3S2\ ^ 
 
 
 GUSTAV KOBBE 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 Chap.:.lA'^^right No 
 
 Shelf...^.llfi8 
 i^Hto 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
MY ROSARY. 
 
MY ROSARY 
 AND OTHER 
 POEMS. 
 
 By GHstav 
 "Kobbe 
 
 i MAY 271896. 
 
 GEORGE H. RICHMOND CO. 
 NEW YORK, - 12 EAST 15TH 
 STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXCVI. 
 

 Copyright i8g6 by 
 George H. Richmond Co. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Tliis book is, I believe, conspicuous for one merit — the 
 poems in it are very few in number. 
 
 But after every reading from my own writings which 
 I have given, many of my listeners have asked me where 
 they could procure my poems and stories in collected 
 form. I was obliged to answer that they were scattered 
 through the pages of the various periodicals to which 
 I contribute. I have now, at the instance of several 
 ladies, whose kindness in this matter it would be ungra- 
 cious to pass over without my most grateful acknowledgments, 
 collected these few poems which, scattered though they were, 
 have, as they appeared from time to time, won me many good 
 friends, and will, I hope, in this form win me even more. 
 
 My thanks are due to the publishers of the Cosmopolitan 
 Magazine, the Youth's Companion, Harper'' s Weekly, Harper's 
 Bazar and the Leslie Weekly, for permission to re-publish 
 some of the poems in this book. 
 Morristown, N. J., M^ijr i8; 1896. 
 
 GUSTAV KOBBE. 
 
TO A WOMAN. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PREFACE 9 
 
 DEDICATION lo 
 
 MY ROSARY 13 
 
 TO A LITTLE GIRL 14 
 
 TRANQUILITY 15 
 
 '' SO WE'RE TOGETHER LOVE " 16 
 
 HOMEWARD 17 
 
 TO HILDEGARDE 18 
 
 BEFORE A PORTRAIT 19 
 
 PREMONITION 20 
 
 IN WINTER 21 
 
 THE LADY OF THE HOUSE AR-TUR 22 
 
 FOR A SUN-DIAL IN A GARDEN 23 
 
 LIFE 24 
 
 DEATH 25 
 
 ACKNOWLEDGING A LADY'S PHOTOGRAPH 26 
 
 " WTE BIST DU MEINE KOENIGIN " 27 
 
 THE COURT CRIER 28 
 
 THE WATCHER 29 
 
 WPIALER PLUCK 30 
 
 FROM THE HARBOR HILL 31 
 
 TFIE YANKEE WHALER 32 
 
 AT PROVINCETOWN 33 
 
 OBEDIAH FOLGER 35 
 
 THE LIGHT-PIOUSE 36 
 
MV ROSARY. 
 Like as a pious maiden tells her beads 
 
 I daily count how oft I gaze on thee ; 
 For as a silent prayer thy beauty pleads 
 
 And saint-like intercedes with Him for me. 
 
 And I who love thee ! — When at last I face 
 His awful presence, I serene shall be ; 
 
 For, though my life seems wholly void of grace, 
 I've loved all that is eood. in loving: thee. 
 
 13 
 
TO A LITTLE GIRL. 
 Her eyes are like forget-me-nots, 
 
 So loving-, kind and true ; 
 Her lips are like a pink sea-shell 
 
 Just as the sun shines through ; 
 
 Her hair is like the waving grain 
 In summer's golden light ; 
 
 And, best of all, her little soul 
 Is, like a lily, white. 
 
 14 
 
TRANQUILITY. 
 I dreamed I was a shepherd; free of care 
 
 I lay at noon beneath a spreading tree. 
 No sound was borne upon the hazy air 
 
 Except the drowsy droning of a bee. 
 
 I\Iy sheep were resting in a woody nook 
 
 Where ghnting sunbeams o'er soft mosses 
 played; 
 
 My dog was lapping water at a brook 
 
 Along whose banks the grasses lightly swayed. 
 
 A blooming landscape through the valley spread, 
 O'er which the south wind sighed an amorous 
 tune — 
 A joyous, soft, alluring bridal bed. 
 
 Bedecked for Spring and Summer's honey- 
 moon. 
 
 I looked above me, and there burst in view 
 Beyond the boughs a reach of placid sky — 
 
 A limpid, luminous, unruffled blue, 
 
 Like some far sea whereon the breezes die. 
 
 I 'woke, still looking upward, and discerned 
 Why peace had reigned supreme throughout 
 my rest : 
 
 Mine eyes met hers — my face to hers upturned, 
 I'd slumbered tranquilly upon her breast. 
 
 15 
 
"SO WE'RE TOGETHER, LOVE." 
 So we're together, love, the sky 
 
 Seems blue though it be grey; 
 And winter's unkind voice assumes 
 
 The gracious speech of May; 
 And be it sad or singing weather, 
 We reck not, love, so we're together I 
 
 So we're together, love, the world 
 
 Moves sweetly on in tune; 
 Each flower becomes a dew-washed rose, 
 
 Each month a balmy June; 
 And be it sad or singing weather, 
 We reck not, love, so we're together ! 
 
 And if together, love, at last 
 
 We pass beyond the pale 
 Of this fair earth to worlds beyond 
 
 We'll falter not nor fail; 
 For, be it sad or singing weather. 
 We reck not, love, so we're together ! 
 
 So we're together, love, the sky 
 Seems blue though it be grey; 
 
 And winter's unkind voice assumes 
 The gracious speech of May; 
 
 And be it sad or singing weather. 
 
 We reck not, love, so we're together ! 
 
 i6 
 
ilOMEWARD. 
 Clouds crimson-barred 
 Like the woods red-scarred 
 On a hill-slope in the fall ; 
 
 A wild, shrill note 
 From a sea-bird's throat 
 And a heron's mournful call ; 
 
 A murmuring reach 
 With a curving beach, 
 Like an eye-brow of the sea ; 
 
 A prow up-curled, 
 A sail half-furled, 
 And the peace of a sheltered lee ; 
 
 A sudden hush 
 And the last deep flush 
 Of dusk in the swarthy west ; 
 
 A fringe of sedge 
 Near the water's edge, 
 And the cot where my loved ones nest ; 
 
 A sweet, low call, 
 And a faint foot-fall, 
 And a form as I swiftly come ; 
 
 Near mine a face, 
 Then the tender grace 
 Of a kiss. — And I am home ! 
 
 17 
 
TO HILDEGARDE. 
 I know why our Lord Jesus spake 
 
 Words that should find a shrine 
 In every loving parent's heart 
 
 As they have found in mine: 
 
 That children freely be allowed 
 
 Unto His arms to come. 
 Because theirs was the heritage 
 
 Of His own heavenly home. 
 
 There must have been among the throng 
 
 That gathered 'round Him there 
 A little girl whose brow, like your's, 
 
 Was crowned with golden hair; 
 
 Whose eyes shone out beneath that brow 
 
 So deep, so brown, so clear ; 
 Whose voice would through the saddest hour 
 
 Ring with a note of cheer. 
 Or else our good Lord Jesus spake 
 
 Those words of tender grace, 
 As, through the veil of centuries. 
 
 He saw your little face, 
 
 Uplifted with a childish faith 
 
 That seemed to him to say : 
 '' Lord Jesus, I will follow Thee 
 
 Where'er Thou"lt lead the way !" 
 
 i8 
 
BEFORE A PORTRAIT. 
 
 Knovv'st thou some far off, golden, Southern 
 
 clime 
 Where katydids and low-voiced crickets chime 
 What hour the moon hangs large upon the sky 
 And merry elfins to their revels hie ? 
 
 Thou art so like this beauteous Southern land ! 
 There sun-lit waves purl o'er an amber strand 
 As golden ringlets ripple o'er thy brow. 
 And he on whom thy love bestowest thou, 
 
 (Who from thy lips may sip the perfumed wine, 
 Whose eyes may worship at thine inner shrine) 
 Blest he to pluck the fruit from thy fair stem, 
 Thou, on whose brow rests Beauty's diadem! 
 
 19 
 
PREMONITION. 
 I. 
 Why is it that a sudden hush 
 
 Falls on the young wife's singing ; 
 What calls to her fair face a blush 
 
 Like roses softly clinging ? — 
 The echo of a cooing note, 
 
 That last night through her dreams did float, 
 Her, untold rapture bringing ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Soft as a little heap of snow 
 
 There lies upon her lap, 
 With satin band and furbelow 
 
 The daintiest wee cap. 
 
 And, as she adds a bit of lace. 
 
 Her fingers swiftly fly; 
 A tender light shines from her face, 
 
 She croons a lullaby. 
 
 20 
 
IN WINTER. 
 The earth is sleeping sweetly 
 
 Beneath the wrap that round 
 Her fair form so completely 
 
 The snow has softly wound. 
 
 She draws her breath so lightly 
 Because she dreams, I wis, 
 
 How Spring will come so knightly 
 To wake her with his kiss. 
 
 21 
 
THE LADY OF THE HOUSE AR-TUR. 
 
 (an EGYPTIAN MUMMY.) 
 
 Here lies the lady of the house Ar-Tur 
 Who in majestic grace and beauty strode 
 Through Ahk-mim's sacred temples, who abode 
 
 Beside the laughing waters of Namur. 
 
 With princes, warriors, slaves, a stately train, 
 Oft through her palace corridors she swept; 
 A king, Ramses himself, the ''Great" yclept, 
 
 Wooed her and, though a king, wooed her in vain. 
 
 Now all who choose to linger as they pass 
 May see the proudest beauty of her day — 
 Ah ! Where are those who gladly owned her 
 sway — 
 
 A shrunken mummy in a case of glass. 
 
 ^ :f; * * * 
 
 Ye fortune-favored, gather here beside 
 The casket of the Lady of Ar-Tur ! 
 Far from the laughing waters of Namur, 
 
 What now avail her riches, beauty, pride ? 
 
FOR A SUN-DIAL IN A GARDEN. 
 If here I pause a moment in my race 
 
 With time, if here forget to mark the hours, 
 Tis 'cause I love to linger in this place 
 
 And watch for her— the mistress of these 
 flowers. 
 
 23 
 
LIFE. 
 Who knows aught of that realm of bliss 
 
 Of which the preachers glibly tell ? 
 
 Who knows for certain there's a Hell ?- 
 Who knows of any hell but this ? 
 
 24 
 
DEATH. 
 
 Haul down the flag, the flag of life ! 
 Weary of this unending strife, 
 I'll strike my colors, yield my sword 
 To Death, the ever-conquering lord. 
 
 25 
 
ACKNOWLEDGING A LADY'S PHOTOGRAPH. 
 I have received your photograph 
 Accompanied by your autograph, 
 And haste my warmest thanks to send 
 To you, my very charming friend ; 
 
 Who's found (this all will sure agree on) 
 What baffled old Ponce de Leon: 
 The fountain of eternal youth ! — 
 Now don't protest, for it's the truth. 
 
 26 
 
"WIE BIST DU MEINE KOENIGIN." 
 <'Wie bist Du Meine Koenigin" — 
 
 Tis thus the song begins, 
 With which, as writ by INIaster Brahms, 
 
 Our hearts fair Julia wins. 
 
 And were I to describe the grace. 
 
 Which to this song she lends, 
 I'd simply echo ''wonnevoll" — 
 
 The word with which it ends. 
 
 27 
 
THE COURT CRIER. 
 It was a haughty lawyer 
 
 Of Elizabeth, N. J., 
 Who sought upon a witness 
 
 To vent his spleen one day. 
 
 The witness quick retorted 
 With merry wit and chaff 
 
 And soon against the lawyer 
 Had raised a hearty laugh. 
 
 Loud laughed the judge and jury 
 The others louder yet — 
 
 All save the ancient crier 
 Who kept his features set, 
 
 Until to him the lawyer 
 
 Called in his sneering way : 
 
 ''How is it, Mr. Perkins, 
 You do not laugh to-day .?" 
 
 Then quothe the solemn Perkins 
 (And never winked an eye): 
 
 "1 am not paid to laugh, sir, 
 I'm only paid to cry !" 
 
 28 
 
THE WATCHER. 
 A watcher on the harbor hill 
 Gazed out upon the sea, until 
 The misty draperies of night 
 Hid the horizon from his sight. 
 
 And thus he watched days, months and years, 
 His eyes undimmed by coward tears, 
 He saw ships go and come again. — 
 For his own ship he watched in vain. 
 
 Till, w^hen he'd passed through every stage 
 Of youth and manhood to old age. 
 There hove one day a craft in sight 
 That thrilled him with a strange delight. 
 
 With every inch of canvass spread 
 A favoring breeze, all clear o'er head, 
 Her quarters flecked with fleecy foam, 
 The good ship fairly leapt toward home. 
 
 Thus on and on she sped until 
 
 Her skipper saw upon the hill ■ 
 
 The watcher ; straightway from on high. 
 
 He let her gaudy pennant fly. 
 
 But lo ! No signal came from him 
 Who stood upon the hill a dim, 
 Pale form outlined against the sky — 
 Can he the pennant not descry ? 
 
 :}c * * * * * 
 
 Just as the good ship had at last 
 Come home from her long voyage, there'd passed 
 A faithful soul across the sea, 
 Whose shore is immortality. 
 29 
 
WHALER PLUCK. 
 A whaler from Nantucket town, 
 
 He had the worst o' luck, 
 He sailed far south, around the Horn, 
 
 But not a whale he struck. 
 
 Three years he cruised — north, east and west, 
 
 From Pole to Torrid Zone, 
 But, when he laid his course for home, 
 
 He'd neither oil nor bone. 
 
 Yet, as he sailed around Brant Point, 
 
 He set his pennant high ; 
 And, when he tied up to the wharf, 
 
 He lustily did cry : 
 
 "We've come home clean as we went out. 
 
 We didn't raise a whale, 
 An' we ain't got a bar'l o' ile — 
 
 But we've had a damn fine sail ! " 
 
 30 
 
FROM THE HARBOR HILL. 
 *' Is it a sail V she asked. 
 ^'No," I said. 
 "Only a white sea-gull with its pinions spread." 
 
 ''Is it a spar?" she asked. 
 ''No," said I. 
 "Only the slender light-house tower 'gainst the 
 sky." 
 
 " Flutters a pennant there .?" 
 "No," I said. 
 "Only a shred of cloud in the sunset red." 
 
 " Surely a hull, a hull !" 
 "Where?" I cried. 
 "Only a rock half-bared by the ebbing tide." 
 
 " 'Wait you a ship .?" I asked. 
 "Aye !" quoth she. 
 ' ' The Harbor Belle ; her mate comes back to 
 marry me. 
 
 "Surely the good ship hath 
 Met no harm?" 
 Was it the west wind wailed or the babe on her 
 arm ? 
 
 "The Harbor Belle !" she urged. 
 Nought said I. — 
 For I knew^ o'er the grave o' the Harbor Belle the 
 sea-gulls fly. 
 
 31 
 
THE YANKEE WHALER. 
 A Yankee whaler of some renown 
 (His hailing port was Provincetown) 
 Had a row with a British officer. 
 I don't know just where it did occur, 
 But I seem to have heard the shell-backs say 
 'Twas somewhere in South Am-er-i-cay. 
 
 The Britisher swore with all his might, 
 
 The Yank must apologize or fight. 
 
 But the Yank, he didn't scare a bit; 
 
 In a sort o' half prophetic fit, 
 
 He just made this entry in his log : 
 
 "To-morrow we'll have plum duff and grog." 
 
 As challenged party he had the right 
 
 To choose the ''weepins" wherewith to fight; 
 
 So fast to his pet harpooning iron 
 
 He made ten fathom of good stout line, 
 
 Prepared another for his foe. 
 
 And said, *'Now" let him sound or blow ! '' 
 
 When they met, you should ha' heard him cry. 
 As he raised his pet harpoon on high : 
 ''Stand by now, mate, for to haul him in, 
 When I strikes him under the starboard fin ! 
 We'll try him out like any whale ! " 
 The Britisher straightway turned tail. 
 
 The Yank, he entered on his log : 
 
 "Plum duff, all hands piped aft for grog ! " 
 
 32 
 
AT PROVINCETOWN. 
 ^'My husband? Aye, my husband, man ! 
 
 A year ago this day 
 He sailed; and him and me just wed." 
 
 Yet she was old and gray. 
 
 *'The youngest master of the fleet ; 
 
 But ask about the town 
 If better skipper sails the sea 
 
 Than Captain Ephraim Brown. 
 
 "I've knowed him most since he was born; 
 
 We was but boy and girl 
 When he first bore me in his skiff 
 
 Through wind and wave and swirl. 
 
 "And then he went before the mast, 
 
 And then became a mate, 
 And then — why, I'd growed up with him — 
 
 Here I would watch and wait. 
 
 * 'Across the bar off Highland Light 
 The wind might whistle hoarse — 
 
 Twas by my figure on this hill 
 He'd always lay his course. 
 
 "Then, when he called a ship his own, 
 
 (She's named for me) he said: 
 'Why, Jennie, ain't it now most time 
 
 That you an' me was wed ? ' 
 
 33 
 
''And we was wed in the old church 
 
 Just yonder, up along-. 
 (I seems to hear the parson's voice, 
 
 The organ and the song). 
 
 ''One week — and he put out to sea, 
 
 A year ago this day; 
 The youngest master of the fleet ! " — 
 
 Yet she was old and gray. 
 
 "My husband? Aye, my husband, man 
 
 Just past a year we're wed. 
 Ask any one you mind." I asked 
 
 The first I met. He said: 
 
 "Why, that's the crazy Widow Brown. 
 
 She's always watchin', though 
 Her husband's ship was lost at sea 
 
 Some thirty years ago." 
 
 34 
 
OBEDIAH FOLGER. 
 
 Twas Obediah Folger 
 
 O' the whaling bark Apoller, 
 Who, when his shipmates hove the lead, 
 Straightway began to holler : 
 
 "Heave-ho, the lead; Heave-ho, Heave-ho ! 
 We're sailing over so-and-so, 
 I knows the taste o' the mud below, 
 Heave-ho, the lead ! Heave-ho ! 
 
 'Twas Obediah Folger 
 
 Whose shipmates thought it very slick 
 With rich Nantucket garden muck 
 To besmear the lead quite thick. 
 
 "Heave-ho, the lead ! Ha, ha ! Ho, ho ! 
 Will Obediah Folger know 
 This time the taste o' the mud below ? 
 Heave-ho, the lead ! Heave-ho ! " 
 
 'Twas Obediah Folger 
 
 O' the whaling bark Apoller ' 
 Who, when he tasted of the muck. 
 Straightway began to holler: 
 
 "Heave-ho, the lead! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! 
 Nantucket's sunk ! I know, I know, 
 Marm Starbuck's squash-bed is just below ! 
 Heave-ho, the lead ! Heave-ho ! " 
 
 'Twas Obediah Folger 
 
 Whose shipmates entered on the log 
 This incident, then went below 
 For to brew for him a grog. 
 
 "Heave-ho, the lead ! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! 
 It's old Jamaicy rum, I know 
 From the way it warms me up below ! 
 Heave-ho, the lead ! Heave-ho ! " 
 
 35 
 
THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 
 Tis like a patient, faithful soul 
 That, having reached its saintly goal 
 And seeing others far astray 
 In storms of darkness and dismay, 
 Shines out o'er life's tempestuous sea, 
 A beacon to some sheltered lee — 
 The haven of eternity. 
 
 36 
 
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