LYRICS FOR A LUTE Lyrics for a Lute By FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN BOSToN AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY tte fibersiie tiress, Cambtribge Al i~,( l'CxCV -1 Copyright, I890, By FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN. All rights reserved. FOURTH EDITION. The Riverside Press, Camaridge, Mass., U. S. A. Electrotyped and Printedby H. O. Houghton & Co. (S) k? -t 5 ~ -, t; I Ho~ To JULIET G4 - OfO AN-Y CONTENTS. FANCY: - To Fancy.. The Harbor of Dre Breath of Song. Omar Khayyim Revery..... At Midnight... Israfel.... Backlog Dreams Sorcery.... Moths.... On a Greek Vase Moods.... Fulfilment... Mnemosyne's Mirro Time's Song. Attainment.. Allah's House. Perpetuity.. QUATRAINS: - Sunrise Moonrise .....................42 .....................42 PAGE . 13 . 14 . 15 . 17 . ig . 22 . 23 . 25 . 27 . 29 . 30 . 32 . 33 . 34 . 36 . 37 . 39 . 40 i CONTENTS. A Hollyhock.. Winter's Beggar. Contrast... Sun and Moon. Surf Music.. Lyrics..... LOVE: An Old Song. The Last Letter. Pepita..... Her Smile His Sunlig To a Rose... Under Her Balcony Ad Astra.... Contentment.. Heliotrope... Valentines... On a Clock.. To Winter... His Starlight.. Unspoken... Song..... The Nun's Rose. Memories.... Dirge..... Nocturne.... Remembrance.. viii 42 43 43 43 44 44 47 49 52 54 56 57 59 6o 62 64 67 68 70 72 73 74 76 78 80 82 ~... *... .... ~t.. .... .... .... *... *... *... ~... ~... *... ~... ~... CONTENTS. NATURE: A Greeting for Spring Noontide...... The Sky-ship... A Woodland Spring. The Naiad's Cup.. Eternity Lane... Storm...... In the Clover... Winter Starlight.. Daybreak.. -.. BOOKS: Aspiration...... The Fly-leaf to the Reader. The Library...... Forgotten Books.... To His Book....... ix . 85 . 89 . 90 ~ 91 * 93 * 95 * 97 * 99 . I0I . I02 . 1o5 . io6 . I08 . IIO . II2 FANCY I TO FANCY. FROM what mystery of space Come you, miracle of grace! Lighting up the realm of dream With a transitory gleam? Phantom of the poet's brain! From what shadowy domain Come you secretly, unsought, Making music of his thought, Bringing him the gift of rhyme At an unexpected time? Is there any magic lure That will win you quick and sure? Is there any fetter strong That will hold you, soul of song? Tell me, Fancy, so that I May not let you slip me by! 14 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. THE HARBOR OF DREAMS. ONLY a whispering gale Flutters the wings of the boat; Only a bird in the vale Lends to the silence a note Mellow, subdued, and remote: This is the twilight of peace, This is the hour of release, Free of all worry and fret, Clean of all care and regret, When like a bird in its nest Fancy lies folded to rest. This is the margin of sleep; Here let the anchor be cast; Here in forgetfulness deep, Now that the journey is past, Lower the sails from the mast. Here is the bay of content, Heaven and earth interblent; Here is the haven that lies Close to the gates of surprise; Here all like Paradise seems, Here is the harbor of dreams. FANCY. BREATH OF SONG. FROM the minster's organ-loft, Floating down the shadowed nave, Comes a strain of music soft, Falling as a weary wave Falls upon the beach of sand, Murmurous and sweet and bland, Bearing from the mighty sea Messages of melody. There, alone, the organist Lets his listless fingers goLost in a melodious mist - O'er the key-board, to and fro: There, half-dreaming, in the gloom, Sits the weaver at his loom, Weaving with the threads of sound Music-woof the warp around. All unconsciously he hides Strains familiar in his theme, When a master-spirit glides Through the doorway of his dream; I5 i6 LYRICS FOR A L UTE. Mozart, Handel, Chopin, or Harmony's great conjurorRapt Beethoven!- each is part Of the dreaming player's heart. So the Poet dreams, nor heeds Who may listen, who may hear; Following where Fancy leads, She alone to him is dear: Omar, Keats, Theocritus, In his voice may speak to us From the realm of ages dim - These are in the heart of him! Poets in the fields of Time, Since the world began, have sown Wide the precious seeds of rhyme, And to us to-day are blown Odors from these poem-flowers Seedlings of the later hours - Blossoming the fields along, Breathing the sweet breath of song. FANCY. OMAR KHAYYAM. AT Naishipir his ashes lie O'ershadowed by the mosque's blue dome; There folded in his tent of sky The star of Persia sleeps at home. The Rose her buried Nightingale Remembers, faithful all these years; Around his grave the winds exhale The fragrant sorrow of her tears. Sultans and slaves in caravans Since Malik Shah have gone their way, And ridges in the Kubberstans Are their memorials to-day. But from the dust in Omar's tomb A Fakir has revived a Rose, Perchance the old, ancestral bloom Of that one by the mosque which blows; I7 I8 L YRICS FOR A LUTE. And from its petals he has caught The inspiration Omar knew, Who from the stars his wisdom brought, A Persian Rose that drank the dew. The Fakir now in dust lies low With Omar of the Orient; Fitzgerald, shall we call him? No: 'T was Omar in the Occident! EANCY. REVERY. C. S. GIVE me my happy poet's book And let me find a sylvan nook, Far from the noisy world apart, And near enough to Nature's heart To hear it throb and feel it thrill, Yet wonder why't is all so still: There, thick with leaves, the branches spread Their canopy of green o'erhead, Through which in sudden wind-torn rifts The sun its dusty copper sifts; And there a dreamy brook runs by,A slender strip of twilight sky, Starred with its ripples, and its moon A lily lying in a swoon Upon its bosom, wan and white As that pale wanderer of night. I0 20 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Birds in the arching boughs above Fluting their melodies of love; Bees in the distance humming where The blossom's honey scents the air; And, where the wild-flowers cluster, hosts Of Psyches hovering like ghosts Around the fragrant, curtained glooms, Clouding the air with winged blooms. There with my book, a flagon filled With wine of song the poet spilled From cups of love's sweet overflow In happy riot, long ago,With Herrick, from whose well-tuned lute First grew the lyric bud and fruit, - There, in the shifting sun and shade, In fancy I shall see that maid To whom his songs,- each one of them Clean cut and finished as a gem,He sang, until her every grace Found in his limpid verse a place, That she with him might live as long As man is moved by love and song! Oh, that we, too, who touch the string Today and set it quivering, FANCY Whose hearts have caught one little spark Of rhyme in this prosaic dark, Unto our verses might but give That subtile touch to make them live, Like Herrick's, after we are gone! That all our lines might linger on The lips of those who later shall Love lyric brief and madrigal; And immortality for us In melody be vouchsafed thus! 2I 22 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. AT MIDNIGHT. SEE, yonder, the belfry tower That gleams in the moon's pale light; Or is it a ghostly flower That dreams in the silent night? I listen and hear the chime Go quavering o'er the town, And out of this flower of Time Twelve petals are wafted down. FANCY. ISRAFEL. FROM Paradise what soul with wings In yonder green spray hides and sings, Weaving within the fragrant gloom Song-fabrics on the morning's loom? 'T is Israfel returned to us, Making the world melodious: He, he it is who sows the air With seeds of music everywhere, Until the charmed space around Grows sweet with blossomings of sound. In ecstasy the fields lie mute, Spelled by the magic of his lute; The trees are hushed the while to hear The cadence falling liquid-clear; The winds hold in their breath, lest they Cheat of one dulcet note the day; And through the meadow, lisping low, The naiads silver-sandaled go, Or drowsy grown beside the streams, Lie drinking music's wine of dreams; 23 24 L YRICS FOR A L UTE. And I, enraptured, in the dell Pause, listening to Israfel: Oblivious of all beside, Dreaming, I drift upon the tide Of melody until my eyes Picture him there in Paradise, - When lo, there comes a sudden hush; 'T is earth, - and yonder soars a thrush! FANCY. BACKLOG DREAMS. ABOVE the glowing embers I hear the backlog sing The music it remembers Of some remembered Spring; Back to the branch forsaken Return its jocund choir And in the chimney waken A melody of fire. The sparks' red blossoms glisten And flash their glances brief At me who lean and listen And dream I hear the leaf, On some May morning sunny, Low lisping in the tree,Or, in his haunt of honey, A bloom-enamored bee: Or't is the soft wind blowing Its sweetness from the South, A fragrant kiss bestowing Upon the rose's mouth; 25 26 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. And e'er the spell is broken, Or darkness o'er it slips, I see the scarlet token Of love upon her lips. Without, the storm is bitter, The snowflakes fill the night; Within, the embers glitter And gild the room with light; And in the fire-place gleaming The backlog sings away, And mingles all my dreaming With birds and blooms and May. FANCY., SORCERY. A ROSE on a spray where a brown bird sang, Looked down, with a blush on her lovely face, And saw, lying coiled in the fragrant place, A green little snake with a forked fang. Then swift from her cheek fled the crim son blush; No longer she dreamed of the bird's sweet song; But trembled with fear, lest the poi soned prong Should strike and the lyric forever hush. And lo, when the serpent had slipped away, And vanished the bird in the blue above, 27 28 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Two maids in the morning of new found love Bent over the bloom on the slender spray. And one in her heart felt a strange de light, - A thought of the bird made the rose blush red! And one in her heart felt a sudden dread, A thought of the snake made the rose blanch white! FANCY. MOTHS. GHOSTS of departed winged things, What memories are those That tempt you with your damask wings Here where my candle glows? Vainly you hover, circling oft The tongue of yellow flame: A tiger by caresses soft You vainly seek to tame. Here is no hope for you: nay, here Death lurks within the light, To leap upon you flying near And sweep you from the night. Moon-butterflies, back to your blooms Born of the dew and stars! Hence, ghosts, and find again your glooms Hidden by shadow-bars. Quick,- speed across the dusky blue, Lest, in a sudden breath, This tawny tiger wake, and you Endure a second death! 29 30 BLYRICS FOR A LUTE. ON A GREEK VASE. DIVINELY shapen cup, thy lip Unto me seemeth thus to speak: "Behold in me the workmanship, The grace and cunning of a Greek! "Long ages since he mixed the clay, Whose sense of symmetry was such, The labor of a single day Immortal grew beneath his touch. "For dreaming while his fingers went Around this slender neck of mine, The form of her he loved was blent With every matchless curve and line. "Her loveliness to me he gave Who gave unto herself his heart, That love and beauty from the grave Might rise and live again in art." And hearing from thy lips this tale Of love and skill, of art and grace, FANCY.. Thou seem'st to me no more the frail Memento of an older race: But in thy form divinely wrought And figured o'er with fret and scroll, I dream, by happy chance was caught, And dwelleth now, that maiden's souL 3 I 32 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. MOODS. UPON a mountain-summit high, A trysting-place of earth and sky, Three friends once stood in silent awe, Each contemplating what he saw. One gazing on the landscape found In changing features only sound: To him it was a memory Of some majestic symphony. Another in the vastness caught The essence of a poet's thought, The measures of a noble rhyme Enduring as eternal time. The third- a stranger to those arts That moved and thrilled his comrades' hearts, Remembered with a nameless dread The face of one whom he saw dead. FANCY. FULFILMENT. IN the hush of the night he heard A voice, and his heart said "Hark! " And the song of a distant bird Went quavering through the dark. Like a lost little child it sobbed As far as the purple hill, And the valley with music throbbed A moment, then all was still. Then the heart in his bosom cried, "Alas,'t is a grievous wrong That the multitude be denied The sweetness of such a song: "'T were a poet's divinest art The words of that song to write!" So he wrote for the eager heart The song of the bird at night. And it went like the night-bird's voice Out into a world of gloom; And his heart had its dearest choice, And slept in a poet's tomb! 33 34 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. MNEMOSYNE'S MIRROR. WHEN Summer comes and brings the rose, My glass the winter's landscape shows: The spectral wood and shrouded field, The garden's lips in silence sealed, The north-wind's icy bitter breath As't were the stirrup cup of death; The pulseless brook, the absent song, The sunlight brief and shadows long. But comes December's day, and then My mirror shows me June again: The garden's million lips of bloom Speaking their language of perfume; The lyric quavers of the thrush Shot, arrow like, across the hush; The laughing brook, the lisping leaf, The sunlight long and shadows brief. Grant me, Mnemosyne, when old, This magic mirror still to hold, FANCY. Transforming Time in such a way That I shall see Youth's yesterday Reflected there, and view once more My boat upon Life's morning shore: What else - I heed not- take from me; Leave but this glass of memory! 35 36 LYRICS FOR A L UTE. TIME'S SONG. THE days come, And the days go! The bees hum Where the roses blow: The days go, And the leaves burn: The birds know, And to home return. The days come, And the days go! And all dumb Lies the world in snow: The days go, And the year's rhyme Is made so By the poet, Time! EANCY. ATTAINMENT. FROM the marble of his thought Are the poet's fancies wrought Into forms of symmetry, Into rhyme and melody: Not by any magic feat Comes the statue forth complete; Only patient labor, long, Can create the perfect song; Only love that does not tire Can attain its high desire, - Love that deems no gift of time Wasted, so it win the rhyme One elusive word to start Life within the lyric's heart. Still the Parthenon for us - Jewel of Pentelicus Fashioned centuries ago - Shines with undiminished glow; Still the resurrected bust, Buried ages in the dust, Holds today its honored place By the marvel of its grace; 37 38 L YRICS FOR A LUTE. So the poet's song shall shine For the jewel of one line; So his lyric shall endure Be the carven marble pure. Toil he must if he would win Heaven's gate and enter in; Labor of a life-time give That the sculptured verse shall live! FANCY. ALLAH'S HOUSE. NJNA'C, the faithful, pausing once to pray, From holy Mecca turned his face away. A Moslem priest, who chanced to see him there Forgetful of the attitude in prayer, Cried, "Infidel, how durst thou turn thy feet Toward Allah's house - the sacred temple's seat?" To whom the pious Ninic thus replied: "Know'st thou God's house is, as the world is, wide? "Thou, turn them if thou canst toward any spot Where mighty Allah's awful house is not?" 39 I 40 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. PERPETUITY. I HEARD a sweet voice singing in the night A tender love-song written years ago, To ease a poet's heart of that deep woe Born of long absence from its dear de light; And as the music like a bird took flight Across the shadowed world and van ished so, I thought of him who wrote it, -did he know How Time would keep his jewel-lyric bright? 0 Poet of to-day, whose heart would sing Some simple song of love, and sweet words give To mate the melody that thrils the lute, - FANCY. 41 Sing on, nor heed what lips are mur muring To scorn your art: one perfect song shall live For love and you long after they are mute! 42 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. QUATRAINS. I. SUNRISE. BLOOMS in the east when darkness goes A radiant, cloud-petaled rose, Out of whose iridescent heart The yellow bees of sunlight dart. II. MOONRISE. WITHIN this silent palace of the Night, See how the moon, like some huge, phantom moth, Creeps slowly up across the azure cloth That hangs between the darkness and the light. III. A HOLLYHOCK. SERAGLIO of the Sultan Bee! I listen at the waxen door, FA.NC Y. And hear the zithern's melody And sound of dancing on the floor. IV. WINTER'S BEGGAR. WHERE heedless winds around him blow, The Tree, a tattered beggar, stands, And reaches out his empty hands To catch the silver of the snow. V. CONTRAST. IN her dark hair a lustrous jewel gleams, A single star upon the edge of night: Dazzling it is, and yet how dull it seems Beside her face, -drowned in the morning's light. VI. SUN AND MOON. BY day in Allah's azure urn The sun, a fire, is made to burn: And from its ashes there by night The moon, a lily, blossoms white. 43 44 LYRICS FOR 4 LUTE. VII. SURF MUSIC. LYING beside the margin of the deep, I hear the music of mysterious streams Sung by the waves;- like voices heard in dreams Moving along the shadowed shore of sleep. VIII. LYRICS. IN Nature's open book An epic is the sea, A lyric is the brook: Lyrics for me! LOVE AN OLD SONG. OFTENTIMES there come to me Scraps of music-memory That have slept, alas, how long! In the quiet night of song. I can mark the measured time, I can catch the notes that rhyme, Till it seems I almost hear Whispered words within my ear; Yet, for all I listen so To them as they come and go, Shreds of only one refrain In my memory remain. Long ago the song was sung, Long ago, when I was young, And my heart in time would beat With the music soft and sweet. There was something that would start Glad emotions in my heart, Something in the words which made Joy grow bright and sorrow fade, 48 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Something in the notes of joy Giving courage to the boy Long ago, ere he began Dreaming of the present man. Never comes this strain but I Seem to feel her standing by. Oh, that all the notes might come Back from lips forever dumb, So that I might render whole This marred music of the soul! Oh, that I again might bring Back this song she used to sing! I should sing it till my eyes, Through a rift in Paradise, Caught a vision of her face Smiling from her dwelling-place; I should sing it line by line Till her lips should answer mine; I should sing it o'er and o'er Till I seemed a boy once more,Till my dream should bring in truth Her who sang it to my youth! LOVE. THE LAST LETTER. LONG years within its sepulchre Of faintly scented cedar Has lain this letter dear to her Who was its constant reader: The postmark on the envelope Sufficed the date to give her, And told the birth of patient hope That managed to outlive her. How often to this treasure-box, Tears in her eyes' soft fringes, She came with key and turned the locks, And on its brazen hinges Swung back the quaintly figured lid, And raised a sandal cover, Disclosing, under trinkets hid, This message from her lover. Then lifting it as't were a child, Her hand awhile caressed it Ere to the lips that sadly smiled Time and again she pressed it: 49 50 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Then drew the small inclosure out And smoothed the wrinkled paper, Lest any line should leave a doubt Or any word escape her. Still held the olden charm its place Amid the tender phrases; Time seemed unwilling to efface The love-pervaded praises: And though a thousand lovers might Have matched them all for passion, A poet were inspired to write In their unstudied fashion. From "Darling" slowly, word by word, She read the tear-stained treasure: The mists by which her eyes were blurred Grew out of pain and pleasure; But when she reached that cherished name, And saw the last leave-taking, The mist a storm of grief became, Her very heart was breaking! I put it back,- this old-time note, Which seems like sorrow's leaven, For she who read, and he who wrote, Please God, are now in heaven. LOVE. If lovers of to-day could win Such love as won this letter, The world about us would begin To gladden and grow better. 51 52 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. PEPITA. UP in her balcony where Vines through the lattices run Spilling a scent on the air, Setting a screen to the sun, Fair as the morning is fair, Sweet as a blossom is sweet, Dwells in her rosy retreat Pepita. Often a glimpse of her face;, When the wind rustles the vine Parting the leaves for a space, Gladdens this window of mine; Pink in its leafy embrace, Pink as the morning is pink, Sweet as a blossom I think Pepita. I who dwell over the way Watch where Pepita is hid, Safe from the glare of the day, Like an eye under its lid: LOVE. Over and over I say - Name like the song of a bird, Melody shut in a word, "Pepita." Look where the little leaves stir! Look, the green curtains are drawn! There in a blossomy blur Breaks a diminutive dawnDawn and the pink face of her! Name like a lisp of the south, Fit for a rose's small mouth, Pepita! 53 54 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. HER SMILE HIS SUNLIGHT. SWEETHEART, when rhymes I make For your dear sake, You bring Into your face a smile To cheer me while I sing. Like to that bird am I, Which, when the sky At night A deeper azure grows, No longer knows Delight; Or like of flowers that one Which loves the sun, And gives The beauty of its bloom To him for whom It lives: LOVE. Pleasure nor joy to bless Have I unless Your face Over my paper shines And lights the lines With grace. For me your smile is day - The golden ray That climbs Imagination's wall And sweetens all My rhymes. For you the bird's song, this; The flower's fresh kiss And breath: Nor may their nightfall come Till both are dumb In death! 55 56 L YRICS FOR A L UTE. TO A ROSE. Go, Rose, and in her golden hair You shall forget the garden soon; The sunshine is a captive there And crowns her with a constant noon. And when your spicy odor goes, And fades the beauty of your bloom, Think what a lovely hand, 0 Rose, Shall place your body in the tomb! 4 LOVE. UNDER HER BALCONY. UP, slender vine, your love is mine; I watch you as you go, A lyric budding line on line With blossom-rhymes a-row! Up, up, until her window-sill, Like Heaven's gate in sight, Makes all your heart with hope to fill And bloom with its delight! And when her eyes' soft twilight lies Upon you nestled there, When all about you is surprise, And all below, despair, Then to my Sweet, my love repeat; Yield her one perfect bloom, Which, though it perish at her feet, May, ghostlike, haunt her room. But if her mind and heart be kind, And grant you gracious rest, And for this gift a pillow find, And fold it to her breast, 57 58 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Up, up! I burn my fate to learn From her who waits above; Let but a leaf to earth return, Her answer and her love I LOVE. AD ASTRA. BLOSSOM, little stars, and fill The garden of the sky; Drops of wine that you distil Upon the grasses lie. Every thirsty blade holds up A blessing to the blue, Every thirsty flower its cup Fills with the heaven's dew. Blossom, little stars of love, In my beloved's heart; Blossom like the stars above, And into gladness start.. Far beneath you there is one Who dares a cup to raise: He has thirsted in the sun These many dreary days. Blossom, blossom soon, and bring Love's gladness and the wine To revive the hopes that spring Up in this heart of mine. 59 60 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. CONTENTMENT. A GIRL to love, a pipe to smoke, Enough to eat and drink; A friend with whom to crack a joke, And one to make me think; A book or two of simple prose, A thousand more of rhyme: No matter then how fast Time goes, I take no heed of Time! The little wife inspires my thought With serious intent; She cheers me with her wisdom fraught With love and sentiment: Or prose to read, or rhyme to sing, She makes them each sublime: No matter then how Time takes wing, I take no heed of Time! God grant me that when grown so old Nor pipe nor glass I crave, The little wife and books may hold My heart unto the grave: LO VE. There let me sleep in peace below The turf, where ivies climb: No matter then how Time shall go, I take no heed of Time! 6I 62 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. HELIOTROPE. Go, Heliotrope, Unto my Sweet and tell How, like a harbinger of hope, You come to dwell Near her, and pray to rest Upon her breast. Tell her for me In whispers of perfume, How like the golden sun is she, To which your bloom Forever turns its face Beseeching grace. Say, even so The blossom of my love Looks from its land of doubt below To her above, Waiting one word to slip Her scarlet lip. LOVE. Then if you feel Her heart with joy beat fast, Or if with one sweet kiss she seal Your lips at last, And leave you stricken dumb Until I come: Seeing you there Upon her bosom, I Shall know what answer to my prayer She makes, and lie Beside you dumb with bliss, Sealed by her kiss. 63 64 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. VALENTINES. I. LOVE, at your door young Cupid stands And knocks for you to come: The frost is in his feet and hands, His lips with cold are numb. Grant him admittance, sweetheart mine, And by your cheering fire His lips shall loosen as with wine And speak forth my desire. He left me not an hour ago, And when the rascal went Barefooted out into the snow, I asked him whither bent. Quoth he: "To her whose face is like A garden full of flowers: To her whose smiles like sunlight strike Across the winter hours." No more he said, nor need of more Had I to know. I knew His path lay straight unto your door: That face belongs to you! LOVE. "Godspeed," I cried, "and give her this, When you her face shall see;" And on his lips I set a kiss, A valentine from me! II. I CARE not that the snow lies deep Upon the world about: The hidden flowers, they lie asleep And dream, and never doubt But Spring shall come again and set The rubies on the vine: The faithful Year shall not forget Her valentine. I care not that a thousand miles Keep me and mine apart, For when upon this page she smiles And gladdens in her heart, Like Spring, the sun returns to me And cheers these eyes of mine: My sweetheart promises to be My valentine. Be still, my heart, and like the flowers Asleep beneath the snow, Dream on, and soon the sunny hours Shall wake you dreaming so: 65 66 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. And when the Summer's stars above Drip with their dewy wine, The flowers shall come, and with them, love, And valentine! LOVE. ON A CLOCK. LONELY once, my love away, To this slave of Time I cried: "Faster on your journey glide, Let your feet no second stay; Speed the dreary night and day!" He, all heedless, obstinate, Never quickened in his gait. Happy once, my love in sight, To this slave of Time I prayed: "Be your journey slowly made, Loiter with me in delight; Stay the happy day and night!" Obstinate, he heard at last, - Heard, and hurried twice as fast. 67 68 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. TO WINTER. GOOD Winter, hear this wish I write Before the red leaves blow Across the sky To droop and die, And sleep beneath the snow; Before the birds have taken flight Unto a gentler clime, And for my thought Have left me naught Of melody or rhyme. The purple clusters in the leaves Of grapes already ripe; The chestnut burrs Half burst; the slurs Upon the robin's pipe; The shrill wind whistling round the eaves; The dawn's white gossamer; All these awake The wish I make, Good Winter, just for her. LOVE. My Love, a blossom fair is she; Lithe as a lily stem: Her voice and words So like the birds' Will make you think of them. Good Winter, keep her safe for me, Leave to her face its smile, And to her heart Of love that part Which makes my wish worth while! 69 70 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. HIS STARLIGHT. You who at my elbow sit, By whose eyes my lines are lit, How shall any poet's pen Go amiss or falter when Stars like these shine out above - Beacons kindled there by Love - Lighting up the paths below Where he wanders to and fro. Is it strange the rhymes should kiss Under such a spell as this? They but mimic those, my Sweet, Who of old were wont to meet, Meet and linger at the bars, Making love beneath the stars: We ourselves were happy rhymes In those dear, betrothal times. Take this lyric: every line But reflects the stars that shine O'er my shoulder, telling me Of my sweetheart's constancy! LOVE.d And if any word appear Vague or needless, say you: Here Went a cloud across his skies; This is where its shadow lies. But should any turn of phrase NVin your lips to speak its praise, Know you then the happy thought From your eyes the poet caught: All the graces of his song To those constant stars belong,To those tender eyes that brim Full with love to gladden him. 7I 72 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. UNSPOKEN. LOVE, when we parted, you and I, Who had been friends so many years, How many times a last good-by Rose to the surface of my tears! There never once to it you cast A strand of hope its life to save, But watched it to the very last, And saw it sink into its grave. And now to you, away so far, The winging of that spirit-word As futile seems as to a star The flight of some enamored bird! LOVE. SONG. SONG like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so: - Love, only Love.t Go, then, my song, - a rose Fashioned of love and rhyme; Unto her heart disclose That secret old as time, - Old, yet forever new! Go, then, and tell her true: — Love, only Love./ 73 74 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. THE NUN'S ROSE. OVER the convent wall Clambers a rose-vine sweet, Letting its fragrant blossoms fall Into the dusty street. Hither the weary guest, Drawn by the fresh perfume, Pauses to dream awhile and rest Under the spray of bloom: Lingers to dream of those Who, in their quiet hours, Dwelling within the garden-close, Wander among the flowers. What of their holy deeds Ponders the dreamer there? Is it the rosaries of beads Counted in silent prayer? Is it the chants they sing? Is it the fasts they keep? LO VE. Is it the words of comforting Spoken to those who weep? Nay,'t is of her whose love Moved her to train this vine Over the convent wall above, Breathing a scent like wine. Tokens these blossoms seem Speaking of her pure life: Petals that fall like dream on dream Into a world of strife. 75 76 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. MEMORIES. LONG time she sat, yet never touched a string, - Her thoughts were all of one far, far away, One dearly loved, whose face to her could bring Desire to play. The tune- ah, well she knew it! -and the words So full of tenderness, unsung so long, Hung on her parted lips-a flock of birds Without a song. Anon, the music to her finger-tips In swift pulsations from her glad heart went, Then quavered to the song upon her lips The instrument. LOVE. 77 For suddenly across the strings she swept Her slender hand, and lo, there came at last The melody which had in silence slept The whole year past. Faintly at first, with every touch it grew More sweet, and filled the charmed air around, And sang within her ears until she knew 'T was joy she found. And there, alone, she held the graceful form And sang to it as't were a babe at rest, Singing itself to sleep and growing warm Against her breast. So, happy in the melody she wrought Upon the old guitar in her embrace, Her eyes grew heavy, closed, and slum ber brought Dreams of his face. 78 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. DIRGE. LET a song be softly sung; Let a prayer be said; Let a solemn bell be rung; — Love is dead! With the early buds he came, When the snows were fled; Lightly lisped the leaves his name Overhead: Sang the birds a sweeter strain; Troops of roses red Followed in a laughing train Where he led: Brighter beamed the stars above, And the soft gales sped Whispering the secret: Love Soon shall wed! Rang the bells in merry chime When the promise spread: Poets strung with beads of rhyme Fancy's thread. LOVE. Fragrant petals lightly fell Where his feet might tread: Blossoms that he loved so well Were his bed. There he slumbers, pale and cold: Let a tear be shed; Let a solemn bell be tolled; Love is dead I 79 80 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. NOCTURNE. LOVE, throw thy lattice open to the night, And shame the moon, that doth so sadly shine Upon the world, with that glad face of thine! Look down upon me with thine eyes more bright Than those of angels from yon dizzy height Of heaven peering out; and be it mine To feel uplifted to thee, like a vine Led up the trellis ladder by the light! Then, while the earth in purple shadows deep Lies hushed, and, dreaming, slumber all the birds, And not a whisper wakes the leaves above, LOVE. 8I Listen, and thou shalt hear the lute strings weep In music soft, mourning to win thy words To make complete their melody of love! 82 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. REMEMBRANCE. DAY to my heart With you comes always fair: When you depart 'T is twilight there. Then love unbars The door of dreams for me, And lights the stars Of memory. NATURE A GREETING FOR SPRING. LET us go forth and meet her As she comes through the eastern gates; Let us away to greet her Whom the lover-like land awaits In a rapturous mood to bless, All impatient for her caress; Let us mount up the purple slopes That are murmurous with their hopes; And the winds speeding on before In their haste to be first shall sing Of the earth's wide floor, That is dotted o'er With the emerald steps of Spring. Moses upon the mountains Strikes his rod on the marble snow, Freeing the crystal fountains; And the streams through the plains below Are her couriers swift, who run In the glow of the golden sun 86 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Through the fields on their twinkling feet, With the gladdening promise sweet,She is coming with laughing eyes From the Orient's sun-wrapped land, From the land that lies Under tranquil skies Like an opal in Allah's hand. Up at the dawn's first waking From her dreams in the night's long gloom! Up when the east is breaking Like a rose into scarlet bloom! When the buds in the branches shine, And the blood of the slender vine From the tip of each tiny stem Oozes out and becomes a gem, Till the world like a queen is drest For a carnival glad and gay, And awaits her guest In the curtained west At the odorous doors of day. Hark! on the breeze a rally And a rustle of wings is heard! Over the misty valley Soars a heavenly singing bird Like a sapphire that burns with song; VNAT URE. And it drops to the earth erelong, Where it kindles a mighty choir Into flames of a lyric fire; And the jewel that falls to earth In the silvery sod is set, And it marks the birth Out of winter's dearth Of a delicate violet. Let us go forth and linger At the gates with the sunrise bars; Watch for her rosy finger As she slips off its ring of stars, And her radiant face which gleams With the joy of the year's sweet dreams, And her eyes like the morning dews, And her cheeks with the wild-flower hues; Let us watch till the east grows bright With her glorious robe that falls Like a wave of light On the shore of night, And the bird to the valley calls. Oh, for the fragrant presage Of the goddess divinely fair! Oh, for the flute-like message, Making melody float mid-air! 87 88 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. For the flash of the blue-bird's wings! For the gush of the woodland springs! For the buds in the vine-clad bowers, And the breath of the gentle flowers! We shall know them at morning, when All the shadows of night are furled; We shall know them then, - It is Spring again, And her smile is upon the world! IVA TUR?E. NOONTIDE. No leaf is stirring in the tree, The drowsy bird forgets his tune; The flower, forsaken by the bee, Hangs silent in the glaring noon. Hushed is the murmur of the stream Whose music made the morning sweet, And on its tranquil bosom dream The languid lilies in the heat. And in these cradles gently rocked When idle eddies catch the stems, Their gauzy wings in slumber locked, Repose the dragon-flies like gems. This is the golden hour of rest, When, half his circling journey done, Midway between the east and west The zenith holds the eager sun. And not until his fetters break And fall in shadows on the ground, Shall any slumberer awake, Or Nature know a breath or sound. 89 90 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. THE SKY-SHIP. IN the soft wind that blows, Yon cloud-ship of the sky Spreads a white sail and throws A shadow where I lie. And with my dream is blent A breath of spice and gums Out of the Orient, Betraying whence she comes. Unto a land remote To fill its rich bazaars Sails this Arabian boat Amid the island stars, And in yon harbor calm Of Heaven's ocean blue, Empties her freight of balm The twilight's fragrant dew! NA TURE. A WOODLAND SPRING. BENEATH the trees whose lisping brood With every breath of summer wake, And in the grove's green solitude Soft music make, A sylvan deity her pool Of crystal water deep has hid, Perpetually fresh and cool, The rocks amid. Gray, like a carpet, lies the moss, To shield from ragged stones her feet; And for a roof the branches cross Above and meet. Birds in these rafters build and mate, And rear their lyric-hearted throng, And teach them well to imitate Her happy song. Hither came I upon a time To rest me in the tranquil shade, 9I 92 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. Led by a brook whose limpid rhyme Its source betrayed. I watched these minstrels, pair by pair, Come to the fountain's pebbly brink And, pausing first as if in prayer, Dip down and drink. They seemed to know the goddess who Presided o'er this woodland spring; And I, who longed to know her too, Bade them to sing. Then, as they sang, awhile I knelt In worship at her sylvan shrine; And even as I prayed I felt Her lips touch mine! NATURE. THE NAIAD'S CUP. THIS is a naiad's drinking cup The water's tireless arm held up; In it no drops of wine remain, Its chaste lip wears no crimson stain. No footprint by the water's edge Betrays to whom she drank the pledge; Only this empty cup whose lip Speaks naught of its companionship. Who knows but for this chalice white A star was stolen from the night, From whose clear jewel-grape was drawn The dew of some Parnassian dawn; And as the precious wine distilled, One drop into the water spilled, Pervading all the purple deep Wherein this naiad lay asleep! Such potency that flavor knew, Her dream told where this lily grew; 93 0 94 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. One taste, and she awoke, and then Her eyes saw Arcady again! The East was reddening; the West Was shepherding the stars to rest; But ere Apollo's reign began She pledged this loving cup with Pan! NATURE. ETERNITY LANE. THE fence on either side is down, Or buried under vines and bushes, Save where, determined not to drown, A picket through the tangle pushes. On its gray peak the birds alight And trill their carols brief and tender; All day a beacon, golden bright, It shines in solitary splendor. But through the creepers' leafy wall No gleam of sunlight ever passes To break the night that shadows all The cobwebbed growth of groping grasses. The rain that rattles on the leaves Outside with such a happy laughter, Once captive in this prison, grieves For light and liberty long after. 95 96 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. No traveler for years has set His foot upon the pathway hidden; Nor through the weeds forever wet For years has any horseman ridden. No rut remains of wagon-road; The gateway has no gate to span it; Only the bat and bulging toad Dare venture past the posts of granite. One dreams, so silent is the place With all its life and light departed, That Time has finished here the race, And now Eternity has started! NA TURE. STORM. THE sun sank red in the dull gray west Like a glowing coal in a bed of ashes; The river writhed in a mad unrest As it felt the scourge of the wind's keen lashes; No star outshone on the Night's dark breast Scarred with livid lines of the light ning's flashes: And he came with a voice of thunder O'er the mountains that trembled under, And a sudden thrill Ran from hill to hill, And the valley was dumb with wonder. Then all night long on the tangled strings Of the tempest's lute did the wind awaken Discordant notes from their slumberings, And the forest cried like a soul for saken. 97 98 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. The storm - bird fluttered his dismal wings And the rain-wrapt land like a leaf was shaken! And he called in a voice of thunder O'er the mountains that rumbled under, And the hosts of flame From the heavens came, And the valley was filled with wonder. But lo, dawn smiles, and the misty world Like a pearl is plucked from its ocean dreaming; The storm's dark pinions at last are furled In the fragrant hbsh of the sun's bright gleaming, And where the arrows of fire were hurled, Lo, the face of Heaven with gladness beaming! God has silenced the voice of thunder O'er the mountains that echoed under, And the bird's sweet song In the air grows strong, And the valley is hushed with wonder! NA TURE. IN THE CLOVER. IN the pasture's clover deep There I love to lie and sleep, Over me the placid sky, Blue save where his golden eye Out of Heaven's window looks In the mirrors of the brooks, That Apollo may behold How like me he too grows old; All about me billows blown, Emerald as Ocean's own, By the drowsy gales that blow, Catching fragrance as they go. Crusoe of that clover isle, There I come to dream awhile, Far from worry, strife, or din, Shut my island home within. Deep-drawn breaths of winy air Are the nectar I drink there Hebe ne'er her draughts served up Brimming such a sapphire cup! Thessaly ne'er grew a vine Yielding such a sparkling wine, 99 I 00 LYRICS FOR A L UTE. Drinking which't is mine to feel Blissful languor o'er me steal! Give me then that clover bed With its blue roof overhead, There to lie and dream away All the tedious hours of day. Pan shall cheer me with his reed, Fauns shall dance across the mead, Daphnis tend his snowy herds, And Theocritus make words Mingle in soft melody In my slumber-Sicily Set the clover sea amid, As in olden days he did! NA TURE. WINTER STARLIGHT. THE air is keen, the sky is clear; The wind has gone in whispers down; And, gleaming in the atmosphere, A jewel, lies the lighted town. The winter's mantle stretches white Upon the roofs and streets below; All hushed the noises of the night Against the bosom of the snow. The Moon from her blue dwelling-place Smiles over all, so pale, so fair, It seems the Earth's wan, winter face Reflected in a mirror there. Far off the lonely trees uplift Their naked branches like the spars Of some deserted ship adrift Under a canopy of stars. It is the darkened world that rides The sea of space, forever drawn By secret winds and mighty tides Unto the harbor of the Dawn! IOI 102 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. DAYBREAK. UNTO his parching lips a cup Brimming with wine the hills hold up, Fresh with the breath of bud and bloom, Cooled in the caves of purple gloom. One long, deep draught he takes, and then Into his saddle leaps again, Scatters the gold coins left and right, And speeds beyond the gates of night: The Years are at his heels, - away! The Sun still leads them by a day. BOOKS ASPIRATION. WITHIN the meadow of Time's book Let my song be the laughing brook That sings along its silver way As't were a dryad gone astray, Seeking by music's balm to bless The hunger of its loneliness. Let all my lines like ripples run Forever mirroring the sun; Gay as the light lisp of a leaf, Unmarred by any gust of grief; Sweet as the soft south wind that blows Its tender love-song to the rose. So, later, if my rhymes be read By maid or youth, it may be said: No melancholy strain he knew; His skies were always bright and blue. Life seemedfor him to slip along As smoothly as his limpid song, Which, in its grace and simple art, Echoes the gladness in his heart. I06. LYRICS FOR A LUTE. THE FLY-LEAF TO THE READER. FRIEND, stay your steps awhile before You pass within the open door; Bethink you in what manner you Shall greet the host; consider, too, How to a feast of all his best The author here invites his guest, To taste his meat and drink his wine, On every dish to freely dine. And, mind you, when you come to sit Before the board whereon his wit And wisdom are all spread to make A meal for your mind's stomach's sake, To bear yourself with dignity And treat your host with courtesy. If any dish before you placed By any chance offend your taste, Or if the food seem wanting aught Of proper seasoning, say naught. Eat quietly, and when you go Forget not gratitude to show; BOOiKS. And, being gone, if you repent The precious time that you have spent, Or think that you have poorly fared Upon the food and drink prepared, Curse not this book-the wine and meat So kindly offered you to eat. The author, too, spare from your curse, And do not go from bad to worse; You were his guest, this recollect, And treat him only with respect. Keep your opinions to yourself, And put the book back on the shelf. Think this: what one may eat, and die, Another's taste may satisfy. 1o7 io8 LYRICS FOR A LUTE. THE LIBRARY. GIVE me the room whose every nook Is dedicated to a book: Two windows will suffice for air And grant the light admission there; One looking to the south, and one To speed the red, departing sun. The eastern wall from frieze to plinth Shall be the Poet's labyrinth, Where one may find the lords of rhyme From Homer's down to Dobson's time: And at the northern side a space Shall show an open chimney-place, Set round with ancient tiles that tell Some legend old, and weave a spell About the firedog-guarded seat, Where, musing, one may taste the heat: Above, the mantel should not lack For curios and bric-A-brac,Not much, but just enough to light The room up when the fire is bright. The volumes on this wall should be All prose and all philosophy, BOOKS. From Plato down to those who are The dim reflections of that star; And these tomes all should serve to show How much we write - how little know; For since the problem first was set No one has ever solved it yet. Upon the shelves along the west The scientific books shall rest; Beside them, History; above,Religion,- hope, and faith, and love: Lastly, the southern wall should hold The story-tellers, new and old; Haroun al Raschid, who was truth And happiness to all my youth, Shall have the honored place of all That dwell upon the sunny wall; And with him there shall stand a throng Of those who help mankind along More by their fascinating lies Than all the learning of the wise. Such be the library; and take This motto of a Latin make To grace the door through which I pass: Hic habitat Felicitas! 1o9 I I 0 L YRICS FOR A LUTE. FORGOTTEN BOOKS. OF books I sing, but not of those Which any book collector knows, The priceless, rare editions, not, - But volumes which the World forgot And with them those who wrote, as well, Before they had a chance to sell: Ephemerals that find themselves With the Immortals on my shelves. I name no names, for if I should None would recall them now, nor could A word of mine bring any one Out of its long Oblivion. The ink on many fly-leaves still Looks quite as fresh as when the quill On each inscribed an author's name, And signed his title there to Fame Without one solitary fear About its being proven clear. One has its pages still uncut, Clean, kept ironically shut By him whose name therein is penned Above: From his devoted friend. BOOKS. But not infrequently I come Across the imprint of a thumb, Or in the paragraphs I find A pleasing sentence underlined, Or neatly on the margin set A compliment in epithet: Each one of these, I'm satisfied, Was read before its author died. And there is one among them all, Morocco bound, gilt-edged, and small, Filled with the amatory rhymes Of ante-Tennysonian times, Stiff in their phraseology And rather rough in melody. 'T is Dedicated unto Her By Her Unworthy Worshififer. And just below is written, "These Mfany andfpleasing Melodies, Dear Wm. writ in'98, &' unto Me did Dedicate." This one was read and read again, And annotated by her pen: And this fulfilled the Author's hopes, Repaid the toil of all his tropes, And had, at least his span of life, One constant reader in his wife. I I I I I 2 LYRICS FOR A L UTE. TO HIS BOOK. Go, little book with heart of rhyme, This is our last leave-taking time: For you the journey stretches long, With naught to cheer you save a song; For me, alas! when you depart, A doubtful, desolated heart. I have but slender hope to give To gladden such a fugitive. The world may greet you well or ill, Seeing your way lies all up hill: But o'er that summit dim and far I catch a glimpse of one sure star Which shines to guide you and to bring You ever closer there to sing. Little I care for praise or blame Unless it whispers of her name: Her praise is inspiration's breath; Her scorn were aspiration's death! Go, then, and if she welcome you I care not what the world may do!