudes 69 
 
 Possibility, The Transcendent 40 
 
 "Prepared" 54 
 
 Proem (" Revolve, O Earth 1 ").... . i 
 
 Residuum 22 
 
 Revelation 12 
 
 Sage and Clown 164 
 
 Schoolmaster's Dream, The 125 
 
 Search 57 
 
 Self-Made Crosses 74 
 
 " Signs and Wonders " 60 
 
 So Like the Spring She Stands 96 
 
 Sonata of the Dragon-fly 98 
 
 Sorrowing Wind, The 167 
 
 21 I 
 
Index 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Soul 68 
 
 Soul's Paradise (Prelude) 7 
 
 Spirals 78 
 
 Spirit, Body and 84 
 
 Star and Cross 160 
 
 Suburban Woods, In 95 
 
 Sunrise in Codman Park 91 
 
 Sunshine 50 
 
 Sweetest Songs Are Never Sung .... 108 
 
 Thyself Within 9 
 
 To James Vila Blake - 172 
 
 To My Old W^heel 92 
 
 To Prize Life's Hardness 14 
 
 To Raymond L. Bridgman 182 
 
 To the Muse 203 
 
 To Truth — My God 67 
 
 Transcendent Possibility, The 40 
 
 Ungrasped 77 
 
 Up Higher 158 
 
 Uplifts of Heart and Will 70 
 
 Up to the Heights 186 
 
 Voluptuary, Confessions of a 152 
 
 Wail of Low Humanity, The 176 
 
 What Are We Here For ? 184 
 
 Wheel, To My Old 92 
 
 " When Young Hearts Love " no 
 
 Who Knows ? 46 
 
 Wind, The Sorrowing 167 
 
 Work 200 
 
 World-Trust 37 
 
 Worship 64 
 
 Youth, Heart of 130 
 
 *' Youth, In Thy " 7^ 
 
 Zeal 11 
 
 212 
 
25 19 
 
 
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