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P L E A S U 
 
 AND 
 
 PAIN 
 
 POEMS by ROLLIN J. WELLS 
 
 Beoadway Publishing Co. 
 835 Beoadway New Yoke 
 
hi 3 
 
 Copyright, 1913 
 
 BY 
 
 Kollest J. Wells 
 
 JAN 3 1314 
 
 4, 
 
 s ,< 
 
 CLA362019 
 
Preface 
 
 DISAPPOINTED 
 
 If you should scan this title page, 
 And throw the book down in a rage, 
 I'd not be disappointed. 
 
 If you should skim the volume through, 
 And swear it was not worth a sou, 
 I'd not be disappointed. 
 
 If you should find some little thing 
 That in your heart would wake and sing, 
 I'd not be disappointed. 
 
 And if your cares were sung away, 
 And you were stronger for the day, 
 I'd not be disappointed. 
 
 If you should say about this book, 
 "The world will pause and read and look," 
 I would be disappointed. 
 
 5 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Dream 128 
 
 A Heartless Master 35 
 
 A Lonesome Place 41 
 
 An Autumn Evening 64 
 
 An Incident 107 
 
 A Name 52 
 
 A Pretty Good Fellow 96 
 
 Benedicite » 132 
 
 Comrades 93 
 
 Cuddle Down and Go To Rest 15 
 
 Dance of the Wood Nymphs 9 
 
 Disappointed 5 
 
 Father, Mother, and 1 46 
 
 Grandpa 104 
 
 Growing Old 13 
 
 Hagar's Lament 11 
 
 Hands Off 47 
 
 If I But Knew 25 
 
 Keep Step 124 
 
 Let Go of the World 55 
 
 Life's Comrade 109 
 
 Life's Garden 101 
 
 Lines Suggested by the Coal Strike 126 
 
 Lines To a Great City 121 
 
 Lines To My Granddaughter . . „ 90 
 
 Looking Ahead 60 
 
 Morning 117 
 
 My Mother's Arms 91 
 
 My Pilot Ill 
 
 My Prayer 43 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 My Troubles 103 
 
 My Wish 62 
 
 Pleasure and Pain 7 
 
 Ring, Sweet Bell 57 
 
 Robbed 32 
 
 Samson to Date 20 
 
 Self-Mastery 130 
 
 Sellers of Rum 114 
 
 Sometimes 119 
 
 Sunday Morning 58 
 
 The Aftermath of War 70 
 
 The Empty Nest 44 
 
 The Final Roundup 67 
 
 The First Proposal 26 
 
 The Husband's Confession 33 
 
 The Land of Dreams 115 
 
 The Laugh of a Child 17 
 
 The Little Old High Chair 99 
 
 The Lone Grave 125 
 
 The Old Settler's Play 97 
 
 The Pilgrim 38 
 
 The Plum Tree 28 
 
 The Sailor 18 
 
 The Sewing Girl's Dream 49 
 
 The Song of the Reaper 65 
 
 The Time To Be Lazy 106 
 
 To a Child with a Feeble Mind 30 
 
 Two Captains ! 22 
 
 Welcome 112 
 
 When Life is Young 131 
 
 When Work is Done 36 
 
 Youth 95 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN POEMS 
 PLEASUKE AND PAIN 
 
 Yes, Pleasure and Pain are a tandem team, 
 Abroad in all lands of weather, 
 And whether you know it or not, my lad, 
 They are always yoked together. 
 
 The first has a coat of silken sheen, 
 With mane like the moonbeams streaming, 
 And a tail like the fleecy cloud at night 
 When the winds and the waves are dream 
 ing. 
 
 And he moves like a barque o'er the sapphire 
 
 seas, 
 As his feet the earth are spurning, 
 And his breath is blown through his nostrils 
 
 wide, 
 And his eyes like stars are burning. 
 
 Ah, gaily he rides who bestrides this steed, 
 And flies o'er the world with laughter, 
 But whether you know it or not, my lad, 
 There's a dark steed coming after. 
 
 7 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 For, Lard behind with, a tireless pace, 
 Comes Pain like a wivern, faster, 
 And whether you will it or not, my lad, 
 You must mount on him thereafter. 
 
 His nostrils are bursting with smoke and 
 
 flame, 
 From fires that within are burning, 
 And whether you rue it or not, my lad, 
 There is no hope of returning. 
 
 Each hair on his sides is a bristling spear, 
 
 That is poisoned with lost desires, 
 
 That rankles and burns in your quivering 
 
 flesh, 
 That is seared by the fiendish fires. 
 
 And whether you will it or not, my lad, 
 You may never dismount from Pain, 
 Till for every mile that you rode the first, 
 You have ridden the latter twain. 
 
 8 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 DAM3E OF THE WOOD NYMPHS 
 
 Where tlie forest shade is deepest, 
 Wliere tlie bird sings ever sweetest, 
 Where tlie vine, in soft folds clinging, 
 From the pendant bough is swinging, 
 And the wind faints and reposes, 
 Dying on the breast of roses, 
 Trip we in the merry dance, 
 While the moonbeams glint and glance 
 From the leaves with dew stars burning, 
 Till the sun, in strength returning, 
 Drinks the freshness from the flowers, 
 Fills with light the leafy bowers. 
 
 Here, where shadows love to linger, 
 Where the eglantine's soft finger 
 Folds the frond in dim, uncertain 
 Robe of incense like a curtain ; 
 Rest and dream until the shadow 
 Falls upon the fir and mallow, 
 Till the merry dance is swinging, 
 Till the footfalls faint are ringing, 
 
 9 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And the hours in chiming measure 
 Fill the heart with languid pleasure, 
 And the drowsy eyelids close, 
 And the spirit seeks repose. 
 
 ID 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 HAGAE'S LAMENT 
 
 Breathe softly, my baby, and do not cry, 
 Though darkness and danger are drawing 
 
 nigh; 
 Alone in the forest where none can hear, 
 Bnt God and the angels, my baby dear. 
 
 The cool winds are wet with the silver dew 
 That angels will gather the whole night 
 
 through, 
 And bring in the lily when morn is near, 
 For God is still good to ns, baby dear. 
 
 Start not at the sound of each stealthy 
 
 tread, 
 The stars are still watching just overhead; 
 This earth may be cruel, but Heaven is near, 
 And God will be good to us, baby dear. 
 
 Then wake not, my darling, from rest to 
 
 pain, 
 But pillow your head on my bosom again. 
 'Twas only the bittern's boom over the mere, 
 And God will protect us, my baby dear. 
 
 11 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The wild beasts are lurking around our way, 
 Yet man is more cruel, dear, than they ; 
 Hush ! hush ! 'Tis the panther's cry, oh, so 
 
 near! 
 But God is more close to us, baby dear. 
 
 12 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 GROWING OLD 
 
 A little more tired at close of day, 
 A little less anxious to have our way ; 
 A little less ready to scold and blame, 
 A little more care for a brother's name ; 
 And so we are nearing the journey's end, 
 Where Time and Eternity meet and blend. 
 
 A little less care for bonds and gold, 
 A little more zest in the days of old ; 
 A broader view and a saner mind, 
 And a little more love for all mankind ; 
 And so we are faring adown the way 
 That leads to the gates of a better day. 
 
 A little more love for the friends of youth, 
 A little less zeal for established truth ; 
 A little more charity in our views, 
 A little less thirst for the daily news ; 
 And so we are folding our tents away 
 And passing in silence, at close of day. 
 
 A little more leisure to sit and dream, 
 A little more real the things unseen ; 
 
 13 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 A little nearer to those ahead, 
 With visions of those long-loved and dead ; 
 And so we are going, where all must go, 
 To the place the living may never know. 
 
 A little more laughter, a few more tears, 
 And we shall have told our increasing years ; 
 The book is closed, and the prayers are said, 
 And we are a part of the countless dead. 
 Thrice happy, if then some soul can say, 
 "I live because he has passed my way." 
 
 14 
 
tf 
 
 PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 CUDDLE DOWN AND GO TO BEST 
 
 Little birds have ceased tlieir flying, 
 Little lambs have ceased tlieir crying, 
 Flowers have closed their drooping eyes, 
 And the bee no longer flies ; — 
 Soft the hush of night now creepeth, 
 All the world's at rest and sleepeth ; 
 In your soft and cozy nest 
 Cuddle down and go to rest. 
 
 Hark ! The elfin boatman goeth ; 
 On Ms horn of pearl he bloweth, — 
 Sweetest waves of rippling sound, 
 Painting as they float around. 
 Moonbeams, shimmering through the trees, 
 Light and lift the sleeping seas ; 
 Tides o'er golden sands are flowing; 
 To the land of dreams we're going. 
 
 In his rosy -tinted boat, 
 We will rock and rest and float, 
 With the zephyrs faintly blowing, 
 To the land where father's going. 
 He can see our white sails gleaming,^ 
 
 15 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 As we glide into his dreaming; — 
 Now the moon sinks in the west, 
 Cuddle down and go to rest. 
 
 Rest until the elves and gnomes 
 Trip unto their leafy homes ; 
 Till the rosy dawn returneth, 
 Till the sun the bright dew burneth ; — 
 Wake! when flowers with opening eyes 
 Lift their faces to the skies ; 
 When the birds and droning bees 
 Sing their music in the trees. 
 
 16 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE LAUGH OF A CHILD 
 
 What falls on the ear so divinely sweet, 
 Of the weary pilgrim with way-worn feet, 
 To soothe his sorrows and heal his pain, 
 To purge the passions from heart and brain, 
 And lighten his load for the lengthening 
 
 way, 
 As the laugh of an innocent child at play? 
 
 And when the struggle of life is tense; 
 When falters and nags each tired sense ; 
 When weariness robs the arms of strength,. 
 And hope has fled from the heart, at length, 
 The rippling laugh of a child at play 
 Will scatter this weariness all away. 
 
 And when the tempter has whispered long, 
 And the drowsy conscience is drifting 
 
 wrong, 
 There is nothing that strikes like a warning 
 
 bell 
 That louses the soul from its rest in hell, 
 And places the powers of sin at bay 
 Like the laugh of an innocent child at play. 
 
 17 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE SAILOR 
 
 Oh, sailor with foreboding fears, 
 Lift up your eyes ! The dawn appears 
 O'er misty mountains wreathed in fire 
 That creeps along each icy spire 
 And quickens with its redd'ning ray 
 The pallid lids of coming day. 
 
 What if thou hast with anguish striven ! 
 What if thy barque was tempest driven ! 
 What if thy sails are soiled and rent! 
 What if thy strength is well-nigh spent ! 
 And every surge is tipped with foam, 
 If thou art borne still nearer home? 
 
 Doth not the breeze from off yon heights 
 Fill every sense with new delights? 
 With odors, ambient as the deep, 
 With sounds that sob themselves to sleep? 
 Doth not the spirit's viewless wing 
 Inspire thy soul to soar and sing? 
 
 The Love that broods o'er land and seas, 
 That peoples all infinities 
 
 18 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 With golden thoughts that fly in flame, 
 And spell out their Creator's name 
 Holds thee, His image, first of all ! 
 Why shouldst thou fear, or faint, or fall ! 
 
 19 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 SAMSON TO DATE 
 
 When Samson went down to Gaza 
 And looked in the charmer's eyes, 
 She read at a look, his heart like a book, 
 And said, "He's the whale I prize." 
 
 She fed him on wine and honey, 
 
 And baited her hook with guile, 
 
 And his mnscles of steel became flabby as 
 
 veal, 
 When she gave him a wanton smile. 
 
 He swallowed the hook she gave him, 
 
 This man of the iron jaw, 
 
 And was led like an ass by the whim of a 
 
 lass, 
 And feasted on husks and straw. 
 
 She clothed him with shame and sorrow, 
 
 And robbed him of manhood, quite, 
 
 And his reason at length, with his God-given 
 
 strength, 
 Was lost with his sense of sight. 
 
 20 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 He toiled at the hungry hopper 
 And ground out the bitter grist 
 From the seed he had sown ; he must grind 
 
 it alone, 
 And swallow it, too, I wist. 
 
 There is many a sightless Samson v 
 
 Who toils in the mills to-day, 
 
 And the measure of toll 
 
 Is the price of his soul, 
 
 For he has the Devil to pay. ? 
 
 21 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE TWO CAPTAINS! 
 
 Yes, Captain John was a bon-vivant, 
 And he sailed with a pennant free, 
 The waves might dash and the tempest lash, 
 Bnt never a fear had he. 
 
 He strode the deck with a courtly beck, 
 
 And would chat with the ladies gay, 
 
 Who always planned, when they left the 
 
 land, 
 To sail with him out of the bay. 
 
 He had vim and dash, and a knightly flash 
 
 In his eyes, which were full and blue, 
 
 And his winsome ways were despair and 
 
 praise 
 Of the passengers and crew. 
 
 There was Captain Dave, who was cold and 
 
 grave, 
 Arid a sailor alone was he ; 
 When he trod the deck without nod or beck, 
 No one sought his company. 
 
 22 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 His eye at rest pierced through your breast ; 
 
 Not a sound that he did not hear ; 
 
 No collusion could be 'twixt the wind and 
 
 the sea 
 Unknown to his practised ear. 
 
 When far from earth, you sought your berth 
 In the lap of the restless wave, 
 You were always blest with a sense of rest. 
 And glad it was Captain Dave. 
 
 Out, out of the bay, one gladsome day, 
 
 Two steamers went plowing fast, 
 
 And the songs and the cheers, and the smiles 
 
 and the tears, 
 Are things of the boundless past. 
 
 Each mighty ship with foam at lip, 
 
 As a star that falls, flashed by ; 
 
 And the day sought rest in the murky west, 
 
 While a mist hung in the sky. 
 
 The fog grew dense and the cold intense, — 
 And the winds and the night held sway, 
 While a frosty cloud encrusts each shroud, 
 And the decks are swept with spray, 
 
 23 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The Captains brave, are chilled by the wave, 
 And one seeks the warmth and light, 
 The other remains and forward strains 
 His eyes in the starless night. 
 
 A thwart the gloom cold columns loom, 
 
 And the air has a deeper chill, 
 
 While the Greyhound leaps as she onward 
 
 sweeps 
 'Gainst the mountain of ice so chill. 
 
 There's a crash and a cry, and a lurid sky, 
 And the hiss of escaping steam. 
 Then a heavy pall falls over all, 
 Pierced by a despairing scream. 
 
 Old Captain Dave is erect and grave, 
 And a sailor of sailors is he. 
 He walked the deck, and there was no wreck, 
 And he sailed — and he sails the sea. 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 IF I BUT KNEW 
 
 If I but knew, when the morning brings 
 
 The new-born day on its rosy wings, 
 
 Your thoughts were of me as you lift your 
 
 eyes 
 To the splendor that grows in the Eastern 
 
 skies, 
 My heart would unfurl its wings and flee 
 Away from this desert to life and thee. 
 
 If I but knew when the noon-tide hour 
 Hath flooded the world with its quickening 
 
 power, 
 Your thoughts were of me as you lift the 
 
 load 
 That crushes some soul in the dusty road, 
 My hope would return, and I could then, 
 Like thee, be a helper of stricken men. 
 
 If I but knew, when the tired Light 
 Hath hidden his head in the lap of Mght — 
 When a healing presence pervades the air, — 
 Your thoughts were of me as you kneel in 
 
 prayer, 
 My soul would awake and swiftly rise 
 From the bondage of earth unto Paradise. 
 
 25 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 THE FIRST PROPOSAL 
 
 ^Now Norah, I'll sit no more on your lap, 
 ]STor I won't be kissed, I'm too big for dat, 
 An' I've sumpin' I wants to say to yon, 
 iNow don't yon laugh, coz it's dood and true. 
 I loves you, Norah, dess more'n I can, 
 An' when I'm a dreat, dreat, dreat big man, 
 I'll build me a bouse as big as an ark, 
 An' I'll have me a cat an' a dog that will 
 
 bark; 
 An' candy an' cakes an' pies an' jam, 
 An' we'll eat all we want, when I'm a man. 
 
 you dear little terror of infant days, 
 I love you with all of your mannish ways ; 
 But if I should wait, I am sore afraid, 
 I would be a faded and lorn old maid. 
 For you, little lover, yes, you would then 
 Do just like the rest of the grown-up men. 
 You'd seek a lassie whose hair would curl, 
 The sweetest, handsomest, dearest girl. 
 Besides, Uncle Will — now don't you cry, 
 Has asked me to marry him by and by. 
 
 26 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Uncle Will! Uncle Will! I fought he was 
 
 dood. 
 He hasn't done wight, as he ought to should. 
 I dess don't like him, nor never will, 
 Coz — coz — I des hate him, old Uncle Bill. 
 But, ]STorah, if you will weally stay, 
 An' tell Uncle Will you won't go away, 
 I fink — yes, I'll let him have you, too, 
 For how can he help a-lovin' you? 
 
 27 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 THE PLUM TREE IN MAY 
 
 The plum tree's a poem in white to-day, 
 And round it the bee is singing, 
 "Come out in the garden and glen and field ! 
 Come! Drink of the fragrant breath they 
 
 yield, 
 For this is the time of gladsome May, 
 And the world with joy is ringing." 
 Was ever a lover as he so bold, 
 With russet vesture and greaves of gold? 
 Kissing the pure and virgin lips, 
 Drawing sweet nectar while he sips? 
 
 " 'Twas not unbidden I came to thee, 
 Oh ! Poem in white !" sang the lover bee ; 
 "Far over the meadows and field and wood, 
 T heard thy call, and I understood, 
 As only lovers can know and feel 
 What the heart would utter, but lips con- 
 ceal. 
 And into thine arms I come and rest, 
 And fold my wings on thy snowy breast, 
 
 28 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And gaze enraptured into thine eyes, 
 And dream that I rest in Paradise ; 
 Then rouse and turn, and the dream renew, 
 And wake, and find that the dream is true.' 7 
 
 29 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 TO A CHILD WITH A FEEBLE MIND 
 
 My little friend with clouded mind, 
 I search thine eyes in vain to find 
 A gleam of light, a pledge to be 
 Of life and immortality. 
 
 In vain, for thee the stars may shine, 
 The ocean toss its azure brine, 
 The moon with cold and ashen lips 
 Blot out the sun, with its eclipse. 
 
 E'en friends thou canst not choose, — alone 
 Thou goest through a world unknown, — 
 Unmoved by love's transforming bliss — 
 The rapture of the first warm kiss. 
 
 £oon, thou wilt grow both tall and stout, 
 And stalk the earth a hulking lout ; 
 Neglected, scoffed, outraged, abused; 
 Of idleness and shame accused. 
 
 And who, when thou art old and gray, 
 Will hold the ribald crowd at bay? 
 
 30 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 In sickness tend thy wretched cot, 
 Where thou mayst suffer, lie and rot? 
 
 Would I had power, this veil to tear 
 That clouds thy life with dull despair. 
 Thy soul from out its prison take ; 
 Thy dormant intellect awake, 
 
 To lift these dull and senseless eyes 
 
 In rapture to the radiant skies. 
 
 May He who made the mind look through 
 
 This heavy cloud and speak to you. 
 
 31 
 
PLEASURE AND PAllt 
 
 BOBBED 
 
 Mamma, what you finks? I was robbed to- 
 day, 
 As I tummed borne from de wood, 
 An' de t'ief, be wasn't a big bad man, 
 But was awful sweet and dood. 
 
 An' all of my f'owers and putty fings 
 Dat I bringed in my arms for you, 
 Ev'y one was taken away from me, 
 Now, what does you fink I'll do? 
 
 De t'ief was no bear wif sbarp, black eyes, 
 A-lookin' for sumpin' to bite, 
 But was cryin', "I want to see my ma !" 
 Des as I do in de night. 
 
 So, I filled her apron wiv all my f owers, 
 An' we had such fun at play, 
 I dess I will go in de woods again, 
 For I like to be robbed dat way. 
 
 32 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE HTJSBAmyS COOTESSION 
 
 Yes, say that I said it, and I will confess, 
 But, say it was done under passion and 
 
 stress ; 
 And out of thy pure, loving heart, say for- 
 give, 
 That heartache may perish and soul-love 
 
 may live. 
 Let me kiss thy pale cheek, and smooth thy 
 
 white hair, 
 I can still see the roses and gold that were 
 
 there ; 
 And I prize more thy kiss and the touch of 
 
 thy hand, 
 Than the gems of the seas and the wealth of 
 
 the land. 
 And fortune and fame, they are both for a 
 
 day, 
 But our lives were plighted for aye and for 
 
 aye. 
 We can silently weep by the grave that is 
 
 ours, 
 Yet leave a remembrance of sunshine and 
 
 flowers. 
 
 33 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And so down the valley of shade we can go 
 Hand in hand, while our steps grow more 
 
 feeble and slow, 
 And when we have come to the deep river's 
 
 brink, 
 In its cool restful waves we will step and 
 
 will sink, 
 And know, when we wake, that the day will 
 
 be fair, 
 And the lives we have loved will be waiting 
 
 us there. 
 
 34 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 A HEAKTLESS MASTER 
 
 A heartless master is jealousy, 
 Who rules by tlie blackest art : 
 He casts his spell with an evil eye 
 And poisons the loving heart. 
 
 Then every thing that is said, or done, 
 A kiss, or a tear, or a smile, 
 Is seized upon by the jealous one, 
 As positive proof of guile. 
 
 And all the world is awry and wrong, 
 And evils come trooping fast ; 
 The happy home that was full of song, 
 Is silent and lone at last. 
 
 The little ones drift, ah, who can tell ! 
 When home is by passion riven ! 
 It may be down to the mouth of hell, 
 But not to the gates of Heaven. 
 
 35 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 WHEN WOEK IS DONE 
 
 Oh, sweet is the hour when work is done, 
 
 For life then begins at set of sun. 
 
 xlnd, what though the day my plans have 
 
 foiled, 
 And the dust and the grime my hands have 
 
 soiled, 
 If then, at this hour with glad surprise, 
 My children await me with shining eyes ! 
 And cling to my knees in a merry way, 
 That drives from my heart all the cares of 
 
 day; 
 While they kiss my soiled cheek, and touse 
 
 my hair, 
 But note not the touch of toil that's there ; — 
 Impressing my ear with their secrets great, 
 And I am a sovereign enthroned in state — 
 A king in the service of love and bliss, 
 And my kingdom is home, and my crown a 
 
 kiss. 
 
 So 111 treasure these joys of childhood's 
 
 hours 
 
 8(5 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 They are sweeter than breath of the dewy 
 
 flowers. 
 For soon, ah! too soon! will these days be 
 
 past ! 
 The flowers and the morn cannot always 
 
 last ; — 
 And these lights will fade and this mnsic 
 
 die 
 And my kingdom be scattered by and bye, 
 Like a beautiful dream yon would seize and 
 
 keep, 
 That flits and fades when you rouse from 
 
 sleep. 
 
 87 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 THE PILGEBI 
 
 Away from the land of his fathers, and 
 across the unknown seas, 
 
 You may trace the way of the Pilgrim, it is 
 never a way of ease ; 
 
 The heights he has won so dearly, with la- 
 bor and sweat and blood, 
 
 Are his for the winning only, waymarks 
 where his tent has stood. 
 
 At the forge w^en the sparks fly hottest, yon 
 
 may hear his anvils ring, 
 On the heights where the light first lingers, 
 
 yon can hear his heralds sing ; 
 At his desk he is seen the longest, consuming 
 
 the midnight oil, 
 At his task he is found the strongest as he 
 
 bends 'neath the weight of toil. 
 
 Ah! He is a passionate pilgrim, while 
 
 things are as yet undone, 
 And the battle he's ever winning, 'though 
 
 vict'ry is never won! 
 While the kingdoms of earth are earthy, 
 
 with reason, and voice, and pen, 
 38 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 You will find him unwearied fighting, for 
 
 aye, for the rights of men. 
 Thrice blessed art thou, O Pilgrim! for the 
 
 paths that thou dost tread, 
 Are the paths that lead to glory, and not to 
 
 the dead past's dead. 
 By thee, shall the race be lifted, till it loses 
 
 its lust for strife, 
 And the wheat from the tares be sifted, by 
 
 the deeds of a better life. 
 
 Then cling to thy staff, brave pilgrim, thy 
 
 courage must never fail, 
 Though the cross and the thorns await thee, 
 
 and the forces of sin prevail ; 
 For over the wrecks and the carnage that 
 
 redden the bitter way 
 Is bending the bow of promise that ushers 
 
 a better day. 
 
 For the Infinite One, the Eternal, who sits 
 
 where all issues rise, 
 Whose thoughts are the flaming systems 
 
 that people the silent skies, 
 39 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Holds thee in His constant vision, as He 
 
 doth, the whirling sphere, 
 Then forward forever, O Pilgrim! there is 
 
 nothing for thee to fear ! 
 
 Ah, who would not be a pilgrim, and join 
 
 the immortal band 
 That sprang with the birth of the ages, and 
 
 reaches through every land; 
 That challenges every error, 'though it 
 
 comes from the church or throne, 
 "Come out in the day and do battle, or go 
 
 down in the dust unknown 1" 
 
 40 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 A LONESOME PLACE 
 
 When you are away with the children, 
 
 The house is a lonesome place, 
 
 And in every nook and corner, 
 
 I fancy I see a face, 
 
 While I hear, with a thrill, the laughter 
 
 That comes from the happy boys 
 
 Who are fighting aloft with the pillows, 
 
 And making a dreadful noise. 
 
 While over the arm of my rocker 
 
 Is peering a rosy face 
 
 That is dimpled with smiles, and whispers, 
 
 "Please, papa, take little Grace. " 
 
 And I lay down my unread paper, 
 
 To answer the little prayer, 
 
 And find it a foolish fancy 
 
 That fades into empty air. 
 
 I vow I will never be crabbed, 
 Nor growl at the dreadful noise 
 That grumbles beneath the arches, 
 And comes from those boisterous boys, 
 
 41 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Nor forget to bring home the dolly 
 
 That the dear little maid admired, 
 
 Nor be tempted to say, "My dear, go away, 
 
 For papa is dreadful tired." 
 
 The time is so surely coming, 
 Alas, it will come too soon ! 
 When we will be old and feeble, 
 And sit in our easy shoon; 
 Then the house will be lone and silent 
 Prom morn till the evening gray, 
 And no one will break that silence, 
 For the children have gone away. 
 
 42 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 MY PRAYER 
 
 When I would wrong another, 
 By thought, or deed, or word; 
 When I'd betray a brother, 
 Then save me, gracious Lord- 
 
 When from the wounded, bleeding, 
 I'd turn for ease, or place, — 
 Go selfishly unheeding, 
 Then hide from me thy face. 
 
 But when my boat is drifting 
 Upon the unknown sea, 
 When shadows down are sifting, 
 Be very near to me; — 
 
 Breathe in the sails, all tattered 
 And torn with many a strife — 
 Into the soul, sin-battered, 
 The breath of Heavenly lif a 
 
 43 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE EMPTY NEST 
 
 'Twas a dear little bird sang a song to me 
 In the early morn from the hemlock tree. 
 And out of his ronnd and golden throat 
 There poured snch a gladsome, dainty note, 
 That the winds, enchanted, forgot to sigh, 
 While the music in ripples floated by. 
 And he sang of his nest and its birdlings 
 
 three, 
 That slept in that nest in the hemlock tree. 
 
 His life and his love in this nest he poured, 
 And for love of this nest he sang and soared 
 In the dewy air of the early morn, 
 To greet the light ere the day was born ; — 
 And would panting sit and softly hum — 
 When the heat of the summer day had 
 
 come — 
 His drowsy song to the swaying nest 
 Till the shadows grew in the fading west. 
 
 So passed the bright and blissful day, 
 And the nestlings fledged and flew away; — 
 He sings near the nest in the hemlock tree, 
 
 44 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 But his songs are not as they used to be. 
 There's a touch of sadness in each tone, 
 There's an echo of days forever gone. 
 'Though others a sweeter strain may sing, 
 And vault the blue sky on swifter wing, 
 There is nothing that lingers within my 
 
 breast, 
 Like the song of the Mrd with the empty 
 
 aest. 
 
 45 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 FATHEE, MOTHEE, AND I 
 
 We three have walked together, 
 
 In the days so long gone by ; 
 
 When the world seemed new and all was 
 
 true; 
 Father and Mother and I. 
 
 You held my hand so surely, 
 
 Lest my wayward feet should stray 
 
 In the tangled wild, that lures each child 
 
 From the safe and open way. 
 
 Then, we three walked together, 
 And my arms were round you thrown, 
 But Heaven drew nigh and you said good-by, 
 And I walked the world alone. 
 
 But now, when the years have vanished. 
 And I sit 'neath the sunset skies ; 
 I oft in dreams catch the spirit's gleams 
 And awake and lift my eyes. 
 
 I feel that again together, 
 
 On the beautiful, heavenly shore 5 — 
 
 Where no years are told, and no love grows 
 
 cold, — 
 We shall walk as we did of yore. 
 
 46 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 HANDS OFF! 
 
 Hands off! Let others have their say, 
 And do their work in their own way. 
 They may not know as much as you, 
 They may not do as you would do, 
 But, "Live and learn" 's a good old rule 
 That holds in Life's great public school. 
 
 Wise nature gives to each his day 
 In which to strut and pose and play ; 
 Insists, with a relentless art, 
 That each one magnify his part ; — 
 <f Win life or die," is her decree ; — - 
 It changeth not for you or ma 
 
 If immortality's no myth, 
 
 We win it by our worth and pith, 
 
 It was not lost by satan's lies, 
 
 Nor gained by blood of sacrifice ; — 
 
 For Heaven's within the sinless breast, 
 
 And not a place where saints may rest. 
 
 This mighty flux of suns and stars 
 That wheel upon their golden cars 
 
 47 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Must cease, and pulseless nature brood 
 O'er death, and night, and solitude 
 Disturbed at times by distant thunder, 
 As some dead sun is rent asunder. 
 
 The passing ages voice no sound 
 Of whence, or whither, we are bound. 
 But we can lift our eyes and trust 
 The Power that quickens our frail dust 
 With longings this world cannot still, — 
 To lift the veil and aU fulfill. 
 
 48 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE SEWING GIRL'S DREAM 
 
 Kathrine sat dreaming one afternoon, 
 As many have dreamed and always will, 
 But the evening star shone out too soon, 
 And she had an order yet to fill. 
 
 But this warm day as the sunbeams fell 
 On the ragged walls in a heated shower, 
 Till the city steamed with the breath of hell, 
 Her head sank low, and she lost the hour. 
 
 Then dreams of the past on lightsome wing 
 Were weaving above her weary eyes, 
 With the odor of flowers and breath of 
 
 spring, 
 The fading splendor of childhood's skies. 
 
 Of cliff and the cottage with clinging vines, 
 Where the leaping rill in the night laughed 
 
 loud, 
 And hung every morning upon the pines 
 That drank of its waves, a misty shroud. 
 Of the cozy corner where father took 
 Bis nap every eve by the fire's faint glow, 
 While the mother read from the old, old 
 
 book, 
 In a tremulous voice, so sweet and low. 
 
 49 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Of the day when the angel with somber 
 
 wings 
 Looked in at the door of this humble home, 
 And took both her loved, as his offerings, 
 And left her in sorrow to walk alone. 
 
 And when in her grief, one fond and dear, 
 With the ardor of love and youthful years, 
 Drew ravishing pictures of days so near, 
 That the vision enraptured and dried her 
 tears. 
 
 "It is only a year and I then will come 
 With a crowded sail o'er the foaming sea, 
 And we'll go, my love, to our own dear home, 
 Where ever, forever, we'll happy be." 
 
 And she watched his vessel with sails all set, 
 Sink into the surges that wandered wide, 
 Then turned to the world with a sad regret, 
 For her heart was afloat on the pitiless tide. 
 
 And often she sat by the tossing sea, 
 Consoling her heart with this sweet refrain : 
 "It is only a year and he'll come to me 
 And we'll never be parted in life again." 
 
 50 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 But a year passed by and the countless sails 
 Weighed anchor and sailed o'er the vasty 
 
 deep; 
 Then another, and yet there came no tales 
 Of him, who would surely his promise keep. 
 
 Then the light grew dim in the watching 
 
 eyes, 
 And the blood grew thin in the fading cheek, 
 While the sorrowing heart was choked with 
 
 sighs, 
 And the nerveless limbs grew thin and weak. 
 
 Yet, often she dreams as her needle flies 
 In a merry measure along the seam, 
 But the world recks not of a soul that dies, 
 And a heart that was blighted in its dream. 
 
 So let her dream on till the day Is done ; 
 Till the stars shall quicken th@ dusk of 
 
 night, 
 Till the hungry ocean brings back her own, 
 Then let her awake in the fields of light, 
 
 51 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 A NAME 
 
 Don't worry and sigh about a name, 
 
 Nor the niche you'll fill in the Hall of Fame. 
 
 The warp and the woof of the world are 
 
 laws, 
 And nothing happens without a cause ; 
 And the cause is within, so strive and yearn ; 
 What others fancy, you must discern, 
 And turn on the light and let it gleam, 
 Be exactly that which you wish to seem ; 
 For nothing is hidden so dark and deep 
 In cave, or dungeon but it will leap 
 To light at last, and the dungeon wall 
 Be scattered to dust in its headlong fall. 
 No sinful secrets ennerve your life, 
 For he is bold in the battle's strife 
 Who knows his armor contains no rust, 
 Where the foeman's steel may pierce and 
 
 thrust. 
 Be fearless and free, full-orbed and whole; 
 Throw open the windows of heart and soul ! 
 And think the eternal thoughts with Him, 
 Who quickens the aisles of the forest dim ; 
 Who lif teth to light each flower and fern ; 
 
 52 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Who causeth the countless stars to burn. 
 Partake of Ms life winch flows and fills 
 Every creature's cup, and ceaseless thrills 
 Through the viewless ether in waves pro- 
 found 
 That break on the shore of the Outmost 
 
 bound ; 
 And holds in a balance the shining spheres 
 That swing in their orbits of countless years. 
 Then be still and wait, and let silence brood, 
 Of voices, she hath an infinitude 
 That speak to the soul when it secludes 
 Itself in the world's sweet solitudes. — - 
 
 The way of power lies not in might, 
 And the path of peace is always bright ; — 
 But over the walls of the castle, self, 
 That is filled with pride and lust for pelf, 
 The soul must go in its conquering march 
 And level to dust each tower and arch ; 
 For through us God worketh as best he can, 
 And the end of Ms thought is perfect man. — 
 
 Lo ! the morning breaks, but the night is yet, 
 And its hoary fetters with rust are set; 
 
 53 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 But courage and hope by faith, may see, 
 Par down the ages, that which must be 
 When the bonds of darkness and sin are 
 
 riven, 
 And man stands free in the light of Heaven. 
 No creed then shall offer its tempting bait 
 To lure your soul through its narrow gate ; 
 No priest, nor confessor, to shrive your sin, 
 No holy of holies to enter in ; 
 For holy is every time and place 
 Where man meets his Maker face to face. 
 
 54 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 LET GO OF THE WORLD AWHILE 
 
 Let go of the world awhile and trust ; 
 For that thou seekest may be but dust 
 That's blown about by the ages, 
 And hides thy soul as the drifting sand 
 Entombs the thought of the sages, 
 And the dream of the sculptor's hand. 
 
 Let go of the world with all its moods, 
 And breathe the breath of the solitudes, 
 And be alone with thy dreaming; 
 For the ravening mart with all its moil 
 May prove to be but seeming 
 With naught for thy fret and toil. 
 
 Let go of the world with all its thrift, 
 Unfurl thy sails and boldly drift 
 Where the Infinite One is dreaming 
 Alone o'er the dim and vasty deep, 
 Till its silent wastes are teeming 
 With golden thoughts that never sleep. 
 
 Let go of thyself, and the world will seem 
 A fairer place than the prophet's dream, 
 
 55 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 As it lies in the liquid arms of life 
 That bears it upward on viewless wings, 
 Away from the fogs of fear and strife, 
 And into the azure where seraph sings. 
 
 Return to thy work with thy soul aflame, 
 And rouse the world from its sloth am 
 
 shame 
 As the sun with spring returning 
 Awakens the voice of the silent streams, 
 And sets the meadows burning 
 With its warm and loving beams. 
 
 56 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 RING, SWEET BELL! 
 
 King, sweet bell, in the morning clear — 
 Wake the echoes of early day, 
 Bouse the sleeper from dreams so dear, 
 Chase the phantom of shade away ! 
 Far o'er the meadows thy tones shall ring, 
 Calling the birds to mount and sing, 
 Pilling with joy each silent dell — 
 Ring in the morning, oh, ring, sweet bell ? 
 
 Ring, oh, bell, with thy brazen tongue- 
 Ring in the heated hour of noon — 
 Sunbeams drink at the river's brim, 
 Earth with dust and toil is grim ; 
 Ring loud! Ring long! 
 Ring deep! Ring strong! 
 >Tor let thy voice e'er weary be 
 Till all the world shall list to thee. 
 
 And when the shadows veil the skies, 
 And silence broods and tumult dies, 
 Then ring thy sweetest, purest lay — 
 Ring of the rest at close of day — 
 Of life, of peace to come then sing, 
 In chiming raptures ring, and ring. 
 
 57 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 SUNDAY MORNING 
 
 I'm glad it's Sunday morning, for I can take 
 
 my ease, 
 And lie a little longer and still longer, if I 
 
 please ; 
 No breakfast bell to jangle and rouse me 
 
 from my snooze, 
 No street arabs to wrangle about the daily 
 
 news ; — 
 I do not have to hustle to catch the early 
 
 train, 
 The street is free from bustle, and I can 
 
 dream again. 
 
 There is nothing half so pleasant as the 
 morning's waking dream, 
 
 When the god of slumber lingers, loth to 
 part with daylight's gleam; 
 
 And the listless, lazy languor that envel- 
 opes every sense, 
 
 Shuts the world out of your slumber with 
 its clamor and pretense ; — 
 58 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 While the elves from dreamland drifting 
 drum a drowsy, dreamy tune, 
 
 As they beat upon your pillow with their 
 silver-spangled shoon. 
 
 59 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 LOOKING AHEAD 
 
 Lines written for a gathering of the Gray- 
 beards 
 
 Boys, looking for loved ones long ago, 
 When our cheeks were smooth and our eyes 
 
 aglow 
 With the light of love ; and our feet were led 
 To the bower of the maid with the fairest 
 
 face, 
 The divinest form and the sweetest grace ; 
 For we were looking just ahead. 
 
 Eoys, how our wings of ambition stirred 
 At the tales of the far-off West we heard ; 
 And the maiden listened and laid her head 
 Upon our shoulder, and lisped so low, 
 'Til go, my husband, where you may go ;" 
 For we were looking just ahead; 
 
 How little we knew when we came to part, 
 Of the pain that tugged at the old folks' 
 
 heart ! 
 But some of us since have felt its tooth, 
 
 GO 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 When the boimie lassie and blythesome 
 
 youth 
 Touch hands and promise, and vows are said, 
 For youth is still looking just ahead. 
 
 Boys, we have smiled and wept and toiled, 
 Sometimes succeeded and sometimes foiled. 
 Not always we've been just what we said 
 To ourselves, we would be when we were 
 
 young; 
 We have shirked and soldiered and slan- 
 dered, some, 
 When we were not looking just ahead. 
 
 For we were but boys and will be till 
 
 Our ashes are laid on yonder hill. 
 
 We will join in a game or friendly bout, 
 
 And stay on the field till the last man's out, 
 
 In spite of all that is done or said, 
 
 For we are still looking just ahead. 
 
 Come, closer draw as our ranks grow thin, 
 There are no recruits to be mustered in, 
 And when there remains but a single one 
 Awaiting the boom of the sunset gun, 
 Of each and all may it then be said, 
 "It is well, for they always looked ahead." 
 
 61 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 MY WISH 
 
 Had I the strength which, others lose 
 
 In wine and wassail and abuse, 
 
 I'd lift the burdens from the race, 
 
 And give humanity its place, 
 
 Where it could look with radiant face, 
 
 And want and woe, and sighs and tears 
 
 Be banished in forgotten years. 
 
 Had I the sense that others waste 
 In idle thoughts and tales unchaste, 
 I'd fill the world with wisdom's wit, 
 Till men should love to take of it, 
 And lose their lust for gold and wine, 
 While in their lives the light would shine 
 That makes humanity divine. 
 
 Had I the voice that others raise 
 For greed or gain, or selfish praise, 
 I'd trance the world with soothing strains 
 Till men should list, and lose their pains ; 
 And war's inspiring bugle blast 
 On unresponsive ears be passed, 
 For men have learned to love at last. 
 
 62 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And yet, do I use all my powers, 
 
 And waste none of the precious hours, 
 
 Which come not when they've taken wing! 
 
 The singer must not always sing, 
 
 But turn to life where toil and tears 
 
 Make up the round of weary years, 
 
 And help and heal and soothe their fears. 
 
 63 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 AN AUTUMN EVENING 
 
 Kound me the breezes play, 
 Sad moans the pine, 
 Slowly declines the day, 
 Stars again shine ; 
 Silence enfolds the hills, 
 Upward the gurgling rills 
 Send their refrain : 
 While through the tinted leaves 
 Lingers the autumn breeze ; 
 Soft in its misty maze 
 Shrouding the mountain bays, 
 Soothing the autumn days 
 As they decline. 
 
 64 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE SOXG OF THE REAPER 
 
 It is borne on the breath, of the early morn, 
 Like the sound of a far-off elfin horn, 
 But, lost in the wonders of waking day, 
 We heed not the music so far away. 
 
 When the sun rides high it is ringing still, 
 But is yet far off and beyond the hill, 
 And life is so sweet and the world so dear, 
 Why should the reaper be drawing near ! 
 
 But at eve when we're facing the sunset's 
 
 glow, 
 And the waters are chanting a hymn so low, 
 We hear the sound of the sickle nigh, 
 But we hope that the reaper will pass us by. 
 
 But the sward 'neath his sickle is garnered 
 
 clean, 
 There is nothing remains where its edge 
 
 hath been, 
 From the aged pilgrim who longs for rest, 
 To the infant that sleeps on its mother's 
 
 breast. 
 
 65 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 'Tis the reaper of death, we have oft been 
 
 told, 
 But the fable is fading and growing old, 
 For death is a dream of the troubled night 
 From which we will wake with the coming 
 
 light. 
 
 So sweet is the waking, when we but know 
 That Heaven is within us while here below, 
 And we are not pilgrims upon a way 
 Whose ending is death at the close of day. 
 
 Then the song of the reaper is sweet to hear, 
 In the morning, or noon, or when night is 
 
 near, 
 For the promise is life! Let the reaper 
 
 come 
 And gather the grain for the Harvest Home ! 
 
 66 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE FINAL ROTOTOUP 
 
 'T's the final roundup, Nancy, and the var- 
 mints are all here, 
 But 'cordin' to my reck'nin', 'tain't been a 
 
 prosperous year; 
 That snow about Thaiiksgivin' that drifted 
 
 full the slews, 
 Wus pesky hard on grazers — "How many 
 
 did we lose?" 
 Well, nigh onto a hundred, but we should 
 
 not complain 
 If God sends storm and winter, provides he 
 
 sends us rain. 
 He's gin us hill and medder, and pastures 
 
 free and wide, 
 And never made a corral and bid us stay 
 
 outside ; 
 So I've nuthin' now agin him for what he's 
 
 done to us, 
 But the sheep men and the squatters make 
 
 me tear my hair and cuss. 
 
 We used to brand our critters, not even with 
 our name, 
 
 67 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And let 'em scatter in the spring, bnt when 
 
 the roundup came 
 We alias found our cattle as fat and sleek 
 
 and round, 
 As if they'd been a-feedin' on the fattest 
 
 corn that's ground. 
 But now we have to hay ? em and herd 'em 
 
 all the time, 
 And they're growin' to look like shadders, 
 
 or Pharaoh's hungry kine, 
 And ye dassent burn the fences, nor let 'em 
 
 in a lot 
 Of rich and juicy pasture that some other 
 
 feller's got, 
 Nor stretch a blessed wire 'round the lands 
 
 of Uncle Sam, 
 Though he hasn't any cattle, and the land 
 
 ain't worth a dam. 
 
 Jist squint across them prairies at the 
 
 shacks ye now kin see, 
 All crowdin' on the privilege, "That pastur- 
 
 in' iz free." 
 I've fit and fit them settlers, but it ain't of 
 
 any use, 
 
 68 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 We've got to shake our cattle, pull our 
 
 shack and then vamoose. 
 It's mighty tough to separate from them 
 
 that wears yer brand, 
 But feedin's gettin' ska'ser and there ain't 
 
 no "Roman's land," 
 On which to let 'em pasture, so we're up 
 
 agin a tree, 
 And we'll pike f er Argintiny where the pas- 
 
 turin' is free. 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE AFTERMATH OF WAR 
 
 Helen 
 
 Stay, mother, while the fire bums low, 
 And tell me of the long ago, — 
 When you were young, and life and light 
 Filled every hour with new delight. 
 Tell me of Auntie, for I find 
 A strange sensation in my mind; — 
 Like sobbing harp with broken strings, 
 Her sweet voice, as she sadly sings, 
 Comes with the breath of other climes, 
 Of far-off spheres and mist-veiled times. 
 And oft I sit in rapt surprise, 
 And gaze into her faded eyes : 
 And then there comes a heavy cloud . 
 That wraps around us like a shroud. 
 I feel its dank folds, weird and chill ; — 
 What can it mean? I am not ill. 
 
 Mother 
 
 Dear child, you know not what you ask ; 
 Woo not the spirit of the past ; — 
 
 70 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Look to the future, it shall bring 
 The happiness of which we sing. 
 
 Helen 
 
 And yet, the by-gone years contain 
 The wisdom that we seek in vain. 
 
 Motheb 
 
 It is a story told with tears, 
 Of long and dark and bitter years. 
 Your questions, dear, I would repress, 
 The past shroud in f orgetfulness ; — 
 After the storm the soft wind grieves 
 Over the rent and loosened leaves, 
 But God, in whom we live and breathe, 
 Parteth the heavy clouds at eve, 
 And gilds the crest of coming night, 
 And sows the dome of heaven with light. 
 That day with all its deeds is done, 
 The issues are with Him alone. 
 
 71 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Lift not the veil that hangs between 
 Us and the shadowy land unseen. 
 
 Helen 
 
 Then closer will I hold your hand, 
 While we walk through that shadowy land ; 
 Converse in whispers sad and low 
 Of lives and loves of long ago. 
 
 Mother 
 
 If some good angel bids you seek, 
 Why should I doubt and fear to speak? 
 Come, rest your head upon my knee, 
 And close your eyes that you may see 
 The spirits of departed men 
 Arise and stalk this earth again. — 
 See you a cottage on yon hill 
 Where vines are green and winds are still? 
 And star-eyed flowers peer from the leaves 
 That hang like shadows from the eaves? 
 Hearest the voice the south wind brings 
 Of music on its viewless wings, 
 Of mother while she sews and sings 
 
 72 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Unto tlie babe that crows and croons 
 
 The first of life's sweet, mystic runes? — ■ 
 
 Hushed now are whirr and clang of mill, 
 
 The shadows fall across the hill ; — 
 
 Behold! A kingly king draws near! 
 
 No clash of arms, nor glint of spear ; 
 
 No tinseled herald cries aloud, 
 
 <f Make way!" unto the gaping crowd; — 
 
 And yet, no king was ever known 
 
 To come more gladly to his own. 
 
 Breathe low, and listen ! You shall hear 
 
 How kings unto their own draw near. 
 
 Then, let us softly steal away, 
 
 While falls the peace at close of day ; — 
 
 And let the beauty of this scene 
 
 Illume the leaves that lie between 
 
 The uncut covers of this book, 
 
 On which the eye, tear-dimmed, must look. 
 
 Helen 
 
 Nay, must it be forever sealed, 
 Its secrets never be revealed? 
 If sin lies with a leering look 
 Within the covers of this book/ 
 
 73 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Then let it be unoped, unread 
 Among the ashes of the dead. 
 
 Motheb 
 
 Deny me, God, the hope of Heaven, 
 If by a word, or act I've given 
 Eoom for a doubt to rise and spread 
 Its evil shadow o'er the dead! 
 Cling closer, dear, and hold your breath 
 While we pass through the land of death — 
 "lis midnight, and the stars enzone 
 The earth with golden fire. Alone 
 Our king goes forth with bared head, 
 And moves with soft, uncertain tread 
 As one who walks in troubled sleep, — 
 Unmindful of the chasm deep 
 That yawns beneath his dream-led feet ; — 
 Lifts to the stars his anxious face 
 To search their deep depths for a trace 
 Of guidance in this solemn hour, 
 When love and duty strive for power. — 
 Now let us turn from night's cold dome 
 Unto the light of love and home. — 
 Light lift the latch and softly move 
 
 74 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The snowy curtains. Angels love 
 To view this scene and hover near, 
 Till night and darkness disappear. 
 No royal purple in these halls, 
 No tapestries, nor frescoed walls, 
 No golden lamps burn dim and low, 
 No priceless gems emit their glow ; 
 No scepter and no starry crown, 
 Nor yielding couch of eider down, 
 But in a cradle, rudely made, 
 Two shining heads in sleep are laid ; — 
 No sentry guards the long night hours, 
 For love, the mightiest of powers, 
 Holds unassailed dominion here, 
 And banishes all dreams of fear; — 
 And yet, above the sleeping pair, 
 Behold, in agony of prayer, 
 The mother bend ! Why should the rude 
 And haggard face of care obtrude, 
 Steal from the night its robe of rest 
 And fill with fears the mother's breast ?- 
 Upon the far horizon's rim 
 Looms up the cloudland weird and dim. 
 Athwart its bosom lightning flits, 
 And on its crai?s the tempest sits. 
 
 75 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The air is vibrant with the breath 
 Of coming storm and brooding death. 
 Upon yon mountain's lofty spires 
 That catch the sun's first signal fires, 
 Are seen to fall the flash and flame 
 That spell a nation's doom and shame. 
 The world is waiting now to see 
 How men, who boast of liberty, 
 Will read the lines of fate's decree ; — 
 Translate their thoughts from gain to strife, 
 Their loves from parents, children, wife, 
 To Country when its flag is lowered, 
 Forsake the plow and grasp the sword. 
 Our King has seen the cloud of war, 
 Has heard its thunder from afar, 
 And now draws near with halting pace, 
 With haggard brow and bloodless face ; — 
 Labors his breath through closed lips, 
 While anguish chills his finger tips. 
 What crime's concealed within his breast? 
 What horror steals away his rest? 
 Has sin been lurking in this bower, 
 Ravished the sweetness from this flower? 
 Has serpent with beguiling grace 
 Again brought havoc to the race? 
 
 76 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Vengeance, or love he now may bring, 
 Which shall it be, O sovereign king? 
 Softly he lifts the latch and steals 
 Into the room, his form conceals, 
 And listens with abated breath ; — 
 Is this thine hour, O cruel death? 
 
 Low in the cradle her jewels fair, 
 Over them falls her golden hair; 
 Angel of angels, on her knees, 
 What can disturb such lives as these?- 
 
 "Oh, Father, let this pass me by ! 
 I cannot drink this cup! I cry 
 To Thee, in this my hour of need ! 
 Give strength, for I am weak indeed ! 
 Not fame, nor place, nor ease, nor gold ;- 
 My heart would all its treasures hold ! 
 For these alone, I wake, I cry! 
 Oh, let this anguish pass me by !" 
 
 Transfixed he stands with stony gaze, 
 Then turns, as one filled with amaze ; 
 Flies to the night, that none may know 
 The measure of his hidden woe. 
 
 77 
 
PLEASURE AND PAW 
 
 Up to the sky his face he turns, 
 
 To tear the veil of fate, he yearns ; — 
 
 The stars may wheel in golden fire, 
 
 Grow dim and cold, and old, expire, — 
 
 But hearts must beat, and break, and bleed, 
 
 While men to lust and sin give heed. 
 
 He stands beside the babbling brook, 
 
 That steals from many a grassy nook 
 
 And laughing through the whole night, sings 
 
 A lullaby to drowsy wings. 
 
 He dips his cold hands in the waves, 
 
 His hot and throbbing head he laves. 
 
 The kine, disturbed, lift up their heads 
 
 And rise from fragrant grassy beds. 
 
 Confiding, close around him stand, 
 
 Expectant lick his pallid hand. — 
 
 "Oh, Father ! These, these trust in me I 
 
 Can I not place my trust in Thee ! 
 
 Lead me, that I may find relief, 
 
 Lift from my heart this load of grief ! 
 
 Give strength and grace just for this day 9 
 
 Else I myself may soon betray !" — 
 
 The old world swings, the night is gone, 
 The day breaks in a glorious dawn; — 
 
 78 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Across the hills the smoke clouds drift,— 
 From dew-damp vales the vapors lift — 
 The wakening city's clamors rise 
 And drown the music of the skies. 
 
 What wakes so sweet to greet the day, 
 As infant from the arms of sleep ! 
 Cooing the thoughts it cannot say 
 In low-voiced music, strangely sweet, — 
 Beguiling from your anxious breast 
 The sorrows that disturb your rest? 
 Then the day with its glorious splendor 
 Drives hard on the heels of night, 
 Appealing to men to render 
 Good deeds for the dower of light. 
 And the king with his head uncovered, 
 Bends over the sleeping pair, 
 And four little hands are brushing 
 The dew from his tangled hair. 
 Then the cares of the night are scattered, 
 As the rack from the storm-swept skies, 
 A s he hears the ripples of laughter 
 And looks in the shining eyes. 
 
 Now come to the camp where the bugles 
 blow, 
 
 79 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And the banners free are flying, 
 
 Where the pomp and the pageantry of war, 
 
 Are with evil spirits vying 
 
 To quicken the savage within each breast, 
 
 And loose the loins of reason ; 
 
 To question in such an hour as this, 
 
 Is the deadliest of treason. 
 
 So, we look to the flag and march away — 
 
 Forever? Forever! And ever they 
 
 Who sit in the home made desolate, 
 
 May wait, and watch, and pray ! 
 
 For the fever walks in the noonday sun, 
 
 And the pestilence at eve, 
 
 And the bullet flies from the red-mouthed 
 
 gun, 
 Death gathers in his sheaves, 
 Till his wain grows weary beneath the 
 
 load, — 
 A nd Death at last, — 
 Begrimed with mire and blood, 
 Desists aghast ! 
 
 His country has called in its hour of need, 
 And our hero has heard and has given 
 heed ; — 
 
 80 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And out of bis Eden by flaming sword, 
 
 He is driven, but not by tiie gracious Lord. 
 
 Tiie two little heads nestle close on his 
 
 breast, 
 And four little arms are around him prest ; 
 While his Queen, though the blood is all 
 
 wrung from her heart, 
 Smiles good-by, as their lives are by fate 
 
 torn apart. 
 
 Once more the night enfolds the world, 
 
 And clouds have round the crescent curled; 
 
 The laughing rill with silv'ry lips 
 
 1 s singing of the sea, where dips 
 
 The foaming prow of sleeping ships. — 
 
 Then upward climbed the mist and gathered 
 
 to its breast 
 The wealth of the lavish seas and glooming 
 
 floated west ; 
 It hung above the hills with its lowering 
 
 wings of night, 
 And downward drove the steeds of the sun 
 
 in a headlong flight; 
 And shook the shrinking earth with the pelt 
 
 of the pounding rain, 
 81 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Till the mountains dissolved in fear and 
 sought the far-off main. 
 
 Then the pent-up waters waked and peered 
 above the weir, 
 
 And sighed to seek their own in the lowly 
 sedge and mere ; 
 
 And shook the retaining walls in a great and 
 gleeful shout, 
 
 As they shouldered the gates away in an 
 awful, ghastly rout. 
 
 Then swiftly the falling flood shook the 
 thunder from its crest, 
 
 But the valley, filled with life, slept on and 
 took its rest ; 
 
 Nor heeded the rocking hills, as the mid- 
 night horror fell, 
 
 Ah, swifter than Satan's host, in its head- 
 long flight to hell. 
 
 And the startled babe awakes and turns to 
 its mother's breast, 
 
 But before her bosom warm, to its opening 
 lips are pressed, 
 
 It is ravished from her arms and by hideous 
 death caressed. 
 82 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Once more the world greets the rising sun, 
 While over its breast the lightnings run, 
 Proclaiming the ghastly tales of death; 
 And humanity gasps and holds its breath : 
 Then opens its heart at the touch of pah) 
 And pours its treasures in golden rain ; 
 And the Infinite sees, and hears, and broods 
 The hearts of men to diviner moods. 
 
 O life of love ! It moves and springs 
 Out of the heart on untried wings, 
 And fluttering falls within our arms, 
 Seraphic in its helplessness, 
 Angelic in its sinlessness ! 
 Its smiles, its sighs, its tears are charms 
 That lead us upward where the breath 
 Of heaven blows free upon our face. 
 But when the visitant of death 
 Draws near and takes from our embrace 
 The light of life, our tears must start 
 In answer to the bleeding heart. — 
 Doubly bereft, with empty arms, 
 Our queen starts at the moaning wind, 
 Or lap of waves, while dread alarms 
 Eing at the lonesome hour of night, 
 
 83 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And terror seizes on her niind. 
 
 She turns to him, who, 'mid the smoke 
 
 Of battle, hears the deadly stroke 
 
 That fell at midnight on his home. 
 
 He stretches forth his hands and reels, 
 
 As one who in the battle feels 
 
 The ping of bullet in his heart, — 
 
 Then sinks upon the blood-stained grass. 
 
 His comrades linger, loth to part, 
 
 And then march on where shot and shell 
 
 Are shrieking the discords of hell — 
 
 Where fiends with flame and sulphurous 
 
 breath 
 Hold carnival in blood and death. 
 He rises from the heaps of dead, 
 And wanders o'er the field made red 
 With blood let by a brother's hand, — 
 In name of law, for native land ! — 
 Where shrapnel shriek and bullets fly, 
 Where horse and rider plunge and lie 
 In ghastly heaps to bleed and rot, 
 Unknown, unnumbered and forgot. — 
 
 A vision floats across the gloom, 
 Like ray of light in darkened room 
 
 84 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Or rainbow on the dying storm. 
 Surprised, amazed, he doubting stands 
 And stretches forth his trembling hands, 
 Then rushing forward clasps the form 
 Unto his breast. She starts and turns 
 To him a sweet and tear-stained face, 
 And holds him in a fond embrace, 
 Then looking long into his eyes, 
 The fire beneath her lashes dies, 
 As lightning leaps, and throbs, and burns 
 To blackness on the brow of night. — 
 "Where is my papa? He must be 
 Lonesome and looking now for me." 
 He pressed her to his breast once more, 
 Forgetful of the cannon's roar, 
 Unmindful of the mighty yell 
 As foes swept back with shot and shell, 
 And wrapped their ragged ranks around 
 The regiments that stood their ground. 
 And 'midst this crater, where the flood 
 Of lava was hot human blood, 
 Our hero with his vision stood. 
 Swift as an eagle swoops his prey, 
 A man rushed from the ranks of gray, — 
 With sword in hand and death in eye, 
 
 85 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 He sprang upon them with a cry. 
 His sword aloft with warm blood drips, 
 While oaths and prayers pour from his lips. 
 Our hero hears and quickly turns 
 On his assailant ; like a flame 
 His sword leaped from his scabbard then, 
 And hissed upon the cloven wind, 
 Leaving a wake of light behind. 
 This is no strife of peace or joust 
 With feint and parry, foil and thrust, — - 
 For tears must cease and blood must flow 
 When brother meets a brother foe. 
 The father takes the storm he woke 
 With steadfast eye and counter stroke; 
 But his good blade flies from his hands, 
 Bleeding, disarmed, he bravely stands 
 And bares his breast unto the foe, 
 And bids him strike the fatal blow. 
 The blade descends, but not in strife, 
 For Valor gives to Valor life. 
 His sword our hero quickly brings, 
 The child unto her father springs ; 
 He drops his arms and lifts his child, 
 Nor sees the foe, nor hears the wild 
 Rage of the rout, but only feels 
 
 86 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The soft touch, of the arm that steals 
 Around his neck. In wild career, 
 Death stays his wings and hovers near, 
 To gloat upon this scene, where men 
 Transformed from fiends, touch hands 
 
 again. 
 And then with hoarse and hideous cry, 
 Calls them to fight and bleed and die 
 For cause that rests in breast of kings, 
 Who come not nigh the sufferings 
 Of blighted hopes and severed lives, 
 Of orphaned sons and widowed wives, 
 Nor breathe the fevers of the camp, 
 Nor lie upon the field made damp 
 With brothers' warm and wasted blood; 
 Nor bathe within the rising flood 
 Of sorrow's quenchless tears. Oh, Thou, 
 Who felt the thorns upon thy brow, 
 The cruel thrust within thy side, 
 How long shall justice be denied ! 
 And lust and license, power and pride 
 Eule in thy world, thine image mar 
 With slavish chains and wage of war ! — 
 
 The sun grows sick and hides his face 
 
 87 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 From slaughter that defiles the race ;— 
 A nd night once more serenely falls, — 
 With bloodless lips the wounded calls, 
 And lights are flitting here and there 
 To cool the tongue and hear the prayer 
 Of parting breath. Among this band 
 That ministers with angel hand, 
 Our queen appears, and lowly bending 
 To catch the lisp of love's last sending, 
 Beholds a child securely sleeping 
 Within the arms of those who're keeping 
 Their final watch. She lifts her hands 
 Unto her heart and trembling stands, 
 Then clasps them wildly o'er her head, 
 And with a cry falls on her dead. 
 
 Helen 
 
 Tell me, oh, mother, all the rest ! 
 You will not leave me thus distressed ! 
 Who was this Queen, whose grief and loss 
 Have crushed her like the cruel cross? 
 
 88 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Must innocency bear and bleed 
 Alone, for strifes that others breed? 
 
 Mothes 
 
 Why some should sin, and others die, 
 
 Why might should rule, the many cry 
 
 In hopeless thraldom of the slave, 
 
 And fill at last a bloody grave, 
 
 I cannot tell, but this I know, 
 
 The world is filled with needless woe. 
 
 But as the rising sun dispells 
 
 The mists and coming day foretells, 
 
 The Love that walked by Galilee, 
 
 Will break these bonds and set men free. 
 
 But surely, it is on your tongue 
 
 To name the Queen of whom I've sung ! 
 
 Who can it be, but she who croons 
 
 Such sweetly sad and plaintive tunes? 
 
 Who with her tear -worn, faded eyes 
 
 Is looking for her dead to rise. 
 
 The story, child, though sad, is true; 
 
 The babe upon the field was you. 
 
 89 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER 
 
 On finding some of her sketches in my book 
 
 Oh, little maid, whose pencil found 
 The unwrit pages of my book, 
 And pictured there with untaught skill 
 The thoughts thy childish fancy took ; 
 
 May it be thine to seize and make 
 
 The Heaven-born thoughts fch.at round thee 
 
 fly 
 
 A living, breathing galaxy 
 Of beauty that shall never die. 
 
 And as the book of life unfolds, 
 May every page be pure and white ; 
 And every stroke thy pencil makes 
 Be for humanity and right. 
 
 And when the volume's full and closed, 
 And all thy thoughts are in it writ, 
 May it be said by Him who knows, 
 "Such for my kingdom are most fit." 
 
 90 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 MY MOTHER'S ARMS 
 
 "Come, little boy, it is time for rest," 
 I can hear my mother say, 
 As I turned to her dear and loving arms, 
 And was folded safe away. 
 
 A nd I breathe in her ear my childish tale 
 Of all that the day has brought, 
 As I sink to rest on her loving breast, 
 With never an anxious thought. 
 
 And again she says, "My boy, good-by," 
 As we stand at the gate to part, 
 A nd the tears that well in her loving eyes, 
 .Are wrung from an anxious heart. 
 
 Then over the hill and I wave good-by, 
 A nd my mother is lost to sight, 
 But the vision is often before my eyes 
 When waging the fiercest fight. 
 
 Now, over the drift of the passing years, 
 When the battle is nearly done, 
 
 91 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 With sweeter persuasion it conies to me, 
 Than it did at the set of sun, 
 
 ''Come, little boy, it is time for rest," 
 And I turn as a child from play, 
 To lean my head on her loving breast, 
 And be folded so safe away. 
 
 92 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 COMRADES 
 
 'Tis not of war nor gay romance ; 
 'Tis not of knight with tilted lance ; 
 'Tis not of hero great, nor king, 
 ISTor lady fair, to-night we sing. 
 
 'Tis not of war's impelling tone, 
 Its call on silvery bugles blown ; 
 Its hopes, its terrors, and its fears, 
 Its waste, its blood, its sighs, its tears : 
 
 But friendship which is found and sealed 
 By loyal service on the field. 
 Comrades in triumph and defeat, 
 Comrades in sally and retreat. 
 
 Comrades upon the weary way, 
 Comrades in camp at close of day, 
 Comrades at night where campfires burn, 
 Who talk of home and its return. 
 
 These ties, — the strongest, — strong men find 
 Will grow with years, and ever bind 
 Each unto each : aye, now, forever ! 
 Nothing but death these ties can sever. 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Comrades, farewell is sadly spoken: 
 It was, and is a holy token. 
 Godspeed, where'er yonr way shall lie, 
 Our friendship was not born to die. 
 
 94 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 YOUTH 
 
 Youth is the time for visions, 
 Youth is the time for love; 
 louth is the time for dreams, dear, 
 And youth is the time to prove 
 Issues for life availing, 
 Or valueless for the strife; 
 Youth has no time for wailing, 
 For youth is the life of life. 
 
 Youth holds the crown and scepter, 
 Life's beaker and beady brim, 
 Filled with divinest nectar, 
 Where destiny's stars may swim; 
 And youth is the time of sowing 
 For harvests of love or strife, 
 And youth is the time for knowing 
 That youth is the life of life. 
 
 95 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 A PKETTY GOOD FELLOW 
 
 This world is a pretty good fellow, 
 If we'll only treat Mm white, 
 A nd do whatever we find to do 
 With an honest heart and light. 
 
 He'll give us a hand with a genial smile 
 And he'll shake and shake and shake, 
 If we always deal upon the square, 
 And never flunk nor fake. 
 
 He, too, is a wise old fellow, 
 And he keeps his books just right ; 
 Whatever you do, be it false or true, 
 In darkness, or in the light — 
 
 Is down and there's no evasion 
 By piety, power, or pelf ; — 
 For each individual item 
 Was put down there by yourself. 
 
 96 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE OLD SETTLER'S PLAY 
 
 Now, let the music be soft and slow, 
 
 For this is a play of long ago, 
 
 And let the curtain as slowly rise 
 
 As light steals up from the eastern skies ; 
 
 Just turn on the light a little more, 
 
 For we cannot see as we did of yore. 
 
 Ah, there is the dear old company 
 With every one just as he used to be. 
 There is life, there is love in each flashing 
 
 eye, 
 There's a will to do and a strength to die, 
 And each, unpretentious, will do his part 
 With a willing endeavor and honest heart. 
 
 Magicians they are of the rarest skill, 
 The wilderness blossoms, and forge and mill 
 Spring out of the desert, and all the land 
 Breaks forth with new life 'neath their 
 
 magic hand; 
 And the age-long silence that rested here, 
 Is gone with the bison, the wolf, and deer. 
 
 97 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 But why should such actors soon steal away, 
 And leave to others their parts to play? 
 Speak louder ! You do not mean to say 
 That they have grown old and have passed 
 
 away? 
 That this is a new and better age, 
 And other actors now hold the stage? 
 
 Ah, these are new faces that look at me 
 Through the parting curtains. Yes, now I 
 
 see! % 
 The hour is passing too soon, alas ! 
 Our work is over, the play is past ; — 
 Then let us no longer remain to weep, 
 While the music is sobbing itself to olcep. 
 
 98 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE LITTLE OLD HIGH CHAIE 
 
 Alone in the attic, it stands, so queer, 
 All covered with dust of many a year, 
 And it bears the marks of many a blow, 
 That was given it years and years ago ; 
 But the little hands that grasped the spoon, 
 And beat upon it life's opening tune, 
 Have gone with the years that have come 
 
 since then, 
 For some are women and some are men ; 
 And the chair is forgotten by all, save me, 
 But I climb the stairs full oft to see 
 The children gathered to me again, 
 3To longer women, no longer men. 
 I sit with them in my arms and hear 
 Their merry prattle that rings so dear, 
 And quickens the heart that can ne'er grow 
 
 cold, 
 Though feet are weary and hands are old. 
 
 The chair in the attic alone, and I 
 Are waiting, and waiting as years go by. 
 No little hands to disturb its rest, 
 ~No little arms are upon my breast, 
 
 99 
 
PLEASURE IND PAIN 
 
 No little feet are upon the stair, 
 No little fingers are in my hair, 
 No little wounds are for me to dress, 
 No little lips are for me to press, 
 And so we are waiting, the chair and I, 
 A s the days, and the weeks, and the years go 
 by. 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 LIFE'S GARDEN 
 
 Your life, my ch.il d, is a garden that is al- 
 ways true to seed, 
 
 And gives you the breath of the roses, or the 
 sting of the noxious weed. 
 
 So, you should always remember, to select 
 the seed with care, 
 
 But weeds come in without asking, when 
 careless or unaware. 
 
 Your life is a garden, dearie, that hath a 
 generous soil, 
 
 That gives of its strength and beauty, ac- 
 cording to your toil ; 
 
 So, whether the bramble shall riot, or the 
 rose and the violet blue 
 
 Look into your face in the morning, will de- 
 pend, my child, on you. 
 
 At noon when the sun is burning the blush 
 in the opening flower, 
 
 May you find it sweet returning, to sit in its 
 shady bower, 
 
 And hear the thrush, shy singing, with its 
 haunting, tuneful tone 
 
 That steals, as soft as the sunlight, around 
 your heart when alone. 
 101 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 May you sit in this garden, dearie, as the 
 
 glow of the evening dies, 
 When the flowers of heaven are opening and 
 
 lighting the darkening skies ; 
 And hear the song of the angels that hover 
 
 around your way, 
 As they sing of that radiant morning, that 
 
 never will pass away. 
 
 102 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 MY TEOUBLES 
 
 My troubles are a sorry pack 
 That jump betimes upon my back, 
 And thrust me writhing on the rack. 
 
 But when I gain a little sense, 
 And rise, and set up a defense, 
 I find they're nothing but pretense. 
 
 103 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 GRANDPA 
 
 It took me a spell to reach this height, 
 Which is dizzy, I must admit, — 
 Whence I can look down with strange de- 
 light, 
 Though it don't seem just now to fit. 
 
 1 see the youngsters a-playin' round, 
 And they straddle across my knees, 
 Then roll and tumble upon the ground, 
 As lively and cute as fleas. 
 
 The racket they raise is beyond belief, 
 As they charge around my chair, 
 Pertending that I am an Indian chief, 
 Or perhaps a polar bear. 
 
 They load me with worms and doodle bugs, 
 And stump me with questions rare, 
 Then smother with warm and loving hugs 
 Till I'm lost in a sweet despair. 
 
 And when their mothers with anxious looks, 
 Say, "Grandpa's a-spoiling you," 
 
 104 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 I ponder o'er what they have learned from 
 
 books, 
 And wonder if it is true. 
 
 And when the children in snowy frocks 
 
 Climb into my arms at night, 
 
 And run their hands through my grizzled 
 
 locks, 
 And drowsily say good night ; — 
 
 I sit at rest in my realm supreme 
 Where the little ones dance and play, 
 And know that heaven is not a dream, 
 For it's bending above my way. 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE TIME TO BE LAZY 
 
 Once in a while to be lazy, 
 
 Och, that is foin; 
 To lie in the bed and be azy 
 
 Till the clock strikes noin ; 
 And swate ut is to be dramin' 
 
 That ye hear yer mither's call, 
 "Ye little gossoon, will ye slape till noon, 
 And niver git up at all?" 
 
 Ochone, ut is to be wakm' 
 
 Whin ye're on the rack, 
 And fale ivery bone a-achin' 
 
 As the day comes back; 
 And know 'twill be always and iver 
 
 The same until death shall call 
 "Lie still and be lazy and take the world azy, 
 And niver git up at all." 
 
 106 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 AN INCIDENT 
 
 'Twas night, and the fiends were all abroad, 
 While the winds a war were waging, 
 But the storm without was a perfect calm, 
 To the one that within was raging. 
 
 The door flew wide and a clouded face 
 Was thrust in the night and storm, 
 
 And loudly cursed the whole race, 
 
 As he wildly shook his arm. 
 
 And out from the riot that reigned within, 
 A shriek as of wild despair 
 Fell senseless upon the ear of him 
 Who gnashed and who tore his hair. 
 
 "Go ! Go ! and never return until " 
 
 But the winds with a mighty rout, 
 Snatched all the anathemas from her lips, 
 And scattered them all about. 
 
 But he, in his frenzy fled into the night, 
 Begardless of fiends and storm, 
 
 107 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And left his home in a sorry plight, 
 With a heart that was hot and torn. 
 
 While under his arm he fiercely held 
 In a grim and deadly gripe, 
 The author of his domestic woes, 
 The wrong piece of black stove pipe. 
 
 108 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 TO LIFE'S COMRADE 
 
 Why should we feel sorry, dear comrade, 
 Tliat so many years have fled? 
 That the wrinkles are on the face, dear, 
 And the snows around the head? 
 While love that lightens the eyes, dear, 
 And lives in the heart that's young, 
 Is silver unto the speech, dear, 
 And is gold upon the tongue. 
 
 Or sigh that the freighters of fortune 
 Have never touched our shore, 
 Or the fame that is dearly boughten, 
 Has never yet crossed our door? 
 If the children that sat at our table, 
 And feasted and laughed, and grew 
 Into honorable men and women, 
 Hold us in their hearts still true? 
 
 Though years that are coming, dear com- 
 rade, 
 Will swing with a swifter speed, 
 And the things that were once essential, 
 We'll find we no longer need, 
 
 109 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The love that quickened our hearts, dear, 
 And made the old home seem bright, 
 Will ease our increasing burdens, 
 And lead us at last to light. 
 
 110 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 MY PILOT 
 
 Why should I wait for evening star, — 
 Why should I wait to cross the bar, 
 And death's dissolving hand to trace 
 The outlines of my Pilot's face? 
 
 Must my frail barque be driven and tossed 
 By winds and waves, — be wrecked and lost 
 Upon life's strange and storm-swept sea 
 Because my Pilot's far from me? 
 
 No, not alone my way I trace, 
 Each wave gives back my Pilot's face; 
 To every sin and fear and ill, 
 To every storm he says, "Be still." 
 
 I need no longer vex my soul 
 
 With longings for that distant goal : 
 
 My Pilot sitteth at the prow, 
 
 And heaven's within, and here, and now. 
 
 Ill 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 WELCOME 
 
 Not with the measured tread of hostile 
 
 hosts ; 
 Not with the pomp and glare that carnage 
 
 boasts ; 
 Not with the bugle's blast and glint of 
 
 spear ; 
 But for the work of peace, ye gather here. 
 
 Not from the field with brother's blood made 
 
 damp; 
 Not from the wasting blight of fevered 
 
 camp ; 
 Not with the despot will to crush with fear ; 
 But for the good of all, ye gather here. 
 
 Not for the all -pervading greed for gold ; 
 For place, for power, for which men's souls 
 
 are sold ; 
 No quest for holy grail, nor golden fleece ; 
 But for the works of God, humanity, and 
 
 peace. 
 
 112 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Open your hearts and homes, O city fair ! 
 
 Fling all your banners out upon the air ! 
 
 King out, O bells, your welcome, sweet and 
 clear, 
 
 The hosts of white-winged Peace are gath- 
 ered here. 
 
 113 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 SELLERS OF RUM 
 
 Sellers of rum, go hide in darkness, 
 Deep as the damning deeds you've done; 
 Cower 'neath the light of the day that's 
 
 breaking, 
 Earnest of better times begun. 
 
 Give to the mother's heart that's bleeding 
 Half of the jewels ravished there ! 
 Quench the tears of the orphan's anguish; 
 Kneel to your God in secret prayer. 
 
 Sisters, pray on ! The morn advances ; 
 Over the hills the crimson sun 
 Painteth anew God's bow of promise, 
 Earnest of better times begun. 
 
 114 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 THE LAND OF DREAMS 
 
 O land so dear, so near, unseen, 
 In which we live, and love, and dream ; 
 O happy kingdom, where are spent 
 The hours of youth in sweet content: 
 Where every bell with rapture rings, 
 And love in low-voiced music sings. 
 
 Thy twilight aisles of forest green 
 Are peopled with the folk unseen, 
 Whose footsteps fall with rhythmic beat 
 To music faint, and far, and sweet, 
 Of dryad pipe and elfin horn, 
 From moonlit eve to misty morn. 
 
 O happy land, — O happy man, — 
 Where every thing works out to plan, 
 With fortune, fame, and castle spires : 
 Where every thing the heart desires 
 Is wafted over golden seas 
 In golden-winged Argosies. 
 
 115 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 We turn to thee with outstretched hand, 
 In attitude expectant fttand : 
 Let age not raze our castle spires, 
 £Tor rob our hearts of youthful fires. 
 Vouchsafe to us these faint f oregleams 
 Of thy blest fields, O land of dreams. 
 
 116 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 MOBNING 
 
 Come, while the morning breaks. 
 
 Ere the day begins its strife, 
 
 Where the sweet sounds fill the woods 
 
 With an ecstacy of life ; 
 
 Where the healing winds of night 
 
 Have hung each flower and spray 
 
 With gems of rarest light, 
 
 That gleam in the growing day. 
 
 In the hush of these forest aisles 
 Doth the Infinite appear, 
 And speaks to the soul that casts 
 Aside all self and fear : 
 Not in the thunder's roar, 
 Nor the lightning's lurid flash, 
 Nor the moan of the tossing sea 
 As its troubled billows dash : 
 
 Not with the quaking tread 
 Of Sinai's clouds and flame ; 
 Nor with averted face 
 That tells of your doom and shame; 
 And not to the eye of sense, 
 
 117 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 And not with, the touch of hands, — ■ 
 But as waves of the coming light, 
 Or the opening flower expands 
 
 118 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 SOMETIMES 
 
 Sometimes to the midnight watcher, 
 
 In his lonely tower on high, 
 
 As he scans the revolving heavens 
 
 With an anxious and sleepless eye, — 
 
 There comes in his range of vision 
 
 A star heretofore unknown, 
 
 And his name is bequeathed to the ages 
 
 By the star that is called his own. 
 
 Sometimes in the quiet gloaming 
 There's a beautiful tone that rings 
 With rapture that's all-compelling, 
 As out of the heart it sings : 
 It awakens a thrilling answer 
 In the hearts of all who hear, 
 And they feel that the world is fairer, 
 And that life is more sincere. 
 
 Sometimes when the night has curtained 
 The silent and sleeping world, 
 You wake from a dreamless pillow 
 As an angel's wings are furled; 
 
 119 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The vision that's brought to your spirit, 
 And caught by your flying pen, 
 Is a gift to the endless ages, 
 And lives in the hearts of men. 
 
 Sometimes when we stand discouraged, 
 
 And parley with fear and doubt, 
 
 A nd the forces of good by evil 
 
 Seem utterly put to rout, 
 
 The voice of the prophet rises 
 
 In a clear, triumphant tone, 
 
 A nd we know that the truth will triumph, 
 
 And at last come to her own. 
 
 120 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 LINES TO A GKEAT CITY 
 
 O cit y, broad and high and great ; 
 
 A kingdom, thou, within the state ! 
 
 A light that shines to men afar, 
 
 A magnet and a polar star : 
 
 A vortex where the tides all run, 
 
 Where everything beneath the sun 
 
 Is wafted by the winds and tides ; 
 
 Where every flag at anchor rides : 
 
 Where wealth is heaped up mountain high, 
 
 Where men for want are doomed to die ; 
 
 Where vile and pure, and mean and good, 
 
 Are fused in one vast seething flood. 
 
 Thy lights, thy shades are so intense, 
 Thy thoughts, thy deeds are so immense, 
 That men in fear stand and behold, 
 A nd think of Mneveh of old. 
 
 Not for thy harlots and thy thieves 
 Alone the God of nations grieves ; 
 But all thy ways that lead to hell 
 
 121 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The innocent, lured by thy spell ; 
 The direful vengeance thou dost wreak 
 Upon the poor, forlorn and weak, 
 The red drops wrung from aching hearts 
 To glut thy garish, greedy marts. 
 
 O Siren city, great in wrong, 
 Jehovah hath been tempted long; 
 The fumes of hell are in thy breath, 
 That reeks of pestilence and death. 
 Thou art the symptom of the race, 
 The hectic flush upon its face; 
 The crater from whose fissured lips 
 The burning lava foams and drips : 
 Thy throes, vrhen thou are torn and rent, 
 Convulse and cleave a continent. 
 
 Not by chicane, nor wealth, nor power 
 Canst thou put off the judgment hour : 
 The cities of the ruins vast, 
 That sinned and fell in ages past, 
 Lift up their spectre hands and cry, 
 "Alas, like us, thou, too, must die.' , 
 O prophet, whom the Lord shall raise 
 To warn the men of modern days, 
 
 122 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Spare not tlie palaces of sin, 
 The haunts where men are herded in 
 Like rats within a reeking den, 
 Or swine within a slaughter pen, 
 
 Awake! Behold, city fair, 
 The countless legions in the air 
 That camp around thee, night and day. 
 Repent, and weep, and humbly pray ; 
 Perchance the Lord may hear thy cry, 
 And let His legions pass thee by. 
 
 123 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 KEEP STEP 
 
 E"eep step, my brother, along the way, 
 When morn is bringing a perfect day, 
 And birds and flowers and the dewy grass 
 Breathe music and incense as swift we pass. 
 
 Keep step, my brother, upon the road, 
 Where strength is greatest to bear the load, 
 And help with your smile and hand and 
 
 heart 
 The brother unable to bear his part. 
 
 Keep step when the road lies to the West, 
 Of all the way, this should be the best, — 
 When nearing the end of the last, long route, 
 And taps are sounded and lights are out. 
 
 124 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 THE LONE GRAVE 
 
 Sleep on so sweetly in this quiet spot, 
 By all the world forsaken and forgot. 
 1 would not break thy rest nor stir thy sleep, 
 Nor waken thee again to watch and weep. 
 
 Thou must have smiled in loving eyes at 
 morn, 
 
 As some bright star looks in a lake, new- 
 born, 
 
 And sees its own bright image, pure and 
 chaste, 
 
 Upon its quivering bosom faintly traced. 
 
 At noon some hero proudly crossed thy way, 
 And led thee as the sun-god leads the day : 
 Thy waking heart in answer leaped and 
 
 thrilled, 
 And faithful followed wheresoe'er he willed. 
 
 Did not the angel meet thee on the road 
 And ease thee of thy anguish and thy load? 
 Then rest in dreamless sleep till time be 
 
 past 
 And angels come to waken thee at last, 
 
 125 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE COAL 
 STKIKE 
 
 There's a lean and hungry wolf, from his 
 
 lair, 
 He would ravage all the land, — have a care ; 
 He is lurking round the mills, 
 By the schoolhouse on the hills, 
 And his howl with horror thrills. 
 
 There's a baleful gleam of green in his eye, 
 There's a hunger as of death in his cry ; 
 And his pack is trooping fast, 
 As the mournful howl is passed 
 On the wings of midnight blast. 
 
 He is on our brother's trail, in the night, 
 And his fangs are dripping blood from the 
 
 fight; 
 Shall we sleep while he's devoured 
 By this heartless, hungry horde, 
 In the name of Israel's Lord? 
 
 126 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 The cry of baited Jew we have heard, 
 And the drowsy world is waking at our 
 
 word, 
 Let the cry of the distressed, 
 These, our brothers, the oppressed. 
 Wake compassion in each breast. 
 
 Bid the great in greed beware ; not despoil 
 The humblest of our sons of his toil I 
 ? Tis a pittance poor and mean 
 That his brood and he may glean, 
 And his age looks lorn and lean. 
 
 127 
 
A DKEAM 
 
 At dead of night I dreamed of thee, 
 And thou wert young and blythe and free, 
 And mirth gleamed from thy shining eyes : 
 The air was filled with melodies 
 That rippled from thy prattling tongue, 
 And life was sweet, and life was young. 
 I clasped thee to my heart and pressed 
 Thy shining head upon my breast. 
 And then the vision changed, and we 
 Were wandering by the silent sea ; 
 The boatman beckoned unto me. 
 T turned to go, but thy soft hands 
 Became as strong as iron bands, 
 And clasped my neck in fierce embrace, 
 "Thou wilt not leave me in this place !" 
 I heard thee cry ; and then the sea 
 Drank in the sails that called for me 
 But now I fancy in the rift 
 At times I see that strange sail lift 
 Above the ocean's shining rim, 
 For steps are short and vision dim. 
 If so, beyond that silent sea, 
 I'll stand and watch and wait for thee; 
 
 128 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 Unmindful of the passing years, 
 Till o'er the verge thy white sail peers ; 
 Then greet thee, as the glad day brings 
 The breath of Heaven upon its wings. 
 
 129 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 SELF-MASTEBY 
 
 Wlien storms are fierce and doubts assail, 
 And friends are faint and foes prevail, 
 Then look within and forward go, 
 For he who conquers self must know 
 There is no other foe so strong, 
 Nor one who battles half so long. 
 
 That other self, who with each morn, 
 Girds on his sword with strength new-born 
 Must be cast out and kept at bay, 
 If thou wouldst hope to win the day. 
 Pause not, nor think the battle won, 
 For it is on from sun to sun. 
 
 130 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 WHEN LIFE IS YOUNG 
 
 When life is young, the world is fair, 
 Sweet music floats on every air ; 
 Light lingering in each passing breeze ; 
 Low whispering in the tallest trees. 
 Fresh fragrance breathes from every flower, 
 And mirth trips with each shining hour. 
 Love lurks in every laughing eye 
 To cheer and tempt the passer-by. 
 The wine of life is sweet to quaff! 
 Then we should drink, and live, and laugh ! 
 
 131 
 
PLEASURE AND PAIN 
 
 BENEDICITE 
 
 To all who have heard the music, 
 That comes in the quiet hour, 
 And brings to the soul in waiting, 
 A message of light and power, — 
 As a breath from the fragrant forest 
 Is borne o'er the tropic sea, — 
 I offer this little garland 
 That has blossomed in spite of me. 
 
 132 
 
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